I’d like to have more content on this site that’s not related directly to marketing and copywriting, and give a bit of a better view of myself and my interests. I think I’d like to start putting down some book reviews here to collect my thoughts. Review actually sounds like too formal a word – I’m not interested in slapping scores or ranks on material, simply giving my thoughts and possible recommendations. I am, in particular, a big fan of what is colloquially known as “genre fiction” – science fiction, horror and especially fantasy. It will also become fairly apparently that my tastes are, to put it kindly, antiquated. I’m not exactly sure how I managed to be turned into a grumpy old man of fantasy in my 20s, but I think I partially have to blame the practice of turning people’s names into adjectives. When I was younger and started to be interested in science fiction and fantasy I kept hearing the term “Lovecraftian” tossed about. When I was in school, since I was no good at athletics, and admittedly not quite social, it was decided that I would be a “smart” child. I wasn’t actually able to live up to the standard of being “smart”, but attempts to do so left me with a deep and terrible fear that I’ve internalized and hold to this day – a fear of not knowing something. So when I heard the term “Lovecraftian” I determined that I needed to get to the bottom of this mystery. What I found there intruiged and delighted me. Jumping back to the pulp era wasn’t as difficult as it might have been. My father has always had a love of pulp as well (I ruined a copy of Princess of Mars he gave me),  and I’d always had a fascination with history as well. Rather than finding older materials dated, it seemed to me more like a wonderful window into another time – not just into the facts of that time, but into the thoughts and imagination of the people who lived them.

This petty curiosity also caused me to become a serial backtracker. Whenever I read or watched anything I liked, the first thing I wanted to know is where it came from – what was its genealogy?  This gave me a broad scope of the history of genre fiction, and a particular love for works that often feel sadly forgotten. I did find that this exploration had some limits, however. While the 19th Century has some excellent gems for genre fiction, it is clear why Lovecraft is considered such a benchmark. You can see all the future history of horror laid out in his work, as well as many concepts for science fiction and fantasy. Indeed, that is one of my favourite parts of reading pre-Tolkein work. Not everything had been put into neat little boxes of “Sci-fi”, “fantasy” and “horror” and the three often were blended together into a wonderfully delicious mixture simply labled “weird”.

Needless to say, this all meant that I was fascinated while recently reading the works of William Hope Hodgson, an author who wrote before, and influenced, Lovecraft. Hodgson had an unfortunately short, if interesting career. Bullied as a cabin boy after taking to the sea at a young age, he decided to, in the best tradition of Charles Atlas, bulk himself up and become a body builder and personal trainer, only to find little money in this. Inspired by Poe, Wells and Verne, he would take to writing instead, starting to publish his short stories and other works in 1904 – he would die in 1918 at the age of 40, having signed up for WWI despite his age.

While somewhat known for his sea-themed horror short stories, and his tales of the “occult detective” Carnacki, he is best known for his two novels, The Night Land and The House on the Borderland. The Night Land in particular stands out as a story shockingly ahead of its time, despite its attempts to be a story before its time. The idea behind the story is that a 17th century gentlemen, distraught over the loss of his love, starts to project his consciousness forward in time, pining after her, eventually imagining himself in a time when their souls are reunited. (The simple projection of one’s self to another time reminded me of A Princess of Mars – no need for fancy spaceships). However, the time where he and his lover both exist is in fact, far in the future, when the sun has gone out and all is cloaked in darkness. This setting is clearly inspired somewhat by the brief section in Wells’ The Time Machine wherein the narrator escapes the Morlocks by travelling millions of years into a dismal, dying future.

The Night Land, however, takes that concept and introduces a heavy dose of pure “weird fiction” horror, as well as truly imaginative science fiction, to a wonderful result. In the future the narrator finds himself in, humanity still exists, but inside a giant pyramidal megastructure, the Last Redoubt, each “floor” of which contains a city’s worth of people, a concept that feels positively cyberpunk. The sun isn’t just dying, but dead, and eternal night stretches in all directions outside the glow of the Last Redoubt. One of the best parts of the book is simply the second chapter where the Narrator stands at the top of the Redoubt with observational tools, and relates the things he sees in all directions – giant watching monsters, places of ominous fires where dark things scuttle and structures whose terrifying purpose can only be imagined. Long before the post-apocalypse genre took off, Hodgson presents a world that absolutely wants every last human dead, and humanity as a whole only survives through science and tenacity. Other science fiction concepts include the psionic ability of the main character, and the weapon he uses – essentially a staff topped by a shining buzzsaw, something that would seem more in place in modern takes on science fiction.

The work easily incorporates its fantasy and horror aspects as well, with the terrifying forces arrayed against humanity ranging from hideous monsters to forces that seem more supernatural and unknowable in nature. For a story mostly about a hopeless protagonist doing his best to simply survive the world he traverses in search of his lost love, there are also some very evocative bits of action. The work does have its weaknesses, however. The choice to use a narrator with a very archaic voice can lead the prose to plod at times. The second half also is slowed by constant romantic interludes between the main character and his love interest – though it was somewhat fascinating to see a female character get so much proverbial “screen time” in a book from this time period – its interesting to consider the work was released the same year that A Princess of Mars started to be serialized. Overall, it was clear why Lovecraft gave the book such glowing reviews, and it truly is astonishing in its imaginative trailblazing. While the 17th Century narration does cause certain parts to slow, they also give a severe majesty to the most dramatic sections. If you’re a big fan of Lovecraft and want to investigate his own inspirations, and don’t mind the angle of the narrator, its definitely worth a look.