Issue no. 10 of Arcane Arts hit inboxes this AM. I've been nailing this every week, like clockwork on Wednesday morning, though as noted in this week's issue next week might end my streak (I have to travel to Chicago on business).
This week we covered:
But then again, perhaps I might.
The search for the holy grail is not a search for physical relic, but a spiritual awakening within.
This second, deeper layer is why it and its associated myths endure. These comprise the heart of Joseph Campbell’s Romance of the Grail: The Magic and Mystery of Arthurian Myth.
I find myself needing a daily walk through the woods behind my home to reset from a world that is increasingly online and artificial and ugly. I recently made the mistake of following a thread over to Twitter/X and was confronted with a digital manifestation of The Wasteland, damaged 30-year-old dudebros cursing at one another and asking Grok to confirm the veracity of a series of AI generated text and images that would have made the editors of The Inquirer or Weekly World News blanch, and turn away.
And I turn again to nature, and physical books, for healing. And to those who have sought the path of wisdom.
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| The Middle Way... an old railroad bed behind my house. |
Joseph Campbell examined myths across cultures, looking for patterns and similarities. These patterns led him inexorably back to the human heart. Many researchers err by trying to tie myths to history or prove or disprove them by sifting through physical artifacts, rather than their psychological truths, which are found within. In his words:
“It is one of the prime mistakes of many interpreters of mythological symbols to read them as references, not to mysteries of the human spirit, but to earthly or unearthly scenes and to actual or imagined historical events—the Promised Land as Canaan, for example, and heaven as a district of the sky—or to see the Israelites passage of the Red Sea as an event such as newspaper reporter might have witnessed. It is one of the glories, on the other hand, of the Celtic tradition that in its handling even of religious themes it retranslates them from the languages of imagined fact into a mythological idiom, so that they may be experienced not as time-conditioned but as timeless, telling not of miracles long past but of miracles potential within ourselves, here, now, and forever.”
These ancient Celtic sources were almost certainly the basis for the grail myth, which became transmogrified by the likes of Wolfram von Eschenbach (who depicted the grail as a stone from heaven), and the unfinished romance Perceval le Gallois by Chrétien de Troyes. You can find a good article on that process here. And of course, in this book.
Campbell’s first mythological obsession was the Grail. We get in this book his master’s thesis, “A Study of the Dolorous Stroke,” which he submitted to the Department of English and Comparative Literature at Columbia University in 1927, when he was just 22 years old. It’s a deep examination of the myth of the Fisher King, the story of the wounding of a king by a lance through the thigh or groin (sometimes burning of a hand). The king is left in agony, unable to find relief save through fishing.
The wound is also spiritual. Fishing is equated to going down into unconscious waters to pull souls, or beings, out of the unconscious state into the light, Campbell says. We’ve all been hurt, deeply. We need someone to, without expectation of reciprocity or mercenary motive, ask the question: what ails you, friend?
After asking the question, a draught from the grail brings healing, to the king and the land.
Peace is all around us, but our monkey minds won’t permit it to be seen. One path is the search for the grail, through examining its symbolic importance as a vessel of wisdom and rebirth.
In its stories you might find what it has to teach about your own plight, friend.
The best chapter is probably Campbell’s examination of Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Parzival, which I do need to read, one of these days. Here Campbell’s does his unique magic of convincingly tying Buddhism to Arthurian Romance. Both are concerned with the search for a path to liberation known as the Middle Way. “The Middle Way between heaven and hell is earned through exercise of the three virtues, plus a fourth: 1) disengagement from the fury of the passions, 2) fearlessness in the face of death, 3) indifference to the opinion of the world, and 4) compassion.” In von Eschenbach’s tale a Muslim knight confronts Anfortas, the Fisher King, on the jousting field; Anfortas kills his foe but receives a wound through his thighs. Campbell interprets this wounding not as a simple battle, but as a symbolic disaster representing "the dissociation within Christendom of spirit from nature". The Christian king (Anfortas) is wounded by a representative of nature (the "oriental" or pagan warrior). These two opposing forces, nature and spirit, can only be resolved through access to a middle way.
Writes Campbell, “The first birth of man, as a physical culture motivated by the animal energies of the body, is biological. Man’s second, properly human birth, is spiritual, of the heart and mind.”
Or as one of his great inspirations, Carl Jung, said, “your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart, who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside awakes.”
There are many curious parallels between tales of the Crucifixion and of the dolorous stroke. Both point to a similar lesson:
Nor will people say, ‘Here it is,’ or ‘There it is,’ because the kingdom of God is in your midst.”
Romance of the Grail is studded with insights like this. It will lead you on a merry chase, for example to this terrific video. If you can bear the terrible tinny 80s music and production, a fantastic watch.
Recommended.
***
The path behind my house is a Middle Way. A railroad once ran on it, iron and coal combustion driving freight across the country. Now it’s given way to trucking, the rails and ties torn out. But the bed remains, a path that now accommodates foot traffic into nature.
Probably some type of symbol there. Maybe I’ll find a cauldron out in these woods.
Intelligence has become fetishized.
CEOs of major tech companies with a very high IQ… and zero sense, and zero empathy. Sam Altman defending AI’s energy toll by saying it also takes a lot to ‘train a human.’ “It takes about 20 years of life – and all the food you consume during that time – before you become smart,” he says.
Chilling.
