By Dwalka! This was a fortune to make a man mad. |
At right is the complete Kothar series. Below is a period advertisement from Kothar and the Wizard Slayer. It's so cool I think I'll take up smoking.
Smoke up Johnny. |
"Wonder had gone away, and he had forgotten that all life is only a set of pictures in the brain, among which there is no difference betwixt those born of real things and those born of inward dreamings, and no cause to value the one above the other." --H.P. Lovecraft, The Silver Key
By Dwalka! This was a fortune to make a man mad. |
At right is the complete Kothar series. Below is a period advertisement from Kothar and the Wizard Slayer. It's so cool I think I'll take up smoking.
Smoke up Johnny. |
Tolkien focuses on
Tolkien’s early life from roughly age 10, circa 1902, ending with him writing
the iconic first line of The Hobbit,
in the early 1930s. We get a heavy emphasis on his romance with Edith Bratt,
his friendship with the T.C.B.S., four passionate boys who shared a common love
of heroic literature, his love of languages, and his experiences with love and
war that inspired his great story of the war of the ring and its underlying mythology.
Overall I enjoyed the film, and was moved by a few scenes.
It took several dramatic liberties, compressing and magnifying various events
to help propel along the sometimes quite ordinary course of about 25 years of
his life. Other events I believe were wholly created—sneaking into the storage
room of a sold-out concert hall to listen to a performance of the Richard
Wagner opera “Der Ring des Nibelungen” with Edith, for example. Normally I would
not complain about it, except that Tolkien was not particularly influenced by
Wagner’s opera, despite the shared conceit of a ring of power, and a casual viewer
of the film might leave thinking that Wagner’s Ring Cycle was the chief
influence on The Lord of the Rings (it was not). Tolkien did romantically reunite
with Bratt after the latter had gotten engaged to another man, and encouraged
her to break off the relationship. But it did not happen in the seconds before
Tolkien dramatically boarded a transport ship to France, as was portrayed in
Tolkien. But I accept these changes in the spirit of needing to create a
dramatic film, which is very different from biography or history.
Tolkien was also surprisingly low on the “cringe” factor.
There were no made-up dramatic charges into German machine gun fire, embarrassing sex
scenes, or manufactured maudlin T.C.B.S. speeches; rather the genuine friendship
and spirit of the four boys was well-portrayed, as was Tolkien’s view of Edith
as something akin to an elven princess (for better and for worse, as she often felt alienated by his split personality around her). Tolkien’s life had a great many
tragedies and triumphs that required no exaggeration, and the film presented
some of these faithfully. I particularly liked that it preserved the 1916 letter
from G.B. Smith to Tolkien, in which the former foresaw his own end in the fields
of France and implored his old schoolmate to continue the great work the
T.C.B.S. had vowed to create:
My God bless you, my
dear John Ronald, and may you say the things I have tried to say long after I
am not there to say them, if such be my lot.
It is heartbreaking to think what came next: T.C.B.S member
Rob Gilson died in one of the many suicidal advances across the mud-choked
Somme battlefield, straight into German machine-gun fire; Smith suffered
shrapnel wounds from an exploding artillery shell and later died of gangrene
infection. That left only Wiseman and Tolkien to carry on the T.C.B.S.'
promised great work. Tolkien developed trench fever and had to be evacuated
back to England, which in all likelihood saved his life. He and Wiseman held up
their end of the bargain: Wiseman would go on to become a school headmaster,
while Tolkien of course would go on to become an Oxford professor and write the
greatest fantasy the world has ever known.
The best account of this period of Tolkien’s life remains John
Garth’s Tolkien and the Great War, which after Tom Shippey’s The Road to Middle-Earth is one of the
best pieces of Tolkien scholarship I have read. But you could do worse on a
Saturday night than a viewing of Tolkien.
On the occasion of what would have been the 115th birthday of Robert E. Howard (had he had the blood of Numenor in his veins, and had not tragically ended his own life at age 30), I thought I would share my favorite presentation of some of his classic Conan stories.
