He begins
by dividing fiction, somewhat unorthodoxly, into three divisions—
romantic, realistic, and imaginative. The first ‘is for those who
value action and emotion for their own sake; who are interested in
striking events which conform to a preconceived artificial pattern’.
The second ‘is for those who are intellectual and analytical rather
than poetical or emotional … It has the virtue of being close to life,
but has the disadvantage of sinking into the commonplace and the
unpleasant at times.’ Lovecraft does not provide an explicit definition
of imaginative fiction, but implies that it draws upon the best
features of both the other two: like romanticism, imaginative
fiction bases its appeal on emotions (the emotions of fear, wonder,
and terror); from realism it derives the important principle of
truth—not truth to fact, as in realism, but truth to human feeling.
As a result, Lovecraft comes up with the somewhat startling
deduction that ‘The imaginative writer devotes himself to art in its
most essential sense.’
The attack on what Lovecraft called ‘romanticism’ is one he
never relinquished. The term must not be understood here in any
historical sense—Lovecraft had great respect and fondness for such Romantic poets as Shelley, Keats, and Coleridge—but purely
theoretically, as embodying an approach not only to literature but
to life generally:
The one form of literary appeal which I consider absolutely
unsound, charlatanic, and valueless—frivolous, insincere, irrelevant,
and meaningless—is that mode of handling human
events and values and motivations known as romanticism.
Dumas, Scott, Stevenson—my gawd! Here is sheer puerility—
the concoction of false glamours and enthusiasms and
events out of an addled and distorted background which has
no relation to anything in the genuine thoughts, feelings,
and experiences of evolved and adult mankind.
...
Bookmarks