“Death would be a boon, if only it could block out the memories.” (The Call of Cthulhu, Chapter 3)
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I was in need of some stimulating fiction last week, so I browsed through my Librivox app and stumbled upon this classic, chilling tale from H.P. Lovecraft. If you’ve never used Librivox before, I highly recommend it—audio books read by amateurs, though some of those amateurs are phenomenal.
Prior to enjoying this story, my only other experience from this legendary horror-writer was Herbert West: Reanimator (1922)—a Frankenstein-like story of zombies that was enough “horror” to last me nearly 5 years. It’s just not my favorite genre.
A Brief Summary of The Call of Cthulhu
This brief tale follows a fella named Francis Wayland Thurston who pieces together a mystery that his dead uncle had been investigating for years—that there is an ancient monster living deep in the ocean depths, feeding dreams to humanity and biding his time before he takes over the planet.
The documents Thurston works through take the reader all over the world to cults who worship this being of which they’ve only dreamt. We see idols created by various cultures that help us visualize the creature—a monstrous beast, like a mix between an octopus and a dragon—and in Chapter 3, we eventually get to see the creature itself. Through one terrifying ship’s log, we read of men who accidentally stumbled upon his ocean lair and opened his gates. Few survived.
Why the Story Sticks
It’s no huge surprise to me that The Call of Cthulhu was but the first in what eventually grew into a whole web of Cthulhu-related tales—not just involving Cthulhu himself, but other ancient god-like creatures as well, some more terrifying than he.
This universe that Lovecraft created was dubbed “The Cthulhu Mythos,” and if you’ve never heard of it, join the club. Even today, however, a century later, there’s a whole subculture of folks who steep themselves in this wild world of terror—and they make some pretty fascinating art!
Lovecraft’s writing, though, is really what gripped me. He had a way with words—slippery adjectives and intentionally jagged nouns especially—that paint a dismal yet clear picture of the scenes playing out in his mind. Take this one paragraph of many from Chapter 3:
Johansen and his men landed at a sloping mud-bank on this monstrous Acropolis, and clambered slipperily up over titan oozy blocks which could have been no mortal staircase. The very sun of heaven seemed distorted when viewed through the polarising miasma welling out from this sea-soaked perversion, and twisted menace and suspense lurked leeringly in those crazily elusive angles of carven rock where a second glance shewed concavity after the first shewed convexity.
Not Exactly Writing from a Christian Worldview
I write that heading as a tongue-in-cheek, because obviously H.P. Lovecraft wasn’t writing Christian fiction. Instead, he was a deeply pessimistic dude who dwelt a bit too heavily on the meaninglessness of life. To him, the universe was so vast and history so broad that he—along with the rest of us—was less than a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. Had anyone quote Psalm 8 to him, he’d have laughed in their face.
But, oh! I’m so glad not to be burdened with such fatalism! What joy it is to know that one gracious, and loving Creator-God not only exists but also cares about little ol’ me, speck (or worm) that I am!
O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is Your name in all the earth,
Who have set Your glory above the heavens! …When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,
The moon and the stars, which You have ordained,
What is man that You are mindful of him,
And the son of man that You visit him?
For You have made him a little lower than the angels,
And You have crowned him with glory and honor…O Lord, our Lord, How excellent is Your name in all the earth!
Conclusion
I enjoyed this book for its fantasy and horror, but I don’t think I’d ever want to make it my steady diet. It is, however, yet another proof that just because something is old doesn’t mean it’s outdated.
If you’d like a chilling tale that stirs you into hopelessness (some people go for that sort of thing!), H.P. Lovecraft has got a story or two for you.
©2026 E.T.