The Deryni novels by Katherine Kurtz

I recently finished the Deryni novels, by Katherine Kurtz. There are, so far, sixteen of these works, published over a span from 1970 to 2014, an impressive output, indeed. (Kurtz has written other books.)

What is a Deryni? The Deryni are people with magical/psychic powers. Many of them can read the minds of others well enough to know if they are telling the truth. A few of them can heal serious sickness or wounds. They can communicate with other Deryni over long distances, using telepathy. They have built a network of portals, places where they can magically travel, almost instantaneously over long distances, from one portal to another. The Deryni mostly live among ordinary people, and can't be told from them by appearance. They can marry non-Deryni. Some Deryni can appear to be someone else. (One Deryni, Camber of Culdi, took on another man's appearance for years, for unselfish reasons.) The only humans with Deryni powers have one or more Deryni ancestors.

The setting of these works is from AD 903 to 1128, in a fictional Europe, probably the British Isles. The geography appears to be fictional, too. The culture is based on the culture of the area during the times specified. That is, government is by a hereditary monarchy and aristocracy. The most important people live in castles, or other impressive dwellings, with their subordinates. The church is very powerful, in some things more so than the king. There are several female orders, and several male ones, all related to the church. There are priests, and bishops, and archbishops, one of which is always the highest authority in the land of Gwynedd, where almost all of the books take place. There is no mention of a pope in any of the books. The religion practiced is a form of Catholicism, or much like Catholicism. Young men of high blood become pages, squires, and knights. There are battles, using swords, lances, knives and bows and arrows.

Much of the plots involve Deryni keeping themselves secret from non-Deryni, especially from most of the church hierarchy, who persecute, and even kill, people with Deryni powers. There are evil Deryni who misuse their powers, which is one reason, other than fear of the unknown, that leads to occasional persecution of the Deryni. Most of the Deryni are not evil, however. I would say that, although there are important plots in all of these books, that they are also character-driven, and, furthermore, rely on descriptions -- their setting. Kurtz seems to enjoy describing church and state ceremonies. In most cases, ceremonies of state, such as becoming a knight, or swearing fealty to the king, are both spiritual and temporal. The books also have lots of descriptions of what the characters are wearing, and of the dwellings they inhabit.

Kurtz is not shy about allowing her characters to die. Some die by violence, in battle, or by magic. Some die from sickness.

The kings of Gwynedd are all members of the Haldane family. All of them possess some psychic, or magical, powers, although not all who have such abilities are held to be Deryni.

A few years ago, I attempted to ask, and answer, the question, "what makes a novel a Christian novel?" My answer is this:
A Christian novel should include three things. First, some sort of important choice between good and evil. Second, there should also be evidence that a character has hope, beyond despair. These two are, in my opinion, required conditions for a Christian novel. Third, such a work should also contain at least one of the following options, as a significant part of the plot, or the theme, or as an attribute of an important character: 1) A Christ-figure 2) Belief in important orthodox Christian doctrine, on the part of a narrator or character 3) Practicing prayer to a monotheistic divine being 4) Having a relationship with such a monotheistic divine being in other significant ways, including receiving guidance from him, or being placed in his presence. (For more discussion of these points, see this earlier post.)

How do the Deryni novels measure up?

There are many choices between good and evil, and the protagonists almost always choose the good.

Several characters exhibit hope beyond despair. For example, Camber searches for a Haldane to place on the throne, even though there doesn't seem to be one. He finds such a man. There are several occasions where there is hope that children will prove to be worthy kings.

These two required conditions are met.

As to the optional conditions, I'm not sure that any character in these novels qualifies fully as a Christ figure. But there is plenty of belief in orthodox Christian doctrine. Here, for example, is a quotation from The Quest for Saint Camber:

“Why? Don’t you think God has a plan for each of us?” “Well, of course,” Dhugal said uncomfortably. “But only in a general sort of way. We have free will.” “To an extent,” Duncan agreed. “But what was my will, set against the will of God, Dhugal? He wanted me to be His priest. I’m not sure I ever had a choice in the matter—not really. Not that I mind,” he added. “Not now, at any rate, and not for many years—though I certainly minded after your mother’s death. “But there’s a certain heady comfort in knowing one has been chosen, warts and all. I don’t know why He wanted me so badly, but other than that one brief flare-up of rebellion—which may have been all in His plan anyway—I’ve been content in His service. No, more than content. He’s brought me joy."

