Blog-o-ween 2023: H.P. Lovecraft

We are getting closer and closer, Blog-o-weeners. Halloween is so close you can almost taste the Charleston Chews and Necco Wafers. Or maybe that’s just the pumpkin spice talking. Studies indicate that ingestion of five or more grams of nutmeg causes acute nutmeg poisoning, which includes giddiness, hallucinations, and feelings of depersonalization. Now, there’s science for ya. Always taking the fun outta things. Why, I’ve been chugging pumpkin spice lattes with extra nutmeg the whole time I’ve been writing this and nothing weird has happened yet.

See! It’s business as usual here at LARPing Real Life! Anyone wanna do the William Tell routine with me?!

Speaking of freaky hallucinations, let’s jump right into today’s Blog-o-ween 2023 entry. We’ve got four stories from a writer who lived and died in genteel poverty eighty years ago, but who has gone on to become one of the most influential artists in the horror and science-fiction genres. Indeed, it seems strange to say that twenty-first century horror owes a large debt to an early twentieth century pulp fiction Anglophile who styled himself after 19th century writers and who wished he'd lived in 18th century, pre-Revolution America. Yet, here we are, and here is H.P. Lovecraft with his ideas about “cosmic horror” and elder gods from beyond time and space and black magic being indistinguishable from science and all that stuff that horror fans eat up across all media: movies, music, comic books, board games, video games, role-playing games, etc.

Any discussion of H.P. Lovecraft and his influence today, however, needs to address the elephant-sized Old One in the room: Lovecraft, the man, was not very nice. And that’s putting it mildly. Name a race, a gender, a sexual orientation, a national origin, attach the suffix “-phobe” to the end, and you’d have a pretty accurate description of Lovecraft. His depictions of African-Americans are disgusting. His portrayal of Eastern Europeans and Asians would put World War One and World War Two propaganda posters to shame. His monsters are thinly veiled (if they are veiled at all) stand-ins for everything that terrified white Americans in the early-20th century.

Yet there’s something about Lovecraft's work, his description of the creatures from “outside” our world, and our petty human understanding of them that inexplicably draws people to them. Everyone — be they black, white, gay, straight, men, women, and every point on the spectrum these terms try to define — everyone, it seems, finds something in Lovecraft that they can use in their own work and in their own way. For instance, HBO’s series Lovecraft Country, Victor LaValle’s novel The Ballad of Black Tom, and Chris Spivey’s Harlem Unbound (an excellent sourcebook for the RPG Call of Cthulhu), are all works by black artists about the black experience that use Lovecraft’s world, but not his worldview.

Perhaps one of the ways in which people find a way into Lovecraft’s work is via his overarching sense of “cosmic horror.” The opening paragraph of today’s first short story, “The Call of Cthulhu” (1926), serves as a good definition of what that terms meant for him:

“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.”

How’s that for an opening, huh?

“The Call of Cthulhu” is told in three parts by a man named Francis Thurston, a Bostonian who is investigating the recent death of his great-uncle Professor Angell in Providence, Rhode Island. The professor’s notes suggest an ancient cult is at work in the world.

The first part of the story, “The Horror in Clay,” tells of a mysterious bas-relief created by local sculptor, Henry Wilcox, in 1925. Wilcox complained of dreams and visions at the time, as did many other local artists in New England.

Wilcox’s creation is similar to a figurine described in the next section, “The Tale of Inspector Legrasse.” Here, the good inspector crashes an archaeological society's symposium and shares his story of a raid on a religious sect in the swamps of Louisiana. Among the items recovered was a figurine supposed to depict the ancient god Cthulhu.

The last section, “The Madness from the Sea,” purports to be the story of a Norwegian sailor, Gustaf Johansen. The sailor tells of the discovery of a hitherto undiscovered island in the South Pacific. There, the laws of geometry and physics do not apply. On that island the men of the ship Emma found an ancient city, and in the middle of that city sat an immense building with a pair of large doors. The doors were opened and out stepped...

You’ll just have to listen to HorrorBabble’s reading of it below to find out for yourself what the sailors discovered behind the doors.

