Villains by Necessity, by Eve Forward (Tor 1995)

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One of the great tropes of the fantasy genre is the high epic fantasy, the story of Good vs. Evil in an all-out war to determine the fate of the world. Heroic warriors and paladins, mighty wizards, cunning rogues, elegant elven archers, and magical weapons. Evil overlords, trolls and orcs and goblins, the legions of darkness. In the end, Good always wins, right? Now, see the story told from a decidedly different point of view, as the bad guys get their chance to shine.

In Eve Forward’s debut novel, Villains by Necessity, the final battle between Good and Evil has been over for a century, with Good triumphant at last, and the Six Lands have enjoyed peace and prosperity ever since. The days are brighter, the nights shorter. The old dungeons have been cleaned out, the evil temples burned or converted, the thieves’ guilds disbanded. No longer do those of evil tendencies have to labor under their social deformities; spells exist to make criminals and their ilk into productive, satisfied members of society. In fact, only a handful of “villains” exist, and they’re downright bored with the way things are going. So when the elven Archwizard Mizzamir, last surviving Hero of the Great War, turns his sights to converting them to Good, it’s up to our accidental heroes to do something drastic.

Sam is the black-clad last assassin in the world. Arcie is his boon companion, a short, hairy-footed rogue, thief, and pickpocket. Valerie is a man-eating dark sorceress from an underground kingdom. Kaylana is the last of the Druids, dedicated to maintaining a balance between Good and Evil. Robin is a centaur minstrel, secretly spying for the good guys. Blackmail is a cursed knight trapped in a suit of blackened plate armor. These six are all that stands between what is, and what was, and what could be. They have to find the six fragments of the magical Key, which alone can unlock the final Darkportal and release Evil back into the world. If they don’t, the world risks being sublimated into pure Goodness… and destroyed.

The six unwilling heroes will undergo magical tasks of skill and bravery, cunning and strength, magic and will, each one created by one of the six great Heroes. Tests that have proven fatal for the unworthy. And they have to stop fighting amongst themselves long enough to do so. But can Evil work together to defeat Good, or will their innate natures always overcome them? Mizzamir and his friends certainly believe so; in fact, they’re counting on it.

This is epic fantasy as it’s rarely seen. Forward manages to imbue the “villains” of the story with such character and personality, that even at their worst, one feels like cheering them on against the misguided good guys. She takes the stereotypes and generalizations of the heroic quest, and turns them inside out. Root for the bad guys; they’ve earned the right for a little support. They may be thieves, murderers, flesh-eating sorcereresses, spies, and people of exceedingly questionable morality, banded together out of enlightened self-interest and a desire for survival, their loyalties balanced on razor-sharp edges, but when the chips are down, they have what it takes to play in the big leagues. There’s riddles to unravel, traps to undo, tests to pass, temptation to avoid, and gods to outwit. And for those with more than a passing familiarity with epic fantasy Role-Playing Games, don’t miss Forward’s hilarious send-up and parody not just of Tolkien, but also of the much-famed Dragonlance characters.

Villains by Necessity is a valuable, fresh look at an overplayed, often-stale subset of the fantasy genre, well-written and fast-paced. It’s one of those books I pick up and reread every few months or year, just for the enjoyment. I’ll read almost any book once; it takes a true gem for me to read it a dozen times or more. If you can find it, check it out.

The Woad to Wuin, by Peter David (Pocket, 2002)

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Fortune’s own fool, destiny’s tool, the gods’ plaything, the antihero of the mythical Middle Ages, Sir Apropos of Nothing himself is back, in another gloriously epic tale of one man caught up in matters beyond his ken. Born to the lowliest of origins, the product of a gang of knights assaulting his prostitute mother, dedicated to the ideals of lying, cheating, scheming, wealth-seeking and self-preservation, lame of leg and cold of heart, Apropos is the last person anyone, including himself, would tap as a hero. Certainly, everytime he’s ever thought himself to be of importance, he’s turned out to be the bit player in someone else’s story. And when one tries to grab Fate by the horns, one can expect to get kneed in the groin for it, or so he might say.

After the events of Sir Apropos of Nothing, our reluctant hero has fled for parts unknown, eager to leave behind the many enemies and bad memories. After a small misadventure involving a band of dwarfs and a magic ring, Apropos escapes being pulled into other peoples’ stories, and sets himself up as the owner of a tavern called Bugger Hall. All’s quiet, right?

Wrong.

When the magic weaver known as Sharee, Apropos’ occasional ally, frequent foil, and on-again off-again enemy, shows up, trouble is right behind her. There’s the Visionary who’s written Apropos’ fate down on paper, the belligerent barbarian Lord Beliquose, and the mystic gem called the Eye of the Beholder. Just like that, with his tavern in flames, Apropos is thrust forth into the sort of adventures he truly hates. The sort involving underground kingdoms and the restless spectres of dead races. The sort involving barbarian lords tracking him. The sort that invariably include an arrow to the ass, and near-dying of hunger and thirst in the Tragic Waste. And all of that, mind you, is just the appetizer, as Apropos’ world turns topsy-turvy. When he wakes, months have passed. He’s strong, invincible, and the Peacelord of a vicious horde of warriors who have terrorized the land of Wuin. And he has no memory of how he could have gone from underdog to top dog, from self-professed coward to conqueror of nations. And what’s up with the beautiful Lady Kate, his beloved companion? When certain old enemies show up, it’s bound to get ugly. But is Apropos the star of his own epic at long last, or just an accidental bystander, again? One thing’s for certain: it won’t be dull.

