How scary is too scary?
I am a fan of the horror genre. I have had many people in my life ask me why? Why do I enjoy feeling scared? Aren’t horror movies morbid and dark and depressing?
Until now, I haven’t taken the time to articulate a thorough response to these questions, but I will here because I think it’s central to the broader point of this post.
Thinking the Unthinkable
Horror delves into the darker aspects of life in ways that other genres do not. It forces us to confront the monstrous and horrifying truths we often avoid.
Consider the theme of family tragedy. Stories like Midsommar, Hereditary, and Pet Sematary force us to grapple with overwhelming loss. How would it feel to lose a parent? A sibling? A child?
Horror provides a safe, fictional space for exploring the unimaginable. It invites us to face our fears and reflect on the darker aspects of human existence. None of us get through life unscathed, and while nothing can fully prepare us for tragedy, these stories can help us understand things that we hope never to experience.
Making the Invisible Visible
Horror can highlight experiences and emotions that are often hidden or difficult to articulate. The genre gives voice to aspects of the human condition that are frequently covered up, such as grief, mental illness, or society’s ills.
For example, Candyman (1992) explores urban decay through the lens of supernatural terror. Cabrini-Green, a real-life Chicago housing project, becomes a gothic landscape where social horror meets supernatural dread.
Additionally, Stephen King's Carrie uses supernatural horror to expose the devastating reality of bullying and social isolation. The novel transforms everyday teenage cruelty into literal terror, with Carrie's telekinetic powers serving as a metaphor for the pain and explosive rage that victims of bullying often experience.
By addressing these issues through horror, creators can push past polite social barriers and expose raw truths that other media might feel compelled to soften. The genre's permission to disturb allows it to show the full reality of human cruelty and societal failures, making it harder for audiences to look away or minimize these issues.
Understanding the Incomprehensible
But to me, the most valuable thing horror can help us understand is the nature of evil.
For some reason during high school I went through a period of complete fascination with the evil people can perpetrate. I would spend hours reading Wikipedia pages on serial killers, ancient forms of torture, and war crimes. At the time, I avoided horror movies because they felt “too scary”, yet I knew all about necklacing, the murder of Junko Furuta, and the experiments Unit 731 (Google at your own risk). I think this fascination in part stemmed from the fact that I lacked a philosophical framework for evil. I just didn’t understand how people could do incredibly cruel things to each other.
As I’ve grown up, I’ve gotten a better grasp on what evil is and where it comes from. I developed this in different ways (for example, learning about things like the Stanford Prison Experiment and Milgram experiment, and Jung’s concept of the shadow), but some of my understanding has come from horror media.
I believe the most important thing that horror can teach us is that evil exists. It’s real, and the seeds of its potential reside in each of us. Sometimes, causing pain isn’t a byproduct of behaviour - it becomes the entire point. People can become so consumed by resentment and anger that hurting others becomes their sole focus. Are these damaged people? Almost certainly, but plenty of damaged people do not choose to hurt others.
The fact that some people are out to do nothing but harm is distasteful, but it’s better to acknowledge this than to live in naivety. If you lack an imagination for evil, life can seem like a morally gray soup, where every evil act is merely a reaction to prior harm. Everything becomes confusing and nihilistic. And if you ever have the misfortune to fall victim to something truly monstrous, you are completely unprepared.
Beyond Horror
Having said all that, I’m writing a fantasy novel for a young adult audience, and I'm not about to include deeply horrifying material. However, I believe that there’s a purpose for frightening moments and truly evil characters in the story I'm writing.
I believe scarier, darker material can help young readers to:
Safely confront a frightening moment.
Experience catharsis when tension, fear, or suspense is resolved.
Better understand loss and tragedy.
Acknowledge the existence of malevolence and start building an understanding of good and evil.
Observe that bravery and resilience can help in overcoming challenges.
In his essay on writing for children, C.S. Lewis says, “Since it is so likely that [children] will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise you are making their destiny not brighter but darker.” This, in my view, perfectly articulates why incorporating darker themes in children's literature is so critical, as long as those darker themes are tempered by themes of bravery and hope.
Part of the magic of books is in their ability to help prepare you for life. By observing characters confront fear and emerge stronger, we gain a blueprint for facing life’s challenges with courage. We learn that even in the face of cruelty, chaos, or evil, there is a path forward.