Nonfiction
The H Word: My Father, My Private Monster
The first horror film I ever saw was with my father. I was way too young to watch anything so graphic, and I cowered behind the ratty green footstool in the living room, daring to peek out when the worst was over. The lights were off, curtains drawn, blinds closed, and my father lay on the couch, very disinterested in my sheer terror. But by that time, I’d already learned not to make a fuss. Be still and quiet so you don’t get noticed.





