“I don’t know why I go to extremes.” —Billy Joel
In recent years, the literary world has seen an undeniable and exciting surge in the popularity of both horror and romance. As a bookstore owner and horror devotee, I fan these flames firsthand. I have long loved reading and recommending horror, and I am beginning to explore romance as well. At first glance, these genres seem worlds apart—one designed to terrify, the other to titillate and satisfy. Yet, they share deep structural and emotional similarities, both providing intense, transformative experiences that resonate, especially during wildly uncertain times. So, whether you love E.L. James or M.R. James, why do we gravitate toward these extremes? The answer lies in the way these stories allow us to explore fear and love, two of the most powerful human emotions, within the safety of the page and the cathartic little miracle that is the book itself.
Take Me Away
(The allure of horror and romance)
Horror fiction, particularly the ghost story, is among our oldest forms of entertainment. Its ability to captivate lies in its confrontation with the unknown, with the existential explorations of our darkest corners, which function as test runs for fear itself. By immersing ourselves in horror, we prepare for our real-world anxieties, learning how to be afraid, why we are afraid, and how to endure fear. Modern horror continues this tradition, often reflecting deeper societal fears. Take My Heart Is a Chainsaw by Stephen Graham Jones, a novel that delivers a gripping slasher narrative, an interrogation of the horror obsessed, and a dive into generational trauma and self-identity. It may terrify and thrill, but it also teaches us about identity and agency when the past circles back to threaten the present.
Romance, on the other hand, offers an emotional journey centered on love and connection, but also self-discovery. Like horror, it provides escape—not into fear, but into hope and fantasy. The emotionally satisfying endings of romance novels offer reassurance that love, even when challenged, is possible. Great Big Beautiful Life by Emily Henry, for example, presents a story of modern relationships, filled with wit and longing but grounded in a realistic exploration of personal growth and human connection. Both horror and romance allow readers to step outside their own experiences and into narratives that affirm the anxieties and joys of being alive. That isn’t, dare I say, something your phone can do…
It’s a Real Page Turner
(Parallel structures and emotional journeys)
Despite their thematic differences, horror and romance share a fundamental rhythm. Both rely on building tension—horror through suspense and looming danger, romance through uncertain relationships and emotional stakes. In an era where attention is a limited resource, stories that keep readers turning pages easily hold strong appeal. Often, when a reader tells me “I couldn’t put it down,” I am guessing the book was one of these two genres.
Beyond their ability to grip readers, horror and romance also navigate deep emotional transformations. Horror forces characters to confront and survive their worst fears, while romance pushes characters to confront vulnerability, ultimately leading to emotional fulfillment. Consider Onyx Storm by Rebecca Yarros, which blends romance and fantasy, where love and hardship forge character evolution. Or Our Share of Night by Mariana Enriquez, in which horror is not just a spectral presence but an inherited trauma that a father desperately hopes to shield his son from. Both genres explore survival—whether surviving love or surviving terror, they leave their characters irrevocably changed, and in that change readers find catharsis.
Genre Benders
(Hybridization and evolving reader preferences)
Perhaps it’s no surprise that horror and romance have begun to blend in fascinating ways. The hugely popular paranormal romance sub-genre marries supernatural horror with romantic yearning. Stories of vampires, ghosts, and otherworldly lovers allow readers to experience both fear and passion in the same breath. Was True Blood (or Twilight before it) ahead of its time? Certainly, more and more audiences crave stories that straddle these extremes, and there has been a massive resurgence of popularity in titles that walked that line long ago. I can’t keep Rebecca or Jane Eyre in the shop.
If You Loved That
(Observations from a bookseller)
Part of the reason I wanted to open a bookstore was because I see them as engines of hope—spaces where people can explore, escape, and make sense of a world that often defies understanding. A bookstore is an essential element of a vital community no matter what future we are facing, and so, in an age of constant information overload and access to every angle of suffering, it makes sense that people turn to books, bookstores, and even, turn to extremes. Horror and romance, in their purest forms, allow us to process the full spectrum of human emotion. They remind us that fear and love are two sides of the same coin: both require surrender, both hold the power to change us, and both comfort us by providing that miraculous corroboration in the way that only a book can: we are alive.
