Gollum sat up again and looked at him under his eyelids. ‘He’s over there,’ he cackled. ‘Always there. Orcs will take you all the way. Easy to find Orcs east of the River. Don’t ask Sméagol. Poor, poor Sméagol, he went away long ago. They took his Precious, and he’s lost now.’
‘Perhaps we’ll find him again, if you come with us,’ said Frodo.
‘No, no, never! He’s lost his Precious,’ said Gollum.
Sméagol from The Taming of Sméagol of The Two Towers
When I was younger, The Two Towers (1954) seemed to suffer from middle-book syndrome: the bits after the start of series that had to be trudged through in order to reach the exciting end. Not all of it — it does feature a big battle complete with magic and explosives — but Frodo, Sam, and Smeagol’s trek to Mordor sometimes felt as arduous for me to read as it was for them to cross the swamp and slag heaps. Now, I believe The Two Towers, and the second half, The Ring Goes East, is the heart of the whole series. Nowhere does Prof. Tolkien speak more clearly on the weight of war, the burden and necessity of standing against evil, and the eroding effects of that duty.
The Two Towers has some of the most powerful writing in all the trilogy. There are several passages that have never failed to move me. That one of the most powerful of these lines was taken away from Sam carelessly given to Bad Faramir (more on that atrocity later), is one of the greatest crimes among the many I hold against Peter Jackson.
It’s the book of the trilogy that contains the most obvious references to Tolkien’s own service at the Somme in 1916. In the comments on my first article in this series, Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part One, K. Jespersen wrote that the books tasted of ashes, a flavor he linked directly to the First World War. I don’t tastes ashes in the books myself, but there are chapters redolent of them.
Again, for the uninitiated, a brief summary is in order. Following the disastrous events at the end of The Fellowship of the Ring, the Nine Walkers are split into three groups. Merry and Pippin, captured by a band of orcs, are dragged westward toward Isengard and Saruman. Frodo, with Sam insisting on accompanying, after Boromir’s attempt to seize the Ring, heads eastward toward Mordor and Mount Doom. Aragorn decides that Frodo and Sam might succeed on their own, but unless he, Legolas, and Gimli follow the other two hobbits, they will suffer torment and death.
The book’s first half, The Treason of Isengard, switches back and forth between Merry and Pippin’s travails, and Aragorn and his companions’ assorted adventures across Rohan. The two parties are reunited a week later after the return of Gandalf, the introduction of the Ents, great tree-like beings, and the Battle of the Hornburg (aka, the Battle of Helm’s Deep). The last is huge and murky in Peter Jackson’s film version, but on the page is tighter and far more tactically coherent.
The Ring Goes East, as I said, is the real heart of the trilogy. Frodo takes leave of his companions because he knows he must take the Ring to Mount Doom and that no one else can resist its malignant gravity. It also introduces Gollum/Sméagol. Gollum had been tracking the Nine Walkers from at least Moria, but he remained off stage. Now, he is captured and bound to Frodo after being made to swear on the Ring. Gollum, who calls the Ring his Precious, bore it for centuries. It twisted and hollowed him out, eating away at his mind and his soul. Now, he would do anything for its owner and, simultaneously, anything to repossess it.
Together, the trio cross the Dead Marshes, site of a great battle. Fought thousands of years before, images of the fallen, man, elf, and orc alike, linger on just below the surface of the marsh’s waters. Ghost lights flit over them, luring the unwary to their doom. Tolkien supposed that the battlefields of the Somme lived on in the Dead Marshes. He described how shell holes would be filled with water and the dead of both sides floated in them.
Clearing the swamps and finding Mordor’s main gate too formidable an obstacle, they head south to a secret way through the mountains Gollum claims can take them safely into Mordor. They meet their first men of Gondor, see an oliphaunt, witness the sallying forth of one of Sauron’s armies out of citadel so evil the ground around it is cursed, before starting on Gollum’s secret way. Things do not go well for any of them from there.
The Two Towers expands the reader’s vision of Middle-earth way beyond anything Tolkien displayed previously. The only human civilizations shown were the towns of Bree and Esgaroth. Now, we get to cross the expanse of the land of Rohan and meet its people, the Rohirrim. They been described as “Anglo-Saxon’s on horses,” which is reinforced with their Saxon-derived names such as Théoden, Éomer, and Éowyn.
Their horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed; their grey coats glistened, their long tails flowed in the wind, their manes were braided on their proud necks. The Men that rode them matched them well: tall and long-limbed; their hair, flaxen-pale, flowed under their light helms, and streamed in long braids behind them; their faces were stern and keen. In their hands were tall spears of ash, painted shields were slung at their backs, long swords were at their belts, their burnished shirts of mail hung down upon their knees.
It falls to the resurrected Gandalf to restore the king’s spirit so he can rouse his people and his forces against those of Saruman. Saruman once led the White Council against the resurgence of Sauron, but he came to betray them. Now he plans to conquer Rohan, Gondor’s only ally, and seize the Ring for himself.
And rouse the king, Gandalf does, which means we get one of Tolkien’s great epic moments. He doesn’t always show you the action in the books. We get the death of Boromir, Gandalf’s battle against the balrog, and the destruction of Isengard all second hand. Not this time. Instead, we get s brutal night battle against terrible odds and in harrowing detail, alleviated only a little by Gimli and Legolas’s banter over who’s killed more enemies.
It was now past midnight. The sky was utterly dark, and the stillness of the heavy air foreboded storm. Suddenly the clouds were seared by a blinding flash. Branched lightning smote down upon the eastward hills. For a staring moment the watchers on the walls saw all the space between them and the Dike lit with white light: it was boiling and crawling with black shapes, some squat and broad, some tall and grim, with high helms and sable shields. Hundreds and hundreds more were pouring over the Dike and through the breach. The dark tide flowed up to the walls from cliff to cliff. Thunder rolled in the valley. Rain came lashing down.
