When I was young, there were two types of books that I took pleasure in reading obsessively. Ironically, both feel highly relevant to this particular week. The first was a collection of biographies written about the then 42 United States Presidents. While they maybe weren’t the most complex narratives, they did give you enough details to understand what made these men special, worthy of leading the country through our brief history. I wouldn’t call myself a natural-born historian, but my passion for America’s rich mythology can be rooted in my youth and believing in those concepts like the melting pot, where every culture was admired for what they brought in a land of freedom.
The other was a much less optimistic book for a young reader to have their hands on. And yet, as a Catholic school student, it felt just as crucial to my identity. While I was still a good 20 years off from reading my first Stephen King book, R.L. Stine was an author that was more accessible, reaching into the Scholastic book fairs, and giving me a chance to explore the morbid side of literature. By some miracle, my teachers (mostly nuns) were fine with it on the grounds that I was reading. What is key as a child is that your imagination is active, constantly pushing yourself to have a self-sufficient world view. Considering that this was YEARS before J.K. Rowling would launch religious groups to burn her books over witchcraft, this whole exercise was more of a miracle. Luckily, neither Stine nor Rowling was banned authors at either of my schools.
To be transparent, I wanted to write about the “Goosebumps” series this week, though I have the unfortunate task of admitting that I can’t remember a single one. Oh sure, I remember the book covers, but to give you more than a one-sentence plot description would be difficult. These are all books that I remember adoring, turning pages obsessively to discover what happened next. I especially loved the Choose Your Own Adventures spin-off titled “Give Yourself Goosebumps” and I’ve been envious of anyone who knows how to write a book that way. It’s arguably the most suspenseful approach to writing, well, ever.
Considering that all but a few titles have disappeared to the corners of The Earth, I have no way of properly referencing any of them at this very moment. I know that I had them in my possession and loved them dearly. However, I think that maybe I outgrew them at some point, moving onto whatever my next phase was (probably turn of the millennium music?) and that’s how they disappeared. Still, trying to capture the magic I felt at that age is very difficult. I try to watch the Goosebumps Presents series, which ran on Fox, but it’s very much a low-scale production reflective of its time.
The only major thing that I’ll always love about the series is that every episode opened with Stine walking through his library. He began the same way “Hello, I’m R.L. Stine. I write the ‘Goosebumps’ books.” The idea of having a writer transparent enough to open up to his audience, in this case children, felt kind of cool. Here was an adult who understood us, and he played into our fears with monthly books that found kids constantly getting into unforeseen trouble. He had this way of being scary without being grotesque. He was safe enough that you knew books like “Say Cheese and Die” may have skeletons barbequing on the cover, but we weren’t going to read about their flesh melting off the bone. The horror was more PG, and you have to admire someone who mastered that structure, able to make something substantial with hundreds (presumably) of gimmicky premises.
As I’ve grown older, another thing that I’ve come to admire is something similar to King. When I think of King’s writing routine, I grow envious that he can spend a quarter of the day writing, pulling out drafts from various stories, and polishing them. He has a whole structure that I’m envious of, if just because it suggests how much time he gets to spend being creative, allowed to express himself.
Stine by comparison feels like he’s more mechanical, existing on a studio line. Every month between July 1993 and December 1997 featured at least one “Goosebumps” release with another six for “Tales to Give You Goosebumps” and 24 “Give Yourself Goosebumps.” The man was prolific. Again, I can’t speak to the quality of these stories. I was a mere child, around eight by the end of this era.
However, I think there’s something to be said about an author who released 92 books in five years. Sure, I can argue that he spread himself too thin, especially when you factor in the TV show Goosebumps Presents. However, there is something about having that strong of a work ethic. Whereas we expect King to come out with three or four books a year, Stine seemed to be on another level, constantly overwhelming the marketing. I admire him solely because he could meet deadlines. While at a certain point you have to believe that this came at the expense of editing and creative fruition, it’s something that I personally would love to achieve. A deadline means you have a strong potential for publication, and more importantly, it gives your readers expectations.
Sure, some authors like James Patterson have always been repellent because they overwhelm the market, but that’s because he publishes books that I don’t have an interest in. He also has ghost-writers that have only made it more difficult for me to appreciate his authenticity. I guess for “Goosebumps,” it feels different because when I think of Stine, I think of something all originating from the same mind. He has that campy sense of humor that is just infectious, especially for future B-Movie horror fans who see titles like Attack of the 50 ft. Woman* (1958) and say “Let’s do this!”
