Almuric

Almuric by Robert E. Howard. Originally published in Weird Tales, beginning in 1939. This edition published by Planet Stories, 2008. Approx. 148 pages.

When one looks at all that Robert E. Howard accomplished in his 30 years, it is astounding to see how many original characters he created, and we marvel at his voluminous bibliography of short stories. One thing also stands out though; for all his hundreds of short stories, there are so few works by him of novella or novel length. Of course, this is a reflection of the market at the time as well.

Of Howard's longer length works, Almuric is one of the most famous (technically a novel, it was originally published in three parts in Weird Tales). It can best be described as a take on Burrough's John Carter of Mars (Barsoom) series, but with Howard's indelible fingerprints all over it. Almuric is the very pinnacle of the kind escapist fantasy and wish-fulfillment that so defined his body of work.

Our hero in Almuric is Esau Cairn, who of course is the man's man of men's men. He espouses every virtue which Howard embraced; he speaks in declarative soundbites of salt of the earth nobility, he is in prime physical form, and of course, the great equalizer in his repertoire are his superb boxing skills. As you may have guessed, there is no known match for these twin dealers of justice. One night, an altercation with a corrupt politician prompts Cairn to finally unleash the full power of one of his fists - which immediately kills the man. Now a man on the run, Cairn beats a hasty egress.

He runs to the sanctuary of a scientist friend - who is narrating the prologue and gives us what amounts to Cairn's chronicle on Almuric - who just so happens to have perfected a method of interplanetary transportation. This scientist uses this amazing technology - which he outright refuses to explain to the reading audience the details of - to send our noble pugilistic protagonist to the far off world of Almuric.

These things working out the way they do, Almuric is a planet with an atmosphere strikingly similar to, you guessed it, Earth. Their is safe water for drinking, and sustaining food to be found. The wildlife is similar too; if not a bit bigger and scarier.

Then there are the Gura. The Gura are the human equivalent on Almuric. They are a warrior race; the males are large, hairy, belligerent, yet honorable (for the most part) types. They have a simple form of civilization. They know enough about building to erect sturdy fortifications, and can fashion fine blades and serviceable carbines. However, they live a very in-the-moment, hunter/gatherer type lifestyle. They have no need for the recorded work, or displays of artwork.

The women of the Gura race, however, are hairless and demure. This is due to the fact that the men do all the physical labor and fighting, and the women stay home and do....women's stuff, I guess.

 In accordance with "how these things work", Cairn finds that he can communicate with the Gura; at first he attributes this to them also speaking English, then he realizes it is due to some phenomenon which never gets explained.

And so, rickety foundation of logic in place, we move onto the story. Basically, the book follows Cairn as he hardens his body in the wilderness of Almuric, then, as he assimilates into Gura society, where he always surpasses the natives through sheer grit, tenacity, or inherent greatness, earning himself the moniker of "Ironhand". Later, we have some adventures as he falls prisoner to some rival Guras, and, finally, we get to a climax in which he must face off against the dreaded Yagas. The Yagas are cool in that they are basically those old DFC black gargoyle figures come to life.

And there you go. There are no surprises at all in how the narrative unfolds; you can guess right off the bat how any given scenario will unfold. That's just the thing, though. This was the age of pure fantasy, and the heroes we wanted to be, saving the damsel we wished we could save. Call it dated, misogynistic, marginalizing, or whatever nomenclature assigned to these concepts by the Mom's-basement-dwelling ranks of the Perennially Offended.

While I can poke fun at the absolutely ridiculous (lack of any coherent) logic that binds this story together, it really doesn't matter. What it comes down to is how it is written. Almuric is not Howard at his finest, but it is Howard at his best. True, many scenarios are resolved by the appearance of events of convenience that go beyond the pale. It's a given that any sentence that ends with an exclamation point is going to be a bad one. Also, the prose is more purple than Grimace's autopsy (and now I hate myself for Googling to see if there was already a corresponding image for that term. Because there absolutely was one). But, the earnestness with which Howard has fleshed out this world is near palpable. The finished product has a taste of sci-fi with a huge flavor of prehistoric times, with Cairn being a heroic fantasy barbarian type on par with Conan and Kull. The world isn't only populated with souped-up versions of Earthly creatures, either. There are mythical beasts, and hints at monstrous, near-spectral creatures. The end result leaves the audience wishing that either more Almuric stories had been penned, or that options for a shared universe would have been explored.

