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"Two Comedies of Woman Worship". The original version of this was published as The Soul of Melicent in 1913. Contains DOMNEI and THE MUSIC FROM BEHIND THE MOON.
224 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1913
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About the author
James Branch Cabell
240 books125 followersJames Branch Cabell was an American author of fantasy fiction and belles lettres. Cabell was well regarded by his contemporaries, including H. L. Mencken, Edmund Wilson, and Sinclair Lewis. His works were considered escapist and fit well in the culture of the 1920s, when they were most popular. For Cabell, veracity was "the one unpardonable sin, not merely against art, but against human welfare."
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
April 8, 2025
Reread:
Continuing my reread of the Biography of Manuel, now in hardcopy. Phusical object, 1972 ballantine edition with introduction by Lin Carter. *sniff* hmm... old book smell.
That was actually 4-stars for the ending but overall still just 3, grading on a curve against other cabell.
I didn't remember the Wandering Jew, or the Helen of Troy parrellels. This edition also includes 'Music from Behind the Moon', i actually own that in another book aswell now in unintended redundancy, anyway i didn't reread it at this time.
First Read:
I really wanted to give this 2 stars, at least grading on a curve, but that would be dishonest. So i'll simply have to state that this is the LEAST engaged i have ever felt reading Cabell.
I'm sure this is a fine example of what its attempting, which was a medieval/fantasy? romance thing. But i just did not care. Everything past the 60% mark was a little better but any praise i had to give up for the ploting was done begrudgingly.
This feels like it is to Cabell what theSilmarillion is to Tolkien... scratch that.. not the entire Silmarillion but like one of those stories they took from it, The Children of Húrin for example.
Even when told with Cabells usual verve, its just so straight forward. It has neither the ribauld satire of Jurgen, the 'inspired by true events'angle of The Certain Hour nor the weird fiction element of The Cream of the Jest.
Still well written in the details but for me its best aspect was that it was short.
Continuing my reread of the Biography of Manuel, now in hardcopy. Phusical object, 1972 ballantine edition with introduction by Lin Carter. *sniff* hmm... old book smell.
That was actually 4-stars for the ending but overall still just 3, grading on a curve against other cabell.
I didn't remember the Wandering Jew, or the Helen of Troy parrellels. This edition also includes 'Music from Behind the Moon', i actually own that in another book aswell now in unintended redundancy, anyway i didn't reread it at this time.
First Read:
I really wanted to give this 2 stars, at least grading on a curve, but that would be dishonest. So i'll simply have to state that this is the LEAST engaged i have ever felt reading Cabell.
I'm sure this is a fine example of what its attempting, which was a medieval/fantasy? romance thing. But i just did not care. Everything past the 60% mark was a little better but any praise i had to give up for the ploting was done begrudgingly.
This feels like it is to Cabell what the
Even when told with Cabells usual verve, its just so straight forward. It has neither the ribauld satire of Jurgen, the 'inspired by true events'angle of The Certain Hour nor the weird fiction element of The Cream of the Jest.
Still well written in the details but for me its best aspect was that it was short.
July 2, 2014
James Branch Cabell is an American treasure. "Domnei" is one of his best. A wry, ironic, sardonic and witty fantasy that explores the nature of woman's effect on men and on the meanings of "Love" and lust.
Domnei is an adult, wicked, and subversive story of the bitter feud between a knight, Perion, and evil Demetrios for the love of beautiful and pure Melicent. Read to see if you don't gain empathy for the urbane villain as the two men learn to respect each other as adversaries. Read to see if Melicent can survive the curse of being beautiful and wanted so badly and so tragically. Read to discover the many layers beneath the surface of the story.
Cabell is among the first writers of speculative fiction and fantasy. He was admired by writers such as Mark Twain, Sinclair Lewis, and H. L. Mencken. He influenced the work of many more including James Blish, Jack Vance, Robert A. Heinlein, Neil Gaiman.
Treat yourself to a fun read that will stay with you and reveal itself to you long after you put it down.
Domnei is an adult, wicked, and subversive story of the bitter feud between a knight, Perion, and evil Demetrios for the love of beautiful and pure Melicent. Read to see if you don't gain empathy for the urbane villain as the two men learn to respect each other as adversaries. Read to see if Melicent can survive the curse of being beautiful and wanted so badly and so tragically. Read to discover the many layers beneath the surface of the story.
