Tag: 1984

“Notes for Revision of an Unidentified Mystery Story” (1984) by H. P. Lovecraft

Thousands of pulp writers pounded out millions of words of pulp fiction during the 20s and 30s. Every week, hundreds of thousands of issues hit the newsstands of the United States of America, and found their way into Canada, the United Kingdom, and other countries. The vast majority of these writers and their work are utterly forgotten today—no more than a name and a list of titles in some dusty index or online database. A bare few have been remembered, as individuals and for their work. H. P. Lovecraft is an exception: the extensive investigation of his life and letters began shortly after his death in 1937, and continues to this day.

Early efforts by August Derleth and Arkham House were focused on identifying unpublished Lovecraft stories to get them into print. This included stories that were rejected during Lovecraft’s lifetime, such as The Case of Charles Dexter Ward (first published in Weird Tales May-July 1941), stories technically published but in obscure amateur journals or fanzines such as “The Alchemist” (Lovecraft’s first published story, from The United Amateur Nov 1916), to those works that Lovecraft revised or ghostwrote for others, such as “The Mound” (1940) by Zealia Bishop & H. P. Lovecraft, “The Horror in the Burying-Ground” (1937) by Hazel Heald & H. P. Lovecraft, and even those stories Lovecraft only had an oblique hand in, such as “Satan’s Servants” (1949) by Robert Bloch. Bits and pieces from Lovecraft’s letters were published as standalone works, such as “The Very Old Folk” (Scienti-Snaps Summer 1940) and “The Evil Clergyman” (Weird Tales Apr 1939). Even when Lovecraft’s files seemed exhausted, the demand remained—hence “posthumous collaborations” like “The Murky Glass” (1957) as by August Derleth & H. P. Lovecraft.

At this point, decades after Lovecraft’s death, there is little expectation of any new complete story to be discovered. While some interesting variant texts like “Surama of Atlantis” and “The Automatic Electric Executioner” (1953) by H. P. Lovecraft & Adolphe Danziger de Castro exist, a close study of Lovecraft’s letters and papers don’t suggest that many major “lost” stories remain to be found. Scholars might look for some juvenalia that Lovecraft claimed to have burned; meditate on the title of a novel that Lovecraft probably never started (or which turned into something else); read accounts of dreams which no one has yet excerpted as standalone works (e.g. the dream quoted in Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (1818) by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley), etc. If there are any new works left to be discovered, they probably exist outside the corpus of Lovecraft papers—and consist of works associated with various revision clients.

There is no exhaustive list of Lovecraft’s revision clients, or what he worked on. Lovecraft typically only mentioned revision work in passing, and rarely named clients, unless they happened to overlap with other interests or appeared in Weird Tales, which was the case with Adolph de Castro, Zealia Brown Reed Bishop, and Hazel Heald. Others remain unidentified, and perhaps unidentifiable. For example:

Am utterly swamped with revision—from a rather quaint & interesting ex-westerner now living in Florida, whom Whitehead sic’d on to me. The fellow is fairly clever in a naive, semi-illiterate way, & I really think I can make something of one or two of his tales.

H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, 23 Aug 1931, Dawnward Spire, Lonely Hill 321

Lovecraft never mentions this prospective client’s name, and all attempts to identify him are speculative. Even with Lovecraft’s known revision clients, we are aware that there are works Lovecraft revised or gave feedback on which were either not published or are lost, such as a revision of “In the Confessional” (1892) by Adolphe Danziger de Castro and “The Unchaining” by Zealia Bishop. There are other works by these clients that are lost that Lovecraft may have had a hand in, such as “In the Gulf of N’Logh” (193?) and “Lair of Fungous Death” (193?) by Hazel Heald, and others which he may not have, such as “An Heir to the Mesozoic” (1938) by Hazel Heald.

