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?

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?"

The People of the Heather: Robert E. Howard and Scotland

Books dealing on Scottish history were easier for me to obtain than those dealing with Irish history, so in my childhood I knew infinitely more about Scottish history and legendry than Irish. I had a distinct Scottish patriotism, and liked nothing better than reading about the Scotch and English wars. I enacted these wars in my games and galloped full tilt through the mesquite on a bare-backed racing mare, hewing right and left with a Mexican machete and slicing off cactus pears which I pretended were the heads of English knights.
 - Robert E. Howard, letter to H.P. Lovecraft

Robert E. Howard's Irish fascination is well-known and explored among Howard scholars. Nearly every genre and series he wrote had some connection to Ireland and the Irish: several series starred Irishmen in lead roles, and a few of his most famous stories are set in Ireland. But Ireland is not the only Celtic nation Howard wrote about: Scotland too can boast her share of Howardian heroes and histories.

Howard counted Scottish authors like Arthur Conan Doyle, Robert W. Service, and Walter Scott among his very favourites, and plenty of his favourite non-Scottish authors like Edgar Allan Poe, Harold Lamb, Talbot Mundy, and Lord Dunsany wrote a few Scots tales in their time. As seen above, Scottish history was a significant influence on Howard's imagination. The theosophical writings of Scots Lewis Spence & William Scott-Elliot were foundational to the Thurian and Hyborian Ages of Howard's most famous creations, Kull of Atlantis and Conan of Cimmeria. My Floridian pal Jeffrey Shanks goes into great detail here:

Howard was far from alone in setting his Weird Tales in Scotland: Edmond Hamilton's "The Atomic Conquerors" is a wild yarn which supposes a rather otherworldly origin for the mysterious vitrified forts populating the Scottish wilderness; H. Warner Munn's "The Werewolf's Daughter" is a grand trilogy detailing the adventures of the Werewolf of Ponkert; Weird Tales regular Seabury Quinn even got in on the action with "the Bride of Dewer," a Rumpelstiltskin tale with a tartan twist.

So, on Robert E. Howard's 113th birthday, I wonder: what would a "Scottish" anthology of Robert E. Howard stories look like?

Robert E. Howard at 112

As I'd been branching out over the past few years, there are a few new friends & followers who might not know much about Robert E. Howard's work, and it never occurred to me to do something fairly simple: a wee list of my favourite stories. Not necessarily those I consider the best, just ones that have stayed with me, and that I found the most compelling & memorable.

Today, Howard's birthday, seems as good a day to do so as any.

Never Far Away

Every time I thought of doing a blog post, I started, but never finished it. Then I'd start another, not finish. Then another. Eventually I got horribly embarassed about the whole thing. This is how you get 4 month absences.

Well, something came through the post which reminded me that Howard and Conan, the reason for this blog's existence, is never that far away from me.

Things have a way of coming around.

To A Bard

Is there a whim-inspired fool,

Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,

Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,

Let him draw near;

And owre this grassy heap sing dool,

And drap a tear.

Is there a bard of rustic song,

Who, noteless, steals the crowds among,

That weekly this area throng,

O, pass not by! 

But, with a frater-feeling strong,

Here, heave a sigh.

Is there a man, whose judgment clear

Can others teach the course to steer,

Yet runs, himself, life's mad career,

Wild as the wave,

Here pause-and, thro' the starting tear,

Survey this grave.

The poor inhabitant below

Was quick to learn the wise to know,

And keenly felt the friendly glow,

And softer flame;

But thoughtless follies laid him low,

And stain'd his name!
 

Reader, attend! whether thy soul 

Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole,

Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,

In low pursuit: 

Know, prudent, cautious, self-control

Is wisdom's root. 

 - Robert Burns, "A Bard's Epitah," 1786

Howardian Valentines

This being Valentine Day, I suppose I should make the conventional request for you to go and join the army. That may sound a bit wobbly, but look: Valentine comes from the same word from which “gallant” is derived; a gallant may be a suitor, but is also a cavalier; a cavalier is a knight; a knight is a cavalryman; a cavalryman is a soldier. To ask one to be one’s Valentine is equivalent to asking him, or her, to be a soldier. And one can’t be a soldier without joining the army. So, a request to become a Valentine is approximately a demand to go and join the army.
 - Robert E. Howard, Letter to Novalyne Price, 14th February, 1936

I haven't shied away from being very personal on my blog, but there are some places I wouldn't go. I wouldn't discuss politics or religion, and I'd now decided to add racism, sexism and other "isms" to that lot - not because I don't deem them worthy of discussion, far from it, but because they are so potent and emotive that I simply cannot maintain any degree of impartiality or fairness when I feel my guts twisting in anger, pain or frustration.  There was a time I could discuss those subjects with passion but without too much emotion, but not any more.  Enraged histrionics are funny in parodies or satire, but when someone is truly compromised by their own emotional reaction to something, then it's no use for anyone involved for the affected to continue participating. Perhaps sometime in the future I'll revisit them.

