COVID-19 diaries and Haggard’s The Wanderer’s Necklace

Yes my work desk is a bar. First world problem.

It has been an interesting last couple weeks living in the shadow of COVID-19. My company gave us the order to start working from home on Friday March 13, and save for a brief run into the office to grab my computer monitor and a couple power cords I’ve complied with that order.

This is a picture of my home office. Not a bad place to work, save for the fact that my basement is unheated. It’s quite nice for three seasons and blessedly cool in the summer, but the winter can be a challenge. It’s a lot warmer down here than the typical New England winter clime but a fair bit colder than most folks set their thermostat. With a heavy flannel shirt and often a winter hat, I’m good. I’ll supplement with a space heater as needed.

The biggest challenge I have faced is the loss of gym access. I have been a regular with the weights for my entire adult life. The timing of COVID-19 couldn’t have been worse. Back in December long before I knew of the coming pandemic I made the commitment to finally buy a home gym—rack, barbell, bench, weights. My plan was to sell off a bunch of old toys on Ebay, which have been sitting in boxed storage for decades but had some value (as it turns out, about $1,600 all said and done). I was about 90% done selling everything off and getting set to place an order when the virus hit.
If you’ve tried ordering anything from Rogue Fitness you’ll understand my pain. They are completely overwhelmed with backlogged orders. I placed my order for gym equipment on Tuesday, March 17 and it hasn’t budged. I’m doing the best I can with bodyweight exercises but it just ain’t the same as heavy iron.

Happily I have been making good progress on an H. Rider Haggard novel, The Wanderer’s Necklace (1914). This one is a classic romance in the old, pre-corrupted sense of the word. Olaf is an eighth-century Northman who is betrayed by his beautiful bride-to-be Iduna the Fair, resulting in bloody conflict. Olaf revolts against the bloodthirsty Pagan gods of the North and flees to Byzantium, where he rises in the ranks of the Byzantine Empress Irene, becoming a general in personal bodyguard. More romance ensues.

Prior to his betrayal Olaf had robbed a tomb at Iduna’s request, taking from the well-preserved corpse a fabled necklace and heavy bronze sword. The necklace is a prize beyond measure but also has a rumored curse that it will bring woe to its wearer. Thus far it has brought considerable ruin to Olaf and his circle of acquaintances. We’ll see in the next 200 pages or so the full extent of its curse.
The opening 100 pages alone have made this novel worth reading. Haggard is a skilled writer and his work describing a polar bear hunt is extraordinarily taut and well-done, fraught with ominous signs of danger and an eventual whirlwind of violence. Olaf is a reasonably well-drawn character and the plot moves apace. As a fan of “The Northern Thing” I was disappointed when the action switched from Jutland to Byzantium, but so far this one is highly recommended.

Zebra sword-and-sorcery...

It’s fascinating to me that Zebra Books retroactively claimed The Wanderer’s Necklace as sword-and-sorcery. Certainly all of the hallmarks are there: The book has some light fantastic elements grounded in a setting that is firmly historical, Olaf is an outsider and a fierce warrior when roused, etc. Plenty of action and reasonable amounts of swordplay. Haggard frames the book with a reincarnation device, as the unnamed “editor” is modern writer recalling a previous life when he once was Olaf and lived a life of adventure. Any fan of S&S will enjoy this one, methinks.

Stay healthy all, and I hope you're enjoying some good
reading of your own.

This, and that, and Black Gate

I haven't felt much like posting or writing these days. Coronavirus/COVID-19 has got me down, to the point where I'm expecting the arrival of zombie hordes. By day I work for a company that provides healthcare training, fortunately a blend of books and online resources and e-learning that provide some diverse income streams, but also several live events that are now very much in jeopardy (a big conference we have scheduled for Vegas in early May, after the MGM properties just announced that they are not accepting room reservations until May 1, is not looking good). That, and a heartbroken daughter in her senior year of high school who is (rightly) worried that her prom and graduation may be cancelled, has cast a bit of a pall over the Murphy household.

On the brighter side, Flame and Crimson got a couple good plugs, one direct and one indirect, over on Black Gate. I was a regular writer for that site circa 2010-2012, after the demise of The Cimmerian website, so it was nice to make an appearance there once again.

Here is a short, nice review by John O'Neill, An Exuberant Celebration of a Century of Fantasy: Flame and Crimson: A History of Sword-and-Sorcery by Brian Murphy

Today Black Gate posted my essay Sword-and-Sorcery and the Problem of Genre, a piece which details some of the difficulties I had to overcome while researching and writing the book. Readers of Flame and Crimson or general sword-and-sorcery fans may find it interesting.

I also heard from veteran sword-and-sorcery author Adrian Cole who left me a couple of nice messages about the book.

Anyways, I hope everyone remains healthy, and safe from the swirling contagion.

My surprise signed copy of L. Sprague de Camp's Time & Chance

Among the many books I had to track down and buy while researching Flame and Crimson was the L. Sprague de Camp autobiography Time & Chance.

I picked up a nice Donald M. Grant hardcover online at a reasonable price from a secondhand dealer whose name I no longer remember. When it came I was pleased to find it in excellent/near mint condition.

Sharp cover, eh? De Camp looking pretty dapper here.

My happiness turned to mild shock when I found this on the half-title page:

Holy shit!

Needless to say this was unexpected. I doubt the bookseller realized that both the author and his wife and editor Catherine Crook de Camp addressed it, to someone named "Sandy." Bonus points for anyone who knows who the mysterious Sandy may be.

As for the book itself, worth the read. De Camp is surprisingly self-deprecating, admitting on more than one occasion regarding the Lancer Conan Saga that he may not have been the best man for the job:

While I often write about things of long ago and far away, I do not share the illusion of Robert Howard and H.P. Lovecraft, that I should have been happier if born in some former era ... No, I am well pleased to have lived in my own century.

Anyway, it's nice to own a little bit of authentic de Camp on my bookshelf.

A belated farewell to Mark Shelton

During my many months and years away from this blog I missed several notable events that otherwise would have called for a post. One of those was the death of Mark Shelton in July 2018.

I was a (very) latecomer to Manilla Road, to my eternal regret. They were a rather fringe band compared to the likes of Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Anthrax, Metallica, Megadeth, et. al., and as a result largely escaped my radar in the late 80s. It wasn't until the dawn of the internet age somewhere in the early 2000s that I first started getting acquainted with them.

These guys were sword-and-sorcery through-and-through, with lyrics straight out of the stories of Robert E. Howard. Witness songs like Necropolis:

The world is full of mysteries
That men have never seen before
Magic lives in all dynasties
The light of love shines ever more
In the crypt of Atlantean Kings
I found what I was looking for
Magic Trident of Valusia's Sea
I know it's like living inside a dream

And of course Queen of the Black Coast:

Take me back, across the sea

Of Vilayet, to my queen

No kingdom hers, but for the sea

A coastal curse, a pirate's dream

Manilla Road has a deep catalog of incredible songs, including the likes of the face melting "Flaming Metal Systems," the sinister "Crystal Logic" and the atmospheric "The Deluge" and "Mystification." Yes, the vocals sound a little like Skeletor on the microphone, but damn, it works. Shelton's guitar work is incredible--his riffs, and his writing, make these songs, and elevate them above a lot of other metal fare. 

Speaking of sword-and-sorcery, one of Shelton's collaborators, E.C. Hellwell, contributed the story "The Riddle Master" to DMR Books' Swords of Steel, a song which inspired Shelton to write a great Manilla Road track of the same name. Pretty cool.

