“Kull: Exile of Atlantis”, by Robert E. Howard, illustrated by Justin Sweet

 

352 pages, Del Rey, ISBN-13: 978-0345490179

In the early oughts, Del Rey began producing the complete works of Robert E. Howard; Kull: Exile of Atlantis, illustrated by Justin Sweet, was the sixth volume to be published. This edition likewise has all of the tales ever published dealing with the wandering exile from the Sunken Lands, along with a collection of sundry materials, again printed in the order they were written and published: the stories The Altar and the Scorpion, By This Axe I Rule!, The Cat and the Skull, The Curse of the Golden Skull, Exile of Atlantis (untitled story), Kings of the Night, The Mirrors of Tuzun Thune, The Screaming Skull of Silence, The Shadow Kingdom, The Striking of the Gong and Swords of the Purple Kingdom; the poems Am-ra the Ta-an, The King and the Oak and Summer Morn; and the miscellanea The Black City (fragment), Untitled draft (“‘Thus,’ said Tu…”), Untitled fragment (“A land of wild, fantastic beauty…”), Untitled fragment (“So I set out up the hill-trail…”) and Untitled fragment (“Three men sat…”).

Kull is a very different character from Howard’s other, better known characters (*cough* CONAN! *cough*), and shows a moody, almost dreamlike quality in most of their plots and the main character’s action. As mentioned several times before, Howard wrote in the 1920’s and 1930’s, the heyday of the pulp magazine era, and not all modern fantasy fans will enjoy his writing – but he is a superb storyteller, and I think most modern fans cheat themselves if they don’t sample his oeuvre of fantasy and adventure, especially in the case of this volume. An adventurer from Atlantis who had risen to the kingship of the ancient kingdom of Valusia, Kull was in fact the precursor to Howard’s more famous later-day character, but he was so much more than a prototype. For starters, Kull is a much more introspective (to say nothing of moody) character, given to philosophical inquiries into the nature of reality and his own existence. As barbarians go, he’s deep, man.

Only three of Howard’s Kull stories were published during his lifetime (he died by his own hand in 1936), but he wrote or started at least nine other Kull stories and a poem about the brooding warrior king before aborting the series for other characters. Beginning with the August 1929 edition of Weird Tales and the story The Shadow Kingdom, Kull was unleashed upon the world. Any fan of Sword & Sorcery fantasy (and of Howard in particular) will want to explore the Kull stories in-depth and how his interpretations of well-known myths and places differed from established lore; in short, his Atlantis was a home to hostile and xenophobic barbarian tribes, rather than to an advanced civilization as implied by Plato and later the Theosophists. Thus, we see young Kull exiled from his homeland after thwarting his particular tribe’s attempt to burn a young woman at the stake for marrying outside of the tribe, an example of the extreme antipathy Howard’s Atlanteans hold towards outsiders.

The Shadow Kingdom introduces Kull as the newly crowned king of the ancient and proud land of Valusia, considered the foremost power in this antediluvian world setting. Kull is an uneasy king, however, as he has taken the throne by force via revolution, and he mistrusts many of his court and subjects. When approached by the ambassador of the Picts, an island nation hostile to his former home Atlantis, he is at first wary, but later comes to trust the Pictish ambassador Kanu, an elderly sage still spry and wise in the ways of the world, along with a Pictish war chief/warrior attached to the Pictish embassy known as Brule the Spear Slayer. The story revolves around an evil ancient race of Serpent Men who can take the form and semblance of anyone, and as such, it’s a masterpiece of paranoia that predates such later classics of the trope. Another story in the collection of interest to fantasy readers is By This Axe I Rule! which is a pretty straightforward adventure story in which a cabal of plotters spring a plot to assassinate Kull, for various reasons of their own. Some, such as the poet Ridondo, see Kull as a reactionary tyrant and wish to return to the “good old days,” forgetting that the previous king was in truth more of a despot than Kull ever thought of being, while others seek power for themselves. The major interest in this story is that Howard later re-wrote parts of it, adding in supernatural elements and removing a romantic subplot between two minor characters, and called the new version “The Phoenix on the Sword” and introduced the more popular character Conan in the newer version in the December, 1932 issue of Weird Tales.

