The Saga of Adalwolf

Adalwolf and his brothers try to avenge on the field of battle their father's defeat by Faramund.  His shaman brother Gasto notices ravens following Adalwolf, an omen of death.  Gasto tries to talk Adalwof out of the battle, but Adalwolf is obsessed with killing Faramund.  The battle is joined, and Adalwolf turns full berserker.  Despite Adalwolf's prowess, Faramund destroys the avengers.  Gasto leads the escape back to Adalwolf's family, who refuses to flee with him.  Instead, they abandon him for places at Faramund's table.  Betrayed, alone, and ready to curse it all, Adalwolf is visited by the All-Father, who hands him a spear that allows him to kill fifty men by himself...

In the Pulp Revival, we talk about regressing further, to draw upon the forms and stories of the past to write new stories.  "The Saga of Adalwolf" takes this idea, but goes further back than the pulps and penny dreadfuls of the late 1800s and early 1900s to the Nordic tales of a millennium and more in the past.  Alone of the stories in Thune's Vision, "Adalwolf" takes place our past among the Scandinavian peoples, referencing Norse myth and ritual.  Norse sagas often center around feuds, like Adalwolf's feud with Faramund.  And, like Beowulf, the most recognized of sagas to the English reader, Adalwolf's feats on the battlefield lead to commanding warriors and kingship.  And pride causes both Beowulf and Adalwolf to fall from their heights.

For "Adalwolf" is also a tragedy.  In many forms of tragedy, the hero starts in a low station, is raised to the heights of society through individual acts of valor and prowess, and is brought low again because his personality faults drive him to make bad decisions.  The All-Father's spear gives Adalwolf the renown needed to amass a warband to defeat Faramund.  But after Faramund is killed, his treasures and halls seized, and his wife now Adalwolf's mistress, Adalwolf keeps the spear instead of returning it.  Pride in his feats fans ambition, and Adalwolf seeks kingship over all who share his language.  Once his people are united, he would conquer to the south, where disciplined fighting men in tercios (or maybe even legions) guard the riches of the southern peoples.  Meanwhile, the old hurt of his ex-wife abandoning him prevents him from marrying his mistress as he should.  Both pride and hurt spur him into making poor choices that remove the gods' blessings and eventually drive Adalwolf to his death on the field of battle.  Yet he still remains a sympathetic figure, as we see how he is manipulated into every poor decision, whether by the machinations of rivals, ambitions, or hurts.  Those wanting to find catharsis at the end of this tale, as in the best tragedies, can do so.  Others may find moral instruction.  Either way, the traditions of the tragedy are also ancient, stretching back beyond the oral stories that became the Illiad.

Which leads to the most important question: is "Adalwolf" an enjoyable read?  Yes, yes, emphatically, yes.  It is a roaring yet cautionary tale, full of action and moral question for the reader to enjoy.  At the same time, "Adalwolf" like all of Schuyler Hernstrom's stories in Thune's Vision, shows that there can be some real literary meat to sword and sorcery, actual form and craft in story, not just the sentence tricks many writers use to sound literary.  I heartily recommend Thune's Vision to both readers wanting a fun read and writers who want to learn their craft.

Additonal Reading: The Schuyler Hernstrom Edition

Much has been made this month about Hernstrom's work and how it manages to "regress harder" while simultaneously feeling fresh and new.  Although his voice is unique in these times of over-whelming pink slime literature, he wears his inspiration on his writing sleeve.  So far just this month, discussion of his work has name checked a few of the best and brightest pre-1980 writers.  For those looking for stories with the same feel and vision as those found in Thune's Vision, here are a few recommendations from the editors, complete with Amazon links for easy shopping:

Cirsova Magazine

• In addition to publishing several of Herstrom's short stories and novella's, this is the single best source for new short fiction that stands shoulder to shoulder with Schuyler Hernstrom's work.

