Existential philosophy profoundly questioned human purpose, meaning, and dread in the face of death. Pioneers like Søren Kierkegaard, Friedrich Nietzsche, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Albert Camus explored themes of absurdity, meaninglessness, despair, and freedom in a seemingly indifferent universe. These ideas soon seeped into literature, influencing writers to probe the human psyche and the cosmos for horror. Key existential themes include:

  • Absurdity and Meaninglessness: Life has no inherent purpose, as Camus argued with his image of Sisyphus endlessly pushing a rock.
  • Dread and Angst: Kierkegaard and Sartre saw existential anxiety ("angst") as a natural response to freedom and the unknowable.
  • Death and Isolation: Facing mortality and feeling alone in an uncaring world were central to existentialists and later horror writers alike.

These concepts moved from philosophy into fiction. In modern horror, characters often confront an absurd cosmos or their own isolation in ways that mirror existentialist thought. Below we trace this evolution, from early existential works through Kafka and Lovecraft to contemporary figures like Stephen King and Thomas Ligotti, noting also how global authors have embraced these themes.

Existential Philosophy: Dread, Freedom, and the Absurd

Existential thought developed in the 19th–20th centuries as writers grappled with a world seemingly without objective meaning. Kierkegaard emphasized anxiety (angst) and despair when individuals confront infinite possibilities; he famously described existential dread as the "dizziness of freedom". Nietzsche declared "God is dead," proclaiming that traditional religious values could no longer ground meaning; his idea of creating one's own values in a nihilistic universe influenced later existentialists. Jean-Paul Sartre distilled the movement's core: "existence precedes essence," meaning humans first exist without fixed nature and must define themselves in freedom. However, this freedom brings anguish and responsibility: we are "condemned to be free," responsible for a meaningless world shaped only by our choices.

Albert Camus, often linked with existentialism, confronted the absurd – the conflict between our search for meaning and the silent universe. In The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus declared there is "no teleological … answer" to why we exist. He famously began his essay by stating, "There is only one really serious philosophical question, and that is suicide," emphasizing the desperation when one faces an absurd, meaningless life. To Camus, the human task is to bear this "irresolvable emptiness" without escape.

Key existentialist ideas thus emerged: life has no pre-given meaning; individuals feel alienated ("dread") when confronting infinite freedom and death; and one must either rebel against the absurd or despair. These concepts created a new vocabulary of fear and isolation that literary and horror writers would soon adapt.

Kafka's Nightmarish World: Alienation and the Absurd

Early 20th-century fiction, influenced by existential philosophy, dramatized absurdity and isolation. Franz Kafka's works exemplify this. In The Metamorphosis, Gregor Samsa wakes as a giant insect, stripped of human identity and cast out by his family. This horrifying transformation becomes a metaphor for existential alienation: Gregor loses his social role and sense of self, forced to confront life's meaning alone. Scholars note that Kafka's story "symbolizes the absurd theory of existentialism," showing "life with no meaning" that leads characters to despair and resignation". As one analysis concludes, Metamorphosis "highlights individuals' vulnerability and alienation when they are devoid of identity and meaning," a powerful existential theme.

Kafka's other works, like The Trial and The Castle, similarly trap protagonists in incomprehensible bureaucracies. The hero Josef K. faces nightmarish charges without explanation, echoing Camus's absurd sense of futility. Critics observe that Kafka creates "an atmosphere different from that breached by Montaigne and Descartes": a humanist yet alienating horror. In Kafka's nightmarish fiction, ordinary people are confronted with indifferent systems, leaving them isolated and powerless—a core existential horror motif.

Gothic and Early Horror: Mortality and the Unknown

Before "existentialism" was named, Gothic and early science fiction hinted at similar fears. Edgar Allan Poe's stories often fixate on death, guilt, and madness. Works like The Fall of the House of Usher or The Tell-Tale Heart show characters haunted by inevitability and their own inner demons, suggesting that the mind can be as terrifying as any external monster. Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1818) dramatized isolation: the Creature is rejected by his creator and society, embodying the anguish of a being cast out without purpose.

But it was H. P. Lovecraft who most fully crystallized cosmic existential horror. Lovecraft's "cosmicism" posits an indifferent universe where human values are trivial. He explicitly described the ultimate fear as facing a meaningless cosmos. One commentator writes, "The terror of Cosmic Horror is in coming to grips with the fact that there is no essential meaning to anything". In Lovecraft's tales, scholars note, the universe is "just atoms… in chaos," and when humans glimpse the true abyss, their minds fracture with despair. For example, in The Call of Cthulhu or The Shadow over Innsmouth, characters encounter entities far beyond human comprehension; they realize they live on an "irretrievably different" cosmic stage, which reduces life to cosmic insignificance.

Contrasting Lovecraft's abyss, modern critic Ben Woodard argues Lovecraft drew "from the abyssal depths of the uncharted universe," piling horror upon horror until "the fragile brain…fractures". Woodard further notes that successor Thomas Ligotti turned this horror inward: Ligotti's "existential horror focuses on the awful proliferation of meaningless surfaces" in everyday life. In other words, Lovecraft externalized existential dread (monsters from space), while Ligotti found it lurking in the banal (the horror of daily reality). Both, however, attack the comforting notion of an anthropocentric world: encountering their horrors shatters reason and leaves characters (and readers) facing nihilism.

Stephen King and Modern Existential Angst

In late 20th-century horror, existential themes found new life in mainstream fiction. Stephen King, America's bestselling horror novelist, often embeds dread in familiar settings. His towns (like Derry, Maine) seem normal but are haunted by ancient evils or human darkness. King doesn't call himself an existentialist, but his stories often underscore human vulnerability and fate. For example, It (1986) explores how childhood terror and trauma linger without resolution, reflecting a loss of innocence. Pet Sematary (1983) confronts mortality and the futility of defying death – a young man learns, "Sometimes dead is better," after resurrection leads only to horror. These narratives implicitly ask existential questions: How do ordinary people cope when the universe yields no comfort or justice? Why must good lives often end in inexplicable cruelty?

