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48 pages, Paperback
First published June 1, 1922
Gradually I came to find Herbert West himself more horrible than anything he did—that was when it dawned on me that his once normal scientific zeal for prolonging life had subtly degenerated into a mere morbid and ghoulish curiosity and secret sense of charnel picturesqueness. His interest became a hellish and perverse addiction to the repellently and fiendishly abnormal; he gloated calmly over artificial monstrosities which would make most healthy men drop dead from fright and disgust; he became, behind his pallid intellectuality, a fastidious Baudelaire of physical experiment—a languid Elagabalus of the tombs.
He was a loathsome, gorilla-like thing, with abnormally long arms which I could not help calling fore legs, and a face that conjured up thoughts of unspeakable Congo secrets and tom-tom poundings under an eerie moon.
it was wholly unresponsive to every solution we injected in its black arm; solutions prepared from experience with white specimens only.
but Italian peasants are exceedingly superstitious, and this woman seemed as much harassed by omens as by facts.
still another, a loathsome African monstrosity
'Briefly and brutally stated, West's sole absorbing interest was a secret study of the phenomena of life and its cessation, leading toward the reanimation of the dead through injections of an excitant solution.'While West is an obsessed lunatic, the narrator doesn’t even have that to justify his actions. He started being afraid of West much later. For years he helped him get whatever he needed for his experiments.