Poul Andersen

• Hrolf Kraki's Saga - A Viking tale of battles, magic, betrayal, and kings, strongly reminiscent of The Saga Of Adalwolf.
• The High Crusade - The free English knighthood commandeers a space ship in service to the King and Crown.
• The Broken Sword - A complex web of betrayal and redemption that revolves around a changeling prince and his elven-raised human brother.  A fine mythic tale of witches, kings, and elves.

Jack Vance

• Dying Earth - A series of novellas featuring a rogue's gallery conniving to out-rogue even less honorable men than the protagonists.  These tales evoke the same sensibilities as Ecology of the Unicorn.

Richard Uitvlugt

• In the Day's of the Witch-Queens - A recent work, this novel was recommended by Castalia House as, "old school swords and sorcery fiction in the same vein as Thune’s Vision," I haven't read it yet.  If you have and you concur, let us know!

Athan and the Priestess: A Quick Take

(Check out Jon's summary and review here.)

From the deathbed of the seer Thune, the gods of Death and Change require a service from Athan, lord of the steppe warriors.

Thune lurched forward, heaving black bile onto the matted furs of the hut’s floor. His first wife wiped the mess from his face as he continued in a choking voice, extending a bony finger toward Athan.

“The wall above the river, the barrier that separates us from the Ullin, you must breach it. You must find the high priestess and become one with her. The scion of your union will sunder both lands and bring light and dark together again so that mankind is whole!

“The kiss of the sea witch will permit you to breathe under the deepest water. See her and beg her favor. Then cross under the barrier, through the river, and seek the priestess in the land of the Ullin. Forget your pathetic songs of pathetic raids! Begin the dynasty that will make the world anew and lay waste to the arrogant Ullin!”

It's hard not to cheer for Athan, especially once he breaches the barrier.  The earthly paradise of the Ullin is superficial, full of rotten iron and grime stereotypical of the more slanderous tales of steppe people instead of pinnacles of civilization.  The sexes are segregated, with reproduction stripped of its personal nature - and personages altogether.  Life among the Ullin is one of monotonous ease, and, like all decadent cultures, in need of the vigor of a conqueror - and the Ullin themselves realize it as well.  Yet it is Athan's task to sire that conqueror, not to himself afflict the mighty and topple the proud.  His fate at the end serves as a reminder, almost as if, like Moses, he cannot see the future he brought about because he was disobedient along the way.

Once again, a story in Thune's Vision contrasts with the favored storytelling techniques of the day.  In the endless attempts to shore up the saggy middle of the middle act, writers have taken to using series of try-fail cycles, where complications and setbacks move the protagonist towards the finale.  Instead of try-fail cycles, Athan is given trials, or obstacles that must be overcome by strength and cunning in order to achieve his goal.  To achieve the one night stand the gods have decreed for him, Athan must earn the kiss of the sea witch, escape the frenzy of her pets, impress the drowned shades of his ancestors, breach the barrier into Ullin, duel a guardian, and finally sneak his way into the priestess's quarters.  Unlike many modern stories, Athan does not go around these roadblocks, but through.

Thune's Vision: Other Hot Takes

We here at The Puppy of the Month Book Club like to select a wide variety of works to discuss.  Last month we selected the well known classic, Nine Princes In Amber.  This month's selection, Thune's Vision, is considerably more recent.  As a result, there just isn't a whole lot of links available to reviews of Hernstrom's collection.  Which means that the Puppy of the Month Book Club is doing what it was designed to do - help trigger discussions about worthy books.

Nonetheless, the editors have scoured the internet and found a few gems worthy of note.  Of course you can always read a few of the glowing reviews at Amazon.com, but we prefer to link to those with a dedicated web presence, like these fine fellows:

No One Writes Dames Like Schuyler Hernstrom (Cirsova)

"Probably one of the hardest part of writing dames is conveying just how gorgeous and desirable they are. Some writers are content to just tell us outright that they’re pretty, beautiful, hot, whatever.  Others might try to throw at us ‘garments clinging to their supple form’, ‘milky thighs’, ‘ample bosoms’, or ‘pert upturned breasts’ if they’re really reaching.  Schuyler Hernstrom’ll either make you step your game up or give it up."

