Review of John H. Hocking's, "A River Through Darkness"

Last night I purchased the Kindle edition of Black Gate issue 15. My goal is to review select stories from the issue. Some brief information on Black Gate before proceeding with my review of the first story, in case you've never heard of it.

It's one of the most important and prestigious literary marketplaces and communities for the furtherance of "adventure fantasy" and "sword and sorcery".

I love the blog community associated with the magazine. I lurk through the posts and comment occasionally and have discovered so many cool writers (classic and contemporary) and bloggers through the work they do over there.

Side note: I am going to finish my extended review of the anthology, Swords and Dark Magic. The next story up is an Elric tale by Michael Moorcock titled, "Red Pearls: An Elric Story," and its approximately 50 pages, more of a novella than a short story. I'm putting off reading it just now considering I have a prospectus to write, and a bunch of reading for classes I'm teaching and auditing. I do intend to return to Swords and Dark Magic in a week or so. I'm anything is not consistent and persistent.

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Anyhow, the first story in the magazine was titled "A River Through Darkness and Light" and was written by John H. Hocking. I've never read anything from Mr. Hocking before, but I really enjoyed this story. If this is any indication of the tone, style, and content of the narratives that await me in the rest of the magazine, then I'm eager to read on.

Some brief summary of the story: the protagonist is what is referred to as an "Archiver." I get the sense he's a "scholarly" type figure, a kind of magician, but he never uses magic or anything.

Which reminds me: a fantasist's ability to refrain from representing the supernatural/fantastic is just as important, I think, as their their readiness to represent it.

Anyhow, back the the Archiver. The story isn't just about him. It relates the struggles of a group of adventurers and their attempts to locate and pillage an ancient ruin in the search of a long, lost cache of scrolls (which may or may not be magic). In the course of their search, they encounter a group of bandits, fight with them, and--don't want to spoil it all--a supernatural element emerges.

This is great. For me, its good sword and sorcery. Why? Because the supernatural element is downplayed throughout the vast majority of the narrative. And when it emerges... it's intense. The story is filled with swordfighting, dungeon delves, strange monsters, and, of course, sorcery.

My favorite scene is perhaps when the bandit chief surprises the adventurers with... nevermind.

Let me say something about the narrative style. Hocking tends to pay attention to the surface texture of the world. His descriptions are sometimes excessive, but, if you have the patience, they really pay off. Why?

Well, as he foregrounds the "immanent" world, i.e. the "real" material world--intensifies it, if you will, through description--and by doing this he primes the reader to truly experience the supernatural. He manages to make is strange, as it should be.

In some fantasy, not enough attention paid to the physical world, matter, the immanent--whatever you want to call it--and this neglect makes the entire world feel supernatural or "fairy tale" like. This isn't to my taste. Hocking doesn't do this. You feel the world--the heat of the desert sun, the wind, the dryness of the mesa, the refreshing spray of the river.

And let me say something about the prose style: economic, precise, exciting.

All in all, I'd give this story a 4.5 out of 5.

Serialized Pulp Novel: The Rogue and the Merchants (Part 4)

Below is Serial #4 of my pulp novel, The Rogue and the Merchants. Here is a link to the full transcription thus far: The Rogue and the Merchants

I've transcribed exactly one page of the typed manuscript and my word count is at 999; and so I have to modify my original estimate. The manuscript is probably more around 30,000 words.

Also, today, during a visit to a coffee shop, I engaged in some scribbling. I drew a picture of the city-state of Tabun-Stoh, the homeland of our merchants and the place where this demented journey begins. I'm no artist. And yet--and yet, I'm happy to share a brief study or two.

The City-State of Tabun-Stoh

And here is serial #3:

First, they went two days without finding any settlement at all. And then the roads they were following ended abruptly. Additionally, there was a horrible deluge, and half of their stores were soaked. On the third straight day of misfortunes--they had only been on the road for two weeks--they came across a settlement nestled at the bottom of a deep and expansive canyon. From their high vantage point they could see nothing peculiar about it, and their dire circumstances made them eager to approach it. They wanted to refill their stores and perhaps enjoy food that was boiled and soft as opposed to cold, dry, and hard (such was the preference of the folk of Tabun-Stoh).

But the rogue was against it. He told Brol, "Let me scout ahead, for our own good! We are outside the law of Tabun-Stoh. Some of the villages might not have even heard of your city and its lords. I wouldn't be surprised if we've reached lands where they longer speak an understandable tongue."

The merchants, acknowledging the wisdom of the Rogue's words, agreed heartily. And their leader, Brol, loaned the rogue his horse, which was the fastest and most courageous one. The Rogue helped the merchants set up their tents and start a fire, and at sunset he set out, down into canyon, to find the settlement.

He carried with him his hilt-less short sword that, although appearing to be a humble skinner's blade--dull and black-bladed--was actually a sharp and deadly weapon bespelled with secret sorceries. Additionally, he wore a thick, leather jacket, which he was sure would protect him from blows if he came to any battles.

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.