Despite
its flaws, The Whisperer in Darkness
is one of H.P. Lovecraft’s best stories.
It was published in Weird Tales
in 1931. A novella, it is one of his
later works, and shows his nearly complete transformation from horror writer to
science fiction writer. Although worship
and evocation of the Old Ones is
referenced through mention of the Necronomicon
and its principle deities—making this solidly a Cthulhu Mythos story—the emphasis
is on the natural history and malign intent of extraterrestrials, whom
Lovecraft connects with “the hellish Himalayan Mi-Go.” However, the
preoccupation with primordial religion is still present, as it is in much of
what the supposedly materialist author wrote.
The Whisperer in Darkness is an effective forerunner to
all the science fiction entertainments that have dealt with extraterrestrial
invasion, conspiracy, and human-alien collaboration. The increasing suspense and paranoia in
Lovecraft’s tale may remind some readers of the original versions of Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) and
Invaders From Mars (1953). It is not a comfort that the aliens come from
the planet Yuggoth, also known as Pluto—not
really that far away in the cosmic order of things.
Following catastrophic flooding in Vermont, a
specialist in antiquarian New England folklore
at Miskatonic University becomes interested in reports of strange animal carcasses
found among the wreckage: “They were
pinkish things about five feet long; with crustaceous bodies bearing vast pairs
of dorsal fins or membranous wings and several sets of articulated limbs…” Wilmarth, the folklorist is initially bemused—the
descriptions are roughly congruent with old legends told by the local Indian
tribes and stories passed down from the early settlers.
Wilmarth
responds to letters in the local papers, sharing his expertise and perhaps
challenging some of the more outrageous claims of some of the correspondents. But one letter stands out: a gentleman named Akeley has additional
information and some compelling speculations.
The two begin to correspond and it soon becomes apparent that Akeley ‘knows
too much’ about the presence of extraterrestrials in the remoter hills of
Vermont. From a distance, Wilmarth grows
increasingly concerned, his bemusement changing to suspicion and then alarm.
Here
we see an echo of Lovecraft’s early enthusiasm for writing letters to the
editors of newspapers and other periodicals.
S.T. Joshi, in his wonderful two volume biography of Lovecraft,
describes two particular incidences of this very early in the author’s
career. In 1913 Lovecraft wrote a series
of letters highly critical of a popular genre writer who had been published in Argosy, incurring the epistolary wrath
of his fans.
The
next year Lovecraft engaged in a letter writing skirmish with a local astrologer
whose world view aggravated Lovecraft’s commitment to science and materialism. Joshi credits experiences like this to
Lovecraft’s discovery of amateur journalism, and his subsequent emergence from the
trauma and depression caused by his family’s financial misfortunes. His letter writing, which only intensified
over the years with various colleagues, became one of his principle means of
communication and forms the bulk of his output as a writer. And it led to the initial publication of his
fictional work beginning around 1916.
(Given
his earlier interests in self-publishing his own periodicals as well as his
enthusiasm for correspondence, one wonders what H.P. Lovecraft would have done
with the technology of blogging, had it been available in his time.)
The Whisperer in Darkness is told almost entirely in a
series of letters from the increasingly beleaguered Akeley, who must struggle
alone against the encroaching alien presence as well as the activities of their
human collaborators. Akeley has proof—and
here is one strength of the story:
Lovecraft relies on actual contemporary technology to shore up the believability
of the tale, rather than the pseudo-scientific paraphernalia common in pulp
science fiction of the time. Akeley has
recorded a sample of the speech of one of the aliens—“…I took a phonograph
there—with a dictaphone attachment and wax blank…”—and he also has Kodak photographs.
But most
importantly, he has retrieved a mysterious black stone from near the site of
extraterrestrial activity. It is covered
with strange hieroglyphics that may yield valuable insights if they can be
translated. Will he be able to send
this evidence to Wilmarth in time?
Another
strength of The Whisperer in Darkness
and of Lovecraft’s fiction in general, is the unique depiction of the alien
species. They are not like earth life at
all, and their motives and intentions are barely comprehensible. Visual, auditory and biological details are
provided—“They are more vegetable than animal…and have a somewhat fungoid
structure; though the presence of a chlorophyll-like substance and a very
singular nutritive system differentiate them altogether…”—allowing the reader
to imagine a completely unknown life form.
Do
they just want to be left alone and allowed to mine the hills of Vermont for
specific metals, or do they have other plans?
Also appealing, and lending some verisimilitude to their existence, is
Akeley’s observation that the aliens are clumsy, hate dogs, and cannot fly very
well despite having wings.
Things
go from bad to worse at Akeley’s house, and he is not sure how much longer he
can hold out against the extraterrestrials that are besieging him nightly. But then the tone of his letters abruptly changes
and he invites Wilmarth to the homestead for a complete explanation of what he
has discovered. Wilmarth is suspicious
and disturbed, but acquiesces. This being
a Lovecraft story, we already know that the visit is unlikely to be pleasant or
calming.
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