Poe

Tom sent these to me to share with all of you. If you (like Lovecraft) are a Poe fan, grab these images or better yet grab a 1st day postmark. Yeah, 16 January was Poe's bicentennial. Lovecraft was 19 during Poe's centennial celebration, and you can imagine he was swooning over that.

Enjoy ...

New Lovecraft Article (Tom Lera)

Remember the Darkness

by Thomas Lera


I don’t sleep as well as I used to. When I first began to wake up during the night, I would often worry about unfinished tasks, the work day ahead, relationship issues. However, gradually I came to relish the peaceful darkness, although it is sometimes disturbed by my upstairs neighbor doing the laundry at two in the morning. It has become my time to invent tales of mystery and adventure from dangling remnants of my daily life.

More:

http://www.southernliterarymessenger.com/0201/rememberthedarkness.htm

Poe House as Lovecraft May Have Seen It.

(c) 2007, Tom Lera, used by permission.

Compare this c. 1940 image to Tom Lera's Image (2007).

The Poe Society states: This engraving, made in the 1940s from an old photograph, shows the Baltimore Poe House as it probably appeared around 1833. The top of the left half was raised some years later to provide a full room on the third floor with a flat roof. The left half of the building was removed in 1938. Poe lived with Maria Clemm and her family in the right side of the house.

Images of Poe's Shrine by Tom Lera (2007) and More Ancient Images Compared.

(c) 2007, Tom Lera, used by permission.

(c) 2007, Tom Lera, used by permission.

Poe's Shrine as featured in 1875 Harper's weekly.

Close up of another 1875 image of Shrine.

Shrine as it appeared in 1910 (a few decades before Lovecraft saw it).

Shrine as it appeared circa 1940 several years after Lovecraft saw it.

Poe's full name is given in capital letters on the base. Each of the other sides carries a different inscription: (North side) "Maria Clemm Poe; Born; March 17, 1790; Died; February 16, 1871"; (West side) "Edgar Allan Poe; Born; January 20 [sic], 1809; Died; October 7, 1849"; (South side) "Virginia Clemm Poe; Born; August 15, 1822; Died; January 30, 1847."

Poe Images Courtesy of Tom Lera!

(c) 2007, Tom Lera, used by permission.
Unknown person paying homage to Poe.

Poe Images Courtesy Tom Lera !

(c) 2007, Tom Lera, used by permission.

But to me the culminating thing in Baltimore was a dingy monument in a corner of Westminster Presbyterian Churchyard, which the slums have long overtaken. It is near a high wall, and a willow weeps over it. Melancholy broods around it, and black wings brush it in the night - for it is the grave of Edgar Allan Poe. - H. P. Lovecraft, 1928 to Maurice Moe in Collected Essays: Travel Volume 4. (p. 25)

Poe Images Courtesy of Tom Lera

(c) 2007, Tom Lera, used by permission. Poe's House.

Poe Images Courtesy of Tom Lera

(c) 2007, Tom Lera, used by permission.

Poe died in Baltimore October 7, 1849, and two days later was buried among his relatives there in a corner of Westminster Presbyterian Churchyard. A stone prepared by a cousin was accidentally destroyed before being set in place; so that for twenty-five years the poet's grave remained unmarked. In November 1875, a marble monument was placed beside the grave by admirers; thus forming the first of Poe's public shrines. Today the graveyard is in a decaying section, but within its walls dignity still reigns. - H. P. Lovecraft, 1934 in The Californian 2, No. 3, Winter, as found in Collected Essays: Travel Volume 4, 2005.

More Images From Poe's Baltimore: Courtesy of Tom Lera!

(c) 2007, Tom Lera, used by permission

Westminster Hall and Poe's grave are in the southeast corner of Fayette and Greene Streets. His death date was 7 October 1849.

More Pictures from Poe's Museum: Courtesy of Tom Lera

Thanks, Tom!


From Joshi "A Dreamer and a Visionary" page 108.

"Poe, of course, is the dominant influence on Lovecraft's early tales, and looms large over the bulk of Lovecraft's fiction up to at least 1923. And yet, even "the Tomb" and "The Outsider" (1921), Lovecraft's most obviously Poe-esque tales, are far from being mere pastiches; but it is evident that Lovecraft found in Poe a model both in style and in overall short story construction.

The most obvious stylistic feature common to both Poe and Lovecraft is the use of adjectives. In Lovecraft's case this has been derisively termed "adjectivitis", as if there is some canonical number of adjectives per square inch that is permissible and the slightest excess is cause for frenzied condemnation."


