A Halloween Review: The Historian By Elizabeth Kostova

 A version of this article appeared in Knights of the Dinner Table #132 (October, 2007)

In October ghosts and ghoulies usually troop about demanding candy in the voices of children, or haunt the airwaves in cartoon form.  But despite the commercial glitter and traditional fun, at heart Halloween connects to our deepest fears about the dark, about the sacred, and the profane.  Vampires have stood near the center of the holiday’s stranglehold on the modern imagination throughout the twentieth century, that bloodiest, most savage period in human history.  Indeed, history has revealed the deepest, ugliest wells of the human spirit and we have, in essence, personified that lust for blood and power in the mythical vampire.

One novelist has taken this juxtaposition of cause and effect to its logical point, placing the vampire within the history of religious and ethnic atrocity which so bloodily stains the century.  Elizabeth Kostova’s debut novel was a remarkable effort in the highest traditions of fantasy, employing the struggle against a fantastical monster of mythology and legend in its quest to understand issues of history and family.  But the fantasy is very low key; the magic is off-screen, obscure, and unexplained. 

Kostova’s novel follows three strands of events through history, as three generations of a family of historians struggle to unravel the mysteries surrounding Vlad Tepes, Dracula, and his remarkable ‘Dragon Books’.  One strand wends its way through the turbulent 1930s, the most detailed account plows through the 1950s, and the third account ties the threads together diffidently as it meanders through the 1970s.  The story is further connected in time to the first decade of the twenty-first century as the narrator recounts the tale.  The novel is full of mysteries, and the reader must explore them alongside the narrator as she uncovers evidence piece by piece, much as a rose unfurls slowly over time.

The cast of characters is remarkable for containing three historians who act like historians, Bartholomew Rossi, the narrator’s father, Paul, and the narrator herself each pursue the mystery of the Dragon Books with scholarly precision, there are no archaeological bullwhips here! Each displays, moreover, considerable unwillingness to acknowledge the supernatural nature of the mystery, the supernatural aspect is virtually unspoken for most of the novel.

As a historian myself, I appreciated these characters, I easily recognized their motivations. But I especially thrilled at their discoveries among the ancient sources and crumbling pages of manuscripts. Kostova has captured the thrill that historians get as the piece together these old riddles from obscure manuscripts, discovering lost secrets and uncovering sometimes intentionally hidden knowledge. The title of this novel is perfect. 

The style is very ‘European’ and thus quite appropriate to the subject, but it is also an homage to Stoker’s original Dracula.  As in Stoker’s work, much of the story is revealed through letters, journals, and other finds.  There is a cryptographic and riddling edge to the story, quite reminiscent of scholars struggling with ciphers and lost ‘Rosetta Stones’ but the hints and allusions tie together well so that the plot, when finally revealed, is quite seamless.  Moreover, like Stoker, Kostova uses Dracula himself quite sparingly, he appears in only a very few scenes, always mysteriously, and always to great effect.  His conversation with Rossi is a purposeful echo of the first meeting between the vampire and Jonathan Harker.  

More than Stoker, however, Kostova anchors the tale in the actual history of the Balkans, the fabled cockpit of Europe which has led to widespread bloodshed many times on the continent. I was especially impressed with how she handles the Iron curtain period, and the juxtaposition of Communist tyranny with more ancient evils. The result is chilling on multiple levels. 

For the game master, the story presents a text-book example of how to construct clues and hints that should lead the players from point A to point B while leaving them with an illusion of free will.  Moreover, it is an excellent example of the sort of shadowy, mystical warfare that might take place between an ancient lich or vampire, and the foes that might hunt him.  As a modern campaign example, it presents a pleasant alternative to the hormone drenched adolescent angst of the World of Darkness and most other modern gothic horror. 

I've read this work twice now, once the hard cover version, and once the Audible version narrated by Justine Eyre and Paul Michael. If you enjoy audiobooks, like i do, the audio version is very well done, and splitting the narrators according to who the POV character is makes for a very strong listening experience.

The novel is far from action-packed.  The excitement and drama come most often from the uncovered page or recently recovered folk-song, rather than machine gun bullets and flashing swords.  For some, this will be reason enough to leave it alone.  But if you find philosophical debate, and spiritual peril thrilling, and if you enjoy examining recent history through unusual prisms, then pick up the The Historian.  I’ll be very surprised if you can put it down again.

All views in this blog are my own and represent the views of no other person, organization, or institution.

Review: Goblin Quest series

 All views in this blog are my own and represent the views of no other person, organization, or institution.

 A version of this article appeared in Knights of the Dinner Table #131 (September, 2007).

Most of the works reviewed in this column over the past year have been influential in the early development of fantasy role-playing games. But the birth of role-playing spawned, nearly simultaneously, the birth of game related novels. Some of the earliest and most obvious examples include the first game novel, Andre Norton's Quag Keep,  the Dragonlance novels, but much game-inspired fiction was not tied so directly into a game setting.  Rather, a generation of fantasy writers grew up gaming and much of their fiction is at least partially influenced by those experiences.

Jim C. Hines ‘Goblin Quest’ series was clearly inspired in large part by gaming, and presents an alternative view of the traditional dungeon exploration motif that is so beloved by old time role-players.  The hero of Hines’ tale is Jig, a runty goblin who is drawn into adventures through circumstance and an unusual dose of common sense (unusual for a goblin, at any rate).

In Goblin Quest Jig is captured by adventurers while on patrol outside his tribe’s lair, and forced to guide them through the dungeon his tribe helps to populate.  The adventurers, (two princes, their dwarven tutor, and an elven thief) are searching the catacombs for a powerful artifact; they believe it lies at the very bottom of the dungeon.  Jig survives, aided by his pet fire spider and a long-forgotten god.   

In Goblin Hero Jig’s status in the world has moved up, not a comfortable position in goblin society as he is seen as a threat by tribal leaders.  Again his world is threatened and he finds himself trying to save not only goblins, but ogres as well, against dangerous magical foes. These foes, pixies from another dimension, are even more dangerous then the dragon and human adventurers he faced in the first book. 

In the final novel, Goblin War, Jig is caught up in the sort of war between humanoids and humanity that is the staple of so many fantasy novels or roleplaying campaigns. Jig discovers that both sides intend harm to the goblins. The recurring motif that the humans and others consider the goblins to be vermin is fully explored here. Jig's solutions are far from perfect, but he manages to save the day for the majority of the less malevolent folks involved.

