Christopher Golden’s All Hallows transports us back to the simpler times of the mid-1980s, a time without cellphones and internet. I’m not a Luddite, by any stretch of the imagination, but something about the world back then triggers a healthy dose of nostalgia for me. It works especially well regarding horror because there’s no need to factor in the ever-connected nature of the modern world and its limitations on what makes sense. The bulk of Golden’s novel transpires on Halloween night, isolated to one suburban neighborhood. The setting definitely helps to make the story feel more intimate.

As the children of Coventry venture out to collect their toll of candy and treats, strange new children are making their way into the crowd, behaving strangely and unsettling some of the locals while going largely unnoticed by others. It’s not until they begin communicating with some of the neighborhood kids that we discover just how disturbing the situation is. Children and parents alike are forced to wonder what’s really going on in their otherwise tranquil neighborhood. Who are these peculiar kids? What do they want? And who is The Cunning Man?

All the while, family drama and infidelity threaten to upset the peace, creating distractions and turmoil that turn attention away from the genuine threat in their midst. Friendships are strained to their limits, families are falling apart, and a monstrous unearthly horror sweeps through the darkened streets and homes of unsuspecting victims.

Golden’s tale is a heartbreaking one. When all is said and done, no one will be the same, and the survivors might not be the lucky ones as they’re forced to face the dual traumas of loss and guilt no one is prepared for.

Narrations by Ron Butler and January LaVoy bring the story to life in a wholly authentic way that draws you into the tale as effectively as Golden’s masterful writing already would.