James by Percival Everett
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

READ ON FOR THE GOOFIEST BOOK REVIEW I'VE EVER WRITTEN. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

You don't know about James without you have read a book by the name of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mr. Mark Twain, but that ain't no matter. This book was made by Mr. Percival Everett, and he stuck to the source material, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth.

Lemme' start with the obvious: James is not Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Once a reader takes this'n inta' consideration, it's a might bit easier to forgive Everett for throwing Twain's source material overboard like one of them pirates in Tom Sawyer's gang. When I begun to read Percival Everett's James, I was expecting a direct copy of t'other novel, Huckleberry Finn. But this'n book done tried something different.

I done realized that if'n you want to really enjoy James, you need to do two things: read Mark Twain's Adventures of Huckleberry Finn cover-to-dangblamed-cover, and then think of James as one of them newfangled "multiverse" stories. It's right true that James starts the same, but it's done told through the eyes of Jim. While Mr. Mark Twain did try to gumption up the character of Jim an' give him some dignity, it warn't a accurate portrayal of slavery. Sometimes, Jim kinda' comes 'cross as a car-i-ca-ture, not a real human (even though he might'n be one of the most noble characters that Mr. Twain done created). T'other book, James, give the reader a more better pitcher of the time period, and we sees what life might've been like for Jim and his family. 'Cuz of this, James might'n be better history than Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - though I warn't sure without doing some more of my dagnabbit history homework.

By and by, though, Mr. Everett's book stretches purty far from Mr. Twain's story. Some parts is the same, but other parts is very durn far from the original tale. It's kinda' like when ya' travel down the Mississippi, but it done branch out into the Ohio River or the Missouri River. 'Tis the same water, but different at the same time. And I found it clear that Mr. Everett is de-fi-nite-ly a genius with'n his writing. At leas' it's clearer to me than the mud on Jackson's Island. That ain't no small accomplishment, no siree.

Since I's a Twain a-fish-i-o-nado who done taught Huckleberry Finn for six years, I had some true hard times appreciatin' James. It's on account of the stretchers that Mr. Everett done explore in his'n novel. But when I steps back and looks at the pitcher from a different angle, I sees that Mr. Everett's somethin' of a genius, moralizin' on characters more'n Aunt Polly done moralize on Sunday church. Even if'n I like Huckleberry Finn more, I knows that James is somethin' special. Mr. Everett is even more clever-er than Tom Sawyer. An' that means somethin' to me, right true.

Others might think different, but there ain't no accounting for taste. At least that's what Tom Sawyer tells me. With'n James, I reckon that Mr. Percival Everett has done created a bona fide masterpiece of heartbreak an' redemption - or somethin' thereabouts. Even if'n you don't love it as much as Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, it's still some durn fine writin' that'll keep ya' thinkin' when you float right down the Mississippi River.

I do believe that my ol' friend, Mr. Mark Twain, would be proud.

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You Like It Darker by Stephen King
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Stephen King is a workhouse. While many writers rest on the laurels of their earlier successes, King has kept plugging away for five decades(!) now, never slowing down or taking a break. Defying the odds, King has continued to grow as a writer during that time, fine-tuning his craft and exploring nuanced subtleties that he might have overlooked in the eras of Carrie, Cujo, Christine, or The Colorado Kid. Somehow - inexplicably - King is a better writer now than he was in his 20s. That is a testament to his dedication and determination, as well as his weathered wisdom and cultivated craftsmanship.

With his newest collection of stories and novellas, You Like It Darker, King is edging closer to Flannery O'Connor than H.P. Lovecraft - and that's a compliment. Of course, the tales are mostly tried-and-true King territory: in the collection, he incorporates alien invaders, psychic activity, cold-blooded murderers, and ghosts galore. However, a few stories ("Laurie," "Finn," and "On Slide Inn Road") bypass the supernatural entirely in favor of real-world settings. That's not to say that these are fluffy, heartwarming tales: King refuses to mellow out with Chicken Soup for the Soul fare and opts for boiling cauldrons instead.

It's worth mentioning that one of King's spookiest stories EVER appears in this collection: "Rattlesnakes." I rarely get spooked reading horror, but I legitimately felt my pulse quickening while I worked my way through this ghost story. The fact that I had a physiological reaction to this piece speaks volumes about King's ability to conjure creepiness from the timid page. Shirley Jackson would be proud.