Review: Thune’s Vision (The Frisky Pagan) - This was linked to previously, and is included here because it's the most complete review, it's funny, and for the sake of easy reference:

Recommended for: People who enjoy good and strong writing, those who want to go back to the real roots of fantasy, pulp fans, and people who like to think about what they read. For fans of R.E. Howard, Burroughs, and Jack Vance this should be a no-brainer.

Not recommended for: Spineless cowards, soviet agents of International Communism, people who enjoy being laughed at, and lovers of young adult fantasy fodder.

The Challenger's Garland: Nathan's Take

Drawn by their dreams, Molok, Death's Black Knight, and Lobon, White Champion of Azal, meet before the white citadel of Azal in single combat.

"The Challenger's Garland" is the simplest story yet read by the Puppy of the Month Club, but don't be fooled. Simple does not mean poor. In this case, the simplicity creates room for "The Challenger's Garland" to develop theme and setting to enrich the story. Molok and Lobon are mirrored opposites of each other, and the fates have chosen these opposites to duel. The Black Knight serves Death, is driven by duty, and has no memories of his life before his service. Champion Lobon feeds off the bloodlust of battle, serves the living, and has the comfort of a wife and family. Both combatants are undefeated, at least before their duel. In his review, Jon noticed that “this is a yin-yang fight that leaves the reader an observer who is both fully neutral and fully invested in the outcome.” This observation continues to the outcome of the battle.  Molok recovers his lost memories just before Lobon kills him. Afterwards, Lobon takes up the mantle and weapons of Death's Black Knight, complete with its loss of self. The black turned to white and the white turned to black.  Redemption accompanied by a fall.

One of the pet peeves of mine in fantasy is the Grand Tour through the world that the author has built.  Normally, a story (or, more likely, a series) is drawn out to visit all the places an author has created to the detriment of the pacing and the plot.  "The Challenger's Garland" avoids that pitfall.  As Molok rides through Azari and Kinnivesse on the way to Azal, we see the dread he inspires from the reactions of the various peoples of the lands he rides through.  Instead of just showing off a writer's creativity, these lands and people build up Molok's might in the eye of the reader.  And when he requests a garland from the blind girl in Azal, it shows the dedication to his purpose.  While I would not go so far to say it humanizes Molok, it does show that he is not one for aimless cruelty.  Here the setting has a purpose, to develop character while it flavors the tale with the exotic.

Finally, "The Challenger's Garland" sets up the themes for Thune's Vision: Death and Fate. Molok goes to his fate as a matter of duty, observing the norms required.  Kor of the Ar, in “The Movements of the Ige”, courts his fate, chasing after his ritual death when it is denied to him.  Athan quests for his fate in "Athan and the Priestess", risking all for the greater future shown to him.   But Thune's Vision, in the great tradition of the pulps, also shows the folly of defying both Death and Fate. Lobon clings to his life and bloodlust, and, at the time of dying, ultimately chooses to defy his fate. Instead, he accepts another, more evil fate as Death's executioner, complete with the utter loss of everything that made him Lobon. By attempting to escape his fated death, Malathikos of “The Ecology of the Unicorn” rushed headlong towards it.  Each of the tales shows that the right action of Man is to, as Schuyler Hernstrom himself has said, "Hail beauty and truth. Hail courage and hail the hand that smites evil. Hail love and life. And when your sun finally sets, as it must, then hail death."

(You can read Jon's review of "The Challenger's Garland" here.)

"Of course he doesn't like you. You are a servant of selfish evil."

In a previous post, Nathan Housley commented on the selfishness of "The Ecology of the Unicorn" protagonists. I don't know about Rutu, but Malathikos is clearly not a poster boy for goodness. I mean, with a name like that, it's a dead giveaway, like naming your character Torquemada, Sidious, Mrs. Malice, or His Evilness.

