Robert E. Howard once wrote: “There is no literary work, to me, half as zestful as rewriting history in the guise of fiction.” For my own part, I would agree – but with a single caveat. To me, there is no literary work half as zestful as rewriting history in the guise of fantasy. It is well known that some writers spend decades creating elaborate worlds wherein to set their stories, worlds with deep histories, complex politics, eerie religions, and civilization-shattering wars. They reveal these layers chapter by chapter, story by story, until the whole is laid bare. This, some say, is where the artistry of the genre resides – in the painting of a masterpiece on the blank canvas of imagination.
Other writers invest the same amount of time researching our collective historical past for their stories, learning the deep histories, complex politics, eerie religions, and civilization-shattering wars of the real world. And into the chapters and stories they winnow from history, they introduce magic. Gods made manifest; monsters given life. Thus, if traditional fantasy represents the Dutch masters, historical fantasy would be the equivalent of art restoration mixed with forgery. The historical fantasist does not start with a blank canvas; she works with an expanse that already has color, texture, patina – along with some scrapes and tears and lacunae. In those empty quarters is where the fantasy takes root and grows.
The world of our ancestors is perhaps the richest, most vibrant fantasy milieu ever. It is replete with blood and thunder, with pageantry and pestilence, with good and evil, and with a deep, almost pervasive belief in the mythic, in the supernatural. The Hyborian Age, Middle-earth, the Young Kingdoms, Westeros . . . these are but echoes of this frightening and magnificent world of the past. Of course, not every author agrees. “Fantasy is escapism,” some say. “All that cannot be. All the sweetest unfulfillable dreams and the sweaty sheet nightmares.” The historical past is not these things. It is grim. It is bloody. It is a tapestry of woe against which the life of you or I matters as much as a single grain of sand.
“Yes,” I reply. “But it doesn't have to be.”
As far back as 1931, Robert E. Howard – whose work serves as a pillar of fantasy – saw the potential in the literary mining of history: “I’ve been thinking of writing a tale about him for a long time. And Babur the Tiger who established the Mogul rule in India - and the imperial phase in the life of Baibars the Panther, the subject of my last story - and the rise of the Ottomans - and the conquest of Constantinople by the Fifth Crusade - the subjugation of the Turks by the Arabs in the days of Abu Bekr - and the gradual supplanting of the Arab masters by their Turkish slaves which culminated in the conquest of Asia Minor and Palestine by the Seljuks - and the rise of Saladin - and the final destruction of Christian Outremer by Al Kalawun - and the First Crusade - Godfrey of Boullion, Baldwin of Boulogne, Bohemund - Sigurd the Jorsala-farer - Barbarossa - Cour de Lion. Ye gods, I could write a century and still have only tapped the reservoir of dramatic possibilities.” (Robert E. Howard to Tevis Clyde Smith, August 1931). Draw a thread of magic and the supernatural through this list and you begin to apprehend the awesome promise of historical escapist fantasy.
A Gathering of Ravens, which debuts Tuesday, June 20th, is pure historical fantasy. The world it inhabits is built from our own: the color, texture, and patina of its foundation is indistinguishable from 10th/11th century Western Europe. Its brush strokes, however, have been altered; threads have been drawn from its canvas and replaced by forgeries wrought of sorcery and myth. It is not just our world, but our world where the magic of the Old Ways – and the creatures that sprang from it – are fading, vanishing before the inexorable tide of Christianity. Where silence reigns in the once-mystical places, and where decay has begun its slow and destructive creep. Where ancient trees that once housed spirits are empty, now, rotted husks awaiting the woodsman’s axe.
