Light Novel Review: The Greatest Demon Lord by MyojinKatou

March 18, 2022February 3, 2022 / frankormond / Leave a comment

The full title is “The Greatest Demon Lord is Reborn as a Typical Nobody”. This is another case of the premise kind of being in the title, but the character soon diverges from that so much the title stops being relevant.

This is a story of an ancient demon lord named Varvatos who fought against the gods and was reincarnated. Now a seemingly normal student named Ard Meteor, he discovers he’s vastly overpowered in the new era! Not only that but as he enters his magical school he finds he isn’t as average as he thought either.

Ard ends up showing off without meaning to. He often misunderstands people by assuming their standing on the same level as him, but they’re actually much weaker. A one point he assumes someone is casting a “mega flare” spell, since they call it that. However, it turns out to be just two flare spells.

There’s your typical harem-building and perverted scenes that never go fully sexual, but they are distracting. Likewise, there’s the standard “this guy looks down on the main character and will utterly trounced” scenes that occur a couple times. The characters are okay, and I remember the elf and the succubus weeks after having read the first volume. Honestly, they’re the best part. The rest of it is so basic, so borrowed from other work, that I just didn’t enjoy it very much. I can’t speak to the entire series, since I have yet to read volume 2, but I’ll check it out.

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Light Novel Review: Failure Frame by Kaoru Shinozaki

March 8, 2022January 17, 2022 / frankormond / Leave a comment

Failure Frame plays the Pixar character arc pretty strongly. The main character, Mimori Touka, is basically a background character in the other characters’ lives. He goes to school but mostly keeps quiet while the popular kids and the weird bullies own the class. That is, until one day when the class is aboard a bus and gets summoned to a kind of JRPG fantasy universe to serve as their heroes.

Unfortunately, Mimori is a rank E, which is the lowest of the entire class. The goddess who summoned them is not a good person and ends up teleporting him to a dungeon to die, telling him as much. Some of his class are horrified, but most of them are completely on board with the hierarchy due to their high ranks. Mimori, for his part, was given a skill to add a status effect on a person (poison, sleep, paralyze), but the goddess warns him it’s a weak ability since status effects have a low chance of even succeeding.

Thus begins Mimori’s tale, and it’s an interesting one. There’s a few flashbacks over time to Mimori’s time in school and how he was actually more influential on a few of the characters than he ever thought. Also, we have the popular guy in class who is a glorified bully being painted as the next hero of the goddess. As readers we are supposed to hate him and it works well.

Mimori struggles. We learn about his life and it’s revealed that he went through a rough childhood. I don’t want to reveal too much but his time in the dungeon is also tough and he soon learns how to survive. From there, he also learns a lot about his skill and abilities. It’s compelling and interesting when he starts to clear the dungeon, and the items and dead people he meets along the way really give it that extra interesting push it needed.

If you’re a light novel fan you’ve probably heard of Arifureta. It’s probably the best example of “the main character is considered weak and goes into a dungeon and comes back strong”. This story is similar to Arifureta in premise, however the character’s skills, execution, and side characters are very different. A good example is the dungeon itself. Arifureta spent a long time in the dungeon showing how the main character survived. This one simply uses the dungeon to explore the world and the situation outside the dungeon. It’s less important to this book that the main character looks cool like Arifureta does (the dungeon seems to be a way to give Hajime gray hair, an eye patch, and a missing arm) , than it is for the story to progress. Once Mimori exits the dungeon he’s over powered, but he’s also still figuring everything out.

All in all this is one I would highly recommend. People online trashed it for the “similarities to Arifureta” that are basically surface-level. I would ignore them and check out the first volume. If you like it, you’ll like the story. I’ve read this through the third volume and I can confirm the story is pretty good, if it doesn’t also stick pretty close to the beats it sets up pretty early on. I kind of wish there was more interaction between Mimori and his classmates but it’s fine for what it is.

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Book Review: Amari and the Night Brothers by B. B. Alston

February 13, 2021February 13, 2021 / frankormond / Leave a comment

Amari and the Night Brothers is the debut novel of B. B. Alston. It’s a middle grade, YA fantasy book, so not something I normally review or read. However, I really enjoyed it.

There’s a lot to like here. The obvious comparison is Harry Potter with a down-on-their-luck protagonist who finds out they’re unique or special in an incredible hidden world. But Amari is a different character than Harry was and the world is a modern day interesting blend of science and magic. Harper Collins describes it as “Artemis Fowl meets Men in Black”, which is a pretty good comparison. The supernatural world it deal with is downright magical.

Amari is a poor black girl from the projects whose older brother has been missing. When she receives an invitation to attend the same training he undertook, and thereby changed his entire life, she leaps at the opportunity. However, her nomination towards the program isn’t as simple as a letter. It’s wonderful how she’s invited.

Before I hit spoilers, let me say I enjoyed this book. There’s a ton to love about it and it was a pretty fun read. There’s some great twists and some solid worldbuilding. I wish the ending had hit a little better, but it worked for what it was. I recommend it if you like YA.