Lovecraft always referred to his horror fiction as his "Poe stories", and wrote them in conscious imitation of Poe. The Poe story that most closely resembles Lovecraft's works in technique is "The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar". Elements in common include the "popular" murmurings at the beginnings; the mysterious allusions to as yet unnamed horrors; the reference to "the facts as I understand them"; the dry, precise "scientific" tone throughout; the somewhat laborious descriptions, as if in a scientific document; explicit self referential mentioning of when the story crosses the line into unknown scientific frontiers; the revelation two thirds through the story of a hair raising situation of the scientific unknown; and the slow, deliberate, conscious build up to a final image of total horror, constructed like a climax in music. It is a great read. The storyline is about a mesmerist who puts a man in a suspended hypnotic state at the moment of death.

Photos (c) 2007, Tom Lera & Text Essay by Tom Lera.

Here is a Cthulhuesque Tree: Courtesy of Tom Lera !

Beware the tentacled behemoth! Aieee.

Tom's web site.

Poe Museum: Courtesy of Tom Lera !!

Tom can be found at http://www.thomaslera.org/ (click here). (I'll fix your link later, Pal).

Here are some great pix from his recent trip.

A Pause to Reflect: One Year. Thanks to All

It will be a year on December 16. This is the 363rd post on the blog. Wow, is Chrispy tired. But happy.

Where to start to thank everyone who has stopped by to read, to contribute, and encourage?

First a very dear friend who helped me through the hieroglyphics of blog templates those weeks before Christmas and giving up part of the holiday to help me. Blessings to you.

My colleagues at HorrorLibrary.net who often contribute words - especially Ian Derbyshire and John Rowlands.

The renowned Tom Lera, spelologist and bat expert, whose passion for Lovecraft is tremendous.

And others who contribute essays, comments, debates, and substantive facts to this blog forum. Most notably of late, Theo Paijmans.

Thousands of you have viewed and watched as this tribute to Lovecraft and his Legacy has come together. As long as blogspot holds together, we have many adventures together. I also hope that you will use these references in your own research.

I ask that you continue to be patient - I have a day job !! and I have my own fiction and essays to write in the coming year over at HL.net. I also have the fun Weird Beast blog (see margin for link), and I plan on showing my sketches and photography on an upcoming blog (see the various "Interludes" in this blog for a preview).

Until the next post,

Yr Obdnt Srvnt,

Chris Perridas

Lovecraftiana: Vampirella

Our resourceful Tom Lera has uncovered a past note on a curiosity.

Lovecraft had a huge surge in the late 60's and 70's - and there has been no reduction in passion for Ech-Pi-El. However, many have discovered that the Gentleman from Providence has a sex-appeal and the presence of his name will HYPE a magazine or book sale.















OK, now back to ... the ... subject.

Here is what "lovecraft" was all about in this issue.

"If you've ever read an H.P. Lovecraft story, chances are you've thought of the man himself - or at least to his state of mind. Was the 20th century writer the keeper of some dark and arcane knowledge that he hid in plain sight in his short stories? Or was he a literary madman, capable of generating a myriad of mythologies, yet tunable to truly exist in his own world? Maybe it was the fact his mom made him wear dresses because she always wanted a girl (you weren't expecting that). [*] In Lovecraft, a new missive published by Vertigo (from a Hans Rodionoff screenplay), comic writer Keith Giffen (Lobo) and artist Enrique Breccia (Che) weave a dark tale of historical fact from H.P.'s bizarre upbringing and awkward adult life with a brilliant but twisted fictitious backdrop - where the Necronomicon, Arkham, Mass., and the elder Gods exist just beyond the borders of reason. H.P. becomes keeper and guardian of the ancient book of the dead. He writes his tales in hopes of sating the hungers of the "unimaginable horrors" bound by the tome. But it's a losing battle, one where Lovecraft must dive into the mouth of madness, forsaking all hopes of a normal life. It's a choice that only a madman, or the secret savior of the world, could make. " - Tom LaSusa

Yep, pure hype. If you actually did buy a copy of the Giffen/Breccia 'zine, post comment below.

Thanks, Tom! for your diligent research into the archives.

___
* Yes, Lovecraft as a child wore a dress. Virtually all Victorian children were placed in dresses - male and female. In my childhood (the Eisenhower era) hair was left uncut for a very long time - I must have been 3 before I ever had my first hair cut. It was long indeed.


