Cosmic Dread and Dying Suns: William Hope Hodgson’s The House on the Borderland & The Night Land

Hey there, horror hounds.

I recently reread two novels that invoke that sense of cosmic dread I so love, and I know that some you you might be familiar with them, but then some of you might not. They are William Hope Hodgson’s “The House on the Borderland” and “The Night Land.” These works, penned in the early 20th century, blew me away with their cosmic scope and haunting imagery when I first read them three decades ago, and they did so again recently.

So let me take you on a trek through these two mind-bending novels that blend horror, sci-fi, and cosmic themes in ways that were way ahead of their time.

*Incidentally, Hodgson can also be credited for inspiring H.P. Lovecraft to craft his Cthulhu Mythos, but that’s a story for another day. For now, let’s unpack Hodgson’s two classics.

The House on the Borderland: The Nexus Where Reality Unravels

When I first picked up “The House on the Borderland,” published in 1908, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Rereading it recently brought all the horror from my first experience with it surging back.

The story starts innocently enough, with two friends on a fishing trip in rural Ireland. But damn, does it take a wild turn from there.

Here’s a more thorough synopsis of the story:

The Events on the Borderland (Warning: Plot Spoilers Lie Ahead)

The story begins with a framing device: two friends, Tonnison and Berreggnog, are on a fishing trip in rural Ireland when they discover the ruins of a strange house perched on the edge of a giant chasm. Among the ruins, they find a manuscript, which forms the bulk of the novel’s narrative.

The manuscript is written by an unnamed recluse who lived in the house with his elderly sister Mary and his dog Pepper. From the outset, the narrator establishes an atmosphere of isolation and unease, describing the house as ancient and oddly constructed, with a reputation for being haunted or cursed.

The narrative takes a surreal turn when the recluse experiences a vision of his house existing simultaneously in another dimension – a vast, desolate plain where it is surrounded by colossal, godlike figures. This vision sets the tone for the increasingly bizarre and cosmic events that follow.

Soon after, the house comes under attack by grotesque, pig-like creatures that emerge from a pit beneath the cellar. These “swine-things,” as the narrator calls them, lay siege to the house night after night. The recluse defends himself with a rifle, but the attacks leave him shaken and questioning his sanity.

The story then shifts into an even more fantastical realm as the narrator experiences a series of visions or journeys through time and space. In one of the most memorable sequences, he witnesses the death of the sun and the end of the Earth over millions of years, all while seemingly remaining in his study. He observes the planet’s collision with other celestial bodies and its eventual absorption into a strange green sun, which he speculates might be the central sun of the universe.

Interspersed with these cosmic visions are more personal, emotional experiences. The narrator has encounters with the spirit of his long-dead love in a place he calls the “Sea of Sleep.” These passages provide a stark contrast to the cosmic horror elements, introducing themes of love, loss, and the possibility of an afterlife.

As the narrative progresses, the boundaries between the narrator’s physical reality and his visions become increasingly blurred. The house itself seems to exist in multiple dimensions or realities, serving as a nexus point between our world and realms beyond human comprehension.

The siege by the swine-things continues intermittently, with the creatures growing bolder and more numerous. The narrator’s sister and dog provide his only companionship, but they too fall victim to the strange forces surrounding the house. Pepper is killed defending against the swine-things, and Mary eventually dies of fright.

In the final chapters, the narrator describes a last, overwhelming attack by the swine-things. As the house crumbles around him, he experiences a final vision of cosmic destruction and rebirth. The manuscript ends abruptly, leaving the ultimate fate of the narrator uncertain.

The framing story concludes with Tonnison and Berreggnog attempting to learn more about the house’s history from locals. They discover that the house had indeed disappeared suddenly years ago, leaving only a chasm where it once stood.

My Thoughts on The House on the Bordeland

What struck me most about this novel was how seamlessly Hodgson blends traditional gothic horror elements with mind-bending cosmic visions. One moment, the narrator is fending off attacks from grotesque “swine-things” emerging from a pit beneath the house (classic haunted house stuff, right?). The next, he’s hurtling through space and time, witnessing the death of the sun and the end of the Earth over millions of years. Talk about whiplash!

The Cosmic Horror of it All

It’s in these cosmic sequences that Hodgson’s imagination really shines. His descriptions of the Earth’s final days are both beautiful and terrifying. I found myself holding my breath as the narrator observed our planet colliding with other celestial bodies and being absorbed into a strange green sun. The sheer scale of these visions is staggering, and it’s easy to see why H.P. Lovecraft cited Hodgson as an influence.

But what really got under my skin was the sense of cosmic dread that permeates the entire novel. The house itself seems to exist in multiple dimensions or realities, serving as a sort of crossroads between our world and realms beyond human comprehension. This blurring of boundaries creates a constant sense of unease – you never quite know what’s “real” and what isn’t.