Hines’ Goblin novels are marketed as fantasy comedy, similar to Robert Asprin’s Mythadventures, or Piers Anthony’s Xanth novels.  But the novels are not particularly comedic. There is comedy, generally found in the absurdities inherent in goblin culture, but the novels are thankfully a straight take on goblin society, from the goblin point of view, rather than a continuous flow of bad puns and short jokes. The goblin society in the books is not candy-coated; they are mean-spirited back-stabbers who fail most often because they cannot trust each other.  They eat whatever sort of meat they can acquire, whether sentient or not, including goblin when nothing else is available and they gladly pick on whatever is smaller or weaker than they are. 

Jig is not Drizzt Do’urden for Goblins.  He does not question his society but merely tries to survive within it, at least at first.  He is neither brave nor strong and while he recognizes goblins for what they are, he still champions his race over others.  Jig is peculiarly realistic hero, fully within his society and yet able to see it from the outside, as well. He's a remarkable literary creation, really.  

Jig is remarkably likeable as well; Hines achieves this end in part by the stereotypical trope in which the handsome noble prince is really an arrogant, cruel, evil fool.  This has been done to death in the Shrek movies and plays even less well in these novels.  However, the humans are so unlikable that Hines can allow Jigs to retain his less savory goblin habits (such as a taste for dwarf flesh) and retain the reader’s sympathies.  

A dwarven priest provides the closet thing to a voice of reason in the original book, and a royal princess in the final book shows that not all of the humans are arrogant, cruel, or foolish. Still, if the books have a weakness it is that Hines fails to treat non-goblin characters with the same sense of balance and individuality he provides the goblins. 

From a gaming point of view, the books are a gold mine for gamemasters.  Hines presents a believable dungeon ecology and cultures, any gamemaster who takes the time to similarly imagine daily life in his dungeons will find determining the inhabitants’ reactions to invasion much easier.  The examination of goblin culture is particularly enlightening, as previously they have always stood in the shadows of orcs.  And Hackmaster fans may find Hines’ treatment of Pixies in Goblin Quest intriguing.  There are helpful portraits of wizards, priests, and witch doctors, as well.

I recently reread the series as audiobooks: Goblin Quest, Goblin Hero, and Goblin War. These are full cast performances, with a narrator for the text and the dialogue read by different actors for the various characters. Additionally, they have mood music and sound effects added. They were done by Graphic Audio and described as a "movie for your mind." I enjoyed them, though I wouldn't want all books to be read that this way. 

Hines novels are fun and interesting.  Though many works have run with the idea of transforming a traditional antagonist into protagonist, seldom has anyone done so with a race as universally despised as goblins.  Shrek and Drizzt may come from those who traditionally go bump in the night, but their respective races at least have reputations of fearsomeness to fall back on.  Adventurers fear ogres, and drow.  Goblins lack even that advantage, making Jigs' accomplishments and Hines’ audacity that much more compelling.

Review: Swords Against the Shadowland by Robin Wayne Bailey

 All views in this blog are my own and represent the views of no other person, organization, or institution.

 A version of this article appeared in Knights of the Dinner Table #149 (March, 2009).

America’s most influential fantasy author, Fritz Leiber, passed away in 1992.  His greatest creations, Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser, were comfortably retired following his last work concerning Nehwon, The Knight and Knave of Swords and it seemed their tales had all been told.  But Leiber had, apparently, designated a literary heir, Robin Wayne Bailey, to write further about the swashbuckling duo. 

There is a natural caution amongst fans when a new writer begins to tell tales of such legendary characters and the sorry history of Conan following his creator’s death is ample evidence of how poorly it can turn out.  Leiber’s creation had begun as a collaborative effort between himself and Otto Fischer and both were active in war gaming and the early days of Dungeons and Dragons.  Despite Leiber’s distinctive style, then, a fan could hope for the best. And Robin Wayne Bailey was an excellent choice for literary heir as a veteran fantasy author with tales in the Thieves’ World anthologies that were extremely reminiscent of Leiber’s own work.  Moreover, like Leiber, Bailey is very active in the fan community, approachable, and extremely likeable personally.

Bailey did not rush to put out a new story after Leiber passed away, the first new Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser tale; Swords against the Shadowland, was not published until 1998. Set in the period following “Ill Met in Lankhmar”, during which Fafhrd and the Mouser avoided that city and were plagued by memories of their lost loves, Vlana and Ivrian. The novel follows the vengeance of the wizard Malygris, and the unintended consequences of his vengeance. It falls to our two heroes, manipulated by Mouser’s wizardly patron Sheelba, to set things right.

Malygris might be named after the eponymous wizard from "The Death of Malygris" by Clark Ashton Smith, or perhaps it is intended to be the same wizard, I'm not certain. I rather hope there is an intended connection.

This is not a Fritz Leiber book, nor even a pastiche of Leiber’s style.  Bailey wisely avoids that trap and instead writes a book in his own style, utilizing the characters and locations of Lankhmar.  For Leiber fans there might be some disconnect here; like the heroes of all of the early 20th century fantasy greats (i.e. Howard, Lovecraft, & Tolkien) Lieber’s heroes are more than a little detached from themselves.  Fafhrd and Mouser love deeply, but discuss those loves with the same ironic abstraction that they discuss broad philosophies and metaphysics. Bailey’s heroes are heirs of our own, far more confessional age.  They admit and discuss their brotherly love for each other with far less reticence than Lieber would have allowed, and their understanding of, and connections to, their own psyches are deeper.

This is not a criticism, however.  The story is a swashbuckling tale of Lankhmar in the finest tradition, told by a man who has carefully studied Lankhmar. Bailey’s experience writing for the Thieves’ World shared universe concept clearly aided him here.  Lankhmar is not only one of the oldest fantasy worlds, it is one of the oldest role-playing settings, and there are many who feel they know the fabled city nearly as well as they know their own hometowns.  They will feel right at home in Bailey’s Lankhmar, perhaps even more than Lieber’s, as Bailey adds a level of detail that Lieber avoided in the pre-RPG age.    

