Ah, the memories. I recently picked up this omnibus of spooky favorites from childhood, including the three “Scary Stories” books by Alvin Schwartz “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark,” “More Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark,” and “Scary Stories 3: More Tales to Chill Your Bones” and read them for the first time in my adulthood. I really don’t know what about these dark, macabre, downright creepy tales fascinated me so much as a child; normally, I was terrified of anything remotely scary, having to leave the room if a movie showed even the slightest tinge of blood and shying away from even the most innocuous rubber zombie mask. Perhaps because of this, I found these tingly stories all the more attractive. Perhaps, in spite of my fear, I enjoyed a feeling of dark, ghostly unease, and reading about the supernatural allowed me to experience it on my own terms. From then on, I was hooked on reading of ghostly, eerie places and phenomena (both “real” and fantasy) and the spooky atmosphere of these and similar stories filled me with a delicious dread. Even if I still could not bear to walk into the horror section of the video store, I relished “Scary Stories.” Especially around late October, as Halloween (always a favorite holiday) approached and the wind blew the leaves from the trees over the plowed fields and pumpkin patches, I returned to such stories again and again.
After so many years have passed, I am still greatly impressed by each of Schwartz's “Scary Stories” entries gathered in this one volume. Despite being short, none more than three pages these stories are still extremely effective, still bringing chills to my sister and me (one particular story my sister could still not sit through). The majority are drawn whole cloth by Schwartz from the deep lake of American and Canadian folklore, which in turn takes aspects from ancient stories from a multitude of cultures. These stories touch the very essence of human fears, desires, and delights. Each remains deceptively simple in its telling, rarely going into detail about the ghostly events they describe but leaving just enough to get across the plot, and they are all the more spooky for it. Interestingly, many don’t really have a point or “moral,” which lends to them an aura of “truth” as if they were an actual recalled experience. Also, it must be said that Stephen Gammell's art that goes along with many of the stories really gives them that extra edge of dread. These drawings have a drippy, macabre, unsettling ambiance that turns even the most mundane object (a chair, a stairway) into a horrifying, unnerving apparition. They are without a doubt the most frightening aspect of the book, and Gammell was an excellent choice to illustrate these scenes. Not all is scary, though. Each book also includes a collection of joke stories that bring humor as a counterpoint to the horror of the unknown. Best of all, in my mind are the copious references, citations, notes, and bibliography that Schwartz includes tracing the provenance and background of each of the tales, and invites the reader to continue their exploration of spooky folklore from North America and elsewhere. For me folklore has a timeless quality that lends itself to telling around a fire in the dark, delighting in imagining all the spooky details.
In conclusion, the Scary Stories theory is ideal in my mind for spine tingly storytelling for both adults and children at any time of the year, but particularly around Halloween. I was happy to see that this book remains as memorable now as it had when I was just an easily frightened kid!