Now on to spoilers. If you wish to avoid them, stop reading.

The Bureau of Supernatural Affairs exists as a sort of government agency dealing with supernatural entities and events, but it isn’t clear how far they reach. They mention gods at one point, which suggests their influence goes that far, but it’s kind of hard to nail down. Ultimately, Amari’s goal is to become a Junior Agent at the Bureau and investigate why her brother, heralded as a hero among the agents, disappeared.

Amari gets mistreated, but it felt less like she was being singled out for being different and more like there was a real reason not to trust magicians. Every other magician in the book was shown to be evil and manipulative until basically the end of the book, so by the end I found myself thinking, “well, yeah, of course they don’t like magicians. They’re awful!”

The side characters were the saving grace here. Even Dylan, despite his story arc being fairly obvious, was a well-developed character throughout. The “mean girl” character Lara even felt well-developed. There’s one point where Amari uses a spell to defend herself from the girl and she sees how much she cried over losing her sister. It humanized the girl more and did much to make her feel real. I honestly kind of forgot about Amari’s roommate, the dragon girl. She sort of disappears for most of the book and has a minor arc.

What especially struck me was how her mother didn’t always the right thing. Her mother snapped once early in the book, but it wasn’t like she was unjustified. She felt like a real character, tired and working, talking to detectives and not entirely happy about the entire situation with Amari. She was a well-written character.

Now for some negatives. Amari herself, despite being a present tense first person narrator, felt pretty bland. She didn’t have a lot going on that made her seem interesting for pretty much half the book. Once she started to show emotions and struggle with how she should be acting or talking to people, she really opened up as a character. However, she seemed to always be saved by others. She saved herself from the main threat in the end, but it was really something she didn’t consciously do, which made it feel a little weak. Despite being told she was strong the entire book, she never felt strong.

But don’t let that dissuade you. This book is solid for a YA fantasy book.

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How to Write a Character’s Value Proposition

January 25, 2021January 25, 2021 / frankormond / Leave a comment

According to psychologists there’s two main value systems for people: ethical systems and ideological systems.

When you approach a character, you may have some general idea of what they’re looking to do in the story. But what do they value? In this article I hope to dissect “letter of the law” vs. “spirit of the law” and basic value propositions. Hopefully this will help you formulate your own characters’ value propositions and how they can clash with people who have different values.

Let’s look at a few characters and their values:

1. Batman/Bruce Wayne – “It’s Wrong to Kill”

In terms of value systems, a reader can make an easy judgement on what someone values if they have a code that they stick to. This can be something blatantly said in the story, like Batman’s code to not kill, or something more subtle, like his aversion to using firearms. He values nonlethal force and actually looks down on those who use lethal force as taking the easy way out.

However, he’s obviously committing a crime by acting as a vigilante and assaulting people. So he clearly sees some crimes as true violations and others as not so true violations. This means he isn’t acting in the “letter of the law”, he’s got a more vague idea of right and wrong that he’s personally using as his metric for justice.

A good way to frame a value is to use an “it’s wrong…” sentence. In this case, Batman would say “it’s wrong to kill”, “it’s wrong to steal”, and “it’s wrong to hurt the innocent”. Notice the inclusion of “innocent” in the last one. It’s perfectly fine for Batman to hurt villains or criminals, but not those that don’t deserve it.

Let’s try another person…

2. Judge Dredd – “It’s Wrong to Violate the Law”

As far as “letter of the law” goes, it’s usually used by people to describe characters who stick to the law exactly as it’s written. There can be no bending the rules here. Judge Dredd is a perfect example.

So let’s say Judge Dredd’s value proposition is “it’s wrong to violate the law”. Now what’s permissible? Well essentially anything as long as you are operating within the law. Dredd can kill, maim, hurt, or detain anyone who violates the law within a set framework. Because his value system is aligned with the law he has the benefit of falling back on actual codified rules, there’s no vagaries here since the law stays the same.

He isn’t like Batman, who believes killing is wrong. He’s perfectly fine killing as long as it’s someone who has violated the law to such a degree to warrant it.

Let’s try another character. One not as nice, or human, as these others…

3. Lucifer (from Lucifer) – “It’s Wrong to Lie”

Lucifer is a show that was originally cancelled on a television network and picked up by Netflix. It’s based on the comic of the same name, though the show takes liberties with the story quite a bit.

Now Lucifer is supposed to be the character from the Bible, the serpent of old and the devil. He’s described here as an angel fallen from grace and cast out of Heaven. However, the show goes out of its way to explain that he isn’t “all bad”. He’s not a liar, despite being the father of lies. Lucifer will never outright lie, though he will kill, torture, hurt, or detain people.

