La casa sull'abisso

Di William H. Hodgson

In una collana di testi fantastici classici non può certamente mancare quello che senza dubbio ha influenzato più di ogni altro H.P. Lovecraft: in edizione integrale vi presentiamo quindi l'opera che quasi tutta la critica definisce «fondamentale» nel panorama della letteratura fantastica mondiale. Si tratta di un romanzo di orrore fantascientifico, dove la cantina della casa che si protende sull'Abisso porta in un'altra dimensione, in un altro tempo e in un altro spazio. Ci troviamo in un non-luogo dove tutto è già avvenuto e dove ovviamente sono presenti dei mostri i quali, provenendo dall'interno della casa che costituiva il baluardo contro il pericolo, indicano invece che una salvezza - peraltro assai improbabile - è altrove, al di fuori... Chissà che quella casa sull'Abisso non sia poi il nostro mondo?


William H. Hodgson

William Hope Hodgson nacque nell'Essex, in Gran Bretagna, nel 1877. Figlio di un pastore protestante, s'imbarcò giovanissimo rimanendo in mare per otto anni. Questo periodo influenzò profondamente la sua attività letteraria che iniziò nel 1906 in Francia dove si era trasferito. Premesso che i due cardini fondamentali della narrativa di Hodgson sono la Casa e il Mare, tra i suoi libri più famosi vanno citati The Ghost Pirates, The Boats of Glen Carrig, Carnacki the Ghost Finder e The Night Land del 1914. Arruolatosi nell'esercito inglese durante la Prima Guerra Mondiale, morì in combattimento sul suolo francese nell'aprile del 1918.

• Lingua: Italiano
• Editore: Newton Compton Editori
• Data di uscita: 16 dic 2013
• ISBN: 9788854142091

Anteprima del libro

Introduzione

Per innumerevoli ore ho riflettuto sulla storia che è presentata nelle pagine seguenti. E innumerevoli volte, nella mia veste di redattore del manoscritto, ho provato la tentazione di dargli una forma letteraria; ma non credo che il mio istinto si sbagli, nel suggerirmi di lasciarlo così com’è scritto, in tutta la sua semplicità.

E il manoscritto… cercate di immaginarvi la scena, allorché giunse nelle mie mani e io lo osservai da ogni lato, con curiosità, e ne sfogliai rapidamente, distrattamente, le pagine. È un quaderno di non grande dimensione, ma ha molte pagine, anzi tutte, eccetto le ultime, scritte in una grafia strana ma leggibile, in lettere assai minute. Ancora adesso, mentre scrivo, mi pare di fiutare l’odore di muffa delle sue pagine, e di avere sotto le dita la sua carta gualcita dall’umidità. Ricordo senza difficoltà la mia prima impressione del contenuto del quaderno: che fosse un racconto di fantasia. Tale mi parve leggendo qualche parola qui e là, senza eccessiva attenzione.

Ora, pensate invece a quando, comodamente seduto in poltrona, mi sono accinto a passare le ore della sera in compagnia delle sue pagine. E a come sia cambiato il mio giudizio! Dapprima il sospetto che potesse trattarsi di fatti realmente accaduti. Da quella che sembrava una narrazione fantastica, era emersa una coerente, convincente successione di idee, che avevano assorbito la mia attenzione ben più che se si fosse trattato di una cronaca o di una storia, quale delle due fosse la natura di quella narrazione (e confesso di essere tentato di usare il primo dei due termini). In quella che pareva una storia senza importanza, trovai il resoconto di grandi eventi, e ciò che pareva assurdo e paradossale divenne ragionevole.

Lo lessi e, leggendo, allontanai da me i veli dell’impossibile, che accecano la mente, e spinsi il mio sguardo nell’ignoto. Mi immersi nella sua prosa concisa e priva di artifici retorici e, dopo poche pagine, la sua concisione mi parve affascinante, giacché, assai meglio di qualsiasi espediente stilistico, essa riesce a convogliare al lettore tutto ciò che il Vecchio Recluso, nella sua casa svanita, aveva cercato di dire.