Cabell is among the first writers of speculative fiction and fantasy. He was admired by writers such as Mark Twain, Sinclair Lewis, and H. L. Mencken. He influenced the work of many more including James Blish, Jack Vance, Robert A. Heinlein, Neil Gaiman.
Treat yourself to a fun read that will stay with you and reveal itself to you long after you put it down.
September 7, 2012
You don't expect a book about chivalric romance, written in the slightly arch tone of hundred-year-old pre-Tolkien fantasy, to completely wreck you. Domnei left me quiet, still and thoughtful for a very long time. It is an extraordinary work, illustrative of the depths of emotion and great writing that the best speculative fiction can attain. The author described it as a 'comedy'. The author was a complex and sardonic man. I commend him and his works to you.
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May 28, 2011I really don't know what to make of this book. It's two tales, the first, "Domnei", is a depiction of the soul of Melicent whose love, in the face of reason, time, trouble, uncertainty, and absence, remained purely unchanging. For this diverse men worship her (worship is to be taken literally). Cabell thought the whole thing ridiculous (with a sort of "and yet.. it's rather splendid" in the background). He claims that there were once men who believed that such a soul as Melicent's could exist, and would believe that the woman they loved (i.e. worshiped) was just the same. I don't know quite why he wrote this story, in part he seems to just be reveling in writing high-flown speeches. And it may be for an equally obscure motive of amusement that he surrounded his pseudo-romance with an elaborate apparatus of pseudo-scholarship.
The second tale, "The Music from Behind the Moon", is a very different fable, quite pleasant to read, about a musician seeking the source of unearthly music that fills him with doubt and discontent while he writes complacently optimistic songs to improve the lives of other people.
The second tale, "The Music from Behind the Moon", is a very different fable, quite pleasant to read, about a musician seeking the source of unearthly music that fills him with doubt and discontent while he writes complacently optimistic songs to improve the lives of other people.
August 25, 2024
James Branch Cabell’s Domnei was originally published as The Soul of Melicent in 1913 with colour illustrations by Howard Pyle. It was republished in 1928 under the title Domnei with illustrations by Frank C. Papé; and again in the same year as part of the Storisende edition of the Biography of the Life of Manuel, together with Cabell’s novella The Music from Behind the Moon. Lin Carter, editor of the Ballantine Adult Fantasy Series, revived Domnei, again together with The Music from Behind the Moon, in 1972, as volume 44 in that series. The Ballantine edition had cover art by Brian Froud, but unfortunately none of the earlier illustrations by Pyle or Papé.
I read the 1930 edition published by John Lane The Bodley Head with photogravure prints by Papé. I considered reading the first edition, The Soul of Melicent, but I far prefer Papé to Pyle as an illustrator, which swayed my decision.
Cabell republished a number of his works with Papé illustrations: Figures of Earth, The Silver Stallion, Jurgen, Domnei, The High Place, Something About Eve, and The Cream of the Jest. I suspect these are the books that Cabell considered to be his finest. Lin Carter obviously concurred, as these are the Cabell novels that he chose to revive—aside from Jurgen, probably because it was already in print by another publisher at the time and didn't need reviving. Indeed, to my mind, these seven novels, along with the three witch-woman novellas—The Music from Behind the Moon, The White Robe, and The Way of Ecben—should be the core of any Cabell collection.
The Soul of Melicent was written before Figures of Earth, and several of the characters of The Soul of Melicent, including Melicent herself, Demetrios, Ahasuerus, and King Helmas also appear in Figures of Earth. Around the end of the 1920's, Cabell reorganized his entire output up to that time into a single series, the Biography of the Life of Manuel. Some of the earlier volumes had to be edited somewhat to make them fit into the sequence. Into Domnei, now coming after Figures of Earth and The Silver Stallion in the series, Cabell inserted several other characters from these two fantasies—particularly Manuel himself, but also Miramon Lluagor and Queen Freydis. Concerning Melicent's siblings, her brother Emmerick begins in The Soul of Melicent, but her two younger sisters, Ettarre and Dorothy, are brought into Domnei from Figures of Earth.
An interesting question is whether Domnei improves upon The Soul of Melicent. I think not. Miramon Lluagor, for example, is one of my favourite Cabell characters. In Figures of Earth and The Silver Stallion he is the infamous, hen-pecked "lord of the nine kinds of dream and prince of the seven madnesses." In Domnei he is only mentioned several times in passing as the father of Demetrios, albeit as a "highly competent magician." The introduction of these characters from Figures of Earth does nothing for the story itself, and effectively they are superfluous. The Soul of Melicent is a little bit tighter and maybe a little bit better than Domnei.
