Put the monsters and demons aside for a moment. We are now entering a subgenre of horror novels where the terror often takes place within the mind. A few years back, Bill Gibron created an excellent definition of “psychological horror” for the PopMatters website. Gibron wrote, “It’s the kind of movie where the mind makes up for what the director doesn’t feature outright. It’s the monster in the closet where all you see is a pair of glowing red eyes. It’s the suggestion that a house is haunted and then walking through said location and hearing all kinds of concerning, creepy noises. It’s not a violent killer with a chainsaw chasing you around.” Film journalist Ivy Lofberg also does a great job defining psychological horror for the Film Inquiry website: Lofberg wrote, “In psychological horror, suspicion, distrust, self-doubt and paranoia about oneself, others or the world are present. This is referred to in Jungian psychology as characteristics of the archetypal shadow. These are the emotional and mental fears that keep people up at night and evoke a sense of dread in everyday life." The film concepts mentioned above apply to written works, as well. Psychological horror novels often give readers a deeper and more unsettling sense of fear, when compared to ghosts and ghouls. They also shed light on the human condition, by incorporating emotions we can all relate to.

Novels in this horror subgenre: Rosemary’s Baby, by Ira Levin. Come Closer, by Sara Gran. Silence of the Lambs, by Thomas Harris. All That We Remember, by Elenor Gill.