Customer Reviews

Wizardry and Wild Romance: A Study of Epic Fantasy

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(5)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

This is a passionate, opinionated overview of the fantasy genre - from its beginnings in Renaissance romances, through the Gothic awakening of the nineteenth century, the literary explosion of the turn of the century, the pulps of the twenties and thirties, and the Celtic boom from the sixties and on. Moorcock is heavily, perhaps not without reason, biased toward maturity, wit, complexity, and literary passion. He ridicules the idyllic, pro-status quo Tolkien and his followers: he compares his "Lord of the Rings" to Miln's "Winnie-the-Pooh", and accuses it of blatant stupefaction - "let's forget all our troubles and go to sleep". He also openly criticizes Lewis' "Narnia Chronicles" for overly obvious ideology. He shoots down any author who "writes down" to his readers - adults or children. He also dislikes imitators, dull narration, poor vocabularies, and a great deal of other things, which is precisely what makes this book such an attention grabber.

Moorcock divides his book into several chapters - dealing separately with settings, heroes, humor, etc. If nothing else, "Wizardry and Wild Romance" provides an excellent grounding in the obscure classics of fantasy - but Moorcocks's disjointed narrative proves to be both thoughtful and thought-inspiring. He leaves a great deal of room for statements on tone, richness of vision, characters. He also quotes extensively from the books he is talking about. Quite literally he leaves no stone unturned - all sorts of fantasy falls under discussion: children's, Burroughs, Kipling, Lovecraft, and many others. Lastly, there is even a nice introductory list of places to look for further information.

Moorcock viciously shook my preconceptions and tastes in fantasy, constantly leaving me unbalanced and on my toes. This book of bombastic discussions represents a valuable addition to any collection.

Michael Moorcock, Wizardry and Wild Romance (Gollancz, 1987)

Michel Moorcock would be, it seems, the obvious choice to produce a critical work on epic fantasy. After all, he's written more of it than jut about any living author, or he had at the time this book was commissioned, ten years before its release, after the publication of his article "Epic Pooh" in 1977. ("Epic Pooh," revised, appears as chapter five here, and is one of the true gems of this book.) Still an excellent choice, as most of the similarly prolific writers who have emerged in the shadow of Moorcock lack the wit and originality he displays in novel after novel.

Interestingly, this is one of his main criticisms of the fantasy genre overall, not just in the moderns but going back to the earliest days of epic fantasy. The book, which is far more a survey than a critical analysis, strikes a Paul DeMan-esque note in its willingness (perhaps too much willingness) to turn many of fantasy's sacred cows into shish kebab. What is refreshing about Moorcock is that, unlike most critics, he is always willing to suggest a good number of alternatives for each piece of overwrought, mindless fluff the public is willing to take to heart. (Moorcock seems to have a special circle in Hell reserved for the Inklings, the chief fantasists of which were J. R. R. Tolkein and C. S. Lewis, both of whom Moorcock roundly despises; he spends more column inches disparaging Narnia and Middle Earth than all the other writers he castigates combined.)

One wonders, idly, why a survey draws as much money as it does these days. I could probably pay a month's rent auctioning off my copy of this, a first edition/first printing. Odd, since the volume barely gets a few lines into page one hundred fifty before it reaches its conclusion. But mine is not to reason why. It's not worth the incredible sums it fetches from booksellers these days, but as a jumping-off point for readers of fantasy who are looking for ways to branch out into wider genre-specific reading, it's a pretty darned fine piece of work.

Most of Moorcock's jaundiced views on epic fantasy could apply to all types of literature, which is at the same time both the book's main strength and its weakness. One expects, when reading a survey, to see the ways that the subject's lineage relates to what has come before and what has come after (see Eliade's wonderful Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy for perhaps the finest extant example of how to write a survey on a particular subject), but Moorcock seems to have the underlying belief that writing in a particular genre should have the same strengths and weaknesses as writing in any other, or in writing that is genreless or transcends its genre. To some extent this is true; the best fantasy writers, like the best writers of most genres, do transcend what the hacks are doing and make their work into literature. Where Moorcock goes slightly wrong, though, is in not delineating the transcendent from the more satisfying genre tales. He gives equal weight to, for example, Terry Pratchett (whose work, while parodic, is still very much genre fiction) and Ursula K. LeGuin (who is the very definition of an author who transcends any genre in which she chooses to apply herself). Perhaps he is expecting the reader to be able to discern which is which. Not an unreasonable expectation, if you assume your audience is as widely read in the genre as you are. I doubt many fantasy readers, or for that matter many academics, are as widely-read in their chosen fields as Moorcock, who tosses out the names and critical overviews of fantasy works going back to the pre-Romantic period that have been out of print for a few hundred years as if he'd assigned them the week before while teaching a class on fantasy literature, and we are all expected to go down to the University bookstore and pick up copies of them. Would that we could.

