“Horror” has taken on a whole new look in the past few years. The genre has undergone a change. No longer does it consist of flying decapitated heads and rabid monsters under the bed. There are chiseled abs, heaving breasts, creatures that belong on the cover of GQ and not hidden deep in a cave, away from the light of day and the judgment and fear of humans. Sometimes called paranormal romances or urban fantasies, this upcropping of sparkly worlds, where monsters aren’t bad, only misunderstood, and man, are they smokin’ (and we’re not talking in any doused-in-gasoline-about-to-ignite-in-flesh-melting-flames kind of way), has become all the rage. Fans of these books have piped up in horror forums, joined horror groups, and describe themselves as horror fans, and the line between genres smears. But what is horror anyway? Is any book with a monster in it a horror novel, or do more stringent guidelines exist?

Or is horror simply in the eye of the beholder?

Google defines horror as “an intense feeling of fear, shock, or disgust,” or “a thing causing such a feeling.” So, horror fiction would be fiction that elicits these feelings in the reader. By this definition, some might consider a funny tale about a circus clown as horror. Or even the popular children’s story Charlotte’s Webcould be considered horrific by an arachnophobe’s standards.

So, maybe, in the end, it is the reader who decides the genre of a book.  

I, myself, am a horror puritan. Horror is fright. Horror is blood. Horror is suspense. Horror is that shudder in your gut. As a horror puritan, I have come to accept that the horror genre will be ever-changing, ever-bending. Lines will shift and blur, sometimes to the point of ridiculousness. But I am also thankful to those infamous authors of the human-vamp-shifter love triangles who have brought monsters back into the spotlight. A different kind of monster than my kind – less, ahem, clothing – but that’s okay. The result has been bloodlust in a new audience and an open door for a true horror comeback.