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Hawkmoon Gets Some Respect With Tor Reprints

Hawkmoon Gets Some Respect With Tor Reprints

the-sword-of-the-dawn-smallIt’s good to see Michael Moorcock back in print in attractive accessible editions again. Thirty years ago the man ruled the paperback shelves with numerous titles in print, including half a dozen Elric novels, the Chronicles of Corum, the Jerry Cornelius books… and of course, Hawkmoon.

Moorcock is still in print, of course — but chiefly in expensive omnibus editions these days. You can’t ride your bike down to the corner store, spot a slender Moorcock paperback on the rack with a glorious Michael Whelan cover, shell out 95 cents, and cram that baby into your back pocket like you used to. (And if you can, listen to an old man and take that Hershey’s bar out of your pocket first. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.)

Anyway, my point is, those fat hardcover editions are great for cranky old collectors like me. But they don’t do much to introduce the man whom Michael Chabon called “The greatest writer of post-Tolkien British fantasy” to a new generation. Michael Moorcock deserves to be celebrated with permanent editions of his work, sure. But he should also be available in cheap paperbacks that teenagers can fold in half while they’re reading, mesmerized, on the back of the bus.

The era of the cheap paperback is over. But Tor did the next best thing two years ago, releasing all four Hawkmoon novels — The Jewel in the Skull, The Mad God’s Amulet, The Sword of the Dawn, and The Runestaff — in slender trade paperbacks with gorgeous new covers by Vance Kovacs. Now that all four have been remaindered (selling at Amazon for between $5.60 and $6.00 each, while supplies last), I took the opportunity to buy a complete set.

Collectively known as The History of the Runestaff, the novels follow the adventures of Dorian Hawkmoon — an aspect of Moorcock’s Eternal Champion — on a post-holocaust Earth as he travels a world of antique cities, scientific sorcery, and crystalline machines and is inexorably pulled into a war against the ruthless armies of Granbretan. Here’s the description for the first novel, The Jewel in the Skull:

Dorian Hawkmoon, the last Duke of Koln, swore to destroy the Dark Empire of Granbretan. But after his defeat and capture at the hands of the vast forces of the Empire. Hawkmoon becomes a puppet co-opted by his arch nemesis to infiltrate the last stronghold of rebellion against Granbretan, the small but powerful city of Kamarang. He’s been implanted with a black jewel, through whose power the Dark Empire can control his every decision. But in the city of Kamarang, Hawkmoon discovers the power inside him to overcome any control, and his vengeance against the Dark Empire is filled with an unrelenting fury.

The Hawkmoon novels were originally written between 1967 and 1969; the Tor reprints were published between January and December of 2010. Roughly 200 – 220 pages each, their original cover price was $14 – $15; they are currently much less. Move quickly if you want copies; they are selling fast.

Vintage Treasures: Tales of Time and Space

Vintage Treasures: Tales of Time and Space

tales-of-time-and-spaceI saw this little beauty sitting on the Starfarer’s Despatch booth less than 60 seconds after entering the Worldcon Dealer’s Room. The Dealer’s Room wasn’t even open yet, but Rich and Arin were kind enough to take my five bucks anyway. Bless ’em.

I love old science fiction anthologies. I just have to have ’em. I can tell this one is old because the Copyright Date is in Roman numerals. MCMLXIX. Let’s see… that’s 19… uh.. what’s LX again?… wait… 1969! Whew. Man, that took forever. No wonder the damn Roman Empire collapsed.

Tales of Time and Space is edited by Ross R. Olney. Never heard of him. Never heard of the publisher either: Golden Press. This has kid’s book stamped all over it. 1969, huh? (Excuse me, MCMLXIX. Probably everyone spoke in Roman numerals back then. Bet that made exchanging phone numbers a bitch. “Yeah, I love vegetarian food too. Give me a ring and I’ll take you to my favorite restaurant. I’m at XIIVIIIIVIIIIVIIIIVI.”)

