A Head Full of Ghosts – A Chilling Reinterpretation of the Worn-Out ‘Exorcist’ Story

When I picked up Paul Tremblay’s A Head Full of Ghosts (published June 2015) I expected a tale of demonic possession with all its familiar scares and lore that carries enough power to provide a spine-chilling reading experience. In other words, I expected a horror novel where I could be a detached observer and witness the horror inflicted upon its characters by exhibiting remote sadness and grim fascination. But ‘A Head Full of Ghosts’ bestowed an entirely different, and most importantly, an unforgettable experience; different in the sense that if few years from now someone asks me, ‘Hey! Can you recommend a scary literary fiction for people who hate traditional horror novels?’ my mind would instantly spell-out the title of Mr. Tremblay’s novel. A Head Full of Ghosts starts off in the familiar ghost tale trajectory: a smart but lonely teenage girl hearing voices and doing or saying creepy things. However, we slowly get subsumed into the narrative, so much that we aren’t a distant observer anymore, but get deeply ingrained into the helpless, circumscribed condition.

Paul Tremblay’s masterful speculative fiction is a clever 'exorcism' tale that pays mild homage as well as ferociously deconstructs or reinterprets the spate of possession tales, which more or less turns an afflicted woman’s body and mental state into a form of popcorn entertainment. What primarily generates the novel’s intimate, enclosed perspective is the choice of its narrator: a precocious 8 year old girl who watches her family’s breakdown from the periphery without the means to fully comprehend it. Consequently, this view-point keeps the readers unbalanced or indecisive about the story's alleged supernatural dimensions. Divided into three parts, A Head Full of Ghosts opens with 23 year old Meredith Barrett returning to her old house, where her sister Marjorie was allegedly possessed by a demon. She is with the best-selling writer Rachel to tell her story (commissioned to write a book) from the beginning and without unnecessary embellishments. Fifteen years earlier, Marjorie had been the prime focus of a six part reality television show called ‘The Possession’. That reality show is hinted to have only worsened the Barrett family’s situation, exploiting their ignorance and suffering for the sake of entertainment. Now the grown-up Meredith aka Merry wants to set things straight, once and for all.

While each chapter tells the tale of Marjorie’s alleged possession from Merry’s vantage point, there are bridging chapters which smooths the rough edges in Merry’s tale through Rachel’s inquisitive questions. Furthermore, the intermediary chapters also include series of blog-posts, written by a funny and cynical blogger (titled ‘The Last Girl Online’), who analysis the 15-year old reality TV show, providing number of possible interpretations on the on-screen events and also picking apart the pop-culture influences strewn across the show (a kind of clever self-parody on Tremblay’s narrative strategies too). Paul Tremblay sets his story in small-town New England, a setting that has spawned lot of dark horror fiction (especially from Stephen King and H.P. Lovecraft whom are referenced in this novel). Although the chunk of the tale unfolds from 8 year old Merry’s POV, it’s full of vivid realizations that draw a lot from the disturbing hindsight of traumatized 23-year old Merry.

Author Paul G. Tremblay

The Barrett family was under lot of financial strain before Marjorie’s downward spiral. Further threatening their familial togetherness is the increasingly estranged relationship between unemployed dad John and working mom Sarah. Being jobless for nearly two years without the prospect of experiencing the proverbial ‘light at the end of the tunnel’, dad John rejuvenates his interest in Catholicism. Mom Sarah, burdened by her duties at home and work takes solace in few drinks or nervously fidgets with a cigarette at hand. Nevertheless, the sisterly bond between Marjorie and Merry are strong at this point, with the elder and younger ones jubilantly making up wacky, feel-good stories in a cherished private notebook. But that bond too gets ruined by teen Marjorie’s increasingly bewildering behavior. Marjorie still makes up stories for Merry, but these new ones are creepy and nightmarish. Merry hears about her sister’s weekly appointment with Dr. Hamilton. But Marjorie’s bizarre conduct only keeps on escalating. Feeling reassured by his renewed belief in Catholicism, dad John brings in Father Manderly, despite mom Sarah’s objection. Later, the family’s deteriorating financial woes brings upon opportunistic members of a reality TV show. Mom’s mild disagreement is drowned out by the voices of media, Church, and religious dad. Merry wants her caring sister back, telling tall-tales while cuddling under her cardboard house. But she also likes (at least initially) this newfound attention from strangers. Of course, the vital question that rises amidst all these developments would be: Is there really a demon inside Marjorie’s body? Eight year old Merry is confused over that (and we too). Demon or not, what’s happened to Marjorie is horrifying and lamentable.

Any way, do we really need one-dimensional personification of evil, in the form of a demon to scare us when the realistic step-by-step disintegration of a family retains the same power to send a shiver down our spine? Yes, A Head Full of Ghosts is a work of horror. But its scary elements are palpable, not otherworldly. It’s subtly indicting (feminism-laced) commentary on patriarchy, relentlessly harassing, feeble-minded religious institutions, and misogynistic cultural landscape (which breeds regressive fictions and vitriolic reality-TV shows) disturbs us the most than the profane non-stop chatter that comes from Marjorie’s mouth. Paul Tremblay’s writing refers to vast array of similarly characterized tales (especially William Peter Blatty’s The Exorcist) without ever getting weighed down by its references. Prominent among the author’s influences (mentioned in the blogger’s chapter) is Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s 1892 short story The Yellow Wallpaper (an early significant work of feminist literature). The blogger named Karen Brisette is the voice of cynic within us, which enjoys getting spooked by such tales of demonic possession and yet makes fun of its familiar theatricalities. Karen’s whole riff on the way exorcism-related stories are ingrained within the pop culture DNA adds another layer to 8-year old Merry’s perspective. Furthermore, this narrative framing device allows Tremblay to offer a commentary/criticism on his own work.

Thanks to the fully fleshed-out characters and their imapctful internal conflicts, all the layers of criticisms and sharp observations within ‘A Head Full of Ghosts’ perfectly works. Dad John is not bad but only a frail guy. The same goes for Mom Sarah. They hope to bring Marjorie’s suffering to an end, although they allow themselves to be manipulated or exploited by outside forces (an irony, since they think Marjorie is afflicted by malevolent outside force). The husband-wife conflict and their relationship are tangible, bringing authenticity to the proceedings. What’s more commendable is the manner Tremblay weaves the appalling incidents through the observant yet confused eyes of Merry. There’s a deep ambiguity in Merry’s narration that keeps us on the edge. Just like the way she is unable to discern whether Marjorie is ‘faking it’ or not, we are kept off-balance, making us wonder how much Merry recounts from her memory and imagination. The twists are perturbing, and thankfully don’t disrespect the reader. Tremblay doesn’t take 180 or 360 degree narrative turn to shock us just for the sake of it. The so-called twists are what (deep-down) we feared would be the ultimate truth, and yet hoped it would be wrong. Altogether, A Head Full of Ghosts would haunt me for some time (particularly its genuinely tear-jerking ending). It’s a must read for those who enjoy reading the works of contemporary, genre-transcending horror authors like Victor LaValle, Nathan Ballingrud, Stephen Graham Jones, Helen Oyeyemi, Sarah Langan, etc.