A Personal Touch Amidst the Chaos

Despite its cosmic scope, “The House on the Borderland” doesn’t lose sight of its human elements. The narrator’s encounters with the spirit of his long-dead love in the “Sea of Sleep” provide a touching counterpoint to the cosmic horror. These moments of tenderness amidst the chaos made the story feel more grounded and relatable to me.

I have to admit, Hodgson’s prose style takes some getting used to, and it must have been tough powering through it as a teenager reading it all those years ago. It’s definitely of its time, with a formality that might feel a bit stuffy to modern readers. But with this latest rereading I found that it actually adds to the otherworldly atmosphere of the story. The slightly antiquated language helped transport me to another time and place once again, making the bizarre events feel all the more unsettling.

The Night Land: A Far-Future Nightmare

If I thought “The House on the Borderland” was an insane experience, nothing could have prepared me for “The Night Land.” Published in 1912, this novel is set millions of years in the future, after the sun has died. It’s a bleak, haunting vision of Earth’s final days that still gives me chills when I think about it.

Darkness Eternal

The setting of “The Night Land” is unlike anything I’ve encountered in fiction before or since. Humanity’s last survivors huddle within a massive metal pyramid called the Last Redoubt, surrounded by a nightmarish landscape of eternal darkness. Outside the pyramid’s protective barriers roam all manner of monsters and eldritch horrors.

Hodgson’s imagination runs wild here, populating his dying Earth with creatures that are both terrifying and awe-inspiring. There are the enormous “Watchers” that surround the pyramid, the mysterious “House of Silence,” and countless other bizarre entities. Some of these beings are described as “Abhumans” – degraded forms of humanity that have adapted to the harsh conditions of the Night Land.

Here is a more detailed synopsis of the story:

A Quest Through Darkness (Warning: Spoilers!)

The novel begins with a framing device set in the 17th century. The unnamed narrator, mourning the death of his beloved Lady Mirdath, experiences a vision or dream of his future reincarnation millions of years hence. This vision forms the bulk of the novel’s narrative.

In this far future, the last remnants of humanity dwell within a massive metal pyramid known as the Last Redoubt. Standing nearly eight miles high, this fortress protects its inhabitants from the horrors that now roam the darkened Earth. The pyramid is powered by the mysterious “Earth Current” and shielded by an energy field called the “Air Clog.”

Outside the Redoubt, the world is a nightmarish landscape of eternal darkness. Various monstrosities and alien entities prowl the Night Land, many of them hostile to humanity. These include the enormous “Watchers” that surround the pyramid, the mysterious “House of Silence,” the fearsome “Night Hounds,” and numerous other bizarre and terrifying creatures. Some of these beings are described as “Abhumans” – degraded forms of humanity that have adapted to the harsh conditions of the dying Earth.

The narrator, now incarnated as a man of the far future, serves as a “Monstruwacan” – one who observes the Night Land through a great telescope atop the pyramid. He possesses a special ability called “Night Hearing” that allows him to sense the presence of the monsters outside.

The plot is set in motion when the narrator detects a telepathic signal from a distant “Lesser Redoubt,” a smaller human enclave whose defenses are failing. He comes to believe that the signal originates from the reincarnation of his lost love, Lady Mirdath. Despite the extreme danger, he resolves to journey across the Night Land to rescue her and the other inhabitants of the Lesser Redoubt.

The narrator’s perilous journey forms the core of the novel. Equipped with advanced armor, a weapon called the Diskos (a kind of energy-charged axe), and food capsules, he ventures out into the darkness. He faces numerous dangers, including attacks by various monsters and Abhumans, treacherous terrain, and the constant risk of spiritual corruption by the evil forces that inhabit the Night Land.

Hodgson’s descriptions of this journey are both vivid and nightmarish. The narrator encounters strange phenomena like the “Plain of Blue Fire” and the “Country Whence Comes the Great Laughter.” He must navigate past silent, titanic entities of unknown origin and purpose. Throughout, there is a pervasive sense of cosmic horror – the feeling that humanity is a tiny, fragile spark in an immense, uncaring, and largely hostile universe.

After many trials, the narrator reaches the Lesser Redoubt, only to find it on the verge of destruction. He manages to rescue his reincarnated love (referred to as “the Maid”) just as the Lesser Redoubt falls to the attacking monsters. The second half of the novel details their perilous journey back to the Great Redoubt.

It’s in this second half that the novel becomes challenging. Hodgson shifts focus from the cosmic horrors of the Night Land to the relationship between the narrator and the Maid. The archaic, stilted language that Hodgson employs throughout the book becomes particularly pronounced in the romantic passages, which many find excessively sentimental and repetitive.

Despite the dangers they face on their return journey, much of the narrative tension dissipates as the story becomes increasingly focused on the couple’s growing bond. The narrator frequently muses on the nature of love and its importance in the face of the cosmic horrors surrounding them.

