Halloween

A supernatural western: Tom’s Crossing, by Mark Z. Danielowski, reviewed

Mark Z. Danielewski is best known for his House of Leaves, a typographically delirious horror novel about a manuscript written by a blind man describing a film which showed an impossible house. It seemed to exhaust a particular kind of postmodernism of footnotes, cryptography, metatexts, pop culture and more, yet remained at heart a story about grief. Tom’s Crossing is more immediately accessible, but it is every bit as clever and even more emotionally devastating. The bulk of the action takes place over five days running up to Halloween in 1982, although with a preface, ‘Some of what happened before’, and a longer epilogue, ‘Some of what happened after’.

Halloween at the Fright House

From our US edition

It’s happened again, it’s happened again… What’s the scariest thing about America right now? Creeping authoritarianism? The looming Socialist Republic of New York? “The enemy within?” For Cockburn, who draws from a never-ending well of Dutch courage, the answer is nothing. Perhaps the White House’s Halloween reception might offer him further insight into the more macabre side of the nation. The US Air Force Band greeted your correspondent as he walked along the Presidential Hall of Fame, past the paved “Rose Garden Club” and onto the South Lawn. They offered a soundtrack of film and TV scores – the best of Bernard Herrmann and John Williams – as well as the obligatory Bach.

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Trick or treating is vital life experience

I first got a door slammed in my face in 1987. Looking back, I can’t help but feel that moment, at the age of eight, was my first bit of training as a journalist. I wasn’t seeking a scoop back then, of course. For eight-year-olds a scoop is something you get two of with your cornet from the ice cream van. Rather I was after a Chomp bar or a bag of Bensons crisps, and all the while hoping beyond hope that I (and my accompanying gaggle of friends) wouldn’t be palmed off with a satsuma. Such was the freewheeling Friedman-esque world of trick or treating – a custom that has dwindled into what, these days, is considered by many parents to be either rude, dangerous, immoral, paganistic or a combination of all four. The ritual clings on in diminished form.

A warm welcome in Salem from women and witches

From our US edition

Pulling up at Marblehead’s Harbor Light Inn, my oldest friend and I wasted no time securing two counter seats at the Tavern tucked inside. A Christmas tree twinkled incongruously as we planned the hallowed pilgrimage most travelers reserve for spooky season: the next day we’d make the twenty-minute drive to Salem, the scene of the infamous witch trials of 1692. Peeling ourselves away from this glorious little seaside B&B, replete with canopy beds and resplendent fireplaces, would be harder than expected. “Excuse the smell! We’ve been baking all day,” said general manager Carolyn as we caught a waft of banana bread.

Don’t let paranoid progressives ruin Halloween

From our US edition

There was a time in recent memory (i.e., my childhood) when on October 31, kids dressed up in whatever costumes they wanted, roamed their neighborhoods at dusk and even past dark, accepted candy from strangers, and had an innocently fun time trick-or-treating. Their parents were aware of this Halloween tradition and approved of it, as did most Americans. Fast-forward to now, and Halloween is just another enjoyable tradition-turned-casualty of pretend progressive paranoia.

In Georgetown, the scariest part of Halloween is the virtue-signaling

From our US edition

Halloween has never been my favorite holiday, but as I was warned when we moved here last November, in Georgetown it is a serious affair. For the entire month of October, giant spiders scale the rowhouses, ghosts and cadavers dangle from trees, cackling animatronic witches guard the cemetery and the local bed and breakfast, parking spaces are “reserved” for ghostbusters and on every other block there’s a 12-foot-tall skeleton waiting to send my two-year-old into shrieks of delight. Then there are the pumpkins: every shape, size and color, stacked by the dozen in tasteful arrangements on every step of every stoop in town. How does everyone pull this off, I asked my real-estate agent, my one-stop source for all Georgetown-related trivia.

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The infantilising cult of comfort

I thought that maybe being in a wheelchair would stop my louche lunching ways, but somewhat to my own surprise (though not that of my mates, I’d wager), this isn’t the case. ‘You push – I’ll pay!’ has become my battle cry. But as I am wheeled about at this time of year, a pucker of irritation repeatedly flickers across my features. Pumpkin this, pumpkin that – all leading inevitably to the monstrosity that is pumpkin spiced latte. The final straw in my deciding that pumpkin spiced lattes are utterly, well, deplorable was when the ghastly Hillary Clinton described herself as a fan – ‘until I saw how many calories there are in them’. Soz, Hills, but it’ll take more than losing a bit of weight to keep a dog like yours on the porch.