You Like It Darker is a fine addition to King's massive oeuvre, full of memorable tales with well-developed characters and novel twist endings. Drawing on influences as diverse as the aforementioned Flannery O'Connor, O. Henry, Edgar Allan Poe, and Ambrose Bierce, the author of this collection flexes his literary muscles while reflecting on mortality, grief, existentialism, and art. Not bad for an author who gets pigeonholed as a one-trick pony. As You Like It Darker shows, Stephen King isn't just the "King of Horror" - he's established himself as true royalty in the world of short stories, as well.

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NOS4A2 by Joe Hill
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Though I've been wanting to dive into his world for years now, this is my first foray into the writing of Joe Hill. Mr. Hill (a.k.a. Joseph Hillström King), comes from one heck of a family: his father, Stephen King, is *the* bestselling horror novelist in the world; and his mother, Tabitha King, is a talented novelist/poet in her own right. As daunting as it might seem coming from these familial bona fides, Hill has built a respectable career for himself over the last two decades - with the film adaptation of The Black Phone as his biggest mainstream success. So, how does NOS4A2 stack up against the other masters of modern horror? Surprisingly well, it turns out.

Despite the somewhat-misleading title, NOS4A2 veers away from traditional "vampire" stories and archetypes and crafts a new (but equally vicious) villain: Charles Talent Manx. In the world of NOS4A2, select characters have the ability to turn the "inscape" of their minds into physical manifestations, with superpowers ranging from teleportation via bicycle (later motorcycle) to premonitions via Scrabble tiles. Yup: Scrabble. It's cooler than it sounds.

The novel's nefarious nemesis, Charles Manx, uses his supernatural powers to create "Christmasland" - a dark Neverland full of abducted "lost boys" (and girls) who become monstrous in this eternal home of holiday horror. In Manx's decades-long reign of terror, only one child has escaped from Christmasland: Victoria "Vic" McQueen. When Manx reappears after years in a coma, he abducts a member of Vic's family, setting off a chain of events that force Vic to confront the terrors of her youth.

There are some aspects of the novel that Hill nails - most notably his character development and insight into PTSD. Vic's journey from traumatized child to badass heroine feels earned and earnest, with weakness and strength presented in equal measure. Where Hill doesn't excel is in his world-building: unfortunately, the author doesn't delve deeply enough into the mythology of why some characters can manipulate the "inscape" and utilize their supernatural abilities, while most others are oblivious to these superpowers. As such, NOS4A2 requires some sizable suspension of disbelief; however, that shouldn't prevent readers from diving into the novel.

Like his father, Stephen King, Hill's strength is in his ability to conjure new and exciting worlds full of wonder and horror. Stylistically, Hill's prose mimics that of his famous father; of course, it's hard for horror novelists to escape King's shadow, and I imagine that goes tenfold for Stephen King's own flesh and blood. This might also be intentional: Joe Hill includes plenty of Easter Eggs in NOS4A2, including references to It, Different Seasons, and Doctor Sleep (amongst others). For King fans, Joe Hill's writing feels like a natural extension of his father's work. Even if Christmasland isn't quite Castle Rock or Derry, Hill's creation still haunts its readers after the final page is turned... and that chill in the air might be more than just snowflakes descending from the heavens. Because of Joe Hill, Christmas carols will never feel the same again.

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The Invisible Hour by Alice Hoffman
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Take Diana Gabaldon's Outlander , swap out a hot-to-trot Scot for Nathaniel Hawthorne (yes, that Nathaniel Hawthorne), add an unwed teenage mother, and throw in a cult for good measure, and - voila! - you have Alice Hoffman's The Invisible Hour. A kindred spirit with Hoffman's Practical Magic quartet, The Invisible Hour follows the life trajectory of Mia Jacob, a young girl raised in a controlling cult, who magically makes her way back to Massachusetts in the 1800s. Like the four other Hoffman novels that I've read, this book is simultaneously beautiful, touching, and maddeningly imperfect. At its five-star best, The Invisible Hour is a tearjerking, laudable love letter to libraries and literature; at its three-star worst, it's a half-baked tale about time travel and an indulgence in the author's literary crush on the author of The Scarlet Letter.

