Sea of Red

Late Judas Priest, off their most recent studio album, Firepower.

Hits me right in the melancholia/nostalgia sweet spot, remembering those who came before us. Lovely song.

As the sun goes down
The silence is profound
For they gave so much
So we might go on and live
Laying peaceful they forgive

Rob's voice is of course not what it was 40 years ago, but it works quite well with material like this. 

Truth

I’m almost 50 and still don’t really know who I am, and at turns, what the fuck I’m doing.

Outwardly I’m successful. Married. Two children. Nice house. Good job. Friends. A life.

All indicative of success.

But what do I stand for? What do I believe in? 

What values do I hold, not just firmly, but eternally? What torch do I bear? What lantern do I hold aloft in the prow of a ship in the night of a storm-tossed sea?

Do values even exist, in this postmodern age where objective truth is apparently a myth, and reality subjective?

Yes, they do. There are Universal Truths. From whence they derive, I’ll leave for another day. But they exist, and they are the framework for leading a meaningful life. 

I’m still figuring mine out. But here’s a hard-earned one I believe in. One I can say, you’re not moving me off of, motherfucker.

Truth is what holds civilization together. Everything depends on people who outwardly commit to a course of action and then inwardly follow through. Who don’t swindle, cheat, or otherwise elide the truth. Who resist the temptation of lying in the service of other “commitments” -- quarterly reports, shareholders, whims of their spineless, shit bosses, their cock. And commit to doing the right thing.

Even when it hurts.

Because everything depends on it.

When a man lies, he murders some part of the world. 

When you don’t tell the truth, you murder something in you. 

I try to operate this way. I don’t always succeed … but I largely do. On the important matters. 

I like to think others largely abide by truth, though they often don’t, with spectacular collapses and destruction left in their wake. See the 30-year-old shitbag “genius” CEO from FTX who cost his investors billions with his lies. 

Elizabeth Holmes. Bernie Madoff. The examples stagger. Read “Rogues in the House” and you see what’s at stake.

Without a commitment to truth, everything we stand on is shifting sand. Collapse is imminent. 

Easy to say, very hard to implement. It means you must take accountability for your actions. But you've got to do it. Hold the line.

Above all, it must be Truth.

An observation about heavy metal and sword-and-sorcery

Blue Cheer and Deep Purple = Lord Dunsany and James Branch Cabell

Black Sabbath = Robert E. Howard

Judas Priest and Iron Maiden = Fritz Leiber and Jack Vance

Metallica and Megadeth = Poul Anderson and Michael Moorcock

Queensryche and Danzig = Karl Edward Wagner and Charles Saunders

Slayer, Sepultura, Pantera = Ramsay Campbell, David Gemmell, Glen Cook

Warrant, Poison, Def Leppard = Gardner Fox, Lin Carter, L. Sprague de Camp

Black metal, death metal with cookie monster lyrics = Any Grimdark writer

Obviously meant as fun, not some profound observation.

Every art form probably goes through the same evolution, of early experimentation/breakthrough/pinnacle/steady state/commercialization and exploitation, collapse, followed by further cycles of experimentation.

I don’t have enough expertise in other types of art to say that for sure, but horror comes to mind, going through a similar arc.

If I missed your favorite author or band, no offense meant.

The Clansman, Iron Maiden

Still riding an Iron Maiden high after seeing the Boys from Britain last week, and so I figured I'm due for another shot of Maiden in the Metal Friday rotation.

The Clansman kicks some serious ass, both the studio version (off the oft-derided Virtual XI), but in particular when played live. I heard this live last week at the Prudential Center in Newark NJ; in fact Maiden thought enough of it to save it for the first encore.

With a chorus of either "OOOH, OOOH OOOH OOOOOOHHH!" or "FREEEDOM," it's quite easy for Maiden to get the crowd into it, screaming and fists pumping, pretending they're an extra in "Braveheart." They got me. Enjoy.

Post Halloween roundup: The Willows, mysterious writing projects, and other news and ephemera

I carved this! Thanks template.

I always feel a bit sad when the pumpkin candles burn out and I turn off the porch light on Halloween. My favorite holiday has come to a close for another year. Now the days get shorter, colder. Winter is coming. Etc. We were light on trick-or-treaters this year but had maybe 20 kids come by for candy. A few costumes made me smile, including a chubby illuminated ghost, one of those inflatable units. I could see him coming a long ways off, an eerie shade of green. He was unsteady, couldn’t see his feet, and his aim on his candy bag was off by a good six inches. I picked up the candy from my stoop, put his treats into his bag for him, and sent him on his way, watching as he waddled across the lawn to catch up with his friends.

A bit of the season is still kicking around, some leftover candy. My essay on Algernon Blackwood’s “The Willows” was published on Goodman Games/Tales from the Magician’s Skull website. I’ve read this story perhaps three times now, it has incredible atmosphere and delivers a chill. It was nice to revisit the haunted island in the Danube again for this piece.

In other news…

I’m writing an essay for a future Rogue Blades Foundation book. I don’t know what (or if) I’m supposed to say about it, I’ve seen no official announcements, so I’m staying mum. But the contract is signed and the short essay largely complete. I’ll give it another edit before submitting. More to come there.

Speaking of staying mum, I’ve got a Big Idea for my next book. A cool concept, a detailed Table of Contents, even. I don’t want to say much more until I start writing and reasonably believe it’s something I can pull off. I may yet decide it’s a bad idea, or beyond my ability to write. I’m superstitious about these things. But, it’s a subject near and dear to my heart. Far more memoir than Flame and Crimson. Not academic, but personal. And fun.

Working my way through the final volume in Joe Abercrombie’s The First Law trilogy, Last Argument of Kings. Another massive tome, just after Lonesome Dove? Not like me. But, so far so good. Inquisitor Glokta is up to his creaky immobile chicken neck in political machinations and weighted favors that may cost him his life, Logen Ninefingers is back from the dead and with the old gang on the front, and the war in the North is about to erupt in fresh violence. Good stuff here from Joe.

I head down to Austin, TX next week for a three-day bender—err, company retreat. The CEO and founder of my new company is flying all 30-odd of us out to Camp Lucy, a resort hotel in Dripping Springs. All expenses covered, prepared meals onsite, open bar, axe throwing, archery, other assorted awesomeness. It’s tough being me sometimes. I’ll probably need a liver transplant after this.

Iron Maiden: No compromises

Me and Scott... and 24 oz. Miller Lite

It strikes me that I haven’t reviewed nor mentioned the recent Iron Maiden show I attended last Friday at the Prudential Center in Newark, NJ. I went with an old buddy of mine, Scott, a dude I brought to his first Maiden show back in 2008.

I first saw Maiden back in 1991 on the No Prayer for the Dying tour, so I was an old hand when I broke Scott’s Maiden cherry 14 years ago. It was great to see Maiden with him again. We may be getting older but we’re still rocking.

What can I properly say about Iron Maiden that hasn’t been already said? Very little. They’re probably the greatest heavy metal band of all time. They are to metal what the Beatles are to pop rock, or Johnny Cash is to country. Fucking legends, full stop.

But I have to say something. So here's a statement.

What makes Maiden special to me is that they don’t compromise. They have integrity. They do what they want, they don’t change with the times, or blow with the winds of fashion. If you don’t like it, tough shit.

Not everyone likes their current direction. Yes, they are writing long songs, and perhaps deserve some criticism for too much repetition.

But I’ve come to accept that it’s what they want to do. They’ve earned the right to do what they want, after 40 years of entertaining us. And frankly, I still like what they are putting out. Not unreservedly, but some of it.

Maiden opened up with three songs off their new album, Senjutsu. That’s probably the kiss of death for many bands. But not these dudes. The crowd was into it. And the third song, “Writing on the Wall,” was met with a roaring reception. “Writing on the Wall” was written pre-COVID-19, but it has an apocalyptic feel, apocalyptic lyrics, and the timing of its release makes it feel like a commentary on the state of the world circa March 2020. It still feels like we’re on the brink of disaster every day, between climate catastrophe, looming nuclear war with Russia, saber-rattling with China, and the general savage in-fighting between Republicans and Democrats, and everyone else on Twitter and Facebook. We’re living in a shit-show and this song captures the Four Horsemen quite well. I love it. Listen below.