His value proposition is therefore “it’s wrong to lie”. Simply because of his nature in the show, he’s leaned heavily on that specific value to show some worth to others. When another character shows up to impersonate him, when the character lies it reveals he isn’t the same person. This is a useful tool for a writer because it can show the tension or clash of values between two people. Someone like a spy would be willing to lie constantly to complete a mission. Lucifer, however, would be a terrible spy.

Conclusion

Values are important for a character. When working on your characters, consider what their main value judgment is. What do they think is wrong? For extra credit you can explore why they think it’s wrong. Story elements can put this value proposition to the test, similar to Misha Burnett’s Five Pillars idea.

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Story Review: The Call of Cthulhu by H. P. Lovecraft

October 10, 2020October 1, 2020 / frankormond / Leave a comment

Considered the most iconic story from H. P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu” is a short story published in Weird Tales in 1928. As mentioned before, I won’t be directly addressing Lovecraft’s personal beliefs of race or immigration; I don’t think they’re really pertinent aside from a possible xenophobic bend to his mindset. Besides, ancient aliens that are far more powerful than “civilized man” doesn’t seem to fit that idea.

The works Lovecraft published are solidly in the “weird” genre of early pulp stories, specifically they have elements of both horror and science fiction. They’re remembered fondly and elevated above the work of other pulp authors from that golden age, but I suspect it’s more so to do with Lovecraft’s incredible vocabulary. His work and stories are comparable to Robert E. Howard or Clark Ashton Smith (and he was friendly with both), and I find the stories of any of these authors to stand on their own even today.

Getting into the actual text, Lovecraft’s Cthulhu mythos changed horror forever, and solidified the idea of “cosmic horror”. There are dark things, ancient things, in the distant reaches of space. In Lovecraft’s work, these things cause insanity and are grotesque monstrosities alien to human intelligence.

The story concerns the investigation by Francis Thurston into his late uncle’s work. The first section is about a disgusting clay idol he finds, the second concerns a voodoo cult, and the third describes a creature observed in the ocean. There’s an overall mystery involved, specifically starting with what the idol represents, then moving into the various cults surrounding the idol. Once the name Cthulhu is explored, there’s a mystery about what it is.

The investigation is at the center of the story, and the plot revolves around these mysteries. Already knowing who or what Cthulhu is, the mystery rang a bit hollow to me. Again, though, that’s because of the modern exposure that Cthulhu has had in pop culture.

As a character, Thurston takes the initiative to investigate most of the story. However, because of the various perspective shifts (he reads an article at one point), he drifts into the background in most cases. Even many of the major revelations about Cthulhu, because Thurston isn’t the one directly experiencing them, doesn’t hit as hard as it could have.

Lovecraft’s descriptions are incredible. His use of language is indomitable, as exemplified by this description of the Cthulhu idol:

Above these apparent hieroglyphics was a figure of evidently pictorial intent, though its impressionistic execution forbade a very clear idea of its nature. It seemed to be a sort of monster, or symbol representing a monster, of a form which only a diseased fancy could conceive. If I say that my somewhat extravagant imagination yielded simultaneous pictures of an octopus, a dragon, and a human caricature, I shall not be unfaithful to the spirit of the thing. A pulpy, tentacled head surmounted a grotesque and scaly body with rudimentary wings; but it was the general outline of the whole which made it most shockingly frightful. Behind the figure was a vague suggestion of a Cyclopean architectural background.

This image would stick with Lovecraft the rest of his life. Cthulhu is more than a literary figure these days, having appeared in television and movies; he is, unfortunately, mainstream.

Overall, the story is worth reading. Lovecraft is a good author, and his work still holds up. It isn’t perfect, obviously, but is is a great story that set a legacy of cosmic horrors in the minds of readers.

This was written as part of my post concerning my October Reading List.

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What is Weird Fiction?

September 26, 2020September 22, 2020 / frankormond / 3 Comments

I’ve tried to dive into the genre of the”New Weird” fiction stories several times. China Miéville is an author I’ve bought several books of and taken an interest in, but they’re hard for me to get into. These books aren’t horror, but they aren’t specifically fantasy or science fiction. They’re a lot of things mixed together.

So this felt like a good jumping off point. Before I get into some “Weird Fiction” in some upcoming reviews, I figured touching on the subject would make sense. So let’s get into it. Let’s cover the old school weird, the original weird.

What does it mean for fiction to be weird?

Elements of the Original Weird

The original perception of “weird fiction” was tinged by work at the end of the 19th century and those kicking off the 20th. H. G. Wells and Edgar Allen Poe are often brought up in these early days, but it isn’t until the early 20th century that we have the specific conception of weird fiction.

Often, William Hope Hodgson is brought up as the first real author pointed to as an example of the weird fiction of the 20th century. His work was actually loved by H. P. Lovecraft himself.

But The Night Land is a science fiction book at heart (though typically called a fantasy book) featuring a distant future where Earth’s sun has faded and the land is now covered in night. Creatures called The Watchers wait in the shadow for the time when a protective shield will fade, leaving the citizens of the planet vulnerable.

