In this episode of NPR's Book of the Day, the discussion explores how two horror collections are reshaping the genre for modern audiences. Jeanette Winterson examines how technology and artificial intelligence are changing our relationship with death and grief, from apps that generate messages from deceased loved ones to avatars in the metaverse. Her collection of ghost stories invites readers to embrace uncertainty and the mysteries that resist simple explanations.
The episode also highlights The Black Girl Survives In This One, an anthology curated by Desiree Evans and Saraciea Fennell that addresses the historical exclusion of Black women from horror's "final girl" trope. The collection features 15 stories by Black authors that center Black girls and women as survivors and protagonists, grounding horror in lived experiences of racism and discrimination. The conversation touches on how horror helps marginalized groups process fear and how contemporary horror has become more self-aware in challenging genre expectations.

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Jeanette Winterson describes death as humanity's final boundary, observing that ghost stories emerge from our longing for something beyond this finality—a hope that consciousness persists after death. Her stories explore this yearning, featuring both the bereaved seeking signs from departed loved ones and ghosts desperately trying to communicate back, inviting readers to question whether these experiences are rooted in imagination or something supernatural.
Winterson highlights how artificial intelligence and technology are offering new ways to conceptualize death. She references apps that generate messages from deceased loved ones using social media data, and notes how the metaverse creates spaces where deceased loved ones' avatars could persist, allowing families to maintain digital relationships beyond physical life. She finds this both fascinating and unsettling, raising questions about whether it's healthy to keep the dead forever present in virtual form.
Winterson's book includes 13 ghost stories that blur genres by sharing her own inexplicable experiences in her 1780s home. She describes moving from fear to dialogue with these presences, finding more "civilized" coexistence. She suggests that modern culture seeks quick solutions, but the supernatural offers mysteries that resist neat resolution, inviting readers to embrace uncertainty.
Juana Summers and Saraciea Fennell describe the "final girl" as a horror character who survives supernatural threats through resourcefulness and luck—almost always white. Sidney Prescott from "Scream" exemplifies this trope that dominates films like "Friday the 13th" and "A Nightmare on Elm Street."
Desiree Evans points out that Black women are rarely included in the final girl role. Black characters in mainstream horror often die early, appear as supporting friends, or occupy minor roles. Even when featured more prominently, as with Sanaa Lathan's character in "Alien vs. Predator," they remain less central than white female protagonists, highlighting a recurring absence of Black women as primary survivors in horror.
Evans and Fennell curate The Black Girl Survives In This One, an anthology featuring 15 horror stories by Black authors for young adults. The collection places Black girls and women in starring roles as survivors and heroines, responding to the lack of representation both editors once felt.
Standout stories include Justina Ireland's "Black Pride," where a protagonist must decide whether to join a group combating racism through unorthodox means, and Charlotte Nicole Davis's "Fox Hunt," which transforms the hypervigilance Black girls experience daily into supernatural suspense. The anthology grounds its horror in lived experiences of racial stereotypes, discrimination, and microaggressions, making the stories deeply resonant for Black teens.
Evans observes that discussing racism and stereotypes in horror helps Black youth envision themselves not just as participants, but as survivors and leaders, rewriting who gets to triumph in the narrative.
Evans describes how horror films become a tool for Black youth to explore frightening situations in a controlled environment. By living vicariously through characters who survive against the odds, viewers gain a sense that survival is possible—even when faced with overwhelming real-life obstacles. For Black girls and women, seeing characters who share their identities persevere provides cathartic affirmation that they can overcome real-world violence and discrimination, translating into resilience and empowerment for facing everyday challenges.
Contemporary horror has become increasingly self-aware, employing or subverting traditional tropes to challenge genre expectations. Acclaimed films are now leading to richer conversations about representation, particularly with the rise of directors like Jordan Peele and the scholarly work of Tananarive Due.
Fennell points to the broader social context of 2020, where movements like #Publishingpaidme and We Need Diverse Books pressured publishing to acknowledge the lack of Black and Brown voices in horror. This pressure has allowed for anthologies where marginalized creators subvert the traditional white-centered "final girl" trope.
Evans references Tananarive Due's assertion that "Black history is Black horror," noting that although Black audiences and creators have always had a presence in horror, the genre rarely loved them back. The current movement toward diverse authorship allows Black voices agency in their narratives, reclaiming horror's storytelling power and spotlighting persistent themes of Black history and trauma within the genre.
1-Page Summary
Jeanette Winterson describes death as humanity’s hard, final boundary—a barrier that everyone meets, regardless of status, wealth, or achievement. She observes that humans are naturally drawn to ghost stories out of a longing for something beyond this finality, the hope that consciousness or presence persists after death. Even skeptics find themselves hoping for a sign from deceased loved ones during loss, reflecting a universal desire for continued connection.
Winterson’s stories explore this longing. One story features a bereaved character yearning for a sign from a departed partner, while another offers the ghost’s perspective, desperately trying to communicate back. The narratives invite readers to question whether these experiences are rooted in imagination or touch upon something supernatural, showing how the bereaved seek signs and how ghost stories open spaces to ponder contact with the beyond.
Winterson highlights that, in the present era, artificial intelligence and technology are offering new ways to conceptualize death. She references apps that scrape social media data to generate messages from deceased loved ones, or that populate photo albums with digital likenesses of the departed, giving rise to new kinds of ghost stories that blur the boundary between memory and the supernatural.
