The Horror Editor's Dilemma

Eddie Carroll, a weary editor of horror anthologies, is numbed by years of reading derivative, uninspired stories. His life, once filled with passion for the genre, has become a monotonous grind, and his personal relationships have suffered. When he receives a disturbing but brilliant story called "Buttonboy," he is jolted awake by its raw power and originality. The story's publication has already caused controversy, costing its original editor his job. Carroll's quest to reprint "Buttonboy" leads him on a journey to find its elusive author, Peter Kilrue, culminating in a tense, surreal encounter at Kilrue's home. The experience blurs the line between fiction and reality, as Carroll finds himself trapped in a horror narrative of his own, forced to confront the darkness he has spent his life curating. The chapter explores the cost of obsession, the hunger for authenticity, and the dangers of seeking out the very horrors one claims to love.

Buttonboy and the Cycle of Violence

"Buttonboy," the tale that so captivates Carroll, is a meta-horror narrative about Cate, a young woman abducted and mutilated by a monstrous man and his accomplice, a boy with buttons sewn over his eyes. Cate's ordeal is both physical and psychological, leaving her permanently scarred and alienated from society. Years later, she encounters her abductor again, only to realize she has never truly escaped the trauma—her life has been a circular journey back to her original horror. The stories within stories structure highlights the cycles and circularity of violence and the inescapability of trauma, while also critiquing the horror genre's tendency to exploit suffering for shock value. Carroll's reaction to "Buttonboy" mirrors the reader's: a mix of revulsion, fascination, and a desperate need for meaning in the grotesque.

Haunting the Rosebud Theater

The Rosebud Theater is haunted by the spirit of Imogene Gilchrist, a young woman who died during a screening of The Wizard of Oz. Her ghost appears to select moviegoers, seeking connection and conversation about the films she loved. Alec Sheldon, the theater's aging owner, becomes the keeper of her legend, recording sightings and pondering the nature of her appearances. As the theater faces closure, those who have seen Imogene are drawn back, united by a shared, ineffable experience. The story is a meditation on nostalgia, the persistence of memory, and the ways in which places—and the stories we tell about them—become haunted by the past. Ultimately, the Rosebud is saved by the intervention of a former patron, but Alec's final encounter with Imogene suggests that some ghosts can only be laid to rest by joining them.

Inflatable Friendships

"Pop Art" tells the story of a lonely, troubled boy whose best friend, Art, is literally inflatable—made of plastic, filled with air, and unable to speak except by writing notes. Art's fragility makes him a target for bullies and a symbol of vulnerability, but also a source of deep empathy and connection. The narrator protects Art, but is ultimately unable to save him from the world's cruelty. Art's decision to float away, seeking transcendence or escape, is both heartbreaking and uplifting. The story explores themes of difference, mortality, and the redemptive power of friendship, using the absurd premise to illuminate real emotional truths about loss and acceptance.

Metamorphosis in the Wasteland

"You Will Hear the Locust Sing" is a grotesque, Kafkaesque tale of Francis Kay, a bullied teenager who wakes up transformed into a giant insect. Set in a decaying desert town near atomic test sites, Francis's metamorphosis is both a personal liberation and a catalyst for violence. He exacts revenge on those who tormented him, including his abusive father, before unleashing chaos on his school and the town. The story is a darkly comic, apocalyptic vision of adolescence, alienation, and the monstrous consequences of societal neglect. It blends body horror with social satire, suggesting that the monsters we fear are often of our own making.

Vampire Lessons at Home

"Abraham's Boys" reimagines the Van Helsing family after Dracula, focusing on Abraham's sons, Max and Rudy, as they struggle under their father's oppressive, paranoid tutelage. Abraham Van Helsing, obsessed with the threat of vampires, subjects his sons to brutal lessons in monster-hunting, blurring the line between protection and abuse. The boys' discovery of a hidden, violent family history forces them to question the reality of their father's fears and the cost of inheriting trauma. The story is a meditation on generational violence, the burden of legacy, and the ways in which myth and madness can become indistinguishable.