But how is this science fiction story similar to the weird fiction of weird westerns? Or how about the ghost stories?

Let’s talk about the elements that comprise these 20th century weird stories:

1. Darkness

This fiction is often characterized by being dark, but often not completely horror. Several of Robert E. Howard’s works were published in the magazine Weird Tales, which set in the mind of readers what weird fiction was supposed to be.

H. P. Lovecraft mentions this in his “Supernatural Horror in Literature”:

The true weird tale has something more than secret murder, bloody bones, or a sheeted form clanking chains according to rule. A certain atmosphere of breathless and unexplainable dread of outer, unknown forces must be present; and there must be a hint, expressed with a seriousness and portentousness becoming its subject, of that most terrible conception of the human brain—a malign and particular suspension or defeat of those fixed laws of Nature which are our only safeguard against the assaults of chaos and the daemons of unplumbed space.

Many of the early weird stories were nothing more than spooky ghost stories with a hint of gothic fiction. They were the natural evolution of the Victorian ghost story brought into the 20th century.

2. Fantastical Elements

My friend Matthew Pungitore has a gothic weird novel called Fiendilkfjeld Castle, which contains fantasy elements along with horror elements. It seemingly touches on exactly what Lovecraft was describing in his quote, therefore it’s very “weird”.

Who better, then, to give a comment on what he thinks “weird fiction” is?

Matthew Pungitore told me:

Weird fiction is about a tone and overall effect indicating the impossible and the overwhelming, where things aren’t what they seem, and occurrences or threats are not exactly what you, or the characters, have been taught they should be, nothing’s as it should be and nothing can be truly explained only guessed.

Things can’t be fully explained. This fantastical weirdness, a mysterious wonder in the dark, is a key element. Science fiction/fantasy, like The Night Land, can fall into this category by keeping to darkness and having fantastical elements. The Watchers aren’t explained, they’re just there.

The tales of H. P. Lovecraft, Robert E. Howard, and Clark Ashton Smith are sort of the three commonly mentioned in these discussions. They always contain a mix of horror and fantasy elements. The ghost stories, tales of dark fantasy, adventure stories, and even weird westerns are all in this category. I would even argue some of the war stories in the early to mid 20th century comprise weird fiction as well.

Conclusion

So to answer the question of what comprises a weird fiction story, I would say the two elements required are darkness and the fantastical elements. Clark Ashton Smith is the most direct I can think of with this, but Howard and Lovecraft are obviously in the same vein.

Matthew pointed out to me, when discussing this post, that it’s “connected to Gothic and modernism, so you’re never really gonna have hard rules to keep it pinned… So yes it’s fantastic and horrific.”

Weird fiction is hard to nail down, but it’s clearly not strictly fantasy, horror, western, or adventure. It seems to be a mix of several genres with particularly dark elements. There are specifically horror stories that fall in this category, but typically readers will count even conventional horror stories as “weird” if they contain fantastical elements.

Over the coming weeks I’m planning on reviewing some “weird fiction”. I hope you’ll follow along with me!

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Misha Burnett’s “Five Pillars” and Defining Pulp Stories

September 4, 2020September 2, 2020 / frankormond / 5 Comments

(Misha Burnett is an author with work available on Amazon. He can be found on Twitter and WordPress. I’ve personally enjoyed what I’ve read of Dark Fantasies, his short story collection)

Do you remember Flash Gordon? The Shadow serials?

These stories fit in the early 20th century category of “Pulp Stories”, also called “Pulp Fiction”. These stories were crime or detective tales, weird tales of horror, sword and sorcery, ray gun sci-fi, war stories, adventure tales, planetary romance, and more.

Yet they have a fan base that stretches across these genres and still consumes them to this day. There’s obviously some reason they’re all held up by modern fans, at least in general.

But with such a wide scope, what, exactly, defines the pulp style of writing?

I came across a blog post from Misha Burnett on the modern fans of pulp stories and how he would explain what composes these stories. Some people even refer to the “pulp age” as the true golden age of science fiction, defined by adventure and romance being pulled into science fiction and fantasy.

Of the modern pulp fans, he described both the “Pulp Revolution” and “Pulp Revival” individuals:

There is some difference in meaning between the terms “Pulp Revolution” and “Pulp Revival”. The Revolution, I feel, is concerned with the publishing and distribution of literary works, ways to enhance discoverability and inform readers of the literary movement. Revival, on the other hand, is more concerned with the aspects of the movement itself. The first term is strategic, the second artistic.

Well, that clears it up on the modern fans. But the reason I’m highlighting this post is because of something Burnett lays out later.

My main concern is how to define a pulp story. Sure, you could argue it’s specifically the works in the early 20th century that crossed genres by pushing adventure, but what about the tales of H. P. Lovecraft or Clark Ashton Smith? These aren’t particularly adventure stories, yet they are still “pulp” stories.

