The Haunted Mask by R. L. Stine

It's the day before Halloween. The moon has been so bright, the colorful autumn leaves are covering the sidewalks. I'm gonna be honest, I have not been doing much heavy lifting when it comes to my nightly reading. 

I turned back to a childhood favorite, a book that captures the spooky, exhilarating atmosphere of Halloween night as a child. I loved the Goosebumps series as a kid but nostalgia doesn't completely blunt my brain to the fact that most of these books are, well, crap. However, there are diamonds in the rough. Or at least mica.

The Haunted Mask has one of Stine's best protagonists in Carly Beth Caldwell, a timid eleven-year-old. Her friends delight in terrifying their jumpy friend, but their frequent teasing and elaborate pranks hurt and embarrass her. Resentment compounds, and she decides that in order to avenge herself she wants to scare the worst offenders, her "friends" Chuck and Steve. 

Fresh from a humiliating prank in front of the entire school, Carly Beth gathers her life savings ($30, or about $70 today!) and rushes to the new party store down the street where she bypasses the gorilla (made with "real hair," the shopkeeper says), vampire, werewolf. None are scary enough! But wait, what's in this backroom? 

Stine goes crazy describing these weird masks behind a creaking door: "A hairy black rat's head poked up from a knot in the hair, the rat's eyes gleaming like two dark jewels." Another one has what appear to be "chunks of rotting skin" falling off, "revealing gray bone underneath. An enormous black insect, some kind of grotesque beetle, poked out from between the green-and-yellow decayed teeth." Carly Beth goes for one with less animal life present and practically has to beg the shopkeeper to let her buy it. 

When she gets home, she tries it on to scare her little brother: "It was surprisingly warm inside. The mask fit tighter than Cary Beth had imagined. It had a funny smell, kind of sour, kind of old, like damp newspapers that have been left for years in an attic or garage." Ick! Despite the warmth and mildew stench, or perhaps because of it, wearing the mask makes Carly Beth feel different. More powerful. Fierce. 

Mean, even. 

The anger that she was already feeling about being picked on, being seen as babysish and boring, gathers in overwhelming force when she's wearing the mask. It inspires her to act out in ways that are decidedly unlike the old Cary Beth. 

Acta Psychologica published an article last fall about the effect of mask-wearing on the mind, specifically the increase in malevolent creativity. "As a dark facet of creativity, malevolent creativity refers to the intentional use of novel ideas or ways to harm others, damage property, disrupt social order, or undermine cultural values." We see this play out with Carly Beth. She revels in terrifying trick-or-treaters and pelting green apples at houses. When confronted by one mom she thinks: "I'm going to tear this woman apart!" 

But how much of this is Carly Beth, and how much is coming from the mask? And when the night is over, will she be able to take the hideous face off? 

The book's a blast and the descriptions of Halloween night are so evocative, it brings me back to being a kid in my homemade costume and the thrill of roamin' in the gloamin', pretending to be something I wasn't for one night, and the sense that something magical could happen. 

Happy Halloween! 

-Michael G. 

Two by Mary Stewart

The Moon-Spinners by Mary Stewart

Perhaps - if you are of a certain age - you may recall the 1964 Disney movie of this name. The novel by British writer Mary Stewart was published in 1962. 

This lyrically written novel opens with Nicola ("Nikki") Ferris, an attractive young British woman employed as a secretary at the British Embassy in Athens, having arrived on the island of Crete - today a popular tourist destination but at the time of this novel's publication it was not yet developed as such. Therefore Nicola's arrival is viewed as somewhat of an intrusion by the island residents. She is there to spend a holiday with her Aunt Frances, a London botanist who wants to collect some of the island's native plants. 

Before meeting up with Frances - who is not due to arrive until the next day -  Nikki runs into trouble around which the story then unfolds. Up in the hills, away from town she encounters a young Englishman named Mark Langley who has been shot and whose condition is deteriorating while he is hiding in an old church. The church is being guarded by a Greek man simply called Lambis, who right away arouses suspicion. Despite that, Nikki's first and unrelenting instinct is to help her fellow Brit survive his assault, and she happens to have the necessary first aid skills and a brain for improvisation in a less than ideal setting for this kind of challenge. In doing so, she learns that Mark's teenage brother Colin was kidnapped in the assault on Mark, who now fears that Colin has been murdered. Once medically stable, Mark warns Nikki to go on with her vacation plans and forget ever having met him and Lambis. But of course she cannot. She becomes more deeply involved in an increasingly dangerous escapade that leads to a breathtaking conclusion.  

