REHupa

The Robert E. Howard United Press Association

Archive for August, 2008

Conan the Avenger

Posted by Morgan Holmes on 31st August 2008

The first counterfeit Conan novel out in paperback wasn’t by Carter & de Camp but by Bjorn Nyberg & L. Sprague de Camp. The history of this novel went back a decade when Nyberg had written a Conan novel. L. Sprague de Camp edited it including correcting any English errors. Nyberg was a Swede and English was a second language for him. De Camp was able to sell an excerpt to Fantastic Universe magazine for September 1957 issue under the name, “Conan the Victorious.”

Gnome Press then published the whole novel as The Return of Conan in 1957. The Gnome Press edition has a cover by Wally Wood. There is something unique about Wally Wood’s art. A shame he did not illustrate more Robert E. Howard though I could have done without the fur jockstrap.

I did not have hostile memories of Conan the Avenger that I had with other pastiches–but I had read it over 26 years ago. Steve Tompkins had warned me that the novel does not hold up well under scrutiny and he was right. The opening scene reminds me more of a costume romance novel than sword and sorcery.

“Fair were the ladies, and a judge would be sorely put to decide a contest for beauty-at least, if he were choosing among the guests. For, in truth, the queen was more beautiful than anyone. The perfection of her form was outlined by the clinging, low-necked gown she wore, with only a silver circlet to confine the foamy mass of her wavy black hair. Moreover, her perfectly-molded face radiated such innate nobility and kindliness as were seldom seen in those times. However, if the king was counted fortunate by his fellow men, no less was Queen Zenobia envied by the ladies. Conan cut an imposing figure in his simple black tunic, with legs clothed in black hose and feet booted in soft, black leather…The ball began. King Conan opened it with his queen in the first complicated steps of the Aquilonian minuet.”

There is more but I can’t take it. Did I accidently fall into a Harlequin Romance novel? This sort of passage would be perfectly fine for any other fantasy novel but not for Conan. I can’t for the life of me remember Howard ever using the word minuet. The abduction of Zenobia by a wizard from across the breadth of the continent is the excuse for the story. Conan has to travel to Khitai and there is all sorts of travelogue and incidents to fill up the novel. Conan is turned into a champion of the world against sorcery. To do this is a misunderstanding of the Conan stories. There is an anarchistic quality to the original Conan stories. Turning him into a champion in a good vs. evil battle in the pastiches smacks of shoehorning the character into de Camp’s precious “saga.” The scene of Conan saying his bedtime prayer to Crom starting out as “Oh Father Crom…” is embarrasing. The lecture by Pelias stating: “We are entering a new era. Enlightenment and reason are spreading among the peoples of the West…The bonds of black magic are strained and broken by new factors brought in by the changed conditions.” is also non-Howardian.

The novel then revisits various phases in Conan’s past career. Steve Tompkins has dubbed it a “reunion tour” which is about as good a way to describe it as any. You get Conan the Zuagir chief, Conan the Vilayet pirate, Conan the Afghuli tribal leader. Nyberg even raided “Red Nails” with another reanimated dragon. This time Conan quickly dispatches the dragon with a long piece of sharp bamboo. Gone is the stark terror present in the first third of “Red Nails” when the dragon was an engine of death and more than Conan could handle. Only with the poison fruit was Conan able to dispatch the dragon. The climax of the novel is undercut by the divine intervention of Crom helping Conan to kill Yah Chieng. How about when Conan took on the Black Seers of Yimsha without divine help? A final quibble is in the last chapter. Zenobia has all of a sudden become an expert archer with a double curved Khitan bow in the past year she left the seraglio of Tarascus. It took years of practice to create the famous English long bowmen who pincushioned more than one French army during the Hundred Years War. Any bow hunter (calling Ted Nugent) will tell you a novice archer is not going to pick off cavalrymen at 200 yards at a gallop. De Camp should have caught this.

At times, the action is not bad. The episodic nature of the novel and the way it strip-mines past Howard stories diminishes action scene competency. This was the first fan Conan novel.