Keith Giffen art

Enrique Breccia art

Lovecraftiana: Letters From Outside

Always reliable, Tom Lera sends in this internet gem of a find. Go to Letters from Outside at http://members.fortunecity.com/moderan/ and peruse the offerings. There are book reviews, fiction, essays and more.

And then, don't forget to come back and visit good ol' Chrispy's site here! I have a lot of Lovecraftiana left to share and debate with you as we march toward our 100th blog post in a few weeks.

Lovecraft Synopsis

Tom Lera reports this great site. Full review of Lovecraft and his significance.

"Howard Phillips Lovecraft, hailed by literary critics as the inventor of modern horror, is a driving force behind such modern writers as Robert Bloch (Psycho), Wes Craven (The Craft, Nightmare on Elm Street, Scream), and Stephen King (Pet Semetary, Carrie, Children of the Corn), to name a few."

More.

Personal note: January was wonderful for the HPLblog. Hundreds of you have read and many of you have written and posted comments. Thank you! Let's look forward to a greater February.

Lovecraft's Dream Cycle: Tom Lera Comments

Tom is a fellow writer, naturalist, and a world recognized specialist in bats and caves. If you read his stories at HL.net, you'll discover that his descriptions encompass his real-life, frequent trips to rainforest countries. He also is a fellow Lovecraft fan, and honors HPL with The Cemetery.

Lovecraft wrote about a lot of strange things and had an active imagination, as we all have.

Lovecraft, though, has been criticized as repetitious and clumsy, but his stories share the same colourful imagination familiar from the classic works of H.G. Wells and H. Rider Haggard and have become a target for academic research. The entire Dream Cycle created by H. P. Lovecraft included some of his most fantastic tales:

The Doom That Came to Sarnath--Hate, genocide, and a deadly curse consume the land of Mnar.

The Statement of Randolph Carter--You fool, Warren is Dead!

The Nameless City--Death lies beneath the shifting sands, in a story linking the Dream Cycle with the legendary Cthulhu Mythos.

The Cats of Ulthar--In Ulthar, no man may kill a cat ... and woe unto any who tries.

The Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath--The epic nightmare adventure with tendrils stretching throughout the entire Dream Cycle. Was he possessed or just have a great imagination to tell a story.

Publishing and marketing was basically just beginning and Lovecraft, Poe, Burroughs, Howard and others siezed the market and in turn abducted our imagination. Bottomline is that the 19th and 20th Century writers were talented. Their stories have captured our minds and hearts and will continue to do so in the future. I only hope that one or two of our stories are able to do this. Perhaps in the age of the internet it will happen.

Tom's latest story.

***
Note: Coming in 6 days to HL.net, Chris Perridas' new Mythos story. So you thought you knew everything about Cthulhu, eh? Heh. Just wait.

Lovecraftiana: Forest J. Ackerman - Interlude

Breaking bulletin.

Tom Lera reports a sighting of once H.P.L. fan, critic - and pal - Forest J. Ackerman. There is an autograph by Lovecraft there.

And don't forget to check out Tom's site. He's an entrepreneur, scientist, spelologist, and writer!

Ackerman is mentioned by pun (effjay weeds and wriggling akmans) in Lovecraft & Sterling's satirical scientifiction story In the Walls of Eryx.

[H.P. Lovecraft, In His Time, A Dreamer and a Visionary, Joshi, Liverpool University Press, 2001, p. 370.]

The Cemetery by Tom Lera

By permission, here is an outstanding Lovecraftian story by the horror writer, Tom Lera. Enjoy!

***

My current employment (which pays my bills and allows me to travel) is VP of Manufacturing for a Wireless Company (data not voice).

I am a Fellow in The Explorer's Club (my avocation is worldwide cave exploring), an environmentalist and conservationist. Most recently, I have been exploring Mayan caves in Belize, Guatemala and Costa Rica and the surrounding jungles. When I have free time, which is usually on the airplane, I write.

Recently I have two entries in a new Encyclopedia of Cave and Karst Science published this year stories in the webzines MockfeaR, Whispering Spirits, Anotherrealm, Demonminds, Twilight Times and The Lightning Journal.

