In the past I've started writing this thing and after rambling on for six pages, realized that I hadn't even mentioned the story that I was supposed to be talking about. Which then forces me to haphazardly shoehorn it into the column in the same fashion that you would shove a mess away with your foot in the vain hope that nobody notices said mess.
So. Henry Otis Clarke. "Vohl and the Ice Queen". This way the rest of you won't complain later. And who says I can't change my habits.
I wind up going over a lot of fantasy stories on this website, probably because the majority of them are in fact fantasy related, and this forces me to find something new to say about the genre every single time, even though I don't really have to. But I like the challenge. Besides, every column is in theory someone's first, so here goes.
All fiction is to some extent make believe, but fantasy tends to be on another level entirely, tapping into realms of story that are primal, or perhaps even mythical. While it often gets derided by people who envision all its fans dancing around in tights or dressing up as elves (don't get me wrong, they do that), at its best it exists as a slightly more polished reflection of our world, acting as both escapism and commentary. Most modern fantasy writers, whether they realize it or consciously admit it, are laboring in the long shadows of both JRR Tolkien and Robert E. Howard, who pretty much set up the branches of fantasy as we commonly know them today (discounting such splinters such as urban fantasy). From Tolkien we get the Epic High Fantasy, the Grand Quest, with little people fighting against impossible odds with the fate of the world (and perhaps beyond) at stake. Often the setting is as important as the characters themselves, the action occurring in a fully realized fictional land that has heft and weight and history. It's not often a surprise that the quest the characters undertake take them through a good portion of the sprawling map, because hey, if you spent the time to make up all of that stuff, why not show it off? Good and evil are often well defined, and the path is eventually clear, even with all the obstacles in the way.
Its near polar opposite is the, for lack of a better term, Sword and Sorcery subset of fantasy, first envisioned by Howard in his Conan stories. Here, the focus is more on raw power and pure emotion, the more methodical approach of High Fantasy cast to the side to focus on protagonists who are actively wrestling with the world, not moving through it so much as plunging at a breakneck pace. Everything is slightly more intense, the fights visceral, the sex graphic and breathless, the dangers hideous and unrelenting. There aren't grand quests, just attempts to get ahead in the world, or simply fighting for pure survival. The world they live in isn't as finely detailed, as they move through it in broad leaps. History and setting only exist to establish the mood, they don't exist as a character in the story itself, as in most High Fantasy stories.
That's not to say the two don't often interrelate, as any cast shadows can mingle and sometimes merge. Both share a seeming lack of moral complexity, either as Good versus Evil elements, or the brasher civilization versus barbarianism of the Howard stories (though it seemed that Howard was arguing that the civilization was simply a more polite form of barbarianism, and by extension less honest). And yet, like any good story, they can help provide an explanation for the world, throw a mirror down so that we might see the state we exist in a little clearer. Howard was bringing his own ideas and insecurities to the Conan tales, and while Tolkien claimed that all he was doing was telling a story, it hasn't stopped people from reading all kinds of interpretations in the long walk he made his short, hairy people take.
In their own ways, they can create unintended maps of both the author and us, because what the stories says and what you read into it may reveal just as much about you as it does about the tale, and the person who created it.
Where am I going with this? I'm not quite sure yet. I'm striking out here on the wire, dancing above to see if the view looks any different from this vantage point. If that makes any sense. Sometimes I feel I owe more to the authors discussed here than a simple, "Good job, use better punctuation", that I have to connect the story with something, show the points where it taps into the collective unconscious as it were. Explore not just why the story works or doesn't work, but why it makes us feel the way it does, how the roots go down to push the buttons to make us react. Why it resonates, or just bounces right off of us without any effect. No matter how fantastic the setting, or the characters, there has to be a way for us to get in. A story is just a story. Maybe.
So, unlike me, Clarke wastes no time throwing us into the situation, introducing us to his local hero Vohl. Right from the start we're in the midst of something, the tape only starting to record after the band has started playing, so you don't really know what that first beat really sounded like, you only have the descriptions of others. But it's not the same as being there. We start with a dream, which we're told is a memory, and in fantasy the two are often the same, because what is fantasy but the dream of a life that never was. For Vohl, it doesn't go so well, as we begin with an implied death, and the cackling of an evil wizard. Why, we're not quite sure yet, but it's an arresting beginning, putting us right in the thick of the action and giving us hints of a past history that we're not privy to yet. Who are these people and what is their conflict?
