Philosophy of Lovecraftian/Ligottiesque horror and the horror story in general

[DarkView]

I'm new to TLO and by way of introduction I'd like to begin a discussion on your thoughts of the Lovecraft/Ligotti philosophy of the horror story and general worldview. This, for me, ties in to the argument of free will, specifically in that the type of world and universe described by their stories--broadly, one in which there is absolutely no meaning--requires a humanity that is free (or at least believes itself to be) in order to understand the full ramifications of that fact. So, the "cosmic joke" as Lovecraft put it and the "malignantly useless" as Ligotti ascribes existence in The Conspiracy Against the Human Race, go beyond any juvenile notion of horror by taking all notion of meaning and turning it on its head. In short, Man is indeed a puppet in some or perhaps many respects, but true horror comes from understanding that he is free to think of himself as free in a universe malefic in its indifference.

[Michael]

Great topic! To me, Ligotti is the logical extension of what Lovecraft started. Lovecraft communicated to me the fundamental indifference of the universe to humans. Ligotti fleshes that out (sometimes literally in his stories). The implications of such an indifference and of conscious creatures living in such an indifferent, often malign, universe. To me Lovecraft didn't present an "evil" universe. He presented a universe where conscious humans are as important as conscious insects are to humans. It is we, ourselves, who perceive it as malign and this is where I see Ligotti shine. Why do we think so? What are the implications of our interpretation? Basically, how does consciousness drive us mad with such knowledge. Love it.

[Auditor]

They both, in my opinion, extract monumental terror out of Albert Camus' general philosophy - that of revolt in the face of meaninglessness. Ligotti is a bit more of the pure distiller in this regard, while H.P.L opened the doors wide enough for a thousand tuberculocidal prose tyrants to spew their phantom phlegm upon the page.

[DarkView]

Interesting reference to Camus. Although in the universes of Lovecraft and Ligotti there is no victory or triumph for humanity in the face of meaninglessness. What are your thoughts on the turn of (somewhat) popularity of their type of horror?

[Auditor]

I think H.P.L. and Ligotti come to different conclusions than Camus regarding the philosophy of how to keep on keeping on in the face of a hostile/meaningless universe, but I would still say their general worldview's travel the same highway.

As to their recent surge in popularity, honestly I think that it is simply a case of the cream rising to the top (along with, for Ligotti, things like True Detective). The internet has made it easy to find the "best" artists working in any and every form and genre. So, budding and/or unadventurous fans of horror fiction need to simply check their favorite Reddit thread or Facebook group to see who everyone is talking about. Initially, the results tend to be the "hot new things", but diligent fans will keep searching for the hot new things influences, leading them to masters like H.P.L. and Ligotti.

Also, there is probably something to be said about the imminent destruction of our species through natural events or the Singularity, so people in general are probably more aware that they are not the be all end all in our universe. Naturally leading them to Ligottiesque fiction and doctrines that that of Camus'

[Earthwizard]

Been a while since I logged on, but saw this thread on philosophy, and thought some of you might enjoy my latest Ligotti essay:

Thomas Ligotti: Dark Phenomenology and Abstract Horror

[In A Dark Light]

I see Ligotti as taking Lovecraft's ideas and progressing them to the next level; going a step further as it were.

Lovecraft's fiction posits that mankind is an insignificant spec in a universe which is actively hostile towards us, whereas Ligotti posits that the entire universe is in fact insignificant. If Lovecraft's elder gods exist, then they are just as meaningless and powerless as mankind. Existence is a freak accident in Ligotti's universe, and we should all be terrified of the void through which we sail.

[matt cardin]

This is an interesting topic and question, DarkView. Someday I may come up with something new of my own to say about it, but probably not, so I'll follow the lazy route (which has become my custom lately) of quoting my own previous words, from my Lovecraft-Ligotti paper The Master's Eyes Shining with Secrets, since they touch on the very issue you raise:

Quote

My own reading of Lovecraft has given me the impression that while he was entirely serious about the cosmic despair and philosophical concerns that undergird his stories, he did not experience precisely the same kind of existential torture and cosmic-ontological nightmare that characterizes Ligotti’s fictional world and personal life. Lovecraft, it seems to me, was emotionally and intellectually focused on the horror of “cosmic outsideness,” of vast outer spaces and the mind-shattering powers and principles that may hold sway there, and that may occasionally impinge upon human reality and reveal its pathetic fragility. [...] Ligotti, by contrast, seems focused more upon the horror of deep insideness, of the dark, twisted, transcendent truths and mysteries that reside within consciousness itself and find their outward expression in scenes and situations of warped perceptions and diseased metaphysics. As with Lovecraft and his own idiosyncratic themes, these themes are characteristically Ligotti‘s, characteristically Ligottian through and through, and they have grown out of his life. Whereas Lovecraft was passionately interested in astronomy, chemistry, New England history and architecture, and many other subjects that found their ways into his fictional writings, Ligotti’s “outside” interests include the literature of pessimism, the composing and playing of music, and the study of religion and spirituality, especially in its mystical or nondual aspect. Thus the idiosyncrasies of his typical style and themes are as natural and expectable as were Lovecraft’s. Importantly, despite their significant differences, the Ligottian and Lovecraftian brands of horror do exhibit manifest family resemblances. It may even be that they represent opposite poles on the same continuum, with Lovecraft’s outer, transcendent, cosmic focus and Ligotti’s inner, immanent, personal one finding their mutual confirmation and fulfillment in each other. But the really important thing to notice is that the distinction between Lovecraft’s and Ligotti’s respective horrific visions, combined with a recognition of their underlying kinship, helps to [clarify] Ramsey Campbell’s reasons, in [his] introduction to Songs of a Dead Dreamer, for mentioning in the same breath both Ligotti’s separateness from and perceptible relationship to Lovecraft. Another difference that I find between Lovecraft and Ligotti, and one whose significance is even more foundational, is that Lovecraft, as both a human being and an artist, was powerfully shaped by a lifelong experience of sehnsucht, whereas in Ligotti this quality, while present, is overshadowed or even overpowered by stark, staring horror and a desperate bleakness. [...] Ligotti has inadvertently given us a clue as to how to articulate this particular distinction between Lovecraft and himself. He has written, “Like Erich Zann’s ‘world of beauty,’ Lovecraft’s ‘lay in some far cosmos of the imagination,’ and like that of another artist, it is a ‘beauty that hath horror in it’” (Ligotti 2003, p. 84). For Ligotti, the order of primacy is reversed: his other-world is a horror that hath beauty in it. It is world of horror first and foremost, with its undeniable, intermittent beauty standing only as an accident or epiphenomenon—and perhaps as a kind of deadly lure. Understanding this, we will not wonder at the fact that his oeuvre contains nothing even remotely resembling Lovecraft’s Dunsanian stories. He has never written, or at least never published, anything like Lovecraft’s “The Quest of Iranon” or “Celephaïs,” the first of which is entirely lacking in horror and the second of which only lightly brushes past it, and both of which take for their primary themes not gothic darkness but ethereal beauty and bittersweet poignancy.