I’m currently reading The House on the Borderland. It’s gloriously good, in a terrible but fabulous kind of way. It has pig-demons and 19th-century shootouts. It also has good old xenophobia, misogyny, and other things that are really interesting to someone who likes to do scholarly analyses of horror stories (meeeee).
But deary me, it’s a shame William Hope Hodgson is dead, because someone seriously needs to stop the punctuation abuse. I could have handled it if it was just in the crazy old man’s confession, as that would be a convincing (and annoying) way of showing that the dude was, well, crazy. But it’s even in the framing narrative and it’s driving me up the bloody wall.
Really, literary value does not rise if you add more commas. And even if they did, you’re writing about pig demons. Faulkner could write about pig-demons (using stream of consciousness, naturally) and no one would take that shit seriously.