Even though it’s only a few weeks until the new “Conan” film starts shooting in Bulgaria, announcements on cast and crew are thin on the ground. Following the news of “Conans” adult and youngster, a few pieces of news cropped up. Regrettably, very little inspires any much-desired confidence in the project.
Literary biographies are a peculiar form of torture. I suppose their purpose is to see if the reader is still capable of mustering the same affection for the author’s work after reveling in every personal flaw the biographer was able to uncover. Biographies are the ultimate way of evening the score with those whose talent we will never equal. They reassure us that the gifted individuals who gained immortality through their work were certainly no better and frequently even worse human beings than those of us who admire them. Thanks to literary biographies, many view the father of Sword-and-Sorcery as a clinically depressed mama’s boy angry at the world and the father of hardboiled fiction as…well, let’s face it…there was nothing you could ever say about Hammett he didn’t already tell you about himself.
The latest literary biography to pass through my home was Judith Freeman’s recently published biography of Raymond Chandler, The Long Embrace. I would not say that the book is unworthy of attention. Judith Freeman is an exceptional writer. She traces Chandler’s footsteps (even though it has been more than half a century since his death) by visiting every place he lived, worked, and vacationed and describes what she finds in a voice that Chandler fans will frequently recognize. It is a voice that is as evocative of Chandler’s work as the book’s title. The trouble is that Freeman isn’t writing a new Philip Marlowe mystery so much as transposing herself in Chandler’s shoes as a fellow author and kindred spirit. As the book unfolds, she comes to share Chandler’s devotion to his wife and muse of over thirty years. The result is a bit like watching Otto Preminger’s classic film noir Laura in that The Long Embrace shifts its focus and unfolds into a growing love story between a living person and a dead woman the narrator never met. Some readers will find the result enchanting, others will find it creepy.
As a rule, literary biographies tend to take a sensationalistic view of their subject’s sex lives. The Long Embrace spends a lengthy chapter arguing that Chandler may have been a closeted homosexual based on speculation from a former friend and an acquaintance of the late author. Freeman weighs the pros and cons to this longstanding theory with cleverly-selected passages from Chandler’s fiction that seem to support both sides of the argument only to conclude weakly with the dismissive suggestion that we should just mind our own business. This is unfortunate because it reduces the book to the level of a salacious celebrity bio. I would have preferred that Freeman had reached a conclusion and argued that the author’s work is better understood as a result of better understanding the man. Instead the entire section reads like a literary equivalent of “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
I’ve read numerous Chandler biographies and despite Freeman taking the trouble to visit the actual locations, she uncovers nothing new. It comes as no surprise to the reader that the current occupants of the homes have either never met or never heard of Raymond Chandler, but Freeman keeps searching for clues even though she’s several decades too late. No one beats her up along the way, although she gives her subject a few good jabs and bruises. She is seduced by a femme fatale, but it’s only her subject’s dead wife and sadly she is denied the satisfaction of even a fade to black.
The truth is that Raymond Chandler was an intensely private man. His marriage and his personal life remain beyond the reach of anyone who isn’t interested in speculating without the benefit of facts. His work survives because of its excellence in spite of the fact that the author was a curmudgeon and might have been a hypocritical philanderer or a closet queen or maybe he really was what he always claimed to be — a man who didn’t give a damn about anyone except his wife. After her death, he destroyed her letters and most of her photos. His fame guaranteed they would sniff around and sully his reputation as best they could and there was nothing he could do to stop it, but Chandler made sure that he took every last vestige of his marriage with him to the grave. The more biographers dig for the weaknesses in these men who gave the world tough fiction, the more you realize it wasn’t the toughness that set their fiction apart so much as the honor and dignity they upheld. That’s something few biographies will ever replicate. “No way has yet been invented to say goodbye to them.”
With the recent release of El Borak and Other Desert Adventures, the latest in Del Rey’s series of Robert E. Howard collections, fans of the Cross Plains bard who are primarily familiar only with his fantasy and horror stories, will have a chance to experience a different, but no less compelling, segment of the author’s œuvre — swashbuckling action adventure. Francis Xavier Gordon — “El Borak” — and his literary cousins Kirby O’Donnell and Steve Clarney are figures every bit as compelling and dynamic as Conan or Solomon Kane and they dominate their stories by sheer force of will and grim determination. Some of the settings and even plots elements of these stories may owe much to Rudyard Kipling, Harold Lamb, Talbot Mundy, and H. Rider Haggard, but the fast-paced, action-oriented style, the relentless unforgiving violence, and the larger-than-life protagonists who prevail against all odds by dint of their cunning, martial prowess, and indomitable courage are unmistakably Howardian.
