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Utrecht University
Categorising Lovecraft
Defining the genre of H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos stories
Fig. 1. Larson, Abigail. H.P. Lovecraft. Digital image. DeviantArt. DeviantART, 2009. Web. 23 May 2016.
Twan van Tilborg 4006542
English Language and Culture
BA Thesis
First supervisor: Professor S. D. Chambers
Second supervisor: Dr. P.J.C.M. Franssen
25 May 2016
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Table of Contents
Introduction
Page 3
Chapter 1: American Gothic Fiction
Page 7
Chapter 2: Cosmic Horror
Page 11
Chapter 3: Cosmic Horror in Lovecraft’s works
Page 13
Conclusion
Page 21
Bibliography
Page 23
Appendix: Annotations
Page 25
Appendix: The Phone Calls
Page 27
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Introduction
H.P. Lovecraft is generally categorised as an American Gothic author. While his earlier works
do indeed fit in with the American Gothic tradition, his later works, and particularly the
stories of his so-called Cthulhu Mythos books, appear to stray away from this genre.
Nevertheless, Lovecraft is primarily ranked as a writer of American Gothic Fiction, as is
evident in Mary Ellen Snodgrass’ Encyclopedia of Gothic Literature and in the Encyclopedia
of the Gothic. James Goho even claims that Lovecraft’s later works were “A new Gothic”,
that Lovecraft created by adding themes of science fiction to the existing themes of the
American Gothic genre (31-32). However, Lovecraft did far more than that: he moved away
from the American Gothic genre and situated himself in a different horror genre, namely that
of Cosmic Horror. This paper will seek to argue that, based on the works of the Cthulhu
Mythos, Lovecraft should be categorised as a writer of Cosmic Horror rather than an
American Gothic author.
To find evidence to support this claim a number of primary sources will be analysed.
Two of those are stories from Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos. Before going into those stories
themselves, it may be useful to explain what exactly constitutes Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos,
and why it plays such a key part in defining Lovecraft’s genre. The name for this collection of
works was coined after Lovecraft’s death by August Derleth, an acquaintance of Lovecraft’s
who was among the first to publish his works (Joshi, A Subtler Magick 127-128). It has been
argued that the term Cthulhu Mythos has become corrupted. After Lovecraft’s death, August
Derleth continued writing stories that he added to the Cthulhu Mythos, and he encouraged
fellow admirers of Lovecraft’s work to do the same (Joshi, A Subtler Magick 127-128).
Because of this, the term Cthulhu Mythos has come to represent this entire body of work
rather than Lovecraft’s own stories. Alternative terms such as “Lovecraft Mythos” have been
suggested, but these have become corrupted in much the same way (Joshi, A Subtler Magick
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127-128). To avoid confusion, all mentions of the Cthulhu Mythos in this paper will refer
exclusively to Lovecraft’s works.
The stories of the Cthulhu Mythos have a number of elements in common. Almost all
of them are set in or refer to a very realistic, if mostly imagined, New England setting, contain
references to a library of occult, forbidden books and rely heavily on a sense of discomfort
caused by the vastness of unknown space (Joshi, “The Cthulhu Mythos” 99). Lovecraft
capitalises on the dangers of unknown space by creating a number of civilisations of
immensely powerful creatures that live in, or beyond, the outer reaches of the known
universe. When interacting with humanity these creatures turn out to be completely evil or
dangerously indifferent to humankind, and are sometimes worshipped by humans for their
power (Joshi, “The Cthulhu Mythos” 99).
The Cthulhu Mythos is very much a product of its time. It was conceived at a point in
Western history when scientific advancement was breaking down the traditional religious
understanding of the world and the universe, and made people aware of the possibility that, in
the vastness of the universe, human civilisation and its achievements might not be as
significant as originally believed (Joshi, “The Cthulhu Mythos” 98). The Cthulhu Mythos is
often taken as a representation of Lovecraft’s awareness of this, and at the same time as a
rebuke of those who blindly turned to religion to deal with this awareness (Joshi, “The
Cthulhu Mythos” 99).
Two Cthulhu Mythos narratives have been chosen for analysis for their representative
value of the subject matter of this story collection. “At the Mountains of Madness” is often
considered one of the main binding factors of this story cycle, as it contains a wealth of
references to characters, creatures and places featured in other stories of the Mythos. “The
Call of Cthulhu” is arguably Lovecraft’s most famous short story, featuring the creature that
lent its name to the Mythos.
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Furthermore, two works of American Gothic Fiction, namely The Fall of the House of
Usher by Edgar Allan Poe and The House of the Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne, will
be used to illustrate the themes and characteristics of American Gothic Fiction. These stories
were chosen because their authors are both recognised as key writers of American Gothic
Fiction (Lloyd-Smith, “Nineteenth-century American Gothic” 163) and are therefore ideal for
illustrating the features of American Gothic Fiction that will be discussed later. It is
interesting to note, too, that these two writers are known to have influenced Lovecraft’s
earlier writing (Burleson 37-38; Joshi, A Subtler Magick 53-55). By positing these stories as
key examples of American Gothic Fiction it is possible to observe not only to what extent
Lovecraft moved away from the genre of American Gothic Fiction, but also from those
particular authors of this genre who are known to have influenced him.
This paper is structured as follows. The first chapter will introduce the genre of
American Gothic Fiction and discuss its key themes and characteristics, illustrating them with
examples from Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher and Hawthorne’s The House of the
Seven Gables. The second chapter will offer a discussion of the genre of Cosmic Horror,
likewise specifying its key themes and characteristics, and will explain its differences to
American Gothic Fiction. The third chapter will provide thorough analyses of “The Call of
Cthulhu” and “At the Mountains of Madness”. The themes and characteristics of the genre of
Cosmic Horror that appear in these narratives will be highlighted, after which the
representation of these themes in the narratives of Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos will be
discussed. Finally, all results will be gathered and discussed in the conclusion in order to
respond to the thesis statement.