For gamers, Bailey’s work has several interesting concepts and ideas that gamemaster’s can steal. Malygris’ method of vengeance and its unintended consequences make the entire plot perfect for lifting as an adventure premise, one easily adapted to most AD&D-style fantasy settings.  The novel explores Lankhmar thoroughly, and those running campaigns in any fantasy city will find many ideas and concepts in it that can be easily lifted for use in places like Waterdeep or the city of Greyhawk.  Fafhrd and the Mouser are always excellent examples for players to emulate, and in the current era of role-playing, they are perhaps even more relevant.

Though this was the first of a planned trilogy, subsequent works never materialized. I don't know why, I greatly enjoyed the novel but I can see purists rejecting even the idea of a successor to Leiber, perhaps sales were low. Or perhaps the format was an issue. The duo's tales were primarily sword & sorcery short stories, often first published in magazines and then later collected in the famous "Swords against..." series. Leiber himself only wrote one true novel of the pair (and several novellas). Bailey was a veteran of the short story format, but perhaps he had a hard time creating full novel stories for the pair that fit into their established timeline. 

If that was the case, it is a shame that an anthology wasn't produced instead. I believe a Lankhmar festschrift celebrating Leiber would have been well received by fans. Not a collection of unconnected tales like After the King: Stories In Honor of J.R.R. Tolkien (1992) edited by Martin H. Greenberg, but rather a collection of tales set in Lankhmar or elsewhere on Nehwon by a variety of fantasy authors. Leiber himself established that Nehwon had connections to other worlds, so they could even bring characters from their own worlds. Bailey would be the perfect editor for such a volume. 

Fritz Leiber has passed and his copious output as a writer leaves us much to enjoy. And we have  this novel, showing that the world itself can still entertain. It has been over fifteen years since I first read this book, I think it is time to read it again. And certaunly, Bailey’s concluding words provide a fitting end to this review, encapsulating a fan’s longing for eldritch Lankhmar and her roguish heroes:

Our Knight and Knave of Swords—sleep

Your work is done, the tale is told,

And lives are saved a hundred-fold.

If only all man’s plagues could be

Such a neatly ended fantasy.

Halloween Review: Black Seas of Infinity: The Best of H.P. Lovecraft

All views in this blog are my own and represent the views of no other person, organization, or institution.

 A version of this article appeared in Knights of the Dinner Table #122 (December, 2006).

From 2006 through 2012 I was the "Off the Shelf" columnist for Knights of the Dinner Table, a magazine and comic book devoted to tabletop fantasy role paying games. I reviewed classic and modern fantasy, horror, and science fiction novels. Every October I tried to review a work of classic horror in honor of Halloween. I am trying to continue that tradition with my blog. You can find previous Halloween Reviews here. 

After Edgar Allen Poe, H.P. Lovecraft is the most influential American horror author. A master of the short story form and one of Weird Tales most successful authors, his fiction heavily shaped the horror, fantasy, and science fiction genres. This influence is so pervasive and widespread that it often goes unremarked; few are aware, for example, of his correspondence with Robert Bloch, the author of Psycho.  In fact, Stephen King wrote in Danse Macabre that Lovecraft's influence "overlies almost all of the important horror fiction that has come since."

Lovecraft was himself heavily influenced by Edgar Allan Poe, Arthur Machen, and Lord Dunsany, as well as Bulfinch’s Mythology and The Arabian Nights.  Critical of his own work, Lovecraft considered much of his writing to be a simple pastiche of either Poe or Dunsany, though many reviewers would disagree.  He shared their talent for atmosphere and other-worldliness, yet his prose has a distinct, decayed quality that one could never mistake for Poe’s genteel gothic manner or Dunsany’s formal fairy tale mode.

He was the center of an extensive circle of correspondents who read each others stories, suggested improvements, and even story ideas to each other.  The group’s membership is a virtual whose who of early American science fiction and fantasy: Robert E. Howard (Conan), Fritz Lieber (Lankhmar), Robert Bloch (Psycho), August Derleth (founder of Arkham House), Clark Ashton Smith (the Averoigne stories), Frank Belknap Long (‘The Hounds of Tindalos’), and many others.  Though his personal advice and insight was no doubt important, simply acting as the catalyst and center of this group, and thus bringing about a sort of critical mass of intellectual stimulation, would alone leave us in Lovecraft’s debt.

Lovecraft’s impact on role-playing games was early and extensive.  Sahuagin and mind flayers were clearly inspired by Lovecraft, and the Cthulhu mythos was a much loved section in the original Deities and Demigods.  Lovecraft’s direct influence is noted in his inclusion in the famous ‘inspiration’ list of the 1st edition Dungeon Master’s Guide, as well as being obvious in Gygax’s faux-archaic writing style.  More directly, Lovecraft’s stories and concepts are clearly visible in the design of the ‘Chapel of Chaos’ found in B2 Keep on the Borderlands and the temple of WG4 The Forgotten Temple of Tharizdun.  Most of the mythology Gygax built up around Tharizdun is Lovecraftian in concept.  In deed, it is difficult to find an early AD&D module that doesn’t owe something to Lovecraft in tone, plot, or style.  His influence extended beyond D&D into later role-playing games, the ‘Wyrm’ of White Wolf’s Werewolf: The Apocalypse game owes a great deal to Lovecraft.

Of course, while Lovecraft’s writing did more than inspire game designers, an entire game system was created to draw players into his uniquely horrifying visions.  Call of Cthulhu, published in 1981 by Chaosium is considered a truly classic role-playing game, perhaps the best horror genre role-playing game ever.  Its primary distinction is that player characters are as likely to go insane as they are to die, a touch unique to the game, and very true to Lovecraft’s themes and motifs.  

Lovecraft’s stories are at once dream-like, horrifying and miasmic.  He filled his prose with obscure, often difficult words and odd stylizations.  In another writer this would be simple distraction, but for Lovecraft it serves to highlight the atmosphere of foreboding alienation that he believed was at the heart of all ‘weird’ fiction.  Lovecraft’s central theme is that mankind’s role in the universe is so tiny, so ultimately irrelevant, that most would go insane simply to view his truth.  The ultimate Lovecraftian horror is the perception of a vast, uncaring universe. 

His protagonists are generally ignorant of the true nature of the horrors they face, and frequently fail to either end or escape the danger.  His antagonists are nearly always other worldly, but if one looks close, they are seldom evil in any traditional or meaningful sense.  They quite often destroy their victim without ever noticing that the victim is present. 