There is a small but important tradition of storytelling where the protagonist is the worst person around. This may be used to teach that evil doesn't pay or, as is common in more modern "realistic" literature, just because evil is a facet of humanity. Sometimes, on the other hand, because it's fun. If well played (and it takes skill) there is a lot of comedic potential in a story filled with consummate egotist always looking for Number One. Of course, because there can only be one Number One, hilarity ensues when all the characters foolishly try to achieve their usually impossible or overblown goals. This narcissism is the source of amusement, not only for the mischief and damage it causes to others (who may actually deserve whatever happens to them) but  because it's self-destructive and the protagonists are their worst enemies. 

Sometimes, like in the British black comedy Black Adder (mostly seasons two and three,) the main protagonist seems to be the only one intelligent around, something that in an almost Darwinian sense justifies his behavior because everyone else around him is too stupid for his own good, so they might as well be fleeced by the only one around with a hint of self-awareness. Besides, it's also common that almost anyone else is a huge egoist, too; the problem is not alignment, then, but that they used INT as their dumping stat. It seems that we humans get a kick out of seeing a bunch of snakes tearing each other apart.

Following the style of Jack Vance's stories, The Ecology of the Unicorn also has a self-centered (but somewhat charming) egotist as the main protagonist. Now, although some people may mince words and talk about "anti-heroes," the simple truth is that characters like Cugel the Clever (at least in The Eyes of the Overworld) would have been hanged in almost all known jurisdictions. And a few would have allowed the death penalty just for him. He is evil (with a small e, to be fair) clearly self-centered, narcissistic, and a cruel and vindictive man. His ego is as big as his usually underserved soubriquet, "The Clever," which makes his inevitable (but mostly self-imposed) failures even funnier. 

Being a competent wizard who has managed to dodge death's embrace for a long time, Malathikos doesn't seem to be such a fool, but like in many stories with a villainous protagonist, he is his own downfall. His ambition and his inability to accept death -which drive him to seek out the mysterious source of the fae's immortality- end up killing him when the creature he apparently needs (a unicorn,) a beast of unblemished good, sniffs his wicked aura and impales him with its horn, sending him to a well-deserved but inglorious end. However -and unlike Cugel-, being a forward-thinking gentleman, Malathikos had already planned for such eventuality, and his demise triggers a catastrophic event that ultimately earns him immortality of another kind: the destruction of the Great Tree of the fairies by a giant demon who repeatedly screams his name like an infernal loudspeaker. Malathikos had wanted immortality, and something of that kind he got. Better to be known as a sinner than not at all, he probably would have said.

Here I'd like to add that it is nice to see authors who follow that old tradition of making any magic user wicked or, at least, certainly not normal. Before the advent of high fantasy and its derivatives (where being a mage is just like any other profession,) magic was essentially demonic or of questionable origin, and it was also assumed that even if it was used for noble purposes, its wielder could not be a "nice guy" or a normal, well-adjusted individual. After all, the point of magic is an unwillingness to accept the normal laws of reality. If they hadn't sold their souls to an inhuman abomination like the wizards of R. E. Howard, they were the haughty, conceited, hedonistic, and some of them barely sane wizards of Vance's 21st Aeon. I have noticed the treatment of magic and magic-users seem to be a telltale sign that separates those who follow older (and, I believe, better) traditions of fantasy from those who follow modern ones, and Hernstrom is certainly in the first group. 

While in contemporary fantasy magic is usually just pyrotechnics or a tool like any other (i.e. warriors attack with a sword and wizards throw fireballs, but it's essentially the same*,) for the old masters of fantasy magic was part of the character and the plot. It was part of his personality, desires, and ambitions. It allowed him to accomplish things, even immoral things, which would be impossible otherwise. In many cases, it was a necessary condition for the plot to make sense. And if science wonders are (or should be) essential for a science fiction story to make any sense, magic should also be a necessary narrative tool for a sorcery-centered story to make sense. The Ecology of the Unicorn, even if it is a short and humorous tale of overblown egos and foolish magicks, accomplishes that.

* Just different ways to kill something. I guess this could be an undesired consequence of D&D's popularity, where a mage is just that, a class.

