King Conan, Conan the Barbarian: Queen of the Black Coast, and the Fidelity Paradox

Only took 16 years.

“What was that you started telling me the other day about a monkey’s paw or something, Morris?”

“Nothing,” said the soldier, hastily. “Leastways nothing worth hearing.”

“Monkey’s paw?” said Mrs. White, curiously.

“Well, it’s just a bit of what you might call magic, perhaps,” said the sergeant-major, offhandedly.

His three listeners leaned forward eagerly. The visitor absent-mindedly put his empty glass to his lips and then set it down again. His host filled it for him.

“To look at,” said the sergeant-major, fumbling in his pocket, “it’s just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy.”

He took something out of his pocket and proffered it. Mrs. White drew back with a grimace, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously.

“And what is there special about it?” inquired Mr. White as he took it from his son, and having examined it, placed it upon the table.

“It had a spell put on it by an old fakir,” said the sergeant-major, “a very holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people’s lives, and that those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow. He put a spell on it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it.”
 - "The Monkey's Paw," W.W. Jacobs

It is happening.

And I am conflicted.

Of course.

But... there is another...

Cimmerian September 2025: A Scotalogue

In researching Conan of Caledonia, I scoured through my collections of Robert E. Howard's work for anything even vaguely related to Scotland & the Scots. Obviously the Bran Mak Morn tales, several historical adventures, the Pictish Conan adventures, & certain individual stories sprang to mind immediately. But the more I pored over the collections, the more of Scotland I found. Some of them are oblique references, perhaps even a single word or name - but once I get started on something, well, "Wha wul ti Cupar maun ti Cupar." For completeness' sake, I am indeed including the Picts of every time period, for the simple reason that Brule, Kelka, Zogar-Sag, & all the other Picts can ultimately claim their literary ancestry back to the Picts of Scotland. Howard himself does in "Kings of the Night," after all.

I've arranged the following catalogue in general written order, with Rusty Burke's essential Fiction & Verse Timeline & Paul Herman's indespensible Howard Works to sort them as best as I can.

I’ the Licht o’ September Sleepin’ (Cimmerian September 2025)

But on they came, driven by the implacable will of Suleyman, and now in September, 1529, over the ruins of Hungary, the Turk swept on Europe, with the Akinji—the Sackmen—ravaging the land like the drift ahead of a storm.
 - Robert E. Howard, "The Shadow of the Vulture," The Magic Carpet Magazine, Volume 4 Number 1, January 1934

It's September... so why not?

Accept No Imitations: Red Sonja

Alex Ross's Red Sonja is my favourite

When it comes to the matter of Red Sonya & her cousin Red Sonja, I find two wolves barking at one another in my mind.

One barks "Red Sonja was inspired by Robert E. Howard's Red Sonya of Rogatino. Her first adventure was an adaptation of the only Robert E. Howard story Red Sonya of Rogatino appeared in. She inhabits the Hyborian Age, the setting created by Robert E. Howard. Therefore, Red Sonja is ultimately a Robert E. Howard creation, should be acknowledged as such, and Robert E. Howard should always be considered in any discussion with the character."

The other howls "Red Sonja shares her sex, hair colour, swordsmanship, & 7 out of 8 letters in her name with Red Sonya, and that's it. Everything else - origin, setting, religion, equipment, philosophy - is different from Robert E. Howard's character. Even the Hyborian Age she inhabits is ultimately different from Howard's Hyborian Age in several important ways. Therefore, Red Sonja is ultimately not a Robert E. Howard creation, should not be acknowledged as such, and Robert E. Howard should only be considered in any discussion with the character in terms of the differences from his original creation, Red Sonya of Rogatino."

This internal debate is probably why I'm so deathly dreading the new Red Sonja, the new film from the director of 2011's Solomon Kane (which I also had significant issues with)

A Brief Subjective Rundown of the Conan Stories

A friend of mine was asking for my opinion on the Conan stories. I thought I'd share my brief response. I've grouped the Conan stories into five categories on a relative scale - that is, the best or worst Conan story in relation to one another, not in relation to the entire Sword-and-Sorcery genre, where another author's 5-star stories might struggle to meet a 2-star Howard in quality & influence.

I've put an asterisk* next to my favourites in each category, as well as a cross+ next to ones I don't particularly recommend for new readers. Howard's original titles are in brackets. 

