"With Strange Aeons" : My Introduction to Lovecraft

 

From the fall of 2010 to the very tail end of 2015, I lived in various parts of eastern Maryland between Washington, D.C. and Baltimore. During this period, I only visited Alabama and saw my family twice a year, for my birthday in July, and for Christmas / New Year. During these trips – especially centered as they were around two times of year when I’m usually in a buying mood – I tended to let myself splurge, especially on books and movies. (Also LEGO sets, but that’s not currently relevant.)

My trip home at the end of 2013 / start of 2014 was a rough one though; my roommate had announced unexpectedly in November that he would be moving out, leaving me to either find a replacement or a new place to live. By the time of my visit home, I still hadn’t had success at either venture, and knew that by the end of January, I would be in dire straits indeed unless something changed. I tell you all of that so you have an idea of my mindset as I stood in the Tuscaloosa Barnes & Noble, holding copies of “At the Mountains of Madness and Other Weird Tales” and “The Call of Cthulhu and Other Dark Tales” from the B&N Library of Essential Reading.

 

 

All things practically considered, I should not have purchased those books, nor should I have gotten online and ordered the third volume of the set, “The Other Gods and More Unearthly Tales.” Money was tight, I had limited free time, and anything new I took back to my apartment was just going to have to be packed away almost as soon as it came in the door. I did buy them, though, and by the time February arrived, I was in a great new place and ready to dive into some cosmic horror. After pondering where to begin for a day or so, I finally decided to see what all the hype was about and flipped to the opening of the novella “At the Mountains of Madness.”

I’m not generally one to sing my own praises, but one thing I do rather well is reading, and so I fully expected to finish the story – which comes in at a little over 100 pages – within no more than two hours, including breaks. Imagine my surprise and delight, then, when it took me several consecutive evening sessions to reach those final shrieks of “Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!” I was even less prepared for the growing sense of unease the novella created within me; I wouldn’t say it scared me, necessarily, at least not in the sense with which most people use that word. Rather, certain sections – particularly the finding of the elder things, and the descent into the great underground city – unsettled me both as I read them, and when I contemplated them later.

Before I embarked upon that first reading, I believed myself familiar with Lovecraft’s mythos and legacy, at least in theory. I had heard the “demonic couplet;” flipped through the rulebooks for the “Call of Cthulhu” tabletop RPG; seen “Event Horizon” and “Alien” and “John Carpenter’s The Thing.” As time and further study would show, though, I actually had nowhere near enough appreciation for how much his works had influenced so many things I loved. For instance, halfway through “At the Mountains of Madness,” I realized that the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen tie-in “Nemo: Heart of Ice” was a direct homage set in those same accursed Antarctic locales.

Beyond that better understanding of his influence, though, came the deepening realization that exploring his works themselves represented a vast and potentially dangerous venture. In my lifetime, I can only think of one other author’s works which have presented the same sort of challenge, that being John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. The difference is that even in the darkest parts of the stories, the Shire and Imladris remained inviting places, where fair maidens dwelt, and celebrations eventually awaited weary heroes returning home. Those brightly-lit halls are literal worlds removed from the dim shelves of Arkham library, the shadowed alleys of Innsmouth, or the murky depths of the Atlantic. It’s ironic that Lovecraft’s tales so often feature protagonists who knowingly seek out information best left hidden away, because I can’t think of a better comparison to becoming a fan of his writing. That sense of unease never really goes away – if anything, it gets stronger – and yet you find yourself turning pages late into the night, seeking unwanted answers to questions no sane person should be asking.

Fast-forward to Labor Day Weekend 2015, and you’ll find me in Atlanta for that year’s DragonCon, better in some ways and worse in others than when I first ventured upon those stygian, icy shores. I’m standing at a jewelry booth in the dealer’s room, eyeing a silver ring styled as a class ring from Miskatonic University, Class of 1928. It’s not the first time I’ve stopped to look at it, but the young lady currently working this end of the table is the exact right kind of nerdy cute to make me linger. (I am male, and susceptible to such things; dealers at cons know this, and use it to their advantage.) She’s also a better saleswoman than her peers, and smartly offers to let me try several different sizes on, to see which one fits best. I’m sold as soon as I see it on my finger, but some fiscally conservative part of me is still trying to talk me out of it.

 

Sensing my hesitation – and a potential lost sale – the young woman compliments how it looks, and asks why I still seem uncertain. “I’m worried it would make me look like a poser,” I admit, revealing more of my inner thought processes than intended. Most people don’t concern themselves with whether or not people might see their Lovecraft homage ring and question the wearer’s authenticity as a fan. That’s exactly what I was contemplating, though. “Well,” she replied, “most posers don’t know enough to even stop and look here. How many Lovecraft stories have you read?” It is this moment to which I have been guiding us in this little aside – I bought the ring, and wear it to this day – because her question made me realize just how far from a poser I really was. While I still haven’t read every Lovecraft story, by that point already there weren’t any of the “big ones” left that I hadn’t read at least once. I had become a genuine Lovecraft aficionado in my spare time without actively realizing it, and the revelation stirred something in the uneasy depths of my mind.