Posted in History, L. Sprague de Camp, Popular Culture |

The de Camp Controversy: Part 9

Posted by Morgan Holmes on 30th August 2008

L. Sprague de Camp got his cowriter in the form of Lin Carter to create new stories of Conan for the Lancer paperback series. Lin Carter had already been involved in making stories out of fragments for King Kull in 1967 and creating “The Hand of Nergal” out of an untitled Howard fragment. The first of the Carter & de Camp Conan pastiches would appear in Conan in 1968. The best analysis ever written exploring the Carter & de Camp pastiches is in Robert M. Price’s Lin Carter: A Look Behind His Imaginary Worlds (Starmont Press, 1991) in the chapter entitled “Amra the Lion Has Returned!” I followed Price’s method of analysis by reading de Camp’s historicals and The Tritonian Ring and a whole host of Lin Carter books to get an idea of what is Lin Carter and what is L. Sprague de Camp.

It was Price who divulged that Lin Carter had planned on a collection of Thongor stories to be entitled Swordsman of Lemuria after Thongor of Lemuria. Three of the story plots would be converted into Conan stories. I am unique in that going back to the Carter & de Camp Conan pastiches, I keep seeing Thongor instead of Conan. Steve Tompkins might be the only other. These stories are not quite like Thongor though. I had to devise a name for this counterfeit Conan. If you splice Conan and Thongor, you get two appropriate names. The first is Congor, which works very well. The other is Thongnan with the emphasis on the “Thong.” Brings up an image of a Carter & de Camp pastiche hero prancing around in a leather thong flaunting his butt cheeks.

The very first Carter & de Camp Congor story is “The Thing in the Crypt” which originally was to be a Thongor story. First– some gripes about the Lancer/Ace editions. What was the idea of splitting up Robert E. Howard’s essay “The Hyborian Age?” The first half is in Conan, the second half at the end of Conan the Avenger. There is no justification for this. Second–the author’s names are not listed on the first page of each story with the title. The effect is just “Conan,” not Robert E. Howard.  Was this a deliberate attempt to de-emphasize the authors and emphasis the character? Probably. Again, it goes back to inserting non-Robert E. Howard material into the books and presenting it as co-equal.  “The Thing in the Crypt” is really a short story but broken up into six min-chapters that Lin Carter was fond of doing with his shorter Thongor works. Congor is introduced to new readers running for his life from a pack of wolves. He just escaped from the Hyperboreans. Could the story have been improved by having Conan pursued by Hyperboreans and having him turn on them and spill some blood? Yes, but Carter & de Camp didn’t think of that. Conan is referred to as a stripling. REH would have never used that word. Also mentioned that Conan “had no clear ambition or plan of action.” I detect some de Campian phrasing here with “plan of action.” De Camp is also evident with an archaeological description of the tomb that Congor entered. The battle with the liche has a line, “How can you kill a thing that is already dead?” that Carter reused word for word in “Keeper of the Emerald Flame,” a Thongor story.  The whole story is based around getting this ancient sword that transforms Congor from a runaway youth into a confident warrior. Thongor carries a sword that he inherits of ancient lineage that is essential to fulfilling prophecies in Lemuria. Carter & de Camp fail to recognize that Howardian characters are badasses and that some special weapon is not what makes the character. Then after going to all this trouble, the ancient sword is never mentioned again!

The next Congor story is “The City of Skulls,” which Robert M. Price thinks is almost all Lin Carter who probably gave the title of “Chains of Shamballah.” Congor and his Kushite friend, Juma, are taken prisoner and put on a slave galley. Congor takes a beating from an overseer on the ship. Remember how long it took Conan to lead a ship revolt in “Hour of the Dragon?” Juma and Congor escape from the galley to rescue the captured Hyrkanian princess they were originally escorting and end up fighting an animated statue, which is a standard Lin Carter device. There are bits of de Camp in the story such as weapon terminology such as tulwar, Meruvian marines on the galley, and a lecture on the importance of learning other languages. The story is essentially written by Lin Carter and edited by L. Sprague de Camp. De Camp should have chucked the last sentence: “Well, I will, never, never underestimate a Cimmerian again!”

The same year brought Conan the Wanderer which included “Black Tears.” The bad prose begins early such as “leaving one as dry as the withered tongue of a Stygian mummy” but is rarer than other Carter & de Camp stories. Overall, this story may the best of the bunch and there is a reason. Lin Carter used the plot taken from Donald Wandrei’s classic “The Tree Men of M’Bwa” (Weird Tales, Feb. 1932) and adapted it for Congor. De Camp’s editing is better in general though again he should have scrubbed the last sentence: “It does a man good, once in a while to be virtuous. Even a Cimmerian!” Jeeezzz! Makes me think of the endings of the Scooby Doo cartoon.

