I really love spooky nostalgia and the horrors of childhood, and that’s the territory in which The Saturday Night Ghost Club roams by bike and by skateboard. There’s something of Stephen King here, through a Canadian lens and with less of King’s unrelenting cruelty. This book doesn’t go as dark as it could have, and I found myself grateful for the victories the characters are allowed to win. Sometimes it’s just nice to read a slightly softer, horror-adjacent book like this one.