I hardly know where to start. How do you put such terror into words when the words I choose need to be real, not just a fabrication of a well-educated imagination? I know that you may have your doubts and conclude with your own presumptions; and with no hard evidence to offer, I am asking for you to explore and consider your deepest beliefs. I am unable to refer to this as a story, it goes much deeper than that of a progressive tale with happy ever afters.
What you are about to read is real; the feelings and emotions described have actually been lived. The fear felt. This is a narrative of the events that took place across almost a century, from 1903 to 1983, in a house that stood close to others and for many years shared the usual comforts of home. This house was once safe, it was a comfortable place to spend time but over time, it evolved into a dark emptiness that the house of Poultney Roads’ residents would never forget. It was hidden away from what it once was and over time had emerged as a building of strong, solid bricks that concealed more secrets than some members of my family wish to remember.
I am not writing this in an attempt to scare you but to inform you of what exists, whether you choose to believe it or not. This is not a fictional novel, created to shock and leave you in suspense but is instead a retelling of what happened to several generations of a family who had lived their lives as any other but who were, quite literally, introduced to another world.
I guess you could consider this a warning, that perhaps you should believe your instincts instead of living your life creating explanations and judgments. Seeing is believing some might say but learning about the house on Poultney Road could prepare you for something you may one day come face to face with and perhaps prevent you from the pain that this house brought to so many.
Safe in your own home; sit back in a comfortable chair and turn on the sidelight. The beam will comfort you through this roller-coaster of memories that have left their mark on everyone who entered The House on Poultney Road.
The House on Poultney Road: Paranormal Books Review Blog
The book’s summary from the back cover was a mouthful! After having read Nickel and Dimed a few months ago and being sorely disappointed, I decided to give non-fiction another go. This time, however, the subject matter was more to my liking – the supernatural!
How can I say no to a ghost story? Besides, it seemed like a quick read topping out at only 180 pages; I figured that I would be done within the week. That week stretched out to two whole weeks! I could chalk it off to life getting in the way and yadda-yadda. But no, the main culprit was the book itself!
The book started a little slow – slow enough that I kept having to get up and walk around a bit to avoid falling asleep on the couch. I then started reading in small increments at a time and even contemplated just letting the book go altogether. I held on and did not want to give up just yet. And so, I pushed forward, and I am thrilled I did.
“But wait, it gets better!” Not only did the book get better, but there are parts that really delved into the “damn that’s creepy” category! This is good because, well, it’s a ghost story based on fact and it should be scary! And why am I shouting so much?! The interesting thing is that the author, Stephanie Boddy, did not experience any of the events that occurred in the book. Instead, the book was written based on second-hand accounts as told by her family members that spanned a few generations. This, in and of itself is usually a red flag.
Consider the source material. Now, take a trip down memory lane and conjure up the old childhood game, “telephone.” For those who don’t remember, the game involves a group of kids who sit in a circle and the first person whispers a secret in the ears of another and then another, and so on and so forth until the last person has to reveal the message, or secret, as told by the first person out loud. It is at this point, the end, where everyone has a different variation of what was initially whispered. It is this “telephone syndrome” that makes me go into a book like this with a wary eye. I am not calling Boddy a liar by any means, I just don’t take things at face value, especially when it comes to the supernatural!
Ah yes, the book! It does get creepier with the introduction of seances and Ouija board sessions that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. While each session was entertaining, it bordered on redundant and even made my eyes roll a bit not because I was experiencing possession but because the story evolved into the ludicrous. Yes, I know, I am talking about a book about spooks and the supernatural. But even accounts of such a nature can teeter the line of possibility. Towards the tail-end of the book, the story starts to taper off as if Boddy was eager to get to the book’s conclusion and wrap it up. In essence, it felt a little rushed towards the end.
Still, I have to commend Boddy for sharing a family story that can be met with ridicule and the story was truly a pleasant read. I even felt, by the end of the story, somewhat of a connection to the family and wish I were around to sit in and observe said seances and Ouija sessions. Of course, I say this but would probably have run out of The House on Poultney Road with my tail between my legs! Yeah, Ouija board sessions were that creepy.
Give this one a go. Despite my “grievances,” I really did enjoy this book, and there were truly some terrifying scares sprinkled throughout. Scratch that, the scares were more than just a sprinkle! There were parts that I could have done without but, overall, I give this book a thumbs up!