Women's Weird: Strange Stories by Women, 1890-1940

Handheld Weirds #1

by Melissa Edmundson (Editor), Louisa Baldwin (Contributor), Mary Cholmondeley (Contributor)

Early Weird fiction embraces the supernatural, horror, science fiction, fantasy and the Gothic, and was explored with enthusiasm by many women writers in the United Kingdom and in the USA. Melissa Edmundson has brought together a compelling collection of the best Weird short stories by women from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, to thrill new readers and delight these authors' fans.

Genres: Short Stories, Horror, Fiction, Anthologies, Classics, Gothic, Weird Fiction

298 pages, Paperback

First published October 31, 2019

About the author

Melissa Edmundson is a literary historian who specializes in 19th and 20th-century British women writers, ghost stories, the supernatural, the Gothic, and Anglo-Indian popular fiction. She has a PhD in Victorian literature.

Reviews

[Teresa · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reposting my review, as I discovered it'd been deleted; glad I had a backup. (Nov. 30, 2021)

4.5

When I first saw an advertisement for this book, I was intrigued by the title and its theme. I was sold when I saw the names of the writers: Charlotte Perkins Gilman; Edith Nesbit; Edith Wharton; May Sinclair—especially May Sinclair, as I was intrigued by The Three Sisters and have been meaning to read more by her.

The Sinclair story, "There Their Fire Is Not Quenched," is likely my favorite. I wondered at first what it was doing in this collection until halfway through when it turns into a fascinating take on the afterlife, a haunting not-'till death do us part.' The only story I struggled with was Eleanor Scott's "The Twelve Apostles" with its use of Catholic iconography, but I eventually made my peace with it.

The introduction by the editor places these writings in their historical context (some M.R. James-like stories came before M.R. James), especially helpful with the stories that seem more modern than they really are. Another interesting thing is the number of stories written from a male POV, but then the same plot with a female protagonist wouldn’t have been feasible for the written-of time periods.

The highest compliment I can pay any book is that I missed it when done and wished for more. My reading last night seemed incomplete without one of these tales.
(December 2, 2019)

[Alwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Melissa Edmundson’s eerie collection ranges from familiar concoctions of ghoulies, ghosties and long-legged beasties to less predictable, unorthodox tales, each chosen as a deliberate response to the idea that “weird” fiction is a male-dominated field. However, many of the traditionally supernatural stories selected are infused with a marked awareness of real-life horrors faced by women. In Edith Wharton’s “Kerfol” the roots of a domestic haunting trace back to a case of relentless domestic violence; Margaret Irwin’s deeply unsettling “The Book” features a bored husband whose growing obsession with a cursed manuscript leads him to commit increasingly disturbing acts, exposing the truly terrifying possibilities a man’s contempt for his family might unleash; in “Couching at the Door” a famous author who delights in dabbling in the occult is suddenly pursued by an unfathomable creature, somehow conjured from his past abuse of a young woman paid to cater to his every whim; “Hodge” is an unusual, affecting examination of the terrible consequences of distinctions between who does or doesn’t count as fully human, which hints at cultural anxieties around incest and desire between siblings.

Among Edmundson's less conventional choices, “Unseen – Unfeared” has a feverish, Lovecraftian atmosphere but not his typically racist perspective, instead Francis Stevens’s plot twist firmly ties xenophobia and racial prejudice to delusion. One of my favourites here was Margery Lawrence’s “The Haunted Saucepan” set in a rented flat that comes complete with the latest in kitchen appliances and a suspiciously low rent, it felt like the result of a curious but satisfying collaboration between P.G. Wodehouse and M.R. James. Another outstanding entry was Mary Butts’s eccentric “With and Without Buttons” centred on two sisters whose prankish revenge on their ‘mansplaining’ neighbour has an unexpectedly uncanny outcome. Like so many compilations there are some weaker pieces but I still found more than enough here that was inventive, intriguing and entertaining - although I'll admit I was left uncertain about Edmundson's rationale for singling all of these out as "weird" when quite a few seemed indistinguishable from a standard ghost story.

[Nicolai Alexander · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Women’s Weird” is a short story anthology edited by Melissa Edmundson, a literary historian specializing in 19th and early 20th century British literature and in particular women writers of the Gothic and supernatural variety. These 13 writers and short stories span half a century and are presented in chronological order from 1889 to 1938. (I don’t know why it says 1890-1940, which is incorrect, but no biggie.)

As expected, it’s a bit of a mixed bag. Not just in terms of my own personal ratings, but some of the stories veer more into the gothic and horror genres rather than weird fiction. Some were even (in my mind) regular ghost stories. Which was a bit disappointing for me. That doesn’t mean the non-weird stories were bad or anything. Just not what I expected and not what I wanted to read.

The most well-known authors here are probably Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Edith Wharton and “Mother of Dark Fantasy” Francis Stevens (pseudonym for Gertrude Barrows Bennett). Most of the other authors were unknown to me.

What’s great about reading an anthology like this, is you get a sense for what female authors of the supernatural cared about and wanted to focus on in this time period (social issues seem to be the prevailing theme), and it’s an excellent way of surveying the field by sampling works and discover some more obscure female writers. Or if you’re unfamiliar with all of them, explore a whole new realm of supernatural fiction!

I’d say that I’m happy overall to have read this. I enjoyed reading even the stories I didn’t like, for the reasons I just mentioned. Their writing styles vary a lot, and it’s fun to see their different approaches to the supernatural and narrative structure and world views and all of that. If you enjoy supernatural literature from this time period, you’d probably find it’s well worth your time.

