Beer or wine, I agree with Occam.
But, horror. There are several subgenres of horror; slasher horror, typically an unkillable psychopath messily slaughtering nubile teenagers too stupid to stay out of the dark forest; classic horror, exemplified by “Dracula” and “Nosferatu”; derivative classic horror, vampires, werewolves and/or zombies in a contemporary environment, with Ann Rice as exemplar; alien monster horror, from Doctor Who to “Alien”; horror that merges imperceptibly into science fiction, typically something like a killer virus accidentally (or deliberately) released; and H.P.Lovecraft. I give Lovecraft and his imitators a subgenre all of their own, something I suppose you could call Occult Cosmic Horror; tales of monstrous beings that once ruled the Earth but were banished into some hidden dimension, and who lurk in wait for “the stars to come right” so that they can once again take over, aided by degenerate humans with unspeakable black magical rites found in ancient mouldering tomes.
Slasher horror typically appeals only to sadistic 10-year-old nerds and others of like mentality, so can pretty much be dismissed; the others, like any other variety of genre fiction, vary from well written, literary evocations of eerie meta-realities, to abysmally bad. Like gold panning, you can find nuggets in there, but you have to shovel, sort and discard whole piles of worthless gravel to get at them.
As you might have guessed I’m somewhat of a Lovecraft fan; but most of his imitators, especially the modern ones, try very hard but don’t quite get there, in my opinion.