Furthermore, an appendix is attached to this study containing an annotated original
work of fiction. The purpose of this piece of fiction is to show how the themes and
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characteristics of Cosmic Horror that will be discussed in this study can still be applied to a
modern day situation. The annotations will explain the way this was achieved in more detail.
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Chapter 1: American Gothic Fiction
American Gothic Fiction is a subgenre of Gothic literature, boasting an impressive selection
of authors such as Edgar Allan Poe and Nathaniel Hawthorne. While this genre is like
European Gothic Fiction in many respects, its distinct nature is due to a variety of cultural
factors exclusive to the North American continent. Allan Lloyd-Smith points out the “frontier
experience” as a key element in the evolution of the American Gothic genre (American
Gothic 4). The western frontier was for a long time the ever shifting limit of human
civilisation on the North American continent, and the relatively unexplored lands beyond this
line were wild, rugged and violent. American Gothic settings often show the influence of this
frontier experience through harsh, inhospitable settings, as is visible in the following
examples of Hawthorne’s and Poe’s narratives.
Early in The Fall of the House of Usher the narrator tells the reader that the Usher
house and its inhospitable, swampy surroundings fill him with “insufferable gloom” (Poe 1)
and “an utter depression of soul” (Poe 1). This effect is only reinforced near the end of the
narrative, when the environment actually shows its hostility as the Usher house cracks open
and is swallowed by the swamp (Poe 17). The House of the Seven Gables does not rely on
natural settings quite as heavily. However, the narrative opens with the story of Matthew
Maule, a man who settles a beautiful tract of land, cutting it out of an ancient forest on a
rugged peninsula (Hawthorne 9). Whereas little mention is made of hostile or inhospitable
settings in the rest of this narrative, this description of Matthew Maule actually shifting the
frontier clearly shows the influence of the frontier experience on the story.
Interestingly, another characteristic of the genre is the exploration of what might be
called the frontier of morality. The Gothic genre is known to investigate limits, and this is no
less true for the American Gothic subgenre, which often explores the boundaries of fear,
violence, cruelty and even sexual depravity (Lloyd-Smith, American Gothic 4-6). American
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Gothic villains are extreme examples of freethinkers, enlightened characters who feel like
they have risen above society and religion. They no longer feel morally troubled when
dabbling in necromancy, occultism and even incest (Lloyd-Smith, American Gothic 4-6).
The entirety of the Usher family in Poe’s work are examples of such villains. They
attempted to keep their bloodline pure by repeatedly committing the sin of incest, a fact that is
hinted at by the narrator, as he mentions that the Usher family never branched out and must
therefore have intermarried and interbred (Poe 2-3). The House of the Seven Gables features
two American Gothic villains: Colonel Pyncheon and Judge Pyncheon. The Colonel
wrongfully accuses Matthew Maule for witchcraft and has him executed just to get what he
wants: a tract of land to build his house on (Hawthorne 9-10). Generations later, Judge
Pyncheon seems like the Colonel reborn: like his predecessor, he crosses all moral boundaries
by threatening members of his own family (Hawthorne 174-178) and even murdering his own
kin to acquire an inheritance (Hawthorne 232-233).
In a way, Gothic Fiction is a pessimistic genre, a reaction to the breakdown of old
conventions that facilitated the development of science and a more open society (LloydSmith, American Gothic 5-6). Eric Savoy appears to concur with this statement and narrows it
down to apply specifically to the American Gothic genre. American Gothic Fiction, he claims,
shows the dark side of the American Dream: it shows that the Americans’ faith in social and
material progress was far from limitless (Savoy 167). With these doubts came a fear of
foreign cultures encountered through colonisation and globalisation (Lloyd-Smith, American
Gothic 6-9).
The loss of faith in progress is especially visible in The House of the Seven Gables.
Holgrave, a well-travelled lodger in the Pyncheon house, expresses his belief that it would be
best if every generation tore down everything their predecessors achieved to start anew
(Hawthorne 134). Holgrave’s philosophy reflects the influence of the growing unease with
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which North Americans viewed rapid progress, and it expresses a yearning to take a few steps
back and to simply start over again. In The Fall of the House of Usher this theme seems less
clearly present. It can be recognised, however, in the fate of the Usher bloodline, which the
Ushers attempted to keep pure through intermarriage and incest. Rather than achieving this
purpose, their sinful way of advancing their family line and yielding offspring of pure blood
only led to negative effects, namely an inherited sickness, referred to in the narrative as “a
family evil” (Poe 5-6).
Apart from being critical of contemporary developments, the American Gothic genre
also tended to look at the past. It features themes related to the guilt and the inequalities of the
aftermath of American slavery as well as the fear of, and guilt towards, the native American
population (Lloyd-Smith, American Gothic 8). The Puritan inheritance of the early colonists
left its mark on the genre (Lloyd-Smith, American Gothic 4; 8-9). Themes such as inherited
guilt of past tragedies, like those mentioned above, or the Salem witch trials, are sometimes
embodied in American Gothic stories as curses passed down over several generations (Crow
49-50). This way the fears and emotions of North American society were reflected in the
American Gothic genre.
The theme of inherited guilt features heavily in the works of both Poe and Hawthorne.
In the preface to The House of the Seven Gables Hawthorne explicitly states that the evils of
one generation being passed on to following generations is a main theme in this narrative (6).
The evil that Colonel Pyncheon wrought upon Maule by taking his land and causing his death
is reflected back onto the Pyncheon family when Maule curses the Colonel (Hawthorne 10).
