The Festival – ★★★★ 3.5 Stars
Written: Autumn 1923
“The nethermost caverns, wrote the mad Arab, are not for the fathoming of eyes that see; for their marvels are strange and terrific. Cursed the ground where dead thoughts live new and oddly bodied, and evil the mind that is held by no head.”
One can outrun the devil before they can their own genetics.
In “The Festival”, a man travels to an ancient sea town in Massachusetts, that he feels his ancestors have been calling him to, who turn out to be a sort of witch-race that enlighten him to their horrors.
This story features our beloved book of curses, the Necronomicon, as the narrator’s trigger into his primordial and disturbing genes. It’s an interesting metaphor for someone who comes from a line of mostly evil people, but themselves retain none of their wickedness, which does happen more often than you’d think.
“The Festival” is a pretty and occultish monstrosity of the sort I like, but apparently the author himself did not, it being mostly inspired by his own trip to Marblehead, Massachusetts, and being overwhelmed by the clash of historical and brand-new that existed there.
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