Time and the Gods | |||||
Lord Dunsany | |||||
Orion Millennium Books, 584 pages | |||||
A review by Rich Horton
Well, this new collection, the second in Millennium's much to be praised series of
Fantasy Masterworks (a companion to their excellent SF Masterworks series), would
seem to be intended to reach readers like me, and to set Dunsany's record straight. And so it does: the best
stories in this book are excellent, written in lovely prose that is indeed ornate, but to good effect, often
rounded off with an ironic barb, stuffed with lush images, and suffused with the odour of "regret," which
Michael Swanwick has called central to "Hard Fantasy." And the bulk of the stories here are excellent
or just a step below.
That said, a few caveats are necessary. My main issue is with the presentation of the stories. For a
major writer like Dunsany, dead these 43 years, I think a collection of this nature should include at least
a small amount of critical/biographical/bibliographical apparatus. I'd have liked to see an introduction
discussing the history of these stories, and discussing the rest of Dunsany's career.
And I'd have liked to see a longer biographical treatment than the brief paragraph on the back cover. (I
might also add that there were rather more typos than I like in the stories themselves.) I suppose, however,
that we should be happy with any such large collection, and with such a reasonable price as well.
My second caveat is more in the nature of a warning. This book collects Dunsany's first six collections
of fantasy stories: The Gods of Pegana, Time and the Gods, The Sword of Welleran and
Other Stories, A Dreamer's Tales, The Book of Wonder, and The Last Book of Wonder. For
some reason, The Gods of Pegana, Dunsany's first book (1905), is presented last. Time and the Gods,
his second book (1906), is presented first. I chose to read the collection in order of writing, and frankly
I almost bogged down in the first two books. The Gods of Pegana is a collection of closely linked
fragments, dealing almost entirely with the title beings. As an imaginative creation, the book is interesting,
but there is no plot, and the "gods" did not come to life for me. Time and the Gods consists of less
closely linked stories, but it is still dealing with, essentially, faux "creation myths," and varieties of
"Just So Stories." I remained mostly unconvinced. In addition, in these collections Dunsany seemed more prone
to his style descending to what might be called "forsoothery," as with so many bad Dunsany imitators. There
are a few high points, such as "The Cave of Kai," about a King who wishes to be remembered, "The Relenting
of Sarnidac," about a dwarf who is mistaken for a god, and especially the last two stories. "The Dreams of
a Prophet" is a brief piece, memorable mainly for a real stinger of a line. "The Journeys of the King" is the
longest story in the entire (larger) collection: a moving account of a dying King and the prophets who tell
him where he will go on his "last journey."
Thus, I would recommend leaving the two earlier collections until later, or perhaps only sampling
them. Dunsany seemed to hit his stride with the remarkable stories in The Sword of Welleran and Other
Stories (1908). In these stories the focus is on humans.
Also, they incorporate actual plots. There is still the ornate writing, but put to better effect. Furthermore,
for all that it is ornate, it is wonderfully balanced. The rhythms, as well as the imagery and the alliteration,
are seamless and beautiful. The gods and other odd beings are still present. "The Sword of Welleran" is one
of the best, about a once war-like city, now guarded only by the statues of the heroes of its past. Another
astounding story is "The Fortress Unvanquishable, Save by Sacnoth," which would be memorable for its
glorious title alone. The story itself is a veritable prototype of hundreds of followers in the genre: the
land is troubled by an evil wizard who can only be vanquished by a miraculous weapon, the sword Sacnoth, so
our hero literally wrests the sword from the spine of an alligator, then sets out on his quest to
the "fortress unvanquishable."
The stories continue in similar modes through the rest of the six books included. As time goes on, Dunsany
makes connections with Earth more explicit, and by the last couple of books much effort is spent mourning the
departure of "Romance," pushed out by modern times, industry and suburbs and so on. (One amusing story,
"A Tale of London," turns the tables somewhat, presenting a vision of a marvelous London from the viewpoint
of a Sultan's hashish smoker.) Certainly these books were of their time -- just prior to the First World War.
The dominant fantasy landscape here is vaguely Oriental cum Arabic.
Much is made of trackless deserts, wondrous cities with their Minarets and Sultans and robed inhabitants,
the smoking of hashish, etc. The dominant mood is regret for what is lost or about to be
lost. And most of the stories end sadly. The hand of fate lies heavy on the characters
herein. The most common length is very short: 1000 to 2000 words or so. But despite the outward sameness,
and with the exception of the weaker earlier books, I was not bored with the stories, nor did I feel that
Dunsany repeated himself. In fact, taken together the stories gain strength. The collections as a whole are almost stronger than their individual parts: a very rare
thing for anthologies.
Perhaps a sample or two of Dunsany's prose would be in order. Here is the opening of "The Fall of Babbulkund":
Besides the virtues of the stories themselves, they are significant influences on the fantasy and even the SF of our time. The most obvious derivative works are the many sword and sorcery tales which borrow, too often ineffectively, the quasi-Oriental settings, the quest plots, and broad echoes of Dunsany's prose style. But the influences run elsewhere: certainly Leigh Brackett's Martian landscapes owe something to Dunsany. And even a nominally "hard SF" writer like Arthur C. Clarke (quoted on the back cover calling Dunsany "One of the greatest writers of this century") shows in his romantic visions a distinct heritage from these fantasies. I recommend this collection of exotic and colourful fantasies to readers interested in the originals from which much contemporary sword and sorcery derive, to those interested in a true master of English prose of the older style, and to those ready to immerse themselves in a melancholy and wholly different world view. Thoroughly involving.
Rich Horton is an eclectic reader in and out of the SF and fantasy genres. He's been reading SF since before the Golden Age (that is, since before he was 13). Born in Naperville, IL, he lives and works (as a Software Engineer for the proverbial Major Aerospace Company) in St. Louis area and is a regular contributor to Tangent. Stop by his website at http://www.sff.net/people/richard.horton. |
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