The Turn of the Screw

Horror and Romance

Book 12
谷月社
2
Free sample

The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but except the obvious remark that it was gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve in an old house, a strange tale should essentially be, I remember no comment uttered till somebody happened to say that it was the only case he had met in which such a visitation had fallen on a child. The case, I may mention, was that of an apparition in just such an old house as had gathered us for the occasion—an appearance, of a dreadful kind, to a little boy sleeping in the room with his mother and waking her up in the terror of it; waking her not to dissipate his dread and soothe him to sleep again, but to encounter also, herself, before she had succeeded in doing so, the same sight that had shaken him. It was this observation that drew from Douglas—not immediately, but later in the evening—a reply that had the interesting consequence to which I call attention. Someone else told a story not particularly effective, which I saw he was not following. This I took for a sign that he had himself something to produce and that we should only have to wait. We waited in fact till two nights later; but that same evening, before we scattered, he brought out what was in his mind.

"I quite agree—in regard to Griffin's ghost, or whatever it was—that its appearing first to the little boy, at so tender an age, adds a particular touch. But it's not the first occurrence of its charming kind that I know to have involved a child. If the child gives the effect another turn of the screw, what do you say to TWO children—?"

"We say, of course," somebody exclaimed, "that they give two turns! Also that we want to hear about them."

I can see Douglas there before the fire, to which he had got up to present his back, looking down at his interlocutor with his hands in his pockets. "Nobody but me, till now, has ever heard. It's quite too horrible." This, naturally, was declared by several voices to give the thing the utmost price, and our friend, with quiet art, prepared his triumph by turning his eyes over the rest of us and going on: "It's beyond everything. Nothing at all that I know touches it."...

 

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About the author

Henry James, OM (15 April 1843 – 28 February 1916) was an American writer who spent most of his writing career in Britain. He is regarded as one of the key figures of 19th-century literary realism. He was the son of Henry James, Sr. and the brother of philosopher and psychologist William James and diarist Alice James.

He is best known for a number of novels showing Americans encountering Europe and Europeans. His method of writing from a character's point of view allowed him to explore issues related to consciousness and perception, and his style in later works has been compared to impressionist painting. His imaginative use of point of view, interior monologue and unreliable narrators brought a new depth to narrative fiction.

James contributed significantly to literary criticism, particularly in his insistence that writers be allowed the greatest possible freedom in presenting their view of the world. James claimed that a text must first and foremost be realistic and contain a representation of life that is recognisable to its readers. Good novels, to James, show life in action and are, most importantly, interesting.

In addition to his voluminous works of fiction he published articles and books of travel, biography, autobiography, and criticism, and wrote plays. James alternated between America and Europe for the first twenty years of his life; eventually he settled in England, becoming a British subject in 1915, one year before his death. James was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1911, 1912, and 1916.

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Publisher
谷月社
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Published on
Oct 22, 2015
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Pages
100
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Language
English
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Genres
Fiction / Classics
Fiction / Fantasy / General
Fiction / Horror
Fiction / Literary
Fiction / Romance / General
Literary Collections / General
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 The Last Man is an apocalyptic science fiction novel by Mary Shelley, which was first published in 1826. The book tells of a future world that has been ravaged by a plague. The novel was harshly reviewed at the time, and was virtually unknown until a scholarly revival beginning in the 1960s. It is notable in part for its semi-biographical portraits of Romantic figures in Shelley's circle, particularly Shelley's late husband Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron.
....

The few remaining survivors decide to abandon England in search of an easier climate. On the eve of their departure to Dover, Lionel receives a letter from Lucy Martin, who was unable to join the exiles because of her mother's illness. Lionel and Idris travel through a snowstorm to assist Lucy, but Idris, weak from years of stress and maternal fears, dies along the way. Lionel and the Countess, who had shunned Idris and her family out of resentment towards Lionel, are reconciled at Idris' tomb. Lionel recovers Lucy (whose mother has died), and the party reaches Dover en route to France.

In France, Adrian discovers that the earlier emigrants have divided into factions, amongst them a fanatical religious sect led by a false messiah who claims that his followers will be saved from disease. Adrian unites most of the factions, but this latter group declares violent opposition to Adrian. Lionel sneaks into Paris, where the cult has settled, to try to rescue Juliet. She refuses to leave because the imposter has her baby, but she helps Lionel to escape. Later, when Juliet's baby sickens, Juliet discovers that the imposter has been hiding the effects of the plague from his followers. She is killed warning the other followers, after which the imposter commits suicide, and his followers return to the main body of exiles at Versailles.

