Four Torches (Out of Five)

Good writing really is timeless.

Author Michael Moorcock is most famous for his Elric of Melnibone series — some of the most influential fantasy books of the 1970s.

But like all authors, not all of his books reached the same level of popularity. A lesser-known series of his, The History of Runestaff which was written in the 1960s, eventually fell out of print.

The series is another his Moorcock’s “Eternal Champion” mythos, where an ever-changing cast of beings participate in a never-ending war between Law and Chaos.

Now Tor books is reissuring some of the books in that old series, in anticipation of a new Michael Moorcock series, The Sanctuary of the White Frairs, the first book of which will debut in 2011.

The History of the Runestaff, which Tor is now calling the Hawkmoon series (after the main character Dorian Hawkmoon), is worth reading.

First, since most of Moorcock’s books take place in the same multiverse, there are interesting Elric references. In The Sword of Dawn, the latest book to be released by Tor, Dorian even encounters the malignant entity that exists in Elric’s sword Stormbringer (and which causes so much mischief for him).

The Sword of Dawn, like all these books, is classic fantasy in every possible way: the fantasy equivalent of “hard” science fiction.

But Moorcock has always worked on a broader scale than most other authors: the characters travel through time and between dimensions. In this book, Hawkmoon’s kingdom protects itself from the evil enemy kingdom of Granbretan by transporting itself into its own supposedly-unreachable “bubble” in space and time. But Granbretan is more resourceful than anticipated: when it becomes clear that they’re attempting to use to magic to destroy the kingdom, Dorian and his ever-faithful companion have no choice but to go off on a quest to find the Great Sword of Dawn, which they can then use to destroy Granbretan.

But finding the sword is easier than said than done. It requires traveling to different dimensions, battling plenty of alien creatures, and even relying a on the guidance of destiny itself.

There is no deep subtext here, no irony, and little of the existential angst of the type that will come into play in fantasy novels of the late 1970s and 1980s: it’s mostly just exciting adventures and plenty of hacking-and-slashing. In that respect, the book has a certain kind of wonderful innocence.

The writing, meanwhile, is terrific: fast-paced and spare, but evocative. There’s a reason why Moorcock is considered a master of the genre, and he absolutely deserves to be.

The History of the Runestaff continued with four more books after this one, though so far, they are still out of print.

This article was originally published in October 2009.

For those of you living under a rock, Zombieland opened last weekend and went quickly to number one (and we, of course, reviewed it here.) One of the clever moves of the film is that it takes your traditional Hero — muscular, confident, aggressive — and your standard Sidekick — smart but cowardly, neurotic — and flips them, so that we see the film through the eyes of the sidekick, played with hilarious gusto by Jesse Eisenberg.

Although the characters in the film aren’t aware of this switch, and continue on in their respective paths, we in the audience are clued in to the fact that this won’t be your traditional action/horror film. In fact, Eisenberg’s character, Columbus, in a moment of meta-consciousness, even refers to himself as “sort of a Sancho Panza-type.”

Sancho Panza was, of course, the prototypical sidekick, who traveled around at the side of Don Quixote in Miguel de Cervantes’ historic novel of the same name. Unlike the slender, intelligent Columbus, however, Sancho was overweight and dim, riding atop a donkey, yet lovable for his unshakable loyalty to his master, Quixote.

It is this loyalty that allows for Quixote to continue on in his quests, whether he’s aware of it or not, and like a truly great sidekick, Sancho never asks for affirmation. He simply is there for the hero, even though in this case, the hero is a delusional old man (which, perhaps, proves Sancho’s worth all the more.)

But while the sidekick has his or her place in a story, longer tales often develop the sidekick to the point where they’re on the same level as the hero, which is always satisfying for a reader or viewer. After all, haven’t we all, at some points in out lives, felt a lot more like Robin than Batman? So it’s small wonder we take comfort in the fact that Robin, the epitome of a sidekick, grew up and became Nightwing, a hero in his own right, on par with Batman.

In fantasy literature, perhaps one of the greatest examples of a sidekick rising up to the level of hero is Samwise Gamgee from The Lord of the Rings. Like Sancho, Sam is neither slim nor very smart, and for most of the story, Sam exists to cook food for Frodo and keep up his spirits, all the while contentedly walking behind his master on their epic quest.

