Definitely not about The Book We No Longer Mention
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1jimroberts
If you've been following Cyops' thread or Alternative politics in Sci Fi (The continuation of what was Fe Fi) and want to continue with the topics other than That Book, post here.
2StormRaven
For those who wish to see superior writing, gaze upon more excerpts from The Eye of Argon:
Arriving after dusk in Gorzom,grignr descended down a dismal alley, reining his horse before a beaten tavern. The redhaired giant strode into the dimly lit hostelry reeking of foul odors, and cheap wine. The air was heavy with chocking fumes spewing from smolderingtorches encased within theden's earthen packed walls. Tables were clustered with groups of drunken thieves, and cutthroats, tossing dice, or making love to willing prostitutes.
Eyeing a slender female crouched alone at a nearby bench, Grignr advanced wishing to wholesomely occupy his time. The flickering torches cast weird shafts of luminescence dancing over the half naked harlot of his choice, her stringy orchid twines of hair swaying gracefully over the lithe opaque nose, as she raised a half drained mug to her pale red lips.
Glancing upward, the alluring complexion noted the stalwart giant as he rapidly approached. A faint glimmer sparked from the pair of deep blue ovals of the amorous female as she motioned toward Grignr, enticing him to join her. The barbarian seated himself upon a stool at the wenches side, exposing his body, naked save for a loin cloth brandishing a long steel broad sword, an iron spiraled battle helmet, and a thick leather sandals, to her unobstructed view.
"Thou hast need to occupy your time, barbarian",questioned the female?
"Only if something worth offering is within my reach." Stated Grignr,as his hands crept to embrace the tempting female, who welcomed them with open willingness.
"From where do you come barbarian, and by what are you called?" Gasped the complying wench, as Grignr smothered her lips with the blazing touch of his flaming mouth.
The engrossed titan ignored the queries of the inquisitive female, pulling her towards him and crushing her sagging nipples to his yearning chest. Without struggle she gave in, winding her soft arms around the harshly bronzedhide of Grignr corded shoulder blades, as his calloused hands caressed her firm protruding busts.
"You make love well wench," Admitted Grignr as he reached for the vessel of potent wine his charge had been quaffing.
A flying foot caught the mug Grignr had taken hold of, sending its blood red contents sloshing over a flickering crescent; leashing tongues of bright orange flame to the foot trodden floor.
"Remove yourself Sirrah, the wench belongs to me;" Blabbered a drunken soldier, too far consumed by the influences of his virile brew to take note of the superior size of his adversary.
Arriving after dusk in Gorzom,grignr descended down a dismal alley, reining his horse before a beaten tavern. The redhaired giant strode into the dimly lit hostelry reeking of foul odors, and cheap wine. The air was heavy with chocking fumes spewing from smolderingtorches encased within theden's earthen packed walls. Tables were clustered with groups of drunken thieves, and cutthroats, tossing dice, or making love to willing prostitutes.
Eyeing a slender female crouched alone at a nearby bench, Grignr advanced wishing to wholesomely occupy his time. The flickering torches cast weird shafts of luminescence dancing over the half naked harlot of his choice, her stringy orchid twines of hair swaying gracefully over the lithe opaque nose, as she raised a half drained mug to her pale red lips.
Glancing upward, the alluring complexion noted the stalwart giant as he rapidly approached. A faint glimmer sparked from the pair of deep blue ovals of the amorous female as she motioned toward Grignr, enticing him to join her. The barbarian seated himself upon a stool at the wenches side, exposing his body, naked save for a loin cloth brandishing a long steel broad sword, an iron spiraled battle helmet, and a thick leather sandals, to her unobstructed view.
"Thou hast need to occupy your time, barbarian",questioned the female?
"Only if something worth offering is within my reach." Stated Grignr,as his hands crept to embrace the tempting female, who welcomed them with open willingness.
"From where do you come barbarian, and by what are you called?" Gasped the complying wench, as Grignr smothered her lips with the blazing touch of his flaming mouth.
The engrossed titan ignored the queries of the inquisitive female, pulling her towards him and crushing her sagging nipples to his yearning chest. Without struggle she gave in, winding her soft arms around the harshly bronzedhide of Grignr corded shoulder blades, as his calloused hands caressed her firm protruding busts.
"You make love well wench," Admitted Grignr as he reached for the vessel of potent wine his charge had been quaffing.
A flying foot caught the mug Grignr had taken hold of, sending its blood red contents sloshing over a flickering crescent; leashing tongues of bright orange flame to the foot trodden floor.