I could have created this world whole cloth; digested and distilled history mixed with fancy into a secondary world where Denmark, England, and Ireland existed but under assumed names. That would have been easier, actually. But it also would have severed my connection to thousands of years of shared history. There is an innate sorcery to words burnished by time: the Danemark, Britain, Ériu . . . they resound with a weight of antiquity not commonly shared by words of recent make. From an artistic standpoint, this connection to a shared undercurrent of emotion allows the writer conjure more from a scene with less effort. Here, for example, I introduce the city of Badon (modern Bath):
Badon was an ancient city and its stones reeked of blood. Étaín could smell it: a metallic stench like wet copper mixed with the miasma of damp rot and sulphur – a distillate of the decay and violence which diverse hands had worked into the foundations of the city. A thousand years before Alfred the Great forged the West Saxons into a race of conquerors, the legions of Caesar had come into this land and driven out the native tribes, the Britons and the enigmatic Cruithne. Roman axes laid low the tree-garth of Sulis, fierce goddess of the waters, and Roman priests extinguished the eternal flame that had burned since time out of mind in her sanctuary. Cunning in the ways of stone, these Romans had raised walls of ashlar around the sacred spaces; they had carved a forest of marble dedicated to the healing goddess Minerva, and tamed the hot springs by diverting its mineral-rich flow into artificial lakes and fountains.
But as the wagon trundled through the muddy streets, a sulphurous yellow mist pooling in the low places, what Étaín could see of the Romans’ stone-cunning was not particularly impressive. The city’s walls were as ragged as a crone’s smile. Timber baulks shored up crumbling defensive towers, with palisades of rough planking and crude brickwork plugging fissures torn in the walls from the infrequent convulsions of the earth that shook the region. Huts squatted amid the ruins of Roman villas like scavengers, their broken columns supporting roofs of wood and thatch. Underfoot, a slurry of dung, mud, and chaff covered intricate mosaics; their fanciful and half-glimpsed designs bore the heavy tread of Time, defaced by hoof and by wheel and by hob-nailed boot, the spaces left by shattered cubes of glass and stone filled in with the filth of countless years. Herds of cattle meandered through the once-opulent arcades of the Temple of Minerva to graze in the overgrown ruin of some nobleman’s pleasure garden. And on a hillock overlooking the city, Étaín spied a massive fortification, a walled cathedral still partially sheathed in scaffolding. She apprehended this to be their destination, the haunt of the feared Hrothmund, lord of Badon.
Though it describes a real place – Bath in the heart of Somerset, England – the passage is actually pure fiction. It is inspired by the ruins of Roman-era Bath, but no such place existed as it appears in the example, above. This is the sorcery of historical fantasy: to take a jumble of ancient stones knitted together by the power of a name and restore them to life – but not just mundane life. No, the trick is to weave the enchantment of what never was into the fabric of reality, and to do it with all the elegance and prowess of a master forger.
I leave you with one final thought: even if you reject the argument that the historical past is the finest fantasy world in existence, it is the undisputed source of countless worlds. From the splintered kingdom of Arnor to the pitiless mountains of Cimmeria; from formidable Dros Delnoch to simmering Darujhistan; from Winterfell to Luthadel . . . every fantasy world is descended from the one our ancestors helped create: ancient Earth. A world of gods and monsters, whose deep histories, complex politics, eerie religions, and civilization-shattering wars provide, to paraphrase REH, enough action and drama enough to fill countless volumes of fantasy.
Release Date: 20/06/17
Publisher: Transworld
SYNOPSIS:
To the Danes, he is skraelingr; to the English, he is orcneas; to the Irish, he is fomoraig. He is Corpse-maker and Life-quencher, the Bringer of Night, the Son of the Wolf and Brother of the Serpent. He is Grimnir, and he is the last of his kind--the last in a long line of monsters who have plagued humanity since the Elder Days.
Drawn from his lair by a thirst for vengeance against the Dane who slew his brother, Grimnir emerges into a world that's changed. A new faith has arisen. The Old Ways are dying, and their followers retreating into the shadows; even still, Grimnir's vengeance cannot be denied.
Taking a young Christian hostage to be his guide, Grimnir embarks on a journey that takes him from the hinterlands of Denmark, where the wisdom of the ancient dwarves has given way to madness, to the war-torn heart of southern England, where the spirits of the land make violence on one another. And thence to the green shores of Ireland and the Viking stronghold of Dubhlinn, where his enemy awaits.
But, unless Grimnir can set aside his hatreds, his dream of retribution will come to nothing. For Dubhlinn is set to be the site of a reckoning--the Old Ways versus the New--and Grimnir, the last of his kind left to plague mankind, must choose: stand with the Christian King of Ireland and see his vengeance done or stand against him and see it slip away?
