The Willows by Algernon Blackwood

The art and the restraint in narrative reach their very highest development, and an impression of lasting poignancy is produced without a single strained passage or a single false note.
— H. P. Lovecraft¹

Apart of the opinion of a handful of critics, Algernon Blackwood does not sit on the place I believe he deserves among contemporary horror writers—let alone between the public, to whom he seems to remain largely unknown. It has been quite some time since Blackwood was first introduced to me by Lovecraft in Supernatural Horror in Literature. In that work, Lovecraft honors him as one of the “Modern Masters”, along with Machen, Lord Dunsany and M. R. James. Since then, Blackwood has occupied a special place in my mind, resurfacing from time to time—sometimes as a youthful evocation tied to a cherished twilight sunset; other times, as a whisper that evokes fascination with horror and fright.

Perhaps, one of the greatest virtues of Blackwood is his ability to craft a suggestive and oppressive atmosphere from seemingly mundane situations—This does not mean that I overlooked the ghost stories that he knew how to cultivate so well. This talent is precisely evident in what I consider his best work: The Willows—while The Wendigo is certainly other of his well-known pieces and I must admit is the first work that comes to my mind when I think of Blackwood, it is in The Willows where Blackwood shows us the finest of his mastery.

Using this ability, Blackwood introduce us to a canoe trip along the Danube river between Viena and Budapest. For reasons never mentioned, two friends, the unnamed narrator and his companion simply known as the “Swede”, embark on a journey that takes them off from their usual route. As they enter deeper into a desolate land, the feeling of distance from the human world increases. Eventually they are force to camp on a remote solitary island in the middle of nowhere where small events start to suggest the presence of unknown forces.

At first glance, the plot appears simple and could be a classic premise used as a horror story topic. Nevertheless, what makes The Willows a memorable story that influenced many authors it’s the way how Blackwood skillfully, does not need to show explicitly the typical entities, monster o creatures, yet still generates the feeling of horror and distress. Through subtle suggestion, increases the sensation of the characters being unwelcome within the island, and by extension, with timid brushstrokes he begins to draw the proximity to a world that does not seem to be made for humans. It’s remarkable the ambient of oppression created by Blackwood recurring to natural elements as the river, the wind, the sun until reaching the climax of psychological tension by suggesting the willows as entities beyond this world that turns the natural into a source of cosmic horror, as if they had entered a lost world where they had no right to remain and were nothing more than intruders.

It’s in the willows. It’s the willows themselves humming, because here the willows have been made symbols of the forces that are against us

In addition to the cosmic horror, The Willows also incorporates a significant charge of psychological horror. We witness the inner turmoils of the characters as they helplessly, and rising like in a noisy crescendo, attempt to rationalize the increasingly strange events, holding onto any possible explanation—was that mass fluttering in the river, really, just an otter?—. This highlights the ancient human need to find a comforting explanation for the unknown, rather than to suspend on the uncertainty, or even worse: come across something that force us to confront the reality that we try desperately to conceal behind the safe doors of a candid world—ignorance is a bliss and the little happiness a man can find is subordinated to reasons no matter how absurd they may be.

It is a question wholly of the mind, and the less we think about them the better our chance of escape. Above all, don’t think for what you think happens!

In the story, we can find traces of what seems to be Blackwood’s well-known interest in the occultism, particularly permeating the character experiences—what one thinks finds expression in words, and what one says happens, states the “Swede” reflecting on a kind of a mysticism where thought, language and reality are somehow tied. Symbolically, The Willows portrays the struggle of humanity against the unknown, unseen forces. However, rather than represent an indifferent universe, it shows us a hostile one. In this sense, we are transported back to the old primitive ages, where, vulnerable and nervous, as an intruder with timid and insecure steps in an unexplored land, we recoil in fear in the presence of mysterious beings lurking in the dark. It is a scenario where the “great revelations of nature, of course, never fail to impress”, and where at sometimes, the thin layers of realms veiled by civilization and long time forgotten from our collective memory, are pierced momentarily, revealing the nightmares of a world now so distant in time.

The Willows is an exploration of mankind’s deepest fear, yet it feels disconcertingly familiar and terrifying alien at once. Blackwood brings together the outline of material horror and internal anguish, creating a story that invites us to confront our role in the cosmic theatre. The mixture of subtle narrative, hidden worlds, speculative scenarios and primal fear come to the realization that there is something beyond our grasp, disturbing our senses, forcing us to seek for soothing explanations yet deep down it always slips out of our understanding. Blackwood knew how to draw it out with a subtle precision and evocative narrative, where the boundaries between colliding worlds are revealed for a rapid glimpse, leaving a perturbing impression. The contribution of Blackwood to horror literature has long been either underappreciated or ignored. The time has come to restore him to the place he rightfully deserves.