Eventually, after many more trials and narrow escapes, the pair reach the safety of the Great Redoubt. The novel concludes with their joyful reception and the narrator’s reflection on the power of love to provide meaning and hope even in the bleakest of circumstances.

Love in the Face of Cosmic Horror

One of the most interesting aspects of “The Night Land” for me was its exploration of love and human connection in the face of overwhelming cosmic dread. The protagonist’s devotion to his reincarnated love provides a beacon of hope in an otherwise bleak and terrifying universe. It’s a reminder that even in the darkest of circumstances, human emotions still has value, and can provide solace.

That said, I have to admit that the romantic elements of the story didn’t always work for me. The second half of the novel, which focuses on the journey back to the Great Redoubt with the rescued “Maid,” can feel repetitive and overly sentimental at times. The archaic language that Hodgson uses throughout the book becomes particularly pronounced in these sections, which again I found difficult.

A Challenging but Rewarding Read

I won’t lie – “The Night Land” isn’t always an easy read. Hodgson’s attempt to create a futuristic yet archaic language results in some dense, convoluted prose that took me a while to get used to. The pacing can be uneven, especially in the latter half of the book.

But despite these hurdles, I found “The Night Land” to be an incredibly rewarding experience. The sheer scope of Hodgson’s imagination is breathtaking, and inspiring. His depiction of a dying Earth and the monstrous entities that inhabit it was groundbreaking for its time and continues to influence science fiction and horror to this day.

Hodgson Haunts my Dreams

Rereading these two novels has given me a new appreciation for William Hope Hodgson’s place in the history of weird fiction and cosmic horror. His knack for blending gothic horror tropes with mind-bending cosmic visions was truly ahead of its time. It’s easy to see why authors like H.P. Lovecraft held him in such high regard.

What strikes me most about both “The House on the Borderland” and “The Night Land” is how they grapple with humanity’s place in a vast, largely indifferent universe. Both novels present a vision of reality that extends far beyond human understanding, yet they never lose sight of the human element. Whether it’s the narrator of “The House on the Borderland” defending his home against otherworldly horrors, or the protagonist of “The Night Land” braving a nightmarish landscape for love, Hodgson’s characters remain relatable even as they face the unimaginable.

A Tragic Postscript

While researching Hodgson’s life for this article, I came across a tragic detail that adds an extra layer of poignancy to “The Night Land” in particular. Hodgson was killed by an artillery shell in April 1918, during World War I, just seven months before the war’s end. While his war experiences didn’t directly influence the writing of “The Night Land” (which was published in 1912), the novel’s bleak, apocalyptic landscape seems eerily prophetic of the devastated battlefields Hodgson would later traverse.

The constant sense of danger and threat from unseen enemies in “The Night Land” parallels the experience of trench warfare, where soldiers were always at risk from snipers, artillery, and gas attacks. The protagonist’s lonely journey across a hostile landscape could be seen as foreshadowing Hodgson’s own experiences as a soldier traversing the dangerous no-man’s land between trenches.

It’s almost as if Hodgson had a premonition of the horrors he would face on the battlefield. This connection adds an extra layer of depth to the novel when read in light of Hodgson’s fate.

Looking Ahead: More Hodgson to Explore

While “The House on the Borderland” and “The Night Land” are the only works by William Hope Hodgson that I’ve read so far, they’ve definitely left me hungry for more. I’m particularly interested in exploring his short fiction, which I’ve heard contains some real gems of weird fiction and cosmic horror.

Hodgson was a prolific writer, and his output includes numerous short stories, including the Sargasso Sea stories and the Carnacki the Ghost-Finder series. I’m especially intrigued by the Carnacki stories, which follow an occult detective who investigates supernatural phenomena. I’ve researched and read about them, but never actually sat down and sampled the original texts. They sounds like a fascinating blend of mystery and horror that I can’t wait to get into.

There’s also Hodgson’s other novels to consider, such as “The Boats of the ‘Glen Carrig'” and “The Ghost Pirates.” From what I’ve read about them, they seem to incorporate elements of nautical adventure and horror, drawing on Hodgson’s own experiences as a merchant seaman. Fascinating stuff!

The Wrap-Up

Rereading “The House on the Borderland” and “The Night Land” has been a mind-expanding experience once again. While they may not be the easiest reads due to their archaic prose style, the rewards for persevering are immense.

Ultimately, I can’t recommend these novels highly enough. They offer a unique blend of horror, science fiction, and philosophical musing that continues to resonate more than a century after their publication.

As for me, I’m excited to delve deeper into Hodgson’s body of work. There’s something thrilling about rediscovering an author who, despite writing over a hundred years ago, still has the power to awe, terrify, and inspire a jaded horror veteran like myself.

Here’s to more cosmic dread and dying suns in my reading future!

H.