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Editor Spotlight: Helen Hoke

HELEN HOKE learned her alphabet by setting type for her father’s newspaper in a small Pennsylvania town. Later she wrote articles for the same paper, and after a period of teaching she moved to New York to launch a distinguished career in editing and writing. She is the author of more than seventy books, for both adults and young people, and has been junior-books editor at five different publishing houses.
—Back cover flap, Sinister, Strange and Supernatural (1981)

She was born Helen Jeanne Lamb (1903-1990), in California, Pa.; her father owned the California Sentinel. Helen was the youngest of four children. Much of her early life isn’t clear, though she clearly had some schooling and no doubt practical education involving her father’s newspaper. She married John L. Hoke on 20 May 1923; their son Jack was born in 1925. She did some work as a journalist, and later as a teacher; the 1930 census lists her as a clerk at a mail order company. Around 1929 or 1930, the family seems to have moved to California.

Miss Hoke entered the book trade in 1929, when she opened the book department in a Pittsburgh department store. Susbsequently she became head of the Children’s Book Department at Bullock’s, in Los Angeles, Calif. She became director of the Ford Foundation in 1934.
New York Company Establishes Children’s Book Department With Helen Hoke As Director, The Daily Herald (Monongahela, Pa), 3 Jan 1945 (3)

The Julia Ellsworth Ford Foundation was established in 1934, and promoted the creation of literature for children. Helen Hoke was very involved with the development of children’s book departments, shaping the literature aimed at the rising market. Her first published children’s book was Mr. Sweeney (1940), the first of dozens. As an editor, she influenced dozens more. Part of her emphasis was on books that appealed to both adults and young readers:

In a 1945 interview, Helen Hoke emphasized:

I look for books that will help young people to understand the time in which they live, the people with whom they have to live, and the world in which they live. Children are people, and should be addressed as people.

A few weeks later, on 31 May 1945, she married Franklin M. Watts, who owned Franklin M. Watts, Inc., publishers, and became vice-president and director of international projects. It was Watts that really launched her career as an anthologist, with books that bore distinctive title patterns like Jokes Jokes Jokes (1954), Puns Puns Puns (1958), Witches Witches Witches (1958), Alaska Alaska Alaska (1960), and Nurses Nurses Nurses (1961). While the titles might not have been super-creative, the repeated emphasis got the point across: these were anthologies that promised and delivered exactly what was in the title—and the contents, while sometimes skewing juvenile, often aimed for both young and adult readers.

Witches Witches Witches (1958) was the first of Hoke’s weird/horror fiction anthologies, of which she edited 29 between 1958 and 1986, not counting reprints. A glance at the contents shows many hallmarks of cheap anthologies: public domain stories, cheap reprints, the occasional bit of folklore. Yet the selection shows taste, and perhaps more surprisingly intermixed are plenty of stories from more contemporary authors, including well-known names like Robert Bloch, Ray Bradbury, Joseph Payne Brennan, Manly Wade Wellman, August Derleth—and H. P. Lovecraft.

Stories and poems from Lovecraft (or posthumous collaborations with August Derleth) appear in almost a third of Hoke’s horror anthologies. Readers both young and old would have thrilled to:

Notably missing are any of Lovecraft’s longer tales; Hoke wasn’t asking anyone from 8 to 80 to sit down and read through At the Mountains of Madness or The Case of Charles Dexter Ward. The focus is on the shorter, punchier, read-in-a-sitting stories that are largely standalone, and utterly unobjectionable in terms of content, aside from a bit of grief and a bit of stereotyping in “Cool Air.”

Like many anthologists aiming at a general market, little of Hoke’s own personality and reasoning for choosing some of these pieces comes through in the brief (sometimes nonexistent) introductions or chapter commentaries, and the occasional back cover or book jacket flap about her, e.g.:

Helen Hoke is well known for her anthologies on children’s humor, but she is also fascinated by the esoteric, the supernatural, and the weird.
Weirdies Weirdies Weirdies (1973) back cover

As Helen Hoke says, “Terror seems the more potent if it is not too detached from reality.” Some element of realism is necessary to make the improbably, plausible.
Terrors Terrors Terrors (1979) inside front cover flap

The use of three of Derleth’s posthumous collaborations is a bit of a surprise, especially since these were all published after his death; it would have been interesting to see the correspondence between Helen Hoke Watts and Derleth’s estate. Helen Hoke definitely toed the Arkham House line when it came to Lovecraft:

The Outsider, by H. P. Lovecraft, is one of the most original monster stories ever written. Lovecraft spent his life writing fantastic stories, which were first published in a magazine called Weird Tales. The unusual nature of his stories led to his receiving many letters from strangers, especially aspiring writers. Many authors have expressed their gratitutde to him for his help and generosity; one of them, August Derleth, rescued Lovecraft’s stories from obscurity and published them in book form. Lovecraft died in 1937, leaving a sure place in the literature of the fantastic.
—”About this Book,” Monsters Monsters Monsters (1975) 9

The one collaboration story in these books, “The Horror in the Museum,” is presented as solely the product of Hazel Heald, without any mention of Lovecraft—which is not unusual for the time. Though Lovecraft fans may well have recognized the Mythos elements that emerge in the story.

The Horror in the Museum will particularly disturb those who sense the terrifying potential of waxworks and masks, quite apart from monstrous mutations. Hazel Heald writes with a disquieting plausibility so that it does seem just possible such exhibits may really be seen in London.
—”About this Book,” Terrors Terrors Terrors (1979) 9

As an editor, Helen Hoke did little to inform the readers about the history of the stories or the author; the bits and pieces of editorial drapery are there to whet the appetite of potential readers, and fulfill their function well—but we don’t really get any insight into the process. Based solely on how often she used Lovecraft, she was attracted to either his work or the recognizability of his name (perhaps both).

How much did these nine books add to the recognition of Lovecraft in the 70s and 80s (and longer, as such books can linger on school library shelves for decades)? As with Betty M. Owen & Margaret Ronan, it’s impossible to overstate how critical it can be to get a reader young and hook them in. Helen Hoke’s anthologies weren’t paperbacks on the spinner rack at the local drugstore, these were the kind of books that got reviews in Publisher’s Weekly and the School Library Journal; Hoke was selling these books to librarians as much as to the young men and women that would eventually check them out, and that might explain why the stories are a notch or two above the average horror anthology for kids. Aiming for a more literate audience, with stories that could appeal to both kids and adults, may also be why these books are still very passable horror anthologies for adults today, and collectors pay some fair prices for the scarcer titles in good condition.

Helen Hoke was one of the editors and anthologists who knew horror could be for kids—and not just silly, schlocky, comedy-horror, but serious literary terrors. She was the flip side of the coin, the librarian-approved choice for kids that might glut themselves on Famous Monsters of Filmland and see Frankenstein and Dracula without reading the novels they were based on. More than a few impressionable young minds no doubt found their first introduction to Lovecraft in the pages of Weirdies, Weirdies, Weirdies, or felt that connection to the Outsider in Monsters, Monsters, Monsters. Holt’s anthologies were another route by which the tentacles of Lovecraft and the Mythos spread and disseminated.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

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“The Message of Thuba Mleen” (1911) by Aleister Crowley

“Was it because of the Desert’s curse?” I asked. And he said, “Partly it was the fury of the Desert and partly the advice of the Emperor Thuba Mleen, for that fearful beast is in some way connected with the Desert on his mother’s side.”
—Lord Dunsany, “The Hashish-Man” in A Dreamer’s Tales (1910)

To properly review “The Message of Thuba Mleen” (1911) by Aleister Crowley requires a little background on Crowley’s relationship with the Cthulhu Mythos and Lovecraft’s references to Crowley in his letters. Since this background is a bit long with numerous quotes, some handy links are provided above to help readers navigate to whichever section they want to go to.

Crowley & Cthulhu

Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) never met H. P. Lovecraft (1890-1937) in life. Crowley was an English occultist, writer, poet, and artist who became notorious both for personal life and his mystical philosophy, which coalesced into the development of Thelema in the early 20th century. After his death, his systems of ceremonial magic and philosophy were developed by various successors and fed into the growing interest during the post-WWII spiritual awakening. Notably, his secretary Kenneth Grant worked to expand and integrate Crowley’s system of “magick” with other esoteric practices and even fictional material from writers like H. P. Lovecraft.

Although Lovecraft seems to have been unacquainted with Crowley’s work, it is evident that both were in touch with a source of power, ‘a prater-human intelligence’, capable of inspiring very real apprehension in the minds of those who were, either through past affiliation or present inclination, on the same wavelength. Whether this Intelligence is called Alhazred or Aiwaz (both names, strangely enough, evoking Arab associations) we are surely dealing with a power that is seeking ingress into the present life cycle of the planet.
— Kenneth Grant, “Dreaming Out of Space” in Man, Myth, and Magic (1970), vol. 23, 3215

Grant wasn’t the first to draw associations between weird fiction and magic; Le Matin des magicians (1960) by Louis Pauwels and Jacques Bergier referenced the perceived connection between Arthur Machen’s fiction and his membership in the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn (an occult organization of which Crowley was also a member). However, Grant did more than draw parallels; in his writing, he directly associated his understanding of Lovecraft’s Mythos into his exegesis of Crowley’s magick.

Fiction, as a vehicle, has often been used by occultists. Bulwer Lytton’s Zanoni and A Strange Story have set many a person on the ultimate Quest. Ideas not acceptable to the everyday mind, limited by prejudice and spoiled by a “bread-winning” education, can be made to slip past the censor, and by means of the novel, the poem, the short story be effectually planted in soil that would otherwise reject or destroy them.

Writers such as Arthur Machen, Brodie Innes, Algernon Blackwood and H. P. Lovecraft are in this category. Their novels and stories contain some remarkable affinities with those aspects of Crowley’s Cult deal with in the present chapter, i.e. themes of resurgent atavisms that lure people to destruction. Whether it be the Vision of Pan, as in the case of Machen and Dunsany, or the even more sinister traffic with denizens of forbidden dimensions, as in the tales of Lovecraft, the reader is plunged into a world of barbarous names and incomprehensible signs. Lovecraft was unacquainted both with the name and the work of Crowley, yet some of his fantasies reflect, however, distortedly, the salient themes of Crowley’s Cult. The following comparative table will show how close they are:
— Kenneth Grant, The Magical Revival (1972), 114

Grant then followed with a table of correspondences he perceived between Crowley and Lovecraft. A similar, though distinct, table was also included in the Necronomicon (1977) written by “Simon.” This was the first commercial hoax Necronomicon which was also explicitly a grimoire, something that was intended to mimic other collections of ceremonial magic rites, sigils, lore, etc. intended for use by practicing occultists. The introduction by “Simon” leaned heavily on the supposed correspondences between Lovecraft’s Mythos and Crowley’s magick.

We can profitably compare the essence of most of Lovecraft’s short stories with the basic themes of Crowley’s unique system of ceremonial Magick. While the latter was a sophisticated psychological structure, intended to bring the initiate into contact with his higher Self, via a process of individuation that is active and dynamic (being brought about by the “patient” himself) as opposed to the passive depth analysis of the Jungian adepts. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos was meant for entertainment. Scholars, of course, are able to find higher, ulterior motives in Lovecraft’s writings, as can be done with any manifestation of Art.
— “Simon” (Peter Levenda), Necronomicon (1977) xii

The ceremonial magic presented in the Simon Necronomicon was distinct from that in Grant’s system derived from Crowley; though they shared some common references in Lovecraft and Crowley’s respective mythos & magick. This unexpected complexity invited comparison, and sometimes fusion. From a metafictional perspective, it became the beginning of a parallel body of literature alongside the growing body of Cthulhu Mythos fiction: a Lovecraftian occult scene. One that started to flower when another Necronomicon, edited by George Hay, was published in 1978:

I had also been reading the works of Aleister Crowley—collected by my friend Roger Staples of Michigan University—and found the parallels so striking that I owndered if Lovecraft and Crowley had been acquainted.

Derleth was positive that they had never met—in fact, he doubted whether Lovecraft had ever heard of ‘the Great Beast’. If he had, Derleth seemed to think, he would have dismissed him as a charlatan and a poseur.
— Colin Wilson, “Introduction,” The Necronomicon: The Book of Dead Names (1978), 14

Wilson refers to a meeting with Derleth in 1967; later in the same introduction, he cites Grant’s merging of Lovecraftian Mythos with Crowleyian magick. The introduction was written with all the care of a good hoax; starting from a basis of facts and gradually weaving in fictional elements, to build up to the idea that Lovecraft’s Necronomicon wasn’t just a fictional book, but had been based on a genuine occult document from the Middle East—which is what the Hay Necronomicon was presented as.

So as the 1980s dawned and the Simon Necronomicon became available in an affordable paperback edition to grace New Age shelves forevermore, would-be Lovecraftian occultists had at least three separate sources to draw upon. All of them tried to tie H. P. Lovecraft to Aleister Crowley. The two men, who had never met in life, found elements of their legends entwined posthumously.

With the advent of the internet, it became easier for misinformation to spread. Colin Law’s Necronomicon Anti-FAQ (1995) was, like Wilson’s introduction, just a bit of fun—but it fostered certain misconceptions about Crowley and Lovecraft, despite repeated debunkings:

In 1918 Crowley was in New York. As always, he was trying to establish his literary reputation, and was contributing to The International and Vanity Fair. Sonia Greene was an energetic and ambitious Jewish emigre with literary ambitions, and she had joined a dinner and lecture club called “Walker’s Sunrise Club” (?!); it was there that she first encountered Crowley, who had been invited to give a talk on modern poetry. […]

In 1918 she was thirty-five years old and a divorcee with an adolescent daughter. Crowley did not waste time as far as women were concerned; they met on an irregular basis for some months.

In 1921 Sonia Greene met the novelist H.P. Lovecraft, and in that same year Lovecraft published the first novel where he mentions Abdul Alhazred (“The Nameless City”). In 1922 he first mention the Necronomicon (“The Hound”). On March 3rd. 1924, H.P. Lovecraft and Sonia Greene married.

We do not know what Crowley told Sonia Greene, and we do not know what Sonia told Lovecraft. 

Edwin C. Walker (1849-1931) was a radical liberal who founded the Sunrise Club in 1889; this interracial club held dinner meetings at which speakers were invited to discuss on a wide range of topics. According to L. Sprague de Camp’s H. P. Lovecraft: A Biography (1975), Sonia joined the club c. 1917 (160-161); and there is a reference to Sonia’s membership in one of Lovecraft’s letters (LFF 1.83). I have yet to find any reference to Crowley addressing or attending the club. Given he lived in the United States from 1914-1919 and was often living in New York City at the time, it is possible, if not necessarily plausible that he could have attended some evening.

There is no reference to Crowley in any of Sonia’s surviving letters, essays, or autobiography; no mention of grimoires or the Necronomicon. The idea that Lovecraft got the idea of the Necronomicon from Crowley by way of Sonia is unsupported by any evidence and relies on the idea that the Necronomicon bears some similarity to Crowley’s The Book of the Law—the same supposition pushed by Grant and Simon, among others. It is rather telling that nothing in Crowley’s own writings supports his meeting with Sonia either, and that all references to the idea of their meeting ultimately derive from Low. For more on this and other Necronomicon-related hoaxes and occult history, see The Necronomicon Files by Daniel Harms & John W. Gonce III.

It’s easy to go on, although facts and fiction get furiously muddled. Despite Grant’s assertion that Lovecraft had never heard of Crowley and Derleth’s assertion (as related by Wilson) that Lovecraft may not have heard of Crowley and certainly never met him, fictional meetings between the writer of the weird and the prophet of Thelema have increasingly featured in books and comics, one notable example being The Arcanum (2007) by Thomas Wheeler. Yet my favorite hypothetical meeting is a 1927 chess game between Aleister Crowley and Wilbur Whateley:

If Derleth did tell Colin Wilson that he doubted Lovecraft had ever heard of Crowley and this wasn’t another part of the hoax, then he was badly mistaken and should’ve known better. Lovecraft’s letters give considerable detail on his thoughts regarding Aleister Crowley.

