Recently I wrote an essay about the dangers of too much ‘realistic thinking’ in fantasy fiction — When Realism Isn’t Real — Conan the Jazzerciser. In that article I used an example from Poul Anderson’s Conan pastiche Conan the Rebel to illustrate my point. The following post, which originally appeared at Black Gate, is a brief look at Anderson’s ‘On Thud and Blunder’ essay and his realistic approach, and tells the other side of the ‘realistic thinking’ dichotomy in fantasy fiction. In particular I look at how fantasy fiction as a whole has moved on from the time of Anderson’s original writing, and now features a new set of pit-falls and follies.

. . . writers who’ve had no personal experience with horses tend to think of them as a kind of sports car.

It’s been thirty years since Poul Anderson wrote his essay on the need for realism in heroic fantasy, ‘On Thud and Blunder,’ which you can read in its entirety at the SFWA site, and I think it holds up well even though the genre — and the perception of it — has changed greatly. ‘On Thud and Blunder’ originally appeared in the third installment of Andrew Offutt’s classic anthology series Swords Against Darkness; though it was in the excellent, if unimaginatively named, collection of Anderson’s called Fantasy that I first encountered it. But already at the time of my reading a whole generation of writers had made a name for themselves by following the dictates of realism and common sense in designing their fantasy worlds.

The essay begins with a satire of the genre that features a barbarian cleaving through armor with a fifty-pound sword and riding a horse as if it were a motorbike, among other ridiculous things. It’s the kind of thing that gave heroic fantasy and sword and sorcery a bad name, and perhaps the sort of thing that meant it would soon be eclipsed by a rising tide of ‘high fantasy’ in the eighties and nineties. But, in 1978, hf — as Anderson terms heroic fantasy in an abbreviation that seems to have never caught on — was an emerging star:

Today’s rising popularity of heroic fantasy, or sword-and-sorcery as it is also called, is certainly a Good Thing for those of us who enjoy it. Probably this is part of a larger movement back toward old-fashioned storytelling, with colorful backgrounds, events, and characters, tales wherein people do take arms against a sea of troubles and usually win. Such literature is not inherently superior to the introspective or symbolic kinds, but neither is it inherently inferior; Homer and James Joyce were both great artists.

A wonderfully concise statement in defense of the genre, something I could easily see being forwarded today on some blog in support of the much-hoped-for internet revolution in pulpish storytelling. However, on today’s bookstore shelves, it isn’t sword and sorcery but high fantasy books that are all the rage — a genre possessing a set of conventions that do tend to nicely address the concerns Anderson raises in ‘On Thud and Blunder,’ but one that itself brings a whole host of new excesses to the table. Perhaps a contemporary writer of Anderson’s perspicacity could produce a follow-up article aimed at high fantasy’s faults, which I propose be titled ‘On Bloat and Blather.’

But that is not to say I dislike high fantasy, far from it. I no more dislike it than Anderson does hf when he lampoons it. Nor is that the focus of this post, I merely wanted to suggest how the background of fantasy publishing has shifted dramatically — so dramatically, in fact, that many of the virtues Anderson enumerates have themselves been used to excess by certain authors in the quest for better fantasy worlds.

Another thing that Anderson decries that has changed for the better, though perhaps not to the extent that it should, is the development of fantasy worlds based on histories and mythologies outside of the European and Near Eastern tradition. Already in the seventies the shift could be seen, and on today’s shelves, too, an increased variety of influences are in evidence. While many veins of culture remained to be tapped, there are at least Asian, African, and Native American inspired fantasies available — even if the generic brand of fantasy remains overwhelmingly a bland distillation of Medieval Europe.