King's non-supernatural fiction also flirts with existential dread. The Stand (1978) depicts a plague-ravaged world where survivors struggle to find meaning in rebuilding society. While not overtly philosophical, King's characters frequently battle despair and search for hope when all seems lost. King famously said, "We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones," suggesting his monsters are stand-ins for true human fears (like death, loss, and isolation). His enormous popularity shows that readers resonate with these anxieties: King's characters often ask, "How do I go on after my world is destroyed?" — the heart of existential crisis.

Thomas Ligotti: The Philosopher of Pessimistic Horror

The most overtly philosophical horror writer of recent times is Thomas Ligotti. Often described as a successor to Poe and Lovecraft, Ligotti blends literary craft with radical pessimism. His fiction collections (e.g. Songs of a Dead Dreamer, Grimscribe) teem with nightmarish landscapes of decay and meaninglessness. But Ligotti's 2010 non-fiction The Conspiracy Against the Human Race makes his philosophy explicit. He begins with the premise that "being alive is not all right," and argues that consciousness itself is tragic. In Ligotti's view, the more aware one becomes of life's "meaningless and often horrifying nature," the more one yearns to escape it.

Ligotti asserts that ordinary joys (art, love, laughter) are merely "escape mechanisms" from the underlying void. He writes that philosophical optimists may doubt life's value fleetingly, but true pessimists "never doubt that existence is basically undesirable". In an interview, Ligotti quipped that "joys of life are essentially delusions," emphasizing that acknowledging this does not negate the simple pleasure of them. Nonetheless, his bleak conclusion remains: nonexistence would be preferable if one took the cosmic horror seriously.

Ligotti's horror fiction dramatizes this worldview. His stories often feature identity loss, evil bureaucracy, and self-dissolution, as characters confront a reality that should not exist. Critics note how Ligotti turns his readers' perspective "inside out": we see our world "grounded in dark materiality," undermining any comforting spiritual meaning. In sum, Ligotti provides an almost militant form of existential horror, where the only sane response to consciousness is to not think about it. His influence is growing: his work is cited in TV shows (True Detective), and fans treat his philosophical pessimism as a startling twist on the horror tradition.

Global Perspectives on Existential Horror

While we've focused on Western writers, existential horror also appears around the world. Japanese manga artist Junji Ito explicitly embraces cosmic dread. In stories like Uzumaki, a simple spiral drives characters mad – Ito transforms "a seemingly mundane shape into a catalyst for existential terror," as one critic notes. His manga Hellstar Remina tells of a planet that devours worlds, evoking a "profound sense of powerlessness in the face of incomprehensible cosmic forces". Ito's work directly echoes Lovecraft, exploring "existential dread and cosmic insignificance" in a modern Japanese context.

Latin American writers have also played with existential motifs. Jorge Luis Borges's surreal tales (like "The Library of Babel" or "The Aleph") explore infinite labyrinths and circular time, suggesting the absurdity of seeking meaning in an endless universe. Although not strictly "horror," these stories unsettle the reader's sense of reality and self – key existential themes. Likewise, Eastern European and Russian literature (Dostoevsky, Camus's contemporary Albert Cossery) often weaves dark humor and absurdity, as in the works of Polish author Bruno Schulz or Czech writer Karel Čapek, who imagined plague-like robots.

In cinema and global media, existential horror persists. Films like Andrei Tarkovsky's Stalker (USSR, 1979) or Kiyoshi Kurosawa's Pulse (Japan, 2001) portray characters lost in metaphysical wastelands. African and Middle Eastern horror cinema, too, has begun to surface apocalyptic themes in response to modern crises, though scholarly work is limited. Overall, the core anxieties – nothingness, death, isolation – are universal. Whether in Maine, Tokyo, or Buenos Aires, stories that pit individuals against uncaring forces continue to captivate.

The Enduring Power of Existential Horror

Existentialist ideas – life's meaninglessness, inescapable death, and profound alienation – have deeply influenced horror fiction. Beginning with the philosophers Camus, Sartre, and Kierkegaard, these themes moved into literature through Kafka's absurd nightmares and Lovecraft's cosmic nihilism. Mid-century and modern writers like King and Ligotti inherited that legacy. King wraps existential dread in suburban faces and children's fears, while Ligotti confronts it head-on, arguing that horror is the only honest response to reality. Globally, creators from Junji Ito to Borges have shown that the question "why are we here?" can itself be terrifying.

Why do these themes continue to resonate? Likely because they touch our deepest anxieties. Horror lets us face the unknown in safety: it externalizes the dread we all feel about death, meaninglessness, and isolation. By grappling with absurdity through story, readers can vicariously rebel against it (Camus's response), or at least acknowledge it. The evolution traced here – from Camus to King – shows that as long as humans ponder existence, horror fiction will mirror their fears. The older existentialism becomes, the more it reappears in new guises, ensuring that existential horror remains a haunting and relevant subgenre.

References (APA style)

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Flynn, T. (2022). Jean-Paul Sartre. In E. N. Zalta (Ed.), Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2022 Ed.). Metaphysics Research Lab, Stanford University. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/sartre/

Ligotti, T. (2010). The Conspiracy Against the Human Race: A Contrivance of Horror. Viking Press.

Lippitt, J., & Evans, C. S. (2023). Søren Kierkegaard. In E. N. Zalta & U. Nodelman (Eds.), Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Metaphysics Research Lab, Stanford University. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/kierkegaard/

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