Childhood Memories Of Horror, Resurfacing

Something popped into my head the other day that has been buried, dormant in my subconscious, for over two decades. I can't recall what brought it out from the murk, but it resurfaced from the depths of my childhood as clearly as when I first experienced it.

One day back in my fourth year of primary school, as a boy of only 7 years old, I and my classmates were each asked to pick a random book from the classroom library. Browsing through the expansive if battered collection of paperbacks, I discovered a scary-looking book called EAT THEM ALIVE. It turned out to be what I now recognize as pulp/exploitation horror, where naked indigenous women are devoured by giant insects at the behest of deviant criminals (I think). Gruesome descriptions of flopping amputated breasts, entrails, screaming villagers and twenty-foot insects all rattled around in my young brain. I knew even then that the book should not have been there. By that time, though, I couldn't dismiss the images.

What the hell was the book doing in a primary school classroom? Was it an oversight, negligence, or some sick prank? And what impact did it have on my then-innocent mind? The fact that I can recall it so clearly after all these years might speak volumes - uses-and-gratifications theory can hardly apply to a seven-year-old kid, can it?

As I often say: Freud would have a field day.