H. P. Lovecraft on Aleister Crowley

The Crowley cutting is interesting. What has the poor devil-worshipper been up to now? When I was in Leominster (near Athol) with Cook & Munn last month, calling on a bookseller, I saw a copy of a book by Crowley—“The Diary of a Drug-Fiend.” The merchant informed me that it has been suppressed by some branch of the powers that be—though he agreed to part with his copy for three thalers. I did not take him up—but I told Belknap about the offer.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Wilfred B. Talman, [8 Jun 1929], LWT 114

In 1929, French authorities deported Crowley, which led to sensationl articles (Why France Finally Kicked Out the High Priest of the Devil Cult), and a similar cutting was no doubt passed to Lovecraft. From this first reference in Lovecraft’s letters, it isn’t clear when exactly the Old Gent from Providence became aware of Aleister Crowley, but the suggestion seems to be that Lovecraft was at least passingly familiar with the magus by the late 1920s, probably from similar newspaper clippings. From Lovecraft’s comments, his friend Frank Belknap Long, Jr. had an interest in Crowley…a greater interest than Lovecraft himself had:

Aleister Crowley still keeps in the news! Don’t take any especial trouble to send the clipping unless you find it lying around, for my interest in the gent is perhaps less intense than Belknap’s.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Wilfred B. Talman, [7 Jul 1929], LWT 116

In 1930, Percy Reginald Stephensen’s The Legend of Aleister Crowley: Being a Study of the Documentary Evidence Relating to a Campaign of Personal Vilification Unparalleled in Literary History was published, ostensibly to ameliorate Crowley’s reputation. Lovecraft apparently caught a few reviews:

And speaking of your precious files—have you seen reviews of the new book about that suave diabolist Aleister Crowley? Belknap sent me a cutting from the Tribune. The biographer—abetted by the reviewer—(Hebert S. Gorman, who claims to have dined with Crowley) tries to depict the reputed ally of Satan as a much-wronged and basically blameless poet—whose eccentricities are merely the harmless foibles of genius!
–H. P. Lovecraft to Wilfred B. Talman, [Sep 1930], LWT 133-134

Years passed. Crowley’s infamy was such that he served as the basis for several fictional magicians, most notably the character of Oliver Haddo in Somerset Maugham’s The Magician (1908); the black magician Oscar Clinton in H. R. Wakefield’s “He Cometh and He Passeth By” (1928) (and later, Apuleius Charlton in “The Black Solitude” (1951)); and, though Lovecraft never lived to see it, Rowley Thorne in the stories fellow Weird Tales writer Manly Wade Wellman, in one such story, “The Letters of Cold Fire” (WT May 1944), Thorne attempts to obtain a copy of the Necronomicon!

Lovecraft had not read Maguham’s novel, but was aware of its association with Crowley:

I’ve never seen the Ramuz & Maugham items. Poor old Crowley figures more than once in fiction—for I believe it is her upon whom the villain in Wakefield’s “He Cometh & He Passeth By” is modelled.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Richard Ely Morse, 22 Mar 1932, LHB 42

“Ramuz” may be a reference to C. F. Ramuz La Regne de l’esprit Malin (1917) tr. by James Whitall as The Reign of the Evil One (1922). The novel seems to draw no direct inspiration from Crowley, being about a stranger (who might be the devil himself) who comes to a small Swiss town and turns it into hell.

Lovecraft did read Wakefield, however, and was appreciative.

Wakefield’s stuff is generally very good, & I’m glad you’ve had an opportunity to read it. Of the tales in the first book my favourites are “He Cometh & He Passeth By” (the villain in which is a sort of caricature of the well-known living mystic & alleged Satanist Aleister Crowley), “The Red Lodge”, “The 17th Hole at Duncaster[“], & “And He Shall Sing”.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Robert Bloch, [22 Jul 1933], LRBO 62

Glad to see the item about Crowley. What a queer duck! He is the original of Clinton in Wakefield’s “They Return at Evening.”
– H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, [14 Dec 1933], DS 507

Wakefield is pretty good—I’ll enclose “They Return at Evening” as a loan in the coming shipment. You’l probably find at least four of the tales especially absorbing—“The Red Lodge”, “He Cometh & He Passeth By” based on Aleister Crowley), “And He Shall Sing”, & “The Seventeenth Hole at Duncaster.”
–H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, [Jan 1934], DS 515

Clark Ashton Smith, when he read the “He Cometh and He Passeth By,” gave his own opinion to Lovecraft:

I read one of the Wakefield stories last night—“He Cometh and he passeth by—” and found it excellent, especially in the suggestion of the diabolic Shadow. Crowley is surely a picturesque character, to have inspired anything like Clinton! I know little about Crowley myself, but wouldn’t be surprised if many of the more baleful elements in his reputation were akin to those in the Baudelaire legend . . .  that is to say, largely self-manufactured or foisted upon him by the credulous bourgeoisie.
– Clark Ashton Smith to H. P. Lovecraft, [Jan 1934], DS 520

Lovecraft’s reply reveals something new—an acquaintances of his had actually met Crowley:

As for Aleister Crowley—I rather thought at first that his evil reputation was exaggerated, but Belknap says that Harré has met him & has found him indescribably loathsome in mind, emotions, & conduct. This from Harré is quite a damning indictment, for Belkanp tells me that T. Everett himself is far from squeamish or fastidious in his language & anecdotes when amidst the sort of company that dissolves inhibitions. But Crowley was too much for him. He didn’t relate particulars—but said that the evil magus made him so nauseated that he left abruptly. I guess Crowley is about as callous, unclean-minded, & degenerate a bounder as one can often find at large—though he undoubtedly has talents & scholarship of a very high order. It seems to me I heard that he is in New York now—London won’t stand him any longer. And this reminds me that I forgot to return that old cutting of yours which mentions him—permit me to repair the omission now.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, [11 Feb 1934], DS 525

In 1933-1934, Crowley appears to have primarily been in London, dealing with a libel suit (which he lost). I have not discovered anything to suggest he went to New York at this time. However, Harré’s papers contain a folder associated with Aleister Crowley, so they may well have met or interacted at some point. It is also known that Harré and Crowley were published together in The International in 1915, so possibly the meeting occurred over a decade and a half earlier, when Crowley was in New York, and Lovecraft misunderstood.

Smith responded:

Judging from Harré’s reactions, it would appear that Aleister Crowley is a pretty hard specimen. I had discounted the legends on general principles, knowing nothing whatever about the mysterious magus.
–Clark Ashton Smith to H. P. Lovecraft, [Mar 1934], DS 536

At this point, Crowley became a reference point for diabolists and occultists of all stripes.

The case of the Boer lady—Mevrouw van de Riet—certainly offers dark food for the imagination. She seems to be a sort of female Aleister Crowley—or a striga, lamia, empusa, or something of the sort.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, [18 Nov 1933], DS 479

The subject would next come up when Lovecraft began corresponding with the young fan Emil Petaja in 1935, when the subject turned toward the Black Mass, Satanism, and the occult. Lovecraft was an atheist and materialist, but he had read something of the occult for research purposes over the years, and picked up other tidbits:

In the 1890’s the fashionable decadents liked to pretend that they belonged to all sorts of diabolic Black Mass cults, & possessed all sorts of frightful occult information. The only specimen of this group still active is the rather over-advertised Aleister Crowley . . . . who, by the way, is undoubtedly the original of the villainous character to H. R. Wakefield’s “He Cometh & He Passeth By.”
–H. P. Lovecraft to Emil Petaja, 6 Mar 1935, LWP 414

Petaja apparently pursued the subject with Lovecraft, who responded at greater length, apparently still under the misconception that Crowley was in New York:

Regarding the Black Mass & its devotees—it is really even more repulsive than fascinating. The whole thing is described minutely in Joris-Karl Huysmans’ “Las Bas”—which was posthumously translated into English in 1923 & promptly suppressed. The Black Mass consisted in general of a malevolent & incredibly obscene parody on the Catholic Mass—involving public actions & natural substances almost impossible to describe in print. It originated in the Middle Ages, & has [ev]er since been secretly celebrated by groups of half-crazed, psychologically degenerate sensation-seekers—largely in the great metropolitan centres. Paris, Berlin, London, & New York are probably its greatest centres today. It seems to draw its devotees almost equally from the decadent artist class & from the general run of over-sophisticated psychopathic personalities. Aleister Crowley is a now-elderly Englishman who has dabbled in this sort of thing since his Oxford days. He is really, of course, a sort of maniac or degenerate despite his tremendous mystical scholarship. He has organised secret groups of repulsive Satanic & phallic worship in many places in Europe & Asia, & has been quietly kicked out of a dozen countries. Sooner or later the U.S. (he is now [in] N.Y.) will probably deport him—which will be bad luck for him, since England will probably put him in jail when he is sent home. T. Everett Harré—whom I have met & whom Long knows well—has seen quite a bit of Crowley, & thinks he is about the most loathsome & sinister skunk at large. And when a Rabelaisian soul like Harré (who is never sober!) thinks that of anybody, the person must be a pretty bad egg indeed! Crowley is the compiler of the fairly well-known “Oxford Book of Mystical Verse”, & a standard writer on occult subjects. The story of Wakefield’s which brings him in (under another name, of course) is in the collection “They Return at Evening”, which I’ll lend you if you like.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Emil Petaja, 5 Apr 1935, LWP 420-421

The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse (1918) was compiled by D. H. S. Nicholson and A. H. E. Lee; but the book contains three poems by Crowley. The reference to “phallic worship” suggests that Harré may have confided something to Lovecraft about Crowley’s practice of sex magick, but this is as close as Lovecraft would ever come to mentioning the subject. Lovecraft apparently lent Petaja a cutting about Crowley:

Keep the review of the O’Donnell book—& here’s another from the Times. I’d like to see the Crowley one again—though there’s no hurry.
– H. P. Lovecraft to Emil Petaja, 31 May 1935, LWP 433

Elliott O’Donnell was a well-known collector of ghost and haunted house stories.

As it turned out, Lovecraft wasn’t the only one who knew someone that knew Crowley:

Conversation with one who has known the fabulous Aleister Crowley must surely have been interesting! I’ve seen several articles on this curious & repulsive entity, & am familiar with the portrayal in “He Cometh & He Passeth By”—though I have not read Maugham’s “Magician.” One other side-light comes from the amiable & picturesque source T. Everett Harré—editor of “Beware After Dark.” Harré has met Crowley; & although himself something of a specialist in corpological diction & anecdote, avers that the Hellish Archimage actually sickened him with the tone & subject-matter of his conversation. And anything or anybody capable of sickening the hard-boiled & perpetually pickled T. Everett must be—in the language of Friend Koenig—pretty strong meat! Crowley is evidently a tragic example of diseased & degenerate development in certain lines. Whether such a mass of psychological putrescence ought to be allowed at large is a sociological question too tough for a layman to tackle. The answer would really depend upon just how much social effect he has. But in any case he is obviously one of those “gamey” specimens who are much pleasanter to read & speculate about than to meet! Of his genius—of a sort—there can be no doubt. I believe he is an important contributor to a standard anthology which I’ve never read—“The Oxford Book of Mystical Verse.”
–H. P. Lovecraft to Richard Ely Morse, 25 Apr 1936, LHB 125

This is Lovecraft’s final published letter on Aleister Crowley—and it’s interesting to note that Lovecraft’s information is entirely second- or third-hand. At no point does he give any indication of having read any of Crowley’s prose or poetry, much less any of his magickal writings. To Lovecraft, Crowley was already essentially a living legend. There is no indication that any information passed between them.

Which doesn’t mean there isn’t a connection between Aleister Crowley and the Lovecraft Mythos.

“The Message of Thuba Mleen” (1911)

Many believe that it was a message from Thuba Mleen, the mysterious emperor of those lands, who is never seen by man, advising that Bethmoora should be left desolate.
—Lord Dunsany, “Bethmoora” in A Dreamer’s Tales (1910)

In 1911, Aleister Crowley was in France, writing prolifically as he finished the books of Thelema, a considerable body of poetry, and the occasional review. One work that particularly caught his imagination was A Dreamer’s Tales (1910) by Lord Dunsany. This was the fourth collection of Dunsany’s fantasies, and a strong influence on H. P. Lovecraft. Crowley was inspired by the book to write a review titled “The Big Stick,” published in his own magazine The Equinox in 1911. Appended to the review is Crowley’s poem “The Message of Thuba Mleen.”

The Message of Thuba Mleen

I.

Far beyond Utnar Véhi, far beyond
The Hills of Hap,
Sits the great Emperor crowned with diamond,
Twitching the rosary in his lap—
The rosary whose every bead well-conned
With sleek unblinking bliss
Was once the eyeball of an unborn child of his.

II.

He drank the smell of living blood, that hissed
On flame-white steel.
He tittered while his mother’s limbs were kissed
By the fish-hooks on the Wheel
That shredded soul and shape, more fine than mist
Is torn by the bleak wind
That blows from Kragua and the unknown lands behind

III.

As the last flesh was flicked, he wearied; slaves
From bright Bethmoora
Sprang forward with carved bowls whose crimson craves
Green wine of hashish, black wine of datura,
Like the Yann’s earlier and its latter waves!
These wines soothed well the spleen
Of the Desert‘s bastard brother Thuba Mleen.

IV.

He drank, and eyed the slaves “Mwass, Dagricho, Xu-Xulgulura,
Saddle your mules!” he whispered, “ride full slow
Unto Bethmoora
And bid the people of the city know
That that most ancient snake,
The Crone of Utnar Véhi, is awake.”

V.

Thus twisted he his dagger in the hearts
Of those two slaves
That bore him wine ; for they knew well the arts
Of Utnar Véhi—what the grey Crone craves!—
Knew how their kindred in the vines and marts
Of bright Bethmoora, thus accurst,
Would rush to the mercy of the Desert’s thirst.

VI.

I would that Māna-Yood-Sushāī would lean
And listen, and hear
The tittering, thin-bearded, epicene.
Dwarf, fringed with fear,
Of the Desert’s bastard brother Thuba Mleen!
For He would wake, and scream
Aloud the Word to annihilate the dream

Thuba Mleen appeared in two of the stories in A Dreamer’s Tales: “Bethmoora” and “The Hashish Man.” Lovecraft never used the mysterious emperor directly, but Bethmoora appeared in a long list of names and places:

I found myself faced by names and terms that I had heard elsewhere in the most hideous of connexions—Yuggoth, Great Cthulhu, Tsathoggua, Yog-Sothoth, R’lyeh, Nyarlathotep, Azathoth, Hastur, Yian, Leng, the Lake of Hali, Bethmoora, the Yellow Sign, L’mur-Kathulos, Bran, and the Magnum Innominandum—and was drawn back through nameless aeons and inconceivable dimensions to worlds of elder, outer entity at which the crazed author of the Necronomicon had only guessed in the vaguest way.
—H. P. Lovecraft, “The Whisperer in Darkness” (1931)

So it was that Crowley and Lovecraft shared at least one influence; and in Lord Dunsany they both found inspiration, and they both created new works that tied into his dreamer’s tales—and by extension, because they were both building off Dunsany’s Dreamlands, so did their own dreams touch, or were in communion, all unknowing. “The Message of Thuba Mleen” stand easily with any of the other dream cycle stories and verses inspired by Dunsany and Lovecraft, with their strange names and dark, suggestive hints.

Many occultists looked for a common source between the two, and sought to create a shared origin for the Necronomicon and the Book of the Law; to tie Crowley to Cthulhu, and Magick to Mythos. Yet the shared Mythos was there all along, in a half-forgotten poem. The two were not tied together by any dark secret or occult truth, but by an appreciation for the great fantaisiste, Lord Dunsany.

And always will be, ’til wakes Māna-Yood-Sushāī.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein uses Amazon Associate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

Her Letters to August Derleth: Dorothy McIlwraith

From 1926 to January 1940, Farnsworth Wright was the editor with whom August Derleth dealt at Weird Tales. Wright had bought Derleth’s first story, and while Derleth would never have the acclaim and popularity of Seabury Quinn, H. P. Lovecraft, Robert E. Howard, Clark Ashton Smith, or Edmond Hamilton, he was dependable and productive. While much of Derleth’s weird fiction consisted of workmanlike potboilers that lacked the delicacy and character development of his regional fiction, he seemed to almost always have something suitable to fill space in the Unique Magazine—and through diligence and competence, placed more work in Weird Tales than almost any other writer.

When Farnsworth Wright was fired, Dorothy McIlwraith (1891-1976) moved into the editorial chair, assisted by her secretary D. Lyn Johnson and associate editor Lamont “Monty” Buchanan. For the last fourteen years of Weird Tales‘ existence—and a little while after—August Derleth corresponded with Dorothy McIlwraith. While Wright had known Derleth as a tyro and help shape him as a pulp writer, McIlwraith would know him as a mature writer and businessman. Not just as a writer submitting stories, but as the publisher of Arkham House (who bought ad space in Weird Tales), an anthologist republishing stories from Weird Tales (which required permission to use, since Weird Tales had bought the rights), and as the unofficial agent for H. P. Lovecraft’s estate and Henry S. Whitehead.

During Dorothy McIlwraith’s tenure as editor, she published 63 stories by August Derleth, plus a couple of reviews and letters, and not counting the stories from Lovecraft and Whitehead. The file of correspondence at the Derleth archive at the Wisconsin Historical Society is relatively sparse and incomplete: 62 letters from Dorothy McIlwraith (at least one other letter exists in private hands), plus a handful of letters to Johnson and a dozen or so to Buchanan, and 3 copies of letters from Derleth to McIlwraith. Overall, about 101 pages of correspondence, which doesn’t cover nearly everything; notably there’s a massive gap between 1948 and 1954. What happened to this correspondence is unknown.