Several characters, in most or all of the books, offer sincere prayer to God, or they are described as spending time in prayer, sometimes for hours. There may be occasions where someone received direct Divine guidance, but I can't think of one such.

There are two other features that are relevant. One of them is that every chapter, in all sixteen of these books, begins with a Biblical quotation. (A few of these are from the Apocrypha, or other non-canonical sources.) Another feature is that there are four Archangels who are occasionally dimly perceived, and exert influence, especially during the practice of Deryni magic for good causes.

I am satisfied that the Deryni novels, by Katherine Kurtz, are Christian in nature, without being preachy. They read, rather, like historical fiction, in imagined times, but with a Christian world-view.

Thanks for reading. Read Kurtz.

Lloyd Alexander's Prydain books

I recently re-read the five Chronicles of Prydain, by the late Lloyd Alexander. The books, in order, are The Book of Three, The Black Cauldron (which was a Newbery Honor book), The Castle of Llyr, Taran Wanderer, and The High King (which won the 1969 Newbery medal). If you are interested in plot details, the previous links are to the Wikipedia articles for each book. The series is loosely based on Welsh mythology, but, at its core, it is a coming-of-age story.

There are some real characters in the books, which are easily distinguishable by their voices. Fflewdur Fflam, a minor king who prefers to travel as a bard, but has never met all the requirements for being one, has a harp with strings that break whenever he exaggerates. He exaggerates a lot. He also says "A Fflam is always ... (ready, brave, loyal, etc.)" on all sorts of occasions. Gurgi, a strange creature, perhaps something like Sasquatch, or an intelligent ape, or a very hairy human, uses rhyme most of the time (sneakings and peekings, crunchings and munchings, etc.) The Princess Eilonwy talks a lot -- she rattles on and on. Taran, the central character, is an Assistant Pig-Keeper, and of only one pig, and Eilonwy keeps reminding him of that, in a friendly way. Other characters remind him of that as an insult.

There are many other characters, not so prominent, but also clearly drawn. There is Dallben, who is over 300 years old, and "meditates" (sleeps) a lot. But he is an enchanter, with real powers. One of his powers is to interpret the oracles of the pig, Hen Wen, who points to sticks with symbols when she is predicting the future. There's Doli, a dwarf, and one of the Fair Folk -- fairies -- who hates turning invisible, because it makes his ears hurt, and is good-hearted but consistently grouchy. There are Orddu, Orwen and Orgoch, the three fates, or three norns, of the story. They have considerable magical powers, have lived forever, or at least for a long time, but don't help anyone very much. There is Gwydion, the brave and selfless warrior champion of the aged high king, Math.

There's plenty of maturing, on Taran's part. As I said, this is a coming-of-age series. Taran starts the books as a kid who longs to be a hero, like Gwydion. But he decides that being an Assistant Pig-Keeper, and of good character, is not such a bad thing. He also learns to appreciate the work of craftspeople, in particular a potter, a weaver, and a smith, as much as he honors swordsmanship.

There is a lot of conflict between good and evil, and it's clear who is good, and evil, although there are a couple of bad characters who redeem themselves. The worst character, Arawn Death-Lord, doesn't really appear in person, although his influence lasts throughout the books.

The setting is typical sword and sorcery material -- before the introduction of gunpowder and the internal combustion engine.

Our local library classifies these books as "J," juvenile. They are suitable for such readers, but, if you have never read this series, it's a good read, no matter what your age. There's no bad language, except for Fflewdur's frequent "Great Belin" -- whatever that means. There's no sex, although Taran does decide that he wants to marry Eilonwy, and she makes a similar decision. There is some violence, and some characters die.

Thanks for reading this post.

Waylander, by David Gemmell

I recently read Waylander, (New York: Ballantine, a Division of Random House. A Del Rey book, 1986.) by David Gemmell, who passed away in 2006. There is a Wikipedia article on the book, and also one on the author. For more on the plot and characters, read the Wikipedia article on the book. I prefer not to give away much of the plot.

