Short Review of Clockmaker's Requiem—Barth Anderson

When you hear this short story's title, don't think steam punk. This tale is pure fantasy in every sense of the word; here's a short sample:

Krina, with the care of a gardener removing aphids from a favorite rose bush, brushed a fine file of the ubiquitous red dust from a nautilus curve in the clock’s scrollwork. The clock lifted one paw to her gratefully, and she smiled down into its face, which, oddly, was merely a round disc with hashmarks and numbers as if to represent actual features that would be added later. “What kind of clock are you?” she said, lifting it. The clock’s feet kicked and tail lashed as she turned it upside down.

Anderson takes us into a world none of us has ever visited before and lets us experience our own world (and in this case, especially time) with fresh eyes. Highly recommended, though be forewarned—this is the sort of story that rewards multiple readings. Thanks to the folks over at Clarkesworld; you can read this piece online for free.

Short Review of Attar of Roses—Sharon Mock

Clarkesworld shares this haunting story of a sorceress who longs for a beloved whom she has never seen or touched. Sharon Mock displays her considerable prose talent in this short story. It begins thus:

The shadow of my father's citadel falls over me and still I tremble. Still I look perpetually over my shoulder as though you follow me, you who are banished from this land forever. In my fever I think that it is you who dries the leaves on the trees, blows away the petals of the rose. But no, it is only autumn, nothing more.

Read the whole of the tale for free here. Highly recommended for readers who like stories involving magic that is unsystematic, mysterious, powerful.

Short Review of A Light in Troy—Sarah Monette

She went down to the beach in the early mornings, to walk among the cruel black rocks and stare out at the waves. Every morning she teased herself with wondering if this would be the day she left her grief behind her on the rocky beach and walked out into the sea to rejoin her husband, her sisters, her child. And every morning she turned away and climbed the steep and narrow stairs back to the fortress. She did not know if she was hero or coward, but she did not walk out into the cold gray waves to die.

Ran across this little gem of a story over at Clarkesworld, who is generous enough to post a number of their excellent short stories to read online for free. This one, by contributor Sarah Monette, is a very short piece that displays a mastery of subtle emotional power. Recommended for readers of Patricia McKillip and Peter S. Beagle.

Short Review of the Tale of Satampra Zeiros -- Clark Ashton Smith

Published in Weird Tales in 1931, The Tale of Satampra Zeiros is a masterpiece of short fantasy fiction. Unusually subtle and playful for an otherwise Poe-like author, Zeiros is an adventurous romp through the fetid jungles of Hyperborea with two would-be thieves:

"Tirouv Ompallios," I said, "is there any reason why you and I, who are brave men and nowise subject to the fears and superstitions of the multitude, should not avail ourselves of the kingly treasures of Commoriom? A day's journey from this tiresome town, a pleasant sojourn in the country, an afternoon or forenoon of archaeological research—and who knows what we should find?"

"You speak wisely and valiantly, my dear friend," rejoined Tirouv Ompallios. "Indeed, there is no reason why we should not replenish our deflated finances at the expense of a few dead kings or gods."

This story represents some of the very best of a prolific and visionary writer whose lackluster reputation should be a punishable crime. Highly recommended to any who fancy a yarn of sword and sorcery that detours through the maddening landscapes of Lovecraft. The tale itself can be read in its entirety (along with Smith's other short fiction) at The Eldritch Dark.

