Updates 05.08.23
Hello everyone! I wanted to take a moment to quickly update what I have going on this year! The Blind Read Blog will continue, but as I optimize the website, there may be changes to the nomenclature and how the blog is presented. However, the content will remain the same, so you can continue to enjoy the current weekly essay on Tolkien’s work. This update is about all other works in progress (some very soon!) and all the worlds I plan to unfold upon the world!
Elsie Jones Adventures
This children’s chapter book series is filled with action and adventure for ages 6-12. The series follows Elsie Jones as she finds a strange passageway in her local library that leads to a room with fifteen books. When she reads the books, she is literally pulled into them and goes on adventures with the characters. Each book is a literary classic that exposes and expands literacy while having a fun adventure.
I am re-releasing “Author editions” of the first three books and will continue with the remaining twelve, but in the meantime, if you want the originals, check down at the bottom of this page (or here) to purchase them!
Elsie Jones and the Book Pirates
The first book in the series! This book introduces Elsie, and she enters “Treasure Island” by Robert Louis Stevenson and has a swashbuckling adventure. Elsie finds a strange door in her local library she’s never seen before. When she enters it, she finds a secret room with fifteen numbered books on marble pedestals that look extremely old. The moment she begins to read one, she is sucked into its world. The tentative release date is 08/01/2023!
Elsie Jones and the Revolutionary Rebels
The Second book in the series! In this continuation of Elsie’s adventures, she enters the book “Common Sense” by Thomas Paine, heads back to Revolutionary Boston, and joins up with figures of the American Revolution while they are on the brink of war. Lurking just at the edges of things, however, are the mysterious Dark Hats.
Elsie Jones and the Captain’s Guard
The Third book in the series! Elsie enters the world of “The Three Musketeers” by Alexandre Dumas and has an adventure in France filled with sword fighting and daring prison escapes. As always, the insidious Dark Hats are lingering just behind the scenes.
Elsie Jones and the Westward Adventurers
The Fourth book in the series! Elsie enters the world of “The Pathfinder” by James Fenimore Cooper and travels through the American West with the Louis and Clark Expedition. The Dark Hats have been growing stronger, and it isn’t until now that their motivations begin to become apparent.
Elsie Jones and the Transylvanian Twist
The Fifth book in the series! Elsie enters the world of “Dracula” by Bram Stoker and goes on a spooky adventure in Transylvania. She learns that Friendship is more than meets the eye and finds more going on in her literary worlds than she first anticipated.
Elsie Jones and the London Fog
The Sixth book in the series! Elsie enters the world of “The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes” by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. She helps the famous detective solve a mystery and discovers who is behind the Dark Hats’ plots.
I’m keeping the next nine books under wraps so far, but there are plenty of easter eggs in the books themselves if you are interested in figuring out the larger mystery of the series plot or if you just want to know which book comes next!
The plan is to release a book every three to six months to keep things fresh.
The Legacy
This book is an action/adventure novel in the vein of Indiana Jones. Centered in the mystery of Oak Island, Drake Teller, and his fellow archaeologists discover a secret hidden for centuries. The more they dig, the more they find that they are not the only ones searching, and even deeper forces might be working to protect… or destroy the secrets they’ve uncovered.
This book has two drafts and is currently being edited and shopped to agents.
Elsinore
Currently being developed as a comic book, Frank and Christy Harvey find themselves in a strange town in Western Texas after a car crash. The town of Elsinore is filled with strange characters with equally strange backgrounds, but it’s not the people of Elsinore that are the problem. The town seems to be a hatch to the gateway of Hell, and Frank and Christy find themselves in a battle between two factions in town. One trying to keep the seal intact and one hell-bent on merging the underworld with our own world. The problem is, which group is which? Who can they trust?
The Monster Inside
A book of Horror short stories, many of which can be found on this website. There are monsters all through the world, the question is, are the ones we harbor inside any better? This book will contain dozens of short stories, from the series of stories inspired by the Universal Monsters to the 80’s retro horror story collection and several originals. From adventurous, to fun, to downright scary, don’t miss this collection!
The Revolution Cycle
This is a ten-book series that follows a group of teenagers embroiled in the midst of a Revolution. I’ve been working on this series for the last twenty years and finally have the books in the shape where I want them.
The Monster in the Woods
The first book in the series, this book introduces the world and the characters. A young group of outcasts finds a strange message and map in one of their quirky Uncle’s attic after he mysteriously goes missing. It leads them into an adventure to find the truth about the world they were born into and the horrible monster that prowls the fences at the edge of town at dusk.
The book is framed as a Goonies-style adventure, so expect lots of action, mystery, and fun in this coming-of-age story.
I have a few other projects going on right now as well, but they are still too early to talk about. You may see some roots of these in previous Updates, but There is quite a bit going on right now, so they are taking a back seat.
In the meantime, check out my book:
A View of the Edge of the World
This is a short story collection inspired by the Twilight Zone. Filled with strange stories, from Science Fiction to Literature, to Horror, they all have that familiar Twilight Zone spin.
A View of the Edge of the World
We live in reality-in the moments and interactions of the day-to-day. We have faith in reality, because without it, there is no meaning and no truth. What is reality, though? Is it defined by the senses-taste, touch, smell, sight-or is it a state of mind? Does it only exist within the human brain, and if so, can one person’s reality be in direct opposition to that of another? A View of the Edge of the World is a collection of stories that escapes the realm of our known reality and delves into the extraordinary. An obese child struggles to find meaning with the help of a supernatural stranger. A disillusioned soldier on the verge of insanity wrestles against time to save his mind, while strangers trapped in an all-night diner fight to solve a murder and save their lives. Each story takes a trip to the edge of the world, whether that edge is physical, psychological, or spiritual. Each story questions the truth of our reality. From the depths of space to the horrors created by one man’s imagination, ask yourself: do you have the strength to step to the edge and look over? Or will the view leave you questioning your own sense of reality-and possibly your sanity?
$16.95
Elsie Jones and the Book Pirates
Adventuress Extraordinaire Meet Elsie Jones, a young girl who loves to read. On one of her trips to the library, she discovers something unexpected. A book whose words and images twist on the page, a portal to another world. Elsie finds herself sailing through the pages aboard the Adventure Galley with her crew of pirates. All seems well until she learns of a dangerous threat… The Dark Hats. Can a rag-tag group of pirates and a reader keep the Dark hats from their dastardly goal?
$6.99
Elsie Jones and the Revolutionary Rebels
In her most historic adventure yet, Elsie rides with Paul Revere and the Patriots of the American Revolution. Not only does she have the British to worry about, but the Dark Hats are determined to ransack the Library at the Old Manse. Come along, as she gallops to the rescue!
$6.99
Elsie Jones and the Captains Guard
The third installment in the enchanting series of a young girl who loves books. Using them as portals to past decades, she teams up with prominent historical figures. In this exciting tale, she joins the Three Musketeers as they embark on a mission to rescue King Phillipe from the Bastille. His twin brother has claimed the throne and sided with Dark Cloak. Taking up arms, Elsie helps fight off the evil entities threatening Paris, making new friends along the way.
$6.99
Blind Read Through: J.R.R. Tolkien; The Book of Lost Tales, Part 1, The Building of Valinor
“There, said Aulë, would be a place well suited to great building and to a fashioning of realms of delight; wherefore the Valar and all their folk first gathered the most mighty rocks and stones from Arvalin and reared therewith huge mountains between it and that plain which now they name Valinor, or the land of the Gods (pg 70).”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week we continue our journey through the coming of the Valar as we delve into the Building of Valinor.
Last week we left off discovering who the Valar were, and this week we get into the details of the building of Valinor from the perspective of the Valar and Tolkien himself.
From our readings of The Valaquenta in The Silmarillion, we know that The Valar went to different parts of the world but wanted a place to call home. Valinor was that place. But even with the creation of Valinor, the Valar still had their various areas which they controlled. Ulmo ruled the deep seas, Manwë ruled the air and winds, etc. As these concepts formed in Tolkien’s mind (all early stages of developing the world), he envisioned this world as floating through the ethereal nature of space and time.
Remember that the original idea was that all of Middle-earth would eventually lead up to our historical timeline, acting as a sort of mythological foundation which he felt was lacking in the English tradition. He also based much of his work on Norse Mythological writings and practices, so what better format than having the entire Eä (read that as Earth) floating through the cosmic tapestry than on a Norse ship? Everything from Palisor to Valinor would live on this ship sailing through space.
Though he later dropped this idea for a globe world, it was evident that he loved the concept of the boat sailing through the cosmos and eventually re-used it. Enter Eärendil, arguably one of the essential characters in Middle-earth history. He and his wife Elwing stood up to Morgoth, and Eärendil sailed to Valinor with a Silmaril to protect it and make the Vala understand what they were up against. A mortal sailing to Valinor was prohibited, but instead of outright killing him (mainly because of his courage and selflessness in sailing there to save the world), they made him part of the cosmos, sailing his ship Vingilot “even to the starless voids.”
Tolkien never gave up on his ship idea, but he also never gave up on the concept of creating something from nothingness.
Moving back in time, as soon as the Vala created Valinor, it was still a dark place to be. “These were the days of Gloaming (Lomendánar), for light, there was, silver and golden, but it was not gathered together but flowed and quivered in uneven streams about the airs, or at times fell gently to earth in glittering rain and ran like water on the ground, and at that time Varda in her playing had set but a few stars within the sky (pg 69).”
The world was dark, and the only light came from the stars, yet the Vala wanted to build a complete world, so they came up with a rudimentary idea.
“Aulë suaded Melko to build two towers to the North and South, for he purposed to set upon them mighty lamps one upon each (pg 69).”
This passage differs from the Silmarillion because Melkor was a lousy actor. He created the world’s darkness and envied the other Valar and the Noldor, but more on that next week.
