Harman argues that Lovecraft, despite his seemingly limited interest in formal philosophy, acts as a "tacit philosopher" through his writing. Specifically, Harman positions Lovecraft as a key figure for what he calls "object-oriented philosophy" (OOP), suggesting Lovecraft is a model writer of "ontography," a field that studies the tensions between objects and their qualities. Think of it like this: just as the poet Hölderlin became a central figure for Heideggerian philosophy, Harman proposes that Lovecraft, with his monstrous entities and bizarre geometries, should be a literary hero for contemporary philosophy. He even cheekily suggests that the Miskatonic University should dwarf the Rhine and the Ister as philosophical rivers of choice, and Great Cthulhu should replace Minerva as the patron spirit of philosophers. Now, you might wonder, why Lovecraft? Isn't he just a writer of scary monsters for "Weird Tales" and "Amazing Stories" magazines? Harman directly confronts this dismissal, notably criticizing literary critic Edmund Wilson, who mocked Lovecraft by simply summarizing his plots in literal terms, like describing Cthulhu as just "a dragon with an octopus head". Harman argues this method, which he calls "paraphrase," fails to grasp what makes great literature (or philosophy) effective. Just as you can't capture the power of Dante by saying he wrote a poem about "a middle-aged Italian walking through Hell and flying to see God," you can't dismiss Lovecraft by literally restating his monstrous creations. Harman's core argument is that Lovecraft's genius lies in his _style_, not just the literal _content_ of his horror. Lovecraft is a master at obstructing attempts to paraphrase him. He doesn't just describe amazing monsters; he highlights the _inability_ of language to fully describe them, creating a sense of reality that eludes our grasp. Harman sees Lovecraft as a "productionist" author, someone who creates new "gaps" in our understanding of the world. These gaps, central to Lovecraft's style and Harman's analysis, primarily manifest in two ways, though Harman later identifies four related tensions: 1. **The "Vertical" or Allusive Gap (RO-SQ - Real Object vs. Sensual Qualities):** This is the gap between an ungraspable, withdrawn object (something like Kant's "thing-in-itself" or Heidegger's analysis of tools) and the limited, often contradictory descriptions we can offer of its sensual qualities. Lovecraft excels at hinting at realities that "almost defy the power of language". He uses phrases that are "not unfaithful to the spirit of the thing" rather than claiming a description is literally correct. The Cthulhu idol is a prime example: it's described with qualities like octopus, dragon, and human caricature, but its true horror lies in its "general outline of the whole," which is something more than the sum of those parts and difficult to visualize clearly. Similarly, Lovecraft's monstrous geographies are described as having "geometry... all wrong," suggesting a reality that violates our fundamental spatial assumptions without ever giving a concrete, graspable picture of what that geometry _is_. This tension between a hidden object and its fleeting, inadequate sensual presentation is what Harman calls "space" in his ontography. 2. **The "Horizontal" or "Cubist" Gap (SO-SQ - Sensual Object vs. Sensual Qualities):** This gap occurs within appearance itself, involving accessible sensual things and a gratuitous, overwhelming collection of their palpable surfaces or qualities. Unlike the vertical gap, the object isn't withdrawn, it's right there, but its description piles up so many strange, even contradictory features that it becomes difficult to unify them into a single coherent entity. Harman compares this to Cubist painting, where an object is sliced into numerous planes. Wilbur Whateley's corpse, with its mixture of semi-human features, reptilian hide, snake-like covering, tentacles with sucking mouths, and strange limbs that are neither hoofs nor claws, is a vivid example. Brown Jenkin, the witch's familiar, with its rat shape, human-like face, tiny human hands, and ability to speak languages, is another. The architecture of the Antarctic city, described with excessive detail about truncated cones, cylindrical shafts, scalloped discs, and beetling constructions, overwhelms the reader's ability to visualize it as a single whole. Harman links this technique to the philosophy of Edmund Husserl, who analyzed how objects are presented through a series of "adumbrations" or profiles. This tension between an accessible object and its overwhelming sensual qualities is what Harman calls "time" in his ontography. Harman also briefly mentions two other tensions in Lovecraft's work, though they are less frequent: - **RO-RQ (Real Object vs. Real Qualities), termed "Essence":** Cases where both the object and its features are hidden from human access, often seen in failed scientific tests or references to cosmic entities. For instance, scientists trying to classify fragments of the meteorite in "The Colour Out of Space" find they resist analysis despite state-of-the-art equipment. References to entities like Azathoth, described as a "blind idiot god" with "mindless and amorphous dancers" and "thin monotonous piping," whose name is a "merciful cloaking" of "monstrous nuclear chaos," fall into this category where both the entity and its qualities are deeply inaccessible. - **SO-RQ (Sensual Object vs. Real Qualities), termed "Eidos":** Instances where a perfectly accessible sensual object is found to possess real qualities that are unintelligible, such as the museum object retrieved from a dream in "The Dreams in the Witch House" that baffles experts. This object is physically present and accessible, but its inherent properties defy scientific scrutiny. Lovecraft employs various stylistic tricks to create these gaps and make the indescribable