Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Lovecraft’ Category

OKAY, that was weird.

This was one of those fantasy-world type ones you run across every so often, a sort of Kubla Khan opium-dream-type fairy tale.

Oh how I hate them.

Lovecraft was stricken with occasional fits of them, like The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, which makes me roll my eyes like a teenager every time I skim through it (it’s aggressively unreadable). Just look at a random sample:

At length, sick with longing for those glittering sunset streets and cryptical hill lanes among ancient tiled roofs, nor able sleeping or waking to drive them from his mind, Carter resolved to go with bold entreaty whither no man had gone before, and dare the icy deserts through the dark to where unknown Kadath, veiled in cloud and crowned with unimagined stars, holds secret and nocturnal the onyx castle of the Great Ones.

The entire novella is like that! Doesn’t it make thine cryptical eyeballs roll back in thine unimagined skull?

Actually some people genuinely like this stuff. Novels have been based on this world that Kadath takes place in (it’s called the Dream Cycle). I should say that I like Lovecraft but only when he’s sticking (as close as he can) to the reserved, dry, Jamesean style instead of being a Dunsany fanboy. Naturally, I think his best story is The Shadow Over Innsmouth.

Anyway, before I got indignant about Kadath, I was talking about The Crimson Weaver. It’s basically just like this Lovecraft/Dunsany nonsense. Some dude and his mentor wander through some nightmarish fantasy world and preciously ponder eternal questions, and then they meet up with this evil beautiful vampire woman who wants to suck their souls out of them or something. And there’s some stuff about TRUE LOVE.

Yeah.

But if you are into all that Dream Cycle stuff, by all means, check it out. With bold entreaty.

Read Full Post »

I never expected to find a quasi-Lovecraftian twist in a Marjorie Bowen story, but there it was, all wriggling and slimy and nameless.

In Florence Flannery, the eponymous Florence (I hesitate to call her a heroine, because she’s pretty awful) marries a wastrel because she thinks he’s richer than he is. He takes her home to his family seat, and she is aghast to find it decaying and her husband bankrupt. The two immediately regret marrying, and spend most of the story in varying states of sobriety, thinking about how much they hate each other and how absolutely dreadful it all is. These two are a little more pathetic than the pair of vampiric sea snakes in The Housekeeper, so I didn’t get as irritated with the story, but on the whole it was still pretty unpleasant, and I would have been frustrated if not for the timely eldritch intervention.

Spoilers after jump

(more…)

Read Full Post »