It is so plain to see the Howard put not only his whole heart into this story, but also his entire imagination. Another thing I want to mention - so often when people introduce a story from around this time, they feel the compulsion to apologize for some of the beliefs and values of the people at the time. I don't really go in for that. Especially when you realize, as silly as some of the concepts here are, Howard was such a fiercely intelligent and well-read young man. These pulp stories come alive with a quality of language that brings into stark focus how far the English language has deteriorated in the last few decades. Perhaps, instead of demanding that dead men apologize for what they believed, we should apologize for how much the spoken word has suffered under our poor stewardship.

But that's just my opinion. Check out Almuric; it's a lot of fun. You can read it on Australian Gutenberg here.

Cover Score:

I love this cover by Andrew Hou. It really captures the mood and tone. Cairn is not made into an overly-muscled creature, and Altha is rendered beautifully. 80's style fantasy cover work at its finest.

Cover Final Score:

9/10

By This Axe I Rule!

By This Axe I Rule! by Robert E. Howard. A Kull the Conqueror story, appearing in The Best of Robert E. Howard Volume 2: Grim Lands. Approx. 17 pages.

Note: By This Axe I Rule! is one of Howard's posthumously published Kull stories. It was re-written as the Conan tale "The Phoenix on the Sword", which appeared in Weird Tales in 1932.

The burdens of kingship weigh heavily upon Kull once more, making the former slave feel a slave again, bound by grander chains. His free spirit is tethered by bothersome, archaic laws; plus, although he has supplanted a despot, he finds that the fealty of the common folk is easily swayed by well-articulated words of malice....

As Kull toils under the weight of the crown, a quartet of usurpers have cast their lot with an outlaw named Ascalante to hatch a plan to murder the king. 

In a separate sub-plot, a local noble petitions King Kull to allow him to marry the love of his life, a beautiful young slave girls. Kull is again rendered impotent to the mandates of Valusian law, much to his frustration.

Taking inventory of all these ingredients, and knowing that it is Howard penning it, there is little doubt how events are going to unfold. The prose here is purple enough to leave bruising on the pages, but the action excels. The "dramatic" scenes have setups and dialogue that vary from meandering to cringeworthy. However, the opening scene is masterful and rousing, as the plotters solidify their intent and plan. Even though the bad guys are paint-by-numbers tropes (a scarred mastermind, a mad minstrel, a simpering fat lord, a brutish giant, and a dwarf with long arms whose reach overextends his stature - get it?), Howard lends this scene an emotional ferocity. In this scene, the crazed minstrel Ridondo utters what is perhaps one of my favorite quotes from a Howard story:

"My songs are nails for a king's coffin!"

And, of course, for all the peaks, there are the valleys as well. There is one moment, when the assassins are poised to strike, and Howard decides then and there to go into a lengthy expository diatribe as to how Kull knew to get ready for a scrap. What could have been summed up in a line or two, for those split second of action, instead read more like Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge than Kull the Conqueror.

There are also examples here of the unique cultural observations of Howard's day. One prime example of this occurs when King Kull visits the young slave girl betrothed to Seno val Dor, who is distraught over the law's prohibiting her marriage. He extends the courtesy of an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on, and, well, let's just let Howard explain it:

"What's the matter, child?" he asked, and because a woman in extreme grief is likely to pour her sorrows out to anyone who shows interest and sympathy she whimpered: "Oh, sir, I am a miserable girl!"

I mean, I think it's a prime example of how hot-blooded youths thrive on the concept of a damsel in distress in dire need of a man's man to save them. It's the pinnacle of escapist fantasy. At its worst, we can chuckle at its cultural antiquity. Sadly, though, in this day and age, dialogue like that needs to come with trigger warnings and safe spaces.

Well, it seems puerile to nitpick on the literary merits of action yarns in vintage youth magazines. The fact is that the characters here are well conceived, as is the standard for Howard's works. In its dormant sections, the story suffers, but when it comes to action, or rousing declarations, there is great stuff here. Stuff that has stood the test of time - eight decades old and still thrilling. 