Fathers, Sons, and Baseball

"Better Than Home" is a gentle, poignant story about a boy with sensory and emotional challenges and his relationship with his father, a passionate baseball coach. The boy's anxieties and compulsions—his aversion to certain sounds, textures, and foods—are met with patience and creativity by his father, who finds ways to connect through shared rituals and games. The narrative explores the difficulties of parenting, the importance of acceptance, and the small, everyday victories that define love. It is a rare moment of sweetness and hope in a collection otherwise preoccupied with darkness.

The Black Phone Rings

In "The Black Phone," Finney, a teenage boy, is abducted by a serial killer known as the Grabber and imprisoned in a soundproof basement. A disconnected black phone on the wall begins to ring, allowing Finney to communicate with the spirits of the killer's previous victims. Each call provides clues and encouragement, helping Finney resist despair and ultimately fight back. The story is a tense, claustrophobic thriller that uses supernatural elements to explore themes of resilience, the power of memory, and the ways in which the dead can help the living. It is also a commentary on cycles of violence and the possibility of breaking free.

Lost in the Rundown

"In the Rundown" follows Wyatt, a young man whose life has stalled after a promising start in Little League. Working a dead-end job at a video store, he is haunted by memories of past glory and present inadequacy. A chance encounter with a neighbor's family in crisis leads to a moment of violence and confusion, as Wyatt is drawn into a tragedy he cannot fully comprehend or resolve. The story uses the metaphor of the baseball rundown—a hopeless chase between bases—to illustrate the feeling of being trapped by one's own limitations and the randomness of fate.

The Weight of the Cape

"The Cape" is a dark twist on the superhero origin story. As a child, Eric discovers that his beloved blue cape allows him to fly, but a traumatic accident and his brother's jealousy end the magic. Years later, as an aimless adult, Eric rediscovers the cape and its power, but his attempts to recapture lost wonder lead to destructive choices. The story interrogates the allure of nostalgia, the dangers of refusing to grow up, and the thin line between fantasy and pathology. The cape, once a symbol of hope, becomes an instrument of revenge and self-destruction.

Bottled Silences

"Last Breath" introduces Dr. Alinger, a collector of the last breaths of the dying, which he stores in glass jars and invites visitors to listen to through "deathoscopes." Each jar contains not just air, but a unique silence—a residue of the person's final moment. The story is both macabre and philosophical, questioning the ways we try to hold onto the dead and the futility of seeking meaning in their absence. The museum of silences becomes a metaphor for grief, the desire to preserve what cannot be kept, and the strange comfort of ritual.

Ghosts of the Living and Dead

Throughout the collection, Hill returns to the theme of ghosts—not just as supernatural entities, but as memories, regrets, and unresolved traumas that linger in the lives of the living. Whether it's the spectral Imogene at the Rosebud, the dead boy in "The Widow's Breakfast," or the psychological hauntings of "Voluntary Committal," the stories suggest that the past is never truly gone. The living are as haunted as the dead, and the boundaries between worlds are porous, maintained only by the stories we tell ourselves.

The Widow's Kindness

"The Widow's Breakfast" is a Depression-era vignette about Killian, a drifter who, after losing his companion, stumbles upon the home of a widow and her daughters. Despite her own losses, the widow offers Killian food, clothing, and a moment of human connection. The story is a meditation on kindness, the dignity of the dispossessed, and the small acts of grace that persist even in the bleakest times. It stands as a quiet counterpoint to the collection's more violent tales, suggesting that survival sometimes depends on the generosity of strangers.

Reunion Among the Undead

"Bobby Conroy Comes Back from the Dead" is set during the filming of George Romero's Dawn of the Dead, where Bobby, a failed comedian, reunites with his high school love, Harriet, now married with a child. Amid the chaos of zombie makeup and movie magic, Bobby and Harriet confront their shared past, missed opportunities, and the possibility of forgiveness. The story uses the backdrop of the undead to explore the ways in which people are haunted by their own choices, and the bittersweet hope of a "do-over" in life.