Due to this curse the Colonel and several of his descendants, including Judge Pyncheon, die
of apoplexy, and the Pyncheon family slowly falls into ruin as a punishment for the Colonel’s
crime (Hawthorne 15; 225). In The Fall of the House of Usher inherited guilt is embodied by
the “family evil”, the familial disease that sprung from incest (Poe 5-6). The culmination of
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this punishment is the death of the last Ushers and the literal downfall of the Usher House
(Poe 16-17).
Finally, both Savoy and Lloyd-Smith treat another characteristic of the genre, which is
the use of specific architectural settings. In the Gothic tradition, setting is used to convey a
sense of gloom, isolation and solitude. In European Gothic Fiction the dark medieval castle
was often used for this purpose, since the long, gloomy corridors, dark chambers and often
darker history suited the uncanny stories perfectly. As the genre developed, however, tombs
or even simple rooms and houses were used as Gothic settings (Lloyd-Smith, American
Gothic 7-8). Location was an issue for the American Gothic genre. Since the North American
continent has no medieval castles, the colonial mansion was used as an alternative to convey
atmospheric gloom and claustrophobia (Savoy 167-168).
The Usher house is a clear example of architectural setting used to convey a sense of
gloom and claustrophobia with its dark draperies, black floors, inaccessible windows and
crimson light falling through the window panes (Poe 4). It is the site of years of incestuous
sin, and the depressing claustrophobia of the place is strong enough to not only affect the
narrator, a visitor to the place, but also its owner, Roderick Usher (Poe 6). The same goes for
the Pyncheon house in The House of the Seven Gables, as it is the material testimony to
Colonel Pyncheon’s crime, the site of the Maule curse repeatedly striking Pyncheon family
members and even turns out to be actually haunted by the failed hopes and lost fortunes of the
Pyncheon family, represented by a spectral host of deceased Pyncheons, all trying to find the
deed to a valuable tract of land (Hawthorne 207-208).
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Chapter 2: Cosmic Horror
Where American Gothic horror deals with the fate of a number of individuals, or the fortunes
and misfortunes of an old family, as is the case in The Fall of the House of Usher and The
House of the Seven Gables, Cosmic Horror takes on a wider scope by dealing with the fate of
the entirety of humanity. It cannot be pinned down as being the product of a specific culture.
American Gothic Fiction was shaped by influences exclusive to North American culture and
history, such as the frontier experience and a national sense of guilt over the horrors of slavery
(Lloyd-Smith, American Gothic 4-8). The genre of Cosmic Horror, on the other hand, was
heavily influenced by the general advance of human knowledge and science. The view of the
universe as endless space with no determinable centre offered by Sir Isaac Newton and
subsequent research pointing in this direction made people aware of the infinity of space and
the relative insignificance of mankind in this vastness (Stableford 68-69). Cosmic Horror
plays with this awareness by emphasizing the insignificance of humanity and presenting the
dreadful experiences of characters as they become aware of this insignificance. The horror in
this genre does not spring from the deeds of an antagonist such as the American Gothic
villain: rather than a sinful, evil or flawed human character committing sins and causing evil,
it is human curiosity and the pursuit and discovery of forbidden knowledge that drives the
action and leads to horrifying experiences.
This ties in with the views of Viktória Prohászková, who claims that the emotions of
people discovering hidden mysteries that they should not, which they later regret being
confronted with, are one of the key characteristics of the genre (133). Vivian Ralickas treats
this idea of the discovery of forbidden knowledge in more detail. She describes cosmic horror
as a fear experienced by characters in this genre that far exceeds the fear of dying (Ralickas
297). Death usually offers the dubious solace that even though the individual dies, human
civilisation remains and will continue to thrive. In the genre of Cosmic Horror this comfort is
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absent: characters manage to somehow lift the veil and gain forbidden knowledge that makes
them realise the dreadful insignificance of mankind relative to the magnitude or danger of
what they have discovered, a realisation that triggers “an experience of cataclysmic horror”
(Ralickas 297). Brian Stableford calls this notion of human insignificance “cosmic
pessimism” (72). He explains that this pessimism in Cosmic Horror is sometimes reinforced
by the notion of decadence, the idea that all cultures have a lifecycle which deteriorates over
time and eventually comes to an end (Stableford 76-78).
While American Gothic Fiction and Cosmic Horror are both genres with a very
pessimistic tone, Cosmic Horror seems to take this pessimism a step further. Where American
Gothic Fiction reflects a sense of fear and uncertainty for the future of North American
society, Cosmic Horror expresses a sense of fear for the future of the entirety of mankind.
Through the themes of cosmic pessimism and decadence it suggests that humanity will
eventually advance past its peak through its endless pursuit of knowledge, and continue on a
downwards spiral. Moreover, by presenting the experiences of cosmic horror that its
characters live through, Cosmic Horror raises the horrific possibility that this progress may
already have started.
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Chapter 3: Cosmic Horror in Lovecraft’s works
In order to situate Lovecraft’s writings in their appropriate genre, two of his Cthulhu Mythos
works, “The Call of Cthulhu” and “At the Mountains of Madness”, were analysed. During this
analysis special attention was paid to any themes and elements specific to the genre of Cosmic
Horror. The following paragraphs offer brief summaries to introduce both stories, complete
with short pointers to highlight the themes of the Cosmic Horror genre that were found. After
these summaries, the findings of the analyses will be discussed in more detail in order to find
out how the various themes of the genre of Cosmic Horror are represented in the narratives of
Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos.
Lovecraft’s “The Call of Cthulhu” is the report written by the deceased Francis
Waylond Thurston of an investigation that led him to a horrible discovery. His narrative
begins with a remark that the inability to understand everything is “the most merciful thing in
the world” (Lovecraft, “The Call” 201). It immediately becomes clear that Thurston has, at
the time of writing, already discovered something that has shocked him, and this way the
narrative foreshadows the experience of cosmic horror that will feature later in Thurston’s
account.
