The Signal-Man: Charles Dickens’ Dabble In Horror

Everyone loves a thriller. As Halloween approaches, most of us will turn to the jumpscares and suspense of our favorite horror movies. The creeping feeling that something dreadful is about to befall the character, the shock of seeing that threat made real, is something most horror fans are familiar with. Less familiar is the unwitting, slow approach to doom – an unsuspected conclusion that leaves you feeling like you missed all the signs. 

Charles Dickens is not well known for works in the horror genre. Admittedly, some might argue this and point out A Christmas Carol, but upon hearing his name, most think of the love stories of Pip and Estella in Great Expectations or Lucie and Charles in A Tale of Two Cities. Yet his work “The Signal-Man” is masterfully done. The short story follows a nameless narrator who meets a signalman for trains in Victorian era England. The signalman admits to the narrator the repeated spectres who have appeared to him in the train tunnel, warning him to clear the way for a train. Twice, days after those spectres appeared, terrible accidents had occurred. The spectre has returned, and the signalman is tormented by what it means and what he should do. At the end of the tale, the narrator returns to find the signalman dead, after he failed to hear or see the train conductor warning him of approach and using the same words and gestures the spectres had. 

The story begins with ordinary circumstances and follows this sense for the majority of the piece. As a reader, little warns of the danger the signalman faces. Surely, something terrible is going to happen, but the signs point to the signalman being the cause or prevention of such an occurrence – not the victim. Even more eerie is the detail that the conductor’s warnings are laced with the narrator’s own thoughts, combined with the spectre’s words to the signalman. Such a detail leaves a cold chill in the reader as it becomes clear that this event was, in effect, both prophesied by the signalman and influenced by the narrator. 

While this particular piece falls out of place among Dickens’ well-known works, it retains the masterful prose and attention to detail that all is evident throughout all his pieces. Dickens takes the time and words to create vivid images of his characters’ surroundings, the littlest details that reveal more to the characters than meets the eye, and relatively short dialogue in favor of more descriptive paragraphs and paraphrasing. While these choices slow the story down, it also gives the reader the opportunity to reflect more upon what is being said and realized. In novels like Great Expectations and A Tale of Two Cities, these choices are out of modern style and make reading a labor; in this short story, these choices elevate the piece from a shallow interaction between men to a deeper connection – and continue to build the mystery around the signalman’s dilemma. For example, Dickens takes great care in describing the damp and dark the narrator experiences in the train tunnel, which puts him at unease and adds to the mysterious, eerie mood the setting creates. Today, such a setting may be cliche, but in Dickens’ Victorian era such a place was not uncommon; nonetheless, it creates an atmosphere that is hospitable to believing in the specters the signalman claims to see and provides a sort of vindication when the signalman is found dead. 

Most of Dickens’ works focus on societal issues of his era: his protest against treatment of orphans, the class divide between the rich and poor that was often fatal in the Victorian era, and a constant return to morals like generosity and unconditional love. However, “The Signal-Man” takes a more unique look into the unpopular topic of mental health. Little was known in Dickens’ era about mental illnesses, yet this piece highlights the danger of prolonged isolation, especially in poor conditions. The signalman was sequestered in his train tunnel with little accessibility for long periods of time alone, with little to do except learn math or new languages. Despite these pastimes, he was evidently unused to company as shown by his strange reaction to the narrator’s company, and later when he touches the narrator’s arm during their conversation, as if to assure himself of the narrator’s presence. Dickens takes a progressive stance in this regard by having the narrator feel concern for the signalman’s wellbeing and determination to bring him to a doctor. Yet while this attention to mental health was for the most part new for Dickens, it is characteristic of his forward-thinking ideals and discontent with how society functioned in various aspects. 

One of Dickens’ unifying devices is his attention to personalization and self-actualization. Many of his characters are memorable for their strengths of character, forces of will, and unforgettable minutiae. Villains are often defined by the trait of egotism. In most of his stories, Dickens provides these characters with moments that validate their humanity and provide them with the strength to follow in the paths they desire. In “The Signal-Man,” this is less obvious to readers. The narrator is nameless and rather devoid of specific, significant opinion or personality. The signalman is the focus here, and his character is forged in the recognition and acknowledgement of the narrator, who acts more as a conduit than a real character. The force of the signalman’s sense of responsibility is what defines him, and his self-actualization comes in the form of the narrator’s shared contemplation of the spectre and the assurance of his capabilities in performing his duties as signalman.