The artwork by Justin Sweet captures the pulp magazine style and feel of the original published stories, and the essays by Steve Tompkins and Patrice Louinet are excellent at explaining the context and background of the stories.

“Royal Babylon: The Alarming History of European Royalty”, Karl Shaw

 

336 pages, Broadway Books, ISBN-13: 978-0767907552

My first year at Eastern Michigan University I ate at McDonald’s every day for a week BECAUSE I COULD! – but by the time Saturday rolled around I was pining for Mom’s spaghetti. I bring this up because reading Royal Babylon: The Alarming History of European Royalty by Karl Shaw was more or less like eating junk food – it tasted great at first, but became tiresome after a while. In more than 300 pages, Shaw chronicles the excesses (sexual and otherwise) that the various members of the royal families of Europe. There can be no doubting that Shaw has covered all the bases, as every major ruling family is represented here, such as: the Bourbons of France, the Habsburgs of Austria, the Hanoverians of Hannover (and Great Britain), the Hohenzollerns of Prussia and Germany, the Romanovs of Russia, the Saxe-Coburg and Gothas of...everywhere, and the Wittelsbachs of Bavaria.

It’s as if National Enquirer decided to write a history of European royals, with every salacious piece of gossip brought to light, whether or not the documentation to support such claims is very credible or no (except for the medical backgrounds of these inbred quacks; they appear to be spot on. Yeesh). I thought it interesting that while Royal Babylon sports a bibliography, it lacks an index, perhaps as a subconscious admission that what they have published is more for entertainment than knowledge. As for that bibliography, it would appear that the majority of the books listed are secondary sources rather than primary, as is best for a proper history. Anyway, for all that, it was enjoyable reading about all of these high-and-mighty blue-bloods living lives of scandal and malice as they lord it over the populations they despise for being “common”; if having normal families and steady nerves is the price one must pay for commonality, I’ll take it over royalty any day.

“The Sherlockian”, by Graham Moore

 

368 pages, Twelve, ISBN-13: ‎ 978-0446572583

The Sherlockian by Graham Moore revolves around two independent-but-connected mysteries involving the McGuffin that is a missing volume of Arthur Conan Doyle’s voluminous diary. The Modern-day mystery involves one Harold White, newly-minted member of the Baker Street Irregulars, the übergeek organization that all proper Sherlockians aspire to join. The mystery truly begins after Alex Cale, the world’s foremost Sherlockian, is found strangled in his room at the Algonquin Hotel the day he was supposed to reveal his discovery, the aforementioned McGuffin that was written from the time right before Doyle resurrected Holmes. Thus, the game is afoot (to borrow a phrase) as White – along with Sarah Lindsay, a reporter and his modern-day Watson – seek out Cale’s murderer and, perhaps more importantly, the missing McGuffin.

The Victorian-era mystery, which is written concurrently with White’s tale, involves Conan Doyle himself and his dear friend, Bram Stoker (yes, the Dracula guy) in pursuit of, at first, the culprits who sent Conan Doyle a mail bomb that nearly killed him and about whom New Scotland Yard hasn’t a clue (naturally). However, his search for personal justice devolves into an unplanned pursuit if a vicious serial killer who, apparently, targets vulnerable young women, the violence of which sets it apart from many of the original Holmes stories to Conan Doyle’s consternation (to say nothing of horror). And it is this constant back-and-forth between present sleuths versus past that drives the story along, as we watch Harold and Sarah search in one chapter for that which Conan Doyle is busily creating in another.

What to make of all this? Well, I think that fans of Conan Doyle and his creation may find this a truly interesting book, filled as it is with reams of Doyle/Holmes trivia and commentary: chapters begin with quotations from Holmes’ mysteries, while the dedication and scholarship of Holmes modern followers is part and parcel of the plot. As a kinda-Sherlockian and later-day Victorian wannabe myself, I expected to be equally riveted by The Sherlockian – alas, I was not. Despite Moore’s best attempts, there is no real sense of danger, intrigue or risk involving any of the characters: I just knew that Harold and Sarah were gonna be alright (as, of course, were Conan Doyle and Stoker). And after having reading the Author’s Note at the end of the book – wherein Moore divulges what is fact and fiction regarding this novel – I was struck by the fact that the inspiration for this tale is actually more engaging and exciting than what Moore created.