Arrows thick as the rain came whistling over the battlements, and fell clinking and glancing on the stones. Some found a mark. The assault on Helm’s Deep had begun, but no sound or challenge was heard within; no answering arrows came.
The assailing hosts halted, foiled by the silent menace of rock and wall. Ever and again the lightning tore aside the darkness. Then the Orcs screamed, waving spear and sword, and shooting a cloud of arrows at any that stood revealed upon the battlements; and the men of the Mark amazed looked out, as it seemed to them, upon a great field of dark corn, tossed by a tempest of war, and every ear glinted with barbed light.
Brazen trumpets sounded. The enemy surged forward, some against the Deeping Wall, others towards the causeway and the ramp that led up to the Hornburg-gates. There the hugest Orcs were mustered, and the wild men of the Dunland fells. A moment they hesitated and then on they came. The lightning flashed, and blazoned upon every helm and shield the ghastly hand of Isengard was seen. They reached the summit of the rock; they drove towards the gates.
Then at last an answer came: a storm of arrows met them, and a hail of stones. They wavered, broke, and fled back; and then charged again, broke and charged again; and each time, like the incoming sea, they halted at a higher point. Again trumpets rang, and a press of roaring men leaped forth. They held their great shields above them like a roof, while in their midst they bore two trunks of mighty trees. Behind them orc-archers crowded, sending a hail of darts against the bowmen on the walls. They gained the gates. The trees, swung by strong arms, smote the timbers with a rending boom. If any man fell, crushed by a stone hurtling from above, two others sprang to take his place. Again and again the great rams swung and crashed.
The Treason of Isengard was probably my favorite part of The Lord of the Rings when I was young. It’s got action and adventure and lots and lots of cool things. I remember me and my dad debating exactly what Orthanc and Meduseld looked like. Gandalf reappears and we learn about the palantír. The reunion of Merry and Pippin with Gandalf and company in Isengard is one of the funniest moments in the books. It all terrific, but it’s in The Ring Goes East, though, where the deepest themes of The Lord of Rings are developed.
Frodo and Sam march off toward Mordor knowing they probably won’t return, but they know it must be done. Defending what is right comes with a cost that leaves no one unchanged. It is too easy to fall in love with bloody deeds for themselves and forsake the things that might be lost.
In the middle of an attack by a band of Gondorian rangers on a force of enemy soldier, Sam meets the enemy up close for the first time.
Sam, eager to see more, went now and joined the guards. He scrambled a little way up into one of the larger of the bay-trees. For a moment he caught a glimpse of swarthy men in red running down the slope some way off with green-clad warriors leaping after them, hewing them down as they fled. Arrows were thick in the air. Then suddenly straight over the rim of their sheltering bank, a man fell, crashing through the slender trees, nearly on top of them. He came to rest in the fern a few feet away, face downward, green arrow-feathers sticking from his neck below a golden collar. His scarlet robes were tattered, his corslet of overlapping brazen plates was rent and hewn, his black plaits of hair braided with gold were drenched with blood. His brown hand still clutched the hilt of a broken sword.
It was Sam’s first view of a battle of Men against Men, and he did not like it much. He was glad that he could not see the dead face. He wondered what the man’s name was and where he came from; and if he was really evil of heart, or what lies or threats had led him on the long march from his home; and if he would not really rather have stayed there in peace –
To take these words and give them to anyone other than an innocent gardener from the Shire is practically sacrilegious. I imagine this is how Tolkien must have felt on seeing his first dead Germans in the mud of the front. These words are at the core of the humanist heart of the books. War is a engine that sucks men in and grinds out corpses. It might be necessary, but it is horrible and not something to be cherished as many in Gondor have come to. Instead, the value of what is being defended must never be forgotten.
‘For myself,’ said Faramir, ‘I would see the White Tree in flower again in the courts of the kings, and the Silver Crown return, and Minas Tirith in peace: Minas Anor again as of old, full of light, high and fair, beautiful as a queen among other queens: not a mistress of many slaves, nay, not even a kind mistress of willing slaves. War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Númenor; and I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her present wisdom. Not feared, save as men may fear the dignity of a man, old and wise.
In The Hobbit, Gollum was simply a twisted little monster below Goblin Town who riddled with Bilbo. Here, he’s become Sméagol again, a pathetic creature torn apart by possessing the Ring for so many years and the hold it still holds over him. Not much of Sméagol remains after five hundred years of possessing the Ring, and as he describes it, that part of himself went away a long time ago. When Sméagol is first captured, Frodo recalls the words of Gandalf about how Bilbo’s was stayed by pity and mercy from slaying Gollum and finds the same pity in his own heart. Come the third book, The Return of the King, even after Sméagol has betrayed them and tried to kill them, Sam can’t bring himself to kill him. He’s enough of a tragic creature that Tolkien is able to convince Frodo, and more importantly, the reader, that he might still be something worth saving.
Frodo and Sam are the most developed characters in the trilogy. Tolkien doesn’t go in for all that much interiority with any of the other characters in his books. From their conversations and from their thoughts, Frodo and Sam take on much more life than anyone else. Together, they get to express one of the most profound things in The Lord of the Rings.
‘And we shouldn’t be here at all, if we’d known more about it before we started. But I suppose it’s often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually – their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t. And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on – and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same – like old Mr. Bilbo. But those aren’t always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we’ve fallen into?’
‘I wonder,’ said Frodo. ‘But I don’t know. And that’s the way of a real tale. Take any one that you’re fond of. You may know, or guess, what kind of a tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don’t know. And you don’t want them to.’
‘No, sir, of course not. Beren now, he never thought he was going to get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours. But that’s a long tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it – and the Silmaril went on and came to Eärendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We’ve got – you’ve got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we’re in the same tale still! It’s going on. Don’t the great tales never end?’
‘No, they never end as tales,’ said Frodo. ‘But the people in them come, and go when their part’s ended. Our part will end later – or sooner.’
