What’s so fascinating about horror? Whether it’s a book, a movie, a song, or some other medium, many people enjoy the thrill of being terrified. They like seeing characters escape the clutches of death—or not. They like learning about new types of monsters or witnessing fresh iterations of old ones, which can be reimagined thousands of times as long as the human mind persists.

There’s been a lot of research done on why people like horror, such as the fun of experiencing unique terrors in the safety of your own home, or the connection between horror and sex. The excitation transfer theory suggests that we love horror because of the suspense—both the buildup and the resulting release. The higher the buildup of suspense is, the more satisfaction we get from the resolution. (Hmm…no wonder horror and sex are often closely associated.)

A similar theory suggests that people who like horror are often sensation seekers who purposely look for experiences that will stimulate them and facilitate intense emotions. A resolved ending can add to that enjoyment, though this isn’t always necessary. I’m reminded of why the mystery genre is also pretty popular; after talking with some peers last year, I discovered that several of them like mysteries and thrillers because they have the reassurance that the bad guy will always be caught at the end, and justice will be served. Something that often doesn’t happen in real life.

So why do I love horror?

It’s hard to exactly say where the fascination began. It seems like I’ve always had an affinity for the grotesque and the frightening, even throughout my fluctuations in taste when I couldn’t deal with too much gore or preferred to watch black and white horror movies. But that’s probably where it started: the black and white flicks.

I remember my mother having a decent-sized DVD collection of horror movies from the 1960s and beyond, several of them starring horror icons like Vincent Price and Boris Karloff. These older movies are her favorites because they don’t have the prevalent gore and sex of modern ones. This does make for less awkward viewing experiences when your parents are right beside you, but the emphasis on traditional gender roles in these films gets tired fast. Even when women are permitted to be doctors or scientists, they spend half of the movie fainting into a man’s arms or needing to be rescued after they reach their allotted quota of girlbossing.

Branching out from there, I watched shows like The Twilight Zone and The X-Files with my mother when I was a child. Then I began reading creepypastas when I was a teenager, staying up until the early morning hours and turning all the lights off for the maximum effect of fear. (“We Danced” is a banger that I still think about, but I don’t have the nerve to go back and read any of them now.) Subreddits like /nosleep and movie franchises like Insidious were natural progressions in my journey of becoming more enamored with this genre.

But within all this backstory, there still has to be a discernible why.

Choose Your Piece of the Pie

A major thing I appreciate about horror is its variety. If you don’t like gore, that’s fine. Maybe psychological horror or eco-horror will tickle your fancy instead. Hate slashers? You might prefer the interiority that body horror can provide or a classic monster story instead of one with a human killer. Many monsters can even be deceptively innocuous, like in The Blob (1958).

Even if you don’t like the genre at all, there’s always something valuable you can take from its social commentary and themes, which is why I often encourage people to at least check out some of the less-bloody subgenres and works if they’re looking for a milder starting point.

Recent novels like Trad Wife and The Body depict the husband-wife family structure that society expects us all to fit into, regardless of sexuality or personal desires, and what people will do to maintain that traditionalism at any cost. They Bloom at Night features body horror and eco-horror but also touches on self-identity and found family. The novel for Bones and All doesn’t make the mark on the original point the author was trying to drive home, but I did appreciate Maren’s search for belonging and love (whether romantic or parental) while struggling to live with an extremely dark aspect of herself.

There’s no limit to the types of horror you can indulge in, and new niches and subgenres are gaining popularity all the time. The many cool new indie presses and literary magazines that cater to horror attest to that. If you want, you can find a wealth of new and established horror writers without ever touching the Big 5 Publishers.

Similarly, horror in film has had a big few years with releases like Sinners, The Substance, Smile, 28 Years Later, and Frankenstein, but there are also less-lauded releases for those who like cult classics and underdogs, such as Your Monster, HIM, Cuckoo, and Don’t Move.

Partake in the Pain…and the Pleasure

The other aspect of my interest is that these angst-ridden, hopeless, and violent narratives became more emotionally appealing to me after I experienced significant trauma. But since I’ve loved horror for most of my life and undercurrents of trauma have existed through my entire life, maybe this is an intrinsic part of me. There’s a quote from a literary fiction novel (that I still need to read) that sums up this personal phenomenon very well:

“I needed to see things that were ugly and sad. Anything beautiful seemed to be a thing I could not belong to. I wanted the edges of everything to darken…” — The End of the Story, Lydia Davis

I can’t speak for anyone else who has experienced trauma, but in the simplest terms, it’s easier to ingest things that match or complement my volatile mindscape, whether it’s songs, art, pictures, or anything else in the world. Horror tends to fulfill that need for me—the need to relate to something, to be understood by something, and to know that I’m not alone in being strange, anguished, traumatized, lost, mean, unhappy, etc.

When I’m feeling very, very low, encountering happiness in any form can be akin to physical pain. A “normal” person with a “normal” brain might feel the same way about, say, a twisted werewolf story with a bleak Everybody Dies ending, but sometimes it’s the opposite for me. Fucked-upness + more fucked-upness cancel each other out (or in some cases, maximize each other) and create something totally new: a peculiar solace.

Perhaps at the end of it all, most people want to not feel alone in the world, and the horror genre offers a place of bonding and a community that can be different from other genres. As in, if you see the extent of my broken nature and decide to stick around for it, we might have something good going.

I say all that to say—yeah, maybe I do need to start seeing a therapist again, but writing and reading about things that scare me, disturb me, and challenge my worldview is cheaper and easier. Horror provides all that and more. And saving as much money as possible is paramount for a newly unemployed bitch like me.