Still, as an overview of what's out there, where both the aspiring fantasy reader and the aspiring fantasy writer should be looking to find the stuff that really is worth being influenced by, despite its age Wizardry and Wild Romance is still the definitive survey on epic fantasy. It'd be nice to see a second edition. I, for one, would love to see what Moorcock thinks of, say, Philip Pullman, Terry Goodkind, or Neil Gaiman. But the recommendations in here should be enough to keep me hunting down obscure titles for the next decade, and the approach he takes to epic fantasy is a witty and readable one. ****

Traditional fantasy isn't merely 'dwarves and dragons, magical quests and prophecies and little adorable elfs going off wandering'...and this fine book, in itself, disproves that idea that fantasy is based purely on Tolkien and 'the northern thing'. Wildly opinionated, interesting, extremely well written, this is a necessity for anyone who wants to go beyond the mass media fantasy that's become a formulaic waste of time. Excellent essays by China Mieville and Jeff Vandermeer are included.

Before getting into why this book is a must-read for anyone who likes epic fantasy, let me say something about the book's faults, which it wears on its sleeves.

First, the book has been unevenly revised over time, starting out as it did in the 1970s. This makes the book feel self-anachronizing. For example, there will be a sentence to the effect of "The finest of the most recent spate of epic fantasy novels is Somebody's trilogy: Wow (1977), Wowwer (1979) and Wowwest (1981)." Then shortly thereafter will be a reference to Harry Potter. Is this a problem? Well, if you interpret praise for an author as encouragement to read them and are wondering whether Somebody's novels have stood the test of time and are worth reading, it is.

Second, Moorcock pathologizes the popularity of books he does not like. I think it's fair to ask why a particular author has struck a chord or found a certain audience. Moorcock, however, goes well beyond that. For instance:

>I sometimes think that as Britain declines, dreaming of a sweeter past, entertaining few hopes for a finer future, her middle-classes turn increasingly to the fantasy of a rural life and talking animals, the safety of the woods that are the pattern of the paper on the nursery room wall. Hippies, housewives, civil servants, share in this wistful trance; eating nothing as dangerous or exotic as the lotus, but chewing instead on a form of mildly anaesthetic British cabbage. If the bulk of American sf could be said to be written by robots, about robots, for robots, then the bulk of English fantasy seems to be written by rabbits, about rabbits and for rabbits.

Or to focus this venom on this favorite target: "The Lord of the Rings is a pernicious confirmation of the values of a morally bankrupt middle-class." In the introduction, Moorcock concedes that he doesn't always back up his arguments with enough evidence, so he is aware that he is sometimes overblown. But that doesn't stop him.

Third, Moorcock uses long passages for samples of what he does and does not like. As brief excerpts, these don't necessarily convey what he intends and some of the effects of these authors isn't well captured in bursts. (To paraphrase a comment by Gary Wolfe, a reviewer for Locus magazine: H.P. Lovecraft in small doses seems maudlin but if you read a lot of him in one sitting, he starts getting to you.) Some of these excerpts are laughably bad and one in particular is so astonishingly good that I want to read the book it came from. But quite frankly, some of what he praises doesn't seem substantially different from what he condemns.

None of these foibles, however, keep this from being a work of the upmost importance for those who care about epic fantasy. As readers of the genre transition from being indiscriminate teenagers to more sensitive adults, they often abandon the genre, not (only) because it focuses on coming-of-age themes but because they, as maturing readers, grow disgusted by how cynically inbred drivel is presented to the public for consumption under the name of `epic fantasy'. Many authors don't even have the decency to rip off Tolkien. They just rip off each other, leaving you feel like you've been had by counterfeits of imitations.

Moorcock passionately loves the genre and is profoundly impatient with the dreck produced in its name. He cares more about it than some people care for their kids. He appreciates the long history of the field --- it's hard not to agree with China Mieville's question in the introduction about when this guy had time to read of all this stuff --- and he emphatically believes that the genre at its finest can say something about the human condition. He doesn't put it quite so pretentiously as that, but he does insist that there be something deeply humanistic about fantasy literature and as such, this manifesto is inspiring and urgently needed. (That I don't see as much depth as he wants in the three novels of his I've read is of no more consequence than his disliking some authors I like.)

