When fiction reappears after a spell of obscurity, we often say it was before its time. After his death in Ypres at age forty-one, Hodgson was mostly forgotten until a brief-and apparently unsuccessful-revival in the thirties. As an immigrant, I often experience the delight of belated discovery: Frederick Douglass, Star Wars, Lolita. I read it with no knowledge of who Hodgson was or what I was getting into. The novel came to me serendipitously: my friend Mike stumbled across it while googling some Dungeons & Dragons thing called “Into the Borderlands.” He read the book, loved it, and passed it on to me. William Hope Hodgson’s novel, published in 1908 (but likely written in 1904) is one of the most startling accounts of infinity that I’ve ever read. Man Fights Back with Determination and Lack of Imagination of Political Proportions.” It ends: “The journey to the Central Suns sold me infinity.” Infinity is a rather lofty reward for persevering through a battle with pig-men. House attacked Nightly by Horrible Swine Things from Hole in Garden. Terry Pratchett’s 1988 summary of The House on the Borderland begins: “Man buys House. Kaiser, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
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