66. “A Wicked Editor’s Christmas Dream” by Alice Mary Vince

KIM: Hi, everybody! Welcome to another Lost Ladies of Lit mini episode. I'm Kim Askew, here with my co-host and writing partner, Amy Helmes, and we're decking the halls these days; Christmas is right around the corner. I wish I was wearing a Santa hat right now. 

AMY: I know, I was actually thinking earlier this evening, if I could figure out where the kids' reindeer antler headbands are ... but I'm not that committed. That's the great thing about podcasting, right? We're not on camera, except to each other on zoom anyway. Yeah. As I recall last Christmas [sings] "Last Christmas...." um, we kicked off that episode talking about all of the Christmas carols that made us feel super depressed. Remember?

KIM: Yeah, we liked that about it, I guess, a little bit, and so we were weeping and laughing as we were recording that episode. But it was extra fitting because we were all stranded inside our homes last year, not really able to see friends or family. It's a little bit better this year, so... 

AMY: We were really depressed. But this year, I thought maybe we could kick off this Christmas episode talking about a Christmas carol that I think is absolutely terrifying. And I think, probably, you know which one I'm talking about. 

KIM: I'm guessing you're talking about A Christmas Carol. I mean, there's a scary ghost of Jacob Marley

AMY: No, no, no.A Christmas carol. That is absolutely terrifying. 

KIM: Oh! So I thought you were kind of making a pun about... 

AMY: The song.

KIM: Oh, I don't know. No, what is it?

AMY: "Carol of the Bells." It's God awful. 

KIM: Oh my God, I had no idea where you were. I thought you were making a pun about A Christmas Carol.

AMY: No. The song that's like [sings] "Ring Christmas bells, joyful we sing, psychotic bells, psychotic bells!"

KIM: I love it.

AMY: No, you don't. 

KIM: I totally love it. Amy. I love that...

AMY: Everyone in our family is super scared of it. 

KIM: I love it. I have a new appreciation for it now. And I might be a little scared, but...

AMY: Don't you think it's just super like tense and anxiety-forming?. 

KIM: I love that stuff. I mean, Carmina Burana is like one of my favorites, and then, uh, Christmas stuff ... I love "The Messiah." Parts of it sound kind of scary too, but I love the drama. 

AMY: The drama, yeah. That's what it is. To me, it's like that Psycho shower music. "Tweek! Tweek! Tweek!"

KIM: You're right. I'm never going to listen to the same again! 

AMY: Even in Home Alone, that's the song they use for the scary part of the movie. I can't believe you don't. Yeah. Anyway.

KIM: Sorry. Anyway. Yeah, I didn't get that one. So anyway, why are you trying to freak us all out, Amy? Christmas isn't supposed to be scary. It's supposed to be fun and light and just jolly. 

AMY: I know, but do you think maybe the Victorians would beg to differ a little on that?

KIM: Yeah, I mean, good point, but that's the Victorians. They were all about a good Christmas ghost story., and I'm wondering what the appeal there is for them. Maybe the contrast between what Christmas is supposed to feel like -- warm and comforting, a cozy domestic scene -- with that which is kind of dark and chilling, especially in winter time. So I think I get it. It kind of works, strangely enough. 

AMY: Yeah. And then I think also, maybe around the holidays, you tend to think about loved ones who have died. So that makes you a little bit more primed to think about ghosts, I guess. 

KIM: I love a good Victorian ghost story anytime of the year. Um, I'm a Victorian at heart, I guess.

AMY: Yeah. And it's safe to say, I think, that the most popular ghost story at Christmas time is Charles Dickens's "A Christmas Carol," which we've mentioned. But it spawned a lot of copycats in its day; people that were eager to capitalize on the public's appetite for Yuletide specters. 

KIM: I love the phrase: Yuletide specters, but it's interesting you mentioned "Yuletide," because the idea of spooky Christmas stories actually didn't originate with Dickens. The tradition goes back much further in history. It goes all the way back to the pagan festivals like winter solstice, the darkest day of the year and a pre-Christian holiday that was called Yule.

AMY: Yeah, doesn't the idea of pagan festivals, just that phrase alone, feels spooky? I'm picturing dancing around a fire and chanting. I don't know. 

KIM: Yeah. Just talking about it I get the chills and I feel like some sort of primordial....

AMY: Yes. There's a definite mystique to it. So speaking of those kinds of pagan festivals, that time of year spawned ghost stories going all the way back to the Medieval era. And I was reading a Smithsonian article about this topic from a few years back; it was written by a guy named Colin Dickey, and his article mentioned a Victorian humorist, Jerome K. Jerome. And he kind of summed it up best when he wrote, "Whenever five or six English-speaking people meet round a fire on Christmas Eve, they start telling each other ghost stories. Nothing satisfies us on Christmas Eve, but to hear each other tell authentic anecdotes about specters. It is a genial festive season, and we love to muse upon graves and dead bodies and murders and blood."

KIM: My kind of people! No, just kidding. Every time we mention Smithsonian on this podcast, it's like a drinking game or something. It's reminding me also of Henry James's Gothic novella The Turn of the Screw, which we've talked about, I think, a couple of times in other episodes. It's sort of a story-within-a-story where the narrator is recounting the tale with some other people on Christmas Eve night. 