Scott Oden's A Gathering of Ravens is an epic novel of vengeance, faith, and the power of myth.
REVIEW:
I've known Scott's work mainly as Historical Fiction and in more recent times, I had the honour of watching his FB feed to see him asking questions about this story and seeing how fans would like to see it go as well as garnering suggestions which upon reading, brought a tale to the fore that felt realistic, had great action alongside some top notch sequences that took the reader on a journey in historical times but with an Orc as the principle player.
Its well written, I loved the prose and for me, the action sequences really brought the brutality to life in such a way that it felt like a final solution for the last of his kind. Add to this some wonderful twists, support characters that felt rounded enough to be able to accompany the anti hero alongside kick ass plot and I was a more than happy reader. Top notch.
Hail Mighty Readers,Author Friend of the blog Scott Oden, has been spending a bit of time thinking about Ancient Greek Zombies. So much so that he is looking to put together an anthology of stories from established as well as new authors.The guidelines to date are:1) Stories MUST take place before the end of the 1st Century BC.
2) Stories must be between 3,000 and 7, 000 words (this is firm unless you have prior permission — or you’re the one true Stephen King).
3) Deadline TBD
Send your submissions in standard manuscript format (txt or doc) to Scott at scottoden (at) gmail.com. As an historical author, despite the presence of the shambling and unquiet dead, he does insist on settings and portrayals of the ancient world that ring true. Do your research . . . then add zombies.
So far theres interest from a number of known authors, so it could be a great opportunity to get your first published story out there.For more info contact Scott via his blog, The Wine Dark Sea's.All the best to all submitting,Gareth and Lady Eleanor
Having had the pleasure of interviewing Scott a few years ago, we thought it was about time that we caught up with him to see how things have changed alongside how he has adapted as a writer.
What better time to do it than with the release of a new novel? So here, for your reading pleasure, Scott Oden, laid bare about lifes little addictions, which of his "babies" he loves most and author superstitions...Falcata Times: How would you say that your perspective has changed about selling your own work with multiple novels under your belt?Scott Oden: After three books, I think I’m more confident about where I stand in the publishing food chain. I am by no means a “major player”, but a track record even as marginal as mine fosters a certain sense of self-worth: I can deliver a manuscript of publishable quality and a segment of the reading population will purchase it. For a raging neurotic like me that’s an awesome feeling.FT: How would you sell yourself as an author?SO: As an historical fantasist. I write books that I hope will bridge the gap between pure historical fiction and 30’s style pulp fantasy—bloody, rollicking action set in a historically accurate milieu with just a touch of sorcery and mysticism.FT: How would you say that your experience of writing and publishing has changed your methods of writing?SO: I wish I could say it has made me faster and more effective, but I remain a very slow—and somewhat chaotic—writer. And, oddly enough, the very act of publishing has bolstered rather than banished some of the fears I had as an unpublished writer. Namely, the fear the words will stop, dry up, vanish. With every book, devilish little voices in my head try to convince me that this will be the book that reveals my true colors: an untalented hick with literary pretensions. It is rough going, sometimes, but I’ve always been adept at ignoring naysayers . . . even when the naysayers reside in my own skull.FT: With the experience that you've gained now, what do you wish you could have told yourself when you were starting out that you now know?SO: I would have told myself to fight tooth-and-nail to hang on to the subsidiary rights for my first two books. Subsidiary rights have the potential of being a very lucrative stream of income for otherwise impoverished writers, and some publishers tend to rely on said writers being desperate or uninformed. It’s almost predatory. Publishers are purveyors of books; why on earth do they need merchandising rights, video game rights, or movie rights? I wish someone would have told me to fight harder to keep them . . .FT: What characteristics of your protagonists do you wish that you had yourself and why?SO: All three of my protagonists possess decisiveness and an absolute clarity of purpose. I think I wrote them that way because I’m the polar opposite. I’m wishy-washy. I dither. Hell, even something as simple as answering these questions fills