This was okay, but it's all so overwrought. It's like Lovecraft has no faith that something simple, done well, can be scary - he has to throw everything he possibly can at the wall, pile it up to ever more ridiculous heights, and when the thing starts to topple because of its own bloated indulgence I'm meant to be scared that it might fall on me, I suppose. I'm not. This approach leaves me absolutely cold, and while I was mildly interested in places - very mildly, it's taken me days and days to finish because I stopped halfway through and couldn't muster up the interest to rush back to it - I can't help but think that somewhere, under all this extraneous bullshit, is a potentially decent story that's struggling not to suffocate... and failing.