It's probably no surprise, given who the author is, that this book is well-written: even if you disagree with the rabbits quote above, you have to admit that it's said with a certain flair. There is a chapter arguing for the importance of humor, and the book has its own share. In the middle of what Moorcock promises to be the only plot summary in the book, he drily notes, "Perion and Elisena have a third son, Florestan, who serves no narrative purpose save to make the story more confusing. . ." (The introduction by Mieville in is also a lovely piece of short prose, a reminder that I want to check out his writings.)

The one warning I should give with this is that while it is short, this book is a major time-drain. Not only are you going to feel tempted to reread it, it's going to make you want to read so many other works --- and that's even before you get to the chapter entitled `Sources'. When I reread, I'm going to have a notebook or stack of Post Its handy. I'm sure I'll end up with a daunting list.

Incidentally, the book ends with a series of reviews as a kind of update. Personally I didn't find them as interesting as the manifesto itself. They largely summarize plots, which rarely convey a work of fantasy's power. These reviews seem like they were written in an almost distracted state and contain some spoilers.

But that doesn't matter. The big picture: if you like epic fantasy, then you should read this book.

I had heard about and read about this book, so it was with some joy that I stumbled upon it in a book store a few years ago. I was familiar with a good bit of author Moorcock's early Sword and Sorcery writings, and I was intrigued at what he had to say about the sub-genre in particular and fantasy literature over all.

What this book is is Moorcock's personal analysis of the fantasy genre, with his opinions about a handful of the better-known authors in the genre.

I found surprises here, some that might even be considered shocking to many fans of the genre. For instance, Moorcock seems to have a hate-on for Tolkien. And for C.S. Lewis, as well. Moorcock spends more than a few words in print about the banality of these two, how he finds them boring, boring, boring. And Moorcock goes on the heap plenty of scorn on the heads of those who would follow directly in the footsteps of the likes of Tolkien and Lewis.

But that shouldn't stop any fantasy fans from reading this book. Why? Because those fans will learn quite a bit. They might even have their eyes and their minds opened to other fantasy literature, books and stories that aren't so well known but still contain much literary merit.

Also, Moorcock provides quite the extensive overview of the history of the fantasy genre, mentioning ancient works, gothic literature of the 19th Century, early 20th Century writers and so forth. There is knowledge in spades to be found in this book, and much of it will be new to most fans of fantasy.

To learn of hidden gems of the fantasy genre, to gain a basic understanding from where the genre has come, this book is indispensable.

"Someone who hates hobbits can't be all that bad", says Michael Moorcock of Sauron. That sums up a major theme of this book, a critical appraisal and historic summary of the fantasy genre by one of its foremost practitioners. Moorcock has a distinct, but carefully considered aesthetic which may not coincide with the tastes of all readers. Moorcock, like a true literary artist, is most concerned with technical matters such as tone, charaterization, discriptive imagery, and irony. He ranks these considerations above plot. As such he ranks masters of style such as Mervin Peake, Fritz Leiber, and Harrison above authors of more plot driven works such as Tolkien, CS Lewis, and Robert Howard. Moorcock repeatedly expresses a preference for irony and conscious artistry over the earnest, serious story-telling one finds in Tolkien or Howard. I myself disagree with Moorcock aesthetically, preferring plot-driven, sincere story-telling of the latter authors to the labyrinths of style and irony one finds in Peake. A major point of difference between my own taste and that of Moorcock would be the works of Cabell, which Moorcock praises highly, but I myself find unreadable. To me Cabell is a mania of ironies and cheap jokes supporting no discernable plot or substance, all icing and no cake.

Moorcock expresses a particular hatred for most all the works of Tolkien and CS Lewis. He despises the Christian foundations of their moral philosophies and writing styles. I wonder how much of his enmity reflects envy at the commercial success and cult status of these writers--I don't seem to recall anyone making a block-buster movie series out of the Elric saga, like Lord of the Rings or Narnia! Yet, he has courted mainstream appeal by working as a lyricist for several rock bands, Blue Oyster Cult and Hawkwind. Moorcock himself alludes to the origin of this envy when he discusses how a self-selected aristocracy of writers will seek ever more exotic genres as their old sphere of practice gains in popularity. This is the adolescent "obscure=cool" mentality.

A refreshing point of his philosophy is his approval and embrasure of the modern world, correctly diagnosing a widespread flaw of romantics as a yearning for an idealised past. Moorcock also likes the works of ER Eddison, one small circle of common ground I share with him, which is fitting because Eddison is the one author who combines plot and style in a dazzling synthesis.

Wizardry and Wild Romance is a fantastic guide for anyone who loves fantasy and wants to find the best, most classic works of the genre. I think this book serves as an excellent adjunct to Lin Carter's Imaginary Worlds(qv), as Moorcock spends considerable time on works published after Imaginary Worlds was written. I was suprised at how different Moorcock's aesthetic is from my own, almost exactly the opposite, because I have really liked Michael Moorcock's own fantasy writing.