By This Axe I Rule! has a superb opening, and an exhilarating climax in which Kull makes literal mincemeat out of his would-be assassins. A great way to pass some afternoon reading.

The Valley Of The Lost

The Valley of the Lost by Robert E. Howard. As appearing in The Black Stranger and Other American Tales anthology. Approx. 19 pages.

Although I was raised on Robert E. Howard's sword & sorcery epics, the older I get, the more and more I can appreciate his Western tales. Especially his weird Westerns. The Valley of the Lost is a horror Western, taking cues in its basic framework from another Howard masterpiece, the Bran Mak Morn epic "Worms of the Earth". But don't get me wrong; this story is much, much more than a literary palette swap. The Valley of the Lost is one of Howard's strongest yarns, in terms of tone, terror, and ferocity.

In Worms of the Earth, we had the tension stemming from the Roman occupation of Pictish lands. In Valley, what we get is a good, old-fashioned early Texas family blood feud. This one involves two clans; the Reynolds and the McCrills (plus a slew of cousins, friends, and hired guns). As the story opens, John Reynolds, one of the last of the fighting Reynolds, is on the run from a mob on the McCrill team following an intense shootout in town. His egress leads him into hiding in an area that the Natives term "The Valley of the Lost", which the white man had truncated to "The Lost Valley" (it's amazing how a small alteration changes the meaning entirely). As he waits for the McCrill clan to regroup and resume their pursuit of him, Reynolds ventures into a mysterious cave where his enemies have left one of their fallen members, in an attempt to retrieve the dead man's ammunition. What he discovers in the cave is a horror beyond his imagination.

This point is where the similarities between and differences in execution arise between Worms of the Earth and Valley of the Lost. In Worms, there were subterranean creatures which Morn sought to contract to enact his revenge. These were abominable creatures, who had degenerated badly from their once human stock.

In Valley of the Lost, there is no employment being pursued. Reynolds stumbles upon the lair of the remaining threads of a serpentine race, whose once thriving civilization had fallen victim to tide after tide of marauding hordes. This last vestige of that once proud, magical race has also suffered genetic blows due to the many years in exile below ground. In essence, they are shorter, beady-eyed versions of Sleestaks...

One of the many things that terrified 5 year old me.

They also still retain some of their magical prowess, including a terrifying ability to control the dead, giving us a taste of remote control zombies (there are two scenes with these; one an action sequence, and one a flashback, which are done very well). 

Also, in one vivid scene with a nice Lovecraftian touch, Reynolds is treated to visions of these creatures' history across the panoramic eons of time; their rise, their fall, and their degradation. Of course, the instant accumulation of such base knowledge is beyond maddening, and for the second time in this story, Reynolds has to mount a ferocious escape. Will he succeed?

I will say that The Valley of the Lost has some of Howard's strongest writing. Note: I don't know when this story was first published, but the editor's note in this anthology states that the text was taken from REH's typescript. Reynolds is a fierce character; here is a man driven solely on rage and anger. Howard's Western tales always have this strong vibe to them - it might be argued that his Western yarns are of an actual stronger quality than his sword & sorcery ones (quite a statement given the immense impact of his fantasy work). Perhaps it is also the benefit of writing what is near and dear to you. Whatever the reason, native Texan Howard makes this Wild West Texas come alive. 

The creature effects are fairly well done here. The darkness, permeated with an eerie green glow sets an effective mood. The action scenes are fast and furious. Best of all, these culminate with a very strong ending. 

With a few genuinely chilling moments thrown in to boot, The Valley of the Lost is a superb Weird Western that is perfect for Halloween Season reading!

Score: 9/10

P.S.: You can enjoy an audio reading of this story here. Personally, I'm not too crazy on the voice acting, but it still makes for a good hour of background noise.

Nekht Semerkeht

Nekht Semerkeht by Robert E. Howard. Unpublished story fragment, edited by Steven Tompkins. Approx. 14 pages.

I had been planning on reviewing a different horror tale by Howard to kick off the October reviews, but when I was leafing through the introduction for this anthology, I stumbled on the synopsis for the story fragment Nekht Semerkeht. Having been on the lookout for a good conquistador tale ever since getting hooked on Aguirre: The Wrath of God a few months back, I decided to give it a look.