Peter David is at his best writing three-dimensional, fully-realized, flawed characters. Apropos is a self-aware antihero, the sort of person whom no one in their right mind should ever trust, who balances distinct unpleasantness with all-too-familiar self-serving notions. It’s hard to hate Apropos for taking the easy way out when we can sympathize with him. He’s a bit of a sleaze, an opportunist, a cad, a rogue, and rather easily manipulated, not to mention easily tempted by power and motivated by revenge. So he’s no worse than the average politician or used car salesman, so what? He’s believable. He’s real. He’s pitiable to an extent. And he’s not afraid to admit his own failings, usually while he’s trying to escape a bad situation.

What could have been a simple parody of epic fantasy has instead been used to skewer the entire genre and roast it over the flames. There’s some pretty subtle commentary about the nature and existence not just of the heroes of these epics, but of the villains they go up against, and the poor schlubs caught in the middle. Right when The Lord of the Rings is big, it helps to have someone else come along and reduce it to half a dozen pages and point out how ridiculous it might seem from the average point of view. Don’t get me wrong; this isn’t some sly, underhanded, overly intelligent, occasionally mean, sometimes tragicomic satire of epic fantasy from one of the field’s more cunning writers — oh wait, maybe it is.

In the end, The Woad to Wuin is just what it seems: another great story from Peter David, and well worth the read. Once again, he delivers the goods, in a way very few others would even attempt.

The Way of Wizards, by Tom Cross (Andrews McMeel Publishing, 2001)

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Undoubtedly inspired by the wave of wizardphilia that’s swept the world ever since Harry Potter hit that magical zeitgeist switch, The Way of Wizards is a full-color coffee table art book in the same tradition as Brian Froud’s Faeries, except that this goes into the world and ways and mysteries of the wizards.

It’s both written and fully illustrated by Tom Cross, who describes his style of blending techniques and inspirations into his artwork as “nature folklore.”

It starts out with a chapter on defining wizards: their origins, the source of their power, and their rhyme and reason. Like many of these books, it’s written in a scholarly fashion, as if initiating a new apprentice or wizard into their world. It takes us on a journey of the Wizard’s Council, the Hall of Beards, the Cave of Names, the University of Wizardry itself. There’s a look at a wizard’s tower, and the reason they like to live in such strange places. Thus might you look for -and find- wizards, if you know where to seek them.

It goes into more detail, then, showing us how the wizards might divide themselves, so that four of them — the most powerful — each oversee an element: Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and how they relate to the appropriate colors for each element. There’s Star Weaver, the wizard of Air, and the fairies he watches over as part of his role. There’s Wind Sifter, wizard of Earth, who likewise has dominion over the various races of elves, and all the green things of nature. Flame Catcher is the wizard of Fire, and his people are the many dwarves and under-dwellers. Finally, there’s Shell Caster, wizard of Water, and guardian of the merfolk.

A chapter devotes itself to tools of the trade, explaining such things as wands, pointy hats, amulets, staves, even the robes. Who’d ever have guessed that a wizard’s pointy hat acts as a lightning rod for magic?

Then we have information on the gatherings and societies of wizards. The book covers places such as the mighty University of Magic, the School of Tutelage and the Academy of Instruction, where apprentices go to learn all they must before they can become wizards in their own right. There’s also the College of Supernatural Knowledge, and the Institute of Wizdom, which each has a role to fulfill.

And more: wizard holidays, communing with nature and animals, trapping magic, affecting weather, the uses for flowers and metals and jewels. Wizards who go to war and do battle magically. Magic in all its forms.

The true strength of this book is definitely the artwork. Cross’ style is very evocative, fully painted and bursting with color and life on every page.

He creates this whole world from scratch, and populates it with wizards and creatures of all descriptions, lovingly detailing dozens of fairies and elves and mythical beasts. He captures the essence of magical items, and details every stone in their towers with the same precision. As artistic endeavors go, this is truly a sight to behold.

Comparatively, I found the text to be a bit silly, and hard to believe in, especially with the names (as above, the various elemental wizards). I had trouble taking it all seriously enough to let myself fall into the world created. A younger audience will undoubtedly love it, and be absolutely enthralled with the bright, lively artwork. However, don’t go in to this thinking it’ll be a serious or terribly adult read. Embrace your inner child first, if you want to look at this book properly.

All in all, I find The Way of Wizards to be absolutely beautiful in terms of the illustrations, but a bit lacking where the text is concerned. Certainly it’s quite thorough, drawing upon a wealth of legend and lore and creating something new, but it doesn’t ring like some books do. At a hefty $34.95 retail, you’ll want to look through it for yourself before committing.

The Warslayer, by Rosemary Edghill (Baen, 2002)

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A common occurrence in the fantasy genre is to take someone from our (the real) world, and plunge them headfirst into a fantasy world, one based on magic or populated with creatures of myth, thus allowing the author to play with culture shock and upset all sorts of cultural expectations. Certainly, the plot is nothing new; we’ve seen it any number of times, whether it’s played seriously, such as in the Chronicles of Thomas Covenant or mostly seriously, in Terry Brooks’ Magic Kingdom For Sale – Sold! series. A few years back, there was Lost in Translation by Margaret Ball, in which a teenage girl is cast into a world of magic. Certain stories in the Chicks in Chainmail series of anthologies have played with the idea of a suburban mother who commutes: mommy by night, barbarian warrior by day. Even the science fiction genre has found a way to get in on the act with a twist: Not only do your heroes get yanked out of their ordinary world into one they don’t quite understand, but it’s because they’ve been mistaken for a role they play. This can be taken seriously, or played for laughs, such as with the movie, Galaxy Quest. Even classics, such as Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz, and the Narnia series have made free use of the “stranger in a strange land” motif to great effect. So with such a studied and venerable heritage, how can one find something new to say?