I believe, but am not sure, that I purchased my used copy of the book because I had read that Gemmell is at least influenced by Christianity. See here for a discussion, in this blog, of what makes a novel Christian. The Wikipedia article on the author says this: 
The consistent presence of redemption in Gemmell's work reflected his Christian beliefs. He claimed that all of his novels have a religious basis, calling them "essentially Christian books" . . .

What evidence is there that Waylander is an "essentially Christian book?" Here's some of it:

Waylander presents a number of choices between good and evil. The main character, Waylander, chooses to rescue a Source priest, and a woman who is trying to save three children from the ravages of war and bandits. Such behavior is uncharacteristic of him. A couple of characters, who are hired assassins, or who have preyed upon suffering people, bringing them to financial ruin, unselfishly choose to help Waylander.

There is also hope in the face of seeming despair. Dardalion, the priest that Waylander helped, believes that evil can be vanquished. Orien, who was the king, has hope that a quest, which will help a general defeat the forces of evil, can be fulfilled.

There is evidence that some of the characters believe in a god, or God, the Source. Toward the end of the events in the book, Dardalion reflects on what has happened:
"It was all a pattern, created from an interweaving series of apparently random threads. Dardalion fell to his knees." (p. 288)
Clearly, Dardalion believes, and he prays. (So do other characters.) On one occasion, he prays that he and his companions will not hate their enemies.

The Wikipedia article on the book, which is a stub, does not mention any of these things. I may add them myself.

Waylander was not marketed as Christian fiction. But it has Christian elements, and seems to have been written from a Christian world-view. I'm glad that I read it. I expect to read more of Gemmell's work, including two sequels to this book.

I should say that the book has a lot of violence in it. It is, I suppose, rather typical sword and sorcery fiction.

Thanks for reading!

Elfhunter, by C. S. Marks

I recently read Elfhunter, by C. S. Marks. It's a lot like Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

How is this book like Tolkien? Here are some of the ways. It's a well-crafted book of sword and sorcery fantasy, set in an earth-like world, or maybe even on earth, in temperate deciduous forest, with mountains, rivers and lakes. There are elves, living in isolated kingdoms. These elves are potentially immortal, and there is some sort of realm where they go if they are killed in battle, or just decide to die. They can marry humans, but usually don't, and, if they do, they know that they the human will die, leaving the elf to grieve on, and they know that they won't be re-united after death. There are dwarves who live in underground kingdoms. Dwarves and elves don't get along very well. Tolkien barely acknowledged that there were female dwarves. Marks doesn't so much as mention them. Neither author tells us how large groups of beings living underground could get enough food. There are no orcs, or, more correctly, there are Ulcas, which are a lot like Tolkien's orcs. There are humans here, who look a lot like elves, but are not immortal, at least not in their human bodies. The only humans in the book are Rangers, who patrol the land, much like Aragorn and his compatriots in Tolkien's work. If you like Tolkien's Middle-Earth, you should like Alterra. But there are no hobbits, and most of the characters in this book are not human.

Elfhunter is well-written, and character-driven, although there is a plot, and there are settings that are important. I found almost no usage errors. (This is a second edition, and perhaps some of errors in the earlier version were eliminated.) Marks does use "'ere." rather than "ere," for some reason, and she uses it fairly often. There is a thorough glossary, which is interesting. I read the Kindle edition, which has a good working table of contents.

There are differences from Tolkien. As indicated above, there aren't many humans in this book. There's no Gandalf to come in and save the day, and even offer his life for others. The leading character is a female elf scout, Gaelen, and her best friend, and co-scout, Nelwyn, is also a female. Both of them fall in love, and those that they fall in love with, Rogond, a Ranger, and Galador, an elf from a different group of elves, are also major characters. There is a quest, but it's to destroy an evil being, Gorgon, the Elfhunter, rather than to destroy a ring of power. That's all I'll say about the plot, except to note that the book does come to an ending which is a reasonable closure, although there are suggestions that there is more to come. (There are at least two more books in the series, which I have yet to read. The third book has not yet come out in a second edition.)