That doesn't mean I've gone soft, of course, or that I subjects I do talk about don't affect me emotionally. War, poverty, love, adventure, injustice, charity - things that tug or tear my heartstrings affect me just as strongly, but for whatever reason, my sense of reasoning and logic are enough to balance that passion into an articulate manner. In addition, if ever someone talks about something they know nothing about, it's very easy to see - and dismiss. So since I'm no expert on world religions, gender mores and whatnot, I decided "you know what? Why should I talk about these things I barely understand?"

But if you'll indulge me, I'd like to get very personal with one story this Valentine's Day, and how I think it may have helped heal a broken heart.

Literary Afterlives

See, Howard just got pirates. None of this "arrrr matey" theatricality: just a surly, burly man slouching with a sword.

22nd of January, another in a month with a disproportionate amount of memorials to death authors who've shaped my imagination. Tolkien, Smith, Lovecraft... Howard.

Even before I knew Howard's work, he was always there. He was in my genes, as my parents and grandparents read his work - and the work of those which informed his writings, like Conan Doyle, Burroughs, Haggard - so if nothing else, it's keeping in the family. During the long spell between when I read Almuric and my rediscovery of Howard through Conan, he still managed to be there, that liminal figure on the boundaries of my imagination. Howard's ideas and thoughts echoed throughout the stories I enjoyed even without my realising it: many of the things I liked were mirrored in Howard's work.

Bite-Sized Blog: On Conan, REH and The Times In Which He Lived

“Crom!” It was an explosive imprecation from Conan’s lips as he started up, his great fists clenched into hammers, his veins on his temples knotting, his features convulsed...

In case anyone's wondering: I've not been up to much due to an attack of bruxism, which has resulted in me biting into my left cheek to the point where it feels like someone takes a pair of pliers to my jaw muscles every hour or two. Luckily it's starting to heal now, though I'll be needing gumshields and whatnot. Stayed in most of the last week washing my mouth with benzydamine and whisky.

Hopefully nothing interesting's happened in my absence, like a new Conan movie that's actually an adaptation of one of the original stories being announced with Patrice Louinet taken on board as advisor. 

Because that would just be the worst timing ever.

That I lived to a straight and simple creed...

In the last analysis, I reckon, I have but a single conviction or ideal, or whateverthehell it might be called: individual liberty. It’s the only thing that matters a damn. I’d rather be a naked savage, shivering, starving, freezing, hunted by wild beasts and enemies, but free to go and come, with the range of the earth to roam, than the fattest, richest, most bedecked slave in a golden palace with the crystal fountains, silken divans, and ivory-bosomed dancing girls of Haroun al Raschid. With that nameless black man I could say:

“Freedom, freedom,
Freedom over me! —
And before I’d be a slave,
I’d lie down in my grave
And go up to my God and be free!”

That’s why I yearn for the days of the early frontier, where men were more truly free than at any other time or place in the history of the world, since man first began to draw unto himself the self-forged chains of civilization. This is merely a personal feeling. I make no attempt to advocate a single ideal of personal liberty as the one goal of progress and culture. But by God, I demand freedom for myself. And if I can’t have it, I’d rather be dead.

 - Robert E. Howard, Letter to H.P. Lovecraft, ca December 1932

I had been neglecting my tributes to favourite authors for a while, but there would really be something wrong if I failed to observe the birthday of Robert E. Howard - not least because he, more than any other, gave me a channel for the passion I have for writing.

Bannockburn is permeated with Robert E. Howard. It isn't a pastiche, nor is it an imitation, but I'd like to think the impact of his historical and fantasy fiction on my creative mind would be, if not present, then at least acknowledged as a major influence - in particular "The Grey God Passes," of course, but also the Bran Mak Morn stories, "Delenda Est," "People of the Dark," and plenty more.