I love Sam’s realization that he personally is an appendix to a tale going back thousands of years. He’s reached this wonderful understanding that he’s in the middle of a story and then it suddenly occurs to him that he’s not even in his own story, but just one more leg on someone else’s. Of course all this gets mangled and bastardized in the movie.
Which brings me to Peter Jackson’s movie, which feels very much like someone other than Tolkien’s story. I’ll only bring up a few of the things that leave me enraged watching his The Two Towers. The easiest one is which two towers the title refers to. The book’s title refers to Orthanc and Minas Morgul. Instead, Jackson has Saruman deliver a line about a new power made of the union of two towers, by which he means Orthanc and Barad Dur. I don’t know if I can say it’s an important thing, but I can say it’s an annoying thing.
Aside from Aragorn falling off a cliff, more bad jokes — dwarf tossing (again!), bad soup, and others — and buffoonishness from Merry and Pippin, there’s the case of Bad Faramir. In the book, Faramir is a throwback to the noblest Men of the West. Unlike his brother Boromir, he fights for the good things, not for the accolades or the desire to perform heroic deeds. He is not tempted by the Ring and helps the hobbits on their way.
Jackson’s Faramir, like Aragorn before him, can’t simply be a hero. He must be flawed and learn something or other before he can achieve his heroic status. That neither he, nor Boromir, are fair skinned with dark hair only makes matters worse.
I’m not that thrilled with how the Battle of Helm’s Deep is handled in the film. In the book, Théoden brings his forces to the fortress for clearly laid out strategic reasons. Here, it’s made out to be some sort of foolish, poorly thought out action. Aragorn argues with him about sending out messengers for aid, something no one in the book would imagine saying for a moment.
The battle never seems as desperate or grim as Tolkien makes it out to be (Haldir, the elf with the five o’clock shadow, getting killed doesn’t count because he’s barely a character). I struggle to image Orlando Bloom’s Legolas acting like this:
He climbed up and found Legolas beside Aragorn and Éomer. The elf was whetting his long knife. There was for a while a lull in the assault, since the attempt to break in through the culvert had been foiled.
‘Twenty-one!’ said Gimli.
‘Good!’ said Legolas. ‘But my count is now two dozen. It has been knife-work up here.’
I can’t bring myself to say anything else about the movie. Yes, we do get to see the Ents destroy Isengard, but even that’s not as cool looking as it’s described in the book. I’m so sick and tired of whining Frodo and the scene with the Ring Wraith and then him threatening Sam makes me nuts. I just tried to watch the animated War of the Rohirrim and I think something broke in my head.
I guess the only thing to do now that I’ve finished The Lord of the Rings is to go to The Silmarillion, The Hobbit, or….Bored of the Rings. Whichever I choose, it’s guaranteed to wash away some of the pain of Jackson’s movie.
Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part One
Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part Two – The Fellowship of the Ring by JRR Tolkien
Fletcher Vredenburgh writes a column each first Sunday of the month at Black Gate, mostly about older books he hasn’t read before. He also posts at his own site, Stuff I Like when his muse hits him.
A 20 film marathon of werewolf movies I’ve never seen before.
As usual, the films must be free to stream.
I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
A Werewolf in England (2020) PrimeMan or beast? A bunch of hairy honkers.
Howlin’ good time? Hot on the heels of Werewolves Within comes another horror comedy, although this one doesn’t come close to succeeding. It starts well enough, with a title card font reminiscent of the best Bray Studios films, and some gravelly voiced dialects, but it soon regresses into a two-note gag reel of chamber pots and the contents of chamber pots.
Now, I like a good fart or poo joke as much as the next man, but the over-reliance on potty humor soon outstayed its welcome, despite a double dip into demonic diarrhea. There were moments that put me in mind of Motel Hell, but in the end the production was hampered by over saturation (seriously, filter that shit in post), poor sound design and strangely choreographed werewolves.
The beasts, more cuddly than terrifying, could have been really effective with lower lighting and more sparing framing. Oh well — it looked like everyone had fun, and it does feature the line, “I feel a tinglin’ in me nether giblets.”
6/10
Howling VII: New Moon Rising (New Line Home Video, October 17, 1995)
and Meridian (Full Moon Features, April 13, 1990)
Man or beast? Rubbish practical/CG hybrid for all of 30 seconds at the end.
Howlin’ good time? Good people, if you’ve been reading these reviews, you’ll know I’ve watched some terrible films. You’ll also know that the worst thing a movie can do, in my opinion, is be boring. Forget the fact that this is horribly made, awfully acted, and weaves in footage from the last two films in an attempt to make sense of the story. The first hour of this mess is just unfunny bar regulars line dancing to country music while some bullshit ADR is shoveled on top of the steaming pile of plot. I honestly lost the will to live during this one. Settled for chewing my eyes out.
0/10
Meridian (1990) TubiMan or beast? Nice, practical, beast… wolf… thing.
Howlin’ good time? It’s a Full Moon feature, directed by Charles Band himself and although I think he’s a better producer, this is a nice looking film, suitably gothic for the subject matter. Meridian stars Sherilyn Fenn (and yes, I was a fully carded member of the Cult of Fenn in 1990) in a twist on the Beauty and the Beast story. In fact, it would have been a traditional, romantic ghost/beast story, if not for the unsavoury date rape that kicks off the whole affair.
The beast itself is a curious design, beautifully created by Greg (Lost Boys, Dracula) Cannom, who was definitely enjoying his ‘high brow’ phase. The prosthetics are great, and the body suit is well done; the huge hairy mass on its back is just one of a pair of extraordinary werewolf humps in the film. An interesting watch for purveyors of circus acts, nefarious twins and early 90s bosoms.
7/10
Mom (Epic Productions, June 13, 1991) and Werewolf of Washington (Diplomat Pictures, 1973)
Man or beast? Goofy were-thing.
