October Nightmares IV #6: Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff (2016) - Make America Eldritch Again


The fear of the unknown is, in no small part, what makes humanity what it is. Whether this comes in the form of mundane insecurities like worries about your own future security, or whether Dave the local perv will sit next to you on the bus, or even more fantastical matters such as the fear of what awaits us in the yawning abyss of space, we’re a fairly insecure bunch who like things just so. Fortunately, this fear provided perfect fuel for H.P. Lovecraft and his cosmic horror. You know what else did? Unashamed racism.

Lovecraft’s racism has long been the subject of scrutiny, with some vigorously defending the man and others condemning him – you know, the usual internet stuff. But it’s not really up for debate. He was a racist. I know: the man who wrote about creatures abhorrent to WASP protagonists by virtue of their appearance and the fact they came from elsewhere, is a racist? Colour me surprised. He called his cat Nigger Man too, which may have been a clue. However, Lovecraft also wrote some of the greatest and most influential horror ever – there’s just no taking away from that, no matter how blue you dye your hair.

Matt Ruff's 2016 novel Lovecraft Country takes this idea and runs with it. Set in the mid-1950’s United States, this novel (disguised as a short story collection) follows African American Atticus and his family as they navigate Lovecraftian horrors as well as the very real threat posed by systematic racism. Say what you will about world-eating abominations, at least they realise we’re all bastards equally.

As a title Lovecraft Country cleverly evokes images of Lovecraft’s unknowable alien creations and secretly societies, cosmic horror, and the typical New England setting. It also immediately establishes an unwelcoming land which is fitting: Atticus has to rely on his copy of The Safe Negro Travel Guide to avoid the Earth-originating danger. This being the Fifties, many areas are a no go zone for a negro. Jim Crow land where rednecks with five teeth between them believe they are the master race and want to enrol people like Atticus into the most literal game of hangman ever.


One thing which I like about Lovecraft Country is that it's simultaneously a love letter to Lovecraft, and other weird fiction of the era, whilst having an important message about racism. The two concepts sit comfortably side by side and inform each other. The civil rights era was an undoubtedly ugly period in history, and no one would in their right mind would say the treatment of African Americans was anything other than reprehensible. Lovecraftian horror is unfathomable and dehumanising, so you can see how the two ideas work together.

However, there's an increasing tendency in certain circles for Lovecraft's racism to overshadow his work. Which is an incredibly stupid position to take - because not only is he dead, and thus unable to profit from his popularity, but a grown individual should abe able to separate art from the artist. And it's a bit rich when those most viciously taking aim at Lovecraft, have no issues benefiting from the genre he helped to establish. Fortunately Lovecraft Country isn't interested in shaming the man.

The initial portion of the novel, around 100 pages or so, is where the interplay of Lovecraft and racism works best. In this section we see Atticus travel deep into Lovecraft Country to search for his missing father. Whereas Atticus is a mild-mannered, pulp horror loving war veteran, his father is a militant old black man who I couldn’t help but picture as Samuel L Jackson. Atticus' journey takes him and his companions through backwoods towns where the locals are hostile to the newcomers not because they are hiding secrets, but because the newcomers are black. When they finally reach their destination, a village in a woods guarded by a shoggoth, they discover it's the other way around.

Ruff nails the Lovecraft tropes in this first section; secret communities, wizards, dark magic, eldritch monsters, esoteric orders, and ancient conspiracies - the only thing missing is someone losing their goddamn mind. This takes place in a village run by a shadowy group white and male enough that they wouldn't look out of at the Tory party conference. A group perfectly happy to use blacks for their nefarious rituals. It's the same basic premise as Get Out - but Matt Ruff is white so no easily-won award for him.

Atticus' plot is carried over through the other sections of the book, but other than the converging final chapter, each section feels like its own short story. There's one about one of Atticus' female friends coming into some money and buying a fancy house in a white neighbourhood. She's tormented by ghosts of the supernatural and Ku Klux Klan kind. Another, which is perhaps the most 'Lovecrafty', involves pocket dimensions, star-gates, and scylla monsters. There are two others before the big finale - involving a possessed doll haunting a kid and another which concerns race-swapping magic that's somewhere between Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and White Chicks - but they're kinda shite.

Overall, Lovecraft Country is a great inclusion to modern weird fiction that feels socially conscious without doing the usual 'white people are all evil' shit. It makes for a good starting point for those looking for a casual entry into Lovecraftian horror - the writing style is low-key and flows well. Best of all, Ruff never lays the writing on too thick. There are no sections with fifty adjectives aimed at describing an indescribable monster.

I mean I get it Lovecraft, you read the dictionary for fun. But have you ever thought about, I don't know, shagging your wife instead?


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