More consciously, it occurred to me how much of Bannockburn echoed elements of "The Hour of the Dragon." At first I thought it coincidental, but then I recalled the suggestion that much of Conan's journey in that story echoed the tale of Robert the Bruce himself. This has been brought up a number of times in Howard studies, but speaking in my position as a True Scotsman, I definitely support this hypothesis.

Consider: both are popular kings "elected" by the people to lead, after slaying their rivals by their own hand. Both are offered a position of vassalage to the invaders, which they reject not only from pride, but in the knowledge that the people would reject them and drive them out as the enemy. Both are driven from their country into the wild, where only a handful of brave supporters aid them as they cross the countryside to foreign lands in search of direction. Both (are said to have) come to revelations in dark caves. Both return with renewed purpose after their exile and search for answers, and engage in guerilla warfare, before a final confrontation in which their forces are outnumbered by their enemy - but in stronger positions. Both are aided by the timely intervention of the common people, abused and downtrodden by enemies from home and abroad, who were not ordered, but chose to fight for their own freedom.

I guess, then, it's just natural I would include a mysterious wise woman who may be more than she seems, people from distant lands who aid both sides in the struggle, a nightmare lord of undeath who has come to claim what he believes his birthright, women who remain defiant despite intolerable cruelty and humiliation, and monsters & sorceries beyond the ken of man. But then again, these elements are common to Scottish culture as well as in Howard's 20th-century translations of the Nemedian Chronicles, and since Howard was a great fan of Scottish authors Sir Walter Scott & Arthur Conan Doyle - not to mention the history of the British Isles - it's perhaps inevitable one could make allusions between "The Hour of the Dragon" and Scottish culture.

Zelata bears similarities to the Cailleach Bheur, she who is as part of the wilds as the wolf and bird-of-prey, as well as the many legendary Scottish witches & wise women. Albiona's defiance and determination to die rather than submit reflects the bravery of Countess Isabella MacDuff. The stalwart Pallantides is to Conan as "the Guid" Sir James Douglas was to the Bruce, while the proud Trocero of the semi-autonomous realm of Poitain echoes Aonghas Óg of the semi-autonomous Lordship of the Isles. The aid offered to Conan by the outcast priests of Asura is not unlike legends of the excommunicated Knights Templar offering their secret aid to the Bruce's cause. There's even tales of a Scottish wizard, Michael Scott, roughly contemporaneous with the Wars of Independence, who wore "the oriental costume generally worn by the astrologers of the times" - not unlike the star-and-moon robes Xaltotun was given.

Rest assured, though, this won't be just "The Hour of the Dragon" with a coat of Scottish paint. For one thing, the main character will not be the Bruce, but a lowly peasant of the "Sma' Folk" who finally won the battle. Even so, rather than consciously try to mimic or diverge from my influences, I will be happy enough to simply try to make a good story which reflects what I'm trying to do. It's the best way to pay tribute to both men of the name Robert.

This Is Too Cool Not To Post.

Thanks to Terry Allen for the Youtube link, and Ben Friberg for the head's up.

Some familiar faces in that news report on the placement of the Lord collection at the Harry Ransom centre.  Well done, all.

Red-Headed Comic Woman With A Sword Writes Comic About Red-Headed Comic Woman With A Sword

You know you're serious about a Sword-and-Sorcery adaptation when your spouse takes a picture of you with a sword. And you know you've found your soul-mate when they let you stab them for a photoshoot.

I still haven't checked out Eric Trautmann's Red Sonja beyond the first few issues, but I got the general impression that his work was well-received, so it's with a mixture of disappointment and surprise that I learn Gail Simone will be taking over for Dynamite's relaunch. Simone is an author whose work I haven't read, though she's been getting rave reviews for her work on Birds of Prey, Wonder Woman, and Batgirl, so she seems a natural fit for the She-Devil, following Jen Van Meter into the Hall of Female Red Sonja Writers. She also gets clearly "gets" it:

Gail: Anyone following my work has probably seen that I love shoe-horning in fantasy and pulp elements into my superhero books. Catman was inspired by Tarzan, the Secret Six went to Skartaris, Wonder Woman met Beowulf and Claw. To be blunt, I love that stuff.
I love the earthy primal quality of it, I love the pulp mythos from people like Lovecraft and Burroughs, and of course, Robert E. Howard.
 - Gail Simone, welcome to the list

And in this more recent piece:

I love the primal storytelling that can be found in period pieces and fantasy settings. The world is complex and full of subtlety, it’s kind of lovely to be able to tell stories of loinclothed, sword-wielding heroes fighting demons in the desert. I’m a fan of the cultured, mannered fantasy of Tolkien and others, but there’s a tremendous appeal to the bloody, half-naked asskickers of Robert E. Howard’s earthier imaginings.