Conan of Cimmeria brought the next batch of Congor stories in 1969. “The Curse of the Monolith” had appeared in the magazine, Worlds of Fantasy the year before as “Conan and the Cenotaph.” Like the previous stories, the plot is Lin Carter with some L. Sprague de Camp editing. Some clunker prose in this story include: “On the other hand, he secretly envied the Khitan his exquisitely cultivated manners and easy charm. This fact led Conan to resent the duke even more; for, although his Turanian service had given Conan some slight polish, he was still at heart the blunt, boorish young barbarian.” That sentence is definitely de Camp. Carter may have modelled his Duke Feng on Ernest Bramah’s Kai-Lung who Carter reprinted in the Ballantine Adult Fantasy series.

“The Lair of the Ice Worm” was supposed to be a Thongor story for The Swordsman of Lemuria set in the north. Price’s book on Carter includes a synopsis for the Congor story that is set in tropic climes instead of the far north. The original title was supposed to be “The Devil Tree” and set right after “The Snout in the Dark.” Carter includes “They have been cromping for two weeks, making violent passionate love every night, etc…she must smell delicious narcotic pooh of the odd tree…never mind if waxen pale blossoms are slowly sinking to press kisses against her flushing crimson as they drink her warm blood…Conan comes completely awake all at once, as barbarians do…his nice blond nookie is gone…in embrace of eerie smelly tree…goddam vampire tree, sets fire to jungle underbrush to kill perfume.” Nookie, goddam vampire smelly tree, narcotic pooh? Looks like Carter was not taking writing Congor stories too seriously. In the published version, who wrote “Then he grunted a course expletive?” The story has the girl being eaten by the ice worm but ends on a happy note: “But with a high heart, turning to the golden South, where shining cities lifted tall towers to a balmy sun, and where a stong man with courage and luck could win gold, wine, and soft, full-breasted women.” You could have a nuclear holocaust and a Lin Carter story would end this way.

“The Castle of Terror” is possibly the single worst Carter & de Camp story. I detect de Camp in the first two “chapters” with the descriptions of African terrain and information on how a pride of lions hunt. The story switches to Lin Carter with the serpent men castle and the hundred headed creature which is downright laughable in its description. I think Carter was shooting for having a Lovecraftian shoggoth but got there by way of August Derleth. Congor is a bystander for the most part in this story which is not Conanesque at all. This was the last of the first batch of shorter Congor stories. The same year of Conan of Cimmeria brought us the first of the Carter & de Camp Congor novels.

Posted in L. Sprague de Camp |

Living at home

Posted by Rusty Burke on 30th August 2008

I was going to let the Fenner Flap go ahead and die of exhaustion, although there were a couple other of his remarks that I believe are not merely expressions of opinion, but misunderstanding of fact. However, a poster at the REH Forum made a comment that echoes one of Fenner’s, so I feel compelled to address the issue. The Fennerism to which I refer is: “…his co-dependent relationship with his mother—a relationship that prompted him to live at home at an age when his friends were marrying and raising families—reinforced the self-destructive feelings that surfaced whenever her health deteriorated.”

Now, this business of Howard’s closeness to his mother will probably be the subject of endless debate for the foreseeable future. The notion got its start almost as soon as Bob pulled the trigger after hearing that his mother would not regain consciousness, and though I myself don’t buy into the theory that his mother’s death was the cause for his suicide, I’ll admit that those who do accept this interpretation have plenty of evidence on which to build a case. I don’t think this argument is going to resolve itself for a very long time, if ever. (Just as the debate over whether or not Poe was a raving drunk continues to roll on, and on.) So I see little to be gained in arguing the “co-dependent” point. No, it’s that middle part — the part offset by dashes — that concerns me here.

I have to wonder if Mr. Fenner has any idea how people in rural communities (or in large cities, for that matter) lived during the Depression years. Has he done any basic research on this topic, talked to people who lived through those years, read any books about it? The fact is, it was not at all unusual for unmarried men to live with their parents until they got married, and even sometimes afterward, and help out with the chores, bring in needed money, share expenses, and so on. Money was tight: who in his right mind would take on the added expense of maintaining a separate household, buying his own groceries, paying his own light bill, etc., when there was room in the family home and expenses could be shared? Many families, after their sons and daughters got married and moved out to set up their own homes, took in boarders. Some children chose to continue living with their parents even after they married, the spouse moving into the family home. Many older parents moved in with younger, married children. Families took in grandchildren, nieces and nephews, younger siblings.

