Howard Phillips Lovecraft never amounted to much during his life spent mostly in Providence, Rhode Island. His tombstone reads “I am Providence,” as is readily apparent in the link I’ve attached with his name in the first sentence. The 2015 Philip Eil penned piece in The Atlantic, which aligned to the 125th anniversary of Lovecraft‘s birth, offers you insight into the down-and-out pulp fiction writer of “cosmic horror” that was never appreciated for his craft until after his death. Perhaps that is fair in the face of his reputed racism, though Lovecraft’s work has influenced a notable writer or two.
A recommendation of Lovecraft‘s book At the Mountains of Madness by Stephen King brought me to Lovecraft‘s writing about six weeks ago. I wasn’t quite two-thirds into the book when I discovered how effusive King was about Lovecraft. Consider a December 1995 piece written by Curt Wohleber for American Heritage. In the in-depth article provocatively titled “The Man Who Can Scare Stephen King,” the contemporary King shares the power of Lovecraft‘s influence.
“Now that time has given us some perspective on his work,” says Stephen King, “I think it is beyond doubt that H. P. Lovecraft has yet to be surpassed as the twentieth century’s greatest practitioner of the classic horror tale. …. it is his shadow, so long and gaunt, and his eyes, so dark and puritanical, which overlie almost all of the important horror fiction that has come since.”
In The Atlantic piece, Eil tells us that
“Nowadays, it’s hard to imagine Lovecraft faced such poverty and obscurity, when regions of Pluto are named for Lovecraftian monsters, the World Fantasy Award trophy bears his likeness, his work appears in the Library of America, the New York Review of Books calls him “The King of Weird,” and his face is printed on everything from beer cans to baby books to thong underwear. The author hasn’t just escaped anonymity; he’s reached the highest levels of critical and cultural success. His is perhaps the craziest literary afterlife this country has ever seen.”
A crazy, weird afterlife of a literary perspective following a poverty and obscurity partly derived from shying away from selling himself and his talents. Part of this issues arguably of the man himself.
Lovecraft tends toward a professorial air in the writing that I have seen, which is specifically the novella At the Mountain of Madness as recommended by King. The book itself gets into other wordly beings far more intelligent then man coming to earth millions of years ago in order to enslave humanity. That notion gives way to main characters approaching the world with scientific or psychological curiosity. Many die while others losing control of their own actions in the present or future. The characters sense psychological well-being, or physical well-being, slipping away while finding themselves powerless to change course.
The main characters in At the Mountain of Madness were educated, rational, and without a spirituality beyond stepping back, recording their impressions scientifically without emotion, philosophy, or a religious fervor beyond their assumed objectivity, their assumed skill in discernment and interpretation and planning, and their overly proper infatuation with an articulation and air that seemed overly formal yet correct.
For writing from the era between Edgar Allan Poe and the contemporary Stephen King, H. P. Lovecraft gave America a quintessential voice for horror the ostensibly bridged the path between the two behemoths of the American horror style. I am hesitant to pick up another Lovecraft book currently, which might be more a statement of the writing style of the time Lovecraft lived in rather than Lovecraft‘s writing itself. I enjoyed reading At the Mountain of Madness, though I am not sure that I would recommend it. 2.5-stars out-of-five.
Matt – Sunday, April 16, 2017