Easy, just take the plunge. In The Warslayer, a book which expands and elaborates upon one of the stories in the aforementioned Chicks in Chainmail anthologies, Rosemary Edgehill takes an actress and throws her headfirst into an all new world. Here’s the twist. She’s really Glory McArdle, former Australian gymnast, portraying Vixen the Slayer, Elizabethan-era demon hunter, in the highly popular syndicated television series, The Incredibly True Adventures of Vixen the Slayer. (Think Buffy crossed with Xena, and set in the Elizabethan era, and you’re pretty much dead on target.) The problem is, the strange people that come and visit her while she’s on tour in America think Glory really is Vixen. And since they’ve bred violence and war out of their race, and a very nasty creature called the Warmother has escaped an age-old imprisonment, they need a Hero.

Like we didn’t see this coming. Predictably, it’s up to Glory to take up the sword and stakes of Vixen the Slayer, and go forth to save the day, earning the mantle of hero and living up to the immense trust placed in her. What’s a girl to do? Take one ex-Olympic gymnast and a healthy dose of 21st century ingenuity, throw in some native magic, pit them against the unkillable Warmother and her legions of doom, and watch out!

There’s not much more one can say for the plot in general. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Because while Vixen — I mean Glory — is learning how to be a hero and going up against the Warmother, she’ll find her true potential and discover that there’s a far deeper, stranger game being played. She’s not the only one with a role to play…

The Warslayer is quick and funny, and deceptively enjoyable. The plot and concept look like pure camp, but Edghill is capable of keeping it from falling into pure farce. Sure, on the surface it may seem simple, but there’s a lot more going on when you take a second look, and even our heroine will be surprised by the revelations. And it really gets messy when an infrequent costar of hers turns up in the same world… working for the wrong team.

The real bonuses in this book come with the introduction, which fellow author Greg Cox delivers in the form of an essay about the origins and popularity of The Incredibly True Adventures of Vixen the Slayer as though it really existed. This is the sort of in-depth, thoughtful essay you’d expect to see in any unauthorized handbook for a popular show (and we’ve seen more than a few of those for Xena, Buffy, and friends, haven’t we?); and with the appendix, which gives us loving and insightful summaries into the first (and only so far) season of Vixen the Slayer. Anachronisms, continuity blips, and cameos be damned, I think I’ve seen this show on late at night on a syndicated channel! Or maybe it’s just a little too convincing…

All in all, The Warslayer suffers from a number of preconceptions, which it does its best to encourage. From the title (as generic and hack-and-slash as any Conan) to the cover art (redhead with sword and improbable corset facing off against angry monster) to the concept (star of cheesy syndicated action show is recruited to live the part she plays), it seems like it shouldn’t work. On the contrary. I thoroughly enjoyed this book, and wouldn’t mind seeing more adventures of “Vixen” in the future. This book overcomes the seeming flaws, to reveal that in truth, they were all part of the act. If you enjoy fantasy with a twist, you might get a kick out of The Warslayer: An Incredibly True Adventure of Vixen the Slayer.

The Three Musketeers (Disney, 1993)

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We all have those perfect films, the ones in which everything comes together, the story shines, the characters click, and the entire movie is resonate. That rare movie you can watch unlimited times, and keep going back for more. Where nothing disappoints, and everything excites. Forget what the critics say, forget what your friends say, forget everything but that, for you, this movie is damned near perfect. We all have those pantheons in our heads. And for me, the 1993 Disney version of The Three Musketeers ranks right up there as one of my all-time favorites.

I’ve never read the novel by Alexandre Dumas. Lord knows I’ve tried but, to be honest, epic French fiction just isn’t my thing at all. I prefer what others make of the stories far more than I do the originals. I like the concepts, the themes, the nature of the stories. I enjoy stories told on such broad, sweeping levels with such multi-layered, three-dimensional strokes. I enjoy Les Miserables. I greatly enjoyed the recent Count of Monte Cristo remake. And I hold The Three Musketeers up as an example of how to do something right.

I understand that they took more than a few liberties in trying to compress the original French paperweight into a feature-length film. How many subplots, characters, and themes must have been cast by the wayside? What language was ripped to shreds or replaced entirely? How could anyone hope to stay absolutely true to the original text? Well, as I said to those who doubted The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring, “Accept change.” Accept that what they did for this movie was to take the book, the very essence of the story, and distill it down into its barest, most profound nature, and start fresh.