As a librarian, English teacher, and author, I treasure Hoffman's passion for reading and writing. While she and I might be part of a dying breed of bookish nerds, we still find enchantment in a unique plotline or a clever turn of phrase. A few of my favorite lines from The Invisible Hour are as follows:
*"He believed it was possible to see inside a person’s soul once you knew which books mattered to them."
*"Some people are who you think they are. Some people hide the wolf inside of them, but you can hear them howl."
*"In a place where books were banned there could be no personal freedom, no hope, and no dreams for the future."
*"Life can be long or short, it is impossible to know, but every once in a while an entire life is spent in one night, the night when the windows are open and you can hear the last of the crickets’ call, when there is a chill in the air and the stars are bright, when nothing else matters, when a single kiss lasts longer than a lifetime, when you do not think about the future or the past, or whether or not you are walking through a dream rather than the real world, when everything you have always wanted and everything you are fated to mourn forever are tied together with black thread and then sewn with your own hand, when in the morning, as you wake and see the mountain in the distance, you will understand that whether or not you’ve made a mistake, whether or not you will lose all that you have, this is what it means to be human."

These excerpts are Hoffman at her finest: beautiful "golden lines" that resonate beyond the confines of the printed page and into an insightful examination of the broader human experience. After crossing paths with these bold statements about "what it means to be human," I instantly want to award Hoffman five stars for her artistry. However, some of the plot holes are maddening: how does Mia's time-traveling work and what happens to the villain at the end of the novel? These flaws ultimately work against an otherwise-meticulously crafted story.

Like Mia, I feel torn in two different directions; unlike her time-traveling escapades, however, I vacillate between feelings of love and frustration with this novel. In the end, I'll have to settle with 4.5 stars, splitting the difference between Hoffman's finest moments and her literary imperfections. Yet, despite these weaknesses, The Invisible Hour achieves its ultimate goal: it celebrates the unyielding beauty of life and the magical power of literature.

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The Midnight Library by Matt Haig
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

If you've ever wondered what a superhero "multiverse" movie would be like without the superheroes, then look no further: The Midnight Library by Matt Haig is exactly what you're seeking. Although the book can be a bit divisive (I've had a number of colleagues criticize and/or DNF the novel), I find myself returning to The Midnight Library over and over in conversation. This was a book that I needed to read during the darkest eras of my adolescence - and, while it arrived a few decades too late for me, it's a novel that should be placed in the hands of many, many readers with similar life circumstances.

The general premise of the novel is that a struggling young woman, Nora Seed, stands on the precipice of suicide in a moment of bleak hopelessness. As her body (and soul?) start shutting down, Nora finds herself transported to a mystical "library" in which every book is an alternate fate, depending on the decisions she has made in her life. In one timeline, she's an Olympic athlete; in another, she's a glaciologist; in yet another, she's a rock star. However, no matter how glamorous her new "reality" might appear, there are always ripple effects due to her "better" life choices. Is success worth it if _____ dies or _____ suffers or _____ disowns her? With time running out and death closing in, Nora must make the ultimate decision and choose the perfect path to salvation - which might very well be the life she least expected to save her.

For obvious reasons, the book echoes Fredrik Backman's Anxious People and the lackluster 2004 film, The Butterfly Effect. However, with more magical underpinnings than Anxious People and stronger writing than The Butterfly Effect, Haig's book stands on its own merits. While Backman's novel occupies a dearer place in my heart, I can't deny that The Midnight Library has recently inhabited (*ahem*) shelf space in my memory.

As a kid, I used to read the Marvel Comics What If? series religiously, and I always geeked out over the possibility of altered fates and alternate endings. For years, I've used this as a thought experiment: What would have happened if my band had been signed to a major label? What if I had attended UCLA instead of UC Berkeley? What if I had published Incomplete five years earlier? Obviously, these questions are impossible to answer - but it doesn't make them any less interesting or thought-provoking. Since then, the multiverse concept has been played out (I'm looking at you, MCU and DC Comics), but the "what if?" thought experiment is ultimately timeless and multitudinous.

Whether or not Matt Haig is a comic-book fan, he has crafted the most notable literary version of What If? that I've encountered. Is the book perfect? Not by a longshot. However, as Nora Seed realizes in the pages of The Midnight Library, sometimes imperfection can lead to the most perfect outcome of all.

