I live and breathe horror. If you’ve met me for the shortest amount of time, you know this about me. Horror is woven into my being as if I were created on a loom of human viscera operated by Jason Voorhees himself. From that first magical moment when my father took me to Blockbuster Video and told me I could get–and I quote– “Anything you want”, I’ve been lost in the horror sauce, and I’ve never looked back.
As I evolved from a bitty baby bloodsucker into a full-blown slaughterhound, I found that I was far from alone in my obsession. There were people all over the world that had the same thoughts that I did. Which supernatural sociopath scored the sickest sum of slays? Which big bad beastie would beat the brakes off their brutal, boorish brethren in battle? Other people had these same wonderings, and in that, we had kinship. It’s a community of people that comes together in strange and beautiful ways that you don’t see with other genres. There are other fandoms, sure, but there’s something special about the horror community. We have our issues, and we have our faults, but when push comes to shove, they’re a group you can count on. Inclusive, caring, and resilient; we aren’t what outsiders expect us to be. But isn’t that what horror is? Something jumping out and surprising you?
It is because I love my genre and my community so much that I feel the need to speak out and better it. As stated, there’s problems in any community, and there are plenty of people that write about them, so I’m nothing special in that regard, but I don’t think there are enough people making noise about this particular aspect, and every time I see it, it feels like getting punched in the gut. I know that I’m just one voice, and I can’t expect everyone to change their behavior based on one person’s opinion, but this is something I’ve wanted to write about at length for some time, and I’ve been so afraid of backlash that I never even started it. However, due to the recent push to hear from more Black voices, I’m taking this moment to strike while the iron is hot, consequences be damned.
Let’s talk about H.P. Lovecraft.
Known as the father of the Cosmic Horror genre, Lovecraft is known for the creation of his big ocean boi ‘Cthulhu’ and for being a xenophobic, racist asshole; a fact that many people are fond of ignoring. I, however, am not one of those people. In a “God is good sometimes” kind of deal, HP Lovecraft died painfully of stomach cancer in 1937, but unfortunately, his bigoted legacy carries ever onward through popular culture. Everywhere you can find genre, you find this asshole and little stuffed versions of his abominations that you can put on your matte black bookshelf next to your Funko Pops. Granted, you’re not giving his ass any money when you buy them, as he is, in fact, dead, but that doesn’t mean that his bigotry died with him. Regardless of the battles that other genre authors (such as NK Jemisin and Nnedi Okorafor) have waged against his name, he remains a monument to an entire subgenre of horror, from which it seems impossible to divorce him.
Much to my chagrin (but not my surprise), I always receive a boilerplate response to my issues with HP Lovecraft. The Cosmic Horror fan with the leather-bound Barnes & Noble special editions will say, “Yeah, he was bad,” he being the guy who named his cat Nigger Man, “but you have to separate the art from the artist.” They love that one. “It doesn’t actually matter that he was bad. Simply lay back and enjoy this story about this guy with a melting brain or whatever, and try not to get too uppity about it.”
A solid plan that has always worked. No need to look it up. Thing is, it’s impossible to separate Lovecraft from his horror, because his bigotry was the horror. His monsters are re-skinned versions of the ethnic people that he so notably reviled under a veil so thin it barely exists. Every mention of creatures rising from the sea to transform those on the land speaks to his real-life fear of immigrants and how their being allowed in the country might change his white way of life. Scaaaaaary. He concocted a beast he dubbed ‘Shub-Niggurath’ known also as “The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young” that I probably don’t have to delve into. He wrote a lovely little poem entitled, “On the Creation of Niggers” in which he explains that there are men and beasts, and that people that share my skin tone (which he refers to as ‘semi-human figures’) were made to fill in the gaps between.
HP Lovecraft wielded the written word like a cudgel with the full intention of stoking the fears of his white readership against those that he considered undesirable, and for it, he was rewarded. True horror indeed. Those who read his words found the same fear in their hearts and found themselves not only validated, but damn near heroic in their intolerance. When you read his stories about people resisting these monsters, it really puts what he said about the lynching of Black people in perspective. He excused the actions of white mobs by saying that they’re simply, “resorting to extra-legal measures such as lynching and intimidation [because] the legal machinery does not sufficiently protect them.”
I don’t need to tell you any of this. There’s a pretty decent chance that the horrific words and deeds of Lovecraft were laid bare to you long before you started reading what I’ve written here, and actions have been taken in recent years to cleanse his grisly spector from the genre. The World Fantasy Award once used a bust of his potato-ass head as their statuette, but they’ve now switched to a pretty little tree, which is considerably less nightmarish and constipated looking. That’s progress, kids.
