[Book Review] Hear Us Scream Vol II

Hear Us Scream Vol II is a collection of over thirty essays from horror writers, scholars and fanatics. Touching on topics ranging from the monster within, to family values and reclaiming our bodies through horror, this is a deeply personal collection. Every contribution is meticulously crafted and edited, with care and insight into the film and genre being discussed.

Unfortunately, there isn’t space here to dissect each and every wonderful essay in this collection, but that’s all the more reason to buy a copy and do your own dissection. What is so wonderful about this collection is the sheer range of topics and breadth of knowledge. It is clear that every person who contributed to Hear Us Scream Vol II are lovers of this often maligned and misunderstood genre and have important insights to share about the ways in which we view, use and interpret horror, as well as the ways in which we can use horror to interpret our own experiences.

There are also moments of such breath-taking honesty that I was moved to tears. In The Skin Keeps the Score: Physical Manifestations of Emotional Pain in Sharp Objects and The Perfection by Jenn Adams, the raw and unflinching honesty about pain, and the need to externalise the internal experience of suffering was so movingly evoked. In Break the Nose of Every Beautiful Thing: Navigating Body Dysmorphia Through Horror Cinema by Amber T, the notion of the abject, the ugly and the monstrous as powerful in horror is vividly explored. Through a very personal experience of body dysmorphia, Amber has given form to that most holy of horror truths; ugly women are powerful. Ugly in this context, is not a value-based assessment centred on patriarchal, Eurocentric standards of beauty. Ugliness and monstrousness in the context of the best horror comes from women who refuse to adhere to these notions. Whose defiance makes them monstrous in the eyes of the mainstream. Whose power lies in the refusal to shrink and to conform. This essay references one of my favourite films, Possession, and the brutal abject nature of Anna’s transformation and freedom from the rules of a society that doesn’t understand her. 

These essays remind me of what I love most about writing about horror. The intimacy of honesty, and the freedom of it, to take up space with our suffering and refuse to be ashamed. The humanity displayed throughout leads to an experience of empathy and recognition, something much needed in these tumultuous times. We see the author, and the author sees us. By sharing their experiences, they allow us the space to share our own stories, and to see that we can also take up the space we need and that we are not alone in our pain and our despair.  

This is not a volume of work that deserves to be studied dispassionately. Much like the horror genre itself, these essays inspire strong emotions and that is something to be admired. That the contributors had the courage to share their pain, their experiences, and their life with us is a gift that deserves recognition. Many people will find a home here, in the shared embrace of a group of people who have looked into the face of horror and found that it can be a mirror, a balm, and a sanctuary at different points in our lives. That is what this collection feels like, the embrace of a group who understands. Understands the pull of darkness, the call of the gruesome and macabre. Who understand the thrill of terror and the catharsis of revenge. 

As Laurel Hightower says in the foreword to this book, Hear Us Scream has a dual meaning. Rather than the scream of fear we are so used to in the horror genre, this book is a scream of triumph. The writers in this volume are the descendants of the Laurie Strode's and Sidney Prescott’s, they are the ones who saw what the world had to offer and refused to burn. There is tragedy, pain and heartbreak in their words, but from them comes a battle cry of strength. It reminds us that horror can be a safe space if we let it, and that through horror comes understanding. As Laurel Hightower so eloquently puts it “horror is our world, our language, and through it we can know ourselves and one another ''.

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