Night Side of the River: A Captivating Review of Jeanette Winterson’s Supernatural Ghost Stories

TThe fascination surrounding the implausibility of boundaries has always captivated Jeanette Winterson. Whether in fiction or nonfiction, she is drawn to the moments when boundaries become porous, contingent, or outright illogical. These boundaries are constructed solely to impose restrictions and deny both mental and physical freedom. In her work, Winterson also explores the limitations of a clearly defined shared reality. This theme is evident in her novels, such as “Gut Symmetries” (1997), which cleverly plays on the idea of instinctive feeling and the grand unifying theories of physics. It is also evident in her latest collection of essays, “12 Bytes,” where she delves into the profound impact that artificial intelligence (AI) will have on human life.

It comes as no surprise, then, that Winterson is attracted to stories of ghosts. These stories not only question the existence of a different world, one that exists beyond what we claim to see every day, but they also weave themselves throughout literary history. Just like Septimus Smith, the shell-shocked soldier in Virginia Woolf’s “Mrs Dalloway,” who becomes a ghost of himself, ghosts serve as a haunting presence in Winterson’s fiction. Her latest book, “Night Side of the River,” features a collection of spooky stories organized into four categories: Devices, Places, People, and Visitations. These categories themselves blur the boundaries, adding an element of complexity to the tales she tells. Winterson skillfully plays with the form of storytelling, presenting abandoned dower houses with forbidden locked rooms, the scent of cigarettes in nonsmoking households, antique transistor radios that suddenly burst into life, and spectral soldiers from long-past conflicts. Paul, a character in the book, sums it up perfectly: “We’re looking for walled-up ancestors, wronged wives, pale-faced children trailing a teddy, a drunk uncle who fell to his doom.”

These are familiar imaginative territories explored by fireside yarn-spinners, gothic novelists, Victorian spiritualists, and modernist writers who bend subjectivity. Winterson draws inspiration from a range of influences, including “The Epic of Gilgamesh” and the works of both MR and Henry James, as well as Roald Dahl’s “Tales of the Unexpected,” Somerset Maugham’s supernatural stories, and Susan Hill’s “The Woman in Black.” However, even when the references feel familiar, Winterson skillfully avoids imitation by effectively portraying intense emotions. Two of the stories, “No Ghost Ghost Story” and “The Undiscovered Country,” delve into the experience of bereavement from both sides. Simon mourns his recently deceased partner, William, and ponders the absurdity of life continuing while his loved one is gone. The lack of a ghost haunts him, representing the absence and unfulfilled connection. On the other hand, through the companion story, Winterson suggests that ghosts may still be present even if we do not believe in them, serving as a source of solace.

Interwoven between the stories are four autobiographical vignettes in which Winterson shares her own encounters with the supernatural. These include accounts of her grandmother’s death, where she appeared to wander into her beloved rose garden at the exact moment of departure, despite being bedridden. A mention of the author’s mother, a familiar figure from “Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit” and the memoir “Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?,” is also inevitable. Winterson reflects on how her family constantly tried to redefine their reality by using alternate names, even when faced with mundane occurrences. For instance, instead of acknowledging mice in their house, which implied poverty and uncleanliness, her mother referred to them as “ectoplasm.” This example demonstrates that ghosts can indeed be useful in more ways than one.