When I first started reading this book, I assumed that the narrator could not find the words he needed because of his own condition of panic. As the book progressed, however, I came to understand that the words had their own, not living but still mutable, nature. It is in their nature that the words of summoning are distinct from the words of dismissal. And it makes sense. It should be easier to call to you a thing that wants to be there than it is to send it away, just as it is easy to get an ardent admirer to your home but quite difficult to get that admirer to leave unsatisfied. The power of the thing summoned would enhance the disparity in difficulty; a god has a greater will than any mortal being. The words of summoning, once learned, etch themselves into your flesh, to stay with you always; a hungry god is always willing to come to the feeding grounds. The words of dismissal fly from your mind at the moment that you form the desire to use them. That is the action of the will of a god.
I always thought that Lovecraft's stories would be really scary if the guy could only write. This book gives you an almost direct look at the slithery things of olde, and it's every bit as full of dread as I had hoped. Douglas Clegg can write, and this is a very creepy story.