The first part of the story concerns Thurston’s investigation into the death of his
deceased grand-uncle, professor Angell. Angell’s papers contain reports of dreams shared by
artists across the world following a small earthquake (Lovecraft, “The Call” 204-208). All
dreams featured an unreal-looking city full of impossible shapes, and an echoing phrase:
“Cthulhu ftaghn” (Lovecraft, “The Call” 205). One of the artists unconsciously sculpted a
monstrous figure on a clay tablet, which Thurston finds among his grand-uncle’s documents
(Lovecraft, “The Call” 204-205).
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The second part covers reports of an event seventeen years before professor Angell’s
death. A savage cult gathering in the swamps of Louisiana is interrupted by police officers,
and amongst human sacrifices inspector John Legrasse finds a statuette depicting a monstrous
creature (Lovecraft, “The Call” 212-214). The American Archaeological Society, which
includes Thurston’s grand-uncle, are baffled by the statuette’s material, which clearly had its
origins beyond Earth. One professor recognises the statuette as a god worshipped by a savage
tribe in North Greenland, whose religious chant “Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh
wgah’nagl fhtagn” (Lovecraft, “The Call” 212”, meaning, according to the tribesmen, “In his
house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming” (Lovecraft, “The Call” 213), is identical to the
chants of the cultists Legrasse apprehended. (Lovecraft, “The Call” 210-213). The cultists
claim to serve “the great old ones” who descended from the skies, and tell Legrasse that they
await the awakening of the high priest Cthulhu (Lovecraft, “The Call” 214-215). These
cultists represent the influence and effect of decadence in the narrative. They have already
gained forbidden knowledge, and it has corrupted them, stripping them of all civilisation and
bringing them back to an inhuman primal state, voluntarily enthralled by the monsters they
worship.
In the third part Thurston reads about a ship found adrift in the Pacific, the single
survivor aboard carrying “a stone idol of unknown origin” (Lovecraft, “The Call” 218).
Intrigued, Thurston travels to Sydney to read the survivor’s first-hand account. The survivor’s
crew found an unknown Pacific island, the description of which Thurston recognises as “the
nightmare corpse-city of R’lyeh, that was built in measureless aeons behind history by the
vast, loathsome shapes that seeped down from the dark stars” (Lovecraft, “The Call” 222).
The city is said to look utterly alien, and the survivor claims that “the geometry of the dreamplace he saw was abnormal, non-Euclidean, and loathsomely redolent of spheres and
dimensions apart from ours” (Lovecraft, “The Call” 222). The unearthly architecture that
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could before be ascribed to the unreality of a dream world now turns out to actually exist.
This forms part of Thurston’s experience of cosmic horror: the realisation that something so
utterly alien has existed on Earth for such a long time outside the knowledge of man shocks
him. The discovery of R’lyeh has a strong estranging effect: it alienates humanity from Earth,
the very planet that mankind calls home and thought it knew so well, but turns out to still hold
horrible secrets.
The landing party finds Cthulhu’s tomb, awakening the giant, monstrous high-priest,
who mercilessly kills most of them (Lovecraft, “The Call” 223-224). The survivor manages to
escape to tell the tale, but when another ship is sent to check his story, the vast city has sunken
again (Lovecraft, “The Call” 223-225). Thurston concludes his investigation on a grim note:
he is convinced that Cthulhu will one day return, and dares not think of the horrible
consequences of that event for humanity (Lovecraft, “The Call” 224-225). The discovery of
forbidden knowledge, combined with the danger and horror resulting from this, is one of the
themes of the Cosmic Horror genre that features most heavily in this narrative. The final part
once again emphasises the dangers of unbridled curiosity: the inquisitiveness of the sailors
caused Cthulhu’s awakening and led to their deaths (Lovecraft, “The Call” 223-224).
“At the Mountains of Madness” tells the story of a fated Antarctic expedition. It is
written as a warning by one of the survivors, a geologist named William Dyer, to discourage
others from repeating their journey and uncovering the horrors they found (Lovecraft, “At the
Mountains” 422).
Researchers from Miskatonic University of New England are surprised when part of
their expedition discovers unexplored mountain ranges in the Antarctic, where they find
frozen specimens of strange, winged, semi-vegetable creatures (Lovecraft, “At the
Mountains” 434-442). When the main camp loses contact with this expedition branch, a
rescue party is dispatched, which arrives on a grim scene. A number of the frozen creatures
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are missing, the expedition airplanes were carefully taken apart, the scientific instruments
were tampered with, the researchers are dead and the dissected remains of a man and a sledgedog are found (Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 449-453). The narrator and one companion
cross the mountain range in an airplane to investigate, and are shocked to discover a vast city
half covered by ice, described as “a Cyclopean maze of squared, curved and angled blocks”
(Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 456) and consisting of “geometrical forms for which an
Euclid would scarcely find a name” (Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 460). This reminds the
narrator of mythical cities in the forbidden Necronomicon, and he compares it to the fabled
city of R’lyeh (Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 456-458).
Their subsequent exploration of the city yields them information that leads to an
experience of cosmic horror, as they find carvings describing the history of a race of so-called
“Old Ones”, who came to Earth as an advanced civilization before any of Earth’s life had
begun to develop (Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 469). The theme of cosmic pessimism
features heavily here: the narrator’s understanding of the world changes completely as he
realises that mankind was preceded by another civilisation that was even more advanced,
making mankind pale in comparison. The Old Ones created life on Earth and selected
harmless species, such early humanoids, to retain for the sake of nutrition and amusement,
which once again emphasises their superiority over mankind (Lovecraft, “At the Mountains”
472). They waged war on other extra-terrestrial species, such as Cthulhu and his spawn
(Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 472) and created Shoggoths, living masses of constantly
reforming flesh, which could perform superhuman hauling tasks guided by hypnotic impulses
(Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 469). The civilisation of the Old Ones eventually dwindled,
until even the final Antarctic city came under threat of an Ice Age, which made the Old Ones
retreat to a vast underground chasm (Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 480).