"Remove yourself Sirrah, the wench belongs to me;" Blabbered a drunken soldier, too far consumed by the influences of his virile brew to take note of the superior size of his adversary.
3BOSK
I read a book yesterday called They fly at Ciron by Samuel R. Delany It was about a pacifist village attacked by a military society intent on conquering the region. A neighboring village of flying people that they have always feared comes to their aid.
One thing about this book was that it was the third version of the story that he had done. It was originally a short story. He rewrote it with a cowriter after many years then rewrote it again many more years to remove what the cowriter had added and change things again. I would like to read the short story and compare it. I wonder if the short story wouldn't be better.
I have mixed feelings about short stories being expanded to novels. Sometimes it works, sometim/es it doesn't. Do you have any that you prefer one version over the other and Why?
One thing about this book was that it was the third version of the story that he had done. It was originally a short story. He rewrote it with a cowriter after many years then rewrote it again many more years to remove what the cowriter had added and change things again. I would like to read the short story and compare it. I wonder if the short story wouldn't be better.
I have mixed feelings about short stories being expanded to novels. Sometimes it works, sometim/es it doesn't. Do you have any that you prefer one version over the other and Why?
4yaakov
Who gets the royalties for Eye of Argon (e.g., sold through Amazon, etc)? Just curious. I didn't know it was ever actually published oustide a fanzine until someone mentioned its Amazon rank.
5Helcura
>2 StormRaven: StormRaven
Please, please, stop the torture. I'll say anything you want me to say, just don't hurt me anymore, my eyes are bleeding . . .
Please, please, stop the torture. I'll say anything you want me to say, just don't hurt me anymore, my eyes are bleeding . . .
6kswolff
>2 StormRaven:: That's not writing. That's typing.
Why does it seem like all fantasy can be boiled down to JRR Tolkien tropes plus a book of Mad Libs?
The ______ Empire has fallen, only ________, our hero, can save the ________ from the evil _________ by getting the lost _____________. Luckily the wizard ______ and the elf _______ will help him on his journey to ______________.
It's almost as bad as Extruded James Patterson Product. I'd say people have no taste, but that's offensive to people who like kitsch and camp.
Poorly written, uninspired, bottom-feeding sub-dreck. At least I know what to put on the bottom of my birdcage or what to wrap a fish in.
Why does it seem like all fantasy can be boiled down to JRR Tolkien tropes plus a book of Mad Libs?
The ______ Empire has fallen, only ________, our hero, can save the ________ from the evil _________ by getting the lost _____________. Luckily the wizard ______ and the elf _______ will help him on his journey to ______________.
It's almost as bad as Extruded James Patterson Product. I'd say people have no taste, but that's offensive to people who like kitsch and camp.
Poorly written, uninspired, bottom-feeding sub-dreck. At least I know what to put on the bottom of my birdcage or what to wrap a fish in.
8StormRaven
6: It's also not original to me. More:
Grignr lithly bounded from the startled female, his face lit up to an ashen red ferocity, and eyes locked in a searing feral blaze toward the swaying soldier.
"To hell with you, braggard!" Bellowed the angered Ecordian, as he hefted his finely honed broad sword.
The staggering soldier clumsily reached towards the pommel of his dangling sword, but before his hands ever touched the oaken hilt a silvered flash was slicing the heavy air. The thews of the savages lashing right arm bulged from the glistening bronzed hide as his blade bit deeply into the soldiers neck, loping off the confused head of his senseless tormentor.
With a nauseating thud the severed oval toppled to the floor, as the segregated torso of Grignr's bovine antagonist swayed, then collapsed in a pool of swirled crimson.
In the confusion the soldier's fellows confronted Grignr with unsheathed cutlasses, directed toward the latters scowling make-up.
"The slut should have picked his quarry more carefully!" Roared the victor in a mocking baritone growl, as he wiped his dripping blade on the prostrate form, and returned it to its scabbard.
"The fool should have shown more prudence, however you shall rue your actions while rotting in the pits." Stated one of the sprawled soldier's comrades.
Grignr's hand began to remove his blade from its leather housing, but retarded the motion in face of the blades waving before his face.
"Dismiss your hand from the hilt, barbarbian, or you shall find a foot of steel sheathed in your gizzard."
Grignr weighed his position observing his plight, where-upon he took the soldier's advice as the only logical choice. To attempt to hack his way from his present predicament could only warrant certain death. He was of no mind to bring upon his own demise if an alternate path presented itself. The will to necessitate his life forced him to yield to the superior force in hopes of a moment of carlessness later upon the part of his captors in which he could effect a more plausible means of escape.