Likely this was something done for the school library market. Except the table of contents sure looks like a real SF anthology:

  • “Puppet Show,” Fredric Brown
  • “Birds of a Feather,” Robert Silverberg
  • “Clutch of Morpheus,” Larry Sternig
  • “The Last Command,” Keith Laumer
  • “Fog,” William Campbell Gault
  • “The Martian Crown Jewels,” Poul Anderson
  • “Of Missing Persons,” Jack Finney

Okay, I don’t know who William Campbell Gault is, but those other guys are heavy hitters. Keith Laumer’s “The Last Command” is one of my favorite Bolo tales, the one where a bunch of construction workers building a highway on a world where the last war is a distant memory awaken a dormant Bolo and it begins grinding its way to the surface, terrorizing the entire city in the process. And Poul Anderson’s “The Martian Crown Jewels” is a great slice of 50s space opera, from the April 1959 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

Tales of Time and Space was published in MCMLXIX by Golden Press. It is 212 pages in oversized trade paperback, and the original cover price was 95 cents. The stories are illustrated with occasional line drawings by Harvey Kidder, and the groovy cover is by Tom Nachreiner.

Joyce Carol Oates’ Gothic Quintet, Part I: Bellefleur

Joyce Carol Oates’ Gothic Quintet, Part I: Bellefleur

BellefleurPublished in 1980, Joyce Carol Oates’ novel Bellefleur is an astonishing gothic tour-de-force, a breathtaking and phantasmagoric book that whirls through generations of an aristocratic New England family. It deals in almost every kind of traditional horror-story trope: a sprawling, crumbling, haunted house; angered spirits of the land; men who take the shape of beasts; at least one innocent heiress who develops a peculiar case of anemia after being courted by a sinister European nobleman. All these things are folded into an overarching tale of greed, power, sex, and tragedy, told in a wild style that almost hides a precise structure of event, theme, and imagery.

The book was the first in a set of five projected ‘gothic’ novels. Oates has published three more since: A Bloodsmoor Romance in 1982, The Mysteries of Winterthurn in 1984, and My Heart Laid Bare in 1998. The last of the novels, The Accursed (originally to be titled The Crosswicks Horror), is set to come out in late March of 2013. To get ready for its appearance, I want to take a look at each of the first four novels, all of which play with genre in different ways. I’ll start this week with Bellefleur, which I think is a tremendous accomplishment, and a great work of the fantastic.

Before getting into the book, a bit of background on Oates: born in 1938, her first book, a collection of short stories called By the North Gate, was published in 1963. The next year, her first novel followed, With Shuddering Fall. Bellefleur was her twelfth novel; she’s written almost 50 novels for adults, as well as plays, poetry, short stories, and Young Adult fiction. Among the long list of literary awards she’s won are the National Book Award for Fiction (for them in 1970) and the 2012 PEN Center USA Award for Lifetime Achievement. Genre awards of note include two Bram Stoker Awards — in 1996 for Superior Achievement in a Novel, for Zombie, and in 2011 for Superior Achievement in a Fiction Collection for The Corn Maiden and Other Nightmares — as well as a World Fantasy Award in 2011 for her short story “Fossil-Figures.” Her stories have appeared in ten of the Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror Stories anthologies.

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New Treasures: Albert of Adelaide by Howard L. Anderson

New Treasures: Albert of Adelaide by Howard L. Anderson

albert-of-adelaideI’m a sucker for anthropomorphic fantasy. You know, stories that feature animals with human speech and personalities. Some of the best fantasy ever created has been in this fine tradition.

Watership Down. Carl Barks’ Uncle Scrooge. The Secret of Nimh. The Wind in the Willows. The Redwall books. The Lion King. Ratatouille. 101 Dalmatians. Joyce Maxner and William Joyce’s Nicholas Cricket.

Is there anything new in anthropomorphic fantasy? Anything that doesn’t come from Disney and Pixar, anyway? Yes there is. Exhibit A: the debut novel from Howard L. Anderson, about which Mary Doria Russell says: “If Larry McMurtry had written Wind in the Willows, he might have come up with something almost as wonderful and moving… This is a novel that defies analysis and summaries.”

Having escaped from Australia’s Adelaide Zoo, an orphaned platypus named Albert embarks on a journey through the outback in search of “Old Australia,” a rumored land of liberty, promise, and peace. What he will find there, however, away from the safe confinement of his enclosure for the first time since his earliest memories, proves to be a good deal more than he anticipated.