Short Review of Shadow Kingdom -- Robert E. Howard

Kull of Atlantis is one of four major characters which sprang pantherine from the pen of sword-and-sorcery author Robert E. Howard. In this first of the Kull series of stories, we find a barbarian king come to the throne of Valusia: a task not quite suited to the wild and unpredictable Kull of Atlantis. A once-rival comes to him as a friend to reveal a great web of evil lurking in the shadows of Valusia, and together they seek a way to root out the pervasive reek of inhuman treachery that has seeped from the depths of prehistory too ancient for contemplation:

Kull sat upon his throne and gazed broodily out upon the sea of faces turned toward him. A courtier was speaking in evenly modulated tones, but the king scarcely heard him....The surface of court life was as the unrippled surface of the sea between tide and tide....As he sat upon his throne in the Hall of Society and gazed upon the courtiers, the ladies, the lords, the statesmen, he seemed to see their faces as things of illusion, things unreal, existent only as shadows and mockeries of substance. Always he had seen their faces as masks, but before he had looked on them with contemptuous tolerance, thinking to see beneath the masks shallow, puny souls, avaricious, lustful, deceitful; now there was a grim undertone, a sinister meaning, a vague horror that lurked beneath the smooth masks. While he exchanged courtesies with some nobleman or councilor he seemed to see the smiling face fade like smoke and the frightful jaws of a serpent gaping there. How many of those he looked upon were horrid, inhuman monsters, plotting his death, beneath the smooth mesmeric illusion of a human face?

A compelling story from early in the career of Robert E. Howard. It is easy to see Conan as naturally developing out of the raw stuff in Howard's imagination, though Kull is hardly the proto-Conan, as he is very well developed and unique in his own right. In this story, the brilliantly rendered Brule makes his first appearance also, Kull's stalwart right-hand man of Pictish descent. Brule is the roguish counterpoint to the shadowy dreams of the brooding Kull. A truly classic sword and sorcery tale with much to offer the jaded fan.

Review of Children of Húrin -- J. R. R. Tolkien

The impact J. R. R. Tolkien has had on the fantasy imagination is hard to overstate. The cycle of stories began with The Hobbit, culminated with The Lord of the Rings, and is supported by the Silmarillion and a series of Unfinished Tales. Early in 2007, another legend has been added to the cycle, the darkly brooding Children of Húrin.

According to Christopher Tolkien, who edited this tale to completion out of original manuscripts nearly completed by the Elder Tolkien, there are three fundamental stories that form the backbone of the history of Middle-Earth: Beren and Lúthien, The Fall of Gondolin, and The Children of Húrin. In Tolkien's view, each of these tales is "sufficiently complete in themselves as not to demand knowledge of the great body of legend known as The Silmarillion."

The Children of Húrin is set far back in history from the events recorded in The Lord of the Rings and form part of the imagination of the characters therein. In one exchange between Elrond and Frodo during the council at Rivendell, Túrin son of Húrin is named by Elrond as an Elf-friend. Elsewhere, the hide of Shelob is described as so invincible that it "could not be pierced by any strength of men, not though Elf or Dwarf should forge the steel or the hand of Beren or of Túrin wield it." A legendary figure indeed.

Húrin (Lord of Dor-lómin, husband of Morwen and father of Túrin and Niënor; called Thalion 'the Steadfast') is a great hero at an ill-fated battle described early in the book. Part of a great host of Elves and Men who face the dark lord Morgoth, Húrin falls with all his men, taken captive to Morgoth's subterranean prison-fortress Angband as a prisoner who may know the whereabouts of Morgoth's most hated adversary, the Elf-King Turgon:

Therefore Húrin was brought before Morgoth, for Morgoth knew by his arts and his spies that Húrin had the friendship of the King; and he sought to daunt him with his eyes. But Húrin could not yet be daunted, and he defied Morgoth. Therefore Morgoth had him chained and set in slow torment; but after a while he came to him, and offered him his choice to go gree whither he would...if he would but reveal where Turgon had his stronghold....But Húrin mocked him, saying: 'Blind you are, Morgoth Bauglir, and blind shall ever be, seeing only the dark. You know not what rules the hearts of Men, and if you knew you could not give it...'

Then Morgoth laughed, and he said: 'Death you may yet crave of me as a boon.' Then he took Húrin to the Haudh-en-Nirnaeth, and it was then new-built and the reek of death was upon it; and Morgoth set Húrin upon its top and bade him look west towards Hithlum, and think of his wife and his son and other kin. 'For they dwell now in my realm,' said Morgoth, 'and they are at my mercy.'

