Quotes About Cosmic Horror
The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.
—H. P. Lovecraft, ”The Call of Cthulhu”
Characteristics of Cosmic Horror
An Atmosphere of Dread
HPL: Summary of Cosmic Horror
A certain atmosphere of breathless and unexplainable dread of outer, unknown forces must be present; and there must be a hint, expressed with a seriousness and portentousness becoming its subject, of that most terrible conception of the human brain—a malign and particular suspension or defeat of those fixed laws of Nature which are our only safeguard against the assaults of chaos and the daemons of unplumbed space.
—Supernatural Horror in Literature
Atmosphere is the all-important thing, for the final criterion of authenticity is not the dovetailing of a plot but the creation of a given sensation.
—Supernatural Horror in Literature
The one test of the really weird is simply this—whether or not there be excited in the reader a profound sense of dread, and of contact with unknown spheres and powers; a subtle attitude of awed listening, as if for the beating of black wings or the scratching of outside shapes and entities on the known universe’s utmost rim.
—Supernatural Horror in Literature
My reason for writing stories is to give myself the satisfaction of visualising more clearly and detailedly and stably the vague, elusive, fragmentary impressions of wonder, beauty, and adventurous expectancy which are conveyed to me by certain sights (scenic, architectural, atmospheric, etc.), ideas, occurrences, and images encountered in art and literature. I choose weird stories because they suit my inclination best—one of my strongest and most persistent wishes being to achieve, momentarily, the illusion of some strange suspension or violation of the galling limitations of time, space, and natural law which for ever imprison us and frustrate our curiosity about the infinite cosmic spaces beyond the radius of our sight and analysis. These stories frequently emphasise the element of horror because fear is our deepest and strongest emotion, and the one which best lends itself to the creation of nature-defying illusions. Horror and the unknown or the strange are always closely connected, so that it is hard to create a convincing picture of shattered natural law or cosmic alienage or “outsideness” without laying stress on the emotion of fear.
—“Notes on Writing Weird Fiction“ (1937)
Human Insignificance
How Race Plays into HPL’s Cosmic Horror
“And one of the reasons why Lovecraft thought that Cthulhu and the other Elder Gods were horrific is because they see the entire human race, regardless of color, as being unworthy of existence. And that idea terrified Lovecraft, even though it was a fantasy he had made up.”
—Eric Molinsky (possibly summarizing part of his interview with Dr. Kinitra Brooks) for the Imaginary Worlds podcast episode “Inverting Lovecraft,” released July 23, 2020
The Fear of Irrelevance Stops Resonating After a While
“Much of the world—I would say, certainly, most women, many people of color…in the United States—the concept that you are not that important, that you are not central to the conversation that the culture is having, is a given. It’s a given. And so the concept that I would be terrified that I was insignificant is almost laughable to me as a grown-up. Because, to my mind, the sort of narrative that I feel like I live, you know, a good part of the day, is that the world is actively hostile to me. That it finds me a bother. That it wishes I wasn’t there, at least in spaces that are not black or brown. And that’s very different from what Lovecraft is getting across.”
—Victor LaValle, interview with Eric Molinsky for the Imaginary Worlds podcast episode “Inverting Lovecraft,” released July 23, 2020
Human Insignificance Need Not Lead to Despair
Lovecraftian horror has been codefied [sic] by, perhaps, too-strict fans of Howard Phillip’s work to create a rather bleak universe which can only end in the destruction of its protagonists.
The horror of H.P. Lovecraft’s writings is in the universe’s uncaring and pitiless nature. Gods and meaning may exist but only for beings decidedly alien to humanity. Religion is a force for madness and destruction. Science and reason can do nothing more than reveal mankind’s pointlessness before bringing down destruction on its users.
[…]
The thing is, H.P. Lovecraft‘s ideas are dissonant with many real-life interpretations of the world. Robert E. Howard was, despite being his contemporary and pen-pal, arguably the first Post-Lovecraftian author as his stories presented a horrific universe every bit as pitiless as H. P. Lovecraft‘s own. Few people remember the Hyborian Age and all of its civilizations are destined to be swallowed up as the even more ancient ones preceding it. This isn‘t even including the many monsters and terrors Conan the Barbarian fought.