Lovecraft’s his work cannot be truly classified as science fiction, as so much of it is based on philosophical and scientific nonsense.  Moreover, he was very much a man of his time: his overt racism and sexism stains many of his stories so that even the protagonist is unpalatable to the modern reader.  But his mastery of atmosphere and exploration of nihilism makes his work a profitable, sometimes enjoyable, and always eerie read nonetheless.

Black Seas of Infinity, published  by the Science Fiction Book Club in September 2001, presents Lovecraft’s best stories, and the reader should not miss gems such as “The Mound”, “The Call of Cthulhu”, “The Shadow of Innsmouth”, or “At the Mountains of Madness.”  Any of these provide wonderful ideas for the gamemaster and an hour or more of disturbed pleasure for the general reader, but the back of the book contains great value as well, in the appendices.  Lovecraft’s “History of the Necronomicon” is a wonderful template for any powerful magical book, and the essays on his life and how to write fiction provide excellent advice for writers and gamemasters.     

Despite his flaws Lovecraft is a founding father of modern fantasy and science fiction.  If you haven’t yet read his works, find a nice, bright public spot with happy music and then sink into his prose. 

Review: His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novik

 All views in this blog are my own and represent the views of no other person, organization, or institution.

 A version of this article appeared in Knights of the Dinner Table #136 (February, 2008).

The Napoleonic Wars have long fascinated gamers. In fact, the first true gaming book, H.G. Wells’ Little Wars, is essentially a set of rules for wargaming the Napoleonic Wars. At any given general gaming convention a few tables a sure to be covered with Napoleon’s armies marching against Lord Wellington, or with Nelson’s warships sailing to victory at Trafalgar. Along with the American Civil War and World War II the period sits at the top of the war gaming heap.

And why should it not? The period is bright, colorful, and melodramatic. Brave men face lethal technologies with naught but their courage only a heartbeat away from being shot by a musket or skewered on a sword blade. It has some of the very best works of fiction in multiple tongues, including Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace, C.S. Forester’s superb Hornblower novels, and Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables.  

The period has drawn fantasy and horror writers alongside myriad alternative history works in both games and fiction. Flintloque, a fantasy miniatures skirmish game imagined the English as orcs and the French as elves, while the instant classic novel Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke posited the war if English Magic were rediscovered and restored to its rightful place of power. Seth Grahame-Smith imagined a Napoleonic Britain overrun by Zombies and good manners in Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. 

Naomi Novik breaks similar ground with His Majesty’s Dragon, in which she imagines an Earth where dragons are real and powerful, albeit rare, creatures. The historical past is unclear, but in broad outline seems to have followed our own world’s timelines. The introduction of dragons seems to have relatively little impact on British society and the war between Britain and Napoleon’s France seems posited on the same root causes. Though divided into breeds, dragons are rare and powerful. They seem to have little role in society beyond military service (though later books apparently adjust this concept somewhat) but are large, powerful flyers. Individual dragons bond with individual humans, though they are longer lived. This is very similar to the way Anne McCaffrey’s Pern dragons bond with humans, but lacks the telepathic impressment. Novik’s dragons and their riders interact much like McCaffrey’s but lacking the telepathic ties the pairings feel more like a pair of humans falling in love. 

The novel charts the course of the dragon Temeraire and her human captain, Will Laurence.  Laurence is a frigate captain in the Royal Navy, who wins a grand prize, a dragon egg, from a French vessel.  Unexpectedly chosenas handler by Temeraire, he enters the Aerial Corps as an outsider, and he and Tremeraire work together to thwart Napoleon’s plans to conquer England. 

Full disclosure, in addition to wargaming in the Napoleonic period for years, and reading a great deal of period historical fiction, including some of the expected Bernard Cornwall Sharpe  and the Patrick O'Brian Aubrey–Maturin series, my professional work has been hyper focused on the Age of Sail over the last seven years. I am writing a history of U.S. Marines from 1798-1859. So, perhaps I am being overly critical with the next bit. Nonetheless...

In combat, the Novik's dragons fight in an odd style that is clearly an attempt to merge McCaffrey’s thread fights with the nautical conflicts of C.S. Forester or Patrick O’Brian. The dragons carry crews of a dozen or so, using muskets, bombs, and even boarding actions against each other. The dragons are highly intelligent yet they need "handlers?" The result is oddly unconvincing, were dragons real it seems highly unlikely that they would be used as Novik imagines, certainly not if they intelligent creatures. If they allowed themselves to be used as beasts of war they surely would have a better understanding of aerial combat than any human would have. The dragons fail to inspire the sort of awe that Tolkien's Smaug brings, and her world building falls flat when compared to the precise science fiction underpinnings of McCaffrey's Pern, the most obvious comparison. 

A lack of authenticity bedevils her dialogue as well.  Novik betrays an incomplete grasp of the period’s style that is particularly noticeable those who have read Clarke’s magnificent Jonathon Strange and Mr. Norrell. It is obvious that she imagines the British Aerial Corps’ officers as non-traditional precisely so she can free herself of the period restrictions which would have elevated her novel’s style and accomplishment. Novik is so busy trying to merge two distinct genres (fantasy and historical fiction) that the seams of her novel occasionally fail to meet neatly.

Despite merging disparate styles into a single pastiche, His Majesty’s Dragon is a fun, enjoyable read.  The flaws are glaring, but the two main characters are engaging and the premise intriguing.  There are far worse ways to spend time than reading a failed but noble experiment, and game masters will undoubtedly gather many excellent ideas for using dragons in their own campaigns. There is, moreover, always the hope that the subsequent volumes will improve in style. (although, I have to admit that 16 years after I first read this novel, I still haven't been inspired to read the others despite my immersion in the period)  

Still, for a first novel, it is quite an achievement and readers lacking my historians obsessions will enjoy the work even more.

All views in this blog are my own and represent the views of no other person, organization, or institution.

Yule Review: The Dark is Rising series By Susan Cooper

  A version of this article appeared in Knights of the Dinner Table #158 (December, 2009).

When the Dark comes rising, six shall turn it back;
Three from the circle, three from the track;
Wood, bronze, iron; water, fire, stone;
Five will return, and one go alone.