It does what it has to do and any quibbles are really only stylistic, I'd probably make the opening more of a fever dream, moments coming in fractured beats, dialogue and images sliding in and out, a slow strobe look into a nightmare, as the knife goes down, as the beating commences, as the outside world reaches out to swallow Vohl whole. Bit by bit by bit, each sentence dragging him down. Because most fantasy is a journey, both physical and otherwise, and the best place to start is below, because that's the only way you'll be able to get back up again.
Though hopefully we'll get an explanation later of why the evil wizard doesn't just kill Vohl right off the bat, other than "we'd have no story otherwise". I guess I'll accept "unbridled arrogance" but you really have to sell me on that one.
Thus Vohl gets cast out, and goes down and is buried. We don't know much about him yet, except that he's capable. He wastes no time steadying himself on unstable ground and finding a direction, survival not so much an instinct as a reflex. In these early sequences he strikes us more as the sword-and-sorcery type, solid and unyielding and relentless. Is he someone we can relate to, or will he exist purely as entertainment? Because even the stories of Howard, as unsophisticated as they might seem at first glance, wind up tapping into a sort of primal wish-fulfillment. We don't want to be Conan so much as what Conan represents, the casting off of the veneer of civilization, stripping away the falseness and the façade to get down to bare, brutal honesty. Conan, despite his predilection for decapitation, possesses a certain kind of freedom and pure honesty that we can only hope for. You always know where you stand with him, unlike the slippery men of the cities. In a way he's someone to aspire to.
Which is unlike the characters of High Fantasy, who more often are simply us, crafted in the form of the Everyman and stumbling through a world that is just as bewildering to them as it is to us. Not heroic by profession but ultimately heroic in their actions. Vohl could go that route, just another man struggling to survive in a world that is bent toward killing him simply because it doesn't like the slant of his stance. We don't know him, except as a man that seems capable, that does what he has to do in order to stay alive. We don't know him and in a way we need to.
He goes away, north from the castle that apparently killed his daughter, either for a quest that only exists somewhere in the subconscious or because he's seeking suicide. He needs to die because it hurts so much, and the only cure is the cold, to freeze and become numb until it all stops. Except there appears to be a higher purpose at work here, letting the numbness set in without the freezing, so that the pain starts to pass and the body doesn't feel it. He's taken by two creatures whose dialogue becomes a lot more amusing if you imagine them as the two stars from _Moonlighting_, and that's a compliment because I like the back and forth here. The cavern, which could have been boring, is well imagined and palpable, a real place that surrounds and confines.
It's not quite clear why the wolf-familiar attempts to eat Vohl right off the bat, he doesn't seem to do it out of hunger so much as spite. It must be a common occurrence because the cat places the wolfsbane there, unless that's just part of their ongoing series of pranks. It does liven up the scene but appears to come out of nowhere, although it is interesting to see that Vohl takes his impending doom in stride. A true warrior, perhaps considering himself already dead. He's hitting every mark on the checklist so far, but who is Vohl, what kind of man is he? What makes him up, what quirks define him as different than every other stolid, solid, capable warrior that comes down the pike? Does he enjoy the tension right before a battle, when the air is quickening and quivering. Or the frozen moment right when it ends, as silence settles like leaves shaken from an autumn tree? Did he ever look at the sky and wonder how far up it was, or see his reflection in the blade of a dented sword and question where all the lines on his face came from?