Unlike Brian Lumley or August Derleth, Robert E. Howard didn‘t place “good” Elder Gods to oppose the Great Old Ones in his universe—he simply changed the perspective of his protagonist.… Faced with a cold, uncaring, and pitiless universe—Conan of Cimmeria carries on.
—C. T. Phipps, “What Is Lovecraftian Fiction?” on The United Federation of Charles, 5 July 2014
The Horrifying Other
Deep Ones and Other Monsters
Much of his writing‘s effectiveness comes from his use of othering to make sure his monsters are repulsive on an instinctual level. The Deep Ones, one of Lovecraft’s most famous monster races, are uncomfortably obvious as a metaphor for the so-called “evils“ (eye-roll) of miscegenation.
[…]
After this episode, I could never treat the Deep Ones and similar creatures quite the same way. In my mind, they may or may not be evil but it seemed disingenuous to critical thinking to assume they were monsters just because they were ugly. Lovecraft, himself, played with this by making Richard Upton Pickman of the Deep One-like ghoul race an ally of his Dream-Quest protagonist Randolph Carter. As a result, whenever I work on the Deep Ones or other Lovecraftian species, I focus less on the horror of their bodies and more on their actions. I also think the occasional subversion is good for the genre of Cthulhu Mythos fiction.
Some may argue this has the potential to diminish the horror of the work. That horror fiction, on some level, depends on ‘othering‘ to make something scary. There might be something to that as Lovecraftian creatures removed of their repulsive qualities become the sort of creatures you’d meet at the Mos Eisley cantina. However, I’m of the mind the mere existence of weird aliens is not enough to cause people to faint away in horror. Likewise, while you may still be a man or woman of faith in the Modern Age, science has revealed a very big universe. The unknown and incomprehensible may terrify some but it fascinates others. As stories like the ones in the Cthulhu Unbound novels illustrate, there‘s nothing wrong with Lovecraft elements outside of horror and weird fiction either.
—C. T. Phipps, “What Is Lovecraftian Fiction?” on The United Federation of Charles, 5 July 2014
Counterpoint to the Above
A lot of the deconstructions people have made regarding the Cthulu Mythos often miss the point of the stories they‘re deconstructing. Like how the author expresses puzzlement at how we just assume the Deep Ones are evil just because they are ugly — that’s a blatant strawman. We know they‘re evil not because of their appearance, but because of how they use unequal power relationships to take over human communities and how they enforced their will on the people of Innsmouth with the help of Obed Marsh, and made the people breed with them against their will. Good grief, man.
—Anonymous, commenting on “What Is Lovecraftian Fiction?” on The United Federation of Charles, 5 July 2014. Comment dated 21 May 2019.
Tangential but Useful Concepts
Memetic Hazards
[Good description of how minds are blasted]
A memetic hazard is defined as information with three main attributes. The first attribute is that it spreads from person to person, whether through personal contact or some form of recording. The second attribute is that this information causes some form of distress, whether as benign as mental stress to the individual or as dangerous as societal dysfunction. The third attribute is that it must cause preoccupation–that is to say, it maintains sufficient presence in the host’s mind that either a significant portion of his attention remains focused on it, or it plays a significant part in his decision-making process.
—Aetheric Research, Ltd., related posts, 26 April 2009.
- Linked from this Tim Tyler post, October 2013
- See also this academic paper on information hazards
The Weird and the Eerie
What the weird and the eerie have in common is a preoccupation with the strange. The strange—not the horrific. The allure that the weird and the eerie possess is not captured by the idea that we “enjoy what scares us.” It has, rather, to do with a fascination for the outside, for that which lies beyond standard perception, cognition, and experience.
—Mark Fisher, “The Weird and the Eerie: Beyond the Unheimlich,” in The Weird and the Eerie by Mark Fisher
The weird and the eerie…allow us to see the inside from the perspective of the outside. As we shall see, the weird is that which does not belong. The weird brings to the familiar something which ordinarily lies beyond it, and which cannot be reconciled with the “homely” (even as its negation). The form that is perhaps most appropriate to the weird is montage — the conjoining of two or more things which do not belong together.