One of the more obscure scraps of Lovecraft’s revision works was offered for sale in A Catalog of Lovecraftiana: The Grill/Binkin Collection (1975), where entry 550 is listed as:

LETTER: HPL’s suggestions for revision of a detective story entitled “Robert Is Ill,” about which no more is known by this author. Two pages, written on the back of a letter to Lovecraft in Brooklyn from a European bookseller.

Nine years later, a second listing with more detail appears in The Book Sail 16th Anniversary Catalogue (1984), where entry 360 is listed as:

Two pages of suggestions for revision of an untitled mystery story, author unknown. 8 ½” x 11″, holograph, on the rectors of each page. Approximately 800 words. (No date, but the versos of each page comprise a letter to HPL from a Munich publisher dated November, 1926). Both pages twice folded. Fine.

Unfortunately, the manuscript appears to be in a private collection, so cannot be examined for further clues, but the catalogue did reproduce the complete text of these notes:

※

The Complete Text of Lovecraft’s Notes for Revision of an Unidentified Mystery Story, Author Unknown

Of course these are only vague suggestions—which you can use or not, just as you choose. I’m no expert in the field of the detective story.

Changes beginning with Chapter V
Robert is Ill

Robert screams in the night and is found ill as stated—but don’t give any imputation of his guilt so far. Don’t use the words “supernatural fear” or “insane fire”. Sympathise with him, and even hint that his illness may be due to the same enemy who murdered his step-father.

Omit the long description of the illness by the specialist—having him merely say it is Rocky Mountain spotted fever, without reference to the medium of contagion. Do not permit Curtiss’s excitement to become manifest—mention his intense interest (as if he suspected that poison might be involved) but give no clue to the coming revelation. Remember that Curtiss has himself looked up the disease after having had the insect identified…and is quite convinced from the date and nature of the illness that the insect is the cause.

Of course, this opinion must flash over him only when the illness is announced: for before this he does not know that anybody has been bitten, and has therefore read about the disease only casually in connection with the general properties of the insect. The seizure of Robert, then, is a shock of surprise which connects in a moment with the previous conception and leads to the dawn of an idea. Grasp this psychological situation and make the most of it without giving anything away. Let the doctor state the gravity of the disease and let the mother’s grief be visible to the reader’s sympathy.

Chapter VI
Knotting Up Loose Ends

Change the beginning to have the police strongly suspect Arnold. Introduce, if necessary, some bit of damaging appearance which leads the chief to insist on Arnold’s arrest. Have Curtiss protest that there are almost certain reasons to deem him innocent, but let the detective keep silent regarding those reasons, realizing that the chief would consider them flimsy.

Now have Robert Lester’s illness take a turn for the worse, so that the entire family—Arnold among them—is summoned to his bedside. The police have gone to Arnold’s office to arrest him; but upon hearing that he is at the Van Allen house, follow him there. Curtiss is with them and prevails upon them to give him time for an experiment before making the arrest. They arrive, and at Curtiss’s suggestion override the Doctor’s objections and enter the sick room where the family is all assembled. Robert sees the party, notes that one is in uniform and realizes what they are. Arnold displays uneasiness; but only such, of course, as the suspense and painfulness of the general situation call for.

Curtiss now advances to the bed and speaks to Robert with gentle firmness.

“Lester you can’t last long. That bug in the vial that broke in the laboratory on the night of the murder is pretty surely fatal nine days after it bites. We’ve pieced the whole thing out, and your sickness is the clincher. You might as well save us trouble before you pass out and tell us why you killed Professor Van Allen.”

Tableau

Lester turns pale despite his fever, nods helplessly and mumbles weakly—”There’s nothing to say—envelope in the safe deposit vault—”.

The police recognize the state of affairs and stand inactive. The doctor advances in alarm, feels the patient’s pulse and orders them out of the room. They retire to the library, and in a few moments a nurse emerges to say that Robert is dead. Curtiss says—”The case is closed”, and the police party leave, stopping at the safe deposit vault which Arnold tells them is the one used by the family. After getting Lester’s papers they return to the station where Curtiss explains the mystery to his colleagues. Make all this very brief, for the climax is over.