While not a bad book, The Sherlockian just felt flat, like a decarbonated Coke after its been left overnight: I’d still drink it, but while it may quench my thirst a little bit, I would still want something more refreshing.

“Iron Empires: Robber Barons, Railroads, and the Making of Modern America”, by Michael Hiltzik

 

448 pages, Mariner Books, ISBN-13: 978-0358567127

In Iron Empires: Robber Barons, Railroads, and the Making of Modern America, author Michael Hiltzik has written a dense, narrative-driven account of the consolidation of American railroads into the archetypal mega-corporations that have defined the 20^th and 21^st Centuries, for good and ill. I found it interesting that Hiltzik chose to take the (rather discredited) “Great Man” approach in his book, following the paths of such titans of industry as Jay Gould, Ed Harriman, Cornelius Vanderbilt, J.P. Morgan and Theodore Roosevelt, each of whom financed, maintained, consolidated and ultimately regulated America’s railroad conglomerates of the late 19^th Century. While the abuses of these railroad builders has been documented before – the blatant bribery, the overwhelming greed and at times the painful incompetence – railroads were still pivotal in opening the American West to settlement and development, and to the growth of the United States as a nation and its commanding place in the world.

But what I found interesting in this book is the follow through, as the 19^th Century ended and the 20^th Century began; many histories behave as if the railroads ended with the death of Victoria when, in fact, they were just hitting their stride. Hiltzik covers the history of the railroads well, warts and all, especially as to their seemingly hopelessly entwined financial dealings with the barons at their core. However, perhaps because Hiltzik intended to keep this a factual history of the corporations that crisscrossed the continent with their belts of steel, he does not go into actual character studies of these (it must be said) colorful, bigger than life robber barons, even though his chapters seemed organized by the different individuals and/or pivotal events. As such, it did not engage me as much as I expected, even though the promise at the beginning of the book was to use these men as guideposts, as it were, in the history of this subject; why this original plan was ultimately abandoned I cannot fathom; I can only regret.

Iron Empires shows that, of all the pivotal technologies of the last two centuries – the automobile, telephones, television, computers, and even the internet – it was the railroads that, arguably, had the most profound impact on shaping America. Starting from the 1840s, railroads took the country from the horse-and-buggy to the industrial age and made possible all the others. Railroads not only revolutionized travel, they settled the western frontier; absorbed waves of immigrants; created the modern finance, steel and banking industries; made possible mighty cities; created the labor and women’s movements; integrated agriculture and coal mining; and so much more. But railroads weren’t impersonal forces of nature that did as they pleased and couldn’t be stopped by human agency; rather, they were built, funded, directed and abused by human beings, with all their virtues and faults, for purposes good, evil and pedestrian. The modern-day equivalence are the tech giants who, like the robber-barons of old, must needs be reined in for the good of all.

“The Ordeal of Elizabeth Marsh: A Woman in World History”, by Linda Colley

 

416 pages, Anchor Books, ISBN-13: ‎ 978-0385721493

I thought that The Ordeal of Elizabeth Marsh: A Woman in World History was the first book by Linda Colley that I had read – until I remembered that I had read Captives: Britain, Empire, and the World, 1600-1850 (reviewed on July 13^th, 2022). And I should’ve realized, for the theme, as well as the pacing, of Ordeal closely matches that of Captives. And just who was Elizabeth Marsh? Well, she was an Englishwoman who lived from 1735 to 1785; when she was but 21 years old, the ship she was traveling on from Gibraltar to England to unite with her fiancé was intercepted by a Moroccan corsair and overtaken by its crew; she and a number of the other passengers onboard where thence held captive in Morocco by the Sultan, Sidi Mohammed ben Abdellah al-Khatib, for a brief period (You see? Sometimes white Europeans were the victims).