֍ ֍ ֍ ֍ ֍ FIVE STARS - MASTERPIECES ֍ ֍ ֍ ֍ ֍

Game-changers. Not only are they some of the finest examples of fantasy literature out there, they practically deconstructed & reconstructed the genre while it was still forming. Deep symbolism, subtlety, & resonance, that while present, never overtakes being cracking good reads.

"Beyond the Black River"

"Queen of the Black Coast"

"Red Nails"

"The Tower of the Elephant"*

"The Hour of the Dragon"

֍ ֍ ֍ ֍ FOUR STARS - CLASSICS ֍ ֍ ֍ ֍

These are the adventures that made Conan, and defined the Sword-and-Sorcery genre. Codifiers of multiple tropes & hallmarks, iconic characters, hugely influential, & enthralling reads. 

"Black Colossus"

"The People of the Black Circle"

"The Phoenix on the Sword"*

"Rogues in the House"

"The Scarlet Citadel"

֍ ֍ ֍ THREE STARS - WORTHIES ֍ ֍ ֍

The Masterpieces & Classics perfectly mix subtext & text. These adventures lean one way or the other, being either intriguing but sometimes obtuse tales, or unpretentious pot-boilers which seek naught beyond a good story. 

"A Witch Shall Be Born"

"The Black Stranger"

"The God in the Bowl"*

"The Devil in Iron"

"Gods of the North" ("The Frost-Giant's Daughter") 

֍֍ TWO STARS - ROTE ֍֍

The adventures Howard knocked out quickly to out food on the table, shrewdly including elements he knew would appeal to editors & cover artists. Yet even mediocre Howard is still better than many other S&S authors' best. 

"Jewels of Gwahlur" ("The Servants of Bit-Yakin")*

"The Pool of the Black One"

"Shadows in the Moonlight" ("Iron Shadows in the Moon") 

"Shadows in Zamboula"+ ("Man-Eaters of Zamboula") 

"The Slithering Shadow" ("Xuthal of the Dusk")

"The Vale of Lost Women"+

֍ ONE STAR - ERRATA ֍

These are incomplete adventures unpublished or unfinished in Howard's lifetime, supplemental notes not intended for publication, or stories that don't feature Conan himself. Either way, it seems unfair to rank them alongside the rest of the actual finished adventures. They do appear in some collections, but usually edited & completed by the writers L. Sprague de Camp & Lin Carter (Mark Finn covered that whole thing in superlative detail)

"Drums of Tombalku" (Untitled Draft & Synopsis)

"The Hyborian Age"

" The Hall of the Dead" (Untitled Fragment)

"The Hand of Nergal" (Untitled Synopsis)

"The Snout in the Dark" (Untitled Draft & Synopsis)

"Wolves Beyond the Border"*

I know this list will be different from many others' personal rankings, which is why Howard's work has stood the test of time almost a century after his work's publication. 

A Robert E. Howard Reader at Fantasy Con Scotland

"The Legend" by George Paul Chalmers (ca 1864),
illustrating a scene from The Pirate (1821) by Walter Scott

Scotland, befitting a land of inventors and innovators inspired by infinite imagination, has long been a fertile realm for the field of fantasy fiction. The enigmatic ruins & monuments of the land's lost peoples conjured tales of Fairies in the hearts & minds of Scots; the deep lochs veiled lurking Kelpies and monsters; the mountains & islands attributed to the work of Giants, or even the bodies of Sea Serpents. Those stories themselves sprouted forth poems, sagas, legends, and myths, clasping round history and geography like flame flowers around a standing stone, with new tales & works continuing to this day. So deeply entwined is our history with our legend, one could be forgiven for mistaking an unbelievable truth for a convincing legend, and the reverse. 

Writers across the world have taken a cutting or two from Scotland's wild garden of myth & history, from Shakespeare subverting & transforming history entwined with supernatural themes in Macbeth, to John William Polidori's Lord Ruthden in The Vampyr; Mary Shelley's time in Dundee & Edinburgh informing Frankenstein, to Bram Stoker's stay at Slains Castle providing a sumptuous visual canvas for Dracula; onward to David Gemmel fashioning his Rigante saga after the Scottish Highlands, Gregory Widen's visit to Scotland inspiring the immortal Highlander, & Diane Gabaldon's love of Scottish history leading to the Outlander series.  Authors as varied as Jules Verne, William Hope Hodgson, A. Merritt, Robert W. Chambers, M.R. James, Edmond Hamilton, Greye La Spina, Manly Wade Wellman, Algernon Blackwood, Arthur Machen, Morgan Robertson, C. L. Moore, Seabury Quinn, Poul Anderson, Karl Edward Wagner, & many more besides have written stories about Scotland, Scots, or our stories.

