Sun-soaked Horror

And kicking SAD in the teeth.

What, for you, defines summer? Warm evenings? The sensation of sitting by water? The smell of freshly cut grass?

For many, summer is synonymous with freedom. A time worth waiting for. When you’re younger, it’s months out of school. For adults, it’s time to enjoy the outdoors. An opportunity to socialize around flowers in full bloom and days that last a little longer.

For those sensitive to the change in seasons, summer does a great job of kicking seasonal affective disorder, or SAD, in the teeth.

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I recently finished reading Diavola by Jennifer Thorne, a book about a family that holidays to the Italian countryside and stays in a villa that turns out to be (very) haunted.

As well as offering an interesting approach to the haunted house genre, its take on vacation horror highlighted how effective fear can be when set against the sun. It got me thinking about summer horror as a genre, and what it is about the season that works so well.

Jaws, widely recognized as the first summer blockbuster, redefined the carefree nature of beaches in the 70s. Slashers like Stephen Graham Jones’ My Heart Is a Chainsaw, Josh Malerman’s Daphne, and a host of Stephen King stories embrace the ‘small town in summer’ atmosphere, and feel more meaningful for it. And let’s not forget the genre dedicated to slaughter at summer camp.

I also find it fascinating that in Japan, summer is know as spooky season, not just because of the Obon festival, but because telling stories about ghosts and spirits is encouraged to induce chills as a literal relief from the heat.

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The more I ponder why summer horror works for me, the more I realise it’s because it presents opportunity in contrast.

We all know what summer looks like. What it feels like. We understand the promise it holds. Guards go down. Anticipation goes up. It’s a perfect excuse for something to go wrong, and stories like the ones mentioned above (and more!) embrace that sensation.

Until I’d read Diavola, I’d never thought of a summer vacation as sinister. Until I’d watched Jaws, I’d never thought about what could happen while enjoying a day at the beach.

Summer is a season brimming with opportunities to lull a reader into a false sense of security, and turn an expectation on its head. Look at it through that lens and a villa becomes villainous, idyllic escape becomes isolation, and you can’t help but ask yourself whether a character jumping into an expanse of inviting blue will end with them drowning.

Before you go

My latest book, Waxwing Creek, is out now. It’s a collection of interconnected horror stories about a haunted motel in a small town called Hunt. It’s available in paperback and on Kindle (including Kindle Unlimited).

Feel free to check out reviews on Goodreads or click the button below to grab a copy.

If you want to connect, I live in other corners of the internet. I keep an Instagram updated, post regularly to Threads and Notes. You can also find me on TikTok.

/ JJW