Alone in the outback, with an empty soft drink bottle as his sole possession, Albert stumbles upon pyromaniacal wombat Jack, and together they spend a night drinking and gambling in Ponsby Station, a rough-and-tumble mining town. Accused of burning down the local mercantile, the duo flees into menacing dingo territory and quickly go their separate ways — Albert to pursue his destiny in the wastelands, Jack to reconcile his past.

Encountering a motley assortment of characters along the way — a pair of invariably drunk bandicoots, a militia of kangaroos, hordes of the mercurial dingoes, and a former prize-fighting Tasmanian devil — our unlikely hero will discover a strength and skill for survival he never suspected he possessed.

Any reading experience featuring a Tasmanian devil, drunk bandicoots, and a “pyromaniacal wombat” gets my immediate attention. Albert of Adelaide was published in July by Twelve/Hachette Book Group. It is 223 pages for $24.99 in hardcover, or $12.99 for the digital edition.

See all of our featured New Treasures here.

New Treasures: Chrysanthe by Yves Meynard

New Treasures: Chrysanthe by Yves Meynard

chrysantheI first met Yves Meynard at the World Fantasy Convention in Montreal in 2001. Yes, that was the year of 9/11, when the entire country stopped flying for weeks. I still remember my flight into Montreal… it was scarcely a month after the attacks and the cabin was virtually empty. You could wander around and take whatever seat you wanted.

Sadly, the same was more or less true of the convention. The World Fantasy Convention typically sells somewhere around 1,000 memberships, but a lot more were sold than used that year. Some estimates put the number of attendees at around 200. Whatever the case, it was the smallest and most intimate convention I’ve ever attended.

Which wasn’t wholly a bad thing. I remember the convention chiefly for the many great conversations I had. I’d lived in Ottawa — less than two hours away — until 1987, and this was a chance to re-connect with Canadian friends, including Mark Shainblum, Don Bassingthwaite, Claude Lalumiere, Rodger Turner, and Charles de Lint. In short order, I found myself introduced to some of the best French Canadian fantasy writers on the scene, including Jean-Louis Trudel and Yves Meynard.

I hit it off with Yves immediately. He was a fellow editor, the literary editor for French Canadian SF magazine Solaris, and his widely-praised first novel, The Book of Knights, had been published by Tor in 1999.

He was already being recognized as a major talent. Ursula K. Le Guin called The Book of Knights “An unpredictable, brilliantly imaginative, and very engaging fantasy,” and Locus magazine, commenting on editor David Hartwell’s annual accomplishments, said:

In terms of both mature craft and originality of imagination, Hartwell’s major discovery this year has to be the French-Canadian writer Yves Meynard.

Yves turned out to be a fascinating guy with a deep appreciation of Canadian fantasy in both French and English. He wrote fluently in both languages, a skill I envied, and we had several great talks.

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Goth Chick News – 13 Questions for Author F. J. Lennon

Goth Chick News – 13 Questions for Author F. J. Lennon

image0042A while back, I developed a crush on bad-boy musician and ghost hunter, Kane Pryce.

And without examining the psychology behind that statement too closely, let me clarify that technically speaking, my crush is actually focused on Kane’s creator and storyteller extraordinaire, Mr. F. J. Lennon, author of Soul Trapper and Devil’s Gate.

Normally the object of my obsessive stalking behavior that is part and parcel of the season simply becomes the center of a little shrine in the underground offices of Goth Chick News, where the blender generally sits.  They remain blissfully unaware of their elevated state until sometime around mid-November when the shrine comes down, the blender goes back up and my attention returns to annoying former child stars who are trying to stay “former.”

A shrine to anyone located in any basement can be a little off-putting; which is why it doesn’t get discussed much.

So you can imagine (or maybe you shouldn’t) that I was as giddy as a Twilight fan at a flannel shirt sale when Mr. Lennon actually agreed to a little chat with me about his personal experiences which gave birth to such an intriguing and haunted character as Kane Pryce.

However, the creep-factor goes way beyond Mr. Lennon’s imagination and spills right over into reality, as you will soon see.

Mr. Lennon, meet everyone.

Everyone, meet author, game designer, and the paranormally tuned-in Mr. Lennon.