The 1930 U.S. Census records for Cross Plains (which I access through Ancestry.com) show that 21 single men aged 21 or older (some well into their late 30s) were living with their parents who were “head” of the household (two with one widowed parent, the rest with both parents). By contrast, there were 26 single men (including 3 widowers and one divorced) living as roomers, boarders or lodgers in boarding houses or family homes. Only 7 single men were living in their own homes, and of those, only 2 were in their 20s — the other 5 were 50 or older. Further, only four, including a 26-year-old, were living alone, the others having boarders or family members living with them.

Thus, nearly forty percent of single men over the age of 21 living in Cross Plains in 1930 were living at home with their parents. The place was a teeming swamp of co-dependency, wasn’t it?

Further, there were 7 married men over age 21 who, along with wives and children, were living in the homes of parents who were “head” of the household, and another 7 married men living with spouse and children in the homes of their in-laws. Then there were 23 married men who were themselves “head of household” who had elderly parents or in-laws living with them.

I also identified 3 single men 21 or older living with siblings (one sibling married and two widowed, all with children).

The point, which I suppose should be emphasized again, is that living at home with one’s parents was not all that unusual in Cross Plains in the 1930s, and I’d be willing to bet that the same pattern would be found across the country, in small towns and big cities, in rural or urban regions. Economically, it simply made sense.

Howard did make one stab at living on his own, in 1929, when he moved to Brownwood for a few months, living in a rooming house. By the beginning of 1930, though, he was back at home in Cross Plains. Seems there was this stock market crash, which created some economic insecurity in the country….

Of course, there was another reason for Robert Howard to stay at home: he was his mother’s primary caregiver in her final years, and she was an increasingly sick lady. Before Mr. Fenner asks, as young Novalyne Price asked (e.g., One Who Walked Alone, p. 54), why it was Robert and not his father who cared for Hester Howard, I’ll tell him (as REH tried to tell Novalyne): Dr. Isaac M. Howard was a country doctor. His was not a town practice that allowed him to pop by the house to be sure his wife had her medicine on a particular schedule, or to be home each evening. He was gone for days at a time on rounds that covered hundreds of square miles of territory, driving a car over roads that were little more than wagon tracks. He stayed at the homes of patients or friends and ate his meals with them. In some cases, seeing a patient through a crisis might involve several days staying with them. Most folks out there didn’t have telephones, so when he was on his rounds he might be completely out of touch with his family for days at a time. Robert, on the other hand, had a job that allowed him to stay home, so he was available to make sure his mother got the attention she needed. After he got his car, he could also take the time to drive her to medical facilities in Marlin, Temple, Coleman, San Angelo and other distant towns, and was able to continue his work while she underwent treatments, since he could carry his typewriter with him. He could have gone off to Brownwood, or farther afield, and gotten an apartment, sure: but who then would have taken care of his mother? I hope Mr. Fenner never has to be the primary caregiver for an aging parent, but if he ever does, he might develop a little more appreciation for Bob Howard.

Again, there may well be reasons to believe that Robert Howard was “co-dependent” with his mother, but the fact he was living at home with his parents is not one of them.

Posted in Biography |

The de Camp Controversy: Part 8

Posted by Morgan Holmes on 23rd August 2008

While the deal with Lancer Books was in limbo due to litigation with Martin Greenberg of Gnome Press, L. Sprague de Camp’s attorney advised he write new Conan stories in order to make a better claim to the series. There was a problem– de Camp had failed to resurrect sword and sorcery fiction in the 1950s with his aborted Pusad series nor had he written any new Conan stories. As already pointed out, he was incapable of turning the synopsis of “The Drums of Tombalku” into a novel. He had other weaknesses as a writer. Brian M. Stableford wrote the entry on L. Sprague de Camp for Science Fiction Writers (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1982) edited by E. F. Bleiler:

“Converting his excellent ideas into workable stories and constructing plots in such a way as to make good use of his erudition were things that continued to cause de Camp problems throughout his career. A great many of his novels are merely episodic accounts of journeys whose protagonists encounter a series of strange situations. This weakness of plot structure and design sometimes results in a lack of dramatic tension.”