Nikki and Frances would likely have had the uncomplicated holiday they'd planned had she not encountered Mark and Lambis, or had she even heeded Mark's warning to stay away, but as it turns out, their lovely and simple lodgings and the genial and charming proprietor thereof unknowingly reveal a few sinister seeming clues that would have otherwise meant nothing to Nikki, drawing her back into a world of danger.  

In producing the Moon-Spinners film, Walt Disney took numerous liberties with Stewart's plot, simplifying it for young movie-goers of the 1960s and changing some of the characters' roles. So even if you saw the movie, the novel is well worth reading as it differs in so many ways from the Disney creation. Since I had seen the movie at age nine and had retained only a vague and enthralling impression of dazzling water, danger and suspense, and a plucky heroine played by a luminous young Hayley Mills - and the magic of the film's name itself - most of the characters and every turn of the plot were new to me.      

Stewart's gifts include an ability to create interesting problems, complex characters, compelling plots, evocative and even transportive descriptions of  unique and unspoiled places and cultures, and a skill for making a reader feel the physical sensations and emotions experienced by her characters. The Moon-Spinners enabled me to feel variously the island's cool sea breezes, the joy of exploring a new place, the sensation of a cool drink trickling down the throat at the end of a hot, adventurous afternoon, as well as the terror of being chased by a villain into a trap in the middle of the night. Meanwhile the complex plot is tightly constructed, with every detail explained plausibly.

It was pure coincidence that coworker Michael and I were both reading our first Mary Stewart novels at the same time. Feeling equally enthusiastic about this writer, a joint review of these two novels seemed called for. As for the title of this one, you will have to read the novel to learn its meaning. 

- Marianne W.

Thunder on the Right by Mary Stewart

My friend Maggie got this for me on a whim, thinking I'd appreciate the pulpy cover art and a mystery set in a remote convent. I brought it to work for my lunch break and Marianne said she was reading a Mary Stewart book, too! 

Our intrepid hero Jennifer leaves her cloistered home in England to visit her cousin in an actual cloister in the French Pyrenees. However, when she arrives she is told that her cousin is dead! The details don't add up, but trying to find out what is the truth leads her into a dangerous mystery. 

I found this to be a diverting romantic thriller. The writing drew me in quickly--there is some really beautiful description of nature, like this, when Jennifer first hears the bells of the convent: 

"She heard, floating out of the thyme-laden wind, the silver sound of a bell. She tilted her head to listen, smiling, her whole being pierced, rinsed through, tingling with a keen delight."

  Also, on the other end of the spectrum, humorous descriptions of English tourists, like here: "Miss Moon dug into her trout with the dogged efficiency and artistic appreciation of a bulldozer." 

Sensuality and celibacy are ever at odds in a convent story (I had Black Narcissus on mute while I finished this), and Stewart finds a way to show both the romance and the twisted through the story of a beautiful orphan being raised by the sisters. For romance, we have a fiery Spainard astride a sweaty stallion. On the twisted side, we have the convent's bursar Doña Francisca, a super fun character. The Mother Superior refuses to let her take the vow but she still dresses like a nun, only her black robes are silk and her crucifix is bejeweled. Immediately, Jennifer distrusts her. There is a fantastic description of Doña Francisca polishing candlesticks:

"The bursar, who sat above Celeste in what must be the priest's chair, was polishing one of the candlesticks from the altar, her long fingers loving each curve, as they caressed, rather than rubbed it, into brightness. But she was not watching what she was doing; her eyes were fixed on the down-bent head of the girl." 

Staring at the beautiful girl while positioned in the masculine seat of authority, practically masturbating a phallic object. "Maybe," Jennifer lamely posits later to Celeste, "She's trying to live through you?" 

Sure, Jennifer. 

This, and another element that is revealed later in the mystery, seem to be too risque or disturbing for Stewart to fully explore in 1957, but the undercurrents are still fascinating. 

-Michael G.

Something We Said: Richard Pryor, a Notorious Word, and Me by Elizabeth Stordeur Pryor

Elizabeth Stordeur Pryor is a professor of history at Smith College. She is also the biracial daughter of the late comedian and actor, Richard Pryor, whose raw, acerbic observations of life for Black Americans were enormously popular some fifty years ago. Her new book Something We Said is a memoir of life with her father as well as an account of her own often unsettling coming-of-age experiences. It had me reflecting on the everyday difficulties of being a biracial American, even when you have an internationally famous father. 

In on-stage comedy performances and on Grammy award winning record albums, Richard Pryor's unfiltered use of what later came to be referred to as "the n-word" was a jarring thing in the 1970s and 80s. It set the word loose in the culture, in a way for which there had been no precedent. The ubiquitous use of the n-word in RAP and hip hop music would likely not have occurred had not Richard Pryor thrown it down to white America in a way no other Black American had ever done.  