'You have none,' answered Húrin. 'But you will not come at Turgon through them; for they do not know his secrets.'

Then wrath mastered Morgoth, and he said: 'Yet I may come at you, and all your accursed house; and you shall be broken on my will, though you all were made of steel'...Then Morgoth stretching out his long arm towards Dor-lómin cursed Húrin and Morwen and their offspring, saying 'Behold! The shadow of my thought shall lie upon them wherever they go, and my hate shall pursue them to the ends of the world....I am the Elder King: Melkor, first and mightiest of all the Valar, who was before the world and made it. The shadow of my purpose lies upon Arda, and all that is in it bends slowly and surely to my will. But upon all whom you love my thought shall weigh as a cloud of Doom, and it shall bring them down into darkness and despair. Wherever they go, evil shall arise. Whenever they speak, their words shall bring ill counsel. Whatsoever they do shall turn against them. They shall die without hope, cursing both life and death.'

Thus begins the tale of woe which Tolkien relates in The Children of Húrin. We hear of the childhood of Túrin his son and of Húrin's wife Morwen. As Morgoth's power grows, his hand reaches closer to the land of Hithlum where Húrin's kin dwell, and Morwen sends Túrin away to be fostered by a powerful Elf-King called Thingol in Doriath. Túrin grows in stature and skill, trained by the Elves in all their arts, but ever does his shadow of Doom follow him. Túrin desires to make war upon the servants of Morgoth, though Thingol and the other Elf-Kings are content to wait until the time is right, hidden away in their kingdoms. Túrin becomes a legend beyond Doriath, joining hardy men who hunt Orcs in the wilds. Ill fate conspires against Túrin, his pride breaking the friendship of good Men and Elves; and he finds himself a captain of a brood of outlaws, and then even this band fails him and he is captured by Orcs to be taken to Angband and Morgoth.

But his Doom shadows him still, saving his life but dealing him woe at every turn. He is freed from captivity, escaping to the great Elven fortress of Nargothrond under the lordship of Orodreth. Here, his counsels overturn the wise words of other counselors, and Orodreth's strength is spent fruitlessly against Morgoth, who eventually brings the great Dragon Glaurung to the gates of Nargothrond and overthrows it. Túrin flees the battle in madness cast upon him by the power of Glaurung, and further ill befalls those Túrin loves.

At last he comes to the woodlands of Brethil where he will spend his last days. He has changed his name and forsaken his past in the hopes of leaving behind his Doom. But it is not to be; ever are his ill counsels heard over the wiser words of Men and Elves, and all that Túrin attempts fails. At the last, Glaurung comes to destroy him in the hidden woodlands of Brethil, and Túrin goes to face him. And though he slays the mighty Dragon of Morgoth, he finds that his Doom is come, all who Túrin once loved are despoiled and lost, and death comes to Túrin, cold release from his ill fate.

Not of the Red Book of Westmark, but rather of the Silmarillion

This tale told of Túrin's Doom belongs alongside the tales of The Silmarillion rather than those written by Bilbo in the Red Book of Westmark which became the Lord of the Rings. Here we have no consoling tales of victory against overwhelming odds, but rather the slow descent into darkness in the long years until Morgoth falls at the end of the Third Age. For those who have read the Silmarillion, the book will bring to mind the character and shape of all Tolkien's legends, crafted after the style of Viking sagas. True to tradtion, the book begins with a long string of names that will bewilder all but the greatest fans. It takes the tale several chapters to descend into the personal narrative we are familiar with in the Hobbit or Lord of the Rings. When it does, we are glad to return again to Middle-Earth.

Great Vistas of Middle-Earth, and Great Deeds of Men and Elves

Though absent are the glimmers of hope and beauty that shine from the pages of the Lord of the Rings, here still is the mist-shrouded wonder of all the lands of Middle-Earth. We travel the lands once trod by Treebeard in his youth, we see the haunting beauty of Elf-Maids in their prime, we hear the steadfast march of good Men against the inexorable approach of darkness.