Masks and Family Secrets

"My Father's Mask" is a surreal, unsettling tale of a boy taken to a family cabin, where his parents engage in elaborate games involving masks, secret identities, and invented threats. As the boy navigates a landscape of shifting rules and hidden agendas, he begins to question the nature of reality and his own place in the family. The story is a meditation on the masks we wear, the secrets we keep, and the ways in which childhood and innocence lost is shaped by the mysteries and deceptions of adults.

Cardboard Labyrinths

"Voluntary Committal" is a novella about Nolan and his younger brother Morris, a boy with developmental and mental health challenges who builds increasingly elaborate cardboard forts in their basement. When Nolan's friend Eddie disappears after entering one of Morris's labyrinths, the family is left with unanswered questions and unresolved guilt. Years later, after Morris's own disappearance, Nolan reflects on the nature of memory, the boundaries between reality and imagination, and the ways in which we try—and fail—to save those we love. The story is a powerful exploration of mental illness, sibling bonds, and the unknowable depths of the human mind.

Disappearances and Unanswered Questions

Many stories in the collection end with ambiguity, loss, or unresolved questions. Whether it's the fate of Eddie in "Voluntary Committal," the true nature of the ghosts in "20th Century Ghost," or the meaning of the supernatural events that punctuate ordinary lives, Hill resists easy answers. The collection as a whole is haunted by the sense that some mysteries cannot be solved, some wounds cannot be healed, and some stories must be left unfinished.

Scheherazade's Typewriter

In the final, metafictional coda, a dead writer's typewriter continues to produce stories every night, as if the urge to create persists beyond the grave. The family's attempts to share this miracle are met with skepticism and indifference, and eventually the typewriter breaks down, its magic lost. The story is a meditation on the power and futility of storytelling, the desire to be heard, and the ways in which art outlives its creator. It is a fitting end to a collection obsessed with the persistence of stories, the ghosts they conjure, and the impossibility of ever truly saying goodbye.

Characters

Eddie Carroll

Eddie is the editor whose professional and personal life has been consumed by horror fiction. His journey from jaded cynic to desperate seeker of authenticity mirrors the reader's own hunger for meaning in darkness. His relationships are strained by his obsession, and his encounter with Peter Kilrue forces him to confront the real-life consequences of the horrors he curates. Eddie's arc is one of disillusionment, self-recognition, and the realization that the line between observer and participant is perilously thin.

Cate

The protagonist of "Buttonboy," Cate is a young woman whose life is shattered by violence. Her journey is one of attempted recovery, alienation, and the inescapability of her past. Cate's psychological complexity—her mix of shame, anger, and longing for normalcy—makes her both a victim and a witness to the ways in which trauma reshapes identity. Her story is a critique of horror's exploitation of suffering and a meditation on the limits of endurance.

Alec Sheldon

Alec is the aging owner of the Rosebud Theater, whose life is intertwined with the ghost of Imogene Gilchrist. He is both a keeper of stories and a man trapped by his own nostalgia and regrets. Alec's relationships—with the living and the dead—are defined by longing, loss, and the hope that connection can transcend death. His arc is one of acceptance, as he ultimately joins the ghost he has spent his life serving.

Art Roth

Art, the inflatable boy in "Pop Art," is a literal embodiment of vulnerability and difference. His inability to speak, his physical fragility, and his gentle wisdom make him both a target and a source of inspiration. Art's friendship with the narrator is a study in empathy, protection, and the limits of love. His decision to float away is both an act of agency and a surrender to forces beyond his control.

Francis Kay

Francis, the protagonist of "You Will Hear the Locust Sing," is a bullied, neglected teenager whose transformation into a giant insect unleashes his repressed rage. His journey from victim to monster is both a revenge fantasy and a tragedy, as he becomes the very thing he fears. Francis's psychology is shaped by isolation, humiliation, and the toxic environment of his home and town. His story is a dark parable about the consequences of dehumanization.

