2015 read #7: The Year's Best Fantasy Stories: 5, edited by Lin Carter.

The Year's Best Fantasy Stories: 5, edited by Lin Carter
204 pages
Published 1980
Read from February 7 to February 8
Rating: ★★ out of 5

Here we are again, with the penultimate YBFS volume curated by Lin Carter. You wouldn't think I'd be looking forward to this -- some unexpected gems aside, the stories chosen (and often written) by Carter in the preceding installments were terrible. They were so consistently bad that I found myself reading them for the pleasure of hating them, and subsequently mocking them in my reviews. It was the short story equivalent of riffing B-movies. And, secretly, I also found myself oddly intrigued by the form of '70s heroic fantasy. The problem was the content, not the form. The idea of a serial adventure following a protagonist through a fantasy realm grew on me with each volume, especially whenever I read a serial I liked, such as Pat McIntosh's Thula tales, or Phyllis Eisenstein's stories of Alaric the minstrel (of which, sadly, I've only encountered one so far) -- or George R. R. Martin's "The Lonely Songs of Laren Dorr," which is the apotheosis of the form, despite being a one-off story. This influence has crept perceptibly into my short story writing, nudging me into experiments with "1970s-style adventure fantasy serials," in which a central hero outwits opponents for the Macguffin, or simply runs away with life (though not pride) intact.

All this has, I believe, helped me forget just how terrible so many of these stories have been, particularly those written by Carter (sometimes under assumed names) and those hewing closest to the Carterian ideal of chiseled, Aryan barbarian trudging across the deserts of a lost continent under the weight of a mighty, turgid thesaurus. I can remind myself of that all I want, yet I still feel just a mite bit sad that this volume and YBFS:6 will complete the run of Carter-curated anthologies. YBFS:7 will inaugurate the editorship of Arthur W. Saha; if Amazon reviews are to be believed, the tone of these collections shifts toward the sleek and dazzling fantasy of the 1980s, much to the disgruntlement of those people who actually like this sort of thing.

So I hope to make the most of my limited time in the company of Lin Carter, master of adult fantasy, tastemaker, lecherous creep, and world's most bald-faced self-promoter. I hope the Saha years ahead of me will help me forget all about you, but I think there will always be a soft spot in my heart for the batshit-stupid fantasy of the 1970s (though not for your stories, which are crap).

More so than usual, the publication dates are all over the place, ranging across three calendar years in this "annual" collection. Those stories designated with a 1980 publication date saw original publication in this volume.

"The Troll" by T.H. White (1978). Read and reviewed in Modern Classics of Fantasy, where I said, "This story feels more suited to the late nineteenth or early twentieth century.... [It] feels like a lost Wells creature feature. Enjoyable, if terribly dated." Lin Carter unexpectedly comes to the rescue, providing the information that "The Troll" was likely written before 1933, and was only published after it "came to light" among the deceased author's papers. I feel like patting myself on the back for catching its anachronistic quality so early in my genre education.

"In the Balance" by Tanith Lee (1978). Mildly entertaining bauble, efficiently (if generically) setting up the situation and pulling a twist ending that, honestly, wasn't so surprising. I could see this getting published in Adventures of Sword & Sorcery magazine in the late '90s, though that isn't a testament to Lee being ahead of her time so much as it is evidence of how much of a throwback that short-lived pro magazine had been.

"The Gem in the Tower" by L. Sprague de Camp and Lin Carter (1978). Not even Sprague de Camp's participation can elevate Conan fan-fiction, especially when Lin Carter is involved. Carter brags in his introduction to the story that "seldom before [in our Conan fan-fiction] have we mastered [Robert E. Howard's] tendency toward gloomy foreboding and ominous spookiness as well as in this yarn." This foreboding ominousness seems to be conveyed by outright telling the reader that there is (I quote) "ominous foreboding." It's a good thing the text says so, because otherwise the effect would have been lost on me. Conan is a pirate here, with a crew of racial stereotypes, hunting after a dead wizard's gem; he battles a fantasy-Pteranodon (de Camp's influence, I'm guessing), and has a good laugh with his men once the peril is dispatched. A rote effort; I can't even work up enough interest to hate it, which by default makes it one of my favorite Lin Carter stories.

"Above Ker-Is" by Evangeline Walton (1978). Lin Carter, ever the gallant, praises the talents of female fantasy writers, and chuckles, "There's enough sheer inventive genius there to create a brand new universe over the weekend, and still have time to get the dishes done." You know, because they're women, and Lin Carter is a jackass. Anyway, this story was written in 1927 and locked in a trunk, an item of luggage with which seemingly every early fantasist was provided, through some far-sighted lock-stories-in-trunks-for-posthumous-exploitation fund. This happens to be my first Evangeline Walton story. It certainly has an antique feel, close in spirit to T.H. White's "The Troll," yet also hinting at an almost Cosmicist horror of the mysteries of existence -- horrors, in this instance, lurking within human sexuality and attachment rather than in primordial beings and ghastly dimensions. It's a fascinating take on what we would now subsume into faery lore, though as a story, I felt it was only pretty good, not amazing.

"Ms. Lipshutz and the Goblin" by Marvin Kaye (1978). For once, Lin Carter's introduction to this story hits the nail on the head: "The spirit of John W. Campbell's Unknown still lives." This sort of droll New York City working-mensch fantasy can trace its ancestry directly to Unknown, which, sadly, I've only encountered in two stories reviewed here. Kaye updates the formula to poke fun at current issues, like those women's libbers wanting to be called "Ms.," and of course our heroine finds happiness, fulfillment, and weight-loss in marrying a successful goblin and settling into the suburbs, but this sort of patronizing was probably considered progressive for its time. A mildly amusing bauble.