My first contact with Sonja was definitely in comics, these immaculately told stories of this incredibly dangerous woman. I loved them immediately. I wasn’t aware that she was not a direct adaptation of a Howard character, but rather an amalgam of several of his toughest female adventurers. But it’s a mistake to discount the Howard influence in those stories, it’s in the setting, the tone, it’s in everything.

I’ve been re-reading a lot of Howard stuff (and the Sonja comics) for this assignment, and one of the exciting things is rediscovering that Howard was a bit of a proto-feminist, he created many amazing female hell-raisers. There’s stuff that time has thankfully passed by, but some of his fiercest, smartest, toughest characters were female.

... My favorite Howard barbarian story is possibly Red Nails, which has so much of what I like about the sword and sorcery genre, kickass heroine, lusty bloody adventure, giant serpents, and a powerful and disturbing allegorical twist. I’m very inspired by the mood and tone of the Howard books, but also the visual kick of the best of the comics work—in particular, I love the monsters and mythical aspects.
 - Gail Simone - why isn't SHE writing Conan!?!

The internet's been abuzz about this famously feminist writer and what it could mean for Big Red. But of course - since we're dealing with general comic news sites who aren't always up-to-speed on REH matters despite all the information they need being literally thirty seconds away - then we get that problem.

Creating an Age Undreamed Of, and Video Scholarship

  

My esteemed Cimmerian blog colleague Jeff Shanks has adapted his excellent 2011 ACA/PCA paper that studied Howard's worldbuilding and his likely influences into a video presentation, especially looking to how "Men of the Shadows" and "The Isle of the Eons" led to the development of the Thurian and Hyborian Ages. It's really, really good, and well worth a watch.

I'd spoken before about video reviewers like Doug Walker, Noah Antwiler, Brad Jones and the like, but another favourite of mine is Kyle Kallgren, whose Brows Held High is excellent precisely because he does delve into "proper" criticism: that is, exploring and analysing what makes a work what it is, rather than do it entirely for comic purposes. There are others out there, such as SFDebris, C.G.B. Grey and MrBTongue who favour a more analytical, detailed approach, which shows that there definitely is an audience for people who want to learn something.

It got me thinking about the power of video presentations to disseminate information to those who may not necessarily sit down and read the many articles on The Cimmerian, Two-Gun Raconteur, REHupa.com, REH-e-apa.com and others. I had pondered some sort of REH-related podcast, but that might be thinking too big. But Jeff adapting his exploration, truncated as it is from the mountains of research he's done, led me to think of other REH essays that might benefit from exposure in this matter. There are so many excellent, paradigm-shifting essays out there that just aren't going to reach the Youtube generation.

*Thanks to Taran for pointing out a typographic error in the title, though I'd like to say I intended to use the word "scholarshop."

Norris Chambers, 1917 - 2013

  *Picture courtesy of Patrice Louinet

I just got an email from Roger Chambers, Norris Chambers' son, informing me that Norris passed away peacefully yesterday; Friday 22nd.

Norris was, as far as I know, the last person who had known Bob Howard personally.
Over the years, I had been exchanging emails with Norris on a semi-regular basis, and he usually answered them within 24 hours. Less than a month ago, he had been extremely helpful when I asked his help identifying the poems he had furnished Glenn Lord when Glenn was preparing what would become Always Comes Evening. In one of those recent emails, he quoted from memory several lines from "To A Woman", explaining me how much this poem had struck him and had stayed with him all those years.
It will be hard to accept that Norris won't be there to answer my emails anymore.

  - Patrice Louinet

Norris Chambers was a link to the past. With his passing, I'm reminded of the tenuous nature of time, how fleeting it is, and how personal experiences can be lost to time forever. This time last year, the last person to see service in the First World War died. The year before, the last combat veteran passed away. And the year before that, the last speaker of the Bo language. There is no one still alive who bore witness to the nightmares of Paschendaele and the Somme, the horror of Jallianwalla Bagh, the sinking of the Titanic, the Christmas Truce, the October Revolution. There are no more Ottomans, suffragettes, sky sailors, Bedford Boys, Cockleshell Heroes, Castner's Cutthroats, or Golden Thirteens. None of the people who fought for the independence of Estonia, Latvia, Turkey, and Ireland now live to see their countries' freedom. And we've lost other literary connections in the past decade: the last people who knew Thomas Hardy and Harry Houdini have also passed away. And now Norris Chambers, the modern world's last personal link to Robert E. Howard.

