H. P. Lovecraft: The Dunwich Horror read by David McCallum

posted Jun 5, 2020 by Tom Fasano

H P Lovecraft: The Dunwich Horror read by David McCallum (Caedmon TC 1467)

View on Archive.org

David McCallum reads H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Dunwich Horror” in this vintage Caedmon recording from the 1960s. McCallum, famous for his role in “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.,” brings the right mix of restraint and dread to Lovecraft’s tale of cosmic horror in rural Massachusetts.

The story follows the strange Whateley family and their dealings with forces beyond human understanding. When young Wilbur Whateley dies under mysterious circumstances, something far worse is unleashed on the countryside. Lovecraft’s genius was in suggesting horrors rather than showing them, and McCallum’s reading captures that perfectly.

Caedmon Records pioneered quality spoken word recordings in the 1950s and 60s. They hired professional actors to create definitive performances of literary classics. This recording, with its striking cover art of the decaying Whateley farmhouse, represents that golden age of audiobook production.

H. P. Lovecraft: Read by Roddy McDowall

posted Jun 5, 2020 by Tom Fasano

There is something quietly touching about this old Prestige LP, with its young Roddy McDowall gazing out in mid-sixties monochrome, as if interrupted in the act of remembering. His readings of Lovecraft’s tales — “The Outsider,” and “The Hound,” — unfold with a careful, almost ceremonious grace. McDowall doesn’t thunder or whisper conspiratorially; instead, he lets the stories rise on their own Gothic vapors, his voice offering the steady pulse beneath their unease.

The effect is less that of a haunted house and more that of a dimly lit study on a winter afternoon: shadows lengthen, language darkens, and dread forms slowly in the corners. McDowall has the rare ability to sound both cultivated and quietly afraid, which suits Lovecraft’s peculiar blend of antiquarian fussiness and cosmic despair. He reads as a man dusting off heirlooms that may, upon closer inspection, still breathe.

What remains is a small, dignified artifact from an era when horror could afford to move at a walking pace. The LP feels at once modest and enduring—a reminder that, sometimes, the most unsettling terrors arrive not with a shout, but with a gentle clearing of the throat before the first sentence begins.