Misha Burnett defines “five pillars” of this style of writing:

Action, Impact, Moral Peril, Romance, and Mystery.

Let’s go through these ideas, since I want to parse through them.

Action

For “action” Burnett defines it as:

The focus of the storytelling is on what happens. We know who people are by what they do. This does not mean that every scene has to involve a knife fight on the top of a speeding train.

This is the literary or screenwriter’s term for action. Essentially, something has to happen in the story. Simple actions need to be included, more than just being told what someone thinks or feels.

Why is this different than other genres? Well, it’s not, particularly. It’s simple the fact that a lot of modern writing has played with the form to the point where a story can have no action whatsoever. Pulp stories are not about wallowing in pity with no decisions, no movement. Even Lovecraft’s stories involve people investigating mysteries, trying to find answers.

Because of this, I think “action” is a fine word for it.

Impact

These actions have consequences. While a character’s actions do inform us of that character’s personality, significant actions should never be only character studies. They have lasting real world consequences. You don’t go into a pulp story with an expectation of a happy ending.

I kind of have a bit of an issue with the last note. Burnett is correct to say that consequences play a role. Every action has an opposite reaction, and impact plays a direct role in these stories.

But I’ve read several pulp stories that do end in happy endings. You can generally get the tone early on and know where it’s going.

The gritty western pulp story ends with the hero failing to protect someone because he chose to stop the bad guy instead. The weird horror pulp story has an evil being threatening to hurt the family of another character, which is followed through on.

I would also add that impact necessitates making decisions. A pulp hero doesn’t let things happen, he or she chooses to do something. Choices have consequences.

Moral Peril

Good and evil are common themes in stories like these, but it’s more complicated than that. The modern over-simplification of these stories as “black and white” is wrong. You often see modern takes on pulp stories as a man with a ray gun in a bulb helmet just trying to shoot the bad guy and save the girl.

It’s actually much more complicated than that:

Consequences are more than just material. In Pulp stories there is not simply the risk that that the hero may fail to defeat the villain, there is also the greater risk that the hero may become the villain. A hero should have a code to follow, and lines that he or she is resolved not to cross.

If this sounds like Batman, that’s not a mistake. He started out as a pulp hero, and practically a rip-off of The Shadow. He has a code, and morals he refuses to bend on. This is because it adds an element to the story of tension: will he break his code to save this person?

To digress, moral peril is very real in these stories. Heroes can become villains. Evil is always a threat. In some crime stories the only thing separating the hero from the villain is that the hero doesn’t go as far as the villain does.

I think this pillar is perfect, and fits the genre to a “t”.

Romance

I took exception to this one at first. Once again, hitting on H. P. Lovecraft, how does romance factor in? Well, this is the old school usage of “romance”, like “romance of a trip” or “planetary romance”. Burnett defines it as:

Pulp heroes are motivated by love. Not always romance in the modern sense of a relationship involving physical attraction, but a relationship that obligates the pulp hero to take risks on behalf of another. An old military buddy, a long lost friend, even a client who paid in advance.

The term “romance” is a bit misleading to modern readers. It’s more of a human relationship or captivation. Burnett specifically associates it as a dyad:

“Saving Humanity” is a vague, bumper sticker kind of motivation, saving the fair maiden with the sparkling eyes and plucky wit, or the ragged waif with a mewling kitten is much more satisfying.

For this reason, I would say “relationship” or “captivation” are better words to capture the meaning. Maybe something that captures the individual personal nature of it, the personal nature of it?

Mystery

Mystery is another pillar I feel fits the genre well, but doesn’t perfectly hit the true meaning of what Burnett is trying to get at:

I am using the word here not in the genre sense of a plot concerned with discovering the identity of a criminal, but in the broader sense of the unknown. There are many potential unknowns—the setting, the true identities of other characters, the events that led up to the current crises. Something is going on and neither the protagonists nor the reader should be quite sure what.

The core of many conflicts is a mystery, a “dramatic question” that lurks in the background. Why did he get shot? Who killed him? Even if the characters don’t directly say that question, it’s in the reader’s mind.

Even straightforward heroic fantasy stories have this built into them. Pulp stories use mystery together with romance to make an engaging story. Even the Flash Gordon stories have some aspect of mystery: what is the villain planning? What are they after?

This is another of Misha Burnett’s pillars I think fits pulp stories perfectly. I think in modern parlance, however, that “mystery” is associated with detective stories. Modern readers don’t think of it as an internal mystery to the story, a vague sense of wondering what will happen. Perhaps the term “questions” or something like it would fit better for modern thought?

Regardless, given the subject matter and the audience, I think “mystery” is a fine term for it.

Conclusion

All too often I’ve jumped from a fantasy to sci-fi to crime story under the pulp umbrella and found they have similarities, but I wasn’t sure what. Burnett has given me much to think about here.