AMY: Anytime you're sitting around a fire, which you often are on Christmas Eve, right? Ghost stories seem appropriate. But getting back to Dickens, his ghost stories were always morality tales. So he wasn't necessarily trying to freak people out. He was using ghosts to teach a lesson and appeal to his readers' better nature. Eventually he decided to stop writing the Christmas ghost stories, but there were plenty of other writers who were willing to dive right in to pick up where he left off.

KIM: First of all Dickens: That wiley, talented hypocrite. But that's another episode. And interestingly enough, these ghost stories that you're talking about that the people were writing in the Victorian era, they weren't all scary. Some were kind of poking fun at the trope, especially the "cautionary tales to be a better person" aspect. And that leads us to the story we're going to be focusing on today. Right? 

AMY: That is true. So getting ready for this episode, I was looking around trying to find a "lost lady" Christmas ghost story from that era. And I had found a few that were fine, but they were basically kind of just your garden-variety haunted house story, you know? They were written with an earnest intent to scare, but I didn't really feel like they blew me away enough to devote a podcast episode to. 

KIM: Yeah, we have standards around here, people. High standards.

AMY: Yeah, I wasn't going to just do a throw-away scary house tail, you know? Who cares? But then I stumbled upon this one story in an edition of Victorian Christmas Ghost Stories from Valancourt Books. They have a few different collections of Christmas ghost stories. And I read this one and fell in love with it because it was so different from all the other ones that I'd been reading. This one is basically a spoof of Dickens' A Christmas Carol. It's called "The Wicked Editor's Christmas," and it was written by a woman named Alice Mary Vince.

KIM: I mean, that title, "The Wicked Editor's Christmas" is completely unusual. Hilarious. Just the name; It totally intrigues me too. I'm into it. 

AMY: The writers in us are intrigued, right? Not that we know any wicked editors. 

KIM: No, we've never seen the word "stet" ever. This story is about an unnamed newspaper editor who serves as this story's Ebenezer, Scrooge, if you will. 

AMY: Yes. It's Christmas Eve. He has just finished a big rich dinner, complete with some boozy punch. And so he's sitting in front of the fire, digesting, feeling pretty good. When lo and behold, he receives an unexpected visit from ... yes, you guessed it: a ghost. But the editor's response is more unfazed than it is nonplussed. And so I'm just going to read from the story here, because it's so hilarious. And also, Kim, I have an idea of when I read this, I might try to put the ghost's voice in like an echoey, like put a little echo-y effect so it sounds like a spooky ghost. We'll see if I can pull that off. So this is referring to the editor:

He had a great dislike to all ghosts, but a particular aversion to the Christmas species. They were so moral, so improving, so bent on doing good. At other seasons of the year, ghosts content themselves with tapping, creaking and occasionally pulling the clothes off your bed. But at Christmas they always become priggish and apt to rake up things you would far sooner forget all about. The editor saw that he was about to be bored and he sighed deeply, as he asked, "Will you kindly give me your name? I do not think I've had the pleasure of meeting you before."

KIM: I'd like to think I could actually maintain a cavalier compartment like that if I ever came across a ghost, but I think it's probably unlikely. I don't think I could keep my cool, and also, that sounds like Evelyn Waugh or something. It's very 1930s. Even though it's Victorian, there's something very modern about this. 

AMY: Yeah. Anyway, it gets better and it gets funnier. So the ghost tells the editor that he has been sent to him by the spirit realm to show him a few things. And the editor's like, well, you know, our chief reporter generally attends to that sort of thing. Um, you know, talk to my staff, basically, but the ghost is like, "No, no, no, it's you I'm supposed to see." So as the story continues, the editor's like, "Oh, great. Now I'm in for a morality lecture. Perfect." So he asks, "Would you tell me the origin of the Christmas ghost?"

"Dyspepsia," answered the ghost briefly. 

"Why is he so much more respectable and tiresome than any other kinds?" 

"There's nothing like the liver," said the ghost, "for awakening the conscious, and there is no season of the year when the liver is more likely to be out of order, and the conscience is correspondingly susceptible. We take advantage of this and come to earth to administer our rebukes and suggest improvements."

" I suppose you follow the old rules -- pictures of the past, present, and future," said the editor. 

"Yes, I work on the good old lines," replied the ghost, "though I flatter myself I have introduced a little variety into the business."

So then the editor is like, "Would you think it's rude if I just kind of skipped this whole thing?" And the ghost is like, "No, no, you've got to listen. You must hear this." And so he shows the editor the first scene of the night. It's a bird's-eye view of the town with people brooding over copies of the newspaper that he publishes.

"This," said the ghost, "is the abode of dejected men and rejected copy. You have largely helped in peopling this."

" Well," said the editor, "There wasn't room for it all, you know, and I did my best."

"Not always," said the ghost in denouncing tones. "Read that." He pointed to a manuscript over which a very thin pallid-looking man was leaning. And the editor read it carefully. It was addressed to him and bore a date of some weeks ago, but he had never read it before.