Howlin’ good time? A 1990s horror film that is so 1990s it hurts. It starts well enough, with the wonderful Brion James as a shady, yellow-eyed drifter being aggressively creepy, and there’s a potentially excellent story to be had when our hero has to deal with his dear old mom turning into a werebeast and eating winos, but it’s not quite as exciting as I had hoped for. The creature itself is only seen in head and shoulder flashes and, although the mid-transformation make up is cool, the final creature looks goofy as all hell — we are talking Rawhead Rex goofy.
Fair to middling.
6/10
Werewolf of Washington (1973) TubiMan or beast? Hairy faced fella.
Howlin’ good time? It’s a scandal that I haven’t seen this before, but I’ve corrected that oversight. Not what I was expecting, this is a political satire wrapped up in a traditional lycanthrope yarn and it’s played for laughs. Skewering Nixon and Watergate, in this flick Dean Stockwell superbly grimaces and gurns as he changes each full moon and makes a meal of the president’s rivals. It’s basically All the President’s Wolfmen. Some genuinely funny moments (a witty script) and remarkable lapses into cinema verité elevate this hokey, bloodless romp into a film that I suspect I shouldn’t have enjoyed as much as I did.
7/10
Man or beast? Wolf/human hybrid.
Howlin’ good time? Bit of a cheat for no. 13, as it’s not strictly a werewolf, but a lab experiment gone wrong. Nothing remarkable about it; it’s typical SyFy fare, a couple of has-beens surrounded by lacklustre actors in a daft plot, with a surprising amount of practical gore. It’s instantly forgettable. However, it did prompt an extraordinary dive into the career of Fred Olen Ray, whom I only really knew for Alienator and Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers. I’m linking the Wikipedia page for his filmography here, as it’s quite the rabbit hole.
Anyhoo – 5/10
Previous Murkey Movie surveys from Neil Baker include:
There, Wolves: Part I
What a Croc
Prehistrionics
Jumping the Shark
Alien Overlords
Biggus Footus
I Like Big Bugs and I Cannot Lie
The Weird, Weird West
Warrior Women Watch-a-thon
Neil Baker’s last article for us was There, Wolves: Part I. Neil spends his days watching dodgy movies, most of them terrible, in the hope that you might be inspired to watch them too. He is often asked why he doesn’t watch ‘proper’ films, and he honestly doesn’t have a good answer. He is an author, illustrator, outdoor educator and owner of April Moon Books (AprilMoonBooks.com).
In this LitStack Rec, let’s explore the myriad benefits of page turning and its potential…
The post The Quiet Mindfulness of Page Turning and 8 Transformative Novels appeared first on LitStack.
At Black Gate, we’re all about science fiction legends. Specifically, science fiction legends who appeared in paperback in spinner racks in the 70s and 80s. Or pulp magazines. Or wrote adventures at the dawn of the role playing industry. You know what, forget all that. We’re not picky.
What makes a true science fiction legend? This is the sort of thing that’s hotly debated on social media, and at science fiction conventions, and in lengthy blog posts titled “Towards a New Science Fiction Canon, Because Yours is Old and Stupid.” But recently, public opinion has shifted. To be a science fiction legend, the most important criteria is that your name looks good in green font on a 50s CRT monitor, preferably in a cool underground bunker. Exactly like the cover of Space Ships! Ray Guns! Martian Octopods!: Interviews with Science Fiction Legends, the upcoming book from Richard Wolinsky and Tachyon Publications.
I’ve spent long hours staring at this cover (by the marvelously talented Yoshi Vu), and the more I do, the more I’m convinced I’m right. Just look at those names. Look at how cool they are! Roger Zelazny, Theodore Sturgeon, Robert Sheckley, Jack Williamson, Fritz Leiber, Damon Knight, Poul Anderson, Isaac Asimov, Anne McCaffrey, William F. Nolan, Terry Carr, Frederik Pohl. Right now you’re shaking your head, but you know I’m right.
Those glowing green names don’t just constitute a comprehensive list of true science legends. Coincidentally, they also happen to be included in this fabulous book of interviews. Don’t take my word for it; here’s the press release to show how right I am.
In this collection of candid interviews, more than fifty legendary authors swap fascinating — and sometimes controversial — anecdotes about the Golden Age of science Fiction (1920–1960). With such guests as Ray Bradbury, Robert Bloch, Harlan Ellison, Philip K. Dick, Isaac Asimov, Margaret Atwood, Fritz Leiber, Frank Herbert, and many more, here are the wild personalities, sparks of contention, and vivid imaginations that made science fiction thrive.
Today, depictions of aliens, rocket ships, and awe-inspiring, futuristic space operas are everywhere. Why is there so much science fiction, and where did it come from? Radio producer and author Richard Wolinsky (Probabilites) has found answers in the Golden Age of science fiction.
Wolinsky has interviewed a veritable who’s who of famous (and infamous) science fiction publishers, pulp magazines, editors, cover artists, and fans. The interviews themselves, which aired on the public radio show, Probabilities, span more than twenty years, from just before the release of Star Wars through the dawn of Y2K. The result, Space Ships! Ray Guns! Martian Octopods!, is ultimately a love letter to fandom.
See? I told you.
I’m not familiar with Richard Wolinsky, but it’s clear that I should be. He cohosted Probabilities, a half-hour public radio program devoted to science fiction, mystery, and mainstream fiction, which aired in San Francisco for nearly twenty years, from 1977 – 1995. After he took the program solo in 2002 he renamed it Bookwaves, and that incarnation is still running.
Space Ships! Ray Guns! Martian Octopods!: Interviews with Science Fiction Legends belongs on every serious science fiction bookshelf. It definitely belongs on mine, anyway.
It will be released from Tachyon Publications on September 2, 2025. It is 256 pages, priced at $18.95 in paperback and $11.00 in digital formats. Get more details and order copies directly from the publisher here.
