1,99 €
Niedrigster Preis in 30 Tagen: 1,99 €
Niedrigster Preis in 30 Tagen: 1,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
In "The Doom of Stark House," Percy Keese Fitzhugh masterfully intertwines elements of gothic fiction with a thrilling narrative that explores the haunting legacy of a decaying mansion. The story unfolds in the secluded Stark House, where dark family secrets and spectral presences intertwine, creating an atmosphere thick with suspense and mystery. Fitzhugh's vivid and evocative prose immerses the reader in the icy grip of a chilling narrative, marked by rich character development and a distinct sense of place, traits that solidify its place in early 20th-century American literature. The book reflects a period of growing interest in psychological depth, as characters grapple with both external and internal demons. Fitzhugh, an author deeply attuned to the nuances of human emotion and the existential struggles of his time, drew from his own experiences and the cultural currents of early 1900s America. His works frequently explore themes of isolation, the supernatural, and the complexities of familial bonds, often influenced by his background in journalism and his grasp of narrative tension. These elements converge in "The Doom of Stark House," making it a compelling reflection of its era. I highly recommend "The Doom of Stark House" to readers who appreciate gripping tales that seamlessly blend the eerie and the psychological. This novel not only entertains but also invites deep contemplation on the shadows of history and memory, making it a significant addition to the gothic canon. In this enriched edition, we have carefully created added value for your reading experience: - A succinct Introduction situates the work's timeless appeal and themes. - The Synopsis outlines the central plot, highlighting key developments without spoiling critical twists. - A detailed Historical Context immerses you in the era's events and influences that shaped the writing. - A thorough Analysis dissects symbols, motifs, and character arcs to unearth underlying meanings. - Reflection questions prompt you to engage personally with the work's messages, connecting them to modern life. - Hand‐picked Memorable Quotes shine a spotlight on moments of literary brilliance. - Interactive footnotes clarify unusual references, historical allusions, and archaic phrases for an effortless, more informed read.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
Ähnliche
The Doom of Stark House
Table of Contents
Introduction
A single place can gather the past like a storm cloud until memory, fear, and choice collide.
The Doom of Stark House is a work by Percy Keese Fitzhugh, an American author active in the first half of the twentieth century and widely recognized for his prolific output in popular fiction. While Fitzhugh is best known for his juvenile adventure series, this title signals a different register—its very name evoking an atmosphere of suspense and consequence. Situated within the cultural moment that produced briskly told, magazine-friendly narratives and compact novels, the book meets readers at the intersection of accessibility and intensity, drawing on the period’s taste for swiftly unfolding stories with clear stakes and an evocative sense of place.
Without venturing into spoilers, the premise announced by the title centers attention on a house whose name and reputation promise crisis. Readers can expect the narrative to orbit that focal point, letting rumor, history, and present-tense pressure shape the experience. The book’s appeal lies in the slow tightening of mood rather than in ornate detours, and in the way a single location can become both setting and symbol. It offers a story-world where the contours of a building, a family name, or a community whisper can become catalysts for action, reflection, and unfolding moral tests.
Fitzhugh’s broader body of work is marked by direct, unfussy prose and a commitment to narrative momentum, qualities that help this book feel immediate even at historical remove. The voice favors clarity over ornament, keeping readers close to event and consequence, while allowing atmosphere to accumulate through detail and implication. The mood leans toward tension rather than terror, inviting readers to inhabit unease rather than shock. That balance—steady pacing, legible stakes, and a mounting sense of place—creates an entry point for contemporary audiences who value readability alongside depth, and who appreciate stories that build pressure through situation more than sensational spectacle.
Thematically, the title invites attention to fate, responsibility, and the ways place can shape identity. A named house suggests inheritance—of reputation, of grievances, of debts owed to the past—and the narrative uses that frame to examine how people carry or confront those burdens. It also gestures toward the social life of fear: how communities ascribe meaning to landmarks, and how those meanings, once fixed, can determine what seems possible. Running beneath is a question about agency—what it takes to change a story that others think is already written—and the cost of that change for individuals and the circles that claim them.
Those concerns travel well into the present. Readers today grapple with inherited narratives about families, neighborhoods, and institutions, and with the stubborn weight of stories that feel as immovable as walls. The book’s focus on the moral weather around a single site speaks to debates about legacy and renewal: Which histories do we preserve, which do we revise, and who has the standing to decide? It also raises quieter, more intimate questions about courage and complicity, about how far one goes to resist what seems inevitable, and about the emotional labor of transforming a place others consider beyond saving.
