2013 read #28: After the King: Stories in Honor of J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Martin H. Greenberg.

After the King: Stories in Honor of J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Martin H. Greenberg
439 pages
Published 1992
Read from February 18 to February 24
Rating: ★★½ out of 5

I'm eager to consume every current "Best of SF" anthology in my local library, but this book is something different that caught my eye. The publisher's blurb is quick to point out, "These stories were not created to imitate the master, but to celebrate the dazzling diversity of fantasy which Tolkien's work has inspired." Its contents page reads like a who's who of late '80s and early '90s fantasy, a checklist of authors that, had I grown up in a more conventional manner, would be the source of fond childhood memories. As it is, I've read embarrassingly little from any of them. I'll comment on that as I read through these stories, no doubt. For now, before I begin, I want to say I'm really excited to read this book. I'm skeptical about these claims of "dazzling diversity" -- my understanding is that the recent diversity of fantasy fiction began with the next generation of authors, those who began breaking into the pro magazines later in the '90s. But I expect this to be (mostly) a fun read all the same. I better not be disappointed.

First, I want to mention that this is my first time reading a collection edited by Martin H. Greenberg. He was a prolific anthologist whose books were everywhere in the '90s. As a teen, I was fixated on getting my hands on one of his productions, a book of dinosaur stories capitalizing on the post-Jurassic Park ubiquity of dinosaur mania. I kept checking for his name whenever my father took me to used bookstores, but never ever obtained a copy. I seemed to find a new Greenberg anthology every time I checked, though. It's something of a (very minor) milestone for me to finally read a collection he edited. Though, given the subject matter of some of his books -- UFOs, the Joker, Vampire Detectives -- maybe I shouldn't hold high hopes for this one, despite the roster of talent Greenberg (or his publishers) assembled.

Now, on to the stories.

"Reave the Just" by Stephen R. Donaldson. I have a copy of Lord Foul's Bane in the basement. I've been meaning to read it for, um, five or six years now. I plan to get to it... someday. (Incidentally, Lord Foul's Bane was published in 1977? Seriously? I assumed it was mid '90s at the earliest, given its reputation for "moral bleakness," always popular in internet fantasy circles.) This story does little to entice my interest in Donaldson's fiction. It's a slog: tedious torture porn written in an oh-so-clever omniscient voice meant to contrast ironically with the subject matter, with no appealing or interesting characters, a "hero" who serves only to tell people to help themselves, no sharp worldbuilding, nothing actually clever, just nattering along as if I were expected to give a shit. It's just... bleggghh. It didn't sustain my interest whatsoever; I had to read it a couple pages at a time over the course of an entire day. Literally, a whole day. I hope this isn't a sign of things to come.

"Troll Bridge" by Terry Pratchett. I've always gotten Pratchett mixed up with Piers Anthony, which is an unfortunate comparison -- I've only read one Piers Anthony book, probably Roc and a Hard Place, and it was godawful. It was bad enough to put me off punning, "satirical," over-prolific fantasy novelists of every stripe. But really, no one deserves to be conflated with Piers Anthony. This story is actually pretty cute. Really cute, and quite enjoyable. A nice little introduction to Pratchett, I think.

"A Long Night's Vigil at the Temple" by Robert Silverberg. I have mixed feelings regarding Silverberg. I loved Lord Valentine's Castle, liked Majipoor Chronicles, Valentine Pontifex, Hawksbill Station, and The Alien Years, and felt utterly indifferent about Nightfall and Kingdoms of the Wall. I think Silverberg's alright, but with the exception of Lord Valentine's Castle, I wouldn't put him on any list of favorites. He seems to use the same basic approach for many of his stories: he takes a common Golden Age sci-fi concept, and he explores it from what, at the time, is an unexpected angle. The Alien Years posits an alien invasion, gets it over with in a single day, then follows its effects on Earth society over the next century and a half. Kingdoms of the Wall posits a human colony on an alien world, then explores its cultural effects on the native sentient beings. Hawksbill Station takes time travel deep into the geologic past, and uses it as a means to create penal colonies. "Vigil" picks up ten thousand years after a world-changing alien contact, when priests pray nightly to the trinity of alien beings who "saved" the Earth so long ago, and (inevitably for a '90s story) the lead priest and central character questions his faith. It's fairly good, not great -- a leisurely, comfortable tale of archaeological mystery that unearths no real surprises, straddling the gray zone between sci-fi and fantasy, which always wins points from me.

