Courtesy of a neighbourhood used book store, I found this old Lovecraft pocketbook: The Shadow Over Innsmouth and Other Stories of Horror. A second printing from 1975 (the original was in ’71), and yellowed in a way old H.P. would probably appreciate, it collects the following six tales, in addition to Innsmouth: “The Colour Out of Space,” “Imprisoned With the Pharaohs,” “In the Walls of Eryx,” “The Outsider,” “The Festival,” “The Outsider” and “The Transition of Juan Romero” (no relation to George, as far as I can tell).
It’s a grab bag of better known and lesser known tales, and I particularly liked Transition, the nine-page story of a Mexican miner who uncovers – you guessed it – unameable horror, this time in a mine shaft. Written in 1919, it’s an earlier tale that, as the little blurb before the story notes, is “a kind of preview of those nameless things that would haunt so many later Lovecraft Tales.” It’s also more economically written than more Lovecraft yarns, which is refreshing. More remarkable, though, is that’s its set in the American West – far from the rotting seaside towns, his work is usually associated with.
For avid Lovecraft followers, however, the most valuable parts of the book are the main introduction and brief intros to each story. They were written by Margaret Rohan, one of Lovecraft’s many pen pals, and an author in her own right (although scant information, other than some long out-of-print book titles, exists online). To be honest, it’s not the most memorable introduction, but it does have some interesting info on His Royal Slimeness. The opening paragraph indicates that three-and-a-half decades ago Lovecraft was much more of a cult figure than he is now. Rohan notes that you’re a Lovecraft fan if you think libraries should stock the Necronomicon, you’re aware that “H.P. Lovecraft is not only the name of a minor rock group, but the name of a major writer of science fiction…” and you’ve seen The Haunted Palace, Die, Monster, Die or The Dunwich Horror. It seems that not only was he considered more of a sci-fi writer back then, the psychedelic rock group named after him was generally better known than he was.
Rohan goes on to give a mini-bio, explanation of The Old Ones and even a physical description of Lovecraft as a mix between Boris Karloff and Max von Sydow. She writes that he learned the alphabet at age two, read fairy tales and Arabian Nights by age four and wrote his first story as a child, called “The Noble Eavesdropper.” The intro also includes quotes from correspondence he had with her, including a description of what rested in his mind’s eye: “vast unplumbed recesses of space that loom perpetually around our insignificant dust grains.”
It isn’t all doom ‘n’ gloom, though, as Rohan describes Lovecraft as having a warm sense of humour, noting, “His letters, written in tiny, crabbed writing, are full of sly humor. Instead of a return address and a date, they could bear such headings as, ‘Black Marsh of Gthath, Hour that the Ooze Stirs’ or ‘Black Cylinder Floating Between Two Universes, Hour of the Burning Galaxy.’” (I wish I had a talking clock that said stuff like that.) She claims that he loved writing letters so much, in fact, that he’d often skip lunch to spend the money on postage. It’s true – Lovecraft probably would’ve had at least three Gmail accounts.
The short intros to each story offer a bit more interesting info. I wasn’t aware that “Imprisoned With the Pharaohs” was ghost written by Lovecraft from an idea by Harry Houdini, who was credited as the author when it was published in Weird Tales. Additionally, “In the Walls or Eryx” was co-written with a teenage fan. And there’s a quote where Lovecraft explains that the fictitious author of the Necronomicon, Arab Abdul Alhazred, was “A pseudonym I took when I was about five years old, and crazy about the Arabian Nights.” The closest thing I had to pseudonym at age five, was when I spelled my name wrong on a crayon drawing.
The last thing worth noting about this Lovecraft anthology is the cover. I can’t make out the author’s signature (anyone know who painted it?), and there’s no credit on the inside. From the $0.75 price to the cheapo paper stock, this is pure pulp. Like many pulp novels, an eye-catching cover trumps an accurate one, and I have no idea how the hell this green-skinned alien/vampire/ghost creature fits into Lovecraft’s world. The cover has an irresistible retro look (made me buy it, anyhow), but c’mon, whatever that thing is, it’s wearing a broach! If a broaches were scary, he probably would’ve written “The Broach on the Doorstep,” “The Broach that Came to Sarnath” or maybe “Pickman’s Broach.”
Nevertheless, as far as dusty, aging tomes go, The Shadow Over Innsmouth and Other Stories of Horror is well worth the few bucks I spent on it, plus it’s solid evidence that the man’s reputation and fanbase has grown considerably through the decades.