Scott (of Scott's Thoughts) and I waiting for the metal madness. |
Damn this was good... but probably not $18.25 good. |
"Wonder had gone away, and he had forgotten that all life is only a set of pictures in the brain, among which there is no difference betwixt those born of real things and those born of inward dreamings, and no cause to value the one above the other." --H.P. Lovecraft, The Silver Key
Scott (of Scott's Thoughts) and I waiting for the metal madness. |
Damn this was good... but probably not $18.25 good. |
(Editor’s note: Scott’s Thoughts are occasional guest posts penned by my friend Scott. And by occasional, I mean, once every sixteen years or so. You might recall the prior entry in this series, a list of his top 3 Arnold movies, Stallone movies, and heavy metal albums. Today is a more reflective post. I hope you enjoy it. Please stay tuned for part 3 expected sometime in 2040).
Back by popular demand..... Scott's Thoughts! Something you don't need or want, but here we go!
Today's thought concerns sincerity.
When you're down in the dumps, you need Scott's Thoughts to Cool You Off! --Paul Stanley (probably) |
To me the difference between Kiss and AC/DC is sincerity.
Murph and I have discussed before how Kiss was going through the motions the last 15 years of their touring career. It reeks of a money grab. AC/DC continues to put out albums and tour, yet it seems like they truly enjoy it. Actor Michael Caine at least had the guts to admit that the only reason he did Jaws the Revenge was because his mother needed a new house! You can't fake sincerity, or at least you shouldn't.
Over the next eight months Murph and I are going to see three concerts: Judas Priest, Metallica, and Iron Maiden. Three bands who would never be mistaken for young, yet all three are still producing new material. As Murph recently reviewed, the new Priest album is incredible! If you don't enjoy the newer Maiden progressive trend, that's fine, but I haven't heard of them being accused of going through the motions. Some bands like to experiment and try new things over the course of their career (Maiden, Rush) while others stay the same yet still kick ass (AC/DC). I'm OK with all of it (even though I prefer early Rush).
Once I perceive a band to lose sincerity, I'm out. Stay Sincere!
That’s all for now, time to watch Jaws the Revenge.
The first time I saw Black Sabbath live was on the Ozzfest tour, Mansfield MA, June 1997.
27 years ago.
Black Sabbath released its debut album, the self-titled Black Sabbath, in 1970.
27 years prior to Ozzfest.
That means, Sabbath had the same distance from its earliest days playing clubs in Birmingham to that warm June night in 1997 as I do, right now.
Ozzy was 49 years old then, a year younger than I am now.
Kind of mind blowing.
What made me just think of this bit of ephemera, other than it came to me in the shower and compelled me to fire off an inconsequential blog post? What does it matter?
Don't ask me, I don't know.
False metal cowers before this shield. |
The boys from Birmingham haven’t let me down, yet. Heck I even like Turbo.
Could they do it again?
Yes they can, and they have. Rob Halford is 72 years old and this is JP’s 19th studio album. They’ve earned the right to do nothing, even coast on mediocrity… but they’re still bringing the heat.
Really, the new album is a marvel.
If you’re a true fan you’ve probably already read the reviews. Invincible Shield is about as good as the press it’s getting. I say “about” because I still perhaps enjoy Firepower a bit more, but that might be because I’ve listened to it far longer. I need a new more spins of the new disc before I decide.
It’s way better than I hoped.
I was trying to think of how to review the album and honestly, there’s not much I can say that hasn’t already been said. Though I have said something, and you will find that below. I lack the technical music vocabulary to be a good music critic. I know what I like (classic metal) and Invincible Shield is it.
What you might not have heard so much about (at least I haven’t, though admittedly haven’t gone digging, either) is the lyrical content of the opening track, “Panic Attack.” Which to me is a brilliant critique of almost everything that’s wrong with the world today.
(note: if you don’t want to hear this semi-rant and just get the review skip to the section break)
I actually think there isn’t nearly as much wrong with the world today as we believe there is. With one massive exception. The internet.
Judas Priest isn’t necessarily known for its thoughtful lyrical content as compared to say, Iron Maiden. Priest is more apt to write up tempo rockers, songs about motorbikes on the highway, powerful metal warriors, or gay sex (I love “Eat Me Alive” BTW, no bigotry here).