The metaverse amplifies these possibilities by providing a space for avatars and digital twins to interact—not only between the living, but potentially with the dead. Winterson proposes that these bodiless virtual worlds create an unexpected opportunity for the dead to “exist,” since everyone in the metaverse appears only as avatars. She asks how we would distinguish between a real person, a bot, or possibly even a “ghost” occupying digital territory. In these settings, deceased loved ones’ avatars could persist, allowing families to maintain digital relationships beyond physical life—a phenomenon Winterson finds both fascinating and unsettling, raising deeper questions about whether it’s healthy or wise to keep the dead forever present in virtual form.
Ghosts and Death Reimagined Through Tech
In horror stories, the "final girl" is a character who, through both pluck and luck, manages to outwit supernatural monsters and survive as the triumphant protagonist at the end. Juana Summers and Saraciea Fennell describe how the final girl is almost always white, usually battered by her experiences but ultimately victorious. A well-known example is Sidney Prescott from "Scream," who survives by outsmarting her assailants with resourcefulness. This trope dominates the horror genre in films like "Friday the 13th" and "A Nightmare on Elm Street," where audiences have come to anticipate the emergence of a final girl, typically white, who survives where others do not.
Desiree Evans points out that while horror is popular among young readers and viewers—many, like Evans and Fennell, grew up with Goosebumps books and watching horror classics with older siblings—the final girl trope rarely, if ever, includes Black women. Black characters in mainstream horror films often die early, appear as the sassy best friend, or occupy minor roles, rarely surviving to the end or becoming the primary agents of their own survival. Saraciea Fennell observes the frequency with which Black w ...
"Exclusion of Black Women in 'Final Girl' Trope"
Desiree Evans and Saraciea Fennell curate and edit a new anthology titled The Black Girl Survives In This One: Black Women and Girls as Protagonists and Survivors in Horror Narratives. This collection features 15 horror stories written by Black authors, including Evans and Fennell themselves, and is specifically geared toward young adults. The book is a response to the lack of representation both editors once felt, placing Black girls and women not as sidekicks or early victims, but in the starring roles of the genre: survivors and heroines.
The anthology gathers a wide array of horror stories that center Black girls and women, allowing them to drive the narrative. Each story explores new terrain where Black girls are not just present in horror but are agents of their fate, navigating supernatural and real threats.
Standout stories include Justina Ireland’s "Black Pride," where a group of friends gathers before one heads off to college. Faced with unsettling and spooky events, the protagonist must make a crucial decision: whether to join a group combating racism through unorthodox means, or to step away. The narrative centers her agency, forcing her to make a powerful choice in confronting racism.
Another highlighted story is "Fox Hunt" by Charlotte Nicole Davis. Here, a new girl at school is introduced to a local tradition known as "the game." What initially seems typical shifts into a harrowing ordeal requiring far more survival skills than expected. The story transforms the ordinary anticipation and hypervigilance that Black girls experience daily into supernatural suspense, directly reflecting racialized dangers.
The anthology grounds its horror in the lived experiences of Black women and girls, exploring racial stereotypes, discrimination, and microaggressions. Many stories, including "Fox Hunt," turn the intense awareness Black girls must carry—hypervigilance for safety in various spaces—into the basis for supernatural survival stories. The horror genre here becomes a tool to explore and reflect true danger and unease as part of daily life while also showcasing resilience and agency.
Black Characters, Girls: Protagonists and Survivors in Horror
Desiree Evans describes how she and her older siblings would gather on weekends to watch horror movies, using them as a safe space to experience fear. For Black youth, horror films become a tool to explore and confront frightening situations in a controlled environment. By living vicariously through characters who survive against the odds, viewers gain a sense that survival is possible—even when faced with overwhelming obstacles in real life. For Black girls and women in particular, seeing characters who share their identities persevere through impossible supernatural predicaments provides a cathartic affirmation that they, too, can overcome real-world violence and discrimination. This experience in fiction translates into resilience and empowerment for facing everyday challenges.
Horror stories offer Black communities a way to affirm resilience against racism and oppression. Narratives featuring Black female surv ...
Horror Helps Marginalized Groups Process Fear and Navigate Challenges
Contemporary horror has become increasingly self-aware and intentional, employing or subverting traditional tropes to challenge the genre’s expectations. Acclaimed horror films are now leading to richer conversations about representation and deeper meanings, particularly with the rise of directors like Jordan Peele and the scholarly work of Tananarive Due. These creators use genre conventions either to reinforce or, more often, to subvert them, bringing new depth and intentionality to horror narratives.
Saraciea Fennell points to the broader social context of 2020, where protests and social media movements such as #Publishingpaidme and We Need Diverse Books put significant pressure on publishing. These campaigns spotlighted the lack of Black and Brown voices in published horror, demanding the industry acknowledge whose stories are being told and whose are being overlooked.
The pressure from these movements has allowed for the rise of anthologies and stories where marginalized creators subvert the traditional white-centered “final girl” trope in horror. With more Black and Brown storytellers participating, the genre now features stories where they are the protagonists—the heroines who survive, pushing back against the old patterns where they were early victims or side characters meant to uplift the ...
Contemporary Horror's Self-Referential Nature In Subverting Genre Tropes
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