The basic storyline is, at its root, simple: The greatest of King Louis’ Musketeers, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, must prevent the evil Cardinal Richelieu from securing an alliance with the English Duke of Buckingham, assassinating King Louis XIV, and taking over France. They’re joined by an eager newcomer and would-be Musketeer, D’Artagnan, who desperately seeks to live up to his slain father’s example of heroism. To complicate matters, the Musketeers have been disbanded, and our heroes are on the run from the Cardinal’s men and allies, including the expelled Musketeer, Rochefort, and the deadly femme fatale, Lady Sabine DeWinter. It’s an exciting and danger-fraught race against time to save the King and France. That’s the basic story. It’s filled with twists and turns, chases and duels, captures and escapes. D’Artagnan, in particular, falls into trouble with frightening regularity, but always at the right time to overhear a crucial detail or foil a vital part of the evil plan. Meanwhile, the others struggle with their various quirks and quips, though it must be said, the movie goes heavy on quips and action, relatively light on the more profound elements.

The characters shine; the actors have just the right chemistry, playing off one another with near-perfect comic timing. Charlie Sheen stars as the religious (yet attractive to women) Aramis, while Keifer Sutherland takes a turn as the intense, driven “leader” of the group, Athos, whose shadowed past may rise up to bite him once again. It’s a sad fact that, when I try to recall this movie, the two of them manage to blend into one uber-Musketeer, overshadowed as they are by the rest of their illustrious companions. Neither Sheen nor Sutherland disappoint, they merely have trouble standing out from one another… a rare fault in an otherwise wonderful movie. Oliver Platt, as the cheerfully over-the-top Porthos, steals the show every chance he gets. This Porthos is confident, creative, and armed with a saucy or pithy quip for every occasion. Spouting sayings like, ‘This scarf was a gift to me from the Tzarina of Tokyo” and “This Bible belonged to the Empress of America”, sporting nifty-keen weapons such as a sword-breaker and a keenly-thrown bolo, he swaggers through the movie shamelessly. I’ve always enjoyed Oliver Platt’s work; his range of facial expression and ability to play comic characters without descending into buffoonery has always been a highlight of any movie he’s in. In this film, he rules. He’s perhaps the most anachronistic, his phrasings often suspiciously modern but, in the atmosphere he brings with him, it’s acceptable. Chris O’ Donnell turns in a brilliant performance as the wide-eyed, Musketeer-idolizing, overconfident neophyte, capable of arranging three duels in one day and believing he’ll survive them all. A sucker for a pretty face, the stranger in the crowd, he’s set up as the viewpoint for the story, so that we follow him through the action. Through this oft-used but still serviceable trope, we are introduced to the world of the Musketeers from the viewpoint of someone lacking in that experience.

The villains are every bit as delightful as the heroes. Tim Curry is larger-than-life, a moustache-twirling, sneering evil genius, in the guise of Cardinal Richelieu. He’s capable of ordering a man’s death or plotting an assassination, able to sway people with his used car salesman oily charm, perfectly at home sweeping through rooms in his blood-red robes. He’s ambitious and dangerous, without mercy or hope of redemption, broadly painted as the bad guy, and he excels. His trusty accomplice, the one-eyed ex-Musketeer, Rochefort (played by Michael Wincott), is dark and sinister, speaking his pronouncements of doom in a gravelly voice. Dressed in black, he makes the perfect right-hand-villain, his personal history with the Musketeers giving their exchanges that snap and bite you only find among ex-coworkers or ex-lovers. And he’s set up as D’Artagnan’s arch-enemy, the first true test of his heroic status, in a clever manner. Rebecca De Mornay is a seductive ice queen as Lady Sabine DeWinter, the Cardinal’s distrusting messenger and occasional personal foil. She’s always in control, cool and collected, pale and beautiful, and the most dangerous of the lot.

This is a movie with an ear for dialogue and a way with snappy repartee. The Musketeers banter to one another while barreling along on a stolen coach, the Cardinal’s men in hot pursuit. D’Artagnan trades insults with Porthos and friends. Lady DeWinter and the Cardinal threaten each other as each tests the other’s resolve. Perhaps it’s a bit too light and witty at times, but it’s fun all the same.

The action sequences are exciting, swashbuckling sword-fights that take advantage of multiple levels, runaway horses, stairs, chandeliers, boats, and various opponents. This is no wire-fighting extravaganza as the recent Musketeer was but, in its own way, these sequences are just as thrilling.

Throw in an elegant soundtrack featuring the Bryan Adams/Rod Stewart/Sting collaboration “All For Love”, and sweeping operatic symphonies in the background, exquisite costuming and gorgeous locations for the scenery and, all in all, what you have is a genuinely enjoyable, unashamedly fun movie that takes the very best of The Three Musketeers and translates them for a new audience. Disney may not always respect the source material (as witnessed by the animated Hunchback of Notre Dame), but when they do something right, they really outdo themselves.

The Three Musketeers was directed by Stephen Herek, and adapted from the original novel by Alexandre Dumas for screenplay by David Loughery. It starred Chris O’Donnell (D’Artagnan), Keifer Sutherland (Athos), Charlie Sheen (Aramis), Oliver Platt (Porthos), Tim Curry (Cardinal Richelieu), Rebecca De Mornay (Lady DeWinter), Michael Wincott (Rochefort), Hugh O’Conor (King Louis XIV), Julie Delpy (Constance) and Gabrielle Anwar (Queen Anne). It runs 105 minutes and is available on tape or DVD.

The Summer Country, by James A. Hetley (Ace, 2002)

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“They have dungeons in the Summer Country. They have slaves in the Summer Country. Camelot is dead. Arthur is dead. Law is dead. Power rules.”

