Book Review // The Alchemist by H.P. Lovecraft

Revisiting Madness: My Take on The Alchemist by H.P. Lovecraft

There’s something oddly comforting about returning to H.P. Lovecraft, like stepping back into a dream you’re not entirely sure you want to finish, but can’t resist continuing. That’s exactly how I felt diving into The Alchemist, a short story that, while not his most famous, carries the unmistakable twang of what would later become his signature style.

Now, let me be upfront: The Alchemist isn’t peak Lovecraft. It doesn’t hit the cosmic dread of his later works, and you won’t find yourself spiralling into existential terror by the end. But there’s a charm here, an early glimpse into the mind of a writer who would go on to redefine horror. And honestly? I enjoyed it more than I expected.

The story leans heavily into traditional gothic tropes, crumbling castles, cursed bloodlines, and that ever-present sense that something is deeply, irrevocably wrong. It reads almost like Lovecraft trying on the clothes of Edgar Allan Poe, and seeing what fits. Whilst some elements feel a bit predictable, there’s still a certain pull to it, like wandering through fog and catching shapes just out of view.

What stood out to me most was the atmosphere. Even in this early piece, Lovecraft shows a knack for building tension through setting. You can practically feel the damp stone walls and the weight of history pressing in. It’s not just about what’s happening, it’s about how it feels to be there, trapped in that lineage, waiting for the inevitable.

And the ending (without spoiling too much) lands with a quiet kind of horror. Not explosive, not shocking, but unsettling in a way that lingers. It’s the kind of conclusion that makes you pause and go, “Huh… okay, that’s going to stick with me for a bit.”

If anything, The Alchemist feels like a doorway. It’s not the grand hall of Lovecraft’s mythos, but it opens into it. Reading it reminded me why I got into his work in the first place: the slow burn, the creeping dread, the sense that there’s always something just beyond understanding.

And I’ll admit. It’s reignited my interest in diving back into his stories. There’s a whole universe of strange, unsettling tales waiting, and this little revisit was the nudge I needed.

So if you’re like me, hovering on the edge of returning to Lovecraft, The Alchemist might just be the perfect place to start. Not because it’s his best—but because it reminds you of what makes his work so compelling in the first place.

Until the next adventure, cheers for reading—Peps