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Symphony of Secrets by Brendan Slocumb
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Brendan Slocumb's Symphony of Secrets is three novels mashed together into one book: a poignant narrative about brilliant musicians navigating a prejudiced world, a Grisham-esque thriller involving corporate espionage and institutional racism, and a historical mystery that invokes Dan Brown. The final product is a flawed novel that vacillates between inspired and mundane, much like the performance of a middling musician who has not yet hit his stride.

Symphony of Secrets is framed by the story of a music professor, Dr. Bern Hendricks, who is tasked with piecing together a recently recovered opera from a world-renowned composer: Frederic Delaney. Along with his computer-guru friend, Eboni Washington, Bern uncovers a mystery that threatens to upend Delaney’s legacy and his well-respected organization, the Delaney Foundation. Jumping back and forth in time between present day and the early twentieth century (1918-1926), Slocumb presents parallel tales that address racism, sexism, and the prejudices that stifle the unsung geniuses around us.

While Slocumb absolutely thrives in his depiction of Josephine Reed, a neurodivergent musician-songwriter in 1920s America, he falters in his attempts to emulate Grisham and Brown. One can only hope that he takes cues from James McBride and Nick Hornby, and focuses on the beauty of “regular” lives unencumbered by cliched tropes and trite plot lines. Who needs a handgun and horrible acts of violence, when you have a moving story with heartfelt characters and earnest emotion? Hopefully, Slocumb will soar to greater heights with his future endeavors. He has the talent at his fingertips: now he just needs to compose his masterpiece.

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ (3/5)

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Life by Keith Richards
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

In preparation for the Rolling Stones' "Hackney Diamonds" shows in Los Angeles, I spent most of June (and half of July) listening to the audiobook of Life by Keith Richards. Though I've had Keith's autobiography on my bookshelves for nearly a decade (thanks, Mom!), I didn't have a sense of urgency to plunge into the book... until this summer, when I had tickets to see the Stones in Los Angeles, for what might very well be their farewell tour.

While I've been a big Stones fan since high school, I had vast gaps in my knowledge of the band's history. As such, reading Life was an edifying experience (to say the least). Like Paul McCartney or Jerry Garcia, Keith Richards has led a staggering artistic existence that has revolutionized the music industry. This singular experience - the ultimate rock star of rock stars - places him in an echelon that's unfathomable to most readers. Keith's contribution to popular music (and rock music, in particular) cannot be stated enough: we would not have Nirvana or Metallica or blink-182 or the Ramones (or countless other bands) if the Stones had not set the stage for these musical descendants. In short, we would not have rock and roll if not for Keith Richards.

Over the course of 864 pages (or roughly 23 hours of audiobook narration), Richards details his life as the primary guitarist, co-songwriter, and occasional lead singer of the Rolling Stones. I toggled back and forth between the audiobook and the print book, reading Keith's conversational prose and listening to his stories. Bizarrely, the autobiography employs three (count 'em: THREE) audiobook narrators: Johnny Depp, Joe Hurley, and (least effectively) Richards himself. Over the course of nearly two dozen hours, the three narrators cover the highs and lows of Keef's life, from his early days as an art school student and the formation of the band to the group's interstellar success to dark days of drug addiction and in-fighting with bandmates. You want to know all the juicy gossip about the band and its dirty secrets? It's all in here.

Of course, there are plenty of surprises for the casual (and not-so-casual) fan. Amusingly, Richards was once -get this - a choir boy. Literally. In his early years, young Keith showed a proclivity for music, picking up classical guitar with his grandfather's encouragement and joining his school's award-winning boys' choir. Ultimately, though, Richards felt used and abused by the school, which didn't give him academic credit for the years he spent touring with their choir. Richards identifies this as the start of his antiauthoritarian views, which only amplified in the following decades as he butted up against the classism and prejudices of society. During the early portions of the book, I was also surprised by the depiction of Richards as a young art student who, even in his late teens and early twenties, saw the writing on the wall for corporate use and abuse of visual artists. Later in the book, Richards discusses losing a child to SIDS, a heartbreaking moment that serves as a sharp contrast to many of Keith's carefree, freewheeling escapades as a rock star. While it's easy to dismiss Richards as a cartoon or a caricature (including the classic SNL skit in which the duo of Mike Myers and Mick Jagger parody the Glimmer Twins), Keith is, ultimately, just another human being facing his own grief and pain. Not even world-famous rock stars are immune to the kind of suffering that defines the human condition.