I’ve always found Christmas to be a magical time, and not simply for the presents. In the northern hemisphere, when the days grow shorter and short, the nights longer and darkness holds great sway over the world so that even the days are often dim and grey it is easy to imagine elves slipping between snow covered trees. On cold nights, looking up at bright stars while “the moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster of midday to objects below” I have felt that magic sink into my soul. Halloween may seem the more natural holiday for fantasy fans with its witches, vampires, and demons, but it is Christmas when the magic seems to come to life.

There are, ironically, very few fantasy novels that really capture that Christmas or Yuletide magic. It is an elusive, fairy air captured by true masters such as Dickens in the classic A Christmas Carol yet tasting oddly flat when addressed by numerous journeyman writers. Yet in The Dark is Rising British author Susan Cooper captures the mystery of the season and melds it with the equally deep and ancient Matter of Britain. The result is an incredible work of fantasy and children’s literature.

Susan Cooper was born in 1935 in Buckinghamshire, England. Her childhood in Britain during World War II had a great influence on her later work, as did her days living in Wales and her degree in English from Oxford. Though she never personally met J.R.R. Tolkien or C.S. Lewis, she attended lectures by both of them, as explained in this excellent bio on her webpage. She worked as a reporter before moving to the Massachusetts, where she became a full time author, primarily of children's stories. She is best known for The Dark is Rising series, for which she won several awards, and her grasp of the underpinnings and function of Fantasy was made most obvious when she presented 'A Catch of the Breath',  the fifth annual J.R.R Tolkien Lecture on Fantasy Literature at Pembroke College, Oxford on 27th April 2017. You can, and should, watch this outstanding talk on YouTube here, it truly is a masterpiece of public speaking. 

The Dark is Rising series comprises five novels: Over Sea, Under Stone, The Dark is Rising, Greenwitch, The Grey King, and Silver on the Tree. All five are set in England, Cornwall, or Wales and depict episodes in the ongoing cosmic struggle between the Dark and the Light, which is represented by the immortal Old Ones.

Only one character, Merriman Lyon, appears in all five novels. Merriman is strongly implied to be Merlin, and certainly fills the role of mentor and mystical advisor to the five children who are the novels’ main protagonists. Simon, Jane, and Barney Drew are three quite normal children drawn into these quests by their ‘great-uncle’ Merriman. They are in all of the novels save The Dark is Rising and The Grey King. Will Stanton, seventh son of a seventh son, is the protagonist of The Dark is Rising novel itself and appears in all of the novels except Over Sea, Under Stone. Bran Davies is the last of the children, a mysterious albino Welsh boy who appears in only the last two novels, The Grey King and Silver on the Tree.

The novels are complex and handle their rather deep subject matter well. The action is fierce but restrained; the struggles involved rarely extend to mere physical altercations. Over Sea, Under Stone recounts the search for the Grail during the Drew children’s holiday in Cornwall, and the greater matters are only hinted at. The Dark is Rising takes place throughout the Christmas season in the Thames valley of England; Cooper is particularly skilled in using the traditional calendar of Yuletide, Midwinter Day, and the Twelve Days of Christmas to frame her tale. Greenwitch introduces the Drews to Will during a spring holiday in Cornwall during the Greenwitch festival; Jane Drew’s place in the story is more firmly established. The Grey King is perhaps the darkest of the series. Will recuperates in Wales from a sickness and befriends Bran, a shy boy with a tragic family history. And Silver on the Tree brings the series back to Midsummer, as the tale travels across England and Wales and through time, with all five children together for the final quest.

For gamers, the series is full of inspiration. Those who thrilled at the drawing of Herne the Hunter in Deities and Demigods will find his depiction in this series masterful, moreover it provides the game master with a wonderful example of how to use the Wild Hunt in a campaign. The seamless manner in which Cooper weaves history and mythology into the modern world is equally inspiring, and her concept of the Light and the Dark, as well as their eternal struggle, works well for most modern fantasy games. The series inspired me to write and run two different, long-running campaigns. Ars Magica and World of Darkness gamers in particular will find much of value here.

Cooper never stoops to using sex or violence to tell her tale, and so the series remains appropriate for children even while addressing themes of importance. Her writing is sparse yet evocative and her plots are meticulous, nothing feels forced or out of place. She has a great deal to say about the nature of good and evil, yet she never lectures or berates the reader.

If you want poetry, magic, and Arthurian glory set within the modern world, then read this series. It is a true classic.

All views in this blog are my own and represent the views of no other person, organization, or institution.

A Halloween Review: The Werewolf of Paris by Guy Endore

  A version of this article appeared in Knights of the Dinner Table #156 (October, 2009).

From 2006 through 2012 I was the "Off the Shelf" columnist for Knights of the Dinner Table, a magazine and comic book devoted to tabletop fantasy role paying games. I reviewed classic and
modern fantasy, horror, and science fiction novels. Every October I tried to review a work of classic horror in honor of Halloween. I am trying to continue that tradition with my blog. You can find previous Halloween Reviews here. 

When Halloween again rises from its grave to stalk the cool fall nights, one’s thoughts turn to the classic move monster of yore, that unholy triad of Dracula, Frankenstein’s Monster, and the Wolfman. The first two first appeared in classic gothic novels of the nineteenth century, widely read and beloved thrillers that often feature in high school reading lists. The werewolf’s historical and mythological roots are deeper than the other two; nearly every culture has some sort of lycanthropic legend. Werewolf tales are particularly widespread in Europe, where true stories of horrific wolf attacks were mythologized into fables such as Red Riding Hood. Despite this rich history, the literary antecedent of the Wolfman is less well known than his two companion classic horrors, in part because that 1933 novel, The Werewolf of Paris, remains under copyright.  

The Werewolf of Paris was written by Guy Endore, born Samuel Goldstein. Endore is best known today as a novelist and screen writer who was black-listed as a communist during the Red Scare. Endore was a communist (at least for a time), and was thoroughly immersed in the avant-garde intellectual movements of the 1930s. He was also educated in Europe.

Endore’s political leanings add a great deal to The Werewolf of Paris, a truly remarkable horror novel. Set in nineteenth century France, the novel tells the story of Bertrand Caillet as told primarily by his step-uncle, Aymar. Unlike later versions of the werewolf myth, Bertrand is not cursed by the bite of another werewolf but suffers rather from a family curse.  The novel tells the origin of this curse, and then details Bertrand’s sad life from birth to death.  The novel climaxes during the Franco-Prussian War, Bertrand is in Paris during the German siege, the Paris Commune, and the eventual retaking of Paris by the Versaillais troops. 

