If I could have dinner with one author, it would be Dave Eggers. His writing style is my muse. His merger of artistic quality with social justice inspires me. I want to be like Dave Eggers–except scary.

In A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, he writes:

“[M]y mother read a horror novel every night. She had read every one in the library. When birthdays and Christmas would come, I would consider buying her a new one, the latest Dean R. Koontz or Stephen King or whatever, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to encourage her. I couldn’t touch my father’s cigarettes, couldn’t look at the Pall Mall cartons in the pantry. I was the sort of child who couldn’t even watch commercials for horror movies – the ad for Magic, the movie where marionette kills people. sent me into a six-month nightmare frenzy. So I couldn’t look at her books, would turn them over so their covers wouldn’t show, the raised lettering and splotches of blood – especially the V.C. Andrews oeuvre, those turgid pictures of those terrible kids, standing so still, all lit in blue.”

This quote, paired with all of his work that I’ve read led me to believe he had no interest in horror. This week, I stumbled upon his short story, “The Horror.” This piece raises some great questions about horror:

  • Does horror come with a certain set of expectations?
  • How subjective can we be when determining if a text is horror?
  • Does horror shy away from tackling the authentically horrifying in favor of “safer” caricatures?
  • As horror authors, how free are we to expand the genre’s boundaries?

While it may seem odd for Eggers to lead this conversation, check out his 2013 short story adapted into a short film:

Scary, huh? So let’s continue the conversation. What are your responses to the above questions?