So they built these two lamps to light the world. “They sprang up through the lower air even to Ilwëand the stars, and Melko said they were of an imperishable substance of great strength that he devised; and he lied, for he knew that they were of ice (pg 69).”
Manwë and Varda gathered light from the stars and brought them down to fill these mighty lamps. Still, Melkor had tricked them because “it so happened that the blaze of those lights had melted the treacherous ice of the pillars of Melko, Ringil and Helkar, and great floods of water had poured from them into the Shadowy Seas (pgs 69-70).”
It is never outright stated why Melkor did this treacherous act. It is possible that Melkor was the Angel of Darkness, so he desired to keep the world in the Gloaming, but this is an early iteration of the mythos of Middle-earth, and Tolkien needed a Big Bad to push the story forward. So in the Book of Lost Tales, Melkor is just wrong from the start; there isn’t much in the text to brighten his character, much like Sauron.
But what Melkor didn’t realize is that Ilúvatar set the theme of the world’s construction, so when the globes holding the light of the stars fell to the Earth, they buried themselves. “Then came Palúrien, even Kémi the Earth-lady, wife of Aulë, mother of the lord of forests, and she wove spells about those two places, deep enchantments of life and growth and putting forth of leaf, blossoming and yeilding of fruit – but she mingled no word of fading in her song (pg 71).”
Trees began to grow from those lights buried in the Earth, one they named Laurelin and the other Silpion. These trees ended the Gloaming and produced light from their leaves and blossoms until the coming of the Sun and the Moon. Later Tolkien renamed the second tree, changing it from Silpion to Telperion, but this is the earlier iteration of the creation of the Trees of Valinor.
I prefer this iteration to the published version with Yavanna signing the Trees into existence because it ties much more to the legendarium. First, the trees came from the stars and set into the ship that sails the cosmos. Then later, once the first age was coming to a close, we have Eärendil voyaging through the cosmos for all eternity on his ship. There is something poetic about closing the loop to me, which is also what I appreciate about being able to read the earlier stages of Tolkien’s work.
Join me next week as we complete “The Coming of the Valar and the Building of Valinor!”
Blind Read Through: J.R.R. Tolkien; The Book of Lost Tales, Part 1, The Cottage of Lost Play
“Then said Lindo: ‘Of what shall the tales be tonight? Shall they be of the Great Lands, and of the dwellings of Men; of the Valar and Valinor; of the West and its mysteries, of the East and its glory, of the South and its untrodden wilds, of the North and its power and strength; or of this island and its folk; or of the old days of Kôr where our folk once dwelt? For that this night we entertain a guest, a man of great and excellent travel, a son meseems of Eärendel, shall it be of voyaging, of beating about in a boat, of winds and the sea (pg 18).”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week we begin The Book of Lost Tales, Part 1, with the first chapter, “The Cottage of Lost Play.”
This week we begin to see the history of Middle-earth through a story-telling lens. The book begins with a traveler, “a man of great curiosity, was by desire of strange lands and the ways and dwellings of unaccustomed folk brought in a ship as far west even as the Lonely Island, Tol Eressëa in the fairy speech, but in which the Gnomes call Dor Faidwen, the Land of Release, and a great tale hangs thereto (pg 13).“
This “man of great curiosity” is a man from England named Eriol, and he is the basis for all that comes after in this precursor to The Silmarillion.
Tolkien intended for the history of Middle-earth to intersect with our age, and this first section seems to be proof of that. Beyond the fact that the way Tolkien describes Eriol, it does seem as though he is representing himself. After all, Eriol learns the history of Middle-earth, and it would stand to reason that if Middle-earth was our world, Tolkien was only passing on the oral history of what he had “learned.”
That may not make sense right off the bat, so let’s break things down a little.
This chapter is about Eriol traveling from England to Tol Eressëa, an island off the coast of Valinor where the Teleri Elves lived. When Eriol gets to the island, he finds a small cottage in a field owned by a couple named Lindo and Vairë.
“Small is the dwelling, but smaller still are they that dwell here – for all who enter must be very small indeed, or of their own good wish to become as very little folk even as they stand upon the threshold (pg 14).“
Knowing that Eriol is an Englishman (despite that he seems to be from the Middle Ages), we see that Middle-earth is connected with our world, and the histories held within are our histories.
Indeed Tolkien even calls Eriol “a son of Eärendel (pg 13).” If you remember your Silmarillion history, Eärendil was the son of Tuor, a man and cousin of Turin Turambar and Idril of the Noldor of Gondolin. He eventually wed Elwing, who gave birth to Elros, who chose to be a man and became the ancestor of the Númenoreans. She also gave birth to Elrond, who we all know.
Tolkien isn’t calling Eriol Eärendel’s direct son but a descendant of him, proving that both our world and the world of Middle-earth are the same.
Lindo and Vairë, however, seem to be descendants of the shire folk, with their kindness and manners. They also are descendants of the Valar, as “He was of Aulë’s kindred (pg 16).“
They invite Eriol into their house, and soon there is a sound of a gong; “That is the voice of Tombo, the Gong of the Children (pg 15.).” The Gong calls the Children in from playing to come and listen to “the telling of tales (pg 15).”
Soon the tiny Cottage was regaled with the tales, and this is how we learn the history of Middle-earth – as it’s portrayed to Eriol.
But why did Eriol happen upon this Cottage? It was not a mistake:
“It had long, said he, been a tradition in our kindred that one of our father’s fathers would speak of a fair house and magic gardens, of a wonderous town, and of a music full of all beauty and longing (pg 20).“
The children who sat around at night would listen to these tales and eventually leave the island and the Cottage. These were the children of the Noldori and the Teleri (at this point, Tolkien was calling Gnomes. I’m not sure when he switched to Elves.), but they were descendants of Eärendel, which is who spawned the human race as we know it now.
Tolkien was a historian and linguist who was fascinated with how different cultures had similar roots. The origin of this Book of lost Tales was to explore these roots. The Lord of the Rings hadn’t blossomed in his mind (made apparent by his usage of Gnomes in this early iteration), and he wrote this chapter to explain this origin.
The Children who gathered around to hear these tales at Tol Eressëa became the people who started the different cultures which would eventually become our world. Tolkien even stamps that theory in the second to last paragraph, spoken by Eriol:
“Now these are tidings sad and yet good to hear, and I remember me or certain words that my father spake in my early boyhood. It had long, said he, been a tradition in our kindred that one of our father’s fathers would speak of a fair house and magic gardens, or a wonderous town, and of a music full of all beauty and longing – and these things he said he had seen and heard as a child, though how and where was not told (pg 20).“
Eriol’s father had left the island of Tol Eressëa. He remembered the stories, customs, and language, but he could remember nothing of the island itself. The Valar had hidden the island, and all that left it were doomed to forget about it.
They created an oral tradition formed into the Germanic languages and tales of North Western Europe. This also explains how the majority of the Hobbit and the beginning of The Lord of the Rings had so many songs and poems. Tolkien was trying to show how real the world was by including an oral tradition in story.
Tolkien’s purpose for telling these tales, even The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, was to explain why these traditions existed. Not only the language, which everyone assumes is why he created the history, but of the practices and mythologies of the region.
Join me next week as we delve deeper into “The Cottage of Lost Play” with Christopher’s Commentary!
New Year New Post!
Happy New Year everyone! Ok, so It’s been a minute since the new year happened and it’s been even longer since I’ve posted. I usually take a bit of a hiatus during the holidays because I work in retail and I tend to work more than do anything else. Some years I can garner the brainpower to write and some years I cannot. Unfortunately, this year was one of the off years! Then, shortly there afterward I caught COVID and it brought me down. Luckily I’m on the mend and I’m finally ready to get back to the keyboard! To honor this I wanted to release a post of my top five favorite books I read this past year, then next Thursday we’ll get back to the Blind Read series where we’ll cover the next chapter in “The Silmarillion,” Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië.
Here are the top five from this year!
Honorable Mention: Will Haunt You by Brian Kirk
What a strange and wacky rollercoaster this book was. If you’ve ever wanted to read anything that felt like a fever dream this would be it. The basic premise is much like “The Ring.” The narrator reads a strange book which then triggers the ever-increasing oddity that is the novel. I wanted to put it down so many times because I was disgusted and terrified and horrified, but I simply couldn’t. I had to find out what the meaning was. It’s a shortish book, but it sets out to do what it says it’s going to…I’m haunted by it.
5. Endgame: The Calling by James Frey
Yes, it’s that James Frey, of “Million Little Pieces” fame; the supposed fictionalized biography. The Calling was a surprising and extremely entertaining read, however. The characters are vivid. The prose is unique and refreshing. The setting is grounded in reality. This book tells the tale of ancestors of ancient tribes of Earth (of the Aztecs, Mu, etc.) who come together to do battle for the ascension of mankind. It falls very much into the dystopian category with other Teen books such as “Divergent” and “The Hunger Games,” but is far more intelligent and considerably better written. This is part of a trilogy and I’m happy to say that I recently purchased the next two, so I’ll be getting to them shortly. The beginning prose is a bit strange, but once you get used to it, you realize that it’s the perfect way to be written.
4. Nightbooks by J.A. White
There’s a theme in my top five for this year. I gave myself a pretty aggressive reading goal (for me 70 books in a year is hefty, especially with an extensive work schedule), so to supplement and make sure I made it, I made the “concession” that I’d read some YA books to speed my progress. This turned out to be the greatest thing I could have ever done. Some of these YA books are more meaningful and deeper than most “adult” books I’ve read. This book is no exception. The premise is that our protagonist is captured by a Witch and he needs to get find a way to escape. He becomes Sheherezade in the meantime to keep the witch from killing him. That description is the most dumbed-down way to describe this as I can muster because, in reality, it’s the most heartfelt, beautiful, Halloween-type book I’ve ever read. The atmosphere is incredible, the twist is meticulously delivered at the perfect time, and the characters have a depth to them that’s hard to match. This was a great reading year, because this gem and the next few books are probably in my top 25 books of all time. I really can’t recommend them enough!