I also liked that Maiden played “Sign of the Cross” and “The Clansman,” despite the fact that both of these songs are from the Blaze Bayley era, a time when Maiden was at its lowest ebb. It doesn’t matter; they’re great tunes, and are just awesome in concert. Kudos to Bruce for swallowing his pride and playing songs from an era where he voluntarily left the band. He knows they kick ass. 

Again, integrity.

My one criticism? No songs off Somewhere in Time or Seventh Son of a Seventh Son, the two albums where I believe the band hit its creative peak. But, I can’t complain too much. Maiden has begun advertising a 2023 “The Future Past Tour,” which if you see the imagery will feature a heavy dose of SiT. So, I’m OK with it. They still cranked out “Revelations,” “Fear of the Dark,” “Aces High,” “The Trooper,” “Flight of Icarus,” and of course “Hallowed be thy Name” and “Run to the Hills,” among other hits. A great mix of classics and new material. “Blood Brothers” has become a classic from the modern/post Bruce reunion era of Maiden, a pean to the spirit of the brotherhood of men, and of boys and their fathers. Bruce sounded great.

So, there’s Maiden. No compromise. Still kicking ass in 2022. I’m so glad they’re still around when they could be enjoying their retirement years on a beach in Maui. 

 

Lonesome Dove, Larry McMurtry

The shame he felt was so strong it stopped the words in his throat. Night after night, sitting in front of Wilbarger’s tent, he had struggled with thoughts so bitter that he had not even felt the Montana cold. All his life he had preached honesty to his men and had summarily discharged those who were not capable of it, though they had mostly only lied about duties neglected or orders sloppily executed. He himself was far worse, for he had been dishonest about his own son, who stood not ten feet away.

--Larry McMurtry, Lonesome Dove

Lonesome Dove will probably wind up as the best book I’ve read this year.

At 860 pages, it is a lot longer than I typically prefer in my fiction. It is also a western, which aren’t typically something I gravitate to.

It was a little hard to break into, a good 100-150 pages before I started to get involved in the story. But by the end I didn’t want it to be over, and plowed through the final 100 pages in a sitting.

This one took a long time for me to read, and taking a week-long business trip followed by a bout of COVID didn’t help my pace. I have now officially fallen off my goal of 52 books this year (one book/week). But, it was worth the investment. Again, I’m no western aficionado, but personally I liked Lonesome Dove better than Cormac McCarthy’s acclaimed Blood Meridian. 

It’s hard to say exactly what spoke to me, but probably mostly the characterization. Woodrow Call and Augustus McCrae are pretty damned real, despite being from an age and place (1870s Texas) that seems very dim and remote. These dudes are Texas Rangers but also quasi outlaws, violent, and no one you want to cross. When Call’s rage is summoned, watch out. Each have killed dozens of men, stomped and kicked the teeth out of many more. But they’re not cardboard cowboy cutouts. They and the rest of McCarthy’s characters are very real, believable, human.

Lonesome Dove is obviously not fantasy/sword-and-sorcery but it puts you in another place and time, another world, the old west in the waning days of the rapidly closing frontier. We meet some really, really bad actors (Blue Duck, a frightening, murderous, outlaw Indian with no sense of morality, no mercy). We experience what an epic cattle drive from Texas to Montana might have been like—life on the open plains exposed to every manner of weather, a lack of water, occasional run-ins with Indians, cattle thieves, and outlaws, getting thrown from a horse or gored by a bull and having no access to medical facilities. The violence is rare but shocking and faithfully depicted. All of this material takes you out of 21st century living and into a past that is both fascinating, and one I’m glad I was not born into. Robert E. Howard may have longed for such a past, but not me. Though I would love to see the pristine landscapes of untouched Montana.

One of the book’s major themes is duty vs. social obligations and family. Gus’ priority is on people, and relationships. He wants to get married, he never stops talking, he enjoys life’s pleasures. Though Call criticizes him for not carrying his weight when it comes to chores, everyone (including Call) loves him. This is how he has organized and prioritized his life. It mostly works out—but some of the women in the story (who are all wonderfully drawn by McMurtry) see through his act. You can’t just be a romantic player; you’ve got to commit.

In contrast Call’s highest priority is to duty, Getting Things Done. Living by a code. You promise to do something, you do it. This makes him admirable, a born leader, but like Gus he’s also flawed. I found myself identifying with Call, more than I suspected. I’m nothing at all like him—dude is an old school Texas Ranger you don’t want to cross, self-sufficient alpha to the core. But, he cannot form personal connections; he can’t show love to his son, form meaningful relationships with women, or even admit the boy Newt is his own blood. Toward the end of the novel in a shocking scene he gets his shit called out, and has no rejoinder. In a flash he wonders if he’s been living his life wrong, all along. The gulfs between men and women are wide. Most everyone in this book is quite lonely, even in the company of others.

I’m not this emotionally stunted. But, I’m introverted, I don’t form true, deep friendships/relationships easily or lightly, and this has occasionally bitten me in the ass. I found myself understanding Call on a deep level, because I have some of him in me.

The book is also about virtue, what makes men virtuous and what makes them fall short. The handsome cowboy Jake Spoon—dreamy brown eyes, natural charisma, always gets the girl—is not an irredeemable bastard, but he’s not a man worthy of our respect, because he doesn’t value helping other people, nor duty or obligation, but ultimately his top priority is his own self-interest. Gambling. Drinking. Woman chasing. He’s also a relative coward. This all comes back to bite him, hard. 

We need something to follow, some North star, that’s not just us. You better find it, or life will lead you to bad places.

Lonesome Dove does not romanticize the old west. It’s funny in places, touching, even uplifting, but also grim. Death comes easy, and unfairly, to several characters. Despite its hardness, it’s hard to leave behind. You want to keep inhabiting this world.

But now it’s time to say goodbye to the novel. Perhaps I’ll watch the television miniseries.

The Day of Might!

I realized this day has come and largely gone, and I've yet to acknowledge it. I'm rectifying that now before the Skull reduces me to ash.

Read sword-and-sorcery, mortal dogs!

I didn't spend the day reading sword-and-sorcery but did watch Evil Dead II, which features the Necronomicon as well as a protagonist who morphs into an S&S hero about 2/3 of the way into the film (the incomparable Bruce Campbell). Close enough.

Happy Day of Might, sword-brothers.

A very metal week: Judas Priest/Queensryche/Iron Maiden

Not Rob Halford sickness, nor a personal bout with COVID, could stop me from seeing the Metal Gods. I finally caught up with Judas Priest this past Sunday at the MGM Music Hall at Fenway (Boston). Opening act, Queensryche (or what passes for Queensryche these days, sans Geoff Tate, Chris DeGarmo, and Scott Rockenfield).

It was an excellent show. Both bands were in good form, and played great sets. Queensryche opened up and played almost entirely classics from The Warning/self titled EP/Operation Mindcrime/Empire, save for a couple of new songs. Todd La Torre even dared "Take Hold of the Flame" and pulled it off credibly. He's not Geoff Tate in his prime, but no one is/was, certainly not Tate himself these days.

Judas Priest played some great material, including the likes of "Steeler," "Beyond the Realms of Death," "Hell Bent for Leather" and "Between the Hammer and the Anvil," though for me the highlight might have been "Halls of Valhalla," a classic off of 2014's Redeemer of Souls. I love this song, and the background imagery was suitably viking. Halford can still crush the scream in this one.

The MGM Music Hall is a brand-new venue, a small three tiered arena (seating capacity about 5,000) and was a lovely place to take in a show. Clean, comfortable, many bars serving overpriced beer.

In addition to enjoying the show we took my friend's 13-year-old son for what was his first-ever concert. Kid loves metal and is a pretty solid guitar player. I'm told you can't wipe the grin off his face, and he's already learned the licks to "Living After Midnight."

Tomorrow night I head down to New Jersey to visit an old friend and take in Iron Maiden. That's how you cap a metal week, man. Arguably the two greatest metal acts in history, same week. None of us are getting any younger but we can still rock hard.

My upload of "Beyond the Realms of Death."

Why bother blogging? And other personal updates

Why?

Why do I continue to keep this blog?

I’ve been doing this a long time, since Sept. 2007, save for a long break circa 2013-2019 to write Flame and Crimson and tend to other matters in my life.

What is its purpose? What is my purpose, continuing to post after all these years?

