This book was briefly introduced to me as being one of the good ones from the father of modern horror literature, H.P. Lovecraft. From what little I heard of it I expected it to be quite frightening, but as it turns out I was affected by it in nearly the opposite manner. This book would be more accurately described in my eyes as an ominous science fiction story of both the terror and the exhilaration that can come from the discovery of the unknown. Written in a style of prose that probably fit nicely in the 1930s, the narrator related the tale as a warning to future scientists and repetitively reminded the reader of how reluctant he was to tell it. Instead of picking up the fright, I found myself identifying more with the scientific curiosity side of the characters as they were caught between human kind's greatest discovery and the risk of violent dismemberment by an ancient alien race. I looked forward to the close encounters with the strange creatures, while it seemed the author intended the reader to be willing the characters to get out while they still could. So, though it was an interesting read, I didn't buy into it quite enough to call it a great read.