Oh, Howard. You were a mortifyingly racist, anti-democratic, prude, classist, intellectually bullying, anti progressive asshole of a man with no capacity to recognize the love of the woman who married you. You spent the better part of each day holed up in your tiny apartment, eating Chef Boyardee ravioli from a can you'd heat on your hot plate, arguing and expounding your views as if the Internet existed, which it didn't in 1919, so you wrote voluminous letters and snail mailed them to anyone who wrote you in return. You did however manage to nurture an incredibly diverse number of men and women in their writing while you were alive, and inspired four generations of writers and creators as to the nature of cosmic horror, and, arguably, that has made for more progress then you would have likely ever approved of. And oh yeah, Innsmouth, Dunwich, Kadath, R'Lyeh, and Arkham were a pip. Happy 126th Birthday, you cranky old cracker.
No comments:
Post a Comment