There are beings known as Asari. They don't seem to be elves, or equivalent to the Istari, Tolkien's wizards, but some sort of higher immortal being. By the time of the events in the book, most of the original twelve of these have passed from the earth. At least one of them has joined with Wrothgar, the supreme evil being of Alterra.

There are quite a few scenes of violence, in battle and single attacks, and the book is not for the squeamish. There's no overt sex in the book, although some characters fall in love.

Like Tolkien, there is a struggle between good and evil, and we usually know which is which. There was no good in Tolkien's orcs, and little or none in the Ulcas. The Elfhunter is portrayed as being incapable of good, or even of appreciating beauty in nature, although there are hints that these characteristics might possibly change in the future. Here's a key quotation on that point:
He heard Gaelen muttering in her soft, clear voice: "If only you could know how beautifully the stars burn tonight… if only you could feel the longing in my heart for them… and for you." "But…I do feel it," Gorgon muttered in reply, though he was not aware of doing so. His eyes were closed now, for he concentrated entirely upon the brilliant field of silver lights that wheeled above him. "Such beautiful lights…so bright…so cold. Like cold fire burning for eternity…."

Several characters pray, although it's not clear what or who they are praying to.

I liked this book, and have begun the second volume. Thanks for reading.

The Well at the World's End, by William Morris

I recently read The Well at the World's End, by William Morris. It's a public domain work, originally published in 1896.

Morris must have been an interesting character. The Wikipedia article on him says that he was influential in textile design, book publishing, preservation of old buildings, and "As an author, illustrator and medievalist, he helped to establish the modern fantasy genre, and was a direct influence on postwar authors such as J. R. R. Tolkien." He was also a "libertarian Marxist," whatever that means, or meant.

The book is still considered important enough that there's a Wikipedia article on it. This article says that "Although the novel is relatively obscure by today's standards, it has had a significant influence on many notable fantasy authors. C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien both seem to have found inspiration in The Well at the World's End: ancient tables of stone, a 'King Peter', and a quick, white horse named 'Silverfax' are only a few." The article doesn't say that having wise old men (and women) living in out-of-the-way places, and setting the story in a time before gunpowder and internal combustion engines, in a feudal society, are all conventions often used by modern-day fantasy authors, and are part of this book. I don't suppose that Morris invented any of these conventions, but he used them well. (See here for musings on "sword and sorcery" fiction.)

The "obscure" adjective, in the Wikipedia article, seems to refer to the language in the book. Morris used a few words that I have never seen before, such as sele and thorp, for two of them. They don't distract much from the novel. What's it about? It's about Ralph, the youngest member of a royal family, who decides that he doesn't want to stay home and look after his parents as they age. He goes off on adventures. The greatest adventure is to drink from the Well at the World's End. It's not giving away too much to say that he achieves that adventure. For whatever reason, Ralph is very attractive to women. He attracts two, one who would have become his wife, but is killed, and another, who does marry him. He also attracts the queen of another area, and another lady or two. I guess that's part of the magic of the book. He also is an excellent swordsman. Drinking from the Well gives the few that achieve that quest a longer life, and also seems to infuse them with wisdom and goodness. (Morris died in the year that the book was published.)

The church, probably the Roman Catholic church, is alive and well, and not villainous, in the book. There is almost no magic, other than what I have described.

The book is a good read. It's available cheaply, or freely, from Amazon and the Project Gutenberg web site, as an e-book.

Thanks for reading!

Heartless, by Anne Elisabeth Stengl

Heartless (Tales of Goldstone Wood), by Anne Elisabeth Stengl, is a fantasy book, with swords, magic, and dragons. (See here for my musings on why sword and sorcery fiction is popular). It won the Christy award for Best First Novel in 2011. I haven't read the other winners, and I'm not sure if a fantasy novel has won this particular Christy Award previously, but the award was well deserved.

Stengl does not have a Wikipedia article on her, and Heartless doesn't, either. Here is the Amazon page for the author, and she has a blog.

I'll try to give away as little as possible of the plot, but will muse on various aspects of the novel. The plot is complex.