From there, Colley traces Marsh’s life and travels (and travails), from her birth in Jamaica in the 18^th Century (and her, possible, biracial background) to her return to England, her marriage and domestic life with James Crisp and her journeys by ship through Asia – even including a pirate adventure. Thus, Ordeal records a great deal of interesting and obscure parts of history that you might not get out of a typical history textbook, due mostly to Elizabeth Marsh’s rather atypical life, but also to the Colley’s very detailed and comprehensive descriptions of this unknown woman. While there are whole stretches of Marsh’s life that were as ordinary as ordinary can be – marriage, children, meddlesome in-laws – there were others that were as different as one could imagine.

Don’t be misled, though, as Colley hasn’t written an adventure tale by any means; indeed, whole stretches of the book drag on and on, and one can’t help but feel that some parts, at least, were inserted in the interest of stretching the thing out to 400+ pages (reminds me of my college days, inserting every 10¢ word I could think of to reach the minimum word count). Oh, to be sure, in order to develop this unfamiliar tale, Colley had to dig deep and unearth any number of fascinating (and less-than-fascinating) details about Marsh, but the problem is that her protagonist’s life was not all that interesting for whole stretches – decades, even – and that Colley, by necessity, had to produce quite a bit of filler in order to keep her reader’s interest.

Ultimately, the focus of Ordeal is not on developing a true to historical narrative of Marsh’s life, boring warts and all, which again presents problems. Regarding Marsh’s unique life trajectory and the reasoning behind her sometimes unknowable motivations, there are many areas where Colley makes educated guesses as to why her protagonist did what, guesses which I found to be without any satisfying evidence. It must be said, however, that Colley does attempt to stick with what she has evidence for, and when she dives into conjecture she acknowledges that she is doing so. I imagine that is was difficult to develop this account because, while Colley was able to unearth a surprising amount of material about (and by) a rather obscure woman, it is still largely incomplete.

“Game of Queens: The Women Who Made Sixteenth-Century Europe”, by Sarah Gristwood

 

400 pages, Basic Books, ISBN-13: 978-1541697225

Chess is a game of strategy and forward thinking: anyone even a little familiar with the game knows that the best players always try to think several moves ahead – but it is also a game in which the Queen is the most powerful playing piece whose job it is to protect the King, who is one of the weakest pieces. This is a more than appropriate analogy for Sarah Gristwood to use in Game of Queens: The Women Who Made Sixteenth-Century Europe, an excellent history of these amazing women who ruled rather than just reigned, usually in support of their young sons until they could reach their majority – Queens protecting Kings on the gameboard of European politics.

The author could just as easily had written sixteen separate biographies, but by combining all of their lives into a single book, Gristwood shows just how each country and each woman truly depended on one another for power and prestige, even if (as they usually were) at odds with one another. I found this to be most interesting, for while there may have been mutual respect and/or even admiration between these women, there was no love lost: they were patriots to their respective nations first, or fierce defenders of their sons and their interests – in this, they indeed fulfilled the stereotypical role held out for mothers.

In a world where male heirs were few or died young, it was women who had to step in and make Europe ready for the future. The 16^th Century was the changing point for European history, and it was women, more often than not, who had to navigate this complex field to keep Europe from completely falling apart, and Game of Queens vividly tells the stories behind the unprecedented emergence of these powerful women in the games countries played in the 1500s, a masterful account of these individuals and of many more ambitious, often public-spirited women of royal blood in 16^th Century Europe.

Indeed, there are so many significant players pacing regally through Gristwood’s saga that the reader might anticipate some narrative confusion. Gristwood chronicles the roles of many other women rulers and powerful influencers during the period. They include Isabella of Castile, Christina of Denmark, Marguerite of Navarre, Margaret of Austria, Louise of Savoy, Anne of Bohemia and Hungary, Margaret Tudor, Mary Tudor, Marie de Guise, Jeanne d’Albret and Anne de Beaujeu, along with the usual suspects of Katherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, Mary Queen of Scots, Catherine de Medici and Elizabeth I.

Game of Queens is as complete a history of the 16^th Century as one could hope for, retelling the tale through the eyes of the women who made it all happen while, thankfully, not infecting the same with any modern-day political hokum.