Shelton died very early in the morning of July 27, 2018, shortly after after performing at the Headbangers Open Air Festival in Germany. He passed in the arms of his bandmate Bryan Patrick, like some fallen warrior of old on the battlefield. From the obit linked above:

"Last night I was able to hold Mark in my arms until the paramedics got there," vocalist Bryan Patrick says. "I comforted him. He felt no pain, folks. He went quick. He suffered a heart attack. The stage was very hot last night — a lot of smoke. I was even struggling for a moment. And there were a couple of moments where I checked on him to make sure he was okay, and he gave me the nod. 'Keep poundin', brother.' He went out on top."

I hope Mark is somewhere in Valhalla, plugged into an amp and cranking out "Road of Kings" before a headbanging hall of ale-sotted warriors who died that day on the battlefield, only to rise for a night of feasting and wenching. Peace brother.

My top 25 sword-and-sorcery "stories"

One of my “whiff” moments in Flame and Crimson was failing to include a “seminal works” or a “suggested reading” list. So without further ado here are my top 25 sword-and-sorcery stories, by approximate publication date.

Some explanation.

Yes, they are dated, with nothing coming after 1981. I like a lot of new authors, but they don’t displace anyone on this list.

These are my favorite S&S stories that I return to again and again, not necessarily the “most important” or foundational.

These are in approximate order of publication, although some of the printings I am referring to (Imaro, Sailor on the Seas of Fate), contain stories that were written earlier. A couple of these are obviously not “stories,” but collections. But they can be read as such, and are strongly associated in my mind that way.

The first three stories are really proto sword-and-sorcery, but they tap the spirit of the genre and are among its direct spiritual predecessors.

Four Robert E. Howard, and four Fritz Leiber. Excessive? Perhaps. But these two are the best pure sword-and-sorcery authors in the cosmos, IMO. I can’t live without “Elephant,” “Red Nails,” “The Shadow Kingdom” or “Beyond the Black River,” the latter of which is arguably the finest story on the list. Although you can make a case for The Broken Sword. Some may not consider Anderson’s 1954 novel to be S&S, but I can’t bear to part with it.

As for Leiber, I think he hit his writing peak on “Stardock,” “Ill Met,” and “Bazaar,” but upon recent re-read of “The Snow Women,” I found Fafhrd’s origin story so rich and multi-layered and well done that I had to include it.

Clark Ashton Smith appears only once, and I could have included a few other of his amazing atmospheric catalog (“The Dark Eidolon,” among others) but he didn’t write a lot of S&S, and “Satampra” is everything I like about the genre. Just one by C.L. Moore, who again did not write a lot of S&S, but “Black God’s Kiss” is that good. I have a soft spot for Kuttner and “Dragon Moon” is probably his best.

I’m not a big fan of de Camp’s cynical posturing, but I have read and enjoyed The Tritonian Ring many times, and I think it captures the humor and whimsy and titillation found in certain corners of the genre.

Moorcock is uneven as a writer, but “The Dreaming City” and Sailor on the Seas of Fate are must reads, rich with atmosphere and imagination and the weird.

Three by Karl Edward Wagner is again a lot, but hey, I love the Kane stories. I called Bloodstone the Rosetta Stone of S&S in Flame and Crimson, and “Cold Light” and “Lynortis Reprise” are just bad-ass. Anderson makes his second appearance with “The Tale of Hauk.” I’m a fan of Norse mythology and the Sagas, and this tale is all about The Northern Thing. As is Drake’s “The Barrow Troll,” an extremely well done tale of action and horror.

I had many Vance tales to choose from but Chun the Unavoidable, unavoidably made his way onto this list. Terrifying villain/monster. And if you haven’t read any Imaro, what are you doing? Fix that pronto.

Thoughts? What are your favorites? Post them here.

1. Eric Brighteyes, H. Rider Haggard
2. The Sword of Welleran, Lord Dunsany
3. The Ship of Ishtar, A. Merritt
4. The Shadow Kingdom, Robert E. Howard
5. The Tale of Satampra Zeiros, Clark Ashton Smith
6. The Tower of the Elephant, Robert E. Howard
7. Black God’s Kiss, C.L. Moore
8. Beyond the Black River, Robert E. Howard
9. Red Nails, Robert E. Howard
10. Dragon Moon, Henry Kuttner
11. Liane the Wayfarer, Jack Vance
12. The Tritonian Ring, L. Sprague de Camp
13. The Broken Sword, Poul Anderson
14. The Dreaming City, Michael Moorcock
15. Bazaar of the Bizarre, Fritz Leiber
16. Stardock, Fritz Leiber
17. Sailor on the Seas of Fate, Michael Moorcock
18. Ill Met in Lankhmar, Fritz Leiber
19. The Snow Women, Fritz Leiber
20. Cold Light, Karl Edward Wagner
21. Bloodstone, Karl Edward Wagner
22. Lynortis Reprise, Karl Edward Wagner
23. The Tale of Hauk, Poul Anderson
24. The Barrow Troll, David Drake
25. Imaro, Charles Saunders

Flame and Crimson Kindle edition released, and reviews!

Some important and encouraging news to share today regarding Flame and Crimson.

First, the book is now available on Kindle for the low price of $7.99. If that's your preferred medium (full disclosure, I'm a paper guy and have yet to take the plunge into e-readers) head on over to Amazon and grab an (e) copy.

Second, there's been a few reviews posted and I'm happy (and humbled) by this small sample reaction to date.

Here's an outstanding piece on Spiral Tower, the blog of Jason Ray Carney. Jason is co-editor of The Dark Man, an academic journal dedicated to Robert E. Howard and the broader field of pulp literature, and is a professor at Christopher Newport University. He teaches some classes I wish I had the opportunity to take back in my undergrad days.

Here's another very comprehensive review over at Karavansara by Davide Mana.

These two pieces are honest, with praise but also some critique and disagreement. I like them because they show a deep engagement with the book, from two authors who took the time to read it and write thoughtful responses. I agree with most of their critiques. I had to do some amount of editorializing and interpretation in Flame and Crimson, and I fully anticipated some disagreements, large or small, with my approach, the definitions I laid out, and the conclusions I reached.

As I've stated I'm hoping the book gets more conversation started around my favorite subgenre, and these reviews have already accomplished a bit of that. But I'm glad they also enjoyed reading it and recognize Flame and Crimson as something S&S sorely needed.

Finally, if you'd prefer something shorter that cuts straight to the chase, Paul McNamee offers that here.

News and updates: Jack London, Flame and Crimson reviews

A few items of note to share.

Buck and John Thornton, ready for adventure

Today I have a post running on DMR Blog, "Jack London, the Frontier, and Sword-and-Sorcery." Check it out here if you're interested. This past weekend I finished up a fat anthology of London's stories, 500+ pages of pure adventure in the Yukon and beyond. It was a needed palate cleanser after years of near mainlined sword-and-sorcery. I had almost forgotten how good London was, and many of these stories were new to me, and I wound up burning through it in no time. The particular edition I read is pictured here, a collection by Platt and Munk first published in 1960. I was given a 1980 printing of this book as a Christmas present that year, when I was just a young lad, I believe from my father. I'm glad I held onto it all these years.

In other news, a few reviews of Flame and Crimson are starting to trickle in, and so far I've been very encouraged. These include three reviews on Amazon, two four star and one five star, and two reviews on Goodreads, both five stars. A few folks have reached out to me via Facebook messenger or email with very positive comments and support. I had one relatively critical review from a member of The International Robert E. Howard Fan Association, who wanted something more fannish, with more checklists, and thought it too much of an overview. I will say he raised some valid points. Flame and Crimson is not an encyclopedic resource, and it lacks a comprehensive bibliography. I believe the genre needs such a book, something like Grady Hendrix' Paperbacks from Hell perhaps. And I'm kicking myself for not including a list of recommended reading or a top 20 list of S&S stories in the appendix. Ah well.

Overall I'm very encouraged with the positive responses. If you at all enjoyed Flame and Crimson, the best thing you can do is leave me a brief review on Amazon or Goodreads or elsewhere. I appreciate all who have done so!