Della semplice, concisa cronaca di eventi straordinari e misteriosi, non dirò nulla. È davanti a voi, e ciò dovrebbe essere sufficiente. Il senso interno di questa storia, ogni lettore dovrà scoprirlo personalmente, secondo la sua capacità e il suo desiderio. E se a qualcuno non accadesse, come accadde a me, di vedervi adombrati le immagini e i concetti di ciò che possiamo chiamare, seguendo la tradizione, paradiso e inferno, anche a questo qualcuno io credo di poter promettere certe emozioni, offrendogli questa storia come una storia e basta.

Un’ultima osservazione, e poi mi ritirerò. La descrizione dei Globi Celesti è una chiara illustrazione (stavo per scrivere prova!) della realtà dei nostri pensieri e delle nostre emozioni. Infatti, senza volerci suggerire di inficiare il nostro concetto di realtà della materia, che è il cardine e la cornice della macchina dell’eternità, ci mostra l’illuminante concezione dell’esistenza di mondi del pensiero e dell’emozione, i quali operano in congiunzione con lo schema della creazione materiale, e da questo rigorosamente dipendono.

William Hope Hodgson

Glaneifion, Borth, Cardiganshire, 17 dicembre 1907

Dal manoscritto rinvenuto dai signori Tonnison e Berreggnog nel 1877, presso un rudere a sud del villaggio di Kraighten nell’Irlanda occidentale. Trascritto, con note, da W.H.H.

A mio padre

(i cui passi valicano gli eoni)

Apri la porta,

E ascolta!

Solo il rombo ovattato del vento,

E il luccichio

Di lacrime intorno alla luna.

E, nell’immaginazione, le orme

di passi che si allontanano…

Fuori, nella notte, con i Morti.

Affrettati! E ascolta

Il doloroso pianto

del vento nell’oscurità.

Affrettati e ascolta, senza protestare e senza guardare,

Le orme che calpestano i perduti eoni:

I suoni che ti impongono di morire.

Affrettati e ascolta!

Le orme dei morti

Angoscia

Una sete crudele regna nel mio cuore;

Non avevo mai immaginato che quest’intero mondo,

Schiacciato nella mano di Dio, potesse dare

Una così amara essenza d’inquietudine,

Un dolore grande come quello che ora il rimpianto

Ha estratto dal suo tremendo cuore, aperto!

Ogni respiro è un gemito,

I battiti del mio cuore sono rintocchi di dolore,

E il mio cervello ha un solo pensiero

Che mai più, per l’intera vita potrò nuovamente

(Eccetto che nel dolore del ricordo)

Toccare la tua mano, che ora non è più!

Nel vuoto della notte io cerco,

Opacamente piangendo il tuo nome;

Ma tu non ci sei; e il vasto trono della notte

Diviene una stupenda cattedrale

Con le stelle che rintoccano come campane verso di me,

Che nell’infinito spazio sono l’essere più solo!

Assetato, striscio verso la riva,

Dove forse qualche sollievo mi sarà dato

Dal cuore eterno dell’antico mare;

Ma guarda! Dalla sua solenne profondità

Voci lontane, misteriose

Paiono chiedere perché siamo separati.

Dovunque vada, io sono solo

Io che un tempo, grazie a te, possedevo il mondo.

Il mio petto è un solo rabbioso dolore

Per ciò che un tempo era, ed ora è fuggito

Nel vuoto dove viene precipitata la vita

Dove ogni cosa non è più, né mai sarà.

(Questi versi, scritti a matita, compaiono su un foglio incollato sulla prima pagina del manoscritto. Tutto farebbe pensare che siano stati scritti diverso tempo prima del manoscritto stesso. W.H.H.)