Being “smart” is the top of his hierarchy of values. And because of the theoretical unlimited computing power of a machine, we know where this leads.
Machine over man.
Intelligence ≠ wisdom.
Bruce Dickinson sang about this eloquently in “Darkside of Aquarius.” Powerfully too, but we expect that. It is Bruce, the human Air Raid Siren.
Peaceful existence and love of fellow man, as symbolized by the wheel of Dharma, is under assault from four apocalyptic hellriders. We've got 5 in the real world but close enough. I don’t put a lot of confidence in the soothsaying accuracy of astrological signs, but the Dark Side of Aquarius is a helpful heuristic here. It’s a psychological state characterized by extreme emotional detachment, stubbornness, and a tendency to be aloof or unpredictable. Intellect is prioritized over emotion. It celebrates "progress" over human flourishing.
When unbalanced, Aquarians can act coldly and ruthlessly, frequently using their intelligence to justify any action. A God complex.
The second hellrider came, from flaming seas and molten sands
Pipers playing Hell's commands
Poured out his poison, with his promises of promised lands
Blackened tongues of lying leaders
We need a silver surfer to save us from Galactus about now. This bit is in the song too.
I’ve also heard that it is a reference to Shakespeare’s “Macbeth,” but it’s too long since I’ve read that to comment. And I have to run to a brewery.
… ANYWAY, grim stuff but a great song. That transition at 4:38 … chills.
I have said before Bruce’s solo stuff is criminally underrated. Accident of Birth is an incredible album for which I need to do a deeper dive at some point. I've covered "Man of Sorrows" before and there is a lot more to mine from this album.
Happy Metal Friday.
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https://brian-murphy.kit.com/posts/arcane-arts-dispatches-from-the-silver-key-6
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I said this was coming after The Super, Super-Secret History of Sword-and-Sorcery. And here it is. This isn’t a summarization of everything I’ve learned since starting The Silver Key, because since I first pressed publish in September 2007 I’ve read +/- 1,000 books, changed careers, raised children, witnessed deaths and births, seen the world, grown grayer and balder, and hosted a Judas Priest tribute band in my living room. I want to talk instead about what a regular, consistent, and now I have to add—human—writing habit did for me, and could do for you. Blog post by blog post, from one to 1,000.
Having written 1,000 blog posts, if you do the same:
1. You will become a better writer. Over time your posts will read better, they will take better structure and their argumentation, stronger. It will occur slowly but inevitably and inexorably. When you work out with weights you don’t build strength in a week or a few months but over years, one workout after the next. Until suddenly you realize you’ve become a better writer. In my oldest posts my style is there and recognizable, but is abrupt, crabbed, less thoughtful, less ambitious. I am a better writer now and still making incremental improvements.
2. You will become a more rigorous thinker. Reading books is one of the best things a human being can do; writing down your thoughts and impressions as you read and publishing them is the next level. On many occasions I thought I knew what a book was about ... until I began writing about it. And realized I had more thinking to do. I’ve made revelations by committing my clouded, half-baked thoughts to the page, and edited and revised until I understood. As a clear thinker you will start to be seen as an authority, whether you want to or not.
3.You will build a repository of content that you can turn into books or articles. You can write a book this way; many have done this. Flame and Crimson was built on dozens of sword-and-sorcery book reviews gradually expanding to broader thoughts on genre. My heavy metal memoir is in production and while it’s not precisely what I do with Metal Friday, it is inspired by my memories here, of how I grew up with the greatest genre of music ever conceived for pale teenage boys.
4. Your interests will change, you will change, and so will your output. I started this blog in the midst of a 10-year D&D campaign and that was the subject of many of my early posts. I no longer play D&D and so my writing on roleplaying has fallen away. These days I am reading a lot less fiction, I find myself more interested in the world, and my psychology. So I write about those topics. I don’t know how others have the will to narrow their focus to say, roleplaying only. Focus is almost certainly better way to build an audience, but that’s not what I’m doing here. And not everyone will like the change to your blog, which leads me to point 5.
5. You will constantly struggle with what to leave out as much to put in. I’ve debated whether I should address some hot social issue of the day. I brush up to politics and religion. And usually leave it out. I am cautious with what I commit to writing, but not overly so; if you round the edges off something enough it becomes shapeless. Some things you write will offend people; I’ve had people leave nasty, insulting comments on my posts for some perceived sleight or for not sharing their same passion for their pearl of a book or movie. I would say I’m sorry but I’m mostly not; I’m a harmless 52-year-old blogger with a point of view. These days I try to lean into positivity, and saying nothing instead of going critical. But if you feel strongly about something, say it. The point is not to antagonize or troll, but if you write clearly and truthfully you will offend someone, somewhere. In fact if no one ever is aroused by something you’ve written, you’re probably playing it too cautious.
6. You will learn the secret formula: Discipline married to inspiration. Forget about trying to be divinely inspired or profound, just write, regularly. Not every post is going to move mountains. In fact you can’t predict what will land; sometimes you’ll press publish thinking you’ve just written the next “Self-Reliance” and it lands without a sound in the digital void. What’s not important is what you write but that you keep doing it. You don’t have to write every day but if pressed I would say, never let a week go by without a post. In the long run you will need to find what you are passionate about or you will lose steam. Write about what you must. It doesn’t matter if it’s been said before, once or a hundred times; you haven’t said it in your own, unique way. But at some point even your passion will wane, if only temporarily, when that occurs a weekly discipline comes back in.