3. Binti by Nnedi Okorafor
My reading is eclectic, I get it, but dang was this a great little book. Science Fiction at its best. There are some wonderfully deep characters and an overall theme of the outcast overcoming was a perfect overlay to the sci/fi background. This is one of those stories which you can read on the surface level, or you can dig down deeper and take it to the next level of meaning. You’ll finish it before you know it and it will leave you wanting more. I’m glad there are more in the series.
2. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab
This book is probably in my top five books of all time, and that’s saying something at #2 on the list for 2021 alone. I’ve never read a book that reached out and spoke to me quite like this one. This is a romance without being melodramatic. It’s a fantasy without being ridiculous. It’s fiction at its best. The premise is a girl sells her soul to the devil which gives her eternal life…at a price. Schwab turned up her writing chops with this one as the prose gorgeously bleeds off the page and there is such care taken for the protagonists that they feel like people you’d meet on the street. I say again, I have NEVER read a character that speaks to my soul so proficiently as is done in this book. The only word that comes to mind when thinking about this book is “beautiful” because that’s what it is. It is just plain beautiful.
- The Button War by Avi
If Addie was beautiful, this book is its antithesis. If you can believe it, this book is a YA classic. It takes place in a Polish Village during WWI and is the most riveting book I’ve ever read. If you’ve read a book and ever said I can’t put it down, then you might know a tenth of what this book does to its reader. It’s at once, “The Lord of the Flies,” “Johnny Got His Gun,” and “Stand By Me” (Otherwise known as “The Body”) all rolled into one. Powerful just isn’t a strong enough word for this masterpiece. I finished it and immediately purchased 4 four more of Avi’s books, though I don’t see any book being as good as this one.
That’s all for the top five! I hope you’ve all had a great year and an even better beginning to 2022! See you next week in the Blind Read Series as we get our Tolkien Fix!
Someone Else’s Atrocious Story
03/12/19
1:45 AM
Yo Chad,
What up man? How are things out there in Cleveland? They been rough for me man, I don’t mind tellin y’all. I’m so damn grateful that I have someone to talk to. My girl up and left me last week. You believe that shit? I mean damn what a year. My momma dies, my bro in a coma because of some middle-eastern crazy and then up outta the blue, she just ghosts me. I wake up one day and she just gone. Somehow she packed all her crap up and got out the door before I even noticed. How could someone be so cold like that? I give the best years of my life and she just up and disappears! Anyway. How are you and Charnelle? Haven’t seen you talk about her in a while on Facebook. You still into all that fantasy shit? I member back in high school, you hung out with them dweeby kids. Always thought you were cool, man, don’t know why you killed your reputation by hanging with those kids. Anyway. I guess the reason I asked was I’ve been into something a little weird and I figger you’d probably be the best person to ask because of all the nerdy D&D stuff you used to do. Anyway. Hit me back man. Peace.
03/13/19
4:00 PM
Dear Travis,
I have to say, I’m a little surprised to hear from you. I was shocked to see you send me a friend request on Instagram, but then seeing your DM asking for my email? I thought you hated me in high school. I mean, I wasn’t super thrilled about you either, but you really went out of your way to torment some of my really close friends. Was that email supposed to be an apology? I would really hope so.
Yes. I still play D&D. Although it goes far beyond that game. We have all kinds of games we play now. Yes, I still play with those “dweebs”, Mark, Winston, Steve, and Clinton. And yes, if you continue to make fun of them I will block your email and everything you have on social media. Your girl won’t be the only one to ghost you. Please ask what you want and don’t play act like we’re friends.
03/13/19
4:09 PM
Travis,
Sorry if that was harsh. How’s Cincinnati?
03/14/19
2:13 AM
Yo Chad,
Pretty harsh man. I mean that was high school; what like three years ago? People change. Damn. I won’t make fun of any of your stupid dweeby things anymore. Anyway. Cincy’s pretty strange. It’s not much different from High School in Columbus. I liked working at the mechanic’s shop. The owner was dope. Dude never really cared what I did. Then his damn son in law took over. Dude’s blacker than night, and just has that fake smile ya know? Swear he only fired me because he wanted to bring his damn rap friends around. Anyway. I know. I kinda popped up outta nowhere, huh? I was just thinking back on old times, ya know? Thinking ‘bout how I never really reached out to you when I probably should’ve. You’re a really smart dude. Which is a damn stupid thing to be, by the way. Anyway. You’re smart, and you read a lot, and you play those games. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you talk about fighting things like ghosts and vampires and stuff. And Zombies. You guys fought zombies. Anyway. You know about that stuff?
03/15/19
12:43 PM
Travis,
Gee, I wonder why your girl left you. Not like you spout out that hate stuff. Yes, we‘ve had campaigns against undead. I’m surprised you know about “dweeby” stuff like that. And I have to say, the fact that you think being smart is not good, is frankly…well I guess it makes sense. So what brought this on? Why are you reaching out? What do you want?
03/15/19
11:36 PM
Chad
Dude. That was harsh. I’m just talkin’ here. Why you so aggro? Anyway. I wanted to run something by you. I was thinking about how when we were freshman, you let me copy off your test in math class. We was a damn good team dude. We crushed that year bro, we worked so good as a team! I got something to make us a team again! Like, that really good team we were! Hit me up.
03/16/19
8:15 AM
Travis,
You told me you would beat me up if I didn’t give you the test answers. We weren’t a team. You were a bully and I was the bullied. Sorry for being harsh, but come on man, you have to realize this. And I don’t need to hit you up, man, we’ve been emailing for days now. What. Do. You. Want?
03/17/19
1:21 AM
Chad,
Ah it’s all good man. Like I said we were in high school. People change. Anyway. I got this…story. It’s a weird one dude. Serious crazy, but it sounded like the crazy in one of your games you nerds play, so I figger I’d ask you to listen to it and give me some pointers. Nothin big. Lemme know.
03/17/19
7:47 AM
Travis
I think I immediately regret this. But. I’ll listen to your story. Before I do, though, I need to set some ground rules, man. No more disparaging remarks about my friends and me. No more racist crap. No more foul language. If you think you can follow this then … go ahead. I know this is against my better nature, but I have to say that I’m kind of curious to see what you’ve come up with.
03/19/19
3:26 AM
Chadman!
You made the right call, bro. I mean, I wasn’t bein that bad. But I feel you on the swear words. I know I’m…crappy at that. See what I did there! Anyway. Here’s the story.
I’m a serial killer. I wasn’t always that way, but then disease hit the land and I don’t have a choice. I kill zombies. I hunt those fools down and kill they ass. The disease hit America hard. The politicians caused it. They lied they ass off so well, that the disease was able to take everything over.
It started slow. Just a dude seeing something strange in a dark alley, or a zombie poppin’ up in the park and people go out and kill it. Sure everyone knew ‘bout the disease, but the point was that you kept your distance from it. If it came near you? You smashed that zombie fool head in. Everyone knows, you get bitten by a zombie, you become one. Swear to Christ, some of them crazy people actually wanted that zombie lovin’. Goin’ out, hanging with their zombie bitch. But you know damn well what happens when someone gets bitten by the zombie disease. They become a zombie themselves.
I ‘member the first time I saw a zombie. I swear they was nothing scarier than that first night. The night of my first kill.
I was changing some transmission fluid on a cherry Chevy Charger. My head was stuck up under the damn chassis. I heard the thing shuffle in. You see that’s what they do. They don’t walk, no sir, they shuffle. I heard ‘em shuffle in, but I couldn’t believe that one had the balls to come into my shop. Then I felt its hand on my foot. It was pullin’ me out from under the car. I freaked the fuck out! It was so ugly, so rotten, so smelly. Just ugly lookin’ you know? I freaked. I was so scared I’d get some of its slobber on me, then it would only be a matter of time before I fell in with their crowd. I grabbed a tire iron. I turned and gave everything I had into that damn iron. The first strike knocked the beast over. I don’t think that ugly light was out of its unholy eyes till the third or fourth blow. I hid the body. I mean I had to. I couldn’t call the attention of the other zombies.
03/19/19
7:50 AM
Travis,
Wow! You leave it like that? You don’t follow that up with anything? Dang man. It’s a pretty intense story. I mean you have some huge flaws in your writing style, but creativity wise…you’ve taken a really out of date trope and…copied it. BUT, you have me wondering what comes next. So what comes next?
03/21/19
3:26 AM
Chad,
I tried to go on like normal, you feel me? I mean I knew those things were out there. I knew they were invadin’ the neighborhood. That’s actually what scared me the most. Those…things…coming into my life and changing things to the point where nothing else could be the same. Dicks, making me change to have to deal with them.
At first it wasn’t a big deal. They be around, but you just kinda ignore them, ya know? Then people I knew started to turn. I ‘member being at a bar and talking to this bro I’d shared beers with. He heard me talking ‘bout them creatures, and I could see how he looked at me. Like I fucking stank or something. I mean damn really? They were zombies! What’s wrong with these fools? Later, I saw that dude talking to the zombies. He walked up to ‘em and they talked for a while, but after that day, I never saw that dude again. Stupid people. You can’t hang with zombies and not be infected. Anyway.
Two weeks later I was leaving that bar. I just wanted to have a drink or three and get outta there before the zombies started in. They tended to come around after dark. No surprise there. Anyway. I left the bar and there was a zombie out there. I could tell by the shuffle. It was just dark. The sky was gray, the sun had just gone down and the street lights were lit. They was a zombie in the alley behind the bar.
Usually you can walk right by ‘em. You know, just put your head down and hurry by. They usually let you go. Not this one though. It held out its arm to stop me. I panicked. I knew it was gunna try and turn me. Make me one of … them. I jumped back and grabbed a bottle off the ground. My quick movements seemed to surprise it, but nothing surprised it more that the bottle over its undead head. Then I slammed that bottle home. Right in the neck. I worked that thing. I’m not proud of it. Oh what the fuck, I’m damn proud. It scared me. It was nasty. But eventually that damn zombie finally died. I hid the body in the dumpster back there, then started a fire.