But of course Priest can write thoughtful stuff from time to time, and “Panic Attack” is one of these songs. I’m not saying it’s Neil Peart level lyrical content, but it is an on-point critique of the internet fueled panic that I believe is the root cause for the high rates of teenage anxiety and depression, and adult political division, we’re seeing today.
Really, are things actually worse today than they were in say, 1940? Or 1860? Or 1660? Do you actually believe this?
You know the answer. They’re not.
We are wealthier, healthier, in almost every measure today than we have been at every point in our history. But I don’t blame you if you don’t agree. You’ve been programmed to think that way.
So have I. So have we all.
Yes, we have problems today. I’m not making light of foreign wars, terrorism, global warming, bad politicians, inflation, on and on.
But what you don’t hear about are the rapid elimination of poverty. Medical improvements. We’re wealthier, better fed, live longer lives, with higher IQs (YouTube comments to the contrary).
But we’ve all been deluded by the virtual reality we live in, which is rapidly becoming reality. At least in our minds.
If everyone in the U.S. had a cellphone in 1863, or 1918, we would not to be able to get out of bed. We’d be watching thousands slaughtered on the battlefields of the South, or dying in the millions from the Spanish Flu.
Things aren’t great all over, there is cause for alarm… but the world is getting better overall. But our mindsets? Worse.
I always say when you’re looking for an answer to a complex problem, follow the $. Bad news attracts eyeballs, it’s part of our flawed human nature, so news outlets and independent creators on YouTube focus on telling these stories and sewing division to get more ad revenue. The platforms want you to spend every waking hour on them, and reward that behavior.
Politicians know they get airtime when they sling mud or label everything a crisis, or describe the outcome of every election with the solemn intonement “our democracy hangs in the balance.”
We’re so reduced to soundbites that this is what passes for thoughtful discourse.
The result is an endless supply of apocalypse. On call, 24-7, on your mobile phone. A twisted funhouse mirror on what is actually real, the world outside your window. Until, as Halford sings, “there’s no way left to tell what’s right from wrong.” Unless you “disconnect the system.”
We all need to put our phones down and touch grass. I hate that fucking phrase but there you go.
Division sells. We’re doing this to ourselves, fueled by a constant stream of technology driven negativity. The winners are Google and Apple and TikTok and Facebook.
The Priest has exposed this problem with “Panic Attack.”
The clamour and the clatter
of incensed keys
Can bring a nation to its knees
On the wings of a lethal icon
Bird of prey (aside: is this a Twitter reference?)
It’s a sign of the times when
bedlam rules
When the masses condone
pompous fools
And the scales of justice tip
in disarray
The good news is that I see some signs of people pushing back on this, booing AI for example, which is as inhuman and fake as it gets.
The actual album review
As for the album? Short review: It kicks ass.
Longer review? It kicks serious fucking ass.
The first time I heard it, I was like OK, “Panic Attack” is killer. Now how about “The Serpent and the King?”
That destroys too. I like it even better. Might be my favorite song on the album. At least at the moment. The guitar behind the chorus mimics the sway of a serpent, I swear. Love it.
Now we’ve got “Invincible Shield.” Title track, so it’s got to be good… and yep it is. It’s awesome.
Surely it must let up at “Devil in Disguise.” Or “Gates of Hell.”
Nope, and nope. If you’re keeping track at home that’s five fucking straight songs of all killer, no filler, for a metal band whose first album, Rocka Rolla, came out FIFTY YEARS AGO. “Gates of Hell” might even be my favorite track on the album.
I even really like song six, “Crown of Horns.” It’s a melodic, slow tempo song, but we NEED it here, to break up the metal destruction. You can only take getting your ass kicked so much.
OK finally, things let up a bit with song seven, “As God is my Witness.” But it’s good.
The rest of the album is uniformly good, even if it doesn’t rise to the height of the first half. But “Giants in the Sky” is wonderful, would make for a terrific coda to Priest’s career and the end of the metal era (“homage to the legends ‘til the better end, leaving such a legacy my friends.”)
Giants indeed.
Overall, the production and sound of the album is a 10/10. Halford can still sing (and he’s not what he was circa 1974-87, but who is?). Richie Faulkner is a guitar hero. I’m incredibly pleased with it, and happier yet I’ll be seeing these guys next month and will get to hear some of it, live.