In a similar vein, it's fascinating to hear about Keith's dabbling, use, and abuse of drugs - ranging from marijuana to narcotics and, ultimately, heroin. As some of Keith's friends and collaborators, like Gram Parsons and Bobby Keys, ultimately succumb to their addictions, Richards is forced to confront his medicinal demons and grapple with his own chemical dependencies. While Keith himself admits that he has consumed more drugs than almost any other human being on the planet, he simultaneously recognizes the toll that it's taken on his inner circle.

Although the book's title, Life, should have given me a clue, I was disappointed by Keith's limited discussions of songwriting, recording, and producing. Richards tends to rush through pivotal pieces of rock history, like the oft-told tale of composing the riff to "Satisfaction" in his sleep or his groundbreaking use of alternate guitar tunings. How many other guitarists out there only play with five strings, like a revved-up banjo? Rather than explore these remarkable moments of creativity, Richards instead dedicates countless pages to his love life, including his destructive long-term relationship with Anita Pallenberg, his illicit love affair with Ronnie Spector, and his happily-ever-after with Patti Hansen. While it's all titillating gossip for a rock tell-all, the focus on Keith's romantic endeavors over his musical accomplishments feels a bit too tawdry and hollow.

In the end, Life is a fascinating (if not bloated and rambling) examination of one of rock's most important, groundbreaking figures. Like a Fender Telecaster or Gibson Les Paul, Richards seems ubiquitous and timeless - as if he's always been a part of the musical landscape. While time is decidedly not on Keith's side as he continues into his 80s, readers of Life will ultimately have much more sympathy for this devil. After all, "it's only rock and roll" - but we like it. Yes, we do.

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Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

7/10-score years ago, when Seth Grahame-Smith published Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, I was in my first year of parenthood, transitioning to my new career as a Teacher Librarian, and less engaged in the world of horror fiction. As a result, I completely dismissed the novel as a frivolous cash-grab meant for a less-literary audience. Fourteen years later, I am happy to admit that I was (mostly) wrong in my prejudiced estimation of the book.

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter is a truly immersive reading experience, replete with footnotes, citations, and "vintage" illustrations embedded in its 336 pages. Writing in an academic style that mimics Ron Chernow, Jon Krakauer, or even Malcolm Gladwell, Grahame-Smith fabricates an alternate history of the United States in which the sixteenth president of the United States fought nobly against the army of the Confederacy and a legion of the undead.

And it's just as wonderfully bizarre as it sounds.

Meticulously researched (or so it appears), Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter offers plenty of United States history to contextualize the fictional "reality" of 1800s-era bloodsuckers. Grahame-Smith traces the lineage of these American undead back to the original colonial settlements in Jamestown, Virginia (including a clever twist on the missing Roanoke Colony); from there, the author crafts a horror tale that's as thoroughly entrenched in American history as it is with vampire lore. Imagine a cross between Grady Hendrix and Bill Bryson , and you're somewhere in the general vicinity of this novel. Don't quote me on this (because I'm an English teacher who doesn't have an in-depth base of historical knowledge regarding Lincoln's life), but it appears as if Grahame-Smith has really done his homework. Even if he's playing fast and loose with the facts, his writing is convincing enough to make the reader believe that he's earned his US history merit badge

Unfortunately, after the clever novelty of a fictional textbook biography wears off, the novel gets bogged down in historical minutiae. At the expense of a fluid, engaging narrative, the author overcompensates with Easter eggs to appease the hardcore Lincoln aficionados out there. While it might sound strange to describe a book about hunting vampires as "tedious," Grahame-Smith somehow manages to pull off that designation. However, even at its most tiresome, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter still deserves credit for what it does well: clever world-building with a meticulous mythology.

Despite his imperfections, Grahame-Smith has piqued my interest enough that I'm going to sink my fangs into this novel's sequel, The Last American Vampire. I appreciated the twist at the end of Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter (a plot point that many readers will predict, and many others will dislike), and I'm invested enough to read more about Lincoln's vampire friend/mentor/Jedi master. Seth Grahame-Smith has achieved an impressive feat with Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, creating an American breed of nosferatu that departs enough from Anne Rice and Stephenie Meyer to whet readers' appetite with fresh blood.