When two worlds collide, lives are thrown into turmoil. People will live, people will die, and magic will rage freely. Maureen Pierce is twenty-eight, but looks young for her age. She works as a convenience store clerk, in the town of Naskeag Falls, Maine. She lives with her wilder, hard-partying sister Jo. Almost psychotically afraid of intimacy, she carries a Smith and Wesson Chief’s Special, .38, and she’s not afraid to use it. And it doesn’t do her a damn bit of good when a dark, squat, terrifying stranger stalks her one wintry night. That’s when everything she knows is shoved into a blender and turned to mush. That’s when the mysterious Brian Albion appears from nowhere to save her, destroying the seemingly unkillable man he calls Liam, incinerating the body before it can come back to life. That’s when Brian tells Maureen that magic still exists, and she’s the newest pawn in a game that has stretched on for centuries…

Enter the Old Ones, the beings of Celtic myth. The creatures of Camelot, of Arthurian legend, of the Summer Country. Dougal, of Clan MacKenzie, who delights in controlling things, turning them into weapons. Fiona, whose sorceries are as dark as her heart. Her twin brother Sean, vicious and beautiful. These three Old Ones have plans for Maureen, for the Blood and Power she carries deep within her, traits which could make her very useful as a weapon, a tool, a toy, or a slave.

The only thing standing between the three as they plot against one another to gain control of Maureen is Brian, but can he be trusted? Part of the enigmatic Pendragon Order, an Old One in his own right, and it just so happens he’s Fiona’s brother. What’s his game? Who can Maureen rely on? Quite simply… no one but herself.

Before it’s over, Maureen and her sister Jo, and Jo’s boyfriend David, will be swept up into a world of magic, treachery, beauty, pain, horror, and ecstacy. Maureen will be forced to confront her deepest fears and troubles, and overcome them, or live forever as a slave in a world that could give her what she’s always wanted. They’ll all need to dig deep to find the strengths to outwit immortal, capricious beings of immense power.

The Summer Country evokes some of the best of Charles de Lint, with roots both in gritty urban reality, and a fantastic otherworld filled with dangers and magic. It draws deeply from classical stories and traditional Celtic myth, all the while putting on a slightly new spin. Though we get to know Fiona, Sean, Dougal, and Brian quite well, we can never say we truly understand them. They’re not evil so much as selfish, self-absorbed, amoral, thinking of their own needs and desires above all else, and not caring who gets hurt along the way. They don’t subscribe to conventional morality or scruples, and that makes them all the more alien. In short, they’re the Fae of Tam Lin, of Thomas the Rhymer, of La Belle Dame Sans Merci, the otherworldly creatures named the Fair Folk because you fear or respect them, but don’t know or trust them. This is part of The Summer Country’s strength, that it can take the Fae back to their purest, scariest incarnations and still make them viable point-of-view characters. Also, Hetley’s sense of characterization is quite strong. Maureen is a broken soul, have no doubt, and we’re given a good, believable look at the ruins of her psyche and the struggle she faces in becoming whole and functioning again.

The Summer Country is as merciless and uncompromising as the Fae themselves, taking no prisoners in its portrayal of two worlds colliding and the culture clash created as a result. It’s the sort of book that makes me want more of the same. Hell, it’s the sort of book that makes me enjoy Celtic myth all over again. Considering that this is James Hetley’s first novel, it looks like we’ve got a real talent to watch out for. I highly recommend this book for lovers of Celtic myth, fantasy, and magic realism. It’s got all the right elements, and very few stumbling blocks (there’s a certain emphasis on the physical pleasures and the need for breeding that some might find disconcerting) to disqualify it. In short, go find this, and hope there’s more to come.

Flash Girls, The Return of Pansy Smith and Violet Jones (SteelDragon Press/Spin Art, 1993)

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“I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even death…”
–Professor Severus Snape, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

The above quote reflects the near-impossible task I’ve been struggling with for months; namely, how to describe and review The Return of Pansy Smith and Violet Jones, the first release by Emma Bull and Lorraine Garland in their pseudoimaginary guises as the musical duo known as the Flash Girls. I’ve tried to find the right words to describe something so ineffably unique, so different from the normal run of things, that it truly would have been easier to bottle fame and brew glory. Even as my editors graduated from worried emails to threatening letters to sending out the Green Man Brute Squad to try and chain me to my desk, even as my wife began to wonder why I kept muttering ‘Flash Girls… Flash Girls…’ in my sleep, even as the cats complained about litterboxes gone forgotten while I concentrated on this problem, I worried about how to explain the Flash Girls, much less explain why they’re worth listening to. Finally, as I was on the run from the secret Green Man Internal Inquisitors, being chased by nuns with guns and monks with trained monkeys over the wilds of Scotland, and taking refuge in the Goblin Market, a solution came to me. And all it would cost would be my soul… That being something I have no right to sell, I bartered away one of the much-coveted War For the Oaks movie trailers, in exchange for this advice: “Start from the beginning.”

Who are the Flash Girls? That depends on who you ask. On one level, they are, as I’ve said, Emma Bull and the Fabulous Lorraine Garland. Emma Bull is best known around these parts as one of our favorite authors, having written War For The Oaks, Bone Dance, Finder and more, both alone and in collaboration with her husband, Will Shetterly. She’s long been associated with the Minneapolis-based writer’s group known as the Scribblies, and currently lives in southern California, where she’s hoping to take over the world through song and written word. The Fabulous Lorraine refuses to divulge anything about herself more profound than that she’s from Michigan, may or may not be descended from space aliens, and is extraordinarily musically inclined. Together, the duo combine folk, Gothic, traditional, and contemporary styles for a truly unique listening experience.