Nevertheless, Domnei, or alternatively The Soul of Melicent, stands out among the other great works I mentioned as the core of a Cabell collection in that it isn't a fantasy, as such—it's more of a medieval romance. Domnei does, of course, take place largely in the two fictional realms of Poictesme and Nacumera. Likewise, the strange character Mélusine, "begotten of a water demon," makes several appearances, and Flamberge is spoken of as an enchanted sword. Nevertheless, Domnei lacks the wild, fantastic content of books like Figures of Earth, The Silver Stallion, and Jurgen.
Domnei recounts the romance between Perion and Melicent, the latter the eldest daughter of Dom Manuel and Niafer from Figures of Earth. Perion is a mercenary captain, who loves and honours Melicent in the spirit of "domnei," which is part of the medieval knight's code of chivalry; the knight retains almost a worshipful attitude towards his chosen lady and performs heroic deeds in order to prove himself worthy of her.
Heathen warlord Demetrios, son of Miramon Lluagor, also loves Melicent, in his way, and the story recounts the evolution of this love triangle. Sworn enemies and rivals, Perion and Demetrios develop a grudging respect for each other, and one of the most attractive aspects of Domnei is the complex and developing nature of their relationship.
The tale of Perion, Melicent, and Demetrios—and also Ahasuerus, it turns out—is cleverly constructed. Coming from earlier in Cabell's career than his great pure fantasies, it lacks their sardonic humour; but nevertheless, the writing is elegant and sophisticated. Cabell, in my view, is one of the great stylists of twentieth-century fantasy, and his writing in Domnei is no exception.
Cabell writes of Perion, reunited with Melicent,
Cabell is writing this passage with frequent use of the first person. Is he speaking of himself? I like to think so. In any case, here, and with the concept of “domnei” on which the whole book is based, Cabell alludes to the theme of romance, in a spiritual sense, as he has explained in Beyond Life. Romance is the dynamic dream or illusion to which we aspire that makes us better people. Domnei is not one of Cabell's greatest books, but it's close, and it deserves the five stars.
I read the 1930 edition published by John Lane The Bodley Head with photogravure prints by Papé. I considered reading the first edition, The Soul of Melicent, but I far prefer Papé to Pyle as an illustrator, which swayed my decision.
Cabell republished a number of his works with Papé illustrations: Figures of Earth, The Silver Stallion, Jurgen, Domnei, The High Place, Something About Eve, and The Cream of the Jest. I suspect these are the books that Cabell considered to be his finest. Lin Carter obviously concurred, as these are the Cabell novels that he chose to revive—aside from Jurgen, probably because it was already in print by another publisher at the time and didn't need reviving. Indeed, to my mind, these seven novels, along with the three witch-woman novellas—The Music from Behind the Moon, The White Robe, and The Way of Ecben—should be the core of any Cabell collection.
The Soul of Melicent was written before Figures of Earth, and several of the characters of The Soul of Melicent, including Melicent herself, Demetrios, Ahasuerus, and King Helmas also appear in Figures of Earth. Around the end of the 1920's, Cabell reorganized his entire output up to that time into a single series, the Biography of the Life of Manuel. Some of the earlier volumes had to be edited somewhat to make them fit into the sequence. Into Domnei, now coming after Figures of Earth and The Silver Stallion in the series, Cabell inserted several other characters from these two fantasies—particularly Manuel himself, but also Miramon Lluagor and Queen Freydis. Concerning Melicent's siblings, her brother Emmerick begins in The Soul of Melicent, but her two younger sisters, Ettarre and Dorothy, are brought into Domnei from Figures of Earth.
An interesting question is whether Domnei improves upon The Soul of Melicent. I think not. Miramon Lluagor, for example, is one of my favourite Cabell characters. In Figures of Earth and The Silver Stallion he is the infamous, hen-pecked "lord of the nine kinds of dream and prince of the seven madnesses." In Domnei he is only mentioned several times in passing as the father of Demetrios, albeit as a "highly competent magician." The introduction of these characters from Figures of Earth does nothing for the story itself, and effectively they are superfluous. The Soul of Melicent is a little bit tighter and maybe a little bit better than Domnei.