We see the handiwork of Eöl the Dark Elf who forged the sword Anglachel from meteoric iron. Dwarf-wrought mail clinks upon the breast of Túrin and his friends. Lembas meets the need of hopeless Men for the first time in this tale.

And of course all the horrors lurking at the command of Morgoth multiply. Orcs crawl over the lands, bringing darkness with their foul cries and black shafts. Giant trolls fight in mighty battles in the hosts of Morgoth. And the first of all the Dragons made by Morgoth, Glaurung, bursts upon the page with fiery blasts, sundering all in his path and spellbinding his foes with his fell glare.

The Names of Túrin

Names and titles are powerful in legend; Tolkien knew this fact well and wove this tradition firmly into his other tales: he who is called Strider names himself Aragorn son of Arathorn and King of Gondor at the right time, signalling a turning point in the tale. Gandalf the Grey, who is also called Mithrandir, becomes Gandalf the White.

In the Children of Húrin, Tolkien exploits this theme even further, using Túrin's attempts at changing his name to turn aside fate as a central theme. Túrin comes so often into the company of different people that each time it seems he attempts to start anew. He calls himself Neithan ("the wronged") when he falls in with outlaws after fleeing Doriath in anger. He falls to the orcs but escapes, afterward coming to Nargothrond. There he names himself Agarwaen, Son of Umarth ("Bloodstained, Son of Ill-Fate"). And finally in Brethil, he names himself Turambar ("Master of Doom"), thinking he has at last run free of his fate. At last when his Doom finally overtakes him, his true name returns and is forever carved in ironic Elven runes over his tomb: Túrin Turambar Dagnir Glaurunga (Túrin, Master of Doom, Bane of Glaurung).

Inexorable Fate, Unstoppable Maleficent Will

Here is a tale steeped in the ancient traditions of the premodern world. In his exploration of fate, Tolkien has crafted a heart-rending tale more akin to Antigone or Oedipus Rex. Here, through no fault of his own, Túrin is held captive to a Doom pronounced upon his family by a malevolent figure, never managing to rise above a single word of the evil curse. Túrin is a heroic figure, not blemished by any feature more wicked than any of our beloved modern heroes, and he surely does not deserve this fate. What's more, he strives heroically at every turn to rise above it, bending all his strength and faculty to the task. And yet he fails. Here is no modern exaltation of the free-willed individual. Here we glimpse into the fabric of things, and we shudder at the thought of powers (good and ill) which spin out our fate for us.

Recommendations

Tolkien fans will of course love this book (or perhaps hate it for the presence of pseudo-historical errors I did not notice). It is now part of the Tolkien Canon. It is eminently more readable than the difficult Silmarillion, though less so than the Hobbit or even The Lord of the Rings. Yet even for all its dry-at-times saga-like character and attention to details unimportant and cluttering to the eyes of many a reader, there is much to recommend the The Children of Húrin even to those who know nothing of any of the other of Tolkien's works. Perhaps for the reader which finds those other beloved tales too fantastic or too fairy-tale-like, The Children of Húrin would be a welcome dark tragedy.

Review of Snow Crash -- Neal Stephenson

Science fiction is a genre sustained by big ideas. These big ideas often involve technology or science, though sometimes authors venture into philosophy or even sociology. Sometimes, though, the big idea ladled out in prose for the reader is simply style.

Neal Stephenson's Snow Crash is an experiment in narrative look-and-feel, a taste of the future not quite realistic but eminently believable. It is a fast-cut MTV music video of striking images wrought in catchy, smile-inducing prose streaking along at breakneck speed. The reader knows exactly what he's getting into with what may be the most engrossing first chapter in science fiction:

The Deliverator belongs to an elite order, a hallowed subcategory. He's got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. His uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. Where his body has bony extremities, the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello, protects like a stack of telephone books.