"You may steady your arms, I will go without a struggle."
"Your decision is a wise one, yet perhaps you would have been better off had you forced death," the soldier's mouth wrinkled to a sadistic grin of knowing mirth as he prodded his prisoner on with his sword point.
After an indiscriminate period of marching through slinking alleyways and dim moonlighted streets the procession confronted a massive seraglio. The palace area was surrounded by an iron grating, with a lush garden upon all sides.
The group was admitted through the gilded gateway and Grignr was ledalong a stone pathway bordered by plush vegitation lustfully enhanced by the moon's shimmering rays. Upon reaching the palace the group was granted entrance, and after several minutes of explanation, led through several winding corridors to a richly draped chamber.
Confronting the group was a short stocky man seated upona golden throne. Tapestries of richly draped regal blue silk covered all walls of the chamber, while the steps leading to the throne were plated with sparkling white ivory. The man upon the throne had a naked wench seated at each of his arms, and a trusted advisor seated in back of him. At each cornwr of the chamber a guard stood at attention, with upraised pikes supported in their hands, golden chainmail adorning their torso's and barred helmets emitting scarlet plumes enshrouding their heads. The man rose from his throne to the dias surrounding it. His plush turquois robe dangled loosely from his chuncky frame.
The soldiers surrounding Grignr fell to their knees with heads bowed to the stone masonry of the floor in fearful dignity to their sovereign, leige.
"Explain the purpose of this intrusion upon my chateau!"
"Your sirenity, resplendent in noble grandeur, we have brought this yokel before you (the soldier gestured toward Grignr) for the redress or your all knowing wisdon in judgement regarding his fate."
"Down on your knees, lout, and pay proper homage to your sovereign!" commanded the pudgy noble of Grignr.
"By the surly beard of Mrifk, Grignr kneels to no man!" scowled the massive barbarian.
"You dare to deal this blasphemous act to me! You are indeed brave stranger, yet your valor smacks of foolishness."
"I find you to be the only fool, sitting upon your pompous throne, enhancing the rolling flabs of your belly in the midst of your elaborate luxuryand ..." The soldier standing at Grignr's side smote him heavily in the face with the flat of his sword, cutting short the harsh words and knocking his battered helmet to the masonry with an echo-ing clang.
The paunchy noble's sagging round face flushed suddenly pale, then pastily lit up to a lustrous cherry red radiance. His lips trembled with malicious rage, while emitting a muffled sibilant gibberish. His sagging flabs rolled like a tub of upset jelly, then compressed as he sucked in his gut in an attempt to conceal his softness.
The prince regained his statue, then spoke to the soldiers surrounding Grignr, his face conforming to an ugly expression of sadistic humor.
"Take this uncouth heathen to the vault of misery, and be sure that his agonies are long and drawn out before death can release him."
"As you wish sire, your command shall be heeded immediately," answered the soldier on the right of Grignr as he stared into the barbarians seemingly unaffected face.
Grignr lithly bounded from the startled female, his face lit up to an ashen red ferocity, and eyes locked in a searing feral blaze toward the swaying soldier.
"To hell with you, braggard!" Bellowed the angered Ecordian, as he hefted his finely honed broad sword.
The staggering soldier clumsily reached towards the pommel of his dangling sword, but before his hands ever touched the oaken hilt a silvered flash was slicing the heavy air. The thews of the savages lashing right arm bulged from the glistening bronzed hide as his blade bit deeply into the soldiers neck, loping off the confused head of his senseless tormentor.
With a nauseating thud the severed oval toppled to the floor, as the segregated torso of Grignr's bovine antagonist swayed, then collapsed in a pool of swirled crimson.
In the confusion the soldier's fellows confronted Grignr with unsheathed cutlasses, directed toward the latters scowling make-up.
"The slut should have picked his quarry more carefully!" Roared the victor in a mocking baritone growl, as he wiped his dripping blade on the prostrate form, and returned it to its scabbard.
"The fool should have shown more prudence, however you shall rue your actions while rotting in the pits." Stated one of the sprawled soldier's comrades.
Grignr's hand began to remove his blade from its leather housing, but retarded the motion in face of the blades waving before his face.
"Dismiss your hand from the hilt, barbarbian, or you shall find a foot of steel sheathed in your gizzard."