03/21/19
8:04 AM
Travis,
Well, like I said before you need to work on your writing voice. But, for sure, bringing in real events like that will make the story come to life a little more. That dumpster fire was brutal man. I think like three people died at that club. When the fire hit the club people panicked and I think one of the people died because they got trampled. That might be something that you want to talk about a little in the story. The repercussions of the story. The ancillary deaths and injuries. The mental response from people.
Yikes! I almost said anyway. God I can hear you voice when I read your story. Keep it going. The reality is a bit disturbing, but I guess it’s a horror story, so it should be disturbing.
03/25/19
2:26 AM
Chad,
Ancillary? I looked that shit up and I still don’t get it. Anyway. Cool. Glad it makes sense, ‘cause you know, you’re a nerd and you know these things.
I went home that night and thought ‘bout what happened. I thought I was gunna feel weird about it. You know, killing those zombies? I thought maybe I didn’t feel bad after killin’ the zombie in the garage ‘cause of shock, ya know? But the more I thought about it, I was like, well yeah. Its zombies. I mean come on. Some people might not want to get their hands dirty, but deep down, everyone wants to kill those zombies.
So I sat at home and figured out a plan. I’d be really careful. I’d pick one off at a time. Then I’d throw them in the incinerator at the paper factory. You know, thin out the herd and make it safer for everyone else. Bring back some safety to the neighborhood.
So I started. I’d sneak around at night and pick off one or two. I’d bash ‘em in the head and take ‘em down, then cut off the head of those terrible stinking creatures. I thought I was doing a great thing. I thought I was doing the right thing. But they just kept coming. Once I really got started I noticed that there seemed to be more than ever. They were everywhere. They were taking over the neighborhood. Damn man, they had already taken over the neighborhood.
I gotta admit. I got kinda scared. I stayed in my house more and more. I’d only go out if I had to go to work or to get food. But everywhere I went they was there. I made sure that I kept my distance from them. I made sure that I never came into contact with those creatures. But other people didn’t seem to care. They’d just join in with that zombie crowd. I knew it was because they’d been infected themselves. I knew they hadn’t turned yet, but damn you could see they felt the effects. I mean why’d they even get close enough to touch a zombie if they didn’t? I had to get more serious. I had to stop fools from getting’ too close to those shuffling things. I knew that meant I had to take down some actual people. Ya know. Like preventative. So I did.
03/25/19
8:26 AM
Travis,
Damn man, this is really creepy. Kinda hitting close to home. You might want to be a little careful with this since there have been some disappearances lately. You don’t want the police or anyone thinking that you might have something to do with these disappearances. Tell me you don’t have anything to do with those man, and I’ll believe you. It would make me feel a hell of a lot better if I knew that you weren’t out there kidnapping people. If I knew you weren’t…killing people. I mean I never really liked you that much, but that’s next level.
I know you’re kind of a dick, but I don’t think you could actually kill anyone. Again, just tell me its true man and I’ll believe it. You never seemed to be someone that would do something like this. I even asked around to some of your friends. It made me make Facebook friends with them, which I’m not thrilled about, but they seemed cordial enough. They did say that you had become a little more reclusive, but also that you were just your normal self when you were around them. You’re freaking me out a bit man. Tell me what’s going on.
03/30/19
3:47 AM
Chad,
Yeah no worries bro. I mean the story is about a serial killer, but I’m not a killer. I’m a mechanic, bro, not a killer. Anyway.
After taking a few of them down, I noticed the issue got a little better. People stayed away from the places that I focused on. Less fools seemed to be turning into zombies. I mean, everything seemed to be going fire. I only saw zombies here and there. So I go out and I got a couple of guns. I got a machete. I even got a damn bow. I wanna make sure I could protect myself in case they started coming back round. Bro, it made me feel better. I even named my Glock Betsy. She slept beside me. Actually she still sleeps beside me. Right there on the other pillow.
Then one day a zombie came knocking on the door. Just damn brazen. Came right up and knocked. I couldn’t believe it. I grabbed my machete, ‘cause I always have it in the umbrella stand next to the door. I opened the door a crack and that zombie stood there looking at me. I grabbed it by the shirt it was wearing and threw it onto onto my hardwood floor. I kicked the door shut and brought the machete down on the creature. It cut like butter. That fool zombie moaned a bit, as only a zombie can, but then it died.
I buried it in my back yard. I couldn’t believe that stupid ass thing came right up to my door! I realized I didn’t protect myself enough against these things. So I boarded up my house. I nailed boards on the windows. I put multiple deadbolts on the doors. I boarded up my back door and the side door. I kept wood next to the front door, so in an emergency I could board that up. I loaded up the basement with C4. I mean I wasn’t gunna let those things win, ya know? There was no way I was gunna let them change me. Anyway.
Nothing happened for a while. The zombies seemed to get the idea. Then I made the mistake of turning on the TV. The zombies were everywhere, bro. Fucking everywhere. Then there was a news story about zombies gathering at the mall. I thought…damn. This is my chance. I can get rid of them all at once! It’ll be fire! People’d talk about it for ages. I had to take down that mall while they were doing their thing. Obviously any real people there would be…what do you call it? Forfeit? You mess with those creatures, you become those creatures.
03/30/19
12:05 PM
Travis,
I went by your house and it’s boarded up. I looked up the event at the Mall this weekend. It’s an NAACP rally. I’ve called the cops. I’m sorry if you were just screwing around. But this is too serious.
Local News Tonight
In other news, on this Friday March 30th, a homebrew terrorist attack was thwarted. The police arrested Travis Nelson of Cincinnatti, Ohio on suspicion of terrorist attacks and allegedly, multiple counts of murder. Apparently a source which is being help anonymously by the police turned in several emails detailing the story, and upon inspection, all the details were corroborated. Nelson apparently was planning a bombing at the NAACP rally at Century Mall…
Blind Read Through: H.P. Lovecraft; The Terrible Old Man
“Little things make considerable excitement in little towns, which is the reason that Kingsport people talked all that spring and summer about three unidentifiable bodies, horribly slashed as with many cutlasses, and horribly mangled as by the tread of many cruel boot-heels, which the tide washed in.“
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week we’re talking about “The Terrible Old Man”, a wonderful short story, but seemingly short on depth. I chose this one because I wanted a bit of a reprieve from the magnitude of Call of Cthulhu and I wanted to get some of these shorter stories out of the way. My intention is to finish on the last longer pieces “The Shadow out of Time” and “The Whisperer in the Darkness.”
This short story feels a bit more like an introduction to Kingsport, one of Lovecraft’s infamous coastal cities, than a fully thought out story; a kind of a character study if you will. We revisit Kingsport a few more times, and we even get to meet up with the Terrible Old Man again in another story, but more on that later.
The tale begins with three immigrant men, one of Italian descent, one of Portuguese, and one of Polish, who decide to call on the Terrible Old Man. Quickly we are told, “This old man dwells all alone in a very ancient house on Water Street near the sea, and is reputed to be both exceedingly rich and exceedingly feeble…”
So why do these three men want to visit with him? Because thier “…profession was nothing less dignified than robbery.” It makes sense that they’d go after what they thought, being new to Kingsport, would be easy pickings.
It’s believed that the Terrible Old Man was “...a captain of East India clipper ships...” and through his captaincy developed a “...fortune of indefinite magnitude…” which he houses on his property. Property which is neglected with “gnarled trees” and “…a strange collection of large stones, oddly grouped and painted so that they resemble the idols in some obscure Eastern Temple.”
Now it may be that I’m fresh off of “The Call of Cthulhu” but the reference to “idols in some Eastern Temple” peaked my spidey senses. This is not the exact description of the Cthulhu idols, but this story was written years before the development and cohesion of his mythos, so I contend that these rocks and idols were one of two things: a construct to Dagon, or a tribute to Cthulhu. Dagon, however has taken up residence in a different town, which we come to understand in “The Shadow over Innsmouth” so if the Terrible Old Man wanted to worship Dagon, he would have gone the few miles down the road to Innsmouth, because well, Dagon lives there.
Not to mention the fact that R’lyeh is sunken in the Pacific somewhere and if the Terrible Old Man was part of the East India Company then it’s more than likely that at some point in his career he came across remnants of a cult which held the Cthulhu idols themselves. I’d contend the reason for the vague description is because Lovecraft himself hadn’t solidified what Cthulhu looked like and only attributed him to “some Eastern Temple.“
Kingsport is also the absolute best Lovecraft location to read about around Halloween time (Which I can attest to because that’s when I read this one!). The imagery is spectacular and the atmosphere elicits those classic spooky New England vibes. Take “The Festival” for example. The description of the ramshackle houses, strange noises that literally go bump in the night, and odd chanting coming from unknown location; the strange architecture, and the meandering streets.
In the Terrible Old Man, as the three thieves approach the house, Lovecraft describes it preeminently as a haunted house: it’s decrepit, the trees are gnarled, and there are rocks set about in ritual fashion amongst the rotten overgrowth in which strange idols sit about. “This collection frightens away most of the small boys...” and also, “there are other things which frighten the older and more curious folk who sometimes steal up to the house to peer in through the dusty panes…on a table in a bare room on the ground floor there are many peculiar bottles, in each a small piece of lead suspended pendulum-wise from a string.“
Here we have a reminiscence to another story. In “The Case of Charles Dexter Ward” Curwen would take the essence of people from their graves which he called their “saltes” and he would use them to raise these people from the dead. The Terrible Old Man talks to these bottles, calling them by what can only be his old shipmates names (with names such as Scar-Face, Long Tom, Spanish Joe, Mate Ellis, and…Peters). As he speaks with them the bottles and the lead make “definite vibrations as if in answer.” Could the lead in these bottles actually be “saltes” of his old shipmates?