Next up is “The Colour out of Space.” Written in 1927, it is a story told by an unnamed narrator about his attempts to discover the truth behind an area in the hills west of Arkham, Massachusetts. This part of the wild country is known to the locals as the “blasted heath”,and is shunned by everyone. One local, a farmer by the name of Ammi Pierce, tells the narrator the story of Nahum Gardner and a meteorite that fell to earth near his farm in 1882. The meteorite wasn’t just a simple piece of space debris, however. It brought with it something that begins to affect the forest around Gardner’s farm, the crops in his fields, and, finally, Gardner and his family.

What is it that fell from the sky? Why do the scientists that examine it claim that it emits a strange color when it falls outside of the range of anything in the visible spectrum? What are the changes brought upon Gardner and his farm?

Again, HorrorBabble offers an excellent rendition of Lovecraft's story below.

Let’s head over to jolly olde England now and visit the De La Poer family at Exham Priory. They’re a fun bunch, but I hear they’ve been having a problem with rodents.

Written in 1923 and first published the following year in the pages of Weird Tales, “The Rats in the Walls” is the story of an American named Delapore. He’s just come into his family’s ancestral estate. While restoring the old homestead, Delapore hears the scurrying of rats behind the walls. Upon further investigation, Delapore not only learns of a secret passage leading to an underground complex, but he also learns the truth of his family’s history. Like the Sawyers in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Part 2, it seems that Delapore’s family has always been in meat.

Guess what? That's right! Our good friends over at HorrorBabble have an audio version available below.

Our last story is possibly my favorite of the bunch. Like “The Call of Cthulhu,” “The Dunwich Horror” (1929) combines scientific jargon, occult rituals, back fence gossip, and factual reporting into a cohesive, dread-drenched story of cosmic horror.

“The Dunwich Horror” takes place in Massachusetts not far from Arkham and its seat of higher learning, Miskatonic University. A family in the backwoods, the Whateleys, have a dark history of necromancy and black magic. Something strange came into the world with the birth of Wilbur Whateley, and it is up to Miskatonic’s librarian, Dr. Henry Armitage, to make sure that whatever it is is sent back from whence it came.

Just what is Wilbur keeping in the old farmhouse? What do the Whateleys need so many cattle — and where do they keep them? Why does Wilbur need Miskatonic’s copy of that ancient text, the Necronomicon?

You can find out by listening to this excellent adaptation by the old time radio show Suspense from 1945. It stars Academy Award winner Ronald Colman in the role of Dr. Armitage.

That’s it for today, Blog-o-weeners. I hope that after reading today’s selections you don’t become too pessimistic and feel that all is for naught. Sure, we may live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, but that doesn’t mean that, come nightfall, we can’t enjoy...pleasant dreams? Hmmmm? Heh-heh-heh!

Blog-o-ween: H.P. Lovecraft

It seems strange to say it, but one of the most influential artists on 21st century horror is an early 20th century pulp fiction Anglophile who styled himself after 19th century writers and who wished he'd lived in 18th century, pre-Revolution America. H.P. Lovecraft and his ideas about "cosmic horror" are ubiquitous across all media: movies, music, comic books, board games, video games, role-playing games, etc.

It also seems strange that so many people should find something of worth in the works of a man who is very problematic from a 21st century point-of-view. Name a race, a gender, a sexual orientation, a national origin, attach the suffix “-phobe” to the end, and you’d have a pretty accurate description of the man.

Yet, there’s something about Lovecraft's work, his description of the creatures from “outside” our world, and our petty human understanding of them that inexplicably draws people to them. Black, white, gay, straight, men, women, and every point on the spectrum these terms try to define – everyone, it seems, finds something in Lovecraft that they can use in their own work and in their own way. For instance, HBO’s Lovecraft Country, Victor LaValle’s novel The Ballad of Black Tom, and Chris Spivey’s Harlem Unbound (an excellent sourcebook for the RPG Call of Cthulhu), are all works by black artists about the black experience that use Lovecraft’s world, but not his worldview.

Perhaps one of the ways in which people find a way into Lovecraft’s work is via his overarching sense of “cosmic horror.” The opening paragraph of Lovecraft’s short story, “The Call of Cthulhu,” serves as a good definition of what that terms meant for him:

"The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.”

