The book was published in 1913. I first read it in paperback form in a rat-infested coldwater tenement in Maryhill, Glasgow. That building was demolished decades ago. Now I’m reading the book on a Kindle in an air-conditioned house in the Sonoran Desert, a place that would kill me but for the technology that keeps the heat at bay.
It occurs to me that the Kindle, and the air-conditioning, would both seem to Hodgson to be more fantastic - more supernatural - than the most fanciful of his stories.