7. No one else does this so you’ve got superpowers, man! Most websites or blogs go dormant; the number of people who start a blog or a Substack or a website only to have it collect dust in 2 weeks or 6 months is by far and away the norm. If you can do 1000 posts over years you are abnormal, you might even be Batman. You have accomplished something most mortals will not.
8. You will come to understand that blogs aren’t a popular medium—and that’s OK. Reading is in decline. That’s not my opinion, that is a highly studied and well-surveyed fact. Most people will go to YouTube to watch a video on Conan or the Normandy landings than seek out an article on these topics. The heyday of blogs was probably 2005-2011, which is starting to sound like a long time ago. If your goal is views, or building an audience, you should probably go the YouTube route. I’ve got a face for radio and I’m far more comfortable writing than speaking, and as noted I think writing is transformative for the individual in a way pressing record and speaking is not. If you’re of the same bent just know this medium is considerably less popular.
9. Your ego will never vanish, but your need for approval will weaken its grip. I still sometimes judge whether posts are successful based on views/shares/comments, when I know a much better metric is, is this something I’m proud of, entertained by, or find important? I do appreciate every comment I’ve ever received, every post anyone has ever shared. But ultimately extrinsic rewards are a trap; you can’t control what others think. Basing your happiness or judging your success on these metrics is folly. Write for you.
10. You will come to appreciate the act of writing for its intrinsic, human value. Writing is a beautiful, human act. It’s been with us for thousands of years for a reason. It encodes knowledge. Communication keeps us from wars. Storytelling gives our lives meaning. It has value so the AI companies crawl my blog and the entirety of the internet in ever increasing numbers. An authentic human voice is a finite resource to be mined for their parasitic, dehumanizing tech. Have at it; they’ll never be me. This is my act of rebellion, a bone middle finger encased in flesh aimed at Sam Altman. His machines are dependent on me; they crawl my blog because both he and his product are not creative; they copy. Using AI to write is not writing; you cede the craft and your very thought to a machine. AI writing has nothing to do with writing 1,000 posts, it is “content creation” suited at best for commercial objectives (SEO, advertisement, etc.). And even if you do you use AI, you should be doing your creative writing yourself, for all the reasons listed above. Embrace your unique humanity. Embrace writing for its own sake.
And a bonus observation:
11. It is worth it.
Thanks for reading.
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| "More emphasis on 'ride' here, Ross? |
“Let me tell you something, this man was a big man, Orson Welles, a huge guy in latter days,” Friedman recalled. “When he got out of the limousine … on 57th Street in Manhattan by the Carnegie – y’know, that neighborhood has some hot shit over there. When he stepped out into that neighborhood, women in mink coats were throwing themselves on him. It was just like ‘Oh, Orson, oh.’ It was like Frank Sinatra in the 40s. Seriously, I saw it with my own eyes. People were in awe of this man because he was so incredible.”“He was a legendary guy, legendary maverick.”
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| This pic can get none more epic... |
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Here's the latest issue, with a "deep dive" into Seawitch simliarities, beer can art, and more.
The super, super- secret history of sword-and-sorcery is that there isn’t a secret at all.
Sword-and-sorcery, like all genres, was created with a series of small steps and missteps, right in public view.
It wasn’t heralded in 1929 with "The Shadow Kingdom" like Athena from the head of Zeus. It wasn’t conjured into being in 1961 in the pages of Amra/Ancalagon. It wasn’t animated with L. Sprague de Camp’s Swords & Sorcery anthology, or Lin Carter’s Flashing Swords.
It was assembled, slowly, over decades.
When I say in public, there is something interesting about the subgenre, hidden right in plain view.
More than any other genre of which I’m aware, sword-and-sorcery is defined by a visual aesthetic as much as literary. Art, particularly the work of Frank Frazetta, helped to define what we think of it today. In fact, if you want the easiest way to define S&S to someone brand-new to the genre, your best bet might be showing them a picture of Death Dealer or Conan the Adventurer. Its fans love the comics for a reason. The art of sword-and-sorcery takes a backseat to no other genre, save perhaps horror.
The term “sword-and-sorcery” was coined in the 60s, but the real work began in the 70s/80s/90s/00s, when fans began sifting through piles of pop culture detritus. Zebra paperbacks, Warren magazines, pinball machines, van art, RPGs, cartoons, and music.
It was kicked around in genre histories, specialty journals, websites, forums, YouTube videos and podcasts.
And eventually given form, of a sort.
Sword-and-sorcery is malleable and its boundaries, permeable. That doesn’t make it not a thing; that makes it an amorphous thing (or Thog). Just like every other genre. Even older, seemingly more defined and mined genres like horror or mystery begin to lose shape and fall apart or morph once you begin to probe at them too much.
Try to categorize Cormac McCarthy’s The Road or Stephen King’s The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon … I dare you.
The term sword-and-sorcery is a helpful signpost pointing not to a destination, but a vicinity.
This is OK, really. Sometimes there are no easy answers—or any answers at all. We all like a good internet debate/fight once in a while, but in the end (as Kurt Vonnegut once said) we’re putting on armor to attack a hot fudge sundae or banana split. Be wary of those who shout the loudest.