I've come around--Blaze Bayley is pretty awesome

I'll admit it, I more or less bailed on Iron Maiden in the mid-late 1990s. Metal in general appeared to be tipping into obscurity. Grunge ruled the airwaves. Rob Halford had left Judas Priest, Black Sabbath appeared done, and Metallica put out Load (and Reload). Yuck. Denim and leather had given way to flannel and hackeysacks. It was grim times, man, especially for a young man just off to college who suddenly discovered his passion for metal largely out of place on a hip campus of adherents to Pearl Jam.

So when Bruce Dickinson left Maiden, I checked out on the band. Not the previous incarnation with Bruce--I never stopped flying the metal flag, even when it was decidedly uncool to do so (a slightly ridiculous display of integrity that I still cling to). But I could not get on board the Blaze Bandwagon. I remember listening to a couple songs and being baffled by the guy's voice--powerful and rugged, but not operatic like Bruce's, lacking the same dynamism and range. I didn't buy The X Factor or Virtual XI when they came out. I probably had the chance see Maiden in some small venues, but couldn't be bothered to look.

In hindsight, that was a foolish decision. While of course Bayley is no Dickinson, and in humble fashion readily admits as much (in any interview you read with the guy he basically says he was keeping the seat warm until Bruce's inevitable return), they put out some pretty darned good songs in that era. Sign of the Cross. The Clansman. Lord of the Flies. Futureal. So good in fact that they put the former two in the setlist when I saw them last August. They were among the better songs Dickinson and co. played that night, IMO.

And of course, Blaze gets credit for singing the sublime Judgement of Heaven. Perhaps my favorite of this "dark age" of Iron Maiden.

Recently I found an acoustic version of the song during my Youtube crawlings, and felt compelled to share here. Blaze sings with such earnestness and genuine passion, you can't help but get behind the guy. And the lyrics in this one... wow. They resonate with me, deeply.

The Evolution of Modern Fantasy

For anyone interested, I submitted a detailed review of Jamie Williamson's fine book The Evolution of Modern Fantasy over at DMR Blog. You can read it here: https://dmrbooks.com/test-blog/2020/1/28/a-review-of-the-evolution-of-modern-fantasy-from-antiquarianism-to-the-ballantine-adult-fantasy-series

In summary, if you can overcome the obstacles of price and academic language, it's absolutely worth the read. I have not read a book that does a better job of getting us from romantic poetry, lyrical ballads, and Gothic novels, up to the publishing juggernaut popularly known today as "fantasy." And it cements Lin Carter's Ballantine Adult Fantasy Series (1969-74, series proper) as a major catalyst.

If you've read it, or have any thoughts on my review or questions about the book, please leave them here (or there).

Some more Tom Barber art

Sent to me via email and reposted here with his permission.

This first could/should be on the cover of a Dungeons and Dragons supplement. The latter is called "Holding off Distractions" and is beyond bad-ass, very sword-and-sorcery. Love the use of shadow in both. Amazing work here.

A salute to Christopher Tolkien and Robert E. Howard

An important date and some notable news to acknowledge this week.

Christopher Tolkien, youngest son of J.R.R. Tolkien and his literary heir, passed away on January 16 at age 95.

Today, Jan. 22, is the birth of Robert E. Howard (1906-1936), the man who of course delivered unto us sword-and-sorcery, and the likes of Conan and Kull and Solomon Kane.

As should come as no surprise I’m a fan of both.

In Flame and Crimson I draw some sharp distinctions between sword-and-sorcery and high fantasy. Genres are defined as much by what they are as what they exclude, and sword-and-sorcery vs. high fantasy proved a useful comparison for helping me to establish a working definition for the former. But I’ll also admit that these distinctions are at times artificial and strained, and fall apart at the edges. Far more important than the bucket in which you place it is the quality of a given work. I’m obviously a big sword-and-sorcery fan, but I also admit that a lot of it is not very good. I’m not a fan of most multi-volume fat fantasy, but The Lord of the Rings is in my opinion the greatest work of fantasy ever written, and in my younger days I read the heck out of endless Dragonlance series, even (shudder) Dennis McKiernan’s The Iron Tower Trilogy.

I have to believe that if Howard ever had the chance to read The Lord of the Rings or The Silmarillion he’d be blown away. We do have an account from L. Sprague de Camp that Tolkien “rather enjoyed” the Conan stories (although some have speculated that Tolkien was merely being polite). But Tolkien also appeared to have a limited exposure to REH, having only read perhaps “Shadows in the Moonlight” in the L. Sprague de Camp-edited Swords & Sorcery. I believe if Tolkien were ever exposed to some of Howard’s verse, for example lines like these:

Into the west, unknown of man,
Ships have sailed since the world began.
Read, if you dare, what Skelos wrote,
With dead hands fumbling his silken coat;
And follow the ships through the wind-blown wrack–
Follow the ships that come not back.

He would have found a kindred spirit.

Christopher Tolkien has received his share of criticism over the years for being overly protective and litigious of his father’s works, and Middle-Earth in general. Having seen the latest Hobbit films, I can’t say I blame him. But Christopher was not just a preserver of the flame, he edited and published multiple volumes of his father’s writings on the history of Middle-Earth, stories from its elder Ages that otherwise would have been consigned to gathering dust in old notebooks. He did so with extraordinary patience and care, when he could have exploited his father’s legacy and sold the IP for millions. Here are a few examples over on Sacnoth’s Scriptorium.

Christopher struggled with how to present his father’s numerous notes and various and occasionally conflicting versions of Middle-Earth’s history, and after believing he may have missed the mark in his single narrative approach to The Silmarillion with Guy Gavriel Kay, decided to go all in on his 12 volume History of Middle-Earth. From volume 1, The Book of Lost Tales:

There are explorations to be conducted in this world with perfect right quite irrespective of literary critical considerations; and it is proper to attempt to comprehend its structure in its largest extent, from the myth of its Creation. Every person, every feature of the imagined world that seemed significant to its author is then worthy of attention in its own right, Manwe or Feanor no less than Gandalf or Galadriel, the Silmarils no less than the Rings.

Christopher’s work organizing and publishing these myths and histories was appreciated by millions. Layer on his service in the Royal Air Force during World War 2, and I have nothing but respect for the man.

So, respect to these deceased gentlemen. Though Howard, Tolkien, and now Tolkien’s son and editor have passed into the West, their works have achieved immortality.

Tom Barber's book is worth a look

If Flame and Crimson sells more than five copies, it will be in no small part due to its awesome Tom Barber cover art.

Tom of course is a minor legend in sword-and-sorcery circles, perhaps best known for his illustrations of Zebra paperbacks in the 1970s, including a Robert E. Howard title (Black Vulmea’s Vengeance), several Talbot Mundy reprints, and a trio of stunning covers for a Weird Tales paperback revival edited by the late great Lin Carter. Barber was a prolific fantasy and science fiction painter in the 70s and very early 80s, with credits on a wide range of paperback titles and magazines like Galileo and Amazing Science Fiction.

What you might not know is that Barber has also written a book of his own. Described as semi-autobiographical, What the F*** Was That All About? The Story of a Warrior's Journey Home is about a soldier returning home from a distant desert war with some heavy duty scars under the surface.

What the F*** was That All About? is available on Amazon (in print or as a Kindle book) at Amazon.com/dp/1970155019/ or from the publisher at A15publishing.com/all-titles.

Tom recently had to beat a retreat from the small art studio that stands apart from his house, due to the cold New Hampshire weather (oil paints and freezing temperatures don't mix well, it seems). So if you're looking for a compelling read about a guy made it through to the other side of trauma and addiction, and would like to support a talented artist who did great work at the heyday of sword-and-sorcery (and is still doing good work), consider picking up a copy. It's also got some nice black-and-white interior art, by Tom, natch.

