I loved, loved this delightful, cozy little book, which I stumbled across at exactly the right time! I was a bit down in the dumps and moody lately with all the various crap going on at the micro, mezzo, and of course macro levels, and then I came down with a miserable illness to boot. I’m not proud to admit that I’m not a good sick person; though I am fairly often ill and one would think I’d get used to it, I instead maintain a stubbornly nonconstructive and terrible attitude about it and turn very morbid and grim, generally writhing around wringing my hands and bemoaning and wailing our doomed collective fates like a remorseful yet resigned Bloody Mary figure. Obviously, in such a state, I cannot read, and even when I recover enough that some reading activity again becomes realistic, obviously my lovely little lit fics won’t do, obviously even mysteries and thrillers aren’t quite strong enough stuff. Then I spot this book! - obviously, perfection for my miserable moody mood! A gift from the gods!
Why is this book so cool? Well, for one thing, I AM a horror weenie, TBH, probably even a suspense weenie. I readily (as the author calls out) seek out and read summaries of various movies and TV shows, primarily in an attempt to screen out any accidental animal death viewing, but honestly also just to diffuse any unnecessary anticipatory stress, which I do not find relaxing or escapist. I hear dreadful crime stories all week long in the course of my work, and I thus have no doubts about the horrors of which humanity and this world are capable, so I am long past the point of having the capacity for horrified wonder as a source of distraction or amusement. Instead, I’m already fully convinced things are going or will go poorly, so let’s just cut to the chase, and if things actually turn out to be better than anticipated, well then that’s just fine, but I’ll continue to loyally treasure my confirmation bias nonetheless. So let’s just have the bad news first and straight up, OK? Just give me the disaster Cliff’s Notes; I will not be surprised, and I probably could have faked my way through the exam without them anyway.
Now, the entity whose tentacles CAN still reach me and pluck me from my funk? - well-wrought, dark humor, which this book - like many talented recaps, whether in written form or on something like a podcast - offers. I have an appreciation for the interpretive recap as an entertaining literary form in general, regardless of the media or genre being recapped, and so a book of pretty perfectly executed (so to speak) horror film recaps is a real treat, especially given that the entire point of horror films is to provide an outlet for the expression and processing of existential angst and malaise regarding Self, Other, and the World such as that described in my entire second paragraph above and that has obviously become my defining malady/characteristic!
This book is also sort of Goldilocks-cozy in that it offers a just-right level of critical analysis that is not insulting to the intelligence but also remains casual and conversational - it’s not too soft, but not a too-hard scholarly book. It is about FUN self-reflection and lightening up rather than about anxiously pursuing self-improvement. And weenie status aside, I was pleasantly surprised to see that I have, (somehow?? unfortunately?), actually managed to watch 15 of the 25 films between 1960 and 2018 that were selected for profiling in this book. (Possibly 16; I may have blocked out one particularly traumatizing film and truly cannot recall whether I have viewed it in real life or only in dreams.) I equally enjoyed all the summaries and commentary whether I have previously seen the film or not. I love this book for making it accessible for jaded weenies like myself to explore or revisit these important cultural texts that reflect and illuminate our tragic societal and psychological state of affairs!
I’ll end with one last comment about my reading of horror: except for recaps, I don’t. The last horror book I clawed my way through several years ago, I finished it resentful and spent and left a pretty scathing review that reflected, as reader reviews are wont to do, my own personal experience and opinion. Unfortunately, the book was by an author with some following, and so some of these Goodreads villagers immediately swarmed with their flaming torches to inform me without mercy of what a stupid, rude, gutless etc. loser I was. Perhaps I am gutless, but as life is already stressful and messy enough, I deleted my review (along with my other more savage negative reviews), changed my privacy settings, and I have neither written any blazing negative reviews nor read any horror since, nor honestly wanted much to hang and chat with readers who do. But whether they are filmed or written, my problem was never, ever doubting the importance of horror texts, and so I’m grateful this book provided a collegial and supportive means of re-engaging with this genre that I appreciate despite myself.