‘On Reading Susan Hill’s The Small Hand.’
I read a traditional ghost story. It has shadows, claustrophobia, and a symbolic hand – representative of the ghost, but also a ghostly self – transferred or displaced guilt upon a character’s behalf. As I read further on, I realise that the two strands, the two strange incidences of the story running parallel, will come together in a ghostly symmetry that will unite the narrative and prove it truly unnerving. They will mirror each other via the form of a ghost, and it is the ghost then that transfers guilt from brother to brother, from marked soul to marked and overwhelmed soul.
The deed was done and buried, but the ghost carried it through the narrative mirror.