Tom has painted much more than just sword-and-sorcery and science fiction. The painting above is one of his best, and resides on permanent display at the Vet Center in White River Junction, Vermont. In my opinion it captures the spirit of what this book is all about: Soldiers extending a helping hand to their buddies who have fallen on hard times. 

What follows is an essay at the end of What the F*** Was That All About? I'm including it here with Tom's permission.

Flame and Crimson now available on Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1683902440. That there is a book.

If you like sword-and-sorcery literature, Robert E. Howard, Conan the Barbarian (the 1982 film), or perhaps if you enjoy my ramblings in this little corner of cyberspace, I'd sure appreciate it if you consider picking up a copy. Read it, or skim for the good bits. Leave me a review.

If nothing else, Flame and Crimson: A History of Sword-and-Sorcery was a lot of work on a subject I care a lot about. I tried my best to give this thing we genre nerds call "sword-and-sorcery" a rough shape, a meaningful place in our culture and collective humanity, and a measure of dignity (not always possible), all while attempting to tell an interesting (non-fiction) story along the way. I tried to give my due to the authors that made it a publishing phenomenon in the 1960s and 70s, spawning a barbaric horde of movies, role-playing games, and heavy metal songs and bands. I'll leave it to others to judge how well I managed to do that.

Thanks to Bob McLain at Pulp Hero Press for getting this work into print. I'm looking forward to more titles from this powerhouse little publisher. Thanks again to the great Tom Barber for his awesome cover art. I am so looking forward to having the original Barber oil hanging over my bar in the man-cave, which if you think about it is pretty sword-and-sorcery. Once its up I'll toast with a drink out of a viking helmet, or perhaps the skull of one of my enemies.

I have a few others to thank for getting both me and this title across the finish line, but you'll have to read the book to find that out.

Farewell to a King

It always hurts, losing a piece of your past. Although you might have never met them, the passing of an artist that formed such a large part of your adolescence can make you feel like you have lost some vital part of yourself.

That’s how I’m feeling today, a day after the news that Neil Peart of RUSH succumbed following a three-year battle with brain cancer. This one hurts.

Growing up I idolized Peart. I climbed on the RUSH train somewhere around Hold your Fire (1987, my freshman year of high school), and remember buying Presto on tape shortly after it came out in late 1989. My introduction to the band were these polished, mature albums from a band at the height of its powers, and so I was both puzzled and delighted when I went back to their early catalog and discovered that they were a rougher, harder rocking, more byzantine band in the 1970. RUSH’s fantasy and sci-fi influences—songs like By-Tor and the Snow Dog, Rivendell, The Necromancer, 2112, Xanadu, and A Farewell to Kings—deeply resonated with me, as I was by then reading everything fantasy related I could get my hands on.

Truth

I experienced the same feelings of alienation RUSH captured with the brilliant Subdivisions. I loved their pentagram artwork. In short, loved everything about the band, and I knew (despite the fact that RUSH was deeply uncool with the popular kids) that they were three amazing musicians. But in particular, even though I’m not a musician myself and can’t play a lick on a guitar or read sheet music, I understood that even among these three titans Peart was something special. The guy was a freaking god with the drumsticks. I air drummed along with songs like Distant Early Warning and The Camera Eye and thought to myself, how can a human being do this? I beat the living shit out of the steering wheel of my 1982 Chevy Impala, pretending I was driving a Red Barchetta through the Rockies and hugging the cliffs at high speed. What times.

As I grew older I replaced “idolized” (I really don’t use that word for anyone now) with a deepening level of respect for the man himself, apart from the lighted stage. Peart endured massive tragedies in his life, including the loss of his 19-year-old daughter to a single car accident in 1997. Given that I have a 17-year-old and 14-year-old daughter myself, I don’t know if I could ever bear such a loss. Less than year later his wife passed away from cancer. I NEED to get a copy of Ghost Rider and read about his journey of 14 months on a motorcycle across the United States as he dealt with an unimaginable level of grief. That’s now on 2020 to be read list.

I’m glad he eventually returned to the band. I’ve seen RUSH in concert several times over their career, starting with Presto, twice on Roll on the Bones, Counterparts, and Test for Echo, then for Neil and the band’s return for Vapor Trails, Snakes & Arrows—at least eight times, counting my ticket stubs (possibly with one missing). Everyone in his passing has said it already, but I’ll say it again: You don’t take beer or pee breaks during RUSH’s drum solos. I have many times done so for KISS or Motley Crue, but Peart’s solos were bravura performances, arguably the highlight of the concert.

I am glad I got to see a true artist at the height of his craft. The Professor made my world brighter, and brought magic into my life through not only his playing, but his phenomenal works as a lyricist. As I hopped around Youtube last night listening to some of my favorite RUSH songs, this lyric from “Closer to the Heart” remains as true today as the day it was written: “And the men who hold high places, must be the ones who start, to mold a new reality, closer to the heart.” The men who hold high places and make decisions based on power and money and fear and greed are the source of so many of the world’s problems. We could all use a little more kindness.

Listening to a song like “Mission” makes me think of the brilliant artistry of Robert E. Howard and Frank Frazetta. I came to grips long ago with the fact that I would never be a fiction writer. It was no small source of grief and disappointment, but the lyrics of “Mission” made me realize that such passionate intensity and emotional attachment to art comes with a cost:

It’s cold comfort

To the ones without it

To know how they struggled

How they suffered about it

If their lives were

Exotic and strange

They would likely have

Gladly exchanged them

For something a little more plain

Maybe something a little more sane

We each pay a fabulous price

For our visions of paradise

After hearing the news of Peart’s passing I reached out to some friends via text. We shared a few old RUSH stories and our disbelief that Peart was gone. It made me feel a little closer to humanity. I forged friendships with some of these guys in part out of our common admiration for RUSH, and I’m still friends with them today. That’s pretty cool.

In short, I’m grateful that Peart lived, shared his amazing talents, and made the world more awe-inspiring. Thank you for the music Neil. If there is an afterlife I hope you find deserved rest after a life writing fearless lyrics for a band that never compromised its artistic integrity. Rock on.

Star Wars, nostalgia, and the insanity of fandom appeasement

(Warning: Spoilers if you have not seen the new Star Wars film. And rant coming).

Over the Christmas break I made a trip to the movie theater with my family to watch Star Wars: Rise of Skywalker. I had seen the prior entries in the new trilogy, and found them to be entertaining, fun, and occasionally moving, if somewhat predictable/formulaic action films.

I expected nothing less out of the third and got about what I was looking for: A reasonably satisfying conclusion to the arc that sees Rey (Daisy Ridley) go from homeless desert scavenger to self-actualized being and member of the Skywalker family, through making her own choice. This wasn’t done with particular grace or subtlety or complexity, and it was amid the usual wash of edge-of your-seat space battles and alien spectacle, but for what it was—a character narrative bolted on an action film that appeals to children, which is what the Star Wars franchise is and always has been—it worked, at least for me.

Then I watched Youtube to catch a few reviews. Big mistake.

I’m always curious to hear about others’ opinions of media I enjoy. In this case I wish I hadn’t. What I found was great swaths of 40-year-old man children in their basement complaining that the new Star Wars films did not meet their expectations.

That last bit is the key to why the fandom is pissed off: Unmet expectations. I might add, unrealistic expectations. I love A New Hope, and still feel a swelling in my chest when I hear the theme song kick in, or when Luke is staring into the sunset of Tatooine and into his future. But if I’m being honest, it’s also clunky and childlike. The acting is fairly wooden. I love the characters and the underlying mythic elements, the hints of the force and the scattered bits of references to the Old Republic and the Jedi Knights. But director George Lucas has admitted on several occasions that he was creating a film meant to be enjoyed by children. It worked. In 1983 I was 10, and thought Return of the Jedi was the best thing I’d ever seen, Ewoks and all. If I’m being fully honest my perception of the original trilogy is awash in nostalgia and my objectivity is severely compromised as a result.