Now let Curtiss do his explaining as briefly as possible, telling of his inquiries in the West and of his researches anent the properties of the insect. After this, have Lester’s envelope opened and the confession read. Boil down this confession enormously, confining it wholly to skeletonic essentials. Have Lester say he wrote it for the sake of relieving his mind, etc. Cut out the conversation, etc. Let the key be in the envelope with the confession.

And have virtually nothing after the reading of the confession. That is logically

The End

Retain however the rumor about the insect being the detective.

P.S. If the existence of a written confession seems unconvincing to you, you can vary Robert’s response to a simple admission of guilt and have him write the confession then and there, just before he dies. Then—cutting out the stop at the safe deposit vault—you can end the tale just as in the synopsis with reading the confession at the very last. In that case, have the key found in the coat.

※

What can we make of all of this? Not much. The character names and bare plot outlined do not match with any known published tale, nor can they be conclusively tied to any published letters with known correspondents. The Munich publisher who wrote to Lovecraft is unidentified; however, November 1926 might be about the right date to have heard from such a publisher:

If I ever type “Sarnath” I’ll see that you have a copy. I did type it once, but that MS. is in the hands of the man (J. C. Henneberger of Chicago, connected with W.T.) who says he is trying to get my stuff placed with some book publisher.

H. P. Lovecraft to August Derleth, 19 Nov 1925, Essential Solitude 1.50

While that doesn’t lead us any closer to the identity of the mystery author, it establishes that the revision notes probably date from December 1926 or later—it not being unusual for Lovecraft to re-use paper in this fashion, especially when writing to friends. That suggests this might not have been intended for a formal revision client, but for one of his friends or fans; Lovecraft was well known to freely offer feedback and suggestions for would-be writers. On the other hand, while Lovecraft is best known for effectively ghostwriting stories for his clients, in practice much of his work appears to have been simply giving detailed feedback, and letting the clients rewrite the story repeatedly until it made the grade.

While it is clear that this is essentially a pure detective story, Lovecraft’s suggestions for the plot echo some of his other revision stories: the element of murder-by-insect bite is reminiscent of “Winged Death” (1934) by Hazel Heald & H. P. Lovecraft, while the deathbed confession recalls “The Last Test” (1928) by Adolphe de Castro & H. P. Lovecraft. It is interesting to note that the suggestions for tightening up the wordcount are very practical, and the essential format—a climactic death/reveal, followed by an abbreviated denouement—echoes several of Lovecraft’s own stories, such as “The Dunwich Horror” (1929).

Which is perhaps more interesting than the bare outline of the tail-end of a story that appears to have never been published: the insight into Lovecraft’s process, his characteristic approach to the narrative. While we can’t read the original work he is critiquing, the impression given is something overwritten, a narrative bogged down in exposition and over-explanation, a common feature of amateur writers, and probably a common aspect of the stories that Lovecraft read for his friends and fans, as well as clients. How Lovecraft approached those corrections is an insight into how Lovecraft constructed his own stories, the way he looked at how a story was structured as much as the details (the key apparently being a key plot point).

Readers hoping for “The Statement of Randolph Carter II: Loveman’s Revenge” to turn up are probably doomed to disappointment, but if expectations can be moderated…perhaps, in some private collection, there are still a few scraps of Lovecraft waiting to be discovered.

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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“Hode of the High Place” (1984) by Jessica Amanda Salmonson

For the first time he recognized that the possession of an object was never as ecstatic as the seeking; the reality never as pleasurable as the dream.
—Jessica Amanda Salmonson, “Hode of the High Place” in The Last Continent 201

There is no pithy word for stories that are inspired by Clark Ashton Smith, that partake of his style and essence, are reminiscent of his darker moods and most erotic intimations. When someone writes a tale that draws inspiration from H. P. Lovecraft, or involves him in some form, we call it “Lovecraftian.” For the Bard of Auburn, we might say “Smithian,” but there are many Smiths. “Klarkash-Tonian” is a bit of a mouthful. Nothing seems to succinctly embrace the whole concept.