He was going to have to get a collaborator to provide story ideas. In the 1990s, de Camp mentioned in several of his letters to REHupa that he should have asked Leigh Brackett to come on board. This probably would not have worked as Brackett would not have played second fiddle to de Camp nor submit easily to his editorial dictates. She was making better money writing movie screen plays for Howard Hawks than for some bottom tier paperback house. If she was to write Conan stories, she didn’t need de Camp. De Camp was going to have to find someone more pliable. John Jakes had started writing the Brak stories in 1963 for Fantastic Stories. Jakes started in the last years of the pulp magazines and a professional writer in his own right long before this.

I had asked De Camp about Gardner Fox who had some background in sword and sorcery fiction in the 1940s in the pages of Planet Stories. He didn’t even know about Fox at the time. Enter Linwood Vrooman Carter, a fan who had written several novels before he was finally published. Carter was younger than de Camp and at heart a fan-boy. Carter got his big break during the Burroughs boom of the early and mid-60s. Donald A. Wollheim, editor at Ace Books was reprinting Otis Adelbert Kline, Ralph Milne Farley, and Ray Cummings in order to satisfy the new demand for sword and planet fiction. He also had some new novels by Gardner Fox (Warrior of Llarn), Andre Norton (Witch World), and Lin Carter. Carter’s first novel, The Wizard of Lemuria was in 1965. Carter’s main hero, Thongor, was an imitation barbarian modeled on Conan. The setting is the lost continent of Lemuria 100,000 years ago. The book has been described as a head on collision of Edgar Rice Burroughs and Robert E. Howard. There is little Robert E. Howard influence outside of the antediluvian setting and barbarian hero. Carter’s novel is pure Barsoom to the point of having flying boats present. Thongor is also more passive than Conan ever was tagging along with the elderly good wizard (a Carter staple) to defeat the ancient nefarious Dragon Kings. If you have read Edgar Rice Burroughs’ A Princess of Mars, the story in The Wizard of Lemuria will be familiar to you. The novel must have done well enough to warrant a follow up in 1966–Thongor of Lemuria.

Not everyone was impressed with Thongor. Harry Harrison had this to say about The Wizard of Lemuria in a book review for Amra #36 (September 1965):

“Take a Conan-type hero. Set him down on Barsoom; calling it, however, Lemuria. Season thickly with elements reminiscent of Amtor and other heroic locations, including a very watered-down ‘Law versus Chaos’ struggle going on behind the scenes. Strain the whole through a sieve fine enough to remove virtually all elements of (a) characterization and (b) originality….The only distinguishing feature that I am able to discern in THE WIZARD OF LEMURIA is that it is entirely derivative of other works in the genre, with no obvious originality whatsoever. Add to this the absolute lifelessness of the characters–even at his very worse (which could, admittedly, be pretty abysmal at time), Edgar Rice Burroughs never created anybody quite this wooden….He has done such an incompetent job that for a few moments there I thought he was writing a parody of swordplay-and-sorcery….Why does this book offend me? Because there is not an ounce of originality in it. The people, machines, animals, names–everything has been assembled out of an old box of Burroughs and Howard fragments….You and I have read it all before and can exact no pleasure from having the various pieces stirred together–usually at random–and served up as new stuff. Nor has it been written well. Ghu knows we have learned not to expect too much of our authors, but we do expect them to rise above cliche once in awhile. Carter never does….Since Carter doesn’t read his own copy with any attention–why should we?….There is more. There is the awful poetry that alwys seems to adorn bad fantasy. There are the ludicrous similes (Our dreaded dwark has ‘slimy saliva, reeking like an open grave.’) I suppose if there were an idiot in the story he would have a needle-pointed head….Am I being cruel? Perhaps. But Lin Carter was cruel to me. He promised me an ‘action-packed novel’ with ‘vivid sword-and-sorcery impact’ and he did not deliver. I read his book and I was not satisfied. I wish he would go away and think about what I have said, then sit down and try to write a more consistent and interesting book of his own. It will take work, but that is what he is being paid for. I enjoy reading good sword-&-sorcery, therefore I will not accept the ersatz stuff.”