Added to this is are the modern fans of pulp fiction. Is it possible to write a modern story using these pillars and create a story like the pulp tales of old? Maybe. I’ve seen some attempts that seem to work, Schuyler Hernstrom among those that seems to make it work.

I know a few guys who are considering reviewing stories using this as a framework to hang their thoughts on. I have no problem with that, and I may do the same coming up. I caution against using it for a quantifiable review system, though, since I don’t believe in reviews that have “stars” or “points” attached.

I hope you, reader, have come to appreciate some aspects of this form of writing. If you’re a more modern reader I’d suggest giving Robert E. Howard or Raymond Chandler a shot and see if you like the style.

If you like my work consider supporting me with a donation! http://www.paypal.me/FrankOrmond

You may like some of my other reviews:

Story Review: Black Amazon of Mars by Leigh Brackett

Story Review: Shambleau by C. L. Moore

Book Review: The Broken Sword by Poul Anderson

Book Review: Three Hearts and Three Lions by Poul Anderson

You may also like some of my other work:

Worldbuilding: Religion and Philosophy

Poetry: “Story Unpublished”

Poetry: “Elfland”

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A Discussion of H. P. Lovecraft and Death of the Author

September 1, 2020September 2, 2020 / frankormond / 1 Comment

Edit: fixed some missing sentences and clarified some positions I had.

This is an essay I had been planning for some time. Given the nature of sci-fi and fantasy literature right now, and the polarizing, political climate we find ourselves in as readers and writers, it’s a veritable minefield. I think despite that, it’s fair to discuss one of the most influential figures of the 20th century: H. P. Lovecraft.

Death of the Author

Now when I say “Death of the Author”, I can practically hear several of you cringe through the screen. I know it has a negative connotation in some schools of thought, but allow me a moment of apology for Roland Barthes’ ideas, though not his premises. Ignoring his literary style and overly flowery language, Barthes wrote:

Once the Author is removed, the claim to decipher a text
becomes quite futile. To give a text an Author is to impose
a limit on that text, to furnish it with a final signified, to’
close the writing. Such a conception suits criticism very
well, the latter then allotting itself the important, task. of
discovering the Author (or its hypostases: society, history,
psyche, liberty) beneath the work: when the Author has
been found, the text is ‘explained’ – victory to the critic.
Hence there is no surprise in the fact that, historically, the
reign of the Author has also been. that of the Critic, nor
again in the fact that criticism (be it new) is today undermined along with the Author.

Now I’ll add my own disagreements with Barthes: The initial conception of this idea was to remove any meaning itself from the text, as related to the author. That is, the author’s history and family life has no direct tie to symbolism and interpretation in the stories that author writes. Obviously, this can be true, but is often not true. Was there a reason Dickens always wrote children without parents? It would make sense to attempt to tie an author’s work to their past, if similar themes consistently pop up.

Likewise, I disagree with Barthes’ antagonism towards author, myth, and meaning. Myth is a valuable structure on which to hang symbols and meaning. Meaning exists in text, often intended by the author. And it would seem that Barthes to a lesser degree, and his contemporaries, have attempted a complete removal of intended meaning in textual criticism. It’s okay for a critic to say, “what did the author actually intend?” And include that in their critique.

But Barthes intends to “hand the keys” over to the critic on the meaning of an author’s work. This is foolishness. I’ve reviewed tons of books and stories, but never once did I find in myself the key to understanding the work beyond the author themselves. Meaning in a text is generally intended, but the interesting notes are those that were not intended: themes used in several stories by the same author, similarities in an author’s experiences and their work (J. R. R. Tolkien and World War I, for example).

It makes sense to use an author’s experiences as a basis for interpreting some of their work, but not all of it. There are some aspects of a person that are not included in his or her work, and in this we can exclude that which the author did not intend.

H. P Lovecraft

Now where does Lovecraft fit in on this?

As one of the most prolific and well-known authors in horror, science fiction, and fantasy, Lovecraft is a powerful figure that stands as a founder of his own brand of horror. He’s understood to be a detailed writer, with long discussions of appearance and a varied and rich vocabulary. His work still influences horror and science fiction to this day.

Lovecraft was also a well-known racist. This isn’t a secret anymore, and while it was common in 1920 to hold such views, it’s still a shock for 21st century readers to come across his views in antiquity. Having been exposed to the worst humanity has to offer, I’m not shocked by it, nor am I surprised that he’d hold such views. Though I should note he later walked back from such views later in life.

But does this mean all of Lovecraft’s work should be interpreted in the context of racism?

I don’t think so. In fact, I kind of agree with part of Barthes’ idea: Lovecraft’s work has its own meaning separate from the author in this case. But why, specifically, Lovecraft? Because Lovecraft writes of ancient alien gods who seek death and destruction. This isn’t about a particular race, or about a particular people group. This isn’t about our petty human squabbles, but more so the coming death, the hidden evil in the depths of the Earth.