John Carpenter’s Tales of Science Fiction: Vault (June 2018), Vortex
(October 2018), and issue #1 of Pause (February 26, 2025
Storm King Comics was founded in 2012 by legendary filmmaker John Carpenter and his wife of thirty-five years, producer Sandy King. Together, they are known for delivering stories of horror, science fiction, and the supernatural, with series like John Carpenter’s Tales of Science Fiction and John Carpenter’s Tales for a HalloweeNight. Combining Carpenter’s cinematic style with the visual storytelling of comics, Storm King Comics offers fans immersive experiences that have cemented its reputation in the comic book industry.
I was first introduced to Storm King Comics by the grand dame herself, Sandy King, when I met her in 2016 at C2E2. Since then, I have collected all the issues from Tales for a HalloweeNight as well as Asylum which was my first exposure to the great stories that come out of Storm King. And though I am not a sci-fi girl strictly speaking, I love a good crossover, which this week’s launch seems to be.
For a bit of background, John Carpenter’s Tales of Science Fiction launched in 2018 with its inaugural story Vault, telling the tale of a moon-bound crew who discover an alien vessel with English markings. Since that time there have been eleven total installments and this week the series returns with installment twelve, entitled Pause.
Here’s what you have to look forward to…
Picture this: you’re the only one not frozen in a world where time has stopped. You could lounge in a luxury Manhattan penthouse while its owner stands motionless nearby. You could feast on gourmet meals, perfectly hot and untouched, at high-end restaurants.
But what if you could bring others back to life with just a touch? Would you break the silence for companionship — or keep this frozen paradise all to yourself? The possibilities seem endless, but in a world like this, making the wrong move could unpause more than you bargained for…
Check out the trailer set to “Beyond the Gallows” from Carpenter’s latest album, Lost Themes IV: Noir.
Pause is written by Matthew K. Manning (Batman/Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Adventures), illustrated by Conor Boyle (Judge Dredd), and lettered by Janice Chiang.
Issue #1 of the six-issue limited series is available today, with new issues arriving monthly through August.
As a Bookshop affiliate, I earn from qualifying purchases. Book Description: A powerful and fierce reimagining of the earliest Roman legend: the twins, Romulus and Remus, mythical founders of history’s greatest empire, and the woman whose sacrifice made it all possible. The names Romulus and Remus may be immortalized in map and stone and chronicle, but their mother exists only as a preface to her sons’ journey, the princess turned oath-breaking priestess, condemned to death alongside her children. But she […]
The post Review of Mother of Rome by Lauren J. A. Bear first appeared on Fantasy Cafe.Twist by Colum McCann is a propulsive novel of rupture and repair in the digital…
The post Spotlight on “Twist” by Colum McCann appeared first on LitStack.
I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
The Ragpicker King by Cassandra Clare
Mogsy’s Rating: 3.5 of 5 stars
Genre: Fantasy
Series: Book 2 of The Chronicles of Castellane
Publisher: Del Rey (March 4, 2025)
Length: 576 pages
Author Information: Website
The Ragpicker King is the second book in The Chronicles of Castellane series by Cassandra Clare, returning to the intricate world established in Sword Catcher. The usual caveats apply—if you have not caught up yet, this review may contain spoilers or book one!
The story opens in the aftermath of the devastating palace massacre that shook the city of Castellane. Those involved are desperate for answers—how could this have happened, and why? Kel Saren, who has filled the role of loyal Sword Catcher since he was a young boy, serves not only as Prince Conor Aurelian’s body double and protector but now must also play an investigator, tasked with uncovering the perpetrators behind the attack. To do so, he must venture beyond the glittering court and into the city’s dark underbelly, where the powerful fixer and information broker known as the Ragpicker King reigns. As Kel’s investigation pulls him deeper into danger, he begins to realize that his ability to shield the prince has limits, especially as the crown’s enemies grow bolder. While cleaning up Conor’s messes has always been part of Kel’s duty, which he performs gladly since the two men are as close as brothers, this time the consequences may be far graver than either of them anticipate.
Meanwhile, Prince Conor himself struggles to cope with the trauma of the massacre and witnessing the death of the innocent girl to whom he had been betrothed. As rival factions in his court continue to scheme for power and influence, he has no choice but to brace for yet another arranged marriage designed to secure his kingdom’s stability—even as his heart already belongs to someone else. And across the city, Lin Caster, an Ashkar healer and granddaughter to the king’s most trusted advisor, finds herself caught in a terrible predicament of her own making. In a desperate attempt to save her sick friend, she had openly proclaimed herself the reborn Ashkar goddess. Now, a visitor has arrived in town to test her claim, ready to subject her a series of trials where failure could mean disastrous consequences.
The Ragpicker King does everything a sequel is supposed to do. Clare expands on the world-building that made Sword Catcher so compelling, further exploring Castellane’s political landscape and the murky conspiracies simmering beneath its surface. In addition, she continues to bolster the storytelling by adding more to both court intrigue and personal dramas. Profound changes take place as characters mature in the face of new struggles, especially in Conor’s case. Once carefree and impulsive, the prince is finally beginning to take Kel’s advice to heart—learning that it’s time to grow up and be a true leader. However, taking responsibility also comes with a downside as his new aspirations come in conflict with the status quo at court, causing heightened political tensions. Subsequently, Kel’s natural instinct to shield his friend from further confrontation actually ends up doing more harm than good. He remains my favorite protagonist, dealing with his identity and place in the world as “Sword Catcher.” Lin, on the other hand, sees her star fade a little in this second novel as her storyline takes her farther away from the main plot at cause, causing her chapters to feel somewhat apart and disconnected.
Despite all these developments, pacing is also a mixed bag. The novel feels much longer than it is, due to the burden of lengthy explanations and setup. The narrative frequently goes on tangents, trying to shoehorn in and lingering on the characters’ various romantic entanglements. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind a little romance, but definitely not at the expense of the more significant stakes unfolding in the world at large. A touch of spice can add interest and depth, but with so much else at play, who gets paired up with whom is the least of my concern and feels like a distraction. In particular, the middle section dragged on with its meandering, soap opera-style drama, while the main story arc was crying out for more attention and momentum.
