Horror: The 100 Best Books by Kim Newman, Stephen Jones

most venomous, science fiction, fantasy, and horror from the past. If somebody had, I would not have believed it, each issue was brand new to me, utterly wild and marvelous, more disturbing and more exotic than -- well, for years I sincerely believed that the rest did not run those stories because they were afraid to. And at last the month arrived in which FFM reprinted The Island of Dr. Moreau . I did not notice that its author was the very one who made my father's eyes shine in that strange way. I plunged straight into the story, as you should, finishing it in a single stifling tropical afternoon. I re-read most of it that night after dinner, and afterward stretched terrified on my bed with the abominable voices of beastmen whining and chattering in my ears. I re-read it again the next day, then set it aside lest eventually it grow stale. (For I am an invariable putter-off of pleasures, one who will at last dance and flirt, I am sure, upon the lid of his own coffin.) I do not think I read it again until I began preparing to write this brief piece. Nor did I need to. I remembered it , and indeed have been haunted by it. Years later, when I wrote The Island of Doctor Death and Other Stories , and wanted a book that would thrill poor little Tackie while shaking him to his core, I put a vapid imitation of The Island of Dr. Moreau into his hands. It is the ultimate science-fiction novel, and it is the ultimate horror story. It shows us where we are going, and it shows us that we are already there: that we are worse than beasts, and that when we create our final monster, we will find it a fiend nearly as evil as ourselves. Are you religious? Here is what happened in Eden after Adam and Eve had gone. Are you scientific? Peep into this telescope, this microscope, and behold the emptiness and horror of the universe in your own reflected face. Enough, I read The Island of Dr. Moreau a fourth time to write this. I did not remember the first line, and indeed it is not memorable. Then: ". . . she collided with a derelict when ten days out from Callao ." Dr. Moreau was back, and I could wind my own fear. Note, please, that Prendick never troubles to learn the name of one of the two men who share the boat with him; and permit me one more brief quotation, this too from an early page: " 'Have some of this,' said he, and gave me a dose of some scarlet stuff, iced. It tasted like blood, and made me feel stronger. " By now you have decided I am mad, and that this book cannot have been to anyone else what it has been to me; so let me close by describing the cover of the used copy I got. You have seen a thousand in which a hero with a broadsword battles some monster. This shows a youngish man, not quite muscular enough to be that sort of hero, but decent-looking and intelligent. Behind him stands an ogre, dark and bullet-headed, with glowing eyes -- the brute refuse of nighmare. One of its hands is upon the man's shoulder, in the most friendly, comradely way. The artist is Douglas Rosa; I know nothing about him except that he painted this picture. -- GENE WOLFE
    21: [1897] BRAM STOKER - Dracula

    Jonathan Harker, a solicitor's clerk, arrives at the Transylvanian castle of Count Dracula in order to settle some business about the Count's impending move to England. Harker discovers that the Count is a vampire and undergoes many horrors in the castle, while Dracula sets sail for his new home. In England, Mina, Harker's fiance and her best friend Lucy are visited nocturnally by the Count, who turns Lucy into a vampire. Jonathan returns, shattered by his ordeal, and joins Dr. Van Helsing's group of fearless vampire hunters, which includes Lucy's three suitors. The heroes destroy the undead Lucy and drive the Count from the country, but he retains his hold over Mina. They pursue the vampire back to his castle and there destroy him, thus reuniting Jonathan and Mina. Although told in the now-archaic Wilkie Collins manner -- as a succession of interlocking