But when Frodo is attacked and Sam believes he is dead, a change occurs in him, something visceral, something which can never be undone. He realizes that the fate of the Ring and indeed, the world, now rests solely on his humble shoulders, and so he stands up, picks up his master’s sword, and carries on.

Frodo didn’t die, of course, and the two hobbits are reunited, but things will never go back to the way they were before. By the end of their journey, Frodo has come to respect Sam as an equal, and when death again seems imminent, utters to Sam the famous words, “I’m glad to be with you, Samwise Gamgee, here at the end of all things.”

In the wake of Sam, it seems that the sidekick-turned-hero angle is all the rage. The most obvious example that springs to mind from contemporary is, of course, Gabrielle, the Battling Bard, whose popularity threatens to outshine that of the hero, Xena. Throughout the six seasons of Xena: Warrior Princess, we see as Gabrielle grows and changes from a feisty but physically weak farm girl into an accomplished warrior, inheriting Xena’s place after her death.

On Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Willow Rosenburg, who was naught but a vastly intelligent nerd, became aware of the existence of the supernatural when Buffy Summers came to town, and that indirectly resulted in her learning witchcraft to the point where she became the “most powerful witch in the western hemisphere.”

But as for my favorite sidekick? That would have to go to Ron Weasley, the bumbling poor kid who was just another Weasley sibling until he met up with Harry Potter in their first year at Hogwarts.

Come on, just look at that picture! If you didn’t say “Awww…” you’re made of stone.

Ron comes into Hogwarts the way many of us do any other school, frightened and overwhelmed, feeling very small and very alone. But by befriending Harry Potter, he assured his name would go down in the history books. Had it not been for Harry and all of the danger that followed him like a dark storm cloud, Ron might never have been tested as thoroughly as he was, thus never knowing his true potential.

While real life is never as cut-and-dry as fiction, sidekicks and heroes do exist, just as villains and henchmen do. But as fiction is  realizing, those roles are never binding, and we can easily go from being a lowly servant one moment to the savior of the world the next.

Four and a half Torches (Out of Five)

I’ve long made it clear that I’m in the tank for the books of Jacqueline Carey, whose fascinating blend of fantasy-erotica has complete shaken up a genre once known for being staid and old-fashioned. Her six Kushiel books have already become genre classics.

When she started a new series last year with Namaah’s Kiss, I was worried that it was too derivative of those first six books and their stand-out heroine Phedre no Delaunay.

The second book in the new series, Namaah’s Curse, is now out, and the books are derivative of the Kushiel books: the main character, the mystic Moirin, travels to the ends of the earth having adventures and, well, plenty of sex. And while she has a little higher opinion of herself than the eternally humble Phedre (and isn’t into S&M), the two plucky iconoclasts have plenty in common.

But it doesn’t really matter. Carey is such an engaging storyteller, and these books are such an enormous amount of fun, that any similarity to the Kushiel books, and Phedre, is soon forgotten.

It helps that Carey has shifted locales. All these books are set in the same alternative-medieval Earth, but in Namaah’s Kiss, Moirin traveled to China. Picking up where that book left off, she now travels past the Great Wall of China, into the desolate steppes of Mongolia, eventually even making her way down into would-be India — all in the pursuit of her lover Bao, with whom she had become spiritually joined in the last book.

Along the way, Moirin pisses off the Great Kahn, has a battle of wills with a pervy and (very) sexually repressed priest who imprisons and seeks to convert her, and eventually confronts the mysterious Spider Queen.

In addition to Carey’s oh-so-readable writing, her take on sexuality is as refreshing as always. In these books, sex is literally sacred — definitely not something to be ashamed of or feel guilty about.

If the book has a flaw, it’s that the ending, the climatic battle with the Spider Queen, feels rushed and by-the-numbers. Then again, conclusions have never been Carey’s strength.

The pleasure of a Jacqueline Carey book is the journey, and as in most of her previous books, this is a journey well worth taking.

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Cassandra Clare’s six-novel YA fantasy series The Mortal Instruments is being developed as a possible movie franchise, TheWrap is reporting.

The books tell the story of a teen girl who becomes involved with the Shadowhunters, a group of demon-hunters invisible to humans.