...The Deliverator's car has enough potential energy packed into its batteries to fire a pound of bacon into the Asteroid Belt. Unlike a bimbo box or a Burb beater, the Deliverator's car unloads that power through gaping, gleaming, polished sphincters. When the Deliverator puts the hammer down, sh*t happens. You want to talk contact patches? Your car's tires have tiny contact patches, talk to the asphalt in four places the size of your tongue. The Deliverator's car has big sticky tires with contact patches the size of fat ladies' thighs. The Deliverator is in touch with the road, starts like a bad day, stops on a peseta.

Why is the Deliverator so equipped? Because people rely on him. He is a roll model. This is America....There's only four things we do better than anyone else

music
movies
microcode (software)
high-speed pizza delivery

The Deliverator used to make software. Still does, sometimes. But if life were a mellow elementary school run by well-meaning education Ph.D.s, the Deliverator's report card would say: "Hiro is so bright and creative but needs to work harder on his cooperation skills."

So now he has this other job. No brightness of creativity involved--but no cooperation either. Just a single principle: The Deliverator stands tall, your pie in thirty minutes or you can have it for free, shoot the driver, take his car, file a class action suit.

Never has the delivery of pizza been so utterly fascinating, exciting, dangerous, and sexy. The reader is wise to let this foretaste inform his expectations of the coming narrative. The plot content is no more surprising or nutritious than a slice of pepperoni pizza, but the ride itself is absolutely worth the trip.

Our tour guide on this chic ride around a cyberpunk future is Hiro Protagonist. Only in a sarcastic, media-drenched dystopian novel could an author get away with naming his protagonist Protagonist. Hiro is the quintessential hacker archetype: smart, resourceful, and connected. For a cyberpunk character, Hiro is also kind, charming, and good. Here is no burned-out drug addict, anti-hero type that usually anchors such stories. Hiro gets himself in trouble with the Mafia (who of course run the pizza delivery chain) and has to find a new job. He ends up stumbling onto a strange new drug being marketed both in the "real world" and in the 3D immersive internet of the future. The drug, called Snow Crash, is a vehicle for spreading both a computer virus and a mind-wiping DNA virus at the same time. What?

As Hiro learns more about who is making this virus and what its capable of, he gets himself more and more in over his head. He meets some colorful characters along the way: Y.T., the 15-year old blonde-haired ballistic-armored skateboard thrasher-ette; Ng, the Korean cyborg six-wheeled bus armed with miniature helicopters and cyborg rat-dogs; Raven, the mutant Aleutian harpooneer carrying a thermonuclear warhead strapped to his motorbike; and a long string of others.

By the middle of the book, it's clear that this is your standard conspiracy to enslave/destroy the whole world, and only Hiro and his friends have the know-how and tools to stop the evil-doers. But remember, it's not about the plot; the plot is an excuse to get there in style.

First Steps Toward a Wired View of the World

In order for a cyberpunk novel to be a cyberpunk novel, a significant portion of its action must occur in cyberspace. Here, we see Stephenson's imagination at its most realistic, having foreseen what is essentially today's massively multiplayer "game" called SecondLife. Millions of people walk around in a digital world, interacting with each other for business and pleasure. "Avatars", the digital representation of the user, vary infinitely, though newbies stick to the default options. Experienced users know that the Metaverse has different rules than the real one, and hackers reign supreme in such a world. Best of all, Stephenson doesn't take his hackers too seriously; other characters around them playfully call them antisocial nerds; and before nerdy was hip, there was Hiro.

Stephenson, who published Snow Crash in 1992, had the keen eyes of a reliable futurist. Even now, the narratives which take place in Stephenson's "Metaverse" read as nostalgic rather than merely dated.

