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Author: Nick Ozment

Oz loves Godzilla, middle-school G.I. Joe (not old-school, not new-school; middle-school, spooky stories, trees, and really too many other things to list here.
Review of Pathfinder Tales: Stalking the Beast by Howard Andrew Jones

Review of Pathfinder Tales: Stalking the Beast by Howard Andrew Jones

Pathfinder Tales Stalking the Beast-smallLike many fantasy fans of my generation and the generation before (Gen X and Baby Boom respectively), I was ushered into the genre by Edgar Rice Burroughs, Robert E. Howard, and C.S. Lewis. There were others, of course, but those were the big three. Narnia gave me my first taste of a secondary world populated by mythical creatures, witches and wizards, and talking beasts. Burroughs inched me toward a more Americanized “sword and sorcery” via the “sword-and-planet” Barsoom novels. Howard’s gritty, fabled world of a certain barbaric Cimmerian delivered the full-on S&S.

Branching out from Narnia, I found my way to the towering, epic high fantasy of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle-Earth. And moving on from Howard I stumbled into the dangerous alleyways of Lankhmar in Fritz Leiber’s world of Nehwon.

Not surprisingly, when I got wind of a game that allowed you to invent your own characters and take them on adventures in such worlds via some cool dice, maps, rulebooks, and a little bit of imagination, I was all over it. By the sixth grade I was a devout Dungeons & Dragons player, and Tolkien was my favorite author. Both statements remain true.

So perhaps it’s a bit surprising, given this profile, that I never delved into any of the D&D novelizations — the Dragonlance Chronicles and their ilk. (I did read some of the D&D Endless Quest books, which were in the style of Choose Your Own Adventure, lured by their solo-gaming appeal — a craving that was better met by the Lone Wolf and Fighting Fantasy game books.)

My reading of Howard Andrew Jones’s new novel Pathfinder Tales: Stalking the Beast may be a test case on whether it stands on its own merits because, first, I’ve just never been much into tie-in novels. (Somewhere along the line I read a Star Wars novel, and in junior high I went on a Doctor Who kick. There were also a couple movie novelizations in the mix — inevitably written by Alan Dean Foster. But when it comes to full disclosure on that point, there’s just not much to disclose.)

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Weird of Oz on the Road: The Monsters in My Hotel Room

Weird of Oz on the Road: The Monsters in My Hotel Room

photo 1I’m posting this from a room in a Microtel Inn, my home for the next couple days.

I’m here as one of the presenters at a conference for young writers and artists. During the day, I’ll be teaching a class to grade-school students on how to make the monsters and mythical creatures in their fiction more believable. In the evening, well, I’ll mostly be here in this room, more than a hundred miles from home. I’ll be missing my wife and kids terribly, but — let’s be honest — not entirely without appreciating a temporary reprieve from the myriad demands of home. As always, I start out with inflated ideas of just how much work I’ll be able to get done without interruption or distraction. Which is my intent — I’ve brought work projects and some freelance editing to tackle.

But I can’t do that the whole time I’m holed up here in this room. So of course I grabbed a few books. Five, it looks like (they always seem to multiply as I pack my various and sundry bags and make my way out the door).

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Vintage and New: Revisiting The Night Land with James Stoddard

Vintage and New: Revisiting The Night Land with James Stoddard

nightland-1William Hope Hodgson (1877-1918) was an English author and poet who died in Flanders Fields (how poetic) at the age of 40, his career cut short by an artillery shell. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?

Maybe not. Though the recognition will be significantly higher among readers of this site, for the general public his is a pretty obscure name (at least until a major HBO series drops references to his work, a la True Detective and Robert W. Chambers).

If you have heard of him, it’s likely because H.P. Lovecraft considered Hodgson’s novels to have been among the most brilliant works of weird horror, and more recent writers like Gene Wolfe and China Mièvelle concur.

Ironically, Lovecraft himself was once nearly forgotten — like Hodgson, he was well served by literary executors who worked tirelessly to keep his work alive until he could be more widely recognized and take his rightful place in the canon.  Hodgson’s widow and his sister-in-law both managed to keep his works in print so that the likes of Lovecraft could discover him. Unlike Lovecraft, much wider recognition has not been — and likely will not be — forthcoming, and that is largely Hodgson’s own fault.

Most new readers of Hodgson come to him through recommendations by influential popular writers; two of the most influential cheerleaders have been Lovecraft and C.S. Lewis. Although there could hardly be two more different authors than Lovecraft and Lewis, and though their fan base probably does not much overlap, both were struck by the power of Hodgson’s weird, startling imagination and had the highest praise for two novels in particular: The House on the Borderland (1908) and The Night Land (1912).