Nevertheless, Domnei, or alternatively The Soul of Melicent, stands out among the other great works I mentioned as the core of a Cabell collection in that it isn't a fantasy, as such—it's more of a medieval romance. Domnei does, of course, take place largely in the two fictional realms of Poictesme and Nacumera. Likewise, the strange character Mélusine, "begotten of a water demon," makes several appearances, and Flamberge is spoken of as an enchanted sword. Nevertheless, Domnei lacks the wild, fantastic content of books like Figures of Earth, The Silver Stallion, and Jurgen.
Domnei recounts the romance between Perion and Melicent, the latter the eldest daughter of Dom Manuel and Niafer from Figures of Earth. Perion is a mercenary captain, who loves and honours Melicent in the spirit of "domnei," which is part of the medieval knight's code of chivalry; the knight retains almost a worshipful attitude towards his chosen lady and performs heroic deeds in order to prove himself worthy of her.
Heathen warlord Demetrios, son of Miramon Lluagor, also loves Melicent, in his way, and the story recounts the evolution of this love triangle. Sworn enemies and rivals, Perion and Demetrios develop a grudging respect for each other, and one of the most attractive aspects of Domnei is the complex and developing nature of their relationship.
The tale of Perion, Melicent, and Demetrios—and also Ahasuerus, it turns out—is cleverly constructed. Coming from earlier in Cabell's career than his great pure fantasies, it lacks their sardonic humour; but nevertheless, the writing is elegant and sophisticated. Cabell, in my view, is one of the great stylists of twentieth-century fantasy, and his writing in Domnei is no exception.
Cabell writes of Perion, reunited with Melicent,
I think he worshipped where he did not care to love, as every man cannot but do when starkly fronted by the divine and stupendous unreason of a woman's choice, among so many other men, of him. And yet, I think that Perion recalled what Ayrart de Montors had said of women and their love, so long ago:— "They are more wise than we; and always they make us better by indomitably believing we are better than in reality a man can ever be." (p. 234)
Cabell is writing this passage with frequent use of the first person. Is he speaking of himself? I like to think so. In any case, here, and with the concept of “domnei” on which the whole book is based, Cabell alludes to the theme of romance, in a spiritual sense, as he has explained in Beyond Life. Romance is the dynamic dream or illusion to which we aspire that makes us better people. Domnei is not one of Cabell's greatest books, but it's close, and it deserves the five stars.
April 12, 2025
5 stars, with a caution: it can get very talky, but that of course is Mr. Cabell's particular style.
And I can't help but judge it against the other books in his Biography of Manuel, and it's so different from the ones I'm most familiar with (Figures of Earth, Jurgen, The Silver Stallion) that I'm a bit dazzled by his virtuosity. He's created this vast universe filled with people, all connected in various ways, and then--oh, I know, it's like Tolkien.
Tolkien wrote The Hobbit, a children's story, and then The Lord of the Rings, at a much more heroic pitch, but also The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, or The Silmarilion, and so much more, all very different from one another, but all connected, making the reading of one so much deeper because of the reading of another. Cabell also does that.
The tone of this book is, and I'm not sure I'm described a book this way before, "operatic." Speeches instead of arias, a limited set of characters, an obvious bass, tenor, soprano, and alto star parts ... a much more limited scope than the wide-ranging almost picaresque works mentioned earlier.
And it held my attention throughout. There's something almost archetypal about it, although I was hard-pressed to think of a similar example, making me wonder if reading frequent mentions of the plot in his other books simply prepared me to expect this one as inevitable.
I read it once when I was 17 and it didn't take. This was a much more enjoyable experience, at 59.
I'm not quite sure how Miramon's son became some sort of super-sheik, complete with harem, in such a non-Poictesme-ish place (I conjecture he may have begun something in the mood of Elinor Glyn or The Sheik and retro-fitted it into his universe, but I'm sure I'm entirely off-base and will never know). Edit. In fact, yes, he wrote it before his major works, then revised it.
(Note: I'm a writer, so I suffer when I offer fewer than five stars. But these aren't ratings of quality, they're a subjective account of how much I liked the book: 5* = an unalloyed pleasure from start to finish, 4* = really enjoyed it, 3* = readable but not thrilling, 2* = disappointing, and 1* = hated it.)
And I can't help but judge it against the other books in his Biography of Manuel, and it's so different from the ones I'm most familiar with (Figures of Earth, Jurgen, The Silver Stallion) that I'm a bit dazzled by his virtuosity. He's created this vast universe filled with people, all connected in various ways, and then--oh, I know, it's like Tolkien.
