Nope, I didn’t manage to get any photos of the paradisiacal Anderson Island, and the last couple of weeks have been a tumult of contractors repairing my house, digging a new sewer line, of mechanics working on my car, and my job blooming in its usual elaborately hectic fashion as it does every fall.
I haven’t worked on the Wulf site — I continue to be amazed that I managed to get the damned thing online at all, but I will be giving it a quick going over soon, and will also collect the last three stories into an ebook for everyone’s reading pleasure very shortly. It’ll be The Wizard of Shark Island and Other Stories, since that way I’ll be able to put together a cool Wulfy graphic with crossed swords or spears over a snarling shark face or something.
In writing news I’ve finished the rewrite of my Alex St. John urban fantasy novel, The Shepherd, and it’s out to my readers. So far response has been great, and I’m going to do one more polish before unleashing it on unsuspecting publishers/agents. I’ll keep chronicling that adventure here, and God knows there may finally be good news soon.
That said, I gave a lot of thought to what I wanted to post here — I’ve got reviews of Beastmaster in the wings, and I hope to have both Barbarian Queen movies done soon, as well as Krull and some other surprises, including that recent flop, Conan.
And speaking of Conan, I’ve been busily rereading the original REH tales — the ones that have been released recently, unexpurgated, unedited, in the order that they appeared, without a bunch of pastiches, “posthumous collaborations” or rewrites of non-Conan stories by various and sundry authors.
Just as a sidebar, I notice that there seems to be a new purist movement when it comes to classic pulp writers like REH and HPL. Posthumous continuations and expansions seem to be slightly out of favor these days, or at the very least, they seem to have been put in the proper perspective. Poor HPL had to suffer through decades of August Derleth-inspired infamy, with dread Cthulhu and mighty Yog-Sothoth reduced to the villains in cosmic morality plays by authors who didn’t seem to fully grasp the subtle meanings or real horrific underpinnings of his tales, while Robert E. Howard’s barbarian had his “career” placed in careful chronology, with “gaps” in his history conveniently filled in, so that every waking moment of his long life seemed filled with evil sorcerers, horrid monsters and mostly-naked women. Not that I’m objecting, mind you, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I enjoy the original, unaltered versions of Conan to the altered, edited and “improved” editions that we’ve grown so familiar with.
So that brings me to that other aspect of the mighty REH’s career — the fact that he wrote a metric fuckton of stories that weren’t about Conan, only a handful of which I have actually read. He wrote westerns, he wrote modern adventure, he wrote about ancient Romans vs. Celts, he wrote about sailors and boxers and cowboys, he wrote about the Crusades, about 16th century France, about werewolves and detectives, about Lovecraftian cosmic horror and pirates…
Hell, the guy could write. I suppose a cynical person with no adventure in his soul could point out that a lot of Howard’s stories read and felt the same, that he reused themes, characters, names and plots, and that a lot of what he wrote may not have been all that great, but that obscures the fact that Robert E. Howard was the closest thing to Conan the Barbarian ever to walk the earth, and that his was one of the most tragic, wasteful deaths in American literature. And yes, what he wrote was literature.
Which brings me to the historical stuff and another of his supposed creations — Red Sonja.
Shadow of the Vulture was first published in a magazine called Magic Carpet in 1934. It takes place in 1529, during Suleiman the Magnificent’s siege of Vienna, considered by many to be the high-water mark of the Ottoman Empire. More information about the story can, of course, be found on Wikipedia, here. You can buy it, along with a whole raft of other Howard historical tales here. And by golly when I get paid next week I’m getting my own copy, since I haven’t read Shadow of the Vulture in ages, and I lost my copy of the collection (Sowers of Thunder, I believe) in my last divorce.
Anyway, it’s not my intention to talk about that story too much, as magnificent as it and its sword-wielding heroine, are. No, I’m kind of following the legacy of Red Sonya toward the very odd place that she ended up.
Well, Red and her sword may have remained a minor character in an obscure pulp adventure story if it hadn’t been for Marvel Comics. As with so many other characters, Sonja’s comics history is convoluted and rather confusing, especially to me, who hasn’t read any comics in well over a decade. Sonja — fortunately Marvel changed the spelling, so that “Sonya” remains an intact and distinct historical Howard character — first showed up in Conan the Barbarian issue 23, in a story ironically titled Shadow of the Vulture. If I recall correctly, Marvel writer Roy Thomas did what was then a time-honored trick, taking a non-Conan REH story, moving it to Hyboria and shoehorning in our favorite barbarian. Presto! Instant Conan story.
As portrayed by the great Barry Windsor-Smith, Sonja (aka “She Devil with a Sword” — you really can’t buy publicity like that) was dressed a little more decently than she was later, but when the legendary Spanish artist Estaban Moroto got his hands on her supple but powerful body, he dressed her in what has since become the classic impractical female barbarian outfit — the chainmail (or more properly scalemail) bikini, which left her legs, arms, midriff, and most importantly, her overflowing cleavage, entirely unarmored and unprotected.