Even a 20th century writer all the way in small-town Texas, who himself became founder & codifier of an entire genre within the wider field of fantasy, can trace those roots back to Caledonia.

Conan Across The Multiverse

The darkness hung in the old tomb's nighted halls like tapestries of a ghostly kingdom. Glinting pinpricks of dust flittered to the ground, disturbed for the first time in centuries by some errant gust from a nameless wind. The great jade sarcophagus laid upon a cracked lapiz-lazuli dais untouched for untold years, the silence unbroken since the death of the old dynasty. A thunderstroke cracked; a blast of dust and smoke burst as the sarcophagus lid shuddered open. A withered hand juddered from the gloom: grasping the lid, a skeletal husk heaved into the dim light. A skull wrapped in skin dry and pale as parchment loomed aloft. It gaped and gasped, coughing fitfuls of dessicated beard into the stagnant air like a dandelion clock. The figure looked, squinting its wrinkled eyelids uselessly over the sockets from which eyes once gazed.

"Ach, what are they up to now?"

Robert E. Howard in Scots: "A Song of the Race"

A Sang o’ the Ilk

Screivit by Rabert E. Howard

Heich oan his throne sat Bran Mak Morn
Whan the sun-god sank an the wast wis reid;
He waggit a girl wi’ his wauchtin-horn,
An, "Sing me a sang o’ the ilk," he said.

Her een waur as derk as the seas o’ nicht,
Her lips waur as reid as the settin sun,
As a duskit rose in the dwynin licht,
She let her fingers dreamily rin

Owur the gowden-whispert strings,
Seekin the sowel o’ her auncient lyre;
Bran sate still oan the throne o’ kings,
Bronze face limnit in the dayset's fire

"First o’ the ilk o’ men," she sang,
"Far frae an unco laund we cam,
Frae the rim o’ the waurld whaur muntains hing
An the seas burn reid wi’ the dayset flam."

"First an the lest o’ the ilk are we,
Gane is the auld waurld's gilt an pride,
Mu is a stoil o’ the wastern sea,
Throu haws o’ Atlantis the white shairks glide."

An eemage o’ bronze, the king sate still,
Javelings o’ cramasie shot the wast,
She brushit the strings an curmurt thrill
Soopit up the chords tae the heichest creest.

"Hear ye the yairn that the auncients tell,
Hechtit o’ yore by the god o’ the muin,
Chuckit oan the shuir a deep sea shell,
Cairvit oan the surface a meestic rune:"

" ' As ye war first in the meestic past
Oot o’ the smochs o’ the blee o’ Time,
Sae sall the men o’ yer ilk be lest
Whan the waurld sall crummle,' sae ran the rhyme."

" ' A maun o’ yer ilk, oan kips that clash,
Sall leuk oan the reelin waurld ablo;
Tae spewing smeuk sall he see it crash,
A fleetin smoch o’ the winds that blaw.' "

" 'Starn-dust fawin for aye throu space.
Dirlin aboot in the winds that birl;
Ye that waur first, be the lest-most ilk,
For ane o’ yer men sall be the lest o’ men.' "

Intae the seelence her vyse trailit aff,
Yet it echaed athort the huim,
Owur the heather the nicht-wind saft
Buir the scent o’ the forest's moust.

Reid lips liftit, an derk een dreamit,
Bauchens cam wheelin oan theftie weengs;
But the muin ris gowd an the far starns glimmit,
An the king still sate oan the throne o’ kings.

Requiescat in Pace, Howard Andrew Jones

I wish I could've started the new year on a happier tone.

Howard Andrew Jones was an author whose work exemplified everything this blog was made to extoll: adventure fiction with an eye for historical resonance, eldritch menace, and weird mystery, evoking the works of classic late 19th & early 20th Century ripping yarns, while also bringing his own sensibilities and qualities to the prose. He wrote tales in Pathfinder's world of Golarion, undertook the enormous project to collect Harold Lamb's historical adventures into the Bison Books collection, and created three fantasy cycles of his own.