—Mark Fisher, “The Weird and the Eerie: Beyond the Unheimlich,” in The Weird and the Eerie by Mark Fisher
A sense of the eerie seldom clings to enclosed and inhabited domestic spaces; we find the eerie more readily in landscapes partially emptied of the human. What happened to produce these ruins, this disappearance? What kind of entity was involved? What kind of thing was it that emitted such an eerie cry? As we can see from these examples, the eerie is fundamentally tied up with questions of agency. What kind of agent is acting here? Is there an agent at all?
—Mark Fisher, “The Weird and the Eerie: Beyond the Unheimlich,” in The Weird and the Eerie by Mark Fisher
The problems of foresight and fate here bring us to the eerie in a disturbing form. Yet fate might be said to belong to the weird as well as the eerie. The soothsaying witches in Macbeth, after all, are known as the Weird Sisters, and one of the archaic meanings of “weird” is “fate.” The concept of fate is weird in that it implies twisted forms of time and causality that are alien to ordinary perception, but it is also eerie in that it raises questions about agency: who or what is the entity that has woven fate?
—Mark Fisher, “The Weird and the Eerie: Beyond the Unheimlich,” in The Weird and the Eerie by Mark Fisher
“The eerie concerns the most fundamental metaphysical questions one could pose, questions to do with existence and non-existence: Why is there something here when there should be nothing? Why is there nothing here when there should be something? The unseeing eyes of the dead; the bewildered eyes of an amnesiac — these provoke a sense of the eerie, just as surely as an abandoned village or a stone circle do.
—Mark Fisher, “The Weird and the Eerie: Beyond the Unheimlich,” in The Weird and the Eerie by Mark Fisher
So far, we are still left with the impression that the weird and the eerie have primarily to do with what is distressing or terrifying. So let us end these preliminary remarks by pointing to examples of the weird and the eerie that produce a different set of affects. Modernist and experimental work often strikes us as weird when we first encounter it. The sense of wrongness associated with the weird — the conviction that this does not belong — is often a sign that we are in the presence of the new. The weird here is a signal that the concepts and frameworks which we have previously employed are now obsolete. If the encounter with the strange here is not straightforwardly pleasurable (the pleasurable would always refer to previous forms of satisfaction), it is not simply unpleasant either: there is an enjoyment in seeing the familiar and the conventional becoming outmoded….
The eerie also entails a disengagement from our current attachments. But, with the eerie, this disengagement does not usually have the quality of shock that is typically a feature of the weird. The serenity that is often associated with the eerie — think of the phrase eerie calm — has to do with detachment from the urgencies of the everyday. The perspective of the eerie can give us access to the forces which govern mundane reality but which are ordinarily obscured, just as it can give us access to spaces beyond mundane reality altogether. It is this release from the mundane, this escape from the confines of what is ordinarily taken for reality, which goes some way to account for the peculiar appeal that the eerie possesses.
—Mark Fisher, “The Weird and the Eerie: Beyond the Unheimlich,” in The Weird and the Eerie by Mark Fisher
The Ideal Format for Horror
Critics of supernatural horror fiction have repeatedly observed that the novel is a difficult form for telling a tale of terror. After brooding for years over this matter from the viewpoint of a potential novelist, not to mention the many aborted attempts at actually writing the things, I find this form too difficult for me. The realistic novel makes certain demands that are entirely alien to supernatural literature as I understand its aims and possibilities. The best I could do would be to produce a mystery or suspense narrative with a supernatural plot motive. But such a work bears little resemblance to the masterpieces of the form that it’s been my ambition to ape: “The Fall of the House of Usher” [by Poe], “The Willows” [by Algernon Blackwood], “The White People” [by Arthur Machen], “The Colour Out of Space” [by Lovecraft], and so on.
—Thomas Ligotti, interview with Shawn Ramsey for Deathrealm No. 8 (Spring 1989), pp. 21-23. Quoted in S. T. Joshi, The Modern Weird Tale (McFarland 2001), p. 8.
Misc
…Albert Einstein wrote of the cosmos that “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead…. A knowledge of something we cannot penetrate [i.e., the infinite universe], our perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty…it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute true religiosity.”
—quoted in Jim Turner, “Cthulhu 2000,” in Cthulhu 2000. Original quote from Forum and Century, Vol. 84 (1931), and collected in Ideas and Opinions (Crown, 1995).