The Merlin Trilogy Reread Part I: The Crystal Cave

I picked up this collected edition of Mary Stewart’s Merlin Trilogy only in part because of the oddly endearing, but perhaps misleading Hildebrandt Bros. cover. The other reason was, I suppose, a form of nostalgia. Allow me to explain. When I was in sixth grade, both my mother and my step father were working. No… Continue reading The Merlin Trilogy Reread Part I: The Crystal Cave

Styrbiorn the Strong. Eddison Breathes the Northern Thing.

E.R. Eddison is known primarily for The Worm Ouroboros, and to a lesser extent the Zimiamvia Trilogy. But he also wrote a historical novel. As a youth he fell under the eddic spell of the Norse sagas (e.g., The Elder Edda.) And why wouldn’t he? The sparse, barebones recitations of blood feuds, raids, treachery, and… Continue reading Styrbiorn the Strong. Eddison Breathes the Northern Thing.

The Last of the Mohicans: Part of the DNA of American Fiction

While reading my copy of James Fenimore Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans I found between the pages a bank deposit slip of mine from 1986. So I know I must have read this copy before — the binding shows some wear — or at least reached about the midpoint and left a book marker… Continue reading The Last of the Mohicans: Part of the DNA of American Fiction

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The Web Log is experiencing technical difficulties. Please check back next week for something more entertaining than this boring note.

Red Moon and Black Mountain

Joy Chant’s Red Moon and Black Mountain is a book I wanted to like more than I actually did. I’ve a notion that timing is a factor. Had I read it, oh, 40 years ago, I might have thoroughly enjoyed it. It is, after all, an ambitious piece of fantasy, the language skillfully and often… Continue reading Red Moon and Black Mountain

A Cimmerian Christmas

Conan wished he was in Argos, or perhaps even Kush. Anywhere warm. Cimmeria was no place to spend the winter. Cold, gray, bleak. And direly lacking in plentiful meat and drink. So he found himself pushing through a howling blizzard, scarce able to see five feet before him, and that only thanks to a strange… Continue reading A Cimmerian Christmas