I’ve never been a Lovecraft devotee; the fandom has always seemed a bit cultish, and I’m not a fan of horror to begin with. Still, I thought that after all this time, I should a) see what drives it all, and b) get some context for all those references I miss. With this book, I seem only to have accomplished the latter.
At the Mountains of Madness is fine, but I didn’t find it particularly memorable. It was reminiscent of any number of Burroughs and Merritt books, but didn’t have the inventive, brash adventure of the one, nor the more compelling prose of the other. I feel somewhat edified – I know something now about Shoggoths, Elder Things, and Cthulhu – but no more drawn to those mysteries than I was before. If I found a Lovecraft book in a lonely cabin, I’d read it, but not if there were also an unread Merritt. Amusing, but not special.