Occasionally I ask myself, why bother? But such feelings always pass, and I continue my scribblings into the electronic ether. 

I don’t know why I’ve continued. But let’s see what I can come up with.

I love old authors and old bits of popular culture that are slipping away, and I want to preserve them. Jack Vance, Poul Anderson, Fritz Leiber, etc. are grandmasters of fantasy and SF, towering talents better than most authors you will read yesterday, today, or tomorrow, but I’d be surprised if their combined annual sales are 1% of Brandon Sanderson. And then you’ve got dudes like Karl Edward Wagner, Charles Saunders, Gardner Fox, C.L. Moore and others who, outside of some diehard horror and S&S circles, are rapidly fading into yesteryear. I like talking about their stuff and keeping it alive, because it’s damned good, and they need champions.

I am pushing back against Twitter and the dying of the light of (semi) intelligent conversation. Not fighting Twitter in a literal sense (I have no more or less disdain for that platform than any other), but the notion that our thoughts can be compressed into 280 characters, and that history is meaningless. I’m not exactly a purveyor of profundity here, but I try to write the stuff I like to read, that has some amount of context and substance. You can see every post I ever wrote here on this site if you choose to do so, no account necessary. Does anyone read old social media posts? They are vaporware, spoon fed by algorithms over which you have no control. I don’t think they can even be searched in any meaningful way. I like that this page is static AF, boring even. Just read it and leave. But here it remains.

I am fighting the trend of “hot takes.” By which I mean, unqualified gushing praise, or unwarranted criticism, of new and hot properties, for clicks, followers, and ad revenue. My takes are about as hot as reruns of the Golden Girls. I’m OK with not having 500,000 followers as a result.

I’m stubborn. I am aware that blogs are so like, 2008 man. This platform has been supplanted not by Facebook, but by MySpace … and then Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok. It’s a dinosaur way to do “this thing,” whatever that may be. I sometimes wonder if Google will just up and delete the Blogger platform. But I despise the need to obsessively create accounts on the latest and greatest platform, again and again. Why? Where does it end? Maintaining 26 social media accounts, and pouring your entire existence into a digital vortex of bullshit? I think most people would be best served picking one or two platforms and settling in. But I’m aware that patience and attention span are in short supply.

So in summary, I’m an old fart who likes old things, including evidently a fondness for outdated blogging platforms. I guess that means I’m here to stay, at least until Google says otherwise.

--

A few other matters less contemplative.

I am reading Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove. I’m not much of a western reader, at all. Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian, a Zane Gray novel or two. Some Breckenridge Elkins… that’s about it. But this one had caught my eye (reviews exclaiming, “if you only ever read one western, make it this one,” Pulitzer Prize winner, etc.) and I needed a sword-and-sorcery break, so I pulled this one off the shelf. It was a slow slog at first, 200 pages of OK slow build, but I’m really enjoying it at the moment. Incredible character studies, outstanding portrayal of frontier life in the waning days of the frontier, some shocking violence. McMurtry skillfully puts you into what a long distance cattle drive in the 1870s/1880s must have been like. Some absolutely beautiful passages. I’m glad I’ve made the effort as the damned book is a monster (858 pages).

Simultaneous with this western foray I’m also in full-blown Halloween mode. I wrote a piece on Algernon Blackwood’s “The Willows” for Tales from the Magician’s Skull. Last night I re-watched The Lair of the White Worm (1988). Campy as hell, fun. Recommended. Prior to that watched “The Vampire Lovers” (1970, Hammer). Also campy and fun, and recommended. Both films star absolutely gorgeous female leads, too.

If you sign up for the mailing list (free) for New Edge Sword and Sorcery magazine you will be entered for a drawing to win a free hard copy of Flame and Crimson. I will mail the book myself, how about that? And make my mark on it, should you want that.

I am committed to going to Howard Days next year. You read it here. More to come on that later. 

I’m on Day 4 of COVID and feeling much better this AM. In another day or two at most I should be back to regular form. Note to self: Get the booster. Dealing with this is a pain in the ass. I’ve had worse cases of the flu, but COVID places your life on hold as you isolate. Not cool to miss your daughter’s senior day cross country meet.

COVID!

I've got it, it sucks, that is all.

2 1/2 years of avoiding the 'vid and finally it got me on a business trip. Plane rides and a big conference, coupled with a few nights out at restaurants/bars, so probably no surprise. The opportunities for exposure numbered in the thousands.

I'm feeling tired, achy, spiked a small fever which seems to have broken. Otherwise OK, but posting here has suffered and likely will continue to suffer in the next few days. We'll see.

Blood Red Skies, Judas Priest

Can it really be I haven't put JP in the Metal Friday rotation since December of last year? Fixing that, stat.

Priest is on my mind a bit more these days because I'll be seeing the Metal Gods in just over a week's time. On Sunday Oct. 16 I'm heading into Boston with a friend of mine to see them at the MGM Music Hall at Fenway Park.

And get this, his 13-year-old son is coming too.

The kid LOVES Judas Priest, and was inspired to pick up a flying V guitar in large part due to their music. He's a damned good player.

This is his first ever concert. He just found out. How's that for a birthday present?

Today I'm going with Blood Red Skies. I can't believe I haven't featured this song yet.

Very, very bold claim coming--the studio version of Blood Red Skies MIGHT be Rob Halford's best vocal performance. Unfounded? Well, listen first, then decide. 1:15 on... yikes. 6:28--he surely shattered glass in the studio.

I don't think anyone else on the planet could sing this, like this. Halford's vocals are ethereal, transcendent, otherworldly on this one, which features lyrics straight out of the Terminator. 

Apocalypse--wow. 

Secret Fire

What is the “fire” borne by characters and otherwise present in the works of Cormac McCarthy and J.R.R. Tolkien?

“I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor.” – Gandalf, Fellowship of the Ring

"Therefore Ilúvatar gave to their vision Being, and set it amid the Void, and the Secret Fire was sent to burn at the heart of the World; and it was called Eä." ― The Silmarillion

I want to be with you.  

You cant.

Please.

You cant. You have to carry the fire.

I dont know how to. Yes you do.

Is it real? The fire?

Yes it is. 

Where is it? I dont know where it is.

Yes you do. It’s inside you. It was always there.

I can see it.

--Father and boy, The Road

He just rode on past and he had this blanket wrapped around him and he had his head down and when he rode past I seen he was carryin fire in a horn the way people used to do and I could see the horn from the light inside of it.

--Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, No Country for Old Men

There’s been a fair bit written about the meaning of carrying the fire in McCarthy's The Road, and the origin of Gandalf's "secret fire," but comparably less on what the fire actually is. As I see it:

The creative impulse; the drive to make, rather than destroy. 

The life force. Life comes from somewhere, not from nothing.

That which we must pass on, to the next generation, lest we slip back into darkness. Kindness, opposing selfishness.

Hope, in dark places.

That which makes us good.

The divine spark, if you believe in that.

That it can be “carried” without outward sign tells us it is metaphorical (in Tolkien, it is sometimes more, but Gandalf still describes it as “secret,” rarely unveiled). It is something out of myth, not meant in a literal sense, but conveying a larger Truth.

Carrying means that it requires some effort to sustain. It also seems to signify it can be passed on, to another willing recipient.

I try to do good things with my life. I have been better at this at various times, worse at others. I try to teach my daughters, at least by example. Here is how you behave, watch me. I am trying to give back to others, more than I have as a younger man.

The fire flickers, I lose sight of it. I breathe into the embers, keep it kindled.

What fire sustains you?

---

I make no claim that the fire described by Tolkien and McCarthy share a similar source—though both are Catholic—only that there are similarities of expression and interpretation.

A couple good interpretations here: 

The Grey Havens, “What is the Secret Fire That Gandalf Serves?” 

The Art of Manliness: “Carry the Fire” 

New Edge #0 is out

If you're looking for some new sword-and-sorcery fiction and non-fiction in a compelling package, New Edge #0 is now out. The editor of this new magazine is Oliver Brackenbury, who also hosts the podcast "So I'm Writing a Novel." I've got an essay in it, "The Outsider in Sword-and-Sorcery."

I have not read or perused the issue yet and don't know what to expect. I see the likes of Dariel Quiogue and David C. Smith have fiction in it. There are articles by Howard Andrew Jones, Cora Buhlert, Nicole Emmelhainz, and others, authors with whom I have some level of familiarity. Looking forward to checking it out! Cover art is by Gilead Artist, who was kind enough to send me a sketch inspired by his reading of Flame and Crimson.