---------------------------------

In the introduction, Edmundson writes that “Women’s early supernatural fiction was largely centered around the figure of the ghost” (vii), starting with Sarah Malthus’s pamphlet King William’s Ghost in 1704 and that “many of these tales are traditional ghost stories and feature spirits who return from the dead to right some wrong done to them.” (viii) She points out that later on, “as the nineteenth century progressed, women began to experiment with other forms of supernatural fiction” (viii), which then takes a darker, more experimental turn in the late Victorian period and into the twentieth century. Her project, therefore, is a collection that “surveys some of these experimental forms to show how these authors moved beyond the traditional ghost story and into areas of Weird fiction and dark fantasy”. (viii)

In addition, “the descriptions of the supernatural entities in these stories are truly remarkable and should be placed among the most memorable creatures Weird fiction has to offer". (xvii)

Sounds great, right? The only issue here, though, is Edmundson’s understanding of Weird fiction, which is supposed to the core aspect that ties each story together. What that understanding was, is unclear to me. When she tries to define it in the introduction, she aptly quotes Lovecraft, Mary Butt, The VanderMeers, Roger Luckhurst, James Machin and Elizabeth Bowen, but seems to conclude that it’s either hard to define, “as much a sensation as it is a mode of writing”, a ghost story that has adapted well, somehow, or that “supernatural fiction and the Weird entwine”, whatever that means.

Defining Weird fiction is hard, I agree, but she fails to make any examples of authors and stories and abandons the issue altogether with these vague outlines and general statements. That’s probably why the stories are so inconsistent.

In any case, the rest of the introduction is great. She provides a quick historical survey and discusses some of the core issues. I also liked how she talks about each story and the biographical notes, bibliographical details and further reading section.

I prefer having commentaries and bylines (?) either before or after each story, though. If I read them at the beginning of the book, like here, I tend to forget any relevant information and must go back and forth as I read my way through the anthology. But it's a minor issue. Some anthologies have very little to no information about the stories and authors, so Edmundson has given me what I needed.

Editorial work - ★★★★

Here are my ratings and a review of each story:

Louisa Baldwin - The Weird of the Walfords (1889) ★★★★

An outstanding story about a 300 year old cursed bed. Excellent writing. I could tell already by that first page that Baldwin understands how to write a short story. It felt so good; every word had a purpose, every element is introduced at the right time. She kept my attention from start to finish.

Unfortunately, the unexplained supernatural element was very passive. This bed, which might be haunted or might itself be an evil entity, is supposedly responsible for a lot of deaths in the family line. Baldwin paints a believable and unsettling picture of it as something to be feared, emphasized by the family history and the main character Humphrey's obsession and determination to destroy it. The stage was set for some disturbing scenes - a direct, more tormenting or visceral confrontation.

But Baldwin leans more into the gothic sentiment: a sense of gloom and apprehension rather than shock etc. (I'm thinking of Radcliffe's distinction between terror and horror here), but the story lacked a clear sense of weirdness (Lovecraft's "certain atmosphere of breathless and unexplainable dread" of unknown forces and all that jazz.) If only the weird element was more pronounced and menacing. If only Baldwin had made up her mind about the supernatural element (cursed object/haunted house/demonic entity/superstition?), it would make for a more convincing tale.

That criticism only amounts to one star, though, so it's still minor compared to all the things I did appreciate.

It was a bed with a history to me so unspeakably melancholy that I had resolved when I was my own master I would destroy the gloomy structure, and rid me of the nightmare-like feeling with which the sight of it never failed to inspire me. (3)

Mary Cholmondeley - Let Loose (1890) - ★★

A male architect, who studies English frescoes, finds a fifty-year-old unfinished sketch of a frescoed east wall in a crypt in Yorkshire and is determined to travel there to finish it for his paper. Once there, he needs to request the keys to the crypt by a nervous clergyman. Over the course of several days, the architect finishes his work but discovers that he has opened the door to something deadly.

I guess.

This story fails in most aspects for me. It’s told using a pointless frame narrative, the story lacks essential weird elements – one of which is atmosphere. And the supernatural element is introduced too late, and once it is, the ending becomes way too predictable. It completely lacked suspense.

Also, animal cruelty.

I felt sorry for the general grief that the little creature’s death seemed to arouse, and the uncontrolled wailing of the poor mother took my appetite away. (34)

Charlotte Perkins Gilman - The Giant Wistaria (1891) - ★★★

This isn’t weird fiction either, but rather a ghost story about a group of people renting an old house for fun one summer. Something tragic happened in the house long ago, and during their first night, some of them experience something disturbing that’s connected to that tragedy.

The first part of the story is a scene from before the tragedy occurs, and the dialogue between these people was hard to understand. I didn’t connect the dots from the past and the future on my first read, and I still don’t quite understand what really happened. You need to pay close attention to what everyone says and experience, and while I think the implications were indeed horrifying, I think I would’ve liked it more had things been expressed more clearly or if the story had been a little longer, with more ghostly visions or encounters to give me more time to process their experiences and understand what happened.

A huge wistaria vine covered the whole front of the house. the trunk, it was too large to call a stem, rose at the corner of the porch by the high steps, and had once climbed its pillars; but now the pillars were wrenched from their places and held rigid and helpless by the tightly wound and knotted arms (48)

Edith Nesbit - The Shadow (1910) - ★★★

I don’t know what to make of this. I think it’s a haunted house story featuring a strange shadow. I didn’t quite get it the first time, and I’m not sure I got it the second time either. It’s a challenging, yet uncanny read. I think not getting the story and the nature of the relationships between the people involved just added to the mystery and the strangeness, but it’s a bit too vague for me.