Nostalgia is an amazing emotion, and part of the human condition. But nostalgia is the longing for something that you cannot recover. We’re never going to recover “Star Wars” as we knew it because we’re no longer kids ourselves. And the man-children and fandom at large have not come to grips with this fact.

On reading in 2020 and beyond

In the last six or so years I have spent less time reading, and the amount of books I read annually has declined. I’ve identified a few reasons for this.

Flame and Crimson. Writing a book is a lot of work. The hour or so I spent writing in the evenings after work was time that I would have ordinarily spent reading. Writing this book made me chase a lot of S&S titles that I hadn’t read for research purposes, but a lot of my “reading” was hunting and picking for references, excerpting, and the like. This made sustained reading efforts a lot more challenging.

My smart phone and general accessibility of the internet. I was a late smart phone adopter—late 2013—which is right around the time I noticed a drop in my reading output. This is no coincidence. Back in the day I had to sit down at my desktop computer to get online, and when I was not at my desk I had no internet access. Smart phones have made it way too easy to hop on Facebook, or Youtube, or check football scores on ESPN. I’m a digital slave and I hate it.

Family obligations. As my daughters have grown older in some respects my demands have increased. This is no fault of theirs and I would not have it any other way: They are the best things that ever happened to me. But attending weekend soccer games, and driving my older daughter Hannah to and from work (which has finally ended this year after she got her license) has cut into reading time.

Laziness. An excuse I don’t like to admit but will cop to. Reading has gotten harder than it used to be. I’m not sure if it’s the fast-paced nature of modern existence and the re-wiring of my brain, or the fact that work and obligations and my advance into middle age has robbed me of some of my old vitality, but I find harder to concentrate on books. It takes a little more practice and if I go a few weeks without reading it’s as though I’m suffering from the effects of too much time away from the gym. Or maybe I’m just too fat and lazy.

Now that the excuses are out of the way…

My goal for 2020 is to carve out more time in the evening for reading. I want to read widely and deeply. I’ve read a lot of sword-and-sorcery in the last six-eight years in research and in preparation for writing Flame and Crimson, and while it’s still my favorite subgenre and I will undoubtedly read more of it this year—including catching up on back issues of The Sorcerer’s Skull—I am looking forward to branching out. I’m eyeing some books that have been too long on my to-be-read pile: Iron John, Lonesome Dove and True Grit, Neil Peart’s Ghost Rider. I also think it might be time for a Lord of the Rings re-read. My last reading was in 2012-13, and I’m feeling the call of The Road.

For the interested, at the moment I’m reading a collection of George Orwell essays, Inside the Whale and Other Essays. Orwell’s clarity of thought and incisive writing style are remarkable. So much he was writing at the time (the essays were written in the early-mid 1940s) are very applicable to today. I now wish I had read “Politics and the English Language” prior to Flame and Crimson; I’m certain it would be more sharply written. “England Your England” has helped me understand the character of that country better than any news piece or dry history I’ve read. “Lear, Tolstoy and the Fool” is an incredible review of a review, in which Orwell takes apart Leo Tolstoy’s harsh criticism of Shakespeare by turning his review upon the reviewer. I’m looking forward to reading the last few entries.

A brief history of the Fourteenth Engineers, and William A. Murphy

Railroading under fire was a test of a man’s nerves. For the most part it had to be done at night—with uncertainty as to whether the road ahead had been blown up by the enemy. With a car load of high explosives the truck was doubly dangerous. 

“Railroad Regiment Daredevils,” Portsmouth Herald, February 5, 1919

I still remember him, from my childhood: A kindly old man, quick to laugh, who liked his peanuts, and The Wide World of Sports, and his easy chair. He loved my brother and sister and I, his grandchildren, and took an interest in our board games and action figures. He kept old books about the house and when I took a particular interest in Life Goes to War and its amazing pictorial history of World War 2, he gave it to me. I still have it.

My dad was a dutiful son and loved his parents, and so we used to take many trips on Sundays after Church to their home in Brighton, Massachusetts, where William and his wife Irene lived on the first floor of a two-story tenement home.

But I was too young to ask my grandfather about his own experiences with war. William A. Murphy (1893-1983) died on June 5, 1983 when I was just nine years old. He was 89, 10 days shy of his 90th birthday.

I knew he served in World War I as an engineer, but that was about it. Until now. My dad was recently given a copy of The History of the 14th Engineers (1923), which I just finished reading. It’s an absolute gold mine, a unit history written by a handful of men who served in the unit five years after they returned home from the War to End All Wars.

I’m glad I can now share his story here, and that of the “Railroad Regiment Daredevils,” as dubbed by the Portsmouth (NH) Herald. I never knew how close he was to the front line, and can now say he was pretty darned close. As in, right on top of it in many instances. The 14th Engineers were the first troops of the United States to arrive at the Front, and among the last to leave. They spent most of their service attached to the Sixth British Corps, who formed an unbreakable bond with these men from New England.

William Murphy (right) holding his son--my father.

It’s amazing how near we are to history, and how short time really is. I once sat on the lap of my grandfather, a man who wore a uniform stained with the mud of Flanders Fields. My grandfather could recall parades through the streets of Boston, with men in Civil War uniforms filing past—veterans of that war, so long ago. But not really, as time in the universe is counted.

Readers of this blog can find a two-part article I wrote about the World War 2 service of my grandfather on my mother’s side, Donald Teschek, here and here. I am proud to have the blood of both these amazing men, and veterans, in my veins. I never had to serve in the military or in combat, thank the Lord, and I have their service and sacrifice to thank for the blessed peace in which I have lived my life and raised my family.

Thank you men, and rest in peace.

***

The Bard's Song

Blind Guardian is a top 10 band for me. Not quite at the level of Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, or KISS, but way up there. If you’re a fan of power metal, and/or fantasy literature—The Silmarillion, The Once and Future King, the Elric Saga or The Lord of the Rings—and haven’t dipped into their catalog, you’re missing the boat. Find Imaginations from the Other Side and give it a spin. And be transported on a journey through the dark.

This past September I had the fortune of seeing Demons & Wizards at the Worcester Palladium. Demons & Wizards is a side project of Blind Guardian lead singer

Hansi Kürsch and Iced Earth guitarist Jon Schaffer. ‘Twas a great show. I’m always dumbfounded that fans in the U.S. get to see these bands in such small venues, when over in Europe and South America they play in front of far larger crowds and headline festivals.

Demons and Wizards did not play The Bard’s Song but they did launch into Blind Guardian hits Welcome to Dying and Valhalla. They also played the magnificent Fiddler on the Green. I haven’t gotten into Demons and Wizards like I have Blind Guardian, but Fiddler is worthy of any BG album.

But the Bard’s Song…few songs move me as this one does.

Now you all know 
The bards and their songs 
When hours have gone by 
I'll close my eyes 
In a world far away 
We may meet again 
But now hear my song 
About the dawn of the night 
Let's sing the bards' song 

Just beautiful, man. Terrific acoustic guitar work, and Kursch is himself a bard, of the metal/Germanic variety.

Despite my many travels, my work, the years that have passed, I still am drawn to the bard’s song. I always will be.

In my thoughts and in my dreams 
They're always in my mind 
These songs of hobbits, dwarves and men 
And elves 
Come close your eyes 
You can see them too 

What’s next for me, post Flame and Crimson? I don’t know, but I still hear The Bard’s Song, and I’m sure I will follow wherever it may lead.

Flame and Crimson headed to the printer

Behold the kick-ass cover of Flame and Crimson, mortals!

It’s done.

At 11:10 a.m. EST this morning I made a handful of cosmetic edits to the manuscript. Flame and Crimson: A History of Sword-and-Sorcery is back with Pulp Hero Press. In the next few days I anticipate the book will be available online at Amazon, B&N, and other fine retailers.