You’re about to find out what the attraction is…

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Josh Wimmer Reviews Everything I Need to Know I Learned From Dungeons & Dragons

Josh Wimmer Reviews Everything I Need to Know I Learned From Dungeons & Dragons

everythingineed-toknowilearnedfromdungeonsdragonsEverything I Need to Know I Learned From Dungeons & Dragons
Shelly Mazzanoble
Wizards of the Coast (192 pp, $12.95, September 2011)
Reviewed by Josh Wimmer

I have my first-edition AD&D Monster Manual open on my desk, and I’m looking at the entry for “mimic.” As many of you will likely recall, a mimic is a creature that disguises itself as something else — a chest, maybe, or a door — to fool unwary adventurers.

That is where my head went after reading Shelly Mazzanoble’s second book; she is a bit of a mimic. I don’t mean that she cannot stand sunlight or that she resembles stone or wood — hey, this is not a perfect analogy — or even that her armor class is only 7. I bet it is at least 5. She strikes me as dexterous (not to mention closer to chaotic good than true neutral).

No, what I mean is that Everything I Need to Know I Learned From Dungeons & Dragons, while delightful, struck me as only tangentially “One Woman’s Quest to Turn Self-Help Into Elf-Help,” as the subtitle puts it.

Mazzanoble is fun to spend time with. Most of the book is concerned with her relationships with her mom, Judy (this is the mom ur-name, I think), and boyfriend, Bart. Judy has a lot of advice to offer, much of it on the subject of Mazzanoble and Bart’s love life. Mazzanoble clearly adores her mother — they talk daily, which I can accept intellectually is a beautiful thing, for someone else who is not me — but she gets justifiably fed up when Judy starts sending her an unending stream of books like The Secret.

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Meeting Your Heroes: David Kyle

Meeting Your Heroes: David Kyle

a-pictorial-history-of-science-fictionThere are a handful of people whom I credit with introducing me to science fiction.

The first was my classmate John MacMaster, who brought me two science fiction novels when I was bedridden for a few days in the seventh grade. The second was Jacques Sadoul, whose 2000 A.D.: Illustrations From the Golden Age of Science Fiction Pulps turned my early curiosity into a full-fledged obsession with early SF and fantasy magazines. The third was Isaac Asimov, whose pulp anthology Before the Golden Age and Foundation Trilogy thoroughly captured my young imagination.

The man who cemented that early interest, and who brought all my young obsessions together — monster movies, pulps, magazines, comics, Star Wars, and even Isaac Asimov — and showed me that they were all aspects of the rich branch of art and literature known as Science Fiction, was David Kyle.

He did this through two magnificent books that I read over and over again as I lay in bed much too late on school nights: A Pictorial History of Science Fiction (Hamlyn Publishing Group, 1977) and The Illustrated Book of Science Fiction Ideas & Dreams (Hamlyn, 1977).

Both books were very popular in the 70s, especially following the release of Star Wars and the surge of interest in all things science fiction. Deluxe oversize hardcovers copiously illustrated with pictures of early SF writers, pulp art, and numerous books cover and movie stills, they were immaculately designed and gorgeous to look at. But it was Kyle’s text that really drew me in. Here was a man who had been a part of science fiction since its earliest days — a Futurian who attended the first Worldcon in 1939 and a founder of Gnome Press in 1948 with Martin Greenberg — and who still spoke of it with wonder and deep appreciation.

It’s through Gnome Press that David made perhaps his most significant contribution to science fiction, publishing nearly a hundred of the most important books in the genre — including first editions of Robert A. Heinlein’s Sixth Column and Methuselah’s Children, The Coming of Conan and Conan the Conqueror by Robert E. Howard, I, Robot and Foundation by Isaac Asimov, Clifford D. Simak’s City, C.L. Moore’s Judgment Night and Shambleau and Others, Two Sought Adventure by Fritz Leiber, plus Arthur C. Clarke, Edward E. Smith, L. Ron Hubbard, Leigh Brackett, Murray Leinster, A. E. van Vogt, and many others. He kept the most important writers in the field in print at a time when they appeared only in magazines, and is directly responsible for introducing them to a whole new generation.

I first met David Kyle at the World Fantasy convention in 1984, in my home town of Ottawa, where I was able to shake his hand and say a few words of appreciation. But it was at Worldcon three weeks ago that I had a chance to talk with him at length, and really get to know one of the most important early writers and publishers in the industry. It was one of the highlights of the con for me.