***

The Cemetery

The writer’s workshop had lasted almost 3 hours, 45 minutes longer than expected, and I was brain-dead after the intense discussion and analysis of American gothic writers. Relaxing as I drove through a chilly rain along a remote stretch of the Blackstone Road, my mind wandered to the night’s fraternity party. A deer darted out of the woods directly in front of my truck and I swerved to avoid hitting it, the front of my Xterra firmly met the thick trunk of a large oak tree. I did not feel seriously injured just unnerved and badly shaken I sat behind the wheel calming myself. Once I got out and examined the Nissan, I realized it would have to be towed. I had no choice but to hook it back to campus.

Blackstone Road was lightly traveled, and it was doubtful another motorist would drive past anytime soon. The idea of walking all the way to Brown University past Swan Point Cemetery didn't particularly appeal to me, especially since it was October 31st and already turning dark.

If this wasn’t enough to fuel my superstitious nature, the fresh memories of the horror workshop I’d just left pushed my imagination into overdrive. It would take at least a half-hour for me to walk to the nearest house where, if I was lucky, the owner would even open the door, never mind let me use the telephone. I buttoned my raincoat, grabbed my umbrella from the back seat and started walking.

After about twenty minutes I neared the sprawling expanse of Swan Point Cemetery. With entrances from both Blackstone Road on the south and Williamsburg Street to the north, I could cut straight through, save considerable time, and be dry in my University dorm room in no time.

However, the idea of walking through the graveyard in the dark of night on Halloween set the hairs on the back of my neck at attention. The rain had stopped, only to be replaced by a dense fog, making it difficult to see more than three feet ahead of me. I crossed my fingers and headed straight for the imposing wrought iron gates.

Absorbed in navigating the stone walkway, I was slow to notice there was a faint but persistent sound behind me. Was someone following me? I slowed to hear better and the sound became nearly imperceptible. I turned but no one was there. Damn my imagination! Shaking off my nervousness, I began to hum a cheerful tune, and started walking just a little bit faster.

There it was again! This time I was certain I heard something. I turned so quickly I almost twisted my ankle, but again saw nothing. “What the devil is it,” I asked myself, dismayed at my choice of words. I picked up my pace to a slow jog.

The noise grew louder, clearer, becoming the distinct rhythmic cadence of footsteps. I didn't turn around, afraid of what I would see, or afraid once again there would be no one there. One way or the other it didn’t matter, I decided as I sprang into a fast jog.

Now I heard the sound of crying join the echo of footsteps. I threw down my umbrella and broke into a dead run. In my near panic I tripped over a low gravestone, fell on my face, and rolled over onto my back. Through the darkness I could vaguely see a ghostly figure approaching me, although in the dense fog I could not discern a face. It could be no mortal being, I reasoned, as I had not been able to outdistance it.

As the phantom drew nearer, I scrambled backward crab-like, finally managing to get to my feet, and ran faster than ever before. I prayed, “Please let me make it to Williamsburg Street!” where there were streetlights and a well-lit Wendy’s less than two blocks from the graveyard’s north gate.

This short prayer became my mantra, as I raced full out. All at once the ground disappeared from beneath my feet. I floated briefly in mid-air then hit the dirt hard with a resounding thump. I had fallen into a freshly dug grave and was trapped, having the wind knocked out of me. My pursuer was getting closer. I could feel the cold, clammy apparition as it peered over the edge of the grave. When I saw its smoldering, yet lifeless eyes, I knew what true terror was!

“Someone help me, please!” I rasped, my throat constricted by fear. My cry for help sounded like a far away echo.

How long I lay there I had no idea. The fog had begun to dissipate and it was getting lighter. But that was impossible! Morning was still hours away, wasn't it? Or had I hit my head in the fall and been knocked unconscious for several hours? No, it was not my imagination; the night was giving way to daylight.

I blinked several times in succession. Could my eyes be playing tricks on me or was this person standing above me the icon I’d seen on book covers? Could this be H. P. Lovecraft?

As I stared at him in amazement, I could see he was profoundly sad. For some reason, I clearly understood he was there to say goodbye to me. With this knowledge, a sense of peace and contentment descended upon me, a heavenly calmness I'd never known in life. I rose and looked at the headstone at the head of the grave and was not surprised to see my name newly engraved upon its smooth marble surface.

What a great story this would have been for my workshop, I thought as a wry smile spread across my ghostly face!

© Thomas Lera, 2005

Author note – H.P. Lovecraft is indeed buried in Swan Point Cemetery on 585 Blackstone Blvd, Providence, Rhode Island.

[If you enjoyed this, you MUST check out his new story.