The cherubic psychedelia of Lisa Frank covered your folders, and there was always at least one Polly Pocket in your jeans, even if you would’ve sworn you didn’t put it there. Your swishy windbreaker pants always had a matching, swishy windbreaker jacket. You were a different person then–young and naive.
It’s been a while since you cracked open the Dunkaroo-sticky pages of an R.L. It can’t be the dummy causing all the trouble, Can it? Why does Lindy get to have all the fun and all the attention? Kris decides to get a dummy of her own. When twins Lindy and Kris find a ventriloquist’s dummy in a Dumpster, Lindy decides to “rescue” it, and she names it Slappy. The stories here do a great job of creeping up on you slowly, weaseling their way into your thoughts long after you’ve finished them. That alone is enough for a strong recommendation. This collection is comprised entirely of original stories by an absolute dream team of horror writers, and curated and compiled by the brilliant Ellen Datlow. The result is a star-studded collection exploring one of the most primal fears of readers of dark fiction everywhere. Master anthologist Ellen Datlow has assembled a list of beautiful and terrifying stories from bestselling and critically acclaimed authors. Featuring everything from life-sized clockwork dolls to all-too-human Betsy Wetsy-type baby dolls, these stories play into the true creepiness of the doll trope, but avoid the clichés that often show up in stories of this type. The Doll Collection is exactly what it sounds like: a treasured toy box of all-original dark stories about dolls of all types. The Doll Collection edited by Ellen Datlow There’s a little something here for everyone, but remember to choose wisely, because big scares come in small packages. Some of the stories take a more cerebral approach, while some throw every Anabelle, Chucky and Howdy Doody at the wall and see what sticks.
I’ve chosen six different books based around creepy dolls and toys. Imagine how easy it would be for the doll to make us hurt. What if when we looked away, its eyes narrowed and its smile faded. We ask it to be a vessel for our joys and fears, and it complies–always smiling, always staring. When our coos and gibberish have yet to turn to words, the doll is the only being in the world that understands us. We talk to it, and, in our mind at least, it talks back. As we get older, we start to play with the doll. As we cry and thrash our soft, marshmallow limbs, the doll lays unmoving, its half-smile never fading, glassy eyes staring lazily and unwavering into the sky. When we’re born, our parents place us, alone and defenseless, into a crib. By curator of HOWLS book club nominees for July’s “Just Punt the Little Bastards: Evil Dolls and Creepy Toys” category
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