Prologue

I chose Thune's Vision because I believe it's a great book. That may not be the deepest analysis ever done or the best possible endorsement, but it's the truth. I might have chosen it even if this were not a Club devoted to a unique subgenre of fiction. I can imagine myself in your average reading club, confidently pointing at the cover of Thune's Vision, surrounded by housewives and other Normal Ordinary Responsible Persons, and telling them to stop reading garbage ("Excuse me, but what's this Paulo Coelho nonsense?") and read something useful for once. "Especially that part where Athan disembowels a bunch of underwater abominations. That was pretty cool," I would tell them. 

We don't read any book here, though, but those that represent the spirit and style of fiction that was once popular and emulated, but now has waned, even if there are already many signs of a resurgence. And Thune's Vision is one of those signs.  And what's more, if someone who doesn't know much about fantasy (or someone burned out by today's fantasy novels) asked me for a book to get into the genre, this would be one of those I'd prescribe as a good starting point. It is well written (in my opinion, a surprisingly uncommon thing in fantasy,) it is short, it has humor, it is exciting (and what's the point of reading fantasy if it's not exciting?), and sometimes it can be quite deep if you pay enough attention.

As I had already written a somewhat long analysis of the book on my blog, I won't write a standard review here because I don't want to repeat myself. However, I'll comment a few things about the main themes of the stories, the qualities in which they excel, or just... funny stuff that I found interesting. Until then, you can read Nathan Housley's commentaries or take a peek at my review.

The Ecology of the Unicorn

To stave off the pursuit of the black rider of Death, the sorcerer Malathikos searches for any hidden knowledge that might prolong his life.  He tortures a fae servant, Rutu, for the secret of fae immortality.  Rutu is oathbound not to reveal his people's secrets, but he might just leave a book or two open to hint at the solution.  Malathikos lets the fae loose in the library.  Rutu escapes, leaving behind a book open to the ecology of the unicorn, mythical beasts who live in Illylisily.

Malathikos follows Rutu to the forests of Illylisily, trailing the fae with star dust.  He corners Rutu, who agrees to help if they both survive the arrival of the guards.  A patrol of hussars then confronts the sorcerer.  After a formal show of force is rendered ineffectual by Malathikos's protective wardings, the hussars leave, carrying a large ruby gift from Malathikos to smooth over relations with the king and his wizards.

Rutu leads Malathikos to the pools where the unicorns graze.  Malathikos reaches out to a fairly placid male, only to remember too late that unicorns always travel in pairs...

***

I'll be honest, I did not enjoy reading this story.  Malathikos and Rutu are both unsympathetic schemers of cloudy and uncertain parentage.  Like the wasp landing on a nettle, someone's going to get stung, and I don't mind who.  Malathikos was distilled evil, and Rutu plotted against him for immediate personal advantage with no thoughts to how his actions might affect others.  Driven by selfishness, Rutu's tactical victories turned into strategic defeat.  That said, unappealing characters do not a bad story make.  Despite watching two different flavors of destructive selfishness duel, I was never tempted to throw my Kindle against the wall, nor did I feel the need to take a bath afterwards.  Like in the Hays Code of old, both cheats got their just reward.  I would rather read about the heroism of the Ige instead.

***

"The Ecology of the Unicorn" is not the first story to explore how the steps to avoid a given fate may instead bring it about.  The black rider, symbol of approaching death, sparks Malathikos's fatal search to escape it.  Unlike previous tales, however, this fact remains in the background.  While Malathikos does strive against death, his efforts are directed towards obtaining the secrets of the fae from Rutu instead of lamenting an inevitable fate.

Fate and death appear to be the two great themes of the shorter tales of Thune's Vision.

***

While musing over what to write in for my review of "The Movements of the Ige", I had considered comparing that story to the Hollywood formula.  In that structure, a protagonist tries to obtain a goal, an antagonist tries to prevent the protagonist from obtaining it, and the protagonist will reconcile with the relationship character who has been traveling with him.  Please check out the link for examples.  As a relationship structure, the Hollywood formula puts character and thematic conflict into sharp relief.  As a plot structure, however, it suffers from the same fault as the three act structure: a saggy middle act.

