68. “The Street” (1920)
“There be those who say that things and places have souls, and there be those who say they do not; I dare not say, myself, but I will tell of The Street.”
The “soul” of this street is unaccountably vile. The street feels good when white people live there, but feels bad when immigrants move in. It’s xenophobia masquerading as a tale of the strange. Lovecraft openly pines for an Anglo-Saxon America, when Caucasians took up arms against people of other countries and cultures, instead of living alongside them as neighbors. The final section of the story fearmongers against communism in the hysterical pitch of McCarthy. Besides that, the repeated use of the phrase “swarthy and sinister” is Lovecraft at his worst. The story ends with the sentient street crushing all of the immigrants who live there. It’s a repugnant white nationalist fantasy.
67. “The Beast in the Cave” (1918)
“I was lost, completely, hopelessly lost in the vast and labyrinthine recesses of the Mammoth Cave.”
Written when Lovecraft was 14, “The Beast in the Cave” was published 14 years later in The Vagrant, an amateur magazine. Here, the juvenile writer embarks on one of the great themes of his career: humans who become debased or even de-evolved. A man lost in a cave resigns himself to death when he hears the approach of a strange creature. Sometimes it walks on four legs and sometimes on two. Alone in the dark, the man throws rocks at the creature and succeeds in downing it. After miraculously finding his tour guide, he takes a torch to the site of the conflict and there finds a horrifyingly bleached ape with black eyes. As it dies, it speaks, and the narrator realizes the beast was once a man. There’s little suspense and the style is overly breathless.
66. The Descendant (1938)
Short Story Fragment
“In London there is a man who screams when the church bells ring.”
One of a small number of story fragments to be published after Lovecraft’s death, “The Descendant” features a tantalizing glimpse of Lovecraft’s favorite book: the Necronomicon, by the so-called “mad Arab Abdul Alhazred.” This unfinished history picks up years later with the main character of “The Nameless City”. Now, the young explorer is old and skittish, as something even more horrifying has happened in the interim. We never find out what it is. But we do learn that Lovecraft is as prejudiced against Jewish people as he is against Muslims. Even in this brief tale, he stoops to the laziest anti-Semitic tropes. Sometimes Lovecraft’s defenders point out that he had a Jewish wife — the writer called her “well-assimilated” — but his description in “The Descendent” of the Jewish book merchant should dispel all doubts on the subject. Besides that, this fragment has the least to offer among all of the author’s posthumous work. There are no horrifying descriptions or poetic flights of fancy and only the barest intimation of plot. There was no reason to save this from the trash bin.
65. “The Horror at Red Hook” (1927)
“Just at a time when a wave of kidnappings and disappearances spread its excitement over New York, the unkempt scholar embarked on a metamorphosis as startling as it was absurd.”
Malone is a New York detective with an interest in the occult who is assigned to the Red Hook neighborhood of Brooklyn. Ostensibly, he’s concerned with Robert Suydam, a “lettered recluse of an ancient Dutch family,” who seems to have a lot of low-class friends. But a foul strain of xenophobia runs through the story, and Lovecraft can hardly make it through a page without using “swarthy” as a synonym for “bad” or describing gangs of youths as evil-looking foreigners. Malone hears strange music on the streets that is definitely a parody of jazz, because apparently Lovecraft found jazz music frightening. His prejudice against Black people and immigrants is on full display. From a storytelling perspective, the pacing is irregular and the climax anticlimactic. But he starts to develop his fascination with cults that would later serve the Cthulu Mythos so well.
64. “Ex Oblivione” (1921)
“In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life…”
Probably written after “Celephaïs”, “Ex Oblivione” is a shorter, duller take on the same themes. A man unhappy with his life wishes to escape into his sleeping dreams. An avalanche of adjectives ensues. Lovecraft wrote a lot of different kinds of weird tales, but the dreamy prose poems tend to put readers to sleep.
63. “Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family” (1921)
“Madness was in all the Jermyns, and people were glad there were not many of them.”
What starts as a long, dry, family history involving African explorers, tales of white apes, and ancient prehistoric cities ends with a “reveal” telegraphed from miles away. The only horror is that several generations prior, his great-great-great(?) grandfather had taken a white ape princess as his bride. That’s it. This supposedly rational, seemingly well-adjusted young man absolutely loses his mind at the thought. It’s just not scary, and the only exciting part (the narrator burned himself alive because he didn’t want to be related to his great-great-great grandmother) feels unearned. Lovecraft’s obsession with the mixing of blood led to some truly tedious stories.
62. Azathoth (1938)
“…There was a man who travelled out of life on a quest into spaces wither the world’s dreams had fled.”
This incomplete novel fragment was published after Lovecraft’s death. It survives as flash fiction about a man who’s unhappy with his life and spends all his time looking out his window at the stars until one day he flies away and finds a constellation of overwrought descriptions. As previously discussed, Lovecraft’s poetical flights rarely get off the ground. Notable for the first mention of Azathoth, one of Lovecraft’s favorite recurring Gods.
61. “The Alchemist” (1916)
“May ne’er a noble of thy murd’rous line/ Survive to reach a greater age than thine!”
Another juvenile fiction, written when Lovecraft was 15 or so and published later. It’s an improvement on “The Beast in the Cave” at least. Antoine, last of the Comtes de C–, tells of the curse upon his family whereby all men die at the age of 32. Years ago, his ancestor unjustly killed Michel Mauvis, incorrectly supposing the medieval alchemist had murdered his son. Michel’s own son, Charles le Sorcerer, put a curse on his line. A week before Antoine’s expected death, he finds a trap door in his rundown estate, where he meets a shocking old figure. Not that it’s a surprise to the reader; as soon as the aged man appears, the conclusion is obvious, though Lovecraft feels the need to explain at length.