Ken Lizzi's Blog, page 51

The Big Grift Post

I have made no secret in these posts that I write a bit of fiction now and then. At least I believe I haven’t kept it a secret. If I’m mistaken, well, allow me to correct that: My name is Ken Lizzi and I’m a writer. And I don’t intend to quit, cold turkey or otherwise.

Bearing that in mind, instead of discussing and promoting the work of other writers, this post will plug some of mine. Because that’s how I like my commercialism: Crass and brass.

Since I’ve been covering rather a lot of Sword-and-Sorcery fiction, I figure it is appropriate to feature S&S. First, a stand-alone novel, a crime/fantasy mash up written with Elmore Leonard in mind. Thick As Thieves is available in print and digital. It can be purchased from Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Amazon, etc. Pretty much anywhere books are sold. You can always ask your local bookseller to order a copy for you if you prefer to purchase at ye olde brick and mortar establishment.

Sticking with the theme, let me flog an S&S trilogy I released this year, my Falchion’s Company novels. Falchion is the nom de guerre of the protagonist, a mercenary. A trifle rough around the edges, maybe even a little abrasive. But a decent fellow if you dig deep enough.

The first novel is Boss, following Falchion while he’s down on his luck and working for the head of a city’s organized criminal syndicate. Boss is available in print, digital, and audio.

The second novel is Captain, in which we find Falchion in charge of his own mercenary company, taking on one of the commissions the more established companies can afford to ignore. Captain is available in print, digital, and audio.

The final volume is Warlord, in which an older, successful Falchion must take on what might well be his last job, attempting to hold off a nomad horde, one with a powerful weapon in its arsenal. Warlord is available in print, digital, and audio.

I still have audio book codes for the US and the UK, if you want to give Falchion’s Company a listen without risking your hard-earned. First come first served while codes last. Or, you can always pester your local library to stock my books. A couple of county library systems have, so it is clearly possible.

Okay, enough of the hard sell. Happy reading.

Swords Against Darkness II: Thematically Ambiguous

Andrew Offutt’s introduction to Swords Against Darkness II deals with what term to apply to this genre of stories. He writes of sitting on four different panels over the course of a single year concerning this very topic. I wish convention panels would include such subjects nowadays. Currently about half of the list of panel topics I’m asked to consider consist of topics I’d gnaw my own head off to avoid. Offutt’s introduction is as personable and chatty as ever, informing us we have eight stories to look forward two. That’s one fewer than volume I, and — happily — six fewer than the overstuffed volume III. So, on with the show.

We open with Andre Norton and a Witch World story, Sword of Unbelief. Sigh. In a previous post I’ve expressed my heretical views on Witch World. While I’ve been favorably impressed with some Norton shorts before, this one does nothing to improve my opinion. The problem for me is that ninety percent of the conflict is internal. I have little patience for the 60’s and 70’s fad of psychic powers. It reads to me like a cop out, a cheap way of generating tension and a last minute victory against the odds without anything actually happening. I’ll pass on the lava lamp, bong hits, and psi-war. Thanks anyway. I did appreciate the emphasis on will power, in focusing on the self, the individual in opposition to compelled belief. So, there’s that.

Ramsey Campbell’s The Changer of Names follows. It is a Ryre story. That means there will be no lapis lazuli towers, no gleaming bronze citadels, no sun glinting from white-peaked pinnacles. No, we’ll be down in the muck, grappling with some mysterious worm-thing. Less S&S, more weird tale. Fine. But, is it any good?

As with Norton’s story, this one leans heavily on the importance of the self, in this case as manifested in a name. I like this one better than the other two Ryre stories I’ve read. It is more action oriented, an urban adventure that feels vaguely like something Fafhrd or even Conan might have become embroiled in.

The quality of the anthology keeps stepping up, as next is Manley Wade Wellman with The Dweller in the Temple. I’m happy to see Kardios again, the Erol Flynn of S&S heroes. We’ve had thematic stories dealing with the ego and the self. Kardios stories are — happily — more primal, more earthy. We have Kardios facing an early example of an ancient cultural convention, the sacrificial king: the man given power, gratification (sexual, material, etc.) for a period (usually a year) then sacrificed to the gods. With Kardios the time scale is telescoped to a day or so, but the concept remains the same. I suppose Kardios’ easy self-confidence could stand as a casual nod toward a collective theme of “self,” but a grand old story telling master like Wellman is content with a good yarn.

Next is The Coming of Age in Zamora by David M. Harris. Forgive the pun in the title. It probably won’t even hit you until after you’ve read the story. Harris writes of the inexorable hand of time pressing down upon even the greatest of warriors. And of denial, of the struggle to prove oneself still in his prime. Without blushing or recrimination, Harris writes bluntly of the barbarian, ruling by his own hand a civilization that — it seems — holds on to barbaric practices of its own. Some minor aspects of this yarn remind me of my own Magnus Stoneslayer. Harris writes with the cynicism of de Camp and, at times, he nears the salacious wit of Leiber. The tale is a meditation on aging and decline from a character who is not given to meditation, lacks the wherewithal for introspection, and has gotten all he possesses from sheer physical prowess. All that, plus sex and sword fights.