Approached in this light, The Doom of Stark House offers an experience that is both atmospheric and reflective—a suspense-tinged exploration of how environment and expectation can entwine. It rewards readers who enjoy watching pressure accumulate through setting and circumstance, and who are attuned to the ethical contours of seemingly local conflicts. Anchored by Fitzhugh’s straightforward storytelling, it opens a doorway into an earlier era’s narrative sensibilities while engaging questions that feel timely. Entering its rooms, one finds not just a story about a house, but an invitation to consider how the edifices we inherit—material and imagined—shape what we dare to change.
Synopsis
Stark House stands on the edge of a quiet American town, its shuttered windows and ivy-clad walls inspiring rumors that pass from porch to schoolyard. Residents remember older stories of the Stark family’s rise and retreat, and a vague sense of unfinished business surrounds the property. A small circle of energetic young friends, drawn by curiosity and a desire to be useful, take notice when talk about the estate grows louder one summer. Without embracing the town’s superstitions, they begin to ask practical questions about ownership, caretakers, and why the once-grand home has slipped into neglect, setting the tone for a grounded, fact-seeking adventure.
Early signs suggest that something more than neglect troubles Stark House. A glimmer of light is seen where no electricity should be, a door shows fresh scuffs despite a rusted lock, and distant sounds carry across the grounds at odd hours. The friends collect what the town can offer: old newspaper clippings, a map from the library, and secondhand accounts from shopkeepers. They decide to observe rather than intrude, establishing a vantage point to note patterns. Their approach emphasizes prudence and cooperation, with each small observation adding to a picture that hints at a human cause behind the estate’s unsettling reputation.
Conversations with adults deepen the context. A long-time neighbor speaks of the Starks’ careful philanthropy in better days; a local official mentions paperwork gaps that have left the property in limbo. An elderly handyman recalls repairs halted mid-project, as if someone intended to return and never did. These details introduce practical tensions—questions about rights, responsibility, and access—without confirming any one theory. The young friends balance warnings to keep away with a steady resolve to help if help is needed. They agree on boundaries, set times, and signals, turning curiosity into an orderly watch that respects both law and safety.
A closer look at the perimeter reveals useful clues: recent footprints that avoid the main gate, a discreet path through undergrowth, and a shed door propped against the wind. Inside an outbuilding, they notice remnants of everyday activity—scraps, a tin cup, a line of dust disturbed by boxes. A faded folder of routine documents, half-forgotten in a drawer, names trustees and mentions conditions tied to the property’s upkeep. The scattered hints suggest matters of inheritance and obligation. Instead of confirming a mystery in the supernatural sense, the evidence points to a tangle of motives that could involve profit, concealment, or simple desperation.
A turning point comes during a storm that drives them to take quick, careful action. The wind rattles the house, and a noise from within contradicts the locked facade. The friends choose to alert a reliable adult while one of them keeps a safe watch. Their preparation pays off: a lantern signal is sent, a rendezvous is kept, and the situation is approached with calm rather than bravado. What they encounter underscores that any danger connected to Stark House is decidedly human. The incident does not resolve the mystery, but it narrows possibilities and strengthens their commitment to seeing the matter handled properly.
In the aftermath, their inquiry becomes more structured. They compare notes on deliveries, the timing of movements, and inconsistencies in stories told around town. A list of names forms—some crossed out after verification, others marked for quiet observation. More information surfaces about the Stark family’s intentions for the property, including provisions that would activate under certain circumstances. The friends coordinate with a trustworthy official, keeping to clear roles so no one overreaches. The narrative pace quickens as clues align, suggesting the presence of someone intent on using the estate’s limbo to their advantage, and pointing toward a decisive opportunity to intervene.
The confrontation unfolds with care, not spectacle. A stakeout leads to a measured approach through a service door, then deliberate steps along dim corridors. A hidden way, cleverly designed but timeworn, confirms that Stark House has been used in secret. When the moment arrives, the friends act within their limits, signaling adults and ensuring that evidence—papers, small items, and a telling ledger—will not vanish. The identities and exact methods at play are revealed in a manner consistent with the clues, resolving the central question without sensationalism. The focus remains on fact, procedure, and restoring order to a situation clouded by rumor.