What can I say? I’m nervous. I’m exhilarated. And I’m glad it’s done. How well it is received is out of my control at this point, but I have accomplished something big that I set out to do. I’m pretty happy with the end product.

Here is a marketing description I put together for Bob McLain over at Pulp Hero Press:

Little did then-obscure Texas writer Robert E. Howard know that with the 1929 publication of “The Shadow Kingdom” in the pulp magazine Weird Tales, he had given birth to a new and vibrant subgenre of fantasy fiction.

Sword-and-sorcery went from pulp obscurity to mass-market paperback popularity before suffering a spectacular publishing collapse in the 1980s. But it lives on in the broader culture and today enjoys a second life in popular role-playing games, music, and films, and helped give birth to a new literary subgenre known as grimdark, popularized by the likes of George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire fantasy series.

Flame and Crimson: A History of Sword-and-Sorcery provides much needed definitions and critical rigor to this misunderstood fantasy subgenre. It traces its origins in the likes of historical fiction, to its birth in the pages of Weird Tales, to its flowering in the Frank Frazetta-illustrated Lancer Conan Saga series in the 1960s. It covers its “barbarian bust” beneath a heap of second-rate pastiche, a pack of colorful and wildly entertaining and awful sword-and-sorcery films, and popular culture second life in the likes of Dungeons & Dragons and the bombast of heavy metal music.

I think readers of this blog will very much enjoy it, as will historians of the fantasy genre. Maybe some die-hard fans of Manowar, too. But I’ve been telling my family and curious non-fantasy reading friends to steer well clear, with this analogy: My wife is a speech-language pathologist. Had she written a book about Asperger’s and speech therapy treatment, I’d be ecstatic for her.  Proud beyond measure, in fact. But I wouldn’t read it (maybe I’d give it a polite skim). I tried to make Flame and Crimson very readable, even fun, but it’s got 24 pages of Works Cited. It’s loaded with citations from the literature, quotations from Amra and The Dungeon Master's Guide, and my geeky analysis and interpretation.

More than that, it’s about a subgenre of fantasy fiction (not even a proper genre). We’re talking beyond niche, here.

But it’s a topic I believe will resonate with readers of The Silver Key. I hope you consider making it a very sword-and-sorcery Christmas and picking up a copy. More to come soon.

Michael Moorcock on the airwaves: New interview up on the Appendix N Book Club podcast

I was very pleasantly surprised to discover that one of the podcasts in my regular listening rotation, Appendix N Book Club, recently conducted an hour-plus long interview with Michael Moorcock.

Author of the Elric, Corum, and Hawkmoon stories, along with many other fantasy and science fiction titles including Gloriana and the non-fiction fantasy genre treatise Wizardry and Wild Romance, Moorcock is the only living author left on the famous Appendix N, a list of fantasy authors cited by Gary Gygax as principal influences upon the Dungeons and Dragons role playing game. Appendix N appears in the first edition Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Dungeon Master’s Guide, published in 1979.

Moorcock turns 80 years old on Dec. 18, and it was great to hear him sounding very hale and hearty. He was buoyant, ebullient, and enjoying the discussion.

I knew most of what was contained in the interview, but it made for a wonderful listen. It covered a wide range of topics, including Moorcock informally and casually allowing both Gygax/D&D and Chaosium to simultaneously use his settings and characters for their role playing games, with disastrous consequences (Chaosium threatened a lawsuit against D&D, and Moorcock was never fairly compensated for his work); his (very) early days as a writer and editor of an Edgar Rice Burroughs fanzine; a little about his exchanges with Fritz Leiber in the pages of Amra, and Leiber’s subsequent coining of the term “sword-and-sorcery”; his admiration of Robert E. Howard’s Conan stories and general antipathy for Lovecraft’s works; the general lack of a viable fantasy market until the publication of the unauthorized J.R.R. Tolkien Ace paperbacks by Donald A. Wollheim; his dislike of The Lord of the Rings, which he places in the category of children’s fantasy literature, differentiating his own works as pulp-inspired; and his eclectic Elric influences including the opium cigarette smoking Zenith the Albino (“Pretty much Elric in a top hat and tails, really”). Moorcock reveals that of all his characters, Elric remains the closest to his heart. He has returned to the character again and again over his career, with death of the character no obstacle to penning subsequent stories.

Of White Dwarf magazine and ruminations on genre fiction

By the Sacred Jockstrap of Robert E. Howard!

Since writing Flame and Crimson I seem to have become hyper-aware of the term “sword-and-sorcery.” It’s everywhere man, sometimes in places where I would not expect it.

Recently I’ve felt a role-playing itch resurface and have been having some fun unboxing a bunch of my old games, supplements, and magazines, enjoying the ensuing waves of nostalgia and wonder. Thumbing through them I’m struck by how often the term “sword-and-sorcery” appears, or makes its presence felt.

For example, a glance at White Dwarf--the UK-based monthly role playing magazine that still holds a very special place in my heart, even though it has morphed into a miniatures magazine—uses the term in the very first Ian Livingstone editorial in issue no. 1 (June/July 1977):

D&D was the first (and still is the best) commercially produced game based on a Fantasy/Sword & Sorcery theme. This together with the ingenious concept of ‘role-playing,’ opened up new horizons in games playing.

So here we have the editor not only mentioning sword-and-sorcery fiction, but distinguishing it as something separate from “fantasy.”

How (and why) I wrote Flame and Crimson

For those interested in the how and a little behind the why I wrote Flame and Crimson the following is a look behind the curtain.

I started giving serious thought to writing a book about the sword-and-sorcery subgenre in late 2012/early 2013. I love sword-and-sorcery fiction, and wanted to add a chapter of my own. I realized long ago after trying my hand at some short stories that shall never see the light of day that I’m not a fiction writer. I enjoy writing, but had not written anything book length and took that as a personal challenge. I also recognized there was a sizable hole in the critical literature: There hasn’t been any formal, book-length works analyzing or surveying on the genre itself.

I started with a brain-dump on paper of everything I would like to see in a non-fiction study of sword-and-sorcery. I still have this document; it’s basically nine pages of single-spaced list of bullet points. I canned many of these early ideas. For example, initially I thought I would include reviews of some of the best stories in the genre, but I came to realize that I myself don’t enjoy reading plot summaries. There is of course some of this in Flame and Crimson, but I don’t spend much space recapping individual stories. The focus instead is on its principal authors and their individual thematic and stylistic contributions to the genre.

I then began to cluster these ideas into a chronological narrative, then broke this up into a table of contents, with detailed bullet points under each chapter of what I needed to cover. Eventually, I put together a comprehensive but not sprawling outline that I could live with.

Then came the actual butt in seat writing, which started somewhere in late 2014. I had some weeks where I fit in 2-3 one-hour writing sessions or longer, followed by some weeks where I only managed a single pathetic hour, or none at all. But I persisted. I realized that if I wanted to increase my frequency of writing sessions and word count output that sacrifices elsewhere were necessary. So I stopped blogging (hence, the absence of posts on the Silver Key from 2013-2019). I stopped gaming. I stopped reading, for the most part, outside of sword-and-sorcery.

Basically I put on a football helmet and went to work.

Amra’s roar still echoes in the development of fantasy fiction

In his The Evolution of Modern Fantasy author Jamie Williamson makes a monster of a claim for the importance of the Lin Carter-edited Ballantine Adult Fantasy Series (BAFS). Prior to the BAFS, Williamson claims, the literary entity that we today widely recognize as “fantasy” did not exist. Many authors were writing fantastic tales of Faerie or blood and thunder prior to the BAFS (principal run 1969-1974), but none were consciously working in the confines of an established genre. No one talked about “the fantasy genre” like we do today; no authors proclaimed themselves “fantasy writers.”