So why even bring it up? He’s not an award anymore, Andrew. Surely the influence of HP Lovecraft is no longer impacting you on a day-to-day basis!
THAT’S WHERE YOU’D BE WRONG, READER!
As a member of the horror community, HP Lovecraft follows me like a vengeful specter intent on ruining the enjoyment of my chosen media. Here’s the thing: HP Lovecraft didn’t invent madness. He didn’t have a patent on tentacles, and he doesn’t own the rights to space, the sea, or the monsters therein. What he crafted was indeed unique, and his literary works (however overstated) were the groundwork of what we know today as Cosmic Horror. As ugly as the inventor, we cannot deny the creation. However, that is the creation: Cosmic. Horror.
A fine name for a perfectly fine genre. It simply flows off the tongue. Let’s say it together. Deep breath, now:
Cosmic Horror.
Makes you feel all tingly, doesn’t it? Me too, reader. Me too. Yes, it’s a fine name, indeed. One that lets you know right off the bat that you’re about to read some far out shit that’s going to make you feel small… That makes you feel vulnerable. No matter what we’re afraid of, we can’t help but be more afraid of what might be out there waiting. Things beyond our comprehension exist, and what would happen were they introduced themselves to us humans? I shudder the thought, reader.
My problem arises when, in lieu of this perfectly good genre name, any media produced with any of the elements that HP Lovecraft invoked in his writing is referred to as Lovecraftian: a word that says to me, “We’d rather appeal to the fans of this ghoulish racist than the horror community at large.” There have been many different films, books, games and comics that have used this moniker to describe the Cosmic Horror experience therein, and every single time I read it, it puts me off. It becomes a project that is no longer for me, even though the people using it almost never have that intent in mind. Hell, even on twitter this week, I saw a poll that said, “Does the fact that HP Lovecraft was a vile racist put you off reading his written works?” and the overwhelming response was, “no”. The replies were then filled with anime profile picture after anime profile picture waxing poetic about separating the art from the artist, the apparent fact that later in his life he was no longer “as racist”, and that it no longer mattered, because unlike JK Rowling, Lovecraft is no longer alive. It’s not like he’s getting money for it, right?
They’re right, at least partially. He’s not benefiting from anyone buying his squid books anymore. He did everyone a favor and died a long time ago, so we have that going for us. However, the claim that he changed later in life is giving him a lot of credit where he deserves little to none. It’s true that his views on race were not consistent throughout his life, but there was never a point through all of it where he wasn’t racist. From his letters and memoirs, it’s apparent to historians who have studied the man that he didn’t abandon those views, but simply became more quiet about them, so as not to offend his contemporaries with whom he corresponded. He basically just became tired of having to explain his bullshit positions on things like race all the time. In his writings, there is little to no evidence for any kind of substantial ‘change of heart’, and he’s considered to have had hatred for Black people from the beginning to his well-deserved end. So when you see people saying he changed, ask for a source on that. Watch them stop replying.
And I already mentioned why his hateful nature cannot be separated from his art.
It is because of all the above mentioned that I believe that his name should be removed from the genre. His name brings nothing to it anymore, save for inherent exclusion. If you ask me, we shouldn’t even be adapting his stories anymore. That time is over, and doing so only lifts him up once again in a world that should be done with him. There are thousands upon thousands of stories out there that took Cosmic Horror and ran with it in a way that he never could, and they’re far more worthy of adaptation. I’ve written several of them myself, and I can’t even imagine how I’d feel if they were described as Lovecraftian. It would be a shot straight through my heart, and would taint all other reception of what I had tried to create. All I would be able to hear is, “He writes like that guy who hated him and people like him. That’s what we like about the story.”
I don’t care if you like HP Lovecraft. If he wrote things that connected with you, or if his words brought you into this inclusive genre that we all love so much, then power to you! But don’t go into defensive mode when a person of color takes issue with his clear-cut legacy.
Instead of saying something is Lovecraftian, let us instead try saying that it’s Cosmic Horror instead. Language is always changing and evolving, reader. People said things ten years ago that they no longer say, because they know that the world isn’t the same place that it was. I can’t expect everyone to get on board with this, of course. I can’t change the way people speak or feel with one article that I published myself on a blog that few people read, but for the genre I love, I have to give it the ol’ college try. If I can get one reviewer to say Cosmic Horror instead of Lovecraftian and make one more kid of color feel comfortable in the genre I love, then I did exactly what I wanted to with this piece.
Just think on it for a while.
Love,
~A Horror Fan
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