Lovecraft Land theme park

Mundo Tentacular: Lovecraft Land brings ‘news’ of a new Lovecraft theme park to open by 2022. Apparently, and presumably opening on April 1st. Here’s the gist of the post, in translation…

A new 250-acre theme park on the west side of Providence, dedicated to Lovecraft and due to start construction on 31st October 2019.

* Arkham USA – a 1920s reconstruction in precise detail, with actors.
* Walk the halls of Miskatonic University – talk with the professors.
* Stroll around R’Lyeh Island – with a giant animatronic Cthulhu.
* Mountains of Madness – a speeding toboggan ride into the City of Elder Things.
* Kadath Run – can you find a way into the Dreamlands and reach Kadath before Nyarlathotep brings down your dream-vessel?
* Raid on Innsmouth – participate in the brave battle to take the coastal town of Innsmouth from the clutches of sea monsters.
* The Colour out of Space – a VR/AR adventure.
* Dagon Water Park.
* Midnight fireworks show – biplanes and airships battle Mi-Gos in the illuminated skies.

The acoustic and Lovecraft

It seems suitable, for April Fools’ Day, to note that Language Log has an interesting survey of the dubious science of ‘paleoacoustics’. This being the idea that ancient sound energy can be embedded in, and recovered from, certain types of resonant objects that were created under certain conditions.

For instance, the sound of an ancient potter singing a tune as he turned his clay pot on the wheel, recovered by ‘playing’ the baked pot as if it were an old L.P. vinyl record.

The Language Log post references Woodbridge’s curious “Acoustic Recordings from Antiquity” (1969), which is free at the link and is otherwise paywalled deep in the Proceedings of the IEEE journal.

Lovecraft also uncovered a similar real-life folk-loric belief around ‘imprinting’ in window glass, which he heard via Mrs. Miniter in 1923…

“Mrs. Miniter supplied many [Wilbraham] legends and particulars which no guidebook could furnish — it was on this occasion [1923] that I first heard of the rustic superstition which asserts that window-panes slowly absorb and retain the likeness of those who habitually sit by them, year after year.” — H.P. Lovecraft, writing of a 1923 visit to Mrs. Miniter.

That wasn’t embedded sound, of course, but a similar idea.

The ‘paleoacoustic’ notion appears to have a modern parallel, in the discussions around the ‘personality traces’ that build up through our everyday use of new media. These can be recovered and partially re-assembled, by the right algorithm. There is even a sort of ‘modern witchcraft’ belief currently fashionable, that these traces are evidence of an ineradicable stain on the personality of those who made them. For instance when a jokey bantering message shared among 15-year-old friends is dredged out of social media 20 years later, to be touted as ‘proof’ that the sender must still be a horrible person today. ‘Archaeoacoustics’ also has a certain parallel with the way that certain new media space may be ‘tuned’ to be resonant with and amplify certain aspects of the human personality. One can see that, for example, in the current claims that Twitter is ‘tuned’ to knee-jerk outrage fuelled by tiny dopamine hits, and thus actually produces a mob of junkies addicted to being outraged. Or the belief that slick commercial websites are using what are called ‘dark patterns’, to make tired and rushed Internet users click on buttons accepting things we don’t want (such as Amazon Prime, which does happen).

‘Paleoacoustic’ ideas on embedded ancient sound also intersect with the wider architectural arcana on the ‘archaeoacoustic’ methods of sustaining uncanny acoustics in a space. I’m certainly no expert on such matters but I know that this (the study of the use of known acoustical properties to enhance the experience of sacred sites) is usually grudgingly accepted as respectable by academics. Except where it strays into fringe ideas, such as the 1970s notion that resonant stone circles were ‘ancient orgone energy accumulators’, ‘ley-line reflectors’, or that ‘ghosts’ as manifested forms of certain particular types of acoustics in the surrounding architecture. That’s getting back toward the folk-loric notion that certain traces of a spirit can be ‘trapped’ in places, mirrors or window frames. Lovecraft and Whitehead’s story “The Trap” comes closest here, although the story does not explicitly make sonics part of the plot. The mirror does hold a voice, it’s true, but it inhibits sounds and leads to the difficulties in hearing… “the struggling speaker in my dream”.

