Grafton, £3.50, ISBN 0-586-21098-9
Horror, 1991 (Reissue)

William Hope Hodgson’s The Boats of the “Glen Carrig” is, in many ways, the grandfather of nautical Gothic horror—an admittedly tiny family tree, but an important one nonetheless. As his first published novel, it’s a delightful mess of florid pseudo-18th-century prose, unspeakable sea horrors, and characters who react to trauma with all the emotional depth of a damp biscuit.

The story follows the survivors of the Glen Carrig, a ship that met its doom by striking a “hidden rock in the unknown seas to the Southward”. That’s straight from the subtitle, and frankly, that’s all the explanation you’re getting. Instead of dwelling on the ship’s fate, our narrator, the aptly named John Winterstraw, is far more interested in documenting the weird, violent, and gooey horrors that lurk beneath the waves, so much so that Moby-Dick starts to look like a relaxing whale-watching cruise by comparison.

Mr Hodgson, a former seaman, injects the book with a sense of salty realism… before promptly tossing it overboard in favor of surreal, murderous sea creatures, cannibalistic horrors, and strange island escapades.

Clearly, he’s having way too much fun with the gory bits. Whenever the story slows down, Mr Hodgson’s solution is simple: skip the boring stuff entirely. Case in point: the story begins with two lifeboats full of survivors, but at some point, one of them just… disappears. Mr Hodgson’s explanation is a throwaway line that essentially says: “Anyway, they got back to London, whatever. Now, MONSTERS.”

Speaking of London, when the survivors finally return home, does Hodgson give us a moment of relief, reflection, or even a tearful reunion? Nope. He wraps it all up with a single, indifferent sentence. No dramatic beach landings, no kissing the ground, just an implicit shrug before we all go home.

Meanwhile, our fearless narrator, John Winterstraw, seems entirely unbothered by the sheer cosmic horror he’s witnessed. He is, however, very interested in reminding us that he has secured a buxom lady love. That’s the real takeaway here: all the carnage, monstrosities, and mind-shattering horrors were apparently just a minor inconvenience on his quest for romance.

Yet despite all this—or perhaps because of it—the novel is a wildly entertaining ride. It’s like a grown-up Jules Verne caper, with extra blood and far less concern for narrative cohesion. The characters may be thinly developed, and Mr Hodgson may have the attention span of a caffeinated seagull when it comes to plot, but let’s be honest: we’re here for the eldritch sea horrors, not emotional depth. On that front, The Boats of the “Glen Carrig” absolutely delivers.

So, if you’re looking for a nautical horror story that’s more about gruesome fun than psychological depth, hop aboard. Just don’t expect to learn what actually happened to the Glen Carrig. That ship has sailed.