It was through Robert E. Howard fandom that I first encountered him, and he regularly wrote on that author and the worlds of historic & fantastic adventures on Tor, Black Gate (of which he was managing editor), and on his own website, with an essay in Sword Woman and Other Historical Adventures being one of the highlights of the Del Rey Howard collection.

So when Andrew sent out an email enquiring if I would be interested in helping spread the word for his debut fantasy novel, well, I was only too happy to do so.

This is Charles Keegan's magnificent illustration for the UK edition of The Bones of the Old Ones. Andrew told me I would love it: he knew my tastes very well.

Of all Howard's works, it was The Desert of Souls and The Bones of the Old Ones which I loved the most. The "Sword and Sand" stories of stolid guardman Asim & wily rogue Dabir swashbuckling their way through a fantastical veil of the Islamic Golden Age of Persia. Much like the deeply missed fellow Sword-and-Sorcery boundary-breaking aficionado Charles R. Saunders, it is the shift in setting & focus of the Sword and Sand Chronicles which appealed to me the most - Arabian Nights with an earthy grounding to complement the dreamlike magicks and uncanny mysteries, with historical sensibilities supporting it all, like the roots of a tree holding up a cliff-face.

He was always generous, encouraging, and inspirational to me in my all-too-few dealings with him. I was always amazed to see him grace the blog with his presence, and I'm so glad for the correspondences we shared with one another. We cannot know what the future will bring, but if there's any justice in it, then Howard Andrew Jones' books will be on library shelves for many years to come: for just as his appreciation for Lamb brought that author's work to a new generation, I'm certain fans of that Indiana farmboy will make sure his work will live on.

Triangulation: The Land That Time Forgot at 100

I was once again offered the opportunity to write for DMR Books - as this year marks a century since The Land That Time Forgot (or the novel fix-up for "The Land That Time Forgot," "The People That Time Forgot," and "Out of Time's Abyss") was first published, I shared some of my thoughts and observations on the book, the stories, and the world of Caspak.

Robert E. Howard in Scots: Aye Comes Antrum

A small tribute to my eternal inspiration Robert E. Howard, and to an auld freen, who shared his birthday. I am glad to have met and talked with him in person. We had great fun at the poetry slams outside Howard's house. This translation covered some of the themes we talked about the last time we met. No Empire lasts forever.

"Aye Comes Antrum"

Screivit by Rabert E. Howard

Ridin doon the road at antrum wi’ the starns or steed an shoon

I hae haurd an auld maun singin underneth a copper muin;

"God, wha gemmit wi’ cairngorm gloamins, opal portals o’ the day,

"Oan oor amaranthine muntains, why mak human sowels o’ clay?

"For I rade the muin-mare's horses in the glore o’ ma yowth,

"Wrastlit wi’ the braes at dayset— till I met bress-tinterit Trowth.

"Till I saw the temples tottle, till I saw the eedols reel,

"Till ma brain had turnit tae airn, an ma hert had turnit tae steel.

"Sautie, Sautie, brither Sautie, fill ma sowel wi’ frozen fire;

"Feed wi’ herts o’ rose-white wummen ashes o’ ma deid desire.

"For ma road rins oot in thistles an ma dreams hae turnit tae dust.

"An ma pinions fade an faltar tae the corbin weengs o’ rust.

"Trowth has smitten me wi’ airras an her haun is in ma hair—

"Yowth, she hides in thonder muntains — gang an see her, if ye daur!

"Wark yer gramarie, brither Sautie, fill ma brain wi’ fiery spells.

"Sautie, Sautie, brither Sautie, I hiv kent yer faircest Hells."

Ridin doon the road at evening whan the wind wis oan the sea,

I hae heard an auld maun singin, an he sang maist dowiely,

Streenge tae hear, whan derk loch shimmer tae the greetin o’ the loun,

Amatist Oisin singin unner antrum copper muin.

The Word For World Is "West"

Sigh.

I suppose I might as well, eh? 

Almost ten years on, this post is becoming more and more prophetic.

The Road to Acheron, Part Four - "Zukundu of the Twilight" & "The Glacier of Time's Abyss"

(DM's NOTE: The first story is the conclusion of the previous sessions' adventure, and some story elements of Helena Nash's "Devils Under Green Stars" are included... with some significant alterations. The thrilling finale to the Zukundu saga is here at last - and we even had time to fit in the next adventure! Both ripping yarns are included in this post - the question being, who survives? )

The Road to Acheron, Part Three: "The Fall of Zukundu"

(DM's note: In my optimism, I projected that this adventure would be finished in one session. The players, being the wonderful meandering adventurers they are, saw fit to extend this story for another session - so much so, in fact, that the final chapters will take place in the first part of next week's session. I wouldn't have it any other way - though I'm going to take steps to improve my time management for the next set of stories!

