Some things are true serendipity, others are more deliberately linked. I’m going with the latter in the case at hand. You see, I’m nearing completion of the sequel to Karl Thorson and the Jade Dagger, and the climax occurs at The Alamo. At about the time I commenced writing that chapter I needed to download a new audio book. Searching for this and that I came across a book I’d heard of before, but hadn’t read, by one of my favorite writers: The Alamo, by John Myers Myers.
Perhaps you are new to this planet, or have been living in a bomb shelter all your life with limited reading material. Maybe you recently stumbled upon a trove of Molly Hatchet album covers at a garage sale, with those paintings by Frank Frazetta and you start wondering what is all this about. Well, given those farfetched hypotheticals, or something similar, I’m here to offer the five writers you should familiarize yourself with to become conversant with the Swords and Sorcery genre.
I am about two-thirds of the way through re-reading Glen Cook’s Black Company novels. This time through (the second for the later novels, the third for the earlier) I think I’m better able to appreciate more of the subtleties. Some of that may be due to reading them straight through, without the long gaps that accompany awaiting publication.
I have been writing about little excursions here and yon recently, haven’t I? Well, I’ve been taking these little trips, after all. No reason not to mention them. For example, today I drove MBW and the HA down to the State Capital for the State Fair. Rides, livestock, and fried foods. Under a brutally punishing sun. What’s not to like?
After this web log’s sporadic (perhaps, from your perspective, interminable) consideration of the authors listed in the Dungeon Masters Guide Appendix N, perhaps some sort of summation is required. What do I think of the list? What do I think of its application to the Dungeons and Dragons game?
As it inevitably must, this series on Appendix N reaches its end. At least we go out on a high note, with that nonpareil, Roger Zelazny.
We reach at last Jack Williamson, the penultimate entry in this slapdash consideration of Appendix N. Considering how prolific Jack Williamson was during his lengthy, exemplary career, I’m surprised I’ve read so little of his work. The man nearly reached a century and was producing fiction for most of it, having his first story published at the age of twenty.
What are the fundamental books a newcomer to science fiction should read in order to achieve a basic conversance with the genre? To keep this practicable for this notional novice, what ten books would suffice?
I am unqualified to answer this question. My list would necessarily displease everyone. Only an unjustifiably self-confident jackanapes, a grinning idiot embodying the Dunning-Kruger Effect would even attempt such a thing.
Right, I’m your man then.
I had a party at my house last night, a triple celebration: my fiftieth birthday, the tenth anniversary of my marriage to MBW, and MBW’s U.S. citizenship. The house echoed at times with the play of what seemed a hundred children, but couldn’t have been more than a half dozen. At the end of the night we discovered that a glutinous jar of pink slime, some sort of kid’s plaything, had been ground into the HA’s carpet. While a few remaining adults got down to cleaning that up (it turns out ice cubes are useful in that regard — helpful tip for you) I went back downstairs to pack up leftovers and load the dishwasher. The aftermath of the party.
Naturally, that got me thinking about war. Specifically the aftermath, the cleanup. And more specifically, how fantasy novels tend to deal with (or not deal with) the aftermath of the epic battles that fill their pages.