We know he's not afraid to die. Just once I'd like to see a warrior who is like, "You know, I'd prefer not to die in battle." But that must go against the code. Vohl's smart though, intelligent enough to inherently distrust his surroundings, and the altruism it implies. He's also good at retaining information, as we get a quick sketch of exposition explaining a little bit about this world and why Vohl might not be so fond of witches. It's a world in peril, although we haven't gotten a chance to see much of it yet (nor should we have expected to, being Vohl has been thrown out of a castle and nearly died of frostbite . . . sightseeing really hasn't been on his list of things to do. But it seems to be a world gone broken and in dire need of being fixed. And what is Vohl's purpose in this world. Is he the Conan, adapting to the chaos and if necessary, turning it to his advantage? Or the Everyman, caught beyond his comprehension and doing his best to get the world back to the way it used to be. Or something even simpler, a father reeling from the loss of his daughter and vowing to do whatever it takes to make that right, even if he has to bring the world down in the process.
It's not clear how long ago his daughter was killed (if she was, for some reason I have my doubts, as we never see the actual killing). The dream/memory sequence in the beginning suggests that it was recent but then again, it was a dream of a memory, so who knows? Though his internal compass seems to be screwed up, as he notes that he wants to keep going northward to go finally kill the wizard that sacrificed his daughter. Except in the first section of the chapter he went northward after being thrown out of the wizard's castle. That's sure taking the long way back. I know, details like that aren't really important and I may be getting it wrong. But someone has to notice.
We've got some direction from him then, a slight ache that can't totally be healed. Radio signals made of razors beamed right at you and even going underground can't block the reception. A man that knows magic but chooses to use brawn instead, uncoiling his violence with little hesitation when the situation requires it. Every reflex and instinct always on full alert, lashing out as his first response to any challenge. It comes so naturally, without malice, just a way of striking back at a world that tries to kill you with the first touch. And with that violence comes a sort of confidence, the easy motion of a man who knows how to hurt something and no problem doing so if the situation requires it. Hurting in a way that only a person who has been massively hurt would know how to do. The wolf, in his way, never would have stood a chance. But the struggle isn't with the wolf. We've got bigger targets ever, expanding ever outward.
But first, ah. Enter the Ice Queen. The frosty woman with the mysterious purpose. Suddenly the pieces are starting to congeal, violence swirling on top of violence, flies converging on a discarded bit of sweetness. Vohl hurts to remove his own pain, to find a way to bruise the unyielding wall that thus far has only managed to give him scars. The wolf is testing him, to make sure he's violent enough. And as for the witch, well, we'll see what she likes very soon. It's following the template so far set down by our favorite barbarian. Vohl is the man that everyone wants, strong and brutal and desirable. Suddenly it seems we've applied the _Moonlighting_ dialogue to the wrong couple. What makes him better though, than all the rest? Or is he just another hard man in a hard world, and we just happen to be following his particular story?
And then it decides to go all JRR on us.
The direction of the story shifts so hard that we can hear the gears grinding together. It doesn't feel out of left field because up until this point we weren't even sure what field we were really in. We get all the staples, the prophetic poem, the Mysterious Call that leads to the equally Mysterious Purpose that only a select few can accomplish, the Grand Cleansing that the world needs to be put right again. An epic sword and the skill needed to wield it properly. Thus the warrior must be trained. Suddenly things get a lot more interesting as the pace starts to pick up. We're getting a sense of history, of woven conflicts finally coming to a head, of a status quo that has existed for too long only because nobody knew what to do about it. And now people are starting to figure out how to make it stop. It might require more detail, in the proper places, because right now all we have is "evil creatures came through a rip in reality and took over the world" but that's for the future. There's a layered massiveness to this world and we're starting to get to know it, finding all the wrinkles in its nuances. The heft a real world might have, just outside the cave walls. Epic tales unfurling, poised.
Thing is, we're getting a blend of subgenres, as the story is starting to scream "Mordor!" but the protagonist is screaming for the lamentations of your women. He lost his daughter, loved only one woman in this world and his village taught him how to fight better than pretty much anyone else on the entire planet, which is probably going to become very useful very soon. The pieces are being handed to us a little bit at a time, enough to keep the momentum of the story going without overwhelming us. Still, it runs the risk of giving us a main character who is a fantasy and not a real person, who is so tough and capable and relentless that he just steamrolls over every obstacle in his path. And that isn't High Fantasy but sword-and-sorcery, because while the former is about what a hero does for the world, it's also about what the quest does to the man. The question remains then, what does this story want to be?