On a second level, the Flash Girls are Pansy Smith and Violet Jones, a musical pair whose origins are shrouded in mystery and doubt. They may have toured Europe. They may have performed in a movie in 1932. They were almost reunited in the 1950s on “This Is Your Life” but that fell through. Due to the unreliability of sources and witnesses, it’s been said that “… it sounds like [Emma and Lorraine] have devoted [their] lives to recreating the musical achievements of two women who might not even have existed.” It seems as though no one knows the truth, though Neil Gaiman has come the closest of any outsider. For a transcript of his conversation, see the liner notes of The Return of Pansy Smith and Violet Jones, reprinted here.

On a third level, and this one verifiable, Pansy Smith and Violet Jones were two supporting characters in the creator-owned Chris Claremont comic book, Sovereign Seven, in which seven extradimensionally-stranded superheroes end up at a mysterious coffeehouse, and meet two equally mysterious women, who may or may not be all they seem to be. That Chris Claremont has long been a fan of the Flash Girls, and before them, Cats Laughing (Emma Bull’s previous band), often sneaking them into his comics, is either a coincidence, or a cunning plan.

So then. Emma Bull and the Fabulous Lorraine either are, or are not, trying to recreate the musical accomplishments of a pair of musicians who may, or may not have actually existed. -Someone-, however, has released three albums (besides this, they’ve done Maurice and I and Play Each Morning Wild Queen). What’s truth, and what’s fiction?

Might as well ask “What’s signal and what’s noise?” It’s much more appropriate, given the circumstances.

I’ve said that the Flash Girls have a unique sound. Well, yes. Many things have a unique sound. Three monkeys gargling while banging their heads on steel drums has a unique sound. But trust me, the Flash Girls are far, far better. For one thing, Neil Gaiman writes some of their songs. Perhaps that’s how they ended up with the quirky Goth-romance “Postmortem On Our Love”, which will forever change the way you look at a relationship…. (with lyrics like “I’ve been dissecting all the letters that you sent me/ Slicing through them looking for the real you/Cutting through the fat and gristle of each torturous epistle/Trying to work out what to do”).

Besides that song, Gaiman is also credited or co-credited on “Riding the Flame/Little Beggarman”, “Tea and Corpses”, “Sonnet in the Dark” and “The Herring Song”. With topics ranging from comically poisoned tea, to a woman’s lifelong enjoyment of herrings, mixing dark imagery and an even darker absurdity, he brings a certain bizarre genius to the lyrics, that’s matched in kind by Lorraine’s own talents, and the stylings of Emma Bull (“Signal To Noise”, etc).

But those are just the lyrics. How about the music? Well, it’s fluid, flexible, adaptable, chimerical. It changes from song to song, taking up a haunting Celtic air, then dropping into a wry humor, sidestepping over into a cappella whimsy, bowing out for a song to give way to a wicked streak. No two songs are the same, incorporating traditional such as “Knickerbocker Lane/Drowsy Maggie” and “Norwegian Dance From Hungary #1″ and all-new creations such as those already mentioned.

I -told- you it was hard to describe the essence of the Flash Girls. They’re like images in smoke: as soon as you think you’ve seen something, it’s gone. You can’t describe it to anyone else, and you certainly can’t capture it for study. It’s fleeting and ephemeral, and repeated listenings bring out something new every time. This is definitely something worth checking out.

The Lady of the Sorrows, by Cecilia Dart-Thornton (Warner Aspect, 2002)

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In The Lady of the Sorrows, the second book of the Bitterbynde series and sequel to her stunning debut novel, The Ill-Made Mute, Australian author Cecilia Dart-Thornton returns to the magic-soaked world of Erith, and the mysterious tale of Imrhien.

In the first book, we learned how Imrhien, a nameless, mute amnesiac, horribly disfigured by the poison of the paradox ivy, left her home, embarking on a quest to regain past, face, name, and memories. Tempest-tossed and beset upon by pirates, monsters, and treacheries, she ultimately won through, discovering a vast treasure, gaining the friendship of stalwart travelers, and finally discovering someone capable of healing her physical wounds, if not her mental ones. As our story unfolds, Imrhien has regained her features and voice. Furthermore, she has a small hint of her true origins: her golden hair bespeaks her as one of the Talith, a people once powerful, now in decline, rarely seen. Her quest is barely begun, though. Both to facilitate this, and to deliver a valuable message regarding the nature of the treasure trove she stumbled across, she journeys to Caermelor, the royal court.

There, her hair dyed black and calling herself Rohain, our heroine struggles to maintain the facade of a wealthy, noble widow from the distant, mysterious Sorrow Isles, while she waits for the return of the King-Emperor, the only one she dares trust with the knowledge that has already claimed the lives of several of her friends. But Court is a dangerous, duplicitous place, and she is ill-prepared for the games of manipulation and intrigue that go on there. In the end, she has to flee for her very life, lest she be betrayed and discovered. This leads her back to Isse Tower, where she was once nothing more than a mute, scarred servant of the lowest regard.