What correspondence we do have, covering 1940-1948 and 1954-1955 gives good insight into a professional working relationship between a pup editor and one of her most important writers/agents: cordial, polite, sometimes deeply insightful into Weird Tales‘ business practices, but also generally impersonal, succinct, and not afraid to reject Derleth on occasion. The first extant letter gives a good overview of the content:

Dear Mr. Derleth:

I was exceedingly glad to receive your letter of June 19th, and should like to think that we are going to see something of yours again as a possibility for WEIRD TALES. We all feel that it is unfortunate that we have had to make the magazine a bi-monthly, and we are all hoping that that condition is only temporary. Times are very difficult, of course, in the pulp paper field, and we are feeling it in every direction. We do hope to keep the magazine continuing however, on its present basis, and for better conditions before too long a time.

We plan to use “The Sandwin Compact” in the next issue which will be made up – that is, Novemeber, published September first. Meanwhile, if you have something else which you could send along for us to read, we should be very glad indeed to see it. We very definitely do not plan to make any great change in the magazine’s editorial policy, and most emphatically we do not plan to make it a horror magazine. Indeed, all our editorial selections have tended to be in the opposite direction.

Yours sincerely
WEIRD TALES
Dorothy McIlwraith
Editor
—Dorothy McIlwraith to August Derleth, 25 Jun 1940, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

The comment on “we do not plan to make it a horror magazine” was with regard to the direction of Weird Tales. Under Farnsworth Wright, Weird Tales had published a broad range of “off-trail” stories that wouldn’t fit in most other magazines, including stories of fantasy, the supernatural, science fiction, etc.—and while there were many ghost stories and the occasional weird crime tale, the magazine was never solely dedicated to horror, and it never catered solely to the more gruesome blood-and-bones, torture-heavy fair of the shudder pulps. McIlwraith was reassuring Derleth that Weird Tales wasn’t going to lower its standards or cater to the lowest tier of pulp reader.

In truth, there were changes coming. McIlwraith had neither Farnsworth Wright’s long experience with weird fiction, nor the leeway to chase trends which Wright sometimes did to try and attract new readers. With the sudden competition that had blossomed in the field, McIlwraith found herself unable to pay for the top talent, devoid of some of the biggest names in Weird Tales (Robert E. Howard, H. P. Lovecraft), and stuck on a bi-monthly schedule which made it difficult to run serials—a three-part serial would take six months to complete.

With magazines like Famous Fantastic Mysteries focusing on reprints, Unknown on the more contemporary style of fantasy, and Astounding focusing on science fiction, McIlwraith chose to center Weird Tales on what she perceived as its core audience and focus: Edgar Allan Poe-style tales of supernatural horror and the macabre. All original, with no reprints (at least at first). She invited some of the big name authors from her other magazine, Short Story, to submit; she wrote to past authors like August Derleth asking them to submit; she sought to develop new authors like Ray Bradbury and Manly Wade Wellman—and, to give readers what they wanted, she sought to publish Lovecraft. Which meant going through Derleth.

We have been much interested in reading the Lovecraft story “The Case of Charles Dexet Ward”, and certainly agree that it belongs in WEIRD TALES. It will constitue a problem, but we feel that it is one which can be solved. First of all the question of length is to be consdiered. And will you please tell us – are there likely to be other Lovecraft unprinted stories turn up, which might lessen the value of “The Case of Charles Dexter Ward” as a unique feature, and also be shorter – thereby being less of a makeup problem?

To use this story it will be necessary for us to break our policy of all stories complete – which we have felt to be wise for a bi-monthly magazine – and before we go to that length we should want to feel that this was indeed “the last of the Lovecrafts”. That point out of the way, our decision is that we can use “The Case of Charles Dexter Ward” on a basis of 40,000 words, in two parts – that would be at a price of $400.00. This will require some cutting but that actually will help the story – especially the early part. We should expect to use it in the May and July issues of WEIRD TALES next year. You see how difficuly it is to issue a bi-monthly!
—Dorothy McIlwraith to August Derleth, 8 Nov 1940, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

While the idea of cutting a Lovecraft story for length to fit might seem sacrilegious, it was business as usual in the pulp field; Farnsworth Wright was no less hesitant when dealing with Lovecraft himself, and it was Wright who began the process of buying and publishing Lovecraft stories from Derleth after Lovecraft’s death, for the aid of Lovecraft’s surviving aunt Annie Gamwell. As it happened, this was not “the last of the Lovecrafts”—not be a long shot. The unearthing of “new” material Lovecraft’s papers or old amateur journals fed into his posthumous fame, although it did mean the Weird Tales editorial team sometimes had to make excuses:

We are getting ready to use “The Shadow Over Innsmouth”, and in view of the fact that we talked last time a bit about “the last of the Lovecrafts”, we are going to have to do some covering. We shall say that we “discovered” “The Shadow Over Innsmouth” in a rare volume, and knowing that it had never had magazine publication we decided to withould no linger from our public this H. P. L. gem. I wonder if you wouldn’t give me some notes on the story to add to this statement – which we shall make in the Eyrie? If you would give me, perhaps, some of your impressions of this particular yarn in connection with other Lovecraft’s, I think it would be a good note.
—Dorothy McIlwraith to August Derleth, 7 Aug 1941, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

This was not technically a lie; the 1936 Visionary Press publication of The Shadow over Innsmouth was rare enough, and few of the readers would have known the story had previously been rejected by Farnsworth Wright, in part because of its length. McIlwraith actually managed to give Lovecraft his first cover illustration for Weird Tales. Derleth, for his part, provided the spiel that McIlwraith asked for:

The Shadow Over Innsmouth has never before seen publication in any magazine, or in any general form whatever, with the exception of once having been produced in book form in a privately printed and extremely limited edition. This tale is one of the best, the most exciting of the longer tales belonging to the Cthulhu Mythology. Reference to it was made in at least two of my WEIRD TALES stories ( The Return of Hastur, Beyond the Threshold), which more than anything I can say testifies to the powerful hold it has upon the imagination of its readers. The precise place of The Shadow Over Innsmouth in the Cthulhu Mythology is not certain, but Donald [Wandrei] and I have placed it between The Whisperer in Darkness and The Shadow Out of Time. It was written before The Haunter of the Dark, The Dreams in the Witch-House, and The Thing on the Doorstep, and only At the Mountains of Madness apart from The Shadow Out of Time followed it in the Cthulhu Mythos. That means that it followed closely in sequence upon some of the most successful of Lovecraft’s stories — The Dunwich Horror, The Call of Cthulhu, and The Colour Out of Space. It is a dark, brooding story, typical of Lovecraft at his best.
Weird Tales Jan 1942

In addition to the Lovecraft stories, Derleth sold his own pulpy Mythos and non-Mythos tales. As Arkham House ran through Lovecraft material, he turned to Weird Tales—and Lovecraft’s revision clients—for further material. As Weird Tales had the habit of buying all rights to stories when it could, that often meant reprint rights would be requested through McIlwraith, who appeared happy to grant them. While asking the original author for permission was polite, it legally wasn’t necessary unless they had retained reprint rights.

I should think you would be quite safe in assuming that the authors would be willing for you to use “The Diary of Alonzo Typer” by William Lumley, “The Mound,” “The Curse of Yig,” Medusa’s Coils” [sic] by Zealia Brown Reed (Bishop)[,] “The Horror in the Museum” and “Out of the Eons” by Hazel Heald even if you don’t hear from them direct.
—Dorothy McIlwraith to August Derleth, 14 May 1943, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

This permission paved the way for these stories to be included in Beyond the Walls of Sleep (1943), the second Lovecraft collection from Arkham House. Not all of Derleth’s projects necessarily came to fruition, however. In one letter, McIlwraith wrote:

Inasmuch as WEIRD TALES never bought any book rights, as far as I can make out, there would be no question about your being able to use the material in a book—”The Best From Weird Tales.” Of course we still hold the copyright, but your acknowledgement would take care of that.
—Dorothy McIlwraith to August Derleth, 27 May 1943, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

The idea of a “best of” collection of Weird Tales had been in circulation for a long time. The publishers of Weird Tales had tried it themselves with The Moon Terror & Other Stories (1927), a poor selection of tales that took over a decade to dispose of. The British Not at Night series edited by Christine Campbell Thomson did much better, and in the 1930s Weird Tales writers E. Hoffmann Price and Kirk Mashburn convinced Lovecraft, Howard, Derleth, and other writers to submit stories for a best-of anthology—Farnsworth Wright even appears to have given his blessing, but they failed to find a publisher that would take a risk on such a weird volume, and the project died.

Derleth mentioned The Best From Weird Tales in The Acoylte (Summer 1943), and described it as “20 to 30 tales representing the best from 1933 to 1943 ($3.00).” However, things didn’t work out. Wartime paper shortages, a lack of credit with the printer, some hold-up with the rights—the details aren’t available in the Derleth/McIlwraith letters. It wouldn’t be the last “Lost Arkham House” book, but it might have been the first. A glance at many of the other anthologies that Derleth had a hand in during the 1940s shows many stories from Weird Tales, perhaps the stars simply weren’t right yet for such a collection. One of the few copies of Derleth’s letters to McIlwraith preserved in the collection gives a prospective list of stories he wanted to use:

THE NIGHT WIRE, by H. F. Arnold
THE THREE MARKED PENNIES, by Mary Elizabeth Counselman
THE WOMAN OF THE WOOD, by A. Merritt
HERE LIES, by Howard Wandrei
THE SULTAN’S JEST, by E. Hoffmann Price
DEAF, DUMB, AND BLIND, by C. M. Eddy, Jr.
THE WIND THAT TRAMPS THE WORLD, by Frank Owen
THE WEIRD OF AVOOSL WUTHOQQUAN, by Clark Ashton Smith
THE HOUNDS OF TINDALOS, by Frank Belknap Long, Jr.
THE SPACE EATERS, by Frank Belknap Long, Jr.
IN AMUNDSEN’S TENT, by John Martin Leahy
REVELATIONS IN BLACK, by Carl Jacobi
MASQUERADE, by Henry Kuttner
THE PHANTOM FARMHOUSE, by Seabury Quinn
THE CANAL by Everil Worrell
THE TSANTSA OF PROFESSOR VON ROTHAPFEL, by Alanson Skinner
THE WAY BACK, by Paul Ernst
THE GHOSTS OF STEAMBOUT COULEE, by Arthur J. Burks
WAXWORKS, by Robert Bloch
BEETLES, by Robert Bloch
IN THE TRIANGLE, by Howard Wandrei
THE EYES OF THE PANTHER, by Howard Wandrei
WHEN THE GREEN STAR WANED, by Nictzin Dyalhis
INVADERS FROM OUTSIDE, by J. Schlossel
THE CHAIN, by H. Warner Munn
SHAMBLEAU, by C. L. Moore
THE TREADER OF THE DUST, by Clark Ashton Smith
THE THING IN THE CELLAR, by David H. Keller
—August Derleth to Dorothy McIlwraith, 3 Feb 1944, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

Several stories on this list are included among Lovecraft’s list of the the best stories from Weird Tales in his letters; notably absent are any stories from Lovecraft or Derleth—presumably Derleth figured he had those permissions covered. Many of these stories would show up in future anthologies by Derleth, but not all of them; it could be that the Best From Weird Tales was effectively spread out over several anthologies, interspersed with other material.

Not every interaction resulted in permission give or a sale made. When Derleth offered his first “posthumous collaboration” with Lovecraft, The Lurker at the Threshold, to Weird Tales for serialization, McIlwraith politely balked:

I just don’t see how we could manage it for WEIRD. I don’t feel serials in an every other month magazine are good, anyway, and such long installments are out for the durations–of the paper restrictions. Too bad from our standpoint.
—Dorothy McIlwraith to August Derleth, 17 Jan 1945, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

Over the years, the tone of the letters softens a little; “Dear Mr. Derleth” becomes “Dear August”; full signatures become replaced with a quickly scrawled “McI” or “Mac.” Yet there is always a reserve; this was business correspondence, first and foremost, and neither Derleth or McIlwraith ever raise a harsh word toward the other to spoil the relationship. On rare occasions, we get notice of some more personal sentiments and deeper insight into the philosophy of Weird Tales under McIlwraith:

Dear August:

Thank you very much for your letter of January 2nd about WEIRD. I certainly appreciated your interest and trouble in writing; also I most certainly agree with you that we do not want WEIRD to have a consistently flippant tone. We shall be careful on that score in lining up future issues.

Naturally, we have felt the magazine needs new blood from time to time, and are gratified that you agree with us that [Ray] Bradbury is a good addition to the list. [Harold] Lawlor is not such a consistent performer, but does seem popular with our readers; one thing which has always interested me is the fact that WEIRD TALES readers write us very much more frequently than those of SHORT STORIES. This holds true for the new people we are reaching in the present sellers’ market, as well as for the very vocal small body of self appointed fans.

Your friendship for the magazine is one of our most valued assets, so again thanks for your comments on the current issue.

With all best wishes for 1945, I am,

Yours sincerely,

WEIRD TALES
[Mac]
Doroth McIlwraith
Editor
—Dorothy McIlwraith to August Derleth, 10 Jan 1945, private collection

The November 1944 issue of Weird Tales was maybe a little more fun-oriented than most, but never reached the level flippancy of Unknown. Derleth presumably was afraid the two lead novelettes were a bit too unserious. At the other end of things, McIlwraith was still unclear about the community nature of Weird Tales fanbase—her changes to ‘The Eyrie’ distanced readers from writers and editor, and the implementation of the Weird Tales Club didn’t quite make up for the lack of direct feedback which made such a close and dedicated readership.

McIlwraith and the rest of the Weird Tales editorial team, however, was never driven by nostalgia, never backward-looking. Their vision of Weird Tales was always looking toward the future:

Miss McIlwraith and I were pleased to see the Robert E. Howard collection, “Skull Face and Others.” It is a pleasure to again read some of these yarns. One wonders, occasionally, where the Howards and Lovecrafts of the future will develop from. WEIRD TALES, of course, is always interested in new people and yet I find a story, for instance like [“]Mr George[“], just isn’t produced by the new boys but some of our old stand-bys.
—Lamont Buchanan to August Derleth, 30 Aug 1946, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

The post-war years saw Weird Tales struggle on, almost to the end of the pulp era. There is a gap in the archive that covers much of this period, as Weird Tales‘ competitors dropped out one by one, and the magazine struggled to retain readers and relevance. Despite the readers’ fondness for Lovecraft, McIlwraith wasn’t willing to buy any and all of Derleth’s Cthulhu tales.

Frankly, we like this latest Cthulhu the least of all our problem material, so it would seem logical to pass it up for WEIRD TALES. In any event, we couldn’t use it till well on in next year, and that is planning too far ahead for good magazine publishing practice. We don’t feel that we should so definitely commit ourselves on your own or sponsored material that we have no chance for future flexibility.
—Dorothy McIlwraith to August Derleth, 30 Jul 1946, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

Which is why there’s nearly a three-year gap between the publication of “The Watcher from the Sky” (Jul 1945) to “The Testament of Clairborne Boyd” (Mar 1949), which were the second and third parts of the “Trail of Cthulhu” series. Near the end, however, both Derleth and McIlwraith must have been willing to do what they could to shore up readership—and if that meant Lovecraft, then they would give them Lovecraft.

Dear Mac,

[…] Meanwhile, I’ve heard nothing from you about my proposal for a new series of Lovecraft-Derleth collaborations in Weird Tales. You already have THE SURVIVOR, which I hope can appear in the July or Septemeber issue. Three others are now ready—

WENTWORTH’S DAY, at 4500 words
THE GABLE WINDOW, at 7500 words
THE PEABODY HERITAGE, at 7500 words

There will be at least two more—or enough for an entire year of Weird Tales. And we might be able to turn up more thereafter, if the use of them has any noticeable effect on the sales of the magazines.

Do let me know about this as soon as you can, will you? I’ll send on the new stories whenever you’re ready for them; I’m not sending them along herwith because I’ve no assurance you want them.
—August Derleth to Dorothy McIlwraith, 24 Feb 1954, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

McIlwraith did want them. She was still looking ahead past the lean times. Yet of these stories, only “The Survivor” made it into print in Weird Tales July 1954—in what turned out to be its penultimate issue under Dorothy McIlwraith’s editorship. The Unique Magazine, which had run from almost the beginning of the pulp era to its end, finally shut its doors. As editor, and Derleth’s friend, it was McIlwraith’s sad duty to share the news:

Dear August:—

As a matter of fact, I am writing this at home, not from the office, the sad fact being that we have gone into receivership. As one of our editorial creditors, I think you will receive official notice to this effect, but am not quite sure of the procedure. It is a very sad time for us all; what the fate of the magazines—SS and WT—will be, we, of course, don’t know.