The first movie, to be called The Mortal Instruments, is based on the first book in the series, City of Bones, and is tentatively scheduled for a 2012 release. Further movies in the series would follow should the first one prove successful.

Deadline.com is reporting that Wonder Woman, the most famous female superhero of all time, may be coming back to television, in a series written and produced by David E. Kelley, the creator of Ally McBeal, Boston Public, and other shows.

Kelley is working with DC Comics, the publisher of the Wonder Woman comic, to develop the series. No network is yet attached.

It’s not known if the Wonder Woman reboot will follow the comic’s current incarnation (which was recently updated), the “classic” version from the 1940s (after the character was created in 1941), or some altogether new version.

Wonder Woman was previously a TV series, The New Adventures of Wonder Woman, that famously starred Lynda Carter who became strongly associated with the role. It ran from 1975 to 1979 on both ABC and CBS.

A live-action movie version of the character’s story has also long been in the works, and is reportedly still in active development.

Curious about the quiz’s other answers?

Four and a Half Torches (Out of Five)

Geez, fandom has gone big-time.

I should’ve known that fan “guides” and “companion books” to various TV shows were getting impressive when I reviewed Firefly: Still Flying, the latest of many companions to the canceled show Firefly, and they gave us an in-depth look at the kitchen utensils used in the galley of the Serenity.

In glossy pages, no less.

Yup, fan-guides are getting just that detailed.

Now there’s Supernatural: The Official Companion Season 4 by Nicholas Knight, and it’s another frighteningly comprehensive and detailed look at one of the best series on television.

In short, this book may not be for the casual fan, but if you’re an uber-fan of this show, you will love it.

Let’s get one thing out of the way right away: season four is this series’ best so far. Creator Eric Kripke thinks so (according to this book), and I think so too.

The book begins with an long introductory essay setting up the season. But what this book has that earlier companion books didn’t always have is access — to both the on-screen talent and the behind-the-scenes folks.

Not surprisingly, they have interesting things to say.

We learn, for example, that a “frozen” budget meant that season four required the producers to eliminate an entire day of shooting from the show’s previously nine-day shooting schedule. We also learn why Kripke violated his long-standing “no angels” policy of the first three seasons, and how it ended up revitalizing the show’s series arc — and gave us Misha Collins to boot.

Next up we have an episode guide, where we learn everything we could possibly want to know about each episode. For example, we learn the story behind Dean’s now-classic line, “I’ve been re-hymenated,” in the “Monster Movie” episode.

And what did Jensen Ackles think of those 1980s gym shorts in “After School Special”? “The shorter, the tighter, the better.”

One quibble: the episodes aren’t numbered.

After that, we have character break-downs, and also profiles and interviews of other key production personnel.

I say again: if you’re a Supernatural uber-fan — if you can’t get enough of this show — you’ll love this guide, which is wonderfully researched, professionally-written, and incredibly detailed.

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Individual Book Ratings:

The Hunger Games:

Five Torches (Out of Five)

Catching Fire:

Four Torches (Out of Five)

MockingJay:

One and a Half Torches (Out of Five)

I’m wracking my brain: I don’t think I’ve ever been so disappointed by the third book in a trilogy as I was by MockingJay, the third book in Suzanne Collin’s The Hunger Games trilogy of teen sci-fi books.

It’s one of those works that’s so disappointing — that’s such a clunky hollow shell of a book — that is has me questioning my love for other books by the same author. Am I misremembering how good the first two books were? Did I somehow misinterpret them at the time?

But no, The Hunger Games is still a terrific page-turner, one of the best in the now-popular genre of dystopian teen fiction.

The idea itself was nothing fresh — in a post-apocalyptic world, a totalitarian government keeps control by forcing various “districts” to send 24 of their teenagers to a “fight to the death” in a venue full of dangers that itself changes annually.

Catching Fire, the second book, was, frankly, a bit of disappointment, because rather than extend the story to some interesting, new place, Collins mostly just repeated the plot of the first book — oh, no, she has to go back to the Hunger Games a second time! Still, the characterizations were a little richer and the stakes a little higher. And the “games” themselves were mostly pretty different, and the book had the same zippy pacing, and a nicely thrilling plot (even if Katniss, the main character, was less central to the action this time around).