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Blogging Arak 14: Arak Has a Fling with Fate (Literally)

Blogging Arak 14: Arak Has a Fling with Fate (Literally)

Arak_Vol_1_14Satyricus is offstage sleeping for most of this issue, so we don’t get any comic-relief banter between that randy old goat and Arak. That’s as it should be, though, because this episode delivers a private and transformative event in Arak’s life. This is the issue where Arak comes into his own as a character. (Also, he scores — with one of the Fates, no less! ––which would have been awkward with a satyr on hand.)

Up until now, Arak has been a confused man lacking in self-identity. His tribe was wiped out when he was a boy. He was raised into adulthood by Vikings. Now he wanders in a land where everyone calls him a heathen “red devil.” As he interacts with more “civilized” people, he often displays a stronger innate core of morality and honor than those around him — ironically, and despite his Viking past. He is intelligent, resourceful, but quick to anger when he has been wronged or when he sees someone else wronged (the latter point making him more of a traditional hero than many of his anti-hero barbarian counterparts in fiction).

He is a man who is searching, on an existential quest about the very nature of the universe and his place in it. You see, he assumes his people’s god He-No died with his people, but he was always told he was the son of He-No — the son of Thunder. He has learned in his journeys that there are other thunder gods: Thor, Zeus, Jupiter, and the Christian deity who is said to be the god and maker of everything. Are all these thunder gods but names for one god, he wonders — and, if so, is he somehow a son to all of them? This haunting question has been further compounded by earlier events: his defeat of the sea serpent (back in issue 1) by stabbing it with a heavy metal cross that was subsequently struck by lightning. (Was it the god of the cross or his own father of the thunder who intervened?) Finding his own face carved next to that of Hercules, a Greek hero of old, atop Mount Olympus, only to witness the stone faces cleaved in two by a bolt of lightning. And now, he has discovered a tapestry portraying his life up until now, hung deep in the caves that honeycomb Mount Athos.

Answers to some of these questions will be given in the pages of this issue…

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Blogging Arak 13: Arak Gets Satyrical

Blogging Arak 13: Arak Gets Satyrical

Arak_Vol_1_13Issue 13, “The Demons from the Dark!” (or “Demons from the Caves of Night!”, depending on whether you go by the cover or by the splash page), marked a second year for the series and DC seemed to have a contender on their hands to cash in on sword-and-sorcery popularity of the day.

The issue is dated September 1982. Clash of the Titans and Dragonslayer had brought mythological fantasy to the big screen a year earlier (Greek and medieval respectively, which Roy Thomas was fusing here in novel ways). Conan the Barbarian that summer — at the very time this comic hit the racks, since dating on monthly periodicals tends to lag by a month or two — was turning Arnold Schwarzenegger into a star at the drive-ins and the newfangled multiplexes. Dungeons & Dragons was firmly established as a cultural phenomenon.

Yes, legendary wizards, warriors, and monsters were becoming fixtures in the American household and DC had scored a coup by getting for this foray into the genre Roy Thomas, the writer who had turned Conan into a successful comic franchise over at their rival Marvel.

That Arak never spun off his own movie, or television cartoon, or toy line (he did get one scarce figure in 1982 from Remco) is no basis on which to judge the series. So let’s dive right back in to the story where we left off: with one dead centaur, one missing Valda, one new satyr sidekick, and one befuddled Arak…

We open with Arak and Satyricus coming upon a band of Saracens slaying monks. Satyricus stays true to his established character trait of wishing to avoid confrontation (unless said confrontation involves young, nubile women). You can probably guess what Arak thinks about Satyricus’s suggestion of giving the scene of carnage a wide berth. As the narration informs us:

“The Quontauka’s only answer is a black-maned, well-chiseled head thrown wildly back, and a battle cry which echoes through these Grecian hills: ‘HAIII-YAAAH!’”

Satyricus is clearly going to be providing plenty of comic relief throughout his stint: “I – I wish you wouldn’t DO that! You nearly scared the ichor out of me!”

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Brains Hardwired for Horror

Brains Hardwired for Horror

BrainArous2Reporter Henry Austin filed this story for NBC News on February 6:

Naked, Growling Man Shot Dead by Cops After Biting Teen’s Face

“A naked, growling man was shot dead by cops after biting a teenager’s face and attacking a retired police officer on Wednesday, officials told reporters.”

More details follow, although I have redacted the names of the individuals involved (a quick Google search can sate any curiosity you might have in that regard). My focus is not on the story per se; rather, I want to use it to make a point about your mind, and how I know what it’s thinking. Yes, yours, dear reader. Read on…

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Revisiting the Monsters that Lurked in Gumball Vending Machines

Revisiting the Monsters that Lurked in Gumball Vending Machines

stickersMy children are old enough now that, the moment I take them into Kmart or the grocery store, they immediately hone in on the bank of vending machines strategically placed just by the Entrance/Exit.