Uncertainty and permeable borders are OK. This is art, not engineering. I think this uncertainty is a feature, not a bug. It helps the genre grow and remain vital. Borders give form and structure, no borders is shapeless void. Malleable borders give form and structure while leaving room for expansion.
This is the healthiest type of genre. It keeps the conversation going instead of closing it off.
And I think sword-and-sorcery is healthier now than it has been in a long time. Just as sword-and-sorcery was growing in new directions in the 60s and 70s it continues to grow today. Verses and chapters continue to be added, edge cases debated.
Secretly, right in public.
RIP Ross the Boss/Ross Friedman, co-founder and ex-guitarist of the mighty Manowar. Ross played on Manowar's classic first six albums, Battle Hymns through Kings of Metal.
The news hit today that he has passed into Valhalla, age 72. He was diagnosed with ALS last month.
In honor of his mighty legacy, "Mountains," from Sign of the Hammer.
The lyrics for this one are particularly on point.
Like a man is a mountainside
Greatness waits for those who try
None can teach you, it's all inside
Just climb
I am in the ground, I am in the air
I am all, I live in the hearts of men
I am the call to greatness, not all can hear
I awaken the creator in those who dare
And the day will come when we all must die
And enter the mountainside
Ross climbed the mountain and experienced life at its very peak.
He is where eagles fly, and will live on in the hearts of men.
And the 1000th post on The Silver Key shall be (actually the 1001st, as this post is technically no. 1000):
The Super, Super-Secret History of Sword-and-Sorcery
By a landslide. Here’s the voting by percentage.
The super, super-secret history of sword-and-sorcery: 60%
What I’ve learned after 1,000 posts: 17%
Another unhinged rant against grunge: 7%
A return guest post by Scott: 7%
Something about Iron Maiden: 7%
Other: 3%
An overdue farewell and then delete the blog: 0% (I live another day)
Given how most find their way here this is no surprise. Readers of this blog like S&S. Good thing I do too.
Sorry Scott, you’ll have to wait the full 16 years for the next guest post. And I’ve probably said plenty about Iron Maiden and grunge. For now…
Only one “other” vote” was a surprise, but it led to a pretty good suggestion: Thoughts on what you consider the best yet most obscure S&S film - can be animated or live action.
The other mild surprise was receiving more votes for “what I’ve learned after 1,000 posts” than anticipated. I think I will tackle that topic, and the “other” suggestion, after writing the super, super-secret history of sword-and-sorcery.
The only problem is, there isn’t one, and I was being a bit cheeky with that option… but hey there’s always more to say about S&S. I’m a man of my word.
To make it more fun I’ve added a poll. Click here to take it. Screenshot at right so you can see what options you have to choose from. But your original ideas are welcome below ... the weirder the better.
I’ll try to accommodate the top request.
When I heard the Deathstalker franchise was being revived for a 2025 release, I was in.
This film should have landed squarely with me, its target audience. It did not, sadly. I don’t consider it a bust, just off the mark, it pains me to say. Mildly entertaining when I was hoping for another Deathstalker 2 or perhaps another Army of Darkness. The Dreadites-- blood-red, spiky, skeletal warriors serving the evil sorcerer Nekromemnon—echo the Deadites of the latter film, but Deathstalker isn’t close to Army of Darkness or Evil Dead 2 for comedic value.
In the end I think Deathstalker fails because it lacks a comedic lead to pull it off. Daniel Bernhardt is very serviceable, certainly better than a lot of the thuddingly poor S&S leads of the 80s, but he’s not believable in the role of humorous hero, and not a John Terlesky or a Bruce Campbell.
So Deathstalker 2025 is in the end a semi-serious, semi-slapstick blend. If it doesn’t fail at both it doesn’t succeed at either, creating an uneven viewing experience—never rousing, never laugh out loud funny.
It’s far from the worst film I’ve seen. Entertaining in places, certainly better than a lot of the 80s S&S schlock I’ve watched over the years. It’s heart was in the right place… but I should have enjoyed this more than I did. It was not as good as I hoped. But of course YMMV.
What I did like:
What I didn’t like
TL;DR
Deathstalker 2025 has its charms and is probably something hardcore S&S fans and genre completionists will seek out regardless. Many seem to like it. There are certainly worse ways to pass a Saturday afternoon. For me it was a disappointing “meh” and a missed opportunity.
There comes, even to kings, the time of great weariness. Then the gold of the throne is brass, the silk of the palace becomes drab. The gems in the diadem and upon the fingers of the women sparkle drearily like the ice of the white seas; the speech of men is as the empty rattle of a jester’s bell and the feel comes of things unreal; even the sun is copper in the sky and the breath of the green ocean is no longer fresh.
–Robert E. Howard, "The Mirrors of Tuzun Thune”
I love that quote (who doesn't?) from Robert E. Howard's Kull ... and I really dig this obscure but fun metal take from Arkham Witch.
Not exactly an artistic marvel of a song as the main riff overindulges in repetition ... but damn if I don't love it anyway. Great groove, gets the head banging. A boozy, dreamy, loose vibe to the whole thing that pairs well with the original hallucinogenic tale and its examination of philosophical questions regarding reality, identity, and existence.
Am I Kull?
This awesome little band wears its Weird Tales influences proudly. With songs like "The Lord of R'lyeh," "Dagon's Bell," "Crom's Mountain," and "Kult of Kutulu" you know what you're getting here.