Though all of that is incidental to the purpose of Anderson’s essay, which is a call for greater realism in fantasy — and not merely realism, but logic and common sense, too. Anderson does a wonderful job of skewering so many of the misconceptions and lazy assumptions of the genre, bringing his historical knowledge to bear on such things as the day-to-day realities of a pre-industrial society, the likely workings of politics and religion, and, of course, some of the practical aspects of fighting and combat. ‘On Thud and Blunder’ does more to get the reader thinking in these terms, and inspired to go out and do some research, than a great many of today’s shallow, cynical books written on the subject of world building and aimed at the would-be fantasy writer.

And, while this essay is targeted at writers, ‘On Thud and Blunder’ will be appreciated by anyone interested in both fantasy and history. Anderson throws off interesting historical anecdotes like sparks off a grinding wheel, from the pervasiveness of disease and the development of cities, to the social underpinnings of a nation’s army and the fragility of a horse’s health. It is fascinating stuff — and for a writer looking for ideas, it’s a goldmine.

It has sometimes been said that we are now witnessing the Golden Age of fantasy — and, with so many series out there varying from the extremely sophisticated to the utterly banal, it’s hard to disagree with the statement at least from the standpoint of quantity. It seems to me fantasy has had to change from it’s sword and sorcery roots in order to generate the mass appeal that it now holds; it had to get away from many of the flaws Anderson is drawing attention to. In some ways it’s a shame that the pendulum has swung so far away from the rollicking good action tale, but it does show signs of swinging back and, perhaps, ushering in a new crop of tales at once sophisticated and viscerally paced. I don’t know if this really is the Golden Age, and I can’t claim that I like all the changes I see in the genre, but I do believe fantasy has improved with time — and I fully expect it to get even better.

Over at Black Gate this week I posted a short reflection on Poul Anderson’s 1978 essay ‘On Thud and Blunder,’ his call for more realism in adventure fantasy fiction. A lot has certainly changed in thirty years, but Anderson’s essay is well worth reading for a lot of reasons — not least of which is the wealth of fascinating historical anecdotes he throws around.

. . . Anderson does a wonderful job of skewering so many of the misconceptions and lazy assumptions of the genre, bringing his historical knowledge to bear on such things as the day-to-day realities of a pre-industrial society, the likely workings of politics and religion, and, of course, some of the practical aspects of fighting and combat. ‘On Thud and Blunder’ does more to get the reader thinking in these terms, and inspired to go out and do some research, than a great many of today’s shallow, cynical books written on the subject of world building and aimed at the would-be fantasy writer.

It’s a great essay for the prospective writer of fantasy fiction, as well as for anyone interested in the way the genre has changed over time.

Click here to read ‘On Thud and Blunder’ — Thirty Years Later

At the moment, all was triumph. Red-splashed, panting, in scorched and dinted armor, Sir Roger de Tourneville rode a weary horse back to the main fortress. After him came the lancers, archers, yeomen — ragged, battered, shoulders slumped with exhaustion. But the Te Deum was on their lips, rising beneath the strange constellations that twinkled forth, and their banners flew bravely against the sky.

It was wonderful to be an Englishman.

• Title: The High Crusade
• Author: Poul Anderson
• Genre: Space Opera/Historical Adventure
• Year: 1960

The year is 1345; the place is the village of Ansby, Lincolnshire, England, Earth. A great host is being assembled under Sir Roger Baron de Tourneville in preparation for a campaign in France as part of the ongoing conflict that would come to be known as the Hundred Years War. The army features knights and men-at-arms and longbowmen and the various other components of a Medieval host — but it certainly doesn’t have anything to match the likes of the Wersgorix. Alien invaders, they fall from the sky in the midst of Ansby in an enormous chrome ship bristling with weapons. They have anti-gravity, beam cannons, force screens, flame guns, sophisticated communications and mapping technologies and the will to use them — for the Wersgorix are the overlords of an enormous galactic empire that makes a habit of finding new worlds, exterminating or enslaving their populations, and installing new Wersgor masters in their place. The Wersgor emerge from their ship, demonstrate their overwhelming power, and deliver their ultimatum to the assembled primitives of Earth in the form of the army of Sir Roger.

