“This is a seriously scary book,” brags the back cover of Uncle Montague’s Tales of Terror, “younger readers be warned!”
I can still remember the books that scared my as a child. Shivers’ Your Momma’s A Werewolf, Goosebumps’ Stay Out of the Basement (not to mention Welcome to Camp Nightmare and The Haunted Mask), the then unknown Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; they all caused me a sleepless night, or two… or ten. And that’s not to mention this particularly chilling illustration of the Groke from Finn Family Moomintroll:
I found this image so terrifying I would have to put my hand over it while I read; the text, of course, was just as frightening, with the Groke hounding the Moomin family over the stolen King’s Ruby stashed away in Thingummy and Bob’s suitcase. Of course, she got even scarier when it came to later books, when Moomin confronted her far from the safety of Moomin Valley:
The Groke was ultimately warmed by Moomin’s friendship (and more literally by his lamp) and the cold horror that enshrouded her melted away. But the fear was in me by then, and my younger self was never reassured by happy endings to sad tales. Goosebumps rarely let up anyway, often leaving you on some shocking and horrible twist. I don’t know why I ever read them, knowing they upset me so much – perhaps for the same reason I watched horror films as a teenager, and the evening news as an adult. There’s something quite thrilling about abject terror.
The opening chapter of Uncle Montague isn’t so much abject terror as a slow, creeping dread. This is how all the best scary stories go – you’re not frightened, you think, until it’s too late, and you’re in too deep and have to see the whole sorry business to the end. Aimed at younger (perhaps tween?) readers, this book is nonetheless entirely readable for grown ups – perhaps the cockier kind, who don’t think a children’s book will scare them, will be lured in too. I plan to read the rest of the book to pass the day by as I wait for the plumber to come and fix our central heating – the house is atmospherically chilly.
Rating? shiver me britches
Keep reading? straight away, or it’ll get me while I’m not looking
Dare you pick up Uncle Montague’s Tale’s of Terror at Hive, and give money back to your local independent bookshop?
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