Richard L. Tierney follows with The Scroll of Thoth. Simon of Gitta. Hell yeah! This is a solid piece of historical S&S. Simon of Gitta is in some respects a dour version of The Gray Mouser, but with a more reliable moral compass: a thief, a fighter, and a magician. Here he helps rid the Earth of yet another artifact hanging on from Robert E. Howard’s Hyborian Age. Few philosophical questions of the self and identity are raised, except perhaps the notion that prolonging the self indefinitely would be a particularly bad idea if the self in question was mad and all powerful. So, thanks, Simon.

Tanith Lee is next with Odds Against the Gods. There is a playfulness about this story and a (deliberately?) Vancian touch, perhaps even a hint of Brunner’s Traveler in Black. It feels slighter, however, the world less grounded. And it does drag at times. I suppose I should defer to the editor’s judgement on the story’s categorical fitness for a Swords-and-Sorcery anthology, but I do retain a certain skepticism. As I read, it grew less amusing and more like a would-be parable. Ultimately it fails to achieve a cohesive payoff, to reach a conclusion that incorporates its own beginning. I wanted to like it more than I actually did.

On Skellig Michael by Dennis More is the penultimate yarn. And what beautifully written, historical S&S! Atmospheric, full of period details. I must look for more Dennis More. True, it is almost more of an anecdote than a story. I could have used more conflict and action. Still, I was engrossed and enjoyed it for what it was: an examp[le of the decline of the Old Ways in the face of the rise of Christianity, and a study on contrasting characters.

Last, is Last Quest, by Andrew Offutt. The anthology begins with a story in which love and holding on to the notion of self are essential to the resolution. It ends with a story of the opposite.

Offutt himself contributes this one to his own anthology. It begins as rather standard fare, including several pages of backstory (that I found tedious and puzzling, but are, in fact, essential to what Offutt hoped to achieve.) Offutt is seemingly writing a Lin Carter-esque tale of adventure and oddity, though with a more straightforward prose style. And then — Offut goes subversive. He somewhat shockingly contravenes expectations, ending the story on a tragic note. Last quest indeed. The self, will power, love — all ultimately powerless. I can’t decide whether or not I admire or dislike this story. Chalk one up for ambiguity, I suppose.

I’ve picked up a copy of Swords Against Darkness Volume IV. Can’t wait to read it. If you’d like something to read, may I suggest something of mine? An S&S novel, perhaps?

“The Moon Pool.” Dive In.

My faulty memory assured me that I had read Abraham Merritt’s The Moon Pool. So I picked up a copy figuring I would enjoy a re-read. While it is possible that I did read it during some lost year of my long and dubious past, I consider it unlikely now. How could I have forgotten such a vividly colorful, wild book as this? It will sit in good company next to my copies of The Dweller in the Mirage and The Ship of Ishtar.

Merritt was a writer of singular talent. He could paint in glorious images. In fact, while reading the book I kept wondering what a skilled comic book artist would do with an adaptation. Some visual genius along the lines of Moebius, aided by a skilled colorist. Colors are indispensable in The Moon Pool and Merritt describes them with lush, evocative phrases. I’d like to actually see some of the settings and creatures, as visualized by talented artists. I’ve seen them in my own mental theater, and those images were impressive, thanks to Merritt’s descriptive powers. But I’d still like to see artists’ interpretations, beyond the takes of the various cover artists.

We’re set up in this book to expect a sort of Lost World story set in the South Pacific. We get an opening featuring a tale within a tale framing sequence that is rather familiar to readers of Edgar Rice Burroughs. But then the story takes a more serious, horrific turn and we’re taken on a more bizarre journey than we might be prepared for if still anticipating a story of people cut off from the rest of the planet. Merritt allowed his imagination free rein.

I was struck by the almost allegorical nature of Merritt’s Biblical allusions. The Silent Ones are a trinity. Salvation is found in a voluntary sacrificial act, the essence of which is true love. The very name of The Shining One is Luciferian, and its nature as a fallen being, created and loved by the Silent Ones would be too on the nose in the hands of a lesser writer.

It remains amazing how enjoyably much of this old science fiction holds up. I think that is up to the aspect of suspense and adventure the writers were able to craft, as well a good old fashioned sense of wonder. The science itself is badly dated. Merritt was still writing about the ether. The theory of the creation of the moon was still in an uncertain infancy. And no one had yet proposed the theory of continental drift nor knew of tectonic plates. All for the best: there’d have been no story to tell otherwise.

