mjj (flemmings) wrote,
mjj
flemmings

Or, in a word, bumpf

So rushthatspeaks discovers HP Lovecraft being, in essence, HP Lovecraft even while talking about some rather uninspired caverns in Virginia.
Glimpses of far black vistas beyond the radius of the lights-- sheer drops of incalculable depth to unknown chasms, or arcades beckoning laterally to mysteries yet untasted by human eye-- bring one's soul close to the frightful and obscure frontiers of the material world, and conjure up suspicions of vague and unhallowed dimensions whose formless beings lurk ever close to the visible world of man's five senses.
Am I the only person who thinks Lovecraft writes like a fog machine? Formless, inchoate, and dimly menacing, like the gibbering of Those who dwell Down There.
Tags: reading, writing
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