by guest contributor Jonathan Kearns in collaboration with Brooke Palmieri
Nor is the empire of the imagination less bounded in its own proper creations, than in those which were bestowed on it by the poor blind eyes of our ancestors. What has become of enchantresses with their palaces of crystal and dungeons of palpable darkness? What of fairies and their wands? What of witches and their familiars? and, last, what of ghosts, with beckoning hands and fleeting shapes, which quelled the soldier’s brave heart, and made the murderer disclose to the astonished noon the veiled work of midnight? These which were realities to our fore-fathers, in our wiser age ?
? Characterless are grated
To dusty nothing.
? Mary Shelley, “On Ghosts,” London Magazine, 1824
Literary canon in general, and the canon of weird or speculative fiction in particular, is haunted by half-remembered absences. We think we know the…
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