Are these guys still a band? Last album, Demos from the Deep, seems to be from 2014 but let's hope so.
Happy Metal Friday.
What the phantom that stands before
A formless substance I claim no more
O shadowed soul, O ghost of me
I repent this philosophy
Am I Kull? Or his reflection dim
A shadow cast of that distant king
A strange whim of lesser form
A far flung dream on moonbeams born
Note: I use the plural “we” in this essay even though motivations for why anyone writes vary widely. I suppose I could just say “I” … but I strongly suspect others feel the same way. “We” facilitates connection and understanding.
If I go more than a day, maybe two, without writing, I start to feel ghostly. Incomplete, absent something vital I need to function as a human.
Writing infuses me with vitality. When I hit publish I am flush with spirit. My day is instantly better.
Pressing publish is key. Writing for an audience is qualitatively different than writing for yourself, for example a gratitude journal or a private essay that will never be read by anyone other than yourself. I do that kind of writing, and it’s important. But it’s ultimately not why I write.
The writing I enjoy combines subject matter mastery, self-discovery, and personal expression. I want people to experience the passion I feel for weird art, heavy metal, reading, and pop culture—the arcane arts that interest me. I hope my readers might learn something along the way, the distillation of my research and insight. And, ultimately (and maybe somewhat pretentiously, though I don’t really think so) I hope something I write might transform something in you. The way you understand the world, perhaps even yourself.
I don’t write fiction, but in my reading of fiction and biography of fiction writers I’ve come to see fiction as a window into the soul by writers who wish to be understood. Charles Saunders wrote blood-and-thunder stories of sword-and-sorcery adventure, but the character of Imaro said something about the author. Even writing “merely” to entertain says something of the writer, perhaps of the dissatisfying mundane world he or she inhabits or that entertainment and story provides something vital we need as humans.
For 99.9% of us, writing is not a vocation to pursue if you want to get rich. You can make a living off of it, though it won’t be the aesthete in a well-furnished Victorian garret romanticism sort of writing perpetrated by the Hallmark channel. Businesses need people who can write (or did, pre-LLMs. Now they need people who can prompt). I have a good job that is +/- 50% writing full time. It pays the bills, and sometimes I can even put a little something of myself into otherwise dry and technical pieces of the healthcare mid-revenue cycle.
I wish I could write creatively, like I do here, full-time. But it’s not happening. If I had to survive on what I do in the creative side of my life I’d be living under a bridge. I’m very fortunate that I don’t need income from Flame and Crimson or freelance S&S pieces to pay my mortgage.
But I do need to be understood. So I’m taking that a step farther with a very personal new book.
I’ve got a heavy metal-infused memoir in the edit/cover design stages. It will be published this year. I expect it to sell +/- 50 copies, though I plan to promote the heck out of it wherever I’m able. Not because I’m in it to make money. If it was about making money I’d be writing freelance blog posts and white papers for some healthcare website.
I want people to understand the life I’ve lived, the music I loved, the struggles I’ve endured, and still have, from time-to-time. I grew up with social anxiety and painful introversion. Being labelled as an introvert was once (and in some corners, still) used a pejorative. These traits harmed my relationships and put a few limits on my career.
But today I accept this part of me, perhaps even cherish it. If I were not an introvert I might not have ever felt the need to set pen to paper. I can say things in writing that I have a hard time saying out loud. Writing about my experiences helped me heal, and I hope perhaps the act of reading them might help others as well.
That’s the power of writing.
So yes, I write to be understood. Maybe you do too.
Keep writing.
--Jon Tattrie, To Leave a Warrior Behind
A talented author working in the second wave of sword-and-sorcery, Charles Saunders twice had his Imaro books under contract and in print by a publishing house … and twice had the series yanked from under his feet.
Partially as a result of these and other ill fortunes including shuttering of the newspaper on which he worked, Saunders died alone, near penniless. Worse, without family to claim his body he was buried in an unmarked grave.
That’s hard.
If that was your end, would you consider your life a success? Do you consider Saunders’ life a success?
You might not… unless you were to read To Leave a Warrior Behind (2026, McClelland & Stewart).
After which you’d answer that question quite differently. With a hell yeah. Saunders’ life might not look anything like the “success” you see on Instagram, but it was, nonetheless. Why?
He wrote some kick-ass S&S that we still read today.
He created a new (sub) sub-genre of fiction, sword-and-soul.
He had hundreds of admirers with whom he corresponded. Many friends, and as all fans of “It’s a Wonderful Life” know, no man is a failure who has friends.
And he will continue to be remembered thanks to this new biography.
Biography is what’s on the cover but probably the wrong word to describe To Leave A Warrior Behind. Biography often brings to mind dry text, heavily footnoted and indexed, the plain recitation of the facts of a life. To Leave a Warrior Behind is part compelling story of a fatherless boy, just like his greatest creation, Imaro, “son-of-no-father.” It’s part literary analysis of Saunders’ works. Part detective novel, from the search for an unclaimed body to the search for a missing past in the pages of hand-written letters. Part funeral dirge for the dying newspaper industry. And above all it honors Saunders the man, his unique life and literary and human legacy.
I don’t want to spoil all of that story here, as the book’s revelations keep coming, building chapter by chapter to a satisfying finish. By the end you will meet a Saunders you probably did not know.