Tolkien wrote The Hobbit, a children's story, and then The Lord of the Rings, at a much more heroic pitch, but also The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, or The Silmarilion, and so much more, all very different from one another, but all connected, making the reading of one so much deeper because of the reading of another. Cabell also does that.
The tone of this book is, and I'm not sure I'm described a book this way before, "operatic." Speeches instead of arias, a limited set of characters, an obvious bass, tenor, soprano, and alto star parts ... a much more limited scope than the wide-ranging almost picaresque works mentioned earlier.
And it held my attention throughout. There's something almost archetypal about it, although I was hard-pressed to think of a similar example, making me wonder if reading frequent mentions of the plot in his other books simply prepared me to expect this one as inevitable.
I read it once when I was 17 and it didn't take. This was a much more enjoyable experience, at 59.
I'm not quite sure how Miramon's son became some sort of super-sheik, complete with harem, in such a non-Poictesme-ish place (I conjecture he may have begun something in the mood of Elinor Glyn or The Sheik and retro-fitted it into his universe, but I'm sure I'm entirely off-base and will never know). Edit. In fact, yes, he wrote it before his major works, then revised it.
(Note: I'm a writer, so I suffer when I offer fewer than five stars. But these aren't ratings of quality, they're a subjective account of how much I liked the book: 5* = an unalloyed pleasure from start to finish, 4* = really enjoyed it, 3* = readable but not thrilling, 2* = disappointing, and 1* = hated it.)
October 6, 2016
This is a prose romance, a picaresque, violent love story told in poetic language. Like The Princess Bride, it was written by a cynical, anti-romantic writer secretly in love with romance, who wrote one romance, putting the pent-up passion of a lifetime into it. The story is mannered, witty, and mocking, as if laughing at children's games played a long time ago, but full of passionate belief just under the surface.
It tells of three men who love the princess Melicent: Perion de la Foret, an outlaw and mercenary captain; Demetrios, a tyrant; and Ahasuerus, a man of business. Perion is an honorable man of action, and throws himself headlong into love without a second's thought. (The author makes it clear that Perion hardly ever does give a second's thought.) Melicent loves him. Demetrios, a thoroughly bad, brave man, sees that Melicent is fearless and unswerving in pursuit of what she loves, and loves her for that. Ahasuerus, who sees everything clearly and from outside, sees that she estimates the value of what she loves shrewdly and pays that price dauntlessly and unscrupulously, and loves her for that.
The story has a moral, or perhaps an amoral: estimate the value of what you love shrewdly, and pay that price dauntlessly and unscrupulously. I think perhaps the author lost his nerve and did not, made up stories about why it didn't matter, and then let this one slip out.
>"When I first saw Dame Melicent the sea was languid, as if outworn by vain endeavours to rival the purple of her eyes. Sea-birds were adrift in the air, very close to her and their movements were less graceful than hers. She was attired in a robe of white silk, and about her wrists were heavy bands of silver. A tiny wind played truant in order to caress her unplaited hair, because the wind was more hardy than I, and dared to love her. I did not think of love, I thought only of the noble deeds I might have done and had not done. I thought of my unworthiness, and it seemed to me that my soul writhed like an eel in sunlight, a naked, despicable thing, that was unworthy to render any love and service to Dame Melicent."<
>"When I first saw the girl she knew herself entrapped, her body mine, her life dependent on my whim. She waved aside such petty inconveniences, bade them await an hour when she had leisure to consider them, because nothing else was of any importance so long as my porter went in chains. I was an obstacle to her plans and nothing more; a pebble in her shoe would have perturbed her about as much as I did. Here at last, I thought, is genuine common-sense--a clear-headed decision as to your actual desire, apart from man-taught ethics, and fearless purchase of your desire at any cost. There is something not unakin to me, I reflected, in the girl who ventures to deal in this fashion with Demetrios."<
>"You are a handsome piece of flesh, I thought when I came to you at Bellegarde, telling of Perion's captivity. I thought no more than this, because in my time I have seen a greater number of handsome women than you would suppose. Thereafter, on account of an odd reason which I had, I served Demetrios willingly enough. This son of Miramon Lluagor was able to pay me well, in a curious coinage. So I arranged the bungling snare Demetrios proposed--too gross, I thought it, to trap any woman living. Ohé, and why should I not lay an open and frank springe for you? Who else was a king's bride-to-be, young, beautiful, and blessed with wealth and honour and every other comfort which the world affords?" Now the Jew made as if to fling away a robe from his gaunt person. "And you cast this, all this, aside as nothing. I saw it done."