The first person narration works well. I think the style works well to introduce the reader to wonders simultaneously with the narrator experiencing them. Merritt does this well. I gave it a try in my first novel, Reunion, which is still available from Twilight Times Books if you want to see if I managed to pull it off. Also, if you haven’t already, you ought to read The Moon Pool.

Swords Against Darkness: Sometimes Less is More

In the last entry in this series of reviews of anthologies, I covered Swords Against Darkness I. This time I’m leaping ahead to Swords Against Darkness III, because it is on my shelves. (I’ve since secured a copy of volume II and I’m eagerly looking forward to opening its pages.) The first volume offered up nine stories. This one ramps up to fourteen, plus a bonus essay. There is such a thing as over-egging the pudding. Not all of these stories were quite ready to step into the limelight. Given the sheer number of tales, I’ve trimmed back some of my commentary.

After the usual buoyant foreword from Anrew Offutt, we pick up where w left off, with Ramsey Campbell. I was less than complimentary about The Sustenance of Hoak, a rather grim tale of a town with a secret, a town planted in a colorless, featureless setting. The Pit of Wings is another yarn set in a town with a secret, and our hero, Ryre, is back to uncover it. Poor bastard. This one is almost as colorless as Hoak. But it moves a bit faster, becoming essentially a weird tale of the old school variety, though rather less well executed. It is…fine. It feels rushed, like a first draft turned in to meet a deadline. But, fine.

Richard Tierney returns with The Sword of Spartacus, the origin story of Simon Magus. Nor surprisingly, Simon is not yet possessed of much of a personality. But what a story! And, damn, what no-holds barred conclusion. I don’t want to spoil this one. Read it.

Up next is Servitude, by Wayne Hooks, a preliminary sketch of a work, teasing the reader with a depth and backstory that never emerges. My guess is that Hooks was an admirer of MIchael Moorcock. Though he manages to match the skeletal nature of Moorcock’s fiction, his style is less purple, more prosaic. That would have worked well had he filled out the tale with more detail instead of mere hints. It is not bad though. It reaches a darkly appropriate end.

David C. Smith follows with Descales’ Skull. Following the maxim that if you don’t have anything nice to say…Moving along. (In fairness, it is clear this is an early effort. Though why Offutt deemed it up to professional standards escapes me.)

I was happy to read the next one, In the Balance, by Tanith Lee. This is a short, well-executed fable. I liked it, though had I written it, I might have gone for a darker, more cynical twist at the end. I’ve not read much Tanith Lee. If I decide to remedy that lack, any suggestions as to where to start? Or if I even should?

Tower of Darkness follows, by David Madison. The characters, though initially unlikeable, develop some depth. The sketchy worldbuilding provides a sufficiently sturdy structure. It holds up, and Tower of Darkness becomes a reasonably engaging story, despite a certain simplicity and obvious trajectory. Nothing wrong with the familiar and hackneyed if it is done well.

David Drake returns to SAD with The Mantichore. Wit against necromancy; against brawn, and against ancient evil. A nice compact yarn. I do rather miss Vettius, however. Still, Dama will do.

Next: Revenant, by Kathleen Resch. A poem. Already a tough sell. A vampire poem. I’m out.

John DeCles offers Rite of Kings for the next entry. The lame, tortured prose of the introductory paragraph lost me. I tried to give it a chance. Once I recognized it for a S&S fairytale or fable, I feared for the worst. That sort of tale is hard to pull off if you are not Lord Dunsany. Sadly, despite a few decent passages, DeClas proved to be no Dunsany. Man, I hate to be so negative so far. Who am I, after all, to offer criticism?

Next is The Mating Web, by Robert Vardeman. A boy and his spider. Krek is the anti-Shelob, with a touch of Marvin the Robot and the merest hint of Bilbo Baggins. This is a fun bit of fluff with just enough action to balance the light humor.

Offutt brings out the heavy guns next with Manley Wade Wellman and The Guest of Dzinganji. It is good to see Kardios again. I understand Kardios. He is a man who wants only freedom, to keep moving on under his own terms. A hobo, in other contexts than these. This is clean, well-drawn, old school adventure in which we encounter an old, familiar monster in a somewhat novel guise. Enjoyable.

Next up is The Hag, by Darrell Schweitzer. The chanson de geste meets swords and sorcery, and they go on a first date to a horror movie. Well done.

Geo. W. Proctor is back with A Kingdom Won. We’re revisiting Nalcon, from SAD volume I. As with the Simon Magus yarn, this is a bit of an origin story. I liked The Smile of Oisia from volume one well enough. Sadly, this one didn’t do much for me. It reads like a fantasy novel compressed into a short. The set up and pay off involve so much backstory that it reads as sketchy. And the backstory we are given is rather hard to swallow. Perhaps the room for worldbuilding allowed by a novel would give this hokum space to breath, grow on the reader organically. Here, in this format, it didn’t work for me, becoming in the end merely a competently told fish story.

