Holiday Haunting
10 Years of Seth's Christmas Ghost Stories
Ten years ago, Biblioasis partnered with world-renowned cartoonist Seth to resurrect the Victorian tradition of telling ghostly tales during those dark winter nights around Christmas time. Beginning in 2015 with The Signalman, by (who else?) Charles Dickens, and expanding through the years with stories from writers such as Shirley Jackson, M. R. James, and Arthur Conan Doyle, Seth has brought to life a series of beautifully selected and illustrated, pocket-sized volumes that’s grown into a beloved staple of many readers’ holidays. One of the perks of acting as publicist for this series every year is seeing the excited responses from readers and reviewers alike when they learn the newest trio has arrived.
The development of each of these little books spans several months: they’re chosen by Seth early on in the year, and then the text is dug up from online archives or, in some cases, transcribed from the pages of decades-old collections, by myself. Two of this year’s stories, Podolo and Captain Dalgety Returns, required permission from the authors’ estates, both of which were glad to see their loved ones’ works continue to find new homes. It’s a joy to get the chance to read these old stories, and working on the series has given me a renewed appreciation for the many different variations of horror, and also introduced me to works I likely never would have heard of otherwise. Gradually, the evocative illustrations are completed and the books expertly typeset by our managing editor, Vanessa, so that by the time late summer comes to an end, three new stories have joined the Haunted Bookshelf.
In celebration of the Christmas Ghost Stories anniversary, I had the opportunity to interview Seth, whose love of Victorian ghost stories and thoughts about the series after ten years we’d like to share here today. So pour yourself a cup of hot chocolate, settle in, and enjoy a little spookiness with your holiday cheer.
Ashley Van Elswyk,
Editorial Assistant
A Biblioasis Interview with Seth
Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol often comes up in relation to your Christmas Ghost Stories series, and I think that’s what most people go to first when they think of a Christmas ghost story. But where did your own interest in Victorian ghost stories come from? Have you always been drawn to them, or did you learn about the surrounding traditions and develop a fascination from there?
Y’know, it took me a while to even make that Christmas Carol connection myself. That story is so familiar now that it takes a moment to step back and see it, in a fresh light, as a ghost story rather than simply a redemption story. But, let’s put that aside because, clearly, the Christmas Carol has very little to do with my interest in the Victorian ghost story. Looking back, I really owe this interest to Edward Gorey. When I was a young cartoonist, just finding my way in the early 1980s, I had discovered several great cartoonists who were super famous but brand new to me at the age of twenty-one (or so). One of these was Edward Gorey and I adored his work (still do). So naturally I was purchasing anything of his I could find (or afford). One thing that crossed my path was a collection of Victorian ghost stories he’d edited and illustrated called The Haunted Looking Glass. The copy I found was remaindered in Edwards Bookstore (a long defunct but wonderful Toronto bookstore) for about a dollar. I bought it for the drawings and didn’t read it for a couple of years, but when I did read it I was quite frightened by the stories. I’m not kidding here. I read them at bedtime and I found a couple of them downright scary. Like, don’t go to the bathroom alone scary! This seems funny to me now because I don’t find too many of these old ghost stories all that frightening any longer. My appreciation of them is more complex than that nowadays. That said, a good creepy image is always essential to a good ghost story.
But anyway, after reading that book (with such limited knowledge of the history of the genre) I just kind of figured . . . “well, that’s all the Victorian Ghost Stories there are.” I moved on. A few years later I found another anthology, and then another, and in no time I realized I was looking actively for classic ghost stories, and that is when I started to dig around and learn the history and get a real scope of how many of these stories were written, and why they were written—to be read at Christmas! Today I understand that the genre is huge. We will never run out of wonderful old ghost stories.
So you’ve read a great number of classic ghost stories now, from England to Canada and beyond. What elements make a story stand out enough for you to select it for your series in particular?
