It's suddenly and clearly fall, and that means that I'm behind on reading spooky books.
I realized this a few days ago, and promptly made the rounds to the local used book stores, thrift stores and library to see if they had any horror books to put me in a right spooky mood this year. The library came through, and I came home with a stack of interesting-looking horror fare into which to delve for the remainder of the spooky season (which as of the publication of this is only two weeks).
The mad rush to get these books also got me thinking. When I was a kid, the summer was the best time of the year. Now though, it feels hectic. I feel like I have to make the most of my time off, to get outside and be active as often as I can, and to go as hard as I can while the sun lasts. I put things off, straight up ignore other things and come through the end of August feeling burnt out and exhausted.
While I love the hazy days of summer, the heat, swimming holes and exploring, by this time of year I'm ready to wind it all down and hibernate. The next three months or so are some of my favourite of the year. Starting with my anniversary in early September and culminating with the New Year, the latter quarter of the year I like to relax, eat pumpkin-spiced things, have good food and get cozy.
September is autumnal adventures, then October is spooky, November is cozy, and December is holiday-themed. I've made my home-made pumpkin spice, I have some pumpkin beers in the fridge (I know... but life's too short to pretend not to like things like that), I'm making soup with my wife again, things smell like cloves, sage, warm spices and potatoes. Now I need to get into some scary books.
I'm pretty particular about the genre fiction I like. If I'm going to buy a book, I am going to buy it either from the thrift store or the used book store. I want it to be a small paperback, yellowed pages, have that certain smell, have some tear-out sheets in the back to order other books from the same publisher, amazing cover art and that certain pulpy-ness that I can't quite put into words.
These books probably won't be great triumphs of literature, but they are pretty cool bits of 20th century ephemera. On the docket this year is "The Haunting of Hill House," by Shirley Jackson, "Firestarter" by Stephen King, "Hyperion" by Dan Simmons, "Alien" by Allen Dean Foster and maybe "Cujo" by Stephen King if I'm feeling it.
For the more literary and contemporary horror offerings, I'll go to the library. Authors still get a cut from this, and it's affordable to me. That and the vast amount of horror out there and available at the library means I'll always have something to read. This is where I get things like the newest Stephen Graham Jones book. I've read a few decent ones lately, like "White Horse" by Erika T. Wurth, "Never Whistle at Night: An Indigenous Dark Fiction Anthology" edited by Shane Hawk and Theodore C. Van Alst Jr., "Dead Silence" by S.A. Barnes, "Monstrilio" by Gerardo Sámano Córdova, and "Silver Nitrate" by Silvia Moreno-Garcia.
I know there are more horror fans out there who have read much deeper and broader in the genre. But that's not the point. I also know that I'm probably not going to read all of the books I've listed here. That's also not the point. The point here is that in the next couple of weeks I'm going to live in the present, wear cozy socks, read some spooky stuff and enjoy myself.