"The Dragon of Tollin" by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough. The first author I hadn't heard of, though apparently she collaborated on the Acorna series, which I encountered once in a grade school English textbook. This story did nothing to make me want to seek out more from her. Heavy-handed social commentary is only tolerable in an otherwise entertaining story. This was bland, predictable, and entirely forgettable. (Two days after reading it, I'm struggling to recall what topic her social commentary even pertained to.)

"Faith" by Poul and Karen Anderson. I've read one or two of Poul Anderson's Time Patrol collections, and nothing at all by Karen Anderson. This tale they crafted together could be a textbook example of How Not to Begin Your Story in current SF fashion. It opens with four pages nattering on about this generically quaint pastoral region on the edge of a generic fantasy kingdom, and how a goblin fort shows up one day and kids begin to disappear, and then thirty-three years pass. Four pages to set that up -- information that was apparent between the lines anyway once the actual story began after all those wasted pages. Pro tip: No one wants to read four pages of scene setting in a short story, no matter how unique and interesting it is, because in actuality it is neither of those things. Set your scenes by having people act and having things happen in your story -- you know, by actually writing a short story instead of a historical society leaflet or travel brochure. This isn't a movie where you open with a birds-eye shot and slowly zoom in on the hero during five minutes of opening credits. You gotta get in there, make an impression with your characters, tell a story, and get out of there. There can be room for leisurely exploration sometimes, but make us give a shit about what's going on first, before you do anything else. If top-name fantasy fiction was like this in the early '90s, it's no wonder editors stress this simple concept so earnestly today. Beyond that, "Faith" is just kind of there, neither good nor especially bad.

"In the Season of the Dressing of the Wells" by John Brunner. Aside from a certain expositional ham-handedness -- the protagonist, in essence, stops and tells anyone who will listen that "I no longer believe in God because of what I went through in The War!", and other characters repeat that back to him almost word for word -- this story reminds me quite a bit of contemporary fantasy fiction. Put another way, it's the least dated story in the collection so far. It's charming, sweet, and absorbing. My only beef with the tale is Brunner's lackluster attempt to portray the effects of shellshock. That's a lot for any writer to take on, and Brunner just doesn't handle it convincingly, in my opinion. On the whole, though, quite the enjoyable story.

"The Fellowship of the Dragon" by Patricia A. McKillip. This one was faintly entertaining. It read like young adult lit. The characters were bland and hastily sketched, the fairy tale incidents were predictable and (in the absence of characters I cared about) not very interesting -- kind of a minimum effort piece all around, but not terrible for all that. Maybe a C or C-.

"The Decoy Duck" by Harry Turtledove. I only know Turtledove as "That guy weirdly obsessed with the South winning the Civil War, and the ten thousand different ways World War II could have gone." I only read one or two of his Worldwar books, the ones where aliens come along and change the course of World War II. The one thing I clearly recall from it is some lecherous Chinese(?) character getting put into a breeding program and marveling at the color of a redhead girl's nipples. Needless to say, I did not have high expectations for Turtledove's entry in this fine volume. It turned out to be an exercise in mediocrity, populated with tiresome Orientalist and Nordic stereotypes. The swarthy "southrons" are described as "clever," with some asperity, intended as an antonym to "honest" and "open" (and also, implicitly, "good"). Nordic physiognomy here represents strength and innate nobility. Such anachronistic notions of race just don't fit in a pseudo-Byzantine time period, and aren't entertaining in any case. Now add in a completely cliched 1990s plot about religious identity (seriously, that's like half this book so far), only this time those swarthy, decadent southrons can't even be good practitioners of their own religion; it's left to their Nordic convert to be the one missionary with conviction and scruples, natch. Sigh. I'm just glad to have this behind me now.

"Nine Threads of Gold" by Andre Norton. I'd heard Norton's name bandied about it a positive way, so I was curious about how this one would turn out. Unfortunately, it falls mostly flat. There are too many characters -- the viewpoint "weaver," and the nine perfect Aryan specimens she is drawn to weave together -- so no one develops much of a personality in the limited space available. The dialogue was kind of awkward and forced, as well. At a guess (I'm not going to bother to look it up), I'd say this was a prequel to some pre-existing novel or series, which follows the subsequent adventures of the nine golden-haired children, the "blood of legends," in their totally-without-weird-racial-undertones fight against darkness. It certainly has the unsatisfying, temporizing feel of a prequel.