For all the walking around in _Lord of the Rings_, its the hobbits that captivate us, because their viewpoints are our viewpoints and as the world expands, both we and they expand with it. Teaching us that everyday folk can find the courage to face pure evil, but that any quest comes with a cost, that there exists things so vile that they can scar you simply by staring at you for too long. There's a reason Aragorn isn't the main character in the story, because he's awesome and frankly a steady diet of awesome is boring as hell. He doesn't change at all from his first appearance to his last appearance and for the story to resonate, it needs change. That's what we're going to need here as well. If Vohl goes and plows his way through the entire story, and yes it's probably too early to be worrying about things like that, then we're not going to get a story so much as "These are the things that need to happen before we reach the end." I guess what I'm trying to say is that I hope we get a person heading this story, and not an archetype. Those things have their places but I think here isn't one of them.
Vohl clearly has been without a woman for some time because after meeting the priestess for all of ten minutes, he's certain that not only does he want her, but that she also desires him. There's no other word for that than confidence. But we're falling into pattern where everyone is starting to fall into line with Vohl, where everyone is starting to think "Dang, this guy is awesome." The wolf, ready to kill him several times, is bested by him and calls him master. And we'll see what happens with the priestess shortly. He was an assassin, a warrior, soon to be a lover. The quest hasn't even started yet, but we're hitting all the points already and I'm curious to see where he goes from here.
That said, I do like the interplay between the feline and the canine, it provides a nice contrast to all the seriousness and sets up the rather touching scene later when Vohl departs. And I like how the pranks involved are keyed toward things cats and dogs would actually do to each other, as opposed to what people would do, which does show that the author put some level of thought into this. I'm of the mind that something that isn't human would not necessarily think like a human, so it's nice to see all the characters not being made into interchangeable people.
There are sections of this story that do need more proofreading though, I noticed a couple of spelling errors that do make a difference (noticeably, when the wolf plays the trick on the cat, it says he knocks over a "pale" of water on her, when that should be "pail") There's some other bits where two sets of dialogue wind up in the same paragraph, which you have to watch out for, although that could be an HTML formatting error so I won't pass judgment right this second.
But back to Vohl. Even after his training, he still appears to be caught between the questing hero and the man who simply wants to make his way through the world, taking what he needs. Some degree of skepticism is warranted, as the priestess doesn't say much other than "here's some prophecies" and tells him to go find a sword (how is he going to figure it out based on a picture of a mountain?), and the rest will presumably take care of itself. That's quite the leap of faith. He seems smart but he might need more specific instructions, destiny or not. Because to some extent here, he's not dictating the plot anymore, it's being told to him. These are the steps he has to take, and while he still has some control of the situation, it's getting further and further out of his hands. Becoming the hero, falling into the groove, as opposed to the simple warrior, wrestling the day into submission.
But, ah, speaking of submission. We reach a sort of tipping point with the priestess, as Vohl's sexual tension reaches its apex and he finally acts, in a scene that frankly comes _thisclose_ to being out and out rape, saved only by an out that more or less comes down to "the bitch really wanted it." This scene rang false to me, and not just because this isn't my typical genre. I think it does a disservice to both characters, presenting them in an unpleasant light merely to satisfy a fantasy cliché. Vohl, who we have already been told only broke his vow of celibacy once, is now apparently so consumed with desire and sexual frustration that he'll go after the first woman he meets with a proverbial "woman, you are mine now", as if that takes care of everything. Meanwhile, Jokulhetta, who was shown to be at the very least a strong, assertive woman, simply wanted a man to force himself upon her and not understand that no doesn't exactly mean "no." It's not exactly subtle symbolism that she's an "ice queen" and that Vohl serves to break through her frigidness.
