Fear & horror in children’s literature – Review of truly terrifying kids & YA books

Abandonment and Hunger in Children’s Horror

Throughout children’s literature, we see the theme of abandonment coming up again and again. In many instances the protagonist is an orphan, and although many orphan stories aren’t scary or classified as horror, there is something obviously sinister and/or sad about them.

I am not a scientist so I’m not going to delve too deep into the psychology of the fear of abandonment, but suffice it to say that since Freud’s study of Little Hans and Bowlby’s studies on attachment, we know that children have an innate fear of abandonment that is tied to their self-preservation. The so-called lizard brain is hard-wired to attach to adults.

And the reason for that is simple: children need care-takers to survive. Their small statures make them prone to predators, and also make finding food more difficult. What children have are their adorable, large eyes, their soft baby smell, and their infectious giggles, which trigger the care-taking response in not only adult humans but in adult animals as well.

So it makes sense that so many children’s horror stories contain both themes of abandonment AND hunger. Here are a few of my personal favourites, from picture books to young adult novels. 

Morals in Children’s Horror

The majority of the above stories in the Abandonment/Hunger category are not moralizing or educational. There may be a theme that speaks to morals or ethics, but the main arc of the story does not revolve around the protagonist learning a moral or lesson. This is uncommon in children’s fiction, and might be why I am drawn to horror for these age groups.

The vast majority of literature for young people (horror and not) contains a strong didactic element. In another essay I wrote on allowing children to read books for adults, I spoke at length about our tendency to infantilize children. I’m not going to get into that here, but I do have a question I think is worth asking: how does horror fit into what Irina Rata calls “the colonization of the child?” Why do adults write children’s stories about kids being abused, abandoned, starved and shot? 

This might be tangential, but I feel the discussion warrants it. In her very critical examination of classic children’s literature, “The Case of Peter Pan, Or the Impossibility of Children’s Fiction” (1992), Rose Jacqueline examines how we manipulate children through our children’s stories. In her own words: 

Part 2: I Told You So

There is so much to unpack in that quote above, but I think the main point she is making is that writing for children is a covert form of grasping and manipulation, which is such a creepy way of looking at the writer/reader relationship.

In sharing this quote, I’m transitioning to my next topic, which is the idea that adults often use fear in writing to scare children into behaving. Think of expressions like, ‘Don’t walk in the woods or a bogeyman will get you.’ 

The next group of horror books from my personal canon includes some moralizing tales. Just like with the Abandonment/Hunger category, these stories seem to follow an eerily similar pattern. In this case, the pattern is what I call Foolish Choices where the child walks in the woods, and… I told you so. 

Foolish choices are by no means unique to children’s literature, as any pulp horror movie will have you yelling, “Don’t be a fool! Run for your life!” However, foolish or ‘immoral’ choices seem to be a frame that fits the remainder of the horror stories for children that I’ve chosen, so I’m using it.

And just to clarify—I didn’t choose books in either of these categories because they fit some pre-identified framework. I sat down with my big stack of books, and these two patterns emerged: Orphans and Fools. 

I start this second half of my journey off with another very old folktale, Little Red Riding Hood, which has its roots in many cultures with slightly different versions. The first printed version by Charles Perrault came out in France in 1695 and follows a young peasant girl as she travels to her grandmother’s house. She stops to chat with some strangers who find out where she is going, and one of them, a wolf, beats her to her destination, eats her grandmother, and then dresses up as her grandmother and eats Little Red Riding Hood. 

Little Red Riding Hood from 1911 version of the story

Later sanitized versions treat the story much differently. In most, Little Red Riding Hood is saved, the wolf is killed and there are no sexual undertones. 

Did I just say sexual undertones? Yes, in Perrault’s version, before Little Red Riding Hood is killed, she gets undressed and lies in bed with the wolf. 

If you weren’t absolutely certain there was a moral to this story, Perrault makes it clear in his afternote: “Children, especially attractive, well bred young ladies, should never talk to strangers, for if they should do so, they may well provide dinner for a wolf. I say, “wolf,” but there are various kinds of wolves. There are also those who are charming, quiet, polite, unassuming, complacent, and sweet, who pursue young women at home and in the streets. And unfortunately, it is these gentle wolves who are the most dangerous ones of all.”

Little Red Riding Hood’s poor choice is to talk to strangers as she walks to her grandmother’s house. She also makes the dubious choice of taking off her clothes before hopping into bed with the wolf, er, I mean her grandmother. These poor choices don’t end well for her. 

Let’s look at some other classic and modern horror stories that follow other children making poor choices 

Conclusion

Why did I choose to curate a list of great horror stories for children and young adults? It’s a good question, and one I’m asking myself. In creating this personal canon, I never set out to prove a point or sum something up. I simply went on a journey, carrying my trusted talisman, a library card, and helped along the way by an amazing sidekick, the librarian at the Central Branch of the VPL who literally spent hours with me hunting for horror books! (he did his masters thesis on the semiotics of fear in children’s fiction, so I got lucky!)

I chose horror as the topic of this canon partly because I’m writing a middle grade horror novel, but also because I thought long and hard about the kinds of books I liked when I was young, and about what my students might like. It’s presumptuous to think my students will like what I liked, but I had to start somewhere.

Stephen King was the first author I adored. Even though his stories are often about adults, I felt he understood me, a ten year old girl, more than most people. I had read Stephen King’s entire oeuvre by the time I was a tween. More than loving the thrill of reading a scary story (and oh how I loved it) I also appreciated the fact that most protagonists in scary stories are misunderstood, mistreated and/or maligned. There was something there I could relate to.  

The world is a scary place.

Earlier I spoke about the fact that adults often write children’s literature with an agenda. Sometimes that agenda is to change, educate, moralize or colonize the child, and sometimes that agenda is simply to entertain. However, I believe sometimes that agenda is more personal. Sometimes an adult might sit down to write a story because they themselves want to figure something out, explore an idea, or heal from past hurts. 

Horror can be, strangely enough, a balm for the soul of someone who is broken, lost or confused. It says, “You’re not alone.” Horror is not neat and tidy, most often conversely so. It’s bloody, absurd and ambiguous. It does not give a solution. It doesn’t rescue, but it abides. It assauges. It confirms. 

A note of apology

I need to admit and apologize for the fact that I did not stray much out of Western literature in my exploration. Partly, I did not know where to start, and partly I felt out of place. I hope to remedy this in the near future.