Abraham Van Helsing

In "Abraham's Boys," Abraham is a man consumed by his past battles with evil, unable to let go of his fears or the need to control his sons. His methods—violent, secretive, and paranoid—create a legacy of trauma that his children struggle to escape. Abraham's psychology is a mix of righteousness, guilt, and madness, and his inability to distinguish between real and imagined threats ultimately destroys his family.

Finney

Finney, the protagonist of "The Black Phone," is a teenage boy whose abduction forces him to draw on reserves of courage and ingenuity. His ability to communicate with the dead, and his willingness to fight back, make him a symbol of resilience. Finney's relationships—with his sister, the spirits, and his captor—are defined by desperation, hope, and the need to break cycles of violence.

Wyatt

Wyatt, from "In the Rundown," is a young man paralyzed by his own failures and haunted by memories of lost potential. His inability to move forward, his fraught relationships with coworkers and neighbors, and his accidental involvement in tragedy make him a study in inertia and regret. Wyatt's psychology is marked by self-doubt, bitterness, and a longing for redemption he cannot quite achieve.

Eric Shooter

Eric, the protagonist of "The Cape," is a man unable to let go of childhood magic. His rediscovery of the cape's power leads him down a path of revenge and self-destruction, as he confuses fantasy with entitlement. Eric's relationships—with his brother, his ex-girlfriend, and himself—are shaped by envy, resentment, and a refusal to grow up. His arc is a cautionary tale about the dangers of living in the past.

Morris

Morris, from "Voluntary Committal," is a boy whose developmental and mental health challenges manifest in obsessive creativity. His cardboard labyrinths are both a refuge and a trap, and his disappearance is the central mystery of the story. Morris's psychology is elusive—he is both innocent and capable of profound, inexplicable acts. His relationship with his brother Nolan is one of love, frustration, and the ultimate unknowability of another person's mind.

Plot Devices

Stories Within Stories

Hill frequently employs stories-within-stories, as in "Best New Horror" and "Buttonboy," to comment on the nature of horror, the responsibilities of storytellers, and the complicity of readers. This device allows for self-reflexive commentary and deepens the sense of unease, as characters become aware of their own roles in narratives that may be beyond their control.

Hauntings and Ghosts

Ghosts, both literal and metaphorical, recur throughout the collection, serving as symbols of memory, regret, and unresolved trauma. Whether it's the spectral Imogene, the bottled silences of the dead, or the psychological hauntings of survivors, Hill uses the supernatural to explore the ways in which the past refuses to stay buried.

Unreliable Reality

Many stories are structured to undermine the reader's confidence in what is real, using unreliable narrators, ambiguous endings, and surreal events. This device heightens the sense of dread and mirrors the characters' own uncertainties, suggesting that horror is as much about what we cannot know as what we can.

Childhood and Innocence Lost

Hill often juxtaposes the innocence of childhood with the intrusion of horror, using toys, games, and family rituals as entry points for the uncanny. The loss of innocence is both a personal and cultural trauma, and the stories use this device to evoke nostalgia, fear, and the longing for safety.

Cycles and Circularity

Many narratives are structured around cycles—of violence, trauma, or failed redemption. Characters find themselves returning to the scenes of their suffering, unable to break free. This device reinforces the collection's themes of inevitability, fate, and the persistence of the past.

Analysis

"20th Century Ghosts" is a masterful collection that redefines the boundaries of horror, blending the supernatural with the psychological, the grotesque with the tender. Joe Hill's stories are less about monsters than about the wounds—personal, familial, cultural—that refuse to heal. Through a variety of narrative forms and voices, Hill interrogates the nature of storytelling itself: why we are drawn to darkness, how we use stories to make sense of suffering, and what it means to be haunted. The collection is deeply modern in its concerns, addressing trauma, neurodiversity, and the search for meaning in a fragmented world. Yet it is also timeless, rooted in the primal fears and hopes that define the human experience. Hill's greatest achievement is his ability to find beauty in horror, empathy in monstrosity, and hope in despair—reminding us that, even in the darkest stories, the possibility of connection endures.

Last updated: May 25, 2025