Until recently my son was obsessed by ghosts. One of his favourite games was to shut us both in the walk-in wardrobe and turn out the light. Papa then had to make ghostly noises. Gustave would scream with a mixture of fear and delight and shout «Boo!» until the ghosts ran away. The ghosts seemed to be both scary and slightly comical: like school bullies, they vanished as soon as you confronted them.
Ghosts have since been joined by robots. The other day I was trying to explain the premise of Doctor Who and his famous enemy, the Daleks. I showed Gustave a Dalek on You Tube and he fell in love with it – even though it looks like an evil dustbin and keeps repeating the word «EX-TER-MINATE!» in a creepy mechanical voice. «It's horrible!» Gustave said. «Can I see it again?» We humans have always loved frightening ourselves, presumably to build up our defences for real life. Gavin de Becker's famous 1997 book The Gift of Fear was all about spotting the advance signs of dangerous situations. But a good ghost story gets the adrenaline pumping and reassures us that we'll recognize danger if ever it comes along. It also comforts us that, whatever is happening to the characters in the spooky tale, we're safe by the warm fire. Or sitting on the sofa, watching ancient TV shows. The walking dead may or may not exist, but we are very much alive. Happy Halloween.