Last story up is M.A. Washil with Swordslinger. This is a meditation on age and aging, a grim reminder that there is always someone better. It is a requiem for a sword brother. Most importantly, the story is steeped in classic S&S style. It feels right. Good stuff.

Finally we have Poul Anderson with his essay On Thud and Blunder. Essential reading.

Taken as a whole, the positives outweigh the negatives. But this anthology would have benefited from pruning some of the branches. It doesn’t seem to me that SAD was an appropriate venue for introducing so many new writers. Still, it is nice to see that Andrew Offutt was so willing to provide the opportunity.

Meanwhile, I’m still working on creating my own opportunities. Pretend I’m shouting now, in a carnival barker’s voice. If you like sword and sorcery, here’s a crime/S&S mashup. Or, you can find a trilogy here, here, and here. Or perhaps you’d like some science fiction, or post-apocalyptic adventure. Okay, enough shouting. I want to get to reading SAD volume II.

Reading Snapshot

I don’t know if my life is actually compartmentalized, but given how I read it sort of looks that way. I generally have four or five books going at any one time. Let’s look at right now for a typical example.

The library informed me that Jim Butcher’s latest, Battle Ground, was waiting for me. So, I drove over yesterday, parked, called, and the librarian brought it out. (Sigh.) Yesterday was rather busy, but nonetheless I’m already on page 50. Butcher has a knack of getting you to turn the page.

I’m also partway through Janissaries: Clan and Crown, in the process of re-reading the Janissaries series prior to picking Mamelukes, the recently released, posthumous final volume.

My lunch book at the office is A. Merritt’s The Moon Pool. I’m at roughly the halfway mark and thoroughly enjoying it. Has anyone adapted this for comic books? I think it would look terrific with the right artist.

In furtherance of my anthology reviewing posts, I’m re-reading Swords Against Darkness III. The things I do for you people, reading S&S stories while sipping a beer. I suffer for my art. I was happy to see Swords Against Darkness II arrive in the mail. I haven’t read that one yet. Looking forward to it.

I have a lengthy commute to work. So I go through a lot of audio books. I finished China Miéville’s Railsea Friday, moments before I reached my driveway. And just now I’m downloading Robert A. Heinlein’s The Unpleasant Profession of Jonathan Hoag.

Of course, I’m also continuing to write. I hope to have the third book of a Semi-autos and Sorcery book finished by mid-December. Look for the series in 2021, if it fits the publisher’s schedule. Or, if you’re curious about reading some of my stuff, why not give one a try. How about Under Strange Suns, to pick one at random?

Swords Against Darkness: Here Be Monsters

Monsters come in many guises. Andrew Offut put together an anthology illustrating that very point. It is a fine collection. It doesn’t achieve the heights of some of the other anthologies I’ve discussed in earlier posts, but it ain’t no slouch either. Most of the stories first saw print in this volume, so Offut could not simply cherry pick, stacking his roster with ringers, if I may crudely mash together metaphors. Given that (self-imposed?) handicap, he did an excellent job.

The first story deserves more praise and recognition. Andrew Offut provides a moving introduction, the details of which add emotional resonance to Nekht Semerkeht, perhaps the last story Robert E. Howard worked on before he punched his own ticket. Offut revised and completed the story, based on Howard’s plot. I think he pulled it off, maintaining REH’s style admirably. The tale, a bit of historical fantasy set in Texas during the later conquistador period, is deeply philosophical. Given the evidence of REH’s own feelings around this time, the narrative musing on the meaningless of life and existential despair, contrasted with the animal will to live, is moving. REH’s protagonist is a man who recognizes the pointlessness of his own existence and yet still, in his declining years, is driven by lust for gold and power. But he is overconfident, his belief in the superior technology of civilization in the end falls to ancient supernatural power in the form of the eponymous Nekht Semerkeht. Semerkeht is a monster indeed, a long-lived sorcerer who in turn can summon monsters even more ancient (presumably some form of pterodactyl.) This is in many ways a classic REH story, with plenty of rousing, engaging action, a femme fatale, and a potent adversary. If this was indeed REH’s last tale, it was a fitting one.

Poul Anderson offers up an example of the Northern Thing with the next story, The Tale of Hauk. He adopts a faux-Eddic style and carries it through beautifully. The story is dark and tragic, as one would expect. Anderson provides plenty of telling detail of Scandinavian life in the latter dark ages. And he gives a monster, an undead creature of unnatural strength, cursed and driven by ill-considered oaths. Such oaths play other parts in the story, again as one would expect. It is well crafted and memorable.