Brackenbury is offering epub/PDF versions for free, and selling print copies at cost, and if interest is high enough plans to publish subsequent issues.

Stories include:

The Curse of the Horsetail Banner by Dariel R.A. Quiogue

The Ember Inside by Remco van Straten & Angeline B. Adams

Old Moon Over Irukad by David C. Smith

The Beast of the Shadow Gum Trees by T,K. Rex

Vapors of Zinai by J.M. Clarke

The Grief-Note of Vultures by Bryn Hammond

Articles include:

The Origin of the New Edge by Howard Andrew Jones

C.L. Moore and Jirel of Joiry: The First Lady of Sword & Sorcery by Cora Buhlert

Sword & Soul - An Interview with Milton Davis

The Outsider in Sword & Sorcery by Brian Murphy

Gender Performativity in Howard's "Sword Woman" by Nicole Emmelhainz

The Obanaax and Other Tales of Heroes and Horrors, a review by Robin Marx

What is New Edge Sword & Sorcery? by Oliver Brackenbury

Of Jack London, Earle Labor, and William Dean Howells

I was listening to a recent Art of Manliness podcast in which host Brett McKay replayed “Jack London’s Literary Code,” an episode originally broadcast in January 2020. His guest, Dr. Earle Labor, died on Sept. 15 at the age of 94, leading to the rebroadcast. Labor was one of the world’s foremost London scholars, which makes him a man worthy of respect.

What caught my ear was a comment early in the program about why it took so long for London to be recognized as a major American author worthy of study. Labor cast the blame on William Dean Howells, a shady character I first heard about from Deuce Richardson over at DMR books, years ago. See a more recent piece, "The Dead Hand of William Dean Howells."

From the interview (about the 8 minute mark of the podcast):

Brett McKay: For your PhD you did the first major study on Jack London as a true literary artist, and you were really breaking new ground because for a long time the literary establishment didn’t take London’s work seriously, and very few scholars had studied his craftsmanship. Why was that and what is the status of London today in literature, particularly in terms of scholarship?

Earle Labor: It’s on the rise for sure, and has been for the past generation or so… but for a long time he was dismissed as little more than a hack writer for adventure stories and what have you. Fortunately there have been a number of breakthroughs just in the last two or three decades… I have a lecture I give sometimes on the politics of literary reputation, and I explain to my students, look, the books you read, the ones you read in high school and many that you read in college, were not handed to Moses on that tablet, they were selected by a certain group, and those are the so-called elite. They decided what you were going to read. They decide for example that you are going to read Shakespeare and maybe Hawthorne’s Scarlet Letter, which is fine, but they should be also assigned Jack London’s The Sea Wolf or something in addition to Call of the Wild. 

London was not part of the group that makes those decisions. For one thing London was a western writer. They were not part of the eastern establishment that pretty well dictated the literary selections at the time in the 19th/even 20th century. Eric Miles Williamson uses the term the “Ivy Mafia”… that may not be quite fair but I think it’s kind of fun. Anyhow, the ideas that it’s those easterners, back in the 19th century, even the early 20th century centered around Boston/New York. William Dean Howells was the leader of that group for a generation. Interesting that he encouraged writers like Hamlin Garland, Stephen Crane, even Emily Dickinson, and here’s London at the time, the most popular of all of them, and virtually ignored by William Dean Howells. Now that’s got to have been deliberate I think. All of that ties in to what I call the politics of literary reputation, which has impeded the reputation of Jack for a number of years, but finally we’re getting that recognition. 

Howells dismissal of London strikes me as the same attitude met by Robert E. Howard and H.P. Lovecraft in their writing days, and in the decades after their death: “Pulp hacks” ignored, or certainly not worthy of being mentioned in the same breath as Hemingway or Fitzgerald, or more recently the likes of Updike or Irving. Such elitist attitudes persisted well into the late 20th century, and possibly still do in some circles.

I think (or I’d like to think) that the portrayal of fantasy/speculative fiction as something categorically lesser than realistic novels is now a thing of the past. I’ll admit I don’t keep up with academia or current literary theory. But it does seem like fantasy has moved from its former place in mom’s basement to the adult’s table.

Or, it might be that there is no more literary establishment/intelligentsia, what with the reshuffling of the western canon and the death of Harold Bloom and others of his ilk.

Regardless, adieu Dr. Labor, and thanks for your lifelong work illuminating the contributions of London, a forefather of sword-and-sorcery and one of the great authors of our time.

Apropos, a link to an old piece I wrote for The Cimmerian on Jack London's The Call of the Wild.

Top 10 reasons why I don’t care about Amazon’s The Rings of Power

The Rings of... Meh.

Perhaps you might be wondering, hey, when is that guy from The Silver Key going to weigh in on The Rings of Power? He loves Tolkien.

Consider this that post, but it’s probably not the droids you’re looking for.

I haven’t watched ROP, and at this moment have no plans to. I explain why in this handy top 10 listicle.

A caveat: If you like ROP that’s great! The point of this post is not to (overly) criticize the show, because I haven't seen it. That wouldn’t be honest, or fair. It's to explain my lack of interest. 

That said, apathy for a richly budgeted, dramatic interpretation of a beloved property must have some basis in negativity or critique. In my case, I saw each of The Lord of the Rings films in the theater on opening night, buying advance tickets and braving big crowds and sticky theater floors to watch Tolkien on the big screen. In contrast, I have Amazon Prime, could watch ROP at the click of a button from the safety of my living room… and have yet to expend even that amount of non-effort on the show. Why? My answers follow.

If you like or love the show and think I should give it a chance, please explain why. Who knows, you might win me over. But it will be an uphill battle.

1. The rights weren’t enough. No Silmarillion? No coherent storyline to hang an adaptation upon? Big problem. I knew the writers of ROP were facing monumental issues after learning that they only had rights to the Appendices of LOTR, not the 12-volume History of Middle-Earth nor The Silmarillion. There is no cohesive story to hang a dramatic series on, which means much artistic interpretation is required. That’s a recipe for failure. J.R.R. Tolkien was a genius, and trying to recreate what made him great from appendices and notes is a near-impossible task. The Jackson films were at their best when they hewed to Tolkien’s story and dialogue. In short, the limited deal struck by Amazon was like planting seeds into a thin, arid field, and expecting a rich crop. 

2. The Hobbit wrecked me. If I were to critique the loudest critics of this show it’s with this point: Your Peter Jackson veneration has a large blind spot. Remember these awful films? Like LOTR I also saw them in the theater. Not only did they suck, but I blame The Hobbit for creating the template that film adaptations of Tolkien must be LOUD AND EPIC AND IMPORTANT. The Hobbit (book) is rather small and cozy, save for The Battle of Five Armies and Laketown. The focus should have been on atmosphere and character, and instead it became a wholly unnecessary nine-hour epic. ROP seems to be a continuation of this fundamental misunderstanding of what makes Tolkien great. It’s not bombast and spectacle, it’s story and heart.

3. Dumping Tom Shippey soured me early. I wish we had a better recounting of what led to this foolish decision, but Shippey is the closest human being on earth we have to Tolkien, now that Tolkien’s son Christopher has passed. To cut the World’s Greatest Tolkien Scholar from the project seems to me a major misstep. He was an advisor on the Jackson LOTR films and played a part in their successful adaptation. Plus, he’s a genuine good dude (I spent more than an hour with him years ago at a convention in Boston, and he was very kind and generous with his time). 

4. The reviews haven’t been good. I read and watch reviews (and have written a fair number myself), and I have learned enough to know this show has some serious problems. Many disregard critics (“those who can’t, teach,” etc., and other such nonsense). I don’t. If it’s a source I trust, or if the reviewer is objective, thoughtful, and fair, these hold weight for me. I’m too old and my time is too limited to mindlessly consume entertainment without some indication that it’s worth my time, which leads me to point 5.

5. I only have so much time. I’m 49 years old and am acutely aware that I have only so much time on this planet. I’d prefer to spend that time providing for my family, spending time with family and friends, writing/creating, and reading. The ROP is apparently set to run five seasons, x 8 shows per season, and one hour per episode. That’s 40 hours minimum time investment. That’s a big commitment on something which apparently is not very good (see #4).