1. Il rinvenimento del manoscritto

All’estremo limite dell’Irlanda occidentale c’è un piccolo villaggio, chiamato Kraighten. Sorge isolato, ai piedi di una bassa collina. Intorno, si stende per miglia e miglia un paesaggio squallido e inospitale; qui e là si incontrano casupole in rovina, molto distanti l’una dall’altra, abbandonate da chissà quanto tempo, nude e senza tetto. La terra, brulla e deserta, ricopre appena la roccia sottostante, che abbonda in questa regione e affiora, a tratti, in creste ondulate.

Benché la località fosse così desolata, il mio amico Tonnison e io avevamo deciso di trascorrervi le vacanze. Tonnison vi era capitato per puro caso l’anno precedente, durante una lunga escursione a piedi, e aveva scoperto un fiumiciattolo senza nome, che scorre ai margini del villaggio, e che pareva offrire buone possibilità di pesca.

Ho detto che il fiume non ha nome; aggiungerò che né il villaggio né il fiume sono indicati sulle carte da me consultate. A quanto pare, sono passati del tutto inosservati; potrebbero, in effetti, non esistere neppure, stando alle guide in commercio. Ciò può essere dovuto al fatto che la stazione ferroviaria più vicina, Ardrahan, è a quaranta miglia di distanza.

Il mio amico e io arrivammo a Kraighten verso il tramonto d’una tepida giornata di primo autunno. Eravamo giunti ad Ardrahan la sera prima, avevamo pernottato nella locanda che serviva anche da ufficio postale, ed eravamo ripartiti l’indomani mattina di buon’ora, in precario equilibrio su uno dei tipici barocci locali.

Avevamo viaggiato tutto il giorno per le strade più impervie che si possano immaginare, ed eravamo stanchi morti e piuttosto di cattivo umore. Comunque, prima di mangiare o di riposare, occorreva piantare la tenda e sistemare le provviste. Perciò ci mettemmo subito all’opera e in breve, con l’aiuto del conducente, alzammo la tenda in una piccola radura fuori del villaggio, vicino al fiume.

Quando tutto fu a posto, congedammo il conducente, che doveva affrettarsi sulla via del ritorno, con l’intesa che sarebbe tornato a prenderci quindici giorni dopo. Avevamo portato provviste sufficienti per quel periodo: l’acqua potevamo attingerla al fiume e non avevamo bisogno di legna perché il nostro equipaggiamento comprendeva un fornello a petrolio e il clima era caldo e asciutto.

L’idea di campeggiare anziché prendere alloggio presso una famiglia del villaggio era stata di Tonnison, il quale sapeva per esperienza che non è molto divertente dormire in uno di quei casolari irlandesi, con una famiglia numerosa in un angolo e il porcile nell’altro, mentre, sopra di voi, una tribù di spennacchiate galline distribuisce equamente le sue benedizioni, e l’aria è così satura di fumo di carbonella che basta infilare la testa dentro la porta per sentirsi soffocare.

Tonnison aveva già acceso il fornello e affettava la pancetta nel tegamino; perciò presi la brocca e andai per prendere l’acqua al fiume. Passando accanto al villaggio, vidi un gruppetto di paesani che mi squadrarono incuriositi ma senza ostilità, anche se nessuno pronunciò una parola.

Ripassando con la brocca piena, mi avvicinai a loro e, dopo un cenno amichevole del capo, che ricambiarono, chiesi come andava la pesca. Invece di rispondere, scossero il capo e mi fissarono, in silenzio. Ripetei la domanda, rivolgendomi in particolare a uno spilungone che avevo accanto; anche stavolta, nessuna risposta. Poi lo spilungone si girò a un compagno e gli parlò rapidamente in una lingua che non capivo, e subito tutti quanti presero a farfugliare in quella lingua che doveva essere, immaginai, irlandese puro. Discussero tra loro per qualche minuto, lanciando spesso delle occhiate nella mia direzione. Finalmente, lo spilungone si rivolse a me e disse qualcosa. Capii, dall’espressione del suo viso, che era lui, ora, che mi faceva una domanda; e stavolta fui io a scuotere la testa e a far segno che non capivo cosa mi chiedeva. Restammo così a guardarci, finché sentii Tonnison che mi gridava di affrettarmi con l’acqua. Allora mi congedai con un sorriso e un cenno del capo, e tutti mi risposero con un sorriso e un cenno del capo, sempre, però, con un’aria molto perplessa.