Now, in the case of an outdated portrayal of a people group by all means hit on Lovecraft’s outdated views on race. That’s fine, and I won’t fault any critic for hitting on it. If he has a stereotypical portrayal of a person from a race he dislikes, then please point it out. But don’t interpret “Call of Cthulhu” or “At the Mountains of Madness” in the lens of racism, where no other race is included.

I feel it goes too far to apply an interpretation of his views to stories without directly that playing a part. Lovecraft didn’t create the Old Ones to be an example of his xenophobia. It was a creation of parallel mythology, a story that explained the ancient darkness, the fears humans have of things unseen. These horrors were more powerful and older than humanity, not composed of it.

August Derleth described two types of beings:

the Old or Ancient Ones, the Elder Gods, of cosmic good, and those of cosmic evil, bearing many names, and themselves of different groups, as if associated with the elements and yet transcending them: for there are the Water Beings, hidden in the depths; those of Air that are the primal lurkers beyond time; those of Earth, horrible animate survivors of distant eons.
August Derleth, 1937.

These aren’t stand ins for racism. These are far more powerful than humans, and from long ago.

They also bear some similarity to Lord Dunsany’s The Gods of Pegana (I previously reviewed Lord Dunsany’s King of Elfland’s Daughter).

My own background is as an Alaskan Native, someone who rarely finds people who know what that means. I’ve mentioned this to other natives in meetups and seen their faces shift as if I wasn’t really a native, because I’m not a plains Indian. I’ve seen division.

I’ve also seen racism.

I don’t see Lovecraft’s work as inherently racist simply because he personally held views I find offensive.

Conclusion

I believe there is value in going back and reading works by people I disagree with personally. In studying philosophy I’ve had to read people who were literal Nazis, people who believed people like me were inferior, and others who I simply didn’t agree with on a particular idea. Philosophy teaches you to read people you don’t agree with.

Anyways, this entire discussion is because I’m planning a few reviews of H. P. Lovecraft’s work. As such, I want it understood that I know of Lovecraft’s views, and understand that they’re vile and outdated. Normally, I wouldn’t bother to write a post like this, but sci-fi blogs and horror forums have been discussing Lovecraft’s views at length. Rather than endure the firestorm afterwards, I figured it wise to pour some water on this entire thing ahead of time.

However, I also have been discussing textual criticism with some mutual followers, so I felt the need to lay out my interpretation of “Death of the Author”. Why not combine both?

I think it important to discuss criticism, and will be doing a post further on it in the future. Likewise, I have a plan to go through and read many of Lovecraft’s best work and review those stories. If you want to follow along, I am planning on reading The Call of Cthulhu and At the Mountains of Madness first.

Book Review: Dungeon Born by Dakota Krout

August 21, 2020August 9, 2020 / frankormond / 1 Comment

This book is available on Amazon, and the author can be found on Twitter.

This is the second of the litRPG books I’ve reviewed this month. This second one being a “dungeon builder”. Yes, because everything in the world must be overly complicated, litRPG divides further into dungeon builders as a subgenre. What this means, essentially, is that it’s about a dungeon being built up over the course of the story. Usually the main character is either the dungeon master, demon king, or (as is this case) the dungeon itself. The light novel versions often use JRPG mechanics and ideas taken from that to build dungeons, but the western versions are usually either that or the Dungeons and Dragons variant. The cultivation elements are present, as in the character actively meditate to grow their powers and are actually called “Cultivators”. I’m less familiar with that genre though, so I can’t speak too much about it.

But enough about the genre/subgenre at this point. Let’s talk about Dungeon Born. This is the first book in the Divine Dungeon series. Honestly, I loved this book. It had the power scaling and leveling I love to see in books like this, with the added bonus of including traps, monster placement, and the layout of dungeons. It’s a lot of fun for me!

The story follows Cal, a dungeon core who becomes sentient of his existence. He’s a blue core, meaning he should have an affiliation with the water element, but for some reason he is able to consume other elements just as easily.

The second POV character is Dale. Dale is not as interesting, at first. But he grew on me as the story went on. His goal is to become skilled and a long-lived guild member. He buys the land the dungeon was found on, getting lucky because it was effectively worthless before they found it.

Dale grows and fights over time, but his story gets a little repetitive in the middle. Towards the end his story somehow becomes the most interesting part, but it was a mix before that.

Ultimately the real star of this story was the world building. My God, the world building is fantastically well thought out. Ideas that were presented in passing while explaining the world itself are revisited and some even become plot points (the very ending itself is an example of this). The ranking system is based on specific skills in the “magic” they use. It’s really complicated and I don’t want to write every facet of it, but it’s creative.