The exiles travel towards Switzerland, hoping to spend the summer in a colder climate less favourable to the plague. By the time they reach Switzerland, however, all but four (Lionel, Adrian, Clara, and Evelyn) have died. The four spend a few relatively happy seasons at Switzerland, Milan, and Como before Evelyn dies of typhus. The survivors attempt to sail across the Adriatic Sea to Greece, but a sudden storm drowns Clara and Adrian. Lionel, the last man, swims to shore. The story ends in the year 2100.
 

HORACE WALPOLE was the youngest son of Sir Robert Walpole, the great statesman, who died Earl of Orford.

He was born in 1717, the year in which his father resigned office, remaining in opposition for almost three years before his return to a long tenure of power.

Horace Walpole was educated at Eton, where he formed a school friendship with Thomas Gray, who was but a few months older.

In 1739 Gray was travelling-companion with Walpole in France and Italy until they differed and parted; but the friendship was afterwards renewed, and remained firm to the end.

Horace Walpole went from Eton to King’s College, Cambridge, and entered Parliament in 1741, the year before his father’s final resignation and acceptance of an earldom.

His way of life was made easy to him.

As Usher of the Exchequer, Comptroller of the Pipe, and Clerk of the Estreats in the Exchequer, he received nearly two thousand a year for doing nothing, lived with his father, and amused himself.

Horace Walpole idled, and amused himself with the small life of the fashionable world to which he was proud of belonging, though he had a quick eye for its vanities.

He had social wit, and liked to put it to small uses.

But he was not an empty idler, and there were seasons when he could become a sharp judge of himself.

“I am sensible,” he wrote to his most intimate friend, “I am sensible of having more follies and weaknesses and fewer real good qualities than most men.

I sometimes reflect on this, though, I own, too seldom.

I always want to begin acting like a man, and a sensible one, which I think I might be if I would.”  He had deep home affections, and, under many polite affectations, plenty of good sense.

Horace Walpole’s father died in 1745.

The eldest son, who succeeded to the earldom, died in 1751, and left a son, George, who was for a time insane, and lived until 1791.

As George left no child, the title and estates passed to Horace Walpole, then seventy-four years old, and the only uncle who survived.

Horace Walpole thus became Earl of Orford, during the last six years of his life.

As to the title, he said that he felt himself being called names in his old age.

He died unmarried, in the year 1797, at the age of eighty.

He had turned his house at Strawberry Hill, by the Thames, near Twickenham, into a Gothic villa—eighteenth-century Gothic—and amused himself by spending freely upon its adornment with such things as were then fashionable as objects of taste.

But he delighted also in his flowers and his trellises of roses, and the quiet Thames.

When confined by gout to his London house in Arlington Street, flowers from Strawberry Hill and a bird were necessary consolations.

He set up also at Strawberry Hill a private printing press, at which he printed his friend Gray’s poems, also in 1758 his own “Catalogue of the Royal and Noble Authors of England,” and five volumes of “Anecdotes of Painting in England,” between 1762 and 1771.

Horace Walpole produced The Castle of Otranto in 1765, at the mature age of forty-eight.

It was suggested by a dream from which he said he waked one morning, and of which “all I could recover was, that I had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head like mine, filled with Gothic story), and that on the uppermost banister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armour.

In the evening I sat down and began to write, without knowing in the least what I intended to say or relate.”  So began the tale which professed to be translated by “William Marshal, gentleman, from the Italian of Onuphro Muralto, canon of the Church of St. Nicholas, at Otranto.”  It was written in two months.

Walpole’s friend Gray reported to him that at Cambridge the book made “some of them cry a little, and all in general afraid to go to bed o’ nights.”  The Castle of Otranto was, in its own way, an early sign of the reaction towards romance in the latter part of the last century. This gives it interest.

 

This broad hint attracted the notice of two Cavaliers, who occupied stools on the right hand, and were leaning their backs against the seventh column from the Pulpit. Both were young, and richly habited. Hearing this appeal to their politeness pronounced in a female voice, they interrupted their conversation to look at the speaker. She had thrown up her veil in order to take a clearer look round the Cathedral. Her hair was red, and She squinted. The Cavaliers turned round, and renewed their conversation.

'By all means,' replied the old Woman's companion; 'By all means, Leonella, let us return home immediately; The heat is excessive, and I am terrified at such a crowd.'

