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Guest Post: Ten Classics of Halloween Fiction by Lisa Morton

TEN CLASSICS OF HALLOWEEN FICTION

by Lisa Morton

Most horror fans probably think that Halloween-themed fiction has a lengthy and deep history, and glancing at lists of October releases every year would certainly lend credence to that belief. But the truth is that prior to the twentieth century, Halloween made surprisingly few appearances in fiction; the only stories to focus completely on the holiday were usually quaint tales of middle-class parties found in ladies’ magazines, and aimed at Victorian hostesses who were in search of themed parties to fill that gap between Independence Day and Christmas.

In the twentieth century, though, as Halloween celebrations spread throughout America, so did Halloween fiction. Interestingly, stories from the first half of the century still focused on parties; it wasn’t until the close of the 1900s that Halloween fiction became its own cottage industry, with stories now centering on everything from trick or treat to haunted attractions to urban legends to Halloween’s Celtic origins.

The list below includes only works of fiction (excluding, in other words, poetry, because this list would start with Robert Burns’s 1785 masterpiece “Hallowe’en” if that were the case), is arranged chronologically, and is notated to make these works easy to find.

“Clay” (1914) by James Joyce – Yes, this is the James Joyce primarily known for A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and Ulysses, but the Irish author also wrote this poignant and subtly dreadful story of a lonely, impoverished woman who attends a Halloween party and plays fortune-telling games, with melancholy results. “Clay” appears in Joyce’s collection Dubliners, which is still in print and easily available.

“All Souls’” (1937) by Edith Wharton – Even though this story seems to confuse All Souls Day (November 2nd) and Halloween, there’s no question that it belongs to the latter holiday. This low-key, creepy and even mildly surreal gem is about a wealthy woman living in an isolated mansion who wakes up on Halloween to discover that all of her servants have vanished and she’s alone in the house. The story has an undercurrent of rich vs. poor and American vs. Old World tensions, and remains very effective. It can be found in the wonderful collection The Ghost Stories of Edith Wharton (still in print).

“The Cloak” (1939) by Robert Bloch – This wry little tale by the author of Psycho may be the first modern Halloween tale to feature costuming, and is one of the earliest examples of a definitive Halloween tale by a horror author. It’s about a man who rents a vampire costume to attend an upper-crust Halloween party, only to discover that he now has a desire to drink blood. Although the story has been reprinted dozens of times, it doesn’t seem to appear in any current books; the most recent is the 1994 collection Robert Bloch: The Early Fears (which is readily available for purchase at most online book sites).

“The October Game” (1948) by Ray Bradbury – Bradbury is the king of Halloween fiction and this could be his crowning achievement. This unnerving little tale focuses on a children’s Halloween party at which the kids are being entertained by the classic game of passing squishy things around in the dark and being told they’re body parts. The story is justifiably famous for its last line, and has been anthologized dozens of times, although as with The Cloak it’s been missing from most recent volumes. A cheap used copy of the Bradbury book Long After Midnight is probably the way to go.

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown (1967) by Charles M. Schulz – Yes, I know it’s more widely known as a beloved television special, and yes, I know it’s a kid’s book…but this is arguably the single most important work on this list. Prior to It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, children’s Halloween books were amazingly scarce; probably the best known one prior to this was Robert Bright’s 1958 Georgie’s Halloween, about a lonely little ghost who fits right in on October 31st. The success of It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, though, paved the way for an explosion of children’s Halloween books, and may even have spilled over into the adult realm as well. The book hasn’t gone out of print since 1967.

The Halloween Tree (1972) by Ray Bradbury – This fantasy novel, about an enigmatic character named Carapace Clavicle Moundshroud who takes a group of boys on a tour of Halloween’s history, is easily the most beloved Halloween novel of all time. It features Bradbury’s rich style and looks at related holidays like Dia de los Muertos and the Egyptian Feast of the Dead. The book also spawned an animated film and has been continuously in print since its original publication.

“Gone” (2000) by Jack Ketchum – This Bram Stoker Award-winning short story originally appeared in the seminal anthology October Dreams, which paved the way for the Halloween fiction of the 21st century. The story is a bleak recounting of a frightening encounter between some trick or treaters and a woman grieving over the loss of her own child. October Dreams was reprinted in a trade paperback edition in 2002, and although it’s now out of print it can be easily acquired used.