This hasn't been a satisfying book so far. At least I'm half done now by page count.

"The Conjure Man" by Charles de Lint. I've made a small vow to read de Lint, but for one reason and another I've never managed to read even one of his works until now. I almost bought his books several times when I had money, but changed my mind every time. I checked out two of his novels but returned them unread (partly because I unknowingly checked out sequels, and I hate reading series out of order). I was excited for this story, and it quickly rewarded my expectations. For one thing, it indirectly inspired me to write a story for the first time in far too many months. For another, "Conjure Man" was a good story. At first it was a bit preachy in a typically '90s "Everything is high-tech these days and no one cares about what's important anymore!" way, and it kind of tapers off toward the end, but the characters and setting were wholly engaging. A charming little piece.

"The Halfling House" by Dennis L. McKiernan. A mildly amusing tale in the "fantasy creatures with attitude" mode, which always skirts the edge of annoying if not done just right. "Halfling House" crosses that line several times with its groan-inducing "references" to everything from Lovecraft to '90s Coors commercials. Despite that, the antics of the hapless and mismatched wee folk had a faint charm. The ending was stupid though.

"Silver or Gold" by Emma Bull. I know I have a soft spot for non-European folklore traditions, but this story was wonderful. Bull makes it seem effortless, spinning a rich, lived-in world you just want to spend time in. More so than even Brunner's contribution, this doesn't seem dated at all. Possibly my favorite story in this collection.

"Up the Side of the Air" by Karen Haber. From the title, I expected this to be a primitive steampunk tale, following shortly after The Difference Engine popularized the concept. I have an unfounded fondness for steampunk still. The subgenre is almost never good; at this point it exists almost solely as creative shortcut and cliche, a set of props to help lazy people tell lackluster stories. But every once in a while I get a craving for airships and one-armed colonial generals and the inevitable lady scientist who flouts society's expectations; it would have provided a welcome break here. Sadly, none of that matters, as this proved to be a completely generic wizard's apprentice story. The whole crux of the story -- "The new apprentice is a girl!" -- may or may not have been old hat in 1992, but it certainly is not impressive to me now. Mercifully, the story is brief. Pointless and brief.

"The Naga" by Peter S. Beagle. I want to say I've read something by this guy, and recently too, but it isn't coming to mind. Oh well. This was a fairy tale in the "rediscovered manuscript" mold, pleasant but not particularly moving or deep.

"Revolt of the Sugar Plum Fairies" by Mike Resnick. I don't know how you can racially stereotype sugar plum fairies, but here you go. It's meant for comedic effect, and this story did bring a smile to my face, but it's still a bit of an odd choice, if you ask me. In terms of pop culture references, this is the single most dated story of the bunch.

"Winter's King" by Jane Yolen. A brief but moderately satisfactory fairy tale. Not much to say about it.

"Götterdämmerung" by Barry N. Malzberg. The stock "experimental" trick of setting off dialogue with an em dash instead of quotation marks? Yeah, that hasn't struck me as fresh or new since I was like 19. Leaving quotation marks out altogether has a nice effect on my ear, but em dashes are just silly. If Malzberg had skipped the em dashes, I'd give this story modest praise -- I want to follow the earlier adventures of Barbara the Giantess in particular -- but presentation counts. The requisite 1990s pop culture reference in this story: The wizard makes an offhand mention of how, with the loss of a magic ring, the characters live "at the end of chronology." I couldn't decide whether to groan or award Malzberg a point for cleverness.

"Down the River Road" by Gregory Benford. Benford's always a good time. This novelette isn't an exception, necessarily, though it is a bit busy. We got an enormous ringworld/tubeworld setup, we got a world-river, we got metallic fauna in silver streams, we got timeflows, we got timestorms, we got tame zombies, we got spirit handshakes, we got hydrogen hats, we got memory men, we got blunderbusses that grow on trees and shoot bullet-seeds, we got the ol' "guy accidentally kills himself in the future" routine. Spread it out over 400 pages and slap an appropriately batshit cover on it, and you got yourself a solid post-New Wave sci-fi novel. As it is, it's all a bit cluttered and off-putting. Still a good time, though.

"Death and the Lady" by Judith Tarr. A quite good story to wrap things up, very satisfying.

Well, overall, I'd say this book was a disappointment. Not entirely so -- there were at least five worthwhile contributions in the lot -- but enough of one to make me long for one of the more recent "Year's Best" anthologies. Lucky thing I have three of those waiting for me in my library box...