Just a quick disclosure before the review: this is a story fragment, not a complete tale. Editor Tompkins states that he combined the two existing drafts, along with outline notes, to get what we read here. I understand now that there is a version of this same tale, completed and released in 1977 by Andrew J. Offutt in his "Swords Against Darkness" anthology. I will definitely have to grab a copy of that in the future to take a look-see, but for now, we work with what we got.

Nekht Semerkeht is the story of Hernando de Guzman, an aged conquistador who has been separated from his group, and, in his lost meanderings, stumbles upon a village full of mysterious sorceries, and, possibly, the thing that truly stokes a fire in the wandering Spaniard's heart: gold. Somewhere in there as well is the titular sorcerer; an Egyptian wizard who is obviously very far from home, but possessing of immense power.

Now, I have no idea when Howard actually worked on this story, I have read that it was indeed one of his later ones. That explains a lot of the emotion contained herein. For, while what story we have is stretched across a paper-thin premise, this is one of the, if not the, most heart-felt Howard piece I have read.

The whole thing kicks off with an intense fight scene between de Guzman and an Apache warrior. The scene is taut, and well-done, showing much maturity over classic REH brawny, bloody scuffles (not that I don't love those as well). What follows from here, up until de Guzman discovers the village, is a pilgrimage of personal despondency which I cannot help but imagine somewhat paralleled what Howard was feeling in his life. There are repeated themes of not belonging, death being a true answer, the new land being too strange, but the home of your youth being an evaporating dream. Some truly heart-breaking stuff here.

When the story falls back into being more of an actioner, it does so in strong form. De Guzman is a compelling conquistador; in no ways a nice man, he is cunning, resourceful, and extremely lusty. Nekht Semerkeht has got to be one of the more sexually charged Howard shorts I have read, and that is a good thing.

Unfortunately, it is from the middle on that we can see that this is, indeed, just a fragment of what could've been. Whatever the capability of the magic being employed by those in the village, not explored. What brought Nekht Semerkeht to Mexico, and what was his rise to power like? Not expanded upon, sadly. I read some speculation that the foundation of the idea of an Egyptian sorcerer in Mexico was Howard's concept of how both areas have pyramids. That would've been great. As it is, the story climaxes with a routine duel between our primary combatants, and a long paragraph outlining what will happen next.

So now, you might be thinking, "what does any of this have to do with horror?" Well, not much. More like historical fiction with bonus sorcery, to be sure. But, there are two scenes near the climax which feature some nicely done creatures. There is a grand scene with an altar, a very naked and nubile young lady, and feeders from the sky. And, right before that, there is a very brief scene, only about a paragraph long, which presents a very creepy exchange in a pitch black corridor.

And there you have it. I am not rating this, since it is just a fragment. Maybe next year, I'll have a review of the completed Offutt version, and we can look at them side by side. Anyhow, you get one of the more emotional Howard tales, some sorcery, a little horror, and a bad ass conquistador lead. Enjoy!

Worms Of The Earth

Worms of the Earth by Robert E. Howard. Originally published in Weird Tales Magazine, November 1932. Approx. 42 pages (with pictures), DelRey edition.

Worms of the Earth has been regarded as one of Robert E. Howard's greatest stories for a number of reasons. For one thing, it is probably his most successful venture dabbling within the Lovecraftian mythos. Second, although it features one of Howard's more hotheaded and bombastic protagonists, Howard infuses some real gravitas into the proceedings. Part parable and part creepfest, Worms is one of the more enjoyable yarns you can spend an hour reading.

Worms begins quite memorably as we witness the crucifixion of a Pictish criminal undertaken at the command of Titus Sulla, Roman governor of Eboracum. In attendance to the act is a Pictish emissary. Sulla makes sure to turn the execution into a spectacle, further rubbing salt into the moral wounds of the conquered populace.

What Sulla fails to realize is that the emissary is none other than Bran Mak Morn, the last king of the Picts. And on this day, he has decided that his people have suffered their final indignity at the hands of the Roman interlopers. He sets some plans into motion, including tasking the Gaels with some harrying skirmishes. But, for the purpose of tendering justice unto Sulla, he decides to go with an unconventional method.