Happily, things pick up in the later parts of the book, where we see much stronger cohesion. As the plot reaches the climax, it unleashes a bombshell and an emotional payoff that’s worthy of the buildup. While it leaves some threads unresolved, including major changes for all our protagonists, the ending leaves plenty of motivation to pick up the next installment.
Ultimately, The Ragpicker King is a sequel that—while ambitious and expansive—is far from perfect. It does plenty of things well, including building upon the scope of its world, but admittedly it also stumbles in other areas, like pacing and character balance. On the whole, it also has the unmistakable feel of a bridge book. That said, I am interested in seeing how the next installment will handle the questions and conflicts that have been left enticingly open. The book’s ending sets the stage for what promises to be explosively fun times in the journey ahead.
More on The BiblioSanctum:
Review of Sword Catcher (Book 1)
In 2023, New Edge Sword and Sorcery Magazine (NESS) emerged, and it continues to deliver outstanding magazines, renewing past classics while showcasing contemporary and veteran authors. Notably, issues 1 and 4 include Elric tales by Michael Moorcock. Black Gate featured the crowdfunding and reviewed the initial volumes, and published an interview with editor Oliver Brackenbury (links).
A new crowdfunding campaign to bring issues 5-7 to life is live on Backerkit through March 15th. NESS continues to bring us Jirel of Joiry stories! We’ll highlight Jirel of Joiry here but the magazine offers much more.
Read this to learn the trajectory of Jirel of Joiry and NESS! Jirel is alive and well!
Building on their success in 2024, a Backerkit campaign has been launched for new issues.
TORONTO, Ontario, February 13th — Begun in Fall 2022 with issue #0, short story & non-fiction magazine New Edge Sword & Sorcery is running a crowdfunding campaign on Backerkit to produce issues #5, 6, and 7 in accessible digital, classic softcover, and luxurious hardcover (w/endpage art and a bookmark ribbon!) formats. These will be released in November of 2025.
Backing this campaign is a way to be a part of genre history: JIREL OF JOIRY will be returning with her second new story since the originals in Weird Tales! Jirel was the first Sword & Sorcery heroine, created by legendary Weird Tales regular, C.L. Moore. Like Alice in Wonderland with a big f***ing sword, Jirel had compelling adventures in bizarre dream-logic realms, balancing a rich emotional life with terrifying struggles against dark forces! Predating Red Sonja, she & Moore were a direct influence on Robert E. Howard’s writing, as well as so many who came after.
Alas, Moore only wrote a handful of Jirel tales — which are still collected, published, and read to this day. So it’s a good thing that when backers of the campaign helped it hit 100% funding in just four days, they helped make sure a new story will be published! Authorized by the estate of C.L. Moore, “Jirel Meets Death” has been written by the magnificent MOLLY TANZER (editor of Swords v. Cthulhu, author of Creatures of Charm and Hunger, and so much more).
Expanding to three issues a year also allows for the first ever special issue! NESS #7 is dedicated to S&S’ older, science-fantasy cousin Sword & Planet – featuring new S&P tales and non-fiction. Twenty-six other authors are spread across the three new issues this campaign is funding, including names like Alec “Black Beth” Worley, Premee Mohamed, and Dariel R.A. Quiogue.E
very story and non-fiction piece in the issues will be paired with two original B&W illustrations as soon as the crowdfund meets its first stretch goal – Double Art. The goal after that is a fund to cover shipping discounts for backers outside the United States, and from there every stretch goal is a pay raise for contributors. These goals make clear the magazine’s values of paying creators as much as they can, and making NESS financially accessible.
The magazine’s editor, Oliver Brackenbury, promises the magazine is “Made with love for the classics and an inclusive, boundary-pushing approach to storytelling”, delivering high quality writing and art in a wide variety of styles. Sword & Sorcery can be many things and still be Sword & Sorcery…or Sword & Planet!
Readers should race to back the magazine’s new issues before the campaign ends on March 15th, so they can benefit from crowdfund exclusives like bonus stories, discounted back issues, and cover art postcards. They can even win free, unique softcover issues annotated with behind-the-scenes info by chatting about S&S in the crowdfund’s community tab!
With the NESS pastiche continuing the heroine’s saga, here are the Jirel storiesRyan Harvey authored two Black Gate posts in 2007, one covering the author’s life and contributions in detail (Jirel ofJoiry: The Mother of Us All) and another reviewing Black God’s Kiss, Planet Stories‘s collection of all of C.L. Moore’s Jirel stories (including a collaboration with husband Henry Kuttner).
The red-haired, yellow-eyed, and lioness-fierce sword-wielding Jirel has an unassailable place in contemporary popular culture, along with her genre cousins, the laser-gun wielding heroine and the wooden-stake-armed heroine. Fantasy, science fiction, and horror no longer have “Males Only” signs over their doors, either for their warriors or writers. So many female authors and protagonists thrive in speculative fiction today that it seems hard to imagine a time when the opposite was the case. It feels impossible to visualize fantasy before Catherine Lucille Moore broke down the gender barriers (even if she did partially disguise her sex behind her first initials, C. L.) and brought with her Jirel. Beautiful, fierce, loyal, defiant, passionate Jirel did more than raise her sword against sorcery. She slashed through the confining walls around speculative fiction and let it reach toward the horizons in a way it never could have before her advent. That achievement alone assures Jirel and her creator a place in the firmament of the stars of fantasy literature.
— Ryan Harvey, Jirel ofJoiry: The Mother of Us All
If you’re interested in learning more about Molly Tanzer and her approach to writing Jirel, check out the article Old Sorcery, New Edge: Q&A with Molly Tanzer (by Alec Worley, Feb 2024) and the Return of Jirel Interview hosted by Oliver Brackenbury, editor of NESS (2024).