The Smile of Ossia by Geo. W. Proctor returns us to a more familiar writing style. And we get a more customary S&S hero, once he finally reaches the stage. Before that we get the first monster, in the guise of a beautiful green-eyed, redhead. A minor witch of some sort, apparently. Murderous and manipulative to boot. But that’s not the only danger our hero (heroes, since this is a buddy act, though only the lead is a POV character) faces. There’s a scheming priest who is rather monstrous in his own right. Not only that, we get an upgrade to Gods and Monsters, with a mercurial goddess of chance brought in for the final act. This is probably the weakest story of the lot. But it is entertaining and moves along at a reasonably good clip. I can’t complain. If it is good, it is good. There’s no need to denigrate it by comparison. (As a writer, I live in a particularly vitreous domicile. Chucking rocks would be foolish.)

Bruce Jones is next with the “one of these things is not like the other” contribution to the anthology. Pride of the Fleet is sort of an extended joke. It is a science fiction story that reads sort of like the script for a Heavy Metal comic book. Who knows, maybe there is some truth to that. Bruce Jones is a comic book artist, doing some Conan and Red Sonja work for Marvel in the mid 70s. Metal Hurlant started at the end of 1974, three years before this anthology was published. So, the timing makes it plausible. Pride of the Fleet is an amusing enough bit of fluff, and its references to Edgar Rice Burroughs are cute. There is, inevitably, a monster. Happy endings aren’t a given in Swords Against Darkness. But if the ending amuses the reader, all is well.

Manly Wade Wellman gives us an Atlantis story. Or, primarily, a post-Atlantis story. Straggler From Atlantis introduces us to Kardios, last survivor of (and partially responsible for) the drowning of Atlantis. Kardios is perhaps a rather trifling character, without much depth. But he is clever, quick, talented both musically and martially. The first monsters we encounter are benign. Giants, who we are meant to read as those referenced in Genesis as the Nephilim. These creatures rescue Kardios. They are beset by the actual monster of the story, who seems to be some sort of alien who has crash landed. The giants are unable to defeat the creature and have instead resorted to leaving sacrificial animals for it to consume. Kardios attends to his task through wit and speed. It is a good, lightweight story that in some ways reminds of L. Sprague de Camp’s work.

Next up is Richard L. Tierney with The Ring of Set. I wish there were more Simon Magus stories. Simon Magus is a jack-of-all adventuring trades. A fighter (former gladiator), wizard, and (through skills picked up as an escape artist) a thief. The first monster in this story is human, as shouldn’t come as a surprise by this point. We’re back to historical fantasy, so we get the Emperor Tiberius, in his final years of decadence. I thoroughly enjoyed that the ring of the story is an allusion to REH’s Hyborea mythology, calling out Thoth-Amon by name. There is also a biblical reference for the second story in a row, this one an allusion to the Egyptian sorcerers Moses squared off against, who could turn their staffs into snakes. The final monsters in this story rather aid Simon Magus, by chance and by skill. We get another Gods and Monsters moment, then Magus using his wizardly arts. Good stuff. Classic S&S.

I wrote about Ray Capella in my post on Warlocks and Warriors. Here he is again, though writing as Raul Garcia Capella. Whatever the name, he’s still the same writer, and still displays the same chops. Largarut’s Bane is the shortest of the stories herein. But not the least. It is a story that seems to contain more than a kernel of wisdom. While no sword appears, there is darkness. There is a monster to defeat, but how the hero defeats it is handled cleverly. Nicely done and just the right length.

We’re back to historical fantasy again with David Drake’s Dragon’s Teeth. Drake clearly knows his Roman history. His lead character, Vettius, is in the classic mold; brave, strong, experienced, and tough. But what I like most is that Drake stealthily provides another hero, an unlikely one given the genre. Very clever. The monsters in this tale are worthy antagonists, though they are not the ultimate antagonist. Drake plants historical and mythological references in this story that I enjoyed coming across. Hard to say, but this might be my favorite story in the collection.

Ramsey Campbell brings the volume to a close with The Sustenance of Hoak and the most unlikely monster of the lot. This is a story I admire more than I appreciate. It is well written. There are hints of backstory involving both the character and the secondary world that make me interested in reading more about both. But the story itself felt rather bland. My theory is that this is due to the setting rather than the story itself. The monster of the piece is fixed in the center of a dull, dying town surrounded by a wooden palisade and occupied by listless, apathetic townsmen (there is something of a drug addiction metaphor about the story.) The buildings are wooden shacks, slowly falling to decay and disrepair. There is no life to it. I think that if the story had been placed in a more exotic, colorful location, it would have held my interest more. I can’t help but compare it to Red Nails, though I admit that there is only minimal overlap. But in REH’s dying city there is color, radium gems, exotic structures. Sustenance feels rather turgid, even though — employing whatever quasi-objective tools I can to evaluate a story — it is a solid, clever story with decent action and characterization. I don’t know. Maybe it’s me.