6. I’m not a big TV watcher. Give me a book any day. My current TV consumption is some evening news, and the occasional football game. My daughter got me into Stranger Things and I enjoyed that well enough. Beyond that, I don’t watch TV. My friends are still in shock when I tell them I haven’t seen Breaking Bad or The Wire or Better Call Saul or Ozarks, or whatever the hot property is at the moment. I'd rather do other things with my time than suck on the glass teat.

7. I like movies better. Movies have much more appeal than episodic, open-ended series that may or may not end well... if they end at all. Sure, movies can suck too but at least it’s only 2 hours wasted, as opposed to the folks who sat through seven seasons of Game of Thrones only to suffer through a dumpster fire final season. Or folks that invested time in prematurely cancelled shows. I did watch The Walking Dead and was sorely disappointed when that show began to rot from within, ambling along like a mildly hungry animated corpse. Maybe it’s the sword-and-sorcery fan in me, but give me the quick-hitting single film (S&S short story) over the multi-episode, multi-season TV series (phonebook epic fantasy equivalent).

8. I’m old and jaded. Hype bounces off me. I’ve seen enough, and done enough, and experienced enough heartbreak and disappointment, that trailers, regardless of how well-made, aren’t going to move me. I need to find the commitment from within. The irony is this is coming from a guy who works in marketing. 

9. It’s Amazon. I don’t particularly like this company, even though I admire its efficiency in delivering my packages on time. Doesn’t Amazon own enough of the world already? Do we want to live in a world where it also owns all art and product, in addition to the means of distribution?

10. I don’t want to see Tolkien adapted anymore. Yeah, it’s selfish, maybe petty. I don’t know. We’ve got the books, some cool old cartoons, the Jackson films. That’s more than enough. There are wonders beyond compare in The Hobbit, LOTR, The Silmarillion, HOME, The Children of Hurin, The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun, his letters, etc., not to mention the hundreds of academic volumes examining his works. All of this should be enough. If the right director were to do the right adaptation, for example a Robert Eggers directed The Children of Hurin, I’d watch it. But even then, we don’t NEED it. We’ve got the books, and the books will always be better. You can’t out-do Tolkien’s unique brilliance, no matter how big your budget. Sorry Jeff Bezos.

Michael Moorcock and other Stranger Things

I was OOO (and frankly, only semi-coherent) this past Friday-Sunday, after a sorely needed guys weekend getaway. Me and four other dudes rented a house on Whaley Lake in Holmes, NY, consuming booze and retelling old college stories. Included in the trip was a stop at Darryl's House, a bar/restaurant owned by Darryl Hall, where we took in a wonderful Foreigner tribute band. If you ever come across Double Vision, check them out, they're highly recommended.

As a result I failed to mention my most recent blog post for Tales from the Magician's Skull/blog of Goodman Games is now up: Stranger Things in the Stories of Michael Moorcock.

I hope you like it. I enjoyed digging out the old AD&D Dungeon Master's Guide for this, and my treasured copy of S2: White Plume Mountain.

Headless Cross, Black Sabbath

I love discovering old shit that I missed in my indifferent, misguided youth. Yet another example: Headless Cross, Black Sabbath's 14 studio album.

Released at the tail end of the glorious 80s (1989), this was Sabbath's second album with singer Tony Martin... and so I had no interest at the time. I was too wrapped up in Metallica, Maiden, Priest, Anthrax, Megadeth, et. al, a story I relayed a bit during a recent appraisal of Nativity in Black for Metal Friday. I had abandoned Sabbath after the Dio years, and so this album came and sank beneath the waves without my notice or credit.

Credit YouTube's algorithms for recently recommending me this video, during a day when I was getting some housework done and only idly listening. When "Headless Cross" began I quickly snapped out of my torpor and realized, this is pretty damned good. "Devil and Daughter" cemented my opinion. 

This led me to another revelation.

Tony Iommi is Black Sabbath.

Not Ozzy Osbourne.

Not (RIP) Ronnie James Dio.

It's Tony Iommi, hands down, and if you think otherwise, you're wrong. His guitar tone, and songwriting, are what unites all these albums and disparate singers and makes just about every Sabbath album worth listening to.

Headless Cross is more evidence.

Before They Are Hanged, some thoughts on Joe Abercrombie's First Law trilogy

Some hanging... much stabbing.

I'm now two-thirds of the way through Joe Abercrombie’s First Law trilogy, having just finished the second volume Before They Are Hanged, and damn, I’m enjoying this (long) journey. 

These books are all over 500 pages, far longer than the lean and mean S&S I typically prefer. I’m not the biggest fan of this type of thing: Epic fantasy/Grimdark, multi-volume series of phonebook sized tomes. With a few exceptions. I’ll gladly read long series from the likes of Bernard Cornwell, for example. 

Joe Abercrombie is another exception. I’ll read what the dude puts out. He’s an excellent writer and the First Law are easily among the best books I’ve read this year. His strengths as I see them are: 

• Ear for dialogue. His characters speak with unique voices, with each other (not at each other, not in declarative speech, but dialogue), and through the dialogue the plot moves apace. He also adds a simultaneous internal dialogue that reveals the characters’ thoughts simultaneously—which is sometimes at odds with the carefully concealed lies they speak aloud.

• Characterization. A series of this size requires a cast of characters and I would say at least 3-4 are something approaching fully realized. There are characters you remember, including Ninefingers, Ferro, Jezal, Glokta, and to a lesser degree West and Dogman, to whom you can’t wait to return.

• Depictions of violence. If you like battles (who doesn’t?) these are taut, wildly dangerous, unpredictable. Abercrombie is up there with the likes of Bernard Cornwell and GRRM for desperate melees and violence that you can picture as you read it. There is an amazing sequence in which a main character who thinks he’s victorious is suddenly struck in the face with a mace, and after a detour into unconsciousness returns to the horror of pain and disfigurement. Grimdark, but very well done.

A few specific observations and a few critiques.

Abercrombie is at this best when he’s focused on the conflict of human beings and gritty reality, but seems slightly out of his element when portraying fantastic elements. I find his use of monsters/magic not entirely convincing, and not as compelling to read. Which is why his The Heroes resonated strongly with me—there’s nary of whiff of magic in it. I have a hard time picturing what the Shanka look like; they are called “flatheads” but are essentially orcs (I think?)—hordes of cannon fodder with less menace than any of the human protagonists. Likewise Bayaz, a great wizard of the first order, can move things with his mind with a psionic-like power, but it fails to awe or inspire. Bayaz in general reminds me of a much less likeable, highly irritable Gandalf. 

I could see Abercrombie morphing into an author of historical fiction. There is a lost Empire of Gurkhul that evokes the ancient Roman empire, of past glories of architecture and construction that can no longer be achieved by the peoples of the current (fallen) age, only glimpsed through ruins. I think he could do a wonderful series set in 6th or 7th century Britain, something like Cornwell’s Arthurian trilogy.

Despite the story moving apace, and the general high quality of the prose, the series does not entirely avoid the bloat endemic to almost all high fantasy. Some of the sequences, even when well done, feel like semi-indulgent detours into world-building. I think the overall page count could be safely reduced. Probably more of a preference-thing; some people love world-building. Not really my thing.

A final note: I was tickled at mid-book to read what is essentially a voyage into Moria complete with the bridge of Khazad-dum, a bridge “soaring across a dizzy space in one simple arch, impossibly delicate.” It is a work of some master maker, “undiminished. They shine the brighter, if anything, for they shine in a darkened world.” At one point the group’s guide, Longfoot, launches into an entirely un-Abercrombie-like soliloquy complete with archaic, high language that sounds as if it issued from Boromir or Aragorn, completely different than the rough, coarse, modern dialogue typical of the rest of the book:

“And this is why I love to travel,” breathed Longfoot. “At one stroke, in one moment, this whole journey has been made worthwhile. Has there ever been such another sight? How many men living can have gazed upon it? The three of us stand at a window upon history, at a gate into the long-forgotten past? No longer will I dream of fair Talins, glittering on the sea in the red morning, or Ul-Nahb, glowing beneath the azure bow of the heavens in the bright midday, or Ospira, proud upon her mountain slopes, lights shining like the stars in the soft evening. From this day forth, my heart will forever belong to Aulcus.”