Grignr weighed his position observing his plight, where-upon he took the soldier's advice as the only logical choice. To attempt to hack his way from his present predicament could only warrant certain death. He was of no mind to bring upon his own demise if an alternate path presented itself. The will to necessitate his life forced him to yield to the superior force in hopes of a moment of carlessness later upon the part of his captors in which he could effect a more plausible means of escape.
"You may steady your arms, I will go without a struggle."
"Your decision is a wise one, yet perhaps you would have been better off had you forced death," the soldier's mouth wrinkled to a sadistic grin of knowing mirth as he prodded his prisoner on with his sword point.
After an indiscriminate period of marching through slinking alleyways and dim moonlighted streets the procession confronted a massive seraglio. The palace area was surrounded by an iron grating, with a lush garden upon all sides.
The group was admitted through the gilded gateway and Grignr was ledalong a stone pathway bordered by plush vegitation lustfully enhanced by the moon's shimmering rays. Upon reaching the palace the group was granted entrance, and after several minutes of explanation, led through several winding corridors to a richly draped chamber.
Confronting the group was a short stocky man seated upona golden throne. Tapestries of richly draped regal blue silk covered all walls of the chamber, while the steps leading to the throne were plated with sparkling white ivory. The man upon the throne had a naked wench seated at each of his arms, and a trusted advisor seated in back of him. At each cornwr of the chamber a guard stood at attention, with upraised pikes supported in their hands, golden chainmail adorning their torso's and barred helmets emitting scarlet plumes enshrouding their heads. The man rose from his throne to the dias surrounding it. His plush turquois robe dangled loosely from his chuncky frame.
The soldiers surrounding Grignr fell to their knees with heads bowed to the stone masonry of the floor in fearful dignity to their sovereign, leige.
"Explain the purpose of this intrusion upon my chateau!"
"Your sirenity, resplendent in noble grandeur, we have brought this yokel before you (the soldier gestured toward Grignr) for the redress or your all knowing wisdon in judgement regarding his fate."
"Down on your knees, lout, and pay proper homage to your sovereign!" commanded the pudgy noble of Grignr.
"By the surly beard of Mrifk, Grignr kneels to no man!" scowled the massive barbarian.
"You dare to deal this blasphemous act to me! You are indeed brave stranger, yet your valor smacks of foolishness."
"I find you to be the only fool, sitting upon your pompous throne, enhancing the rolling flabs of your belly in the midst of your elaborate luxuryand ..." The soldier standing at Grignr's side smote him heavily in the face with the flat of his sword, cutting short the harsh words and knocking his battered helmet to the masonry with an echo-ing clang.
The paunchy noble's sagging round face flushed suddenly pale, then pastily lit up to a lustrous cherry red radiance. His lips trembled with malicious rage, while emitting a muffled sibilant gibberish. His sagging flabs rolled like a tub of upset jelly, then compressed as he sucked in his gut in an attempt to conceal his softness.
The prince regained his statue, then spoke to the soldiers surrounding Grignr, his face conforming to an ugly expression of sadistic humor.
"Take this uncouth heathen to the vault of misery, and be sure that his agonies are long and drawn out before death can release him."
"As you wish sire, your command shall be heeded immediately," answered the soldier on the right of Grignr as he stared into the barbarians seemingly unaffected face.
9jimroberts
Great writing indeed. So many gems.
"... his blade bit deeply into the soldiers neck, loping off the confused head ..."
My head would be confused if it loped off without me.
"plush vegitation lustfully enhanced by the moon's shimmering rays"
Why isn't my garden like that?
"Your sirenity"
"By the surly beard of Mrifk, Grignr kneels to no man!"
But he haff ze sword, so Grignr kneel to heem.
"... his blade bit deeply into the soldiers neck, loping off the confused head ..."
My head would be confused if it loped off without me.
"plush vegitation lustfully enhanced by the moon's shimmering rays"
Why isn't my garden like that?
"Your sirenity"
"By the surly beard of Mrifk, Grignr kneels to no man!"
But he haff ze sword, so Grignr kneel to heem.
11StormRaven
10: Your guess is as good as mine. I just report the madness, I don't pretend to understand it.
12rojse
#6
I don't think that's entirely fair. Yes, there's a lot of derivative fantasy out there, but the same case could be made of SF.
I don't think that's entirely fair. Yes, there's a lot of derivative fantasy out there, but the same case could be made of SF.
13kswolff
Yeah, but SF doesn't try to sound so monumentally portentous, lofty, and pretentious. Bad SF just sounds like your reading OEM specs for rocket thrusters. Like my favorite line from Amadeus:
(addressing the complaints about the "improper" libretto for "Figaro") Mozart: Come on now, be honest! Which one of you wouldn't rather listen to his hairdresser than Hercules? Or Horatius, or Orpheus... people so lofty they sound as if they shit marble!