Make Halloween scary again

It was the early evening of 31 October and I was three years old, sitting in the living room with Mum, on the brink of bedtime, when I turned to the corner and a decorative wicker armchair. (It was the 1980s.) ‘Mum,’ I enquired sweetly, ‘who’s that man sitting there?’ Mum, suitably unnerved, asked me for details about the invisible guest, whereupon I outlined a farmer resembling every description Mum had heard of her great-grandfather. Her great-grandfather was a 19th-century ploughman who worked the fields where our home would later be built. My parents had never spoken of him in my presence.

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The Witchery weaves Halloween magic in Edinburgh

From our US edition

Halloween traditions might hail from All Hallows’ Eve, the Christian celebration preceding All Saints’ Day, but that has roots in Samhain — a Celtic pagan festival. Long before Westerners carved pumpkins come fall, the Scots were sticking knives into "neeps" (turnips). Disguised children ("guisers") warded off evil spirits on the streets of Scotland centuries before brats in Gryffindor scarves demanded Twinkies.  There could hardly be a better place to spend the spookiest time of the year than Edinburgh, with its reliably moody weather and litany of imposing buildings. Those seeking to be truly disturbed need simply research the capital’s very real history of witch hunts, public executions and plague.

The rush to cancel old Halloween costumes

From our US edition

I'm holding a Polaroid taken at a Halloween party at one of my early State Department assignments in the 1980s. One of my diplomatic colleagues is in blackface. He’s done up to look like the minstrel player who was on the "Darkie" toothpaste boxes then for sale in every drugstore in Asia. You can see a photo of the packaging: the white teeth against the minstrel player's face were supposed to show how good the toothpaste was. My other colleague is dressed as the Frito Bandito, a caricature of Mexicans used to sell corn chips. The costume theme for the night was advertising icons. In the 1980s, these were acceptable ways to advertise and acceptable costumes for Halloween. Looking at the photo now, I realize it is a weapon.

Philip Womack, Ian Thomson, Silkie Carlo, Francis Young and Rory Sutherland

28 min listen

On this week’s Spectator Out Loud: Philip Womack wonders why students can't tackle university reading lists (1:12); Ian Thomson contemplates how much Albania has changed since Enver Hoxta’s dictatorship (6:12); Silkie Carlo reveals the worrying rise of supermarket surveillance (13:33); Francis Young provides his notes on Hallowe’en fairies (20:21); and Rory Sutherland worries that Britain may soon face a different type of migrant crisis (24:08).  Produced and presented by Patrick Gibbons.

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The Halloween costumes guaranteed to get you fired this year

From our US edition

Cockburn has had some stellar Halloween costumes over the years… but the world is no longer what was. Thanks to political correctness, social media and your HR department, an outfit that’s viewed to be in poor taste could now result in your cancellation and dismissal. Maybe you’re looking to make a change at work — if so, here are some Halloween costumes that will help you unleash your inner Justin Trudeau and leave your employer no option… Candace Owens and Kanye ‘Ye’ West The real power couple of the latter half of 2022! This one is guaranteed to get you canceled. Ye’s appalling “White Lives Matter” T-shirts are a bit pricey — fortunately there is a knock-off version. Candace-style wig available here.

In praise of Halloween food

From our US edition

If you’re hesitant to ask someone if they are American or Canadian — the latter are often offended to be mistaken for the former — ask them instead about their favorite holiday. It isn’t a foolproof method, but if they say Halloween then you know you’re talking to an American. No other nationality would choose it — because no one else gets it so right. The origins of All Hallows’ Eve belong to Ireland and Scotland. The Celtic festival Samhain was not only a huge feast to mark the start of winter: it was a day full of superstitious activity, which included bonfires to clear the air of ghosts and sacrifices to appease anything all-powerful that might curse food supplies during the dark months.

