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A review by mafiabadgers
The Conan The Barbarian Stories by
adventurous
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
1.0
First read 04/2023-08/2024
The desert shimmered in the heat waves. Conan the Cimmerian stared out over the aching desolation and involuntarily drew the back of his powerful hand over his blackened lips. He stood like a bronze image in the sand, apparently impervious to the murderous sun, though his only garment was a silk loin-cloth, girdled by a wide gold-buckled belt from which hung a saber and a broad-bladed poniard. On his clean-cut limbs were evidences of scarcely healed wounds.
At his feet rested a girl, one white arm clasping his knee, against which her blonde head drooped. Her white skin contrasted with his hard bronzed limbs; her short silken tunic, low-necked and sleeveless, girdled at the waist, emphasized rather than concealed her lithe figure...
(The Slithering Shadow, 1933)
So begins your average Conan the Barbarian story. Evidently, it has no sense of humour, and is unable to imagine taking the piss out of its protagonist, which is a terrible shame, because he is ridiculous. This book contains all 17 Conan the Barbarian stories, plus an appendix on the history of the Hyborian Age. It has taken me 16 months to read; for your health, I do not advise more than one story a month, and a steady diet of better fiction in between. The stories are frequently racist ('Shadows in Zamboula', 1935, might take the biscuit), sexist (take your pick), and/or colonialist ('Beyond the Black River', 1935). They are at best mildly entertaining, but useful for examining the presence of all sorts of nasty prejudices in the history of the fantasy genre, as well as the development of the 'sword and sorcery' subgenre. Incidentally, that name was coined by Fritz Leiber, who wrote a far superior series: Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser could pull off any Conan adventure, but Conan could never do 'Lean Times in Lankhmar'. The strong Lovecraftian angle in 'The Slithering Shadow' caught me by surprise, but Howard and Lovecraft were pen pals, so I probably should have seen it coming. A number of phrases would appear to have had their meanings or impression changed over time. Here is a selection:
"But we're bound for the coasts of Kush!" expostulated the master.
"Then I'm for Kush! Push off, I tell you!" (Queen of the Black Coast, 1934)
"Thog!" he ejaculated. (The Slithering Shadow, 1933)
He was nonplussed—a bit upset, if the term might be applied to one of such steely nerves as his. (The Pool of the Black One, 1933)
"Water the horses and let the men munch." (Black Colossus, 1933. I intend to incorporate this into my daily speech henceforth.)
The desert shimmered in the heat waves. Conan the Cimmerian stared out over the aching desolation and involuntarily drew the back of his powerful hand over his blackened lips. He stood like a bronze image in the sand, apparently impervious to the murderous sun, though his only garment was a silk loin-cloth, girdled by a wide gold-buckled belt from which hung a saber and a broad-bladed poniard. On his clean-cut limbs were evidences of scarcely healed wounds.
At his feet rested a girl, one white arm clasping his knee, against which her blonde head drooped. Her white skin contrasted with his hard bronzed limbs; her short silken tunic, low-necked and sleeveless, girdled at the waist, emphasized rather than concealed her lithe figure...
(The Slithering Shadow, 1933)
So begins your average Conan the Barbarian story. Evidently, it has no sense of humour, and is unable to imagine taking the piss out of its protagonist, which is a terrible shame, because he is ridiculous. This book contains all 17 Conan the Barbarian stories, plus an appendix on the history of the Hyborian Age. It has taken me 16 months to read; for your health, I do not advise more than one story a month, and a steady diet of better fiction in between. The stories are frequently racist ('Shadows in Zamboula', 1935, might take the biscuit), sexist (take your pick), and/or colonialist ('Beyond the Black River', 1935). They are at best mildly entertaining, but useful for examining the presence of all sorts of nasty prejudices in the history of the fantasy genre, as well as the development of the 'sword and sorcery' subgenre. Incidentally, that name was coined by Fritz Leiber, who wrote a far superior series: Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser could pull off any Conan adventure, but Conan could never do 'Lean Times in Lankhmar'. The strong Lovecraftian angle in 'The Slithering Shadow' caught me by surprise, but Howard and Lovecraft were pen pals, so I probably should have seen it coming. A number of phrases would appear to have had their meanings or impression changed over time. Here is a selection:
"But we're bound for the coasts of Kush!" expostulated the master.
"Then I'm for Kush! Push off, I tell you!" (Queen of the Black Coast, 1934)
"Thog!" he ejaculated. (The Slithering Shadow, 1933)
He was nonplussed—a bit upset, if the term might be applied to one of such steely nerves as his. (The Pool of the Black One, 1933)
"Water the horses and let the men munch." (Black Colossus, 1933. I intend to incorporate this into my daily speech henceforth.)