Alan Moore's "Providence" is a Lovecraftian horrorfest that doesn't pull its punches

Alan Moore gloriously takes on horror and the works of H.P. Lovecraft in “Providence”. Photo credit: art by Jacen Burrows.

I just finished re-reading Alan Moore’s Providence saga from Avatar Press and a few thoughts come to mind: Holy shit! Wow! You can’t do that! You just did that? Disgusting! Beautiful! Terrible! More!

Yet again, Moore reigns as the king of the graphic novel. If you love horror, run, don’t walk, to get your copy of this highly unusual, and haunting, tour de force. Similar to his League of Extraordinary Gentlemen series, Moore twists established, known stories into something uniquely his own. Here, he turns to horror, mining the world of author H.P. Lovecraft and using both biographical elements from the writer’s real life and fusing them with fictional scenes from the author’s writings. The result is a fascinating, gorgeous, and terrifying series that proves indispensable for fans of the genre. But what else to expect from such a highly skilled artist as Moore, the person who brought us such genre-bending comic series as Swamp Thing and Watchmen?

In Providence, Moore sets his twisted, brilliant mind loose on a host of Lovecraft’s monsters, demons, and other frights. Originally published as three stand-alone, yet interconnected comic book series between 2003 -2015, the full Providence saga still stands up as an example of the power of comics in the hands of a true artist. It’s also a fine piece of fiction in its own right. Moore’s prose sparks like always, and the plot is layered and complex. For me personally, it’s a masterpiece of horror, full of foreboding scenes, intriguing situations, and terrible people. And all of it is rendered in terrifying detail by the brilliant artist Jacen Burrows.

Stunning art from Jacen Burrows for Alan Moore’s “Providence”

Providence kicks off with a 2-part tale called The Courtyard that follows a detective named Aldo Sax as he investigates a series of brutal murders in a seedy warehouse district in New England. No typical murderer, the villain dismembers his victims and carves geometrical shapes into their chests with a knife. At least, Sax has a lead in the killings — actually, he has several. Each suspect can be traced back to a dance club named Club Zothique, a brooding underground haunt attended by hipsters, lowlifes, and art rock wannabees. The further Sax goes looking for answers, the more he is ensnared by the mystery, until finally, all that’s left behind for him is madness (in typical Lovecraft fashion).

Then, fasten your seat belts. Next up is a 4-part tale called Neonomicon, which introduces us to two new cops named Brears and Lambert. As the cops pick up on Sax’s trail involving Club Zothique, clues tie back to the works of the real-like writer, H. P. Lovecraft. The two investigators get wind of a sex cult made up of local suburbanites, so they pose as a married couple to investigate, ahem, undercover. This is when the story flies off the handle in a brutal turn of events that doesn’t let up until this volume’s conclusion. (A warning: the sex and violence in this series, most of which occur in the pages of Neonomicon, are graphic. Worse, they often occur together. We’re talking not just sex but abuse, rape, and torture. Not for the easily offended — you’ve been warned.) By the time Neonomicon ends, the characters are irrevocably changed. And this chapter’s ending only begs more questions.

A glimpse of Cthulu from Alan Moore’s “Providence” by Jacen Burrows

For answers, we must return to the beginning of it all. Cut to the 12-part Providence series, a story that goes back to Lovecraft’s roots, revealing how all of this came to be. Set in the 1920s, Providence tells the story Robert Black, a local reporter who writes about curious events for the city newspaper. Through a work assignment, Black learns of the “Sous de Monde”, a mysterious book that’s fabled to have miraculous restorative properties. Hooked on the legend, Black sets out in search of a story. Along the way, he crosses paths with several odd characters and situations that some readers will recognize from the pages of Lovecraft’s own fiction, like “Pickman’s Model,” “The Dunwich Horror,” and “The Shadow Over Innsmouth”. Black keeps an account of these strange events in his “Commonplace Book”, a diary of sorts, of which a few handwritten pages end each of Providence’s chapters. In a cool literary technique, Moore has Black eventually cross paths with young Lovecraft himself — and Black’s ledger ends up inspiring several of Lovecraft’s stories. In fact, the more Lovecraft learns about the mysterious book Black is chasing, the more he is also drawn to it. Eventually the book inspires the creation of Lovecraft’s diabolical grimoire, the Necronomicon.

By chapter twelve, the story comes full circle in a nightmarish way. Is Lovecraft creating his fictional world in his mind? Or is he some sort of messiah from another realm, literally describing the monsters he glimpses across the veil? Are the things he sees demons, or manifestations of his own repressed sexuality? Or, as one character astutely observes, Lovecraft’s creatures are “like a lot of cocks and pussies crawling around.” By the time the final showdown between good and evil happens, it’s impossible to tell if the past is the present, or if the present is the past. Earth’s physical rules don’t seem to apply any more in. Lovecraft’s plan for humanity is a nativity of bleakness and despair, sparked by Moore’s twisted imagination and rendered in fiendish detail by Burrows’ hand. Plus, the final pages bear witness to the birth of one of Lovecraft’s most famous creations made flesh. It’s a moment that gave me tingles.

The end is nigh, thanks to these two brilliant artists, and it’s never seemed more magnificently inescapable. Great job, gentlemen.