The descriptions of the Commune are vivid, and throughout the novel Endore’s Leftist sympathies leak through the text, yet this enhances rather than detracts from the experience, allowing the reader to immerse him or herself in the languid yet fevered atmosphere of France in the nineteenth century. The contrast between Bertrand’s bucolic home village and the beleaguered Paris, were Bertrand’s depredations are truly the least of horrors is particularly acute.

In addition to the politics, Endore’s novel reeks of sex, and the sex is both more blatant and more depraved than the bubbling under-currents of Victorian erotic repression found in Dracula. The werewolf tale has always had a direct connection to sex, again Red Riding Hood is the most obvious example. The Caillet family curse is born and perpetuated through sexual transgression down the ages. Bertrand’s own bestial urges expresses itself sexually as well as violently, and the only cure for his affliction appears to be a demented sort of true love. Though certainly not pornographic or particularly explicit, the sexuality is disturbing enough that I recommend parents read he book before their teenagers. I would only allow older, mature teens to read it myself. 

For gamemasters the novel is most fruitful as a background template, demonstrating how to design a memorable non-player character.  Bertrand makes an excellent tragic villain, and presenting the players with this sort of challenge, a monster that perhaps should not be killed yet must be stopped, is an excellent change of pace. Players may find less of immediate use, although Aymar’s investigations once he is in Paris itself may be instructive for Call of Cthulhu or other games involving supernatural investigations.

Despite its popularity, Endore’s novel was not filmed itself until 1962 when the famous British horror studio, Hammer Films, made Curse of the Werewolf. The novel’s psychological depth and overt sexuality was a deterrent to earlier dramatization. The filmed version moved the action to 18th century Spain, and was Oliver Reed's first starring role.

Bertrand’s rich, evocative prose makes the novel an engaging read despite the heavy subject matter.  Readers looking for a classic horror story with depth and resonance will be well rewarded his work. Read it late on a windy night with a window open and dogs howling in the distance… and don’t be surprised if you crave red meat and more the next day…

All views in this blog are my own and represent the views of no other person, organization, or institution.

The Express Diaries by Nick Marsh

A version of this article appeared in Knights of the Dinner Table #196 (February, 2013)

Role-playing has always been intimately linked to literature, it grew from wargaming, certainly, but its
soul has also been a deep desire to live within the fantastical worlds we immerse ourselves in while reading.  Indeed, styles of role-play can often be divined from one’s reading preferences (Conan fans usually love hack and slash, for example). Many books have inspired role-playing games, and as the role-playing hobby has developed, it has inspired books in its own turn. 

Usually these works are best when a writer simply sets a work within a specific role-playing setting, though many have attempted to turn their characters exploit into novels, those attempts usually fall very flat. But not always, some writers have succeeded in turning roleplaying campaign inspiration into fictional gold. 

The Express Diaries by Nick Marsh was inspired by a series of role-playing sessions played and recorded by an RPG group, the Bradford Players (at one time these were available for sale online, as shown here, but they seem to be no longer available, sadly). The Bradford Players were running through a classic Call of Cthulhu adventure, Horror on the Orient Express (Chaosium, 1991). The adventure was inspired by the literary works of H.P. Lovecraft and Thomas Ligotti, Marsh’s novelization of the game sessions brings the cycle full circle. 

The novel follows a band of investigators as they chase down the mystery of the “Sedefkar Simulacrum” from London to Constantinople and back again, travelling generally on the infamous Orient Express. The tales is told, as the title implies, through various diary and journal entries, and further expanded through newspaper articles, advertisements. This is reminiscent of Stoker’s technique in Dracula and it is equally effective in this work. 

Perhaps because Marsh wasn’t one of the original players, but rather an outsider inspired by the sessions, this novel suffers from none of the self-indulgent flaws one usually finds in fiction inspired by game sessions. The characters view points are each unique, and this is apparent as the view shifts with each entry.  The earlier chapters have quite a bit of humor, some of it can get a bit predictable for anyone familiar with gaming in the 19th century. That doesn’t prevent it from being funny, however, and the early humor allows the reader to bond with the characters, and lulls the reader, so that when the horror truly begins, it is a bit shocking. 

For gamers, the value of this work is obvious, it serves as a wonderful example of a Call of Cthulhu campaign, or really, it works for nearly any horror adventure. The Bradford players seem to have been very role-playing oriented, none of the characters could be described as combat heavy hitters so the campaign is an excellent example of games in which direct combat and firefights play little if any role (appropriate, for the setting). 

Marsh’ sense of humor and ability to portray character is excellent, his prose is very sure-footed. Perhaps he doesn’t quite handle the horrific portions of the tale quite as well as the humorous sections, but they are still a great read. The reader heavily identifies with the characters and subsequently feels their defeats quite keenly. 

Of course, critical for any tale of this sort are the scenes on the train proper, as well as the sense of travel as the story progresses across Europe. This is one of Marsh’ strengths, the train comes alive through his prose, the reader feels as if they too have taken the long journey, and despite the horror, like they might want to take another such trip. I appreciate when he points out anachronisms such as dining cars that appear in the original adventure.

The novel is well suited for both prequels and sequels, and one can hope that Marsh finds good reason to continue novelizing the adventures of the Bradford Players. Certainly this work is a worthy addition to the Cthulhu mythos, even if Lovecraft himself may not have approved of the tale (he seems to have preferred a single protagonist, and never a female lead).In fact, I found this comment from a reader on the book's Amazon page extremely insightful: "...not so much something H.P. Lovecraft himself might have written as what you might have gotten if Clark Ashton Smith had written a Bram Stoker pastiche." I wish I written that myself!

If you enjoy horror, the writings of H.P. Lovecraft, or if you enjoy role-playing then give The Express Diaries a read. Or if you just are in between campaigns and need a Call of Cthulhu fix. Regardless, you’ll have a good read.

All views in this blog are my own and represent the views of no other person, organization, or institution.

A Halloween Review: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

 A version of this article appeared in Knights of the Dinner Table #168 (October, 2010).