Era chiaro, pensavo avviandomi verso la tenda, che gli abitanti di quelle casupole sperdute non conoscevano neppure una parola d’inglese. Quando lo dissi a Tonnison, egli osservò che lo sapeva e che ciò non era affatto insolito in quella regione, dove spesso i contadini vivevano e morivano nei loro villaggi isolati senza aver avuto nessun contatto con il resto del mondo.

– Avremmo dovuto chiedere al conducente di farci da interprete, prima di andarsene – osservai mentre sedevamo a mangiare. – È un po’ imbarazzante che questa gente non sappia neppure perché siamo qui.

Tonnison annuì, senza smettere di mangiare.

Dopo cena restammo un po’ a discutere i progetti per l’indomani, fumando, e alla fine accostammo i lembi della tenda e ci preparammo a coricarci.

– Non ci sarà pericolo che quelli ci portino via qualcosa? – domandai, mentre ci avvolgevamo nelle coperte.

Tonnison rispose che era improbabile, almeno mentre c’eravamo noi, e aggiunse che comunque avremmo potuto chiudere tutto, fuorché la tenda, nella cassa delle provviste. Approvai, e in breve ci addormentammo entrambi.

Il mattino dopo ci alzammo presto e andammo a fare il bagno nel fiume. Poi ci vestimmo e facemmo colazione. Quindi tirammo fuori gli arnesi da pesca e ci avviammo verso la località che il mio amico aveva esplorato durante la sua visita precedente.

Pescammo beatamente tutto il giorno, sempre risalendo il fiume, e prima di sera avevamo quasi più pesce di quanto ne potessimo portare. Tornati al villaggio, facemmo un’ottima cena con il ricavato della giornata e, dopo aver messo da parte alcuni dei pesci più belli per la colazione dell’indomani, regalammo gli altri ai contadini che, radunati a rispettosa distanza, ci stavano osservando. Mostrarono di gradirli moltissimo e riversarono sul nostro capo fiumi di benedizioni irlandesi, o almeno così supposi.

Trascorremmo alcuni giorni continuando a pescare con fortuna e

Recensioni su La casa sull'abisso

[pidgeon92_1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Excellent storytelling.

[jannes_16 · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

An odd mix of speculative cosmic horror, gothic mystery and monster horror story. More interesting than good, I suppose. In my somewhat limited experience it feels proto-Lovecraftian, but I suspect that might be reductive. Some passages are genuinely chilling, while others is obtuse and a slog to get through even as they fascinates on a conceptual level. Recommended for horror aficionados and those deeply interested in the earliest moments of weird fiction.

[ireed110 · Valutazione: 1 su 5 stelle]

Okay. So these 2 chums go on a fishing expedition in a strange little town. They find a creepy old brokedown house and an old journal and take it back to the tent. The next 90% of the book is the legible contents of the journal.The journal relates a tale of woe by the former occupant of the house. He runs into a bunch of scary monsters and has some adventures with them. Then he embarks on a journey through time and space where he catches a glimpse of the heretofore unmentioned love of this guy's life. And we're back to the fishing buddies who wonder briefly if the writer is nuts, but then decide ohhh, no, OF COURSE it was real. Uhh, yeah. This is supposed to be a "classic tale of fantasy and horror". I dunno. I have to say I truly enjoyed the parts where the scary dudes were storming the castle - I thought "wow, this book doesn't suck after all." But, then the scary dudes went away and the time warp part of the story started. How unfortunate that reading about time moving very very quickly can make my own time move very very slowly. Every agonizing detail - and it was the same every day - was eked out, over and over and over again. The sun rose. It flashed across the sky. It disappeared in the west. The moon rose. It flashed across the sky. It disappeared again. The sun rose. Yadda yadda yadda, ad infinitum. Oh man it was tedious. Every few pages he'd make an interesting discovery (like formerly live things turning to dust), but otherwise he just stood at the window for a bunch of centuries and watched. I just don't get it. This book has been given a whole boatload of 4 and 5 star ratings by readers who clearly have a lot more patience than I do. The story as a whole is interesting, true, but the drudgery of getting through it for me was unbearable. I'm going to give it one point for having some good ideas. This is a true 1/2-pointer for me, but I'll give up the other 1/2 just because it's supposed to be a "classic."