These words were pronounced in a tone of unexampled sweetness. The Cavaliers again broke off their discourse, but for this time they were not contented with looking up: Both started involuntarily from their seats, and turned themselves towards the Speaker.

The voice came from a female, the delicacy and elegance of whose figure inspired the Youths with the most lively curiosity to view the face to which it belonged. This satisfaction was denied them. Her features were hidden by a thick veil; But struggling through the crowd had deranged it sufficiently to discover a neck which for symmetry and beauty might have vied with the Medicean Venus. It was of the most dazzling whiteness, and received additional charms from being shaded by the tresses of her long fair hair, which descended in ringlets to her waist. Her figure was rather below than above the middle size: It was light and airy as that of an Hamadryad. Her bosom was carefully veiled. Her dress was white; it was fastened by a blue sash, and just permitted to peep out from under it a little foot of the most delicate proportions. A chaplet of large grains hung upon her arm, and her face was covered with a veil of thick black gauze. Such was the female, to whom the youngest of the Cavaliers now offered his seat, while the other thought it necessary to pay the same attention to her companion.

Adam Salton sauntered into the Empire Club, Sydney, and found awaiting him a letter from his grand-uncle.  He had first heard from the old gentleman less than a year before, when Richard Salton had claimed kinship, stating that he had been unable to write earlier, as he had found it very difficult to trace his grand-nephew’s address.  Adam was delighted and replied cordially; he had often heard his father speak of the older branch of the family with whom his people had long lost touch.  Some interesting correspondence had ensued.  Adam eagerly opened the letter which had only just arrived, and conveyed a cordial invitation to stop with his grand-uncle at Lesser Hill, for as long a time as he could spare.

“Indeed,” Richard Salton went on, “I am in hopes that you will make your permanent home here.  You see, my dear boy, you and I are all that remain of our race, and it is but fitting that you should succeed me when the time comes.  In this year of grace, 1860, I am close on eighty years of age, and though we have been a long-lived race, the span of life cannot be prolonged beyond reasonable bounds.  I am prepared to like you, and to make your home with me as happy as you could wish.  So do come at once on receipt of this, and find the welcome I am waiting to give you.  I send, in case such may make matters easy for you, a banker’s draft for £200.  Come soon, so that we may both of us enjoy many happy days together.  If you are able to give me the pleasure of seeing you, send me as soon as you can a letter telling me when to expect you.  Then when you arrive at Plymouth or Southampton or whatever port you are bound for, wait on board, and I will meet you at the earliest hour possible.”

Old Mr. Salton was delighted...

 The Last Man is an apocalyptic science fiction novel by Mary Shelley, which was first published in 1826. The book tells of a future world that has been ravaged by a plague. The novel was harshly reviewed at the time, and was virtually unknown until a scholarly revival beginning in the 1960s. It is notable in part for its semi-biographical portraits of Romantic figures in Shelley's circle, particularly Shelley's late husband Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron.
....

The few remaining survivors decide to abandon England in search of an easier climate. On the eve of their departure to Dover, Lionel receives a letter from Lucy Martin, who was unable to join the exiles because of her mother's illness. Lionel and Idris travel through a snowstorm to assist Lucy, but Idris, weak from years of stress and maternal fears, dies along the way. Lionel and the Countess, who had shunned Idris and her family out of resentment towards Lionel, are reconciled at Idris' tomb. Lionel recovers Lucy (whose mother has died), and the party reaches Dover en route to France.

In France, Adrian discovers that the earlier emigrants have divided into factions, amongst them a fanatical religious sect led by a false messiah who claims that his followers will be saved from disease. Adrian unites most of the factions, but this latter group declares violent opposition to Adrian. Lionel sneaks into Paris, where the cult has settled, to try to rescue Juliet. She refuses to leave because the imposter has her baby, but she helps Lionel to escape. Later, when Juliet's baby sickens, Juliet discovers that the imposter has been hiding the effects of the plague from his followers. She is killed warning the other followers, after which the imposter commits suicide, and his followers return to the main body of exiles at Versailles.