Longfoot is then cut off by Ferro, raining on his parade by calling the sight a “load of old buildings,” which rips us back into the dark narrative. Perhaps Abercrombie (a big fan of Martin, his chief inspiration for the First Law) is taking a bit of a piss out of old JRRT. Interesting, nonetheless.

Fantastic essay and other updates

Failed to mention that my post on Fantastic, that digest-size magazine that ran from 1952-1980 and published a fair bit of sword-and-sorcery, is up on the blog of DMR Books. The link is here.

Can you believe Fantastic had Fritz Leiber writing a regular book reviews column? Can you imagine Fritz F-ing Leiber reviewing your stuff? 

I found one column from 1975 where he reviews Poul Anderson's Hrolf Kraki's Saga. This is the sword-and-sorcery equivalent of Mike Tyson breaking down fight film of Muhammad Ali. 

What else am I working on? Bill Ward over at Tales from the Magician's Skull/Goodman Games is keeping me busy. I have a post on Michael Moorcock in his hands, and then will be turning my attention to a couple other pieces he wants me to write in October/November. Won't spoil any of them now.

Speaking of Tales from the Magician's Skull I'm supposed to be getting my hard copy of issue no. 8 in the mail any day now, along with a TftMS beer coaster. Will post pics when they arrive.

"Rockin' Again," Saxon

What? Saxon has yet to make an appearance on Metal Friday?

Consider that corrected. I could have thrown up something from Denim and Leather but instead went with this straightforward rocker off Innocence is No Excuse.

Love the slow atmospheric build on this. The drums are perfect, as is the guitar tone. Everything I love about mid-80s metal.

It's Friday, we'll be rocking again.

Blood Tears, Blind Guardian

Today's Metal Friday is a cut off Nightfall in Middle-Earth by the great Blind Guardian.

"Blood Tears" is typical of the work on this album... fucking awesome. The tempo changes in this one...wow. At 1:33 the song transforms from an atmospheric and melodic medieval feel, to full-on mosh-pit. Then returns. There and back again.

Tolkien is on my brain a bit more than usual (JRRT never leaves this cranium) due to the recent Rings of Power, which I still haven't watched. Will I? I don't know, I'm feeling very apathetic about it all. I’m not a big TV watcher, but mainly I have no faith Amazon can recreate Tolkien's genius.

But I can say Blind Guardian channeled a bit of it, with Nightfall in Middle-Earth. Enjoy this bit of First Age storytelling. “Captured” and “Blood Tears” are about the capture of Maedhros, Morgoth’s chaining of the Elven hero by his wrist to a sheer cliff in the mountains of Thangorodrim, and his deliverance when Fingon hacks off his hand. Blind Guardian offers a moving look into the mind of Maedhros and the torment and pain he must have experienced:

And blood tears I cry

You've searched and you've found

Cut off your old friends hand

 

A shout-out to five S&S voices on the interwebs

We don’t always stop to praise others whose stuff we read, or who are doing general good work in the spaces we enjoy. So here’s a shout-out to a few folks who deserve it for their work as S&S champions/commentators/historians/publishers/etc *:

Dave Ritzlin: DMR Books is the premiere publisher of all things S&S/S&P/heroic fantasy, which makes Dave, well, the premiere publisher of all things S&S/S&P/heroic fantasy. For that alone he deserves our praise. But on top of that he curates a must-read website and is a good S&S writer in his own right. Recently he’s been running a series of interviews with contemporary S&S authors, “Independent Author Spotlight,” to champion their work. So I thought I’d champion his.

Deuce Richardson: Deuce is an interesting dude. I have never met him in person but have corresponded with him a bit over the years and had a couple phone calls. I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone with a memory like his, or quite as well-read (except for the late Steve Tompkins). His stuff at DMR Books is always worth reading. He never fails to recognize important anniversaries. Strong historian and champion of pre-S&S adventure writers. I love his posts unearthing artwork from artists I know well but whose full catalog I have not seen. 

Jason Ray Carney: The hardest working person in this space? I would say, yes, without question. I don’t know how Jason manages to do it, but he’s pulled off a small conference, established awards, edits several amateur magazines (Whetstone, Witch House), started up the Whetstone discord group, writes fiction and non-fiction books and academic essays, edits The Dark Man journal, creates Youtube videos, speaks at conferences, organizes online panel sessions, on and on. Boundless energy and erudition.

Oliver Brackenbury: Oliver has been hard at work bringing new voices to S&S. I’ve enjoyed several episodes of his So I’m Writing a Novel podcast, which has morphed into interviews with a diverse range of writers old and new. He is also the host of Unknown Worlds of the Merril Collection podcast, a moderator on the Whetstone server, and more.

G.W. Thomas: A bit of an unsung hero in this space but deserves greater recognition. Every time I go to Google something S&S related, it turns up something with his name on it. I recently wrote a piece for DMR on S&S in Fantastic magazine and halfway through realized Thomas had already done something similar. He provides encyclopedic coverage of the genre in a fun way for Dark Worlds Quarterly and elsewhere. I’m indebted to his comprehensive, thorough, tireless work.

*There are many others of course but that’s for another post, another day.

Fantastic! And thoughts on pastiches

More witches! Art by Jones.

Recently I picked up seven issues of Fantastic. This former digest-sized magazine ran from 1952-1980 before folding. During that time it published many fine stories and authors, covering a wide, eclectic swath of fantasy, science fiction, and horror—including sword-and-sorcery. A lot of the history I covered in Flame and Crimson appeared in the pages of this now defunct publication.

Anyway, I got to reading these old back issues and that led me where my reading inevitably does—to thinking, and writing. I sent a lengthy article about S&S in Fantastic, including the four L. Sprague de Camp/Lin Carter Conan pastiches that appeared between 1972-75, over to Dave Ritzlin at DMR Books the other day. I expect that to appear on his website next week.

Speaking of pastiches, I recently started reading The Goddess of Ganymede (excellent thus far) and author Michael D. Resnick leads off the volume with this:

To Edgar Rice Burroughs Fans Everywhere

I hope you enjoy reading this Burroughs pastiche as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Finally, I see that we now have a cover of the new Conan novel by S.M. Stirling, Blood of the Serpent. I join a chorus of others in wishing the cover was more classic S&S, a Frazetta-esque painting of the Cimmerian perhaps, but hey, it’s clean, it works, there is a sword on it, and a snake. Two S’s, now that I think of it (too clever by half)? But now this new and latest Conan pastiche feels a lot more tangible.

I tie all of these experiences with pastiches into Deuce Richardson’s recent piece over at DMR Books and it’s got me thinking about this practice as well. 

I have mixed feelings on pastiches, and likewise think we need some better-defined terms. Resnick is here using “pastiche” in its original definition, as Deuce lays out “A literary, artistic, musical, or architectural work that imitates the style of previous work.” The Goddess of Ganymede is the story of American soldier of fortune, Adam Thane, on a mission to Jupiter. His spacecraft loses contact with earth and is forced to land on its satellite moon, Ganymede, where Thane is embroiled in swashbuckling adventure. Thane finds he can take huge jumps due to the weaker gravitational pull of the planet, encounters red-skinned inhabitants of the planet, etc. In other words, a transparent Burroughs homage/imitation/pastiche.

De Camp meanwhile used “pastiche” as the continued stories of an established literary character by a new author. That term became synonymous with what he and Carter did with the likes of the Conan story “The Witch of the Mists” (August 1972 Fantastic). This is sort of how we all think of “pastiche” today.

My current stance on (De Campian-style) pastiche is: I enjoy them (when done well) and have no problem with others continuing to write new stories of beloved characters. I do think fidelity to the original character/world/lore should be a very high priority. And I’m also of the belief that pastiches should contain a short introduction to the original series or other clear indicator that these are imitations, not the real McCoy, to prevent any confusion with new readers and point them in the direction of the source material. But if you want to write them (and have the rights), have at it. If it's good, I might read it.

Ace Frehley lead guitar!

One of my fondest heavy metal memories is seeing Ace Frehley at the now-defunct Underground, a former rock club in Lowell, MA, back in March 1994. 

At the time my friend Wayne and I were a few months shy of our 21st birthdays. But we liked to drink (still do), and outside in the parking lot we pre-gamed in good Ace fashion, splitting a 12 pack of Zima. 

