AVClub: “Those aren’t kids books,” a character insists early into Goosebumps, after his new companion shrugs off the YA source material of the film itself. “Those are the books that keep you up at night.” Anyone who cut their teeth on R.L. Stine’s hit series—a long run of paperback novellas, released at a monthly clip for the better part of the ’90s—can surely recall at least a few endless evenings spent under the covers, flipping pages by flashlight. But it wasn’t really raw terror that kept fans awake past their bedtime; the average Goosebumps book wasn’t so much frightening as powerfully addictive. They boasted tantalizing titles like Monster Blood and The Haunted Mask, colorful covers that teased the mild horrors within, and short, plainly written chapters, each punctuated by a cliffhanger. A whole generation of early readers—this writer included—lost sleep binging on regular installments. We couldn’t wait to get to the end, and then to crack the spine of the next one.