However I was forced to abandon that idea as neither "The Movements of the Ige" nor "The Ecology of the Unicorn" have a relationship character.  What both short stories do have, though, is clearly delineated conflict between the protagonist and the antagonist.  In "Ige", Kor wishes to fulfill his destiny to die before his god-sun.  The arrival of the unnamed astronauts prevent that.  In "Unicorn", Malathikos seeks to learn the secrets of fae immortality to stave off his approaching death.  Rutu tries to prevent that.  Both stories feature conflict that is personal, consequential, and definite.  Kor succeeds over the shattered faceplates of the astronauts; Malathikos fails utterly, foiled by Rutu.  There are no draws.  Hernstrom's stories are focused duels between the protagonist and the foes of his desire, and read like the single combat of heroes of old. 

Athan and the Priestess

A barbarian undertakes a quest to save the world by banging a hot queen.  This is one of those stories we aren't supposed to like.  In unskilled hands a story based on that premise would be a campy little romp, but Hernstrom's hands are anything but unskilled and he stays firmly on the serious side of fun with Athan and the Princess.

This is the one, people.  This is the story from which this collection draws its name.  It's the longest of the stories, and certainly the most sprawling.  It begins with the titular character, Athan the barbarian warlord, being summoned to the tent of the tribal shaman, Thune, to hear of his vision and prophecy.  With his last breath, the old man gasps out a prophecy that leaves Athan with a choice.  He may stay at home and live the rest of his days raiding amongst the barbarian tribes, or he may undergo a quest that will end the world as the tribes know it, but one which will result in the rebirth of man and Athan's progeny ruling down through centuries.

Of course Athan takes the quest, brings down the barrier protecting the tribe's ancient enemies, the Ullin, from the warlike barbarians, meets a princess and sires the child that changes the world.

In many ways, this work shares similar themes with The Challenger's Garland.  You have cultures that have atrophied and grown stale, and the only way to reinvigorate them is through fresh blood.  You have two kingdoms that mirror each other - one dark and one light, or one decidedly masculine and one decidedly feminine, and it is only through a union of the two that growth can occur.

On the other hand, this is a traditional quest story.  The hero must visit a sea witch and resist her powers, both subtle and unsubtle, to break through the barrier.  He faces down the ghosts of the past - literally - who provide him with important exposition, and who he defeats not by strength of arms, but by sheer honesty and compassion.  He escapes imprisonment and scales the exterior of a tall tower to reach a princess.

Once there, he again finds that strength of arms will not avail him, and he is forced to seduce the princess.  By fathering her child, he breaks the spell that holds the world in stasis, and he returns to a tribe that is also changed by the experience.  Interestingly, the need for fresh blood to renew a dying world is paralleled in that blood has to be spilled, and a new bloodline established.  The tale begins with the death of Athune and ends with the birth of Athan's child.  There's a theme of death and rebirth running through this story that helps keep it grounded in a serious mood.

The denouement is quick to read, but covers the millennia that follow.  In just two paragraphs we learn how Athan's little adventure causes the barrier between his land and the other to fall, and how it lead to the return of the gods to the lands.

He ends by teasing that the stories hinted at in the denouement are for another time.  Let's all hope another time comes sooner rather than later.

Gabbin' With the Geeks

Several months ago, Schuyler Hernstrom was interviewed on Geek Gab!, an almost weekly podcast featuring Daddy Warpig, Brian Niemeier, and John...somebody.  Somebody smarter than me said he talks about writing the way metalheads talk about music.  He does have a rather sedated method of speaking that somehow enhances the furious activity that seems to be going on in his head during this interview.  Enough talk - get listening.

The Movements of the Ige: Nathan's Take

I've been searching for a way to properly review short stories, as I have found the way I do novels to be unsatisfactory for shorter works.  An entire school of short story writing depends on a revelatory twist in the final sentences, making the shorter works more vulnerable to spoilers. Yet without that twist, discussing the short story becomes difficult.