Yes, we split a 12-pack of that now-infamous malt liquor that (to quote David Letterman) “tasted like Zhit.” It did, but we weren’t picky. As I recall it was introduced that year and everyone was drinking it. It was “Zomething different.” Don’t judge me too harshly. 

Putrid, but fun.

Inside they were handing out wristbands to anyone 21 and older to ease the sale of liquor (it was dark, and crappy inside, hard to check IDs). But they weren’t checking these too close, and Wayne and I discovered that we could freely buy Bud from the young waitresses working the crowd.

All was going great until Wayne caught the eye of a bouncer with 3-4 songs to go. With a beer in his hand and no wristband, Wayne got tossed. And I had a decision to make.

Shit man, I said to myself. Ace hasn’t played Do Ya yet. Fuck it, I’m staying. And so I did. While Wayne cooled off outside, I rocked out to the encore. 

He still gives me shit about it to this day. No regrets from me though.

Anyway, tomorrow night Wayne and I will be seeing 71-year-old Ace again, this time at the Cabot Theater in Beverly. Can’t wait. The Spaceman oozes style, and always puts on a good show.

Ace was always the coolest member of KISS. Never a good singer by anyone’s imagination but he wrote and performed some good material. “Rock Soldiers.” “Shock Me.” “Strange Ways.” “Fractured Mirror.” “Snowblind.” “Rip It Out.” Covers of “Do Ya,” “New York Groove” and “2000 Man.” Live he plays a lot of old classic KISS songs, including “Gold Gin,” a stone-cold classic which he wrote, and “Parasite,” which he co-wrote with Paul Stanley. I think he was a talented guitar player, with a unique sound and style, even though he squandered a lot of that native ability beneath a flood of booze and drugs in the 70s and 80s.

His 1978 self-titled album is duly accorded as the best of the four solo efforts by KISS. 

Here's his cool guitar work from “Fractured Mirror,” off that same album.

A bookish nostalgia

Humans are on a path of upward progress. This is a good thing. We enjoy material comfort and personal levels of wealth unimaginable 200 years ago. We’re living longer, in less pain and with less physical suffering, than any generation prior. I’m not denying the looming potential catastrophes of China saber-rattling and the deteriorating climate. But I’m hopeful that cooler, economic heads will prevail, and the latter will be solved through emerging tech and greater corporate responsibility.

But, we lose things along this path of progress, too.

As a kid growing up in Reading, Massachusetts I had access to a bookstore that was so much more than just a place to plunk down your nickels. My memories are wreathed in a blanket of nostalgia so thick and cloying that they are likely unreliable, but for me and a few friends this bookstore was a place of wonder. 

I remember the smell, musty but not foul, the one you get when you thumb the pages of an old book near your face and let the breeze riff your hair. I remember the creaking floorboards under my feet. And the sprawling, semi-disorganized riot of it all, old and new titles and wild and fantastic covers colliding in color.

This bookstore carried tons of comics, all the new stuff on display, but reams of back issues, boxed and bagged, ripe to explore. Its book inventory was mostly second-hand, and I was eventually able to buy most of the Lancer Conans and many other old paperbacks too. Dungeons and Dragons and other assorted role playing games could be had. It carried Dragon and White Dwarf, which allowed us to keep up on the RPG news of the day. This was a place to learn.

Money was a limiting factor so we’d spend a lot of time looking through the massive collection of books and comics, reading, observing. I would eventually buy 3-4 issues of Savage Sword of Conan, perhaps, as many as I could afford, and trek home, barely able to contain my excitement at the reading I had ahead. I would stop for a can of soda at the firestation. This had a side door, open to the public, and the soda machine was programmed I think for 40 cents a can, 15 cents less than the corner drugstore. That’s a big difference when you’re living off an allowance or lawn mowing wages.

I’d go home, put my feet up on my desk, and get lost in the Hyborian Age, or the Avengers mansion, or the weird stories told in Heavy Metal or Epic illustrated magazine.

Life was moving slowly, but it was great.

You probably know what is going to happen next. That old bookstore succumbed to soaring real estate values. The owners probably couldn’t afford the rent anymore, or it might have been that the book traffic was getting sucked to the malls of a couple neighboring towns. I don’t know. But one day it closed, and eventually the building in which it stood along with a few other businesses was razed, and replaced with a … bank. Commerce won the day. 

This was near the time that the likes of Barnes and Noble and later Borders were eating up all the book traffic. But soon even those far more standardized, safe, generic bookstores that ate up the little guys would themselves suffer the same fate, succumbing to the grinding wheels of Amazon and online efficiency and convenience.

Maybe I’m just romanticizing a time that I’ll never get back to, or I'm becoming an old fart. Probably both. But I feel like I’m not just reliving lost and fond memories of childhood, but rather remembering a real time that was markedly different. One where I could just be. Before the Great Distraction.

The internet and its subsequent rapid adoption and proliferation has changed the nature of human interaction in ways we really don’t understand. Life was moving slower then. We learned differently, through books and word of mouth, inherited wisdom, or a once daily newspaper or evening newscast. Not an iphone. I know others feel like I do, that sustained reading is much harder today than it used to be.

We were also seemingly much less angry. Yes, humans fought a lot, in terrible wars. But the long spaces between were not filled with what they are now, unending nastiness and pettiness and virtue-signaling and screaming about injustices and offenses, 24-7.

We’ve lost something that we will never recover. 

J.R.R. Tolkien understood this. We move from magic to modernity, from superstition and myth to reason and science, and lose something beautiful. It’s inevitable, and many new things are beautiful, but during this process we discard the old. And it’s sad. 

It’s OK to mourn and honor the past, even as it slips through your fingers.

Tales from the Magician’s Skull #6

They're back! 

Finally getting around to review of a magazine I have been subscribing to since its inception, Tales from the Magician’s Skull. I decided to go with issue no. 6 because of the new (and estate of Fritz Leiber authorized) Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser story by Nathan Long. 

I jumped straight to Long’s story and liked it. Credible, solid pastiche. The Gray Mouser was well-channeled, though Fafhrd felt a bit flat to me. The story suffers a bit from too many characters, I don’t need all the names and details for what are essentially one-act props for the main show. I liked the conceit of the story, a play infiltrated by F&GM on a thieving caper that turns (somewhat) deadly serious. Good stuff, I think Fritz would have been happy with this effort. Hope we see more F&GM from Long. I would love to hear more details on how Goodman Games secured the rights to produce the story.

On to the rest. 

Issue 6 leads off with a pair of S&S stalwarts, John Hocking and Howard Andrew Jones. Both serve up a pretty good story. Hanuvar is an interesting character, a later middle-aged centurion, deadly, honorable. I was not wild about this particular story, not as hard/heroic as I prefer. But very well-written, being Jones. The danger is palpable; swords are weighty, violence not casually handled. Nice use of snake monsters, Saathra, which felt dangerous. Hanuvar is pressed into finding a young woman, Tura, who has run away into the swamps in a bout of grief after her mother, a priestess, dies. Jones dangles some compelling threads that make me want to revisit this character (his missing daughter for example) and we’re going to get the chance in the upcoming Baen novels.

Hocking’s story “Calicask’s Woman” was likewise solid. Some good fight scenes, a reasonable twist at the end, nice closing image. The light titillation is a false front, as the story is an underlying critique of ill-treatment of women and warning against treating them like objects or chattel. All the bits about wands and figuring out number of “charges” remaining felt a little too D&D to me. Some cool spells flung about (“Wall of Demons”) that felt suitably dangerous.

Two other stories did not resonate with me because they are not what I’m after in sword-and-sorcery.

Greg Mele’s “Shadows of a Forgotten Queen” is almost all resolved through dialogue. “Isle of Fog” by Violette Malan suffers from the same malady, too “talky” and dialogue-heavy for me. The latter opens with a compelling intro (“No one comes back from the Isle of Fog”) but then gets bogged down. I need less, not more, when I read S&S. S&S at its best offers stories that stand on their own, plot-driven, adventure-focused. I prefer more swashbuckling, more happening, in my stories, and less motivations, politicking, world-building. These are short stories, keep them simple at least for simple readers like me with simple tastes. Again, this is MY preference, it’s no knock on the quality of the stories. These are authors with potential that deserve your attention.