If you like my work consider supporting me with a donation! http://www.paypal.me/FrankOrmond

You might like some of these other reviews:

Book Review: The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut

Book Review: Jack of Shadows by Roger Zelazny

Book Review: Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman

Light Novel Review: Reincarnated as a Sword by Yuu Tanaka

Should Writing Be Art or Entertainment? (Or: Why This Discussion Goes Nowhere)

August 3, 2020August 3, 2020 / frankormond / 7 Comments

(If you have a question on writing or books that you would like me to answer, please ask it on Twitter on here)

Let me begin by answering the question with an unclear “both”. That said, the question is one that yields an interesting discussion and is worth writing a quick article for. Ultimately, however, I feel the discussion is flawed and a further symptom of the human need for compartmentalization of every facet of life, no matter how abstract.

The tension in the writer’s mind between creating a work for entertainment (read: “fun”) and art (read: “intellectual”) is a tension I’ve wrestled with my entire writing career.

Issues with the Distinction

I think before I continue I need to define what an “entertaining” work is over an “artistic” work. It’s much easier to define a work that pursues entertainment than the latter. To be honest, I read both, but I prefer entertaining work. That is, work you don’t have to read intently to enjoy.

I offer up this definition, then: “An artistic story is one that pursues intellectual enjoyment over direct entertainment.” This has with it two clear issues: enjoyment and entertainment might as well be synonyms, so the distinction is specifically the “intellectual” piece. But what does that mean? And how is that different than “normal” entertainment?

The distinction will be hard to nail down, so I offer this caveat: This is purely my opinion on the subject.

Caveat lector, I suppose.

The Artistic Book

Ultimately, we all know what’s meant by “artistic”. The image of snooty museum fundraiser parties, all of whom wear high class outfits and sip wine while discussing a particularly artistic novel comes to mind, but that’s an unfair characterization.

So let’s dissect what I mean by artistic with one of my favorite artistic books.

I loved The Fifth Season by N. K. Jemisin, and I feel it firmly falls into the artistic category. I didn’t read it for dumb entertainment value, but instead for intellectual stimulation.

There weren’t many action scenes, mostly plot and emotion. But it did have mysteries and twists and interesting ideas. Ultimately exploring the craft of writing is what made it interesting, and I think what made that book particularly artistic.

Jemisin clearly plays with tenses and perspective, since a particular section of the story occurs in bizarre circumstances, shifting the story perspective and playing with the way the story is told. She also uses a unique magic system based around geology to give the story a little something extra.

The Entertaining Book

Gust Front is the first book by John Ringo I ever reviewed

Books that seem to fall firmly on the “entertainment” side tend to be characterized as “popcorn books”, reminiscent of “popcorn movies” where you “shut your brain off” to enjoy. Again, I think that’s an unfair characterization, but a common one.

I love some John Ringo books, but no one would claim his work is high art. Not even Mr. Ringo himself. To be fair.

A Hymn Before Battle (not the book shown) contains a nuclear explosion, countless battles, a constant stream of enemies, and tons and tons of combat. It’s pulse-pounding (once it gets started) and a roller coaster ride throughout the book.

I think from this we can glean an answer to what makes a book “entertainment” verses “art”: action. Maybe not much in the craft, but it rewards you with space battles, explosions, and gun fights.

Also, this doesn’t just apply to science fiction battles, but action could mean romantic encounters (not like that you sicko) for the romance genre and constant new revelations in a crime or detective novel. It’s all about movement.

The Hybrid Book

There are novels that dance between the two, especially in science fiction and fantasy. Several Gene Wolfe books have been both entertaining and artistic and Neil Gaiman is the de facto current master of it. I thoroughly enjoyed Count to a Trillion by John C. Wright, and feel that it meshed well between the intellectual/artistic and the entertainment.

In Count to a Trillion, there are duels, gunfights, swords, and battles. However, there’s discussion of transhumanism, the debate over human freedom despite a united purpose, ancient alien relics, and betrayal. For every space princess and gun fight, there’s a great idea with brilliant storytelling.

You can see this in Neil Gaiman’s work as well. Brilliant storytelling baked with creative plays on typical archetypes and concepts all topped with the frosting of fighting and danger. It’s very good.

Conclusion

Honestly, as mentioned in the title, this discussion usually goes nowhere. I feel like I got some good ideas hashed out, but otherwise it was generally just incomplete thoughts.

These discussions go nowhere because there’s value in both. The duo called James S. A. Corey is allowed to make giant space battles at the same time that Jo Walton creates a creative look into a woman’s memories.

You can enjoy what you enjoy, and maybe my own perspective on this question is simply propagating the very demarcation I excoriated at the beginning of this. It’s hard to tell.

I’ll just be reading both litRPG overpowered protagonist stories and beautiful poetic tales told in unique perspectives with creative ideas.

There’s room for both.

If you like my work consider supporting me with a donation! http://www.paypal.me/FrankOrmond

My poetry has been gaining some attention online:

Poetry: Can you Fix It?

Poetry: The House I Used to Live In

You may like some of my other posts about writing:

Don’t Force a Pantser to Be a Plotter

Revising Your First Draft Novel

Worldbuilding: Religion and Philosophy

Also check out my book reviews:

Book Review: Stormbringer by Michael Moorcock