Last year, I got strangely into the 1990s Nickelodeon television show Are You Afraid of the Dark? after running across the series on Paramount+ and then, once I discovered that the streaming platform didn’t have all of the episodes and that what it did have was out of order, ordering the entire series on DVD. My wife and I are going through it a little bit at a time; we just started the fifth of seven seasons last night. In some ways, I think the show is very good: I’m often impressed by interesting camera shots and compositions, and frequently I think that it is legitimately creepy.
But I also watch it for a kind of so-bad-it’s-good aspect: the ’90s fashion choices are amazing, the music is often bizarre, sometimes the actors are hysterically OTT, I love it when the actors’ Canadian accents accidentally come through, and the framing device—that the episodes are stories being told by members of “the Midnight Society” around a campfire—is very funny when you take it literally. For example, when a character in an episode has a telephone shaped like a motorcycle, is the person telling the story describing this image aloud to the other members of the Midnight Society? When a character speaks in a weird voice, is the storyteller doing that weird voice aloud? There are also certain tropes of the show which could make for a fun drinking game: when the Midnight Society members trade sideways glances as the storyteller sets up their tale, when the camera slow zooms on a doorknob to elicit tension, when the main character of the story is a new kid in town, when the parents of the child(ren) in the story make some excuse to be absent for the majority of the episode, etc. My absolute favorite—a happening at the finish your drink level—is when the characters go to the library to look up an old newspaper article on MICROFICHE. I love me a microfiche scene.
Because of my fondness for the series, my wife bought me this tie-in book for my birthday earlier this year but I saved it to the Halloween season to actually read. I have to admit, the book does have the feel of classic AYAOTD. It begins with Levi, a new kid in town, who is struggling to fit in because he is being bullied by his new school’s basketball star. He meets Reese, a nonbinary student and the President of the Midnight Society, and after bonding over their love for scary stories Levi is invited to audition for the club. Incidentally, over the many AYAOTD series, there have been so many “new member has to prove themselves” stories that this itself is a trope on par with seeing the origins of Spider-Man for the umpteenth time. Levi tells “The Tale of the Gravemother” (a decent title), which it itself about a new kid moving to a small town and initially being bullied by the existing basketball star.
The boy in the story, Zane, moved to the town of Solitude, because his father inherited the town’s famed haunted house. The house is being haunted by the Gravemother, a woman who purportedly kidnapped and murdered three children before disappearing herself a century or two ago. Incidentally, the lawyer who reads the will and deeds the house to Zane’s father is named Mr. Vink. Those familiar with the television show will recognize Vink (“with a V-V-V!”) as a recurring character from the show, so his appearance here is a nice nod to fans. As a fan of the show, I was also pleased with the fact that the book—at 249 pages—is insanely long if you take the framing device seriously as being told around a campfire. I love to imagine Levi announcing the chapter numbers while telling this lengthy tale. I also find it important to say that there IS a microfiche scene in this book! (Except it’s not really a scene… a character instead says that they went to the library and looked at microfiche off-screen. Also, it’s not microfiche they looked at but microfilm, which is similar but different. Still, I appreciated that it came up at all.)
Furthermore, there are a number of scenes which are very creepy. Early on, many townspeople are gathered at the property (Stilgarth Manor) where the mayor is trying to raze the building so he can build a strip mall or whatever and Zane’s dad is fighting him. An odd monument on the property is disrupted by a bulldozer, after which there is a brief earthquake. Then Zane sees “a hand shoot out from the soil . . . an odd clicking sound accompanying the movement”, then the face of a woman “with wide staring eyes and a mess of black hair covered in mud and dirt. A woman who had no lower jaw, her mouth gaping open. She made a low clicking sound again. And then she began to climb out from underneath the statue. Her limbs were contorted, like every bone in her body was broken. She moved like a marionette tangled up in its strings, arms and torso twisting at unnatural angles.” This is some genuinely scary imagery!
There are a handful of additional moments like this as the book continues. As it turns out, the only people who saw the woman emerge from the dirt were Zane and his bully Garrett. They become friends as the only two people being haunted by the Gravemother. Garrett’s family owns the local funeral home and they live above the business. Later in the story, Garett is showing Zane around the lower level when they notice one of the freezers holding a dead body has been opened. The Gravemother emerges and rushes toward them. Another chilling moment! Even later, the pair is attending the funeral for a beloved member of the community. Zane and Garrett had earlier observed Garrett’s mother stitch the man’s eyelids and mouth closed so they don’t fall open during the funeral, which has the tendency of frightening people. At the funeral, though, Zane and Garrett both see the man sit up in his coffin, his eyes and mouth open as he points at them and utters the name “Emmy”. Creepy!
These bits of praise stated, reading some of the other reviews on Goodreads revealed a common complaint: the book is overlong and, as a result, feels like it is spinning its wheels at times. I agree. Though the length of the book amused me when thought of as an actual story being told aloud, in some ways it also felt padded out unnecessarily. I didn’t write down the quotes, but there were at least two times when Zane or Garrett repeat information previously given in the story with a “Remember? I told you earlier…” framing. There are also two separate scenes of ghost hunters exploring Stilgarth when one likely would have sufficed. And though the scary scenes are effective, they also are basically the same thing each time: the Gravemother appears, rushes at the kids, and then disappears. It would have been nice if there was a bit more variation in the shocks.
This gets into spoiler territory, but I was also disappointed in one part of the way the book wrapped up. It’s pretty clear early on that the Gravemother, rather than having killed the three missing children, was actually protecting them. Zane gets access to an old journal of a contemporary who wrote about the children’s disappearance and the subsequent “witch hunt” that ended in Minevra Traithe (not Minerva, but Minevra, for some reason) being accused of their murder. The journal references the three children, Timothy, Jack, and Ned, though there is a comment that Minevra tells him not to call the third child Ned because he “doesn’t like to be called that”. The Gravemother, as she haunts Zane and Garett, frequently moans the name “Emmy”. Zane believes this is refers to his sister Emma, and that the Gravemother is out to get her. As it turns out, though, the name refers instead to the third missing child, Ned. When flipping to the back of the book to see how many pages there were, I happened to glance at the “About the Author” page for author Rin Chupeco; this page refers to Chupeco as a nonbinary Chinese Filipino writer. As mentioned earlier, the President of the Midnight Society is also nonbinary. Given this seemingly progressive take on gender, I anticipated that the Gravemother was moaning the name “Emmy” because Ned is Emmy, i.e. that Ned was transgender. When I believed this was where the story was headed, I was impressed. A YA horror novel which is a stealth examination of transgender issues? Intriguing.
Unfortunately, though, while “Emmy” is Ned, it’s because his middle name is Emmett and this is an affectionate nickname. It’s nothing to do with gender identity whatsoever. Granted, that expectation was something that I suppose I brought to the book myself so it may be unfair for me to hold it against the book for going in a different direction, but I nevertheless felt let down when it went for a more generic conclusion.
THE TALE OF THE GRAVEMOTHER is the first in a series of which there are currently three entries. While this book does manage to recreate some of the charm of AYAOTD? the television show, I don’t feel drawn to continue the book series. It was neat to read it as a one-off, and I do think it does some things fairly effectively, but I’d say mostly it meets without exceeding expectations. I expected a decent book aimed at a tweenage audience and it is that… but it’s not something I feel passionate about, the way I do about the show that inspired it.