While Dickens strayed from the road that his more famous works follow in this short story, he retained his strongest literary devices – which proved more effective in this work than others – and provided an entertaining story with complex and elusive themes that linger with the reader long after the last words.

How Harry Potter Saved My Life

I grew up surrounded by stories. I was well studied in the fields of Star Wars and Harry Potter by the time I started kindergarten. I fell asleep each night to my dad weaving bedtime stories with all my favorite characters embarking on fantastic adventures, made vivid by my half-dreaming imagination. So it wouldn’t be a stretch to expect me to fall in love quickly with the most common modes of storytelling, reading and writing. That’s not quite what happened.

As I grew into my role as kindergartener, my parents found me a reluctant reader. I found the simple books of rhymes and four-letter words, intended to teach me to read, incredibly dull. My mom had to force me to read chapter books in first grade. This continued in a similar fashion until I saw the second-to-last Harry Potter movie, newly released in theatres. Here was a story I was familiar and in love with, one that I needed to know the end to – and therefore had to read my way to the last part of the series. I had heard that a friend had their parents reading the series to them, and demanded the same of my own: I couldn’t wait to hear the rest of the story! But my parents refused to read it to me, so I was forced to embark upon my maiden voyage in reading: the Harry Potter series. 

I owe all my growth in thought and perspective to the Harry Potter series and the doors it opened for me. For the first time, I enjoyed reading. I couldn’t stop. By fourth grade, I had read the entire series four times over and planned to keep on going. That is, until my English teacher, Mrs. Staub, forced upon me a reading log, demanding books from all genres – effectively putting an end to the Harry Potter craze I had succumbed to. But the floodgates were open at this point, and I found that every book I read held a story I simply couldn’t put down. While I owe my reading dedication to Harry Potter, I owe my willingness to try new books to Mrs. Staub. It is through these two aspects of my reading experience that I have learned to live, to love, to form opinions on issues and dilemmas I would never have been exposed to otherwise.

For someone who has had little opportunity to travel and experienced very little of life’s obstacles in my relatively few years, books have been a means for me to meet all of life’s wonders and struggles on a trial basis. They have shown me places – both real and fictional – beyond my imagination and created in me a desire, a need to travel and see everything I can about the world I live in. They have prompted me to think on ethical and moral dilemmas I knew nothing of until reading them: prioritizing values in impossible situations; learning the essence of what it means to love and be loved; how to balance all the aspects of my ever-changing self. Facing these questions and contemplating them as I stumbled upon them in books was a gift, one that allowed me to prepare myself and my values before I ever needed to challenge them in a meaningful way. Just as school prepares students for their careers, books have prepared me to face life’s social and moral aspects.

In a possibly even more meaningful way, books have gifted me the power to reflect and remember the ways I have grown and changed. As I mentioned, I often learned from situations in books about what values or reactions are the most significant in life. More importantly, the more I read and lived my own life, I learned to decide these things for myself by reflecting on the wide range of things I had read, learned from my parents and other role models, and my own experiences. As I read one book that contradicted another’s themes, I discovered that no one person has the answers on how to face the world – something that at first confused and scared me until I began to trust in my own ability to create the answers for myself. 

Now, looking back on who I was in elementary, middle, and high school, I can see the ways I have grown into a person with confidence and conviction in my values even as I retain the ability to continue changing and learning. Looking back at old books, I can see who I was as I read them; I can reread the moments when I learned a brand new thing about love or loss or confidence. Reading remains one of the most pivotal aspects of my life today: it soothes me when I am stressed, comforts me when I am sad, and enlivens me when I feel a hunger to see the world. After all this time, books still spark wonder and joy in me, still teach me new things about the people and places I walk among in my daily life. 

The one thing I am still learning is to live a life separate from my books – to live without constant distraction and instead experience the world I live in rather than the world on the pages. I have allowed the stories I love to consume my thoughts and feelings in everyday life; recently I have made the effort to find the wonder of the stories I love in each day – no matter how mundane the days seem. One of the magics of books is the ability to turn someone ordinary into a heroine. The last lesson books will teach me is how to be the heroine of my own story.