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It is interesting to note that the more the narrator finds out about the Old Ones, the
more human-like they appear. Their monstrous appearance aside, they were an inquisitive
race of scientists with an advanced society, who settled the Earth much like humans would do
ages after them. The further the narrative unravels, the more the Old Ones seem like a model
of a faltering society that fits in with Stableford’s notion of decadence (Stableford 68-69). The
narrator recognises this decadence when he notices that the Old Ones’ main art form, the
carvings, passed their peak and become of lesser aesthetic quality the newer they get, a sign of
the faltering culture of the Old Ones (Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 467-469). When they
descend into the chasm, the explorers find the beheaded corpses of the thawed Old Ones who
wrecked the expedition camp and encounter their killer, a Shoggoth, which attacks them
(Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 494-499). Earlier on their journey they had found carvings
showing that the Shoggoths developed a mind of their own and became rebellious, and it turns
out that the Old Ones were finally destroyed by their own creation (Lovecraft, “At the
Mountains” 473). The explorers manage to escape, and the narrator decides to do anything he
can to dissuade people from trying to explore the chasm, and possibly setting the Shoggoths
free to terrorise the world in the process. Like Thurston in “The Call of Cthulhu” the narrator
will never be free of the aftermath of his experience of cosmic horror, the discovery of the
Old Ones’ lost civilisation and the encounter with the Shoggoth.
One of the things that immediately catches the eye when reading “At the Mountains of
Madness” and “The Call of Cthulhu” is that the driving force behind both narratives is some
form of human curiosity. In “The Call of Cthulhu” this curiosity is at first embodied as
Thurston’s wish to find out more about the circumstances surrounding the death of his granduncle, but soon turns into a full-fledged investigation into the series of strange phenomena
that his grand-uncle was researching. In “At the Mountains of Madness”, the narrator and his
companion are driven by pure scientific zeal, overcoming their fear and bafflement to
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investigate the sprawling city of the Old Ones and to find out more about its history and
downfall. In both cases the end of their search yields the protagonists knowledge that they
afterwards wished they had never discovered, as is clear from the earliest passages of both
narratives (Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 422; “The Call” 201). In “At the Mountains of
Madness” William Dyer discovers that an alien civilisation that was more advanced than
humanity ruled the Earth before humans even existed, and were in fact responsible for the
creation of early humanoids, while Thurston learns through his research that an alien city lies
below the waters of the Pacific, housing a vast being of immense power, unbeknownst to
humanity. These discoveries completely upset their understanding of humanity’s significance
and place in the universe, and are therefore unmistakable examples of the experiences of
cosmic horror Ralickas describes (297).
Rather than serve as a testament to the crimes or decay of a family, architecture in the
Cthulhu Mythos serves to illustrate the unworldly quality of the alien creatures that have
settled planet Earth. Both the prehistoric yet advanced city of the Old Ones and Cthulhu’s
R’lyeh are described as mind-bogglingly alien in appearance, containing shapes that defy
physics and geometry (Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 460; “The Call” 222). Architectural
setting serves a three-sided purpose: it estranges the human observer from the alien culture
through its appearance, it shows how advanced this alien culture is or was, and it shows how
vast a presence and influence this alien civilisation has had on planet Earth, unnoticed by
humanity, thus reinforcing the effect of the experience of cosmic horror that the protagonists
live through.
The growing awareness of the universe as endless space that was discussed earlier
(Stableford 68-69), clearly resonates in Lovecraft’s works. By introducing hostile creatures
hailing from other planets, “who came to the young world out of the sky” (Lovecraft, “The
Call” 213), Lovecraft presents a drastic image of what might be hiding in the endless
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unexplored reaches of the universe, and what humanity might come across if the pursuit of
knowledge is extended to space. Contrasting heavily with the flawed and evil human
characters that represent the enlightenment villain in American Gothic Fiction, most of these
creatures are utterly inhuman and immensely powerful and advanced, thus emphasising the
insignificance of humanity. This gives rise to the theme of cosmic pessimism, the idea that
mankind plays a far less significant role in the scheme of the universe than it assumes
(Stableford 68-69).
Tied in closely with the theme of cosmic pessimism is the notion of decadence, the
idea that all civilisations have a lifecycle that will eventually end (Stableford 68-69). This is a
theme that features heavily in both “The Call of Cthulhu” and “At the Mountains of
Madness”. In “The Call of Cthulhu” the cultists that inspector Legrasse arrests serve as a clear
example of humanity’s descent into decadence: they have turned away from civilisation and
culture to devote themselves to mad Cthulhu-worship (Lovecraft, “The Call” 214-215).
Through them, Lovecraft hints at the consequences of curiosity and attaining forbidden
knowledge: a collapse of culture and an accelerated progress towards the end of the lifecycle
of human civilisation.
In “At the Mountains of Madness” there is even more emphasis on the theme of
decadence. The Old Ones, despite their appearance, are presented as a model of humanity.
