Lost and Forgotten 1: A Book of Rhymes

The Yorkshire Dales are beautiful in all weathers. In the brilliance of the summer sun, they are the brightly coloured landscapes of picture postcards and biscuit tin lids. Set against the storm’s tempest, however, their beauty transforms into something more desolate, and as October comes upon us and the light thins and fails, their beauty comes with a hint of menace. A darkness descends, a chill settles, and we enter the season of lit fires and ghost stories. 

Yorkshire is replete with tales of the supernatural, from the black ghost-dog Barguest that roams Barden Moor, to the shape-shifting dobbies upon the Howgill Fells, the elves on Elbolton Hill, and the trolls and hobs and bogies that haunt the valleys and darkling moors around us. Yorkshire writers such as J B Priestley and the Brontë sisters have found dark inspiration from these places, as have writers from outside:

‘There was no lonelier spot in England, nor one which had the right to claim so many ghosts’ wrote Gertrude Atherton of the deadly black ribbon of water that is The Strid, where she set her short story The Striding Place, and imagined ‘skeletons, uncoffined and green.’ Hikers, lost on the moors in Robert Aickman’s chilling The Trains are pursued by ‘a solid bank of dark grey cloud’ which closes down on them ‘like a huge hood.’ And in Barrowbeck by Andrew Michael Hurley, villagers sit ‘in the bone-grip of the night, in the expectation of wolves,’ or perhaps something worse…

The otherworldly inhabitants of Yorkshire’s wild places are part of its imaginative and physical landscape, ‘inwoven with the lowing of the kine’ as Linton author, Halliwell Sutcliffe, put it, perhaps because here so much of the past remains – the cottages, laithes and drystone walls – that the centuries overlap, and the dead forget to leave completely.

It is only fitting then, that in the village of Carlton-in-Coverdale near Leyburn, resides Tartarus Press, who produce limited edition hardbacks of tales of the strange and the supernatural. It publishes paperbacks, too, but it’s the handsome hardback tomes in tasteful cream dust jackets, revealing dazzling cover designs underneath, that have become objects of lust for bibliophiles. 

Tartarus Press began in 1990 when Ray Russell, an architecture student with a fascination for the eerie tales of Arthur Machen, began a small independent publishing company specialising in supernatural fiction (and occasionally non-fiction). Looking for similar authors to Machen, Russell ‘began to haunt second-hand bookshops in search of the neglected and the lost.’

In 1998, his partner, Rosalie Parker, gave up her job in archaeology to help. ‘I was drawn to publishing, like Ray, through a love of books,’ and together they have ensured that Tartarus has gone from strength to strength, winning a string of awards and publishing the great and the good (and the forgotten) of supernatural literature.

‘The stories hoarded in their pages’ wrote The Guardian, ‘are so little known you might be forgiven for wondering if you have dreamed them.’ Ray elaborates: ‘We prefer the unnerving and uncanny to visceral horror, although we do occasionally move into that territory.’ These stories come from authors ranging from Robert Louis Stevenson to Guy de Maupassant and Robert Aickman, and even include writers from Yorkshire, whose works, fallen into obscurity, have been resurrected in lovingly curated collections. Oliver Onions (1873-1961), for example, was from Bradford. His short story, The Beckoning Fair One, is reckoned to be one of the greatest horror stories ever written. WF Harvey (1885-1937), a Quaker from Leeds and an ambulance driver and decorated surgeon during the First World War, wrote many eerie short stories, including The Beast With Five Fingers which was turned into a film starring Peter Lorre; and John William Wall (1910-1989) from Mexborough, wrote subtle and unnerving tales that are almost forgotten today, and were written under the pen name, Sarban (Tartarus Press also brought out a biography of him.)

One of the things Tartarus is particularly proud about, is the publishing of new writers. ‘The most exciting (and scary) thing’ says Ray, ‘is publishing a first book by a completely unknown author and trying to persuade readers to trust us and take a chance.’

An example of this is the folk horror novel, The Loney, by Andrew Michael Hurley. Set in Yorkshire, it has since been turned into a film starring former Dr. Who, Matt Smith, and was shot in locations across the Dales (Pateley Bridge, Malham and Grassington). How did the book come about?

‘The Loney followed the perilous path to publication that most books take . . . the manuscript arrived alongside scores of other submissions, and Rosalie read it and absolutely loved it. I had to agree that she’d identified a novel that was subtle, beautifully written, and quite different. We published it in a small run of 300 copies and it began to gain a reputation. When John Murray [the publishing company] took it over, they had the resources to take it to another level commercially. And the career of the author, Andrew Michael Hurley, goes from well-deserved strength to strength.’

Another ‘discovery’ is more surprising, coming as it does from Charlotte Brontë who died over a century ago. A Book of Ryhmes (the misspelling is Charlotte’s and has been kept) is a book of ten poems, created in 1829 when Charlotte was just thirteen. It was originally a tiny, handwritten booklet no bigger than a playing card. Sold at auction in 1916, it disappeared for over a century before reappearing in 2022 when it was bought for $1.25 million (just under a million pounds) on behalf of the Brontë Parsonage Museum who then partnered with Tartarus to publish it for the first time.

The volume now comes with a forward by rock icon and book-collector, Patti Smith, and because A Book of Ryhmes was one of several miniature pamphlets made by the young Bontës for themselves, it had not been published before. This means that Ray and Rosalie can now claim to have brought a genuine Charlotte Brontë first edition into the world.

Tartarus Press is now into its thirty-fifth year. Few businesses enjoy such longevity these days, let alone a small independent publisher in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales. Things are run from the couple’s home, a former school room, ‘which is really convenient,’ according to Rosalie, ‘but at times can be a challenge. When a new book is published and orders are good, several rooms can be taken over by packing materials, parcels, mail bags, etc!

We work very much as a team and our roles can be fairly interchangeable. For some time, Ray tended to be on the design and production side, while I had a more editorial role, but that has changed around again recently. It all depends on what needs doing at any time - we often move from one role to another to support each other.’

Perhaps it’s the artisanal approach that’s part of what makes it so special, and why Tartarus should be cherished in the same way that any craftsman – blacksmith, embroiderer, woodcarver – working in the Dales should be. Typically, Tartarus editions are produced in print runs of around just three hundred and fifty. ‘As we work for ourselves and from home, we can generally go about publishing undisturbed by the outside world,’ says Ray. ‘It means we choose our own hours, and if we decide to go for a walk rather than sit at a computer, we can fit it in around the weather. It’s amazing how often a seemingly insoluble problem is no longer an issue if we’ve been up on the moors for a walk.

We know that if we were in the middle of the London literary scene there would be all kinds of advantages, but we wouldn't be able to watch the seasons come and go in a beautiful landscape that’s right on our doorstep.’

Well, that’s all very nice when the sun’s out – but what about in those liminal hours when dusk encroaches, breezes pick up, and shadows thicken into unwanted guests? What then?

Worry not for there are a few precautions that can be taken. A stone with a hole can be hung from a door to keep away dobbies and witches. Elves, who admittedly can be dangerous, should not (fingers crossed) turn nasty if met with courtesy. The demon-hound, Barguest, is more a harbinger of doom for unscrupulous individuals and is not generally malicious. He may be an intimidating sight when met with on the uplands - but stay calm and he should pass by in an almost companionable silence. But what of humans, dead but busy upon the moors? The question of how to handle themis more difficult. Perhaps the answers to that lie hidden in the pages of the stories of Tartarus Press.

To find out more, try The Tartarus Press.