Well, the most boring prerequisite for the series is length. It can’t be too long and it can’t be too short. Surprisingly, this removes a great number of excellent ghost stories. I often read a story and while reading it, pray earnestly that it is not going to turn out to be too long or too short. But setting aside that prosaic element, I will say that the number one thing I am looking for is atmosphere. I like a ghost story to be both eerie and cozy. This may sound like an odd combination but I think it is the essential quality of a classic ghost story. Modern horror tends to be more visceral. Often trying to be uncomfortable—or even aiming for the repugnant. It goes for the guts. I’m more tender-hearted, even a bit squeamish. I like the kind of story that merely sends a chill up the neck or even just elicits a feeling of immortal melancholy. The classic ghost story is related, somewhat, to the classic era of detective stories (think Agatha Christie). Those stories are not hard crime cases. They are not hard-hitting police procedurals. They are cozy crimes set in comfortable upper middle class dining rooms. There is some cross over with the old classic ghost stories. They are meant to unsettle . . . but not so much as to make you feel ill. I am generalizing here, I can immediately think of exceptions, E. F. Benson’s grosser tales for example, but for the most part what you are reading in a classic ghost story is an extension of the gothic tales of a century earlier. Stories about dark corridors and empty moors. Stories about dusty secret histories found in dusty libraries. Even in the more modern of these kinds of tales you will find that the locations may have changed (a country estate house might become a Canadian farm house) but the dark hallways and the fleeting figure are still there. At least in the stories I like and choose for the series.
Is there a story, or even a particular writer, you’ve really wanted to select for the series but haven’t been able to or had a chance yet? Perhaps one a little too recent, or too long, as you’ve mentioned?
There are dozens of stories I have x-ed off the list for those reasons (and others). Sometimes it’s a heartbreak. There was such a one by H. Russell Wakefield called “Blind Man’s Buff” that I found really chilling and perfect for the series . . . but far too short. Just a few pages. Recently there was a story by Edith Nesbit (if memory serves) that I liked quite a bit—very weird and moody—but it had some rather dated race-related writing in it, and while I am not about censoring the past, I decided to pass on it. This brings up a point. Should the past be cleaned up or suppressed when its values do not meet our current values? And the answer is obviously no. So, how do I square passing up this story? The answer is surprisingly easy. If I were doing a multi story volume I would have included it without much worry. However, when you select a story to stand alone in a single volume, you are placing a stronger focus on that story, and while not exactly giving these dated qualities a stamp-of-approval you are putting them out there with very little context and giving it centre stage . . . and that that gives me a little pause. To be honest, I wouldn’t have lost much sleep selecting this story—it was a minor quibble over a single reference to a dated bias—just enough to make you cringe—but not enough to make you put the book down as irredeemable. Still, for this format—why not simply pick a work that causes no such distress? I may still use one of her stories. “Man Sized in Marble” is an excellent ghost story.
Another reason for not picking something is availability. I really wanted a story by Robert Aickmann but I don’t think (again, if memory serves) a deal could be worked out with the estate. Bummer. Another criteria, they must be supernatural! Often, when reading a story I will be thinking, “here is a winner,” and then at the very end it turns out to be a Scooby-Doo (not a real ghost). What a let down. Story cancelled.
Finally, not just supernatural—but a ghost (or ghost-ish). So, no vampires, no werewolves, no mummies etc. !!!
Were the books always intended to be partially illustrated the way they are, or, given your extensive work in comics and graphic novels, did you ever consider fully illustrating the short stories at any point?