Lin Carter for most of his professional career was most adept at imitating Edgar Rice Burroughs. There are sword & planet fiction fans who consider his Callisto and Green Star series as his best series. I personally don’t like them for reasons that Harrison already mentioned in that review. Another problem that would manifest itself is L. Sprague de Camp was devoid of any ability to write horror, gothic, or weird passages. Neither could Carter; the nearest you got were pastiches of August Derleth pastiching H. P. Lovecraft and thinking mentioning all sorts of doomed families, forbidden books, and elder gods was scary in of itself. Darrell Schweitzer has described Lin Carter as an insincere writer. Carter would attempt to imitate Leigh Brackett, Lord Dunsany, Clark Ashton Smith, Derleth as Lovecraft, Lester Dent. In some of his writings, you got the impression he wanted to belong to the “imaginary worlds” sort of fantasy of E. R. Eddison and William Morris. He never got the Robert E. Howard vibe going in his own fiction. In one interview he thought the Elak of Atlantis stories of Henry Kuttner were superior to Robert E. Howard. He had a fatal attraction towards humor that would further mar a significant portion of his fiction. I have always found this passage from Imaginary Worlds (Ballantine Books, 1973) to be both telling and damning when discussing Norvell Page’s Prester John/Wan Tengri: “Wan Tengri, as Hurricane John is known to his Asiatic friends and foes, differs from Conan in being a more rounded and believable character, possessed of a surprising sense of humor.” This was the man that L. Sprague de Camp had pinned his hopes and efforts on.

Posted in L. Sprague de Camp |

The Fenner Flap

Posted by Rusty Burke on 21st August 2008

Our friends over at The Cimmerian Blog have been taking Arnie Fenner to task for some less-than-laudatory comments he made in his foreword for …and their memory was a bitter tree…, the new collection of Conan stories from Tim Underwood. Fenner has stepped up and responded, but the response is as lame as the original remarks (and strikes me as rather smug).

Personally, I don’t care if Arnie Fenner doesn’t think Robert E. Howard is a great writer, because Arnie Fenner is not a person to whom I look for opinions about literature. He puts together stunningly beautiful art books (Spectrum, Icon), and may or may not know something about art, at least fantasy art and illustration. It’s pretty clear he doesn’t know much about writing.

In the foreword, he apparently said (I’m going by excerpts quoted by others), “Because, while Robert certainly was a tremendously gifted storyteller with a wholly original voice, capable of spinning an exciting yarn in first draft that could capture his reader’s imagination . . . he simply wasn’t a great writer.” Now, this is merely an opinion, and we can let it pass, though we wonder how long it will be before we can expect to stop seeing this kind of back-handed swipe at Howard in introductions by his supposed fans. Really, was the final clause actually necessary there? (Well, yes, Fenner will contend — because his point was that Howard needed an editor, badly. We’ll address that in a moment.) He could have simply left that final remark out and dropped the “Because, while”, and I daresay no one would have given the comment a second thought.

This business of trying to differentiate between a “storyteller” and a “writer” is a chump’s game. Robert E. Howard did indeed tell stories, on occasion, while sitting by a fire or on a porch of an evening or driving around in a car, keeping friends or relations enthralled. But that is not how he made his living. He made his living by writing. And by the time of his death, at the young age of 30, he was damned good at it. It is no use trying to say that Howard was just getting by on sheer storytelling gusto. Howard keeps us turning pages by the sheer power and quality of his writing, the way he put words on paper. Judging from Fenner’s short list of “great writers,” he apparently likes authors who are trying to do something more than merely entertain, writers who have something important (in his opinion) to say. It happens that many of us do believe Howard had some important things to say — about the inherently savage and violent nature of man, about the ephemerality of our “civilization,” about the need to keep at the hard work of building a civilization rather than letting ourselves slide into decadence, decline and decay — there are messages in Howard’s work that are perhaps even more important today than they were when he wrote them. As I said, though, I’m going to let Fenner’s opinion about Howard’s writing pass. I’m more inclined to accept the judgments of H.P. Lovecraft, Fritz Leiber, Karl Edward Wagner, David Drake, David Weber, and any number of other writers — people who actually know something about good writing.

But Fenner strays off into territory that I know something about — and from the realm of “opinion” to that of “fact” — when he challenges the “pure text” movement and insists that Howard needed a good editor like Farnsworth Wright.

