Old Fires and Profitable Ghosts: A Book of Stories

In Short

This collection of short stories explores the "revenant"—a figure, whether living or dead, who finds themselves pulled back to old emotions, unresolved secrets, or abandoned selves. Drawing heavily from the rugged coastlines and maritime history of Cornwall, the narratives blend folklore with the quiet, crushing weight of Victorian social expectations. Whether tracing the psychological haunting of a man who cannot escape his past or the literal arrival of ghosts in a secluded home, the collection remains a haunting meditation on memory and the stubborn, impossible persistence of love.

The Story

The stories move through a landscape defined by the sea and the weight of long-held secrets. Many tales begin with an atmospheric setup—a rugged Cornish coombe, a lonely shipwreck, or a quiet London street at midnight—before pulling the reader into the internal life of a character struggling with an unquiet conscience. In "A Pair of Hands," the narrator describes living in a secluded house that holds a ghost—not a terrifying apparition, but a woman whose presence is tied to the hearth, wrung hands, and a deep, sorrowful regret. The ghost is not a monster; she is a memory made manifest, a creature of "beauty so far above" the narrator’s comprehension.

In other narratives, such as "The Lady of the Ship" or "Frozen Margit," the plot revolves around historical or quasi-historical events that collide with the domestic sphere. These stories follow sailors, castaways, and abandoned lovers who find their fates tangled in the wreckage of ships or the wreckage of their own choices. The arc of these tales is rarely one of simple resolution. Instead, characters are forced to confront the "profiteers" of their misfortune or the internal "toen" (a term for an enemy) that stalks their conscience. In "Prisoners of War," the narrative follows two men through a decade of captivity in a French prison, tracing how one turns to religion to find meaning, while the other withers. The ending is often sharp, as seen in "Which?", where a tense, late-night encounter under a street lamp is interrupted by the sudden, simultaneous extinction of a gaslight and a life.

The collection often ends on a note of quiet, devastating finality. In "The Mystery of Joseph Laquedem," the protagonist discovers that a young woman’s newfound brightness is tied to a man who believes he is a wandering soul, destined to be born again and again until his love for a specific woman finally lifts a curse. There is no triumph here, only the exhaustion of centuries. Similarly, in the closing moments of "Once Aboard the Lugger," the characters are left to grapple with the realization that they can never truly be "one" again, despite their desire for reconciliation. The stories conclude not with grand revelations, but with the characters standing alone, often under the gaze of a society that misinterprets their struggle, leaving them to bear the weight of their own "old fires."

How It Unfolds

The setting of the scene The stories frequently begin by situating the reader in a specific, often isolated, location where the boundaries between the present and the past are porous. The author establishes a tone of melancholy intimacy, whether through a letter between siblings or the reminiscence of an elderly woman in a cozy, firelit room.

The intrusion of the past A catalyst—a shipwreck, a chance encounter, or the discovery of an old object—disturbs the character's current life. This disruption forces the protagonist to look backward, acknowledging that their current "cheerfulness" is merely a thin veneer over a deeper, unresolved trauma.

The struggle for resolution Characters attempt to reconcile their current reality with the ghosts of their past. This often involves a physical journey, a confrontation with an old enemy, or an agonizing internal debate about whether to hold on or to let go of a dead love.

The final confrontation The climax usually arrives not with violence, but with a moment of sudden, stark clarity. The ghost is seen, the secret is spoken, or the "light" of the truth is finally extinguished, leaving the character fundamentally altered—if not destroyed—by the realization that the past can never be truly laid to rest.

The People

The characters in these stories are almost always defined by their pasts, which they carry as both a comfort and a burden.

Miss Le Petyt is a gentle, observant woman who acts as a bridge between the living and the dead. She wants only to maintain her quiet independence, but she is transformed by the presence of a "harmless ghost" who teaches her that to lose a spirit is, in its own way, a bereavement.

Obed Lanyon is a man consumed by a singular, obsessive love. His desire to save his wife from captivity leads him into a moral and physical wilderness. He ends as a man broken by the realization that he cannot control fate, even through the most desperate sacrifices.

The Emigrant in "A Town’s Memory" represents the search for lost roots. He returns to his home town hoping to reconnect with a woman who once loved him, only to be met with the cold indifference of her daughter. He is left to confront the painful triviality of his own nostalgia.

Joseph Laquedem is a figure of profound, if singular, madness. He believes he is an ancient soul bound by love through the centuries. He seeks an end to his own existence, driven by the belief that love is a curse that must be "outlearned."

In Its Own Voice

"The stories in this book are of revenants: persons who either in spirit or in body revisit old scenes, return upon old selves or old emotions, or relate a message from a world beyond perception."

(The author explains the central unifying theme of the collection in the opening remarks.)

"I shall never laugh again as I used to laugh before Harry's death; the taste has gone out of that carelessness, and I turn even from the remembrance of it."

(A correspondent writes to a friend about the permanent shift in his perspective following a tragic loss.)

"We have not killed love; we—I—had stunned him: but (O, I see!) he has picked up his weapons again and is fighting."

(A woman speaks to her lover about the persistence of their feelings, even when they have tried to suppress them.)

What It's Really About

The book centers on the tension between the necessity of moving forward and the impossibility of forgetting. It suggests that identity is not a static state but a collection of past versions of the self—"revenants"—that demand to be acknowledged. The work investigates the question of whether humans can ever truly recover from loss, or if we are merely "motes in a sunbeam" trying to find our place in a scheme of things that is indifferent to our private griefs. Ultimately, it argues that love, rather than being a source of simple happiness, is a complex, enduring force that survives beyond rationality, often serving as the ghost that refuses to be exorcised from the house of the human heart.

Why Read It Today

This collection is for the reader who values atmosphere over breakneck plotting. If you enjoy the quiet, unsettling beauty of early 20th-century literature—where the prose is as carefully crafted as a piece of fine furniture—you will find much to admire here. The author possesses a warmth that makes even the most tragic stories feel like a shared confidence by a fireside.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the book's period-specific sensibilities. The language is formal and occasionally ornate, and the social dynamics reflect a world of strict class boundaries and rigid gender roles. Some stories rely on local Cornish dialect or historical maritime jargon that may require patience to decipher. You will occasionally encounter attitudes toward poverty and class that feel distinctly of the 19th century, serving as a reminder of the historical distance between the author’s world and our own.

What stays with you is the haunting precision of the imagery: the flickering gaslight of a London street, the white-washed walls of a Cornish coombe, and the persistent, quiet sorrow of those who cannot leave the past behind. It is a contemplative, melancholy, and deeply human book that rewards a slow, attentive reading.