From 2006 through 2012 I was the "Off the Shelf" columnist for Knights of the Dinner Table, a magazine and comic book devoted to tabletop fantasy role paying games. I reviewed classic and modern fantasy, horror, and science fiction novels. Every October I tried to review a work of classic horror in honor of Halloween. I am trying to continue that tradition with my blog. You can find previous Halloween Reviews here. 

The witch is on the broomstick and a chill is in the air as haunted old Halloween arrives. This year I review Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

Mary Shelley was a remarkable woman from a remarkable family; her father was a famous philosopher, her mother a famous feminist, her husband the renowned poet Percy Bysshe Shelley. Her early life was remarkable for the early 19th century, ‘radical’ even by today’s standards and colored by a remarkable amount of grief.  Aside from the creation of his monster, she in fact led a far more fascinating and interesting life than her novel’s protagonist. But a full accounting of her life would require a thick biography.

The story of the genesis of Frankenstein is well known. In 1816 she and Percy visited Lord Byron at a villa near Lake Geneva, Switzerland.  To pass the rainy days, Byron suggested they write ghost stories themselves, and from that summer came the story that she later worked into the novel: Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus.

The plot of the novel is well know: Frankenstein, a Byronic figure, becomes infatuated with creating life through electricity and his obsessive studies and experiments allow him to eventually give life to a creature he has constructed from cadavers.  His reaction is not what he expects:

It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs. 

How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form? His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips.

Frankenstein violently rejects his creature and abandons it, returning to his home and trying to resume his life as though his demented escapade had never occurred. But of course one’s mistakes cannot be so easily buried or forgotten and tragedy stalks Frankenstein’s loved ones until finally he and the creature race to a final confrontation in the far north. The novel is narrated by the device of a framing tale to the captain of an arctic exploration vessel as Frankenstein recovers from exposure.

Frankentsein is a major influence for gamers, directly inspiring villains in various horror settings like TSR’s Ravenloft. Frankenstein himself serves as an excellent model for either PC protagonist or NPC antagonist, indeed stripped of his scientific trappings he makes an excellent wizard.  The Creature is equally fascinating, and gamemasters who study how he plots his actions and justifies his actions can model truly tragic and emotionally painful foes for their players on him. Of course, for those gaming in a ‘Steam-punk’ setting the novel is practically required reading.  

Frankenstein is a classic novel that fully deserves the attention it receives, but it has perhaps been over-exposed.  High school English teachers reach for it easily, since it grabs the attention of students and the author’s life touches on so many important themes: Romanticism, Feminism, Liberalism, and so forth. But few of us truly enjoy works we are forced to read as homework, and when our memories are tainted by dozens of movies which pay only a passing nod to the novel while employing its themes and characters with casual abandon, it is only natural the one begins to think of it as an anemic, unoriginal motif.

But Shelley’s novel is more than that, it is a rich, full-bodied gothic experience that induces in the willing reader a deep despair. Her prose is as carefully crafted as any other from that most literary period, and just as passionate as anything written by Byron or Shelley themselves. 

When the moon is full and you wish to delve into the soul of horror and despair, leave the urban vampire tales alone and revisit Frankenstein.  It will be time well spent. 

All views in this blog are my own and represent the views of no other person, organization, or institution.

Review: Sanctuary by Lynn Abbey

 A version of this article appeared in Knights of the Dinner Table #198 (April, 2013).

All the good things of the earth flow into our city because of its greatness…

(Pericles' Funeral Oration, Thucydides 2.38)

Pericles was speaking of Athens, one of the marvels of the ancient world, a city whose institutions have
come to us through the centuries and whose reputation may be tarnished but has never descended from greatness. It was literally a ‘city on a hill;’ the original great cosmopolis or ‘world city.’ Cities have long captured our imaginations, and usually there are two types. One is the great, shining city that was Athens, or if one looks at fictional cities, Superman’s Metropolis. But it is the other sort of city, the city into which all vile things flow that this novel explores, a city ironically named Sanctuary.

Lynn Abbey’s Sanctuary is a unique novel for many reasons. It is intended as a bridge between the original incarnation of Thieves’ World and its second life. Thieves’ World was the first ‘shared world’ setting, and it was primarily a fantasy short story anthology series edited by Robert Asprin and Lynn Abbey, though novels, board games, comics, and a truly excellent multi-system city RPG boxed set were also produced. Its influence on shared worlds, the fantasy genre, and roleplaying was significant, but it reached creative and sales exhaustion by the 1990s.  However, fans of the series never completely disappeared and Abbey was persuaded to resurrect it in 2002. 

Sanctuary is not your normal hero’s quest tale, though it a coming of age tale. It merges the tragic history of Sanctuary with the equally tragic back story of its protagonist, Cauvin. Cauvin is the adopted son of a mason, adopted following the flaming, bloody demise of the Hand of Dyareela cult. This cult, devoted to a hermaphroditic deity of chaos, disease, madness, and death (first introduced in the second anthology of the series, Tales from the Vulgar Unicorn in 1980), had gained control of the city in the years following the last anthology. The Hand prefers children as followers; it gathered orphans and raised them to be corrupt, mad, and cannibalistic. Cauvin was one of the very few sane survivors, saved by those who destroyed the cult because he displayed a spark of humanity. Still a child, he is adopted by a stone mason and becomes his servant/apprentice, and he settles into the humdrum life of a Sanctuary working man. Then he discovers on his daily business a decrepit, aged, and wounded Molin Torchholder. 

Torchholder appeared or was mentioned in more stories than any other character in the original series, often just a cameo or an off-screen threat, but always there, always involved. His choice as the bridge character was inspired, as was the idea that he would chose an heir to whom to pass his knowledge of the secrets and lore of the city. Cauvin, Molin, and Cauvin’s younger adopted brother, Bec, are forced to confront the demons and angels of the past while facing a new, yet familiar threat to the city.  

And the city is the real hero of the story. Cauvin is endearing and the reader will certainly root for him, but the soul of Thieves’ World has always been the city of Sanctuary itself, and Abbey manages to show its shifts and changes over time, its many physical alterations, while holding true to the Sanctuary's soul. The city is alive and real, it attracts pain, suffering, corruption, and despair yet the city itself is neither corrupt nor wicked but rather a tough survivor battered and bruised by tragic life and yet unbroken.  

