Ok, ek weet dis Engels, maar ek het hierdie tong-in-die-kies vir die H. P. Lovecraft Historical Society geskryf oor Lovecraft se invloed op Afrikana. VRYSTAAAAT! Weird Tales and Lovecraftian Influence in Afrikana in Nonsensical Perspective (An article by Barend Buitekamer ©) There are only three kinds of people in this world. Those who can count and those who can’t. Having said that, I also came to the conclusion that there are only three kinds of people on social networks. Those who post and look at pictures and, those who look at pictures and post them. Reading and writing, it seems, comes second to photography and image manipulation in a cyber-technical age oversaturated with imagery. Over time I’ve become rather frustrated with the state of affairs on my Facebook timeline. Being a writer I post a fair amount of reading material, but I’ve noticed that people just don’t read anymore. They would rather skip reading a piece of prose and concentrate on imagery, simply because, reading something thought provoking or academically stimulating requires the expenditure of too much cerebral and mental energy. Luckily I discovered the existence of a Facebook group called the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society; which diluted my frustration significantly, for within their ranks I found a motley crew of people between the parameters of utterly eccentric and completely insane, individuals that satisfy my need for stimulating intellectual interaction and outlandish lunacy. Yes, they also post and look at pictures, but compared to most mediocre Facebook groups their au fait comments and informed opinions surpass the preferential like-clicks and nonsensical lol-grunts of your average social network user. Over and above that, I derive immense pleasure from their blasphemous humour and bizarre perspectives on subject matter that falls well outside the range of usual human interest and experience. Speaking of which... Usual human experience has taught me that, the antediluvian adage “a picture speaks a thousand words” has become more relevant through the ages than it’s ever been. Personally I think the aphorism have always been, and still is, a grotesquely erroneous conviction. A picture may speak a thousand words, but I have yet to see a photographic image that accurately represents every single character, place, thing, incident, and emotion contained within a weird tale or even a part thereof. When it comes to the written word, the limitations of photographic equipment and image-manipulation applications hold no sway over the infinite and limitless power of human imagination. Period. The book is always beter than the poster and the movie, is it not? These days any Zadok, West, and Malone can take a picture and become a professional photographer by turning it into something aesthetically appealing or weird; merely by pressing a button or clicking on an icon of an image-manipulation application. I am guilty as charged of being a “professional photographer” too, but ultimately I prefer the written word above imagery, because one can’t just instantly manipulate a commonly boring piece of contemporary literature into a fantastically weird and ageless tale by pressing a button or clicking on an icon. Unlike pixels, and if stringed together in logical linguistic order, the symbols of our alphabet can be used to project into the theatre of human sensory perception, not only unimaginable amounts of imagery, but also incredible situations and intense emotions. Of all the collections of symbols stringed together in logical linguistic order, to create literature that fuels the flames of my imagination with the sulfuric winds of organized sensory chaos and emotional anarchy, I have yet to come across an erudite literary wizard such as H.P. Lovecraft. It’s my informed opinion that nothing magnificent ever comes from life without a visit from insanity. Insanity breeds genius and vice versa. Lovecraft was both. I was inadvertently introduced to his work at a very young age by my grandfather, who had quite a collection of Weird Tales magazines in his personal science-fiction library. I couldn’t read then, but I could stare in awe at the bizarre covers and be perplexed by what startling stories those books contained. As soon as I learned to read in my native language (Afrikaans), the veil separating worlds from worlds between worlds lifted, and I started exploring them. I started off with the translated comic-strip adventures of Tintin and soon progressed to Afrikaans pulp-fiction. Now then, this is where things get interesting. I didn’t know it then, but I know now, that Lovecraft’s literary work and the mythos he created, globally transcend the confines of translation, culture, and even time. It challenges human imagination beyond the limits of usual individual and collective perception, as well as experience. I only started reading English literature in my middle teenage years, and although I was familiar with some poetic works by Edgar Allen Poe which was part of school curriculum, I was only formally introduced to Lovecraft’s literary genius much later. Suffice to say, I became obsessed with his work and started to search for proof of Lovecraft’s influence in my own language and culture, and found it. Added to this article is cover images of pulp-fiction books I read as a child in my native language. Die Swart Luiperd (The Black Leopard) by Braam le Roux, is part of a pulp-fiction series that chronicles the exploits of a masked adventurer in the jungles of untamed Africa and other dark corners of the earth. Edition 5 Eiland van die Krap Duiwels translates to Island of the Crab Devils, and Edition 8 Die Mense van die Meer translates to The People of the Lake. The latter edition was a particular favourite of mine. Obviously this preference had been enormously amplified since my introduction to Lovecraft’s work. The writer of this series, Braam le Roux, was never a literary giant in Afrikaans, but he surely knew how to tell great adventure stories and his work was very popular in the 1950’s, albeit severely undervalued for its cultural significance. Braam le Roux’s work, and in particular Die Swart Luiperd series, was saturated with weirdness and improbabilities. I remember reading about hidden and lost kingdoms in jungles and deserts, forbidden cities and strange cults, as well as a myriad of prehistoric and mythological creatures. Le Roux literally started where Edgar Rice Burroughs left off with Tarzan; and created a uniquely South African action-adventure hero that saved half naked damsels in distress from leviathan anacondas, gigantic speaking gorillas, colossal crabs, and other unmentionable monstrosities. Of the seventy odd paperbacks in his Swart Luiperd series, I found Die Mense van die Meer (The People of the Lake) most intriguing. I’m absolutely convinced that Le Roux had read Dagon and The Dunwich Horror at some point in his life, and found inspiration therein for some of his works; and in particular the above mentioned editions. Then I discovered this: “The Orange Hotel stands in High Street near the railway station in Bloemfontein, South Africa. On Sunday, January 24, 1932, four men sat shivering from terror in a room on its third floor...” (Opening sentence from The Winged Death by H.P. Lovecraft). Seeing that Lovecraft had pronounced concerns and inspirational interests with normal sleep, sleeping disorders and other states of consciousness, I postulate that he was inspired to write this story by slaapsiekte (sleeping disease) caused by the African tsetse-fly. Whatever the case may be, at some point I must delve a bid deeper, for I heard some whispers about strange things regarding The Big Hole (Kimberly, South Africa), and that it might also have lead to sparks that ignited Lovecraft’s imagination. I will keep you posted, but for now I present you with two unique examples of Lovecraft inspired Afrikana! https://facebook/pages/Nagskof/608016915914163?ref_type=bookmark
Posted on: Fri, 01 Aug 2014 05:04:01 +0000
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