While today we half expect to find Lovecraft and the Lovecraftian in our horror films, TV, and other media, such was not always the case. During his lifetime, Lovecraft was not much read, respected, or remunerated. Seen as merely a pulp writer, Lovecraft's work was considerd to be beneath any serious examination by literary critics of the day. It wasn't until after his death in 1937 from stomach cancer that the Lovecraft renaissance began. August Derleth and Donald Wandrei started Arkham House, a publishing company, to preserve Lovecraft's works and keep them in print. Other writers who had exchanged letters with Lovecraft (and Lovecraft was nothing if not a prolific letter writer) and become friends with him, carried on and expanded upon his literary worldview. This "Lovecraft Circle," as they were known, included August Derleth, Clark Aston Smith, and Robert Bloch.

So, where does that leave us? Because Lovecraft was not well known during his life, we don't have much to choose from in terms of old time radio. However, what we do have is top quality.

In 1945, the radio program Suspense aired a version of the classic story "The Dunwich Horror" starring the one and only Ronald Colman as Professor Henry Armitage. It is utterly wonderful and horrifying. Its use of on-the-spot “live” radio reporting into the story – even going so far as to allow a moment or two of “dead air” to heighten the suspense and terror – is a nod to Lovecraft’s mixing of perspectives, voices, and media into his stories.

If you are interested in seeing what Wilbur Whateley may have looked like, then I urge you to visit the YouTube channel of SFX artist Chris Walas (Gremlins, Enemy Mine, Scanners). It will forever change the way you perceive papier-mâché.

Next, we have an episode of the 1960s KPFA (Berkeley)/KPFK (Los Angeles) radio show, The Black Mass. We've already touched upon this show earlier for Blog-o-ween. In fact, we highlighted their adaptation of the H.P. Lovecraft story "The Outsider." (You can read about that and listen to it here.)

The Black Mass was also responsible for another excellent Lovecraft adaptation. In 1964, they aired "The Rats in the Walls." In this story, an American named Delapore, the last descendant of the De la Poer family, moves to his ancestral estate of Exham Priory in England following the death of his only son during World War I. While he restores the estate, he begins to hear the scurrying of rats in the walls. As he searches for explanations for the sounds, he soon discovers the truth about his family and himself. Truth that may be...hard to swallow...heh-heh-heh!

I would be remiss in my duties as host (and all-around swell guy) if I failed to mention the work of The H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society. Formed in 1986 in Boulder, Colorado, by theater people who enjoyed playing the the role-playing game Call of Cthulhu, HPLHS moved the game from their kitchen table to the world at large, essentially turning it into a live action role play, or LARP for short. To make the game seem more real, they created props for their LARPs.

Soon, the HPLHS began creating a fanzine and short films based on Lovecraft's work. They created The Call of Cthulhu in 2005, a silent film rendition of the Lovecraft story. They also produce many "old time radio" adaptations via their Dark Adventure Radio Theatre. You can find these episodes here.

Blog-o-ween 2022: The Black Mass

It's day three of Blog-o-ween 2022, and today we're again going to look at and listen to a radio program that was broadcast well outside of the usual agreed-upon Golden Age of Radio timeframe (1930s-1950s). The Black Mass aired 31 episodes on KPFA (Berkeley) and KPFK (Los Angeles) from 1963 to 1970. Produced by Erik Bauersfeld, The Black Mass differed from other radio dramas in that most episodes were simply first-person renditions of famous supernatural short stories instead of full-cast dramatic adaptations. This format gives The Black Mass the eerie feeling of a good old fashioned campfire tale. Stories were further enhanced by the sound design of KPFA's Production Director, John Whiting.

The Black Mass's strength lies in the immediacy of its tales' telling. The first-person narration works wonders with authors such as M.R. James, Edgar Allan Poe, and the writer of today's story, H.P. Lovecraft. The Black Mass's adaptation of "The Outsider" is spot on. The baleful echoes, dripping water, and screaming crowds in the background lends Lovecraft's tale the perfect accompaniment. You can listen to "The Outsider" and many other of Black Mass's episodes at Relic Radio.