Review: Don't Turn Out the Lights, the Official Tribute to Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

At this point, there's basically no debating that 2020 has been an atrocious year.Yet within the roiling cauldron of human misery that has been life for the last several months, there is a lone spot of light: it hasn't been this good of a time to be a fan of Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark since Scary Stories 3 came out in 1991. The past year of so has been a boom time for Scary Stories fans, seeing the release of a beastly bevy of material beyond anything we could have ever imagined. There was a successful film adaptation, and a tie-in book that came out alongside it. There's Scary Stories: A Tribute to Terror, a fan-made passion project that does an incredible job of recreating the aesthetics and feel of the original trilogy. There's even a documentary about the Scary Stories phenomenon, and the history and impact of the books (which I will finally get around to covering soon, I promise). And then there's the latest release, and the one I was probably looking forward to the most: an official tribute to the trilogy from the original publisher, HarperCollins. I wrote a speculative piece about this book when I first heard about it a while back; now that is is officially out and I have read it myself, I would like to follow up on that article with a review of the finished product.

First things first: despite its working title of New Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, the published title of the book ended up being Don't Turn Out the Lights. This, I think, was a brilliant decision. You see, as I mentioned in my original article, calling the book Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (with or without a "New" added) carries with it certain expectations, the foremost being the artwork. I don't want to rehash my original article too much, but Stephen Gammell's artwork is such a fundamental part of what made the Scary Stories books so memorable-and the artist is the only member of the series' creative team still living-that any book bearing the title would seem to demand his contribution. Furthermore, in a general sense, the original books in the series were collections of folklore, while this new volume is an anthology of short horror fiction (a more significant distinction than you might think). 

Changing the title to something else (while also clearly labeling the book as "A Tribute to Alvin Schwartz's Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark" both on the cover and within) allows the book to establish its own identity from the outset, and pay homage to the original series without being wholly beholden to it. The book's foreword, admirably, makes this mission statement clear, as the book's editor, Jonathan Maberry, relates his own experience with Schwartz's original collections and his desire to inspire similar shudders in a new generation of readers. He points out the differences between the works and sheds light on the common threads between them. Don't Turn on the Lights is emphatically not trying to pass itself off as Scary Stories 4, and that is perfectly alright. It is rather a modern celebration of a classic that aims to recreate the original's eerie, unsettling mood in an appealingly joyous fashion.

I considered doing a Power Rankings column for this book, but to be honest, it seems rather unnecessary. Each story is written by a different person, with a different voice, and while I certainly enjoyed some more than others, there was something to admire in each one. I appreciate the level of thought and care that went into both the writing and story selection, and that fact that every story wasn't supposed to be a bone-chilling exercise in terror. Some were goofy, comic romps with spooky or grotesque trappings, and I couldn't be happier about that. Aside from breaking up what could otherwise be a monotonously bleak tone, these stories revel in the fact that horror doesn't always have to be scary. Which, of course, was a big part of Alvin Schwartz's collections as well, as he devoted the final chapter of all three Scary Stories books to stories meant to make you scream...from laughter! Which people do all the time on social media nowadays, or so I hear.

A brief aside: I really enjoy the fact that R.L. Stine, the only other writer of juvenile horror whose notoriety was roughly at the same level as Schwartz's in the 90s, not only contributes a story to Don't Turn Out the Lights that is absolutely ridiculous and kind of adorable, but also has by far the shortest author bio in the book:

He's like, give me a break, you know who I am, I'm not wasting anybody's time here puffing myself up. You do you, R.L. Stine. I find your ludicrous plot twists much more palatable when they're tongue in cheek and six pages long.

Don't Turn Out the Lights also honors its roots in that some stories are clearly intended to be told out loud. Now don't get me wrong, everything in this book could be enjoyably told out loud (there is an audio book, after all), but some of these are written in such a way as to lend themselves especially well to telling, say, in the dark. You may recall that certain stories in the original trilogy, like "The Big Toe," included asides from the author with tips on how best to tell the story to others, such as where screaming might be most effective and where lunging at your audience could be apropos. Some stories here, like "The Skelly-Horse," carry on this tradition by addressing the reader directly in such a way that would translate perfectly to out-loud storytelling. "The Umbrella Man" goes so far as to present two different variants of its story, both for telling orally; you choose one based on whether or not you have a friend's assistance. The inclusion of such stories is a refreshing callback to the type of stories that Schwartz sought to record in his collections of folklore, the type of stories that have been refined and optimized over generations of off-the-cuff retellings before campfires and dimly lit lamps. Stories of the boogeymen who lurk in the shadows just outside the reach of the light radiating from our windows, customized by the storyteller with just the right details to keep their audience up at night, afraid to use the bathroom lest they too be snatched away by untold horrors. It serves to train the reader, enabling them to take their first quivering steps from mere reader to master raconteur of the macabre.