"Ah, but I did it to save Perion," she wisely said.
"Unfathomable liar," he returned, "you boldly and unscrupulously bought of life the thing which you most earnestly desired. Nor Solomon nor Periander has won more. And thus I saw that which no other man has seen. I saw the shrewd and dauntless soul of Melicent."<
It tells of three men who love the princess Melicent: Perion de la Foret, an outlaw and mercenary captain; Demetrios, a tyrant; and Ahasuerus, a man of business. Perion is an honorable man of action, and throws himself headlong into love without a second's thought. (The author makes it clear that Perion hardly ever does give a second's thought.) Melicent loves him. Demetrios, a thoroughly bad, brave man, sees that Melicent is fearless and unswerving in pursuit of what she loves, and loves her for that. Ahasuerus, who sees everything clearly and from outside, sees that she estimates the value of what she loves shrewdly and pays that price dauntlessly and unscrupulously, and loves her for that.
The story has a moral, or perhaps an amoral: estimate the value of what you love shrewdly, and pay that price dauntlessly and unscrupulously. I think perhaps the author lost his nerve and did not, made up stories about why it didn't matter, and then let this one slip out.
>"When I first saw Dame Melicent the sea was languid, as if outworn by vain endeavours to rival the purple of her eyes. Sea-birds were adrift in the air, very close to her and their movements were less graceful than hers. She was attired in a robe of white silk, and about her wrists were heavy bands of silver. A tiny wind played truant in order to caress her unplaited hair, because the wind was more hardy than I, and dared to love her. I did not think of love, I thought only of the noble deeds I might have done and had not done. I thought of my unworthiness, and it seemed to me that my soul writhed like an eel in sunlight, a naked, despicable thing, that was unworthy to render any love and service to Dame Melicent."<
>"When I first saw the girl she knew herself entrapped, her body mine, her life dependent on my whim. She waved aside such petty inconveniences, bade them await an hour when she had leisure to consider them, because nothing else was of any importance so long as my porter went in chains. I was an obstacle to her plans and nothing more; a pebble in her shoe would have perturbed her about as much as I did. Here at last, I thought, is genuine common-sense--a clear-headed decision as to your actual desire, apart from man-taught ethics, and fearless purchase of your desire at any cost. There is something not unakin to me, I reflected, in the girl who ventures to deal in this fashion with Demetrios."<
>"You are a handsome piece of flesh, I thought when I came to you at Bellegarde, telling of Perion's captivity. I thought no more than this, because in my time I have seen a greater number of handsome women than you would suppose. Thereafter, on account of an odd reason which I had, I served Demetrios willingly enough. This son of Miramon Lluagor was able to pay me well, in a curious coinage. So I arranged the bungling snare Demetrios proposed--too gross, I thought it, to trap any woman living. Ohé, and why should I not lay an open and frank springe for you? Who else was a king's bride-to-be, young, beautiful, and blessed with wealth and honour and every other comfort which the world affords?" Now the Jew made as if to fling away a robe from his gaunt person. "And you cast this, all this, aside as nothing. I saw it done."
"Ah, but I did it to save Perion," she wisely said.
"Unfathomable liar," he returned, "you boldly and unscrupulously bought of life the thing which you most earnestly desired. Nor Solomon nor Periander has won more. And thus I saw that which no other man has seen. I saw the shrewd and dauntless soul of Melicent."<
February 5, 2018
Beautifully written with an author's tongue clearly held firmly in cheek. Just as Milton preferred to write about the devil, Cabell obviously preferred to write about Demetrios--and who can blame him?
January 20, 2025
Not really a Manuel the Redeemer novel; this was apparently written early and modified later to link the characters to Cabell's long series.
Perhaps because of its early origin, this one is much less cynical than the preceding entries in the series. A roguish captain falls in love with a princess betrothed to a king, and she with him. He gets captured by a sheik (okay okay, "proconsul"), she ransoms him with her body, and he spends the novel fighting to get her back. Almost entirely off-screen, too: the bulk of the novel concerns the interaction between the princess and her captor. Both men have fallen in love with her beauty, and both men acknowledge that this beauty has faded over time (those sieges and sea-battles, they can take awhile), but they are so in love with the idea of her beauty that they keep fighting over it. These men are not interested in her mind, and in fact one if them even tells her that she is so shallow and stupid that her beauty is the only thing about her worth keeping.
Not a bad tale, over all, but if you're trying to work through the Redeemer chronicles you can probably give this one a miss.
