Wow, you have to admire his bit on Poe for sheer Lovecraftian muchness:

Poet and critic by nature and supreme attainment, logician and philosopher by taste and mannerism, Poe was by no means immune from defects and affectations. His pretence to profound and obscure scholarship, his blundering ventures in stilted and laboured pseudo-humor, and his often vitriolic outbursts of critical prejudice must all be recognized and forgiven. Beyond and above them, and dwarfing them to insignificance, was a master's vision of the terror that stalks about and within us, and the worm that writhes and slavers in the hideously close abyss. Penetrating to every festering horror in the gaily painted mockery called existence, and in the solemn masquerade called human thought and feeling, that vision had power to project itself in blackly magical crystallisations and transmutations; till there bloomed in the sterile America of the thirties and forties such a moon-nourished garden of gorgeous poison fungi as not even the nether slopes of Saturn might boast.

"....the gaily painted mockery called existence" - yep, that's about right.

His pretence to profound and obscure scholarship, his blundering ventures in stilted and laboured pseudo-humor, and his often vitriolic outbursts of critical prejudice

Pot, meet kettle.

That's terrific writing.

Still, I've always felt like I was missing something in my gnawing suspicion that the hidden depths of the human heart were more banal and pathetic rather than horror-wrought and ghastly.

Pot, meet kettle.

Heh. Yeah!

Still, I've always felt like I was missing something in my gnawing suspicion that the hidden depths of the human heart were more banal and pathetic rather than horror-wrought and ghastly.

Your hidden depths may be banal, but I sure you mine are ghastly.

Your hidden depths may be banal, but I sure you mine are ghastly.

It's a hidden depths smackdown!

Granted, there are people who can contemplate with smiling contentment the most horrific catastrophes being visited on others--possibly even most people--but I think the ghastliness is in the eye of the beholder. You can look at the beast in your heart with either disgust and horror or with sympathy and acknowledgement.

Here's the whole work, which is fascinating reading: Supernatural Horror in Literature

Ghastly is just a terrific word that doesn't get enough airplay. Except it probably should be reserved for those who can truely appreciate its fine-edged splendour.

(Pardon me, I seem to have been infected this evening with a particularly verbose ailment. I should go write fic.)

I'm fine with the title. But somehow, upon hearing it, my DH has convinced himself that either Dumbledore is not dead, or that Snape is actually evil. I don't know how he's getting that from "Deathly Hallows," but whatever.

I'm with your DH right now aifg. He's getting that from Deathly Hallows, because taken literally, it can mean death-like saints. Dumbledore is a saint in the Potterverse.

Hmm. Cindy has spicy brains.

Also? I love the word ghastly. I think I first heard it in the Really Rosie song, "The Awful Truth" -- "He had bloodshot eyes and a ghaaaastly smile."