With the matter settled, attention turns to consequences and stewardship. The authorities address legal irregularities, the town dispels unfounded tales, and the individuals involved are handled through proper channels. The estate’s future, long uncertain, reaches a turning point that fulfills the novel’s title: Stark House faces a fate that is both inevitable and clarifying. Whether through legal reallocation, structural failure, or planned transformation, the house’s end as a mysterious fixture closes an era. The community responds with a practical outlook, and the young friends step back, acknowledging that their role was to observe, inform, and act responsibly at critical moments.
The book’s message centers on clear thinking, cooperation, and service to community. By tracing rumors to their source and distinguishing appearance from reality, the story reinforces skepticism toward superstition and respect for facts. The young protagonists’ restraint—seeking help, following rules, and avoiding reckless behavior—shows a model of civic-minded action. The conclusion ties personal growth to public good, suggesting that change, even when it ends something familiar, can restore fairness and peace of mind. The Doom of Stark House ultimately presents a grounded mystery in which patient inquiry, not daring stunts, brings resolution and ushers the town from whisper to understanding.
Historical Context
The Doom of Stark House is set against the texture of small-town New Jersey in the early interwar years, a landscape Percy Keese Fitzhugh repeatedly evoked through towns reminiscent of Bridgeboro along the Hackensack and Passaic river corridors. The period roughly spans the 1910s–1920s, when trolley lines, railroads, and emerging motor roads threaded through marshes, mills, and expanding suburbs. The titular house suggests a decaying Gilded Age or Victorian estate on the outskirts of a manufacturing town, where reputations, local rumor, and new forms of civic order intersect. The setting’s mix of wooded tracts, waterways, and newly electrified neighborhoods provides a credible stage for mystery, youthful initiative, and the negotiation between tradition and modernity.
A central historical backdrop is the rise of the Boy Scouts of America (BSA), founded in 1910 by Chicago publisher William D. Boyce after encounters with British scouting inspired by Robert Baden-Powell’s 1908 Scouting for Boys. Under Chief Scout Executive James E. West (1911–1943), the BSA fused Progressive Era ideals—public service, civic discipline, and outdoor training—with municipal and school partnerships. New Jersey’s dense towns and nearby wilderness preserves (such as the Palisades Interstate Park, organized 1900) made scouting projects visible: first aid stations, trail work, and public-safety campaigns. Fitzhugh’s juvenile adventures, including Stark House, mirror this ethos, placing organized youth character and competence at the center of community challenges that might otherwise be ceded to rumor or fear.
The First World War (U.S. entry in April 1917; Armistice, November 11, 1918) brought home-front mobilization that deeply shaped youth culture. Scouts distributed posters, ran message services, and participated in Liberty Loan and War Savings drives, with contemporary BSA reports crediting them with sales exceeding $300 million in bonds and stamps. They gathered peach pits for gas mask charcoal and assisted with civilian preparedness. In 1918, during the influenza pandemic, youth groups in many towns aided relief efforts and information campaigns. This environment of service, vigilance, and practical problem-solving pervades Fitzhugh’s fiction, connecting Stark House’s young protagonists to a culture that expected disciplined response to emergencies rather than passivity amid unsettling events.
Prohibition (Eighteenth Amendment ratified 1919; Volstead Act, 1919; enforcement 1920–1933) reshaped New Jersey’s coastal and riverine economy. Rum-running thrived along "Rum Row" off New Jersey and Long Island, where figures like William "Bill" McCoy supplied liquor just beyond the three-mile territorial limit (extended for customs purposes to twelve miles by the 1924 Anti-Smuggling Act). The U.S. Coast Guard, formed in 1915, expanded interdiction patrols; local corruption and clandestine warehouses proliferated in marshes, the Pine Barrens, and abandoned estates. A derelict mansion such as Stark House aligns with this milieu: a plausible stash site, a theater for cat-and-mouse between law and traffickers, and a catalyst for rumors of doom that youthful investigators must demystify through direct action.
