Pulp Fantasy Library: Dwellers in the Mirage

Despite the fact that I’ve long championed the fiction of Abraham Merritt on this blog, I’ve somehow never devoted a proper Pulp Fantasy Library post to his 1932 novel Dwellers in the Mirage. That omission is especially glaring given that it’s one of only three Merritt works singled out by Gary Gygax in Appendix N of the AD&D Dungeon Masters Guide, the other two being Creep, Shadow! and The Moon Pool. In my defense, I did write about Dwellers years ago, but that was for the short-lived Pulp Fantasy Gallery, not this series. Correcting that oversight has also reminded me how easily certain classics slip through the cracks simply because one assumes they’ve already been treated. I intend to rectify that in the weeks and months ahead.

First serialized in Argosy magazine across six issues in early 1932, Dwellers in the Mirage perfectly captures a transitional moment in fantastic fiction. The 19th-century Lost World romance had not yet entirely vanished, but it had begun to darken and mutate under the influence of the weird tales of the pulps. Merritt’s novel stands squarely at this crossroads. Its protagonist, Leif Langdon, an American of Norwegian descent, is exploring Alaska when he stumbles upon a warm, hidden valley cut off from the outside world. There he discovers two ancient peoples locked in ceaseless conflict and, more disturbingly, the worship of a monstrous, tentacled deity named Khalk’ru, whose cult demands blood sacrifice.

As if this weren't complication enough, Langdon gradually learns that he is the reincarnation of Dwayanu, a legendary warrior from the valley’s past. The memories and passions of that former life begin to surface, creating a psychological tension that drives much of the novel. The struggle against Khalk’ru is thus not merely external but internal. Langdon must reconcile his modern identity with the shadow of an older, more ruthless self. In doing so, Merritt transforms what might have been a straightforward lost race adventure into a story of possession, temptation, and the perilous allure of power.

That fusion of elements is one of the novel’s strengths. Merritt weaves together reincarnation, romance, occultism, lost civilizations, and cosmic horror with a confidence that makes the whole feel seamless rather than overstuffed. The narrative moves briskly, pausing just long enough to explore the psychological toll of Langdon’s divided soul and the seductive pull of Khalk’ru’s terrible grandeur. Merritt’s prose is, as always, lush, rhythmic, and incantatory. He imbues even the more conventional adventure scenes with a dreamlike intensity. The result is a tale that transcends its pulpy origins without abandoning them.

By 1932, Merritt was among the most popular and respected writers in the American pulps. Earlier novels such as The Metal Monster and The Ship of Ishtar had already established him as a master of exotic fantasy steeped in ancient civilizations and occult forces. Dwellers in the Mirage is very much in this vein as well, but it also exemplifies how far the genre had evolved from its Victorian antecedents. Where Haggard and Doyle offered rationalist heroes confronting marvels at the edges of empire, Merritt presents a world in which the marvelous is tinged with cosmic dread and psychological ambiguity. The adventures in both are similar, but Merritt's version embraces the weid and uncanny.

Khalk’ru himself deserves special mention. Readers have long debated whether this tentacled, malign entity was intended as an homage to H. P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu or represents a case of parallel invention. Lovecraft greatly admired Merritt and the two even collaborated on the round-robin story “The Challenge from Beyond.” While their styles differ markedly, both writers were captivated by the intrusion of ancient, inhuman powers into the modern world. Merritt’s vision is ultimately more romantic and mythic. His heroes are not reduced to insignificance before the abyss. Instead, they resist it. Cosmic horror still remains, but Merritt believes it can be confronted and, at least temporarily, overcome. In this respect, Dwellers in the Mirage thus anticipates later sword-and-sorcery fiction, in which bold heroes pit their wills against dark gods and sorcerous tyrants. One can readily see why Gygax valued the novel highly enough to cite it in Appendix N. 

Some of Merritt’s fiction is more significant as a historical artifact than as living literature. Dwellers in the Mirage, however, retains an immediacy that makes it rewarding for its own sake. It is delightfully atmospheric and filled with both memorable characters and situations. More than that, it stands as a vivid testament to a moment when pulp fantasy had finally coalesced into its own distinct genre, one that would go on to influence not only later fantasy literature but also comic books, movies, and other forms of popular entertainment.

If you've never had the chance to read the novel before, I highly recommend you do so. There's a wonderful new edition of the novel available through DMR Books that I cannot recommend enough.