First, I confess that I have read two novels, by the same author, published after Heartless, in her series, Tales of Goldstone Wood. The second one, Veiled Rose, mostly takes place before the events in Heartless. There are some allusions to these events in Heartless, indicating that the author didn't just write a second novel based on the first one -- the first one foreshadows the second, and she already had largely it in mind when writing the first. (There is supposed to be a fourth novel, to be released later this year.)

Second, there is no doubt in my mind that this qualifies as a Christian novel, by almost any standard. I don't say this because it mentions Christ, or God, or the Bible, or salvation. It doesn't. In fact, the theology of the characters is nearly non-existent. They don't worship together, and they don't pray on a regular basis. I hope to post later, giving more detail on why I say that the book is Christian. My guess is that the fact that there is no direct "preaching" in the book might make it more attractive to non-Christians.

There is a Christ-figure, not in the sense that he dies to pay for the sins of others, at least not within the events of this book, but in the sense that he comes from another realm -- fairyland -- with the purpose of taking a bride for himself.

There are, as I said, dragons. Stengl's dragons live a very long time. They can appear as dragons, huge lizards with wings and fiery breath, or as human, or at least human-like, beings. They can talk, and are intelligent. They love treasure. They are almost entirely evil. No dragon is a main character, but a few of them appear in the book, and they are important in it.

The theme of the book is trust. Una, a princess coming into adulthood, and who is one of the main characters, trusts the wrong person for much of the story, but finally comes to trust the right one. In fact, she trusts him enough to let him kill her, as a dragon, so that she may live as a human. The episode reminded me of the experience of Eustace Scrubb, transformed from a dragon to a human by Aslan, in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, by C. S. Lewis, but Stengl's depiction is more gripping, and, as I said, coming to that point is, in large part, what the book is about.

This is a fine book, and compares well with good fantasy from mainstream publishers. I confess that I have read Heartless twice in less than two months, and I am glad that I did.

I have read both the hardback book and the Kindle edition. Bethany House, the publisher, is to be commended for the latter. Not only are there color ornaments, and the like, and not many typos, but you can go to page numbers in the book, if you need to.

The book could have used a map, but there isn't one, in either edition.

Thanks for reading. Read Heartless.

Sword and Sorcery fantasy: Not a bastion of democracy

I have previously posted on what is sometimes called Sword and Sorcery fantasy. That is, fantasy works set in pre-gunpowder societies, where bows and arrows and swords are the most common weapons, and where some sort of magic is used by some of the characters.

I am copying my list of favorite sword and sorcery fantasy works from the previous post:
"The Lord of the Rings"works by J. R. R. Tolkien
The Deed of Paksenarrion by Elizabeth Moon
The Chronicles of Prydain, by Lloyd Alexander
The Narnia books by C. S. Lewis
Works by Juliet Marillier
The Earthsea books by Ursula K. Le Guin
The Chalion novels, and the Sharing Knife tetralogy, by Lois McMaster Bujold
Most of the works of Patricia McKillip

These books, I believe, are all important, and have influenced other authors of fantasy works.

I'm sure that the observation is not being made for the first time, but I'll say it. The worlds used in these books do not have lands with democratic governments. There are rulers, almost always hereditary rulers, in these books.

In Tolkien's trilogy, Aragorn re-establishes a long line of hereditary kings of Gondor. Rohan also has hereditary rulers. In addition to the kings, or equivalents, in these human domains, there are also hereditary rulers among the elves and the dwarves. True, the hobbits seem to have a sort of society of equal opportunity, probably even electing some officials. But the appendices of the trilogy, and the other books, published after them, but about earlier times, have little to say about hobbits, but lots to say about elves and men.

Paksenarrion's deed is to place a king, a king with royal blood, on the throne.

In the Prydain books, an assistant pig-keeper becomes king. But the assistant pig-keeper has royal ancestry.

There is a line of hereditary rulers in the Narnia books.

There are clan chiefs in Marillier's works, and they seem to be hereditary.

There are kings in the Earthsea books. Arren, who has royal blood, takes the main throne, in Havnor, at the end of The Farthest Shore.