I’ll take a moment here to comment on the whole “semiclad women barbarian” phenomenon, just to let you know I have mixed feelings about it. I don’t think anyone can blame me for liking to look at women, naked or otherwise. Years ago, I saw Gene Roddenberry at a big Star Trek presentation at the Portland Coliseum, where the Trailblazers normally play. It was full to overflowing with happy Trekkies and we all had a fine time.
I don’t remember what the question was, but I think it was in regard to women on board the Enterprise, and Roddenberry replied that he was a huge advocate of equality for women. Women, he said, can do anything a man can do, and should not be restricted in any way shape or form by society, government, culture or prejudice. In the future women can and will command starships and lead governments. Men and women are both human, and all humans are equal.
Roddenberry added however, that none of this meant he would stop treating women as sex objects.
Actually, I’m okay with that. I think that people — men and women — don’t mind being sex objects, as long as that’s not their primary focus, and as long as that status doesn’t prevent them from doing whatever they want whenever they want. And with that in mind, those of you who have read my fiction will know that I love independent, powerful and assertive women. I also like writing about their bodies and about them having sex.
So I guess I kind of want to have my cake and eat it too. I want to be able to treat women with respect and dignity, and portray them as strong, capable and totally equal to men. I also want them to look at them naked. Or in chainmail bikinis.
So, yeah — Red Sonja’s outfit is kinda sexist and exploitive. It’s not practical and it’s actually downright silly. But consider the woman inside the outfit. She’s a warrior who’s every bit as capable as a man, who can fight Conan to a standstill, and who does everything that your average kickass barbarian hero is supposed to. And while I’m at it, I’d like to point out that if Sonja is cheesecake, then Conan is beefcake — so enjoy, ladies. Conan is hot and he’s usually mostly naked, too.
And hey, I’m a big supporter of decent armor for female fighters as well — go check out this site and see some women that kick ass and take names.
That’s not to say that Sonja’s a perfect character. The original version of the character was brutally raped and visited by a goddess, who gave her all those awesome combat abilities.
Sheesh. If there’s anything I really hate it’s the old “woman warrior avenging her rape” story… It’s cliched and it’s offensive. Can’t a woman be a warrior on her own merits? Does her power have to only manifest itself after she’s been brutalized? That kind of bugs me.
(Mind you I’m working on a story now with a female warrior who’s a former harem slave, who strangled her master and escaped, but hopefully I’ll make it a little less obvious. She was a warrior to begin with, and she wasn’t avenging being raped so much as avenging being enslaved and treated like an animal… I know it’s similar, but I hope I’m not being too much of a hypocrite here.)
Okay, so Sonja fought her way through the Conan series. In the end, she was a very different character from Red Sonya of Rogatino, and I guess really shouldn’t be conflated with her. Anyway, Dynamite Comics publishes Sonja stories now (and has republished a lot of the old Marvel material as well) and apparently their Red Sonja is a descendant of the “original” Red Sonja, whom they killed off at some point. I don’t know — haven’t read the new series, though I might get back into it.
Sonja’s career at the movies followed a much rockier course, most notably when she was played by the pneumatic but ultimately disappointing Bridgitte Neilson. I remember being disappointed that while Arnold S was in the movie, he didn’t play Conan (due apparently to various legal and copyright issues), and even more disappointed that her outfit didn’t resemble the Marvel scale-bikini in the slightest.
A few years ago the news wires were abuzz with the story that Robert Rodriguez was going to direct a new Red movie, starring Rodriguez’s future ex-girlfriend (wait for it) Rose Freakin’ McGowan, but plans fell through our would-be Sonja was badly injured and the movie was cancelled. Sorry, Rose. I would have loved to see you in that outfit. It might almost have made up for my disappointment when you got engaged to Marilyn Manson (you broke up over “lifestyle differences,” huh? I wonder what they were…).
Sonja also had her own series with Marvel for a while, running 15 issues from 1977-79. And that brings us to the next character in this passion play, the eccentric artist Frank Thorne (not to be confused with the famous mathematician Frank H. Thorne), who illustrated issues 1-11, most of Sonja’s solo run.
Frank Thorne has a very interesting visual style, and I suspect it’s the sort that one either loves or hates. He uses very bold, heavy lines with very little shading and I suspect does his own inking, as he’s usually described simply as “artist.” Thorne threw himself into the whole Red Sonja mythos with the verve of a real fanatic, and the world really wasn’t ever the same after.
So with that clumsy introduction out of the way, I think I’ll wait to work on part 2, since then we’ll be getting into the truly NSFW material. We are talking about Frank Thorne here, after all.