No save... but lots of fun. |
This picture paints a thousand words. |
I haven’t bought a new comic book in 33 years, when I purchased the April 1991 Savage Sword of Conan as a high school senior. The venerable magazine ended its long run four years later. I was in college in these waning days of SSOC and so had no spending money for comics; what little funds I had went toward beer.
I've purchased a handful of back issues of SSOC since, but that’s it. And had no intention of ever buying a new comic again … until now. The hype around the relaunch of SSOC by Titan Comics piqued my interest and I decided to give it a go.
Before I get to the contents I have to say the packaging/mailing is a 10/10. I have never ordered a comic book by mail and dreaded it would arrive mangled by the postal service, but it was secured with cardboard backing in a plastic sheath and packaged in a rigid cardboard flat. The magazine arrived in wonderful shape.
I opened it up and immediately thought, this is what I wanted it to be.
Black and white interior art on newsprint pages, just like the old magazine. Savage and sexy with beheadings and nudity. Pinup art, text articles. The cover callback to the classic Frazetta Conan the Adventurer, featuring Conan astride a mound of corpses with a woman clutching his knee. A shot of nostalgia.
It checked all the boxes.
Yes, it has some well-documented issues with the art being too dark. Not every panel, and the Solomon Kane story does not suffer from this problem. The Hyborian Age map suffers the most, as does a pinup image of Belit. Equally annoying was the lack of page numbers; there is a TOC with page numbers cited but no corresponding numbers on the pages themselves. These were either forgotten or cut off during the printing.
I’m sure these glitches will be fixed.
On to the contents.
I loved opening the issue and seeing an introduction by the legendary Roy Thomas. As if the iconic cover drawn by SSOC veteran Joe Jusko wasn’t enough, Thomas’ recap of the magazine’s history was a perfect way to kick off the issue. Thomas also alluded to having “a story or three” planned for future issues, which would be a very welcome development.
I enjoyed the main feature, “Conan and the Dragon Horde” by writer John Arcudi and artist Man von Fafner. I appreciated it being self-contained to the issue, a big plus for me. The story kept me interested, with enough twists and turns and no lulls. Conan was well-drawn, especially his savage facial expressions. It features a couple well-done “boss fights” with dragon-like dinosaurs and two hulking bodyguards, and a necropolis. The story is quite gritty and has no overt sorcery, even the monsters could be atavistic survivors of a pre-Hyborian/prehistoric age. I perhaps raised an eyebrow at the accuracy of the siege engines (they accurately target moving people, one is used to drop a noose around a man in a melee?) but otherwise was on board with what I was reading.
That said I thought the second-tier Solomon Kane story “Master of the Hunt” was even better. A historical curse laid on a medieval Welsh Lord gives rise to a vengeful demon, and the horror atmosphere is palpable (it reminded me a bit of the beginning of An American Werewolf in London—keep off the moors!). The story ends on a cliffhanger which makes issue #2 a must-buy. The art in this story was perfectly clear and non-murky, and it’s good. Kane is well-rendered.
I’m not sure why the need for the prose Jim Zub story “Sacrifice in the Sand,” other than it pairs with the cover. I would have preferred to see a photo essay like we had in the old SSOC days, perhaps a recap of Howard Days or the like. I hope Titan brings those back. Zub did a nice job writing this short two-pager, and I found his prose atmospheric and poetic. It could have made for a nice 6-8 page illustrated short.
I enjoyed Jeff Shanks’ Solomon Kane essay, which paired well with the story. Shanks is a first-rate Howard scholar whom I met at last year’s Howard Days. His “Hyborian Age Archeology” is a must-read, and I relied upon and cited his essay “History, Horror, and Heroic Fantasy: Robert E. Howard and the Creation of Sword and Sorcery” in Flame and Crimson. In comparison to his academic work this Kane essay is sleight, but that’s what you’d expect in a comic magazine. I found it to be a good overview for a new reader of Kane’s publishing history and the character himself.
Oh and REH himself makes an appearance with a reprint of his poem "The Road of Kings."
I thought the riskiest move was the dead horse on the cover; these days people seem OK with every manner of violence inflicted on humans but revolt at the sight of dead animals. Unfortunately corpses of horses littered the battlefields of every historical engagement, well into the 20th century. I have no problem with it, I’m sure some will.
Overall I’m quite happy with issue #1. If you’re a Conan fan you should be too. SSOC is back.