palpable. He often uses hints, allusions, and suggestions instead of direct descriptions. He might even undercut his own descriptions, calling them "trite and not wholly accurate" while still leaning on them to convey a sense of strangeness. This technique of "letting hints stand for actual facts" is central to his horror, as the suggested or inferred horror is often more terrifying than any explicit description. He also frequently positions his narrators as more skeptical or naive than the reader, allowing us to draw wilder, yet under the circumstances more rational, conclusions about the weird events unfolding. Phrases like "strangely poetic," "terrible vividness," or "he oddly said" highlight the narrator's own struggle with the uncanny nature of what they are describing, increasing the reader's sense of a "rift between the city... and anything identifiable from normal human experience". Even seemingly conventional adjectives like "horrible" or "frightful," which Edmund Wilson critiqued, aren't meant to force terror upon the reader directly but serve to reflect the narrator's mental turmoil and emphasize effects already achieved by Lovecraft's skilled prose. Harman argues that Lovecraft's "deliberate and skillful obstruction" of paraphrase, his creation of these gaps between objects and their qualities, is what elevates him above pulp fiction, which often just lists amazing properties without making them believable or truly strange. By debilitating the literal "content" and focusing on the "medium" – the way reality resists easy description – Lovecraft makes his monsters and alien worlds effective. This "weird realism" acknowledges that reality itself is "incommensurable with any attempt to represent or measure it". Illusion and innuendo become the best ways to grasp something of this withdrawn reality. While style is paramount, Harman acknowledges that content isn't irrelevant. Lovecraft is specifically a writer of _horror_, and this specific content matters. The tension between style and content is a central theme for Harman's book. Lovecraft's specific horrific content – monstrous creatures and alien forces more powerful and indifferent to humanity – adds an existential dimension to his philosophical gaps. The horror arises from the content itself (the nature of the monsters) as well as the stylistic production of gaps that make them terrifyingly inaccessible or overwhelmingly complex. However, Harman does critique Lovecraft when he provides _too much_ detail about the alien civilizations, making them seem banal and undermining the horror that relies on the unknown and the inaccessible. Other concepts appear in Harman's analysis. He discusses "intentionality," borrowed from philosophy, which refers to how conscious acts are always aimed at objects. He distinguishes between first-hand intentionality (our own experience) and second-hand (observing the intentionality of others, including characters). Lovecraft uses this by showing us the limited, often naive perspective of his narrators (their first-hand intentionality) and allowing us, the readers, to draw broader, more horrific conclusions based on the evidence they present (our second-hand observation of their experience). Harman also touches on "comic" and "tragic" intentionality, noting how Lovecraft's narrators can appear comical in their reactions or lack of insight even amidst terrible events. Metaphor and catachresis are also seen as related to the creation of gaps, transferring qualities in unsettling ways. Finally, Harman critiques "holism," the idea that everything is entirely dependent on its context, arguing that objects retain an autonomous reality distinct from their surroundings or the effects they produce. In essence, Harman argues that Lovecraft's seemingly simple horror stories are complex philosophical machines. By systematically depicting the failure of language and normal perception to grasp reality, Lovecraft reveals fundamental tensions between objects and their qualities, between what is real and what is accessible. This makes Lovecraft a crucial, if unconventional, guide to understanding the "weird reality" itself. **Some Ideas and Questions to Explore Further...** Harman's reading of Lovecraft opens up some really fascinating avenues for thought, doesn't it? Thinking about his arguments might lead you to ponder: - How does Lovecraft's technique of "letting hints stand for actual facts" actually work on the reader's imagination? Does it rely on pre-existing fears, or does Lovecraft craft the hints themselves in a way that universally triggers unease about the unknown? - Harman links the "vertical" gap (RO-SQ) to Kant/Heidegger and the "horizontal" gap (SO-SQ) to Husserl. Could you explore these philosophical connections in more detail? What specific aspects of Kant, Heidegger, and Husserl does Harman see mirrored or challenged in Lovecraft's writing? - Harman suggests Lovecraft is a writer of "ontography," exploring four tensions between objects and qualities. Beyond the examples given, can you find other passages in Lovecraft that illustrate these four tensions (RO-SQ, SO-SQ, RO-RQ, SO-RQ)? How consistently does Lovecraft employ these techniques across his stories? - Harman critiques the idea that artistic value is tied to genre. How does Lovecraft's work challenge genre boundaries? Does his unique style, which focuses on the limits of description and perception, inherently transcend the typical limitations often associated with "pulp" horror or science fiction? - The concept of the object being "more than any specific visual profile of it at any given moment", which Harman links to Lovecraft and Husserl, is central to object-oriented philosophy. Can you elaborate on this idea? How does Lovecraft's depiction of monsters like Cthulhu or objects like the Antarctic city architecture make us feel this surplus in a particularly vivid way compared to everyday objects?