The Chalion books have hereditary kingships. The Sharing Knife works do not. There are leaders among the Lakewalkers, but they seem to get their positions on merit. The Farmers don't have kings.

McKillip's books have kings, or hereditary leaders with other titles.

Why kings? Why so little evidence of democracy? One answer is that Sword and Sorcery books are closely related to the human past, and most human societies of the past had hereditary rulers. Another is that fantasy of this type has had some influential English authors, and, of course, England, even today, has hereditary rulers. Is that a valid reason? I'm not sure. Moon, Alexander, Le Guin, Bujold and McKillip have mostly lived in the U. S. (Mariller is from New Zealand and Australia, and Lewis and Tolkien were English.)

I don't have a really good explanation, but it is interesting to muse about the relationship between Sword and Sorcery fantasy and the lack of democracy.

Thanks for reading.

The Sharing Knife tetralogy, by Lois McMaster Bujold

I have recently read the Sharing Knife tetralogy, by Lois McMaster Bujold. Bujold is one of the few authors who have won both the Hugo and Nebula awards, and also a Mythopoeic Award. The Sharing Knife books haven't won any of these awards, so far as I know, perhaps because they are low-key -- there aren't any major wars, there's no evil human wizard -- but they are well done, and I enjoyed reading them. They are fantasy literature. I expect to base my next few posts (except for a Sunspots) on these books.

I plan to summarize the books in this post, because some background will be necessary to set the stage for some additional posts. The four books are Beguilement (2006), Legacy (2007), Passage (2008) and Horizon (2009), all published by Eos (HarperColllins).

The setting appears to be North America, after some unspecified disaster, several centuries previous to the time of the books. The culture is pretty standard for sword and sorcery works, in that there is no gunpowder, and no internal combustion engines, and there is magic, or at least there are abilities and a sense that we don't possess. There are two types of humans. They speak the same language, exchange goods, can produce half-breed offspring, and live in close proximity. The Lakewalkers are taller, and live longer than the farmers. (Bujold does not capitalize "farmer," but does capitalize "Lakewalker.") The Lakewalkers can practice magic, although they don't call it that, and farmers can do little or none of this. The Lakewalkers usually see themselves as noble guardians of the ungrateful farmers. Farmers usually see Lakewalkers as proud and aloof, and, to some farmers, as cannibals and grave-robbers.

The main characters are Fawn, a farmer girl, who is eighteen, newly pregnant, and running away from home at the beginning of the series, and Dag, a Lakewalker who has lost most of one arm in a battle. He is over fifty. Bujold uses each of them about equally to establish her point of view, as the tale progresses.

To summarize the four books, Dag and Fawn fall in love, and marry, to some opposition from both groups, especially the Lakewalkers. They overcome four malices, the evil spirit beings that are the bad guys of the books. Dag decides that the two groups have been too separate, and should respect each other more, and work together. He and Fawn travel across hundreds of miles, first by boat, then by wagon train, and, in the process, begin to bring Lakewalkers and farmers more closely together.

What, you may ask, is a sharing knife? First, I need to discuss the concept of ground. Ground, in these books, is some sort of non-material property or essence that is possessed by everything in existence. Humans, including unborn ones, have ground, more than all other material living things. Animals, even insects, have ground, but not as much as humans. Plants, rocks, and even human-made artifacts have ground. Ground is said not be the same as a soul. Lakewalkers can sense the ground of other entities, whether they are animate, or even if they are underwater obstacles in a river. They can do this over a range, which varies from Lakewalker to Lakewalker. Dag's range is normally a little over a mile. That is exceptional, but not unprecedented. Lakewalkers can shield their grounds from other beings able to sense it -- which means that they also are curbing their own groudsense. They can also manipulate ground. Some of them are very good at this, and use this ability to aid their work as healers. When healing, a healer loses awareness of the visible physical world, but becomes aware of the parts of the body to be healed, in intimate detail, including, for example, blood vessels. A healer can connect blood vessels, and do other major repairs, through ground manipulation.

It is possible to rip the ground out of some organism, which kills it. (A similar operation can be done on an inanimate object, but is rarely done. If it were, the essential structure of that object would be destroyed.) When this is done, the victim's ground becomes a detectable addition to the ground of the manipulator, until fully assimilated. It is dangerous to rip the ground out of any complex and intelligent organism, because it may be difficult to assimilate that much ground.