But I do need to review it and so will reveal some of its contents here. You’ve been warned.
***
Tattrie knew Saunders, as the two worked together for years as newsmen at the Halifax Daily News. So the work includes a fair deal of self-biographical/emotional/personal reflections from the author, which I enjoyed.
Shuttering the newsroom at the Daily News hit close to home. I was fortunate in 2004 when I quit my full-time job at a newspaper whose best days were behind, but one I loved and for which I felt survivors’ guilt. Tattrie observes that leaving journalism for greener, safer, corporate pastures can feel like a sellout, and as an ex-journalist I agree. I admire people who stuck out the profession for the love of the game. People like Saunders.
Saunders never wanted to do anything with his life but tell stories, and that’s what he did, even when there was no money to be made.
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| This book is worth a small fortune. |
Because DAW held the copyright to the first three Imaro books, Saunders was in a bind, unable to offer them elsewhere.
The book shines in its Imaro deep-dive, which all sword-and-sorcery fans and historians (ahem) will appreciate. Tattrie gives the series its due like few places did, save for perhaps The Cimmerian and Steve Tompkins (who by the way Saunders later extolled in an essay published in Rob E. Howard: Two-Gun Raconteur). We get the beginnings of Imaro, jointly influenced by Tarzan and a black character in Andre Norton’s postapocalyptic SF novel Star Man’s Son—2250 AD. But Saunders’ number one influence was Robert E. Howard, through the Lancers. We get his first appearances in the Gene Day edited magazine Dark Fantasy, and the big break when Lin Carter selected an Imaro story for his Year’s Best Fantasy Stories (DAW, 1975). It was Don Wolleheim himself who encouraged Saunders to submit Imaro for consideration, and ultimately acceptance.
After DAW cancelled the series Saunders did not publish a single piece of fiction between 1990-99. He did write the screenplays for a couple admittedly terrible S&S films, Amazons and Stormquest, which allowed him to pay the bills. He also wrote a few works of nonfiction about local black history and boxing.
***
But beyond Saunders’ literary legacy we also get much on him the person. His college days during the rise of the Black Power movement. An attempted suicide in the 70s. The lifeline provided by his friends in letters, including the authors Charles De Lint and David C. Smith. With Smith Saunders mourned a joint loss of their early successes when their brand of “masculine fiction” fell from favor. We get the details of his marriage and its eventual failure. His work at the newspaper, Saunders’ raising his arms in triumph when CNNs’ Wolf Blitzer read on air his editorial about Canada sending ships to help the US during Hurricane Katrina. Lots of great details like this.
And we get Saunders’ fiction revival. His resurfacing after he was asked to submit a piece to the anthology Dark Matter. The republishing of his stories by Night Shade in the mid-2000s, which led Saunders to revisit the old Imaro stories and improve them. Tattrie walks us through Saunders’ work strengthening and deepening his characters, especially Imaro’s love interest Tanisha. “As he matured, Charles started treating fantasy not as a way out of our world, but as a deeper way into it,” Tattrie writes. Imaro begins to consider the feelings of others … “over time, core character traits reveal the man beneath the warrior.” Tattrie believes Saunders ultimately eclipsed Howard and his S&S roots by turning the focus of the stories from outer action to inner character revelation.
We get Night Shade’s disappointing cancellation of the series, but then the launch of Sword and Soul Media, and the first true visual depiction of Imaro on a cover that Saunders long imagined. In 2009, 25 years since his last new novel about Imaro, Saunders published his 4th and longest novel—Imaro: The Naama War, which brought with it a shift from the heroic fantasy of Imaro to a more epic storyline.
In short, To Leave a Warrior Behind is not just a biography, but important literary analysis. Analysis that along the way reveals striking parallels between creation and creator. Saunders, like Imaro, was deeply marked by the abandonment of his father and separation from his mother. Tatrie notes that he assembled the book by reading more than 250 letters over 50 years to a range of friends. Each letter was 3 pages, adding up to more than 700 pages of Charles writing about his life. In all that paper Saunders mentioned his father just once. When he fled to Canada to avoid the Vietnam War he largely left his mother behind, too.
Yet this is not a good guy/bad guy story… I’ll end my review here, I don’t want to spoil anything, as there are some big twists at the end. Read this book for yourself and you’ll walk away with brand-new insights into Saunders the man. I regret not meeting Saunders when I had the chance, but I feel like I did after reading To Leave a Warrior Behind. Which is about the highest praise I can give it.
I've got to give Nostradamus a proper go one of these days. Proper go as in, listening dozens of times to the album in full, locked in a room by myself with naught but beer, notepad and pen, and my thoughts.
Admittedly I was ... skeptical when Judas Priest announced it was putting out a concept album based on the life and works of the famous 16th century French astrologer and seer. It just didn't seem to align with the talents of a band that wrote "Living After Midnight" and "Painkiller."
And "Johnny B Goode" but we don't talk about that around here.
Lately though I've been paying closer attention to some of the songs from the album, and am discovering they're quite good. Check that... more than a few are epic, powerful, awesome.
In fact I'm starting to think they just might have pulled the damned thing off.
See for example "Revelations." This song kicks my ass. Crank it up this Metal Friday and it will kick yours, too.
I have the power
I have the choice
They'll hear my voice
For centuries
Yes, we will Rob.