“Daddy, can I have some quarters?” my daughter asks, exactly duplicating the words I so often pleaded here, in this very spot, thirty-odd years ago. “Pleeeease.” (Strategic parental answer, which I now understand intimately: “If you’re good in the store, you can get one on the way out.”)

Although the look and the operation of the machines have changed but little — dishing out a gewgaw in a clear plastic shell through the metal trapdoor after that final satisfying click of the knob — the “premium prizes” themselves have changed with the times, and they set you back two or three quarters now (300% inflation for flimsy gewgaws and cheap knickknacks!).

Popular for my children these days are grow-animals (made of absorbent rubber that grows up to 600% in water!), rubber ducks whose eyes bug out when you squeeze them, cute little alien creatures (made in China, but clearly inspired by Japan), laser-light rings, and – that perennial fave – temporary tattoos. (Okay, maybe things haven’t changed that much with either the content or the delivery.) But when I went for that little twisting crank of palm-sized bliss, I was usually drawn by the monsters…

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How Edgar Rice Burroughs and Mad Magazine Got Me into Trouble

How Edgar Rice Burroughs and Mad Magazine Got Me into Trouble

Don Martin's "Conehead the Barbituate" from Mad Dec. 1982.
Don Martin’s “Conehead the Barbituate” from Mad Dec. 1982.

michael_whelan_2-the_gods_of_mars-coverLast week, I reminisced about how some of my earliest scribbles were influenced by the interstellar dogfights I saw in Star Wars and Battlestar Galactica. I was always doodling — a look at one of my notebooks from any year of my schooling would testify to how it sustained me through boring classes.

There in the margins bloomed flora and fauna from the Dr. Seuss School of Zoology, spaceships, barbarians, and things that must have crept from the deeper recesses of the subconscious.

Needless to say, some teachers did not appreciate what they saw. I distinctly recall two occasions when my drawings elicited a phone call to my parents, followed by a dreaded talking-to by my father.

A Barsoomian Gender Mishap

The first incident must’ve occurred in the third grade — that’s when I started reading Edgar Rice Burroughs’s John Carter of Mars series. I was immediately transfixed by Carter’s adventures on the red planet, and the creatures of Barsoom fueled much of my drawing at that time. In after-school daycare, I drew a Martian landscape rife with four-armed Tharks. I was emulating the Science Fiction Book Club illustrations (Richard Corben) as well as the Michael Whelan covers (those Ballantine paperbacks were the then-current editions that I checked out from my local library).

Problem was, I was no Corben or Whelan. In my attempt to portray the musculature of one thark’s buff pectoral muscles, I succeeded in drawing what one daycare worker interpreted to be bare BREASTS! (I understand comic-book illustrator Rob Liefeld would run into the same problem in the ‘90s with Captain America. Check out the image after the “Read More” jump to see one of the most anatomically challenged pieces ever rendered by a professional artist.)

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Nascent Impulse to War Gaming? A Question from the Wag of Oz

Nascent Impulse to War Gaming? A Question from the Wag of Oz

star warsA stray memory — triggered by seeing the first 1977 Star Wars theater-lobby poster on Antiques Roadshow (value $2000!) — made me wonder if a certain time-killer of my childhood was as common as I’ve always just assumed it was. What better place to conduct an informal poll than here at Black Gate — an audience comprised of readers with common interests and shared cultural experiences?

On the left side of the vintage image (so iconic, indelibly impressed upon my generation’s psyche) one sees dozens of x-wing fighters flying in to attack the Death Star. That’s what triggered the memory of a pastime common among my male peers in preschool.

During arts and crafts or any downtime where we were given access to paper and pens/ pencils/ crayons, a perennial favorite was to draw a whole fleet of Rebel x-wing fighters facing off against a fleet of Imperial tie-fighters (Colonial vipers and Cylon raiders worked just as well). That was not the end product, no sir. That was the set-up. The battle would begin, the image soon obliterated as lines were scrawled from the firing vehicle to its target, followed by violent scribbling over of said target to indicate it had exploded. What one was left with was a sheet covered in lines and scribbles, with maybe one or two of vehicles of the victorious side still visible. [Examples follow the “Read More” jump.]

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New Year’s Resolutions of Oz

New Year’s Resolutions of Oz

one million yearsAfter about ten months of uninterrupted weekly posts, I’m taking a bit of a breather this week. Today, instead of new content, I’ll take inventory and look ahead to what I hope to deliver Black Gate readers in 2014. Perhaps I can couch it in a “New Year’s Resolutions” list — most of us allow for a bit of leeway on those overly optimistic proclamations, anyway…

1. Lose about twenty pounds, preferably at a blackjack table in Derbyshire.

2. Cut back on tobacco consumption, especially my wife’s.

3. Drink more alcohol. (It fell way off in 2013. Obviously I need to get to more conventions.)

And blah blah blah. Okay, let’s get to the stuff that someone else reading this might actually be curious about…

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