I have here: The Gable Window, The Ancestor, Wentworth’s Day, The Peabody Heritage, Hallowe’en for Mr. Faulkener * Also the Seal of R’leyh. It might be that whoever takes over WT might see the value of the Lovecraft tie-in, but I don’t know, and anyway you probably would be a better salesman than I, so let me know if I’ll return all the manuscripts. Personal mail will be forwarded.

I can’t tell you how sorry and grieved I am, so there’s no use trying—or crying.

Yours,
Mac
—Doroth McIlwraith to August Derleth, 15 Nov 1954, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

Sometimes, when a pulp magazine went bankrupt, the new owners would see the potential in the company and reinvest in the magazine. That had happened with Gernsback’s Amazing Stories in 1929, and Wonder Stories in 1936. However, it was the end of the pulp era. Pulp publisher Leo Margulies would end up buying both Weird Tales and Short Stories, but any attempt at revival was far in the future. McIlwraith’s last extent letter to Derleth is just an effort to pick up the pieces:

Dear August:—

I find that no sort of notification has gone out from the Receiver’s office to any author. I am sending on to them your last letter, and suggest that you write to the company at our last address—200 West 57th street—from which all mail not addressed personally is being forwarded to the proper authorities. Such a mess, and I am so sorry.

Yours,
Mac
—Doroth McIlwraith to August Derleth, 7 Jan 1957, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

As sparse as this correspondence may seem, it highlights several key aspects of the last phase of the original run of Weird Tales—McIlwraith’s efforts to produce a quality magazine of weird fiction, some of the restrictions she faced doing that, how Derleth fed her both his own work and that of Lovecraft and others, and in turn mined Weird Tales for material for his anthologies. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, and if McIlwraith did not always buy everything that Derleth was selling, that was just part of the pulp game and Derleth seems to have taken it in stride.

Would we have a Cthulhu Mythos if Weird Tales had ended up under another editor or ceased publication in 1940? While Derleth’s pulp Mythos tales weren’t up to the best of Lovecraft, they did keep Lovecraft’s name alive in a wide-circulating print magazine in a way that Arkham House’s expensive hardbound volumes could not. It certainly seems that McIlwraith’s initial unwillingness to serialize The Lurker at the Threshold led to Derleth to put off “posthumous collaborations” for several years—until the end, when they were desperate for anything to draw readers. Ironically, Derleth ended up with a number of stories and nowhere to publish them, so that most of the posthumous collaborations first saw print in the collection The Survivor and Others (1957).

Some of the gaps in the archive are unfortunate. We know C. Hall Thompson published two Mythos stories in Weird Tales: “The Spawn of the Green Abyss” (Nov 1946) and “The Will of Claude Ashur” (Jul 1947); we know Derleth put a stop to it, probably threatening legal action. It seems unlikely Derleth could have avoided mentioning the subject to McIlwraith, but there’s no letters about it in the archive, and the correspondence that does mention the affair is from years after the fact (cf. A Look Behind the Derleth Mythos 267-268, Letters to Arkham 201).

Since most of Derleth’s correspondence remains unpublished, any hints of his correspondence with McIlwraith in his letters to others is patchy at best. Comments in his letters with Clark Ashton Smith are about typical for pulp writers and editors—praising her when she buys something, bitter when she doesn’t. At one point, Derleth wrote:

Which reminds me that I’ll give Miss McIlwraith a line pushing your work, and hope it will stimulate her out of that peculiar lethargy which inevitably marks a woman who has for most of her active adult life edited an adventure stories magazine (SHORT STORIES).
—August Derleth to Clark Ashton Smith, 27 Apr 1943, Eccentric, Impractical Devils 328

Derleth would have been hard-pressed if Smith had challenged him to name any other women editors that fit that remark. Being editor of a pulp magazine wasn’t only a man’s game, but it was rare enough for a woman—and only Dorothy McIlwraith saw Weird Tales through its last 14 years, to the bitter dregs of its first run.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein uses Amazon Associate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

Earth is a Breeding Ground For Monstrous Creatures (2024) by Starbound HFY & Chikondi C

Darwinism is older than space opera. The epic scales and timelines of interstellar travel and alien worlds with their own unique forms of life gave writers and artists the opportunity to depict different evolutionary paths than life took on Earth. How different environments shaped and nurtured these extraterrestrial forms of life. From the rubber-forehead aliens of Star Trek and Star Wars to more non-humanoid lifeforms of H. G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds (1898) or Arthur C. Clarke’s Rendezvous with Rama (1973).

Social Darwinism and eugenics are also older than space opera, and the idea emerged that survival-of-the-fittest and particularly challenging environments would lead to hardier organisms. The thinking went that the harsh conditions would weed out the weak and force the survivors to be toughened up. To many, this might seem self-evident: wild animals are often leaner and more ferocious than domesticated pets and farm animals; rural people who work physically demanding jobs are often stronger and physically fit than city folk working office jobs. In practice, this is a misconception: survival of the fittest doesn’t necessarily mean the strongest or the toughest, and the forces that shape an individual over their lifetime aren’t necessarily passed down to the next generation (Lamarkism).

However, the idea had legs in science fiction.

“But every report on Salusa Secundus says S.S. is a hell world!”

“Undoubtedly. But if you were going to raise tough, strong, ferocious men, what environmental conditions would you impose on them?”
—Frank Herbert, Dune (1965)

Earth is a diverse world with many biomes, and evolution has made plenty of weird stuff on our own planet. Some of them are harsher than others, and the same basic idea that science fiction authors applied to “hell worlds” in their space opera could also be applied (jocularly) to, say, Australia.

POSSIBLY IT WOULD BE SIMPLER IF I ASKED FOR A LIST OF THE HARMLESS CREATURES OF THE AFORESAID CONTINENT?

They waited.

IT WOULD APPEAR THAT—

“No, wait, master. Here it comes.”

Albert pointed to something white zigzagging lazily through the air. Finally Death reached up and caught the single sheet of paper.

He read it carefully and then turned it over briefly just in case anything was written on the other side.

“May I?” said Albert. Death handed him the paper.

“Some of the sheep,” Albert read aloud.
—Terry Pratchett, The Last Continent (1998)

The ideas came together online in a series of Tumbr posts in 2016 in a thread titled “Humans Are Weird,” which started out with unusual traits of human beings as a species and then transitioned to Earth is Australia. The basic idea is a Star Trek or Star Wars-style universe with multiple intelligent, technologically advanced species, and they come across Earth…and compared to the rest of the inhabitable planets in the universe, Earth is a deathworld.

Which would make humans, as those who survive and thrive on said deathworld, incomparably awesome compared to the rest of the galaxy.

The idea has legs, and has inspired several memes, microfiction on social media sites, fanart, and entire novels and audiobooks. Variations and spinoffs include “Humans Are Space Orcs,” “Space Australia,” and “HFY” (Humanity, Fuck Yeah!). While initially light-hearted and at least mildly grounded in real-world science, as the ideas have developed and spread different themes have emerged—often involving environmentalism, military conflicts, morality, ethics, and above all human ingenuity and determination. Strong insirpirations from military science fiction are evident, with humans often being depicted with unshakeable resolve, peaceful unless provoked, relentless when provoked, and alternately surprisingly passionate or unstoppable horrors depending on the tone of the story.

Enterprising creators are commercializing these themes; one such endeavor is Starbound HFY, which might be most politely described as a fiction factory. Writers are solicited to submit stories that meet certain guidelines, get paid for their work; the stories are then read by voice actors, who are also paid; and the resulting audiobooks are posted online, usually accompanied by AI-generated artwork to lend some visual clutter to the production.

The use of generative AI has led to speculation about whether the audio productions use AI-generated text or are read by AI, or whether they plagiarize the stories of other creators. Part of the problem is that the titles for the stories are very clickbait-y, authors are rarely credited (although this has been getting better lately), and the voice actors who read the stories are often completely uncredited, although they usually appear at the beginning of the videos to confirm that yes, real human beings were involved in this production (though it appears they might have used narration software on the early videos). Competition in the field for clicks and views has led to a lot of imitation; how often this results in actual plagiarism or bots scraping content and repackaging it on different channels isn’t clear.

The whole process reminds me weirdly of the ultra-competitive nature of science fiction pulp magazines circa 1940, when there was an explosion of titles on the stands, all competing for the same dimes and quarters, often using the same writers or riffing on the same themes. Robots, bug-eyed aliens, women in distress, etc. were the order of the day. In the 2020s, the HFY-themes tend toward militarism, cultural exchange, and an elevated sense of how badass and cool humans are. In that respect, it reminds me of the men’s adventure fiction magazines of the 1950s. The emphasis on human strength, durability, and ingenuity over extraterrestrials—and the humans almost always being well-meaning, peaceful unless provoked, and utterly terrifying when not—tends to put human failings and weaknesses in the past tense, as cultural traits that have been overcome.

To be fair, this isn’t exactly a new idea. Larry Niven’s Man-Kzin Wars that began in 1966 and David Drake’s Hammer’s Slammers in 1979 was almost exactly this kind of quasi-hard-sci fi where humanity turns out to be very good at war and is surprisingly effective against alien species when conflict breaks out. Unlike those works, humans are usually depicted in HFY stories as possessing innate advantages thanks to evolving on a deathworld, including greater strength, ability to sustain and heal injuries, and quick reflexes—although sometimes the ability to metabolize oxygen and liquid water or exist at room temperature is enough to impress some alien species.

Starbound HFY publishes both stand-alone stories and has multiple separate canons which follow a particular setting or characters. On 1 August 2024, they published Earth Is A Breeding Ground For Monstrous Creatures—which is not to be mistaken for Earth is a Breeding Ground For Fearsome Creatures (12 Aug 2024, Galaxy’s Sci-Fi Story) or Earth is a Breeding Ground For Monstrous Creatures (23 Nov 2024, HFY Sci-Fi Story)—which is an interesting departure from the norm as it is a crossover between HFY and the Cthulhu Mythos.

The story itself is very much Delta Green or the SCP Foundation in a space opera setting. The HFY setting elements are a balance between popular conceptions of the Mythos (e.g. looking at a shoggoth or other Mythos entity drives someone insane). There very little taken directly from Lovecraft in the script compared to other Mythos-inflected space operas like the Boojumverse series by Elizabeth Bear & Sarah Monette (“Boojum” (2008), “Mongoose” (2009), “The Wreck of the Charles Dexter Ward” (2012)) or La Planète aux Cauchemars (2019) by Mathieu Sapin & Patrick Pion, but the emphasis of the danger and difficulty of dealing with the Mythos does balance out the “humans are awesome” elements a little bit, which can get ludicrous at times.

A large part of the effectiveness for the audio narration is due to the voice actor, Chikondi C, who does an admirable job of trying to render R’lyehian as well as the different voices of the characters and the over all narration. The emphasis and emotion that come through in his reading goes a long way to bring alive a competent story. I highly doubt that the prose story by itself would be nearly as effective without Chikondi’s careful and clear narration and effective emoting.

“Earth is a Breeding Ground For Monstrous Creatures” (2024) is, effectively, a contemporary pulp story. In an era when print magazines are increasingly less relevant in the fiction publishing landscape, the edge of popular publishing has moved online, into spaces like Tumblr, Reddit, TikTok, and Youtube. Listen to it like that and you might know what it was like, back in the 40s or 50s, when a sci fi fan picked a magazine off the rack of the local newsstand, never know what might be a silly potboiler with bug-eyed aliens—or an early work by a writer destined to be a big name in science fiction in the future.

Update (15 Jan 2025): As of this writing the StarboundHFY Youtube channel has been removed and their content banned from the r/HFY subreddit following claims of stealing content, using generative AI when they claimed they weren’t, and basically unethically content farming. When or if it ever returns is ever unknown.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein uses Amazon Associate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

“Jirel and the Mirror of Truth” (2024) by Molly Tanzer

“You have succeeded today;” it said, “but you have lost yourself, Jirel, once of Joiry.[“]
—Molly Tanzer, “Jirel and the Mirror of Truth” in New Edge Sword & Sorcery #3

Jirel of Joiry appeared in Weird Tales with “Black God’s Kiss” (1934) by C. L. Moore. That style of story had no name yet, and very few peers to compare it to. Readers immediately saw in Jirel a warrior akin to Conan the Cimmerian and Kull of Atlantis, embattled against wizards and stranger foes that blended adventure and horror, might thews and magic, swords and sorcery.

As a consequence, the initial spate of adventures from C. L. Moore’s typewriter were a bit raw. There was little continuity and less worldbuilding. Jirel herself was a boldly sketched character, and her personal trials shaped her development—yet Moore never tried to portray her at different ages as Robert E. Howard had done with Conan, never sought to reconcile her fantastic France with the real world, and the adventures she went on were the definition of episodic. Where readers could look forward to Conan as a king and know he spent a varied career as a thief, pirate, and mercenary soldier, Jirel was little different in her last adventure than she was at her first.

Jirel of Joiry had no destiny, no future, almost no past to speak of.

So when Molly Tanzer received permission from C. L. Moore’s heirs to do a new authorized Jirel story, she had some decisions to make. Ninety years of steady development has refined heroic fantasy fiction far from its roots in pulp fiction. There have probably been a hundred stories about mystic Mirrors of Truth, not least because Robert E. Howard had a go at the idea with “The Mirrors of Tuzun Thune” (1929), and the pages of at least ten thousand paperback novels is stained with the blood of cunning wizards and magical gewgaws who learned, far too late, what the tip of the blade feels like as it cleaves their liver (or black heart, or festering brain, etc.) in two.

In this respect, “Jirel and the Mirror of Truth” reads like a fairly competent and well-written sword & sorcery story in a fairly old-school mode. If the heroine wasn’t Jirel, readers would still have no doubt that Jirel’s literary DNA was in the mix, much as most barbarians in fiction have a little bit of Howard’s Cimmerian in them. If it lacks something of the raw and sensual language of C. L. Moore, that’s because Tanzer is a smart enough writer not to fall in the trap of trying to pastiche Moore’s prose style. Better, it shows a solid understanding of one of Moore’s central themes: the Jirel stories are always about a contest of spirit as much (or more) than flesh.

It doesn’t take much genre savviness to glance at the title and decide the question will emerge, sooner or later, “Who is Jirel of Joiry?” The answer, however, might surprise a few folks. Molly Tanzer doesn’t regurgitate bits of old Moore stories, though she draws on elements of them; she illustrates who Jirel is through her actions and interactions with others, especially her new companion, Thevin Galois. Less a girlfriend and more than a sidekick, Thevin is a kind of Enkidu to Jirel’s Gilgamesh; the two are alike, but they complement each other. Perhaps they reflect one another’s strengths and weaknesses, their potentialities. Thevin is what Jirel might have been; Jirel is what Thevin might yet be.

When it came to amorous matters, Thevin preferred the company of women, and did not give much notice to men’s attentions.
—Molly Tanzer, “Jirel and the Mirror of Truth” in New Edge Sword & Sorcery #3

Tanzer likes LGBTQ+ characters in her stories, and in this respect Thevin as a lesbian works well. Her sexuality is stated, there’s a hint of tension and attraction with Jirel, but this isn’t Thirsty Sword Lesbians or Dagger Kiss where the question is whether they’ll kiss. If anything, it’s nice to just see the representation of a character where their sexuality is relevant to their character but not the main focus of the story or present just to fulfill a lurid scene or two—there is actual porn out there for folks that want erotic tales of lesbian swordswoman. Tanzer is focused on telling Jirel’s story.

For readers who start with “Black God’s Kiss” and read through the whole C. L. Moore-penned Jirel of Joiry saga to “Hellsgarde” (1939), “Jirel and the Mirror of Truth” might be a bit of a jolt in style. There’s a bit more of Michael Moorcock and Joanna Russ in the style than Robert E. Howard and C. L. Moore. Yet it is a well-written story, and a cut above the pastiche of yesteryear. With a little luck, Jirel’s new adventures may have just begun.

“Jirel and the Mirror of Truth” by Molly Tanzer was published in New Edge Sword & Sorcery #3 (Summer 2024).


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein uses Amazon Associate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

“La Lámpara de Alhazred” (2023) by Manuel Mota & Julio Nieto

Habían pasado siete años desoe la desparaición de su abuelo Whipple cuando Ward Phillips recibió la lámpara.Seven years had passed since the disappearance of his grandfather Whipple when Ward Phillips received the lamp.It was seven years after his Grandfather Whipple’s disappearance that Ward Phillips received the lamp.
“La Lámpara de Alhazred” (2023) by Manuel Mota & Julio Nieto,
Cthulhu #28.5
English translationAugust Derleth, “The Lamp of Alhazred” (1957), The Watchers out of Time 114

Many of August Derleth’s “posthumous collaborations” with H. P. Lovecraft have been derided as pastiches. Yet “The Lamp of Alhazred” is more homage—and more accurately a collaboration than most of Derleth’s stories, since it incorporates a large chunk of text from Lovecraft’s letter to Derleth dated 18 Nov 1936, where Lovecraft described coming across a previously unknown wood west of Neutaconkanut Hill.