(…) but there’s a sort of feeling: I can’t describe it – I’ve seen nothing and I’ve heard nothing, but I’ve been so near to seeing and hearing, just near, that’s all. And something follows me about – only when I turn round, there’s never anything, only my shadow. And I always feel that I shall see the thing next minute – but I never do – not quite – it’s always just not visible. (61)

Edith Wharton – Kerfol (1916) - ★★★★

This is one the most memorable gothic ghost short stories I’ve ever read. I know I tend to comment on animal cruelty, and normally I immediately deduct one star for that reason alone if an author includes it. But this is how and why you’d include such a thing: You make the cruelty an integral, purposeful part of the narrative and of a character’s development. You don’t include it just for the sake of it or for the shock factor, but to fill a character with anger and sorrow and make them act upon it, do something to honor the animal or avenge it. And to fill the reader with empathy for them, so that we’re deeply emotionally invested in a satisfying conclusion.

That’s what Wharton succeeded in doing. For the most part. The only thing I didn’t like was lack of resolve in the main character.

The suggestion of witchcraft was revived, and the opposing lawyers hurled tomes of necromancy at each other. (93)

Francis Stevens – Unseen – Unfeared (1919) - ★★★★

Finally, some proper Weird fiction! My favorite so far. Very Lovecraftian. Loved it! Let me just say: beings from another dimension. Oooh.

Dan, the moderator of the group “Weird Fiction” correctly points out, though, that her writing style is mediocre, and that a good, elevated writing style is an important aspect of Weird fiction. Dave J. thought her writing was uninspired. I have to agree, and that’s why I rate it four stars instead of five. I still loved it, though, and would happily read it again.

I need to read more of this author, by the way. Currently have her collection The Heads of Cerberus and Other Stories on my TBR. Looking forward to reading it someday.

But the room – the whole room was alive with other creatures than that. Everywhere I looked they were – centipidish things, with yard-long bodies, detestable, furry spiders that lurked in shadows, and sausage-shaped translucent horrors that moved – and floated through the air. They dived here and there between me and the light, and I could see its brighter greenness through their greenish bodies. (106)

Elinor Mordaunt - Hodge (1921) ★★★★★

A pair of siblings, a boy and a girl, discovers a strange land and a creature/man from a completely different time period. They have a hard time trying to communicate with each other, and the inevitable conflict between them is engaging and unpredictable. I think it’s well-written, carefully structured and explores themes like childhood, coming-of-age, friendship, instinct and urges. She seems to try to discuss where we draw the line between the primitive and the civilized. I agree with Dan here that it feels original. Especially of its time. Kudos!

The creature’s heavy shoulders were rounded, its head thrust forward. Silhouetted against the sea and sky, white in contrast to its darkness, it had the aloofness of incredible age; drawn apart, almost sanctified by its immeasurable remoteness, its detachment from all that meant life to the men and women of the twentieth century: the web of fancied necessities, trivial possessions, absorptions. (131)

May Sinclair - Where Their Fire Is Not Quenched (1922) - ★★★

17 year-old Harriott Leigh loses her first true love to a ship engine malfunction and is heartbroken. The rest of the story is a kind of biographical exploration of her romantic endeavors; a sorrowful, but somewhat disorienting read diving deep into the fear of commitment. Dan makes a good point when he says:

“It's a cautionary tale against the dangers of settling. But it's strength is the realistic way it portrays the consequences. Even though the actual story leaves reality, the point couldn't be more real and more horrifying. I thought perhaps there could be nothing more tragic than unrequited love, but Sinclair makes the point there might be. Namely: the wasted life."

He loves the story a lot and makes his case, which I think is worth reading:

"This story is over 100 years ahead of its time. It's weird fiction the way the best modern authors are only now starting to write it. The beginning of the story is set firmly in the reality of our world and it progresses like that for a long time. At an unpredictable time in the story unreal developments few modern, non-speculative, authors would dare venture begin to intrude on the story. By the end we know we're firmly in the realm of weird fiction, a speculative fiction genre. This story has that, but it goes even further in a way today's modern weird fiction writers need to take notes on. The weird isn't brought in for sensational effect, though that is present. It's a feature in order for the story to make its point, and usually in such a way as to dramatically increase a story's horror. Sinclair nails it in this story to a degree that just leaves me in awe."

I think he’s right, but I didn’t enjoy it as much as he did. I thought it was a bit too drawn-out for my tastes, but I appreciate it for what it is. Maybe I’ll like it more if I read it a second time.

They were being drawn towards each other across the room, moving slowly, like figures in some monstrous and appalling dance, their heads thrown back over their shoulders, their faces turned from the horrible approach. Their arms rose slowly, heavy with intolerable reluctance; they stretched them out towards each other, aching, as if they held up an overpowering weight. Their feet dragged and were drawn. Suddenly her knees sank under her; she shut her eyes; all her being went down before him in darkness and terror. (164)

Margery Lawrence - The Haunted Saucepan (1922) - ★★★

I remember now that one, a little saucepan, had its lid not quite on – not fitted on levelly, I mean – and it had the oddest look for a moment, just as if it had cocked up its lid to take a sly look at me! (171)

Eleanor Scott - The Twelve Apostles (1929) - ★★★

Mr. Matthews wants to buy a place with a ghost. He sees a drawing of a man, and Mr. Sharpe keeps closing and locking a door to one specific room, even though Mr. Matthews tells him to keep it open. There’s a mystery in there, and maybe some treasure worth hunting for.
The story is weird alright, but I didn’t find it convincing, and the backstory was a bit too intricate. But I liked the weirdness and the treasure hunt!

Mr Matthews was not an imaginative man; but somehow, standing there in the dim passage, the melancholy rain pattering faintly outside, he could enter into the mind of the long-dead priest, fanatical with his dreadful enthusiasms, his mad, soul-destroying experiments, renouncing a happiness in this world or a possible next in exchange for that power which it is unlawful to possess. (205-206)

(review continues in the comment section...)