It is a rare story where we have need of such a word.

“Hode of the High Place” is not set explicitly in Smith’s Zothique, or any other fantasy world we know. In mood, in device, in tone, it could well be. It fits neatly among the other neo-Zothique tales of The Last Continent: New Tales of Zothique (1999), one of the very few anthologies where authors are encouraged to play in Clark Ashton Smith’s imaginary worlds. Smith himself might well have smiled and recognized this story as a literary descendant, had he lived long enough to read it.

When considering those who follow Smith, there is a tendency toward pastiche, as in “The Vulviflora of Vuutsavek” (2008) by Charlotte Alchemilla Smythe. Salmonson is wise enough to not try and mimic the same tendency for arcane vocabulary, but there are elements of Smith that readers will recognize in the tone, the omniscient third-person perspective which is almost voyeuristic in following the triumphs and tragedies of this story. Then there is the erotic element.

A gelatinous mass flowed over him, oblivious to his thrashing, smothering him as the water had smothered the flames. Then he felt something expected and pleasant: gentle, rhythmic constrictions around his genitals.
—Jessica Amanda Salmonson, “Hode of the High Place” in The Last Continent 197

One of the hallmarks of Smith’s fiction was a fascination with scenes of unnatural carnal pleasures, necrophilia (or perhaps more accurately, a love that extends beyond death), assignations with witches, lamia, and succubi, etc. It isn’t in every work, and it isn’t in any sense explicit by contemporary terms, even his play The Dead Will Cuckold You (1951) is concerned with character and relationships rather than actually describing the actions of genitalia. Some of Smith’s stories which could only be published in expurgated form during his lifetime, such as “Mother of Toads” (Weird Tales Jul 1938), are quaint in terms of actual sexual content, though still potent in terms of image, plot, and suggestion.

This reticence toward explicit sexual description in Smith’s fiction, and his frustration with the standards of his day that censored even that, can be easily understood. Clark Ashton Smith was writing weird fiction of which sex was a part, but not weird erotica or pornography with a weird setting. The point of Smith’s stories was not to sexually excite the reader, not in the way of Victorian erotica like The Way of a Man With A Maid. The erotic element was always intimately tied to the weirdness in some fashion, as with the work of Arthur Machen. Perhaps Smith might have been more explicit if editors and laws had allowed it, but there was no way it could have been published in the 1930s under existing censorship laws.

Contemporary writers don’t operate under the same restrictions. It is much more acceptable these days to be much more explicit about sexual relations. Salmonson could no doubt have gotten away with far more sexual content in this story; other tales are more explicit. Yet this is not a case where the point is to titillate the reader; it is a necessary plot point for the story. Ultimately, I would say that “Hode of the High Place” shows admirable restraint, getting just explicit enough to cross that conceptual line between “suitable for young adults” to “suitable for adult audiences,” but not becoming particularly lurid or distracting from the rest of the story…indeed, the brief sexual scenes are ultimately critical.

It was fashioned in the shape of a bone with a serpent wrapped around, the universal insignia used on jars of poison, pictured on no-trespassing signs to prove the warning adamant, and marked on maps to show where wayfarers had best not go.
—Jessica Amanda Salmonson, “Hode of the High Place” in The Last Continent 206

If “Hode of the High Place” is not set in Zothique itself, it still feels like it could be set beneath a dying sun on a dying world, one last tragedy being acted out with all of its follies and its terrible inevitability.

Jessica Amanda Salmonson’s “Hode of the High Place” was first published in Beyond Lands of Never (1984), the second volume of the fantasy Lands of Never (1983). It was republished in The Last Continent: New Tales of Zothique (1999), and in her collection Dark Tales (2002).

Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard & Others (2019) and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos (2014).