Paperbacks from Hell [N.F. - Literature, Art]

Some parents will feel helpless. “How can I possibly stop my child from murdering strangers with a hammer because she thinks they are demons from hell?” you might wail (Mama’s Little Girl). Fortunately there are some practical, commonsense steps you can take to lower the body count. Most important, try not to have sex with Satan. Fornicating with the incarnation of all evil usually produces children who are genetically predisposed to use their supernatural powers to cram their grandmothers into television sets, headfirst. “But how do I know if the man I’m dating is the devil?” I hear you ask. Here are some warning signs learned from Seed of Evil: Does he refuse to use contractions when he speaks? Does he deliver pickup lines like, “You live on the edge of darkness”? When nude, is his body the most beautiful male form you have ever seen, but possessed of a penis that’s either monstrously enormous, double-headed, has glowing yellow eyes, or all three? After intercourse, does he laugh malevolently, urinate on your mattress, and then disappear? If you spot any of these behaviors, chances are you went on a date with Satan. Or an alien.

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Even if, despite these precautions, you have given birth to the spawn of Satan, all is not lost. Look on the bright side: deadly children are the best-dressed children. A coat and tie on your wee whippersnapper (Seed of Evil) says either “tiny funeral director” or “psychopath.” A young lady wearing a bow at her neck or wearing a lacy party dress reads as either “I am a living Victorian doll,” or “I will murder you the minute your back is turned.” Some parents try to deal with the difficulties of dressing homicidal children by sending them to a school that requires them to wear a uniform, which is an excellent idea. Nothing looks smarter, or more fashionable, than hordes of schoolchildren dressed in matching navy blazers rampaging across the British countryside, slaughtering everyone in sight (Childmare).

Last, but not least: never be home on Halloween. For some reason, that’s when the little cherubs absolutely lose their minds. Disregard these warnings and end up like the town of Elliot, Pennsylvania, where, in Piper (1987), hundreds of children under the age of thirteen, dressed as adorable witches, pirates, and cowboys, murder three thousand adults one All Hallow’s Eve. On the glass-half-full side, the whole town works together and brings their psychotic progeny under control, with local Vietnam and Korean War vets teaming up to machine-gun the little ankle biters into kibble.

As they say: it takes a village.

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Why do children act out? They might be nature creatures (Nursery Tale, Strange Seed), possessed by a vengeful spirit (Judgment Day), covering up a murder (The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane), or plotting a murder (Harriet Said…).Maybe they’re an ape-human hybrid (The Sendai), getting attacked by snakes (The Accursed), a hammer-wielding hellion (Mama’s Little Girl), capable of raising the dead (The Savior), or juggling a second personality that’s probably a demon (Smart as the Devil). Credit 43

It’s All Fun and Games Until…

The only book written by Mendal W. Johnson, who died two years after it was published, 1974’s Let’s Go Play at the Adams’ still elicits passionate loathing. Search online and you’ll find readers who describe destroying the book after finishing it, who write about being left ill, about how sick the author must have been. They call it “misogynistic” and “loathsome.” Yet people remember it vividly decades later. It’s been published from Australia to Turkey and has inspired two self-published sequels (both available online). The book has serious flaws, but it also sticks with you.

Summer in Maryland. Barbara is 20 years old and she’s come to babysit for the Adams children—Bobby, age 12, and his sister Cindy, age 10—while their parents are in Europe for two weeks. Neighborhood kids stop by and go swimming and everything feels like a dream. Then Barbara is chloroformed and wakes up tied to the bed. The neighbors, Dianne (age 17), Paul (age 13), and John (age 16), have decided it would be funny to play games with the babysitter.

Days pass and Barbara is kept bound. Gradually the kids begin to do things to her. As Cindy giggles, “Paul likes girls’ feet…He’s the best at torturing.” Barbara’s confinement reduces her to her essential self. She’s horrified that people she thought were her friends have “no ability or desire to project themselves into her situation or imagine how much she hurt.” They treat her like a Barbie doll, and we all know what kids eventually do to their Barbie dolls.