All the moments of a lifetime are lost, as they say, like tears in rain. But Norris loved to retell those moments, and as long as his personal site is online, people from all over the world can hear them. But what better way to hear those stories than through the man's own words?

 

Thanks for all the memories, Mr. Chambers.

 I once wrote a fantasy tale about a society in some strange place where people entered into an amusement park and paid a sizeable sum of money to enter a dream parlor. Here a technologically advanced system took you through a lifetime on some fictional planet called Earth where you lived a full life from birth to death. After years of living in a strange land where you might have a great life or a terrible one you died and the journey was over. The experience seemed so realistic that you thought the existence on earth was real and that the life there was the center of the universe.

Visitors to this strange, unreal planet were shocked to find that the people there did not live in harmony but fought each other in strange conflicts called wars. Many of the participants actually died in battle and the dream was over for them. The entire population of that planet was composed of inhabitants living the dreams they paid for in another life.

While there they did not know about their real life but lived the life of the dream. None of the earth planet or the life on it was real!

Those who returned from this dream parlor experience had very vivid memories of the lives they lived there – some were short and some were long, depending on the unpredictable circumstances of that particular dream. Very few of the adventure seekers who took the dream trip wanted to try another experience on earth.

Dreams can be a lot of fun, but they can also become very confusing when you begin to wonder which is the dream and which is real.

Is there a lot of fun in dreaming? Sometimes there is and sometimes there is not. It seems to depend on what the dream is about and how you are involved. My advice would be if you must dream make it a good dream. Then it will be fun!

 - "Big Dreams are Big Fun," Norris Chambers

On Adaptations and Illustrations of Literature

 It may have taken them 5 issues to stop messing around with pastichery and finally start seriously adapting some Howard stories, but it's well worth the wait.

This year's Howard Days, which I shall indeed be attending for all those who wish to see the Greater Bearded Scot, is centered around Howard in comics. The guest of honour is Timothy Truman, currently writing the upcoming King Conan: The Hour of the Dragon adaptation from Dark Horse. And the fandom rejoiced, for Truman is popular among Howard fans for his comparatively faithful adaptations and appreciation of Howard. Well, most Howard fans: there's always one, isn't there?

No, I doubt there'll be any tense stand-offs between myself and Mr Truman, because I'm a gentleman and a scholar as well as a raving blaspheming lunatic. Besides, although I have my share of misgivings on his decisions ("Why is Kutamun such a big wimp?" "Why did he reveal the Gray Ape so early?" "What's with this chronicler business in his King Conan stuff?") there is a lot to like in his adaptations, particularly when some of the changes - gasp! - are actually interesting. Yes, you heard me, I thought some of Truman's changes were something other than terrible, heinous and disrespectful to Howard! What on earth has come over me?

In any case, the subject of Howard in Comics is obviously highly tied to the long and celebrated history of adaptations, from the famous Marvel Conan the Barbarian to the current franchise at Dark Horse, with a gamut of writers and artists adding their interpretations to Howard's works. There have been stories that practically transpose Howard's prose straight onto the page, and others that took a more Hitchcockian approach. From the sublime to the ridiculous, as it were.

Being an aspiring comic artist myself, it seems an appropriate time to turn up to Howard Days with my musings on the medium's relevance to an author who died in 1936.

The Bones of the Old Ones

Technically speaking, I shouldn't be reading this book, since it isn't out in the UK. However, I just couldn't wait, so I ordered one from the US.

Howard Andrew Jones' The Bones of the Old Ones is part of the new generation of Sword-and-Sorcery, and very much in the tradition of its predecessor, The Desert of Souls. Indeed, the narrative structure is superficially similar to the first book: Asim & Dabir encounter a woman who isn't where she's supposed to be, they go on a journey with the girl to find magical macguffins, one of them falls for the girl, they pick up an elderly scholarly friend to help them out, and have to contend with evil sorcerers with unnatural constructed servitors, for The Fate of the Caliphate is in the balance. That isn't necessarily a criticism, of course, and it doesn't mean the tale is predictable or repetitive in the slightest. In fact, it offers something of a mirror image to Souls' plot, with the other member of the duo falling for Najya, and the pair's friendship and experience leading them to adapt better to unusual circumstances. Plus there are certainly enough differences in the details to make this more than a retread.