A Tribal World of Fractured Individuality

The other setting for the story, the "real world" of the novel, is a fractured North America. Gone is any semblance of nationalism or stability. Anywhere you stand, you can look around and see "franchulates", relatively small enclaves of people within a protected border. These are not really small nations, cities, or villages, but rather collections of businesses and their patrons. These businesses are responsible for policing their immediate areas. Absolutely everything is contract work: jobs, police protection, medical attention, pizza delivery, weapons manufacturing, media, even citizenship and its privileges. This is a world completely swallowed by capitalism, everything has its price and there are no institutional forces driving or shaping the economy. But neither is this a philosophical analysis of (or attack on) capitalism; it is presented as more or less a neutral fact of the world, a fascinating setting in which the characters unravel the mystery of Snow Crash.

Even more fractured are the characters' self-conception of identity. As Hiro and others move in and out of each others' lives, loosely affiliated with their employers, passing through boundary-less social circles, and crossing effortlessly the market-identities of various franchulates, it is clear that these characters are adrift in identity crisis. They have no community, no belonging, no family, no committed relationships of any kind. There is a hollow emptiness that trails behind these interactions, the hint of loneliness in this fast-paced narrative.

Dreading the Infocalypse

The center of the plot is a thoroughly science fiction Big Idea. What if people could get infected with computer viruses? Spread them around like a disease? What if language, properly framed, could propagate these viruses just like digital language does in the world of the microchip? Stephenson takes a scoop of real world mythology, the Tower of Babel, and postulates that as an event in which the human world was innoculated against the spread of informational viruses. The Sumerian language, unlike any other in the world, was uniquely capable of carrying these languages because of its elemental nature (like the assembly or machine code of a computer). But someone "reprogrammed" human language, killing off the Sumerian language and confusing the world's languages. Only now, someone has rediscovered ancient techniques for programming people, forcing them to obey verbal commands and spreading around informational viruses that propagate the control. Hiro and his friends must stop the dark figures who are reviving this ancient menace, hackers against hackers, before the world descends into "Infocalypse", a mindless prehistoric despotism. What?

Real and Digital Humanity

In spite of the strangeness of the novel's inner plot, the novel sustains interest till the last page. Part of the reason for this is the chic and slick-ness of the prose, but even this cannot prop up a novel for 460+ pages. Stephenson paints rich and likable characters. In other cyberpunk stories, angst and frustration mark every interaction; no one can control their dark side and all is tragic quagmire; the reader is left with a nagging ennui. Not in Snow Crash. Here, Hiro has a good and reliable friend in Y.T. Y.T. is nice to people even though she is a punk attitude-spewing teenage girl. When things get serious, her tough-chick facade cracks. Y.T. meets Uncle Enzo, the head of the Mafia franchulate, and their interactions are some of the most authentic, charming, and thoroughly human in the novel. For a story which spends much of its time in a digital playground, this novel is firmly grounded in human relationships, however fragmented they may be.

Recommendations

Readers must beware that cyberpunk fiction in general is rife with foul language, violence, sex, and drugs; Snow Crash has plenty of the first. As far as violence goes, it is an action-oriented plot with frequent armed conflict, but for the most part it is much less brutal than most other similar fare. There is only one sex scene in the book, though it is somewhat disturbing because of the characters involved. And for a cyberpunk novel, there is almost no drug culture; the only drug making its presence felt is the eponymous Snow Crash.

For readers who love science fiction, this is a must-have book. It stands with Neuromancer at the genesis of cyberpunk fiction and is one of the fullest and purest expressions of the form. While the center of the plot may be a little silly (Sumerian Enki programmers and Asherah temple prostitutes, what?), the book is a sheer pleasure to read with lots to see and ponder along the way. More than many other books of its kind, it bears repeated readings. Even more rare, it inspires the desire to pull it off the shelf and read a chapter for the flavor it leaves in your mind.

Review of The Book of Three -- Lloyd Alexander

The fairy-rich world of Welsh mythology has given birth to countless fantasy stories in the past 30 years. The mythology of the Mabinogion has created for itself an entire subgenre of literature which has had resounding influences on diverse modern figures such as Charles De Lint, Marion Zimmer Bradley, and Susanna Clark.