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Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

What is there to say about Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone that hasn't already been said? J.K. Rowling invented a new world (and, essentially, a new genre) when she released this book almost three decades ago; since then, the franchise has embedded itself into the cultural zeitgeist speedier than a Golden Snitch and with more fiery force than a Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon. Because I was already college-aged when the series hit the United States, I missed the first wave of Potter-mania; it wasn't until my older daughter was in elementary school that I finally took my first train to Hogwarts. But, from that initial encounter, I was hooked.

I recently finished rereading Sorcerer's Stone with a fresh set of eyes, and I have to say that the book holds up from a more objective, clinical, and discerning literary perspective. Rowling is a master of world-building, crafting whole (fictional) histories, cultures, and creatures as effortlessly as a "Wingardium Leviosa" spell. She is almost as adept at character development, providing story arcs that subvert expectations and mimic the complexities of the "real" (Muggle) world. From the red herring Snape/Quirrell switcheroo to the surprise first appearance of Voldemort, Rowling truly worked some (*ahem*) magic with her debut novel.

My only major complaint is with the pacing of the first section of Sorcerer's Stone. When I read aloud the opening chapter of the book for a "First-Chapter Friday" story time with my younger daughter's fourth-grade class, it took a full thirty minutes to make it all the way through. Needless to say, I was out of breath by the end - like a star Seeker after a tough Quidditch match. Likewise, the length of the initial exposition feels slower than molasses: it isn't until chapter five that we break out of the tedious Dursley domain and enter, wide-eyed, into Diagon Alley, hop through Platform 9 3/4, and (finally) arrive at Hogwarts. I only wish I had an "Accio Chapter Six" spell to breeze through the beginning and get to the good stuff.

Though Rowling has been in the news of late because of her "TERF" politics, she is more Snape than Voldemort: well-intentioned, but damaging, just the same. Can we separate the artist from the art? I don't have an answer to that rhetorical question. All I know is that Rowling created a once-in-a-generation mythology. However, it's a (wizarding) world that no longer belongs to her, but to her fans. And, in light (Lumos?) of Rowling's complicated politics, will those fans still hold a fondness in their hearts for the sweet nostalgia of Harry and his cohort? The answer is, like Snape later says at a key moment in the franchise, "Always."

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How to Survive a Horror Movie by Seth Grahame-Smith
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

⭐️⭐️⭐️ 1/2

Although I've been shelving Seth Grahame-Smith's books for years now, I never got around to reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies or Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. However, since I was between books this week, I figured I would give How to Survive a Horror Movie a shot - and I'm glad that I did.

Seth Grahame-Smith has an encyclopedic knowledge of horror history and spooky cinema, and a wit more biting than a vampire's fangs. In How to Survive a Horror Movie, the author lovingly lampoons classics like The Exorcist, The Shining, Dracula, Frankenstein, and Poltergeist; along the twisted trail of this book, he also touches upon a variety of tried-and-true horror franchises, including Halloween, Friday the 13th, Alien, and Scream. With grim gusto, Grahame-Smith puts the "fan" in FANatic and FANtastic: his love for horror bleeds through every page (pun intended). To the great joy of fellow aficionados, there are more eerie Easter eggs here than in any bunny's blood-soaked basket.

However, while Grahame-Smith is clearly a a devotee of this dark genre, he also recognizes the many predictable tropes, pitfalls, and idiosyncrasies of his beloved horror films. As such, much of this irreverent metafiction book is written with tongue planted firmly in cheek. With melodramatic flourish, the author discusses everything from haunted houses to possessed vehicles to killer dolls, ultimately culminating in a chapter about facing off against the Devil himself. The humor does start to wear thin about halfway through this brief book, but the author's clever insight helps circumvent the feeling that he's beating an un-dead horse into tedious oblivion.

In the appendix, Grahame-Smith offers a curated list of recommended horror films, surveying every important horror film of the last sixty years. The list of titles is a great starting point for novice moviegoers who want to dig deep into the graveside soil of cinematic history. This alone makes the book a worthwhile read.

As a horror geek, I was thoroughly delighted and entertained by How to Survive a Horror Movie. Casual horror fans, however, might want to skip this in favor of a book with more substance. While Grahame-Smith's tongue is sharper than Van Helsing's wooden stakes, his litany of attributes discussed in the "Terrorverse" can feel more like Herman Munster than Mary Shelley's monster.

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