[Zac Hawkins · Rating 3 out of 5]

As is the case with oh so many curated anthologies covering such a broad mode or genre, the quality is highly inconsistent. Oddly the highlight for me was Edith Whartons 'Kerfol', an incredibly atmospheric haunting from the author of some truly dire high society tomes I really did not like. Will have to read more of Whartons ghost fables.

[Birch Grove · Rating 3 out of 5]

There's a strong moralising streak to this anthology, and it especially comes out in the story by Francis Stevens: Unseen – Unfeared. It’s presented as a sort of anti-Lovecraft tale – but published before Lovecraft.

The story goes like this: a man smokes an evil cigar, and suddenly finds the poor non-Anglo immigrants to New York to be off-putting and malicious-looking. The influence of this cigar also takes him to a dingy lab where a scientist puts a sheet of plant material over a lamp and exposes the protagonist to strange unseen creatures of the world, crawling about like starfish etc. The protagonist is horrified and passes out. Then his friend finds him and together they destroy the plant-material-sheet, so nobody can see those horrors again. And the main character goes out into the street, and the people around him don’t look so evil anymore, and he walks off, to live happily ever after – presumably.

The editor of the anthology presented this as a great story where morality is upheld and racism is shown for what it is: an evil disease. Isn’t it wonderful that the main character turns away from the horrifying hidden knowledge? But the thing is: the fact that Lovecraft’s protagonists don’t turn away and don’t walk off unscathed is precisely what makes his stories compelling; feel-good horror with a nice little moral at the end is just a disappointment for the reader.

Is ‘Women: The Tedious Moralisers of Horror’ really the optimal anthology to release?

[Raj · Rating 3 out of 5]

I picked this anthology up mostly off the back of the idea of stories from unappreciated women. I didn't think too hard on the kind of stories, or really what "weird" fiction is. And what it is is darker and more horror-tinged than I usually like. Many of the stories definitely descend into the sort of creepy, psychological horror that I really feel uncomfortable with. These include Let Loose by Mary Cholmondeley, about an architect who delves into a country church crypt and lets something out; Kerfol by Edith Wharton, about a young woman and the lengths to which her husband went to keep her isolated; and particularly Where Their Fire is not Quenched about a woman who has an affair and is doomed to spend eternity repeating it.

These are all great examples of the genre, and I tip my hat to the editor for finding all these stories and airing these examples of women writing in what could often be considered purely a man's world, but the genre isn't one that I particularly enjoy, even if I appreciated the form of the the stories. Of all the collection, I think The Haunted Saucepan by Margery Lawrence is probably the one I enjoyed the most. I liked the way it took an everyday object and made it scary, but also the scientific way that the protagonist and his friend went about deducing the cause of the mischief.

So an interesting collection, and certainly of note, but not one for me, personally.

[Liam Guilar · Rating 4 out of 5]

I enjoyed these as stories. I read a lot of this genre, from this period, and if you like this genre, from this period, then these stories are worth reading.
I think the problem with some of them lies with the genre. It's apparently easy for a writer to create suspense or atmosphere, but it takes genius to write an ending that delivers. Too often they trail off. But this is a characteristic of any collection of such stories.
Would these stories stand comparison with James or Le Fanu at their best? Probably not. On the other hand, most writers wouldn't regardless of their gender.
The most interesting aspect of this collection is trying to imagine them in a collection of 'Strange stories' 1890-1940 and wondering if the biology of the writer would be obvious. I don't think it would be.
These stories were written to entertain. And they do.

[Jonathan Oliver · Rating 4 out of 5]

An excellent collection showing how women writers were involved in the development of modern weird literature. Full of delights and surprises.

[Jackie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Short story collections are often a mixed bag and this was the case for me here too. My favourites were “The Giant Wisteria” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, “The Shadow” by E. Nesbit, and “There Their Fire Is Not Quenched” by May Sinclair.

[Dan · Rating 4 out of 5]

This anthology has a surprising title. When did weird fiction become so marketable that anthologies that don't even contain weird fiction would call themselves that in order to sell better? For most of the last 75 years most people did not know weird fiction was actually even a genre. Clearly something has recently changed. Maybe it's tied into Lovecraft's increasing fame this decade. I think it no accident his 1920s era is in the midst of this book's date range. That said, this anthology of stories, although entertaining in its own right, does not contain weird literature per se. A more honest title might have been Late Gothic Ghost Stories by Mostly Obscure Lady Authors. Maybe it was, and the editor changed it.

The Weird of the Walfords by Mrs. Alfred Baldwin [as by Louisa Baldwin] ★★★★1/2

The first story was outstanding. The protagonist, a young aristocrat just starting out in life, decides to destroy his family's historical bed because so many of his ancestors died in it. He didn't want to be the next, not even eventually. That decision has some interesting consequences later in his life after he marries and brings his wife back to the ancestral home. This is the first story I have ever read with a haunted bed. The writing was superb. Never a dull moment or wasted word.

In her preface to the story, Edmundson notes how the protagonist tried to escape his personal history, his heritage, yet ultimately failed. If we look for a moral to this story, a theme, I think Edmundson nailed it.

Let Loose (1890) by Mary Cholmondeley ★★★

Not as strong as the first entry, the story is about a college man who wants to deliver a paper or lecture on frescos. There's one fresco he really needs to see that's located in a crypt. The crypt holder does not want to turn over the keys for fear of the academician's safety, but is prevailed upon so long and so hard that he eventually does. It turns out the keyholder had good reasons for his reluctance. This is a well enough told story to hold a reader's interest, but it has two problems. The first is that the subject matter is not really important enough to justify a story. At the end, this reader was left wondering, "That's it?" The main story is also told in a completely unnecessary frame. That means it's being related by another character in the short story. This is a fun trick when there's a point to using a frame. An author might be trying to juxtapose two stories for irony's sake, for example. But in this story, it had no point; or if it did, I missed it. The author just used a frame to use a frame. In fact, she even told it at one remove further. The narrator of the story is in turn telling the story to an imagined listener, not us the reader.