In his biography Confess (highly recommended BTW, my review is here) Halford expressed a deep belief that the band knocked it out of the park with Nostradamus, though he acknowledges it's also the most divisive album in the band's oeuvre. Here's what he had to say:
I absolutely loved making it. It ended up as a double album and I am proud of every fucking word and note.... I think it contains some of the most accomplished lyrics I have ever written. I also believe it's one of the greatest suites of music in metal history. So there! I stand behind it 100 percent.
Listen and decide for yourself.
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| Kane vs. the Werewolf by Jeff Easley. |
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Not nearly enough Anthrax on the blog. Let's change that this Metal Friday.
I don't listen to a whole lot of this band these days, but back in the late 80s/early 90s they were very heavy in my rotation. "Among the Living" hit a sweet spot. Right in the midst of the thrash era Stephen King released the uncut The Stand. Which we all read, and discussed. And wondered if we'd survive the apocalypse. Not likely with the Walking Dude to contend with.
Pair The Stand with "Among the Living" and you've got a great time on your hands. This song gave Randall Flagg his due.
Anthrax had a knack for writing choruses with riffs that begged for a mosh pit to erupt. You get that here.
I'm the walking dude
I can see all the world
Twist your minds with fear
I'm the man with the power
Among the living
Follow me or die
We humans aren’t as lucky (or is it unlucky?) as Tolkien’s Elves, but Valinors of sorts are available to us, be they the green-gold stun grenade of a spring day, the Polaroid poignance of that one page it might be easier to skip in the photo album, or a chance hearing of a long-ago hit single that ruled the airwaves all during one of those cusp-between-adolescence-and-adulthood summers when possibility and probability were still in equipoise.
“It must be, instead, that there is something about Tolkien’s work that triggers a critical blindness or a perverse reflex to claim the opposite of the truth. I think I can identify one of the major factors. The standard, cliched twentieth-century rejection of any works of literature that depict humanity and its works as being substantially good and beautiful and thus worthy of preservation is to call them “fairy-tales,” with the implication that such are just simple, happy stories that only children would believe.”
A handful of podcasts have stayed in my rotation from the moment I first heard them. One of those is Weird Studies with hosts Phil Martel and J.F. Ford.
I don’t listen to every show; in fact I estimate I might skip half or more. I’m not interested in the Tarot, or the X-Files, or analyses of films I haven’t seen. But when it’s a topic that interests me, even obliquely, I’m in. Martel and Ford are college professors and possess not only a very high level of erudition and insight, but also a fine dialogue with one another. They have a level of glib I admire and a playfulness and earnestness I enjoy. I’ve listened to some dynamite shows on George Miller’s Mad Max movies, Algernon Blackwood, Blade Runner, and more.
So you can imagine my level of excitement when they dropped an episode on The Fellowship of the Ring.
This did not disappoint. Tolkien does not leap to mind when you hear the term “weird” … until you think of things like Old Man Willow, and trees full of anger, which is very much out of Blackwood’s “The Willows.” Or the Elves themselves, whose lives as immortals unbounded by time as we know it are utterly alien to men, or hobbits.
Here’s three cool things the hosts discussed I wanted to point out.
The Lord of the Rings is a postapocalyptic story. Of course it is! It’s so obvious I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. Probably because I tend to associate postapocalyptic with Thundarr the Barbarian, Mad Max or World War Z. But how else would you describe a fallen world that is Arda marred, damaged irrevocably by Morgoth, and suffered the drowning of Numenor by a vengeful Iluvatar? And whose characters stride through ruins of greater civilizations, and great Elven kingdoms that have been destroyed in war and whose remnants are steadily leaving for Valinor via the Gray Havens? One word might be, postapocalyptic.
It is deeply anti-modern and modern at the same time. By modern I mean of the literary movement. LOTR is a post WWI novel and of a time when old certitudes were stripped away by the devastation of the Great War. Its author was aware of everything that had come before him, and his choice to write with deliberate archaisms is a form of irony, a modernist technique. Tolkien was not some atavistic throwback but in tune with the times and a reader of the news and of “modern” fantasy of his era. Yet it’s also deeply unironic, intensely engaged with the world, and moral to its core. And anti-postmodern.
The Lord of the Rings is applicable to every reader, and challenges you. Reading it is perilous, because it offers moral clarity and forces you to consider tough choices. Can you exhibit pity, and mercy, on your enemies, because you cannot see all ends? Would you have the will to cast a (metaphorical) One Ring into the fire? For example on the use of AI, which grants greater power but requires environmental degradation, and has well documented deleterious impacts on learning and human flourishing?
What is your ring?
***
I disagreed with a couple of the hosts’ points. I’ve read enough Tolkien, and enough about Tolkien, to have my own views. Which is what anyone should strive for who truly loves a subject enough to return to it again and again. They assert for example that the work is not nostalgic, I argue that it very much is, though I think we are operating off two different definitions of nostalgia. They also assert that Aragorn is not rooted, unlike Bilbo or Boromir, but I note he is descended from Elendil and the Kings of Numenor and of the Faithful, and therefore rooted (at least in bloodline) very deeply.
Regardless this is the type of dialogue I yearn from when I’m reading something like LOTR. There is a dynamite soliloquy with about seven minutes to go prompted by a reading of Galadriel’s gift to Gimli that left one of the hosts choked up; the book does the same to me.