Last time I looked, the moderately respectable ‘archaeoacoustics’ studied the resonant possibility in a sacred site. A sonic latency that can be temporarily activated by human activity. Such as humming, voice-throwing, Old Irish-style keening, monastic chant-song, choirs, organ pipes, flutes, with the built or human-enlarged structure ‘tuned’ to them in some way. Or with the sonics enhanced for ancient sites by natural phenomena, such as wind blowing through a narrow opening or over the ends of smooth tubes, gas-venting caused by decaying vegetation in a underground river (Wetton Mill and Gawain); a rising sea-tide in caves below; natural thermal contraction and expansion; thunder; natural echoes. In this case the sounds themselves are not ‘recorded’ into the fabric of the structure in a re-playable manner, but are instead fleeting and performative (if perhaps somewhat predictable in time, re: wind and water and atmospherics conducive to echoes).

Some Lovecraftians may see a similarity here with the ‘angles’ found in Lovecraft’s “The Dreams in the Witch House”. Or perhaps even the strange precipitous Rue d’Auseil in “Erich Zann” (Dec 1921), whose masonry seems entirely dedicated to lifting the street up toward the single gable window that offers a small sonic platform to ‘beyond’.[1] But Lovecraft offers us not only a possible accumulator or focus-point-in-architecture but also the diffuse aether-sound that might be thus accumulated. He posits an infinitely attenuated diffuse rather than localised sound, sound at “the very brink of audibility”, overflowing into our dimension or time. Such as is in “The Hound”, and later in “The Dreams in the Witch House” (1933)…

“the exaggerated sense of hearing was scarcely less annoying. Life had become an insistent and almost unendurable cacophony, and there was that constant, terrifying impression of other sounds — perhaps from regions beyond life — trembling on the very brink of audibility.”

Whatever one thinks about ‘paleoacoustics’ and ‘archaeoacoustics’, the inspiration they once gave to spiritual artisans may now make them actually replicable and realisable with new technologies. With new ‘smart’ materials, new architectural methods, new media and cheap sensors. In nanotechnology and ‘smart skins’, for instance, we may eventually have the tools to realise the fanciful April Fools’ Day notion of embedded ‘paleoacoustics’ in very fabric of tangible objects. Something that was tentatively named in a recent paper as “Tassophonics: nanotechnology as the magical unknown“…

“The goal is to assess if the introduction of nanotechnology as a ‘magical unknown’ can be used to seed and affect our relationships to objects and archived memories.”

In the meantime ‘paleoacoustics’, ‘archaeoacoustics’ and ‘tassophonics’ all appear to offer interesting ideas for imaginative and future-focussed writers, and (so far as I can tell) it’s been very much under-explored so far. Admittedly, I’m not that familiar with the Cthulhu Mythos beyond Lovecraft, but I don’t recall reading about such plot devices in Joshi’s Rise and Fall survey of the sub-genre.


1. [] One might expect the steeple and bell-tower in “Haunter” to elicit some evocation of sonics, but these are consistently muffled and indistinct (“dull fumbling sounds inside the black tower” etc) until one “earsplitting crash of sound” which a few paragraphs later is linked with the strange death of Blake.

Have a cow…

Lovecraft had cats. Robert E. Howard had a cow

“Yes, there was a cow. I saw the critter. Her name was Delhi, and hump shouldered to suggest Indian blood—Asian-Indian, I mean.” — E. Hoffmann Price to L. Sprague de Camp, 11th Feb 1977.

Bobby Derie snaps on the rubber gloves, and investigates in depth.

I can add that Lovecraft also had a cow. Apparently it was kept by his grandfather on the vacant lot which lay directly west of the Phillips mansion, when Lovecraft was a young boy…

… the family cow — a beloved possession reminiscent of the prehistoric Greene days ere my grandfather became an urban dweller.” (letter to Kleiner)

March 2019 on Tentaclii

March 2019 saw 15,000 words posted here at Tentaclii. Two new $1 Patrons were added, Leslie S. Klinger and Martin Andersson, who together nudged the total up from $41 to $43 a month. Please encourage other likely readers to support Tentaclii — all it takes is pledging $1 a month or more via Patreon.

Content posted here during March 2019:

An important but overlooked point about Lovecraft’s time in New York was uncovered, his seeing Fritz Lang’s Siegfried in 1925, and the ‘what’ and the ‘where’ of the movie’s showing in New York was investigated. Along the way, a small but important new aspect of the career of Arthur Leeds was identified. It also led me to wonder why this event was not included in Letters from New York or I Am Providence, as the facts originate in a Lovecraft letter held at Brown University.