In her prefacing comments to the story, Edmundson notes that Cholmondeley was accused with this story of plagiarizing another work, one that was initially published ten years after this one. Quite the trick! The pedestrian writing in this one makes clear to me this story is all Cholmondeley's. The plot moves so slowly. Perhaps Cholmondeley's accuser would have had more of a point if he had accused her of being merely derivative or unoriginal instead. This story is a vampire story that adds nothing to that genre. It's okay, not a complete waste of time. There is some suspense, but it is still not one I would recommend even a vampire story fan go out of their way to acquire.

The Giant Wistaria by Charlotte Perkins Gilman ★★★★

This was a story I didn't expect much from. Other readings I've undertaken by the author have left me flat. The opening scene with its overly wrought, fake attempt at Elizabethan English was not a promising start. However, by the end of the story I was hooked. How would these overly flippant renters meet their just desserts? Gilman's story, while not weird fiction, is a ghost story instead. A group of four modern day vacationers rent an old house in order to have some fun. But soon the events that took place in this old house overtakes and robs these revelers by bringing them awareness of the horror-filled event that took place there. For me, much of the fun in this story is the way the past horror was revealed. It wasn't just a straight haunting or replaying of past events. The young protagonists were exposed to the horror in an interesting and creative manner.

Edmundson, from her academic feminist theory critic perspective, sees this tale as Gilman's criticism of patriarchal figures, the roots as stranglers by which to subjugate women. Perhaps. Or maybe the antagonists in this story just happened to be male. I still think Charlotte Perkins Gilman did a great job in terms of craft with the writing of this fun story. I would be open now to reading more by her.

The Shadow (1910) by Edith Nesbit ★★★★★

I found the story to be a challenging read at first, one in which I had to read every word carefully, and then to reread certain sections many times. Most of the story takes beneath the words printed on the page. It was told in what struck me as a highly feminine voice, in a circuitous fashion that was at first annoying. After a while though, I just went with the author's pace and method. The feminine tone and slow pace added a lot of verisimilitude to the narrator's voice, like I was really there listening to her. And there was something increasingly interesting going on here.

Basically, this story is a lovers' triangle. I really, really love these kinds of stories when they're done maturely and well, as this one is. The triangle's characters are Mabel, a man named only as "He" (which fact I don't know what to make of), and Miss Margaret Eastwich. Miss Eastwich is the triangle's loser, there always is one. She also happens to be the narrator of the story, the main person of our interest.

Mabel and the unnamed man were married and came to live in a haunted house. They came under attack from the spirits there and were getting the worse end of it. The man prevailed on Miss Eastwich to come to the couple's aid after they had been some years married. Miss Eastwich and Mabel were once close friends, so of course Miss Eastwich tried to rescue Mabel for the sake of their one-time friendship. The story is about Miss Eastwich's efforts. I offer no further spoilers. I'll only say that the ending was particularly well handled. I never saw the twist coming concerning the young woman who was the first to treat Miss Eastwich like a person instead of the girls' disciplinarian.

I really loved this story for its plot, characters, and method of relating all the events so subtly and discreetly. Under the surface what is related is actually an incredibly horrifying tale that pulled no punches. I would like to read more of Edith Nesbit's work.

Kerfol (1916) by Edith Wharton ★★★

Of all the authors in this anthology Edith Wharton is the one with which I am most familiar. I have been a fan of her work since I was in my early 20s and her Ethan Frome is my absolute favorite. I therefore expected to like this story more, but I found it took a long time to develop, had long meandering paragraphs that went nowhere fast, and that her introspective views of complicated characters was strangely missing here. All we have is a one-dimensional, controlling, abusive husband getting his just desserts.

The haunting dogs was the nicest touch in the story for me because it was the weirdest part. We seldom see pet dogs in ghost stories since the notion of animals having souls is debated, the usual answer being "no" in religious circles, and irrelevant otherwise. So, this was original as was the use Edith Wharton had for the dogs.

I found the woman to be too helpless for me to enjoy her as a character. I also did not appreciate her failure to own up to what she did in court, that it had to be extracted from her by a prosecutor I could not admire either. This story had some nice elements, but its overall vision never quite came together to amount to anything I could really appreciate or learn anything from. There were no worthwhile characters here.

Unseen - Unfeared (1919) by Francis Stevens ★★★

The protagonist is a man named Blaisdell, who relates the story entirely in the first person. I did this, then this happened to me, to which I responded thus, and so on, and then on some more. Blaisdell meets a male detective friend for lunch and they discuss a case of the detective's in general terms. Still, it's an okay story for what it is.

They depart and Blaisdell wanders along South Street. The author does not state so directly, but I am pretty sure they are in Philadelphia. The description given of South Street matches the one there I personally became familiar with even 70 or 80 years later: the ethnic restaurants and old houses with character, shops and art galleries and such.

Blaisdell is invited into a museum of the incredible, like a Ripley's Believe It of Not, to see freak shows and such. Of course, he gets more than he bargains for and with aids sees beings from another dimension doing what might be threatening things. The author never really bothers to specify.

Hodge (1921) by Elinor Mordaunt ★★★★

This one takes a long time to get going and requires considerable patience. It feels like the author started to write a novel, but found as she made her way into the writing that she didn't need all that space for her story. The first page is all setting, something you just don't do at that length when writing a short story. I do like that there are only three characters in this story.

We are introduced first to Rhoda, the female protagonist, her brother Hector, and finally to an unnamed historic man who becomes a somewhat sympathetic antagonist. The story at first is about the siblings finding a strange, lost land that was from prehistoric times. They lose their way to it, much to their bitter loss, only to find it again. Very exciting.