I never considered fully illustrating these books like a graphic novel. Not because it wouldn’t work (it certainly could) but mostly because of two simple reasons. One—I don’t want that much of myself front and centre in these books. I want the stories to live inside their own reality. In other words, my own style would get in the way for the reader who is imagining things themselves when they read it. The way it was meant to be. This is essentially why I try never to draw any of the characters from the stories and, if possible, I only hint at the ghost itself. I think these elements should be supplied by the reader’s imagination. As the series has gone along I have tried, more and more, to simply supply decorative drawings of the locations of the events in the story. And little else. The second reason, two—drawing a comic version of anything is very laborious and takes a lot of time and effort. Instead of three little ghost books each year you’d end up with one every four years (if you are drawing comics at my pace!). It just isn’t realistic for me. Ultimately, even setting aside the time concerns I think these little books work best when they are minimally decorated. I don’t want the drawings to intrude—I try to not even draw events from the story—I only wish to stimulate the imagination—not supersede it.
Could you talk a little more about your illustrative process? For example, what goes into deciding which scenes to illustrate, or how you choose which elements or settings are the best fit for one of the iconic covers?
It’s pretty straight-forward at this point. In the earliest volumes of the series I struggled a little more with what to draw. Mostly because I was trying, for a few books, to illustrate the story. I don’t do that any longer. As I mentioned before—I'm only setting the stage for the ghost tale now. So, when I read the story I list the places the story occurs. If there is more than one location, I try to draw them all. Ideally, you have four spreads, each with a different place that shows up in the story. Sometimes that's not possible because the setting is more limited so I’ll have to improvise a bit. Maybe an exterior shot and an interior shot and then a couple of evocative images—say an important detail—like a window the character peers out of. Something. Anything but simply illustrating an event in the story. The key thing is, while reading the story, I try to pick up on a few evocative images but nothing that is crucial. Mostly landscapes. Occasionally objects. Never the main characters. Almost never the ghost (though sometimes you can’t avoid drawing the ghost!). With the landscapes I try to keep them mundane . . . but also to infuse them with a little bit of creepiness. Mostly this is done by giving a cloudy sky or by the mere emptiness of the scene.
For the covers I have a slightly different approach. Here I am less worried about being literal. The covers are often very literal. The Amethyst Cross has an amethyst cross on it. The House By the Poppy Field has a house by a poppy field. The Sundial shows a sundial. Now, obviously, they don’t all work out so nicely and simply. Sometimes you have to search for an image—for example Podolo has a kind of cat demon icon for the cover. It is entirely unliteral (no such image occurs in the story) but I am trying merely to capture a flavour or tone of the book and sometimes you have to root around to find something that grabs. This “grabbing,” of course, is the main graphic element of these little covers. They have to be iconic (because they are tiny books) and they have to be punchy so as to grab the eye and make you look at them. I try to keep them as brightly coloured and dead simple in design as possible. Like a matchbook cover. Bold, uncluttered, and clean. Also, and this is my own concern, I don’t want them to look like the covers of almost all ghost books from the past. In other words, I don’t want fussy drawings that suggest old steel engravings. Most ghost story illustration goes that route. So, for me, I lean into my own style but also make it as perfectly clean and crisp as I can. Doing, in my opinion, the opposite of what is expected of a ghost story image.
What’s surprised you the most about the series, as you celebrate its tenth anniversary? It’s been featured in publications from the Globe and Mail to the Washington Post, and every year we hear from people who have now taken to reading them at Christmas with their loved ones. Did you ever imagine it would grow to be as beloved a tradition (again!) as it is today?
As always, sitting here in my basement studio, I feel rather detached from whatever I do once it goes out into the world. Even reading reviews or reader’s opinions doesn’t connect somehow. I suspect this is because I am aware that the life of a book (or a series) is usually something the creator or editor (or whatever) never gets to know. What I mean by this is that most of the readers will have a private experience with the work and never put out a “report” that you can read. I know, for myself, that the books and films and comics and paintings I love most in the world are a private experience. I haven’t spent any time reviewing them on Goodreads or writing blogs about them. The authors (should they be living) would never know how much pleasure they have given me. So, I take it upon routine that I will never know who really felt what about anything I am working on. Not in the true sense. But, to try and answer your question—the thing that has surprised me the most is simply that ten years have gone by (in a flash) and that there are more than twenty of these little books now. That makes me happy. I like to see them piling up.