Anyway, to sum up: Swords Against Darkness lives up to its name, with plenty of swords, plenty of darkness. And monsters.

Speaking of monsters (Self-promotion mode activated) I’ve created a few myself. Have you checked out Thick As Thieves? I’m rather pleased with how that one turned out, my “What if Elmore Leonard wrote S&S” book. (Self-promotion mode off.)

Rereading “Janissaries”

Jerry Pournelle’s Janissaries was first published in 1979. I was ten. My copy is the 1982 edition. So I probably first read this in ‘82 or ‘83 in my early teens. I’ve gone through it and the sequels a couple of times. Now I’m starting again, preparatory to reading the final, posthumous volume, Mamelukes (hoping a paperback edition will be available by the time I finish rereading the initial books.)

This time through I’m noting the time specific fingerprints carried in the book’s details, especially in the early chapters. Take the backstory, for example. We first meet Rick Galloway as a captain of a CIA backed mercenary outfit fighting Cubans in Africa. My guess is that Rick is Angola, and the Cubans are supporting the MPLA. This was a long running conflict, much of it fought between South Africans and Cubans in Angola. Sort of tertiary proxy conflicts of the Cold War, at least ideologically if not directly.

The book specifically calls out the H&K rifle. (The interior illustrations seem to suggest Ruger Mini-14s, but the text trumps the artist’s interpretation. The cover of my edition is even further off, giving the impression that Rick is a WWII soldier toting a Tommy Gun, or perhaps a Grease Gun, both .45 caliber submachine guns, not rifles.) Given the approximate time period, the rifles are probably Heckler & Koch G3s. I was surprised at first, reading this, since in my memory Rick’s men carried M-16s. While the error is understandable, given that the heroes are American, and it is natural to associate American soldiers of that period with the M-16A1 (this book set only a handful of years prior to the adoption of the A2), in fact the H&K makes better sense given the internal logic of the story: Rick is supposed to be a mercenary, not tied to the United States government. Having his troops carry American weaponry would be a mistake.

That said, Rick’s side arm is a 1911 style .45, specifically a Mark IV. The 1911 was the standard issue pistol for the US military up until the adoption of the Beretta nine-millimeter, the M9 (the pistol I occasionally toted during my fun and games in Haiti, American tax dollars at work), in 1985. I suppose the sidearm can be forgiven. A mercenary officer might legitimately carry whatever he felt most comfortable with for a personal weapon.

I’ll be curious to see if, in the subsequent volumes Mr. Pournelle remembered the period materials he provided his characters with, or if he slipped and wrote in the odd anachronism. I am enjoying the reread. Janissaries holds up on this, my third or fourth time through.

Mighty Swordsmen…and Guest

The Mighty Swordsmen comes close to delivering precisely as advertised, and even its single lapse is excellent. I admit to a lack of familiarity with the editor, Hans Stefan Santesson. He provided a short introduction, rambling about sorcery and what we’d probably now refer to as “deep time.” It doesn’t seem to have much to do with the stories inside, unless you want to find some reason to believe the events related might actually have happened. Nonetheless, Mr. Santesson shows a good eye for material.

Lin Carter leads off. I don’t know if Mr. Carter would be my lead off hitter, but he slaps at least a single, maybe a double with Keeper of the Emerald Flame, a Thongor the Mighty story. Carter’s prose in this one is (perhaps appropriately) as purple as the edge of the pages. But it is a solid S&S story. I didn’t count the words, but I imagine it weighs in at around novella length. Thongor is an adequate Conan clone, and you can probably shoehorn his era into Howard’s mythological timeline sometime pre-Kull. And Carter suggests even earlier human history, stretching back even earlier than Thongor’s Pleistocene, with the enormous ruined city/citadel, home to the mysterious villain of the tale. Nothing groundbreaking here, but I enjoyed it.

Roger Zelazny’s The Bells of Shoredan shows up again. Again? Perhaps. I previously reviewed it in my post on Warlocks and Warriors. Both that anthology and Mighty Swordsmen carry a copyright date of 1970. So I’m not sure which of these two saw print first. I’m not going to rehash my comments here. Same story; Dilvish the mighty swordsman the same as Dilvish the warlock and warrior.

Next up is rather a cuckoo in the nest. John Brunner’s Traveler in Black is a terrific character. All the stories of the mysterious immortal possessed of a single character are fantastic, highly recommended. Including the one in this anthology, Break the Door of Hell. But, in the interests of candor, the Traveler in Black is hardly a mighty swordsman. He’s not a swordsman at all. The staff he carries is not designed for combat, he engages in no quarterstaff play. This isn’t an action story at all. It is a philosophical piece, bitterly humorous, and critical of humanity. With his depiction of the worst of mankind through grimly clever anecdotes and his protagonists resigned, sadly jaded acceptance of it, Brunner achieves a certain faux-profundity that absolutely works. Brunner’s tales of the Traveler in Black belong alongside the works of Ambrose Bierce and Mark Twain at his most cynical. Excellent stuff, highly recommended. But, again, the story does rather clash with the rest of its anthology mates.