This strange, prehistoric land is populated with long extinct animals like sabretooth tigers and mammoths. Then they come across a prehistoric man, a little further back than Neanderthal it seems like. What does one do when encountering such a person? The author provides a good answer here, one that's very realistic.

At one point, we readers see a problem developing the characters take a while to understand, which was a lot of fun. How is this non-lover's triangle going to sort itself out? In some ways the answer is obvious; in others not.

I really liked this story a lot because it was so ultimately unpredictable. There's no other story like it. The author was not following any peers writing this and blazed her own trail. She also had a nice, elevated style. Reading this was really unusual and very original.

Where Their Fire Is Not Quenched (1922) May Sinclair ★★★★★

This may be the profoundest story about human nature and relationships I have ever read. The writing style was so elegant and the author's perspective so mature and nuanced. One seldom reads dialogue this realistic and deep, characters with such complicated and original motivations that are yet so thoroughly based on the way people actually are, not how we think they are. I expected to read this kind of interpersonal depth of characterization when I read Edith Wharton's story, not here!

The story is basically a biography of a woman's loves. When too young she meets the man who she believes will be perfect for her. They want to marry, but she is only sixteen. Her father opposes it. Okay, time to figure out how to get around this. But then tragedy strikes and he falls out of the picture. So realistic.

Her second romance takes place after her recovery, which was very well and realistically described. She misreads that whole situation though and lover #2 drops out of the picture. This happens. Something similar happened to me once, maybe twice. I totally get it.

Then along comes love #3 and she becomes the other woman to a man she frankly settles for, though she doesn't fully realize what she is doing. We the reader sure do. This settling has profound ramifications, not only on the rest of her life but on her afterlife too. I loved the implications and the author's point. It's a cautionary tale against the dangers of settling. But it's strength is the realistic way it portrays the consequences. Even though the actual story leaves reality, the point couldn't be more real and more horrifying. I thought perhaps there could be nothing more tragic than unrequited love, but Sinclair makes the point there might be. Namely: the wasted life. This woman died childless and never having truly known lasting love. and it's not really her fault. Or is it?

This story is over 100 years ahead of its time. It's weird fiction the way the best modern authors are only now starting to write it. The beginning of the story is set firmly in the reality of our world and it progresses like that for a long time. At an unpredictable time in the story unreal developments few modern, non-speculative, authors would dare venture begin to intrude on the story. By the end we know we're firmly in the realm of weird fiction, a speculative fiction genre. This story has that, but it goes even further in a way today's modern weird fiction writers need to take notes on. The weird isn't brought in for sensational effect, though that is present. It's a feature in order for the story to make its point, and usually in such a way as to dramatically increase a story's horror. Sinclair nails it in this story to a degree that just leaves me in awe.

The climax for me came on page 166. These two dead lovers find themselves in a Sartrean No Exit literal hell with only each other for company. "Oscar--how long will it last?" [He answers,] "I can't tell you. I don't know whether this is one moment of eternity, or the eternity of one moment." Wow! How does one write profundity like this so powerfully? Sadly, this is the last of the great stories in this anthology.

The Haunted Saucepan (1922) by Margery Lawrence ★★★

This is a rather pedestrian ghost story not really weird fiction. Frankly, the title gives the entire plot away. And that's not a strength. There needs to be more to the plot than the fact a saucepan is haunted because of its previous owner's actions, which is now causing predictable problems for its present owner.

The Twelve Apostles (1929) by Eleanor Scott ★★1/2

This is a story of an American who while on vacation wanted to rent an English house only if it had a ghost. He found one and, predictably, was soon contending with it. There was a treasure hunt involved, quotations from the Bible serving as clues, a horror unearthed, and so on. I don't consider this a particularly interesting ghost story, but those with greater patience than me for slow moving text, and more appreciation of the plot device of slightly off biblical quotes as clues to the finding of a treasure could like this more than me.

The Book (1930) by Margaret Irwin ★★★1/2

The story does not have much action, but is interesting, nevertheless. A man takes books down to read from a home library, but notices gaps in the second shelf. These gaps are caused by a mysterious and malevolent entity that gains sway over the protagonist's mind that persuades him to at first harm people, and then escalated to getting him to kill a dog and then ordering him to kill his daughter. I liked the suspense the story generated. Its only limitations were the relatively shallow characterizations and its lack of ultimate explanations. It's not enough for a presence to be trying to persuade the protagonist, we need to know why as well.

Couching at the Door (1932) by Dorothy Katleen Broster ★★1/2

An unremarkable story of a poet being haunted by a boa, or piece of fluff from it, due to certain indiscretions (unspecified) the author participated in when on a recent trip to Austria, or somewhere. The poet tries to get rid of the malevolent piece of fluff by diverting it upon some lowly illustrator. That works, but then doesn't work. The story is well enough written and is easily understood. But advance the field of literature the story does not.

With and Without Buttons (1938) by Mary Butts ★

Ending an anthology with this story is not the way to leave a reader with a lasting good impression. This story was nominated in 2014 for a retro Hugo award, but fell below the cutoff number of votes needed for it to be considered. I can see why it might have been nominated. Mary Butts was primarily a poet and makes good word choices always, including in this story. However, like a poet, many of the things written about here have self-referential meaning that can't be sussed out by an objective reader coming into the story cold a century later a continent's culture away, at least not by this reader.

Two women who might have supernatural powers want to play a practical joke on a man they don't particularly like for reasons never made clear to this reader. Frankly, I don't know what the prank was or if it succeeded. I'm not even sure if by the end of the story that was any longer the point. Bored with the nonsensical meandering, I skimmed the last half and regret having given the story even that much effort.