"Rhian and Garanhir" by Grail Undwin (1980). "I am enormously fond of Grail Undwin," Lin Carter writes, "because I discovered her all by myself." Actually, as we all know, Grail Undwin is Lin Carter, using his Year's Best Fantasy Stories platform to push his pseudonymous productions upon the fantasy-reading public, and heaping fulsome praise upon his alter-ego: "Nobody ever wrote fairy tales like these before: they break all the rules and get away with the trick superbly." I'm a fan of tales of Faery, and seek them out when I can, yet not even I can discern which rules were supposedly broken in the course of this story. There are distinctly unmagical elves, with little to distinguish them from idealized medieval fantasy knights and ladies; an anecdote of hopeless courtly love is conveyed with little affect; and the story ends. There isn't much here to stick in memory, let alone a bold new rule-breaking direction for fantasy.

"Lord of the Dead" by Robert E. Howard (1978). This is the third "rediscovered tale from a long-dead early master" in this volume so far, in addition to the Robert E. Howard fan-fiction written by the editor and his pal, plus one story written by the editor but passed off as the work of some eccentric new master of the craft. Seven stories, representing the "best fantasy of the year," and only two of them -- the Tanith Lee and the Marvin Kaye -- were original stories actually written and published by contemporary authors who were not the editor. Even by Lin Carter's standards, YBFS:5 has been bleak pickings so far. This story was originally picked up by a pulp called Strange Detective in 1933, which folded and left it unpublished. A he-man detective with the inevitable "cold blue eyes" of a Howard hero, brawling in alleys with Orientalist assassins and ending up berserking with a massive axe through a torture dungeon -- this might be the single most pulp story I've ever read. Really, it's just Conan dressed in city clothes; our "big dick," as Howard terms him, stumbles into some sort of pan-Asian mystery cult slash crime syndicate masterminded by a descendant of Genghis Khan. Perhaps it's even more racist than the Conan stories: "The alley, nameless to white men, but known to the teeming swarms of River Street as the Alley of Silence, was as devious and cryptic as the characteristics of the race which frequented it." There's an iota of entertainment to be found in the sheer testosterone-addled pulpiness of it all, I guess, but if there are any more stories to be found locked in trunks, let them be Evangeline Walton's.

"Child of Air" by Pat McIntosh (1980). McIntosh's Thula stories tend to be a highlight of these books. Her gentle, wary prose is leagues beyond the turgid pulp of Carter's other favorite serials. This story, however, is a bit disappointing, putting our (now former) warrior maid in sexual peril, reduced to a prize to be dueled over by an evil monarch and his gallant and handsome cousin (who happens to be a werewolf as well as a wizard), her agency limited to being the Wolf's helpmeet in wizard-battle. A middling effort.

"A Malady of Magicks" by Craig Shaw Gardner (1978). Nothing to complain of here -- a perfectly enjoyable, funny romp with a has-been wizard and his hapless apprentice. Basic stuff, but good. It's a shame that this is the best story in the book so far.

"St. George" by David Mallory (1980). Lin Carter heaps praise upon the originality of this "newcomer," which immediately arouses my suspicions. Sure enough, googling discloses that the only other item in this fellow's bibliography is a letter printed in Weird Tales #3 a year after the publication of this collection. Grail Undwin is a known alias of Carter's; Philip Coakley, whose only published story is "Lok the Depressor" in YBFS:4, I'm 100% certain is another. I'm only about 99% convinced that this David Mallory is yet another Carter pen name; that letter to the editor seems like too much commitment for a Carter ruse (though perhaps it was just a reader with a similar name; without seeing the letter, I have no idea if it's really the same guy). Certainly the "so original you've got to read it to believe it" storyline (Lin Carter's words) is merely a fumbling attempt at a sex gag: George jizzes in his armor with the satisfaction of slaying the dragon, then becomes "history's first sadist" with poor Sabra, which feels like Lin Carter trying to be saucy and provocative -- and, perhaps, explains why he wanted to stay safe behind a pseudonym. So once again, three of the twelve stories in this book were either written or co-written by the editor. I know you're dead and all, but seriously, you were a real dickweed, Lin Carter.

"Astral Stray" by Adrian Cole (1979). A splendid and startlingly ambitious setting, and glorious heaps of backstory spanning universe upon universe, helps elevate this tale. The plot could have just as easily revolved around mundane travelers swapping favors in a conventional fantasy inn, but the scope of its cosmic setting and its creation-epic imagery were memorable and ahead of its time. With additional polish to its prose, and perhaps some tweaking to modernize and freshen up the side characters, I could see this getting snatched up by Asimov's in the late '90s. Easily my favorite entry in this volume. Stories like this make wading through Lin Carter's regressive tastes and overmastering self-indulgence worthwhile.

"Demon and Demoiselle" by Janet Fox (1978). Solid, satisfying pseudo-medieval sword and sorcery -- as basic an article as they get, but well-made and durable. The descriptions are vivid and the prose goes down easy, and the practical, undaunted heroine -- a sorceress determined to retrieve her demon -- is a refreshing antidote to all the pulp masculinity and the disappointingly meek Thula we've seen in the foregoing stories.

That's it for yet another installment of YBFS. Three good stories, three all right stories, plus a good story I'd already read before -- I guess I'd better swallow my dislike of Lin Carter and give this volume a relatively generous score, even if nothing here is as good as "The Lonely Songs of Laren Dorr" in YBFS:3.