Björn Nyberg is next with a Conan pastiche. The People of the Summit can stand alongside the best of the de Camp and Carter additions to the Conan saga. That is either a criticism or a recommendation, depending on your stance on the old Lancer and Ace paperbacks and Messrs. de Camp and Carter’s contributions. I found Summit to be a solid entry, the story convincingly Conanesque and the prose reasonably Howardian. Conan behaved as I’d expect him to throughout. No complaints from this reader.

Next comes Michael Moorcock with The Flame Bringers, following chronologically Kings in Darkness which I covered in my review of The Spell of Seven. If you are an Elric fan, this one will probably resonate well with you, hitting most of the Elric high notes. To me it read rather like the outline of a novel. The events and characters rather crowd together, when it seems to me they should be given a bit more room for development. As it is, the story seems sketchy, attenuated. But it does move along, with enough connecting tissue to get the reader from scene to scene and all the necessary backstory and motivation included with the barest minimum of words. A fantasy version of the Mongol horde is threatening Elric’s adopted homeland and new wife, and has already destroyed Moonglum’s homeland. Elric is thus, with much soul searching and angst, forced to once again take up the Black Blade. It works. For my tastes, however, it is the weakest story of the anthology.

Last is Robert E. Howard with Beyond the Black River. That is how it is done. Where Moorcock is sketchy, Howard is detailed. The events in Black River could be condensed down to ten pages. But, while Howard keeps things moving, he allows time to paint the scene, to let the characters develop, and build the mood. I don’t know if Black River is the greatest Conan story, being more of an American frontier story retrofitted to work as S&S. But it is a master class in writing an adventure story. It is a fitting conclusion to The Mighty Swordsmen. 

Mercenary segue: I’ve written about a few swordsmen myself. Falchion, of the Falchion’s Company novels, even named himself after a sword. I’m pleased to announce that the third book of the series, Warlord, is now available in audio format, joining the first two, Boss and Captain. I still have codes for the US and UK. If you want to try out the series without shelling out a penny, drop me a line and ask for a code. Let me know which book, or books, you want to hear, and if you are in the United States or the United Kingdom. So long as I have codes left the offer is open. (Yes, I know, the artwork for Boss doesn’t match the other two. I updated it for the print and digital version, but not for audio. Mea culpa.)

Where There’s Smoke…

You may have noticed that the West Coast is on fire. I certainly have. My house has been blanketed by an apocalyptic miasma for days. At least the color has shifted, from a Martian orange, to powdered-urine yellow, to what it is now, a sort of dry white fog.

One of the major fires reached close enough that my small town was put on the second stage of alert, one short of “get the hell out now, we’re not going to save your ass.” MBW called me at the office on Thursday to inform me of the elevated threat status, so I came home early (earlier than I had anticipated, since I stopped off at the gym for a workout — fire be damned, I need my workout fix — only to discover that the wussies had closed for the day, despite being at the lowest threat level.)

It was odd seeing so much traffic heading inbound at that time of day. So many people had felt the need to evacuate. It certainly reinforced the reality of the situation, the danger so close to my backyard.

We packed up some essentials. Essentials. That simple word raises some interesting questions. The truth is, I wasn’t overly concerned. I doubted we’d need to scoot. But nonetheless I did think about it. The thought of my library burning is painful. I took a few videos about the house, anticipating a potential insurance claim and took a few moments appreciating things, objects I’ve acquired, collected, treasured. How important are they really?

I made some calls, checking on relatives, and securing a place to stay if it came to it. I made a couple of smoky excursions outside, chatting with neighbors. About half of them decided on pursuing the better part of valor. Not an encouraging realization. But no one I talked to sounded particularly worried.

Of course it was even less encouraging when we heard that the firefighters working the closest conflagration had thrown in the towel for the night, deciding there was nothing more they could do and they might as well get a good night’s sleep.

Not everyone slept well that night at the Lizzi house. The alert, moving up to level three, could come at any time. It did not, staying at level two throughout the day. I called in to the office. If circumstances changed, it wouldn’t be practical to drive all the way back home in order to help get MBW and the HA out the door. Best to stay home.

I still wasn’t particularly concerned, and grew even more confident as the day went on. I doubted the fire would jump the river, consume the evacuated small town the firefighters were trying to save, march toward me, cross a highway, and eat my house. It just seemed unlikely. And the weather cooled, the horrific winds that had fanned the blaze stopped, and the color of the enveloping pall of smoke paled to something that looked more familiar.

