Once Upon A Fine

This October I decided to have a little fun by rereading a few Goosebumps books that I remembered from my childhood. The Goosebumps series, by R.L. Stine, was incredibly popular in the United States during the mid-to-late 1990s. It’s comprised of numerous short, standalone novels that contain creepy stories for kids. Some of the novels have sequels (notably, Monster Blood and Night of the Living Dummy), but most leave the reader on an unfulfilled cliffhanger at the end — the main monster has been defeated, but there’s always another on the horizon. The End. Essentially, R.L. Stine is what American children read before they moved onto harder stuff, like Stephen King. I remember thinking this series was a bit taboo and for some reason I got the impression that my mom preferred me to read Baby-Sitters Club novels instead, as if the writing in them were somehow more elevated — though, in fairness, after rereading a few of these, she might have been right. I remember feeling like when I read Goosebumps books I could converse with the cool kids. I remember loving that the word ‘Goosebumps’ on the book covers actually had raised bumps that I could run my fingers along (perhaps prefiguring my academic obsession with the book as material object). I don’t actually remember having a Goosebumps book scare me, at least, not the way that the Nickelodeon show Are You Afraid of the Dark? could scare me. That said, images from these books have remained firmly entrenched in my mind ever since — Doom Slide, anyone? Without further ado, here’s my review of my first Goosebumps re-read, One Day at Horrorland, Goosebumps #16, by R.L. Stine.

Warning: Spoilers and Choice Language Ahead.

This is the most fun I've had (re)reading a book in ages — it was fast, fun, and offered new surprises at every twist of the Doom Slide. The story follows the Morris family: Dad, Mom, Lizzy (our 12-year-old first person POV narrator), Luke (Lizzy’s 10-year-old brother), and Luke’s friend, Clay. They are trying to find an amusement park called Zoo Gardens, but end up lost and driving aimlessly in the desert, without a map, and in an age before GPS and smartphones. The family sees a sign for Horrorland, and decides to check it out. Mom and Dad try to locate a phone at the park, while Lizzy, Luke, and Clay seek out some rides. The problem is, these rides come within seconds of literally killing their riders. Scared, the kids try to find Mom and Dad again, only to be told by a park worker ‘costumed’ as a green monster that Mom and Dad left without the kids. When they do finally meet up with their parents, things have taken a dark turn and Lizzy realizes that the Horrors are real monsters, not costumed people, and that their real deaths are imminent. Do they escape? Read to find out! Trust me, you’ll have a blast with this one!

I'd forgotten how much I'd loved this Goosebumps book in elementary school. I also couldn't believe how much of this novel my brain has retained for more than two decades now. Really, brain? You remember that the Horrorland Horrors deflate like balloons when pinched and that the coffin reference in the opening line is the Coffin Cruise, a kind of lazy river ride, but you can't remember actually useful stuff? Anyway. I raced through this book. I truly did not want to put it down. The cheesy way every chapter ends with a mini-cliffhanger worked. I loved all of the imagination that went into creating the park, too. If not for the imminent death bit, I'd love to visit this place. Werewolf Village sounds like walking into M. Night Shyamalan’s The Village — except, with actual scary monsters. The House of Mirrors, complete with Star Wars-esque crushing technology, sounds terrifying. I want to explore it all!

But also, wow, how batsh*t crazy is this book? I guess Goosebumps books in general always were off-the-wall, but as a child I didn't realize it so much. Probably because I didn't have a whole lot with which to compare it. But this just takes the cake: their car LITERALLY EXPLODES in a parking lot near the very beginning of the book, seconds after they exited it, and then they just go about their lives. Only the dad seems even mildly traumatized by that part. I can't even remember how I must have processed that as a kid. I guess I just went with it, basically unbothered, since Lizzy and Luke seem pretty unfazed by it.

In sum, I loved this. I still really, really love this. It offered such a fun reading experience and such an original concept — yes, creepy carnivals have been a thing for awhile, but a park run by monsters with a totally amazing monster theme? Sign me up! Best of all, the Horrors actually have a motivation for running this park (it’s part of their hit reality show on TMC - The Monster Channel!), the myriad ways you could be hurt/killed by the Horrors/the park attractions are very clear, it taps into a bunch of primal fears, and it is delightfully creative throughout. R.L Stine, kudos. This was really fantastic.

(Images of the book cover from here)

A few days before my birthday last week, the cool breeze that heralds the beginnings of hot apple cider, witchy films, and all things pumpkin spice blew into London. I know, I know. It’s August. Friends, I have discovered that London summers (minus the heatwave week) are nearly identical to Virginian late Septembers and early Octobers. At first, I thought it was a fluke, a rare day of autumnal weather, like sometimes hits Washington D.C. or Williamsburg around this time of year. But no. Now, nearly mid-August, the autumnal goodness continues apace with cooler days, gusty winds, and even a sky that’s started going that deep, deep blue I associate with October. I’ve started obsessively looking at Halloween arts and crafts on Pinterest, despite knowing – knowing – that it’s still August. My body’s knowledge of how seasons feel and my brain’s logical understanding of the date are out of alignment.

So, to try to combat this far-too-early autumnal mindset, I decided to read Nina Moreno’s debut YA novel, Don’t Date Rosa Santos. The cover looks about as summery as anything I’ve seen, and I read a description that said it was as if Gilmore Girls and Practical Magic collided with Jane the Virgin. I gotta say, that was a very accurate description. If you like any/all of these things, you should probably read this novel. From the first town meeting (yes, really!) in chapter one, to the cast of quirky characters that populate the town, to the bad-for-me-but-so-right romance, to the unexpected beauty of the square on festival night, to the brujería sprinkled throughout the book, I felt like Rosa Santos’ hometown of Port Coral was a diverse Stars Hollow (thankfully populated by less self-entitled characters) with a pinch of Owens’ magic. One of the book blurbs says that this is what Lin-Manuel Miranda would write if he wrote YA, and it does have thematic resonances with In the Heights. Rosa’s always been the perfect student, who suddenly doesn’t know how her future will unfold. Her desire to know her Cuban roots and the secrets kept by her mother and grandmother drive her character development. The whole book had a Floridian late-spring vibe that had me dreaming of humid nights and sundresses, and it ended with more heart than I thought possible in what had, overall, been a fairly light read. I may have held back a few tears on the Tube.

I have to admit, though, as much as I loved reading about night-time boat rides to deserted islands and orange groves just off the highway, it didn’t quite shake my desire for jumpers, apples, and fresh pencils. I’ve still been adding to my ‘October Reads’ shelf on Goodreads and scouring my library for e-copies of old R.L Stine Goosebumps books, for when I need a bit of nostalgic fun this autumn.

Who else has started to hear the siren call of cinnamon brooms and pumpkin-flavored everything? Or is everyone but me still dreaming of seaside holidays and cold lemonade?