The exiles travel towards Switzerland, hoping to spend the summer in a colder climate less favourable to the plague. By the time they reach Switzerland, however, all but four (Lionel, Adrian, Clara, and Evelyn) have died. The four spend a few relatively happy seasons at Switzerland, Milan, and Como before Evelyn dies of typhus. The survivors attempt to sail across the Adriatic Sea to Greece, but a sudden storm drowns Clara and Adrian. Lionel, the last man, swims to shore. The story ends in the year 2100.
Regarded as one of the key figures of nineteenth century realism, Henry James has become famous for his novels and tales that explore the clash between the Old World Europeans and New World Americans. Using an innovative method of writing from a character’s point of view within a tale, James’ works explore issues related to consciousness and perception, producing his own inimitable ‘impressionist’ style. Delphi Classics is proud to present the complete works of this important master for the first time in publishing history, providing every novel, tale, non-fiction work and bonus material.  (Version 10)

* Concise introductions to the novels and other texts
* All 23 novels – including THE OTHER HOUSE, often missed out of collections
* The unfinished novels THE IVORY TOWER and THE SENSE OF THE PAST
* The novel THE WHOLE FAMILY, which James collaborated on with 11 other authors
* All 112 of the novellas (including THE ASPERN PAPERS and THE TURN OF THE SCREW) and short stories with BOTH chronological and alphabetical contents tables
* Includes James' rare plays
* The complete travel writing, with many rare works appearing in digital print for the first time
* Rare Non-Fiction collections and essays
* Features James' three autobiographies, available nowhere else - explore the Great Master's literary life!
* Special BONUS critical texts - discover how writers such as Conrad, Wells, Woolf and Stevenson viewed James’ works
* Many images relating to James and his work
* COMPLETELY UPDATED with revised texts and improvements
* Scholarly ordering of texts into chronological order and literary genres

The Novels
WATCH AND WARD
RODERICK HUDSON
THE AMERICAN
THE EUROPEANS
CONFIDENCE
WASHINGTON SQUARE
THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY
THE BOSTONIANS
THE PRINCESS CASAMASSIMA
THE REVERBERATOR
THE TRAGIC MUSE
THE OTHER HOUSE
THE SPOILS OF POYNTON
WHAT MAISIE KNEW
THE AWKWARD AGE
THE SACRED FOUNT
THE WINGS OF THE DOVE
THE AMBASSADORS
THE GOLDEN BOWL
THE OUTCRY
THE WHOLE FAMILY
THE IVORY TOWER
THE SENSE OF THE PAST

The Tales
LIST OF TALES IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
LIST OF TALES IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER

The Plays
PYRAMUS AND THISBE
STILL WATERS
A CHANGE OF HEART
DAISY MILLER
TENANTS
DISENGAGED
THE ALBUM
THE REPROBATE
GUY DOMVILLE
SUMMERSOFT
THE HIGH BID
THE OUTCRY

The Travel Writing
TRANSATLANTIC SKETCHES
PORTRAITS OF PLACES
A LITTLE TOUR IN FRANCE
ENGLISH HOURS
THE AMERICAN SCENE
ITALIAN HOURS

The Non-Fiction
FRENCH NOVELISTS AND POETS
HAWTHORNE
PARTIAL PORTRAITS
ESSAYS IN LONDON AND ELSEWHERE
PICTURE AND TEXT
WILLIAM WETMORE STORY AND HIS FRIENDS
VIEWS AND REVIEWS
NOTES ON NOVELISTS
WITHIN THE RIM AND OTHER ESSAYS
NOTES AND REVIEWS
THE ART OF THE NOVEL

The Letters
THE LETTERS OF HENRY JAMES

The Autobiographies
A SMALL BOY AND OTHERS
NOTES OF A SON AND BROTHER
THE MIDDLE YEARS

The Criticism
HENRY JAMES — AN APPRECIATION by Joseph Conrad
HENRY JAMES, JR by William Dean Howells
HENRY JAMES: A CRITICAL STUDY by Ford Madox Ford
SUSPENDED JUDGMENTS: HENRY JAMES by John Cowper Powys
AN EXTRACT FROM ‘THE DECAY OF LYING’ by Oscar Wilde
OTHER ESSAYS: HENRY JAMES by Virginia Woolf
MEMOIRS AND PORTRAITS: AN ESSAY AND LETTER by Robert Louis Stevenson
UNDERWOODS: POEMS ADDRESSED TO HENRY JAMES by Robert Louis Stevenson
INTRODUCTION TO THE AUTOBIOGRAPHIES by F. W. Dupee
OF ART, OF LITERATURE, OF MR. HENRY JAMES by H. G. Wells
HENRY JAMES by Arnold Bennett

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Written with the narrative tension of The Road and the exquisite terror of classic Stephen King, Bird Box is a propulsive, edge-of-your-seat horror thriller, set in an apocalyptic near-future world—a masterpiece of suspense from the brilliantly imaginative Josh Malerman.