On Oct. 28 I penetrated a terrain which took me half a mile from any spot I had ever trod before in the course of a long life. I followed a road which branches north 7 West from the Plainfield Pike, ascending a low rise which skirts Neutaconkanut’s Western foot & which commands an utterly idyllic Vista of rolling Meadows, ancient stone walls, hoary groves, 7 distant cottage roofs to the west & south. Only 2 or 3 miles from the city’s heart—& yet in the primal rural New-England of the first colonists!He penetrated a terrain which took him almost a mile from any spot he had ever before trod in the course of his life, following a road, which branched north and west from the Plainsfield Pike and ascending a lot rise which skirted Nentaconhaunt’s Western foot, and which commanded an utterly idyllic Vista of rolling Meadows, ancient stone walls, hoary groves, and distant cottage roofs to the west and south. he was less than three miles from the heart of the city, and yet basked in the primal rural New England of the first colonists.
H. P. Lovecraft to August Derleth, 18 Nov 1936, Essential Solitude 2.756August Derleth, “The Lamp of Alhazred” (1957), The Watchers out of Time 119

Derleth also took inspiration from an entry in Lovecraft’s commonplace book:

From Arabia Ency. Britt. II.–255. Prehistoric fabulous tribes of Ad in the south, Thamood in the north, and Tasm & Jadis in the centre of the peninsula. “Very gorgeous are the descriptions given of Irem, the City of the Pillars (as the Koran styles it) supposed to have been erected by Shedad, the latest despot of Ad, in the regions of Hudramant, and which yet, after the annihilating of its tenants, remains entire, so Arabs say, invisible to ordinary eyes, but occasionally, and at rare intervals, revealed to some heaven-favored traveler.” Rock excavations in N. W. Hejaz ascribed to Thamood tribe.It had once been the property of a certain half-mad Arab, known as Abdul Alhazred, and was a product of the fabulous trident of ad—one of the four mysterious, little-known tribes of Arabia, which where ad—of the south, Thamood—of the north, Tasm and Jadis—of the center of the peninsula. it had been found long ago in the hidden city called Irem, the city of Pillars, which had been erected by Shedad, last of the despots of Ad, and was known by some as the Nameless City, and said to be in the area of Hadramant, and, by others, to be buried under the ageless, ever-shifting sands of the Arabian deserts, invisible to the ordinary eye, but sometimes encounter by chance by the favorites of the Prophet.
The Notes and Commonplace Book of H. P. Lovecraft 21-22August Derleth, “The Lamp of Alhazred” (1957), The Watchers out of Time 115-116

While nearly every Lovecraft story has been adapted to comics at some point, rather fewer of Derleth’s stories have attracted the same treatment. Yet it makes sense that Manuel Mota (script) and Julio Nieto (artwork) would adapt “The Lamp of Alhazred” for Cthulhu #28, the Lovecraft special issue. Because there are homages which capture as much of the pathos of H. P. Lovecraft as well as this one.

Manuel Mota’s script is a fairly straight translation of Derleth text, albeit truncated for space and with the illustrations serving in place of much of the description, which inadvertently cuts out most of Lovecraft’s text. Yet the presentation and framing of the words and Julio Nieto’s art does much to lend a sense of action to what is a largely contemplative story that draws on both Lovecraft’s life and the sentiment of “The Silver Key.” Readers feel Ward Phillips loss and loneliness, his refuge in his imagination, and the visions of other worlds, other times.

It is escapist in the most literal sense of the word, and one of several stories that reflect that quiet, profound desire to abandon the daily grind of life, with its quiet indignities, defeats, and injuries.

Nieto’s artwork is carefully realistic, the page layout traditionally grid-like; it is a straight-forward presentation that puts the more fantastic sequences, the break-outs where the panel cannot contain a wondrous scene, in context. The weirdness isn’t a part of Ward Phillips world; it is the way out.

Jamás se encontro el cuerpo de Ward Phillips.

La policía aún espera queue sus restos aparezcan en Alguno de los lugares queue solía frecuentar en sus solitarios paseos.

Con el paso de Los años, la vieja casa fue derribada, la biblioteca adquirida por librerías anticuarias y lo queue quedó gue vendido como chatarra incluida una vieja lámpara Árabe a la que nadie encontró utilidad alguna.
The body of Ward Phillips was never found.

Police are still hoping that his remains will turn up in one of the places he used to frequent on his solitary walks.

Over the years, the old house was demolished, the library was acquired by antiquarian bookstores and what remained was sold as scrap, including an old Arabic lamp that no one found any use for.
Though desultory searching parties were organized and sent out to scour the vicinity of Nentaconhaunt and the shores of the Seekonk, there was no trace of Ward Phillips. The police were confident that his remains would some day be found, but nothing was discovered, and in time the unsolved mystery was lost in the police and newspaper files.

The years passed. The old house on Angell Street was torn down, the library was bought up by book shops, and the contents of the house were sold for junk—including an old-fashioned antique Arabian lamp, for which no one in the technological world past Phillips’ time could devise any use.
“La Lámpara de Alhazred” (2023) by Manuel Mota & Julio Nieto,
Cthulhu #28.14
English translationAugust Derleth, “The Lamp of Alhazred” (1957), The Watchers out of Time 123-124

It is a story that almost demands a familiarity with Lovecraft to truly appreciate; those who have read his letters, who knows what Lovecraft struggled with during his life, can recognize more of the man in Derleth’s framing of the Nentaconhaunt narrative. Mota and Nieto do well to capture and depict as much of this atmosphere as they can, and the sensibility of the story is necessarily both sad and romantic in the older sense—this is not a Mythos story, despite the name “Alhazred.” it is a fantasy, a myth, so much more elegant than the reality that saw Lovecraft end his days in pain in a hospital as the cancer consumed him.

“La Lámpara de Alhazred” (2023) by Manuel Mota & Julio Nieto is an excellent overall adaptation of Derleth’s homage to Lovecraft, one that captures the spirit of the original—the echo of Lovecraft, as it were—for a new medium and a new audience.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein uses Amazon Associate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

Dreidel of Dread: The Very Cthulhu Hanukkah (2024) by Alex Shvartsman and Tomeu Riera

Hanukkah is an ancient holiday, but a modest one. The holiday of the
Hasmoneans is new, yet it is full of spiritual exaltation and national joy. What
was Hanukkah forty years ago? ‘Al ha-nissim’ and Hallel; a short reading in
the synagogue; lighting the tiny, slender wax candles or oil lights; at home,
levivot [latkes–potato pancakes], cards for the older children, and sevivonim
[dreidels–spinning tops] for the little ones. But what is Hanukkah today? The
holiday of the Hasmoneans. A holiday of salvation. A great national holiday,
celebrated in all the countries of the Diaspora with dances and speeches,
melody and song, outings and parades, as if a new soul has been breathed
into the ancient holiday, another spirit renewed within it. One thing is clear:
if those tiny, modest candles had been extinguished in Diaspora times, if our
grandparents had not preserved the traditions of Hanukkah in the synagogue
and at home . . . , the holiday of the Hasmoneans could never have been
created. There would have been nothing to change, nothing to renew. The
new soul of our times would not have found a body in which to envelop itself.
—Chaim Harrari, Sefer ha-Mo’adim, Sefer Hanukkah (1938),
quoted in “Zionist Awareness of the Jewish Past: Inventing Tradition or Renewing the Ethnic Past?” (2012) by Yitzhak Conforti

On the 25th day of Kislev in the Hebrew calendar is the feast of Hanukkah. Originally a very minor holiday in the Jewish holy calendar, Hanukkah gained increasing prominence during the 20th and 21st centuries as it was embraced as a nationalist holiday by Zionists, and because Hanukkah often occurred near the major Christian holiday of Christmas. The massive increase of secular pop culture surrounding Christmas, especially in English-speaking countries, has led to the increased awareness of Hanukkah, and sometimes its depiction as an equivalent holiday among both religiously observant and secular Jews.

In some cases, elements of secular Christmas celebration have influenced or been adapted for Hanukkah, a process sometimes referred to as Chrismukkah. Jewish families might put up a Hanukkah Bush, or watch Hanukkah-themed movies and animated specials like A Rugrats Chanukah (1996) or Eight Crazy Nights (2002). The influence of Christmas pop-culture on secular Hanukkah media is often very notable. Even when things get a little weird and Lovecraftian.

So, when Alex Shvartsman (writer) and Tomeu Riera (artist) set about making Dreidel of Dread: The Very Cthulhu Hanukkah (2024), they took as their initial model the classic Christmas verse “A Visit from St. Nicholas” (1823).

To be fair, Shvartsman and Riera are very aware of it. In fact, that’s quite the point. The book gets very meta very fast, directly addressing how much Hanukkah has played second-fiddle to Christmas in pop culture. Cthulhu is just the catalyst for an ongoing dilemma about the cultural footprint of Hanukkah in a world dominated by Christmas. So with a mix of Yiddishisms and Lovecraftian references, Hanukkah Harry goes off to save Hanukkah from the apocalypse of Cthulhu.

Which he does with a sly insinuation about Lovecraft’s antisemitism and a dreidel.

Riera’s heart is lovely, a soft-focus blend of stylized and detailed that could easily serve as the basis for an animated short. The colors in particular strike a fine balance between the traditional greens and purples favored for eldritch horrors and the more subdued coloring of Harry’s mother and father’s modest dress, while Harry himself favors blue and white. Implicit details of dress suggest the family are probably Reform Jewish, since Harry lacks the payot and none of them wear the typical clothing associated with the hasidim (whose distinct garb Lovecraft noted and commented on in New York City).

It is not a very long book, and thematically it’s not a very deep book. Cthulhu goes down without devouring so much as a latke. Cosmic horror takes a back seat to wanting to sort things about before Christmas comes for Cthulhu. While suitable for and probably geared toward a young adult audience, the youngster would have to be perspicacious enough to be aware of the cultural references for both Hanukkah and Cthulhu to really grok it—and maybe get a chuckle at some of the jokes.

Dreidel of Dread: The Very Cthulhu Hanukkah (2024) is a fun little book, but readers looking for something a little more serious or action-packed might want to check out Edward M. Erdelac’s Merkabah Rider or “The Chabad of Innsmouth” (2014) by Marsha Morman. As Jewish/Cthulhu Mythos mash-ups go, this is distinctly light-hearted and tongue-in-cheek, less concerned with either the details of Lovecraft’s Mythos or the origins of the holiday.

It’s about Hanukkah Harry saving Hanukkah from Cthulhu. Which is, really, all it claims or needs to be.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein uses Amazon Associate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

Deeper Cut: Lovecraft, the Rabbi, & the Historical Jesus

Charlie Brown: Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?

Linus Van Pelt: Sure, Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about.
A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

The true season of Christ’s nativity is not definitely known, that event having once been celebrated on the 6th of January in connexion with the feast of Epiphany. The selection of December 25th as Christmas day occurred in the fourth century, and was undoubtedly a result of a desire to make the celebration coincide with the ancient Roman Saturnalia, which was a development of the primitive winter festival called Brumalia. Many of our present Yuletide customs are derived from the winter festivals of the Druids and of our Saxon ancestors.
—H. P. Lovecraft, “The December Sky” (1914), Collected Essays 3.131

It was the Yuletide, that men call Christmas though they know in their hearts it is older than Bethlehem and Babylon, older than Memphis and mankind.
—H. P. Lovecraft, “The Festival” (1923)

As a child, H. P. Lovecraft went to Sunday school at the local Baptist church. These lessons (and mandatory church attendance) appear to have begun around age 5 and ended around age 12. From then on Lovecraft’s religious education happened on his own, in his readings of history and the Bible. Several books in Lovecraft’s library speak to at least a general interest in the history of Christianity, or as reference works including The Evolution of Christianity (1892) by Lyman Abbott, The Life of Christ (1874) by Frederic William Farrar, The Comprehensive Commentary on the Holy Bible (1835-1838) by William Jenks, An Epitome of General Ecclesiastical History, from the Earliest Period to the Present Times (1827) by John Marsh, A Summary of Biblical Antiquities (1849) by John Williamson Nevin, and Martin Luthor (1881) by John H. Treadwell, among others.

While happy to celebrate Christmas as a secular holiday (see Lovecraft’s Last Christmas and Her Letters To Lovecraft: Christmas Greetings), Lovecraft seemed to be weaker on theology. His dismissiveness of anything supernatural and lack of churchgoing apparently extended to being uninterested in the finer points of Christian metaphysics and doctrine. As an ardent materialist, his approach to Christianity was colored by his reading in anthropology and his prejudices against superstition and Jewish culture.

So when it came to the historicity of Jesus Christ—the question as to whether Jesus of Nazareth actually existed, as depicted in the gospels of the New Testament—Lovecraft took a euhemeristic approach:

The word “Christianity” becomes noble when applied to the veneration of a wonderfully good man and moral teacher, but it grows undignified when applied to a system of white magic based on the supernatural. Christ probably believed himself a true Messiah, since the tendencies of the times might well inculcate such a notion in anyone of his qualities. Whether his mind was strictly normal or not is out of the question. Very few minds are strictly normal, and all religious fanatics are marked with abnormalities of various sorts. It is well known that psychologists group religious phenomena with other and less divine disturbances of the brain and nervous system. Whether, as the novel of Mr. Moore implies, Christ was alive after his nominal execution; or whether the whole resurrection legend is a myth, is immaterial. Very little reliable testimony could come from so remote a province as Judaea at that time.
—H. P. Lovecraft to the Gallomo, Oct 1916, Miscellaneous Letters 35

This was in regard to The Brooke Kerith: A Syrian Story (1916) by George Moore, a novel about an historical and non-divine Jesus who did not die on the cross and was subsequently nursed back to health. A decade later, the subject arose again when Georg Brandes’ Sagnet om Jesus was translated and published in English as Jesus: A Myth (1926), which argued against the idea of a historical Jesus.

I assume that the “Jesus Myth” review touches on the late Georg Brandes’ recent book—a thing I mean to read some day. I’m frankly undecided about the possible historicity of any one character corresponding to the crucified saint of tradition. He may be only a cultus-figure like Atys or Adonis, as some contend; but the East is so full of preaching ascetics & mildly touched Gandhis & such messiahs that I almost fancy it’s easier to assume that the Christ tradition was built up around some actual one of the thousand itinerant exhorters of the period. The whole affair was really as insignificant to the civilized world as a local squabble among the Moros in the Philippines would be to use today, & on account of its obscurity—an obscurity overridden by some very amusing post-facto developments—we are never likely to get any conclusive data. Brandes can really prove little or nothing either way—but it will be interesting to see what he says.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Paul J. Campbell, 2 Mar 1927, Letters to Rheinhart Kleiner & Others 357

Lovecraft’s position is based on the relative paucity of contemporary or near-contemporary accounts of Jesus outside of the gospels, principally in the works of Flavius Josephus and Tacitus. The idea of Jesus as the latest embodiment of a common myth-cycle of death and resurrection was current in anthropological circles. Sir James George Frazer included Jesus, Attis, Adonis, Zagreus, Dionysus, and Tammuz in his work of comparative mythology The Golden Bough (1890/1922).

It has always seemed doubtful to me whether any one person answering to the traditional Jesus ever existed in fact. In many respects the forms of Christianity closely followed those of the popular mystery-cults of the period—Dionysiac, Apollonian, Pythagorean, etc.—which joined Oriental and Hellenic concepts in a variety of ways. With this cult-background (wherein the idea of sacrifice and atonement was so marked) to start with, and with the age-old Jewish idea of a messiah superadded, it would be easy to build up a religious and heroic myth around any one of the sporadic evangelists of the East—or around several of them, fusing their personalities into one idealiased hero or demigod. This, it seems to me, is what must have happened. The tissue of miracles and too-neatly-dramatic episodes undoubtedly represents the purely mythos element; but certain touches of verisimilitude now and then suggest a substratum of fact. Incidents in the lives of several rustic preachers may be involved—though possibly one figures more extensively than others. Just who this one was, and to what extent the padded and myth-decked Gospel narratives relates his actual history, it seems to me can never quite be settled except through the discovery of hitherto unknown source-material. Parts of the popular tale—sacrifice, resurrection, etc.—are obviously derived from the nature-myth of Linus, Dionysus or Zagreus. Other parts—trial, etc.—might be tested by certain comparisons with contemporary accounts. But the lack of really reliable sources is almost fatal. That is, so far as general scholarship knows.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Robert Hartley Michael, 20 Sep 1929, Miscellaneous Letters 217-218

Without going into detail, Lovecraft is touching on the contentious nature of Biblical scholarship. While there are Biblical literalists who believe that the 27 canonical books of the New Testament (and maybe some apochryphal gospels) are literal truth and may be taken as accurate historical accounts, discrepancies between Biblical accounts and non-Biblical historical records and archaeology have inspired much scholarship and debate that suggests a more complicated history. This has resulted in competing ideas of Jesus as a historical figure with mythical attributes grafted on posthumously, and of Jesus as purely a myth.

