The Bookworm: The Dare and The Knife

The Dare by R.L. Stine. 149 pages. Pocket Books. February 1994.

The Knife by R.L. Stine. 163 pages. Pocket Books. January 1992.

Only a few drops of red showed on her neck. The blade had sealed the wound and prevented the blood from spurting. The expression of surprise on Nurse Wilson’s face would have been comical if she weren’t so hideously, blankly dead.

When I read that, I laughed my ass off. Yes, Nurse Wilson was unfortunately dead (“hideously, blankly dead”), and the murder weapon had conveniently sealed the wound to keep her blood from pouring out all over the place and being incriminating evidence. But I just could not take it seriously. The combination of absurd plot twists and shamelessly sensational writing that are hallmarks of the Fear Street series makes it hard not to laugh.

Continuing my trip down pre-teen Quiet Man memory lane, I chose to read The Dare and The Knife because they were the second and third Fear Street books I read when I was a kid. Whenever I finished another book in the series, I stacked it on top of those I already finished, creating a chronological record of my history with Fear Street. At some point I moved the stack and the record it kept was lost forever after being reshuffled, but I have always remembered the order of the first three: The New Boy, The Dare, and The Knife.

As I wrote in my review of The New Boy, I do not remember these books at all. Judging The Dare by its cover, I thought it had something do with Shadyside High students being foolish with cars. Fear Street covers — which, I have to say, are iconic and one of the best features of the series — are usually good indicators of the story inside. However, The Dare’s cover had nothing to do with the book. (The cover does, however, feature the embossed text at the top for “Fear Street” and Stine’s name. Something similar was used for Stine’s Goosebumps series.)

(On a strange aside, I vaguely remember buying this at Kmart. If I did not buy it there, I think I saw it for the first time in Kmart’s book aisle.)

Basically, dreamboat Dennis Arthur and his clique of rich friends dare Johanna Wise, a poor girl living on Fear Street, to kill their history teacher, Mr. Northwood. Used to getting their way, they are convinced Mr. Northwood has something out for them because they are rich; they feel all their problems will be solved when Mr. Northwood is taken out. Smitten with Dennis and eager to join their group, Johanna, who conveniently lives next to Mr. Northwood, accepts the dare.

The Dare was unbearably boring. Nothing happened. It was pages and pages of rich kids bitching about Mr. Northwood, toying around and being immature, and Johanna weighing the pros and cons of killing her teacher. Everything was somehow relevant to the overarching plot, but it just dragged on and on.

Johanna is an insecure little basket case with very low self-esteem. The book is peppered with the sick fantasies she has about asserting herself and hurting others, namely Dennis’ girlfriend. These fantasies are woven seamlessly into the reality of the story. One minute Johanna is talking to Dennis at his locker and his girlfriend, Caitlin, shows up. The next thing you know, Johanna has beaten Caitlin senseless. Turn the page to the next chapter: “Of course that wild little scene was all in my skinny little head.” Freak. What makes these fantasies even worse is the fact they have no importance at all; they contribute nothing to the story.

Johanna is also caught in the popularity pickle: she wants to hang out with the popular kids but feels bad about ditching her uncool best friend, Margaret Rivers. Johanna has a minor identity crisis before realizing, “I’m not a murderer. I can’t shoot someone. I can’t shoot anyone. I’m Johanna.” This gives The Dare a more meaningful, “after school special” level. See, kids: it’s cool to be you and not kill your history teacher.

On the other hand, The Knife was jam packed with action — absurd and comical action, but action nonetheless. It was, I have to admit, a real page turner. Laurie Masters is a student volunteer at Shadyside Hospital for the summer. Her kindness gets her in trouble as she inadvertently stumbles onto something mysterious going on at the hospital. Records are disappearing, she finds Nurse Wilson dead (“hideously, blankly dead”), and a fellow volunteer is apparently stalking her. The typical Fear Street twists and turns ensue as Laurie turns into a teen sleuth, trying to figure out what is happening.

I don’t know about you, but I think the world could use a lot more teen sleuths. Not only are they fearlessly naïve, snooping around places where they should not be, they have unbelievable luck and can escape from the most impossible situation. A couple in The Knife made me roll my eyes. They also have an uncanny sense that someone is in trouble. Laurie Masters is no exception. Despite the fact she has no evidence otherwise, Laurie is convinced little Toby, whose records go missing once he is released, is in trouble. Something is not right at his house, so she pesters the woman she assumes is his mother. Laurie even breaks into Toby’s house to check on him. Seriously: how much more absurd can it get?

Just as I had a problem with The Dare’s cover, I do not think The Knife’s title fits its story. I assumed the book would be a boring hospital mystery about a mysterious killer rampaging through the wards, slashing his victims with a surgical knife. (Now who’s the one having sick fantasies?) Hospital-centric drama does not appeal to me, so I was not looking forward to reading it. It turned out a lot better than I expected, but here’s the thing: though someone does get killed with a surgical knife, there is no such thing as “the knife,” the terrifying instrument of murder that everyone fears. “The knife” is far from the center of attention in the book. It makes three appearances. Does it deserve to be the title? Hell no. Even the corny tease on the cover — “In this hospital, people are dying — to get out!” — is completely misleading.

Oh, R.L. Stine. You hound.