me with a fearful sense that I might answer them improperly. No, if I could have any of their traits, it would be the ability to decide and follow through on the decision without a second thought. Though I wouldn’t mind the ability to fight like the Devil, himself, either . . .FT: Which of your characters are most like you and why?SO: Callisthenes from MEN OF BRONZE is probably most like me: he’s bookish and timid, though he possesses a surprising core of strength with a temper that’s slow to boil. I like to think I have a similar core, and his temper is in every way my own.FT: What of life’s little addictions could you not live without and why?SO: My fiancé, though one could argue my addiction to her is in no way a little thing. Honestly, though, it’s probably my addiction to pen-and-paper role playing games. I am a dice-rolling, goblin-killing junkie. I love sitting around a table with my friends, telling interactive stories of times and places that never were. And when the fate of a beloved character rests on a single throw of a twenty-sided dice . . . that’s the definition of drama, my friend!FT: With regular trips for book tours around the country as well as to various Conventions, what is an absolute travel essential that you couldn't do without?SO: I don’t travel much, but when I do I make sure and pack a little makeshift tea set; I love nothing more than to relax in my room with a good cup of Earl Grey (with a dollop of honey and no milk, please!). It’s hard to find good tea here in the States. Oh, and if it’s a hot evening, I pour the Earl Grey over ice! A facet of my Southern upbringing is an affinity for sweet iced tea . . .FT: Previously you've had some problems when others have criticized your work, how do you think you've changed to adapt to it or would you say that you're just the same?SO: I’ve not changed in that regard. But it’s not legitimate criticism—from those well-versed in the art and who have read the book—that bugs me. It’s the Amazon-style opinion bits from people who, in fact, haven’t even read the book which truly irritate me. For example: one Amazon reviewer took me to task on my second novel, MEMNON, for changing Memnon of Rhodes to a Caucasian! This so-called reviewer hadn’t even bothered to read—or perhaps didn’t understand—the basic synopsis of the story. He assumed I’d appropriated the mythical king of Ethiopia, Memnon, for my own nefarious and anti-African purposes. Luckily, other reviewers thrashed him soundly.FT: On long journey's, reading is often the pleasure of choice, who's work will you grab at the airport to ensure a good journey?SO: I always pack ample reading material in my carry-on: Mary Renault’s THE PRAISE SINGER or THE MASK OF APOLLO; Steven Pressfield’s GATES OF FIRE, or a compilation of Robert E. Howard’s CONAN tales. If I’m in a non-fiction frame of mind, I always have with me my dog-eared copy of THE HISTORIES by Herodotus.FT: Out of all your novels, which is your favourite and why?SO: I’m fond of them all, for different reasons: MEN OF BRONZE because it was my first-born; MEMNON because it was the book of my heart. But, as I write this, I have to say I’m proudest of THE LION OF CAIRO. It’s written in a more mature voice, with a better sense of pacing and structure; I wove little homages to Robert E. Howard into the narrative—my way of saying thank you for all the inspiration he’s given me over the years.FT: With everyone having their own personal view as to who should be cast in a film version of their work, who do you think should play your principle protagonists and why?SO: I cast the various roles in my mind as I write, so I have a pretty good idea of who I’d like to play the protagonists, were I given the opportunity. Hasdrabal Barca from MEN OF BRONZE reminds me quite strongly of Oded Fehr (with Rufus Sewell as Phanes of Halicarnassus); from MEMNON, Eric Bana would make a fine Memnon of Rhodes. And Assad, the protagonist from THE LION OF CAIRO, I based on Mido Hamada, after his turn as the Afghan hero, Ahmed Shah Massoud, in “The Road to 9/11”.FT: Authors are generally a superstitious lot and upon completion of novels follow a certain ritual, what is yours and how has it changed from the original?SO: I actually wrote a blog post about this very subject earlier this year (15 April 2010). If you’ll allow me to quote myself: “I am a superstitious writer. Like an ancient Roman haruspex, I begin every writing day by reading the omens in my sacrificial toast and egg-substitute; is the pulp in my orange juice trying to tell me something? Can I divine the arc of my day by observing the movements of my folks, just as the ancients observed flights of birds? Yet, regardless of the omens, I always start work by burning a little cone of incense in front of my collection of writing totems.