Riding westwards towards the gloomy fens of Wales, Bran seeks the assistance of the half-human witch Atla in contracting the services of some true nightmare creatures: the legendary (and titular) Worms of the Earth. These fabled Worms are subterranean denizens, the descendants of a people driven from the landscape by Morn's Pictish ancestors. Any retained humanity in them is dubiously questionable at best. And, of course, as in any bargain there is a price. Not surprisingly, one may expect a terrible price for a terrible service.

It is well known that Howard was a friendly correspondent of Lovecraft; and he has dabbled in Lovecraftian tales. Although I like most of Howard's horror offerings, I always thought that the horrifying, disconcerting, and cerebral nuances of the Lovecraftian mythos were out of his comfort zone. But he really delivers in Worms. He makes the wise choice to stress atmosphere over cheap shocks. The scenery is what gets you here; the claustrophobia of descending the tunnels under the barrows; the pervading, lonely desolation of the fens. Also, the true horrors of the Worms, including their sickening physical appearance, is mostly kept just out of view, so as to maximize the horror factor.

Howard's dialogue is superb here, although a lot of the bombast has been curbed. The back and forth verbal sparring between Morn and Atla is enjoyable, but best of all are two scenes; one where Bran Mak Morn issues both a decree and a challenge to the Worms, and later when he hears the last words of a dying legionary.

Sadly, it seems that any discussion of Howard's work needs to be prefaced with some apology of sorts for the racial views the he and many of his contemporaries seemed to have. I am personally not much of an apologist. This generation needs to accept that people close to a century ago had very different mindsets. Or did they? While it is seemingly passé to stereotype based on race these days, it is more than commonplace to judge and perform character assassinations based on political affiliation, geography of birth, social class, or religion. Point being, bigotry in all its ugly forms is supposed to be wrong, no? But I digress. I will just say this to anyone willing to put down Howard due to his perceived views; this masterful story was published when he was just 26 years old. (Some of) The youth of today need health care laws rewritten to keep them tethered to their parents' insurance until they are that same age. Enough said.

The reason I mention the racial aspect is because some readers/reviewers take umbrage with Bran Mak Morn's racial pride. He looks down upon the Gaels and other Caledonians for their mixed bloodlines. Now, is this a racial superiority complex? I think not. It seems fairly common that conquered people hold tightly to cultural pride; on the simple basis that they believe everything else is being torn away from them and diluted into a larger, communal, collective pot. Bran Mak Morn can expound until he is blue in the face on the purity of the Picts; in the end it is simply the injured pride talking. 

And we all know that pride comes before the fall. 

In essence, that is the pervading message of Worms of the Earth. To salve his impotence as his people's savior, Bran Mak Morn makes a deal with a Lovecraftian Devil. Regardless of the theological construct, the Devil must still have His due. And this is something that Bran Mak Morn realizes too late in Worms of the Earth. You will get what you bargained for, even if you do not get what you wish for.

Well, as they say.....

Here's what it is:
Legendary pulp writer Robert E. Howard crafts a creepy tale of the tragic decision of a desperate king, and the creatures and horrors that are unleashed as a result.

One last thing:
As mentioned, this is one of Howard's more popular works. I own the DelRey Bran Mak Morn edition, but there are plenty of other compilations out there that you can find Worms of the Earth in. One I found is this: The Cthulu Mythos Megapack. There's no illustrations in it, but you get 40 old time tales for 99 cents. You really can't beat that.


Final Score:

93/100


Cover Score:


I really like Gary Gianni's work in this volume, from the cover to the interior illustrations. They are one of the reasons that I am glad to have the DelRey compilation. This is exactly how I pictured that squat, powerful, swarthy Bran Mak Morn looking. My only complaint on the cover is that a little more contrast in the color scheme would have helped make the figure stand out. The closer you look at the figure, the more you realize that it looks like something that would have worked better as a pencil or pen sketch, but ended up being painted after being selected as the cover piece.

Cover Final Score:

82/100

Happy Birthday Robert E. Howard!

Today we would like to take a minute to celebrate the birthday of Robert E. Howard, the man who had perhaps the most profound influence on the fantasy genre as it exists today. Yes, I will be so bold as to assert that his overall contributions exceed even those of Tolkein. Creator of Conan, Kull the Conqueror, Bran Mak Morn, and my personal favorite, the bad-ass Puritan himself, Solomon Kane. Not to mention all of his bold tales of historical fiction, boxing tales, western yarns, horror stories (including Lovecraftian works), and poetry. All of this done within only 30 years upon this Earth.