The usual list of Cabellisms:
"I am garrisoned with devils, I am the battered plaything of every vice."
"I thought of my own unworthiness, and it seemed to me that my soul writhed like an eel in sunlight, a naked, despicable thing."
On ambition:
"I desire only the governorship of some province on the frontier where I may fight daily with stalwart adversaries, and ride past the homes of conquered persons who hate me."
On domnei:
"Different in men than in women, it is, for the former, an instinct, a need to serve rather than be served: their desire is for a shining image superior, at best to both lust and maternity."
On how to tell a woman is taking part in male sports:
"A man throws from the elbow only, but a woman with her whole arm."
On the stratagems of heroes:
"It was not all at once Perion recollected that the wearer of Flamberge is unconquerable, if ancient histories are to be believed, for in deduction Perion was leisurely."
On relationships:
"I think he worshipped where he did not dare to love, as every man cannot but do when starkly fronted by the divine and stupendous unreason of a woman's choice, among so many other men, of him."
"They are more wise than we; and always they make us better by indomitably believing we are better than in reality a man can ever be."
Perhaps because of its early origin, this one is much less cynical than the preceding entries in the series. A roguish captain falls in love with a princess betrothed to a king, and she with him. He gets captured by a sheik (okay okay, "proconsul"), she ransoms him with her body, and he spends the novel fighting to get her back. Almost entirely off-screen, too: the bulk of the novel concerns the interaction between the princess and her captor. Both men have fallen in love with her beauty, and both men acknowledge that this beauty has faded over time (those sieges and sea-battles, they can take awhile), but they are so in love with the idea of her beauty that they keep fighting over it. These men are not interested in her mind, and in fact one if them even tells her that she is so shallow and stupid that her beauty is the only thing about her worth keeping.
Not a bad tale, over all, but if you're trying to work through the Redeemer chronicles you can probably give this one a miss.
The usual list of Cabellisms:
"I am garrisoned with devils, I am the battered plaything of every vice."
"I thought of my own unworthiness, and it seemed to me that my soul writhed like an eel in sunlight, a naked, despicable thing."
On ambition:
"I desire only the governorship of some province on the frontier where I may fight daily with stalwart adversaries, and ride past the homes of conquered persons who hate me."
On domnei:
"Different in men than in women, it is, for the former, an instinct, a need to serve rather than be served: their desire is for a shining image superior, at best to both lust and maternity."
On how to tell a woman is taking part in male sports:
"A man throws from the elbow only, but a woman with her whole arm."
On the stratagems of heroes:
"It was not all at once Perion recollected that the wearer of Flamberge is unconquerable, if ancient histories are to be believed, for in deduction Perion was leisurely."
On relationships:
"I think he worshipped where he did not dare to love, as every man cannot but do when starkly fronted by the divine and stupendous unreason of a woman's choice, among so many other men, of him."
"They are more wise than we; and always they make us better by indomitably believing we are better than in reality a man can ever be."
March 31, 2024
You only need to read the incredible, ironic author's introduction to see his X-ACTO wit in action. Yet the ironies here are deep down inside: on the surface he plays it like a William Morris chivalric romance, and the interesting interactions are between the rivals Demetrios and Perion.
But their rivalry is less about the actual possession of Melicent as it is about being the most worthy of her, and they outdo each other in leveling the playing field. All so that the winner can look back at the competition and know that not only did he win, but that he won in the most irreproachable manner, to reflect the purity of the woman involved.
(A woman for whom this purity is subordinate to the practical matters: she offers her body in exchange for her lover's safety. Twice.)
These men travel in Melicent's orbit, so that she is the motivation for their actions while she herself is no longer an active participant, and becomes little more than an idealized figure. The greatest irony is her liberator, having reached her, having to confront the fact that the actual person is not and never was the idealization. This is a theme that Cabell explores elsewhere.
Cabell follows it up with an extensive bibliography and lengthy discussion of literary heritage, all made-up as far as I can tell. An elaborate joke? Cabell is operating on a much deeper level than I can plumb.
But their rivalry is less about the actual possession of Melicent as it is about being the most worthy of her, and they outdo each other in leveling the playing field. All so that the winner can look back at the competition and know that not only did he win, but that he won in the most irreproachable manner, to reflect the purity of the woman involved.
(A woman for whom this purity is subordinate to the practical matters: she offers her body in exchange for her lover's safety. Twice.)