Fenner apparently doesn’t think much of the “pure text” movement, i.e., those of us — I am probably among the most prominent, as series editor of the Wandering Star and Del Rey editions — who are intent upon presenting Howard’s work as nearly as possible as he wrote it, without editorial interference. We believe that for far too long Howard’s Conan, in particular, had been corrupted by the rewriting and pastiching of L. Sprague de Camp and others, sometimes very lightly, but sometimes in ways that worked very much to the detriment of the story, or the series. ( “The Black Stranger” was a particularly egregious example, which I covered, along with “The Frost-Giant’s Daughter,” in “De Camp vs. Howard: Rewriting Conan,” in The Fantastic Worlds of Robert E. Howard.) Simply put, we think Howard’s work should be presented the way he wrote it, with the editing consisting of no more than correcting typos or punctuation. Howard’s prose was generally sound, so there is no reason to alter it.

Fenner says, “The assumption being, of course, that REH didn’t need editing, not by Wright, de Camp, or anyone else—a questionable assertion.” A bit later he opines, “Farnsworth Wright was a good editor for Robert E. Howard…his suggestions and edits improved Robert’s work and helped him to mature as a writer.”

It’s one thing to prefer the de Camp-edited or rewritten versions of Howard stories: that’s a matter of taste. I prefer my Howard straight, rather than filtered through the sensibilities of someone whose worldview was not in synch with Howard’s. (De Camp never let an opportunity pass to extol the virtues of civilization over barbarism.) But to say that Wright’s “suggestions and edits improved Robert’s work”? This is one I’m going to have to ask him to back up with some examples.

I wonder if Mr. Fenner has actually done any textual comparisons, or read any of Patrice Louinet’s notes in the Conan volumes, or studied my text notes in the Del Rey editions? I’m guessing he has not, for if he had, he would know that Farnsworth Wright exercised an exceptionally light editorial hand. Wright’s “editing” was limited largely to accepting or rejecting a story. Some pulp editors — Jack Byrne of Fiction House (and later Argosy) and Harry Bates of the Clayton Magazines come immediately to mind — felt free to make wholesale changes to a story once they’d accepted it, or to return it with specific suggestions about what to do with it ( “I think it would be better if you had this guy here do this….” etc.). Wright, though, very rarely changed anything, at least in Howard’s work, and very rarely suggested any specific changes if he returned a story. He might quietly eliminate strong language ( “damn” and “you bastard!” being very strong language in the early ’30s) or tone down a “sexual” allusion (and of course, what they thought was pretty hot sex in the ’30s is very tame by our more decadent standards), he might change a spelling to conform to house style (he preferred “simitar” to “scimitar” for some reason), he might correct some of the same misspellings or improper punctuation that I, too, am inclined to correct, but he pretty much left Howard’s work alone. So when you read a Howard story in Weird Tales, you’re essentially reading the story the way Howard wrote it. That’s why we “pure text” types accept Weird Tales as being very nearly “pure text,” certainly the next-best-thing to Howard’s original.

Seventeen REH Conan stories appeared in Weird Tales. In the Del Rey editions, we used the Weird Tales text for eleven — or two thirds — of those stories. The stories for which we used Howard’s typescripts were: “The Scarlet Citadel” (a special case, in that Howard had retyped the story after it appeared in Weird Tales, when he wanted to include it in a collection of short stories for an English publisher); “People of the Black Circle” (an incomplete typescript, so some pages were taken from Weird Tales); “A Witch Shall Be Born”; “The Servants of Bit-Yakin” (Weird Tales title, “Jewels of Gwahlur”); “Beyond the Black River”; and “The Man-Eaters of Zamboula” (WT title, “Shadows in Zamboula”).