NESS Magazine is always saturated with interior art. Artist Saprophial illustrated four pieces “Jirel and the Mirror of Truth”. The artist was a perfect choice since she also created the art for the 2022 Black God’s Kiss RPG Aventure and Game (check out Blazing Worlds website for more info.)
Back New Edge S&S Issues 5-7 Now! (link)
S.E. Lindberg is a Managing Editor at Black Gate, regularly reviewing books and interviewing authors on the topic of “Beauty & Art in Weird-Fantasy Fiction.” He is also the lead moderator of the Goodreads Sword & Sorcery Group and an intern for Tales from the Magician’s Skull magazine. As for crafting stories, he has contributed eight entries across Perseid Press’s Heroes in Hell and Heroika series, and has an entry in Weirdbook Annual #3: Zombies. He independently publishes novels under the banner Dyscrasia Fiction; short stories of Dyscrasia Fiction have appeared in Whetstone, Swords & Sorcery online magazine, Rogues In the House Podcast’s A Book of Blades Vol I and Vol II, DMR’s Terra Incognita, and the 9th issue of Tales From the Magician’s Skull.
Here are 7 Author Shoutouts for this week. Find your favorite author or discover an…
The post 7 Author Shoutouts | Authors We Love To Recommend appeared first on LitStack.
Magical forests are nothing new in fantasy, but the one in The Forest at the Heart of Her Mage isn’t a typical enchanted glen with sparkling streams and the occasional talking tree. No, this forest is alive, hostile, and more than a little creepy. Tiller, our protagonist, is voluntarily walking right back into it after two decades of carefully avoiding the place. Brave? Sure. Questionable life choices? Absolutely.
But she’s not going alone. Carnelian, a mage with a bad reputation and a knack for making things complicated, accompanies her. Together, they deal with monsters, mysteries, and politics. There’s also a slow-burn romance with more tension than action.
Let’s start with the good stuff: this is a beautifully layered book. The magical system, split between regimented human magic and the wild, unknowable magic of the forest, is well-thought-out and intriguing. The forest itself feels like a character - alive, unpredictable, and unsettling. And then, the budding relationship between Tiller and Carnelian is as much about peeling back emotional layers as it is about fending off literal monsters, and their dynamic is a highlight. If you like your romance slow-burn with a healthy dose of secrets and snark, this delivers.
But - and there’s always a but - the pacing could be tighter. The story leans into introspection and atmosphere, which is great when it’s working, but occasionally makes the story feel like it’s wading through mud. Tiller and Carnelian spend a lot of time trekking through the wilderness and working through their issues, which is interesting in parts but sluggish in others. The action scenes, while sharp, are scarce, and the overall pace is steady.
Still, the payoff is, I think, worth the time. If you’re in the mood for a book that’s eerie, emotional, and a little meandering, The Forest at the Heart of Her Mage is precisely this.
OFFICIAL SPFBO SCORE
There is powerful storytelling in Lewis Buzbee’s Diver. In the same way you can be…
The post Coming Up For Air | Lewis Buzbee’s “Diver” Elegantly Explores Submerged Emotions appeared first on LitStack.
Good afterevenmorn!
So, my various social media algorithms were working overtime the past couple of months, bombarding me with clips and training videos for the Chinese movie Legends of the Condor Heroes: The Gallants. And, of course, my interest was more than a little piqued. When I heard that the movie was getting an international release, I got more than a little excited.
Given how much I adore Chinese dramas, and kung fu movies, and the fact that I train kung fu and Chinese kickboxing (called San Da, or less frequently San Shou), there was no way in hell that I would not be going out to see this film.
I went in pretty much blind, with only a trailer (which gave nearly nothing away), and the training videos. So it had virtually no idea what it was all about. This will matter quite a bit, as we will see.
The trailer I saw
What I learnt after the fact is that this film is loosely based on the first (射鵰英雄傳 (The Legend of the Condor Heroes)) of a trilogy of books by Chinese author 金庸 (Jin Yong), which I have not read (but would love to get my hands on a translation of). The novels are technically Wixia, a Chinese historical fantasy, which typically follow an unattached warrior who follows a chivalric code (俠 (xia)). Emphasis on fantasy in this case. More on that later.
Now, I am quite familiar with the male lead Xiao Zhan (肖战), who has been in a number of dramas I’ve watched, but is probably most famous for his role in The Untamed here in the Western Hemisphere. He’s a very talented actor, and I’ve enjoyed most everything I’ve seen him in (and even the ones that were so-so, he was the bright spot for). And I’m so pleased that there was a foreign film that I didn’t have to find a niche theatre for. I was, and am, very happy to encourage more of that.
The last Chinese film I saw in theatres was Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. So… quite a while ago. I remember it absolutely blowing me a way (and wrecking me emotionally), so I was really eager to see this. With that in mind, off I trundled with a couple of my martial arts students on Sunday to watch the movie.
The movie centres on one Guo Jing (郭靖), a Han Chinese man from the Song Dynasty raised in Mongolia by the Khan who took him and his mother in following the strife between the Jin and Song empires (the Jin rise to power shattered the Song Dynasty, and they moved south to become the Southern Song Empire), and the tension between his two identities — a Han Chinese man from the Southern Song Empire and a man raised as a Mongol, by the Khan, and sworn brother to Mongols.
And it was great! A whole lot of fun; but with some caveats.
The first is that, as this was based on a novel, there is a lot of information packed into a relatively short amount of time (just over 2 hours), and if you’re not paying attention, you miss an awful lot. For those of us unfamiliar with the source material, it did lessen the emotional impact of certain scenes. It might be just my 40 episode drama-watching brain, but this probably could have been a couple of movies.
An awful lot is glossed over rather quickly in what feels like a “Previously On” moment. I was left with the feeling that there was a prequel movie that I have not seen. I haven’t done any research on whether that was the case as of the writing of this. When we finally get into the meat of the movie, Guo Jing has separated from the woman he loves, whom he travelled all over the Middle Lands and trained with, and has already mastered the techniques from a much-sought-after scroll, whom this young woman (Huang Rong (黃蓉)) apparently has possession of. Following so far?