These men travel in Melicent's orbit, so that she is the motivation for their actions while she herself is no longer an active participant, and becomes little more than an idealized figure. The greatest irony is her liberator, having reached her, having to confront the fact that the actual person is not and never was the idealization. This is a theme that Cabell explores elsewhere.
Cabell follows it up with an extensive bibliography and lengthy discussion of literary heritage, all made-up as far as I can tell. An elaborate joke? Cabell is operating on a much deeper level than I can plumb.
September 18, 2021
A haunting, magical journey.
Similar to reading Shakespeare, it takes a little bit to adjust to the language, but once you’re adjusted, this is an incredibly captivating journey in a land of intense chivalric love.
Similar to reading Shakespeare, it takes a little bit to adjust to the language, but once you’re adjusted, this is an incredibly captivating journey in a land of intense chivalric love.
April 28, 2025
5 stars, with a caution: it can get very talky, but that of course is Mr. Cabell's particular style.
And I can't help but judge it against the other books in his Biography of Manuel, and it's so different from the ones I'm most familiar with (Figures of Earth, Jurgen, The Silver Stallion) that I'm a bit dazzled by his virtuosity. He's created this vast universe filled with people, all connected in various ways, and then--oh, I know, it's like Tolkien.
Tolkien wrote The Hobbit, a children's story, and then The Lord of the Rings, at a much more heroic pitch, but also The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, or The Silmarilion, and so much more, all very different from one another, but all connected, making the reading of one so much deeper because of the reading of another. Cabell also does that.
The tone of this book is, and I'm not sure I'm described a book this way before, "operatic." Speeches instead of arias, a limited set of characters, an obvious bass, tenor, soprano, and alto star parts ... a much more limited scope than the wide-ranging almost picaresque works mentioned earlier.
And it held my attention throughout. There's something almost archetypal about it, although I was hard-pressed to think of a similar example, making me wonder if reading frequent mentions of the plot in his other books simply prepared me to expect this one as inevitable.
I read it once when I was 17 and it didn't take. This was a much more enjoyable experience, at 59.
I'm not quite sure how Miramon's son became some sort of super-sheik, complete with harem, in such a non-Poictesme-ish place (I conjecture he may have begun something in the mood of Elinor Glyn or The Sheik and retro-fitted it into his universe, but I'm sure I'm entirely off-base and will never know). Edit. In fact, yes, he wrote it before his major works, then revised it.
(Note: I'm a writer, so I suffer when I offer fewer than five stars. But these aren't ratings of quality, they're a subjective account of how much I liked the book: 5* = an unalloyed pleasure from start to finish, 4* = really enjoyed it, 3* = readable but not thrilling, 2* = disappointing, and 1* = hated it.)
And I can't help but judge it against the other books in his Biography of Manuel, and it's so different from the ones I'm most familiar with (Figures of Earth, Jurgen, The Silver Stallion) that I'm a bit dazzled by his virtuosity. He's created this vast universe filled with people, all connected in various ways, and then--oh, I know, it's like Tolkien.
Tolkien wrote The Hobbit, a children's story, and then The Lord of the Rings, at a much more heroic pitch, but also The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, or The Silmarilion, and so much more, all very different from one another, but all connected, making the reading of one so much deeper because of the reading of another. Cabell also does that.
The tone of this book is, and I'm not sure I'm described a book this way before, "operatic." Speeches instead of arias, a limited set of characters, an obvious bass, tenor, soprano, and alto star parts ... a much more limited scope than the wide-ranging almost picaresque works mentioned earlier.
And it held my attention throughout. There's something almost archetypal about it, although I was hard-pressed to think of a similar example, making me wonder if reading frequent mentions of the plot in his other books simply prepared me to expect this one as inevitable.
I read it once when I was 17 and it didn't take. This was a much more enjoyable experience, at 59.
I'm not quite sure how Miramon's son became some sort of super-sheik, complete with harem, in such a non-Poictesme-ish place (I conjecture he may have begun something in the mood of Elinor Glyn or The Sheik and retro-fitted it into his universe, but I'm sure I'm entirely off-base and will never know). Edit. In fact, yes, he wrote it before his major works, then revised it.
(Note: I'm a writer, so I suffer when I offer fewer than five stars. But these aren't ratings of quality, they're a subjective account of how much I liked the book: 5* = an unalloyed pleasure from start to finish, 4* = really enjoyed it, 3* = readable but not thrilling, 2* = disappointing, and 1* = hated it.)
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