Take "The Movements of the Ige" as an example.  We are introduced to an alien species reminiscent of feathered serpents fighting and dying underneath their world's sun in a mating ritual,  For the sterile males, the highest goal is to die, making the most beautiful death throes before their bodies feed the creatures who are later fed to the Ige females' eggs.  Ritual constrains the bloodshed to one day a year, and the chief of the Ar tribe, Kor, now seeks his death before his god-sun after three years of battle.  But a strange sight in the heavens interrupts the battle, and neither the Ar nor their enemies wish to fight and die.

I am tempted to leave the summary finished here as none of the surprises of "The Movements of the Ige" have been revealed.  Unfortunately, that also gives a false impression of the story.  At this point, it could be easily be mistaken for a typical fantasy, albeit one leaning more towards the strange ecologies of Sanderson's Stormlight Archive instead of the more familiar realms of Middle Earth, Westeros, or the Land of the Wheel of Time.  But the sign in the heavens is a landing spaceship, presumed to be human as the description of the egg-like ship and the single large bronze eye of its occupants are strongly evocative of the Apollo moon missions.



"The Movements of the Ige" is actually a first contact story from the perspective of the aliens, drawn from sword and planet tropes instead of science fiction.  Kor does not worship the newcomers as gods, nor are there ham-handed replays of the Conquistators landing in  America.  Instead, his actions are driven by his worship of the god-sun and the importance of the killing day.  It's almost as if the story is a refutation of the hoary trope that native tribes would worship starfarers as gods.  Kor does indeed find the death before the god-sun he seeks, but I will leave how for readers to discover.

Having read the four shorter stories in the collection, "The Movements of the Ige" is my favorite.  Not only was I impressed by the strangeness of the life-cycle of the Ige, Kor is alien without devolving into a Star Trek rubber nosed human clone.  That alienness resonated with me in a way that the other stories did not.  Furthermore, "The Movements of the Ige" is an examination of the science fiction standard of first contact, but, by examining it through the lens of heroic fantasy, it breathes new life into that moldy oldie.  Proper pulp entertainment, this story is, and a worthy addition to the field.

The Challenger’s Garland: Jon's Take

"Molok rose from his resting place in the damp earth."

What a great first line! Moloch conjures images of the Moloch of the bible[?], a harbinger of death. It’s clear from the first that this is going to be an epic tale. The opening stages of the story set the stage for a story that harkens back to the dark, yet sweeping, tales of [WHAT’S HIS NAME’S] film Excalibur, or even the grittier sorts of swords and sorcery fairy tales presented by Heavy Metal. The images in my mind as I read this tale owed far more to a Ralph Bakshi animated film than the cookie cutter sort of Disneyesque fantasy that rules the box office today.

 

An initial confrontation with the King of Death establishes that Molok is less a primary actor, than he is a loyal servant summoned by the fates to do their bidding. The King’s ignorance of Molok’s mission gives us a hint that even the King is a pawn in a larger game. It’s a deft touch that tells the reader not to judge too harshly, not to assume that the black knight relishes the task ahead. That’s an important consideration when asking the reader to spend time and perhaps even sympathize with a destructive force of nature.



Source

The long journey Molok makes to meet the white knight in battle shows Herstrom’s strengths as a writer who can paint detailed landscapes with just a smattering of words. In three short paragraphs, each just three sentences long, he crafts a world that stretches past horizon after horizon. The fourth paragraph eases the reader into the gentle rolling hills of the pleasant land of Lobon, the champion Molok has been tasked with slaying. Herstrom’s work in these short paragraphs so impressionistic you almost wonder if he’s ever heard of the concept of being paid on a per-word basis.

But the real trick of this story is the way that Hernstrom provides the reader with two champions, both appealing in their own way. The black knight is a relentless champion of death that yet retains a touch of humanity. The white knight is a fully human champion of life stained by an addiction to death. This is a yin-yang fight that leaves the reader an observer who is both fully neutral and fully invested in the outcome.

The fight scene is long and brutal and just what you’d expect from two deathless champions who have slain a thousand champions each. At the last, we are reminded once more of both Molok’s lingering humanity and its contrast with Lobon’s desire for both death and the continued dealing of death. In the end, both warriors earn their just rewards – peace or continued death – though perhaps not in the way they anticipated.

