‘The Woman in Black’ by Susan Hill

The Woman in Black is a tale that I have been familiar with for quite some time now, although I'm ashamed to admit that, up until fairly recently, I'd had absolutely no idea that it was originally a novel. Bad Alison. Very, very bad Alison. Bad.

Fortunately, I now know better. Reading Susan Hill's short but perfectly formed novel these past two days has had me feeling all nostalgic for the good old days of GCSE Drama at Whitley Bay High School. In February 2007, exactly five years ago now in fact, a big group of us lively sixteen-year-old students descended on the Theatre Royal in central Newcastle to see the stage adaptation of - wait for it - The Woman in Black, as it was apparently part of our GCSE course, though I cannot remember how or indeed why this was. Anyway, after being duly reprimanded for our incessant wrapper-rustling, we were all treated to a low-key but undeniably powerful rendering of Susan Hill's fabled ghost story including, of course, the obligatory ice cream-filled intermission. Though I myself did not scream during the play, the greater majority of the audience did, and it was always when the titular apparition made her terrifying presence known. Objectively speaking, it was damn scary stuff.

Alas, it is my intention to review the book itself, not the theatre adaptation. First published by Hamish Hamilton in October 1983, The Woman in Black is, in short, the story of a malevolent ghost, the woman in black, that haunts a remote English town, foreshadowing the death of young children. Arthur Kipps, a junior solicitor, is summoned to the small market town of Crythin Gifford to attend the funeral of Mrs Drablow, an elderly client who spent the better part of her life alone in the secluded and solitary Eel Marsh House. At Mrs Drablow's funeral Arthur spots the horrifying woman in black as she is watched in petrified silence by a group of schoolchildren. Over the course of several days Arthur endures a series of hauntings while going through the late Mrs Drablow's papers at Eel Marsh House, and as he sifts through the masses of legal documents left behind he begins to piece together the mystery surrounding the woman in black, himself learning of her malevolent and vengeful aims.

The Woman in Black is basically the perfect, old-fashioned ghost story. Although published in 1983, the novel has more in common with works of more than a hundred years previous. In fact, Susan Hill skilfully employs many of the conventions of the Victorian ghost story: the black-clad spectre, the large, empty old house, and the reluctance of humble village folk too tortured by the past to even speak of it. In the hands of a less skilled writer these elements could become contrived, but Hill, a master of her craft, combines them with aplomb and the result is a pitch-perfect, spine-chilling tale. There are times when The Woman in Black becomes almost unbearably atmospheric, particularly in the description of Eel Marsh House and its treacherous surrounds. When I set the book down I did so with great reluctance, and a heavy heart.

I thought it timely to read The Woman in Black now, on the eve of the release of Hammer's (three cheers for the return of Hammer Film Productions might I add, yay!) big screen adaptation of the novel, which I am terribly excited about. Starring the wonderful Daniel Radcliffe as Arthur Kipps in his first major post-Potter outing, and with a screenplay written by Jane Goldman, the film version of the much-loved ghost story looks set to be a hit both commercially and critically. Yes, the Daily Mail may have given it two stars out of five but, fuck, they're wrong about everything. If anything I am only more eager to see it now. All in all, Susan Hill's The Woman in Black is a spectacularly effective ghost story, the kind of good old-fashioned yarn that deserves to be read aloud, preferably with a flashlight pointed towards your chin. The tale of the woman in black will most certainly live on, on the page, stage and screen.

This piece was originally published on alisonlaurabell.tumblr.com in February 2012.