“…it
would be after dinner, as I sat reading, that, happening to look up suddenly, I
saw something peering in over the window-ledge the eyes and ears alone showing.
“’A pig, by Jove!’ I said, and rose to my
feet.”
H.P.
Lovecraft reportedly detested sea food and found sea creatures especially
revolting. Perhaps because of that fact
his fictional monstrosities often resemble enormous marine invertebrates. Though not known for certain, details in the
appearance of Hodgson’s supernatural creatures suggest that he experienced
moderate to severe porcine phobia.
It is
difficult to see how a pig or hog would engender much fear or suspense in a horror
or fantasy story. Pigs are not predators
and are relatively easy to get away from.
In America they are often found roasting on a spit or else fried or
baked to pieces—porcine components are often on the table at nearly every
holiday. Hogs in their wilder form as
boars can be aggressive and ill-tempered, but cannot compare with the anxiety a
bear or mountain lion or even a rattlesnake can bring.
Horror
takes the form of a hog in some of Hodgson’s fiction, most notably in his weird
novel, The House on the Borderland
(1908) where the ‘house’ is besieged by malevolent “swine-things”. This book is still worth reading—despite the
unfrightening alien creatures—if only for the eerie setting and hallucinogenic
vision of earth’s end near the climax of the novel.
In The House on the Borderland Hodgson is
successful in sustaining an unearthly atmosphere through careful attention to physical
details in various scenes. There is the
wonderful trippy sequence in which the narrator stands still and experiences
cosmic time vastly speeded up, allowing him to see the future of the solar
system eons hence.
Other
stories in the author’s ‘Hog Mythos’ are
less entertaining, though useful in coming to understand the evolution of pulp
fiction and one author’s contribution to it.
One of the problems seems to be that the main character is often passive—he
moves very little and does nothing but observe swirling horrors all around him. In the midst of a climactic struggle,
movement seems clumsy and contrived.
Movement
is limited in the Carnacki stories anyway, because the narrator is often stuck
precariously inside a protective circle—created either by spells or glowing
technology or both. Much of what goes on
is essentially a visual bad trip, interesting for a little while but ultimately
tedious. The presence of pigs does
little to intensify the mood.
The Hog was originally published in Weird Tales in January of 1947. It is a long story within a story, in which Hodgson’s
character Carnacki, the detective who specializes in occult matters, attempts
to save a client from “soul destruction” at the hands, (or feet) of evil,
cosmic—pigs. The unfortunate Mr. Bains
has been having terrifying nightmares in which he hears the grunting and squealing
of pigs.
Every
now and then he hears “a gargantuan GRUNT, breaking through the million
pig-voiced roaring…” Even worse, Bains
has begun to grunt himself, as if in reply.
The voices of the pigs appear to come from somewhere deep below, singing
a kind of demonic chant led by “the voice of the swine-mother of monstrosity
beating up below through that chorus of mad swine-hunger…” Many Americans will stop reading at this
point. It is a challenge to make a
common food item terrifying.
The Hog may be an elaborate metaphor
about the seductions of evil. In my
view, the metaphor would have been more powerful had the story been set near a
barbecue pit at dinnertime.
The
story is especially marred by frequent repetitive techno-babble about devices
and procedures that Carnacki uses to keep the negative “tensions” at bay. The device he employs in this story is an
upgrade of the one he used in The Gateway
of the Monster (1910). It emits
light of different colors to create a defensive shield. We learn that of the colors blue is most
effective: “Neither forget that in blue,
which is God’s colour in the Heavens, ye have safety.” Yellow and red—not so much. Here we have a clue about Hodgson’s color
preferences, in addition to his feelings about common farm animals.
This
procedural detail by the way comes from Hodgson’s version of the Necronomican, a resource he calls the Sigsand Manuscript. As an amateur
Calvinist, I was intrigued by the theology expressed in this ancient work: “Avoid diversities of colour; nor stand ye
within the barrier of the colour lights; for in colour hath Satan a delight.” This sounds like excellent advice.
Unlike
The Gateway of the Monster, which relies
on pseudo-occult procedures, (see last month’s post “Carnacki’s Protective
Pentacle Procedure”), Hodgson gives more emphasis to objective observation of
supernatural events. There are still
several Biblical allusions that frame the situation as a struggle between good
and evil. But readers definitely hear
more about the technology the detective applies in the situation. Though preposterous, the author makes an
effort at the end of the story to dispassionately explain what Bains and
Carnacki experienced. It is tempting to
see this as evidence of a paradigm shift in horror fiction of this kind, away
from the occult and towards the scientific.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for your interest in The R'lyeh Tribune! Comments and suggestions are always welcome.