My tussle with the devil, and other stories

In Short

This collection acts as a bridge between the well-known, gritty realism of an American literary icon and a mystical, posthumous reappraisal of his craft. The stories—or "pastels," as they are termed—discard the complex, ironic plot twists of the author’s earthly fame in favor of delicate, allegorical reflections on existence. The book remains a curious artifact of the 1918 spiritualist movement, functioning less as traditional fiction and more as a series of gentle, impressionistic meditations on how death serves as a refinement of human consciousness.

The Story

The narrative arc begins with an unconventional introduction: a séance-like claim that the spirit of the late O. Henry is dictating new work through a Ouija board. The voice that emerges is not the sharp, sardonic chronicler of New York’s "four million," but a gentler observer who asserts that he has traded his "heavy woolen materiality" for a finer, gossamer existence. The stories that follow represent a departure from the "scarlet tales" of human passion toward a landscape where time is no longer a factor and desires are met with immediate, ethereal satisfaction.

The progression of these tales moves from the struggle of the self to the finality of the spirit. We see a man confronted by a majestic, deceptive figure representing Death—who turns out to be a guide to one’s earned rewards—and another man who finds his late beloved waiting for him in a "land of art." There is a persistent motif of a dog, "Dakta," who serves as a bridge between the living and the spirit world, embodying a pure, uncalculating loyalty that the narrator finds missing in human society.

As the collection advances, the tone shifts from individual narratives to broader, global elegies. The author reflects on the "barrage fire" of World War I, contrasting the mechanical, soul-crushing nature of "munitions" and war with a dreamlike vision of a golden bird—a symbol of peace—descending to shelter a world of sorrow. The arc concludes not with a final plot twist, but with a series of rhythmic poems and visions that emphasize the interconnectedness of all souls. The ending is a call to "make ready," suggesting that the reader’s current life is merely a building block for an eventual, harmonious home in the spiritual realm. The final image is one of a "new earth" bathed in rainbow light, where the struggles of the material world are reconciled through the folding wings of peace.

How It Unfolds

The call from beyond The book opens with a defensive preamble, asserting that the spirit of a famous author is communicating from a higher plane. The initial stories serve as a test of this new, "pastel" style, as the spirit struggles with the mechanical limitations of the Ouija board.

The test of the soul The mid-section features a series of allegories where characters must choose between the "Life" of material disillusionment and a higher, spiritual reality. These beats focus on the internal conflict of characters who are forced to reconcile their past, "vile" habits with a newfound desire for wisdom.

The bridge of loyalty A recurring, deeply emotional beat involves a man and his dog, Dakta, who navigate various social strata. This segment emphasizes that the "jewels" of life—kindness, loyalty, and empathy—are often missed because they are hidden in plain sight or "poor covering."

The landscape of war and peace The concluding beats move away from personal narrative into the cosmic. The atmosphere darkens to reflect the turmoil of the Great War, then lifts into a series of abstract, visionary poems that promise a final, golden resolution for the world.

The People

The central figure is the spirit of the author himself, who seeks to prove that a "leopard can change its spots." He is caught between his former identity as a writer of "vivid, scarlet tales" and his new, delicate aspiration to teach wisdom. He is prone to impatience, yet he is clearly striving for an elevated, more perfect expression of truth.

Standing opposite him are various "seekers"—men and women navigating their own material lives. These characters, such as the man who is reunited with his deceased beloved, are defined by their capacity for "aspiration." They are often depicted as "homeless" or "beggars" until they realize they must build their own mansions through the cultivation of internal qualities.

Dakta, the spaniel, is a pivotal presence. She is described as an "aristocrat" of the soul, possessing an unerring judgment of human character. While the humans in the book often struggle with doubt, vanity, or the "poisonous weed" of pity, Dakta remains the constant touchstone of truth, acting as a guide for the lost and a companion to those who are finally coming into possession of their own souls.

In Its Own Voice

“To meet the onslaught of you, Mr. Scoffer and Mr. Skeptic, who will say, ‘Impossible! They are not a bit like O. Henry’s stories!’ I say at once, of course they are different!”

The author acknowledges the inevitable disappointment of readers expecting his signature style, explaining that his current, spiritual state requires a totally different rhythm of thought.

“I did not know as much then as I do now; before I wrote what the Self saw only—now it is what I know.”

The spirit reflects on the limitations of his former, material perspective, contrasting his past observations of humanity with his current, enlightened understanding.

“Consider the lilies! They toil not, neither do they spin, and yet I say unto you that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”

A recurring biblical echo used to emphasize the book’s central argument: that the true beauty of existence lies in simplicity and the natural harmony of God’s world, rather than in material accumulation.

What It's Really About

The central theme is the necessity of "aspiration" as the primary currency of the soul. The argument is that human life is a temporary, often confused, testing ground where one must prepare for a more permanent, spiritual residence. The book posits that the material world—with its wars, "munitions," and social hierarchies—is a "whirlpool" of distraction. By contrast, the afterlife is described as a place of infinite "compensation," where the quality of one's inner life—the "seed" of past achievements—determines one's reality. It is a work about the rejection of cynicism and the deliberate, daily practice of kindness and "truth-seeking" as a means of building a home that survives the body.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy spiritualist literature or the "New Thought" philosophy of the early 20th century will find this a fascinating, if odd, curiosity. It offers a rare window into the post-Victorian obsession with the afterlife and the desire to find meaning amidst the destruction of World War I. If you are looking for the sharp, ironic plot mechanics of the author’s famous short stories, you will not find them here; instead, you will find something quieter, more earnest, and deeply sentimental.

The book’s difficulties lie primarily in its sometimes-repetitive, ethereal tone and its reliance on period-specific spiritualist tropes, which may feel thin to a modern audience. However, there is a strange, melancholy beauty in the way the writing attempts to reach across the void to provide comfort. It is an honest document of a creative mind trying to reconcile its past worldly success with a new, urgent need for spiritual peace. What stays with you is the persistent, haunting image of the "golden bird" and the persistent, quiet loyalty of the dog, Dakta—reminders that, in the face of immense global tragedy, the author chose to focus on the small, unseen, and enduring things.