Of course, they both earned their unexpected reward after following the advice of the trickster god, and though subtle, that unpredictability may be the most predictable part of the story.

Playtime! Thune's Vision

Welcome to another month of posts and discussions about a book that fails to meet the tedious standards of the coastal media trend setters.  Instead, we talk about books that are fun to read, written by the wrong sorts of people, and that don't provide a dose of left-wing message fiction.  We read books in class when we should be listening to her drone on about the import of To Kill A Mockingbird.  We gorge ourselves on books with knights who save princesses (rather than the other way around), hard sci-fi military fiction featuring grizzled drill sergeants with multiple robotic limbs, and dog eared paperbacks printed on cheap yellow paper with anatomically correct models wearing impractical garb and sword fighting on alien planets in the far future.  In short, we're the kids your English teacher warned you about. 

This month's selection, Thune's Vision, by Schuyler Hernstrom, was made by the Frisky Pagan, and I for one could not be happier about it.  Schuyler Hernstrom burst onto the scene with a series of well-received short fiction works in Cirsova Magazine, and this month's Puppy features five more of his outstanding works.  We'll get into each story in more detail later - for today, I just want to talk about the book as a whole.

For one thing, Schuyler hasn't appeared on any Puppy voting lists.  He isn't an Appendix N author.  So where do we get off classifying him as a Puppy?  If you've read the book already, you'll agree that his work is too avante garde - in the best throwback style - to show up in the reading circles of the File770 types.  His stories are well written, fun to read, don't batter you with identity politics, and feature the sort of good-versus-evil, sword swinging barbarians, and complete lack of regard for modern day politics that the Puppy of the Month Book Club loves.

The stories in this collection are an eclectic bunch, written by a man who seems to be experimenting.  That's an awfully dry and clinical word that doesn't do the results justice.  This body of work consists of a series of homages to different styles of sci-fi and fantasy.  In one he's playing with the classic white hat versus black hat.  In another, he's trying his hand at alien worlds written from the alien perspective.  In another, he takes a whimsical fairy tale approach to the anti-hero getting his just deserts. 

Each story takes a different tone, and has a very different feel.  In the hands of a lesser writer, it might feel random or like an inexperienced author trying to find his voice.  Thune's Vision didn't strike this reader that way.  Rather, that the author is adept at writing from different perspectives - that he seamlessly dons new personas like a stage actor.

That gift of Hernstrom's is a powerful one, and one that the big publishing houses seem hell bent on running away from.  They place a strong emphasis on the identity of the writer, and insist that the writer bring his or her own voice to each work.  This book cuts across that grain by featuring a writer who doesn't have A voice.  He's got a lot of voices.  And they are all a lot of fun to hear.

And that, dear reader, is the true measure of literature.

November 2016 Puppy of the Month: Thune's Vision, by Schuyler Hernstrom.

“And be wary. Victory will test your iron in ways defeat cannot."

A death knight embroiled in the schemings of a dark god, a warlord reluctantly chasing the visions of a dying shaman, warring lizardmen are disturbed by a strange sign from the heavens, an old wizard attempts his definite gambit to finally cheat death. These and others are the stories that you will find in Thune's Vision, a collection of four short stories and a novella, by Schuyler Hernstrom.

Some of you may already know him from his work on Cirsova magazine, but if not, this is the perfect opportunity to fix that. Anyone who knows his pulps and the classics of writers like Robert E. Howard and Jack Vance will quickly see the similarities between Hernstrom's style and those works. Although not yet a famous author, and it's in fact quite an obscure book, if you are interested in the renaissance of Sword & Sorcery and fantasy in general you should read Thune's Vision. Since the short story was also the cradle of fantasy, this collection is a great homage to those tales and the spirit that inspired the Appendix N and the work we do here at the Puppy Of The Month Book Club.

Do you want to join the discussion about a book that will surely be recognized in the future? Read the book and comment, or write your own post if you feel adventurous or have something to say!

You can buy Thune's Vision at Amazon.