Technological change intensified the feel of transition. The Model T Ford (1908–1927) and the Federal Aid Road Act of 1916, followed by the 1921 Federal Highway Act, began to systematize regional travel; New Jersey’s state routes and bridges connected factory towns to ports and suburbs. Telegraph and expanding telephone exchanges quickened communication; portable flashlights, enabled by dry-cell batteries, became common field tools. Radio broadcasting began nationally with KDKA (1920), and New Jersey’s own WJZ in Newark launched in 1921, accelerating mass news and rumor. In this environment, the mysteries of a brooding house no longer reside solely in legend; they are probed by modern mobility, light, and networks—precisely the practical apparatus Fitzhugh’s characters wield.
The surge in spiritualism after 1918—driven by wartime bereavement—made séances and ghost-lore commonplace, with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle as a prominent supporter and Harry Houdini a relentless debunker in the 1920s. Concurrently, policing absorbed more "scientific" methods: the New York State Prison system adopted fingerprinting in 1903; the NYPD established a fingerprint bureau by 1906; and forensic thinking spread in American departments through the 1910s–1920s. Stark House’s haunted overtones reflect this cultural contest between superstition and rational inquiry. The narrative’s movement from eerie rumor to concrete evidence echoes the era’s wider public shift toward empiricism in urban policing and civic problem-solving.
New Jersey’s industrial belt—Paterson, Newark, and the Hudson waterfront—exhibited sharp class divides that produced headline conflicts like the 1913 Paterson Silk Strike, led in part by the IWW’s William "Big Bill" Haywood and Elizabeth Gurley Flynn. The brief but harsh 1920–1921 recession strained local fortunes; some estates shifted owners or fell into disrepair under tax burdens and changing markets. In many towns, fading mansions became tangible markers of a receding elite and unstable property values. Stark House’s dilapidation reads within this context: a relic of earlier wealth whose decline stirs community anxiety, invites trespass and illicit use, and becomes a contested symbol of who controls space and reputation in a modernizing town.
The book functions as a social and political critique by exposing how fear, corruption, and unequal power flourish where institutions falter and rumor supplants evidence. Its youth protagonists embody Progressive citizenship—testing claims, aiding authorities, and asserting public stewardship over spaces hoarded by class privilege or exploited by illicit trade during Prohibition. The decayed mansion spotlights the moral hazards of speculative wealth and neglect; the Prohibition backdrop underscores the corrosive effects of unenforceable law on local governance. By demystifying the "doom" attributed to lineage or superstition, the narrative tacitly argues for egalitarian accountability, civic transparency, and modern, fact-based responses to the social dislocations of the 1910s–1920s.
The Doom of Stark House
CHAPTER ILOW CEILING
A low ceiling had forced them down through the sullen, gray atmosphere and after landing them safely in the snow-banked valley, the pilot took off immediately and was even then gaily winging his way back toward distant Quebec. The two young men watched the plane intently until its shimmering wings were obscured by the gathering storm clouds.
Hal looked away and turned to view the silent, white landscape. Miles and miles of frowning forest stretched out in all directions and to the left, just this side of the timber, the dark outline of the river could be seen under its thick coating of ice.
Chester Stark drew his heavy coat about his none too robust frame, then placed a gloved hand on Hal’s shoulder.
“That’s Bete Noire[1], old top.”
“Oh, yes—that Black Beast river you were telling me about. It doesn’t look like such a black beast to me, Ches.” Hal’s deep blue eyes twinkled. “Just now it looks like an icy beast.”
“It’s everything you can name, Hal. Dangerous current—tricky, and yet a blessing for the trappers. Only way they can make it to Sainte Beauve in the bad months. So thick with ice they travel almost the whole distance over it. They begin to dynamite it this month, though. Settlers have to get fish. Dad wrote me they’d already blown up the ice at Beyond. We’ll be able to get some trout.”
“Boy, that sounds like living, Ches. But say, we’re here because we’re here and it’s middle afternoon. Are you sure this handy man of your father’s or whatever he is—are you sure he’ll show up and not leave us in this solemn place for the night?”
A smile lighted up Chester Stark’s gray eyes and he looked at Hal’s powerful physique, admiringly.
“Bonner will be here—he’ll be looking for us, don’t worry. But even if he shouldn’t, I have the feeling somehow that you’re capable of taking care of both of us.[1q]” He glanced at Hal’s broad shoulders and nodded. “You look as if you could knock a hungry wolf pack silly with one straight tackle.”