Beyond that there is also the connection that the Terrible Old Man pays for everything with “Spanish gold and silver minted two centuries ago.” Which is exactly what Curwen did as well.
Incidentally this Spanish gold and silver is what our trio of thieves is after, so their strategy is to send in Ricci and Silva to force the Terrible Old Man to give them the riches, while Czanek stays outside as a look out.
Czanek could hear gut wrenching screams coming from the house which we’re meant to believe they’re the screams of the Terrible Old Man, but this is Lovecraft and we know better.
Czanek hears the front gate open and goes to look, but instead of finding his fellow robbers, he finds “…only the Terrible Old Man leaning quietly on his knotted cane and smiling hideously.” Then we are given one last indicator of the Terrible Old Man’s malevolence. “Mr. Czanek had never before noticed the colour of that man’s eyes; now he saw that they were yellow.”
We come to the quote which opens this essay, and find that the three men were torn up with cutlass slashes, which “...so ancient a sea-captain must have witnessed scores of things much more stirring in the far-off days of his unremembered youth.”
Now the question is: did the Terrible Old Man actually kill these men? I’d wager the answer is no. Remember what happened in “The Case of Charles Dexter Ward?” Curwen brought the dead back to life to be slaves using their essential “saltes”. I believe that’s what’s in those jars. The “saltes” of his old crew. I think he called those crewmen back from the grave and the old crew cut up the robbers and disposed of them in the ocean. Unlucky for some.
I hope everyone enjoyed that spooky story, but join me next week as we read “Old Bugs”
Post Script:
One of the most enjoyable things in doing this project is gathering the connections between the stories. For example The Terrible Old Man is also Thomas Olney’s guide in “The Strange High House in the Mist.” Where he is still a curmudgeon, but eventually Olney gets him to loosen up a bit. The greatest part of that story to me is the fact that he is still called the Terrible Old Man, but there is no indication as to why. Olney peruses him because he’s so curious about what the house is, and eventually gets him to open up about his dark knowledge which leads to Olney’s terrifying adventure in that story.
As mentioned earlier, Kingsport is also where my favorite Lovecraft story takes place, “The Festival.” where we dont get to see a Terrible Old Man, but we do get to see a Sinister Old Man, who leads our narrator astray. I like to think that they are the same Old Man (we never actually get his name, and somehow that makes him even more esoteric), but it is possible that everyone in Kingsport has had some kind of strange within them. The town reminds me so very much of Collinsport from the old show “Dark Shadows.” That was a sinister old town where every resident had a secret to hide.
Kingsport also plays a key role in the stories “The Dream Quest of Unkown Kadath” and “The Silver Key” as well as a brief mention in “The Case of Charles Dexter Ward” where we are told of the strange rituals which take place there.
Taking all that information in, it’s safe to say that the ocean is not a safe place in a Lovecraft story. Both the costal cities in Lovecraft country (Innsmouth and Kinsport) have a very gothic and sinister undertone, and that mainly comes because all the sailors that come in from the sea, bringing in with them the terrible things that dwell there.
One has to almost wonder, because this is cosmic horror, if Lovecraft lived and wrote now, would the sea still have such a draw? Now that we have space travel, would the space ports be where a modern Lovecraft would focus on? In the 20’s the ocean was still feared. The Ocean was still a place where the unknown was just around the corner. A place where unknown things could dwell and infect and inflict upon weary travelers. In a modern world space now holds that place as the great unknown. The Final Frontier as it were. Would, in fact, a modern Lovecraft have Kingsport be a spaceport instead of a coastal city?
By Any Means Necessary
I’d followed him here to a rundown flop house in the South Side of Chicago. I don’t think I have to tell you, this is not the place I’d like to be after dark. Then again the life of a private detective is never done. At least my protégé, Malcolm, was with me.
The tenement was just what you’d expect. It was filthy, both of bodily fluid and dirt. Stains covered the walls and strange ochre blotches littered the staircase. We ascended to what I hoped was an easy snatch and grab arrest.
We were after Dr. Jack Griffin. A man once reported missing, but recently showed his face…well I guess I can’t say that, now can I? He appeared, but his skin was covered in heavy duty bandages. He announced himself as he robbed the bank. Told everyone he was the illustrious Dr. Jack Griffin.
The guards chased him to the alleyway, but all they found was a trench coat, some shoes and socks, and a large swath of Ace bandages.
So how do I know it was Dr. Griffin, you ask? I took finger prints. It was a slam dunk match. I followed the trail here. Through the years, I’ve found it’s better to sneak up on your prey, so I decided to come at night. I regret that decision.
“Keep your eyes peeled. If you have to shoot, aim for the legs,” I told Malcolm. I made sure my voice was lower than the creaks of the staircase. No point in announcing our visit.
He nodded in response. Good lad, keeping quiet.
We reached the room in question. The door was ajar, so I held my hand out, indicating Malcolm should wait outside. Be prepared in case Griffin tried to escape by way of the stairs.
The room was a sight of horrors. I dared not engage the lamp, because what I saw was enough. It wasn’t a living space, but a laboratory. There were cages lining the walls with dead rotting creatures, and the ones who were alive were so emaciated they might as well be dead. Rats, dogs, rabbits, pigs, you name it. The smell was unbearable.
I slowly pressed the hammer back on my .38 special, wincing as it clicked into place. I moved through the room past lab equipment and what I can only describe as an autopsy table – mid procedure. I could swear that the temperature in this room was far cooler than it was in the hallway, but there was a notable absence of the monotonous drone of fans.
I observed a door with light emanating from behind it. I creeped over to it, pausing only once when the floorboards creaked beneath me. I was sweating profusely despite the cool temperature, the moisture ran down my forehead as I reached for the door handle to this door. I gripped it tightly and took a deep, silent breath.
The door was ripped from my hands and swinging open, revealing a stark bedroom. It had a single bed, upon which was the score from the bank. I lifted my pistol, bracing it with my off hand, and swung it around the room. I was sure Griffin opened the door and I was also sure he knew I was here.
But the room held nothing but the bed and the cash.
I took a few steps in, my arms rigid, holding the gun aloft. I bent at my waist and leading with the gun, peered beneath the bed. Nothing. I stood and looked back into the laboratory and saw what I could only describe as a figure running through the room.
“Griffin! Show yourself!” I yelled. Sneaking was useless. He knew we were there.
I somehow lost him in the room and I was suddenly overcome with horrid nausea. How could anyone live like this?
“Get ready to die,” a voice whispered in my ear. I could feel hot breath on my skin and I broke out in gooseflesh.
I spun around, nearly firing my gun. There was nothing. I must have imagined it.
“Fool,” That hot whisper assaulted my other ear.
I twisted again, this time firing. The bullet went through the wall out into the Chicago air.
The door to the hallway burst open and I caught a glimpse of Malcolm as his expression turned to surprised horror. I can’t explain what happened, but it look like he was pulled back, as though he were a vaudevillian actor being pulled off the stage by a hook. Although, there was no backstage for Malcolm. He went tumbling backwards down the staircase. I heard him scream then I heard a crunch followed by silence. I still could see nothing.
“Show yourself you coward!” I screamed.
Laughter echoed through the room. I feel that he was there with me and I have no idea how he was able to knock Malcolm down the stairs without me seeing.
“I must continue my research.”
The whisper was directly behind me. I felt his fingernails slide through my hair.
I twisted, flailing blindly with my fists. More laughter to my right.
“I thought I was curing cancer.”
He bit my ear lobe. I screamed and pulled away. I felt violated. Something as intimate as a bite. How had he gotten so close?
“But this is something so much more.”
I felt a punch in my stomach.
“So I must continue my research.”
I looked down. It was not a punch. It was a knife. I felt a hand cradle me but saw nothing. I watched as it unlevered itself from my stomach and slammed home again and again into my torso. The knife was moving of its own volition. How was this possible?
“By any means necessary.”
I could see blood spill down the handle of the blade. It covered what looked like a hand. A towel flew up from the table next to my body, as my sight began fading to black. It wiped the hand, and as the blood soaked the towel, the mystery hand it was wiping evaporated. It was the last thing I saw.
Blind Read Through: H.P. Lovecraft; The Case of Charles Dexter Ward Conclusion
“Dr. Willett was thinking deeply and rapidly, and his thoughts were terrible ones. Now and then he would almost break into muttering as he ran over in his head a new, appalling, and increasingly conclusive chain of nightmare happenings.“
Welcome back for the conclusion of “The Case of Charles Dexter Ward!” This week we follow Dr. Willett as he uncovers the truth of the preceding events. Though this was a fun chapter, containing a ton (for Lovecraft at least) of action, the whole thing is fairly predictable. It does, however, deliver a satisfying end to the whole story. Let’s begin shall we?
The first section of the chapter is exposition heavy, and reveals basically what we’ve been suspecting all along: “They were robbing the tombs of all the ages, including those of the world’s wisest and greatest men, in the hope of recovering from the bygone ashes some vestige of the consciousness and lore which had once animated and informed them.” and “…preparing from even the most antique remains certain “Essential Saltes” from which the shade of a long-dead living thing might be raised up.”
So it turns out Curwen’s coven was in fact raising the dead and collecting them to find some ancient information, but what information are they endeavoring to decipher?
The question deepens in the next paragraph. “Joseph Curwen had indubitably evoked many forbidden things, and as for Charles…What forces “outside the spheres” had reached him from Joseph Curwen’s day and turned his mind on forgotten things?”
We are also posed the question, “Was daemonic possession in truth a possibility?”
As we consider these questions the text jumps into the meat and potatoes of this chapter. The action begins as Dr. Willett and the elder Mr. Ward go to Charles’ place. They find a trap door in the floor and open it, causing Mr. Ward to faint; “…the mephitic blast from the crypt had in some way gravely sickened him.”