One of the earliest authors to explore Welsh imagery and themes for young adult literature was Lloyd Alexander. His Chronicles of Prydain cycle of novels have been best sellers for decades, still read with joy by young and old alike.

The first of five Prydain novels, The Book of Three begins with Taran the Assistant Pig-Keeper and his dreams of adventure. By the end of a short chapter one, Taran is already trying to forge a sword out of steel better put to use in horseshoes. Hen Wen, the oracular pig which Taran tends escapes into the woods beyond his small village, and Taran carelessly chases after her despite warnings from his master. It is said there is a new war captain abroad, the Horned King, which rides at the head of the hosts of Annuvin, the dark underworld of Prydain.

Heedless and headstrong, Taran wanders into the woods alone, and stumbles upon a famous prince named Gwydion, who turns out not only to be a swordsman but a wizard as well. Taran quickly falls into step with Gwydion, learning more of the Horned King and his master, Arawn Lord of Annuvin. Their adventures introduce them to other characters: the smart and plucky heroine Eilonwy, the beast-child Gurgi, the colorful bard Fflewddur Fflam, and the dour dwarf Doli. Together, the companions move from one adventure to the next, eventually facing the Horned King himself in the midst of a great battle between the forces of Annuvin and Gwydion's Fortress of Don.

Above all, The Book of Three is the story of Taran beginning his journey to manhood, along the way discovering that heroism is usually pressing on in spite of fear and gloom because there is no other choice. Near the end of the book, Taran, back at home, is talking with his old master Dallben, fearful that he didn't make much of a hero during his adventures:

"Well, now," Dallben said, "I should like the two of us to speak quietly to each other. First, I am interested to learn what you think of being a hero. I daresay you feel rather proud of yourself. Although," he added, "I do not gain that impression from your face."

"I have no just cause for pride," Taran said, taking his usual place on the familiar bench. [he explains how he had little to do with victory during each step of the adventure, his companions doing most of what seemed like the real work]..."As for me, what I mostly did was make mistakes."

"My, my," said Dallben, "those are complaints enough to dampen the merriest feast. Though what you say may be true, you have cause for a certain pride nevertheless. It was you who held the companions together and led them. You did what you set out to do, and Hen Wen is safely back with us. If you made mistakes, you recognize them. As I told you, there are times when the seeking counts more than the finding."

..."Yes, but that is not all that troubles me. I have dreamed often of Caer Dallben [Taran's home village] and I love it--and you and Coll--more than ever. I asked for nothing better than to be at home, and my heart rejoices. Yet it is a curious feeling. I have returned to the chamber I slept in and found it smaller than I remember. The fields are beautiful, yet not quite as I recalled them. And I am troubled, for I wonder now if I am to be a stranger in my own home."

Dallben shook his head. "No, that you shall never be. But it is not Caer Dallben which has grown smaller. You have grown bigger. That is the way of it."

Finding Your Way in the World

The Book of Three, and in many ways, the whole cycle of Prydain, is the story of a young man growing up, at that verge when the hearth is oppressive and all the world is a stage for adventure. This is not an unknown storyline; Joseph Campbell's hero's journey admirably describes the trajectory and major movements of the novel, though with four books to go, The Book of Three is only the beginning. But here we sense that we will grow up with Taran, and unlike many books who attempt to lead us through the hero's journey, this one resonates powerfully with the shared experience of the would-be hero in all of us.

Recommendations

This is a book to read aloud to your children. It has action, adventure, vivid imagery, easy to read pages and short chapters. Very likely, Taran's adventures will linger long in their minds, a memory of literary adventures they will treasure. It is also a book to be enjoyed by adults who look back fondly on their own steps of leaving the hearth to seek adventure in the wider world, a wistful remembrance of headstrong youth, and yet sometimes also long for the comfort of home never quite to be found again.