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A Circle of Cats by Charles de Lint and Charles Vess

A Circle of Cats by Charles de Lint and Charles Vess

a-circle-of-catsIt’s always a pleasure when two creators I admire collaborate. Case in point: A Circle of Cats, a Charles de Lint short story gorgeously illustrated by Charles Vess.

Although it’s very short (48 pages, at least half of which is full-color artwork), A Circle of Cats is a complete and satisfying tale. It tells the story of Lillian, a 12-year-old orphan who lives on the edge of a vast and very old wood with her aunt. One day, after all her chores are done, Lillian chases a deer into a part of the woods she’s never explored before. Falling asleep at the foot of a great gnarled tree, she disturbs a snake that strikes her three times.

As she lays dying, a circle of cats forms around her, for Lillian has found their ancient gathering place. The cats decide to intervene, and when Lillian awakens, she finds herself in the body of a kitten.

What Lillian finds as she explores the woods as a cat, and the strange creatures she meets, form the bulk of the tale. But as night arrives and her elderly aunt begins a desperate search deeper and deeper into the woods for her, Lillian’s efforts to find a way to return to human form become more determined. Ultimately, she learns that getting what she wants will require help from friends she didn’t know she had, and an unusual sacrifice.

Fans of de Lint and Vess’s earlier collaboration, the massive illustrated fantasy Seven Wild Sisters (Subterranean Press, May 2002), will find both the setting and some of the characters familiar, including Aunt Lillian, The Apple Tree Man, and The Father of Cats. De Lint and Vess also collaborated on Medicine Road (Tachyon Publications, June 2009), featuring the further adventures of the red-haired Dillard twins, Laurel and Bess, from Seven Wild Sisters.

While it is primarily intended for young readers, A Circle of Cats is still a fine introduction to Charles de Lint’s fiction, as it has all the hallmarks of his work, including fascinating characters, magical settings, and a story richly suffused in myth. Vess, the artist behind The Book of Ballads and three books with Neil Gaiman (Instructions, Blueberry Girl, and the illustrated version of Stardust), delivers his usual excellent artwork.

A Circle of Cats was published in hardcover by Viking Juvenile in June, 2003. It is 48 pages in full color, with a cover price of $16.99.

Vintage Treasures: Into the Aether, by Richard A. Lupoff

Vintage Treasures: Into the Aether, by Richard A. Lupoff

into-the-aetherWhew. What a week. About two hours ago I returned from Canada, where my family celebrated my mother’s 75th birthday on the shores of Lake Huron. It was great to see everyone again, even if it did mean sixteen hours of driving — and writing my last few blog articles in advance, so I could schedule them for publication while I was on the road.

Now that I’m back, I’m pretty tuckered. All I want to do is curl up next to a window, watch the wind and the rain, and read a good book. I’m not up to any of the imposing fat fantasies that pass for novels these days, and as I made a pass through my library, my hand alighted on a slender paperback from 1974 with an enticing Frazetta cover: Richard A. Lupoff’s Into the Aether.

Subtitled “Being the Adventures of Professor Thintwhistle and His Incredible Aether Flyer on the Moon,” it looks like just the kind of fantasy romp I need tonight. Here’s the enticing text on the back cover:

When the ‘Chester A. Arthur’, the world’s first and only coal/steam/paddlewheel-propelled spaceship rose into the skies over Buffalo Falls, Pa., who would have expected what followed?

Will Professor Thintwhistle and his crew be able to return to earth? Will Miss Taphammer ever find them? Will Jefferson Jackson Clay’s foul plot succeed? And what of the King of the Cats?

Find the answers to these and more thrilling questions in Into the Aether.

Richard A. Lupoff was fairly respected among my circle of discerning science fiction readers when I first purchased it, lo those many decades ago. His most popular novel was probably Sandworld, featuring as it did a desert planet and alien vampires, but his sword & sorcery epic Sword of the Demon was also highly regarded. I’ve never had a chance to read Into the Aether though, and it sounds like a lot of fun.

One of the definite rewards of having a library is that no purchase is ever truly wasted. I’m not sure precisely how long this book has been patiently waiting on my shelves, but for the next few hours I expect to be happily transported back to 1974. And from there, on to the moon.

Into the Aether was published in January 1974 by Dell. It is 220 pages in paperback, with an original cover price of 95 cents.