Continuing the complex, ever-unfolding tale of Imrhien-Rohain, she survives the deadliest of magical perils, discovers true love and joy, and is just as rapidly catapulted from blissful safety to yet more unthinkable dangers in the wilderness, as forces beyond her ken target her for death, or worse. Who’s after her, and why? What secrets of her past have marked her in such fashion? The truth is far stranger than anyone could have imagined, and as the memories begin to return, we, along with Imrhien, are plunged into the past…

Dart-Thornton takes a drastic, inspired gamble, packing so much into one book, and this the middle of what I believe to be a trilogy. The last hundred pages of a four hundred plus page book are almost entirely given to a tale that could easily have been spun off into a volume all its own. To say too much about it would spoil the mystery, and mystery does abound. We do learn a great deal: how Imrhien lost her voice, and her face, her memory, and her previous life, so that she might be reduced to almost nothing by the time her story began to unfold in the first book. The truth, it seems, is centuries old, and intertwined with the fate of the Talith, and the destiny of a kingdom. It’s part fairy tale, part court intrigue, woven from the threads of any number of traditions. Riddle games, epic quests, vile treachery, enchantments, loyalty and love and longing, all the elements are firmly in place. What looks at first to be a retelling of the Pied Piper fairy tale soon escalates and evolves into much, much more, revealing just who wants Imrhien out of the way, and what’s at stake should she fail. Her story is far more complex, and far more fantastical than we’d ever have originally guessed.

Gifted with the return of her memories, and the knowledge of what has happened and what must happen, will Imrhien succeed? That, unfortunately, will not be revealed until the next book, The Battle of Evernight, coming out in April 2003.

There’s so much more I wish I could share. Hints I could drop, characters to discuss, things to dwell upon. The Lady of the Sorrows is an immensely rich story, packed full of rich detail and dripping with a lush love of words. Dart-Thornton has a rare gift for the details and descriptions, able to linger upon scenery and people alike, weaving in Celtic-inspired folklore and riddle games seamlessly. Erith is bathed in magic, seelie and unseelie wights lurking in every shadow, ready to do a bit of good or a spot of harm at the drop of a hat. Monsters stalk the shadows, and even the benevolent creatures are to be respected. Dart-Thornton invokes the capricious, alien nature of the fey world, giving it the majesty and unpredictability it deserves. This is high fantasy, epic without resorting to vast armies or magical artifacts, powerful without slinging fireballs or dragons around, and multi-layered. Read this book, then go back to The Ill-Made Mute and see where the hints were there all along.

I’m hard-pressed to find any objections to this book. If anything, it’s perhaps too detailed. I’m so used to simpler language that something like this comes across like a triple chocolate cake: inordinately rich, a treat you can’t eat all at once, something to be savored. The author is one of those people blessed with a talent for words beyond the norm, drawing upon the entirety of the English language. The highest of praise: I wish I could write as well as that, and even thinking about it intimidates me.

I admit: I’m easy to please. I love a great many books, and I can be seduced by good writing. The Lady of the Sorrows, like its companion, is an excellent, gorgeous read, and worth picking up. I’m almost embarrassed to lavish such praise, but it’s not without cause. I can hardly wait for the next book.

The Gates of Sleep, by Mercedes Lackey (Daw Books, 2002)

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The classic tale of Sleeping Beauty is reimagined and retold with a Victorian flavor in this new offering by Mercedes Lackey. Like her previous book in the Elemental Masters series, The Serpent’s Shadow, this one brings the sensibilities and customs of turn-of-the-century England to life with a vivid, thorough eye for detail. All of the familiar elements from the fairy tale are here, but the story itself has undergone more than cosmetic changes in order to give us a new spin on the narrative.

It all begins with the birth of Marina Roeswood to Elemental mages Alanna and Hugh Roeswood. Her parents have invited a number of their fellow magi friends and acquaintances to a magical christening for the infant, and all but one of the attendees have bestowed their gifts: skillful hands and deft fingers, an appreciation for music, blithe spirits, physical grace. One of them, the respected Roderick Bacon, grants the infant mage-to-be with a most potent gift indeed: alliance with his own affinity with Air magics and elementals. One gift remains, but an unexpected visitor appears…

Arachne Roeswood, long-estranged sister to Hugh, returned after a period of absence. No mage in her own right, she still has the power to curse Marina with a future death, revenge for a lifetime of imagined slights and quarrels.

Only the timely intervention of the last gift-giver, Elizabeth Hastings, twists the potent curse into a -potential- curse. Should Arachne be unable to trigger it by the time Marina achieves her eighteenth birthday, a feat only capable in close proximity, it will rebound upon the caster.

This is still enough to shatter the happy occasion and sunder the Roeswoods. That very night, Marina is spirited away by several friends of her family, to be raised in obscurity on an estate far off in Cornwall, never to see her parents again lest Arachne find a way to activate her curse. Seventeen years will pass in such fashion, Marina raised with love and care by her Bohemian, artistic magi “aunt and uncles” while her parents send her letters from afar.

She is given a progressive, artistic education, encouraged to grow into her creatively free spirit, and to begin mastering the Water magics that are her birthright. She’s happy, though never sure why her parents sent her away. When she is seventeen, her life is thrown into turmoil once again.

Alanna and Hugh Roeswood are dead in a boating accident, tragically lost. Their estate has reverted to the control of Marina’s mysterious Aunt Arachne, who demands that her niece be remanded into her care … immediately. The law on Arachne’s side, Marina and her foster family have no choice. Marina must return to Oakhurst Manor, the family’s ancestral home, and learn to be a proper lady, rather than a free spirit. Is Arachne a concerned relative and guardian preparing her for High Society in London, or a jailer with a much darker purpose at hand? Is Marina’s cousin Reggie a spoiled playboy, or a young man with a deadly and diabolical secret?

