Back in 2009, my mom took me to see Coraline in theatres. I was 12 at the time, and I was properly excited about watching a creepy stop-motion film that appeared to be reminiscent of some of my other childhood favorites (The Nightmare Before Christmas, James & the Giant Peach, and Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit come to mind). I remember being absolutely captivated by the stunning imagery and magnificent color palette. During the screening, multiple mothers had to remove their crying children from the theatre, as I can only imagine they saw an animated film trailer and assumed it would be appropriate for all ages. At the time, I found this to be funny, especially since I was finally getting to the age where I could begin branching out into more intense horror, rather than sticking with Goosebumps and Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark like I had throughout my younger years. At the time, I felt brave for being unaffected by the movie.

When I found out that Coraline was based on a book of the same name by an author named Neil Gaiman, I insisted that I absolutely needed to read the book, even if the story was not much different from the one I experienced in the theatre. I have always devoured books, especially if they were supposed to be scary or creepy. I cannot recall if the movie itself scared me upon my first viewing, but I do know that the book absolutely terrified 12-year-old me, who was just a few years shy of picking up her first Stephen King novel.

For those who are unfamiliar, Coraline (both the book and its film adaptation) tells the story of Coraline Jones, a precocious young girl who moves with her family into a new apartment that has plenty of secrets. Coraline often is left to entertain herself, as her parents are too busy working to pay much attention to her. She spends a lot of time exploring the building and meeting the neighbors who have some pretty interesting quirks. She eventually discovers a door that leads to a world that mirrors her own, except her “other” parents love her, pay attention to her, and want to indulge in her every whim. At first it sounds like an idyllic situation, but she quickly discovers that not all that glitters is gold. Her “other” mother has darker intentions underneath her love and affection, and Coraline is challenged to complete a series of tasks or risk being stuck in the “other” world forever.

The film is a pretty strong adaptation of the source material, as most of the sequences in the book are featured in the movie. The movie also captures the mystical vibes that quickly sour and become horrifying once it becomes clear that Coraline’s adventures are no longer just a game. There is one sequence, however, that did not make it into the film that scared the daylights out of me when I first read Coraline so many years ago. In the scene in question, Coraline is in the middle of her quest, and she enters the cellar to find her “other” father in a state of discombobulation. He has mostly lost all of his defining features, and almost looks like a blob that is struggling to communicate. He explains that the “other mother” has banished him to the cellar as punishment, and it is implied that his condition is the “other mother’s” doing. At one point, he states that he has been instructed to attack her, and he can no longer ignore the impulse; he begins to chase Coraline around the cellar, and she needs to sneak out of the cellar before he catches her.

It has been 14 years since I first read Coraline, and this is the scene that always pops into my head whenever I think about the book, because I remember the sheer terror and fear it unleashed in me as a child. The image of a destroyed “other father” who has essentially become a lump of clay chasing Coraline through the cellar sounded like the stuff of nightmares at that age. This scene was so incredibly effective, and I wish it had been featured in the film (however, I can understand why it was omitted, considering the film was scaring children in its current form). This was the first time I ever recall a scene in a book giving me major anxiety. It’s a short passage, but my heart was racing the entire time as I hoped Coraline would escape this monster in time.

In honor of spooky season, I decided to revisit Coraline and see how it held up reading it as an adult. Obviously, it is a middle-grade book, so it did not take me long to complete nor was it a difficult read. However, I will happily say that the book was just as magical and unnerving as it was when I was 12. I really appreciated how magical everything felt in the beginning when Coraline was first exploring her new home and discovering the other world. Though the diction in this book is age-appropriate, the way that Gaiman writes is still so mystifying that you forget that you’re reading a children’s book altogether. This time around, I found myself feeling more somber at some points in the story than I did when I was younger. There is an instance in which Coraline meets other children who, like her, have discovered the other world and were loved by the “other mother”. They explain that she started off loving and pampering them, but she eventually discarded them and left them to die. The thought of these children being used and discarded absolutely broke my heart, and it was a much heavier concept than you would expect to find in a children’s book. It must have flown over my head when I was younger, but now that I’m older and have come to terms with some personal feelings and experiences I’ve had in my life, that feeling of being discarded (especially by someone who claims to love you) absolutely broke my heart and gave me pause. Though Coraline is a story of adventure and horror, it very much is also a story that deals with parental neglect and childhood loneliness. It also reinforces the idea that even though life may not always be perfect, it could always be worse, and we should be grateful for the things we do have. On its surface, it feels like just another creepy story for children, but it has a much deeper message beneath the scary scenes. As a child, I definitely only focused on the creepier aspects of the story. In recent years, I have often reflected about how comforting this story is for people found themselves to be incredibly lonely in their childhoods. The movie adaptation has actually become a comfort watch of mine, as I find myself relating to and understanding Coraline on a much deeper level. Though I may not have been able to appreciate the deeper themes during my first read, I am so grateful to Neil Gaiman for creating this wonderful story.

Coraline is the perfect book (and movie) to get you ready for spooky season. If you have younger children who are interested in scarier tales, I would definitely say that this book would be appropriate for them. And even if you’re an adult and you’ve never touched this story before, I would recommend giving it a chance. It may not blow your mind or make you keep the lights on, but Coraline is a magical spectacle to be experienced at any age.