Another charming throwback comes in the form of Sherrilyn Kenyon's "Rap Tap," a poem that recalls the spookier work of Jack Prelutsky or Eve Bunting. This is an important inclusion; contrary to its name, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark was always a bit of a grab bag, with the books featuring songs and games in addition to more traditional folktales. This poem captures some of that freewheeling energy, the possibility that anything can await you from page to page. It's a welcome deviation from the rest of the book's material.

The stories of Don't Turn Out the Lights, by their very nature, have a number of inherent challenges to overcome. Good horror is difficult to write, especially in short form, and most especially in a short form acceptable for children. Add to that the fact that this book is a homage to collections of some of the most iconic, elemental horror stories of all time, ones which introduced elements that to this day form the core of books and movies, and you can see that these stories have quite a pedigree to live up to. One way they manage to face this challenge is by some clever plot decisions. Let me try to explain what I mean by this.

Horror fiction thrives on the element of danger presented by the narrative. Palpable danger, especially in the cell phone era, can be a difficult thing to believably establish in a story. Oftentimes, the plot tends to hinge on the protagonist making poor decisions in service of this. Yet Don't Turn Out the Lights manages to largely circumvent this through a wise narrative choice: make the protagonists children. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this is a new concept; however, the choice to skew things in that direction for this particular volume yields impressive results that avoid some of the normal logistical issues for these kind of stories. For example, in "Lint Trap," one of my favorite stories in Don't Turn..., the main character makes a number of extremely iffy decisions. However, the main character is also five years old. This makes his questionable decisions more believable due to his youth/naivete, while simultaneously heightening the dread the reader feels when said decisions lead to peril. It's a win-win...for the readers, I suppose. Not necessarily the characters.

Speaking of favorite stories...well, like I said, there's something to enjoy about every story in here, though of course there are a few real standouts. The aforementioned "Lint Trap" and "The Golden Peacock," while very similar plot-wise, are particularly harrowing , as children too young to comprehend the monsters around them are placed in some real peril. Christopher Golden's "The Open Window" is effective in that the main character finds himself in a situation requiring him to make an immediate choice with no obvious right or wrong answer, and dealing with the consequences thereof. The panic and sense of powerlessness are palpable. And the last story, Madeleine Roux's "The Tall Ones," is a lovely slice of small-town paranoia reminiscent of Ray Bradbury or Shirley Jackson. Or the ranch story line in The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask. 

This isn't to say that I don't have criticisms of the book. Many of the stories are variations on the same handful of plots with different embellishments. Which, in fairness, is reminiscent of the original Scary Stories books, especially when viewed as a collective whole, but still can get a bit stale over the course of 35 stories and nearly 400 pages. On the other hand, some stories are perhaps a bit too ambitious. Tananarive Due's "The Garage" is a perfectly enjoyable zombie thriller which gets going and then just...ends abruptly. It reads like the first chapter of a novel instead of a self-contained short story, and it's a bit disappointing as a result.

Then's there's "Brain Spiders," which is one of the surprisingly few tales in here that serve as a direct homage to a story from the original books. At least I think that's what this one is aiming for...there's a lot going on here for such a brief story. I'm serious; we've got the mysterious new girl in school with a dark secret, a Kendrick Lamar reference, a teacher nicknamed "Ms. Horny," the absolute worst group of cruel, xenophobic schoolyard bullies you can imagine, effing CHERNOBYL (!) and of course, the titular brain spiders. I never imagined something Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark-adjacent would contain the phrase, "'You're so lit,'" but that's "Brain Spiders." Honestly though, I kind of love it in its wild, balls-to-the-wall absurdity. It is, as the story's antagonists might say, extra.