Feeling optimistic after reading the introduction by none other than Roy Thomas, who appears to be “writing a story or three” for the relaunch.
We don’t have infinite time. The amount of reading attention any new book must compete with is getting progressively smaller. So we have to be selective.
It’s basic math.
Robert E. Howard read Edgar Rice Burroughs and Jack London and H. Rider Haggard (and many, many authors besides, but bear with me as I make this point).
Michael Moorcock read Howard and his contemporaries C.L. Moore and Clark Ashton Smith… but is obligated to read ERB and London and Haggard.
Writers today read Moorcock and his contemporaries Karl Edward Wagner and Jack Vance and Poul Anderson. But also should read Howard and Moore and Smith … and ERB and London and Haggard.
The demands on new generations of readers multiply. What about readers and writers three generations from now?
Oh, and we all must read the classics. Shakespeare and Milton and Homer and Hemingway.
Make sure you read outside your genre. One should read history, too.
The accumulated reading, generation on generation, cannot continue. The math doesn’t add up. How many books can anyone read in a lifetime?
Some books must fall by the wayside.
This is just the beginning of the problem. We have many more demands on our attention than previous generations. Movies, TV, video games, TTRPGs, YouTube, doom scrolling, etc., all compete for our attention during “free” time. And despite all the breathless predictions of the techno utopians, we don’t seem to be working any fewer hours.
That means we’ve got choices to make. As you get older, you realize you cannot fritter your time away. It’s far too precious.
So, what are we to do?
My advice: Read what you want. Just read, as long as its not Reddit forums or Twitter threads.
Read new sword-and-sorcery or read the classics. Read comic books, or graphic novels. Just make sure it’s something someone has created, with care.
Don’t listen to what other people think. I don’t. Because I’ve read enough to spot illogic and ad hominem and the rest.
Just because a book is old, published 60 or 80 or 400 years ago, does not render it out of date. C.S. Lewis tells us to rid yourself of “the uncritical acceptance of the intellectual climate common to our own age and the assumption that whatever has gone out of date is on that account discredited. You must find out why it went out of date. Was it ever refuted (and if so by whom, where, and how conclusively) or did it merely die away as fashions do? If the latter, this tells us nothing about its truth or falsehood.”
And our age is prone to its own illusions.
Anything still in print 60 years after it was published is probably worth your time. Because it survived the test of time. The books that influenced your favorite author(s) are probably worth reading too, even if out of print.
But don’t feel obligated to plow through classics that are going to kill your love of reading, either.
Read what interests you, and carry that fire against public opinion. Which is often shit.
That’s another benefit of reading widely and deeply—read enough good stuff and you’ll develop a sensitive and accurate bullshit detection meter.
Issue 29 TOC. |
That map made me a child of sorcery... |
Conan's Ladies... easy on the eye. |
Holy balls that's some good artwork... Almuric at left (Tim Conrad) |
I desperately wanted to participate. |
Would they still honor these prices? |
RIP John Verpoorten. I'd read every article, regardless of subject matter. |
Swords and Scrolls... first letter by one Andrew J. Offutt. With praise for issue #24 and "Tower of the Elephant." |
Two towers, old and new. |
The former represents the creative forces of chaos. The latter the ordered forces of law.
It’s a very yin-yang, or Moorcockian, way of looking at things.
The older I get I see the need for both. For tradition, and for change. Both in life, and in art. Perhaps you’ll find this a milquetoast viewpoint, and want more sturm un drang. But not today. I’m feeling reflective.
Defenders of the old see what the masters have done and want that to stand, immobile and fixed, like some mountain. It was great, it still is, why change it?
Proponents of the new see old art and admire some aspects of it, but believe that it no longer reflects present realities. And wish to carve new stone out of the existing material, or make something else alongside it.
I see a lot of angst over this divide, but believe these seemingly opposing forces can be reconciled. Because we need both.
I believe our present culture is entirely too much focused on the new and shiny. And not enough on learning from the brilliant minds who have come before us and did some things better than we do. There is so much to be gleaned from history. Much of what we think of as new has been done before. So don’t confuse looking backwards with a backwards mindset.
But I also recognize change as inevitable, and often results in forward progress. Doing the same thing over and over again results in staleness and conformity. S&S grew moribund in the latter 70s and collapsed in the 80s. The New Wave of SF and its dangerous visions broke away from the hard SF that was itself popular and groundbreaking in the early 20th century, but had become fixed and rigid. And the 60s and 70s saw amazing new works created.