Sir Roger orders a charge — and the ‘assembled primitives’ butcher the shocked crew of the Wersgor scout ship and capture it for themselves.

Thus begins The High Crusade. Slim, fast-paced, fun and compelling in equal amounts, it’s the kind of book people used to write before they got so damn serious and decided to milk every idea for 500 pages. And make no mistake, the premise of The High Crusade is very milk-able, being both instantly understandable and wide-open for exploration. But Anderson keeps his story tight, throwing off clever extrapolations of his ‘Middle Ages meets Space Opera’ idea like sparks off a grinding wheel all, while keeping his story moving at a breakneck pace along the edge of its well-honed plot. Originally written for John W. Campbell’s Astounding, the story bears all the hallmarks of the best magazine fiction of the era, and more’s the pity that such skills are no longer in evidence in popular fiction.

And it’s a shame no one can deliver a couched lance charge from horseback like they could in the fourteenth century, either, because such skills just might save us from alien invasion one day. Sir Roger and his victorious host soon decide to make the best of the ‘demonic’ vessel that has fallen into their hands and, with the aid of a Wersgor prisoner named Branithar, they pack the entire village along with the army into the ship and decide to go to France and win the war — but only as their first stop on the way to liberating the Holy Land. But it is a very different Crusade that they eventually undertake, as Branithar sets the ship’s autopilot for the nearest Wersgor colony where, doubtless, Sir Roger and his fellows will learn what a fluke their success against the Wersgorix really was.

Only, of course, Sir Roger’s army takes that place over too, and keeps on going. Anderson progressively increases the stakes of the conflict over the course of The High Crusade, and never fails to deliver a solution both novel and logical at every turn. The Wersgorix weaknesses go beyond their having forgotten how to fight in close quarters, and the humans find they cannot rely purely on the tried-and-true methods with which they won their initial success. Here is the heart of the book, the ingenious ways these men of the Middle Ages adapt what they know to fighting an enemy superior to them in nearly every category. So we get to read about delightful juxtapositions such as a trebuchet — its all-wooden construction undetectable by Wersgor scanners — flinging nuclear shells, or volleys of arrows bringing down thin-skinned aircraft protected only by anti-beam forcefields, or knights in spacesuits boarding enemy vessels with axe and sword and longbowmen loosing their shafts within the vacuum of space.

But perhaps the best weapon the humans have is, as Sir Roger terms it, ‘knavery.’ Reared in the complicated and cut-throat politics of Medieval Europe, negotiations amongst the Wersgor and their neighbors seems like child’s play. Sir Roger out-foxes, out-bluffs, and out-maneuvers the Wersgor at every turn, and the aliens cannot fathom if the humans are some sort of hyper-advanced race that have come out of nowhere, or mad barbarians from the fringe of their empire. The trouble the Wersgor have deciphering human activity — is Sir Roger’s insistence of only speaking with someone suitably ‘well-born’ an indication that his people practice sophisticated genetic engineering? And is the ritual chanting the humans begin their negotiations with, something called the ‘Lord’s Prayer,’ really some sort of psycho-somatic neural trigger that increases their brain functions?

The High Crusade, as should be obvious by now, is a light, humorous book, but it isn’t just about a punch line. Anderson does an excellent job of capturing a Medieval mindset and manages to be both respectful and playful in doing so. The voice of Brother Parvus, the book’s narrator, is also well-done, being sufficiently evocative of the norms of Medieval expression to suggest a kind of authenticity, while remaining pulpishly readable. It all adds up to an irresistible combination of against-the-odds adventure and culture-clash hilarity that makes The High Crusade one of the undoubted classics of pulp science fiction.

