What is Lovecraftian Horror?

H.P. Lovecraft has probably had the biggest influence on me as a reader. Without him, I doubt I would be the horror fan that I am today. Since discovering Lovecraft, I’ve read countless anthologies of lovecraftian fiction, from great ones to meh ones. I’ve come to realize that the better stories adhere quite closely to Lovecraft’s vision, while the crappier stories border on superficial pastiche. This brings me to the question, what is lovecraftian horror? There are many answers out there and I thought I’d add my two cents.

Let’s start with the Wikipedia definition:

Lovecraftian horror is a subgenre of horror fiction that emphasizes the cosmic horror of the unknown (and in some cases, unknowable) more than gore or other elements of shock, though these may still be present

I like this definition. The primary element of lovecraftian horror is one of cosmic horror. More so than ancient tomes, tainted bloodlines and gelatinous monsters. These are all recurring motifs in Lovecraft, but I don’t think they form the essence of a lovecraftian horror tale. Any story can contain indescribable monsters, nameless cults, and forbidden lore. That doesn’t make it lovecraftian.

I’d go so far as to say that the monsters in Lovecraft’s tales aren’t the true horror. The true horror and essential element of Lovecraft’s tales is the sense of helplessness and insignificance of humanity that the existence of the monsters signify. I think that is an important distinction. It’s like finding a pair of underwear in your bedroom. It’s not your underwear and it clearly isn’t your wife/husband’s. The underwear itself isn’t scary, it’s what the pair of underwear could mean that is the true horror. Lovecraftian fiction is best when it operates under that basic assumption. Simply throwing in Cthulhu, Azathoth and Nyarlathotep into your story will not make it lovecraftian anymore than painting your SUV red makes it a firetruck.

Protagonists in lovecraftian tales usually end up seeing humanity’s insignifance within the cosmos through the discovery of the existence of these monster-gods. Sure, these beings could crush humanity into the dust, but they don’t because humanity is too insignificant to even register on their radar. If they do destroy humanity, these beings will put no more thought into it than one puts into crushing an ant.

As a result, many of the better lovecraftian tales revolve around protagonists discovering this terrifying reality. This usually involves the common lovecraftian motifs:  esoteric cults, ancient tomes,  and monster-gods. Lovecraftian fiction uses these motifs to construct a story where protagonists discover the truth about reality. Usually these protagonists inadvertently assemble various pieces of information that lead to a glimpse of ultimate reality. Catching a glimpse of the truth, however, leads to insanity as the protagonists simply cannot come to grips with reality as it truly is.

We see these elements come together in The Call of Cthulhu, the quintessential lovecraftian tale by the master himself. This is also one of my favorite horror stories of all time. The story revolves around a narrator who has seen the truth, and this truth horrifies him. This is right there in the opening paragraphs:

But it is not from [the theosophists] that there came the single glimpse of forbidden aeons which chills me when I think of it and maddens me when I dream of it. That glimpse, like all dread glimpses of truth, flashed out from an accidental piecing together of separated things—in this case an old newspaper item and the notes of a dead professor

What I really enjoy about this story is that everything the reader experiences is second hand. We are told about the eccentric sculptor through the notes of the narrator’s now dead uncle. We hear about the raid on a primitive, barbaric cult through an intermediary, Inspector Legrasse. And finally, the climax, involving the risen Cthulhu himself, is retold through a crazed fisherman who experienced it. The narrator himself never actually experiences any of these events; he learns about them through secondhand sources and pieces them together to discover the truth.

This, I believe, helps distance the reader from the the slime, tentacles, and gore in order to focus on what is truly scary, the fact that there even exists such a being as Cthulhu. That is the true horror and the heart of lovecraftian fiction.

The best lovecraftian tales understand this and are all the more memorable for it. Robert E. Howard, creator of Conan, did this extremely well in The Black Stone without any mention of Cthulhu, Innsmouth or the Necronomicon. Nethescurial by Thomas Ligotti is another great lovecraftian tale that goes beyond mere pastiche. Finally, we have Simon Strantzas’ One Last Bloom. This final story manages to convey a sense of cosmic horror without any of the usual lovecraftian motifs.

A story need not have Cthulhu, deep ones, and shoggoths to be considered lovecraftian, and stories that reference Lovecraft’s motif’s don’t automatically become lovecraftian simply due to these references. In my opinion, there must be some sense of cosmic horror and insignificance in order for stories to truly be considered lovecraftian.