Today I begin the "Why I Love Horror" portion of the blog-a-thon, and my first participant is my partner in coordinating the Horror Writers' Association's Library Committee, Konrad Stump.
Konrad is a Local History Associate for the Springfield-Greene County (MO) Library, where he works on Big Read and the library's popular "Oh, the Horror!" series, which attracts hundreds of patrons during October. He also created the Donuts and Death horror book group, featured in Book Club Reboot: 71 Creative Twists (ALA Editions).
Konrad is on the section committee for the HWA's Summer Scares Reading Program and is the point person for the creation of our Summer Scares Programming Guide. You can click here to see the 2021 Guide.
It just made sense to ask have Konrad kick us off, and he delivers. Not only does Konrad share his personal story of Horror as his safe and happy place, but he also offers examples of how to use Horror with library patrons, as well as sharing some of his favorite books along the way.
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WHY I LOVE HORROR
Konrad Stump
Sometimes it seems like I was just born to love horror. My favorite part of Fantasia was the Night on Bald Mountain segment full of spirits risen from the graveyard and Hell figures dancing in flames. The Disney characters I was drawn to were always the villains (I mean, they had the best songs!). I wanted to be the vampire for halloween; I wanted the skull stickers; I wanted the skeleton candy. I can’t quite explain this innate attraction to all things spooky. Perhaps it’s because my parents took me traipsing around cemeteries on the regular. Perhaps it’s because I have older siblings, and nothing is quite so maliciously satisfying as trying to terrify your younger siblings. I am also guilty of this, being the baby of the family that turned into that most dreaded of positions, the second middle child. Surely all these things have made me the weirdo that I am today.
I can’t explain why I have always loved horror, but I can try to explain why others would find it appealing, or informative, or cathartic, or “worthwhile” (though it need not be any of those things, only enjoyable to the person reading it). And that’s what I think I love most about horror; I love what readers can get out of it, especially younger readers. Life is scary, especially when you’re a kid. It’s full of changes, uncertainty, processing mortality, feeling like an outsider.
My father was in the Army, so we moved every year or two until I was in high school. That meant a new home, a new town, a new school with a whole new set of peers, many of whom already had established friendships. I also failed first grade. That is, until I skipped it. And I was a cute kid. That is, until I wasn’t. I was also painfully, very apparently gay (a less astute person might call me “spirited”). Needless to say, I did not fit in. And horror was a refuge to process all of that. Because horror takes what is scary in the world and wraps it up in a story about someone, usually an outsider who, at the end of the day, more often than not defeats the monster or banishes the ghosts. It tells us that moving into a new house or neighborhood can be an opportunity to learn something new or meet new people. It tells us that outsiders have attributes beyond attractiveness and cool guy swagger like resourcefulness and ingenuity. And it tells us that there is more out there than what we can see and maybe there is something beyond death.
As I mentioned, school was tough. I struggled. I had to take speech classes. I was regularly reminded about my potential. I was just not interested. But I did love R.L. Stine’s Goosebumps series. And through it I learned about Egyptology, insects, British royal intrigue and history. Horror is a fantastic way to get kids who are non-readers interested in reading and wanting to learn. Horror made me interested in learning because I was interested in the story, and then I wanted to find out more about what I read about. Horror took me to my family’s set of Encyclopedia Britannica; horror made me excited to boot up that Encarta 95 disc. I think I would have been a better student if someone told me that I could make a living studying just how insects play into human decomposition.
This is why I’m enamored with the Horror Writers Association’s annual summer reading program, Summer Scares, which works to get more people of all ages reading horror during the summer, when more people are looking for reading material, and keeping kids engaged with their imaginations is especially important. What better way to find out more about all the weird things in the world and the people who study them. You can grow up to be the curator at an occult museum (“The Diviners” by Libba Bray), you can care for the bodies of the dead (“Whichwood” by Tahereh Mafi), or you can become a grave robber (“Rotters” by Daniel Kraus)! Okay, maybe not a grave robber, but you can study all the weird things that happen to bodies after they die, burial practices, or the historic preservation of cemeteries. Horror can introduce kids to all the weird and neat things in the world and maybe make them realize they have an interest in studying those things further.
As a library worker, I love how horror can connect people. Fear is universal. No matter what country you live in, no matter your race, no matter your sexual orientation, we are all afraid and we all, sadly, will die. Shared mortality is a great reminder to be a bit more gracious toward people. And that fear, that mortality, helps readers connect with stories and histories different from their own. That’s what I’ve tried to do with Springfield-Greene’s horror book discussion group, Donuts & Death, which I’ve run since 2015. I’ve tried to choose stories that allow readers to question what they know and think, because horror gives us so many avenues by which to explore and interpret our world.
One of my favorite books of the last few years is the novella “The Ballad of Black Tom” by Victor LaValle (also a 2020 Summer Scares pick). Not only is it a great story, but it takes one of H.P. Lovecraft’s most racist short stories and reimagines it from the perspective of a Black man, Charles Thomas “Tommy” Tester. Through Tommy, we can see Brooklyn for its culture and diversity instead of the fearful and bigoted way Lovecraft saw it. So the reader can question how they might see a certain area, or culture, and explore what they might be missing in the way they’re thinking about it. We understand the familial and monetary reasoning for Tommy’s hustle. So the reader can question how they view people with more unconventional professions or life choices; there’s usually more than what appears on the surface. We understand the racism and corruption of the officers of the law in the story, so the reader can question how they see people in professions that might generally be seen as more honorable. And we can see how Tommy is driven to become Black Tom, so the reader can question how they think of monsters and what might make someone monstrous. It’s an incredible tale with a ton to delve into, and what I always love about horror is how it can be a means for people to introspect and examine their viewpoints without feeling like they are being preached to or coerced. Horror can explore uncomfortable topics with the buffer of a well-written, thrilling story.
As someone who works in local history, I know that history is really interesting, it’s just that history sometimes isn’t presented in the most interesting of ways. I love how horror can be a way for people who maybe don’t normally enjoy history to learn about a particular time period, or explore their city, find out about the folklore of their region, or reexamine a historical event they think they know. Take Alma Katsu’s novel “The Hunger.” The story of the Donner Party is already interesting, but what if there were a supernatural element to the story, wouldn’t that add so many more layers and pose so many new questions? Historical horror like “The Hunger'' also allows the reader to gain insight into or imagine the lives of the lesser-known characters in historical narratives. Horror and history pair well together because so much of history is horrifying, and no matter where you live, your town has ghost stories, murders, monstrous folkloric creatures. Some of the most popular events in Springfield-Greene’s annual October program series, “Oh, the Horror!” have been local history programs, from the real-life story that inspired The Exorcist, to cryptozoologist Lyle Blackburn discussing Bigfoot lore, to guided tours of a local theatre purported to house multiple ghosts. Horror programming is a great way for people to learn about and experience history in a fun way.
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