The Gamers Arms

Well we don't have to venture too far into the story before the old HPL bigotry comes clattering along, and een thees case eet ees via the comedy Spaniard. He really shouldn't be allowed to spell out phonetic dialects - I was waiting for a Rastafarian to make an entrance! The comedy Spanish did not apply to the good doctor of course, as "Dr. Muñoz, most certainly, was a man of birth, cultivation, and discrimination" - the latter being a plus point in the eyes of ol' Howard Phillips

I did find it odd that of all the possible maladies that could drive the narrator up to see the doctor it should be a heart attack - they do tend to leave one rather indisposed usually!

Finally I was disappointed at the lack of any degenerate Dutch influences.

All things comedic aside, another reasonable early HPL tale. Thematically it sits between the earlier "Herbert West, Re-animator" and the fungi from Yoggoth. I did think that HPL pulled the rug from beneath himself a little bit - the narrator takes such care of the doctor, helping him keep his flat ever colder whilst listening to his theories. When the big reveal that he was dead all along arrives, it is all a bit, well, obvious.

I quite liked this one, even though you can see the ending from a mile away, as Snowy suggests.

The part that I liked the most was actually the narrator explaining how he can't find a place to stay in NYC that meets his ideal standards, and the one he chose in the end was the one that disgusted him the least. I especially liked the line:

I came to regard it as at least a bearable place to hibernate till one might really live again.

That reminds me of the first time I moved out of my parents' house and bought my own flat in Edinburgh, with a mortgage of only £80,000. I had a fairly poorly-paying job at the time, so financial assistance was rather limited. As such, the property options were also pretty limited, and even though the place I eventually bought was dreadful -- it was riddled with mice and we had a "neighbour from Hell" -- it was the least dreadful of a palette of dreadful options. We stayed there for five years before we moved away, bought a proper house and "really lived again" (though, even our current location is below my own standards, but then I'm not on a doctor, lawyer or CEO's salary, so there's only so much you can expect in this city).

Anyway, once again, foreigners are at the source of the trouble here, though surprisingly no Dutchmen or Asians! Also interesting that Lovecraft has "grades" for Spanish people. Apparently he can get along -- even admire -- Spaniards, providing they're men of "birth, cultivation, and discrimination" and "of striking intelligence and superior blood and breeding", but there are other, less-quality Spaniards which are "only a little above the coarsest and crudest grade". I wonder if he judged English people in this manner too, or kept all his contempt for foreigners? I suspect him writing a crude attempt at a Spanish accent in this tale is to emphasize his disdain for English being spoken through non-English lips.

There's some quite cool (no pun intended) artwork associated with this tale -- my favourite so far being this:



Also one thing I thought was interesting was that this is the second New York tale where the narrator befriends somebody of apparent noble birth, who should have died a long time ago.