Lovecraft accepted the idea of Christianity as a syncretic religion, based in 1st century C.E. Judaism but incorporating ideas and materials from other Mediterranean cultures and religions as it grew and spread. The idea of Christianity co-opting elements of pagan holidays into Christmas, and therefore the distorted survival of some elements of ancient pre-Christian religion, featured in his tale “The Festival,” which was inspired by reading The Witch-Cult in Western Europe (1921) by Margaret A. Murray.

Regarding Jesus, Lovecraft would continue to hold to the same line a few years later:

This annual course of the sun, with its mark’d effects upon terrestrial life, seems to produce a wholly independent cycle of myth in which the central figure is not the sun-hero himself, but a weak, lovely youth typifying terrestrial fertility—Dionysus—Iacchus—Zagreus—Adonis—Linus—Hylas—Taummuz etc. etc.—who is annually slain but later resurrected from the tomb to a new and glorify’d existence. There is scarce any doubt but that this myth, engrafted upon the Jewish legend of a coming Messiah and the feminine ethical notions of Syria in the age of the earlier Caesars, form’d the basis of the Christ-legend which wove itself about some itinerant Syrian enthusiast or enthusiasts of the time of Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, or Claudius—indeed, many of the earlier forms indicate the beautiful youth is meeting his cruel but temporary death for the sake of mankind; it being assumed that the perishing of autumnal things is needed for the new vivifying of the earth in the spring.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Maurice W. Moe, 18 Sep 1932, Letters to Maurice W. Moe & Others 339

For “Syrian” read “Middle Eastern,” or even more narrowly “Jewish.” “Syria” was historically applied to a wider region than just the contemporary country of the same name, and Lovecraft would use reference to Syria as general reference to the Middle East or to peoples historically associated with the region—including Jews. Muslims and Jews were often categorized as Oriental in origin and/or culture, and Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morality categorized Christianity as sklavenmoral (slave morality), derived from Judaism. Lovecraft, in particular, often categorized Jews, Jewish culture and religion, and by extension Christianity in this context as an “Eastern” religion throughout his life, although there were some small shifts in his viewpoint as he met more Jews and learned a little more about Jewish life and culture, as when he saw The Dybbuk (1925) by S. Ansky.

One of the Jews that Lovecraft met was Adolphe Danziger de Castro, an immigrant originally from Poland who came to the United States in the late 1800s. De Castro had an adventurous and slightly checkered life which saw him as a rabbi, journalist, dentist, lawyer, poet, writer, diplomat, and bigamist. Lovecraft would revise three stories for de Castro, two of which were published in Weird Tales: “The Last Test” and “The Electric Executioner,” though he would turn down the offer to revise Portrait of Ambrose Bierce (1929).

In 1934, de Castro had a new book he wished Lovecraft to revise: The New Way. Part of this dealt with the true paternity of Jesus Christ. Lovecraft brought his familiar views on the subject to bear, as tactfully as he could:

That this & the other books contain live material, as one could well doubt. Naturally much would be controversial—but that is all good advertising! Incidentally, I imagine that your genealogy of Jesus would draw challenges from many diverse sources—since the authenticity of all known ancient references to this shadowy figure is so doubtful. I believe it is fairly established that all allusions to Christ in Josephus & Tacitus are spurious interpolations, so that only the carefully & far from impartially edited gospels of the New Testament remain as even roughly contemporary accounts. And even they probably do not antedate in final form the latter part of the 1st century. It has always seemed doubtful to me whether any one person answering to the traditional Jesus ever existed in fact. In many respects the forms of Christianity closely floor those of the popular mystery-cults of the period—Dionysiac, Appollinian, Pythagorean, etc.—which joined Oriental & Hellenic concepts in a variety of ways. With this cult-background (wherein the idea of sacrifice & atonement was so marked) to start with, & with the age-old Jewish idea of a Messiah super-added, it would be easy to build up a religious & heroic myth around any one of the sporadic evangelists of the East—or around several of them, fusing their various personalities into one idealised hero or demigod. This, it seems to me, is what must have happened. The tissue of miracles & too-neatly-dramatic episodes undoubtedly represents the purely mythic element; but certain touches of verisimilitude now & then suggest a substratum of fact. Incidents in the lives of several rustic preachers may be involved—though possibly one figures more extensively than others. Just who this was, & to what extent the padded & myth-decked gospel narrative relates his actual history, it seems to me can never quite be settled except through the discovery of hitherto unknown source-material. Parts of the popular tale—sacrifice, resurrection, etc.—are obviously derived from the nature-myth of Linus, Dionysus, or Zagreus. Other parts—trial, etc.—might be tested by certain comparisons with contemporary accounts. But the lack of really reliable sources is almost fatal. That is, so far as general scholarship knows. The new sources you mention certainly sound exciting—although of course their authority in representing events which must vastly antedate them would have to be defended. Germanic lore would necessarily be purely oral as far back as the time of Christ—& anthropologists would see many opportunities for interpolation before it reached the written stage. Semitic lore, on the other hand, has been so carefully examined that any new interpretation would doubtless evoke a food of criticism from traditional academic quarters. Jewish allusions, I believe, are scattered, hostile, & fantastic—either reflecting the mythos of the gospels or enlarging upon them with matter equally improbable. Islamic references are all uncertain & derivative—merely echoes from already myth-strewn Christian & Jewish sources… & oral sources, at that. Of Pontius Pilatus singularly little is known from reliable accounts. Even his supposed suicide, I believe, has no better or earlier authority than the late christian writer Eusebius—a contemporary of Constantius. And of course the so-called “Acts, Epistola, Paradosis, & Mors Pilati” are all late concoctions—none of them antedating the 2nd century. Amidst this labyrinth of myth & forgery, the discovery of any really dependable source—a source that could prove its dependability both through internal evidence & through correlation with external evidence—would be a triumph indeed! So, as before mentioned, you certainly have a prize topic on your hands—* one which will bring plenty of debate. Tyrus of Mayence, I must admit, is a new figure to me. In the time of any grandfather of Christ, Mayence could have been no more than a crude wattled village of the Celts, for it was not until B.C. 13 that the Roman camp forming the nucleus of the classical & modern town was established by Drusus Claudius Nero. I know that links between the Celts & the Near East existed in & after the 3d century B.C., but I hardly though any relations with the homeland were maintained by the expatriate Galatians. I knew, though, that they retained their Gallic speech—even far into the Byzantine period. In any case your mention of a Tyrus of or from the Vangionian capital of Magontiacum on the Rhine excites my profoundest curiosity!
—H. P. Lovecraft to Adolphe de Castro, 14 Oct 1934, Letters to Alfred Galpin & Others 358-359

It is not clear exactly what sources de Castro was using. However, there was a tradition that gives Tyrus of Mayence (Mainz, Germany) as the father of Pontius Pilate. The legend is at least several centuries old, Thomas Decker’s early 17th century play Pontius Pilate relates one version of the story. Jesus (1868) by Charles F. Deems includes the passage:

The praenomen of Pilate is lost. Of his early history we have no authentic information. There is a German legend which represents him as the bastard son of Tyrus, king of Mayence. The story further goes that having been guilty of a murder in Rome, whither his father had sent him as a hostage, he was sent into Pontus, where, having subdued certain barbarous tribes, he rose to honor, received the name of Pontius, and was sent as procurator to Judea.

This legend, whatever its original source, was repeated, sometimes almost verbatim, sometimes with expansions, both in learned-sounding books like The Life of Jesus According to Extra-Canonical Sources (1887), A Dictionary of the Bible (1860), as well as numerous periodicals. The Voluminous podcast found a 1924 article “New Light on Pontius Pilate” by Henry W. Fisher, and we might add a 1924 newspaper clipping by Harry Stillwell Edwards and an anonymous newspaper clipping (The South Bend Tribune, 3 Apr 1928) that show a nearly identical legend. So there were numerous print accounts in English that de Castro might have run across at any point before 1934. The multilingual de Castro might even have read it originally in a German text.

So where does Jesus come in?

There are some possible references to Jesus in the Talmud, and the philosopher Celsus recorded a tradition informed by them that Jesus of Nazareth was actually the bastard son of a Roman soldier named Pantera (or Pandera, Pantiri, etc.). If de Castro combined the Tyrus/Pilate narrative with the Pantera/Jesus narrative by equating Pontius Pilate with Pantera, it would form the gist of the narrative of the “true” parentage of Christ.

Despite Lovecraft’s qualms, de Castro appears to have been adamant about the correctness of this narrative:

I judge from your letter that you would choose, as the first piece of revision, the section of your new book which treats of the possible parentage of Christ—plus perhaps the section on Wages; this text to be made self-sufficient & independent enough for separate publication if current opportunities dictate that and the most feasible policy. That choice, I imagine, is eminently sensible—particularly if you know of some publishing house especially receptive toward material of this kind. I sincerely hope that the project—either with the cooperation of some other reviser at the present time, or with my revision later on when I can handle more work. Of the possibilities of profit, I am of course too poor a business-man & judge. It is well, however not to be unduly optimistic; since even in case of publication a lucrative sale can by no means be counted on. Still, that would not form any good reason against the undertaking of the project if it were feasible; since the presentation of a powerful argument is indeed any enrichment of scholarship, is a primary end in itself. So, as indicated above, I’ll surely let you know whenever I can tackle any new task of the sort—unless previously notified that you have secured another collaborator. In any event I hope the ultimate outcome will be favourable.

Regarding the subject-matter of the book—I of course made no pretension to any sort of scholarship in stating what my vague & inconclusive guesses are. All that I have picked up are the odds & ends of common knowledge everywhere easily available. Perforce, I have to rely on the statements of others regarding the authenticity of this or that historical source. It is years since I have given this field any attention; & even in the past my attention was merely that of a superficial reader driven into occasional shallow dealings in order to justify my complete absence of all religious belief. Personally, I have not the slightest interest in any religion or its history; for I approach the whole problem of cosmic organization from a totally opposite angle—that of objective scientific analysis based on the evidence of the visible universe. Nothing seems more certain to me than that nature altogether lacks any indication of conscious governance. On the other hand, psychology & anthropology clearly explain why people in pre-scientific ages feal the so-called religious emotions & invented the various systems of poetic mythology to account for these emotions & to explain the then unknown phenomena of the earth & sea & sky around them. Although as technical disproof of a “cosmic mind” exists there are five almost indisputable reasons for not believing in such: first, the fact that it is the most awkward & least evidentially justified of all possible explanations of things; & second, that it is so obviously a human invention….a product of the animistic attribution of human qualities to the non-human & abstract. Thus to one all traditional considerations of religion seems essentially irrelevant, & even trivial except in connexion with historical & anthropological research. We can see too plainly behind all religions to take any of them seriously, or to prefer any one of them to any other except in terms of social, intellectual, & ethical effects. So far as truth or justification is concerned, they are all alike—hence I can look up their tales & characters…. Zeus, Brahma, Odin, Jesus, Gautama, Yahwe, Mohammad, Ahura-Mazda, Moses, Gitche Manitou, Quetzalcoatl, Mary Baker Eddy, Damballah, the angel Moroni, & all the rest…..only with such objective & analytical detachment as one finds in Frazer’s “Golden Bough.” What interests I have in the well-known religions of the ancient & modern world is purely historical—measured by their effect on the stream…or varied streams…of civilization. Thus Jesus & Yahwe—& all the folklore behind them— mean no more to me than Apollo or Thor or Mavors or Tanit or Huitzilopotchli; & do not command any more of my study & attention than do these fellow-objects of deific regard. Hence my lack of special scholarship in their direction. What interests me is the whole human pageant, & not any especial corner of it—except so far as environment & caprice have given me a particular concern for Anglo-Saxon civilization in the ancient world…a concern not exclusive enough to to destroy the scope & objectivity of any larger general perspective.

It is, then, only as an incident of history that the question of Christ’s personality, origin, existence, or non-existence interests me. I have not explored the subject in detail, & do not pretend to have any but casual, second-hand knowledge. When I have a guess, it was only a rough tentative one—based on what data are commonly floating around. In saying that a new theory would be hard to establish, I meant that there must be scholars who have minutely gone over all the available evidence many times before, & who would therefore challenge any interpretation of that evidence which might differ from their own interpretations…or from the interpretations of earlier scholars. In the case of obscure Jewish records, it is natural to assume that these must have been minutely explored by the vast number of profound Jewish scholars who have lived since the period of Christ. These scholars would have no motive for concealing any facts they might have discovered, or conclusions they might have reached, concerning the existence & parentage of Jesus. Standing outside the religion which seeks to make this figure a demigod or god, they would naturally be perfectly frank in setting down what they know of him—just as they would be in describing any figure whose significance is purely historical to them. Nay, more—they would probably be eager to bring forward any facts about Christ which would overthrow the claims of these who make a god-begotten Heracles or Theseus or Castor or Pollux of him. That the erudite Jewish scholars of nineteen centuries have not done this, despite their access to vast reservoirs of Hebraic traditional & records, would seem to indicate that the evidence on which any estimate of Christ’s parentage could be based is either newly discovered or else subject to controversy regarding interpretation. That is what I meant when I said a book containing a theory of this sort would have to withstand a general fusilade of debate. But of course you realize this yourself, & are doubtless prepared to welcome the discussion. If it turned out that your interpretation of Talmudic & other records could successfully establish itself against the negative interpretations of antecedent scholarship, your position could become one of vast importance indeed! My own opinion, as I have said, is in a state of flux—as all laymen’s opinions must necessarily be. All I can do is to judge at third or fourth hand relying on the extent to which real scholars agree or disagree—of the validity of the sources on which various historians base their arguments. I must endeavor to see a copy of your “Jewish Forerunners of Christianity”—which must be an extremely interesting & historically revealing book all apart from its framing on the present topic. Too bad it is out of print—or perhaps that is not so unfortunate after all, since you say that its method of approach to its theme is not what you would prefer to use today. I’ll see if any of the local libraries have a copy.

Regarding Moses here again is a figure which I have often felt must be at least partly mythical….a typical tribal hero around whom have clustered numberless legends, & to whom are perhaps attributed the deeds of many other heroes of many ages. I believe that some of the anecdotes related of him are clearly from Babylonian sources. But of course all my impressions are fragmentary & unsystematic. I shall be interested in seeing what your views on this shadowy figure are.

Yes—there surely is a curious irony in the series of accidents which have imposed upon the Western world a dominant faith of Semitic origin. Nietzsche, I believe, was the first of the moderns to point this out with emphasis. The general effect of this faith has been in part good—in that it has inculcated certain ethical factors more strongly than another faith might have done—& is part unfortunate, since it has raised certain demands &  expectations impossible of fulfilment by men inheriting the Western culture-streams. Itself springing out of the racial experience of a people vastly different from our own culture forerunners, it naturally fails to embody & express those deeply-grounded feelings & aspirations which are really ours. Embodying other feelings & aspirations which we cannot share except in a superficial & artificial way, it leads to a curious duality between formal ideals on the one hand, & real ideals & actual conduct on the other hands….a duality leading to wholesale & systematic hypocrisy. We pretend to follow a philosophy of justice, meekness, & brotherhood, while actually continuing to base our secret working standards on strength, personal inviolateness & unbrokenness, & the struggle for domination. We go to church on Sunday—yet continue to fight, grab, & exploit in the most approved pagan fashion. And the deep springs of action which really move us are never based on the weak Christian concept of virtue but always on the strength-prideful Teutonic concept of honour. We can laugh good-naturedly when anyone tells us we are unjust, vicious, or impious (i.e. delinquent in our relations to the governing forces of the universe), but are aroused to the fighting point when anyone dares question our honour (i.e., the straightforwardness of a man so strong that he has no need for subterfuge) or independence or courage. The difference in our instinctive emotions when confronted by these five different types of ethical attack is tremendously significant as regards the placement of our real & profound loyalties. Thus in spite of all the centuries of ostensible Christian belief we are not Christians except in name. It would have been more honest & less hypocritical if we had continued to adhere to the polytheistic pantheism which is our culture’s natural heritage, & which therefore more truly embodies & expresses what we really think & feel. A system synthesizing the God of Epicureanism & Stoicism would have served us much better than our accidental importation has done. It is, however, rather late in the day to change back—especially since the part played by any religion in the life of our civilization is rapidly waning. Forces & feelings far removed from the ecclesiastical are the things which really count in the crisis of transition around & ahead of us.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Adolphe de Castro, 22 Oct 1934, Letters to Alfred Galpin & Others 364-367

Jewish Forerunners of Christianity (1903) was one of de Castro’s earlier books, published under the name Adolph Danziger; chapter II discusses evidence of Jesus in the Talmud, but doesn’t dwell overlong on the parentage of Jesus. There are endnote citations for de Castro’s sources but, again, nothing really relevant to this new book.

