Andrew Offutt’s introduction to Swords Against Darkness IV mentions that some found volume III rather dark. (Looking back on my review of volume III I suppose it was rather dark. But S&S tends to have an element of the horrific. So, no complaints.) Offutt hints that volume IV will be rather more light-hearted and contain some non-traditional stories. Well, let’s see.
I have made no secret in these posts that I write a bit of fiction now and then. At least I believe I haven’t kept it a secret. If I’m mistaken, well, allow me to correct that: My name is Ken Lizzi and I’m a writer. And I don’t intend to quit, cold turkey or otherwise.
Bearing that in mind, instead of discussing and promoting the work of other writers, this post will plug some of mine. Because that’s how I like my commercialism: Crass and brass.
Andrew Offutt’s introduction to Swords Against Darkness II deals with what term to apply to this genre of stories. He writes of sitting on four different panels over the course of a single year concerning this very topic. I wish convention panels would include such subjects nowadays. Currently about half of the list of panel topics I’m asked to consider consist of topics I’d gnaw my own head off to avoid. Offutt’s introduction is as personable and chatty as ever, informing us we have eight stories to look forward two. That’s one fewer than volume I, and — happily — six fewer than the overstuffed volume III. So, on with the show.
My faulty memory assured me that I had read Abraham Merritt’s The Moon Pool. So I picked up a copy figuring I would enjoy a re-read. While it is possible that I did read it during some lost year of my long and dubious past, I consider it unlikely now. How could I have forgotten such a vividly colorful, wild book as this? It will sit in good company next to my copies of The Dweller in the Mirage and The Ship of Ishtar.
In the last entry in this series of reviews of anthologies, I covered Swords Against Darkness I. This time I’m leaping ahead to Swords Against Darkness III, because it is on my shelves. (I’ve since secured a copy of volume II and I’m eagerly looking forward to opening its pages.) The first volume offered up nine stories. This one ramps up to fourteen, plus a bonus essay. There is such a thing as over-egging the pudding. Not all of these stories were quite ready to step into the limelight. Given the sheer number of tales, I’ve trimmed back some of my commentary.
I don’t know if my life is actually compartmentalized, but given how I read it sort of looks that way. I generally have four or five books going at any one time. Let’s look at right now for a typical example.
The library informed me that Jim Butcher’s latest, Battle Ground, was waiting for me. So, I drove over yesterday, parked, called, and the librarian brought it out. (Sigh.) Yesterday was rather busy, but nonetheless I’m already on page 50. Butcher has a knack of getting you to turn the page.
Monsters come in many guises. Andrew Offut put together an anthology illustrating that very point. It is a fine collection. It doesn’t achieve the heights of some of the other anthologies I’ve discussed in earlier posts, but it ain’t no slouch either. Most of the stories first saw print in this volume, so Offut could not simply cherry pick, stacking his roster with ringers, if I may crudely mash together metaphors. Given that (self-imposed?) handicap, he did an excellent job.
Jerry Pournelle’s Janissaries was first published in 1979. I was ten. My copy is the 1982 edition. So I probably first read this in ‘82 or ‘83 in my early teens. I’ve gone through it and the sequels a couple of times. Now I’m starting again, preparatory to reading the final, posthumous volume, Mamelukes (hoping a paperback edition will be available by the time I finish rereading the initial books.)
The Mighty Swordsmen comes close to delivering precisely as advertised, and even its single lapse is excellent. I admit to a lack of familiarity with the editor, Hans Stefan Santesson. He provided a short introduction, rambling about sorcery and what we’d probably now refer to as “deep time.” It doesn’t seem to have much to do with the stories inside, unless you want to find some reason to believe the events related might actually have happened. Nonetheless, Mr. Santesson shows a good eye for material.
You may have noticed that the West Coast is on fire. I certainly have. My house has been blanketed by an apocalyptic miasma for days. At least the color has shifted, from a Martian orange, to powdered-urine yellow, to what it is now, a sort of dry white fog.