Elizabeth, though, could not embrace the word in the casual-seeming way her father had. Hearing it in any context made her flinch. The comedian's trademark use of the word became an uncomfortable legacy for his daughter. How did she deal with it, then? She made it her business to grapple with the word's implications, exploring them in a scholarly methodical way, writing about them for publication, reflecting on her own experience, presenting the topic in a TED talk, and bringing the word up for discussion in her history courses at Smith. That latter activity didn't usually go well, and often left the professor feeling shaken and newly vulnerable. 

In all her explorations and in examining her father's notebooks after his death - the notebooks in which he developed comedy ideas - she finds that his use of the n-word was not as casual for Pryor as he made it seem.   

Richard Pryor suffered enormously during the first and last decades of his life. He grew up in an environment no child should experience, witnessing things no child should see. By his mid-40s he was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. In between those decades his star rose quickly before he became very debilitated by illness. He died in 2005 at age 65. Something We Said left me with a deeper appreciation of who he was: his complexity, personal conflicts, raw honesty and courage, his tenderness and vulnerabilities, his generosity to everyone around him, and above all his originality. 

Pryor was a much more serious man than his public image suggested. He had learned as a child that a way to cut through family tension was to make people laugh. As an adult he used this awareness to cut through the nation's racial tensions.

Elizabeth Stordeur Pryor and her father each made it their life's work to unearth the hostile legacy of the n-word, taking a microscope to the word's past and current implications. I think her dad would be proud that she carried on his work in her own, inquisitive way. Something We Said is historically informative while the intimate details of this father's and daughter's lives make compelling reading.

 -Marianne W.

The Dog Who Cried Wolf by Keiko Kasza

 After reading about wolves, Moka the dog decides he would like to be a wolf. He was very bored with his life, so one day he runs away. At first he feels very free. But what will happen when he gets hungry and night falls? This is a very charming book about freedom and finally appreciating the comforts of home. 

-Julie B.

Trad Wife by Sarah Langan

What a year for #TradWifeHorror! Sarah Langan's Trad Wife is the latest in a series of horror novels tackling the glossy, conservative influencer/lifestyle trend. I wondered if by October I would feel fatigued by the theme, but boy am I glad I gave this one a shot, because this is by far the best take on the theme that I've read this year.  

I haven't read Sarah Langan before, but this book was blurbed by Paul Tremblay, Grady Hendrix, Mariana Enriquez, and Sarah Pinborough, all authors I admire. Also, Alma Katsu was a first reader for this book, and her novel The Hunger is excellent historical horror (a supernatural twist on The Donner Party). 

Trad Wife opens with an ambiguously ominous scene set in 2020 before introducing us to our main character, a New York journalist. Jenny Kaplan goes viral for a personal essay and then just as swiftly is cancelled for the same revelations that made her famous. A chance to get her career back on its feet comes when a beautiful, charming influencer spreading the gospel of "traditional family values" from her Pennsylvania farm invites her to write a feature. 

And here, Langan gives us a nuanced portrayal of the appeal of influencers and trad wifes. From the perspective of Jenny's sister, Melissa, a lonely Jersey housewife; two women sinking into debt after falling for the pernicious allure of Mia's pyramid scheme; and even Jenny herself, we can empathize with the comfort that comes from being seen, even if it is parasocial and illusory.  

Because so many people are lonely. In her own career, Jenny has learned the grim necessity of self-reliance. "There are no guardrails. There is only you." However, life has taught her the value of helping other women: "There's a rule, an unspoken code: At parties and bars, at backyard barbecues and bathrooms at long-haul rest stops, when a woman asks another woman for help, she has to give it." From a combination of these beliefs, she agrees to stay at Black Swan Farm for a week. She feels compelled to stay with Mia out of a sense that she may need outside assistance. 

That same sense of being "seen" that was so comforting takes on a predatory feel as Jenny's stay at Black Swan Farm lengthens. She has increasingly disturbing dreams, she starts losing her hair, and are there words in the yellow wallpaper?? As she observes more concering details about Mia's life, she also grapples with her own life choices and relationships with people. 

This is such an original story, but references horror classics like The Yellow Wallpaper; The King in Yellow; and the OG Trad Wives, The Stepford Wives. I loved this book. Highly recommend. 

-Michael G.  

The Clock Struck One; a Time-Telling Tale by Trudy Harris; illustrated by Carrie Hartman

 

Continues the classic nursery rhyme Hickory Dickory Dock after the clock strikes one and the mouse runs down the clock. When the clock strikes two, a cat gets hungry for mouse-tail stew and then the chase is on! Hour by hour, more animals and people join the chase. With different kinds of clocks on each page, more advanced students can tell the time as this tale goes through each hour of the day.