Dyer, the narrator, even goes as far as calling them “the men of another age and another order
of being” (Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 495). The phenomenon of decadence can be
recognised in the deterioration of the Old Ones’ culture and is evident in the decreasing
quality of their carvings, their main art form and surviving cultural heritage. Moreover, this
narrative takes decadence a step further than “The Call of Cthulhu”, as it turns out that the
Old Ones inadvertently ended the lifecycle of their civilisation through their own scientific
advancement. By creating and developing the Shoggoths, they equipped themselves with an
20
incredibly efficient workforce, capable of performing superhuman tasks (Lovecraft, “At the
Mountains” 469). However, their creation became too powerful for them to control, and
eventually caused their downfall (Lovecraft, “At the Mountains” 473). The Old Ones
represent a double element of cosmic pessimism: humanity and all its achievements pale in
comparison with the advanced civilisation the Old Ones had in their glory days, and the fact
that even this advanced race, presented as a model of human civilisation, perished due to its
own inventions bodes ill for mankind.
It is not hard to recognise a warning note in these narratives. By presenting a model of
a civilisation that was doomed by its own inventions in “At the Mountains of Madness”,
Lovecraft appears to draw an example of what humanity might eventually come to if its
pursuit of knowledge and scientific advancement is not checked. This ties in closely with
Joshi’s view that Lovecraft’s works were very much an expression of his belief that the
advancement of science, and the breakdown of old values that facilitated this, might
eventually lead to the discovery that human civilisation might not be as significant as
formerly thought (Joshi, “The Cthulhu Mythos” 98). The cultists in “The Call of Cthulhu”
represent people who shared these beliefs but dealt with them by blindly turning to religion,
an approach Lovecraft was very critical of (Joshi, “The Cthulhu Mythos” 99). By portraying
them as the early product of decadence, Lovecraft makes it appear as though blindly turning
to religion may actually hasten the process of decadence and the downfall of society.
21
Conclusion
American Gothic Fiction and the genre of Cosmic Horror were both shaped by the feelings
and emotions of society. American Gothic Fiction is very much the product of the
development of North American culture: it encompasses the feelings of guilt of America’s
past and its doubts about the future, and features themes exclusive to North American society,
such as settings inspired by the frontier experience. The genre of Cosmic Horror, on the other
hand, is not as easily ascribed to a single culture. It was shaped by the development of science
and the changing view of the world and its place in the universe, which led to doubts about
the significance of human society and its achievements. These doubts were expressed in the
genre through the themes of cosmic pessimism, sometimes reinforced by the concept of
decadence, the pursuit and discovery of forbidden knowledge, and the resulting experiences
of cosmic horror.
While the works of Poe and Hawthorne both feature all themes that are characteristic
of American Gothic Fiction, this is not the case for the works of Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos,
despite the influence the former two authors had on Lovecraft’s earlier works. The stories of
Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos that were analysed lack examples of the quintessential American
Gothic enlightened villain, and the absence of clear themes of inherited sin should be noted as
well. On the other hand, all themes of Cosmic Horror that were discussed as being
characteristic of that genre feature heavily in both Lovecraft’s “The Call of Cthulhu” and “At
the Mountains of Madness”. These narratives both feature protagonists in pursuit of forbidden
knowledge, whose quests end in shocking revelations that shake their understanding of
humanity’s significance, and can therefore be rightly called experiences of cosmic horror.
Furthermore, the themes of cosmic pessimism and decadence are clearly represented in the
narratives through the monstrous Cthulhu and the deranged cultists who worship him in “The
22
Call of Cthulhu” and through an alien civilisation that serves as a model for human society in
“At the Mountains of Madness”.
The evidence found in “At the Mountains of Madness” and “The Call of Cthulhu”
clearly suggests that Lovecraft moved away from the genre of American Gothic Fiction by
writing the narratives of the Cthulhu Mythos. Based on these works of the Cthulhu Mythos,
therefore, Lovecraft should be categorised as a writer of Cosmic Horror rather than American
Gothic Fiction.
Since this study was limited to only two of Lovecraft’s works, it would be advisable to
analyse additional works of the Cthulhu Mythos in order to provide firmer foundations for
this claim.
Finally, it is interesting to shortly dwell on the warning element in Lovecraft’s works.
Lovecraft took a critical stance towards the scientific developments of his time, and this is
particularly clear in “At the Mountains of Madness”. By presenting a model of humanity in
this story Lovecraft appears to issue a warning: if humanity continues its search for
knowledge it might well end like the Old Ones, overwhelmed by their own inventions.
It is interesting to wonder whether the genre of Cosmic Horror can still be used to
issue such a warning in a present-day situation. Attached to this paper is an appendix that
seeks to investigate the possibility of this by presenting an annotated work of original fiction
written within the genre of Cosmic Horror, but set in a present day situation.
23
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Burleson, Donald R. “Hawthorne’s Influence on Lovecraft.” Lovecraft and Influence: His
Predecessors and Successors. Ed. Waugh, Robert. Lanham: Scarecrow, 2013.
Google Book Search. Web. 11 April 2016.
Crow, Charles L. American Gothic. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2002. Google Book
Search. Web. 9 April 2016.
Goho, James. “The Shape of Darkness.” Lovecraft and Influence: His Predecessors and
Successors. Ed. Waugh, Robert. Lanham: Scarecrow, 2013. Google Book Search .
Web. 11 April 2016.
Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The House of the Seven Gables. Illinois: Project Gutenberg, 2008.
Project Gutenberg. Web. 12 April 2016.
Joshi, Sunand T. A Subtler Magick: The Writings and Philosophy of H.P. Lovecraft.
Rockville: Wildside Press, 1996. Google Book Search. Web. 6 April 2016.
Joshi, Sunand T. “The Cthulhu Mythos.” Icons of Horror and the Supernatural: An
Encyclopedia of Our Worst Nightmares. Ed. Sunand T. Joshi. Santa Barbara:
Greenwood Publishing Group, 2007. Google Book Search. Web. 7 April 2016.
Larson, Abigail. H.P. Lovecraft. Digital image. DeviantArt. DeviantART, 2009. Web. 23 May
2016.