What makes it worse is that it more or less comes out of nowhere. We've seen no hints that there was anything resembling an attraction between the two of them, other than Vohl's mental note during his training that she desired him. But there's really nothing to base it on, other than his word. Which, to be honest, is a typical male thing anyway, thinking every woman who is vaguely nice to you wants to sleep with you. Certainly Jokulhetta shows so signs of wanting him, unless you accept that a woman capable of learning magic is going to be passive and wait for the big, strong, burly man to make the first move. The thing is, unless you consider their little sparring match an extremely elaborate and dangerous form of foreplay (and if they were already a couple I'd be more inclined to buy that interpretation), up until the point where she kisses Vohl back he is forcing himself on her. It's clear that whether she wants it or not, he is going to ravish her right then and there. It's just his luck that she happens to want it. That essentially makes the character a rapist, or at least a potential one.
One of the reasons we don't instantly perceive him as a sort of rapist is because, frankly, genre conventions come to make us expect this kind of thing. In a sense, he's just following his own archetype. And if the scene doesn't bother you, just a little bit, ask yourself why. Is it because it's only fantasy, and thus the characters are just acting how they're supposed to act? Because they are following gender types, with the male in the possessive, dominating role, and the woman ultimately submissive. Switch it up in your mind, with Jokulhetta forcing herself upon an initially unwilling Vohl, and doesn't the scene get just a little bit more disturbing? When Vohl was the aggressor, it seemed "right" because that's how we're trained to expect male fantasy characters to act, as forceful, assertive, that the world is theirs for the taking. Make Jokulhetta the aggressor, suddenly she's a bitch and our opinion of Vohl dips just a little bit, for not being "man" enough to stop a woman from simply taking him. Tacitly, it's okay for Vohl to do what he did, we might have thought less of him had he not made that first move and broken the ice, so to speak.
Fantasy, in some ways, can serve as a screen on which we project our subconscious desires. I'm not saying we're getting a peek into the author's psyche via this scene, nor am I implying that this is how he wants to treat all women in the world. That's not the point, at the worst he's really only guilty of taking the easy way out and giving us what every other typical fantasy story might give us. We use fantasy to create simpler worlds, where feelings are not clouded by opaque actions, where the characters are not fettered by societal mores. Who hasn't wanted to just go up to the hot girl (or guy, to be fair) at work or on the street. and express how you feel right then and there. But we don't, we shackle ourselves every day in different ways, and fantasy on some level gives us a world where that isn't necessary, where things are vastly less complex. Not just on a Good versus Evil level, but even when it comes down to relationships between men and women. A certain subtext, if you will. The unspoken rules of the world.
My objection, as much as I have one, isn't so much the act itself. Agree or disagree with a character's actions, it hardly matters if it serves the story itself. Plenty of writers have crafted stories about unsavory characters, or generally good people who wind up doing unpleasant things. What I object to is the context, or the lack of it. The incident doesn't really develop organically from the plot, so that you get the impression that the characters are only doing it because This Is How Things Are Done. They're just following the scripts of their character template and thus it throws you for a second. It didn't throw me out of the story, and probably the only reason it didn't is because this was a fantasy story and I subconsciously have come to expect this kind of thing. I'm just trying to question why I expect it, or if I even should.
I don't mean to dwell on that one scene to the exclusion of all else, although I think it's going to have implications for the larger plot down the line. Chances are I'm not even the typical audience for this kind of tale and in a sense you're giving them exactly what they expect. It's up to the author and the reader to decide whether that's a good thing or not. At best, the story will suggest that all a man or a woman really needs is a person to complement them, someone who understands and knows them. Worst case scenario, the story will imply that what a woman really needs is a man to put her in her place. "You must melt your Ice Queen again." Even if this is what the story needs, what is it really saying?
The head of the story seem to lie with an epic High Fantasy quest, but its heart seems to rest in the sword-and-sorcery scenario, with all that it entails. The question then is whether the two can intermingle successfully, and whether the characters will dictate the plot, or the plot will determine what the characters do. And these are valid questions, but it's way too early in the story to even begin trying to figure out definitive answers to them. That doesn't mean they shouldn't be raised now, and kept in mind, but right now, we need the story to tell us more, and it's lying in its infancy.