But MockingJay? It’s one of those books where literally everything successful about it is simply recycled material from the first two books — recycled in a mostly boring way, unfortunately.

I remember when Collins first presented us with the whole concept of the MockingJay in The Hunger Games: the jabberjays (a species genetically created by the Capitol to be spies and record conversations, but ultimately used against then) bred with mockingbirds, creating something new and different: a hybrid species.

My first thought was, “Oh, that is enormously clever! And I bet it’s going to end up being integral to the plot is some cool, unexpected way.”

But no, it just ends up being a ham-fisted metaphor for Katniss, emphasized over and over again.

MockingJay is a book of completely missed opportunities.

After her two experiences in the games, Katniss is now experiencing a serious case of post-traumatic stress disorder. She’s overcome by anger and resentment — so much so that she’s basically paralyzed by emotion.

On paper, I’m sure this sounded like a good idea — and I do like the idea of showing us the consequences of actually going into the games. But Katniss is so dour and negative and whiny — and, most of all, passive — that it eventually becomes almost impossible to identify with her, or even like her.

Meanwhile, the all-important “love triangle” at the center of the earlier books — Katniss, Peeta, and Gale — comes to a screeching halt and is hardly developed at all. Weirdly, Peeta and Gale barely appear — and Peeta is even more changed by his experiences than Katniss (for reasons that are soon explained).

Two of the other most interesting and indelible characters from the first two books, Haymatch and Cinna, also show up, but they barely register — it seems like they’re making cameo appearances. Why show us these beloved characters at all if they’re so carelessly squandered?

Most of the book seems to consist of Katniss … sitting around waiting (the main “story” literally doesn’t begin until well over halfway through). Katniss seethes and stews a lot too. She’s never been the most active character — except, of course, when she absolutely needs to be, like volunteering to take Prim’s place in the games, or when she’s in the middle of the games themselves.

But in past books, her passiveness make her the typical “reluctant” hero, someone you could root for and identify with. Here she seems almost psychotic. What’s the opposite of plucky? Sure, her reaction is understandable, but it’s not very pleasant to read.

And in a perfect example of how hard it is to overlook flaws and inconsistencies when you’re not otherwise enjoying a book, I kept being frustrated by how the Capitol, which seemed to have virtually unlimited technological power in the first two books, now seemed so impotent and easily defeated. District 13 can simply tap into the TV feeds — forever? The Capitol, which had built that incredibly sophisticated surveillance system, is now so easily penetrated?

And the supposedly searing “concluding twist” involving a certain leader? To me, it seemed completely tacked on to provide some kind of drama, and it was way too heavily foreshadowed anyway.

In preparation for this review, I was curious to see what other outlets have had to say about the book. I was surprised to see that MockingJay is getting mixed to positive reviews by other mainstream outlets. Partly, this doesn’t surprise me too much: in the era of Twilight, and the implosion of “traditional” media and the whole publishing industry, the pressure not to pan a break-out bestseller must be enormous, especially one that’s wildly popular with the kind of teen readers that could just possibly save both traditional media and the publishing industry.

But it does have me wondering: what do other readers really think? Many of the reader-reviews on Amazon are scathing (appropriately, IMHO).

What did TheTorchOnline.com readers think? Chime in in the comments.

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“You’re a wizard Harry.”

What would be better than finding out you are a wizard or witch? What would be better than learning to cast spells and charms (especially if you’re in the cross-hairs of the darkest and most powerful wizard ever born)?

Harry Potter learns many spells and charms at Hogwarts. Here are some of the most memorable — and my favorites.

Is Lumos the most widely-used spell in the books? It’s also perhaps the simplest: the light spell. Needless to say, light is conjured from wands many times during the books’ “darkest hours.”

Nox, meanwhile, turns off the light. It’s the counter spell to Lumos.

In Harry Potter and the Prizoner of Azkaban, Harry roams the halls of Hogwarts after dark looking for Peter Pettigrew on the Mauruder’s Map. Lumos let’s him see where’s he’s going (and see the map). He uses Nox when Snape catches him.

Avada Kedavra is one of the three “unforgivable curses.” It is mentioned in all of the books and first used in the sixth book. This spell or curse causes instant death to the victim.