Lloyd-Smith, Allan. American Gothic Fiction: An Introduction. London: Bloomsbury
Publishing, 2004. Google Book Search. Web. 9 April 2016.
Lloyd-Smith, Allan. “Nineteenth-century American Gothic.” A New Companion to the
Gothic. Ed. David Punter. New Jersey: John Wiley and Sons, 2015. Google Book
Search. Web. 9 April 2016.
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Lovecraft, Howard Phillips. “At the Mountains of Madness.” Necronomicon: The Best Weird
Tales of H.P. Lovecraft. London: Gollancz, 2008. Print.
Lovecraft, Howard Phillips. “The Call of Cthulhu.” Necronomicon: The Best Weird Tales of
H.P. Lovecraft. London: Gollancz, 2008. Print.
Poe, Edgar Allan. The Fall of the House of Usher. Illinois: Project Gutenberg, 2010. Project
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Prohászková, Viktória. “The Genre of Horror.” American International Journal of
Contemporary Research 2.4 (2012): 132-42. American International Journal of
Contemporary Research. Web. 18 Feb. 2016
Ralickas, Vivian. “Art, Cosmic Horror, and the Fetishizing Gaze in the Fiction of H. P.
Lovecraft.” Journal of the Fantastic in the Arts 19.3 (2008): 297-316. Questia. Web. 9
April 2016.
Savoy, Eric. “The Rise of American Gothic.” The Cambridge Companion to Gothic Fiction.
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Snodgrass, Mary Ellen. Encyclopedia of Gothic Literature. New York: Facts on File, 2005.
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Stableford, Brian. “The Cosmic Horror.” Icons of Horror and the Supernatural: An
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Greenwood Publishing Group, 2007. Google Book Search. Web. 11 April 2016.
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Appendix: Annotations
With this original work of fiction an attempt was made to apply the genre of Cosmic Horror in
a modern day situation. In a world where cell phones are becoming ever more important for
work, social contacts and entertainment, this narrative posits a situation where phones are a
way for evil forces to gain access to the minds of people. All elements of the Cosmic Horror
genre that were found during the study above have been incorporated into this story. Human
weakness and insignificance come into play through the effect of the hum coming from the
phones, which renders humans entranced and powerless in the face of the monstrous
creatures, and forces them to deliver their offerings to the creature in the pit and its spawn.
Furthermore, the chief creature clearly shows its superiority and its indifference towards
humans: it murders them without a second thought in its attempt to get to the narrator.
The experience of cosmic horror is visible in the dawning upon the narrator of the
realisation that the creatures have access to this world, not only through the sinkhole between
the tower blocks but through all the unknown gates that led the international throng of
entranced people into the creature’s dark city. Moreover, the narrator realises that the
creatures have access to the minds of humans via their cell phones and thus the power to
completely control humanity. This ties in with the theme of cosmic pessimism: the future
doom of humanity at the hands of the creatures has been brought about by the advance of
human technology: by creating a commodity that made life easier and becoming completely
devoted to it, humanity has opened the door for the creatures to interfere and wreak havoc.
The theme of decadence is touched upon as well through the dilapidated
neighbourhood and through the submissive state in which phones render their owners: the
inventors of the phone have been subjugated by their own invention. Architectural setting is
used to reinforce estrangement: the world the creatures inhabit is completely dark, without
any light source other than the eerie, electrical bulbs attached to their bodies, a situation that is
26
completely strange to humans. The creatures’ architecture has developed in order to
accommodate this, and their art form, the inlaid patterns of reflective material, dazzles the
entranced human visitors. This narrative issues a warning through the use of monstrous
creatures who symbolise the dangers of the growing dependency of humanity on mobile
phones.
27
The Phone Calls
The lulling hum coming from my phone became more intense as I bent over the sinkhole. The
landlord had sworn it wasn’t deep, but I couldn’t see the bottom nonetheless. It was in the
middle of a grassy square hemmed in by dilapidated tower blocks, concrete monsters whose
only charm was their low rents. A stunted tree grew on the edge of the hole, its roots reaching
into the deep, and a birdhouse which never saw visitors hung forlornly from one of its
branches. The tree was covered with missing pet posters.
I’d moved in two weeks ago, after my initial concern over the shady neighbourhood
and the sinkhole –that I was assured would be filled as soon as possible- evaporated upon
hearing the rental price. The neighbours turned out to be a calm bunch, if somewhat...
eccentric. Everyone always had their phone pressed against their ear. Of course that’s not a
strange thing in itself, but what struck me as odd was the fact that I never heard any of them
speak during their phone calls. They just listened.
My own cell phone had begun acting strange the day I moved in. Reception had mad
spikes and sudden drops, and at night I would sometimes wake to the sounds my phone made:
no ringtone, no notification beep, just a drawn out, high-pitched, faintly rhythmic hum. The
noise grew louder and more rhythmic each night, and sometimes when I attempted to phone
someone, the sound would be there instead of a dial tone. When I asked the neighbours about
it they only shrugged and mumbled things like “Faulty network...” and “Bad reception, can’t
help it.”
It was around this time that I began to sleepwalk, too. I woke up standing on the stairs,
my phone pressed against my head and the lulling hum buzzing in my ear. That happened four
times, and every time I saw one of my neighbours on the stairs as well, listening to their
phone as I was. This particular night I woke standing over the sinkhole- and this time I
28
couldn’t move of my own accord, even after I woke. The antennae and reception dishes on the
sides of the tower blocks quivered in tune with the hum, magnifying the sound. Doors in the
tower block opened and my neighbours emerged, all with their phones pressed against the
sides of their faces, their eyes vacant, and all carrying animals. There was Mrs. Halyard,
bearing a scrawny cat in her arms, and my upstairs neighbour Philbert Mayor, who was
holding a rat by its tail.