Change is inevitable. It’s always been with us. If you don’t believe so, you might look at H.P. Lovecraft, who broke from the old gothics and ghost stories with his radical new extradimensional horror, or Steven King, who added a blue-collar pop sensibility and more humanity to Lovecraft.
Of course, merely because something is new or subversive doesn’t make it good. Nor does critique of your subversive project mean a bunch of old farts “just can’t handle it.” It just might mean the art was poorly executed. There was a lot of bad old art in the past that was once new, but has been forgotten and discarded. No one remembers most of the authors working in Weird Tales. But those that have lasted have much to teach us.
It’s cool to make new stuff by recombining old things.
It’s OK to love old school stuff, even to repeat or pastiche its forms.
We can have it all. No one is getting hurt by the conservative impulse to preserve, or the liberal urge to subvert.
Where do I fall, preferentially, on this spectrum?
To no one’s surprise I’m a small c conservative when it comes to art. I enjoy some subversive art, and admire the creators who challenge the status quo with potent new visions. Though I find myself preferring subversive material that is old enough to have passed into acceptable territory again. See Elric, or bits of The Once and Future King.
But my deepest sympathies lie with old fiction. Robert E. Howard and J.R.R. Tolkien remain two of my literary lodestars, and always will. I don’t see them as old. I still see them as innovators who broke new ground from old sources, who had their influences but took them and made something wholly original. Powerful enough to spawn imitators, and genres.
In “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics,” Tolkien chided the literary critics who sought to study Beowulf by reducing it to its component parts, and in so doing, broke it. Pulled down the old tower turning over stones, not realizing from the top you could see the sea.
But if Tolkien had only looked at and admired the past we wouldn’t have The Lord of the Rings. He also made something new from old legends, and broke new ground, though his own powerful creative impulse.
Karash Khan left but a single watcher to mind the Cimmerian. This thankless task fell to the youngest of the nine Sicari, a quick-eyed Turanian not much older than twenty. No one knew his given name, but his brothers called him Badish Khan. Bred in the alleys of Sultanapur, when the Master found him he was already a hired knife at fourteen with more kills than throat-slitters thrice his age. He was like an ingot of iron, crude and without form; while Karash Khan was the hammer, it was dark Erlik who provided the flame.
Even so, the Sicari could not withstand the Cimmerian’s berserk fury. Death might have been their master, but neither god nor man could master this wolf of the North. His god was Crom, grim and savage, who gave a man the power to strive and slay and little else. And when he called upon Crom, it was not in prayer or benediction . . . it was so the dark lord of the mound might bear witness.
Among southern nations, Conan had seen madness dismissed: a disease physicians sought to cure, a weakness learned philosophers debated in shaded courts. Madmen were broken men, they said, who could hope for no better than a quick and quiet death. Among the barbarians of the north, however, madness was something else – a thinning of the veil between worlds, a harbinger of doom, or the curse-gift of that fey and feral goddess, Morrigan. The Cimmerians held madmen apart from others, their ramblings fraught with the truths of a perilous world.
Short, negative review: Tooth and Claw ranks among the worst books I’ve read in the last decade. The series keeps going downhill (and book 1 was not even that good).
Longer and slightly more positive review: Tooth and Claw is bad enough to cross over into WTF I can’t believe I just read that territory, and so stands out as more memorable trash than many of the boring Conan clones and generic S&S offerings I’ve read over the years.
But it’s still awful. And awful crazy.
How crazy?
Well there’s this bit:
He was the size of a tree. He was indomitable. He was immaculate. He urinated white wine, his feces were soft gold, and he ejaculated lightning.
Would I be surprised to learn the author typed the manuscript while snorting coke off a hooker’s ass? No, not really.
I’m not making any accusations here, I don’t know Silke personally, but Death Dealer 3 was published in 1989 and possessed of a crazy, whacked out Wolf of Wall Street vibe I recognize. There’s so much nonsensical, bonkers stuff in here, told wildly and with intense energy and conviction, but with sloppy execution and abysmal, eye-gouging turns of phrase.
This is basically man romance. Romance for a certain kind of man, who like their women stunningly hot, offer them few words before and after the deed but possess the skill to play them like a medieval instrument:
Tonight he would tie her down in his hide-up and play upon her like a lyre, arouse her untamed passions until she could not resist him.