But with the mass-market paperback publication of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings in the 1960s, the Lancer Conan Saga shortly thereafter, and the appearance of the BAFS and their famous unicorn colophon, “fantasy” became a thing. Says Williamson:

By 1974, then, a discrete genre, with a definition and a canon, had demonstrably emerged. Such a thing had not existed at all in 1960, and even in early 1969 it had consisted of a cross section of work appearing as a subbranch of science fiction (Sword and Sorcery) or as books for young readers, with a few titles presented as loosely “Tolkienian.”

(Note: I covered this in a little more detail on DMR Blog this past June on what would have been the late Carter’s 89th birthday).

In short, the BAFS collected disparate writers of fantastic material (Williamson uses the term “literary mavericks” which is apt) and published them in a mass-market paperback series, creating a story in of itself—the story of fantasy.

Let that sink in a moment. This was a landmark occurrence, and the BAFS, though they reportedly did not sell particularly well and dissolved as a series after the sale of Ballantine Books to Random House, remain an incredibly important artifact for historians, collectors, and genre fans. While I don’t think all of Carter’s choices were perfect, there is vast storehouse of great reading in the series. The Broken Sword. The King of Elfland’s Daughter. Zothique. The Well at the World’s End. The Night Land. And, prior to Carter’s term as editor, The Lord of the Rings, The Worm Ouroboros, and A Voyage to Arcturus.

So yeah, the BAFS were hugely important to the development of fantasy as we know it today. But I believe another, lesser-known publication shares equal footing in the development of fantasy fiction. 

I’m talking of course about Amra.

Sword-and-sorcery’s endgame: James Silke’s Prisoner of the Horned Helmet

Bring it on, Kitzakk Hordes

He was a massive horned demon of black metal and sinew graced by golden light, drinking air and holding the bridge with booted feet as if all the elements were personal possessions. The helmet had transformed him. He was death, and he had never felt so alive.

--James Silke, Prisoner of the Horned Helmet

                               

Why did sword-and-sorcery die off in the late 80s? I believe you can place the blame on a number of factors: Publishers were turning in increasing numbers to high fantasy, in particular anything that could be marketed as a trilogy. Oversaturation, with quantity outstripping quality. A glut of bad Conan pastiche. “Clonans” including the likes of Kothar, Brak, and Thongor, coupled with the Bantam and Tor tales featuring pale replicas of the Cimmerian himself, turned sword-and-sorcery into the genre of Conan, but not the good stuff written by Robert E. Howard.

The genre had painted itself into a corner, had become too self-aware and too narrowly focused. If sword-and-sorcery is only about muscular barbarians killing giant snakes and shagging women, there is only one direction to go. More muscles, piled on muscles. Snakes big enough to feed on elephants. Women ever more buxom and promiscuous.

All that pretty much describes Prisoner of the Horned Helmet. Pubbed at the end of a decade marked by excess (1988, Tor Books) that’s what it delivers. It is emblematic of the height of the ridiculous barbarian cliché that dominated the covers and later the content of so many books published from the 60s through the 80s, and later a string of mostly unbearable sword-and-sorcery films. It is one of the last examples of a major publisher putting its weight behind a work of pure sword-and-sorcery. I believe it marks the fall of the genre. This is a somewhat arbitrary claim, as sword-and-sorcery never truly died, and some titles including the likes of Echoes of Valor were published into the early 90s. But after Prisoner of the Horned Helmet standalone sword-and-sorcery novels were pretty much a thing of the past.

Remembering Karl Edward Wagner (1945-1994)

Kane navigating his skeleton crew.

Sword-and-sorcery and horror are bedfellows. The former is fantasy infused with the grit of history, but also the chill hand of terrors terrestrial and otherworldly. Few writers bridged this gap so skillfully as Karl Edward Wagner (1945-1994).

Today marks the 25^th anniversary of Wagner’s death. His untimely passing at 49 was a massive blow to my favorite subgenre. Wagner was one of sword-and-sorcery’s fiercest and most articulate champions, even if he didn’t like the term (1). Wagner championed Howard at a time when the massively popular Lancer/Ace Conan Saga was still at its zenith, and its heavy-handed editing and Conan pastiche was largely getting a pass. Wagner cut against the grain, arguing that Howard was a writer of literary merit whose works were worth preserving, not a property to exploit. That didn’t sit well with Conan Saga editor L. Sprague de Camp.

Wagner oversaw the publication of pure Howard in a three volume set published in 1977 by Berkley Medallion—The Hour of the Dragon, The People of the Black Circle, and Red Nails. The Berkley Conans restored Howard’s texts using the Weird Tales originals. Wagner had intended to publish all 21 Conan stories, but “contractual difficulties” ended the Berkleys after just three volumes. So we got just eight tales, plus Howard’s “The Hyborian Age” essay.

Wagner’s introductions and afterwords alone make tracking down the Berkleys worth the effort. Their presentation of the Conan stories—art, design, and of course, Wagner’s essays—remains a personal favorite of mine, even though I admit they have been supplanted by the Del Reys. I’m hoping one day to score copies with the Ken Kelly foldout posters intact. Mine were bought used and the posters were gone, probably adorning some young fan’s fake wood-paneled bedroom wall in the late 70s.

As the sun was setting on sword-and-sorcery (and his own life) Wagner edited Echoes of Valor, a three-volume series published by Tor with volumes appearing in 1987, 1989, and 1991. As its name implies Echoes of Valor served up classic pulp era sword-and-sorcery, some of it for the first time. Vol. 1 featured Robert E. Howard’s “The Black Stranger,” original appearance in the March 1953 Fantasy Magazine; Fritz Leiber’s “Adept’s Gambit,” which made its original appearance in the 1947 Arkham House collection Night’s Black Agents; and Henry Kuttner’s “Wet Magic,” first appearance in the February 1943 Unknown Worlds. Vol. 2 contained two versions of Howard’s “The Frost Giant’s Daughter,” as well as stories by C.L. Moore and Manly Wade Wellman, and a collaboration by Leigh Brackett and Ray Bradbury, “Lorelei of the Red Mist.” Vol. 3 included Howard’s “The Shadow of the Vulture” featuring Red Sonya, more stories by Kuttner and Wellman, and tales by Jack Williamson and the enigmatic Nictzin Dyalhis.

The Echoes of Valor versions of “The Black Stranger and “The Frost-Giant’s Daughter” are noteworthy. The latter marked the first mass-market appearance of the story as Howard himself wrote it, unlike the heavy-handed de Camp edited version in the Lancer Conan Saga, while “The Black Stranger” was reproduced from a photocopy of the original manuscript, prior to Howard’s attempt to rewrite the rejected story as “Swords of the Red Brotherhood.” As with the Berkley Conans, Wagner’s introductions in Echoes of Valor are well-worth reading, and his enthusiasm and erudition for pulp fantasy shines through.

Wagner not only championed sword-and-sorcery but added a powerful verse with his stories of Kane. I consider Bloodstone (1975) a Rosetta Stone (no pun intended) for the sword-and-sorcery genre. If you want to understand what sword-and-sorcery is all about you could certainly start with “Ill Met in Lankhmar” or “Beyond the Black River” (both great options), or you could find a second-hand copy of this gonzo story of a lost city deep in the swamps, guarded by an army of frog-men, and the corruptive power of technology wrapped up a green and red stone possessed of alien intelligence. Sword-and-sorcery introduced the figure of the Outsider to fantasy, and Kane is very much a self-serving antagonist in Bloodstone, albeit compelling and relatable. I recommend any of the Kane stories, but in particular “Undertow,” “Lynortis Reprise,” “Sing a Last Song of Valdese,” “Reflections for the Winter of my Soul,” and Darkness Weaves.