That something continued to stretch and groan in an uneasy slumber for a little over a month, at which point my friend Bryant began writing a series of posts about Lovecraft on his blog “The Truth Inside the Lie.” I cannot recommend those posts – or that blog in general, which is about Stephen King, mostly – to you enough. For 2015 me, Bryant’s own Lovecraftian expedition caused the thing in my mind to stretch obsidian wings too vast for human comprehension, which carried it to the forefront of my thinking. Over the next few months, while corresponding with Bryant about his readings, I acquired no less than seventeen volumes that were related to H. P. Lovecraft. These included more story collections written by Lovecraft, two collections of stories which influenced Lovecraft, two collections of stories which Lovecraft either ghost-wrote or edited, and several collections of stories inspired by Lovecraft. I also bought several board games that use the Cthulhu mythos as their setting, but those are harder to justify as being intended for “academic pursuits.”

 

Because, you see, “academic pursuits” is exactly how I rationalized spending that money, and adding more books to my collection less than two months before a major move. Oh, that’s right; I forgot to mention the new move! Yes, shortly after DragonCon I began planning and packing for another move, this time all the way from Maryland back to Alabama. And yes, I was once again devoting funds, box space, and time to Lovecraft rather than more practical applications of those resources. I truly did have the intention of making the most of those purchases once I settled into my new place. In my mind, I would be huddled over my desk late into the nights, not unlike Gandalf as he delved into the archives of Minas Tirith. It has long been a desire of mine to get back into academia and regain ground on my path to a PhD, and Lovecraft’s works seemed – and still seem – a worthwhile foundation on which to forge that path.

Unfortunately, that plan ran afoul of both life and my own difficulties in following through on projects, the latter of which may yet consume even this very piece you’re currently reading. While my new accommodations upon returning to Bama were warm, safe, and clean, I was unfortunately not afforded either the contemplative atmosphere or necessary physical space in which to comfortably study. On top of that, finding new employment proved much more difficult than expected, and I didn’t secure a new job until the middle of June. While I’ll be the first to admit that some of that time spent unemployed could have been put to better use, the fact is that being unemployed when you desire otherwise is a stressful and unpleasant state of existence. Finally, during that time I actually was engaged in a literary pursuit, and somewhat extensively at that; it’s just that the pursuit was writing stories of my own rather than analyzing ones written by someone else.

The beginning of 2017 presented me with both a new abode that is much more conducive to analytical pursuits, along with a new job that affords me slightly more leeway in terms of free time and finances. Unfortunately, May of this year also presented me with a diagnosis of Stage 3-C melanoma, after several months of poor health which were quite outside the norm for me. Many things which I had thought to accomplish this year were set aside, while a few things I hadn’t thought to look for came into my life and brightened it in astonishing ways. Lovecraft has risen once more to the surface; last Christmas I received a genuine surprise in the form of the two part biography “I Am Providence,” and for my birthday I got the set which collects all of his letters with Robert E. Howard, plus his complete poetical works. The inimitable Alan Moore completed his twelve-issue “Providence” series, and it’s all been collected in hardback for easy access. Perhaps most exciting from an academic standpoint, seminal Lovecraft scholar S.T. Joshi released a four-volume set which recollects all of Lovecraft’s fiction with new annotations and textual references.

 

On a deeper level, though, I can’t deny that my battle with cancer has altered certain aspects about how I view the world, and what does and doesn’t seem important. Lovecraft himself died at an early age from an undiagnosed cancer, and who can say what else his life might have been if he had access to modern medicine. While some might disagree, it’s my opinion that there’s symmetry between hearing you have cancer and the revelations of cosmic horror reached by most of Lovecraft’s protagonists. For a moment everything just seems to stop, and then it all starts moving again, but nothing means the same thing anymore. You’ve been presented with evidence of something against which you can fight, but may never fully prevail.

Even worse, somehow, is the fact that this thing isn’t actively antagonizing you. You’re not its enemy, you just happen to exist in the same space, and most of the time that ends poorly for creatures on the “human” end of the spectrum. People personify and demonize cancer all the time – I’ve done it myself in recent months – but the fact is it doesn’t have an agenda; it’s just cells that are replicating out-of-control. When you’re up against that kind of reasonless destructive force – one which consumes the lives of children and the elderly alike – there’s a primal part of you that begins to wonder if we actually matter at all.

Now, just in case anyone is worried, I firmly believe that the answer is “Yes, we all matter, including me!” That query lies at the heart of many human endeavors, though; I feel completely confident in saying it definitely lays at the heart of our fascination with horror. Perhaps that’s what really drives Lovecraft’s protagonists, and drives us to read about them, and drove him to write about them. We want to tear back that curtain, to peer into the void beyond the stars, because something in us demands that we do so if for no other reason than so we can say “I gazed into the abyss, and the abyss gazed back, and the abyss ain’t shit.” Lovecraft himself wrote at least one character – his only real recurring character at that – who seems to arrive at that conclusion, in the form of Randolph Carter. The Cthulhu mythos is unquestionably the biggest part of his legacy, but for my money “The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath” and its companion pieces are far more interesting.

The particulars of my opinion on that subject, along with other insights – such as why my favorite Lovecraft story is “The Shadow Out of Time,” which I’ve only just mentioned! – are beyond the scope of this particular post. The intention of this post, which has admittedly taken me far too long to bring to fruition, is simply to offer you all an insight into how and why my interest in Lovecraft first arose. The secondary intention, and the one which is perhaps too lofty in its ambitions, is for this post to serve as a kicking-off point for a series of posts (gasp!) about the stories of H.P. Lovecraft and their impact both on yours truly and pop culture in the broader sense.