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Introduction
A few days ago, I found myself on a completely aimless quest in search of a special edition of a book by H.P. Lovecraft. One of those editions packed with extras: concept art, posters, and other bits and bobs designed to make anyone spend their money on a mere piece of cardboard. I came across an incredible edition, with a really striking cover and loads of features that seemed well worth it. Like any sensible person, I decided to check the customer reviews before making a purchase. That’s when I stumbled upon something curious: among the many compliments, a few negative reviews caught my eye.
As a Lovecraft fan, of course that bothered me. After all, defending what we love is almost instinctive, isn’t it? So, I decided to look into the reason behind those negative opinions. Was the edition poorly written, badly translated, or sloppily edited? No. The problem lay elsewhere.
I read a few comments and found one criticism that seemed to sum up the general dissatisfaction: “nonsensical stories, just a bunch of random tales with no conclusion, no meaning, nothing explained.” Others described the book as dull, hollow, and dragging. It wasn’t a flood of criticism, but those comments certainly caught my attention.
That small discovery got me thinking. Are some of the figures we hold in such high regard really as brilliant as we believe? I’m not talking strictly about technical quality, but about our perception of them. After all, is Lovecraft truly that amazing? Or, better yet: how many people who talk about him have actually read his stories?
I’m not here to criticise the author’s storytelling skills or delve into his well-known prejudices. What I want to explore is this: why do some people feel disappointed when they read H.P. Lovecraft for the first time?
The Cultural Fascination with Lovecraft
Who was H.P. Lovecraft?
To some, H.P. Lovecraft is a literary genius whose works transcend time and continue to inspire generations of artists. Born in 1890 in Providence, Rhode Island, in the United States, he’s widely recognised as the pioneer of the “cosmic horror” genre. His writing delves into the idea that the universe is vast, indifferent, and terrifyingly incomprehensible to the human mind. While his stories weren’t popular during his lifetime, they gained recognition after his death, thanks to the efforts of August Derleth, founder of Arkham House.
Among his most famous works is The Call of Cthulhu, which introduced the infamous Cthulhu — a colossal, unfathomable creature whose very appearance can drive a person to madness. His stories go beyond the tangible, trapping readers in the overwhelming notion of our own insignificance in the face of such monstrous forces.
How Lovecraft was Shaped by Pop Culture
Lovecraft lived a reclusive life and mostly published his stories in pulp magazines, which didn’t have much reach. After his death, however, August Derleth preserved and expanded his work, giving rise to the cosmology for which Lovecraft is now widely known. Beyond that, Lovecraft has influenced countless writers, filmmakers, and artists, keeping his legacy alive to this day.
His contributions to the arts are vast. We can see his fingerprints all over horror, sci-fi, and fantasy. Films like The Thing and games like Bloodborne are well-known examples.
What happened is rather curious: pop culture took Lovecraft’s creatures and vague horror and turned them into visual icons. From the comments I mentioned earlier, I realised that, in many cases, an author’s reputation becomes detached from their actual work. The popular opinion of Lovecraft often seems based on a constructed idea. After all, how can someone form a solid opinion — whether positive or negative — on something without ever having had meaningful exposure to the work itself, relying only on summary videos or similar content? Sadly, I believe a large part of pop culture is built on that sort of superficiality.
A “False” Lovecraft
I say the perception of Lovecraft is forged because, judging by the comments that kicked off this whole discussion, the criticisms aimed at the author seem to focus precisely on the defining features of his writing. I chose Lovecraft as a notable example of this because his stories highlight how we often build expectations based on inauthentic impressions.
If your entire perception of him is shaped by images floating around the internet, by someone constantly banging on about “cosmic horror this, cosmic horror that,” or by texts hailing him as the grand architect of a rich and intricate mythology, you’re likely to be disappointed when you actually sit down to read his work.
In truth, Lovecraft’s legacy manifests in pop culture in ways that don’t always reflect the actual content of his stories. Which brings us back to that question: is Lovecraft really that brilliant? In this context, it’s interesting to observe how he’s become an iconic figure, even though his fame often outweighs people’s actual familiarity with his writing.
