Some of the stories are intensely sad, such as \u2018If The Dead
Knew\u2019, in which a son realises his dead mother has heard
him tell others how he had secretly hated her:<\/p>\n
Something compelled him to turn round and look towards his
mother\u2019s chair.<\/p>\n
Then he saw her.<\/p>\n
She stood between him and the chair, straight and thin,
dressed in the clothes she had died in, the yellowish flannel
nightgown and bed jacket.<\/p>\n
The apparition maintained itself with difficulty. Already its
hair had grown indistinct, a cap of white mist. Its face was
an insubstantial framework for its mouth and eyes, and for the
tears that fell in two shining tracks between. It was less a
form than a visible emotion, an anguish.<\/p>\n
Hollyer stood and stared at it. Through the glasses of its
tears it gazed back at him with an intense, a terrible
reproach and sorrow.<\/p>\n
Then, slowly and stiffly, it began to recede from him, drawn
back and back, without any movement of its feet, in an
unearthly stillness, keeping up, to the last minute, its look
of indestructible reproach.<\/p>\n
And now it was a formless mass that drifted to the window and
hung there a second, and passed, shrinking like a breath on
the pane.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
But other tales are comic. In \u2018The Victim\u2019, a
ghostly visitation to a murderer isn’t full of reproach,
but thanks – for freeing the victim from his
debts.<\/p>\n
Sinclair\u2019s themes and imagery chime with many of the
ideas popularised by Freud. Earlier in ‘If the Dead
Knew’ the central character Hollyer is alarmed to
discover he wishes his mother would die:<\/p>\n
In the dark, secret places of the mind your thoughts ran
loose beyond your knowing: they burrowed under the walls
that shut off one self from another; they got through. It
was as if his secret self had broken
loose.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
You are the unconscious mind and I claim my five
pounds.<\/p>\n
Founding a literary tradition which would later include
Elizabeth Bowen and Margaret Atwood, Sinclair\u2019s uncanny
stories feature divided and dislocated selves, the dance of
impulse and resistance and the hidden tracks and traces of
memory and unspoken desire. And as Philippa
Martindale<\/a> explains, these stories are particularly
concerned with feminine and feminist experience:<\/p>\n
Sinclair\u2019s uncanny fiction is a subtle tool for
feminist expression, deconstructing patriarchal paradigms
of power… Her uncanny stories serve as a forum for
‘deviant’ subjects, addressing cultural issues
such as female desire, sexuality, and gender
roles.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
When I first read the collection, it reminded me of Daphne
du Maurier’s short stories<\/a>,\u00a0<\/b>and especially ‘The Apple Tree<\/a>‘ – in
part because most of the stories concern relationships
between men and women. Martindale highlights the
\u201csense of struggle for mastery between
Sinclair’s male and female protagonists, typically
played out in the sexual arena.\u201d One of the best
examples is \u2018Where Their Fire Is Not
Quenched\u2019, which deals at once with the fantastic
and the horrifically mundane as a former couple are
compelled to eternally repeat their loveless affair in a
shabby hotel room in the afterlife.<\/p>\n
On the subject of ghost stories, Sinclair herself
said:<\/p>\n
Ghosts have their own atmospheres and their own
reality, they also have their setting in the
everyday reality we know; the story-teller is
handling two realities at the same
time.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
For me it is this touching of two worlds which makes
ghost stories so thrilling. The idea of something
surfacing or reaching through, reaching back is
unsettling and deeply uncanny. Sinclair\u2019s
protagonists find themselves at points where the
membrane between the natural and supernatural, life
and afterlife, the conscious and unconscious has
grown thin.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n