This recent introduction of HP Lovecraft's online texts froze my jaw with half-masticated breakfast of tom yam maggi mee at 7am in the morning.
Perhaps I've accustomed myself too much with witless dry humor such as only my dear friend Adrian Mole brings, and my exposure to fantasy or horror fiction limited, but, eh, I think HP Lovecraft is brilliant, if I say so myself. Gripping tales of mythical creatures and horrifying mental omg moments had my poor (weak) heart pounding with much excitement as I've never experienced, perhaps only comparable to that of cardiovascular exercise, of which I've been severely lacked in years.
I haven't gone through the whole pile of online texts yet, but I love the way he elegantly construct his sentences and words with deliberate suspense and gripping (omg, so gripping!) eye-widening fear, it giveth me plenty of cold shivers and some eh-somebody-hold-my-hand! moments; where Ju-On and Sadako would pale like albino Lavinia Whateleys in comparison, much like wee little eggplant meeting uranium-exposed gigantic pumpkin (pls forgive my Halloween references).
(Unrelated photo, only to break up monotony of the text)
His works also appear to be well researched, and I have no complaints of that, although his several references to mythical gods and such might need some help from Google, or dictionary.reference.com. I have to admit that I'm relatively ignorant of such things. He gets really technical at times too, and could appear rather dry at parts, or even complete chapters - you might want to scroll down really quickly then, but I assure you that you'll be well awarded for straining your eyes when you get to the parts that have you hugging your pillow, body half covered in a blanket, eyes half closed, adrenaline running high, squirming in your seats, and/or shouting for ma in fear, but still, scrolling down for yet more excitement.
Horror, fear, suspense, and messy wet pants aside, there were moments where he had me in real-life LoLing. For instance, the below, an excerpt from The Dunwich Horror:
The children and the women-folk whimpered, kept from screaming by some obscure, vestigial instinct of defence which told them their lives depended on silence
I will now bid Adrian Mole, Han Suyin, and Prentice Hall (heh) a tearful goodbye, for my reading selection has matured (eh?). I'm now a Lovecraft virgin no more, and I believe this is where my journey with fantasy and horror fiction starts.