As I said before, the parting scene between the two local beasts is actually rather touching and comes off as much more unforced than the sudden coupling between the warrior and the priestess. And again, this is because we've spent the last few chapters being treated to a combination of bickering and affection, with enough of the latter lingering under the dialogue that it's not a surprise when the admission finally occurs. Though it should be noted that Morena, the girl cat, occupies the sappier "I'll miss you! Come back to me!" position while the guy-wolf is the stoic, "Chip up, woman, I am merely doing what must be done" person in the scene. Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, as they say. And it hardly ruins the scene, but I thought I'd at least point it out. The conventions go deeper than we even realize sometimes.
And, minus some other small talk, off to the quest we go. Speculating on the quest at this point is both pointless and fruitless, we'll find out when and if we ever see the rest of this. The abundance of Capital Letters is no better or worse than any other fantasy story, though too many could bring about the appearance of the dreaded Plot Coupons, where characters chase after Portentous Things not because it makes logical sense, but because the plot requires them to. We'll take it as it comes.
The final revelation is a nice cliffhanger, and of course allows us to raise questions about the author's views on bestiality-
No, just kidding. I think we've waded through enough subtext for one day. Bumps aside, it's a good start to what could be a decent fantasy story, and even if it follows the genre clichés to the letter, there's enough spark in the prose and the dialogue that big time fantasy fans will devour it readily. For the most part so far it follows the tried and true, and does it well enough, especially as a blend of the two fantasy types that I've discussed in hideous detail throughout this. My own personal preference for fantasy stories are ones that acknowledge the boundaries of the genre and do their best to subvert those, forcing the reader to think about what they're reading. But I've read a lot of fantasy in my time, so I like it when things diverge. For what it does and what it's trying to do, it works.
The only trap to avoid falling into is the Awesome Hero trap, where Vohl is just so bleedin' competent at everything he does that he breezes through every obstacle and plot twist with nary a scratch. That kind of thing can work, but the story needs to be either over the top, or possess a sort of swaggering confidence that just isn't present yet. Already in the first set here we have hints that he's a great warrior, clever and somewhat skilled in magic, and definitely has a way with the ladies for someone clearly out of practice, by his own admission. You have to be willing to beat the crap out of your own characters a little. But his predicament in the opening scene does give me hope for the future.
Again, we're early in a story that is probably going to be decently long, so all of these comments may not mean anything in the long run. The story may proceed along these lines, or it may change radically in the telling. We have no idea at this point and that's fine, I wouldn't expect to be able to predict how a story can go from the first chapter. If I could, that would be a bad sign. So all we can really do is look at what we have and comment on that, and maybe see where it could go from here. But so early on, the possibilities are really rather endless. There's hints that this could become more emotionally complex as it goes on, even as Vohl runs around the planet searching for magic swords and powerful artifacts. And that's good, because even when things are black and white, there are still some nuances that can be uncovered. Vohl, already cracked in places that he can't fathom, may break apart further, or somehow find the glue to seal himself back together. The priestess may discover that some appetites are all-consuming, and that kindness may be a kind of salt to a man already wounded.
The trick to fantasy, I think, is crafting not an escape but a strange mirror, a world that we don't recognize as our own except in all the unconscious ways, one that could have been ours but for the underlying differences. A world where the magic and monsters and conflicts that are always resting just underneath the surface here are out in plain view. A world both more open, and more hidden.
We may get that here with Vohl. Or he may simply chop his way through his enemies so he can return to make rough love with his woman. Because right now the story lingers in the space between two forms, and the answer to that question will ultimately decide what kind of character, and what kind of story, this is going to be. Will the quest change the man, or the man alter the quest? And if by the end the story can't formulate some kind of response to that, we may be forced to wonder then if the tale can have it both ways, without doing a disservice to either option.
Nice work, though, with a degree of accomplishment and thought process that you don't usually see from new fantasy writers these days, who are so used to an audience raised on a steady diet of this stuff that they feel comfortable leaving plenty of gaps, confident that a well trained readership will fill them in. Which, frankly, is sloppy. It's good to see an author not take an audience for granted and pretend that everyone is familiar with the conventions. What we're all going to find out in the future is whether the story will follow those conventions to the letter, or break out to become something else. That's what I look forward to finding out.
• MB
11.4.2007
"Life is more than going to see things, and that's too bad . . ." – the Magnetic Fields, "Railroad Boy"
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