Willett steels himself and heads down into the abyss. Down there, lit by his flashlight, he finds Ward’s study. All the documents he has heard about (Letters from Prague and Rakus between Orne, Hutchinson, Ward, and Curwen, the cyphers, etc.) are present and he stuffs them in his valise. He finds much of Charles’ handwriting, but he also finds much of Curwen’s, and at this point he thinks that Ward was ghost writing for Curwen: “If he had indeed come to be the leader, he must have forced young Ward to act as his amanuensis.“
Willett continues to search, finding strange thing after strange thing, building suspense as we know that something strange or horrible will happen.
The suspension of disbelief in Lovecraft is great, and his lyrical style brings the reader into the story. This novel is framed as such that we get heavy atmosphere, layered on with epistles to make us feel as though we are the antiquarians who are working to solve the riddle.
Framing the story in this way is important because, as I’ve noticed in reading Lovecraft so far, he follows the tenant that to write a convincing story, the person telling it must live to tell the tale. Through all the Lovecraft I’ve read, the narrator witnesses horrid things and gets into situations where they should absolutely not make it out, but they always survive (sometimes the worse for wear). This should take away some of the suspense, because we know as readers the narrator will make it out. The brilliance of Lovecraft’s stylizing is that his lyrical style, though the language is not the most accessible, eventually draws you into the experience of the characters. In “The Case of Charles Dexter Ward” this is done through atmosphere and epistles, and this last chapter does it better than any other.
A perfect example is the ending of the second section of this last chapter. We get two “formulae” which are the summons that Curwen’s group (and Ward) were using to raise these long dead people. We see these formulae through Dr. Willett’s eyes as a horrible sound of crying or mewing comes from unknown depths beneath him. The formulae he finds seems to call out to something called Yog-Sothoth (whether it’s to please it, or it’s a call for help, we don’t really know. More on that later). The first formula has a symbol meaning a “Dragon’s Head” and the second formula has a symbol for a “Dragon’s Tail”.
We can almost feel the dread in this section. The whole novel has been a slow build to this moment where we finally get to see what has actually been happening all this time. The dank cavelike office. The ancient tome written in almost alien text. The horrible mewing of either pain or hunger coming from somewhere in the cavernous abode. What is Willett going to find down there!
Well, we’ve been getting the re-occurring theme that one must take care not to bring up what you cant put down, and now we seem to have found the two rituals. The Dragon’s head brings up and the Dragons Tail (this is actually Dragon’s Head written in reverse) puts down what was brought up.
Willett, terrified, then finds an altar that has carved into it some disturbingly unfinished creatures. The mewling gets louder and he is compelled to see (or rather to gather evidence) what is making the sound, so he follows the horrible noises until he finds a pit. When he looks down he sees, “What the thing was, he would never tell. It was like some of the carvings on the hellish altar, but it was alive. Nature had never made it in this form, for it was too palpably unfinished.”
Here is another brilliant choice by Lovecraft. What makes his horror so palpable, is that he relies on imagination to create fear. He never truly describes any of these horrors because the idea behind them is that they are so terrifying that the human mind cannot conceive of words to bring comprehension. If he spent a bunch of lines really describing the creatures in detail, we’d be able to compartmentalize what the creatures are and thus they’d be less scary. Your mind can wander and create any terrible thing that’s “Unfinished” and then the monster becomes your monster. It becomes something you’re scared of, thus making it more personal for the reader.
Willett, dealing with his terror of these unfinished creatures goes even further and we finally figure out what’s really happening. He finds leaden jars (read as urns) in two differing Grecian styles. We have finally found the elusive “Saltes” that have been used to call up the dead.
As Willett is terrified as he inspects the laboratory. To assuage his fears he finds himself gently repeating the “Dragon’s Head” as he somehow finds it soothing. While he is doing so a figure appears out of the shadows. The figure have a beard and immediately we recall the nefarious Dr. Allen. Willett is scared for his life and faints and the creature who looks like Dr. Allen takes hold of him.
Willett wakes the next day in a room with Mr. Ward looking over him. They struggle to understand what’s actually going on, until they find a false beard and glasses which were very obviously Dr. Allen’s.
We are led through several pages of confusion. Who is Allen? Is Allen Ward? Is Allen Curwen? Is Allen either Hutchinson or Orne? What were those “Unifinished creatures” in the pit?
Then we get the opening quote. Dr. Willett suddenly understands. Dr. Allen was in fact Curwen…that is until he transposed bodies with Charles Dexter Ward! Curwen changed bodies, that’s why Ward’s speech changed, his memory was wiped, and his writing changed. Curwen took over Ward’s body, and put Ward’s soul into Dr. Allen’s body, then “put down” Allen.
Willett, unknowingly called Ward back up (and for some reason he was still wearing the fake beard) unknowingly because quoting the Dragon’s Head calmed his nerves as he investigated the horror lab. He just happened upon Ward’s “Saltes” and brought him back.
Meanwhile the “unfininished” wretches in the pit, were undoubtedly the men who charged the farm all those years ago. This was Curwen’s method giving them penitence for deigning to stop him of his nefarious ends…to give them unending torment. He brought them back unfinished (because he didn’t use all the essential “Saltes”), so he might complete his ritual of long life and find the information he was searching for.
Why did he need them to complete the ritual? The text doesn’t actually say, but we know that Yog-Sothoth is a deity of information, and to do a ritual which goes beyond life and death, and possibly beyond the cosmos like the one Curwen was attempting, I think the missing essential “Saltes” were put into either the altar, or into Curwen himself for added strength. That seems to be the only reason why depictions of the “unfinished beasts” would be on the Altar in the first place. It was signifying that those creatures were the “sacrifice” needed to get to the next step of ascension.
Dr. Willett was just lucky enough to call back the young Ward, who saved him and took him home. There is a hilarious moment when Willett makes the connection. “The article was a photograph of the luckless son, on which he now carefully drew in ink the pair of heavy glasses and the black pointed beard which the men had brought from Allen’s room.”
Willett goes to Ward (Curwen) in the institution for the climax. “The patient quailed, conscious that since the last visit there had been a change whereby the solicitous family physician had given place to the ruthless and implacable avenger.”
Willett uses “the cryptic invocation whose heading was the Dragon’s Tail, sign of the descending node–” and put Curwen down “…scattered on the floor as a thin coating of fine bluish-gray dust“, ending the horrible nightmare.
The novel is a horror story first. Indeed the only mention of anything cosmic is the name Yog-Sothoth itself, so hang on we’re going to get meta here for a minute!
What I mean by a horror story is that we have those classic horror tropes we started to identify in the third chapter and just when I expected something cosmic to erupt at the end of the novel, Lovecraft kept it about reanimation and zombies and vampires and witches…or did he?
Yog-Sothoth in the greater mythos is considered an all-knowing deity and grandfather to Cthulhu. The whole novel we have all the characters (and because of how the book is structured, the reader) striving for knowledge. The idea of striving for this eldritch knowledge is at the core of Yog-Sothoth’s interests, because it is all knowing. Curwen went to it to find out about all the weird things that lie at the edge of our known world. So the coven of three were praying to Yog-Sothoth, not Satan, and that’s how they got to understand the powers that they did. The reason they resurrected the “Great minds” of yesteryear, was because they fell into the pit-fall of all Lovecraftian antagonists…they wanted to know how to commune and interact with the cosmic dieties, and thus transcend their own mortal beings. Well, I guess it was cosmic after all!
The next logical step that I would take, is that this novel was written in 1927, and it’s the first time Yog-Sothoth was mentioned in any of Lovecraft’s stories. Lovecraft didn’t call his created universe and the deities it contained “the Cthulhu Mythos,” that was actually a creation of August Derleth (his friend and publisher). Lovecraft actually called it Yog-Sothothery. Meaning that every story he wrote had these creatures, these deities in the background, and it was this novel that solidified the scope of the idea for him. Everything after (that he wrote himself, there are one offs he co-wrote) had a distinct connection with this cosmic approach, and because Yog-Sothoth was about knowledge, he was able to tie every story written before into this as well.
Another reason he called it Yog-Sothothery was because of the idea of the deity itself. Nearly every story he wrote was about the characters seeking something beyond their ken. Seeking ancient or forbidden knowledge. Yog-Sothoth for Lovecraft was the owner of that knowledge, so it makes sense that his stories in his mind would all have to deal with this celestial god.
I think this is also why he wanted other authors to continue on with telling the stories of the Mythos after he died, because he knew it was such broad universe of ideas and he simply didn’t have the time or the overall perspective to produce it.
Well, that’s all for this week! Thanks for sticking around for this longer post!
Read along and join me next week as we discuss “The Colour Out of Space”!
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Blind Read Through: H.P. Lovecraft; The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, Pt. 2
“All that can be told of their discoveries is what Eleazar Smith jotted down in a none to coherent diary, and what other diarists and letter-writers have timidly repeated from the statements which they finally made – and according to which the farm was only the outer shell of some vast and revolting menace, of a scope and depth too profound and intangible for more than shadowy comprehension.”
Welcome back for another Blind Read! This week we tackle chapter two “An Antecedent and a Horror,” of The Case of Charles Dexter Ward (apparently I’ve read too much Robert Louis Stevenson because I consistently want to call this “The Strange Case of Charles Dexter Ward,” in reference to “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”).
We take a bit of a hard right turn in this chapter after learning about Ward in the previous one; it makes sense however because of the title of the chapter. We know that we’re learning of Joseph Curwen, the antecedent (and ancestor) of Charles Dexter Ward in this long chapter from the first line: “Joseph Curwen, as revealed by the rambling legends embodied in what Ward heard and unearthed, was a very astonishing, enigmatic, and obscurely horrid individual.”
