October Dreams II edited by Richard Chizmar and Robert Morrish
Cemetery Dance (February 2015)
This long-anticipated follow-up to Cemetery Dance’s original “Celebration of Halloween” (from way back in 2000!) proves to be a worthy companion volume, filled with fiction that captures the essence of the haunting season alongside essays and remembrances that recall the favorite Halloween memories of a talented roster of horror authors.
The editors did a great job in selecting fiction that sticks to the book’s narrow theme without feeling repetitive. While the majority of the stories feature supernatural elements, there are also instances where fear springs from human sources. The best of the bunch are the ones that combine the two, such as Ian McDowell’s “Dear Dead Jenny,” in which a 12-year-old boy’s rash decision has tragic consequences. It’s a melancholy story with a surprisingly warm ending, and a real standout in a collection full of strong stories.
Glen Hirshberg’s “Mr. Dark’s Carnival” is more of a traditional ghost story, chock full of great atmosphere and genuine dread. Robert Bloch’s “Pumpkin” features a man returning to his childhood home, where he’s forced to face the vengeful spirit of an old man he once wronged. Joe R. Lansdale tackles ritual sacrifice – what would Halloween be without it? – in typical Joe R. Lansdale fashion, staging the ceremony in a garage rather than an ornate temple or castle. And Ray Bradbury is represented by “The October Game,” in which a man locked in an unhappy marriage plays a deadly game with a cellar full of revelers on Halloween night.
There’s great variety in the essays as well. Some touch on the kinds of dares and adventures many of us undertook during our own childhood Halloweens, like Michael McBride and his buddies searching for underground tunnels in Colorado, or Matthew Costello’s drunken teenage attempt at performing a Satanic ritual. Some recall the way fear becomes almost too real for children during the holiday, like the time Death knocked on Kealan Patrick Burke’s grandparents’ door, or the Halloween when Nate Southard became suddenly, inexplicably terrified of his plastic Spider-Man mask.
What all the essays and stories share in common is their success in conjuring the unique atmosphere of Halloween. I read this book in January, with autumn and Halloween a distant memory buried under a pile of Christmas lights. Yet through these pages I was taken back, not just to this past Halloween, but to all the Halloweens of my youth. I could smell the inside of those cheap plastic masks, and I could feel the weight of a pillowcase full of candy in my hand, and I could hear the skittering of dead leaves tumbling down the sidewalk. I felt fear and happiness and sadness all jumbled together, and it was wonderful.
A suggestion: when you get this book (not if, mind you…when), don’t plow through it all at once like I did. I read it that way because I needed to for this review (and, if I’m honest, I found it really hard to stop). What I look forward to in the future is taking it down when the days begin to grow shorter and there’s a chill in the air; when we’re leaving summer behind and autumn is creeping in. Then I’ll take the book down and read a story, maybe two. I hope you’ll do the same, and that you’ll savor it throughout that long, dark season we all love.