"The Space-Eaters," Frank Belknap Long
I surprised myself by enjoying "The Space-Eaters" just now. It's by Frank Belknap Long, weird fiction writer and longtime friend of Lovecraft. It's a cosmic horror story about two writer friends, Frank and Howard, who encounter terrible nameless Things and brag about how they're going to put this in a story someday. The self-referential nature of the Lovecraft circle's horror stories kinda disappears up its own butt, here.
Admittedly, I went in expecting to be bored stiff, so anything would be an improvement, but it's a damn good story. It's got a deadpan sense of humor. Long evidently was a huge Sherlock Holmes fan, to judge by the way the story takes the Holmes format (domineering friend hangs around the house and rants about the shabby state of the world to indulgent friend; local yokel comes in with the plot hook, and faints). Fictional Lovecraft is far more badass than Real Lovecraft ever was, as far as I know, but I can buy into that for the sake of a good story.
Frank Belknap Long is the guy who wrote the frequently-anthologized "The Hounds of Tindalos," had a vast body of literary work, and lived from 1901 till 1994, long enough for the current set of horror fans to celebrate and appreciate him. I hope he got lots of positive attention for his writing, rather than only because he was the Last Living Link to Lovecraft. There's a horror story by T.E.D. Klein, "Black Man with a Horn," where the narrator is the last surviving member of "the Lovecraft circle" and is depressed at seeing his work reduced to a footnote in HPL scholarship. It's Frank Belknap Long in the bleakest possible timeline. I think of Edward Derby from "The Thing on the Doorstep" as kinda-sorta modeled on Long: little mustache, chubby, dandyish, lovable man-child.
I just like these photos:
Lovecraft and Long, looking like those two baddies from a gangster movie.
Long and Lovecraft giggling as they pretend to punch each other.
Admittedly, I went in expecting to be bored stiff, so anything would be an improvement, but it's a damn good story. It's got a deadpan sense of humor. Long evidently was a huge Sherlock Holmes fan, to judge by the way the story takes the Holmes format (domineering friend hangs around the house and rants about the shabby state of the world to indulgent friend; local yokel comes in with the plot hook, and faints). Fictional Lovecraft is far more badass than Real Lovecraft ever was, as far as I know, but I can buy into that for the sake of a good story.
Frank Belknap Long is the guy who wrote the frequently-anthologized "The Hounds of Tindalos," had a vast body of literary work, and lived from 1901 till 1994, long enough for the current set of horror fans to celebrate and appreciate him. I hope he got lots of positive attention for his writing, rather than only because he was the Last Living Link to Lovecraft. There's a horror story by T.E.D. Klein, "Black Man with a Horn," where the narrator is the last surviving member of "the Lovecraft circle" and is depressed at seeing his work reduced to a footnote in HPL scholarship. It's Frank Belknap Long in the bleakest possible timeline. I think of Edward Derby from "The Thing on the Doorstep" as kinda-sorta modeled on Long: little mustache, chubby, dandyish, lovable man-child.
I just like these photos:
Lovecraft and Long, looking like those two baddies from a gangster movie.
Long and Lovecraft giggling as they pretend to punch each other.
