Lovecraftian Advice

It seemed natural enough to follow up Stephen King’s On Writing with H. P. Lovecraft’s famous essay “Supernatural Horror in Literature.”  This piece, widely quoted, is available online but it is lengthy and I wanted the convenience of not reading it on a screen.  What can I say?  I like to turn pages.  I found a print copy, along with two other, shorter Lovecraft essays in Supernatural Horror in Literature & Other Literary Essays.  This was published by Wildside Press, which added a brief introduction by the speculative writer Darrell Schweitzer.  The text of the main essay was obviously computer-read—a couple reading errors remain—but it is clear enough to read.  Like Poe before him, and King following, Lovecraft put down some of his thoughts on the craft of writing.  Interestingly, Lovecraft is seldom considered as a producer of belles-lettres, but he is world famous as a horror writer now.

The essay itself is worth reading.  Mostly it is a summary of what Lovecraft felt was worthy weird fiction.  I tend to agree with much of what he says here, as would be evident were anyone to read my own fiction writing.  I can’t say that I learned this at Lovecraft’s knee.  I only discovered who he was when I was teaching at the University of Wisconsin Oshkosh.  I did not have literary friends growing up; my reading tastes were determined by myself, largely based on what was available at Goodwill any given week.  Nobody I knew read Lovecraft and although his books may have been in that bin, he wasn’t really someone I’d have known to keep an eye out for.  As a child I didn’t think of myself as a horror reader.  I liked monsters, and vampires were among the most immediately recognizable.  My brother, if I recall, got me started on Poe.

When I began writing fiction, probably around twelve or thirteen, it was weird fiction.  One of my other influences was Ray Bradbury.  I agree with Lovecraft that, to be interesting, fiction often requires a speculative element.  I do read realism, of course, but I really enjoy tales with a bit of supernatural.  It’s useful to read Lovecraft’s ideas about influential writers.  I’ve got my homework cut out for me.  I can certainly recommend this edition for anyone who wants to read this lengthy essay in print form.  The one thing that struck me as weird was the cover design.  It features a woman wearing a strapless dress in a cemetery.  Lovecraft famously didn’t really have women as one of his main themes, and his women characters are among his most inaccurately drawn.  Still, it’s best not to judge a book by its cover.


The Eerie

Those who have trundled alongside of this blog for any length of time no doubt know of my interest in weird fiction. Somewhere in the mists of my youth this led me to one of the few venues in which a person can get a hook on the eerie, namely, horror films. I am, however, no fan of violence, and quite sensitive to the human condition. What I have always sought is hauntingly summarized in Robert Macfarlane’s Guardian article sent to me by a friend, entitled “The eeriness of the English countryside.” Horror has become, in keeping with the dullness imbued by a society of constant diversion, aggressive and shocking. New levels of nauseating cruelty are required for generations raised with graphic computer games and an internet that is like the subconscious completely unleashed into the waking world. You need more items jammed under the fingernails to elicit any reaction. That’s not what I’m here for. Whatever happened to the uncanny?

As Macfarlane notes, there is a natural eeriness to the landscape left by human activity. Not just in England, but wherever we set foot. The innocent-looking countryside is seething with undisclosed atrocities. It is no coincidence that in America the “Indian burial ground” motif took off for explaining the haunting of the landscape. The eerie is often our retrospective on what we know we really shouldn’t have done. Macfarlane is writing for those who’ve experienced the English countryside and its secrets, but no matter where we look we can find the uncanny cast into the scenery by our selfish actions. There is horror here, but it is subtle. You have to sit quietly and listen to hear it, but it can, like a good eerie novel, induce shivers without a drop of blood being shed. (Well, maybe a drop, but seldom more.)

Many doubt the soul exists. Others of us take a broader view of the question. Our view of the world is colored by what has brought us to where we are. As someone who has been repeatedly passed over for jobs because of the excesses of the white male society in which my ancestors happened to have tacitly participated, I rest on the horns of this dilemma. All of my conscious life I’ve supported equal rights for all races and genders. The landscape I inhabit, however, is haunted. There have been dark deeds undertaken on this soil, and the soul is that which remembers. Macfarlane is no doubt correct that even the eerie can be politicized. Those of us who daily experience it, however, know that England hosts only one of many, many tainted shores.

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