*I would like to state that this is a B-Movie for a reason.
For the sake of giving you context, I am going to look at the first 50 titles and present to you some titles that would likely have grabbed my attention as a child. There is something about the way he compiled words that made you curious, mixing the familiar with something odd enough that you had to peer in and wonder. As he would suggest “Reader beware! You’re in for a scare!” It’s quite the ride, and frankly something that didn’t quite sustain its vibrancy in the back half:
“Stay Out of the Basement”“Say Cheese and Die”“The Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb”“Welcome to Camp Nightmare”“Phantom of the Auditorium”“The Cuckoo Clock of Doom”“It Came from Beneath the Sink!”“The Abominable Snowman of Pasadena”
See how fun those are? Don’t you want to read those books? I’m convinced that my admiration for the B-Movie genre stems from looking at titles like “Night of the Living Dummy” and being curious to know what makes this ventriloquist dummy so special. I looked in and saw the supernatural as a curious world full of danger and mystery. While I personally have yet to understand how to write in that style, I continue to be attracted to it.
Of course, it would be offensive to go all this way through Stine appreciation without recognizing another part of what makes his novels so timeless. As mentioned, there’s a real B-Movie horror vibe to this whole experience, and anyone who even has a passing familiarity with the genre will know the value of a great poster. Even if I can’t recall the plots of many “Goosebumps” stories, there is something about those covers that immediately pull me back to a moment, mixing these horror images with something youthful and innocent. You knew what you were getting with them because of how vividly those covers inspired the imagination. They were clues to something more macabre, and yet they only became truly terrifying AFTER you found the context inside.
In fact, the first book has a banger of a cover with “Stay Out of the Basement.” It’s a motif that he’s reused constantly but rarely felt as effective as it did here. The title alone is a warning, asking yourself “Why should I?” Then you get the cover, and it only makes the question a lot more tempting. There’s this green, veiny hand reaching out of a dark room. You don’t know what the rest of the body looks like, but a rational person would not care to learn. You feel like he’s going to swallow you whole. Add the tagline “Something’s waiting in the dark…” and you get some of the most masterful marketing for a children’s book. You almost don’t need to read it. The idea of the book can be a bit disturbing.
There is some regret that I have in losing most of my “Goosebumps” books, if just for the nostalgia of it all. It’s one of the most essentially 90s things out there. It was a decade defined by series like The X-Files and movies like Scream (1996) that kept the slasher genre alive for a new generation. So much of that generation was founded one exploring the fears that everyone has going to their youth. It’s the belief that the world is a scary place, and I’m thankful that Stine cornered the market on this take in his own clever way. Many children’s authors would write horror novels, but none would be as ubiquitous.
I want to track a few of the early ones down to see if they still pop. To me, they created my interest in these monsters, notably of the Universal Horror variety. They made me believe that writing could be something more diverse than conventional dramas. I’m sure on one level I will notice how juvenile they are, but that’s the point. This is your entry into a genre that welcomes the creatives inside all of us. It’s safe enough that it won’t traumatize you but dangerous enough that you’ll feel in peril. His targets were fun, with these personable journeys that slowly got you into the scares. That’s what I love about him. He knew how to build to a moment.
Of course, it only feels right to mention Goosebumps (2015), which is a great survey of his career. The wild creativity in that film is a great starter and hopefully an entry point for a new generation. While I have yet to see Goosebumps 2 (2018), I personally am thankful to director Rob Letterman for capturing the tone in such a delightful way.
Though I would be remised if I didn’t bring this full circle and reference one of the more amusing details. When somebody compares Stine to King, the fictional Stine (Jack Black) goes on a long tirade about how King is a hack and that Stine released a book every month. Again, you just have to admire someone with a strong work ethic. It’s a joke I personally love, if just because of the fictional feud between two of horror’s most noteworthy authors. Having a children’s author lose his mind makes the suggestion that he’s looking for some respect, and frankly… he deserves it. Sure, he hasn’t written a book as universal as “IT,” but he’s informed generations to love horror in the first place, and that’s just as important.
I apologize to those who wanted this piece to have some greater insight into an individual story. At most, you have a more personal look at my relationship to his work. I want to personally revisit some of it one day, maybe go down a rabbit hole like the Goosebuds podcast, and see what it is that has made him such an important author. For now, it burns bright in my imagination as a pivotal moment in my life, inspiring me to look further into the chaos and discover what lies beneath. Will I be able to survive whatever scares are inside? I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out.
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