Locus Online's 2012 All Centuries Poll is Very Confusing

Courtesy of Black Gate, I came across Lotus' latest write-in poll for The Best Fantasy/Science Fiction works of the 20th and 21st centuries. I say works, because although they say it's "a poll for the best novels and short fiction of the 20th and 21st centuries, with five categories in each century: SF novel, fantasy novel, novella, novelette, and short story," I can't find much distinction between novel, novella, novelette or short story - not to mention a few other confusing elements.

Read on for the results.

Connor Coyne's Oberservations on Conan

I thought I'd share this interesting little link by author Connor Coyne (what a name!) which discusses Howard in context with Tolkien. I can't seem to log in to comment, so I'm going to take the liberty of doing so here.
Of course, Connor is only discussing The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian, and so he still has some great stories to look forward to should he wish to go on to the next stories.

In terms of the writing: Tolkien’s epics took place in “Middle-Earth” which had hints of but little direct connection to the present world, while Howard’s Conan stories took place in the Hyborian Age which was explicitly placed in a period of barbarism and empire-building that occurred between the fall of the continent of Atlantis and the rise of the ancient civilizations we know; these explicit references are most conspicuous in names we recognize from legend and history: Argos, Corinthia, Himaleya, Zimbabwe, and others.  Not only did Tolkien write novels, but he envisioned all of these novels being joined by subject matter and common history into an organic whole. Howard works were almost uniformly short stories, and while it is possible to read these as part of an organic whole, he preferred an episodic presentation that emphasized narrative unreliability.  Tolkien was quite comfortable deferring to magic as accounting for miraculous events; Howard posits a sort of invisible cosmic ground-state which makes magic-seeming events possible. Tolkien’s gods are unassailable, unreachable, and in fact, only angelic (and demoniac) messengers for a higher power that is only mentioned by name once. Howard’s gods intrude upon the world, and do battle with mortals in a way that is not only corporeal, but which expands the definition of the physical rather than constricting that of the spiritual. And so forth.  There are many differences.

 While it is indeed not as explicit as in the Hyborian Age, Tolkien's Middle-earth is indeed set in the distant past of this world. Also, it's the Himelian mountains, not "Himaleya," and Zimbabwe was later rendered Zembabwei in "The Servants of Bit-Yakin," but I left my pedant-lock key on as I was typing.

The most significant difference, however, I thought, is the different take on morality. I recall Carpenter’s biography of Tolkien, at least, saw much significance in his Catholicism, and that the various ranks and orders of beings, good and evil, in Middle Earth, was a validation of the Catholic cosmological order via Tolkien’s own thoroughly British upbringing.  Whereas in Conan, while morality is present, it is subjective, in flux, and almost post-modern.  The main conflict is not so much good vs. evil as barbarism vs. civilization.  The chief difference here between barbarism and civilization isn’t any notion of mercy, or compassion, or empathy, or cooperation; it is a difference of regimentation, and as a result, barbarism doesn’t dissemble. So we are meant to relate to the barbarian, and not the sorcerers, monarchs, pirates, and monsters with whom he contends.

In fact, Conan himself is often not sympathetic, although he probably has something closer to what we’d call a “conventional” morality than most of the other characters. But he’s not above, say, genocide (as in “Vale of the Lost Women”).

I definitely disagree that Conan was advocating genocide in "Vale." Obviously Conan's at his most dastardly in this story, but the destruction of the Bakalah by the Bamula is really little different from the endemic warfare of countless historical tribes throughout history. Obviously hardly morally defensible, but there's a difference in degree here. Conan hates the Picts more than any other people, but you never hear him call for their extermination as king despite him being entirely capable of doing so.

Curiously, this solved a big problem I have with most high fantasy: How is it that characters meant to embody all that is good and pure — to the extent of making huge personal sacrifices to save the world — are grim killing machines. And I don’t even mean “the good soldier” so much; you don’t see hints of pathos or PTSD after Aragorn, or Drizzt Do’Urden, or Aslan, or whoever kills their 999th orc. This is most often explained away as “all members of X race are evil,” and maybe that passed as acceptable in the decades surrounding the Civil Rights era, but in 2012 it seems deeply troubling on even casual examination. Other high fantasy strategies to reconcile this seem equally wanting.

