Book reviews

The Ash-tree: the renovations leave a way in

M. R. James gives a country house fashionable improvements, a troublesome bedroom, and a past that the new owner cannot renovate out of existence.

Whimsical Woes editorial ·

The Ash-tree makes excellent use of a wealthy man's sleeping arrangements. Sir Richard Fell wants a bedroom away from passing servants, with a western view so the morning sun will leave him alone. These are quite reasonable preferences. They also lead him straight into an old family disaster. M. R. James lets the ordinary business of improving a house do the work that a more excitable story might hand to a forbidden spell.

The story, collected in Ghost Stories of an Antiquary in 1904, follows several generations at Castringham Hall. Its narrator begins by admitting how much he likes country houses: their libraries, pictures, parks, and possibilities for entertaining friends. That enthusiasm matters. The house is desirable before it becomes dangerous, and the voice describing it has an investment in keeping it desirable.

An improvement can conceal an opening

Sir Richard has travelled in Italy and returned with architectural ambitions. Stucco covers the old brick; classical ornaments and a small temple help announce his taste. Yet the part of the building near the great ash has largely escaped his alterations. A new appearance cannot guarantee a changed relationship between the house and its surroundings. The tree still stands close to the bedroom window. Its location is more consequential than the owner's decorative scheme.

The earlier family history includes Mrs. Mothersole's prosecution for witchcraft. Sir Matthew Fell supplies damaging testimony about her nocturnal visits to that same tree, and she is executed. James presents these events through a storyteller and purported old records. The layers of reporting give the accusation weight while keeping us dependent on what other people say they saw. This is fictional evidence, not an actual witch-trial archive.

After Sir Matthew's unexplained death, the vicar examines his drink and body, then searches a Bible for guidance. Material investigation and interpretation sit side by side. They produce details without producing safety. The household can possess an account of what happened and still fail to understand how its own spaces are involved.

Listen to the distance from the window

James is especially good at making a proposed explanation fail by inches. Sir Richard blames branches for the scratching that disturbed his sleep. The bishop points out that the nearest twigs cannot reach the glass in such still weather. Rats become the next suggestion. That little correction is more effective than another declaration that the place is cursed: it asks the reader to measure the gap, then leaves something unaccounted for inside it.

There is a useful distinction here between changing a room and controlling its access. Sir Richard can order the shutters opened, the air changed, and his furniture moved. He can promise that the tree will come down. None of those instructions automatically makes the present night safe. The household obeys quickly; whatever is troubling it operates on a different timetable.

The measured delivery will frustrate readers who want an uninterrupted chase. Old-fashioned documentary passages deliberately interrupt the action. The witchcraft framing is uncomfortable too: the supernatural aftermath can seem to reinforce the fears that enabled the execution. This is not a tidy story in which persecution is followed by a reassuring moral correction. Its cruelty remains harder to settle than its final physical mystery.

Read it for the way a view becomes a route, and a desirable room becomes a liability. Our Afterward review also considers the appeal of an old property; Oh, Whistle examines a smaller sleeping space with an unwelcome surplus. The Ash-tree brings the danger right up against the building. You can redecorate the inside beautifully and still misunderstand what is close enough to enter.

Questions from the crypt

Which version of The Ash-tree does this review cover?

It covers M. R. James's prose story in Ghost Stories of an Antiquary, the 1904 collection. The discussion follows the original English text linked below, rather than transferring details from a screen adaptation.

Does the ash tree represent a universal folklore rule?

The story includes a bishop reporting a belief about sleeping near ash trees, but his statement belongs to this fictional conversation. This review concerns how James positions one particular tree beside one particular room; it does not establish a belief shared by every community.

How graphic is The Ash-tree?

The story describes disturbing human deaths and animal suffering, with physical details that become more explicit near the end. Its opening pace is restrained, but that restraint should not be mistaken for an absence of bodily horror.

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