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Acolyte, v. 3, issue 4, whole no. 12, Fall 1945
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My "heroes" or protagonists (for the "hero" is often the villain) are either beaten-down scholars who blunder into trouble and are destroyed, or mercenary rats who blunder into trouble and are destroyed. They seek...and find only death. Youthful cynicism...adolescent preoccupation with the problems of the depression where the poor scholar (that's me, folks) fails...and the smug realist also fails (that's a wish-fulfillment fantasy, folks). In other words, the philosophy of defeat implicit...."Why seek, you only to get into trouble anyway." Obvious stuff, eh? Any kid can do it? Laney's kids do it all the time, huh? Wait a bit. Now...let's get cathartic. Consider the environment...the setting...hang onto your chairs, folks... In virtually every story I wrote between 1935 and 1938 the villain or evil or doom lurked underground. There was a subterrene chanting in the "Feast in the Abbey"...a "Secret in the Tomb"...the Druids pulled old Charlie Hovacoe down under the stone in "The Druidic Doom", and Nyarlathotep rose out of the sands in "The Faceless God"...a "Grinning Ghoul" lurked beneath the cenetary and "The Opener of the Way" skulked in an Egyptian tomb...the "Brood of Bubastis" was encountered under the Cornish hills (where there ain't no hills, incidentally) and "The Creeper in the Crypt" kept to his cellar in Arkham, just as Captain Carteret had to descend to view the treasures of the "Fane of the Black Pharaoh". Underground...that's where evil lurks. At the same time, that's where the treasure lies. That's where the hero goes. Seeking treasure. Finding doom. Get out your Freud, folks. Can't you see the adolescent, subconsciously obsessed with the female sexual regions? Underground...treasure...possible danger and doom...mystery... Now we're getting somewhere. That's what I was writing about, whether I knew it or not. Sexual symbolism. Shades of Jurgen! At this time I pause to realise that if I were to proceed from 1938 onward, I would get increasingly tangled up in a dozen additional symbolic references which enter from that point. I would stretch this pleasant little exercise out for 15 pages or so, and to what end? But I think this at least provides an inkling of an approach to writer-motivation neglected in the stimulating Laney article. Let other, more qualified intellects take up the torch from here...take up the torch and set fire to the whole damned thing, for all of me! At least I don't write about caverns so much any more! ----ooo0ooo---- E. HOFFMAN PRICE DISAGREES WITH A TOO ENTHUSIASTIC DESCRIPTION: Stuart Boland in re. Lovecraft has something worth reading. Boland is quite some traveller. I once spent a number of enjoyable hours looking over his photos and listening to his reminiscences of far off places. One of these days I hope to repeat the meeting. But since, despite gas going off ration, I am compelled to sit tight for some months, I would like to offer a few sidelights on Robert E. Howard and H. P. Lovecraft, described as "immortals, each with his stupendous understanding of life, creation, and the universe...." Those who met either REH or HPL in person could not help but be charmed by their personalities; and their reader-reaction is well known. Still, I don't believe either had a "stupendous understanding of life". With all affection and respect, I don't believe that either of the two had got beyond the juvenile viewpoint. R. E. Howard did travel around a lot. So did HPL. Reading some --- 31 ---
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My "heroes" or protagonists (for the "hero" is often the villain) are either beaten-down scholars who blunder into trouble and are destroyed, or mercenary rats who blunder into trouble and are destroyed. They seek...and find only death. Youthful cynicism...adolescent preoccupation with the problems of the depression where the poor scholar (that's me, folks) fails...and the smug realist also fails (that's a wish-fulfillment fantasy, folks). In other words, the philosophy of defeat implicit...."Why seek, you only to get into trouble anyway." Obvious stuff, eh? Any kid can do it? Laney's kids do it all the time, huh? Wait a bit. Now...let's get cathartic. Consider the environment...the setting...hang onto your chairs, folks... In virtually every story I wrote between 1935 and 1938 the villain or evil or doom lurked underground. There was a subterrene chanting in the "Feast in the Abbey"...a "Secret in the Tomb"...the Druids pulled old Charlie Hovacoe down under the stone in "The Druidic Doom", and Nyarlathotep rose out of the sands in "The Faceless God"...a "Grinning Ghoul" lurked beneath the cenetary and "The Opener of the Way" skulked in an Egyptian tomb...the "Brood of Bubastis" was encountered under the Cornish hills (where there ain't no hills, incidentally) and "The Creeper in the Crypt" kept to his cellar in Arkham, just as Captain Carteret had to descend to view the treasures of the "Fane of the Black Pharaoh". Underground...that's where evil lurks. At the same time, that's where the treasure lies. That's where the hero goes. Seeking treasure. Finding doom. Get out your Freud, folks. Can't you see the adolescent, subconsciously obsessed with the female sexual regions? Underground...treasure...possible danger and doom...mystery... Now we're getting somewhere. That's what I was writing about, whether I knew it or not. Sexual symbolism. Shades of Jurgen! At this time I pause to realise that if I were to proceed from 1938 onward, I would get increasingly tangled up in a dozen additional symbolic references which enter from that point. I would stretch this pleasant little exercise out for 15 pages or so, and to what end? But I think this at least provides an inkling of an approach to writer-motivation neglected in the stimulating Laney article. Let other, more qualified intellects take up the torch from here...take up the torch and set fire to the whole damned thing, for all of me! At least I don't write about caverns so much any more! ----ooo0ooo---- E. HOFFMAN PRICE DISAGREES WITH A TOO ENTHUSIASTIC DESCRIPTION: Stuart Boland in re. Lovecraft has something worth reading. Boland is quite some traveller. I once spent a number of enjoyable hours looking over his photos and listening to his reminiscences of far off places. One of these days I hope to repeat the meeting. But since, despite gas going off ration, I am compelled to sit tight for some months, I would like to offer a few sidelights on Robert E. Howard and H. P. Lovecraft, described as "immortals, each with his stupendous understanding of life, creation, and the universe...." Those who met either REH or HPL in person could not help but be charmed by their personalities; and their reader-reaction is well known. Still, I don't believe either had a "stupendous understanding of life". With all affection and respect, I don't believe that either of the two had got beyond the juvenile viewpoint. R. E. Howard did travel around a lot. So did HPL. Reading some --- 31 ---
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