“Mr. Dark’s Carnival” (2000) by Glen Hirshberg – This long story mixes up Halloween decorating, folklore, and urban legends to tell a deeply unsettling story about a professor who discovers the dreadful truth behind his small town’s obsession with Halloween. The story is also a commentary on America’s violent history, and features fiction’s most unusual take on a Halloween haunted house. The story appears in Hirshberg’s collection The Two Sams, which can be easily found at used book sites.

“Hornets” (2001) by Al Sarrantonio – This novella first appeared in the anthology Trick or Treat: A Collection of Halloween Novellas, and began Sarrantonio’s popular “Orangefield Cycle”, a series of interlinked novels and stories that celebrate Halloween in the fictitious small town of Orangefield. In “Hornets”, a successful author wrestles with an insect infestation during Halloween season as he creates a children’s book centered on the character “Sam Hain”. “Hornets” was reprinted in the mass market collection Horrorween, which is readily available used.

Dark Harvest (2006) by Norman Partridge – This fast-paced novella is set in a mythical town in 1963 where Halloween is celebrated with a hunt and a sacrifice, all centering on a character called “the October Boy”. The story is a potent commentary on the myth of the small American town, and in addition to receiving multiple awards it was named one of Publisher’s Weekly’s 100 Best Books of 2006. The book is still in print.

In 2012, Halloween fiction is alive and well, with many small press publishers (including Bad Moon Books, Dark Regions, and Earthling) releasing new Halloween-themed books for October. Among the best of the Halloween releases in the last few years: The anthology Halloween, edited by Paula Guran and published by Prime Books; Earthling Publication’s Halloween series, which has included such critically-acclaimed books as David Herter’s October Dark, Peter Crowther’s By Wizard Oak, and Glen Hirshberg’s Motherless Child; the novellas of Paul Melniczek, which usually feature lonely protagonists encountering Halloween threats in archetypal towns; and here at MonsterLibrarian.com, my own novella The Samhanach was featured as one of the top picks of 2011, and Rhonda Wilson reviews my 2012 offering Hell Manor elsewhere on the site.

 

LISA MORTON BIO: Lisa Morton is a screenwriter, an award-winning fiction author, and one of the world’s leading Halloween experts. Her work was described in the American Library Association’s Readers’ Advisory Guide to Horror as “consistently dark, unsettling, and frightening”, and her latest non-fiction book, Trick or Treat: A History of Halloween (Reaktion Books) recently reached the #1 spot on Amazon’s list of Holiday bestsellers. She lives in North Hollywood, California, and online at www.lisamorton.com

Teen Read Week: It Came From the Library! Guest Post by Daniel Waters on Haunting the Library

Daniel Waters is the author of  the massively popular Generation Dead books.  He has just come out with a new book,  Break My Heart 1,000 Times from Hyperion.  Dan was kind enough to share a memory of a spooky event at his local library that he used in his new book for Teen Read Week.

Haunting the Library

by Daniel Waters

There is a little library in Connecticut that haunts me. The Raymond Library is located in Oakdale, the small town where I grew up (which has at least a passing resemblance to Generation Dead’s Oakvale) and is an odd looking building, half ancient brick, stylized and gabled; the other half industrial and featureless, a 1970’s addition attached like a prosthetic tail from the side of the older, more attractive building. The Raymond Library haunts me because it is a place that helped solidify my love of books and reading, and also because of the ghost I think I saw there.

I can remember dozens of the books that I checked out during the frequent trips my mother made there in my childhood. I checked out some of those books so many times I can still remember their locations on the shelves. Books on cartooning and dinosaurs, Dr. Seuss–my two favorites were If I Ran the Zoo and If I Ran the Circus, which I must have loved for their variety and invention, because I’d no desire to run anything, either then or now. I checked out the Thornton Burgess anthropomorphic animal tales by the armload, the Golden Press Doc Savage hardcovers, the big illustrated Alfred Hitchcock anthologies–Sinister Spies, Haunted Houseful, Ghostly Gallery. Also the Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators series, which I preferred over The Hardy Boys series although I read dozens of those, too. At some point I drifted upstairs, where the “adult” books were, and found The Hobbit and then The Lord of the Rings, which I read with a companion reference to Tolkein’s works with all the place and character names; it had a wraparound Hildebrandt Brothers painting of the Fellowship heading off on their adventure. They had a spinner rack of paperbacks that you could take on the honor system; if you decided to keep one you were expected to leave one in return. I regularly fleeced the rack of science fiction and horror, replacing them with books from my parents’ stacks. I read through all the Ian Fleming James Bond novels (I still love series characters), and from there found Hemingway, Orwell, Salinger, Jackson and dozens of others.