This is a terrible spell to use, but a significant one nonetheless. Voldemort uses it on Harry’s parents and on Harry himself. Snape uses it to kill Dumbledore. And — for those who know Harry Potter through only the movies — expect to see this spell next in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Expecto Patronum is the Patronus Charm. It is used most in the fifth book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Harry teaches this charm to Dumbledore’s Army. This charm conjures an incarnation, usually an animal, from the wizard’s wand when the caster’s feelings are positive. This charm is usually used against Dementors.

This is my personal, favorite charm. I love the fact that each caster has their own animal-incarnation. I also love that the Dementors, visually scary and almost impossible to “kill,” can be avoided through the use of this beautiful charm.

Not surprisingly, the movies have had a great time depicting it.

Expelliarmus is first seen in the second book, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. This charm is used to disarm another wizard during battle, and Harry uses it to disarm Draco Malfoy.

But of course, the most important time Expelliarmus is used is when it saves Harry’s life in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. During the final stage of the tournament, Harry and Cedric both touch the triwizard cup, which is a portal to the graveyard where Voldemort and his Deatheaters are. Voldemort and Harry duel and, while Voldemort uses Avada Kedavras, Harry use Expelliarmus. But both wands contain the same phoenix feather, which causes the spells to collide (and prove ineffective) creating the Priori Incantatem, thus saving Harry’s life.

Protego shields the caster from his or her enemies’ spell attacks.

I remember Protego (Totalum) the most from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Harry uses it against Snape during their Occlumency lessons. When Harry uses it, the effects of Occlumency are reversed, and Harry sees Snape’s memories instead of Snape seeing more of Harry’s.

There are, of course, many more spells used in the books. Some such as Sectumsempra are only used once, but it’s such a memorable spell that no reader could forget it.

Good writers are good because they make the reader believe that what the author has written is “real.” The incredible magical details that J.K. Rowling has added to her books don’t just make you believe in the stories themselves — at least while you’re reading them, they make you think that magic might be real too.

Four and a Half Torches (Out of Five)

Steampunk is the sub-genre of sci-fi set in a 19th century, Industrial Age, Jules Verne-type setting, and lately, the buzz around it is pretty much deafening.

One recent entry to the sub-genre is The Affinity Bridge by George Mann (Tor Books, $13.99).

It’s an enormously fun read.

How fun? The book has robots. And zombies. Doesn’t look like it from that cover, does it? It makes the book look old-fashioned, which it isn’t really.

If you’ve never read steampunk, the thing you need to know is that the setting isn’t supposed to be “real.” There was never a time in the 19th century when technology was anywhere near this advanced. It’s science fiction of the “future” … set in the past. The past’s vision of the future, if you will. Get it?

No matter. The story involves two investigators in Victorian London, Sir Maurice Newberry and his trusted, platonic associate Miss Veronica Hobbes. They’re investigating the mysterious crash of a zeppelin that was piloted by a robot. Did something go awry in the robot’s brain? The creator of these robots says that malfunction is impossible, but there are enough suspicious clues to make Newberry and Hobbes think there’s more to the story.

To make matters worse, a nasty virus, probably imported from India, is infecting the slums of London, turning poor people into brain-eating zombies.

George Mann might not win any awards for his prose itself — it’s very straightforward, sometimes even pedestrian. (The book isn’t written in a Victorian style.)

But the success of this book just goes to show that a “novel” isn’t just about words: it’s about storytelling. And in that respect — the most important respect of almost any novel — the author is enormously successful. The book is readable, the characters are appealing, and the plot is tight and very satisfying.

Pick this one up. And the even better news is that it seems to the first in a series,  A Newberry & Hobbes Investigation.

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Issue No. 600 of the Wonder Woman comic book series, released today, reveals a new wardrobe for the world’s most famous female superhero. It’s part of the latest “re-imagining” of her story by DC Comics, the publisher of the title.

“She’s been locked into pretty much the exact same outfit since her debut in 1941,” Michael Straczynski, the new writer of the series, told the New York Times. “If you’re going to make a statement about bringing Wonder Woman into the 21st century, you need to be bold and you need to make it visual. I wanted to toughen her up, and give her a modern sensibility.”

In the new Wonder Woman story, the character is not raised on Paradise Island with the Amazons, but is instead smuggled out as a child when unknown forces destroy her home and people.