It is possible to become ground-locked. That can happen during healing, when the healer, in effect, is unable to leave the state of heightened ground-senses required for healing, and return to the real physical world. If another person with skill at manipulating ground is not available to help, a ground-locked Lakewalker will die.

Another danger to farmers and Lakewalkers is that, when a Lakewalker does groundwork on a farmer, usually to heal, the farmer may become beguiled -- strongly emotionally attached to the Lakewalker, and desiring more groundwork by the Lakewalker, whether it is needed or not.

Now, I need to consider malices. A malice is a powerful evil being that lives by taking ground from other entities, including the very rocks and plants. An area where a malice has lived is unlivable, often for many years after the malice has been killed. Material that has had its ground taken out of it is gray and loses most of its features and structure, and an area of this type is called a blight. Blights are eventually healed by natural processes -- living things gradually invade and replace the blight. Malices live and grow by not only taking ground from other things, but by taking the attributes and abilities of vertebrates, including humans. They can gain the power of speech by capturing a human. They can use animals or humans as slaves, and are also able to change animals into an almost human form, making them more valuable slaves, in a ghastly metamorphosis. (They can also produce animals which are unlike anything normal, including extra-large wolflike beings, and creatures like bats, able to fly, but much larger, and with the power of speech.) These changed, or created beings are called mud men. They die quickly when their malice is killed. Malices can control the thought and actions of their slaves. Left unchecked, malices would destroy the world for all life. Malices seem to have originated during some sort of unspecified experiment, that went badly awry, probably connected to the disaster referred to above. This is apparently meant to have been a result of our own real civilization doing something stupid. They have been seeded throughout the land, and remain dormant, until they appear at unpredictable times and places. They start as sessile -- not moving. When they have grown for a while, they become mobile, taking their slave armies with them to better sources of ground, such as human settlements. Human children and the unborn have ground which malices find to be especially valuable.

A sharing knife is a device constructed by certain Lakewalker craftspeople. (Males and females are equal in both societies, or at least any position of leadership, or any craft, seems open to both sexes.) A sharing knife is made from one of the long bones of a dead Lakewalker. When another Lakewalker is about to die, he or she is, if possible, killed by such a knife, or commits suicide with a prepared knife. The death is with the consent of the dying person. Part of their ground goes into the knife, which, thus, has some part of two different Lakewalkers, and is both prepared, from a bone, and primed, with ground. A prepared and primed knife can be used to kill a malice, and is the only way this can be done. Malices do not die natural deaths. Groups of trained Lakewalkers patrol the entire land, as often and as thoroughly as possible. Each group must have at least one sharing knife. Because of these patrols, no malice has threatened to destroy the entire land. There have been malices that grew large, with large armies. As human populations get larger, the malice threat becomes more dangerous, as a malice might be able to capture the humans from a large town, and thus obtain lots of valuable ground, and a large army, which would make getting close enough to kill the malice difficult, perhaps even impossible. When possible, Lakewalker patrollers carry two sharing knives, one primed, to kill a malice, and one prepared, to be primed with their own death. The books do not consider the question of whether a sharing knife could be made from a farmer bone, or using a farmer's ground.

Lakewalkers use other weapons, including knives, swords, and bows and arrows.

In future posts, I hope to say more about the characters, and about religious aspects of these books. Thanks for reading.

The next post, on the theme of these books, is here. A later post, on the subject of ground (unique to these books) is here. A later post, on religion in the books, is here. The final post in the series, on how I found illustrations of important Christian ideas in the books, whether Bujold intended them or not, is here.

Sword and Sorcery: Why?