Other investigative posts also took me to New York City, first tracking down the locations of the Binkin bookstores from the 1970s back into the 1930s, and along the way getting more context for this aspect of the mysterious rediscovery of a horde of rare Lovecraft material in the early 1970s. Looking for Binkin on the edge of Red Hook then led me to find out about Lovecraft’s favourite bookstore in the pest-zone — Schulte’s Book Store — and to discover photos of the exterior and descriptions of the interior.

A likely inspiration for Lovecraft’s Akeley in “The Whisperer in Darkness” was suggested and investigated. I also took an illustrated plunge into The Endless Caverns with Lovecraft, and a long illustrated stroll around Lovecraft’s Roger Williams Park in Providence. The nature of the ‘Waldorf Lunch’ restaurants was also uncovered, and good photo of a Providence branch found.

Many new or forthcoming books were noted and linked, mostly scholarship and history books. But also some curiosities, such as a colourized facsimile of the Home Brew “The Lurking Fear”.

One important book, Frank Belknap Long’s memoir Howard Phillips Lovecraft: Dreamer on the Nightside, was also noted in a new affordable ebook version.

The Open Lovecraft page had about seven new additions of free scholarly works, found and linked.

A sprinkling of blog posts noted excellent art, one free font, and one graphic novel adaptation with page previews.

New arrivals of old scans were noted: the entire 1923 run of Weird Tales was linked up in a post; as was the useful Lovecraft essay “Some Backgrounds to Fairyland”; Hugh B. Cave’s book Magazines I Remember: Some Pulps, Their Editors, And What it Was Like to Write For Them was found, read and the useful bits extracted; also found was a short 1933 biography of Weird Tales editor Farnsworth Wright and some other similar snippets. I’d quite like to write a detailed book-length biography of Farnsworth Wright, but on calculating the likely cost it would be just too expensive to obtain all the needed materials, and even then it would probably only sell 20 copies.

I also noticed and linked some choice store discounts, a generous scholarship from S.T. Joshi in the field of Lovecraft Studies, and a major forthcoming Lovecraft auction.

And finally, I managed to get my ebook version published for my 22,000-word The Cracks of Doom: Untold Tales in Middle-earth book. This was not as easy as it sounds, as in the end I had to hand-code it in HTML in order to preserve the vital indenting of the print version. But it was useful, as the book had yet another round of close proof-reading and ten more additions exclusive to the ebook. Only one ebook copy has sold so far, and two in print (probably to the Tolkien Estate and their lawyer), but hopefully it will eventually start selling.

Charles W. Stewart

Haunted #1 (March 1963). I’d never heard of it, but thought it worth mentioning here simply for the elegant pen-work on the cover art by Charles W. Stewart…

… whose work I’m very pleased to now discover. The single-volume edition of the Gormenghast books I had read had none of these illustrations, and I’d never heard they existed. There appears to be no Collected Illustrations of Charles W. Stewart artbook, but there obviously should be. Nor does there appear to be even a Wikipedia page for him.

Anyway, the Haunted ‘zine also had non-fiction from Robert Bloch (“A Stake in the Future”) which another source suggests may possibly have been on how the movies were modernising vampirism (rather than some futurist sci-fi nostrums). Plus Samuel D. Russell on H.P. Lovecraft. It doesn’t appear to be on Archive.org or the fanzine archives yet.

Exhibition: Masters of the Fantastic

Launched with a opening party last night, the large new “Masters of the Fantastic” show at the Society of Illustrators galleries in New York City….

“an exhibition of more than 100 examples of the genre’s finest artistic works. MASTERS OF THE FANTASIC encompasses a full range of otherworldly images—from dragons, specters and demons, to the far reaches of deep space—in the form of paintings, drawings and sculpture”

The show runs until 8th June 2019. Originals, not prints, if Michael Whelan sending paintings such as his major ‘Hari Seldon’ painting (the Asimov Foundation trilogy cover) is anything to go by.

New Book: Double-bill Terrors

A new book from McFarland, just published, is “Twice the Thrills! Twice the Chills!” Horror and Science Fiction Double Features, 1955–1974. The cover is too violent for a free blog on WordPress.com, but the Contents show that it’s a comprehensive survey that steps through the double-bills in chronological order. A sample from 1967…

1967

Prehistoric Women & The Devil’s Own
The Projected Man & Island of Terror
Frankenstein Created Woman & The Mummy’s Shroud
Bloody Pit of Horror & Terror-Creatures from the Grave
They Came from Beyond Space & The Terrornauts
It! & The Frozen Dead

$60 takes you on the guided tour through the schlock. I’m guessing that after the 1940s about six or seven of them have to be worth seeing.