El Borak, the titular character of this collection, appears in eight stories in which he hacks, shoots, and outsmarts his way through a maze of tribal feuds, religious fanaticism, political intrigue, and treacherous colleagues — all of which plays out across the backdrop of The Great Game between Russia and Great Britain as those imperial powers contend for hegemony in Central Asia. Gordon, formerly a gunslinger from Texas, now turned expatriate adventurer, discovers forgotten races and lost cities, rescues kidnapped damsels and hapless diplomats, and battles fierce hill bandits and murderous Assassins. These are some of Howard’s best stories; tightly written, well-paced and well-plotted adventures that, while lacking the supernatural elements of his weird works, still retain a flavor of mystery and exoticism. Gordon is a force of nature that dominates his surroundings and the events that befall him, despite the sense of very real danger and palpable mortality that permeates these gripping tales and threatens to overwhelm both the protagonists and the reader at all times.
Baen Books publishes electronic versions (Kindle, iTouch/iPhone), via Webscription, of several volumes not available in this format through Amazon. The Legions of Fire by David Drake is also available in ebook form. TC readers might be interested to know that Baen is currently proposing a deal on Fritz Leiber‘s complete “Fafhrd and Gray Mouser” collection, at thirty-five dollars instead of sixty-two dollars. Thanks to Paul McNamee for the tip.
The “Fafhrd and Gray Mouser” pencil drawing illustrating this blog, by artist David Petersen, does not come from the volumes sold by Baen.
Lots of interesting news regarding our brothers in swords and souls recently. Along with fellow blogger Deuce, I’ve long maintained that exploration and appreciation of settings beyond the stale “Medieval Europe” standard for so many fantasy worlds is a great way to bring freshness and excitement to the fantasy genre, and the rich, exotic history and cultures of Africa makes for ideal inspiration. First-Spear of Sword-and-Soul Charles R. Saunders is preeminent among those authors who embraced this, and through his site, he names some others deserving of our attention.
Pulp collector and scholar (and early member of REHupa) Robert Weinberg, who contributed several times to The Cimmerian print journal, was recently mentioned on the TC blog because of his introduction to the collection of Harold Lamb’s stories Swords from the West. Editor Emeritus Leo Grin interviewed him a few years ago for REHupa when Bob Weinberg was named Guest of Honor for Howard Days 2004.
But first and foremost, Mr Weinberg is a writer and an editor. His next volume of fiction, Hellfire: Plague of Dragons, is an 80-page volume slated for a release in October 2010 from Running Press. Apparently, this is a fantasy story set in an alternate Europe. It’s based on an idea of artist Tom Wood, who created 24 full page color illustrations and numerous spot illos for the book.
The Hyborian Age... looking a lot like Barsoom here.
A year ago today, a beardy little upstart from Scotland sneaked onto The Cimmerian, via the approval of the late, great Steve Tompkins. It proved to be a bit controversial, as my fun little story became a battleground between two titans of Howard scholarship on the merits of Conan the Barbarian and Jackson’s Lord of the Rings film trilogy. It was all a bit overwhelming, but Leo’s suggestion that Conan the Destroyer and Red Sonja were more deserving of such mockery ignited a mischievous little spark in the dark recesses of my brain.
As a celebration of my unofficial debut, a peace offering for our esteemed leader, and an appreciation for the scholar who helped get my foot in the door, I’d like to introduce my sequel to El Ingenioso Bàrbaro Rey Konahn de Simaria. A bit of background is necessary. The germ for the idea of Bàrbaro came about in a debate regarding Conan the Barbarian: the argument was that, since Howard never actually detailed Conan’s childhood in a story, John Milius’ account couldn’t be disproved, therefore Conan the Barbarian was a perfectly valid account of Conan’s early life. I’ve long since forgotten the argument, but it made me wonder: is there any way to reconcile Milius’ film with the Hyborian Age as written by Howard?