As with the previous week, plot elements from Helena Nash's "Devils Under Green Stars" may be spoiled for anyone who wishes to play that adventure in its unadulterated form)

("The Lion's Reign," The Ghost and the Darkness, Jerry Goldsmith)

The Horror in the Greenhouse

Amatagt and Kryxus met each other somewhere outside of Kush. When they learned they shared the same destination, they agreed to work together - for now. Both heard different stories about the lost city of Zukundu, of what may lie behind its great walls, and the dangers that lurk within. The pair brave the jungles of Kush and its denizens, and arrived at the great basin where the city dwelt. They skilfully avoided the monstrous reptiles infesting the lake surrounding the city, and climbed the outer walls.

When they entered the city, they saw a woman. When she noticed them, she froze, before turning and racing into the jungle. The two began a pursuit, and followed her to a doorway leading downwards, overgrown with red vines. They heard a bloodcurdling female scream from below, and ran down into the corridor. They entered a strange greenhouse-like room with green glowing windows, stone planters, and red vines growing over all of them. The woman, standing in the centre, was trembling in terror: she spoke in Kushite, and though Amatagt is not well-versed in the language, he has taken enough slaves to understand "No! Get away! Get away!"

Something grabbed Amatagt by the waist, constricting around him like a snake. Before he can reach for his sword, Kryxus felt more constrictions binding his limbs, and snaked across his chest. Both were jerked backwards into the darkness, their vision swimming in a sea of red...

The Road to Acheron, Part Two: "The Children of Zukundu"

Welcome to the second session of The Road to Acheron. Last time, seven adventurers escaped the very pit of the serpent: Python, the capital of the Nightmare Empire of Acheron, was struck down by mighty magic practically unseen even in this sorcerous realm. Amatagt the Stygian, Arcus the Argossean, Dusan the Hyperborean, Kenyatta the Kushite, Kryxus the Gunderman, Tiberius the Kothian, and Zafia the Zamorian were some of the few who escaped the writhing death throes of a screaming city.

After putting many miles between themselves and the site of that unholy destruction, the seven departed. Amatagt, Kenyatta, and Tiberius rode out on their own, each having their own goals and quests in mind. Arcus, Dusan, Kryxus and Zafia, however, formed a band of their own, and roamed the ruins of Acheron as a team. Several months pass: coin is won and lost, adventures were told and experienced, blood and sweat and tears were shed, as the survivors of Python's fall made names for themselves across the western continent. These stories may also be told, in time - but that is for another day.

Something - the will of capricious gods or devils, or fate, or simple happenstance - conspired to draw them together once again.

(Note: this is a heavily altered adaptation of Helena Nash's "Devils Under Green Stars," collected in the Conan RPG supplement Jewelled Thrones of the Earth. It's a beautiful adventure with some great ideas, but I wanted to put my own mark on it as a DM. While there are some changes, anyone who plans on playing the original adventure should keep in mind there will be some elements from the original adventure within, & might want to avoid spoiling themselves.)

The Road To Acheron, Part One - "The Seven Sacrifices"

Last night was the first proper session of my game of Conan: Adventures in an Age Undreamed Of. Following character creation, I took a cue from a few Howard stories and started the action with the heroes in captivity: their weapons, armour, equipment, and allies all taken from them, leaving them with only a deliberately abrasive tunic & their wits. Will this first adventure be their last? Well, only one way to find out...

The Road to Acheron - A Saga in An Age Undreamed of

It seems like an eternity since I first went to Cross Plains. It leads on from the story of how I got into Conan. To recap: in the early 2000s, I picked up a copy of Fantasy Masterwork's The Conan Chronicles Volume One: The People of the Black Circle. I recognised the name from the plethora of Conan media, but to see it included in the Fantasy Masterworks subline (number 8 out of what would be 50) piqued my interest. Given that the first story I read (after the "Hyborian Age Essay" which I naturally ate up) was the magnificent "The Tower of the Elephant," of course I was hooked. Shortly after, I started posting on the late lamented Conan.com forums. I started to get acquainted with folk who knew a great deal about not just Conan, but his creator and his work. Over time, I mustered up the gumption to start this blog, & within time, I was nominated for a Robert E. Howard Foundation Award... which led me to Cross Plains, a shy, over-excited Strange Scot in a Strange Land eager to finally meet people who I'd been conversing with, and a pilgrimage to the homeland of an author whose work meant so much. Without exception, each of the regulars - and fellow newcomers - was generous, accommodating, and welcoming, and I'll never forget that.