As I mentioned, there is way less connective tissue between Don't Turn Out the Lights and the books it pays tribute to, which in a way works to its detriment.Though a book full of retreads would certainly be tedious, a direct sequel or two to some of Schwartz's material could have been very compelling. Or very fanfic-y, depending on the execution, but with this many stories, a little risk-taking in that respect would be fine. Give me the "Wait Till Martin Comes" extended universe, damn it! Show me Harold's adventures post-skinning-a-rancher-alive. Explain to me what actually happened in "The Walk"! That one has been bugging me for decades now.

Probably the biggest criticism I have is in regards to what has been my biggest concern about this project since I first learned of its existence: the artwork. Now let me be clear, I am NOT criticizing the artist for this project...quite the contrary. I think the artwork here, by Iris Compiet, is phenomenal. Seriously, I love it, and if Stephen Gammell was unwilling/unable to work on this project, she is an ideal replacement. Here's the thing: she's clearly not trying to replicate Gammell's artwork. She has her own style, and wields it here to maximum effect. But there are also clear elements of the original artwork present: surreal, dreamlike imagery; stark, impactful use of blank white space; viscous, creeping surfaces that extend beyond the main composition like a tentacled shadow. Seriously, I could go on all day about how fantastic Compiet's artwork is here, and it may well be my favorite part about this book. I don't want to give too much away, but look at this example:

This is just the sort of haunting loveliness that Don't Turn Out the Lights needs in order to both honor the original Scary Stories books and forge its own identity.

So where's my complaint? Honestly, the main issue I have is that the artist does not get enough credit. She provides an illustration for every single story here, but her name doesn't appear on the cover. She doesn't make it onto the title page or the bios, either. Now, if you happen to be an aficionado of copyright information, you can find her name easily enough, but otherwise? She's practically anonymous here, and that's a shame. Her art reflects real care and incredible talent, and I hope on future printings of the book she receives more shine for her amazing work here.

Here's an aside for those of you into only the most esoteric trivia: Compiet has also illustrated some cards for the Magic: The Gathering collectible card game. Here's an example.

I've been playing/collecting MTG since the autumn of 1994, and there are several podcasts on the subject I have in my listening rotation while I'm working. The hosts of one of said podcasts has several times, while commenting on the artwork of certain cards, likened them unfavorably to the Stephen Gammell art from Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, which he seems to consider the worst artwork he's ever seen. This has always been incredibly baffling to me, but then again, art is subjective, I guess? Nonetheless, we now have artwork for an official tribute to Scary Stories done by a Magic artist, so, you know, the universe works in mysterious ways and all that.

Really the only other thing I have to say about Don't Turn Out the Lights is less a criticism and more a personal failing. As I read this book, I was reminded of Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, but also of the other compilations of youth-oriented horror that warped my upbringing: Short & Shivery, Scary Stories for Sleepovers, Tales for the Midnight Hour...all classics that would influence me as both a reader and writer for the rest of my life. And the problem with me reviewing something like Don't Turn Out the Lights now, at thirty-eight years old, is that I cannot replicate the sense of what it would be like to read this as, say, an elementary school student. That genie left the bottle a long time ago, and though this collection does an admirable job of making me nostalgic for that era, it can't possible replicate the feelings of those more innocent times, back when ghosts and werewolves were the scariest things imaginable. And frankly, that's OK, and it's not fault of the book...it just isn't necessarily for me. I mean, yes, it is enjoyable for people like me, older fans who used to read the original trilogy while drinking Nestle's Quik and eating Suddenly S’mores, but it's also a bit beside the point. This collection of stories is meant for kids like I was back then, meant to produce a chill down their spine while read under a blanket, by the soft glow of a flashlight (or, let's be real, an iPhone). And at this task, I do believe it shall perform admirably. Will I revisit Don't Turn Out the Lights from time to time? Certainly; there is an abundance of quality material here. Will I read it obsessively, cover-to-cover, on a weekly basis? No. And that's fine! The point is that, for a new generation of children, this will provide some lovely, dark supplemental material to indulge in after they have read the original trilogy. Or perhaps it will serve as the gateway to introducing them to those classics. Either way, Don't Turn Out the Lights does its job, and does so admirably. Alvin Schwartz would be proud.

Probably not Harold, though. That guy was a real jerk.

But so stylish!

 

 

Joey Marsilio has written extensively about the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark books, most notable in his Power Rankings Series (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3). He also wrote the novel Henry Garrison: St. Dante's Savior, and has some more Scary Stories-related content planned for October, so stay tuned!