(addressing the complaints about the "improper" libretto for "Figaro") Mozart: Come on now, be honest! Which one of you wouldn't rather listen to his hairdresser than Hercules? Or Horatius, or Orpheus... people so lofty they sound as if they shit marble!
14lunacat
lol........... I'm sorry....................... SF doesn't sound lofty and pretentious?? clearly you have been very lucky in all of your SF reads....
15kswolff
Yeah, it's called taste. Look into it ;) Granted SF can be ambitious and poorly written, but why does 98% of fantasy sound either like:
*Tinpot Chaucerisms -- the word "mayhap" in a non-English fantasy setting raises my hackles.
*Cheeseball derivative pomposity that sounds like The King James Bible minus the sex and graphic violence.
R. Scott Bakker knows what he's doing. While the Prince of Nothing trilogy was based on a Tolkien-inspired universe, he tweaked and twisted it into something radically different.
Yes, SF can be lofty and pretentious -- Space Opera for sure -- but the dialogue doesn't sound like it's being spoken by Renaissance Fair rejects.
My only solution is this: Don't buy the books then, jackass! The more money you give the publishers, the more incentive you give them to perpetuate the problem. Just Say No!
*Tinpot Chaucerisms -- the word "mayhap" in a non-English fantasy setting raises my hackles.
*Cheeseball derivative pomposity that sounds like The King James Bible minus the sex and graphic violence.
R. Scott Bakker knows what he's doing. While the Prince of Nothing trilogy was based on a Tolkien-inspired universe, he tweaked and twisted it into something radically different.
Yes, SF can be lofty and pretentious -- Space Opera for sure -- but the dialogue doesn't sound like it's being spoken by Renaissance Fair rejects.
My only solution is this: Don't buy the books then, jackass! The more money you give the publishers, the more incentive you give them to perpetuate the problem. Just Say No!
16readafew
15 > Considering I've read very little fantasy that seems to fall into your description, I wonder if you've just been unlucky or I know how to pick them.
It's like looking at all the dime store SF and saying all SF is either robots or aliens trying to take over the world. Rather dismissive and incorrect.
It's like looking at all the dime store SF and saying all SF is either robots or aliens trying to take over the world. Rather dismissive and incorrect.
17kswolff
So what SF doesn't have aliens or robots? Even Bladerunner and Battlestar Galactica have these basic tropes.
Most of the SF and fantasy I've seen in either the bookstore or library clearly fall into these categories. In the mass market category, there's really no motivating factor to change what consistently moves units. There's a top 10% that good and actually does something creative with the tropes from the genres.
The thing is, I don't pick them. I read the summary on the back and then put the book down. I'm very picky when I loiter in the SF/Fantasy/Stephanie Meyer-Laurell Hamilton section of the bookstore.
Speculative fiction needs to move beyond its tropes and perhaps create some new ones along the way. Unless you're talking about Thomas Pynchon, William Vollmann, or Samuel Beckett, the genre is still set in the alien robot vampire shtick. And is utterly enslaved to Victorian Realism. How outdated and ironic. And for every HP Lovecraft, there's a thousand Terry Brooks knock-offs crowding the shelves with doorstoppers of no literary value.
Most of the SF and fantasy I've seen in either the bookstore or library clearly fall into these categories. In the mass market category, there's really no motivating factor to change what consistently moves units. There's a top 10% that good and actually does something creative with the tropes from the genres.
The thing is, I don't pick them. I read the summary on the back and then put the book down. I'm very picky when I loiter in the SF/Fantasy/Stephanie Meyer-Laurell Hamilton section of the bookstore.
Speculative fiction needs to move beyond its tropes and perhaps create some new ones along the way. Unless you're talking about Thomas Pynchon, William Vollmann, or Samuel Beckett, the genre is still set in the alien robot vampire shtick. And is utterly enslaved to Victorian Realism. How outdated and ironic. And for every HP Lovecraft, there's a thousand Terry Brooks knock-offs crowding the shelves with doorstoppers of no literary value.
18StormRaven
17: Do you really want me to make a list of SF that has no aliens or robots?
19kswolff
You mean, besides The Warren Report?
20StormRaven
19: A Kennedy conspiracy theorist?
21yaakov
I thought Who killed Kennedy
22StormRaven
21: I guess the turn this conversation has taken is no more surreal than the text of The Eye of Argon itself.
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