And finally, do you have a favorite ghost story out of all the ones you’ve selected for the series so far?
That’s a tricky question. I like different stories for different reasons.
I’m fond of The Toll House because I find it quite scary. I like The Apple Tree because it is uncomfortable. I like Morgan Trust because it is so charming. As you can see I could probably give a little reason for every selection of why they might be a favourite. I guess, if I had to pick I would select The Story of a Disappearance and an Appearance by M.R. James. Selecting James is a no-brainer since he is generally considered the ne plus ultra of ghost story writers . . . but I like this one so much because it is very odd and has, at its centre, an ugly dream that is very effective. One of those perfect stories that works best in the mind of the reader and would probably fail as a movie because you’d ruin it by nailing the imagery down too clearly. It’s creepy.
Subscriptions update
A late arrival to the subscription box offerings is here: the inaugural Choose-Your-Own Club! For the reader who’s firmly decisive, can’t be constrained to one genre, and doesn’t need any more surprises. Pick any five Biblioasis titles you want from our 2025 list—for yourself, or as a gift for a loved one.
20 Stores for 20 Years: Mac’s Backs-Books on Coventry
A book lover's dream, Mac’s Backs-Books on Coventry is located in Cleveland where they boast three floors of new and used books. They are truly a community book store, and offer a free meeting space to local organizations.
Dan on Mac’s Backs-Books on Coventry: “Though Cleveland is only a few hours from Windsor, I’ve only been a couple of times, and on neither occasion had the chance to hit a bookstore, Mac’s Backs or otherwise. But if I am to judge a bookstore by the quality of its booksellers—as we should: bookstores are only as good as the booksellers who work in them—then Mac’s Backs-Books on Coventry must be in the top ranks. Our main contact there has always been Grace Harper, who is a super-reader, ranging widely across almost every conceivable genre, and writes with the insight of the most generous readers and critics. Last year, she made the trip to Windsor to see our own store; we’ll soon have to return the favour!”
Why Grace Harper thinks A Ghost in the Throat deserves a spot on your TBR list: “This is a female text.” This declaration is stated and restated throughout Doirann Ní Ghríofa’s fierce treatise. The focus is a poem by eighteenth-century Irish noblewoman Eibhlín Dubh Ní Chonaill, who, on discovering that her husband had been murdered, drank handfuls of his blood, then wrote an epic lament about him. Part memoir, part historical fiction, part literary criticism, the book relates Ní Ghríofa’s obsessive quest to find out about this remarkable woman. Between changing diapers, nursing, cooking, and laundry, she researches, translates, and writes. Little is known of Ní Chonaill’s life, so Ní Ghríofa is left to imagine, to dream, to speculate, and to invent her character. In the process, she finds a kindred spirit, one whose pain flows like her own mother’s milk. The poem, a banshee’s wail of anger and deep sorrow, is printed in its entirety. This achingly personal book will stay with the reader long after the last page is turned.”
In good publicity news:
The Notebook by Roland Allen makes the New Yorker’s list of the Best Books of 2024!
Old Romantics by Maggie Armstrong was featured in the Irish Independent: “A dazzling snapshot of Dublin in the early 21st century, full of wry social observation . . . it will appeal to anyone who likes clever, modern, writing about womanhood.”
Seth’s Christmas Ghost Stories 2024 were reviewed in Cemetery Dance: “Tales of dread that will raise goosebumps on your arms faster than the coldest winter wind.”
Crosses in the Sky by Mark Bourrie was featured in the Toronto Star: “Canada’s greatest historian has done it for a third time . . . A triumph.”
Sorry About the Fire by Colleen Coco Collins was included in the California Review of Books’ “31 Outstanding Poetry Books from 2024”: “[A] manically creative world.”
It would be great to see the first 10 years collected into a Little Big Book-type anthology. I look forward to Seth's selections every year.