Book Review: The Thing From HR by Roy M. Griffis

Imagine a Cthulhian romp that’s equal parts Terry Pratchett and Mel Brooks.

Imagine a Cthulhian romp that’s equal parts Terry Pratchett and Mel Brooks.

Roy M. Griffis seems to have something of a Midas touch. The prolific author of the By The Hands of Men and Lonesome George Chronicles series of novels has also written poetry, as well as for stage and screen. His original film script, A Cold Day in Hell won him the first John Milius Screenwriting Award. With The Thing From HR, he tries his hand at horror-comedy, and it just might be the funniest novel I’ve ever read.

The story

Set in what is gearing up to be its own literary universe known as Cthulhu, Amalgamated, the tale is told by NargLAh, a low-ranking Shoggoth for the Human Restraint office. The massive cosmic bureaucracy oversees the comings and goings of the “hairless apes” on Earth as they mess about with Things Beyond the Ken of Man. Due to NargLAh’s odd fascination with humans, his uncle Beefbits, a big shot up the ladder, recommends him for a mission among them. Before he can even be properly briefed, our shambling thousand-eyed protagonist is whisked away into the body (or “meatsuit”) of one elderly Professor Heinrich Wisenheimer, the newest faculty member of the Physics Department at Newton College in the fictional town of Quibben.

NargLAh wasn’t sent completely unaided, however: he does have a native guide on Earth. Sharing the same consciousness in that body is Murph, a young surfer who met his end after being lured by a femme fatale into being the unwilling sacrifice to some eldritch abomination in mid-orgy. Combining Murph “The Surf” briefing him on human custom with both being plopped outside of their elements in World War II-era New England, Griffin mines the the story's rich vein of comedic anachronisms for all their worth.

For example, early in the book, NargLAh’s first-ever interaction with a human gets off to a rocky start when he meets a young woman greeting him at a train station. His first instinct is to kiss her, because he saw her boyfriend do it. “I leaned over and rubbed my mouth against hers, as the male of her species had done. And that is when John stepped forward and, I believe the expression is, ‘clocked me’.”

As NargLAh settles in however, the story becomes a mystery to discover just what his mission is, and it quickly becomes apparent that there are plenty of people on campus with secrets to hide and agendas to further. Perhaps most disconcertingly, the more coffee, pie and sleep he takes in, the more comfortable he becomes among the (shudder) Hairless Apes.

The characters

Griffis really does a wonderful job of presenting the reader with a variety of memorable characters while managing to turn more than a few Lovecraftian tropes on their heads. NargLAh is a trepidatious bean counter who (it’s implied) got his meager position within the organization thanks to his uncle and tells the bulk of the story with all the high-minded airs of a would-be anthropologist. The delivery of his humor is appropriately bone-dry, yet side-splittingly fish-out-of-water as he confidently bungles earthly colloquialisms. He thinks, for example, that Murph's constant reference to "chicks" has to do with some preoccupation with barnyard fowl.

His arc (which I won’t spoil here) is perfectly paced and imminently satisfying as the people he encounters gradually grow on him. The supporting cast, villains and heroes, all manage to color whatever scene they’re in vividly and never leave a dull page. Griffis even manages to give the sanity-shredding monstrosities NargLAh works with at the office distinct personality and voice. If that doesn’t make you want to read it, nothing will.

The world

There are two, really: the otherworldly organization the shoggoths and others work for monitoring the humans, and Griffis’ idyllic college town of Quibben, where nearly all the earthly action takes place. Both are quite fully realized and draw the reader in. The Void From Whence Hope Perishes has vivid descriptions of everything from the bloodied quivering bits of the latest misguided cultist that just arrived for processing, and Quibben College has firey autumn leaves all around the campus’ lushly forested grounds.

Magic and ritual of the occult variety in this world is fairly soft, and is able to get explained to the audience in a few brief lines. Nothing gets in the way of the action.

The politics

One character is rumored to be a Nazi. One is rumored to be a Communist. Neither play in on any level beyond marking clear antagonists. You can just enjoy the story as a fan of two-fisted (or tentacled) Lovecraftian adventure.

Content warning

Pretty tame as any work having to do with Lovecraftian horror goes. Griffis' vocabulary is bang-on and does a wonderful job of delightfully obfuscating even the grisliest of details. There is one instance of almost-sex early on which does involve a woman being naked, and an occult ritual at the climax of the book that involves some wince-inducing razor work, but's that's it. Murph's story of how he died is told through conversation, not flashback.

Who is it for?

Any fan of Lovecraft, the occult detective subgenre, or horror-comedy. It’s tone certainly remains light enough to veer well away from grim, but keeps the stakes high enough to never let you completely relax, especially during the story’s climax.

Why read it?

This is a masterfully written homage to HPL’s mythos in both linguistics and humor. This had me laughing for pages on end, and I can say it was without reservation the funniest book I’ve read in decades.