A Book Review
“Reading in the Dark” by Jessica McCort
Jessica McCort’s book explores the fear behind horror in children’s literature.
In a world full of monsters, children need more books that expose them to the grit beyond magical faeries and happy endings; however, parents may tend to be wary of allowing children to explore horror or even some basic elements of horror. Horror and a children’s audience are seldom put together, and yet Jessica McCort’s collection Reading in The Dark: Horror in Children’s Literature and Culture “examines a variety of texts than engage, both overtly and subtly, with constructs of gothic horror…to demonstrate the pervasiveness and the appeal of horror in children’s and young adult literature, film, and television” (McCort, 5). McCort’s collection ultimately challenges the idea of shielding children from horror, namely within children’s literature.
Horror is not only desired by certain children, McCort argues that it is actually needed for children. She presents the need for horror in children’s media, whether that be literature, movies, or television. In her introduction, she points out the need for children to be exposed to horror at a younger age: “Under this theoretical framework, the appeal of horror…lies in what I have come to call the defeat of the Jabberwock, the triumph over a fearsome monster that is achieved by both the child within the text and the child without” (15). Fear, McCort argues, follows the essential “defeat of the Jabberwock”. Alice in Alice in Wonderland defeats the Jabberwock, a symbolization of her rising to face her own fears, a process which ultimately allows children to learn to overcome their own fears in the real world around themselves (14). Although the idea of giving children horror books may be scary, that fear is simply because it is has been deemed unacceptable, and according to McCort, restricting horror in children’s literature ultimately will restrict their growth.
While horror is often ignored or perhaps even feared in children’s media, there are many elements of horror which occur throughout most genres, not exclusively in horror. The first essay, “Punishing the Abject Child” by Justine Gieni explicates horror in books that may not be considered specifically a part of the horror genre and sets the scene for the collection. Gieni’s essay surrounds the 1845 children’s tale Struwwelpeter by Heinrich Hoffman, a German psychologist. This children’s cautionary picture book is full of “harsh lessons” (37) teaching children intense fear tactics including a horrific scissor-man who cuts off the thumbs of thumb suckers, and a child dying of starvation after refusing dinner (37). Although the violence seen in Struwwelpeter “frighten[s] children into obedience…[and] reinforce[s] already existing fears and violent tendencies” (38), she reminds readers that many fairytales use this fear technique to some degree. Gieni hints towards a fine line between horror which teaches children and horror which could even traumatize children, a fear highlighted in the introduction. This questions what truly the line is between what is and is not deemed “acceptable” for children to read, as horror is often on the “unacceptable” side. The violent aspects of Struwwelpeter, Gieni argues, is a tool to teach children about the “rules and regulations” of society (39); however, McCort argues that these fear tactics are not just used in the 1845 Struwwelpeter; these techniques have been used throughout the history of children’s literature.
McCort’s collection challenges the definition of horror and horror elements, to ultimately find “patterns in the narratives’ rules of engagement with the horror genre, as well as their audiences” (5) throughout these essays. McCort’s own essay, “In the Darkest Zones: The Allure of Horror in Contemporary Revisionist Fairy-Tale Novels for Children” is found roughly halfway through the collection. One of the genres that initially seems most child-friendly, fairy-tales or fairy-tale retellings, are often “forbidding” and the genre “often depends upon terror to achieve its effects” (121). These efforts McCort highlights are often efforts to teach lessons to children (140). Retellings, says McCort, are a vehicle for social critique or social lessons which is why they are so commonly retold. These terrifying retellings enable “both narrative freedom and oppression” (McCort, 122) to create an emphasis on the character’s self, going beyond the more traditional social critique found in retellings.
The final essay of McCort’s collection, “Where are the Scary Books?” by Kirsten Kowalski points out not just the lack of horror in children’s literature, but the fact that when children’s scary books are even published they are very difficult for children’s and school librarians to physically locate, as they are so ignored, and the genre itself is practically invisible. In addition, she states,
“most guides to and textbooks on children’s literature don’t mention the children’s horror genre at all. Instead, children’s books with a fear factor are often classified as fantasy, science fiction, mystery, or folklore” (219).
Not only are horror books not published as frequently, librarians struggle both to shelve and to later find horror books, making librarians less likely to ask for or recommend them to children. Although adults have a “distaste for horror”, the sale and consumption of horror for children has grown rapidly within the past eighteen years (9). Bookshelves are often specifically designated for horror books in bookstores, but libraries and schools fall behind by completely ignoring the rising popularity and influence of horror for children. Kowalski emphasizes the need for librarians to be able to find these books for children, because, “a startling number of people completely lose interest in reading by the time they graduate high school” (219). When a child is asking for a horror book, turning them away could discourage them from reading overall, and horror should not be looked down upon.
Although McCort’s text is subtitled as on “horror in children’s literature and culture” this is slightly misleading as there is more of a focus on literature than other parts of culture, and more young adult culture than children’s culture. One such essay diving away from horror in children’s literature is “Teen Terrors: Race, Gender, and Horrifying Girlhood in The Vampire Diaries” by Janani Subramanian and Jorie Lagerwey. Subramaniam and Lagerwey analyze the “gendered and raced tensions” in the show of Caroline’s vampirism, whiteness, and “mean-girl femininity” (McCort, 181) against Bonnie’s witchcraft and the link of gothic representations of the American South to her African American identity in the show The Vampire Diaries. Bringing the focus away from horror in children’s literature, Subramanian and Lagerway’s essay emphasizes the reach of horror in our culture, not just in children’s literature.
McCort’s Reading in the Dark impressively pulls children’s horror books and media into the light of scholarly criticism and gives the genre a chance to be taken more seriously in academia. McCort highlights the importance of studying the horror genre and the gothic elements seen in children’s literature and culture. Although McCort states that this collection encompasses horror in culture, literature, and film (McCort, 5), I would argue that there is more of an inclination to literature and culture than the introduction suggests. Despite this minor discrepancy, the presence of McCort’s book emphasizes the need for children’s books that explore the darker side of life. McCort’s collection is a key introduction for those researching horror in children’s culture, as each essay is distinct and yet the collection reconfigures the stigma of children and horror as a whole to allow for more critique and research within the field.
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