“He wasn’t an anti-Semite,” Pavel assured me. “I bet he doesn’t know what a Jew is. Outsiders—you know. That’s all it is.”
Marsha Morman, “The Chabad of Innsmouth” in King David and the Spiders from Mars 142
Jewish characters were rare in Weird Tales. While there were some stories with Jewish characters, such as “The Devil’s Pool” (1932) by Greye La Spina, that is the exception rather than the rule. Whether this was a reflection of the stories submitted or editorial fiat is impossible to determine; we know Jean Ray’s stories in Weird Tales had the antisemitism removed before they were published in the magazine, and that might have been part of an unofficial policy…or just good business. After all many readers, writers, artists, and publishers in the pulp field were Jewish. No need to antagonize folks, even during an era when antisemitism was rife in the United States.
If Jewish characters were rare, Jewish culture was rarer. H. P. Lovecraft was dimly aware that Judaism was not a monolithic religion or heterogenous ethnic group, that there were sectarian differences and distinctions between populations, even if he was ignorant of the exact nature of those differences. For many folks reading Weird Tales, however, the ignorance would have been more profound. White, Anglo-American, Protestant Christian would have been the default cultural syntax for most, and the vast majority of weird fiction from the early 20th century was written from, and read in, that context.
So it isn’t terribly surprising that Lovecraft didn’t include many Jewish characters in his fiction—really, only a bookseller in “The Descendent”—and most of his contemporaries likewise didn’t do much with them (though see Conan and the Shemites: Robert E. Howard and Antisemitism). Thus, the first generation of Mythos fiction was both largely devoid of Jewish representation and of Jewish stereotypes and antisemitism. This absence tended to repeat itself in later generations: there are relatively few stories that are distinctly Mythos and also prominently feature Jewish characters or cultures. There are a number of Jewish authors of Cthulhu Mythos and Lovecraftian fiction, but almost no Jewish Cthulhu Mythos stories to speak of.
(Although I would be remiss if I failed to mention Edward M. Ederlac’s Merkabah Rider series, where an Hasidic gunslinger deals with Mythos threats in the Old West. Those are just plain fun.)
[“]They said if I took another oath, I would be able to understand all that gibbering, but I didn’t.”
“Jew aren’t supposed to take oaths,” I told him. “They’re too powerful. Always say, ‘Maybe, maybe, maybe.'”
Marsha Morman, “The Chabad of Innsmouth” in King David and the Spiders from Mars 164
So what would happen if a Jew came to Innsmouth? And not just any Jew, but an Orthodox Hasidic Jew of the Chabad movement—a traditionalist bringing Judaism to other Jewish people, a young rabbi dedicated to cultural outreach? It is an interesting setup, because Jewish religion and culture is such an absolute lacuna in Lovecraft’s “The Shadow over Innsmouth.” The Esoteric Order of Dagon has an absolute Old Testament flavor (“Dagon an’ Ashtoreth—Belial an’ Beëlzebub—Golden Caff an’ the idols o’ Canaan an’ the Philistines—Babylonish abominations—Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin—”), but in Lovecraft’s Innsmouth before the coming of the Deep Ones there was only a Baptist church, a Methodist church, a Congregationalist church, and a group of Freemasons; no Catholic church, no African-American Methodist-Episcopalian church, no synogogue. The Deep Ones moved in on the prototypical WASP space, but with no real indication of how or why they might interact with Jews or anyone else.
Which means that Marsha Morman had pretty much a blank slate when writing “The Chabad of Innsmouth.” Return to Innsmouth stories tend to be a bit frayed and outworn, like a familiar shirt worn until threadbare—if the reader has read Lovecraft’s original, they know most of the things that the protagonist is about to discover—and there’s certainly a good bit of that shmatte feeling here. The Cthulhu Mythos aspects of it in particular are so utterly familiar that they’re almost hackneyed; not really much innovation on Lovecraft’s original in that sense.
What works is the novel approach itself. Innsmouth, eighty-odd years after the event’s of Lovecraft’s story, has a new rabbi, trying to serve a small community, and…it’s nice to see that different perspective.
It was unwholesome to find someone so visually repellant. I was taught to look to the neshama—soul—of every person instead of their outsides. I was very ashamed as we hurried back to the car, Pavel’s smelly set of keys in hand.
Marsha Morman, “The Chabad of Innsmouth” in King David and the Spiders from Mars 142
Judaism and the Esoteric Order of Dagon are so alien to one another that there isn’t a lot of real interaction. The rabbi and his charges, ironically, can only really categorize the cult through the lens of Christian saints, Satanic cults, and finally the stories of the old Philistine god from the tanakh. We never get the Dagonite perspective on the Chabad house at all, except as outsiders intruding into business they don’t understand. The cultural clash and failure of understanding on both sides is a bit fascinating, and it would have been nice to see more details on that…but that might have killed the pacing. The darker elements of the plot are reminicent of “Mail Order Bride” (1999) by Ann K. Schwader, and “The Chabad of Innsmouth” slides surprisingly well into the broader cycle of Innsmouth stories.
Not everything works. The ending feels more than a bit rushed, and the geography is also a bit ludicrous; Lovecraft put Innsmouth in Essex County, north of Boston, while Morman puts it south of Boston, somewhere around Cape Cod, but that’s a quibble. A few entries from the perspective of the protagonist’s wife, the shalucha, detailing her experience of Innsmouth, might have gone a long way to develop the atmosphere. It’s not really a horror story, or at least the rabbi doesn’t know they’ve stumbled into a horror story, until near the very end, so there is less tension built up before the climax than maybe there should be.
Overall, however, Marsha Morman definitely fulfilled the premise. Readers get something that they rarely, if ever, get anywhere else; the Mythos expands a little, takes on a new dimension, and maybe a new perspective gets placed on an old story. Most intruiging of all, this is ultimately the story about new beginnings, not endings. The chabad house in Innsmouth is still standing at the end, the small community is still there…and the door is open for more stories.
“The Chabad of Innsmouth” by Martha Morman was published in King David and the Spiders from Mars (2014, Dybbuk Press). It has not yet been reprinted.
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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