It’s hard not to think this isn’t somehow related to the upcoming Wonder Woman movie, reportedly much closer to being made than ever before.

See the new look below:

Gilliver’s Travels is coming! The adventure movie starring Jack Black and Emily Blunt will hit theaters in December.

But, of course,  Gulliver’s Travels is also already here. The classic 1725 novel by Jonathan Swift is the story of Lemuel Gulliver, a surgeon-turned sailor who travels to many remote (and fictional) places in the world, including Lilliput, Brobdingnag, Laputa, and Glubbdubdrib.

I think I spelled all those correctly.

Many people remember Lilliput, the land of the little people, but that’s really just one part of the story.

The people of Lilliput, Lilliputians, are very, very little people standing up to only six inches high. The people of Brobdingnag, meanwhile, are very, very tall, standing up to 72 feet high.

In other words, Lilliputians are one-twelfth the size of humans, and Brobdingnags are twelve times the size of humans. Swift’s world has a nice synchronicity, no?

Gulliver’s Travels is a classic tale of satirical jokes about human nature and parodies of the “travelers’ tales.” It is an easy-to-read book, but difficult to understand because social mores are so different now than the century in which it was written in.

The new words Swift creates for his characters and worlds don’t help either.

Swift splits Gulliver’s travels into four parts: “A Voyage to Lilliput,” “A Voyage to Brobdingnag,” “A Voyage to Laputa, Glubbdubdrib, Balnibarbi, Japan,” and “A Voyage to the Country of Houyhnhnms.”

It’s during Gulliver’s travel to Lilliput that he encounters the famous little people, the Lilliputians. He falls asleep onshore after his ship wrecks and wakes up, yes, roped to the ground by the tiny people. Once the Lilliputians realize he is harmless (and after Gulliver realizes he must show good behavior), he becomes a resident of Lilliput. He then helps the King and the court of Lilliput by stealing the fleet of their rival neighbors from Blefuscu. However, Gulliver refuses to do another task against Blefuscu, so he is charged with treason, but he escapes to Blefuscu, finds a boat, and sets sail for home.

Lots of action, but hey, we’re just getting started. This is an epic, after all.

Gulliver takes another ship out to sea and is abandoned by his companions after a storm. He is found by a farmer of Brobdingnag (the land of giants, remember), and the farmer’s daughter cares for Gulliver. Exploiting the local’s curiosity for Gulliver, the farmer turns him into an exhibit. The Queen of Brobdingnag hears of this and wishes to see Gulliver, whom she falls in love with (sort of — it’s complicated).

The Queen has a “traveling box” created for Gulliver because he is too small for all of their chairs and beds. An eagle takes his “home” and drops it in the sea where he is found and returned home again.

Gulliver sets sail yet again, but is attacked by pirates this time and is saved by the people of Laputa, a flying island. Gulliver then takes a detour to Glubbdubdrib where he encounters struldbrugs — immortal people that will be forever old. He is then taken to Balnibarbi and waits for a Dutch trader to take him to Japan. After talking with the Emperor, he returns home.

Whew! Lots going on, but like I said, it’s an epic tale.

For one last time, Gulliver sets sail again, now as the captain of the ship. His crew turns against him and abandons him in a boat. He lands in the country of Houyhnhnms where he first comes upon a race of deformed creatures who take a “human” form called Yahoos. He later meets the country’s rulers, the Houyhnhnms (meaning “the perfection of nature”), all of whom are horses. Gulliver comes to enjoy the Houyhnhnms lifestyle and rejects humans as merely Yahoos.

But eventually, the Houyhnhnms begin to realize Gulliver’s similarities to the Yahoos so ban him from their country. He returns home, becomes a recluse, and begins to talk to his stable horses for support.

How’s that for an ending? Wouldn’t quite fly in a Tom Cruise movie, would it?

How much of the book’s plot will the movie actually contain? We know the movie is “loosely” based on the book and seems to concentrate, not surprisingly, on the books most famous sequences, those in Lilliput, which, frankly, seems like a lost opportunity.

Swift wrote his book as a social satire, lampooning the mores and attitudes of his day. Might this be part of the upcoming movie?

If not, it seems like another opportunity lost.