Aside: It’s borderline criminal that the Kane stories have fallen out of print. Wagner’s books are increasingly harder to find and growing more expensive by the day on the second-hand market. Those sold out Centipede Press editions? If you can find one used, which is rare, the complete set will run you upwards of a thousand bucks. Midnight Sun alone (Nightshade Books) is fetching $135 and up, used, on Amazon. The Donald M. Grant Book of Kane will run you from $100 up to $300 on Abe Books. Apparently the Kane books are now available on Kindle, but since I have no interest in e-readers I don’t consider that a viable option. Fortunately I have my complete line of battered Warners. But this scarcity situation needs to be rectified by Wagner’s estate, pronto.

I wish I had the opportunity to meet Wagner at a bar at a convention, knock back a whiskey or five, and talk horror and dark fantasy long into the night. He knew these fields and he wasn’t afraid to express his opinion, articulately. He was a titan of horror, serving as editor of the yellow-spined DAW Year’s Best Horror anthology from 1979 until his death in 1994. For 15 years he was one of its most recognized and respected critics, and his work as an anthologizer ranks in my opinion right alongside the likes of Charles L. Grant and Stephen Jones. Wagner also wrote some incredible, enduring works of horror fiction, including “Sticks,” which won an August Derleth Award from The British Fantasy Society as the best short fiction of 1974. I think it’s top to bottom his most effective piece of fiction. I also highly recommend his incredibly atmospheric and creepy “Where The Summer Ends” from the Kirby McCauley edited Dark Forces.

With his pedigree in and deep passion for horror it’s no wonder that the Kane stories are eerily fantastic, infused with a Gothic sensibility, and at times skin crawling. For example, this passage from “Cold Light”:

An ingenious trap had cut down most of Kane’s forces, and he had fled westward into the ghost land of Demornte. Here his enemies would not follow, for the plague which had annihilated this nation was still held in utmost dread, and although it had struck this desert locked land nearly two decades before, still no one entered and no one left silent Demornte.

Dead Demornte. Demornte whose towns lie empty, whose farms are slowly returning to forest. Demornte where death has lain and life will no more linger. Land of death where only shadows move in empty cities, where the living are but a handful to the countless dead. Demornte where ghosts stalk silent streets in step with the living, where the living walk side by side with their ghosts. And a man must look closely to tell one from the other.

With a full three score years and ten I believe Wagner would have written more Kane stories. I believe he would have given us another S&S anthology, even though Echoes of Valor petered out and the appetite for such fiction was at its lowest ebb in the early 90s. He might have been involved with the Del Reys, penning some of the intros or afterwards for the series which has finally given us the full unadulterated measure of the likes of Kull, Conan, Solomon Kane, and Bran Mak Morn.

But it was not to be.

So, 25 years gone, and the world is poorer for his death. But those who know and love horror and sword-and-sorcery remember Karl Edward Wagner.

Notes

1. Wagner much preferred “epic fantasy” or “dark fantasy” to “sword-and-sorcery,” which he despised. He loved Howard, but hated his imitators. Here is Wagner from an interview appearing on East of Eden: “’Sword and sorcery’ conjures an image of yarns about girls in brass bras who are in constant danger of losing them, and mighty warriors with eighteen-foot-long swords killing wizards and monsters faster than thought. A sword fight every other page, kill a monster every other chapter, and rescue a girl at the end—there’s your sword and sorcery yarn.”

Sword-and-sorcery and the problem of Robert E. Howard

Equating sword-and-sorcery with Robert E. Howard, and Howard alone, is an easy path to start down, and a tempting one to follow to the end. One I had to be mindful of, and consciously revise my line of thinking many times, while writing Flame and Crimson.

How do you define a genre that nearly everyone agrees Howard created, and not just default to Howard = S&S?

If S&S is only Howard, and defined only by what he wrote, then it’s not a genre. It’s the works of a single man. Howard created sword-and-sorcery in the 1920s, but he did not consciously set out to do so. He was trying to tell entertaining stories of blood and thunder, and make a living. When he died in 1936 there were very few indications sword-and-sorcery would survive, let alone flourish. It had a lot more growing to do.

That got underway in earnest in 1939 when Fritz Leiber’s “Two Sought Adventure” appeared in Unknown. Leiber proved that sword-and-sorcery could be witty, and ironic, have different thematic concerns, and not take itself so seriously.

Heck, sword-and-sorcery was evolving during Howard’s lifetime. Leiber had conceived of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser as far back as 1934 with significant input from his friend Harry Fischer. That same year C.L. Moore’s Black God’s Kiss appeared in Weird Tales, and proved that sword-and-sorcery could have the development of atmosphere as its principal objective, over action and plot.

If you’ll allow Clark Ashton Smith into the sword-and-sorcery pantheon (I do), Smith showed with stories like “The Tale of Satampra Zeiros” (November 1931 Weird Tales) that sword-and-sorcery need not even be heroic, or require that its protagonists survive the adventure (“The Seven Geases”).

Defining sword-and-sorcery by Howard alone is like defining heavy metal by only Black Sabbath. Yes, Sabbath invented the genre, and many still consider them the best metal band of all time. But to leave out the innovations brought in by Judas Priest (twin guitars, leather), and Iron Maiden (operatic theatrics, and Eddie), or the heavy thrash and aggression of Metallica and Slayer, and today the likes of Amon Amarth or Blind Guardian, paints a very limited, incomplete picture of my favorite genre of music.

The term sword-and-sorcery wasn’t coined until 1961, some 25 years after Howard’s death. The early 60s were the beginning of a sword-and-sorcery renaissance. Leiber was finding his second wind and the outspoken, talented Michael Moorcock tossed a hand grenade into traditional conceptions of the genre. The fanzine Amra was just getting underway and various definitions and terminologies bandied about in its pages.

This was a major, interesting challenge with which I was faced when writing Flame and Crimson: How do I acknowledge Howard’s massive influence, but also recognize the contributions of subsequent authors and the divergent paths they blazed?

Sword-and-sorcery is today bigger and more expansive than “The Shadow Kingdom” and “The Phoenix on the Sword,” and that’s a good thing. Poul Anderson’s The Broken Sword. Jack Vance’s Dying Earth. Karl Edward Wagner’s Bloodstone. L. Sprague de Camp’s The Tritonian Ring. Charles Saunders’ Imaro. All at some level influenced or inspired by the Howardian template, but also different. These authors had their own unique influences that inform their writing, and by extension broaden sword-and-sorcery and innovate on the Howardian template. I believe that the best post-Howard sword-and-sorcery authors acknowledge Howard’s formidable presence and influence, but also strove to be something different. The authors I chose to highlight in Flame and Crimson--Howard, Moore, Smith, Anderson, Leiber, Moorcock, Vance, a few others—had a blend of idiosyncratic influences, and as a result created works of lasting value. As sword-and-sorcery scholar Deuce Richardson once mentioned to me, too many authors in Howard’s wake put on Kabuki makeup, wearing the outer trappings of something they were not. You can’t say that about the likes of Smith, Leiber, Moorcock, Vance, Anderson, or Wagner. They helped create sword-and-sorcery as we know it today.

To be clear, I believe Howard is the greatest writer of the genre. He is definitely its beginning. But he is not the end. I don’t consider him sui generis.

On the other hand, if sword-and-sorcery becomes too expansive—whatever you want it to be—then it ceases to have meaning. If any book with a sword and/or a sorcerer is sword-and-sorcery, then we allow in The Mists of Avalon and Dragons of Autumn Twilight. For many readers that’s probably fine. But if you’re one of those people, Flame and Crimson isn’t for you. In it, I lay out what I believe the broad outlines and more rigid parameters of the genre are. I exclude certain works, while trying not to be overly rigid and exclusionary.

I tried to strike that fine balance. Genres can be maddeningly subjective and hard to pin down. Their lines will never be perfectly drawn. There will always be outliers, exceptions that defy the rule.

And that’s OK. This is art we’re talking about, not engineering.