Put the phone down and pick up a book (After you’ve read this email obviously)
And no. Not an audiobook. Not a Kindle. An actual, physical book with pages you can turn and a spine that’ll look good on your shelf after you’re done being completely mindfucked by whatever’s inside…
I’m talking specifically about The Fog by James Herbert.
Also NO…
…not the movies.
John Carpenter’s 1980 version was… fine, I guess, if you enjoy watching people stumble around in what looks like someone’s vape clouds while dramatic music plays.
And don’t get me started on the 2005 remake, which somehow managed to take a perfectly good concept and turn it into a CGI nightmare that made the original look like Citizen Kane.
The book though? Chef’s kiss.
Herbert knew how to write horror that gets under your skin and stays there.
The Fog isn’t just some mysterious weather phenomenon that just so happened to be.
It was a living, breathing nightmare that drives people to acts of violence so brutal and random that you’ll find yourself double checking your door locks.
This is the kind of book that’ll make you cancel your Sunday plans because you physically cannot put it down. You’ll start reading after coffee and suddenly it’s dark outside and you haven’t moved from your chair and you’re questioning whether that sound outside is just the wind or something much worse.
Sundays were made for this kind of reading. Not the productive, self-improvement, optimise-your-life bullshit that clogs your weekdays.
I’m talking about reading for the pure, unadulterated pleasure of having your mind completely hijacked by someone else’s imagination.
When was the last time you disappeared into a story so completely that the real world ceased to exist?
When did you last feel that particular brand of exhaustion that comes from being emotionally wrung out by fictional characters?
Your phone can’t give you that. Social media can’t give you that. Netflix definitely can’t give you that…
But a good book can transport you somewhere else entirely. It can make you forget about your problems, your deadlines, your crushing sense of existential dread about the state of the world.
I mean if you look at the world right now. It’s a steaming hot dumpster fire of pure turd.
The Fog will do exactly that. Herbert had this gift for making ordinary English towns feel like the most dangerous places on earth. He understood that the best horror comes from taking normal people in normal situations and introducing one element that turns everything upside down.
Plus, there’s something deeply satisfying about reading physical horror fiction. The weight of the book in your hands, the ability to flip back and reread a particularly brutal passage, the satisfaction of watching your bookmark move through the pages as you get closer to whatever nightmare Herbert has waiting for you at the end.
So here’s your mission for today…
Find a copy of The Fog. Turn off your phone. Make some coffee or tea or whatever keeps you functional. Find a comfortable chair with good light.
And then let James Herbert ruin your peaceful Sunday in the most delicious way possible.
Your brain will thank you for the break from all of this always being on. Your imagination will thank you for the workout. And your future self will thank you for remembering what it feels like to be completely absorbed by a story again.
Trust me on this one. The fog is coming, and you want to be ready for it.
This is the 3rd time I’ve read The Fog and I was pretty stoked to have been able to pick up a 50th anniversary edition at the local Asda while grabbing a coffee.
And if you absolutely must get the kindle version. Well it’s free on kindle unlimited right now.
Stephen Walker.
P.S. After you finish The Fog, Herbert wrote a whole bunch of other books that’ll mess with your head in equally satisfying ways. Consider this your gateway drug into proper British horror fiction. You’re welcome.