Yesterday, in the late afternoon or early evening, the level dropped back to level one. Everything still smells like smoke, and I expect it will for some time to come. But the house is still standing. And I had time for more writing, doubling my usual word count over the last couple of days. So, ill wind etc. I take my hat off to those fighting the blazes. Salute!

I hope the rest of you are getting through the latest catastrophe 2020 is serving up from the special Biblical menu. (I for one was looking forward to the plague of frogs. I bought additional hot sauce.)

If you’re looking for something distracting to read, you might find a book you’d like from this selection of my works.

Anthologies: The Spell of Seven

Another volume curated by L. Sprague de Camp, The Spell of Seven offers a stellar lineup of talent. Each of the seven tales features a Virgil Finlay illustration. How about that for lagniappe? Now, I’m guessing the cover looked  better as a pencil and ink drawing. Colored, it looks more like the cover to an EC horror comic than the cover to paperback short story anthology. But that’s grousing and doesn’t in the least detract from the yarns behind the cover.

As I mentioned, the contributors are all stars in the Sword-and-Sorcery field. After an introduction from de Camp providing an overview of the field, Fritz Leiber leads off with one of the more memorable Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser tales, Bazaar of the Bizarre. This one is always fun. It is a reminder that the fictional universe of Nehwon is a strange place indeed. There is a razor-edged whimsy to many of Leiber’s stories of the duo. But Leiber was such a talented stylist that what might read as ludicrous from a lesser scribbler feels natural in the setting he created. Also, I always enjoy an appearance from Ningauble and Sheelba.

Clark Ashton Smith is next, providing one his macabre stories (The Dark Eidolon) that make one question whether or not it qualifies as S&S. I’m not going to quibble. It is too much of a pleasure to read Smith’s prose to split hairs. Let’s call it weird fiction and consider it close enough. Smith provides no one to root for here, in this tale that seems to owe its existence to 1001 Arabian Nights. The narrative goal of the story, it seems to me, is to see if each of the cast of malefactors gets his just deserts.

Lord Dunsany is next with a thematically similar story, The Hoard of the Gibbelins. Dunsany crafts a fairy tale with a crafty, forward thinking protagonist. One the reader does rather root for. But alas…It seems to me that the first three stories are all about overreaching, whether out of greed or lust for vengeance. The authors are examining the dark underbelly of the human soul. Entertainingly.

In the previous entry of this series on anthologies, I mentioned that de Camp, as editor, had foregone including one of his own yarns in the book. He is not so reticent in this one, though he modestly leaves it up to the reader to judge if his story belongs in such prestigious company. As much of an admirer as I am of de Camp, I have to say that his contribution, The Hungry Hercynian, falls short of the mark. Not that it is a bad story. Far from it. It is an entertaining, amusing S&S story. I recommend it. But the bar is set pretty high in this collection. There is no shame in not clearing it. There is a certain weightiness to the other stories, even those written with a certain whimsical quality. De Camp’s story lacks the depth, real or apparent, of the others. Still, I was amused. Probably appropriate, given my lack of depth.

After the amuse bouche of The Hungry Hercynian, Michael Moorcock returns us to more serious fare with Kings in Darkness. My opinion of the Eternal Champion stories hasn’t changed. But there is no denying this is a classic Elric tale. I liked it rather more than some of the others. Elric’s head isn’t so deeply in his navel in this one, and the story is relatively straight forward. And I have a fondness for Moonglum, though I think his value as a character lies more in my imagination and faulty memory than on the page. Kings provides another story involving vengeance. Also ghouls, animated skeletons, chases, escapes, and sword play.

Next is the great Jack Vance, with Mazirian the Magician. We have here another story of overreaching. Lust seems the motive here. Since it is a Vance story, you know it will contain drollery, glorious archaic language, scoundrels and outright villains as main characters, and imaginative novelties in pretty much every other paragraph. The fecundity of Vance’s inventiveness is a source of never ending amazement.

Rounding off the seven is the man himself, Robert E. Howard with Shadow in Zamboula. This a solid Conan yarn, featuring several memorable scenes. As with most REH stories, the pace is headlong, seldom pausing for breath. We have multiple villains, all of whom overreach by underestimating the Cimmerian. There are cannibals, massively strong stranglers, an evil sorcerer, a beautiful, nakedl woman in distress, and the world’s worst innkeeper. Through strength, brawn, steel, and wit, Conan keeps one step ahead of all of them. A satisfying conclusion. Of course, you can’t really go wrong including a Conan story in an S&S anthology.

So, all in one slim volume, The Spell of Seven offers Leiber, Smith, Dunsany, de Camp, Moorcock, Vance and Howard. That’s a spell worth casting, don’t you think?

I’m not fool enough to think I measure up to those seven, but if you want to take a chance on at least mild diversion, check out some of my scribblings.