It’s quite common to hear people praising the author or his literary genre without ever having read a single story. More often than not, they base their opinions on fragmented or idealised information — like summary videos and pop culture references. We get swept up in these shallow conceptions and express admiration based on what we’ve heard or seen, rather than what we’ve actually read.
Unrealistic Expectations
I think a similar phenomenon occurs with one of Lovecraft’s biggest influences, Edgar Allan Poe — one of the most renowned authors of all time.
Think for a moment: how much do you actually know about this writer? Be honest with yourself. What have you read by Poe? You might mention The Raven — after all, it’s probably his most famous work. But did you know that The Raven is actually a poem? Even if you’ve never read a single line of his writing, chances are you still have the impression that Poe wrote incredible, fantastic, and chilling tales. But do we really know Poe’s writing? Or are we just assuming his works are dark and fascinating based on the image built up around him?
We don’t truly grasp the author’s writing or the nuances of his prose — we don’t understand his word choices, the intricate structure of his paragraphs, or the quality of his descriptions. And while it’s not necessary to master all these technical aspects, more than simply imagining the greatness of Poe’s works, it’s essential to engage directly with his writing. I mean a ‘real’ engagement — one free from the hallucinogenic filter of Pop Culture.
We’ve also got the example of The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. Everyone brings up what’s on the very first page — the man who wakes up transformed into an insect. But for many, that’s where the literary experience ends, reducing an entire work to a single overused idea.
The Great Disappointment: When Expectations Don’t Match Reality
Lovecraft’s Writing Style: A Barrier?
Reading Lovecraft can be challenging, especially for readers more accustomed to straightforward narratives. His prose is dense and prioritises atmosphere over action. He writes in a flowery and highly descriptive style, often resorting to archaic vocabulary. This sense of antiquity lends his work an air of erudition, echoing the vastness of the hidden knowledge that permeates his stories. While some readers delight in this rich language, others find it a barrier, making the text feel opaque. For those who prefer fast-paced plots or dynamic dialogue, Lovecraft can come across as heavy and unnecessarily verbose.
Horror in Absence
Another source of disappointment for some readers is the way Lovecraft portrays his creatures. Rather than describing them in graphic detail, he prefers to suggest, to imply, and to highlight the psychological impact these entities have on human minds. This approach can be frustrating for those expecting more explicit horror. Lovecraft aims to convey — with paradoxical clarity — vague sensations through the fantastic, tearing at the edges of reality as though it were a fragile fabric on the verge of splitting apart.
It’s at this point that existential dread takes centre stage, taunting us like a cunning demon. There are no definitive answers to the questions raised in his stories — only conjecture. It’s almost like taking part in a guessing game about what lies beyond death. This absence of resolution is exactly what makes his narratives all the more intriguing.
The gaps and voids in the text invite the reader’s imagination to fill them with the worst horrors the mind can conjure. We are left to speculate, to trust or mistrust the narrator, to wonder what is real and what is imagined. In the end, a persistent uncertainty remains — and a near-sadistic curiosity, fuelled by our own helplessness in the face of the unknown.
Some readers may argue that Lovecraft’s stories follow a predictable formula. There’s always something ancient, unimaginable, and terrifying beyond human comprehension. While this contributes to the consistency of his universe, it can also become dull for those reading several stories back-to-back. Just a bunch of random, loose, fragmented, and disconnected accounts. You won’t find an elaborately built world or a rich mythology of alien gods with deep backstories. It was August Derleth who worked to ensure Lovecraft’s contributions to horror were recognised, preserved, and expanded through the “Cthulhu Mythos”. Lovecraft’s stories present themselves as isolated accounts — diary fragments, letters, or personal testimonies — lacking a grand, overarching narrative. They are merely people stumbling upon inexplicable supernatural events.
Conclusion
That’s all I had to say for now about one of the reasons I believe some things seem far more interesting from a distance. Not every reader is going to enjoy Lovecraft — and that’s perfectly fine. Perhaps he’s simply not that good, and time has romanticised him. Whether you’re a fan or a critic, the best approach is to dive into the stories yourself and form your own opinion.
It’d be great if you could share your thoughts on all this in the comments.
Thanks for reading.
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