Dorothy Scarborough opens her 1917 study by confronting the sheer abundance of supernatural fiction, noting that her bibliography—originally intended for inclusion—had to be omitted because it was "far too voluminous." This practical constraint shapes the book's method: rather than cataloguing every instance, Scarborough selects representative works to trace how authors deploy diction, dialogue, and description to create uncanny effects. She treats the supernatural not as a single tradition but as a set of evolving narrative strategies, from Gothic romance to Edwardian ghost stories.

The Wandering Jew as a Narrative Device

Scarborough devotes sustained attention to the Wandering Jew legend, tracking its transformations across decades and authors. She notes how the figure shifts from a religious symbol to a vehicle for social satire, as in Charles Granville's symbolic story with "a definite religious message." The author highlights specific authorial choices: Hawthorne's virtuoso figure whose touch is "like ice, conveying a sense of spiritual as well as physical chill," and an anonymous story where the wanderer becomes "not a personality but the plague itself." These examples show Scarborough's interest in how diction—the "ice" of Hawthorne's touch, the abstraction of plague—creates different supernatural registers.

Gothic Romance and the Architecture of Fear

The opening chapter on Gothic romance establishes Scarborough's critical vocabulary. She examines how early Gothic novelists used setting—crumbling castles, hidden passages—as an extension of psychological states. Her analysis focuses on the interplay between descriptive excess and restraint: where Ann Radcliffe piles up adjectives to create atmosphere, later writers achieve terror through omission. Scarborough quotes a passage from a Gothic novel where the protagonist's hesitation before a door is described in minute physical detail, arguing that such pacing manipulates reader anticipation. She also notes the shift from external horrors to internal ones, a move she attributes to changes in dialogue patterns—characters begin to voice doubts about their own perceptions.

Dialogue and the Unreliable Witness

One of Scarborough's most precise observations concerns how dialogue signals supernatural credibility. She contrasts the formal, explanatory speeches of early ghost stories—where characters rationalize apparitions—with the fragmented, hesitant exchanges in later works. In a passage on the Wandering Jew, she points to Eugène Sue's representation of the figure as "knowing his awful destiny, yet, while wildly regretting it, powerless in the clutch of fate." The diction here—"awful destiny," "clutch of fate"—creates a sense of inevitability through rhythmic repetition. Scarborough also notes how Hawthorne uses the Wandering Jew's dialogue to undercut his own authority: the character admits that "human prayers will not avail to aid him," a line that simultaneously asserts and denies supernatural power.

The Supernatural as Social Satire

Scarborough identifies a strain of supernatural fiction that uses ghostly motifs to critique contemporary society. She cites Charles Granville's symbolic story as "a social satire, an appeal for the coming of a real democracy, real justice and genuine spirituality." The author's method here is comparative: she sets Granville's earnest allegory against George Croly's apocalyptic novel, which aims to prove "that Christ's second coming is near at hand." Scarborough's own diction is notably evaluative—she calls Croly's book "interesting" but "by no means a great piece of literature"—revealing her critical stance. She also notes Lew Wallace's The Prince of India, where the Wandering Jew appears as "old, a philosopher," in contrast to earlier impetuous versions, showing how authorial choices about age and temperament reshape the legend's meaning.

Scarborough's study rewards readers who attend to her own authorial choices: her preference for concrete examples over abstract theory, her willingness to judge literary quality, and her eye for the telling detail—a touch like ice, a plague that is not a person but a doom. The book is best approached as a series of linked essays rather than a comprehensive history, each section offering a focused argument about how supernatural effects are achieved through specific verbal and structural decisions.