[skiewulfy · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

This is an interesting story, best thought of as two short stories. The first half deals with an old house under seige from otherworldly creatures and makes an entertaining read. The second half, which goes off the deep end of pre-Lovecraftian "fear of insignificance" themes, is too dense to be enjoyed, but worth reading nonetheless.

[sturlington_1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Two fishermen on vacation in the Irish countryside discover an eerie pit, the remains of a house and a mysterious manuscript written by the man who once lived there, describing his voyages through space and time and his battles with bizarre swine-people perhaps from another dimension.This short novel, published in 1908, is an interesting early example of weird fiction. It's quite surreal and doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but it's worth reading just for historical interest, as well as for the lurid descriptions. The character I most sympathized with was the narrator's sister, Mary. She obviously thought her brother was cuckoo, and I tend to agree with her.Reading fantasy classics (2014).

[prop2gether · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Listened to the Libravox recording by Alan Winterrowd--very nicely done.

[dinadansfriend · Valutazione: 2 su 5 stelle]

An early experiment in trans-dimensional existence. A classic read for completeness. written in 1908.

[litfan_1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

My head is still spinning from this trippy little novel, in a good way. I don't think I've read anything quite like it. Part supernatural, part horror with a smidge of sci fi, it defies convention. Definitely a book that can be read in one sitting, so you can really get absorbed into the story.The basic plot consists of two friends on holiday, who find a muddied manuscript in the ruins of a very creepy house perched over an abyss. The manuscript is written by a recluse who lived in the house, to provide an account of the eerie goings-on in his home. The suspense builds slowly, and quite deliciously. (I got so absorbed that at one point when something fell in my house, I thought I was in danger from one of the creatures in the book until I remembered where I was-- that's good writing!) Some of the book focuses on the recluse's experiences in his home, and the later part focuses on a journey he takes through time and space. This later part dragged a bit for me, as it lacked the suspense and energy of the scenes set in the house. But things picked up again, and the ending left me shivering.

[nsenger-1 · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

The House on the Borderland is an eerie novel that ultimately leaves many questions unanswered. Written in 1908, it is often cited as an influence on writers like H.P. Lovecraft and Terry Pratchett, and it is listed in Fantasy: The 100 Best Books, edited by James Cawthorn and Michael Moorcock.I really wanted this book to be good. The beginning starts off promising: two men on a fishing holiday in a remote part of Ireland discover the ruins of a mysterious house and among the debris they recover a rotting journal. The journal records the thoughts of an unnamed man referred to only as the Recluse. The Recluse lived in the House with his sister Mary and his dog Pepper, and after some bizarre and terrifying events happened to him, he decided to keep this journal. The two men on fishing holiday begin to read the journal to each other, and this journal forms the bulk of the novel.Some of the events the Recluse describes are heart-pounding and page-turning, while others are hallucinatory experiences that drag on and on. You know, kind of like Doctor Who episodes from the 1980s. Or like 2001: A Space Odyssey.The best scenes are those that take place in the House, which is almost a character in its own right, and there are some truly chilling moments involving creatures called the Swine-Things.While there were many portions of the book that I really enjoyed, it ultimately left me unsatisfied. There were many unanswered questions, and I wasn't interested enough in the story to try and figure them out through deeper analysis of the text--assuming there is something deeper in the text.To me it is one of those books that are more important because of its influence than because of its artistic merit. Still, it's a fairly quick read and I would recommend it to anyone interested in the roots of the horror or fantasy genres.