Khand and Rhûn and Harad Too

More information regarding the upcoming The Lord of the Rings series, now subtitled The Rings of Power, has emerged. The response has been predictably polarised between folk excited to see any new Middle-earth content, and unreconstructed individuals who think the people of Middle-earth were ethnically monolithic in their nature. Unfortunately, as is the standard for modern internet discourse, there is little room for nuance. Folk wonder why people are so easily radicalised nowadays, yet the immediate reaction is "SJW/PC/Woke nonsense" on one hand, and "racist/reactionary/privileged bigotry" on the other - leaving folk to either search for a middle ground that serves nothing and only perpetuates the idea of the two poles in the first place, or naturally find themselves caught in one pole's gravity in the end.

The essential issue is one, I think, of intellectual laziness that borders on timidity - of wanting the veneer of diversity, progressiveness, and inclusion, but stopping short of anything beyond the bare minimum. The problem, for me, is not the mere presence of ethnic minorities - far from it. 

The problem is it doesn't go nearly far enough.

Swording With Shadows: The Long Shadow of Robert E. Howard on his 116th

So the 22nd of January once again comes around. Currently I'm researching for a post on Ossian and the Celtic Revival in Scotland (watch this space), and I'm looking into the mythologisation of Scottish historical figures. Macbeth, the Red King, is perhaps the most myth-shrouded of all, famed as he is from Shakespeare's tragedy. For one of Scotland's greatest and most successful kings to be so traduced in the convening centuries - first by his own people, and then by one of the greatest authors in the history of the planet - is a tragedy a thousandfold that of the thrilling fiction.

Blame cannot truly be placed on Shakespeare: he was faithfully adapting the centuries-past recollection of Holinshed's Chronicles, itself based upon the black propaganda first recorded in Andrew of Wyntoun's Orygynale Cronykil of Scotland. The notion of Macbeth the murderous usurping tyrant did not begin with Shakespeare. What Shakespeare did contribute, however, is a captivating study into power and humanity, ambition and destiny, with some spooky goings-on for good measure.

And yet, even as I'm deep in Scottish history, I think of Howard.

All The Time in The (Jurassic) World (Dominion)

The concept of Deep Time in terms of Earthly geology has its roots, in large part, to the work of Scottish geologist James Hutton. His study of the great natural wonders of his native Scotland - the Isle of Arran with its fault line dividing the Precambrian and the Carboniferous; the dolerite/basalt Salisbury Crags of Holyrood; the rugged uncomformity of Siccar's Point with its clash of sandstone and greywacke - inspired the theory that geological features were not necessarily static and timeless, but transformed and changed over unfathomably long periods of time. This meant that the Earth could not be as young as previously believed, and must have been changing for billions, not thousands, of years. This soon developed into uniformitarianism, and the modern science of the Earth which we know today.

Understandably, such a monumental paradigm shift in humanity's understanding of the planet on which they live every day of their lives was controversial. Certain religious organisations rejected the idea outright, perceiving it as an attack on their scripture: more traditional scientists were skeptical, viewing it as incomplete or unconvincing. In The Science of Life (1929), H.G. Wells & Julian Huxley noted the psychological barriers in getting human minds around such gigantic eons of history can be surmounted with a little effort:

To think in such magnitudes is not so difficult as many people imagine. The use of different scales is simply a matter of practice. We very soon get used to maps, though they are constructed on scales down to a hundred-millionth of natural size; we are used to switching over from thinking in terms of seconds and minutes to some other problem involving years and centuries; and to grasp geological time all that is needed is to stick tight to some magnitude which shall be the unit on the new and magnified scale -  a million years is probably the most convenient - to grasp its meaning once and for all by an effort of imagination, and then to think of all passage of geological time in terms of this unit.

Alas, despite the centuries since Hutton's discovery (& decades since Wells and others developed the Popular Science genre of non-fiction), it seems Deep Time lies beyond the grasp of even the most intellectual of Holywood movie producers...