If Michael Moorcock did not exist we would have to hire a committee of sages to invent him. But because he does exist we must hire the mob to shoot him. He is that necessary, that vital to fantasy literature as it has developed in the last century. His prose fictions suck eggs because they were so shoddily executed but he is a great myth maker - who can escape the great albino with the black sword? Combine that myth making capacity with an arch and angrily self-concious critical voice that does not quit and you have a literary personality that functions sort of like the bad concience of fantasy literature.
"Wizardry and Wild Romance" is a series of shot- gun blasts of thrills. Jeff VanderMeer's piece is school-boyish and dull but China Mieville opens the book with the buzz saw roaring and when Mister Moorcock makes his absurd but grand entrance we are in for a treat - a waspish yet sometimes indolently ecstatic praise and condemnation for some of the more serious works of epic fantasy written in history. Mister Moorcock has the voice of a school master - obnoxious, superior, lazy in its magisterial conciousness as it whacks the world of fantasy into quick form.
There are winners and losers here and the supremely confident Moorcock is not afraid to put laurels on heads (as in the case of Gene Wolfe and M. John Harrison) or cut or bludgeon those heads off (as in the case of the Inklings whom Moorcock despises).
When it comes to Tolkien Mister Moorcock is wrong but he is wrong for all the right reasons. Somehow the pseudo-Tolkien industry spawned out of the ambiguous shadow of Tolkien forces Moorcock to thrust his school masterly charm aside in favor of a left-wing radical standing up to organized oppression (which, in fact, it is) in the tradition of a Percy Bysshe Shelley tinged by a William Blake. Peculiarly fierce is his treatment of C.S. Lewis - a minor writer. Somehow Moorcock is so consumed with his rebel's hatred of sham and inauthenticity he overlooks the few beauties that make Lewis worth reading. Perhaps Mister Moorcock has Oedipal writerly rivalries with Tokien and his clan.
The book's supreme value is its knowledge of literary history pressed through Moorcock's own imaginative and critical fires - the fires of a fierce and wondrous regard for the creative imagination.
I truly hope Mister Moorcock's sharp and swift little tome changes the world. Anybody who wants to write real epic literature needs to read it many times.

I write this as a person who has read and enjoyed many of the works Moorcock despises. I don't say that they are perfect by any means, or above criticism; they are not. I think the genre of fantasy is broad enough to accomodate many sub genres, reflecting many different tastes.

I used to enjoy reading the works of Michael Moorcock. I read Wizardry and Wild Romance when I was much younger (in a bookshop, I didn't pay for it) and I have to say, it left a bad taste in my mouth. By rubbishing many of my favourite books, I felt he was rubbishing me. I love Lord of the Rings! I love Watership Down, the Lord Peter Whimsey detective stories, and Narnia! Like I said, they ain't perfect, but what is? The works of Michael Moorcock? Hmmm, let's see...

I loved what I've read of Moorcock's early stuff, Elric, Corum, Hawkmoon, et al. It's great fun. Should be filmed one day. He then hit a point in his writing career, where I felt he was trying to be too clever, but only succeeded in being boring. This I felt was a pity, but then remembering Wizards and Wild Romance, I thought 'serves you right, you pompous lefty git.'

I still enjoy reading Moorcock, but I only buy second hand copies, so that I know that he isn't getting any of my money. That's what this book did for me!

I am a huge fan of Michael Moorcock's Elric series and because of my high opinion of the author, I decided to purchase this book. I was shocked to find that he was not a big fan of some of my favorite authors. He seems to have no use for H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard who I enjoy reading very much. He also doesn't like Tolkien much either. He does back up his opinion with reasons that are well explained and after reading this book, I at least understood why he disliked certain works.

In this book, Michael Moorcock, being of the breed of fantasy author who has tried so desperately to come off as a "real" writer because everyone looks at fantasy writers as juvenille hacks, discusses at length his windbag opinions about the current state of fantasy fiction as well as its past. The essays contained within this book are long-winded, pretentious rubbish that should be avoided by everyone except diehard Michael Moorcock fans. This guy has the gall to bash guys like Tolkien and Robert E.Howard, thinking he's some kind of literary genius because of his teen-fave Elric books that are supposed to be so deep and introspective but in reality are nothing more than over-worded, whiny drivel unpalatable by anyone over the age of 25. Spare us, Mr. Moorcock. The Elric books are the only half-decent thing you've ever written, and you've been riding on the fame you accrued from them ever since. Get over yourself. You're not that great a writer and a little modesty would do you a lot of good.