Titan of terror: the dark imagination of H.P. Lovecraft - Silvia Moreno-García
Arcane books of forbidden lore,
disturbing secrets in
the family bloodline,
and terrors so unspeakable the very
thought of them might drive you mad.
By now, these have become standard
elements in many modern horror stories.
But they were largely popularized
by a single author–
one whose name has become an adjective
for the particular type of
terror he inspired.
Born in Providence, Rhode Island in 1890,
Howard Phillips Lovecraft grew up
admiring the Gothic horror stories
written by Edgar Allan Poe
and Robert Chambers.
But by the time he began writing in 1917,
World War I had cast a long
shadow over the arts.
People had seen real horrors,
and were no longer frightened
of fantastical folklore.
Lovecraft sought to invent a
new kind of terror,
one that responded to the rapid
scientific progress of his era.
His stories often used scientific elements
to lend eerie plausibility.
In "The Colour out of Space,"
a strange meteorite falls near
a farmhouse,
mutating the farm into a
nightmarish hellscape.
Others incorporated scientific
methodology into their form.
"At the Mountains of Madness" is written
as a report of an Antarctic expedition
that unearths things better
left undiscovered.
In others, mathematics themselves
become a source of horror,
as impossible geometric configurations
wreak havoc on the minds of
any who behold them.
Like then-recent discoveries of
subatomic particles or X-rays,
the forces in Lovecraft’s fiction
were powerful,
yet often invisible and indescribable.
Rather than recognizable monsters,
graphic violence, or startling shocks,
the terror of “Lovecraftian” horror lies
in what’s not directly portrayed–
but left instead to the dark depths
of our imagination.
Lovecraft’s dozens of short stories,
novellas, and poems
often take place in the same
fictional continuity,
with recurring characters, locations,
and mythologies.
At first glance,
they appear to be set within Lovecraft’s
contemporary New England.
But beneath the surface of this seemingly
similar reality lie dark masters,
for whom Earth’s inhabitants
are mere playthings.
More like primordial forces
than mere deities,
Lovecraft’s Great Old Ones lurk at
the corners of our reality.
Beings such as Yog-Sothoth,
“who froths as primal slime
in nuclear chaos
beyond the nethermost outposts
of space and time.”
Or the blind, idiot god Azathoth,
whose destructive impulses are
stalled only by
the “maddening beating of vile drums
and the thin monotonous whine
of accursed flutes.”
These beings exist beyond our
conceptions of reality,
their true forms as inscrutable
as their motives.
Lovecraft’s protagonists–
often researchers, anthropologists,
or antiquarians–
stumble onto hints of their existence.
But even these indirect glimpses are
enough to drive them insane.
And if they survive,
the reader is left with no feeling of
triumph, only cosmic indifference–
the terrible sense that we are
but insignificant specks
at the mercy of unfathomable forces.
But perhaps the greatest power
these creatures had
was their appeal to Lovecraft’s
contemporaries.
During his lifetime,
Lovecraft corresponded
with other writers,
encouraging them to employ elements and
characters from his stories in their own.
References to Lovecraftian gods
or arcane tomes
can be found in many stories
by his pen pals,
such as Robert E. Howard and Robert Bloch.
Today, this shared universe is called
the Cthulhu Mythos,
named after Lovecraft’s infamous blend
of dragon and octopus.
Unfortunately,
Lovecraft’s fear of the unknown found
a less savory expression
in his personal views.
The author held strong racist views,
and some of his works include
crude stereotypes and slurs.
But the rich world he created would
outlive his personal prejudices.
And after Lovecraft’s death,
the Cthulhu Mythos was adopted
by a wide variety of authors,
often reimagining them from
diverse perspectives
that transcend the author’s prejudices.
Despite his literary legacy,
Lovecraft was never able to
find financial success.
He died unknown and penniless
at the age of 46–
a victim of the universe’s cosmic
indifference.
But his work has inspired numerous
short stories, novels,
tabletop games, and cultural icons.
And as long as humans feel a sense of
dread about our unknown future,
Lovecraftian horror will have a place in
the darkest corners of our imagination.