Lovecraft’s lengthy reply was in keeping with his tendency to humor and encourage writers in his circle, even as he himself had no desire to take on a non-remunerative revision of such length and subject matter. In the later portion of the letter about Christian morals, Lovecraft is careful to tip-toe around actually badmouthing Jews or Judaism, focusing on the perceived hypocrisy of Christianity rather than critizing the Jewish religion that preceded it. In subsequent letters, Lovecraft continued to encourage de Castro in his writing:

I hope you will eventually prepare the life of Christ as once planned—it ought to have a wide appeal, & any points contrary to the orthodox case, thus could excite less opposition than they would have a few decades ago.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Adolphe de Castro, 14 Nov 1934, Letters to Alfred Galpin & Others 372

Because we lack de Castro’s letters for this part of the correspondence, there are many specifics about what specifically he wrote that aren’t entirely clear. Fortunately, Lovecraft was willing to describe it at length with another correspondent, which gives us much more insight into the subject:

About my current revisery work—I assume it is of the de Castro job which you wish to hear, since other odds & ends are of no distinctiveness at all […] Well—to begin with, I think I’ll have to refuse Old Dolph’s assignment—since he can’t pay in advance & since it’s so great a mess as to be virtually hopeless. What I will do—to cheer the old boy up amidst his present misery—is to touch up the phraseology a bit, & point out the more easily recognisable historical & scientific errors, & give some general critical advice. That will make it easier to revise later on if he ever finds anybody to do it. The MS. is a full-length book of miscellaneous social, political, & historical essays rather vaguely entitled “The New Way”, & has very little internal coherence. It appears to endorse the philosophy of Lenin & the bolsheviks, & in certain parts tries to give new & sensational interpretations of accepted history. In this latter field de Castro’s inescapable passion for charlatanry comes to the fore, & leads him into statements, theories, & alleged “discoveries” of every sort.

His climactic essay is a claim of having discovered the real facts concerning that most baffling of historico-mythical figures, Jesus Christ, including his true parentage on both sides. One can realise how important such a discovery would be, if it were true. Actually, we have so little reliable information about Christ that there is much doubt as to whether such a person really existed. Actually, we have so little reliable information about Christ that there is much doubt as to whether such a person really existed. Many of the stories told in the Gospels are old myths which have been told about others before. Probably there was some prophet or leader like Gandhi or Buddha at large in Judaea around the time of Tiberius, about whom a vast body of fabulous & ethical lore clustered, & whose legendary eventually became condensed into what we know as the New Testament. More than that it is unlikely that we shall ever know, since records are next to non-existent.

But old de Castro says he has all the unknown inside facts—which he claims he has discovered in “Germanic & Semitic sources.” According to him, Jesus was the illegitimate son of the imperial procrator Pontius Pilatus (who later tried him) by a Galilean gentlewoman named Mary, who later married the carpenter Joseph. Pilatus himself, continues Old Dolph, was likewise illegitimate—the offspring of a Roman named Tyrus & a German princess of Mainz, on the Rhine. As the story goes, Tyrus was a “king” or governor of Germany sent out by Augustus. At the capital Mainz he met & wooed the princess, but was forbidden to wed her by the Roman rule against the presence of wives abroad with proconsular officials. The result was Pilatus’ unsanctioned birth. Later the youth Pilatus went to Rome, killed a man in a duel, & was given a choice of two penalties by Augustus—to fight in the arena, or join a forlorn-hope expedition against a city called Pontus, where the Etruscans were in revolt. Choosing the latter, he behaved so bravely that Augustus gave him the complimentary name Pontius & appointed him a tax-collector in Syria. There at the age of 20 he met & courted the fair Galilean—who refused to wed him because he was a pagan idolater. Her delicate Judaic scruples did not, however, prevent her from giving rise to the anniversary about to be celebrated for the 1934th (or so) time. Pilatus, recalled to Rome, never knew that there had been a chee-ild until years later when—back in Iudaea as procurator—he condemned Jesus to death & learned only too late that he was his father! Such is de Castro’s dramatic story—offered as a true historic discovery. He isn’t very specific about his “sources”—& overlooks the fact that the German tribes had no written speech in Tiberius’ time, so that “Germanic sources” couldn’t be very first-handed at best. Also—who supposed that the Germans of that age gave a damn about what was happening in Syria? I can’t criticise his “Semitic sources” (the Jewish Talmud &c.) because I don’t know anything about them. But on the other hand, the yarn touches Roman history at several points—& there I have something to say. See how the “true historic discovery” stands up under the following undoubted facts:

  1. Tyrus is not a Roman name.
  2. Maguntiacum (mod. Mainz) was not the capital of any part of Roman Germany till later in the imperial age. It was an originally Celtic village, & was merely the tribal capital of the (probably Germanic) Vangiones in the Augustan period. It became the site of a fortified Roman post in B.C. 12.
  3. Augustus appointed no civil governors of Germany till A.D. 17. The rule against having wives with them did not apply to the military commanders who ruled Germany before it was a civil province—or pair of provinces. Thus Germanicus Caesar was accompanied by his wife, & their daughter Agrippina the younger was born in camp at Oppidum Ubiorum—later named Colonia Agrippinensis (Cologne) after her.
  4. Allowing for certain corrections in chronology, the date of the birth of Christ is traditionally set at what we now call B.C. 4. That would make it necessary for his father, if he begot him at the age of 20, to have been begotten at Mainz in B.C. 26. But there was no Roman occupation of Rhineland Germany till the expedition of Claudius Drusus Nero in B.C. 12. Prior to that date, all the fresh western conquests were below the Danube—Noricum, Rhaetia, & Pannonia (Tyrol, Austria, Hungary). In B.C. 26 the Rhineland was not subject to Roman rule—Caesar’s raids in B.C. 55 & 53 having come to nothing. Therefore Augustus could have appointed no governor there. As a matter of fact, there was never any Roman commander in Germany with any such name as “Tyrus”. The following are the only commanders appointed to Germany prior to the organisation of the civil provinces of Germania Superior & Inferior in A.D. 17:

    B.C. 12— Claudius Drusus Nero stepson of Augustus, brother of Tiberius, & father of the Emperor Claudius. he first brought the Roman power to the Rhine, & formed the string of forts now surviving as the cities of Coblenz, Bonn, Bingen, Mainz, etc.
    B.C. 9— Tiberius Caesar
    A.D. 9— Quintilius Varus massacred with all his army in the Saltus Teutobergiensis by the German leader Arminius or Hermann
    A.D. 14— Germanicus Caesar

    There were no others. “Tyrus” is obviously a myth.
  5. The duel did not exist in classical times.
  6. There is no town or city in Italy or elsewhere called Pontus. Pontus was a nation in Asia Minor or the Black Sea—famed for its Mithridatic kings.
  7. The Etruscans were never in revolt as late as the Augustan age. By that time they were cordially assimilated into the Roman people, so that Romans affected Etruscan fashions & boasted of Etruscan ancestry. G. Cilnius Maecenas was of Etruscan descent.
  8. The honorary surname bestowed for conquering a place called Pontus would never be Pontius. According to Roman usage, it would be PONTICUS. On the other hand, Pontius was a very common gens-name of Samnite origin. (cf. C. Pontius, who sent a Roman army under the yoke in B.C. 321, & Pontius Telesinus, who fell in the wars of Marius & Sulla B.C. 82.) The name Pilatus probably came from the word pileatus (from pileus, a freedman’s cap), signifying a freedman. Probably Pontius Pilatus, though himself an eques, was descended from some Fred slave of a Samnite named Pontius.
  9. There is no record of Pilatus’ ever having been in Syria before his appointment by Tiberius (through the pull of the infamous Aelius Sejanus) as procurator of Judea in A.D. 26. Very little is known of P.—all the accounts of his later life & suicide being definitely apocryphal. There is nothing of this short of thing antedating the biassed Christian writer Eusebius (A.D. 324).

In view of these things, you can judge for yourself what Old Dolph’s “historical discovery” really amounts to. It is, in truth, so crude that I have had to warn the old geezer that he can’t possibly get away with it. How a scholar of his calibre could be so ignorant of Roman history—or imagines others to be so—is quite beyond me. Whether he made the whole thing up himself, or found some crude German myth to base it on, I really haven’t the slightest idea. Of course, in discussing the matter with him I’ve had to be tactful & imply that his Germanic sources are unreliable. I can’t tell him to his face that he’s an old faker!  But I’ve warned him that the legend has fatal flaws.
—H. P. Lovecraft to F. Lee Baldwin, 23 Dec 1934, Letters to F. Lee Baldwin etc al. 116-119

Lovecraft was inadvertently correct in that it was the original legend de Castro relied on was the source of the errors, rather than de Castro himself. De Castro’s response is unclear, as he had other immediate concerns:

As for poor old de Castro—he couldn’t have seen us if we had called, for I’ve since learned that he was laid up all through January with a nervous breakdown—through worry over his wife’s illness. And to cap the climax, she died Jany. 23 at St. Joseph’s Hospital. We certainly do feel sorry fro the old cuss, for he is really an enormously likeable & generous chap aside from his incurable penchant for charlatanry. Hope he’ll gradually recover from the strain & bereavement. His chapter on the ancestry of Christ surely was grotesque & vulnerable.
—H. P. Lovecraft to F. Lee Baldwin, 16 Feb 1935, Letters to F. Lee Baldwin etc al. 124

Months later, de Castro seems to have recovered sufficiently from his bereavement to return to the topic:

The diverse losses I suffered, the grief that attacked me has not left my mind unscathed. I cannot for the moment lay my hands—or my memory—on the authorities I read (in German, Mommsen, Niebuhr, Ranke and others) not to mention Gibbon and others relative to my assertions. But there is a vast literature in ancient and modern Hebrew (I mean during the 8th century A.D.) that have a variety of suggestions—for you may believe me that I did not concoct this statement just to be “smart,” or sensational. If the suggestion is taken up at all, it will bring forth the originals. These are not from some unknown author, but, as I recall, by the great classical historians, whether in German, French, Spanish or any other of the languages I read for research purposes, I cannot at the moment tell.

[[See how old Dolph tried to bluff out the hilarious historical boners in his “parentage of Jesus” fake!]]

—Adolphe de Castro to H. P. Lovecraft, 24 Sep 1935, Letters to Alfred Galpin & Others 380

Lovecraft shared this letter with one of his correspondents, and the comments in [[brackets]] are Lovecraft’s annotations. The authorities de Castro cites are Theodor Mommsen, Bartold Georg Biebuhr, Leopold von Ranke, and Edward Gibbon, all historians who wrote extensively on the Roman Empire. Still, having received the letter, Lovecraft had to answer it—at length.

Regarding the historical points—I did not mean to imply that the account was concocted for purposes of sensationalism. I simply pointed out that, in present form, it might “go over” best if given the semblance of an historical novel. Just how the material could be given in any other way—lacking correction & verification from original authorities—I really can’t see. As you may readily perceive, this account states & implies dozens of things at direct variance with well-known historic facts—such as the presence of Roman rule in Germany before B.C. 13, the use of “Tyrus” as a Roman name, the location of provincial rule at Magontiacum at too early a date, the identification of Pontus as an Italian city, the idea of Etruscans in revolt after their full absorption into the Roman people, the false derivation of the common Samnite gens-name Pontius, the existence of the duel in pre-medieval times, & other points which could not pass inspection for a moment. No matter what original source supplied the general thesis, these specific points (& others like them) would cause it to be attacked at once—hence is is absolutely necessary to remove these obvious errors (however they may have crept in) before the text can go before the public. With these absolute & unmistakeable errors, the thesis could never be judged on its own merits. It would be dismissed at the outset because it would seem to rest on overt & flagrant contradictions of common fact. It is not fair to the thesis to offer it under such an insurmountable handicap—nor do I think that any publisher would be willing so to offer it. Thus it seems imperative at this stage to get the mistakes cleared up, so that the message will be in deliverable form.

I realise of course the difficulty of reassembling authorities when no notes have been kept—but how else is the original account to be rediscovered? The existing mistakes could not have been in any of the solid sources…so what was it that the solid sources really said? I can assure you that Mommsen, Niebuhr, & Gibbon do not sustain any contentions contrary to accepted history, for I have in my day read them (M. & N. in Eng. translation). In view of the bold & revolutionary nature of the assertions, it ought not to be difficult to narrow down the search for their origin by eliminating many of the standard authorities. In any case, you can see how impossible it is to present revolutionary claims without any visible sources—especially when linked with dozens of palpable errors.

Of course, the most important thing is to eliminate the flagrant errors. If that were done, the lack of accessible authorities would be a less immediate handicap—especially if the quasi-fictional style were adopted. But in the end, of course, the lack of visible originals would weigh heavily.

So it is clear that the one thing which must be done now is to clear up the errors. This might not need a consultation of the original sources—but could perhaps be done at once by yourself with the actual historic facts in mind. Remember that there was no Roman rule along the rhine till the time of Drusus Nero—B.C. 13-12, & that the region did not have a civil governor anyhow till A.D. 17, when the provinces of Germania Superior & Germania Inferior were formed. Remember also that Pontius was a common Samnite nomen—& that Pontus was a Black Sea province pacified long before & joined administratively with Bithynia…nothing to do with Italy or the Etruscans—the latter element being, by the way, fully absorbed by the Roman people. Surely the narrative could be re-cast in harmony with these absolutely certain & widely known historic truths.

I am sure you realise that all these suggestions of mine are made without any hyper-critical intent, & simply to aid the success of the book. It obviously cannot be published until the errors are straightened out—hence the one imperative thing is to get them straightened as soon as possible. And that is something which only you can do, unless your original authorities become accessible to others.

Of course, the entire omission of the historic chapters of the book at this time would be possible. Indeed, much might be said in favour of this—since they will clearly appear under a handicap until the sources are found. The time for publication is, very plainly, after all the knotty points are straightened out.

The necessary thing is to throw the controversy back from yourself to the authorities from whom you derived your narrative. Then you will not be responsible for the weaknesses in the account. It seems to me very probably that these stories originated in mediaeval times, when the sense of history was slight, & critical standards lax. Close examination of the account discloses such a theatrical quality that one can hardly doubt the development after the wide popularisation of the original New Testament narrative—adding a dramatic coherence & climax dependent upon the significance attached to the original tale. The element of coincidence involved in having the son of Pilatus tried before him is typical of the older school of dramatic construction. Now of course this was probably a natural growth over a long period—just like other folk-tales throughout the world. It may well recur in different mediaeval writings both Christian & Jewish—& Mohammedan also for that matter—as for other apocryphal legends. But the genesis of the tale as legend would of course form no guarantee of its genuineness as history. Still—this latter point need not bother you. Your purpose is to show that the legends exist—& once you do that, you can let the critics tackle the original legends as best they may. But you can do that only by rediscovering & citing your sources. Without such backing, you yourself instead of your sources will have to bear the brunt of the attack.

So my earnest advice is that you bend every effort toward the elimination of errors & rediscovery of sources before the account is again offered for publication. I’d recommend an easier & simpler course if I could, but I can’t see any, try as I may. You may get further suggestions from your agent, or from the publisher to whom he has submitted the book. And more—when you re-read the chapters in question more closely, you may recall the primary sources more readily than you could off hand. But remember also that the book would be quite suitable for submission without the debatable chapters. You could, if you wished, remove them for later investigation & verification.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Adolphe de Castro, 26 Sep 1935, Letters to Alfred Galpin & Others 381-383

To say that Lovecraft didn’t want to do the job of revising de Castro’s manuscript is putting it mildly; but his argumentsand critiques are well-meant. Lovecraft could foresee exactly the kind of attacks that would be made on de Castro’s claims, and Lovecraft was not even a specialist in early Christian history. Nevertheless, de Castro was dogged in the defense of his theory, and Lovecraft didn’t back down from the debate:

I am greatly interested in the researches you have made concerning those debate-filled historic chapters. I did not doubt but that the original sources would turn up in the end—after sufficient searching—& I trust that they will be duly cited in the final version of the text.

Vilmar is an authority unknown to me—but as you see, his account (if it is literally the same as that presented in the text) is obviously legendary. The stubborn fact remains, that no Roman occupation of the Rhineland existed until about 8 or 9 years before the traditional date of the birth of Christ…which is 4 B.C., as commonly reckoned. Also—even if certain writers refer to a rebellion in Pontus during the Augustan period, it is obvious that the Etruscans had nothing to do with it—since Pontus lies far off on the Euxine, while the Etruscans had long been assimilated into the Roman fabric. Just how this connexion of Pontus & the Etruscans could have arisen—except through the inaccurately (sic) associative process of mediaeval legend—I can’t imagine…unless perhaps the revolt mentioned involved troops or colonists in whom the Etruscan element was strong. Furthermore—the derivation of the name “Pontius” from Pontus is obviously false. All agree that the name as borne by anyone in the Roman world must have come from membership in the ancient gens Pontia—the Samnite family so frequently encountered in the history of the Republic. An honorary cognomen or “adnomen” bestowed for exploits in Pontus could have but one form—PONTICUS—according to the linguistic laws governing such formations.

