Books I Love: The Dollhouse Murders

Title
The Dollhouse Murders
Author
Betty Ren Wright
I first read this book
in fourth grade, approximately 1986

This book was one of those delicious stories that one person in the class reads and then recommends it to someone else who recommends it to someone else until it seems like everyone you know has devoured it.

The Dollhouse Murders is one of the scariest books I have ever read. It's the story of Amy, a teen girl who has to look after her mentally challenged sister Louann. While the two of them are staying with their Aunt Clare in their great-grandparents' large, old home, Louann becomes fascinated with a model of the home. The model even includes dolls that resemble the girls' great-grandparents. Amy finds the dollhouse creepy, especially because the dolls seem to be moving on their own and possibly even re-enacting the night their real-life counterparts were murdered. Will Amy summon the courage to watch the dolls and solve the mystery?

This story has everything – a dollhouse any girl would envy, cookies, stormy nights, a moody aunt. Best of all, Amy's and Louann's relationship is honest and real. Amy resents her sister and resents the attention she receives, but she loves her, too. This was probably the first book I ever read that featured a mentally challenged character. The first time I read this, I was just as resentful and angry as Amy. Later, after I got to know someone like Louann, I felt more sympathy for her when I re-read the book.

Despite the premise of dolls acting out a murder, the book has a reality to that grounds it. The chills and thrills keep you turning the pages, but it's the relationships and characters make The Dollhouse Murders memorable.

And It Really Happened

When I was in graduate school, I worked on the If I Can Read, I Can Do Anything reading incentive project at the Laguna Elementary School on the Pueblo of Laguna Reservation in New Mexico. My professor and I would go out to visit the school about every six to eight weeks bringing books and some sort of giveaway prize.

Most of the books were donated, and the students and teachers loved them. Their favorites—above any other genre—were scary stories, and the best ones were the scariest ones. In fact, the school's librarian told a version of "The Ribbon" in one of the best ways possible. She would bring the students into the library's storage closet, which was big enough to accommodate everyone, and turn off the lights before launching into the story. No matter how many times those children heard that story, they always screamed at the climax. It was such a scary, fun, glorious moment to be a part of.

Of course, my professor and I couldn't get away without telling a scary story of our own. While I always read one from a book, my professor would tell one. She did, however, have a rule that she would only tell scary stories that had happened to her or someone she knew—and she had some scary stories! The children loved hearing them, too.

In honor of that tradition, I will tell a scary story that happened to me and friend of mine when I was about eleven years old.

My friend V and her older sister were spending the night at my house. We lived out in the country down a gravel road, five miles from town and a mile and a half from our nearest neighbors. The house was an old farmhouse with no air conditioning and large windows. Because we had no neighbors, we only had lace valance curtains. 

All three of us were in the living room. It was terribly late (or incredibly early, depending on your point of view), and V's sister was asleep on the couch. V and I were watching videotaped music videos on TV because we didn't have cable, and I relied on my cousins to record videos on VHS and mail them to me (this is why I will NEVER not have cable as an adult). 

We were total dorks, but we didn't care. We were having a great time singing along and goofing off when we heard a voice by the window.  Both V and I distinctly heard a male voice say exactly the same thing—"They're awake. They're watching TV."—like he was talking to someone else! 

I paused the video and stared at V. "Did you hear that?" I asked. 

She nodded. 

Naturally, we did not look out the windows. We never saw nor heard a car. We woke up V's sister, but she thought we were crazy and told us to go to sleep. Deciding that was sound advice, we turned off the TV and the lights and tried to fall asleep. It took a while. 

While I have my suspicions about who I think the mystery boys were, I can never prove it. In the end, nothing happened, but it sure was terrifying at the time. Even now I get chills thinking about it.