I do regret obtaining these second-hand, as they are shorn of the full-sized pullout Ken Kelly posters that once graced their interior. But they are well-worth obtaining and reading for the great Karl Edward Wagner introductions.
Many enjoy the Tor Conan pastiches (I have mixed feelings about them myself), and if so you may not agree with KEW, who wrote this in the preface to The Hour of the Dragon:
I have written Howard pastiches myself, so I can speak both as a reader and author: Every author leaves his personal mark on whatever he writes; the only man who could write a Robert E. Howard story was Robert E. Howard. Read Howard pastiches as you will--but don't let anyone kid you that you're reading Robert E. Howard. It is far more than a matter of initiating adjective usage or analyzing comma-splices. It is a matter of spirit.
No other author I've read, pastiche or otherwise, could tap into the same heroic spirit of the late, great REH. I'll be drinking a high ABV craft beer or three tonight, to his shade.
Berkley Medallions, in your face. |
My latest post for Goodman Games/Tales from the Magician's Skull is up. Check it out here.
My greatest challenge with this post was to try to summarize a 900-page correspondence in 1,000 words. This essay only scratches the surface of the amazing exchange of letters between Lovecraft and Howard from 1930-36, published in the highly recommended A Means to Freedom. Make no mistake, it was a great debate in which Howard formulated and formalized the underlying themes that give his stories much of their power and resonance. Howard rejected fascism and criticized political and industrial "progress" both home and abroad. Today it still remains to be seen whether barbarism will ultimately triumph over civilization.
On a lighter note, kudos to Goodman Games for the wonderful graphic displays they post with these articles. I'm digging the headshots of these two men overlaid on the handwritten letter and dip pen. Fancy.
.My favorite cover goes to vol 4, I'm digging the mounted barbarian and skulls. On the back is a wicked wyrm. | |
Today's entry is the Andrew Offutt-edited Swords Against Darkness, a series of five anthologies published between 1977-79. This was still the heyday of sword-and-sorcery, as the subgenre was attracting names like Ramsey Campbell, Brian Lumley, Charles De Lint, and Orson Scott Card, the latter fresh off a John W. Campbell award for Best New Writer. All were published in the pages of Swords Against Darkness, along with many other fine authors. These were all new stories Offutt bought for the anthologies (and/or finished, in the case of the Robert E. Howard story "Nekht Semerkhet,") attesting to the health of sword-and-sorcery during this time period.
A lot of variety, much darkness and horror, and some fun introductions penned by Offutt. Five excellent volumes and I wish there were more.
I recently finished a re-read of The Lord of the Rings, which inspired me to revisit Humphrey Carpenter's authorized biography of JRRT. I'm still in the early/pre-Oxford period of Tolkien's life, covering his days at King Edward's School in Birmingham, and encountered this particular scene:
There was a custom at King Edward's of holding a debate entirely in Latin, but that was almost too easy for Tolkien, and in one debate when taking the role of Greek Ambassador to the Senate he spoke entirely in Greek. On another occasion he astonished his schoolfellows when, in the character of a barbarian envoy, he broke into fluent Gothic; and on a third occasion he spoke in Anglo-Saxon.
It makes one wonder again whether Tolkien did in fact enjoy Robert E. Howard's Conan. I like to think he would have, and did.
I'd like to also call out the dedications: Carter dedicates the first volume to Robert E. Howard, "without whom we would all probably be writing nothing but science fiction stories," vol. 2 to Henry Kuttner, "one of the best Swordsmen and Sorcerers of 'em all," vol. 3 to Clifford Ball, "one of the first writers of Sword & Sorcery, now, sadly, forgotten and, even more sadly, uncollected," and vol. 4 to Norvell Page, "our late colleague, the chronicler of the saga of Hurricane John." Oddly, vol. 5 does not have a dedication, at least in the Nelson Doubleday Book Club Edition that I own.