The Thing on the Doorstep

In my view, “The Thing on the Doorstep” should have been subtitled “The Lovecraft piece that restored my faith in the good taste(s) of many of my friends and colleagues.” Admittedly, I’m a relative newcomer to the works of H.P. Lovecraft, but likeminded friends – writers and non-writers alike – had always raved about his work to me. After reading the first two stories assigned, however, I failed to understand the attraction.

“The Thing on the Doorstep”, however, redeemed Lovecraft for me. It had all the characteristics of a good short story: fast paced plot, effective use of dialogue, engaging characters, as well as twists and turns to help maintain reader interest. Furthermore, it did the job of a good horror story: it sped up my heartbeat.

Despite the fact that the early pages of this story are composed entirely of exposition, I had no difficulty maintaining interest in the tale. The first real chunk of dialogue we get is after Edward is found incoherent and hysterical in the woods. This first statement he gives has a serious impact because we have waited this long to hear him speak. His near unintelligible rambling about, among other things, the “abomination of abominations” definitely ramped up the tension in the piece and made me as the reader want to stay aboard for the rest of this voyage.

Plot-wise, another aspect of this story that I really liked was how active it was. Once we got beyond the initial expository passages, things happened fast and with increasing frequency.

Beginning with the narrator, Dan, Lovecraft gives us a character with whom we can sympathize. In spite of the fact that Dan fully admits to having shot his best friend, we find him – even in the early pages – likable and want to gain a greater understanding of what’s prompted him to take this drastic action. Clearly, he had a great affinity for his friend, Edward Derby, as he demonstrates time and time again when he seeks to come to his aid in various ways.

Edward Pickman Derby is depicted as being an empty vessel almost from the start. This is appropriate given his fate. At first, he is entirely the puppet of his parents and goes directly from dutiful son to obedient husband. His wife, Asenath, is able to easily sway and control him. The fact that Asenath is eventually proven to have been only an empty vessel for her father makes her rule over Edward no less impressive. Additionally, the fact that she is ultimately vanquished makes her no less a strong female character.

Unlike some of my fellow students in the course, I didn’t find Lovecraft’s depiction of Asenath to be particularly misogynistic. I didn’t even consider this until I was skimming the blog list prior to penning this, and upon further reflection don’t personally believe there’s significant basis for this point of view in this work.

In conclusion, I very much enjoyed this story and am now a little closer to becoming a Lovecraft fan.

Hell House: "Saved by the Sex and the Gore"

Last week, I opined that “The Music of Erich Zann” was setting porn. Obviously, “Hell House” comes a lot closer to being actual porn. Lest you think my delicate sensibilities were offended by this, let me assure you that wasn’t the case at all. No, I think it’s safe to say “Hell House” was saved by the sex and the gore.

In all other aspects, however, I found this work lacking. Simply put, it lacked a clear plot peopled by likeable, realistic characters.

Okay, so we’ve got this wealthy, old guy – Rolf Deutsch – who wants proof that paranormal phenomenon either do or do not exist, so he buys a huge, creepy house with a sordid history and sends our heroes to investigate whether it’s haunted. Of course, he’s got no connection to the Belasco family, and we never learn what prompts his interest in the supernatural, but I guess we needed somebody to fund this venture? Other than that, there’s no real justification for his character to exist.

Next, there’s our seeming protagonist, Lionel Barrett. He doesn’t believe in ghosts and ghouls but – just in case – he’s spent much of his adult life building what amounts to a ghost-busting machine. His wife, Edith, doesn’t seem to really comprehend what her husband does but must admire him for it. Otherwise, there doesn’t seem to be much rationale behind her having married him: he’s much older than her and he’s impotent, therefore he must be either rich or a genius. I have to guess this, however, because Matheson certainly doesn’t tell us.

Then we’ve got Florence Tanner, the “super-emotive Spiritualist medium." If you ask me, this woman’s got an obvious hard on for Jesus, which in my view contradicts everything else about her character. Still, she’s not too busy with Jesus to somehow seem to will herself to become possessed by demons. Did I mention she was hot and has lesbian tendencies? Thank goodness, otherwise I’d have found her entirely unlikable. Her close encounter with Edith when she’s being frisked prior to her “sitting” was about the most titillating part of that scene.

Finally, there’s Benjamin Franklin Fischer who, much like his namesake, used to conduct electricity in his capacity as a medium. Clever pun at least, Mr. Matheson. He’s along for the ride because he’s the lone survivor of an earlier incident at the Belasco house AKA Hell House, and – if you ask me – because we needed a virile man for Edith to attempt to seduce when the house turned her into a rabid slut. Oh, and he appears to be interested in Florence. Too bad she gets possessed by demons and dies; he might have asked her out if she’d survived. Anyway, his character later saves the day in a confusing showdown with Belasco.

Meanwhile, Belasco, our villain, wrecks all this havoc all because he was short and a bastard? I’m sorry, but it just didn’t add up for me. I wanted something horrifying to have happened to him to justify his turning into a sex crazed cannibal.

In conclusion, had this novel NOT contained scenes of extreme violence and hyper-sexuality, and had I not been required to read it for this course? I’d have thrown it down midway in disgust.