[chibitika-1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

I found this book to be fascinating and spooky and atmospheric and original and just plain fun to read. There were long descriptive passages I skipped over because I felt they belabored the point and did nothing to carry the story forward, but it was well worth it because the payoff in chills was great. This is one of those great old horror novels (from 1908) that still delivers if one overlooks just a few passages. One thing - it strongly reminded me of Odd Apocalypse by Dean Koontz, in a good way. It is almost as if Koontz was paying homage to Hodgson. Highly recommended.

[eadieb-1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

This was a great read for the Halloween season as it is a supernatural horror story. I found it to be rather unique and quite creepy. The main character is a recluse who left a diary of his experiences. The old house plays such a part in the story that it assumes a character persona. I would recommend this story for anyone who loves the bizarre, supernatural or science fiction.

[dreesie-1 · Valutazione: 1 su 5 stelle]

This book started off so promising--it was creepy in a science fictiony 1900 kind of way.And then it got weird. Not science fiction weird. More like Carl Sagan narrating a tour of the universe as imagined by some guy in 1900. For chapters and chapters and chapters.And then it goes back to part one, kind of. But now the terror is caused by something completely different.All in just 186 pages.WHY OH WHY is this book on the 1001 list?

[readingover50 · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

I enjoyed the first half of the book. It was more of a conventional, linear horror story. At a little past the half way point, the book suddenly turned very strange. The best word I can use to describe it is "trippy." I thought the travels through time and space went on too long. It was interesting and unique at first, but then became tiresome. The swine faced creatures were a ruthless adversary to the old man. This book gave me a lot to think about.

[kristelh_15 · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

Story written in 1908 about a recluse living in a house on the Borderland. The story is on the surface about a place that is built over a pit where swine like beast live. The man fights of the beast then has a couple of time travels where he visits his lost love and another where he sees the end of the world and solar system and another visit to his lost love. The message is turn from bestial lust (the pit) to the pure undemanding love of the virginal figure (the white sea). Two fishermen on a trip to Ireland, find a manuscript in an old ruin. So this story could be epistolary as it is the reading of this recluses diary. Is this the story of man's journey into madness. It is an example of weird fiction.

[aliciamay_1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Two friends embark on a fishing trip to an isolated part of Ireland. In the ruins of an ancient stone house they find the diary of an elderly man who lived alone with his sister and their pets. The fascinating tale that unravels in the diary is about battles with pig/human like monsters, some cryptic lost love of an unknown form, and the extraordinary acceleration of time and the end of the world. This was certainly a departure from anything I have been reading. I enjoyed how some parts of the story I would be reading at face value, but then little doubts would start to creep in and I would have to question what was happening to the narrator or how he was writing such a tale. The language describing the end of the world was phenomenal and some of the battles with the pig creatures had me on the edge of my seat. I’m not rating this higher because some parts of the story dragged on. The narration was also very choppy with several parts of the story not relating to or being useful to the overall plot (assuming there was supposed to be a plot).

[sf_addict · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

When I downloaded House on the Borderland (1908) I was expecting a gothic horror tale, and at first it did fit into that kind of gothic horror mold, but then it changed, and became something quite strange! Basically its a tale about an old manuscript discovered in an old house, kind of a journal which describes the character's adventures in and around the house. There is a strange pit in the garden which also leads to the house's cellar. There are strange 'swine faced beasts' and a journey into space! I'm not quite sure where this story fits genre wise but it was quite entertaining! Think Edgar Allan Poe meets the Time Machine meets the stargate sequence in 2001 A space Odyssey! Odd but fun!

