The Bibliophile's Compass

Ah, the brilliant Mary Shelley—our beloved creator of Frankenstein ! I approached her short story, "The Evil Eye", with expectations as high as a pirate's flag atop the mast. But instead of a thrilling tale, I found myself shipwrecked on the rocky shores of disappointment. Sorry, Mary, I came for electrifying prose and spine-tingling supernatural or SiFi shenanigans, not a casual stroll through a bandit-infested beach! From the get-go, I was ready for an epic saga, perhaps a dramatic showdown in the Ottoman Empire or, at the very least, a sumptuous slice of Turkish delight! But nope! Our adventure unfurls in Greece, and let's say I'm left more confused than a goat on a hiking trail. Seriously, I questioned whether I needed a GPS or a crash course in geography to understand this cultural mash-up! Enter Dmitri, our tragically afflicted protagonist. His life reads like a Greek tragedy written by a particularly gloomy soap opera writer. Wife killed, daughter kidnapped...

I enjoy humorously reviewing supernatural short stories, even if they tend to be dark and disturbing. However, when it comes to narratives involving ordinary people committing unimaginable atrocities, I struggle to keep the tone light. Enter William Mudford’s “The Iron Shroud” (1830), a tale that had me chuckling less and squirming more. Why? Because it revolves around an ordinary person—a member of the nobility—who engages in truly dastardly deeds that would make even the most hardened horror fans raise an eyebrow and murmur, “Yikes!” Imagine this: You and I are spending a cozy Saturday night reading about our unfortunate victim, who finds himself trapped in a literal iron torture chamber. Fun times, right? The twist? We have no idea who the villain is! It feels like a mystery dinner party where the only dish served is Pure Existential Dread , accompanied by a side of “I really should have chosen a different story.” The premise is both simple and excruciating: we are stuck with a p...