next impression of Providence

It’s very hilly, in a few places almost as extreme as San Francisco or Montmartre. You’d get a workout from living here.

The back areas of old streets and houses, say 5 or 6 blocks north of the Brown campus, are really quiet and charming. That was Lovecraft’s playpen, and it’s quite easy to see why he’d fall in love with his home city and not want to stay away for long. (Although, like many others, he was fully willing to admit that Quebec City was the most beautiful in all of North America. I’ve never been there, but have heard and read almost unanimously glowing reports of the place– from Stonewall Jackson through Francis Parkman through Lovecraft through people I simply happen to know. Quebec City remains high on my list of places to visit for that reason. Also a very important battlefield there from the Montcalm vs. Wolfe fight, one of the few major battles in history where both opposing commanders were killed. This was the climax of what we in the States call “The French & Indian War.”)

But back to the topic. I think it’s important, whenever you’re writing about somebody, to have some familiarity with their physical environment. Not that you’re ever able to put it literally into words (not “the exaggerated calm of Lovecraft’s home city is probably what drove him towards a literary obsession with the monstrous and abornmal,” or something stupidly literal like that).

No, it’s subtler than that. The Providence references in his stories are already a lot funnier, and I’ve only been here half a day at most.

Previously, I had the chance to go to Meßkirch shortly before writing Heidegger Explained (I already knew Freiburg, though I have systematically avoided “the hut” so far). When preparing Prince of Networks I quite deliberately went to visit Beaune, Latour’s hometown. I’m not sure I could draw any literal link between the geography of Beaune and Latour’s philosophy either, but somehow having been there made me a better Latour “winetaster,” no pun intended. As for Meillassoux, Paris and the ENS are his landscape, both of them already familiar to me.

As for Lovecraft, if I had to put my vague inclinations into words about his status vis-à-vis the city, in the past few hours he’s started to seem like a happier figure to me.

I’d never thought of it before, but I suppose he must also have had a Rhode Island accent. I rather like them. They’re softer than Boston but still have a trace of Bostonian.

where some of his most important writing was done

In this house, after splitting up with Sonia, leaving New York and returning to his native city. His aunt was in one of the apartments here at 10 Barnes Street, and Lovecraft was in a different apartment on the main floor. (His parents were both long since dead, of course, both of them insane to various degrees.)

[ADDENDUM: The street number now seems to be 12, but you can’t miss the place if you’ve seen the photo. There’s a “for rent” sign on one of the apartments right now.]

first impressions

The area around Brown is smaller than expected, but there’s still plenty to do. It’ll be a busy month here anyway. (I’m only here for a few nights this time, but coming back for an extended stay a couple of weeks from now.)

Not far from where I’m staying is the first pair of Lovecraft-related buildings I ran across. Some of you will remember the following passage from “The Call of Cthulhu”:

“Wilcox [the decadent sculptor] lived alone in the Fleur-de-Lys Building on Thomas Street, a hideous Victorian imitation of seventeenth century Breton architecture which flaunts its stuccoed front amidst the lovely colonial houses on the ancient hill, and under the very shadow of the finest Georgian steeple in America.”

First, here’s the “hideous Victorian imitation of seventeenth century Breton architecture” (which happened to be placed on the national historic registry in 1992):

Second, directly across the street, is “the finest Georgian steeple in America” (quite impressive, actually):

Just about a block and a half from there is the former mortuary where Lovecraft’s funeral was held, though I don’t have a photo of it.

Providence

I’m here, even if my luggage isn’t. 70% of the people on that flight didn’t get their luggage, which I’ve never seen happen before.

Apparently, the pilot in Detroit on the 10 AM Providence flight was simply a no-show. (Not a good career move for the pilot.) So all those people got jammed in with us on the 12:12 flight, one of those tiny turboprops, and there wasn’t enough room for all the luggage. So they just said “to heck with it,” and left it all behind in Detroit. It’ll be here today, though.

The only time I was “in” Providence before was passing through on the train both ways (and not getting off). That was 1988. I was traveling from Annapolis to Boston to see a friend. But I’ve had weird karmic connections to the city over the years.

where “At the Mountains of Madness” goes wrong

I was reading it again on the flight yesterday, and my opinion remains the same.

For the first 40 pages or so, I think it’s Lovecraft’s best work. But then it goes wrong midway through Section V, with the following sentence. Dyer and Danforth have just finished surveying the startling Cyclopean city in the Antarctic from the air:

“So far we had made no landing, yet to leave the plateau without an attempt at entering some of the monstrous structures would have been inconceivable.”

No, inconceivable only because Lovecraft feels like giving a 60-page description of the two Miskatonic University researchers walking around the interior of that super-ancient, unknown city.

And while those 60 pages aren’t completely devoid of nice passages, in my opinion they turn into sheer pulp, replacing the true mysterious horror of the first 40 pages with excessive literal detail about the history and culture of a non-human race from the stars (impossibly grasped from murals in just a few hours of walking around).

The pop culture equivalent, in my opinion, was when George Lucas forever ruined the Star Wars franchise by replacing the perfectly effective vague notion of “The Force” with a comically detailed theory of tiny creatures living in our blood and creating the Force, or whatever it was.

In short, I don’t want to know that the Elder Ones are just like us deep down, that they’re civilization rose and then fell, that they took pride in their achievements, that they feared other ultra-ancient species and fought battles with them, etc. It sounds like a good Dungeons and Dragons campaign that someone came up with, but I would rather the horror be left vague and compelling, just as it was during the first 40 pages.

What he should have done is, plausibly enough, had Dyer and Danforth react so hysterically to the sight of that massive city that, combined with the horror they found in the camp, they immediately turn the plane around and return to the others, exclaiming with horror that they all need to leave the Antarctic as soon as possible, etc. The effect of the story would then have been perfect.

Incidentally, it’s been noted before, but that Miskatonic University faculty has a very interesting life.

SEP panel on OOO and aesthetics

Robert Jackson has the details, HERE.