376
pages, Del Rey, ISBN-13: 978-0345461544
In the early
oughts, Del Rey began producing the complete works of Robert E. Howard; Bran
Mak Morn: The Last King, illustrated by Gary Gianni, was the fourth
volume to be published. This edition likewise has all of the tales ever
published dealing with the doomed King of the Picts, along with a collection of
sundry materials: the stories Men of the Shadows, Kings of the Night,
Worms of the Earth, The Dark Man, The Lost Race, The
Little People (along with a facsimile of the original typescript) and Children
of the Night; the poems Chant of the White Beard, Rune, Song
of the Pict, Song of the Race, The Drums of Pictdom and
The Bell of Morni; Bran Mak Morn: A Play; a variety of untitled
fragments and drafts; and appendices that cover the whole of Bran Mak Morn.
Along with
Solomon Kane, I found Bran Mak Morn to be a fascinating character, again
probably because of his semi-historical roots. As the last king of the dying
Picts, an historical people that Howard embellishes, Bran does battle with the
ever-hostile legions of Rome while simultaneously struggling to draw his people
from out of the pagan pit of savagery. But all of his actions are tinged with
melancholy, as King Bran knows that he is ultimately doomed to fail and the
Picts will fall; but he battles on regardless, as Kings must carry on for the
good of their people, no matter the consequences.
Why is it
some characters succeed and others fail? I have no problem with Conan being so
popular and transcending his niche, but Howard wrote so many interesting characters
besides, like…well, Bran Mak Morn. Maybe the historical setting threw people
off, or his aggrandizing history to add in occult elements – hell, may be
people just didn’t like his poetry. Anyway, if only Howard had lived longer he
may today be seen as the American answer to Tolkien – or, to be strictly
accurate, Tolkien would be seen as England’s answer to Howard (ah, how
different things might have been if only Robert E. wasn’t such a mama’s boy).
What this
collection of tales shows also is Howard’s versatility, as the character of
Bran Mak Morn is every bit as alive and fascinating as the Cimmerian and the
Puritan without being like them. Our stubborn and forlorn king cannot just
yield to fate but struggles on, going so far as delving into the underworld to
seek the aid of long-dead kings as he tries to maintain the First Race. Of
course, his failure is complete as the Picts are destroyed, although Howard’s
tales are maddeningly incomplete; however, as they stand, the unfinished chronicles
of our doomed King serve as a rather poignant and proper ending to these tales.
In the last dozen years of his sadly truncated life, Howard created a whole universe of pulpy goodness. If you’ve read all the Conans and the Kulls and the Solomon Kanes, you still have these jewels of fast-paced blood-drenched bosom-heaving skull-cleaving story-telling to look forward to. These are among my favorites in Howard-world: he’s hip-deep in the kind of lost-race mythology that he loves, and the stories here of Bran Mak Morn really sing. Nobody did it better, for even when Howard uses a cliché he makes it his cliché, and you instantly forgive him for it. He took such joy in creating these fantasies of wish-fulfillment that you’re swept heedlessly along and find yourself wanting more.
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