Shadows Over Innsmouth | ||||||||
edited by Stephen Jones | ||||||||
Del Rey, 468 pages | ||||||||
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A review by Stephen M. Davis
"The Shadow Over Innsmouth" brings forth one of the concerns that weaves its
way through much of his writing -- degeneracy. Lovecraft occasionally wrote
stories about towns like Dunwich, where the population had inbred to a level
of relatively benign stupidity, but the degeneracy found in Innsmouth is of
the sort that Lovecraft was most worried by -- consciously or unconsciously:
Lovecraft was terrified by degeneracy that occurs not over generations, but
within individual life-spans. Biographers may claim that Lovecraft never
learned the true state of his father's condition, but his stories certainly
seem to show a man obsessed with the worry that what happened to his father
could one day happen to him.
Innsmouth is a town that was once prosperous, once important, but that
gradually became irrelevant to the world around it. Mistakes were made by
the original settlers that led to the sea's encroachment onto the land, and
the widening of salt marshes surrounding the town, leading to isolation from
the settlements around it, like Arkham. At some point in the 19th
century, a deal was struck between the members of the town and the Deep
Ones, a race of sea-dwelling, amphibious, vaguely humanoid creatures who
worshipped Dagon. As "The Shadow Over Innsmouth" opens, the narrator has
decided to travel to Innsmouth to see examples of the colonial architecture
that can still be seen in many of the houses there, but as his one-day
excursion unfolds, he becomes more and more discomfited by what he observes
there:
Late in the evening, the narrator realizes that the citizens of Innsmouth
have decided to add him to the list of those who have disappeared after
learning too much about the town, and he makes a tense escape from Innsmouth
by crawling down a disused section of railroad track that takes him back to
Arkham. And while there is a certain delight in pointing out that Lovecraft,
himself a shining example of Scientific Man, has his protagonist escape from
chaos, madness, murder, and degeneracy by making use of the only spur of
civilization and technology in the town, there is even more to the story
than that. For we learn, at the end, that the narrator is being called back
to Innsmouth by an irresistible force calling subtly, voicelessly, to his
blood. The narrator, in fact, has a female ancestor from Innsmouth, as he
learns to his horror -- one who was married out of the town by duping the
husband as to her origins. And her blood is strong in the protagonist, blood
that will not be denied. Surely Lovecraft, even in 1927 when this story was
set, is still struggling with the blood of an ancestor, and still
worrying that his father's blood within him will call him to commit the same
unspeakable acts the father had.
All of the stories that are anthologized along with this flagship piece by
Lovecraft concern the Deep Ones, at least, and several use Innsmouth to good
effect. In "Innsmouth Gold," for instance, the narrator travels to the town
because of rumors of buried treasure, but winds up spending the kind of
night in the swamp that almost everyone who has ever gone camping has
experienced at least once. Those readers who have ever spent a sleepless
night wondering what the large creature was that just brushed by the tent
can readily appreciate the narrator's state of mind when he tells us,
There are other stories in this anthology that succeed mainly because their
authors aren't trying too hard to bow down before H.P.L., with those odes to
pulp that always seem to include a diary being found behind a chimney brick,
or a character who insists on starting a tale off with lines like "No, I am
not mad, gentlemen, though I have seen and heard things enough to unhinge
the strongest mind these past weeks": lines that have caused more than one
editor to slosh out yet another finger of bourbon into the dirty glass that
all editors have secreted behind the antique ditto machine in the corner of
the office.
In "The Innsmouth Heritage," for instance, Brian Stableford does a fully
competent job of updating the Innsmouth story, with a researcher in genetics
arriving to try and collect some DNA samples from Innsmouth residents who
have that "Innsmouth taint" about them. He finds that those he takes samples
from are dying off, and he has, for form's sake, taken a sample from the
Innsmouth woman he wishes to marry -- Ann. We may not be that surprised by the
ending, but the conception is original.
Arguably the most original story in the collection is Nicholas Royle's "The
Homecoming," which transports the Deep Ones to Romania, shortly after
Ceausescu's overthrow, but manages to make use of them without being
heavy-handed about it.
Brian Lumley makes an appearance, with "Dagon's Bell," but one of the
problems with a Lumley story is you never know which Lumley you're going to
be treated to: the one who wrote those early, really enjoyable Wampyri
novels, or the one who gave us Titus Crow. Here, we're treated to moments
like this: "I know, I know!" he answered, his expression tortured. He
gripped my arm. "But I'm not finished yet. I don't know it all, not yet. It
lures me, Bill. I have to know..."
I would argue that the good in this collection outweighs the bad, and that
fans of Lovecraft's Mythos will enjoy the stories. In some ways, this
collection is particularly valuable because it gives aspiring writers a
chance to see really well plotted, well written stories side-by-side with
those broken pieces that should have gotten thrown back in for another
firing in the kiln.
Steve Davis teaches at the University of New Orleans as an Instructor of English. He enjoys chess, strong black coffee, and books by authors who care enough to work at their craft. |
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