'Frankenstein' to 'Hell House': What's on your Halloween reading list?

I’ve got a stack of horror books on my shelf that I want to read this month, but I just know I’ll not be able to tear through all of them by Halloween. A couple of them will no doubt get booted to October 2023.

Do you do this? Load up on books for any one occasion, knowing you have more titles than time? Traditionally, there are three times each year that I have specific reading in mind and make little stacks of books accordingly.

Halloween is one of a few times each year when I cast aside the spontaneity that comes with not knowing which book I will tackle next and focus on a pile of spooky or macabre books I just know I will not fully conquer by trick-or-treating time.

This month’s stack includes “The Last House on Needless Street” by Catriona Ward, “Rebecca” by Daphne Du Maurier, “Hell House” by Richard Matheson, and “Frankenstein” by Mary Shelley. I also have two works of nonfiction in this stack: “Writing in the Dark,” a guide for penning horror stories, and “My Favorite Horror Movies 2: The New Blood,” a collection of essays in which filmmakers and others write about, well, the title kind of gives that away, no?

And then there are audiobooks. I'm currently listening to "Strange Weather" by Joe Hill, with "Hallowe'en Party" by Agatha Christie, on deck.

Currently, I’m about a third of the way through “The Last House on Needless Street,” a thoroughly strange and mysterious story that lured me in with the high-profile rave by Stephen King on the front cover. Uncle Stevie is proof that blurbs sell books. If he says a novel is a “true nerve-shredder that keeps its mind-blowing secrets to the very end,” as he does on the cover of “Needless Street,” then I am going to read that book.

After the Ward novel, I’m not sure which one I will move on to next. I do know that I likely will read “Frankenstein” during the week leading up to the 31st.

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That Mary Shelley masterpiece has the distinction of being the one book I liked of all those I had to read for English classes in high school. I once had to be tested for a reading disability because I consistently scored low on quizzes and tests about “The Good Earth” and “Great Expectations” in the ninth grade. I had no problem passing every literacy test that I had to take, prompting the educator who administered them to tell my parents and my teacher, “He doesn’t have a reading disability. He just doesn’t like the books you’re making him read.”

Well, I could have told them that. I would have aced any exam on "Cujo" or "The Shining," for example - the latter of which, by the way, is now offered as an option for summer reading in some schools.

Come my senior year, however, I thoroughly enjoyed “Frankenstein,” even though it was nothing like the black-and-white film classic that gave me nightmares when I was in elementary school. Reading the assigned chapters of that book – something I did during the downtime at my job at the neighborhood movie theater – did not feel like homework at all. It felt like reading a book I had chosen on my own and was enjoying on my own time.

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I read “Frankenstein” again, many years later, in 2006 or 2007, and, surprisingly, did find it a little dense and long-winded. I wondered if Dr. Frankenstein had privately wished he had never given his monster a mouth, if only he could be spared his creation’s lengthy monologues. But I still loved the book – and am expecting to enjoy it once more when I crack open its spine later this month.

I’ve often wondered why I enjoy the horror genre. Of all the genres, it seems to be the one for which we seek an explanation for our interest. We do not ask ourselves or feel compelled to tell others why we like to laugh at comedies or feel elevated by a musical or be whisked along by the breakneck pace of action and adventure. We do not look for reasons why a downbeat drama absorbs us.

But horror? With horror, we seem to want to know. I do not have an answer, but I do have a theory. It lacks bite, but here goes.

Most people I know who enjoy the genre had happy, idyllic or well-adjusted childhoods. These childhoods most likely included Halloweens that were festive: front steps decorated with carved pumpkins; inventive, homemade costumes; parties where kids bobbed for apples; stories about headless horsemen and tell-tale hearts; campy creature features on television; and nights out trick-or-treating. Perhaps all this lends itself to a fun, cathartic appreciation for things that ooze, or jump into the frame or off the page, or go bump in the night.

I admit it: I just described the Halloweens of my own childhood. And obviously, as an adult of 50, I read these novels and watch those spooky classics to keep the merry-go-round turning all these years later. It’s the “good scares” I seek – the ones confined to imagination, the ones whose creative craftsmanship give you that frisson.

For fans of the genre, horror is often experienced at a removed level. Like a comedian who hears something uproarious and says, “That’s funny,” but does not laugh, a horror fan can spot a genuine fright and think, approvingly, “Ooooh, that’s good.” A fan of the genre seeks out such moments.

Which is why it doesn’t matter if I am unable to make my way through that stack of books I mentioned above. There’s always next year. There’s always another October to keep that haunted carousel turning ... and turning ... and turning ... just like the one in Ray Bradbury's "Something Wicked This Way Comes."

Shawn P. Sullivan is an award-winning columnist and is a reporter for the York County Coast Star. He can be reached at ssullivan@seacoastonline.com.

This article originally appeared on Portsmouth Herald: Horror books get you in the Halloween spirit: What's on your reading list?