[chrisriesbeck · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

If you couldn't make it through The Night Land, never fear. The House on the Borderland is much shorter, much faster paced, and in places quite exciting. The framing device, so common to stories a century ago, is fairly quickly told. The meat is the tale told in a found volume, written by the Recluse who lives in the titular house, with a sister who makes so few appearances that for chapters at a time it's not clear if she still lives. Two primary sequences dominate: the siege of the house by swine-people, and an extended visionary voyage to the far far future and the eventual death of the solar system. Interestingly, a third sequence is referred to, involving a reunion with a long-lost love. This sequence though is part of the "lost" pages manuscript. Why Hodgson chose to do this is not clear, but from the painful to read remnants that are presented, these are pages well lost. Virtually nothing is explained. Once, it didn't seem to matter to authors that things remained beyond our ken. The over-written prose still manages to evoke a sense of fear, in the first half, and amazement in the second.

[nadiah2kristensen · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

'The House on the Borderland' is widely acknowledged as a turning-point in gothic fiction, influencing later writers including perhaps Lovecraft himself. For this reason alone it is worth reading, and the language is not nearly as difficult for a modern reader as other works from that era, so there's not much to lose. However, if it were not for the historical place that this work holds, I doubt that it would attract the attention that it does.As several reviewers have noted here, the story does not form a coherent and satisfying whole. Several disparate plot elements are introduced and either insufficiently explored or seemingly abandoned. And one element in particular (the lover) is developed too late in the narrative to justify the significance that it is then given. The reader will not only be left with many unanswered questions, but a sneaking suspicion that they are not so-much "questions" as "holes in the plot". Nevertheless, most parts of the work are either conceptually interesting or genuinely creepy. The second half of the story is particularly interesting for its astronomical scope, something that fans of Lovecraft will recognise and enjoy.

[lisamaria_c · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

This 1908 was recommended in the A Reader's Guide to Fantasy on the "Seven-League Shelf" list of the cream of the fantasy genre. It's even on the "1001 Books to Read Before You Die" list of significant literary fiction. So, definitely a book that has classic status, and if you believe the Wiki, a "milestone" in the transition from traditional Gothic to "cosmic horror" that influenced Lovecraft. It's framed as the first person account of a gentleman on a fishing holiday with his friend in Ireland. They come upon a crumbling ruin and his friend finds a partly damaged manuscript, which forms the bulk of the story. Parts are definitely creepy but several things thwarted my involvement in the story. The narrator, known only by an editorial footnote as "the recluse" is a misanthrope. He lives in an ancient pile with his sister Mary--who doesn't get one line of dialogue--and we learn he's suffered a bereavement--it's his lost love that gets the 3 or so lines of the only dialogue in the book. It makes it really hard to care about him--in fact, I'd say by far the most appealing, heart-tugging character in the book is the narrator's dog Pepper--unfortunately, there's not enough of him, or Tip the cat, to redeem the novel. And there's far, far, far too much of a vision of the heat death of the universe that takes up a third of the novel.Perhaps if I were a literary scholar of Gothic and Horror literature, I'd better appreciate how this work is seminal. As a reader, it mostly left me cold.