“Like I said: superstitious. But, I’m not alone in this. Especially in the collecting of totems. Steven Pressfield enumerates his in the opening paragraph of THE WAR OF ART; agent and author Betsy Lerner lays out hers on her blog. These totems are to writers what the tiny figurines of his family were to Maximus in “Gladiator”. Little household gods that channel creative energy (if you believe that sort of thing). For me, at least, these totems give me a tangible link to the worlds I write about.“Some of my totems are pictures clipped from books or magazines; some are postcards or geegaws picked up by tourists. For MEN OF BRONZE, it was a little stone skull (representing mortality), a picture of an Eye of Horus amulet, and a Corinthian helmet. Nor do I discard these after a particular book is done. I add to them. For MEMNON, I added a vial of sand from a beach on Rhodes, a postcard of Santorini at twilight, a replica coin of Alexander, and a high-res copy of an Egyptian wall fragment depicting Alexander as pharaoh. With THE LION OF CAIRO, I added an Afghan salawar (not a replica, but the real thing), a watercolor postcard showing a desert oasis, and a David Roberts print (‘Boulak’).”FT: What was your impression of an author’s lifestyle and status and how has that interpretation changed since you've published a number of books?SO: I’ve never really harbored any illusions about the lifestyle or status of authors, perhaps because I’ve known several who “hit the big time” before I ever published. Most authors I know, both published and not, live their lives more internally than externally; everything we experience becomes fodder for a story. I didn’t realize to what extent I did this myself until I happened to be interviewed by a local newspaper. What most struck the reporter was the starkness of the walls in my workspace. They were, and remain, a bland, featureless white, like an empty canvas. And though I might stare at them for hours upon hours, I don’t see what that reporter saw. To my eyes those white walls become vistas of ancient grandeur, pyramids and sand-scoured ruins, or bustling markets that reek of the mysterious East . . . As for status, authors remain a curiosity, as envied as the scribes of ancient Egypt. I do wish strangers would stop asking me how much money I make, though.FT: What are the best words of wisdom or tip that you'd give to a new or soon to be published author?SO: Patience is less a virtue than it is a necessity. Cultivate patience, as well as professionalism and grace in the face of adversity. As a newly-published writer, I believed the hardest part of the process lay behind me once I typed “the End”; in reality, a finished manuscript is but the first step in a journey that’s just as likely to make one swear off this business of books as it is to inspire confidence. Oh, and get a good agent. A well-connected agent is worth his weight in gold . . .To keep up to date with all of Scott's Books please visit his website: HEREOrTo keep up to date with news and titbits of information please visit his blog: HERE
BOOK BLURB:
Cairo, 1167 AD. On the banks of the river Nile, from a palace of gold and lapis lazuli, the Fatimid Caliph al Hadid rules over a crumbling empire. His city is awash with intrigues and in the shadow of the Grey Mosque, generals and emirs jockey for position under the scheming eyes of the powerful grand vizier, Jalal. In the crowded Souk, these factions use murder and terror to silence their opposition...Egypt is bleeding and the scent draws her enemies in like sharks: the Sultan of Damascus, the pious Nur al-Din, whose master is the rival Caliph of Baghdad; Shirkuh, the swaggering Kurd who would lead the armies of Damascus to victory and then, of course, Amalric, Christian king of Jerusalem whose insatiable greed knows no bounds. Yet the Caliph of Cairo has an unexpected ally: an old man who lives in a place that even eagles fear. He is Shaykh al-Jabal, called the Old Man of the Mountain, and it is he who holds the ultimate power of life and death over the warring factions of the Moslem world, and it is he who sends his greatest weapon into Egypt, to serve the Caliph. He is but a single man but he is an Assassin: the one they call the Emir of the Knife...
REVIEW:
As a long time reader of historical fiction, I originally came across Scott’s writing set in ancient Greece. It was solid, it had great plot and above all else it had all the combat that the reader could handle. So I expected pretty much the same from Scott in this, his latest offering. What unfurls within not only brings the authors strengths to the fore but also gives the reader a touch of other magical elements, part Prince of Persia, part Assassin’s Creed and also part political intrigue, this offering really does bring everything together. It’s beautifully written, has some great lulls as well as peaks and takes the reader on an emotional journey. Great stuff.