I think it is only right for everyone to treat themselves to a REH tale today, and luckily, many of Howard's great works reside within the public domain. Today, I chose to sit down and revisit one of my favorite Kane shorts, 1929's "Skulls in the Stars", which is one of the first tales in this volume:

Just to let you know, however, the entirety of the text can be found here.

In this short horror treat, Kane finds himself at the two roads to Torkertown. The shorter, straighter road is cursed by a creature of evil that has been waylaying travelers for over a year. The winding road goes through the swampland of bogs and mires, and therein resides the hermit miser Ezra. Being a man of faith, Kane opts to investigate the horror on the short road. There he does battle with a spectral horror, one that cannot be beaten by pistol or blade. It will take Kane's mettle and sense of justice to win the day, and right the wrongs committed.

And here I thought Kane's pistols could solve any problem......

This story has Howard at his best; his words tear and rend. The skulls in the stars leer over blood red fields, and Kane cuts an immovable statue of justice. This ten page tale easily scores a 10 out of 10, and remains one of my favorite REH shorts. Happy Birthday to the master!

Blow The Chinks Down!

Blow the Chinks Down! by Robert E. Howard. A "Sailor Steve" Costigan boxing short story. Originally featured in Action Stories, October 1931. Approx.14 pages.

Sometimes you really need to step back and appreciate the full spectrum of work the Robert E. Howard brought to the world in his brief 30 years. While best remembered for his iconic fantasy characters (Conan, Kull, Solomon Kane, etc.), he also penned a vast amount of boxing stories (being a big fan of the pugilistic arts himself). The best of these tall tales of fisticuffs feature "Sailor Steve Costigan", the hard-hitting seaman from the Sea Girl. With the last story I read featuring Costigan being the pretty good "Champ of the Forecastle", I wanted to see how this Far East tale would pan out.

Sailor Steve is getting himself properly sauced after docking in Hong Kong when he runs into none other than Bill McGlory, a lug headed foe from the rival Dutchman, who matches Costigan in height and weight. Barbs are traded, and after they both start vying for the affections of the lovely Kit Worley (a governess for local mercantile magnate Tung Yin), fists are about to fly. However, their righteous roughhousing is cut short by the appearance of British Secret Service agent Sir Peter Brent, written with "Pip-pip cheerio" aplomb. His dating and fighting both so rudely interrupted, Costigan heads off to find the lovely Ms. Worley. What follows is, of all things, a far-fetched caper involving a stolen royal diamond, a black market crime syndicate, and other wacky shenanigans.

I'll admit, the reason that I picked this story is that I expected some bruising fighting scenes with either Chinese gangsters or some kind of Hong Kong fight club. The whole diamond caper slant is fun and all, and it bears remembering that this was most likely penned for the younger set, a generation of kids that did not have Scooby-Doo (or TV for that matter) to bring them silly scenarios like this. What carries the story, as usual with these yarns, is Costigan's first person narration. His dialect and vernacular is always fun, bringing such classic lines as "You'll eat them words with a sauce of your own blood." I mean, seriously, you can't find quality dialogue like that anymore.

What takes away from the tale? Well, first there is the lack of boxing in this boxing tale. There is one decent scrap, and it is written well enough. Also lamentable is that Sailor Steve's trusty bulldog Mike sits out this tale with a bout of distemper. Furthermore, besides the plot being ludicrous (although it's assumed to be a tall tale), the plot twists are telegraphed like a punches of an amateur boxer, and the whole shebang is wrapped up with some long-winded exposition by one of the criminals.

I will also make mention of this: some of today's more easily offended PC types will be put off by the language in this story. Please remember the era that this work was penned in. Then again, if you can get past the title of the story, you can deal with a few 'slant-eye' and 'yellow' cracks.

Here's what it is:
Sailor Steve does more nosing about than fighting during some leave in Hong Kong. One of Howard's weaker stories is still a lot of fun today.


Final Score:

72/100

Cover Score:

No specific cover for this one, it was bundled into a big omnibus. However, I added the cover of the Action Stories issue that it premiered in above. That pic was found at this great site.