In the past, when I've read this novel I've been very focused on the easter eggs and hints to the past, this time around I am trying very hard to focus instead on this novel as its own thing, with its own story to tell. For example, the Dyareelans make INCREDIBLE fantasy world villains, Sanctuary has never had a scarcity of evil and cruelty but the Dyareelans surpassed everything previously seen. - they make Roxanne look like a mildly difficult hedge witch of quite banal "evil" in comparison. Their focus on children as both victims and tools in their atrocities makes them feel very real and very abhorrent.

The Molin/Cauvin relationship with reminds me a little of Merlin and Nimue in Mary Stewart's The Last Enchantment (obviously without the romantic element). And Molin and Cauvin's relationship with Arizak and Raith remind of Merlin's relationship with Uther and Arthur. The idea of a younger heir taking over for a lamed great king is a common Arthurian motif, but stripping it from its Faerie and British environment and instead applying it to the succession crisis for a barbarian tribe ruling a conquered desert city is inspired. Or... I've just read far too much of Thieves' World and the matter of Britain both and I'm seeing things that aren't there. 😀

Gamemasters will find in Sanctuary a wonderful example for rebuilding or advancing old, stale campaigns. It is also an excellent example of city design, and the importance of forming a cohesive history for your settings. The Hand of Dyareela is a wonderful example for structuring an evil cult to oppose your players. For players, Cauvin, Bec, and Soldt all provide excellent character templates that can be altered and emulated to provide depth. Players running priests who wish to be something other than clerical healing dispensers will find Molin Torchholder inspirational as well.

Sanctuary was followed by two new short story anthologies, Turning Points (2002) and Enemies of Fortune (2004), each structured like the original Thieves’ World anthologies with a stable of writers from the old series as well as new comers.

I said earlier that Sanctuary is ironically named, yet it is aptly named as well. The city draws all that is vile to it, but also acts as a protector to it citizens, and for readers the city is a sanctuary as well, you will truly enjoy your time in Thieves’ World. So check your purse, loosen your sword, and give the city another chance. 

All views in this blog are my own and represent the views of no other person, organization, or institution.

Review: My Father, the Pornographer: A Memoir by Chris Offutt.

 

This is an odd one. I just finished this audiobook during my commute last week: My Father, the Pornographer: A Memoir by Chris Offutt.

I put off reading this one for years because the father in question, Andrew Offutt, is the creator of one of my favorite fantasy characters, Hanse Shadowspawn, in the superlative Thieves' World shared world setting. I'd already discovered the troubling background of another of my favorite writers from my teen years (David Eddings) and Marion Zimmer Bradley's issues are also well known (thankfully, she was never a favorite of mine). 

So I was apprehensive about what this would reveal about Offutt. It wasn't shocking that he had made a living writing pornography, that was common amongst many different sorts of writers in the 1960s and 1970s. It was a way to pay the bills, and many were "true believers" in the sexual revolution. But previews of the work hinted at darker revelations and Chris Offutt seemed to have a chip on his shoulder regarding his father. 

It was not as bad as I had feared. First, the work really is a memoir, but its Chris Offutt's memoir. His relationship with his father was obviously troubled - emotionally abusive would seem to be the best description from the son's point of view. and that's the only point of view we really get. This father and son never seem to have quite reached a meeting of the minds. 

My father was not a talker, but he was extremely supportive even when his son was following obsessions he didn't really understand. I was blessed when it came to parents, and I realize that. So I am very reluctant to judge other's views of their parents. They lived that experience, not I. I felt this was a one-sided account, but that doesn't make it wrong or inaccurate. Other readers have spoken of the empathy they felt Chris display here towards his father. I didn't really get that, but I certainly didn't get hate either. 

A specific passage, about Chris being sexually abused by an older man while a teenager, abuse his parents were never aware of, illustrated how crazy people of my generation are when they extol "free range kids" as a parenting style. Chris Offutt definitely grew up "free range" and he suffered a horrific assault because of that. It certainly filled me with guilt and doubt about my own child rearing. 

In general, this work made me question myself as a father. I know I have never belittled or berated my children, but passages describing how Andrew Offutt would "destroy" people in debates hit far too close to home for me.  

This work also left me frustrated. Andrew Offutt wrote in the genres of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Pornography (crossed with the other two, quite often). His son covers his porn career exhaustively, and he describes his early science fiction career, which he seems to have felt showed great promise that his father "betrayed" by turning to porn. but he doesn't discuss his fantasy writing at all. Andrew Offutt was the editor of an important Sword & Sorcery anthology series, Swords Against Darkness. The series was curated, not simply slapped together, and included Offutt's comments and analysis of why the tales mattered. It made the argument that S&S was not only fun, but that it could matter, and his son barely mentions this seminal work (which earned Offutt a spot on the famous Appendix N list). And in the '80s, as the porn market was drying up, Offutt was the creator of Thieves' World's most popular character and one of its most consistent authors. 

Offutt never even mentions Hanse in his work, and that is frustrating because the corpus of short stories about Hanse is a bildungsroman of uncommon clarity and insight. He may have been a poor father, but as a writer, Andrew Offutt showed in the Hanse short stories (and two novels) remarkable insight into the adolescent male, as well as a realistic view of young love. Did Chris never read any of these? Given the nature of his memoir this part of his father's writing should have been given at least a little attention. 

Further, for both Andrew Offutt and his wife, in the 1970s and 1980s the fan convention culture seems to have been a big part of their lives. And their children were apparently dragged to it without being made a part of it. I understand why that would make one angry and resentful - I imagine it would provide a similar feeling in later years as those children who were forced to attend church services and bible school. But Chris Offutt's contempt for the fans at those conventions was more than a little off-putting. Of course, it was also a rather stinging indictment of "free range" parenting. 

In short, Offutt seems to be shamed by his father's porn writing, but he seems to be perhaps even more ashamed, or at least contemptuous, of his "genre" writing. As a result, this memoir give us no real insight into Offutt's fantasy writing or his place in the genre's corpus. The work simply ignores the area where Offutt very likely had his biggest impact as an author and editor. 

I finished this book feeling melancholy and sad, but also very lucky in my own familial relationships. On the other hand, I have to admit Chris Offutt is a brilliant writer, as other reviewers have noted. This isn't a fun read, but I am glad I read it.

All views in this blog are my own and represent the views of no other person, organization, or institution.