Summer
is here, despite the unseasonably cool weather and excessive rainfall we have
had in the Wolverine State. Many look
forward to planning vacations and road trips, though not everyone, among them the
more jaded excursionists, enjoy travel. There
is the vexing disruption of accustomed routines, and an overnight stay in some
unfamiliar home or hotel brings with it peculiar noises in the middle of the night,
untrustworthy foods and beverages, and slow, unsympathetic service.
On
occasion, at least in horror fiction, the host or proprietor of some out of the
way establishment may be a werewolf, maniac or cannibal, causing all kinds of
awkwardness and an abrupt change in vacation plans. ‘Travel is broadening’, but also nerve wracking
and frightening. The anxiety of being
away from home and family—such a rich vein of archetypal unease—has been mined
extensively in horror literature and film. This subgenre of horror is briefly discussed
in a post from last summer that reviewed Algernon Blackwood’s 1917 classic, The Occupant of the Room, (see Bad Trips).
Nearly
all of these tales begin with some version of “it was a dark and stormy night”,
for the plot hinges on the irony of seeking shelter from the storm. Or else the weary traveler is seeking refuge
and rest from some trauma, either medical or emotional. But it is ‘out of the frying pan into the
fire’—which is literally true if the landlord is a cannibal, as in H.P.
Lovecraft’s well known 1921 story The
Picture in the House. (See 3.
Comparing PYF in Four Horror Stories, which applies a formula for
calculating the “primal yuck factor” in this and several other stories by
Lovecraft).
Solomon
Kane encounters subpar accommodations in Robert E. Howard’s 1929 story Rattle of Bones. Besides the mayhem that ensues from
encountering an old and vengeful rival, Kane also has to put up with a maniacal
innkeeper and an animate skeleton that is only temporarily restrained by iron
chains, (see Cleft
Skull Tavern—Not Recommended.)
(I
recommend the “express check-out” option for establishments of this type.)
H.P.
Lovecraft and C.M. Eddy, Jr. collaborated on an example of travel horror, a
story published in the April 1924 issue of Weird
Tales called The Ghost-Eater. This story is considered one of Lovecraft’s
“secondary revisions”. S.T. Joshi notes
that he cannot discern much in the prose that is identifiably Lovecraft’s,
since Eddy’s “more choppy, less prose-poetic idiom” predominates. This is not a bad thing, for the story is
devoid of Lovecraft’s lengthy, verbose sentences and endless backstory, and moves
right along.
In a
letter to Muriel Eddy, the author’s wife, Lovecraft indicates that he only “made
two or three minor revisions” to The
Ghost-Eater prior to its publication.
However, one of Lovecraft’s favorite words—“eldritch”—appears in both
the first and the last paragraphs of the text, and his oft used device of
italicizing exclamatory sentences for dramatic effect occurs not once but four times in the story!
Lovecraft
was also a noted teetotaler, and the story contains a veiled admonition about
the consequences of drinking: the
narrator falls asleep after drinking a bottle of wine with his lunch, and his
ordeal begins not long after he wakes up.
But aside from these influences, the work does seem to be primarily Eddy’s
in style and content. The Ghost-Eater and several other
stories by Eddy constitute some of Lovecraft’s earliest revision work. (Muriel
Eddy frequently assisted Lovecraft with the typing of his manuscripts.)
In The Ghost-Eater, the narrator recounts a
backwoods hike in which he discovers a strange old house and its stranger
occupant. Unable to make it to his
destination before nightfall—he had slept away the afternoon midway through his
journey—he is allowed to stay the night.
The reader is provided several clues early on that something is not
quite right about the house and its owner:
I
had expected a shanty or log-cabin, but stopped short in surprise when I beheld
a neat and tasteful little house of two stories; some seventy years old by its
architecture, yet still in a state of repair betokening the closest and most
civilized attention…With startling promptness, my knock was answered by a deep,
pleasant voice which uttered the single syllable, “Come!”
…He
was strikingly handsome, with thin, clean shaven face, glossy, flaxen hair
neatly brushed, long regular eyebrows that met in a slanting angle above the
nose, shapely ears set low and well back on the head, and large expressive gray
eyes almost luminous in their animation.
The
ears and the eyes are suspicious of course, as is the home owner’s eastern
European origin. Too late the narrator
discovers that the forest he is in is known locally as “Devil’s Woods”, once
populated by Russian immigrants—“they came after one of their nihilist troubles
in Russia.” The Ghost-Eater combines elements of the werewolf story and the
ghost story. Its central image is the
reenactment of a brutal murder, replayed as it were for the benefit of the horrified
guest. The narrator also learns that the house he had visited was actually
burned down by local villagers some sixty years before, causing him some
disorientation.
This is
an interesting trope that appears in numerous tales of spectral encounters: not
only is there a visitation by some spirit, but associated architecture,
technology, even ships, trains and automobiles materialize, as if experiencing
a ghost is a variety of time travel. (H.S.
Whitehead’s 1932 story No Eye Witness
is an example of this. See Time
Travel and a Werewolf.)
Eddy
and Lovecraft’s The Ghost-Eater seems
closely related to a better known story published in Weird Tales the year before, Seabury Quinn’s The Phantom Farmhouse, (1923).
The titular farmhouse materializes as part of a tragic encounter with a
family of werewolves, in which the protagonist falls in love with the beautiful
daughter. This story was the inspiration
for a Night Gallery episode of the same
name that aired in October of 1971.
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