The Limits of Edgar Allan Poe’s Horror

I’ve never liked Edgar Allan Poe.

As a literature professor, I’ve read his works extensively and taught them many times. I understand his artistic goals—on the surface, he is a master wordsmith, and I do appreciate his use of language. Given my admiration for Dracula and my own tendency to explore dark themes in literature, I’ve often felt that I should like Poe. But at the end of the day, I find his work terribly boring.

This realization crystallized recently when I assigned my class to read The Masque of the Red Death. I hoped to explore Poe’s use of symbolism and perhaps increase my appreciation for him. However, even after analyzing the text in depth with my students, I remained unmoved.

A Student’s Reaction: The Demonic Tone

After class, I spoke with a student about the story. When I asked her opinion, she responded, “Oh no, I hated it.” Her reasoning surprised me—she found it demonic. This struck me as an unusually strong reaction, so I pressed her for more detail.

She explained that it wasn’t the graphic nature of the story that disturbed her, nor was she overly sensitive. Rather, she felt that Poe’s tale took pleasure in death and suffering, lingering on horror in a perverse way. It wasn’t just about death—it was about delighting in death.

Poe and Nihilism: The Absence of Struggle

This conversation led me to reflect on why I love Dracula but dislike Poe. The key difference, I realized, is struggle. In Poe’s stories, darkness is inevitable. There is no fight against evil, no redemption, no choice—only decay and death. His stories feel nihilistic, devoid of faith or meaning.

This is what my student found disturbing about The Masque of the Red Death. The story does not present death as something to be resisted; it revels in it. The Red Death arrives, slaughters everyone, and the story simply ends.

By contrast, Dracula presents horror as a crucible—a test of courage and goodness. The protagonists face despair but fight against it. Horror in Dracula is a struggle, not a prison sentence.

The Soul and Higher Stakes in Horror

The presence of the soul and the battle between good and evil are central to my favorite works of horror. In Dracula, horror is not the point—it is a means of testing the human spirit. One of the most powerful moments occurs after Mina is bitten. When Van Helsing places a communion wafer on her forehead, it burns her, and she cries, “Unclean, unclean!” She is horrified, not simply because she is physically marked, but because her soul has been tainted. The battle against Dracula is ultimately a spiritual battle.

Poe’s horror lacks this spiritual dimension. His characters are empty, and their deaths feel like a cruel joke.

What About Lovecraft?

I have read Lovecraft extensively, and while I find him superior to Poe, I still have reservations. Lovecraft’s horror is cosmic—his characters confront the vast, incomprehensible forces of the universe. The stakes are grand, unlike Poe’s claustrophobic tales of small, petty horrors. While Lovecraft is also a nihilist, his work at least inspires awe and grandeur.

Still, Lovecraft’s characters ultimately collapse in the face of knowledge. They do not fight; they are consumed.

Men with Spines: The Strength of Stoker’s Protagonists

I struggle to enjoy stories in which the protagonist simply gives up in the face of horror. That is why I love Dracula. Jonathan Harker is victimized by Dracula—nearly destroyed—but he fights back. He formulates a plan, escapes, and later joins the battle against his oppressor. His friends Arthur, Quincey, and John face true horror, yet they refuse to surrender.

By contrast, Poe’s protagonists are weak. They crumble under pressure. Madness, decay, degeneracy, and ruin define their fates. Lovecraft’s characters meet similar ends, either fleeing, going insane, or committing suicide.

Conclusion: Why Stoker’s Horror Resonates Most

Bram Stoker offers horror that is deeper and more powerful than either Poe or Lovecraft. He presents true terror, but he also presents characters who resist it. His horror is not a meaningless descent into oblivion—it is a battle. And in that battle, there is a chance for courage, for redemption, and for victory.