Listen to the episode here. I can’t wait for forthcoming parts on The Two Towers and The Return of the King.
I’m also in the midst of reading The Tower and the Ruin by Michael D.C. Drout which has also been great. More on that later.
The third issue of Arcane Arts went out earlier today.
I've gotten a couple of responses from readers who seem to like what I'm doing with the newsletter. Or at least they flatter me with hollow praise. I'm still figuring out exactly what I want to do with it, but it's becoming an informal way of sharing what I'm watching/reading/thinking about, with a little bit more of a personal touch than you might typically see on the blog.
What, you're not getting Arcane Arts? Fix that today by entering your name and email address in that widget at right.
Here is a link to the latest issue. A lot of fun S&S related updates in this one.
A quick subscribe and you'll never miss the next.
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| I marveled at its glory... and writhed at my suck. |
This past weekend I took a short dude’s weekend trip to Southington. None of us knew anything about this rather nondescript town in central Connecticut, save that it was a convenient halfway point between my buddy Scott, who lives in New Jersey, and the other three of us dudes from MA/NH.
Scott did some online scouting. Southington had a venue where we could throw axes, an arcade, and ample beer. The decision was made.
As it turns out GameCraft Arcade is not just any arcade. It’s a two-story homage to old-school gaming. Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out, Double Dragon, Wizard of Wor, Asteroids, Tron, 1941, Castlevania, Joust, Frogger, dozens more of that ilk. So many that I decided to give the place a thorough scouting-out before plunking down my hard-earned coin.
And there it was. On the second floor, tucked way in the back corner, a holy grail for S&S enthusiasts.
Scantily-clad chicks. Skulls. Muscular warriors with swords and horned helmets. The snake pit. And the leering red demon himself.
Gorgar, in all its glory. The 1979 machine made famous by being the first-ever talking pinball machine. One I've written about before, here.
I stood back, admired the beautiful artwork. It begged to be played. And of course, I did.
Unfortunately not much to report there. I batted the ball around a few times. Tried my best to land it in The Snake Pit. Failed, and watched helplessly as it guttered over and over before I got much done on the scoreboard.
GameCraft also had other related pinball games, including Seawitch, Paragon, and Black Knight. Someone there appreciates the sacred genre it seems. Paragon and Seawitch are, like Gorgar, heavily inspired by the Frank Frazetta aesthetic.
Axe throwing was fun, and the venue supervisor who made sure we didn’t plant a heavy hatchet into our foot or our buddies’ back was a huge Lord of the Rings fan, with a sleeve of tattoos on one arm including a JRRT rune on her shoulder and the “One Ring to Rule Them All” inscription wrapped around her bicep. Much Tolkien nerdity ensued. I did not come home with a tattoo of my own though the thought crossed my mind and was liberally encouraged by the dudes. The Groggy Frog was a worthy (2? 3?) beer stop and we got a kick out of the waitress with the Poison half shirt who evaded my question about her favorite Poison song.
Anyway, should you ever be driving down I-84 and see signs for Southington it’s a worth a visit. Tell the Girl with the Gandalf Tattoo I said hi.
Anecdotally, readers of S&S listen to heavy metal in higher proportion than country or rap music. There are reasons for this.
The sound of S&S is heavy, and of battle. James Taylor cannot be the soundtrack of “Black Colossus.”
Another is the appropriation of sword-and-sorcery imagery by metal bands. Dangle Kings of Metal in front of a Robert E. Howard reader and you’ll get a grunt of recognition, if not appreciation, even though they might have never heard of Manowar. Some will go on to sample the music, discover that “Heart of Steel” is really fucking awesome song, and become a metalhead.
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| Ken Kelly and Manowar can be none more metal. |
Metal and sword-and-sorcery also share some deeper DNA …. a thematic attraction to the Outsider. Some examples fired off over a beer:
Judas Priest with “The Sentinel”
Whitesnake and “Here I Go Again.” Like a drifter I was born to walk alone.
Helloween: I Want Out
Metallica: Escape (Life’s for my own, to live my own way)
Etc.
Metal does not have a patent on the outsider concept; rock has always contained its seeds. See Dion’s “Runaway” and Rolling Stones “Tumbling Dice.” But the combination of imagery+heaviness+outsider makes metal music a substantial overlap in the venn diagram of S&S.
Iron Maiden’s “Drifter” is another fine example. As Paul DiAnno sings:
Gotta keep on roaming, gotta sing my song… ‘cause I’m a drifter, drifting on.
I hope you drift into a fine weekend on this Metal Friday.
“Standardization is crushing the heart and soul, the blood and the guts, out of humanity and the eventual result will be either complete and unrelieved slavery or the destruction of civilization and return to barbarism. Once men sang the praises of ephemeral gods carved out of ivory and wood. Now they sing equally senseless praises to equally ephemeral and vain gods of Science and Commerce and Progress. Hell.”--Letter from Robert E. Howard to H.P. Lovecraft, Oct. 1931
“I look back with envy at the greater freedom known by my ancestors on the frontier. Hard work? Certainly they worked hard. But they were building something; making the most of opportunities; working for themselves, not merely cogs grinding in a soulless machine, as is the modern working man, whose life is a constant round of barren toil infinitely more monotonous and crushing than the toil on the frontier.”--Letter from Robert E. Howard to H.P. Lovecraft, Jan. 1934