Hal whipped off his warm tweed cap and ran his hand over a tumbled mass of red, curling hair. Instinctively, then, he looked off across the gleaming white surface of the snow searching for tell-tale impressions. In a second he espied them, not two hundred feet from where they were standing.
“Ches, you mean wolves...”
“Certainly, you crazy egg. You’re in the wilds of Canada and I don’t mean maybe! You’re not on the campus! Do you realize we were a few hours in that plane from Quebec? Figure it out for yourself what a nice cross-country run that would be if we had to hoof it. Sainte Beauve, which is about twenty miles from here, is nothing more or less than an outpost town. There’s a train in and out of there every other week. Beyond is twenty miles also, but north of this spot, so considering the distance between human habitations in this wild, desolate country it isn’t any wonder that wolves...”
“How can you tell it’s twenty miles to Beyond, Ches?” Hal interposed, glancing anxiously toward the darkening horizon.
“I’ve spent all my life around these parts, except the time I’ve been at college,” Chester answered. “I ought to know the country a little bit. But to satisfy you, Hal, I’ll tell you why I know it’s twenty miles to Beyond. Bete Noire divides a little northeast of here and she goes roaring out and over through Dirk’s Pass, plunges down into the ravine and meets the river again at a place called the Devil’s Pot. It speaks for itself; it’s the most treacherous spot on the Bete Noire. If you listen intently you’ll hear the roar of the falls at Dirk’s Pass—it seldom freezes over completely. Hear it? Well, just the sound of it tells me that the distance to Beyond is about twenty miles. And by that same token I can calculate the distance to little old Sainte Beauve.”
“Boy, it’s quite a little walk either way, huh? A fellow feels rather small when he thinks of so many miles of snow and ice...Gosh, Ches, how on earth can this Bonner bird find us?”
“You have to pass through this valley to get to Sainte Beauve. And if you remember, I wired Dad that if the day wasn’t so pleasant our pilot might have to land us in the valley. Dad will figure the time correctly and Jacques Bonner will be here, Hal. Don’t worry. I wish I was as certain that you’d like him.”
“What makes you think I won’t like him?”
“Because nobody likes him, except Dad. He looks like a bear and acts like a puma. He’s part Indian, but mostly French-Canadian, I understand, and talks very good English. A queer mixture. Anyway, he’s been with my father since their lumberjack days. Dad was foreman of the outfit and when he finally organized the Great Northern Lumber Company and made his pile, Jacques Bonner came into the family and he’s been with us ever since. A sort of major-domo, you know. My sisters and myself have never talked about it, but if anyone were to ask us point blank I guess we couldn’t honestly say we have any use for Bonner. Dad swears by him, and yet at times...Hal, I’m going to tell you something confidential...”
“Why, of course, Ches—go on!”
“I’ve sometimes fancied Dad is afraid of Jacques Bonner. Why, I don’t know. For that reason I just say I fancy it’s so. But do me a favor while you’re at Beyond, Hal. See if you notice that they’re never quite at ease in each other’s presence.”
“I don’t quite understand—”
“You will when you see Dad and Jacques Bonner together,” Chester said, looking up steadily into Hal’s ruddy face. “You’ll notice it immediately, for you’re the type of person that wouldn’t do anything else but.—This is just between you and me, you know.”
“Ches, we’re friends, the best of friends, aren’t we?” Hal said, taking off his fur gauntlet and extending his hand.
“The very best, Hal.”
They clasped hands and smiled, then stepped apart at the sudden, distant sound of tinkling bells. Chester nodded.
“It’s Bonner, all right—with the sleigh. Now you can rest easy that we’ll get to Beyond comfortably. Also, we’ll eat and I know that’s just what you were worrying about.”
“Man alive, was I! The promise of food, a blazing fireplace, the tinkle of sleigh bells...If it wasn’t early March I’d think it was Christmas,” Hal chuckled. “Anyway, it’s a merry sounding prospect.”
“Don’t count on too much at Stark House, Hal. I didn’t know what merriment was until I went to college and fell in with you. Dad’s always been so sad and peculiar.”
“Now, Ches, don’t start worrying about the effect your father and your house will have on me—please! I’ve lived long enough to take people as I find them; I’ve met lots of peculiar people too. You ought to know that I get a kick out of almost everything and everybody.”
“Yes, I should have remembered that,” Chester admitted, smiling.
