A new
biography of H.P. Lovecraft is out this month from Plexus Publishing, Paul
Roland’s The Curious Case of H.P.
Lovecraft. It is no surprise that
such an influential writer as Lovecraft would become the subject of numerous
biographies over the years, books that sought to connect his unique vision and
grim world view to the tragedies and torments of his life. Of these earlier books, probably the most
familiar are L. Sprague de Camp’s Lovecraft,
A Biography (1975), and S.T. Joshi’s monumental two volume work, I Am Providence (2013).
Both of
these are useful, and have their strengths.
De Camp’s purpose is to show how Lovecraft sabotaged his talent and
efforts through poor organization, lack of self-discipline and immaturity—while
acknowledging the impact of a traumatic family history on his troubled
adulthood. The book is critical in tone,
and could have been subtitled How Not to
Succeed as a Genre Writer. Joshi’s book is an essential reference,
very thorough and detailed, but probably overwhelming for the general reader. However, I
Am Providence is indispensable for those who are intrigued by Lovecraft’s
work and want a deeper understanding of the social and historical context in
which it was created.
The Curious Case of H.P. Lovecraft occupies a position intermediate
between these earlier biographies.
Roland’s book will be interesting and accessible to the general reader
who would like to know more about the life of this complex individual, and how
it is expressed in his writings. The
biographer’s intent is to investigate “how Lovecraft’s disturbing creations may
have been an attempt to exorcise both his inner-demons and the elemental
abominations which haunted his recurring nightmares.”
This is
no small task, given that both Lovecraft’s life and work were full of
contradictions. What he wrote about himself in his letters was often at
odds with the content of his poetry and fiction. He was an avowed atheist,
but one who made frequent reference to biblical passages, whose terrifying “Old
Ones” were manifested through religious ritual, and whose settings often
included churches and graveyards. Officially a materialist, Lovecraft’s metaphysics
of the dream world held that dreams were as real as so-called reality, and
probably more so. In life, he felt that he was superior to the
rabble and especially to ethnic, racial and religious minorities. Yet he considered himself feeble, frequently
incapacitated, physically ugly, and a failure.
Roland
provides an overview of Lovecraft’s early life, drawing attention to the formative
influences of his grandfather Whipple Van Buren Phillips and that of his mother,
Susie Lovecraft—arguably the two most important people in his life. The figure of Lovecraft’s grandfather haunts
much of his fiction, a recurring ghost-like image who imparts wisdom and
guidance, if little comfort. The complete
absence of women from nearly all of Lovecraft’s work must surely reflect the
deep ambivalence he felt about his relationship with his mother. A third influence that Roland and other
biographers have chronicled was the steady decline of the family’s economic status
following the death of the grandfather.
Lovecraft enjoyed a pampered “Golden Age” early in life, and then
subsequent impoverishment, with its accompanying anxiety and sense of gathering
doom.
Nearly
everything Lovecraft wrote was autobiographical in content—he is the main character in the majority of his first person
narratives. His synopses of dreams, his
poetry, fiction and correspondence all comprise a remarkable psycho-emotional
record of his fears and disappointments. This record artfully documents his
struggles with depression and sanity following the deaths of his grandfather
and mother, the subsequent loss of the family fortune, and his inability to
succeed as an adult or as a writer in a challenging period of history. He
conducted himself as if he were a devout Puritan, yet had no hope or belief in
a salvation. Near the end of his life he was still trying to resolve the
contradictions in his life and find a purpose—even an identity—for himself.
Roland
makes a reasonable attempt, as others have before him, to diagnose Lovecraft on
the basis of this psychic record. He concludes
that Lovecraft’s behaviors and interactions with others are typical of those
identified as having Asperger’s Syndrome, a classification unknown in Lovecraft’s
time. This is probably not too far off
the mark, and does account for Lovecraft’s famed preference for solitude,
his inability to sustain focus at times, and his experience of being
overwhelmed by anxiety, depression, and change in his routine.
Yet the
biographer cannot resist more traditional psychoanalytical interpretations of
some of the sexual imagery in Lovecraft’s work, as well as his troubled
relationship with his mother. Nor can
the rest of us; it seems very appropriate that an era that produced Freudian
understandings of repressed human motivations should also produce repressed
authors like H.P. Lovecraft. In this
regard, Roland offers an interesting interpretation of The Call of Cthulhu. He sees this classic tale as an explicit dramatization
of Lovecraft’s
subconscious fears “erupting” into consciousness. Conceivably, Lovecraft may have benefitted
from such insights, if he had possessed the means to access mental health
services.
In one
of the book’s strongest chapters, (9. “The Haunter of the Dark”), Roland ties
many of these psychological observations together into an analysis of Lovecraft’s
style and content. Why was he so
enthralled with atmosphere and architecture?
How are Lovecraft’s struggles with family trauma reflected in such well
known stories as Arthur Jermyn, The Rats in the Walls, The Dunwich Horror and The Shadow Over Innsmouth? Later on, Roland makes a reasonable, poetic defense of Lovecraft’s use of
adjectives and adverbs, his ‘purple prose’—a frequent and perhaps unfair
criticism of the author.
In The Curious Case of H.P. Lovecraft, readers will find an interesting discussion of the author’s principle works, as well as the historical and familial circumstances in which they were created. The tone is thoughtful and affectionate, but not uncritical. The book is graced by numerous rare photographs, several of them depicting Lovecraft actually smiling. There are some interesting asides about Lovecraft’s use of dream incubation and creative visualization as adjuncts to writing. Near the end is a helpful overview of Lovecraft’s various translations into film, television, graphic novels, visual media, music and other cultural products. Finally, the appendices contain fascinating material written by Lovecraft and his wife Sonia Davis that will be of interest to fans.
Overall, Roland’s biography provides a solid introduction for those who want to deepen their appreciation of Lovecraft and his contributions to weird fiction.
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