Halloween

Yes, it’s too early for pumpkin beer 

From our US edition

The biggest purveyor of misinformation at the moment isn’t a podcast host or a foreign adversary. It’s a brewery.  Since announcing the release of its flagship Pumpkinhead Ale on August 1, Shipyard Brewing has commenced a cheeky ad campaign declaring that the dog days of summer are actually the perfect time to enjoy a fall beer. As Americans battle oppressive heat and humidity, the Portland, Maine, brewery has flooded its Instagram with photos of people sipping pumpkin ale on boats, and posts boldly declaring “Pumpkinhead Season is HERE!”  It shouldn’t be. Dropping pumpkin beers in the summer is a big mistake, and not because fall beers are inherently bad — quite the contrary.

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CVS is the perfect surrogate for American culture

From our US edition

At some point in my adulthood I came to realize what I thought of as my children's precious childhood memories were actually my memories of them. As they got older, I understood they remembered little of the details of family vacations or the long museum treks we made them go on in the name of education. Those were my memories. Because we lived in multiple countries during our prime child raising years, those memories are spread out geographically. So we do not encounter refresher courses every Thanksgiving when we visit the old house. I can't say if we'll ever get back to some of those places (I can say for sure we will never organize the hundreds of photos we took that now reside in massive shipping boxes), so they really do now exist only in memory.

Have yourself a very basic Christmas

From our US edition

Humbug! I’ve written before in these pages about how much I loathe Christmas. It’s not just Christmas though: with the exception of Thanksgiving, because it’s all about eating and gratitude and football, I could never stand any of the holidays. This has gradually abated over the years as I’ve started creating traditions of my own here in Los Angeles, but I still resent the feeling of obligation. Then this year, a neighbor asked, “What’s your daughter going to be for Halloween?” That was the moment it struck me — I’m going to have to fully engage in the holidays now. All of them. No more hiding under the bed and letting them blow over. Turning off the lights and pretending Halloween doesn’t exist is not an option.

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Witchcraft is not Gen Z’s new religion

From our US edition

Everyone’s ringing the alarm bell: is witchcraft the new religion for Gen Z? If #WitchTok, the named used to describe witchy content on TikTok, is any indication — no. #WitchTok is a digital fortune-teller; it’s a place to find aesthetic inspiration; it’s sometimes a stand-in for political engagement. For some, it’s even a hobby. But it’s not a replacement for religious faith. On TikTok, witchy content falls under three broad categories. There is predictive content like tarot card readings, manifestation instruction and “good luck” videos, and there’s #WitchTok. The first two categories of video almost exclusively cater to people who are looking for something — usually good news.

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Halloween Ends succeeds because it’s barely a horror film

From our US edition

Michael Myers has always occupied a curious space among horror icons. “The Shape,” ever since he first appeared in 1978, has been silent and implacable, a killer who acts from no clear motivation at all. Whereas Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees and Leatherface all possess intricate, tangled backstories, Myers began as an avatar of something else: the presence of an evil that cannot be psychologized away. That sort of evil, as a concept, isn't really in vogue so far as modern horror goes. Rob Zombie’s 2007 reboot tried to retool Myers's backstory by blaming his murderous tendencies on bad parenting. And plenty of other contemporary horror flicks, from The Babadook to Smile, place psychological trauma and its consequences front-and-center.

Why millennials love Halloween way too much

From our US edition

Millennials — roughly defined as the generation born between 1980 and 1996 — love Halloween. Barely an instant after the sun sets on Labor Day, giddy social media posts announcing the arrival of #SpookySeason” start replacing #SummerVibes faster than you can say “sweater weather.” Pumpkin-spiced IPAs and photos of girls wearing floppy, completely impractical Indiana Jones hats supplant selfies with spiked seltzers and cut-off jeans. “The modern Halloween is for millennials as much as kids,” reports businesswire.com. In 2018, the site said that “59 percent of millennials planned either to attend or throw a Halloween party.

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Wanted this Halloween: terror films, not horror

From our US edition

Yet another Halloween film was released last weekend, this time illogically entitled Halloween Kills. By now, the saga is about as well-known as the Bible, and considerably less enjoyable. There is an ill-intentioned madman on the loose named Michael Myers, who wears a faceless white mask. He enjoys slicing up various members of the supporting cast unfortunate enough to have agents who did not negotiate them multi-picture deals. Opposing Myers, primus inter pares, is the character Laurie Strode, who has on some occasions been portrayed as his understandably resentful sister, and on other occasions as merely a resourceful woman who manages to get the drop on him before, Lazarus-like, he rises again in time for the next installment.

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