Marina will be forced to work quietly and secretively, gathering to her what few allies she can, for not all of Oakhurst’s servants are loyal to Arachne. If she can just find a way to get a message to Aunt Margherita, Uncle Sebastian, or Uncle Thomas, all the way back in Cornwall, perhaps they can rescue her from the fate that steadily approaches her. If she can gain the aid of the village priest, or Andrew Pike, the odd young doctor who is converting a local manor into a sanitarium for the mentally ill, maybe she’ll have a chance. But time is running out for Marina and Arachne both, and the curse looms, ready to strike at any moment.

In the end, only Marina herself can turn the tide and thwart destiny. Her friends, relatives, and allies can treat the symptoms, but not the actual disease. They’ll need to hunt down the source of Arachne’s unholy magics, and prevent her from destroying any more innocent lives in her corrupt drive for the magic she doesn’t deserve. And in the end, someone may even live happily ever after….

The Gates of Sleep is a clever retelling, one that uses all of the familiar elements and themes of the old fairy tale, while transplanting them to a different setting. There are enough twists and turns to keep the reader guessing, without abandoning the spirit of the source material. While at times the characters do seem to be a bit black and white — Arachne is Evil, Marina is Good, the Prince Charming/Doctor is Kind and Altruistic and Idealistic — they’re still far more complex than the broadly stroked characters of the salon tales this is inspired by.

Lackey manages to bring the charm and complexity of early 20th century England to life in all its color, investing it with magic at every turn, from the fey Elemental creatures of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, to the dark beings born from unholy ritual and destroyed lives. In the end, what we have is a thoroughly enjoyable, worthy retelling of a familiar story in an intriguing and sometimes-unusual setting. Recommended for Mercedes Lackey fans, those who enjoy Victorian or Regency-era romances, or retold fairy tales.

The Eyre Affair, by Jasper Fforde (Viking, 2002)

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Enter a world where things are very, very different. Where in 1985, Britain is a virtual police state, engaged in border wars with the People’s Republic of Wales, and well into the 131st year of the Crimean War. Where all told, thirty divisions of Special Operations take care of business, everything from Neighborly Disputes (SO-30) to Art Crime (SO-24) to Weird Stuff (SO-2) and Weirder Stuff (SO-3), to ChronoGuard (SO-12) and Internal Affairs (SO-1). Thursday Next is part of the Literary Detectives (SO-27). Her beat: manuscripts, forgeries, literary crimes, and keeping tabs on Britain’s national treasures, including the much-beloved first editions of Dickens, Swift, Shakespeare, Austen and the Brontes. It’s a strange life, one she shares with her pet dodo (left over from that cloning fad), enjoying the occasional visit from her time-traveling fugitive father. And then the unthinkable happens. A precious first edition of Dickens’ Martin Chuzzlewit is stolen, and Thursday gets a visit from an operative of SO-5. What does SO-5 do? He’s not saying. But he has the authority to recruit Thursday into an operation of vital importance, and the knowledge of who could have stolen such a priceless, well-guarded artifact. None other than the deadly, dangerous, diabolical Acheron Hades, a man who can sense when his name is spoken, and whose persuasive powers simply can’t be believed.

And thusly is Thursday Next dragged into a bizarre series of adventures involving conspiracy, counter-conspiracy, time travel, and more, facing off against Acheron Hades time and again. The initial foray against Acheron and his brother Styx ends in dismal failure, but it serves as a stepping stone to catapult Thursday even deeper into a fine mess. Enter such oddballs as Stoker (Agent, SO-27: Vampire and Werewolf Disposal). Enter Thursday herself, tossed back from the future to deliver a message only she can understand. Enter Uncle Mycroft, wacky inventor and creator of the HyperBookworms. Enter Baconians (convinced Bacon wrote Shakespeare) and the members of the 112th Annual John Milton Convention. And enter Edward Rochester, literary hero of the book Jane Eyre…

The very fate of literature is at stake, especially when someone discovers a way to breach the barriers between reality and fiction. First fictional characters turn up dead. And then Hades commits the ultimate sin: he kidnaps Jane Eyre herself, holding her for ransom. It’s up to Thursday, Rochester, and friends to save the day before Hades can commit literary homicide and ruin civilization as we almost know it.

Fforde has created a truly unique, fascinating new world, filled with over-the-top characters and an unforgettable atmosphere. This is the sort of book Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett might have created if they’d ground up Dickens and Lewis Carroll for some highly unorthodox cigars, and gotten schnackered one fine weekend. The humor is unconventional, the literary tributes unmistakable, and the plot highly original. This is a world where people go to Richard III in the same way they might see the Rocky Horror Picture Show in the real world, right down to the audience participation. This is a world where just about anything can happen, and seems rather likely to happen anyway. Time-traveling literary detectives, extinct species brought back as pets, a villain worthy of any hero, and enough twists to keep even the most scholarly of English majors bemused. The Eyre Affair is one of those peculiar books only a Welshman with a severe and possibly unhealthy love for literature could have created. In short, it’s damned good, managing to combine wackiness and comic adventure without losing its grip on the suspension of disbelief that makes it all possible. I’m hooked, and eagerly awaiting the next adventure of Thursday Next, SpecOp.