There is evidence to suggest that Curwen practiced witchcraft in Salem at the height of that age and fled directly before the hunt began to weed out the witches. This flight led him directly to Providence, “-that universal haven of the odd, the free, and the dissenting-“. I kind of love that Lovecraft has a statement about Providence in here because the narrative is decidedly opposite; the people of Providence revolt against the odd and the dissenting. It is, however, obvious how much Lovecraft adored Providence , and this statement is more from his perspective, the author, rather than the narrators perspective. This is why his writing and his livelihood flourished here… because he felt accepted.
Anyway, back to the text. Curwen moves to Providence and we already know something is odd about him. He’s an antiquarian, just like Ward, but he also dabbles in drugs and acids and strange metals, and he is preternaturally old, but doesn’t look it: “At length, over fifty years had passed since the strangers advent, and without producing more than five years’ apparent change in his face and physique.”
This makes the people of Providence weary of him, but to make matters worse, he contacts a local apothecary and also a local literary and scientific fanatic hermit, John Merritt, to bring him books from all over the world. Lovecraft spends nearly a page of text naming the works, from historical to literary to religious, until “upon taking down a fine volume conspicuously labelled as the Qanoon-e-Islam, he found it was in truth the forbidden Necronomicon of the mad Arad Abdul Alhazred…”
Merritt sees a passage which sheds a little light on some of the things that the Necronomicon can actually do: “The essential Saltes of Animals may be so prepared and preserved, that an ingenious Man may have the whole Ark of Noah in his own Studie, and raise the fine Shape of an Animal out of it’s Ashes at his Pleasure; and by the lyke Mothod from the essential Saltes of humane Dust, a Philosopher may, without any criminal Necromancy, call up the Shape of any dead Ancestour from the Dust whereinto his Bodie has been incinerated.”
So here we find what Curwen is striving for (though the motive is still absent). He is just trying to understand life and gain what knowledge his ancestors had. He is a pre-eminant scholar, but even though he’s dabbling in these strange and forbidden arts, there is zero evidence that he’s done any harm to any living being (other than livestock and being a slave owner. The slave owner thing is completely unforgivable, but in terms of the time period this story is taking place in, it was a commonplace practice, so he’d be no different from the townsfolk in terms of morality).
Despite the knowledge of his “dark arts” he joins the church and tries to become a contributing member of society. He might be trying to get people to relax about his strange dealings, or he could be trying to ingratiate himself to certain members of society to gain favor…
A few years later we find Curwen looking to marry. He finds his ideal wife… the daughter of a ship-Captain, Dutee Tillinghast. The text itself shows no real nefariousness, but Lovecraft does spend a bit of time describing how old Curwen is and how submerged into witchcraft he is, before suddenly switching the narrative and talking about how he got Tillinghast to agree to marry off his daughter, Eliza (Not Peggy). This sudden switch from his witchcraft to his courting is curious. Is it to indicate that Curwen magically charms Tillinghast to give away his daughter? Or does Curwen just pay enough of a bride price to satisfy Captain Tillinghast? In either case this infuriates Eliza’s young gentleman sailor caller, Ezra Weeden, because he wanted to marry Eliza. Little does Curwen know it, but his choice of bride becomes his undoing.
Ezra, angry at being shunned, “…began a systemic study of the man and his doings…” certain that the old wizard was up to something. Certain that his lovely Eliza could not choose Curwen under her own volition, despite the fact that Curwen set Eliza up at a separate house and gave her everything she wanted or needed and didn’t spend too much time with her, or intrude upon her. Truly we don’t know, because there is nothing in the narrative to tell differently, but Eliza never seemed unhappy or in danger at any time from Curwen. Still, there is no storm worse than a lover scorned.
Ezra continues to watch and notices strange cargo going to Curwen’s farmhouse. “The cargo consisted almost wholly of boxes and cases, of which a large proportion were oblong and heavy and disturbingly suggestive of coffins.” Of course we infer what they are and so does Ezra. The issue is he’s a sailor and he’s often gone with his ship, so he hires Eleazar Smith to watch while he’s gone (The young man from the opening quote).
Eleazar finds prisoners in an extensive tunnel system under Curwen’s farmhouse. These prisoners are of a horrid physiognomy, and we can only infer that they are the resurrected ancestors that Curwen has been importing in those strange coffins. We know from Merritt and his glace at the notated portion of the Necronomicon that Curwen is bringing these ancestors back to life “from their Salte” to grill them for information:
“Once, for example, an alternately raging and sullen figure was questioned in French about the Black Prince’s massacre at Limoges in 1370…”
Weeden and Smith gather many important town figures. They want to get the law involved. Once they do, the group decides to confiscate some of Curwen’s mail. They find all sorts of crazy evidence, but one line stands out as important and foreshadowing: “doe not call up Any that you can not put downe…”
This is all the evidence the group needs. They form a mob to raze the farm house and all that dwell within it. Bringing a Frankensteinian vibe, they storm the farmhouse. There is an incredible battle where many of the men are killed or maimed and Curwen eventually dies. During the middle of the fight there was a blast in the farmhouse. “This blast had been followed by a repetition of the great shaft of light from the stone building,” namely Curwen summoning creatures to aid in the fight. The narrator doesn’t go into detail, but talks of fire creatures and strange smells that stick on the men in the raid.
Right at the end of the chapter there is a passage that leads me to believe that Curwen was actually killed by creatures he called up rather than the attackers:
“I say to you againe, doe not call up any that you can not put downe; by the Which I meane, Any that can in Turne call up somewhat against you, whereby your Powerfullest Devices may not be of use. Ask the Lesser, lest the Greater shall not wish to Answer, and shall commande more than you.”
Curwen called up a power that was just a little to strong for himself and in turn it killed him. I do, however, wonder what the scent is and why it’s mentioned. I wonder what the firey creatures are. I wonder how this correlates to Ward’s transition. Again, there isn’t any indication in the text… yet, but I’m sure we’ll soon find out!
What really intrigues me about this chapter has to do with fear and anger. The whole downfall of Curwen was spawned by a young man’s jealousy, because Ezra went a little far in trying to prove Curwen was evil. Without a doubt Curwen was doing some terrible things, however he was not doing them to the living, so there is a bit of a moral question here. Does that merit death?
The through line is that Curwen came from Salem. The witch trials were all about fear. Innocent people died because people were so afraid of what they didn’t understand that they committed atrocious acts against others. The same here. The mob was formed because they stole Curwen’s mail and didn’t understand what they were reading. Rather than just reaching out to Curwen, or even arresting him, they decided that because they didn’t understand what was going on, they were just going to eliminate him. We come to realize that though Curwen is monstrous, the real monsters were the people of Providence, feeding off that fear. All because a young man felt cheated.
One last note for this chapter which I absolutely loved, and I believe it’s more a reflection on the novel as a whole, is that Lovecraft is writing it as though we ourselves are antiquarians looking back at Ward. Throughout the book thus far, we have been given snippets of text from books, articles, and letters that the characters are looking at. Thus it’s as though we as readers are doing the research to understand what happened to Ward. This is a wonderful Juxtaposition of Ward looking back on Curwen, and in turn Curwen looking back at his ancestors. It is a brilliant structural organization because it brings the reader more into the story. It makes the reader empathize with both Ward and Curwen as we delve deeper and unfold more layers of the mystery. We ourselves have become the antiquarians…
Join me next week for chapter 3, “A Search and an Evocation”!
Postscript:
I would feel remiss if I didn’t add in this portion about racism. I have argued with people over the past year and a half as I’ve read through Lovecraft’s works, saying that he was merely xenophobic and agoraphobic and not just outright racist. This story has unequivocally proven me wrong.
In previous stories he rails against the culture of others. I have seen that nearly across the board, and where it’s jarring, it’s also fleeting so I’m able to gloss over it. There is a passage in this chapter (I will not repeat it. Look it up yourself if you’re curious) that is abhorrent. It speaks about appearance, not culture. I can no longer in any way defend what I’m reading. I almost stopped the project all together when I came across that passage. I still may, but I do believe that there is enough time and understanding that has passed since the authorship of these works that I can be impartial. What I mean by this is that with recent art like “Lovecraft Country” coming to HBO (and the book, though I haven’t read it), Lovecraft’s legacy can be about his creation, not the hatred he himself had. I feel it’s OK to continue on because others of races and creeds are benefiting from his creations. That being said the passage rocked me a bit, and left a bad taste in my mouth. I’m hoping the rest of this novel will be free of such prejudice.
Blind Read Through: H.P. Lovecraft; The Transition of Juan Romero
“Upon investigation it was seen that a new abyss yawned indefinitely below the seat of the blast; an abyss so monstrous that no handy line might fathom it, nor any lamp illuminate it.”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week we delve into the last of the juvenilia from the Del Rey book “The Tomb and Other Tales.” If you want to follow along, we’ll be covering the last three fragments at the end of that book in the next three weeks!
This story has a bunch of interesting lore involved, and where it isn’t specifically Yog-Sothothery, it’s a good basis for his cannon.
The story starts with Lovecraft’s classic unreliable narrator. He is unwilling to give much background but we know that he fought in the Anglo-Indian wars, as he “…was much more at home amongst white-bearded native teachers than amongst (his) brother officers.” Which to me indicates maybe he was of mixed race, Indian/English who never felt at home. He was an outcast in his homeland and I get the feeling that he chose to go to India to fight, not our of civic duty, but of a desire to prove he belonged.
He leaves India, but instead of going home, he heads to the American West and takes on a new name: “…a life wherin I found it well to accept a name – my present one – which is very common and carries no meaning.” indicating that his name had meaning before he started his new life in America. He is an outsider that somehow holds some sort of unforeseen talent or power and just hasn’t realized it yet.
His new life consists of being a miner at the Norton Mine, looking for gold along with his fellow miner, Juan Romero. During the dig, they do some blasting and they blow out a huge abyss with no end (see opening quote).