Tolkien wrestled with the matter of the orcs all his life, but the reason you don't see hints of pathos or PTSD after Aragorn because this is a world where evil is practically a quantifiable matter, and an entire race is evil explicitly because they were "created" (or rather, abducted and raised en masse) by a supremely evil being, that perversion of life and robbing of free choice being considered one of Morgoth and Sauron's greatest crimes. Aragorn can sleep at night because he knows that if he doesn't, all he loves will be lost or destroyed. That said, there's definitely an element of regret when it came to the Haradrim and Easterlings, who were either deceived or actively enthralled to Sauron.

Conan partially solves this problem by making the protagonist consistently erratic and violent (though surprisingly, never amoral). I never see him as embodying all that is good and pure, but rather all that is barbaric and pure, and this makes his internal logic plausible. It also gives some measure of cover to Howard writing as a product of his time and place, which is to say, often much more explicitly racist than Tolkien ever was (we’re talking about a man who grew up in rural Texas boom-towns, and witnessed lynchings).

There is no evidence Howard ever personally witnessed a lynching, but the sheer pervasiveness and virulence of racism in the world during that time period and environment means that Howard's views must be properly contextualised.

However, the real reason I'm doing this post is to give proper praise to this:

...this being “low fantasy” did not prevent it from engaging in poetic, powerful language and grand philosophical themes. Although action-oriented in the manner of (though with much better craft than) TSR-fare, there is a tightly controlled correspondence between the words and actions of the characters.  Conan typically prevails because he is typically direct and straightforward; his battle prowess is as much a symptom of this transparency of character as it is his upbringing. Other characters weave byzantine plots only to dramatically fail when they learn that the realities the universe has created for the villains are no more stable than the “realities” they use to trap their victims. A sort of cosmic version of “getting caught in a lie.” There’s a lot of lush, powerful, rich, almost pungent imagery here, but beneath the beautiful writing is an ongoing discussion of Things That Matter.  And also interestingly (I’m using that word a lot) this comes forth all the clearer in the “weaker” Conan stories — those featuring little plot except an extra-dimensional monster and a naked damsel — because the Big Questions continue to get play even when the pulp clichès ride heavy.  So the lesson there, I suppose, is that I can depart from a “high fantasy” writing style without abandoning, or even mitigating, thematic depth.

Couldn't agree more, Mr Coyne.

American Tolkiens and War Weariness

An interesting link regarding George R. "The American Tolkien" R. Martin and J.R.R. Tolkien.

I don't like calling Martin the American Tolkien for a few reasons.  First, he isn't the American Tolkien.  Not even close, jack.  I care not a whit what Time Magazine has to say on the matter.  When somebody spends their entire life writing a single opus derived from history, mythology and language, then maybe we can start talking about calling people American Tolkiens.  Besides, we've had plenty of preceding authors being called the American Tolkien: Robert Jordan, Terry Goodkind, Stephen R. Donaldson.  Probably even Christopher Paolini.  It's a meaningless phrase that makes light of Tolkien's monumental achievement.

Second, why refer to him as the regional derivative of a more famous author when he could, and should, stand on his own two feet?  I'd rather refer to him as the first George R. R. Martin than the American Tolkien, if it's all the same to you chaps.

But that's just me, of course.  Then there's this bit.

Quite a few of them are adventure stories that celebrate violence, or more often treat it as something unreal and without cost. These aren’t the projects that are reaching outside the usual genre readers to talk to the wider audience. If there were a market for the celebration of warfare, we’d have any number of options inside epic fantasy. That isn’t what people are responding to. We have no appetite for Conan bathing in the blood of his enemies.