The Music of Erich Zann

Our instructor posted prompt this week asked us to describe what we feared, a topic I had no difficulty addressing. Similarly, I can state with utter certainty what I do not, so far, fear: the work of H.P. Lovecraft, and in this specific instance his short story “The Music of Erich Zann”.

Simply put, this story failed to terrify me or even to move me much at all. For a “horror” tale, there just wasn’t anything horrifying about this piece. I came away from reading it with one overwhelming emotion: disappointment that this story didn’t scare me at all.

Much like he did in “Pickman’s Model”, Lovecraft gives us an artist – in this case, a musician – and his devotee, neither of which I found particularly intriguing. Their respective fates, consequently, I was never fully invested in. I did feel he did a more than competent job of describing at least the character of Erich Zann, and as I didn’t need to know what the narrator necessarily looked like, that was sufficient. In fact, I thought Lovecraft went a little overboard with his modification when describing Erich Zann. As a reader it was a challenge to assemble so many concrete details in my head.

Again as in “Pickman’s Model”, it seems the dread Lovecraft is trying to evoke in his reader is their fear of the unknown. We are asked to be fearful of what lies outside of Erich Zann’s window and to find the unknown origin of his “weird notes” unsettling. I am not one of those readers that finds the unseen to be frightening. It’s almost, in my view, as if I needed to invent my own back story in order to be remotely interested in the story Lovecraft actually told. In a nutshell, that’s where this story fell flat for me: I simply didn’t know enough about these characters to care what happened to them or even what had already happened to them.

I have to give Lovecraft credit where it’s due, however, and comment on what I did find appealing about this work. The real star of this show was the setting. Beginning in the third paragraph, passages like “shut out the sun perpetually” and “odorous with evil stenches which I have never smelled elsewhere” I found evocative and arresting. I certainly got a clear mental picture of the characters’ surroundings throughout the piece. Erich Zann’s “lofty and isolated garret room” was very masterfully depicted.

Unfortunately the setting porn just wasn’t enough to actively engage and maintain my interest in this work, and my overall impressions of it are that it was a mediocre effort. I don’t even think Hollywood could salvage this one. All the CGI animation, creepy music and special make up effects wouldn’t be enough to make this frightening.

As I stated in my earlier entry about “Pickman’s Model”, I can only hope that before this course is over, I read something by Lovecraft that moves or frightens me. Thus far, however, I am not a huge fan.

Phantom of the Opera

In spite of the fact that we are presented with a hanging corpse on page 18, my initial impression of this work was that it was more of a comedy than a horror novel. The Opera Ghost, who was often hilariously nicknamed “O.G.”, seemed like more of a prankster than a credible threat. The cast of characters that surrounded him – for example, the hapless new managers, the lovestruck Raoul, the ultimately disgraced songstress La Carlotta – all appeared to my eye to be humorously portrayed and in many ways satirically depicted.

As I progressed through the novel, however, I felt that of all the genres it most closely resembled a romance. After all, Leroux gives us a pair of star-crossed lovers presented with a seemingly immovable obstacle to their happiness. Around Chapter 19 or so, the story seemed to become more of an action-adventure, and it wasn’t until around page 266 that I felt the work truly was a horror novel. At the line “The Persian stooped and picked up something, a sort of cord, which he examined for a second and flung away with horror” a chill literally went up my spine, as for the first time, I was genuinely terrified of and anxious about what was going to happen next.

Am I complaining? Am I disappointed that I had to read clear to the conclusion of the 21st chapter before I felt Erik AKA the Opera Ghost was a truly scary antagonist/villain? Not at all, in fact I felt that was the real genius of this work. Leroux’s ability to intermarry multiple genres and still tell a good story is impressive and also something I feel we as writers should seek to emulate. The hallmark of a well written “genre” novel is, in my view, that – much like Phantom of the Opera – it doesn’t conform to one specific genre but instead blends several of them.

Another aspect of this story I found intriguing was the Pygmalion-esque relationship between Christine Daae and Erik AKA the Angel of Music. Since I’m essentially employing this theme in my thesis novel, I paid close attention to how Leroux handled it and – for the most part – I felt he did so masterfully. Erik’s anguish at his inability to coerce her to love him, and her fear of arousing his wrath, incited powerful emotions in me as the reader. To some degree, on a personal note, it was a case of art imitating life and vice versa and really made me feel a kinship with these characters. Additionally, I think the introduction of and subsequent elaboration on the relationship between the pair added new dimension to the character of Erik; it demonstrated to the reader that Erik is a multifaceted individual capable of both passionate love and intense hate.

I have a few quibbles about this work. I wanted Leroux to have given us more information about Erik’s background. I finished the work without really understanding the cause of his disfigurement. I would have preferred a more elaborate description of the torture chamber itself, but that may just be because I’m a fairly sick puppy. I thought Raoul was a simpering fool and I didn’t see why Christine was so enamored with him. I thought Phillippe was a fairly ineffectual character and didn’t feel his character enriched the work at all.

Aside from those minor trivialities, however, I enjoyed reading this novel.