That night there are strange sounds; drumming from the deep (which is almost the exact same line from Tolkien. I half wonder if Tolkien stole it for the Mines of Moria), some wolves howl, and Juan Romero freaks out. He goes to the edge of the abyss: “and with a wild outcry he forged ahead unguided into the cavern’s gloom.”
Romero yells “Huitzilopotchli,” which is the Aztec god of war, the sun, and human sacrifice, before heading into the maw. I first thought this an odd inclusion the tale, because why would the deity which watches over Tenochtitlan be buried in a huge abyss underneath the American West? The more I thought about it however, I realized that this was probably just a manifestation of what Romero thought might be down there. There is another possibility which I’ll cover later, but I prefer this one, so we’ll leave that here.
There are some strange lights, “at first I beheld nothing but a seething blur of luminosity;” then he sees Romero through the diverging forms in that light. Romero has changed! We don’t know into what; in fact Lovecraft has his popular non-descriptors which made his horror so palpable. He doesn’t describe it, which makes the idea that much more terrifying: “but God! I dare not tell you what I saw!” He allows the reader to formulate in their own mind what this terror could possibly mean. The brilliance of this is that each reader will come up with their own interpretation of what the horror is which hits the hardest for them.
Some kind of deific power comes down and collapses the cavern, filling in the abyss to the point that the drillers are never able to find it again. Our narrator is not sure how he got away, but he”…noticed the unaccountable absence of my Hindoo ring from my finger,” which he doesn’t believe is a coincidence: “Somehow I doubt if it was stolen by mortal hands, for many strange things were taught to me in India.”
So what does this all mean? Did Lovecraft get confused and believe that the Indian sub-continent had the same deities as the South American? How could these two different deities interact? Juan Romero sees an Aztec god, however the narrator’s Hindu ring (Shiva?) was gone after the event. How could an Aztec God possibly be effected by a talisman from a Hindu God? What was Lovecraft getting at?
I believe Lovecraft knew what he was doing. Lovecraft himself seemed too versed in religions and he tended to research and ask questions, so I very highly doubt he confused the deities of two very separate religions. What I think is more likely is that Lovecraft is taking a more unifying approach.
Lovecraft was not religious; in fact he seemed to despise religion. So why would there be two religions in one story? There wasn’t. The characters believed they were two different beings, but we are one people, and there’s a reason so many of our religions are so similar. Think about all the cultures which have a flood myth. Lovecraft is saying that we are of one culture and the true deity which was nearly released was a cthonic god. A God which was the basis of all world religions. Their moniker is only what a culture called them based upon their experience. That’s why the Hindu ring worked on an Aztec god. They were one and the same, buried under our earth much like Cthulhu is in his lost city of R’lyeh.
What do you think?
Blind Read Through: H.P. Lovecraft; The Strange High House in the Mist
Welcome back to another Blind Read! By the looks of things, I will have made it through all of Lovecraft by the end of the year. SO…If you have an author that you’d like to discuss, or have trouble reading let me know! Maybe they can be the next author covered in this series.
“At length, being avid for new strange things and held back by neither the Kingsporter’s fear nor the summer boarder’s usual indolence, Olney made a very terrible resolve.”
This story is a connector of the Dreamlands stories. In it we have a house perched on top of a tall cliff, with the only doorway leading out to the abyss of the cliff. Inside the house we have a protector. Someone who spends eternity guarding the world from the other gods and the incursion of the Dreamlands into our reality. We are enabled to see this house because our intrepid adventurer, whom out of curiosity and a lust for life, finds a way up to “The Causeway” and meets this caretaker.
We start the story describing the harbor town of Kingsport. Right from the very first paragraph we are given knowledge that the people of Kingsport know there are strange dealings around them. The feel of the town is one of mysticism. The fantastic nostalgia for a simpler time. A time when older gods ruled the world and people only wanted for basic survival. There was no rat race, but a desire for simplicity and knowledge. This is the core of Lovecraft, both person and writings. He believed in simplicity, and loathed materialism. You can see this starkly in his portrayals of cities like New York, as he yearns to stay in his protected, almost mythical, section of New England.
Thomas Olney, our main character, is new to Kingsport and he hears stories about the house from sailors and an old bearded man in town. He can occasionally catch glimpses of it as well through the thick mists that circle the craggy cliff it sits upon. His curiosity overwhelms him and he decides that the’s going to take the trip up to it. It is a dangerous and arduous journey, but eventually he gets there and finds that the only ingress to the house are the closed windows, and a door that opens out over the cliff. He hears someone approach and hears the door creak open, so he hides beneath the sill of a window, only to be pulled into the house. The man who pulled him into the house is young and bearded and he is reminiscent of the grouchy old man in the village who seems to know about this house.
The bearded man tells stories to Olney; “…and heard how the kings of Atlantis fought with slippery blasphemies that wriggled out of rifts in the oceans floor, and how the pillared and weedy temple of Poseidonis is still glimpsed at midnight by lost ships…”
This is both a reference to R’lyeh, the city where Cthulhu is buried in slumber, and Dagon, one of the pantheon of lesser gods and linked with Poseidon. In other stories there is mention that the god like men of Atlantis fought off the Elder Gods, Cthulhu being one of them. Where they couldn’t defeat them, they buried R’lyeh, the lost city, and trapped Cthulhu within the earth. Dagon is the fish god, and still calls creatures from the sea in a slow effort to gain back control. See The Shadow over Innsmouth.
Olney is also told of older things: “Years of the Titans were recalled, but the host grew timid when he spoke of the dim first age of chaos before the gods or even the Elder Ones were born, and when the other gods came to dance on the peak of Hatheg-Kla in the stony desert near Ulthar, beyond the River Skai.”
There is a lot to unpack there, but basically we have the establishment of what Lovecraft himself called “Yog-Sothothery”, later to be coined “The Cthulhu Mythos” by August Derleth, one of Lovecraft’s closest friends and writing partners. The other gods were first; terrible creatures and malevolent in nature. The Elder Ones came later. Creatures like Azathoth. Then later, came the deep ones like Cthulhu. The River Skai also has importance in the Dreamcycle as we see in the Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath and other stories.
Shortly after describing this, something comes to the door of the house. The bearded man hurries and locks the door, then goes around the house and shutters all the windows. It’s a suspenseful scene as he tells Olney to get low and be quiet. “And the bearded man made enigmatical gestures of prayer…“. The bearded man is setting wards against shadows that are gathering in the room, “For there are strange objects in the great abyss, and the seeker of dreams must take care not to stir up or meet the wrong ones.”
All of this information, plus numerous mentions of dreams and dream seekers, leads me to believe that this house is a way point. This house, in between Kingsport and Arkham, is an thin place that connects the dream world to the real world. The keeper, the bearded man, must be careful not to let these ancient horrors through the world. He gives the information to Olney, just like he gave it to The Terrible Old Man (Lovecraft even capitalized this honorarium in the story) so many years before. They get just enough information to be afraid of the house, and potentially keep others away. Olney never goes back, and in fact he loses some of his natural curiosity because of the shock of the experience, and eventually moves away. But still that Strange High House in the Mist stays and guards against the others from transcending into our world.
What do you think?
The Power of Imagination
In a time of such division. A time where people across the world are scared of terrorists. A time where people don’t trust and fear their leaders. A time when we seem to be moving apart from one another instead of moving closer to each other. A time where fear is perceived to be more prevalent than love.
There is hope.
We as a people go through waves and there are always troughs as much as there are peaks. You can see it in the way the cultural perspective has shifted.
The popular things now are reality TV, minimalistic music based around repetitive beats and repetitive lyrics, poorly written books meant to shock or entice.
We have weaved ourselves into a trough of apathy and complacency, where we let others tell us what to do or think and our entertainment is not there to entertain, but to anesthetize.
But out of the malaise comes art of quality.
Small at first. A book here. A movie there. A song. A painting. A TV show.
Something that comes along that makes us think again. That makes us wonder. That makes us hope.
They come from the strangest places. Disney’s Wall-E. Bad Robot’s Star Trek. Netflix’s Stranger Things.
You might be thinking what does this have to do with where the country is? What does this have do with us as a people?
It’s about the power of Imagination (with a big I). We as a species have separate processing systems in our brain. One processes logic and the other processes creativity. The creative part of your brain controls your emotions. It follows that when you feel fear or hopelessness you have an absence of creativity.
The more imagination we develop, the more we will be able to process, the less we’ll fear; the more we will hope and dream.
Art leads the world. Star Trek had one of the first interracial couples (and many of the first inter species couples). Star Wars ended the gritty anti hero hate that was brewed during the Cold War.
We went through such a boon in the 90’s that we couldn’t help but slip back. The Cold War came to and end, Apartheid ended, the global economy was growing more than ever in history.
So we relaxed. We let our imaginations grow cobwebs. But the more you see unique new shows. The more unique new art you see. The more intricate the lyrics of the music you listen too. The better the writing of the books you read…
Know that the more and more good or great art you see and intake, the more and more the culture is shifting. Our hope comes from our imagination, so lets be more childlike. Lets go on adventures. Lets fight more dragons. Lets have more tea parties. Lets Imagine.
The Drifter
Today in honor of finishing one of my books which is based upon poetry, I’m submitting some poetry of my own. I wrote this one a few years ago, but I never published it here. Enjoy!
Driftwood finds it’s way to sand, how is it that it’s so hard for me to find land?
and this state of constant wonder, leads me divided; torn asunder
in this horrid devil’s playground in my head…
My fingers tell the story, of the broken trumped up glory
when my mind refused to listen, drowned out by broken pistons
the silence beating louder than my heart…
The darkened frozen night glows, and the turgid sky just bellows
of my time examining seams, on the boulevard of broken dreams
as words flow down as kindling for my hearth…
But those wounds of empty pages, who speak louder than the ages
as the clock runs down to zero, I’m not a battered, broken hero,
just a man who wont give up until he wins…
Sean McBride 
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