Hmm.  Well, at least he gives Conan the credit of being literature, albeit literature that seems to either glorify violence or consider it of no consequence.  Possibly both.  My response:

Perhaps that’s true of the stories by other authors, but the original stories by Howard don’t celebrate violence, so much as render it as an unavoidable facet of the human condition. It is a cause for sombre reflection, as much as the carnal thrill of fear, energy and exertion could be considered glorification. Conan loves the thrill of battle because it is life at its closest to being lost: it’s the same sort of thing that attracts extreme sports enthusiasts, danger-seekers, and criminals. But at no point does Howard give any impression that war and battle in the Hyborian Age is as loveless, petty, relentless, hollow and miserable as it is in real life, regardless of the fleeting joy the Cimmerian experiences in the moment.

Nor can one consider the violence in Conan as lacking verisimilitude, or lacking cost. Conan’s scars sting, bleed and ache following every battle; his dead allies are mourned and their loss is palpable. There are plenty of stories where Conan barely gets out alive, and is dripping with blood from a multitude of fresh wounds. Not all the characters survive the story, be they friend or foe, be they deserving or undeserving of death.

One need not look further than “The Hour of the Dragon” to see the relevance of the Conan stories to the cynical approach to war:

“Men said the gods were satisfied because the evil king and his spawn were slain, and when his young brother Tarascus was crowned in the great coronation hall, the populace cheered until the towers rocked, acclaiming the monarch on whom the gods smiled.

Such a wave of enthusiasm and rejoicing as swept the land is frequently the signal for a war of conquest. So no one was surprized when it was announced that King Tarascus had declared the truce made by the late king with their western neighbors void, and was gathering his hosts to invade Aquilonia. His reason was candid; his motives, loudly proclaimed, gilded his actions with something of the glamor of a crusade. He espoused the cause of Valerius, “rightful heir to the throne”; he came, he proclaimed, not as an enemy of Aquilonia, but as a friend, to free the people from the tyranny of a usurper and a foreigner.

If there were cynical smiles in certain quarters, and whispers concerning the king’s good friend Amalric, whose vast personal wealth seemed to be flowing into the rather depleted royal treasury, they were unheeded in the general wave of fervor and zeal of Tarascus’s popularity. If any shrewd individuals suspected that Amalric was the real ruler of Nemedia, behind the scenes, they were careful not to voice such heresy. And the war went forward with enthusiasm.”
– “The Hour of the Dragon”

Not unlike a certain other war in recent memory that people are increasingly cynical towards…

Any thoughts, lads & lasses?  I'd say Howard, like Tolkien, doesn't so much celebrate or glorify battle and war - rather, they celebrate heroism and bravery.  I easily see echoes of Conan, the Æsir, and the myriad soldiers of Aquilonia in the blood-and-thunder of Gimli, Boromir, and the Rohirrim.  At the same time, they certainly don't shy away from the cruelty, gore, grief and misery war and battle results in.  More than a few Conan stories start at the aftermath of a battle, robbing the reader of the excitement and thrill of action, and leaving us wandering among the red ruin of conflict, screams of the dying punctuating the deathly silence.  One need not deny the feats of glory and triumph to accept the dark, horrific reality of war.  Howard and Tolkien seem to get it.  I'm not far enough in A Song of Ice and Fire to judge whether Martin does this too, but no doubt if they're there, they're plain to see.

The Politics of Howard Fandom

That's it.  No more posts about "Bankrupt Nihilism" unless I'm seriously forced to.  However, the honour of The Blog That Time Forgot is at stake, and since I don't have the PayPal account with which to order a username at MetaCritic (which I cannot fathom, unless I'm doing something wrong), I'll have to do so here.

First of all, the comments here are naturally very critical of Leo's political leanings, which isn't really the crux of the argument.  I'm not going to argue with their assertions of Leo being a right-wing lunatic, because Leo's right-wing lunacy doesn't have a bearing on his erudition and wealth of reading experience, and I'm not very good at judging which point being right wing changes from "conservative" to "berserk craziness."