Something is out there . . .

Something terrifying that must not be seen. One glimpse and a person is driven to deadly violence. No one knows what it is or where it came from.

Five years after it began, a handful of scattered survivors remain, including Malorie and her two young children. Living in an abandoned house near the river, she has dreamed of fleeing to a place where they might be safe. Now, that the boy and girl are four, it is time to go. But the journey ahead will be terrifying: twenty miles downriver in a rowboat—blindfolded—with nothing to rely on but her wits and the children’s trained ears. One wrong choice and they will die. And something is following them. But is it man, animal, or monster?

Engulfed in darkness, surrounded by sounds both familiar and frightening, Malorie embarks on a harrowing odyssey—a trip that takes her into an unseen world and back into the past, to the companions who once saved her. Under the guidance of the stalwart Tom, a motely group of strangers banded together against the unseen terror, creating order from the chaos. But when supplies ran low, they were forced to venture outside—and confront the ultimate question: in a world gone mad, who can really be trusted?

Interweaving past and present, Josh Malerman’s breathtaking debut is a horrific and gripping snapshot of a world unraveled that will have you racing to the final page.

 

HORACE WALPOLE was the youngest son of Sir Robert Walpole, the great statesman, who died Earl of Orford.

He was born in 1717, the year in which his father resigned office, remaining in opposition for almost three years before his return to a long tenure of power.

Horace Walpole was educated at Eton, where he formed a school friendship with Thomas Gray, who was but a few months older.

In 1739 Gray was travelling-companion with Walpole in France and Italy until they differed and parted; but the friendship was afterwards renewed, and remained firm to the end.

Horace Walpole went from Eton to King’s College, Cambridge, and entered Parliament in 1741, the year before his father’s final resignation and acceptance of an earldom.

His way of life was made easy to him.

As Usher of the Exchequer, Comptroller of the Pipe, and Clerk of the Estreats in the Exchequer, he received nearly two thousand a year for doing nothing, lived with his father, and amused himself.

Horace Walpole idled, and amused himself with the small life of the fashionable world to which he was proud of belonging, though he had a quick eye for its vanities.

He had social wit, and liked to put it to small uses.

But he was not an empty idler, and there were seasons when he could become a sharp judge of himself.

“I am sensible,” he wrote to his most intimate friend, “I am sensible of having more follies and weaknesses and fewer real good qualities than most men.

I sometimes reflect on this, though, I own, too seldom.

I always want to begin acting like a man, and a sensible one, which I think I might be if I would.”  He had deep home affections, and, under many polite affectations, plenty of good sense.

Horace Walpole’s father died in 1745.

The eldest son, who succeeded to the earldom, died in 1751, and left a son, George, who was for a time insane, and lived until 1791.

As George left no child, the title and estates passed to Horace Walpole, then seventy-four years old, and the only uncle who survived.

Horace Walpole thus became Earl of Orford, during the last six years of his life.

As to the title, he said that he felt himself being called names in his old age.

He died unmarried, in the year 1797, at the age of eighty.

He had turned his house at Strawberry Hill, by the Thames, near Twickenham, into a Gothic villa—eighteenth-century Gothic—and amused himself by spending freely upon its adornment with such things as were then fashionable as objects of taste.

But he delighted also in his flowers and his trellises of roses, and the quiet Thames.

When confined by gout to his London house in Arlington Street, flowers from Strawberry Hill and a bird were necessary consolations.

He set up also at Strawberry Hill a private printing press, at which he printed his friend Gray’s poems, also in 1758 his own “Catalogue of the Royal and Noble Authors of England,” and five volumes of “Anecdotes of Painting in England,” between 1762 and 1771.

Horace Walpole produced The Castle of Otranto in 1765, at the mature age of forty-eight.

It was suggested by a dream from which he said he waked one morning, and of which “all I could recover was, that I had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head like mine, filled with Gothic story), and that on the uppermost banister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armour.

In the evening I sat down and began to write, without knowing in the least what I intended to say or relate.”  So began the tale which professed to be translated by “William Marshal, gentleman, from the Italian of Onuphro Muralto, canon of the Church of St. Nicholas, at Otranto.”  It was written in two months.

Walpole’s friend Gray reported to him that at Cambridge the book made “some of them cry a little, and all in general afraid to go to bed o’ nights.”  The Castle of Otranto was, in its own way, an early sign of the reaction towards romance in the latter part of the last century. This gives it interest.

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