-Julie B. 

POP! Goes the Nursery Rhyme by Betsy Bird; illustrated by Andrea Tsurumi

 

Laugh-out-loud tale of a mischievous weasel who inserts himself into nursery rhymes being recited by a sensible bird. Rhymes include: Jack and Jill, Roses are Red, Little Miss Muffet, Pat-a-Cake, Twinkle Twinkle, and One Two, Buckle My Shoe.  Will the silly weasel ever leave this nursery rhyme book?  Read and find out.

-Julie B. 

Between Two Fires by Christopher Buehlman

"The pestilence cooked away pretense and showed people's souls, as surely as it eventually showed their bones." 

While the Black Death stalks Europe, a disgraced knight joins a strange young girl and a wine-sodden priest on a heaven-sent quest. I found this an immensely satisfying read, well-told and moving. The characters are well-developed, the plot compelling, and the writing of the interstitial parts with their Biblical overtone evocative. 

When it begins, you can't tell if the horrors our characters start to hear about are exaggerated Dark Age superstition or supernatural forces until an actual river monster appears, followed soon after by a visitation from a wheezing, bleeding Saint Sebastian. Each chapter is progressively more harrowing as our characters meet a succession of demonic forces and witness the devastation of a plague that makes 2020 seem positively cozy by comparison. 

In a way, the book felt like an Odyssey-inspired video game set in the medieval times, a hellish road trip story with rest stops designed by Hieronymus Bosch. 

-Michael G. 

The Skeleton and the Cat by Brandon James Scott

Skeleton was very content living by herself. She tended her garden, read books and drank tea. Her quiet life was interrupted by a black cat who wants to be her friend. Despite Skeleton’s unfriendliness, the cat persists and comes back everyday.  Will the two become friends? Read this cozy book with adorable illustrations to find out.

-Julie B.

Skeleton Hiccups by Margery Cuyler; ill. by S. D. Schindler

When Skeleton wakes up, he has the hiccups.  He tries everything to get rid of them including holding his breath, eating some sugar, pressing his fingers over his eyeballs, drinking water upside down and nothing works. With the help of his friend Ghost, the hiccups finally stop.  But how?  Read this book to find out!

-Julie B.

Big Al and Shrimpy by Andrew Clements; illustrated by Yoshi

Big Al is a very large fish and Shrimpy is a very, very small fish. The two become fast friends. When they venture to the Big Deep, they play by throwing rocks down and listening as they tumble down to the bottom. As Big Al pushes on a large white rock, his fin gets stuck in a crack on the rock and down he goes. How will Shrimpy and the other fish save the day?  Read Big Al and Shrimpy to find out!

-Julie B.
 

Llama Llama Time to Share by Anna Dewdney

 When new neighbor, Nelly Gnu pays a visit to Llama Llama’s house, Llama Llama must learn how to share his toys. But when Nelly Gnu starts to play with Llama Llama’s Fuzzy Llama, there is dolly drama! Llama Llama has decided he doesn’t want to share anymore. Will Llama Llama learn to share his doll? Perfect book for young children learning to share.

-Julie B.

Sanctuary by William Faulkner

Appropriately, I finished Sanctuary around five in the morning between two of the last blazing hot days in August. A few years ago I tried and failed to read Absalom, Absalom! but really wanted to give Faulkner another chance after watching Paul Newman simmer through The (very Tennessee Williams-influenced, very Hollywood) Long, Hot Summer. The poster for that barks: "The people of Faulkner...the language of Faulkner...the world of Faulkner!" Well, that's a gross over-simplification. 

While Sanctuary's more straight-forward plot is accessible, his writing still caused me to trip in a way his Nobel Prize in Literature still doesn't convince THIS humble Missourian is entirely artistic and intentional. It gives the impression of a disorienting, kleidoscopic whirl, where not even the characters speaking to each other in the same world seem to be able to connect. Or maybe that was the moonshine. 

The plot is gripping, though, and frightening. It concerns Temple Drake, a college girl who hops from dances with collegiate boys to car dates with the townies. After one of her dates drunkenly crashes his car on the way to a bootlegger, Temple is stranded among dissolute lowlifes in a ruined plantation house. The following events are nightmarish and the novel deals unflinchingly with the aftermath. It's honestly still a shocking, disturbing read, full of sex, violence, and the thankless struggle for justice and love. If you want a "cleaned up" version, the first movie adaptation with Miriam Hopkins is fantastic: The Story of Temple Drake. 

-Michael G.