It's the comments which claim Leo is ill-read in the fantasy field - some think he hasn't even read Elric, ferchrissakes! - that I have issue with, not just because I know them to be true, but because it's patently absurd, unless this is the only Leo Grin essay you've ever read.  Fair enough if it is - though it would be nice if some people did a Google search to see if Leo has, in fact, ever written about Howard, Tolkien, or any other fantasy author before.  Just common courtesy, you know?

"Bankrupt Nihilism's" running riot

Thunder in the black skies beating down the rain,
Thunder in the black cliffs, looming o'er the main,
Thunder on the black sea and thunder in my brain...
- "Red Thunder," Robert E. Howard

Crom, I have a thrice-murrained headache, my nose is a veritable Pheidippes, and perhaps I shouldn't be surprised, but Leo's "Bankrupt Nihilism" post is all over the internet.  While there are plenty who agree with Leo's point, there are a lot of people with a dissenting opinion.  That's fine, of course, but a couple of them seem to disagree based on a misinterpretation of Leo's post.

Realism and Mundanity

There's been quite a bit of talk about "adult" and "realistic" fantasy lately.  I vaguely alluded to it in regards to the upcoming Game of Thrones. Fellow adventurers in the great realms beyond man's reckoning have chimed in: Michal "Taran" Wojcik, fellow Cimmerian Brian Murphy, regular Lost Soul Lagomorph Rex.

Another has stepped into the fray, and by Crom, it's a lion who casts a mighty shadow: Leo Grin is discussing Robert E. Howard and J.R.R. Tolkien again!  Huzzah! While I don't dare hope that this means a greater leap back into Howardom, it's immensely cheering to see him return - especially when he seems to reiterate a lot of points I share.

Good Scot/Bad Scot: Tom Shippey on Robert E. Howard

I'm not sure if he's that Tom Shippey, but since that Tom Shippey is noted to write book reviews for the Wall Street Journal, it's a safe bet he is.

Well... brace yourselves, folks.

Two Towers: Addendum

As a follow-up to my Tolkien post, I want to give props to sword-brother Brian Murphy.  Brian's talking about the Argonath of Modern Fantasy, J.R.R. Tolkien and Robert E. Howard, over at Black Gate, and he mentions the seminal Tompkins essay.  A really excellent, heartfelt overview that chimes with my own thoughts.  Good on ya, Brian!

As an aside, be sure to check the comments section, where Scott Taylor makes the... interesting suggestion that Minas Rowling somehow topples Barad-Howard and Tolkiengard in terms of impact on fantasy fiction.  Erm, okay.

The Barbarians of Middle-Earth: The Haradrim

 

"But we have our tales too, and news out of the South, you know. In the old days hobbits used to go on their travels now and again. Not that many ever came back, and not that all they said was believed: news from Bree, and not sure as Shiretalk, as the sayings go. But I've heard tales of the big folk down away in the Sunlands. Swertings we call 'em in our tales; and they ride on oliphaunts, 'tis said, when theey fight. They put houses and towers on the oliphauntses backs and all, andd the oliphaunts throw rocks and trees at one another. So when you said "Men out of the South, all in reed and gold," I said "were there any oliphaunts?" For if there was, I was going to take a look, risk or no. But now I don't support I'll ever see an oliphaunt. Maybe there ain't no such a beast."

 - Samwise Gamgee, The Lord of the Rings, Book IV, Chapter III, “The Black Gate is Closed”

 This week, in celebration of Toller’s eleventy-eighth birthday, I’ll look at some of his Men of Darkness, the Haradrim: exploring their appearance, history, culture, historical and Howardian analogues, and their motivations for aligning with Sauron. Far from the faceless, generic “bad guys” a surface analysis would suggest, the Haradrim are very human, and the monster they became in the Third Age was created not just by Sauron, but by the protagonists’ own ancestors. A stark rebuttal of the black-and-white morality some critics level on Tolkien’s peoples, the Haradrim have a long and complicated history.