We also get in the back half of the magazine “Cold in Blood” by James Enge which was the highlight of the issue for me. Morlock is pitted against a dangerous, murderous vampiress but the story is leavened with a wry sense of humor. Basic, entertaining, fun, weird, uncomplicated, even as it ends on a somber-ish note. Well written, well done. It strikes me I haven’t read enough Enge and need to rectify that. His stuff is consistently excellent.

The Leiber article is solid. I had forgotten that the Leiber estate allowed author Robin Wayne Bailey to write Swords Against the Shadowland (1998) featuring the two heroes, and now Nathan Long’s story.

Long story short: This is a good issue of the magazine. I am quite glad Tales from the Magician’s Skull exists. I will continue to support it as long as it keeps publishing. It is one of the few regular markets for sword-and-sorcery. It gives authors a chance to ply their craft. It just needs more S&S refinement—in my opinion. YMMV.

And, good lord is the supporting apparatus a blast. These include fun editorials, an S&S word search, humorous letters to the editor. Skull Scrolls is fun, letters to the editor as answered by the Skull himself, or hapless interns who will soon meet their death. It has considerable gaming related content at the back, mechanics assigned to the creatures and spells, etc. in the stories. It's a great idea, I’m glad it’s included even though gaming is largely in my past. It’s all well-packaged. Some of the art is crude and clunky but it’s quite welcome here, delivering an old school AD&D vibe and charm.

This reminds me, I felt the first tinge of fall the other day when I went into my local liquor store and saw a display of Pumpkinhead beer on the shelves. We’re about 10 weeks out from Halloween, and closing in on the next Day of Might (Oct. 23), the sword-and-sorcery national holiday as ordained by the Skull. Save the date.

Thin Lizzy, "Emerald"

Outstanding hard rock/metal from Thin Lizzy today. This band deserves to be known as more than just the dudes who wrote "Jailbreak" and "The Boys are Back in Town." Nothing wrong with those hits, but "Emerald" is straight up sword-and-sorcery. 

Makes me want to hop in a van with Frazetta art and hit the open road, a 1970s viking in search of plunder or at least the nearest watering hole.

Down from the glen came the marching men
With their shields and their swords
To fight the fight they believed to be right
Overthrow the overlords

To the town where there was plenty
They brought plunder, swords and flame
When they left the town was empty
Children would never play again
From their graves I heard the fallen
Above the battle cry

By that bridge near the border
There were many more to die
Then onward over the mountain
And outward towards the sea
They had come to claim the Emerald
Without it they could not leave

What is best in life?

 Look no further.

Getting political in fantasy fiction

A good idea? Or, should politics be avoided? Can it ever be avoided, when authors are humans and presumably possessed of some political bent, lightly or tightly held?

I think politics can be de-emphasized, and unless you’re setting out to write something like Gulliver’s Travels, think it usually should. Good writers show, not tell, which means showing life in all its richness and complexity, including the non-political sphere (it exists). But shorn of anything remotely considered political your writing runs the risk of being bland. Or becoming the Weird, otherworldly variety of Clark Ashton Smith’s wildest stories.

Getting political cuts both ways. For the liberal who’d like to see something closer to socialism implemented, punching up at corporate overlords through their fiction has understandable appeal. The bad guys can be Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk. But the perceived war on white men, capitalism, and the embrace of identity politics, has brought with it authorial counter-reaction from conservative authors.

Doing this type of work requires sophistication and a deft hand, or else it comes across as crass, activist screed. I don’t like reading painful, on the nose allegory. If you choose to write about the politics of the day, within a few years when the next leader is elected, you will find that your stories have aged, fast. Your clever references to political figures and hot-button issues will be rapidly outdated, obscure. Which is why I generally recommend either avoiding overt political messages, or better yet, focusing on reality—life as it actually exists, in all its forms, across the political spectrum and in the non-political sphere.

J.R.R. Tolkien was influenced by the events of his day, his Catholic upbringing, his World War I experiences (and World War II, despite his disavowal)—in addition to great swathes of non-political input including his deep knowledge of languages and medieval literature. But his stuff resists easy analysis. Is The Lord of the Rings conservative? In some respects, yes. A king is restored to his throne at the end. The Scouring of the Shire brushes up to outright critique of socialism. But the story is also about a multicultural fellowship who put aside their differences to beat a dictator. It reveres environmental preservation, critiquing the rapaciousness and industrial pollutions of Saruman. In other words, it depicts life in its richness and complexity. In so doing it presents glimpses of the truth, not a subjective political message of the day, which is one of the reasons why that work endures.

If you’re a writer, getting overtly political is one way to appeal to an audience, find your tribe, sell books. Certainly there is an appetite for all things political today. But it runs a risk. For example, in an anthology your tribe may discover other authors embrace views antithetical to its beliefs. The crudest example of this is the Flashing Swords #6 incident.

I keep going back to Howard for how to do this the right way (or at least the way I prefer my fiction). Are his Conan stories political? In a broad sense, yes. We can read Conan cutting through corrupt judges and monarchs as rebellion against the established order, a counterreaction to the injustices wrought by the Great Depression. But they are not direct critiques of Herbert Hoover (or maybe they are; if someone makes the case I’ll read that essay). They take a much broader, longer view of the course of human history, offering a dark view about the cyclical rise and fall of civilization and the imperfections in human nature, which makes them far more dangerous and memorable than mere of-the-day political commentary. It’s part of what has made Howard’s stories last. As has their non-political elements, like Howard’s incorporation of the literature of the west, and the Texas landscape.

I also think Leiber is instructive. Leiber’s critique of civilization was more subtle than Howard’s, his view of barbarians less romanticized (see “The Snow Women”). Rime Isle, the heroes’ end, was perhaps his statement on the need to break away from gods and cities, religion and politics. Perhaps old Fritz was on to something here, even though I found most of these latter stories wanting. Which maybe tells you something about our inability to ever flee reality.

I have said that my credo is literary freedom, and I stand by it. If getting overtly political in your fiction is what you want, it’s well within your rights, under the First Amendment. It should be this way.

If you want to write about a hero who rips down a wall built by a dictator, and opens the borders to a suffering neighboring community, you might be meet with cheers (from some). Others will boo your effort. How about a story about a barbarian who hacks his way through crime-plagued inner cities, solving violence with violence? Will you/should you accept that story?

Be prepared for criticism, both of the unfair/ugly variety from readers with axes to grind, but also of the thoughtful kind who see things from a different angle. 

Life is lived in the middle. Political theory must meet reality. If you can live with that, have at it. 

More awesome Tom Barber art

Tom Barber was kind enough to send me a few more digital images after my recent visit to his home and studio a couple weeks ago. I'm posting them here with his permission, appended with a few comments.

Enjoy the hell out of them. I sure did. I'm particularly fond of the first. That's talent, folks.

(per Tom:) The ‘monster’ is a scientist scarred by burns received in a laboratory fire, and he’s rescuing his little friend from the ignorant crowd of scared townspeople who hurt her. He’s taking her deep into the swamp where he’ll bring her back to health. One of my earliest. Don’t know where the story came from. Never in print.

This is Harlequin, the band/friend of Tom's mentioned in my prior post. Not the Harlequin from Canada. Started in Florida and ended up in Boston.

PTSD.

Compadre of the skeletal warrior from the cover of Flame and Crimson.

The Crue, Poison, Def Leppard, Joan Jett

This Metal Friday will actually be a Live Metal Friday. Of the Hair Metal variety.

Tonight I trek into Boston to Fenway Park to see an quadruple bill of aging 80s rock legends: Joan Jett, Def Leppard, Poison, and Motley Crue.

I have seen 3 of these 4 bands separately (never Jett) and each was fun. Nothin' But A Good Time, you might say. But, put them all together and you've got fireworks. You might have to Kickstart My Heart at this show-stopping lineup.

I'll stop there.

As anyone who follows this blog knows I'm much more a fan of what I call (in an admittedly gatekeeping/obnoxious way) real heavy metal, bands like Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, etc. But, I do like pop metal/hair metal too. I have to be in the right mood, which is usually Friday or Saturday night with plenty of cheap cold beer. 

Both boxes are checked, all systems go. Let me get through today and then I'll be time-traveling back to the 80s. There's a shitload of fun, rocking hits from these bands that regularly make my playlists. Can't wait to hear them again tonight.

For today's song, I'll go with "Same 'Ol Situation (S.O.S)." Always loved this one.