Certainly I agree that Ward does not involve possession except in the most metaphorical sense. Some of the confusion must arise from the fact that parts of Ward are reenacted in “The Shadow out of Time,” which does feature possession—Nathaniel Peaslee’s long “fit of amnesia” (while he is possessed by the Great Race) is very similar to the “amnesia” that “Charles” exhibits after he has been replaced by Curwen.
“The Thing on the Doorstep” absolutely does feature possession as well, though the events play out very differently. I think that’s why, even though your interpretation of the events of Ward matches mine, it’s an easy mistake to make: possession runs throughout Lovecraft’s work over a significant span of his modern-era stories.
DARRELL SCHWEITZER: You’re right that there is real possession in “The Shadow Out of Time” and even a replay of some elements of Ward. Of course the reason is totally different. In “Shadow” the alien mind really is in Prof. Peaslee’s body. In Ward it is a matter of the physically resurrected Curwen, who just happens to resemble Ward, trying to impersonate him after he has murdered him.
Lovecraft did tend to recycle bits of his “repudiated” stories like that. The whole speech of Nyarlathotep at the end of The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath is replayed by Yog-Sothoth in “Through the Gates of the Silver Key.” We tended to forget that for all Ward is now seen as a major work, in Lovecraft’s lifetime it was a repudiated manuscript he did not think worth typing up.
Yes, there is possession in “The Thing on the Doorstep.” What we’re seeing in all three stories is an instance of someone (or something) from the past trying to impersonate someone from the present and not doing a very good job of it. Impersonation, not possession, is the common element.
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The Power of Narrative Conference, Boston University, April 2013
The main conference hall at The School of Management, Boston University
David Hartwell, preparing to speak at the Conference
Jay Lake & Peter Straub at ICFA 2013
Another ICFA 2013 photo: Stephen R. Donaldson & Gary Wolfe, foreground; IAFA President Sydney Duncan & ICFA GOH Kij Johnson, background
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How the Game Is Played in Atlantic City
Back in June 2011, John Perich wrote on Overthinking It about an emerging genre. His basic premise was this:
You’d be forgiven for confusing the many, many period dramas that have aired on premium cable in the last six years. . . . Rome, The Tudors, Deadwood, Spartacus, Boardwalk Empire, The Borgias, Camelot, Game of Thrones, and doubtless others. The historical eras depicted by these films span thousands of years—and even enter the realm of fantasy—and several continents. But they all share one genre. In this genre, familiar stories are retold with an emphasis on violence, sex, and dishonest scheming. If there’s not a better name for this genre, I’m calling it Blood, Tits and Scowling. . . .
The beauty is that, when you put them all together, it creates a perpetual engine for drama. www.overthinkingit.com/2011/06/28/blood-Tits-and-scowling.
The whole essay is worth reading for anyone interested in the mechanics of storytelling. In addition to discussions of the particularities of telling stories at extended length, he goes on to discuss precisely why the BT&S mode is such a comfortable fit for stories set in either fantasy worlds or historical periods so distant they “might as well be another world.”
A fine example of the similarities came that year. The Game of Thrones episode “Cripples, Bastards, and Broken Things” concludes with a chance encounter at a crossroads inn: Tyrion Lannister, a dwarf, the king’s brother-in-law, meets Catelyn Stark, a lady of house Tully, wife of the king’s most trusted advisor. Catelyn believes that Tyrion has attempted to murder her son. In George R. R. Martin’s novel, the scene unfolds thus:
“You in the corner,” she said to an older man she had not noticed until now. “Is that the black bat of Harrenhal I see embroidered on your surcoat, ser?”
The man got to his feet. “It is, my lady.”
“And is Lady Whent a true and honest friend to my father, Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun?”
“She is,” the man replied stoutly.
Ser Rodrik rose quietly and loosened his sword in its scabbard. The dwarf was blinking at them, blank-faced, with puzzlement in his mismatched eyes.
“The red stallion was ever a welcome sight in Riverrun,” she said to the trio by the fire. “My father counts Jonos Bracken among his oldest and most loyal bannermen.”
The three men-at-arms exchanged uncertain looks. “Our lord is honored by his trust,” one said hesitantly.
“This man came a guest into my house, and there conspired to murder my son, a boy of seven,” Catlyn proclaimed to the room at large, pointing. Ser Rodrik moved to her side, his sword in hand. “In the name of King Robert and the good lords you serve, I call upon you to seize him and help me return him to Winterfell to await the king’s justice.”
Six months later, the second episode of the second season of Boardwalk Empire featured this scene. “Chalky” White, the undisputed leader of the black criminal gangs of Atlantic City, is held in a large, segregated, cell with several other prisoners. Dunn Purnsley, newly arrived from Baltimore, starts taunting White.
WHITE: . . . get your finger out of my face.
PURNSLEY: What I don’t like about you? . . . the uppity way you tell the world you better than Dunn Purnsley when all you be is another jigaboo in a jail cell.
WHITE (speaking past Purnsley to another prisoner): Harold C. Madison. How your daddy keeping?
HAROLD: Tolerable, sir. He thank you for the doctor bill.
WHITE (to a second prisoner): Noah Hookway. . . . Things good down at the gold room?
NOAH: Supposed to work today.
WHITE: I’ll talk to ’em. (to a third and fourth prisoner) Timothy. Cornelius.
TIMOTHY: Mama grateful for the turkey, sir.
WHITE: All righty then. (The others grab Purnsley from behind and beat him. Chalky returns to his bunk.)
Centuries, universes apart. History is a series of stories. The same words shape them; the same narratives flow around.
Stories repeat because the shapes of the bricks are all alike.
—Kevin J. Maroney and the editors
The New York Review of Science Fiction Issue #296 April 2013 Page 9