The Haunted Hotel by Wilkie Collins

Source of book: I own this.

 

The Haunted Hotel is arguably the most obscure of Wilkie Collins’ novels. It is briefly mentioned as a “short novel” in Collins’ Wikipedia page, but doesn’t manage to make his bibliography, for reasons I do not understand, given that this one is at least in print, unlike, say, Jezebel’s Daughter. Like virtually all of Collins’ novels, this one is “sensational,” in that it deals with scandal and illegal behavior - in this case murder and insurance fraud. It is rather short, as far as his novels go. I happen to own a number of Wilkie Collins books, and figured this one would be a fun classic to start the year with. 

 I have read a number of Collins novels over the years, including Armadale, The Woman in White, and Blind Love. Since starting this blog, I have re-read a couple of my favorites, The Moonstone and No Name. (For what it is worth, No Name remains my favorite, because of its audacious and ruthless heroine.) This, somehow, the first new Collins book I have read in the last decade, which seems wrong. I guess I need to finish up the books I have of his. 

 

The Haunted Hotel is a bit different from the other books I have read by Collins, in that it has a true supernatural element, not merely a “supernatural” event that is later explained rationally. The hotel in question is indeed haunted, and the haunting is never explained as trickery or coincidence. 

 

With any Collins novel, it is inadvisable to spoil the plot, as a lot of his charm is the way he carefully sets up the story so that the ending is (one hopes) a revelation. These days, with 150 years of detective stories (The Moonstone was the first detective novel), we are, fortunately or unfortunately, much better at solving these things in advance, so this one probably will not be a complete surprise. However, the way the characters (who lack all the facts) figure out the truth is well done. 

 

The book opens with a weird scene: a woman demands to see a certain renowned doctor, and proceeds to ask if she is going crazy. She intends to marry a man whom she has kind of, sort of, stolen from an innocent and naive woman he was engaged to, and is now terrified that karma will destroy her. After this bizarre introduction to the Countess Narona, the doctor exits the scene, and things get even weirder. 

 

Narona marries Lord Montberry, to the horror of his family, then honeymoons in Venice. Lord Montberry contracts bronchitis and dies, as confirmed by a doctor and the inquest. More mysteriously, the Italian valet disappears without a trace, and his English wife is sent a check for a thousand pounds out of the blue, with a note saying “to compensate for the loss of your husband.” After this, Narona departs for America with her mysterious chemist (and gambler) brother, but not before cashing in the life insurance, and telling the jilted woman, Agnes, that they will meet again, probably in Venice, and it will be for the last time. 

 

Oh, and it gets more convoluted. One of Lord Montberry’s brothers is an investor in the renovation of a palace in Venice - they are turning it into a hotel for fashionable tourists. That palace? It happens to be the very place Lord Montberry was staying when he died. (Hey, coincidence is a Collins thing…) 

 

Sometime later, Lord Montberry’s nephew falls in love with a young woman, they marry, and end up agreeing to meet the rest of the family part way through the honeymoon...and all of them will stay at the newly opened hotel. How convenient! The hotel gets filled at its opening, the family gets a destination vacation, and...well, things start going wrong. The various members of Lord Montberry’s family find that when they stay in the room Lord Montberry died in, they are, well, haunted. 

 

So what did happen to Montberry and the valet? Why is Narona going crazy now that her brother has died? Will the faithful Henry will the heart of the betrayed Agnes? Okay, we all know the guy gets the girl. 

 

The short length of the book means that the usual twists and turns and details from Collins’ longer books simply aren’t there. The mystery isn’t as deep, we don’t get to know the characters as well, and there are fewer of them. It’s longer than a short story, but not by that much. Which is fine: it’s a good yarn, although not as rich as Collins’ longer books. 

 

The Countess is a good character, a solid example of a woman who destroys herself while calling it “fate.” As we eventually learn (and this is only sort of a spoiler, honestly), she has chosen to sacrifice herself for her worthless brother, kind of on the “women sacrifice for men” bullshit of the era. You know, better she marries for money than he marry a Jew. (Yeah, ouch. The Victorian Era. Although clearly Collins isn’t approving of Narona’s choice, he seems to assume the reader would recoil from the Jewish option.) So, I would say the book was diverting, but not Collins’ best work. 

 

I’ll mention a line I liked, at least, just for its own sake.

 

There was a time when a man in search of the pleasures of gossip sought the society of ladies. The man knows better now. Ne goes to the smoking-room of his club.

 

This is true. Our culture loves to talk as if gossip were a female thing. And women can and do gossip. (Often with “the Lord laid it on my heart” or “we really should pray about Jane.”) But men are even worse. And I believe that is the truth. 

 

For those who haven’t discovered Wilkie Collins, he is a lot of fun. His best works are thrilling for their suspense, for their intricate plots, and for his ability to ratchet up the drama in a way that shocked (and thrilled) his Victorian readership. This book isn’t where I would start, although its short length makes it a potential gateway drug.