C.L. Moore, 102

Today marks C.L. Moore's 102nd birthday. Her contributions to the Sword-and-Sorcery genre have been acknowledged at Resources for Science Fiction Writers, Adventures Fantastic, and Swords & Sorcery: a blog. For me, I'll just repost my Cimmerian tribute.

I recently reread Paizo's Black God's Kiss anthology, which is pretty excellent if you bypass Suzy McKee Charnas' dreadful introduction - instead go to Ryan Harvey's splendid piece at Black Gate, which provides most of the necessary information without throwing Moore's literary contemporaries under the bus - and I heartily recommend it.

The only other problem I have is the cover. Now, it's a gorgeously rendered cover, no doubt about that: I adore the evocative, noirish lighting and the sense of weirdness it portrays. Unfortuantely, Jirel's pose is veering slightly towards the sort of sultry pose that would make it a target for Jim C. Hines or the Hawkeye Initiative, and the armour is... well, it sure isn't what Moore described:

She smiled to herself as she slipped a fresh shirt of doeskin over her tousled red head and donned a brief tunic of link-mail. On her legs she buckled the greaves of some forgotten legionary, relic of the not long past days when Rome still ruled the world. She thrust a dagger through her belt and took her own long two-handed sword barebladed in her grip.

We already have plenty of not-safe-for-work Jirel cheesecake that has her borrowing from Red Sonja's wardrobe (even the ones with full or at least decent armour have problematic breast cups, to say nothing of the ever-dependably pulptastic Margaret Brundage's contributions): in this day and age, art of Jirel in the armour she was originally described to be wearing would actually be refreshing. Not to mention she, like Dark Agnes, is frequently given a mane of fiery red hair rather than the shorter cut described (long enough to become tousled and to be able to obscure her face, but short enough to be described as "short upon high, defiant head") Still, at least the bare thighs are in the text, right? And in any case, what's important is that even given her rather fetishy armour, Jirel looks strong and powerful: she has sufficient mass and muscularity to believably heft that (one-handed, argh) sword, and the environment is mysterious and evocative.

This piece by Michael John Morris is probably the most accurate I've seen,
though it falls prey to the long hair trap.

Even so, Paizo produced a fine collection of one of Moore's best creations, I'd encourage anyone interested in Sword-and-Sorcery to seek them out. Even if it doesn't end up your cup of tea, they deserve to be included in the annals of S&S.

Robert E. Howard and Meditations on Manliness

I write about bears with primitive faults and failings and even if I am nothing but a cub writer, still the faulty characters I make are more real than most of the young intellectual fools with their egoist hooey. I mean my characters are more like bears than these real bears are, see. They’re rough and rude, they got paws and they got tummies. They grumble and they hug; break the fur of teddies and you find the bear, roaring and red-pawed. That’s the way teddies are.
- Robeart E. Howard, letter to Teddy Clyde Smith, week of February 20, 1928.

I was planning on doing a post on Robert E. Howard for his birthday, but couldn't think of anything to write. What is there left to say that hasn't been said over the past 107 years? There are some very interesting ones from Jim Cornelius, Todd Vick, SFGateway, Read at Joe's, Kaijuville, Temple of the Sun, and naturally the Robert E. Howard Forums, but I couldn't think of a "hook." Luckily fate intervened and provided an excellent opportunity via a Rob Bricken article on Io9.com: 11 Preposterously Manly Fantasy Series:

What makes a book series manly? Is it the action? The violence? The lack of female characters? Is it male wish-fulfillment? Misogyny? Or a combination of all these things?

What makes a book series manly? Well, I have an idea of that...

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.

Out of Shadowed Hills

I will tell you of the birth of my son.

In my youth, I was impetuous, wild, full of rage and passion and hate - much like other women of my tribe at that age. But our people did not show it often. Something about our homeland, our dark, sullen, cold realm of mists and shadows, prevents us from it. Our moods are black and melancholic, given to monstrous dreams. Darkness and the night pervaded even our waking thoughts... but not in battle. In those mad exhultations, when our blades flame crimson and agony shoots through our sinews, our spirit finds release. No longer are we moody and dour, but burning with red fury and joy - not at the killing and feasting of swords, but at being alive. It is only when one is at the closest to having their life taken that one truly experiences what life is - distilled, tangible, seething, screaming life. And when that experience comes, we have the strength and will to fight tooth and nail so that we remain alive - such is the one gift breathed into our souls by our grim chief god.