Mary Butts wrote one novel and two in-genre short stories during her lifetime, nothing more. This might have been her weakest. Dated 1932 in papers of Mary Butts at Yale University, as "typescript carbon, corrected", it was posthumously published in Last Stories (Brendin Publishing Company, 1938). In short, she was unable to get the story published during her lifetime, probably due to its flaws. It makes me wonder what the editor of our present anthology could have possibly seen in it. Did she just like the mildly pretty word choices?

Summing up this anthology, it had two truly outstanding and amazing (for me) short stories, only one complete stinker. That's really good.

[Sara M · Rating 3 out of 5]

Obviously very uneven: but I will have to check out Nesbit's ghost stories now, and some others. Several stories were annoyingly Victorian-didactic and therefore tedious, with an emphasis on the evils of decadent men being rightly punished by the supernatural - especially in this one story I found Edmundson's emancipatory extremely unconvincing. After "With and Without Buttons" you see immediately why Butts is now considered a modernist writer - there could almost be a checklist - but I found the tone of the narration annoying and heavy-handed in its quasi-missionary smugness whenever the belief in the occult was thematised (not very often, but often enough). Equally smug and exhausting is May Sinclair's short story, which would fare much better in an anthology of Moralising Fiction for the Betterment of Impressionable Youth of some sort. But Edith Nesbit, Edith Wharton and Mary Cholmondeley were spectacular and I will surely strive to read more of them in this genre in the future.

[Alexandra Pearson · Rating 4 out of 5]

A really well put together collections of short stories from the women often left out of horror anthologies. As with any collection, there are some that I liked more than others. Couching at the Door by DK Broster and The Haunted Saucepan were probably my favourites, while Where Their Fire Is Not Quenched by May Sinclair didn't quite do it for me. However, all the stories are well written and some are genuinely creepy. A must read for any horror connoisseur.

[Andrius · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm very happy that this anthology exists -- and its follow up, too, which I'll definitely be reading at some point. For me, there were a lot of unknown names here that I'm delighted to have now discovered (D. K. Broster, Margaret Irwin, Francis Stevens/Gertrude Barrows) and names known for other things that it was fun to see the gothic side of (Edith Wharton, Edith Nesbit), as well as writers I just hadn't got around to (Mary Butts, May Sinclair). In terms of finding new authors, this is brilliant. Melissa Edmundson sets out to highlight some of the female writers who contributed to the development of weird fiction/horror/dark fantasy/etc. but have been neglected compared to Machen, Lovecraft, Dunsany and the like, and she definitely succeeds there.

As far as the actual stories go, there are no outright bad stories in this collection (at least I don't think there are -- I read this a bit haphazardly over a pretty long time, and my memory of the first third/half of the book is a bit foggy). Not all of them were particularly interesting to me though, and some are pretty standard (but competent) supernatural stories, like 'The Weird of the Walfords' by Louisa Baldwin (a doomed family story) or Mary Cholmondeley's 'Let Loose' (what would now probably be considered a very Jamesian haunted crypt story, though really M. R. James would've been writing in Cholmondeley's mode as 'Let Loose' predates him -- either way, though, it's hard to be viscerally impressed by this type of story anymore, regardless of who got there first). I also didn't really care much for the lighter, borderline humorous tone of Margery Lawrence's 'The Haunted Saucepan', though I like the idea of the ghost being someone who is still alive (and this resonated with The Little Stranger , which I'd finished just before diving back into this book).

That said, there are some very good ones here too. My favourites were 'Unseen - Unfeared' by Francis Stevens (Gertrude Barrows), 'The Book' by Margaret Irwin, and 'With and Without Buttons' by Mary Butts. 'Unseen - Unfeared' is probably the weakest of these three due to its tendency to preach and overexplain, but it's also one of the weirdest (as opposed to simply gothic/ghostly) stories here. 'The Book' is a simple but very well done story of an ordinary person's ambition, with some memorably 'perverse' takes on writers like Austen, Dickens, and Charlotte Bronte -- which, interestingly, come from the corrupting influence of the titular haunted book but are also entirely correct. 'With and Without Buttons' stands head and shoulders above anything else in the anthology in terms of the writing. You can smell the modernism on Butts' twisty, slippery, occasionally occlusive sentences, which is normally not my thing, but it does combine exceptionally well with horror and ghost stories when it's not overdone (looking at you, Henry James), and Butts doesn't overdo it. Also, just look at this:

We went home through the orchard in the starlight and sat downstairs in the midsummer night between lit candles, inviting in all that composed it, night hunting cries and scents of things that grow and ripen, cooled in the star-flow. A world visible, but not in terms of colour. With every door and window open, the old house was no more than a frame, a set of screens to display night, midsummer, perfume, the threaded stillness, the stars strung together, their spears glancing, penetrating an earth breathing silently, a female power asleep.

I will say that I would've liked to see more scholarship here. Edmundson complains about the lack of studies done on these authors, but doesn't contribute much herself here -- her introduction is nice, but also mostly a rehash of other scholars combined with a mission statement. It's a shame as this is obviously her area of expertise. Were they going for accessibility? Kate Macdonald's notes are also very rudimentary (and kind of hit or miss even at that level). I get that this is an anthology rather than a study, but I feel like there could've been more done here.

Either way, I'm still very happy to have read this. I'll be looking more into some of these writers -- Butts, Stevens, and Irwin for sure, and possibly some of the others.

[Katie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Women’s Weird: Strange Stories by Women 1890–1940 is a fascinating idea, and I truly admire Melissa Edmundson’s work in bringing these nearly forgotten voices back into the light. It’s an important act of literary preservation—so much of women’s writing from this period has been overshadowed or lost, and her efforts to archive, contextualize, and celebrate them are invaluable. The introduction and the short biographical sketches were honestly my favourite parts; they offered insight and humanity to the names behind the stories, and I found myself far more moved by their real lives than by the fiction itself.