Some fantasy literature, including some of the most important, is sometimes referred to as "sword and sorcery" fantasy. The phrase is often disparaging. No doubt the disparagement is sometimes well-deserved. I make no claim to have read all of the books in this category, by a long shot, but, based on what I see in bookstores, some of them are probably hack work, written mainly to sell, rather than from an artistic impulse. Nonetheless, some of these books have, or will, stand the test of time. Here's a more or less random list of books that I have read, all set in pre-gunpowder societies:
"The Lord of the Rings"works by J. R. R. Tolkien
The Deed of Paksenarrion by Elizabeth Moon
The Chronicles of Prydain, by Lloyd Alexander
The Narnia books by C. S. Lewis
Works by Juliet Marillier
The Earthsea books by Ursula K. Le Guin
The Chalion novels, and the Sharing Knife tetralogy, by Lois McMaster Bujold
Most of the works of Patricia McKillip
The Tales of Goldstone Wood, by Anne Elisabeth Stengl
The Staff and the Sword books, by Patrick W. Carr
 

Some of the works above take place on Earth, in a previous time. Some take place on unspecified planets. The Narnia books take place in both 20th century Earth, and also in another planet, or maybe even in another universe. But the world of Narnia is a sword and sorcery world.

You can add your own to these lists, probably. Why swords? Why sorcery?

Let's deal with the sorcery first.

Tolkien coined the word, eucatastrophe. More or less, it means some amazing turn of events, leading to a good outcome. We all want our mothers to eat an apple from another world, and get well. We would hope that the elves come out of the woods to our aid, driving off evil enemies. In other words, even though many 21st century English-speakers don't believe in miracles, they wish that they could, and are thrilled when miracles happen. We may also thrill when great evil is encountered by fictional characters -- when Ged has to go into the realm of the dead, across the wall of stones, to heal a kingdom, or when Eowyn faces an evil spirit-wizard, who is mounted on a dreadful flying creature.

Sorcery, or magic, also enables unlikely, or common folk to become important. An Assistant Pig-Keeper, or a long-legged Ranger, becomes a king. A sheepfarmer's daughter becomes a great hero. A boy from an obscure village becomes a great Archmage.

Another appealing feature of many works containing sorcery is that good is good, and evil is evil. Most of us like clear friends and enemies, I guess. Granted, there are sometimes turncoats -- Susan stops believing, or Saruman seeks only his own ends, not the good he was supposed to. But usually we can tell the good from the bad. There are no good orcs.

Some of these things can happen in real life, too, but they don't happen to us, and it's nice to read about them, and put ourselves in these situations.

How about the swords?

Swords, for one thing, speak of the past. When you and I and others read sword and sorcery fantasy, we are, perhaps, seeking a past golden age. If there are combustion engines, airplanes, and assault rifles, we know that we are near our own present, with its problems.

Swords don't require much technology. In fact, swords were apparently invented and used in the Bronze Age. So swords are, in part, a symbol of the rejection of technology. Tolkien, for one, disliked the technology of his twentieth century, and most or all of the "advances" in technology in his books are for evil purposes.

Swords are personal weapons, and, although most authors and readers of sword and sorcery fiction have never used them, we know this. You can't kill or injure someone with a sword without seeing them, without a personal encounter.

Swords require skill to use. I suppose that guns do, too, but pointing and pulling a trigger don't seem to require much training or practice, whereas using a sword effectively does require training and practice. (Moon's Deed of Paksenarrion spends a fair amount of text on this.)

So, in some ways, swords are more humane weapons than guns.

Swords are also spiritual symbols. (See Hebrews 4:12)

It is no great surprise, then, that swords play key roles in some of these books, and, no doubt, in others. In The Deed of Paksenarrion, and in The Lord of the Rings, particular swords, forged by elves, play a role.

I'm sure that a great deal more has, should, and will be said about this topic. Comment if you will.

Thanks for reading.

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On July 18, 2009, I added a tag, and added books by Lois McMaster Bujold, and also added authors Juliet Marillier and Patricia McKillip to the list of works. I modified the title from "Sword, Sorcery," to the present title.

On December 14th, 2009, I added a link to Bujold's "Sharing Knife" books.

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October 28, 2013

I have discovered two relatively short articles entitled "Examining the four main foci for traditionalist impulses in fantasy and science fiction," which consider the main themes of "tradionalist," i. e., sword and sorcery, fantasy, and discuss the continuing popularity of such fiction. They are found here and here.

On July 5, 2015, I added Anne Elisabeth Stengl and Patrick W. Carr to the list.