As it turned out, it really was impossible. There are just too many differences to account for. It dawned on me that the only way for either version to be compatible with the other is that one of them had to be the “fake” version, either a result of misconception, misrepresentation, myth, or simple tall tale. Since Milius’ creation was by its definition derivative, it followed that anything that appeared in the film would be the counterfeit version. Hence things like the Cult of Shet, the Simarians, Chadizar, the LARP Vanir, and of course Konahn himself. Even though things ended up a bit “Mad Magazine,” it was borne out of a genuine desire to see if it could work. After all, problems regarding the Howardian perspective aside, I quite liked Conan the Barbarian as well. I’m not going to defend it as a Howard adaptation–indeed, it’s in my vehement criticism of it as one that some might get the impression I disliked the film–but on the merits of pure cinema, I’ll freely admit to espousing its qualities.
With this done for Conan the Barbarian, why not the other alleged Robert E. Howard adaptations? While Conan the Barbarian has its defenders, I don’t think anyone will mourn the lost dignity Conan the Destroyer, mostly because it didn’t have any to lose in the first place. Crom knows Red Sonja and Kull the Conqueror don’t. So sit back, draw up your tipple of choice, and let me take you back to the days of High (emphasis therein) Adventure…
Part seven of Blogging the Silmarillion concludes the Quenta Silmarillion with a look at Chapters 22-24.
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No careful reader of Tolkien’s fiction can fail to be aware of the polarities that give it form and tension. His work is built on contrasts—between hope and despair, between good and evil, between enlightenment and ignorance—and these contrasts are embodied in the polarities of light and dark that are the creative outgrowth of his contrary moods, the “antitheses” of his nature.
–Verlyn Flieger, Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien’s World
J.R.R. Tolkien was, paradoxically, a man of deep faith who was subject to extreme bouts of despair. He believed that life here on earth is a long defeat, an inevitable march toward the destruction of man and all his creations. However, he also believed in an afterlife. Despite numerous defeats and endured miseries, there existed for Tolkien the possibility of final, unlooked-for victory (coined by Tolkien as a “eucatastrophe”) in this world or the next.
These contrasting sides to Tolkien’s personality are revealed in the final three chapters of the Quenta Silmarillion. In chapters 22-24 we experience (Middle)-earthian defeats that result in unimaginable ruin, followed by the Valar-backed defeat of Morgoth, a victory of truly epic scale.
It’s foolish to think that we can ever have a paradise on earth, for life here is transitory, a passing thing. So too it was in the First Age of Middle-earth. The Elves built cities of surpassing beauty and strength, but each in turn fall into ruin. While Part Six of Blogging The Silmarillion revisited the sack of Nargothrond, in this section of The Silmarillion we witness the ruin of the kingdom of Doriath, followed by the fall of the hidden mountain city of Gondolin. This is the culmination of the Long Defeat for the Elves, whose greatest and seemingly most enduring works come to a violent and ruinous end.
As Miguel Martins reported earlier this month, the release of Black Gate #14 is imminent. Whilst copies of the new issue, like unto blood-mad dogs of war, await release from the loving clutches of the printer, publisher John O’Neill has been providing previews of some of the stories.
Do you have a concept for a new REH-related fanzine or journal? Why not join our groundbreaking and cyberspace-partaking venture in an APA for the new millennium and publish your concept online in our first-of-its-kind, web-based, hypermedia APA. Consider this site as your “digital pulp” venue for creative thoughts and concepts regarding the life and literary legacy of America’s great creator of heroic fantasy, initiator of the Sword & Sorcery genre, and most diverse writer of the age of Pulp.
NOTE: If you’re going to be attending HOWARD DAYS down in Cross Plains, Texas in June of 2010, why not meet up with REHEAPA Editor, Frank Coffman (aka “The Skipper”) and find out more about becoming a contributor and member of The Robert-E-Howard: Electronic Amateur Press Association?
Write inquiries or simply send in your first zine or journal to: Frank Coffman, Official Online Editor.
That’s the call for new members issued by the specialist in the Cross Plains Pulpster’s poetry: Professor (and REHupan) Frank Coffman, editor of The Selected Poems of Robert E. Howard. In 2010, Frank is seeking to reinvigorate the ROBERT-E-HOWARD: ELECTRONIC AMATEUR PRESS ASSOCIATION (REHEAPA). Rules and regulations can be read here.
The world’s first online Amateur Press Association (APA) features a first series of articles including several excellent essays and general articles on a variety of Howardian topics. The back files include excellent material from scholars such as the late Steve Tompkins, Rusty Burke, Patrice Louinet, Paul Herman and Frank himself.
Lee Breakiron contributed quality content in 2009 and Frank plans to add some “delayed postings” this year. If you’re interested, have questions, or already have a concept in mind for an online e-journal or e-zine, please contact Mr Coffman: fcoffman@comcast.net