[jseger9000 · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

The House on the Borderland (1908) is a landmark in horror fiction. An obvious inspiration to Lovecraft and a bunch of his Weird Tales cronies. It broke away from the old Gothic horrors and introduced cosmic terror.A couple of guys on a sporting holiday in secluded Northern Ireland stumble across the ruins of an old structure on the edge of a large pit. In the wreckage they find a tattered and damaged diary which makes up the rest of the narrative.The ruins used to be a large, oddly designed house and the diary belonged to its owner, an unnamed narrator who lived there with his spinster sister. They got the manor cheap as it has a reputation for being haunted. We follow the narrator and his strange experiences both inside the house and in a large and growing pit in his back garden.I enjoyed Hodgson's writing. The language is a little antiquated, but it isn't that purposely archaic and baroque H.P. Lovecraft stuff that grates after a while. He did a very good job creating an uncomfortable atmosphere. His word choice creates a general sense of eeriness that really worked, even when nothing outright 'scary' is happening. There is some very strong work where our narrator encounters visitors from the pit. At this point, the book was rockin'.But then we fall in to an extended scene where our narrator stares out the window as the house reveals the future of the universe. I know that this may count as a spoiler, but it has to be part of the review as this section is the weight around the book's neck. It is page after page of repetitive description that (ironically considering what the book is describing) drags on and on. Reading through this section really made me want to give up on the book. I have very little patience for stories where the disembodied hero floats along describing weird goings-on. It's like the StarGate section of the film 2001 but stretched out beyond my ability to care. That's also why I don't like Lovecraft's 'dream' stories.The last twenty pages of the book were back on track and it did have a strong finish.The book has a few quirks that should be pointed out: Hodgson is an atmospheric writer as I mentioned. But, I've noticed, the author, William Hope Hodgson, has a love affair, with the comma, that makes me want to break out a red pencil, as I read it. The commas were often unnecessary and out of place, and I found myself reading the booking in the rhythm it was written in, pausing at each comma. It could become... hypnotic after a while.Also, I know the unnamed narrator was a gimmick of a lot of early twentieth century horror, but it made it very hard to connect with the character. Hodgson would also throw in major plot twists from out of nowhere, which made it feel like he was making up the tale as he went along.If anyone is considering reading the book, but is unsure, I'd recommend it. Just understand that my rec is based more on its short length and its place in horror history than its quality of writing, characterization or story telling.

[stahl2ricco · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

A man is trapped in his home, with his injured dog and a ’mad’ sister, surrounded by Swine-creatures, or “the Things”, as he calls them. His tale is told in his manuscript, which is found by two men on a fishing vacation. And honestly, I think the beginning with those two finding the book may have been the creepiest part of this story!“…that strange and terrible journey through space and time.” - was not terrible at all, and for me, it was really boring. Unfortunately, it takes up quite a bit of this book. The author of the manuscript is just having visions, or seeing things, and it really does go on and on. Still it wrapped up well with those odd green wounds! A good, creepy ending to the ‘found’ manuscript!But, still and all, what was in that enormous pit?

[electrascaife · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

*very slight spoilers ahead*If Edgar Allan Poe and George Romero had a child in whom they were both slightly disappointed because he had fallen in with Stanley Kubrick and lots of psychedelic substances, it would be this book. A fever dream populated with possibly time-travelling pig men, a house that seems to be a portal through time and space, and the sad death of not one but TWO dogs. Weird in a definitely not good way. So yeah, that's a big NOPE from me.

[charrlygirl · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

This is a story about an ancient manuscript found by two men on a camping trip. The manuscript actually is the story. I'm not going into the plot itself as the description already does that, but I did want to mention a few things.

The story was a bit slow to start out, and there was a long sort of boring out of body experience. Even though I found this part a bit long winded, I can see the seeds of Lovecraft's Cthulu mythos within.(Lovecraft has said that William Hope Hodgson was a big influence on him). After the protagonist returns to his body things go bat-shit crazy. There are some phenomenally scary scenes and wild things going on.

Then, another long interval (another OOB experience?) that was just weird. I enjoyed this section because it really delved into space. The amount of knowledge displayed by this author about our solar system and how it works is amazing since this book was written in the early 1900s.

All in all though, I enjoyed this story. I would recommend it to anyone interested in Lovecraft.

[jaron_thebookbaron · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

Part action horror, part psychedelic space adventure.
I am not sure what else to say about this one..

[whitewavedarling · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

This is a strong page-turner that I'm still processing. A mix of psychological suspense and horror, the book combines eery situations and beautiful images to create an atmosphere that's enthralling. What seems fairly nondescript at first is a plot and set of situations that quickly become engrossing, drawing you along even when you can't quite tell why you're so fascinated by what's going on in front of you. Structurally, Hodgson formed this perfectly to keep readers both attached and believing in what's going on, despite themselves. If you're looking for a creepy read that you may well finish in one eery sitting, I highly recommend this. For the depth and beauty of language and reading, I'll be revisiting it in the future.