I went to the Raymond Library until I entered high school, when other demands on my time–and my mother’s time, as she took a job late in my middle school career– kept me from visiting. I remember, or half-remember, the way I sometimes do when I get the sense that something subtly significant has happened when there is no overt signal of an event’s significance, that on my second to last visit I was looking through the nonfiction books upstairs and I noticed a sort of reading nook at the back of the library, set in front of one of the thicker old windows of the original building. As I remember it, there was a antique reading chair that sat on a small rug placed over the wooden floorboards and a small table. I had some time to kill, so I sat in the chair, and before opening my book, I looked out the window.

I saw a little blond boy, maybe five or six of age, standing outside in the grass. He was turned towards the road away from me and although I couldn’t see his face he seemed familiar. I thought it was odd that he was standing there, because there wasn’t really a play area at the library, and the entrance and parking lot was on the other side of the building. I opened my book, and when I looked up he was gone. Maybe I’d read a page, a paragraph or a single line, and real children are quick, almost as quick as ghosts, but at the time I thought the boy had vanished. It didn’t bother me, though. I started reading.

There’s a scene in Break My Heart 1,000 Times set in a library that’s similar in some respects to the Raymond Library. I detest spoilers, so I won’t go into what happens beyond telling you that one of the main characters encounters a ghost in the library there and his life is changed in a very subtle and profound way. That scene may be as close to autobiography as I get in my fiction.

A pipe burst in the Raymond Library a few years ago, and thousands of children’s books were lost. I happened to visit there in the final stages of the remediation; the nook I had remembered was walled off, the carpeting in the main area torn up and tossed in a dumpster at the edge of the parking lot. I went to the basement where the remaining children’s books were, and although the shelves were in disarray I could sense that many of my old friends, not visited for a couple decades, were among the casualties. I felt a profound sense of loss.

I think that I have seen more than a few ghosts in my lifetime, but I’m not certain that I believe in them. I definitely believe in hauntings, though. The little boy I saw? Maybe he was a ghost, in the classic supernatural sense. More likely he was a bratty kid who was testing the limits of his mother’s patience, one who finally complied with his mother’s wishes to “Get over here, right this instant!” in the exact moment I glanced at my page. Or–and this is the theory that I ascribe to–he was a projection of my own subconscious. That he was my ghost, both in the sense of being created by me and literally me, a me now gone. Was he–I–purposely standing with his/my back to me, his current older self? Or was it the library we were turned away from? Was there a reason he was facing the road? Wouldn’t it have made more sense if I’d spotted him/me at the top of the stairs leading to the children’s section?

These and a dozen similar questions spring to mind and the real answers will always remain just out of reach. Those questions and their lack of answers area part of the reason why I love ghost stories so much, and why I loved writing Break My Heart 1,000 Times. Ghost stories remind us of what has passed forever, and they remind us of what is to come. Such haunting reminders can be comforting or terrifying, and they sometimes they can be both simultaneously.

I’m glad that I saw the boy and I’m grateful for all of the associations and questions his sighting triggered; all was experience essential to my development as a writer. But I’m also very glad that the boy did not turn around, because who knows what I would have seen, staring into the spectral eye of my own ghost?

 

 

Hanukkah Horror

In the past week there have been a number of articles (well, at least two) about Hanukkah romances. The authors pointed out that there are lots of Christmas romances, but the number of Hanukkah romances is really very limited.

I thought that was interesting. There are lots of Christmas themed horror novels too, and definitely lots of Christmas themed horror movies, but where is the Hanukkah horror? It seems like a holiday that practically invites horror in. Idol worship? Desecrated temples?  Eight nights of burning oil? I’m not insisting on it- I just wonder where it is.

Anybody know?

While you think about it, I’m going to go light my candles and listen to the Maccabeats. For those of you who celebrate, as I do, Happy Hanukkah!