Christopher Pike | Musings of the Monster Librarian

Horror fiction.

There. I said it.

There IS such a thing as horror fiction. There’s actually enough of it to constitute a genre.

That would be the HORROR GENRE. Not science fiction, not fantasy, not “thrillers”, urban fantasy, or paranormal romance. Nothing wrong with those. There are a lot of fantastic crossover titles, and there is a reason that we review them.

But, hello? The horror genre exists. It’s here. And I’m tired of not reading about it when it is completely discounted, or when books that clearly fall into the category of horror fiction are described as everything else.

Let’s see… In the past month here’s what I found (or didn’t find).

First, in the field of research on literacy, reading engagement, and advocacy…

1.) I was rereading Stephen Krashen’s The Power of Reading. I admire Krashen and his research has been and is incredibly important because it’s about engaging and creating readers, and it’s backed by data. Krashen was an early advocate of (ahem) “light reading” for kids. In the book, he mentions a study he co-authored in 2000. In this particular study (not the only study he’s done, this is just an example) Krashen found that 53% of 124 fourth grade students remembered the first book to make a major impact on them (in his words, a “home run book”). That’s about 65 kids. Of these, SIXTEEN were “scary books”. In other words, nearly a quarter of kids who remembered their “home run book” remembered a “scary book”. And that’s just one study.

Krashen discussed the value of teen romances and strongly advocated the use of comics and graphic novels to engage kids and teens in reading. But in all his discussion of “light reading” he never uses the H-word, and when he does mention scary stories, he is dismissive of the books of R.L. Stine, who was hugely popular at the time the first edition was published. That is, he dismissed the valued reading material of nearly 25% of the kids (fifteen of the sixteen books mentioned were R.L. Stine books). Since Krashen wrote this book, graphic novels have become relatively accepted as legitimate reading material, and there’s been a lot written about their value. Scary stories? Horror fiction? Not so much.

2.) Let’s fast-forward a bit to a more recent book, Readicide, by Kelly Gallagher. Gallagher addresses the problems inherent in giving kids the opportunity to get “lost in a book” when teachers and schools are overwhelmed with the pressure to succeed on standardized tests. He’s a passionate advocate and it’s an important book.

And then we get to the book list at the end. “101 Books My Reluctant Readers Love To Read”. A list of coming of age stories, sports stories, nonfiction and memoirs, poetry, mystery, and (surprise!) graphic novels. And… the extremely awkwardly named category award goes to… “Fantasy/Science Fiction/Vampire”!

Yep. Christopher Pike is on that list. He wrote Point Horror titles. Is it THAT HARD to say “horror”? Which of those categories does World War Z fall into, Kelly? I’m pretty sure most readers of zombie fiction would be surprised to find themselves described as readers of “Fantasy/Science Fiction/Vampire”. Heck, do any of your students call themselves readers of “Fantasy/Science Fiction/Vampire”?

And these are the advocates for reluctant readers and reading choice in schools, in libraries, and at home. I have tremendous respect for the work they do- it informs my whole way of looking at the world. I am so disappointed that horror fiction is so far beneath the radar that they don’t notice what is right in front of them.

But there’s more. It will have to wait though, because it’s time for dinner.

Moms vs. Zombies, Mother’s Day Edition: Mother May I?

Welcome to the final entry in our Mother’s Day lineup. Today our zombie editor, Michele Lee, shares with us her thoughts about building a culture of reading and writing when you’re a horror-loving mom.

Michele Lee is the author of Rot and mother of budding writer Rose Lee. She is also a book reviewer in addition to her role as zombie editor for MonsterLibrarian.com.

Mother May I?

By Michele Lee

As if it’s not bad enough that we parent these days in the spotlight of public scrutiny, there comes a point where you hear the dreaded words “You read what?”

It’s hard to avoid zombies, werewolves, vampires and ghouls these days. The kids even have their own versions, the Poison Apple books from Scholastic, Nathan Abercrombie, Accidental Zombie by David Lubar, The Zombie Chasers, Zombiekins, and. of course, Zombie Butts from Uranus by Andy Griffiths. This isn’t a new thing. In my younger days we had There’s a Batwing in my Lunchbox by Ann Hodgman, Bunnicula by James Howe and The Little Vampire.

We grew up with it. While those a generation older than us teethed on Stephen King, we blossomed from elementary monsters to R.L. Stine and Christopher Pike and Richie Tankersley Cusick. Don’t forget that L.J. Smith and her Vampire Diaries were ours first. On our side of things we wonder how the Jason and Freddy-loving teens became the same parents who sneer at our zombie T-shirts and look at us with suspicion when they see us reading the latest Brian Keene in front of our kids.

As parents, we’ve already been there, wondering where’s the limit for our adorable little spawn. Of course we don’t let them watch a Saw marathon. We don’t read Laurell K. Hamilton to them before bed every night either. But the nature of kids is to idolize us adults (which is at once one of the most awesome, and scariest parts of being a parent) so of course, things bleed.

Two years ago now (almost to the day) while I was editing Rot for its launch, my daughter decided she was going to write a zombie story too. She even asked me how to spell zombie, so she could write it on her to do list (and you better believe I have pictures of that in her scrapbook). Rot is not in any way at all appropriate for a kid to read, and I’d been very careful not to let her hear me reading it out loud. But she knew, and had seen the illustrations, and she wanted to write a zombie book too.

What came out was a most excellent story, that I promptly paid her a dollar to let me publish on my blog (because money flows to the writer). Enthusiastic, she pitched me a sequel (with evil ballerinas!). Write it, I said. And she lost interest. She was five.

Does she still know about zombies and vampires and what kind of things I write? Sure. She can grab the books my work is in, stare down the occasional meat puppet on the cover and wave it at me, exclaiming “This is your book, Mom.” But she doesn’t see terrifying tales of torture and sickness and blood-curdling terror. They’re things Mom has done that we all should be proud of, like her spelling tests and her brother’s artwork.

Kids get scared, but they are not adults and they do not think the same way. Scary and gross to kids are snot monsters that swallow hamsters (who are later saved by people wearing underwear and capes). Scary is something the world teaches them.

My daughter, accidentally one night, saw most of Repo: the Genetic Opera. She woke up in the middle of the night, and I was watching it and didn’t see her sitting in the doorway, fascinated. Ask her what it’s about and she’ll say there’s a pretty, blind woman who sings songs and tries to help a girl who finds out her dad is a bad guy. It’s not the blood, the repossessing of organs, the corporate greed, the hedonism or the addiction that scares her. And the bit where Paris Hilton’s face falls off? That’s just silly. Really, she doesn’t think the movie is that scary at all, just sad. The bit that resonated with her was the girl holding on to her dad crying because he wasn’t what she thought he was.

When kids are scared, it’s personal. Generally, they aren’t scared of monsters and blood, they’re scared of mom and dad abandoning them, or letting people down themselves. You know how kids always assume if something bad happens then they must have done something wrong? They aren’t scared of the same things we are because they haven’t connected with the real scary things in the outside world. My daughter wasn’t scared about 9/11 because she had no clue what it was, but I don’t know an adult who wasn’t.

When you’re a horror-loving parent, the wicked, inhuman beasties remind your kids of you, a person they trust and love. I don’t advocate having a popcorn and showing-of-Chucky night for family time, but if your kids want their own scary stories, how is sharing time, and a small piece of something you love with them, so wrong?

Besides, they need to be prepared for the zombie apocalypse too, right?