As for the stories, I wanted to love them—but most left me unmoved. None struck me as particularly eerie or suspenseful, and I never felt that creeping sense of atmosphere I expect from weird or ghostly fiction. I appreciated their historical and cultural significance more than I enjoyed them as tales.

Still, I’m glad I read it. It reminded me how easily women’s creative work can slip through the cracks of history, and how vital it is that we keep recovering and remembering them—even when their art doesn’t always thrill us.

[Lizixer · Rating 5 out of 5]

An excellent collection with full notes and biographical detail of weird stories by women in the 19th and early 20th century.

These stories concern frightening or even fatal events that can’t be explained by the normal laws of nature. Inanimate objects are impregnated with the malevolent or sometimes traumatised spirits of previous owners.

Everyday objects become objects of fear. The past breaks into the present often with catastrophic consequences as generational trauma refuses to die and the bright, wholly modern world suddenly becomes a place of unnatural happenings.

Often women are the victims of family violence or spousal abuse, sometimes they are the agents of their own downfall, occasionally the unwitting path for evil to enter the world. Themes range from the danger of meddling with the occult to unexplained dark shadows dogging a family.

I don’t think Handheld Press operate anymore which seems a shame because both of the books I’ve read by this publisher have been excellent with good selections, and excellent notes and analysis.

[Wyrd Witch · Rating 5 out of 5]

Frequent readers of the blog know my fondness to look back into older horror titles. As horror scholarship grows, we as horror fans become exceedingly lucky to see the archive paint a fuller picture of horror’s past. I especially carry a fondness for recovered classics written by women. Women’s Weird focuses particularly on women writers in Britain from 1890-1940. This narrow focus limits our writers behind racial and class lines, sure, but their inclusion is essential in our endless quest to capture the landscape of horror in the past.

Read the rest of the review here.

[Gabriela]

- Estatua: The Twelve Apostles (Eleanor Scott) - 3 estrellas: Me gustó que la típica historia de fantasmas esté dentro de una moderna y que sea un incentivo en vez de una desventaja para el nuevo morador. Los estereotipos del gringo y el hecho de que haya pistas, Biblia e imágenes católicas para personajes no católicos lo convierte en una historia de misterio y búsqueda del tesoro.

Leído para el reto "13 sustos lectores" del club "Clásico es leerte", consigna "estatua" (octubre 2025)

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

When you read these stories, you wonder why it’s the ones by the male authors that are so much better known. E Nesbitt’s story called The Shadow really freaked me out. I also liked With or Without Buttons, which involves a lighthearted trick that turns into a frightening episode in the narrator’s life.
I shall not look at The Railway Children in the same light now!

[Nick · Rating 4 out of 5]

A stellar collection of earlier unsettling stories from often-overlooked authors. Of particular enjoyment were The Giant Wisteria (Charlotte Perkins Gilman), The Book (Margaret Irwin), and The Twelve Apostles (Eleanor Scott). The usual 19th into 20th century prose contortions aside, it’s worth a read—especially when you’re in need of a little cathartic chill down the spine.

[Emily St. Amant]

So I kind of forget about this one on my kindle... I didn’t give it a star rating because there were several stories I loved and several I thought were super boring. Definitely recommend if you’re looking to check out some of the lesser known contributions of female writers.

[Mark Dickson · Rating 3 out of 5]

A really solid mix of stories here, some that worked better than others.

One story explores the idea of an afterlife where you relive all of the key moments of your life while being haunted by your worst decision. Another has a haunted saucepan.

[Lauryn · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is SUCH a good anthology! I really enjoyed reading more from some women I’ve read before and meeting lots of new writers! Some of these were genuinely spooky and I loved it

[Sem · Rating 3 out of 5]

At least now I know that I'm never going to read anything else by Mary Butts or Elinor Mordaunt. I can cross them off my list.

[Beka · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderful! Weird! And opened me to a whole world of new authors!

[Drew Wells · Rating 4 out of 5]

A little inconsistent but ultimately made for compelling and eerie reading.
I particularly enjoyed The Giant Wistaria, The Shadow and Kerfol.
I have already bought the follow up Women's Weird 2: More Strange Stories by Women, 1891 - 1937 and I'm excited to savour the new, macabre stories it includes.

[Giu Giu · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this collection. The way the stories are presented and the subject of them are very dear to me. They remind me of Edgar Allan Poe, one of my favour author. I will definitely read the volume 2

[Stanley Bad · Rating 5 out of 5]

I particularly loved The Haunted Saucepan.

[Chuck McKenzie · Rating 4 out of 5]

A deeply eerie anthology of vintage weird and macabre tales written by women. While some of these tales may not appeal to modern readers as anything other than a snapshot of vintage literature, there are a number of absolute crackers that are guaranteed to unsettle. For me, 'Let Loose' (Mary Cholmondeley), 'The Shadow' (E. Nesbit), 'Unseen - Unfeared' (Francis Stevens) and 'With And Without Buttons' (Mary Butts) were highlights. Highly recommended.

[Tom]

Most of these are fairly straightforward ghost stories (albeit with more of a feminist perspective than usual) rather than weird fiction, some more successful than others. I particularly enjoyed The Shadow by E Nesbitt and The Book by Margaret Irwin, the latter quite original and very effectively done.

[Alison · Rating 5 out of 5]

Loved this collection of stories which are all well written and offer a very entertaining spooky read. Hard to believe that these women writers have largely been ignored and or forgotten about for so long. Also refreshing to find a collection like this that is not, yet another, regurgitated selection of fiction by the usual suspects. Thanks Melissa Edmundson!