Review of Tales of the Dying Earth -- Jack Vance

Tales of the Dying Earth is a collection of four novels in Jack Vance's Tales of the Dying Earth series. The books are set on a far future earth so late in its history that the sun itself could fade into darkness at any time, and whose inhabitants seem only to bide their time until the curtain falls on earth forever.

Of the four novels that comprise the omnibus, only two are directly connected. The first volume, The Dying Earth, is essentially a collection of short stories about different characters: Turjan of Miir, Mazirian the Magician, Liane the Wayfarer, Ulan Dhor, and others. In the first of these stories, Turjan of Miir create twin golem-like women, T'sais and T'sain, who frequent several of the following stories, playing major and minor parts. The last story in this first book, mostly unrelated to the others, introduces a character called Guyal of Sfere, who goes on a quest to discover a source of answers to his endless "why?" questions.

The second two books in the omnibus, The Eyes of Overworld and Cugel's Saga, center around the character Cugel, a clever and lazy anti-hero who simply wants to find a state of ease somewhere to satisfy his endless appetites. He cannot fight; he can only talk and scheme. These he does endlessly, moving from one series of adventures to the next.

The last book, Rhialto the Marvellous, begins again with a new set of characters centering on Rhialto, an intelligent scheming magician among intelligent scheming magicians. A series of stories end in a search for a lost magician on the very last planet at the end of the universe.


Technical Style for a Logical World

Vance uses the series of short stories to paint a broad picture of the Dying Earth and its people. His use of language is precise, including his choice of names for imaginary places, people, and things. Vance creates tightly formed societies which adhere to strict behaviors. Carefully positioned in the path of specifically shaped characters, these places and people interact with the characters to create riddle-like experiments.

His prose style is unique: a combination of dry wit with utterly unreal dialogue which seems stilted at first, but quickly becomes part of the fascinating scenery of the world. Here is a sample:

Guyal of Sfere had been born apart from his fellows and early proved a source of vexation for his sire. Normal in outward configuration, there existed within his mind a void which ached for nourishment. It was as if a spell had been cast upon his birth, a harrassment visited on the child in a spirit of sardonic mockery, so that every occurrence, no matter how trifling, became a source of wonder and amazement. Even as young as four seasons he was expounding such inquiries as:

"Why do squares have more sides than triangles?"
"How will we see when the sun goes dark?"
"Do flowers grow under the ocean?"
"Do stars hiss and sizzle when rain comes by night?"
To which his impatient sire gave such answers as:
"So it was ordained by the Pragmatica; squares and triangles must obey the rote."
"We will be forced to grope and feel our way."
"I have never verified this matter; only the Curator would know."
"By no means, since the stars are high above the rain, higher even than the highest clouds, and swim in rarefied air where rain will never breed."

Though set in a far future earth, this is by no means a science fiction book. It is pure fantasy, as evidenced by the plot arcs which play frequently with logic puzzles, riddles, and human nature in ways more appropriate to fairy tales.


Vision and Meaning in Tales from the Dying Earth

Upon reading tales from this omnibus, the reader will frequently find a wry smile on his face. These stories are light-hearted, the characters rarely suffer serious injury or loss, and many of the adventures are cast in sarcastic, comedic tone. This is a book to enjoy in short or long stretches, savoring the fascinating puzzles and intricate out-workings of Vance's ordered mind.

At a distance, Vance shows us a world on the verge of a cold, quiet death. The people under the dying sun are either willfully oblivious to their looming fate or nervous but powerless to affect its approach. Perhaps the reader is invited to throw a glance over his own shoulder, wondering what fate approaches in the far distance; to glimpse the vastness of his own powerlessness and temporality. But, in the spirit of Vance's light-hearted and whimsical style, we shrug our shoulders and get back to the diversions at hand.


Recommendations

This is a must-have book. Keep it alongside a set of good anthologies. Pick it up when you need something light to read between longer works, enjoying the relaxed pace, episodic adventures, and wondrous sights revealed by Vance's careful hand.