I’ll look in Suetonius for the account of that earlier Syrian appointment of Pilatus. Curious that I don’t recall it—though it’s fully 30 years since I’ve read Suetonius—an author whom I unfortunately do not own. I really must pick up a copy when I find one reasonably priced. Regarding Tertullianus (yes—I recall his praise of Pilatus—”iam pro sua conscientia Christianum”) & the Talmud—of course the late dates of these writings causes them to be open to legends arising out of the earlier Judaeo-Christian accounts…legends consciously or unconsciously built dramatically from the first crop of mingled fact & myth, & coloured with religious zeal or prejudice one way or the other. As you know, Pilatus was an especially favoured subject of myth-making-Eastern & Coptic traditions giving him a Christian wife (Claudia Procala or Procia) who is to this day a Greek church saint, while the subjects of the just-now-limelighted Halie Selassie make Pontius himself a saint & Martyr! Then there are of course the apocryphal Acta Pilati, Epistola Pilati, Paradosis Pilati, & Mors Pilati (probably Judaeo-Christian)—full of fantastic tales of pilatus’ sight of the resurrection, of his trial & sentence by Claigula, his penitent conversion to Christianity, his suicide to escape sentence (which contradicts another legend that he was beheaded at Nero’s order), the removal of his body to Vienna (where a structure* called “Pilate’s Tomb” is still exhibited. The chronicler naively traces the name VIENNA to VIAGEHENNAE! This place also figures in legend as the seat of Pilatus’ banishment during his lifetime.) & later to a mountain pool near Lucerne because the Tiber & Rhine both refused to harbour it. (the site of this pool is now called “Mt. Pilatus,” & according to legend the water displays strange agitation if anything is thrown into it. The devil removes the still-preserved body of Pilatus each year—on good Friday—& forces it to go through a curious hand-washing ceremony on a throne.) These apocryphal books probably date from the 2nd century A.D. & afterward. Eusebius (circa 325 A.D.) in his famous [Ecclesiastical History] (& after exposure to all the current Christian legends) is the source of the statement (which may or may not have a basis in fact) that Pilatus was banished to Vienna by Caligula & committed suicide there because of various misfortunes. Regarding Talmudic sources—of which I have no knowledge—one may only point out that later recordings of lost records are often coloured with legendary which did not exist in the original versions. Obviously, only a profoundly erudite student of Jewish antiquities could form a just verdict on the extent to which fragmentary transcripts & recensions of these early Palestinian Evangels (themselves probably derived to some extent from purely oral legends of a century’s growth) can be accepted as historical. All that is beyond me. The remarkable thing is, though, that the indicated origin of Jesus has not been more widely accepted if the documents are generally regarded as dependable. One could understand a wish to suppress these documents in the Christian world—where the myth of a divine paternity was to be sustained at any cost—but I cannot see what reason the Jewish would would have to suppress them. The existence of a fanatical preacher of left-handed origin & wholly human parentage would mean nothing one way or the other to the Jewish religion. He would be grouped with other heretics who lived & founded false sects & died—& there would be no object in concealing any facts pertaining to him. And yet, so far as I know, the version here given is not endorsed by the main stream of Jewish scholarship. Though I have no exact knowledge of the views of Jewish historians, orthodox or otherwise, I seem to recall references here & there which indicate a conflict of opinion—some regarding christ as a local impostor while a few accept the cult idea & disbelieve in his objective existence. At any rate, I believe there is no attempt to take seriously the hostile & widely conflicting Talmudic references (none of which, so far as I know, mentions Pilatic parentage) which influenced Judaism in the late imperial & mediaeval periods. Just what modern Jewish scholarship thinks of christ could make an interesting subject for study—I must look it up some day in the Jewish Encyclopaedia, which is generally accessible in libraries. But I feel very sure that the Pontian theory would be more widely noted & cited if it were accepted by any responsible body of Jewish scholars & historians. In the absence of such general acceptance one is forced to the provisional conclusion that the legends in question are vague & apocryphal. At least, that is the conclusion of one without special information based on new historical discoveries.

The whole matter is certainly highly interesting, & I would indeed be glad to use the notes you have so generously offered to send. I may not be able to follow them up at once, for my programme is desperately crowded but I would be grateful for a copy to have on hand for gradual following-up. Probably most of the sources could be located in Providence libraries. I have Smith’s Bible Dictionary—but unfortunately an old abridged edition which sheds no light on the points in question. Meanwhile I must get a look at Suetonius somewhere—for I can’t recall any reference to the earlier service of Pilatus in Syria. The statement that he served under Archelans is also puzzling—insomuch as that tetrarch did not succeed in Judaean throne till after the birth of Christ according to the received account. Archelans’ father Herod the Great (who may or may not have conducted the “slaughter of the innocents”) was on the throne when Christ is said to have been born…. The Roman governor (legatus pro pratore) then being P. Quinctilius Varus, afterward so tragically overwhelmed by the Germans with his legion in the Saltus Teutoburgiensis (A.D. 8). Archelans became tetrarch during the first year of Christ’s reputed existence—Varus being then replaced as propraetor by the rather low-bown P. Sulpicius Quirinius, an ex-consul who had been proconsul of Africa. Varus was such a close friend of Archelans that Augustus didn’t dare to trust them in the province together—between them they’d have doubtless looted it completely. Later Archelans was banished to Vienna—a circumstance which may or may not have some connexion with the tale that Pilatus also was banished thither. With him ended the tetrarchate—the region of Syria Palestine being then (A.D. 6-7) organised as the imperial province of Judaea under a procurator. When, then, did the young Pilatus first serve in Syria? Before the birth of Christ under Herodes the Great, or after it under Archelans? Or did Archelans have some minor office wherein he was Pilatus’ chief prior to his accession to the tetrarchate? It is odd how every new angle of this legendry brings up some fresh problem. But I must get hold Suetonius & see what I have forgotten or overlooked.

I’m greatly interested to learn that you find grounds for believing the Christ reference in Josephus not interpolated. hitherto the tendency to reflect this—as well as a corresponding reference in Tacitus—has been well-nigh universal. An article on the subject alone, it seems to me, would be well worth writing.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Adolphe de Castro, 5 Oct 1935, Letters to Alfred Galpin & Others 384-386

If anyone ever asked St. Nicholas for a history of Christ-era Judea from the pen of H. P. Lovecraft, then their Christmas wish has been answered at long last. Lovecraft’s confession to a lack of knowledge of Jewish history and scriptures is honest—he had to consult the Jewish Encyclopedia to uncover the mystery of the mezuzah just the previous year (see The House of Rothschild (1934)), and elsewhere admitted to ignorance of basic matters such as what kosher meant. Much of his apparent erudition above probably came from encyclopedia articles and books from his library.

Whether de Castro finally took Lovecraft’s critique to heart or not, the subject appears to have passed out of their letters—though Lovecraft wasn’t above talking about it to others.

The author’s imagination has in these cases gone off on rather a romantic spree! In the climactic chapter on the parentage & ancestry of Jesus there are more historic boners per square inch than in any other historic hoax I have ever encountered! But for all that Old ‘Dolph is a good soul—& now & then an idea or synopsis of his might be well worth developing.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Rheinhart Kleiner, 16 Aug 1936, Letters to Rheinhart Kleiner & Others 234

The subject of the historicity of Jesus Christ does not come up often enough in Lovecraft’s letters to really track a change of opinion—by the time Lovecraft was an adult, he seemed fairly set that Christianity was primarily a superstition, and that a historical Jesus, if he existed, was no more than one of many evangelists in the Middle East during that period, who had by fluke of history inspired the religious movement that would dominate European (and, through colonization, world) history over the coming centuries.

In the strictest sense, Lovecraft did not believe in Christmas. He did not have faith that a messiah had been made manifest in human flesh, did not celebrate the miracle of the virgin birth, the symbol of hope for the redemption of sinful mankind. Yet the spirit of Christmas, the spirit of giving and fellowship, shorn of religious trappings—that Lovecraft believed in, and when he counseled Adolphe de Castro on his manuscript, it was not religious scruple or dogmatic belief that made him reject a heretical notion of Christ as a bastard and the son of a bastard, but because he wished to keep his friend from making mistakes that would open him up to harsher criticism and ridicule.

Late in life, when the subject of Christmas and Christ came up, Lovecraft would write:

The Jesus-myth always left me cold, & even my worship of beauty & mystery in the form of Apollo, Pan, Artemis, Athena, & the fauns & dryads ended when I was 8.
—H. P. Lovecraft to C. L. Moore, [7 Feb 1937], Letters to C. L. Moore & Others 222

Linus in A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965), gave an honest and scripturally accurate answer when asked what Christmas is all about. Lovecraft gave an honest Lovecraftian answer. For him, the holiday was not the celebration of a miraculous event; it was the remembrance of a long tradition that connected back into the hoary ages of things. A link to the ancient and forgotten past—and, as well, a time of thanksgiving to be shared with friends and family. That is what Christmas meant to H. P. Lovecraft.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein uses Amazon Associate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

“Cthulhu for Christmas” (2023) by Meghan Maslow

Eldritch Fappenings
This review is of a homoerotic romance work which deals with mature themes and tentacle erotica.
Reader discretion advised.


Romance fiction is about the churn. Individual works often have minimal lasting value; only a rare few works of the sticking power or cultural cachet of Maurice (1971) by E. M. Forester. Yet the appetite for such works is constant. Consumers don’t just want porn, they want characters, settings, relationships, hardship, overcoming adversity, happy endings, unhappy endings—new stories, all the time. And creators need to eat, so they need to keep producing more and more to try and fill that demand.

Sometimes, this results in works that are less character-driven romance and more of erotica of dubious quality. Erotic ebooks like Booty Call of Cthulhu (2012) by Dalia Daudelin and its sequels might be produced rather quickly to hop on a trend. Creators might explore specific niches; Tentacles and Wedding Bells (2022) by Margaret L. Carter is about a young woman marrying into a family that just happens to be a bit inhuman, while Widdershins (2013) by Jordan L. Hawk explores a same-sex relationship in a fantasy steampunk setting, and “Moonshine” (2018) by G. D. Penman does much the same in a Prohibition-era gangster story.

There are times when a spate of Amazon erotic ebooks in a month are focused on bigfoot weddings, or older bosses (of either gender) seducing a new employee, or being isekai’d into a novel and now locked into a forbidden sexual relationship with a step-sibling. One month the flavor might be elves, another Regency-era settings, and sometimes a clever or ambitious author might combine the two. All’s fair in love and genre fiction.

Holiday-themed offerings are available in abundance. Hallowe’en, Thanksgiving, and Christmas are all well-represented…and probably also Boxing Day, Hanukkah, and Arbor Day too. Christmas, however, remains a particular favorite. There’s something about the immense cultural memeplex that extends far beyond the actual celebration of Christ’s birth. A jolly old elf has never stuffed so many stockings; kids who wished for new siblings for Xmas may well get them, Rudolf may be a well-hung were-reindeer with amorous intentions toward Mrs. Claus, and the mistletoe works overtime to trigger steamy kisses. The literary stakes of such works are often pitifully low, with writers and readers more or less satisfied so long as the product delivers the bare minimum of what it promises or hints at.

Content Warning: violence, mature content, brief discussion of child abandonment
—Meghan Maslow, “Cthulhu for Christmas” (2023)

To paraphrase Roger Ebert, I have a sneaky respect for anyone that goes much, much further than too far. With a premise that starts out with “Cthulhu-themed Christmas book” and then expands into: “A Winter Holiday MM Tentacle Romance,” it would have been easy—ridiculously easy—to do a minimalist job, check off the hashtags, and pump out a simple, quirky, and porntastic M/M tentacle erotica ebook in time for the Xmas sales boost. No one would have complained.

What readers get is so much more. Readers going in hoping to see tentacles stretch out holes like pre-lubricated o-ring orifices from page one will be disappointed to find themselves going through short chapters filled with with well-developed characters, in an interesting and evocative setting (with map!), as personal dramas and a murder mystery slowly unfolds. Many of the plot-beats might feel like a Hallmark Christmas movie mixed with your favorite detective show. Will gay cop Zen King tell his straight best friend he’s in love with him? What does Zak’s best friend Grey Criswell and his old money family have to do with the mysterious murder at Salem’s Tree Lot? And what the heck does any of this have to do with a break-in at the local library?

Cthulhu’s Compendium is a one-of-a-kind artifact. I can’t believe you glimpsed it! Please tell me you were able to read some of it! I’ve requested permission from the Special Collections numerous times, but they always inform me it doesn’t exist.”

“Cthulhu’s. Compendium.” Uh huh. “Like Lovecraft? It’s a work of fiction?”

I’d actually read some Lovecraft in high school when an emo kid recommended him.

She huffed. “It’s not fiction. And while it’s unsubstantiated, it’s well known that Lovecraft vacationed here on many occasions. Even visited the museum. You do the math.”
—Meghan Maslow, “Cthulhu for Christmas” (2023)

The Mythos elements of the plot don’t come exactly as a surprise (it’s in the title), but to Maslow’s credit the story takes the time to build up to the revelations. The tone is paranormal romance rather than horror—and because Lovecraft’s work is explicitly fiction within the setting, there’s room for Maslow to play fast and loose with what is “true” in terms of the Mythos. For the most part, that means that sometimes there are tentacles and sometimes they are frisky, though not always cooperative.

If you’d have told me I’d be cock-blocked by tentacles, I’d have laughed. But I wasn’t laughing now.

Fuck my life.
—Meghan Maslow, “Cthulhu for Christmas” (2023)

(For those interested in the steamier bits, the tentacles don’t cock-block for long. Quite the opposite.)

There’s a lot of little silly details that add up in the story to make it more charming. There’s a beaver that’s moved onto a houseboat like a stray dog. A pair of caribou driving a sleigh that work like a Uber service with an app called Caribou For You. An arranged marriage. An ugly sweater contest. If that sounds silly—that’s the point. Mundane weirdness tends to ground a story with more fantastical elements.

“Cthulhu for Christmas” (2023) by Meghan Maslow is not some quick and dirty romp churned out to meet a Yuletide theme and a couple keywords. There is a lot more heart to the story, and a lot more craft to the writing this tale of love, lust, and magic, than a reader might expect.

This story was written as part of a set of holiday-themed tentacle romance offerings: Tinsel & Tentacles.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein uses Amazon Associate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

“Glory Be to the Father and Mother” (2024) by Bernadette Johnson

“Since you are a church-going type, I wanted to extend an invitation to our service.”
—Bernadette Johnson, Southern Fried Cthulhu 200

There are many cultural fault lines and divides in the United States, fuzzy though they have grown over time as the country becomes more integrated, the population more mobile. The Bible Belt is largely co-terminous with the Southern and Southwestern states and parts of the Midwest. Christian church attendance is high in this area, but the Christian churches involved are varied, multitudinous, and often evangelical, independent, fractious, and unregulated.

Anyone can buy a collar and a Bible. Anyone can preach and call themselves a preacher. The charismatic preachers may be itinerant or fixed; sermons may be preached from multi-million dollar megachurches or from tents or old rented commercial buildings. Some churches are part of large established denominations like the Southern Baptists and Methodists, and may have organized seminaries and organizations like the Southern Baptist Convention, but as many or more may be independent and idiosyncratic.

If you live and grow up in the Bible Belt, affiliation with a given church is a personal as well as cultural choice. Even small towns might support a number of independent churches, sometimes with unfamiliar names, quirks on ideology, theology, and ritual.

Good cover for older, stranger religions.

“”Glory Be to the Father and Mother” by Bernadette Johnson plays on the frisson of the unfamiliar-and-near-familiar. Set in an unspecified small town, a newcomer is courted by opposing congregations, and there is a space of wariness—which is the Mythos cult, and which is just a weird little independent church? Where’s the line between the two? It’s a tension that can’t last very long; especially in a short story, and before too long before the strange altars and human sacrifices come out. Old tropes die hard.

If there’s a criticism for the story, it’s that the premise has enough potential it would have been nice to see more done with it. A more developed setting that spent more time to flesh out the churches and temples involved, the cults, to give them more personality instead of relying on the familiar Mythos Cultist imagery, would have added welcome depth to the story, which races to try and get through its plot points before the end.

In general, few Lovecraftian stories really come to grips with what it means to be a part of a cult, to be recruited, to live inside the group. Stories like “The Book of Fhtagn” (2021) by Jamie Lackey, “The Well” (2023) by Georgia Cook, and “The Things We Did in the Dark” (2024) by Julia Darcey show different approaches to how Mythos cults can work, and it’s not all cowled robes and wavy daggers. The interaction with charismatic evangelical Christianity is rarer; Charles Stross played with the idea in The Fuller Memorandum (2010), and the idea crops up in other stories, but it is a rich and varied field, because of the wide array of churches in the region.

“”Glory Be to the Father and Mother” by Bernadette Johnson was published in Southern Fried Cthulhu (2024).


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein uses Amazon Associate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.