"By Jove!" he said. "That's uncommonly good! I'll use that on Friday."

" Too late," said the ghost monotonously. "Too late. Look into the man's face." The editor looked, it was the face of a corpse.

"That man died of want," said the ghost. The editor shivered. 

KIM: Oh, my God, anybody who's ever gotten a rejection letter -- and if you're listening to this podcast, you probably have because you might be a writer -- oh my gosh, that's like, "They'll see what happens. It was, it was soap poisoning!"

AMY: "It was rejected copy!" I love it. I wonder if you can die from a rejection letter? Apparently you can!

KIM: If you can die from love, you can die from a rejection letter. 

AMY: So anyway, then we move on to the next scene of the night. The ghost goes on to show the editor an image of a little boy and girl who are reading salacious headlines about a horrible murder, as well as disclosures from divorce court. They're getting all this from the newspaper and the editor is like, "I remember that well! We got that murder scoop before anyone." Suddenly they flash-forward to seeing the little girl grown up. The implication is that she is now a prostitute, and the boy has become a criminal. And the editor is stricken by this. 

"Am I answerable for this?" he asked.

" Yes," said the ghost. "You and others are answerable for all of this."

"But," remonstrated the editor, "the realistic stuff sells so well nowadays. Everyone goes in for it."

"Even so," said the ghost, "that girl is an outcast and that boy is going to the gallows. Have you had enough?"

KIM: Yeah. This editor clearly subscribes to the "if it bleeds, it leads" theory of newspaper publishing. And also, the writer obviously got some rejection letters, I guess. Oh my gosh. 

AMY: I know. I love her. I love that. Um, so then the ghost goes on to call the editor "politically wobbly" -- he uses that phrase, and the editor's excuse is, basically, "It's rather hard to please everybody, you know." And then by the end of the story, he chalks up the whole night to indigestion. He says, as he's lowering the gas and going off to bed, "There was too much nutmeg in that punch." And that's basically the end of the story. 

KIM: I love it. I feel like the story still works today. It's a cautionary tale for Fox News executives, among others. Um, but I really want to know ... what we know about the woman who wrote this? Who is Alice Mary Vince? 

AMY: I wish I knew more. I couldn't find a ton of information. The Valancourt anthology, where I found the story, it says that it was originally published in The Lincolnshire Echo on December 19th, 1895. And The Lincolnshire Echo is a weekly regional newspaper in Great Britain, which is still published today, it seems. But I couldn't find her at all in any other internet searches, other than being listed as the author of this one particular story. So, I don't know. I mean, she's a true lost lady, at least from my little bit of digging that I did. I don't know if there's any other stories she might've written. 

KIM: In someone's great grandmother's attic there is a pile of rejection letters so high. 

AMY: She was wrongly rejected, because this story is great. 

KIM: I want to find out about her. I mean, I'm not giving up yet, Amy. I know you're very thorough, but I'm not willing to give up. If there's anyone out there who knows who Alice Mary Vince is or anything else she's written, we want to hear about it. Let us know. We'll take the smallest clue and run with it. She's obviously very witty. Maybe she was just a local who submitted this story for kicks, and now she's being talked about more than a hundred years later. So good for her! 

AMY: And in the meantime, if you're interested in reading more Victorian ghost stories, which I think could be a fun little tradition to start maybe with your family on Christmas Eve, I don't know... But if you want to do that, go check out the Valancourt Books of Christmas Ghost Stories. There are five different volumes, so you have lots of stories to choose from, and they're all pretty quick, you know, quick, little fun things you can do after dinner with your relatives or whatever. And a lot of them are written by women. So thank you to the guys over at Valancourt for getting all these stories back in print. 

KIM: Yeah. It sounds like these anthologies would also make a really great Christmas gift for the book-loving folks in your life. 

AMY: Yeah. I mean, most of the stories are going to be things people don't know. I think people can get tired after a while of Dickens's A Christmas Carol. I know that is a tradition for a lot of people, but maybe spice it up a little. 

KIM: Yeah. You can have both. 

AMY: And speaking of Christmas gifts, if you want to know what's on our wishlist to Santa this year, we'll tell you: it's some more five-star ratings and reviews over at Apple podcasts or wherever you listen to your podcasts, but Apple would be great. And I know we say this at the end of every episode and it gets a little repetitive, but it really means a lot to us. So if you could take a few seconds now that this episode is finishing up to head over and tell us you love us, we would be so incredibly grateful. And if you just do it now, we won't have to haunt you from beyond the grave decades from now to admonish you for letting it slide!

KIM: We need some rattling chains in there. Hopefully you can find that when you're editing. We'll see you back here next week. We're going to be discussing another "lost lady of lit." Virginia Cowles was a WWII reporter and a bestie of Martha Gellhorn. Her gripping wartime memoir Looking for Trouble, helped drum up American support for entering the fray. Author Judith Mackrell will be joining us next week when we'll learn all about Cowles' daring adventures. 

AMY: Happy holidays, everyone!

KIM: Our theme song was written and performed by Jennie Malone, and our logo was designed by Harriet Grant. Lost Ladies of Lit is produced by Kim Askew and Amy Helmes.