Weird women : classic supernatural fiction by groundbreaking female writers: 1852-1923 / edited by Lisa Morton and Leslie S. Klinger.

Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

From two acclaimed experts in the genre, a brand-new volume of supernatural stories showcasing the forgotten female horror writers from 1852-1923.

While the nineteen-year-old Mary Shelley may be hailed as the first modern writer of horror, the success of her immortal Frankenstein undoubtedly inspired dozens of female authors who wrote their own evocative, chilling tales. Weird Women, edited by award-winning anthologists Lisa Morton and Leslie S. Klinger, collects some of the finest tales of terror by authors as legendary as Louisa May Alcott, Frances Hodgson Burnett, and Charlotte Gilman-Perkins, alongside works of writers who were the bestsellers and critical favorites of their time--Marie Corelli, Ellen Glasgow, Charlotte Riddell--and lesser known authors who are deserving of contemporary recognition.

As railroads, industry, cities, and technology flourished in the mid-nineteenth century, so did stories exploring the horrors they unleashed. This anthology includes ghost stories and tales of haunted houses, as well as mad scientists, werewolves, ancient curses, mummies, psychological terrors, demonic dimensions, and even weird westerns. Curated by Klinger and Morton with an aim to presenting work that has languished in the shadows, all of these exceptional supernatural stories are sure to surprise, delight, and frighten today's readers.

Reviews provided by Syndetics

Library Journal Review

This enchanting book contains 21 short stories in the horror supernatural genre all written by women. Previous horror anthologies rarely included works by female authors, and editors Morton and Klinger (Ghost Stories) seek to remedy this gap with this compilation. Perusing old periodicals, library archives, and other anthologies, they create a collection that celebrates authors such as Louisa May Alcott, Frances Hodgson Burnett, Ellen Glasgow, and Charlotte Perkins Gilman. Each entry begins with a brief author biography, with stories exploring topics as varied as banshees, ghosts, mad scientists, mummies, raising the dead, and werewolves. Themes include haunting dreams, human sacrifice, murder, and psychosis, subject matter typically considered "unsuitable" for women at the time the stories were written. The pieces also illustrate vanished eras with depictions of old San Francisco, remote mining towns, antiquated social customs, and marked class distinctions. One anticipates a second volume to complement this excellent first set. VERDICT A feast of entertaining (and often scary) reads. Highly recommended for those interested in literature of the horror and supernatural variety.--Erica Swenson Danowitz, Delaware Cty. Community Coll. Lib., Media, PA

Booklist Review

Morton and Klinger refute the popular misconception that the early horror genre had few female writers--in reality, as they show, women writers were forerunners of the genre, often supporting their families through their work and gaining fame, only to be allowed to drift into obscurity and out of print. The two editors bring these authors back into the spotlight here. Many of the stories dig deeply into motherhood and society's expectations of women: two spinsters living a happy life are nevertheless haunted by dreams of a baby, a woman and her illegitimate child are turned out into the cold by a cruel patriarch, and the ghosts of children and mothers feature prominently in this collection. These tales were written by women with streaks of independence--some of them writing under pen names, some of them queer--and their rebellion shines through the subtext, from the strong butch farmer in Charlotte Riddell's "Nut Bush Farm" to the beautiful lady in carnations in Marie Corelli's "The Lady with Carnations." Feminist and horror-genre readers will jump on this compelling and spooky collection, to where Louisa May Alcott writes of seeds found in a mummy's chamber and where gorgeous women werewolves and mad scientists haunt these pages.