Review: Dolly

HILL, Susan, Dolly – A Ghost Story, Profile Books Ltd., London, 2013.

Octavo; paperback; 153pp. Minor wear. Very good to near fine.

Now this is more like it.

Having read a few of Susan Hill’s ghost stories by this stage, the M.R. James pastiche was starting to wear a little thin. In this novel, it’s the first time that I’ve had the sense that she’s moving beyond a text-book imitation of the Jamesian mode and has struck out to make the form truly her own. Let me be clear and state up front that I haven’t as yet read The Woman In Black (or seen the film), the story for which she is best known – I have decided to leave it until last, although, if it’s as good as everyone claims it is, I may just kick myself for having taken this option.

Dolly concerns two cousins, whose mothers hated each other intensely. Edward and Leonora are brought together one summer by their mothers’ elder sister after Edward’s parents die. Edward is a careful and thoughtful child, keen to make no mistakes, or trouble, while visiting his aunt; Leonora, on the other hand, is a spoilt brat, proud and determined to have her own way at all costs. The summer they spend together is highlighted by the Aunt’s attempt to make up for Leonora’s mother’s thoughtlessness by buying her the doll her mother always promises to buy her but never does. Unfortunately, the doll that is presented is not the dream doll that Leonora has concocted in her mind: she smashes it in fury and wins her Aunt’s instant enmity. Edward is left to gather the broken pieces and he buries the doll in the nearby churchyard.

Many years later the two are brought together by the terms of their Aunt’s will: they are older but their characters are even more firmly entrenched – Edward still sensitive and insightful; Leonora more spiteful and greedy. This is highlighted when the will is read and Edward gains all of his Aunt’s estate and Leonora is left only the ruined doll which she rejected – if she can find it. After all the screaming is over, Edward digs up the doll and, together, he and Leonora clean it off, only to discover that is has grown old under the earth, becoming a haggard baby-doll of evil aspect. Then the fun really starts.

This is no “Child’s Play” story; no murderous Chucky dolls go gunning for the main characters in the final act. Rather, the chills are more subtle. The doll becomes a harbinger of the doom that awaits the one who wreaks the physical and psychic damage upon it. The distorted features of the buried doll are a signifier for the cruel fate that befalls Leonora (and for which she is entirely the author). However, Edward has also had a hand in generating the animus of the doll and he too, suffers at the hands of Leonora’s petulance and pride.

Obviously, I’m trying to avoid spoilers here, but I don’t think I’m giving anything away by saying that the doll is the focus of the haunting in this tale. Like many people, I find old porcelain dolls incredibly creepy, so I deliberately waited for a bright sunny day to read this tale. Interestingly, the scariest thing about the story is the repeated motif of rustling paper, as the doll seems to move within its tissue shroud, inside its coffin-like cardboard box. Edward hears this sound at various points in his life and it always signals a fresh fright’s appearance.

In contrast to the other books of Hill’s which I’ve read, the writing style of this work is crisp and spare. Hill’s other books have often partaken of the Edwardian hue of James’s stories, sunk in their sleepy Oxbridge somnolence; this has a darker and a slicker feel. Set in the fen country of east England, there’s a freshness to this story which makes it stand alone as a work by Hill and not simply an homage. The only other works I’ve read which were set in the fens are, on the one hand, Prince Valiant’s early years and, on the other, Dorothy L. Sayers’s The Nine Tailors, (going from the ridiculous to the sublime) both of which gained added interest and lustre for also being established in this unusual setting. Dolly gets an extra note of creepiness for being set here too, and Hill lets it do a lot of the heavy lifting for her.

Ghost stories tend to tread a path of vengeance, in that the haunting entity usually arises out of a sense of thwarted ambition, or justice denied. In this tale there’s plenty of just desserts heaped on the guilty parties at the end which makes for a very satisfying conclusion. Some readers may be put off by the unanswered questions of “How?” and “Why?”, but in the best tradition of James and his ilk, Hill is not here to spell things out – however, her implications in this narrative are a lot clearer than have been the case in some of her earlier efforts.

This is a great read and I heartily recommend it. Four Tentacled Horrors from me.