I wanted to shout at them, but couldn’t. My body lurched like a drunkard’s, bending
over the sinkhole till I almost lost my balance.
The strange, lulling melody reached its pitch and I toppled over into the blackness,
expecting to hit the bottom but landing on a gently sloping side, and sliding down, far deeper
than the sinkhole should have been. I never saw the end of the slope coming in that perfect
darkness, but I finally slid onto a floor of unnaturally smooth, cold stone. I heard my
neighbours arrive in much the same way, the animals they were holding –the ones that were
still alive- barking and mewing and yapping with pure terror.
I saw nothing except a faint, bobbing light ahead, which slowly grew larger. A figure
rose from the blackness. It looked like a man robed and hooded in intricately patterned cloth,
but his proportions were... off. He was taller than any man should be and yet squat, with
strange bulges that could not just be the folds of his cloak. Stranger still, the light appeared to
shine through his hood, which did not have holes for eyes, just thinner patches where the light
shone more brightly. He extended two -were they arms?- in an almost welcoming gesture, and
the hum from my phone, which I held like a vice, grew almost deafening.
The robed creature turned, and we were compelled to follow through a corridor of
pitch-black stone. The only light came from the creature’s hood, and was reflected by bands
29
of inlaid gleaming stone in the walls, turning them into painfully bright, snaking patterns and
dazzling shapes, even though the light seemed pale and weak.
The corridor opened up into a vast space, a huge city of pitch-black stone in pure
darkness broken only by the gleam of patterns on the walls, reflecting the lights of more
hooded creatures. The city was built in a downwards spiral. The streets, flanked by buildings,
some squat and simple, others vast, magnificently patterned, and towering over us eerily,
circled downwards to a sickening luminescence at the very bottom of the city.
More lines of people were herded through the streets by hooded creatures, all with
their phones pressed against their ears and all holding animals. They emerged from other
corridors on the upper tiers of the city and were, like us, led downwards. There were people of
all nations, carrying a zoo’s worth of exotic animals with them. I wondered for a moment how
they had gotten here, but was compelled to walk on as the hooded being led us down the path
deeper into the city, along with all the others.
Deeper down the pale light shone bright from a vast pit, breathing life into dazzling
patterned reflections on the stone walls, so extravagant that even some of the entranced people
in the long line jerked their heads, as if trying to look around. The unearthly hum coming
from our phones grew louder than ever and was taken over by the feeble voices of my
entranced neighbours. The beings converged on the edge of the pit, gestured with whatever
passed for their arms under those heavy robes, and their flock began throwing the animals
they held down into the gaping stone maw, one by one. There went Mrs. Halyard’s cat, and
Philbert’s fat rat.
And then my turn came. I involuntarily stepped towards the edge, panicking as I
feared what would happen once they found out I had no offering. I looked down into the
sickly light – which rose to meet me.
30
A long, fleshy stalk came up from the pit, swaying slowly, like a snake poising to
strike. Its tip shone with a pale light and crackled with electricity, blinding me with sparks and
electric flashes. With every slow, deliberate sway the rhythm of the hum from my phone
changed, rose and fell in pitch or grew louder or softer. The stalk hovered in front of me for a
moment and began to sway faster, so the hum became a beating throb and then a feverish
cacophony. The ground shook as more appendages appeared, some fleshy and tipped with
glowing, electric bulbs, others scaly, crustacean, with crab-like pincers, snapping and
clicking. They gripped the edges of the ledge and the thing’s humongous body heaved itself
out of the pit.
I remember rows of gill-like mouths, opening and closing madly amidst sharp, bony
spines. Pale, silvery eyes, empty and dead but all set on me as I regained control of my legs
and turned around. As the gargantuan creature raised itself from the pit it seemed a spell was
broken: many among the multitude woke out of and into a nightmare. Screams went up by the
hundreds. Some began to run, like me, while others still stood mesmerised as the creature’s
vast claws began tearing their way through the throng, carving a bloody path.
I dropped my phone and ran. Everywhere around me cloaked creatures lowered their
hoods to reveal features like those of the great creature: claws, gill-mouthed heads and
luminous bulbs like those of anglerfish on their heads, crackling with electricity. Phones
began to ring at random, sound tracks and home videos and musical ringtones began playing,
mingling with the screams. Silvery eyes followed me as I ran, and the great creature, swatting
aside the crowds like flies, was on my tail. Guided by the light my pursuer cast on the
gleaming stone, I reached the corridor through which I had entered. Blood-stained claws were
close behind me, ripping at my clothes, and luminous bulbs like snails’ eyes curiously lit my
path, but I ran on till I found the sandy slope of the sinkhole between the tower blocks. Thank
God my hands found purchase and the slope was not too steep to climb.
31
I managed to clamber onto the edge and ran from the grassy square. As I looked over
my shoulder I saw the claws emerge, snapping and scraping along the walls of the tower
blocks as they grasped for me. Finally, a luminous bulb rose from the blackness, searching
like a floodlight. Bolts and flashes of electricity leapt to antennae and satellite dishes as it
swivelled around slowly before giving up and lowering itself back into the sinkhole again.
I never returned to that place. I never even went back for my possessions. I moved as
far away as I could, but I never managed to shake that lingering fear: it was the cell phones.
The things controlled the cell phones and therefore controlled the owners. How had all those
people got there? There must be more entrances. More points of access for the luminous bulbs
and grasping claws, which could be anywhere at all. All over the world people owned cell
phones. Cell phones, carried upon them at any time. Someday the things will grow sick of
pets. And when that day comes, will they go after the owners? Will they make our cell phones
play a tune and wait, their gill-mouths open?
Will we listen?