Horror is bigger than Stephen King. These spooky Seattleites help find the right scare for you

I have an unpopular opinion among horror readers: I don't think Stephen King is that good.

He's prolific, wildly so, and I did enjoy his 1977 and 1987 hits "The Shining" and "Misery." But I read a lot of horror, and frankly, I think there are better writers in the genre who haven't gotten even a fraction of the accolades King has. (If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: The Stephen every horror fan should be reading is Stephen Graham Jones.)

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Since it's spooky season, and readers of all sorts may be looking for scares, I called up a couple of local literary horror experts to talk about how the genre has evolved and who we should be reading.

"If your best-books-that-you've-ever-read list is all straight white American males, you're not reading the right books," said author Sadie Hartmann, also known as "Mother Horror." "Women are essentially and completely overqualified to write horror."

Roxanne Guiney has books by authors from any number of backgrounds and with any number of perspectives in her horror bookstore in Capitol Hill, Haunted Burrow Books. And while she disagreed with me about King, we did agree that the evolution of modern horror has made the genre richer.

"Even 20, 30 years ago when we had a horror story, they'd all have something of a formula to them," Guiney said. "Authors are starting to experiment a lot more. And I don't know if 'the story of my heart' is the way to put it, but [they're telling] a story that is personal to them, that is something that they might only be able to tell based on their experience and the way that they have moved through the world."

Those stories might be informed by an author's gender identity, racial or ethnic identity, socio-economic status, or just the region of the world they're from. Take it from a fan of translated horror: Fear looks different in other cultures, and the exchange of fear is a unique cultural experience.

So, what are some of the subgenres that have emerged? And what should you be reading if King doesn't do it for you? Read on — if you dare.

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Eco-horror

Eco-horror, or climate horror, preys on the very real fear of climate change and ecological loss. It also serves as social commentary, even going so far as to advocate for change to prevent the nightmarish future the author imagines. Sometimes, the horror comes from nature rebelling against humanity or extreme weather, but just as often, the horror is human.

I've seen more environmental themes show up in horror, even if they're on the periphery.

Author Agustina Bazterrica, for example, weaves environmental disaster into her most recent novel, "The Unworthy." The book is about a woman being kept at an extremist convent. Around her, though, is a world on the brink of complete collapse. One of the most haunting passages in the book is a description of the ocean — or rather, the lack thereof. Whatever has happened in this version of the world, the oceans are completely gone.

Other authors center environmental terror, like Jeff VanderMeer.

VanderMeer wrote "The Southern Reach" trilogy in 2014, and he released a surprise fourth novel in the series, "Absolution," last year. The Southern Reach is a secret government agency that is studying a place dubbed Area X, an abandoned coastal area that nature is reclaiming and drastically changing. The agency sends expeditions into Area X, and each meets a mysterious, sometimes awful fate. The grand message, as far as I can tell anyway, is that we are fooling ourselves if we think we understand even a fraction of what nature is capable of.

Cosmic horror

Cosmic horror is all about the unknown. There's a lot of existential dread, playing off the fear of being an insignificant speck in a vast universe that is completely indifferent to our existence. This is one of my favorite subgenres, for reasons I don't think I need to explain.

Part of this genre explores the potential for madness upon discovering the truth, or perhaps being the only one who knows that truth.

And like eco-horror, cosmic horror takes a variety of forms. In "Sister, Maiden, Monster" by Lucy A. Snyder, which Guiney recently read, it takes the form of a virus. She recalled a scene in which one of the main characters is given something to eat that causes "this emotional response, firing her up." Turns out, she's eating brains.

"I think that many people would be then squeamish about the cannibalism aspect," she said. "For me, I was like, 'This is turning into a zombie story.'"

Guiney does not like zombies. Please, do not talk to her about zombies.

I like my cosmic horror a little heavier on the cosmic, a little spacier.

I'd never found aliens or the concept of other lifeforms to be all that scary, until I read "Cuckoo" by Gretchen Felker-Martin. The book follows a group of queer kids whose families abandon them at a remote conversion camp. When kids return home changed, their parents don't even blink; they wanted them to come back different after all. But as the kids quickly learn, the camp is changing much more about them than their parents bargained for.

Splatterpunk

As the name suggests, splatterpunk includes gratuitous violence and gore combined with anti-establishment sentiments. Think female rage — with an ax. It's depraved, indecent, gag-worthy, and yet, you might find yourself sympathizing with a character's quest for revenge, for example.

But beware: This genre is not for the faint of heart.

Another of Guiney's recommendations, "Full Brutal" by Kristopher Triana, sounds like too much even for me. It follows a 16-year-old girl whose exposure to disturbing pornography and a disappointing first sexual experience leads to a sadistic rampage.

I've also seen numerous recommendations for "Maeve Fly" by CJ Leede. It's described as a brutal and "blood-soaked love letter to Los Angeles" in which the titular Maeve finds inspiration for a new version of herself that looks an awful lot like Patrick Bateman of Bret Easton Ellis' "American Psycho."

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I'm no expert in the splatterpunk realm, so if you want more recommendations, you'd be better served by going to Guiney's store, Haunted Burrow Books, or checking out one of Hartmann's horror anthologies and recommendations.

Hartmann's latest book gets back to what she said about women being primed to write horror. It's called "Feral and Hysterical: Mother Horror’s Ultimate Reading Guide to Dark and Disturbing Fiction by Women."

"I changed the chemical makeup of my brain, dedicating two years to reading horror by women, and then I compiled all of those books that I read into very niche, very specific lists," Hartmann said of "Feral and Hysterical." "If you just want to read horror books that are set in a boggy swamp, I have a list for that."