Harold Lamb, Viking Deathblows, and Point of View

Recently I started reading Harold Lamb (1892-1962), a “historical/adventure writer” in our context but many other things in other ones. I purchased an anthology, Swords from the Sea (Lincoln: Bison, 2010), from an amazing used bookstore in Portland called Powell’s. This is notable as I usually purchase my books online from Amazon (sidenote: it was strangely satisfying to wander around through aisles and aisles of books picking up what catches my eye). What drew me to this book? First, I noticed the editor. This anthology is edited by Howard Andrew Jones, the editor of Blackgate Magazine, one of the only existing markets for adventure fantasy (don’t bother to see if they’re accepting submissions. They’re not. Apparently they are backed up by a couple of years.) Second, I’ve encountered Lamb’s name through the various fantasy blogs I’ve been reading. I was eager to check him out as a lot of the “fantasy” I read could just as honestly be categorized as “adventure.” Furthermore, Lamb published in the pulps of the 20s and 30s (and later), and I’m particularly attracted to this period. I’m not going to pretend I know a lot about this guy but I do want to reflect on the little I’ve read.

The first story was “Longsword,” the story of a viking, Brian Longsword, and his encounter with a Byzantine Caesar, John Dukas. Caught in the middle of this encounter is a girl, Irene, the daughter of a assassinated nobleman who is being sold into slavery for protection. The second story was “Wolf Meat,” another story of a viking who goes by the nickname “the Red Fox.” This is the story of his encounter with a king nobleman Sir Thord who has a daughter Astrid who “did not know her own beauty” (19). I don’t have the space to summarize them adequately, but in both stories the protagonist fights a scheming villain,. In “Longsword” the Caesar John Dukas tries to evade a fight with Brian Longsword and, failing, is killed by him on a boat as he flees Constantinople; in “Wolf Meat,” the villain, by the name of “Valgard,” steals Astrid but is hunted down by “the Red Fox” only to be killed by him; of course, the Red Fox then woos Astrid.

I’m less interested in the narrative of these stories and more interested in their style. These are the only works of Lamb’s I’m familiar with, so I’m not sure how they hold up in terms of his entire output. With that said, they seem well written to me. His style is sparse. He relates complex action scenes in simplistic language. For example, consider the death of John Dukas, related from his point of view: “He staggered, his crippled arms flapping at his side. A voice was screaming in his ears, and it was his own voice. His jaws snapped together and fell apart, while the Viking’s sword was sweeping toward him a third time” (13). This is disturbing in its implication. You have a point of view switch here folded into the language. The creepiest part is how it is describing bodily action from the point of view of the actor that is not the product of the actor’s agency. In other words, John Dukas, who is dying, is doing things against his will: he is screaming, his arms are falling; one gets the sense that he is falling. I find this a pretty sophisticated effect. Furthermore, the effect is done using simple, “pulpy” language.

I’m eager to read more Harold Lamb; and yet—and yet! I am glad to share some of my first reactions to him with you here.