Friday picture postals from Lovecraft: Schulte’s Book Store

Schulte’s Book Store was at 80 – 82 Fourth Avenue on ‘Booksellers’ Row’ in New York City. Here is Lovecraft writing home, about being unable to resist bagging a 10 cent collection from the store, despite his growing poverty…

“[…] Here I’ll have to admit a fall from grace so far as non-purchasing is concern’d, for a great volume of Bulwer-Lytton, with most of the weird novels complete — Zanoni, A Strange Story, and The House and the Brain — for only ten cents, proved a fatal bait; and I departed from the Schulte Emporium with less in my pocket and more in my hand. But only a dime, remember!” — from a Lovecraft letter of 20th May 1925.

The store was on a ‘Booksellers’ Row’ in the city. That name was first applied to the old Bookseller’s Row, near “St. Clement’s Dane Church in the Strand”, reportedly pulled down in 1903 at which time the New York Observer report it… “is now a mass of fallen and misshapen walls in process of removal, the lime-laden dust pervading the historic atmosphere.” Fourth Avenue then appears to have become the new ‘Booksellers’ Row’ perhaps circa 1911 and was a New York fixture until the 1960s, with a few stores hanging on into the 1970s. Ephemeral New York has a good short article on “Fourth Avenue’s Book Row”.

Schulte’s is seen at the lower end of the above map and was run by Theo Schulte, and from 1925 also by his new business partner Philip Pesky. They had a crowd of bookish boy assistants, and shipping packers in the packing room, all eager to learn the trade. It was the sort of place where Binkin, later to buy a huge Lovecraft collection and hence recall that Lovecraft had once patronised his book store, might have started off in the trade — and thus seen Lovecraft’s face on a regular basis in the 1920s.

By 1938 the store’s magazine adverts had it that the store… “invites you to browse among their interesting stock of over 500,000 used books.” (Saturday Review of Literature). A 1939 Harper’s Bazaar profile had it that the store was located “in about the most Victorian section of New York”. It was also well known that Schulte was always willing to buy good books that one had finished with.

There’s no interior photography that I can find online, but there are two evocative passages that describe the interior experience of the store as it would have been had by Lovecraft and his circle…

“Schulte was the eminence grise of the book trade … His shop at 80 [and 82] Fourth Avenue was legendary. Like the other bookstores, it had a large sidewalk stock out front, where you can choose for your pennies, tomes in old—fashioned binding and printing. But inside, behind front windows that proclaimed it LARGEST SECOND HAND BOOKSTORE IN NY, it was uniquely impressive with a huge main floor, tall balconies, and a cavernous basement. It was also well stocked. “Inside,” according to Guido Bruno’s Adventures, “are shelves laden with books in delightful disorder left by the book-hunter who looked through them before you. So large was the place that the staff could not keep up with all the action: shoppers were responsible for switching on and off the bare bulbs that lighted the alcoves and labyrinthine paths of the store.” (from Thieves of Book Row: New York’s Most Notorious Rare Book Ring).

By the 1960s it had less books than the 500,000 of its heyday, and Mr. Schulte had passed on in 1950…

“Surveying its barn-like main floor, its basement and three-sided balcony, an awestruck customer called Schulte’s “a great amphitheater” in which there seemed to sit “arranged all the books that were ever penned.” When I visited it, every stair step and nearly every floor board in the place creaked with nearly every footfall, but there were 140,000 books on its shelves, and, if a person could not find what he wanted, there were these lines to reassure him: “The Mounties always get their crook! And Schulte’s always get their book,” in proud, if flawed, poesy. If there wasn’t enough on the main floor, it was upstairs to Asia, Africa and Religion, two land masses leading on to infinity — up there amid pipes and low-hanging bare light bulbs, which customers turned on and off as they moved from section to section. Tables were heaped with books in stacks running thirty high and, if you saw a title that looked tempting near the base of a stack, it was quite a trick to slip it out without spilling a tower of books.” (from McCandlish Phillips, City Notebook).

Incidentally, amazingly it was Lovecraft who in 1922 had introduced the New York native Frank Belknap Long to the second-hand bookshops of New York. Not the other way around.