Or this bit of late-night Cinemax magic:
Gath stepped out of the concealing shadow for a clearer look. His eyes moved down the deep shadowed curve of her back to the cleft in her hard buttocks, then back up again, painting her pale flesh with his dark hot glance…. A stimulating animal pleasure rose into his groin. Heat played across his cheeks.
The plot of Death Dealer 3 hinges on the flimsiest of hooks—a disreputable bounty hunter named Gazul (with the incredibly stupid nickname “Big Hands”) wants to capture the cat-queen, Noon. Gazul offers Gath the chance to fight Noon’s guardian, the giant saber-toothed tiger Chyak, because it’s more challenge-worthy than any other fight anyone else could ever have. Which appeals to Gath, who otherwise is wandering around without purpose.
That’s the entire setup for the remainder of the book.
This wouldn’t stand up as a plot for the weakest episode of Thundarr, yet here we are. Gath accepts the offer and we’re off, fighting lyncanthropic beast-men, lions, crocodiles and all manner of beasts of the jungle before the final confrontation with Chyak and Gazul.
The Death Dealer books stand at the far end of the barbarian archetype/stereotype, not the apex but the nadir of this type of fiction. How do you distinguish yet another barbarian from the countless others that have gone before? Make yours bigger, stronger, more barbaric. Gath is a brute force of wild nature, so deep into barbarism that at one point he strips naked, eats raw animal flesh and fails to recognize familiar faces, even losing his ability to speak (he’s channeling his animal “kaa,” you see). You can’t get more raving barbarian than this dude. He’s not a character, but a caricature.
Silke attempts something of an origin story for Gath in this volume but it comes across as uninspired Tarzan pastiche. He also attempts to bring some level of introspection to the story with a muted/equivocal ending, some regret and “who is the real monster” angle to the proceedings. I won’t spoil it here, in case you want to seek this out. I read Tooth and Claw through to the end, groaning the whole way except when I was laughing. There is some entertainment value here; I’d probably watch a movie made out of this mess. The problem is, what works in a low-budget beer-swilling 90 minute film is not optimal for a 342 page book treatment. It sags, and there are all sorts of problems with the pacing, authorial emphasis, and cringe-worthy dialogue. Like this:
“Think of it this way, sweethips,” Gazul said callously. “Fear is a marvelous cosmetic. It puts real color in your cheeks.”
And this:
“Barbarian, I understand why you are upset. In my drunken rage at you for running off, I used Fleka wrongly. She is yours, and I should not have used her as a lure without your permission. But now that your fist has rewarded me for that mistake, we are even.”
Silke loves writing wildly indulgent and floridly descriptive paragraphs punctuated by two words. Like this:
Gnarled hands gripped the bars, appendages of the lurking darkness bent within, a wounded, scabbed darkness with hard gray eyes. Hot. Relentless.
And this:
Lowering to hands and knees, she crawled closer to the cage, and hesitated abruptly. The bars were the colors of flowers, a dazzle of pinks and reds and scarlets. Enchanting. Compelling.
In and amongst the cringe there is entertainment value to be had, including a 12-page fight between Gath and Chyak.
Death Dealer goes to 11... 12 for sabertooth tiger fights |
Is this bad trash or glorious trash? Your mileage will vary, hard. Personally I need never read this series again. But Death Dealer is an interesting historical artifact and probably worth it if you’re after the terrific Frank Frazetta cover art, or a fearless S&S diehard junky who can’t get enough of the subgenre—good, bad, and ugly.
And there’s still more to come with Death Dealer 4. The story continues…whenever I get around to it.
Tor Conan, ERB, CAS, Moorcock... and more. |
Ahh, love that Nasmith-illustrated Silmarillion. |
Part of my S&S bookcase... lots of REH, KEW, Anderson. |
The horror! Is that a figurine in there? |
More books... |
No, not looting and plundering Dave Ritzlin's book hoard, but do have a new post up on his blog: A Deep Cut of Adventure: The Saga of Swain the Viking, Vol. 1: Swain’s Vengeance.
This was a fun read with a lot of viking goodness and other badassery. While writing the review I took a worthwhile detour into the history of Adventure, the magazine in which the Swain stories first appeared back in the 1920s. Some interesting history to that long-running pulp. I recommend checking out the article linked at the bottom.
Skål!