• The High Crusade at Amazon

There are philosophers who argue that there is no such thing as evil qua evil; that, discounting spells (which of course relieve an individual of responsibility), when a man commits an evil deed he is a victim himself, the slave of his progeniture and nurturing. Such philosophers might profit by studying Sanctuary.
– from Joe Haldeman’s Blood Brothers

• Title: Thieves’ World
• Author: Robert Asprin, ed.
• Genre: Fantasy/Sword & Sorcery
• Year: 1979

The late Robert Asprin’s Thieves’ World is the granddaddy of the shared-world anthology, and it’s success can be seen in its numerous sequels (the original series ran to twelve anthologies in ten years, plus a few spin-off novels) as well as related matter such as rpg products, in addition to, of course, the many similarly themed anthologies that came out in homage or imitation to the original. In his afterward, ‘The Making of Thieves’ World,’ Asprin describes the shared world idea as a way for many authors to write fantasy without first having to each come up with their own worlds. Imagine, Asprin says, if Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser inhabited the same world as Conan, or if Elric and Kane opposed one another at the head of rival armies. It’s a great, fun idea, and it works well, and it certainly attracted a wide panoply of science fiction and fantasy writers over the decade it ran.

Thieves’ World is the first book in the series, from which the whole derives its name. It centers on the town of Sanctuary, a rats’ nest of rogues and hotbed of skulduggery, a conquered city on the edge of empire rife with competing factions and conflicting religions. It’s a fairly standard fantasy backdrop, at least in this first installment, but it’s also a consistent and well-realized one replete with just enough world-building style details to make the place come alive without the danger of the setting taking over from the plot. Or the characters — and this last is where Thieves’ World really shines.

Each author in the anthology has created his own character, and the book contains a larger-than-life cast of scoundrels, magicians, street folk, and thieves. The ne’er-do-well minstrel Cappen Varra, the cursed magician Enas Yorl, ruthless crimelord and ex-gladiator Jubal, ageless madame Myrtis, and mysterious Lythande, his forehead marked with a glowing blue star that burns with his anger or agitation — just a few of the most prominent personalities of Sanctuary. And while a story might focus on only a few of these characters, they turn up repeatedly again and again in the background of different tales. Indeed, this is part of the fun of the shared world, as different authors handle each other’s characters a bit differently, and even whole scenes from one story may be repeated in another with a twist in perspective. A nice touch, and one that lends the stories the feeling that many lives are brushing up against one another and interconnecting in the world of Sanctuary.

As for the stories themselves, ranging from short story to novella length, some stand out more than others. John Brunner opens the anthology with Sentences of Death, a clever piece centering around apprentice translator Jarveena and her employer, an opportunistic book merchant and scribe. When a magical scroll falls into their hands they decide to profit from it as best they can, and set off a chain of events that involves a strange magician, a foiled assassination attempt, and the fulfillment of Jarveena’s lifelong thirst for revenge. In Poul Anderson’s The Gate of Flying Knives, we have a more traditional sword & sorcery tale, in which the rogue Cappen Verra must venture into another world to rescue his love — and where he discovers that a certain slight-of-hand can be worth more than any sword or spell. In Joe Haldeman’s Blood Brothers the odious One-Thumb, a man confident in his continued existence because of a magician’s curse of damnation on anyone that should ever dare to slay him, meets his comeuppance in a most unusual and ingenious way. In my favorite story of the collection, Asprin’s own The Price of Doing Business, shrewd operator Jubal discovers just how differently those who don’t share his ruthlessly practical outlook see the world, and finds himself confounded first by a child, and then by one of the Emperor’s own elite guardsmen.

Other names that the reader will recognize, such as Marion Zimmer Bradley and Andrew Offutt, also have strong offerings; and overall the anthology is a solid mix of stories from writers of varied sensibilities at different points of their career. But the book is cohesive, the styles complimentary, and the fun firmly at center stage. I can understand how it started something big, especially as it was released before the modern fantasy explosion, and I only wish there was a comparable series today showcasing a similar broad array of talent against a shared world backdrop. One can hope — and in the meantime there is plenty in the Thieves’ World series to satisfy the cravings of sword & sorcery fans.

• Thieves’ World at Amazon
• A Notable Guide to Thieves’ World