Separated, Huang Rong is pursued by three of the five masters — a martial art specialists from three of the five styles of martial arts (kung fu… sort of) in the Middle Lands. The lead, Venom West, desperately wants the scroll she carries. He was, apparently, preciously defeated by Guo Jing in an encounter we only get flashbacks of (rather disappointingly).
I’m not going to give too much away, but eventually the lovers reunite, and simultaneously save both the Khan and the Southern Song Empire; the Khan from Venom West, who has gone mad, and the Southern Song from the Mongols, who were just themselves saved.
The story itself was very fun, with some impressive action sequences, but I find myself a little disappointed that they weren’t more grounded. Remember when I mentioned that the emphasis was on fantasy? Well, all the fighting in this was basically magic battles between wizards. There was actually very little proper fighting involved. Given the training videos I saw, I was expecting a little more proper combat.
One of several videos that promised something that wasn’t delivered.
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon leant into the fantasy, what with the flying through the air and landing on bamboo as if their bones were hollow/they could actually levitate. But the fighting in that was actual fighting; highly choreographed, but fighting all the same. With that as my only reference for Chinese movies, and with the training videos, I do feel a little cheated. Particularly since in several of the training videos, I could recognise the styles employed.
There was no real hand-to-hand combat in the film.
Now, it’s entirely possible that the training shorts I saw were actually for a completely different project. I do know that many of these actors are incredibly busy, working or three or more projects a year. So it’s entirely possible that all the videos were mislabelled and were for something else entirely.
The movie also ends in what feels like the middle of the story. Hardly surprising since it’s the first book in a trilogy. The sort-of middle-of-the-story vignette that this film presents is not unlike My Neighbour Totoro. Both movies left me with an “this is unfinished” feeling.
Despite the slight disappointment of all the fights being wizard battles, and the unusual feeling of being shown but a snippet of a story, however, the movie was a whole lot of fun. I loved hearing both Mandarin and Mongolian. I loved how the Mongols weren’t made the villains (I initially thought they were, and it would have been easy to have made them thus — kind of like Russians for 80s Hollywood movies). And I adored having something other than the increasingly formulaic and mindless films we’ve been fed of late to spend a Sunday afternoon watching.
I really do wish more foreign films would get wide releases like this. We could use the fresh perspectives and fascinating stories other cultures bring. I had a lot of fun with this one. If you are going to see it, you must pay close attention, but it was certainly worth it. If there are sequels that make it out our way, I’ll definitely be watching. But first, I need to get my hands on English versions of these books!
When S.M. Carrière isn’t brutally killing your favorite characters, she spends her time teaching martial arts, live streaming video games, and cuddling her cat. In other words, she spends her time teaching others to kill, streaming her digital kills, and a cuddling furry murderer. Her most recent titles include Daughters of Britain, Skylark and Human. Her serial The New Haven Incident is free and goes up every Friday on her blog.
Last April, after a grief-filled winter, and a previous fall that was more difficult than I could possibly describe, Nancy and I went to Italy for three weeks — a long-delayed trip that had once been intended as a celebration of our 60th birthdays, both of which were more than a year passed by then.
While in Italy, we spent four lovely days in the ridiculously picturesque city of Venice, and while there, we took a day to visit Murano, a portion of the city that is renowned for its glass factories. It is, if you are not familiar with the history of glass-making in Venice, home to the Murano Glassworks, one of the most renowned glass producers in the world. It is also a gorgeous part of the city. We had a great time there, walking around, looking in shops, getting some food, enjoying the play of color and light on the waterways and old buildings. We watched a glass-blowing exhibition at the Murano factory, and bought many gifts for friends and family back home, as well as for Nancy.
While walking around, searching for a small souvenir of my own, I stopped in at a modest shop on a square, and found, among other things, several small squares of glass in which were embedded finely-wrought images of bare trees. I was captivated and started up a halting conversation with the shop’s owner, who spoke only a bit more English than I did Italian. We managed to communicate, though, and had a very nice exchange. The works in question, it turned out, had been done by the man’s father. He shaped the trees out of strands of steel wool and then placed them in small molds which he filled with melted glass. Each image came out slightly differently. All of them were delicate and beautiful and utterly unlike anything else I had seen in Venice (or anywhere else, for that matter).
I bought the one you see in the photo here. It is small — only 2 1/2 inches by 2 inches — and it is signed — etched, actually — by the artist. I don’t recall what I paid for it. Honestly, I don’t care. I love it. The man wrapped it up in tissue paper, took my payment, and I left his shop, likely never to see him again.
I kept it wrapped up even after we returned to the States. My plan was to open it once we were in our new house, which is what I did. It now sits in my office window, catching the late afternoon sun. And it reminds me of so much. That trip to Italy, which marked the beginning of my personal recovery from the trauma of losing Alex. That day in Venice, which was gloriously fun. The conversation with the kind shopkeeper, whose love for and pride in his father was palpable throughout our exchange. More, that little glass piece is an image of winter, and it sparkles like a gem when the sun hits it. It reminds me that even after a long cold winter, a time of grief and pain, there is always new life and the joy of a new spring.
A cliché, to be sure. But as with so many clichés, it’s rooted in truth.
That little tree — the simplicity of steel wool preserved in glass — brings me joy and comfort all out of proportion to its size and cost. I think Alex would love it, too.
When we were getting ready to move, Nancy and I unloaded a lot of stuff. We talked often of the joy we derived from “lightening our lives,” culling from our belongings items we no longer needed or wanted. And I am so glad to have done that work. But I will admit that I still get great pleasure out of many of things we kept, including little tchotchkes (Yiddish for “trinkets” or “little nothings”) like this one.
Wishing you a wonderful week.
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