So, four stories that are included in …and their memory was a bitter tree… should be essentially identical to those in the Wandering Star books, and the other four will make for a good test case: I invite Mr. Fenner to compare the text from REH’s typescripts, as published in the Del Rey Conan books, with the Weird Tales text (presumably that published in Underwood’s book), and report here on specific examples that illustrate how Wright’s editing of these stories helped make Howard’s writing better.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and predict that he won’t be able to find any good examples, because they aren’t there. Wright didn’t really “edit” in the sense of changing a writer’s copy; at most, he sent a story back saying he thought it dragged somewhere, or it didn’t work for him, etc. He left it up to Howard to fix it, or not. “The Phoenix on the Sword” is a good example: we included Howard’s first submitted draft of this story in The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian, and readers can see for themselves the rewrite process at work. Wright’s letter to Howard, rejecting “The Frost-Giant’s Daughter” but asking for some changes to “The Phoenix on the Sword,” is very well-known, and Patrice quotes it almost in its entirety in “Hyborian Genesis,” page 441 of The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian. Wright said, “But THE PHOENIX OF [sic] THE SWORD has points of real excellence. I hope you will see your way clear to touch it up and resubmit it. It is the first two chapters that do not click. The story opens rather uninterestingly, it seems to me, and the reader has difficulty in orienting himself.” There you have Wright’s editorial style — he simply said where he thought the problem was, and asked Howard to try rewriting it. No specific suggestions about what to do to solve the problem. It was Howard who came up with the brilliant “Nemedian Chronicles” opening, to solve the problem of introducing readers to an exotic new world in a few broad strokes. It’s not a bad little piece of writing for an author whose style Fenner believes was “more rudimentary than lyrical.”

So far as surviving correspondence or other evidence tells us, after “Phoenix” no other Conan story was sent back to Howard for revisions. They were apparently either rejected or accepted, as submitted. So if there is any evidence in the Conan stories of Wright’s editing improving Howard’s work and helping him mature as a writer, it will show up as a difference between the original Howard text and the Weird Tales text. I urge Mr. Fenner to share with us the results of his comparisons.

I’ll briefly address one more point made by Fenner in the excerpt quoted above: that REH was “capable of spinning an exciting yarn in first draft…” Oh, it’s true, it’s true, as any number of stories published long after his death certainly prove. And among the Conan tales, “Rogues in the House” is an excellent case in point, a fine story produced in a single draft. But it seems to me that Fenner’s point in adding that “single draft” business must have been to hint that Howard was a hasty writer, that he turned in first drafts, and therefore an editor had to clean them up. However, a quick look at the lists of extant Conan typescripts, included in the appendices of each Del Rey volume, will show that “Rogues in the House” was the only Conan story produced in a single draft. Every other story went through at least two, sometimes three or more, drafts. That, it seems to me, suggests a writer at work, not just a “storyteller”.

When I first saw …and their memory was a bitter tree… announced, I wondered why we needed it. It doesn’t include all the Conan stories, only eight of them. (The announcements I’ve seen say there are nine stories. Coming Attractions (08 August 2008) says the book “contains nine essential Conan stories along with a full-length Conan novel,” while Bud Plant says it “collects nine of his most electrifying Conan adventures.” There are only eight stories in the book, according to those who’ve actually seen it. Either way, barely half the Conan series.) It isn’t a “best of Conan,” unless someone genuinely believes that “Jewels of Gwahlur,” “The Devil in Iron,” and “Shadows in the Moonlight” are better than “The Tower of the Elephant,” “Rogues in the House,” or “Beyond the Black River.” I can’t make out any particular rhyme or reason behind the selection of contents. I thought it might have been influenced by the paintings, but as a friend pointed out, three of the best Frazetta Conan paintings illustrate stories that aren’t in this book: “The Frost-Giant’s Daughter” (Conan of Cimmeria), “Rogues in the House” (Conan), and “The Scarlet Citadel” (Conan the Usurper). A few have suggested it’s supposed to be an “art book,” but heck, if it’s the Frazettas you want, why not buy Icon, edited by Arnie and Cathy Fenner and also published by Underwood, much more Frazetta bang for your bucks?

So, if Mr. Fenner cares to enlighten us about the specific editorial changes by Wright that improved Conan stories, perhaps he can also take a moment to explain to us why we need this book. Before this flapdoodle erupted, I really did want to want it, if nothing else because I’m an incurable fanboy. But I prefer to support the work of publishers who show real respect for Robert E. Howard, both as a writer and as a person. Mr. Fenner’s foreword — or those parts of it that I have seen quoted — does not.

Posted in Howard's Writing |

The Coming of KULL!

Posted by Rusty Burke on 19th August 2008

For those who want to support publishers who show respect for Robert E. Howard, good news.

Bill Schafer of Subterranean Press reports that the slipcases for their edition of Kull: Exile of Atlantis are reported to be on their way to him, and the books are finished and ready to go, so as soon as he gets the slipcases the books will start going out, possibly by the end of this week.

The books are the same size as the Wandering Star editions (6.25″ x 9.25″), smythe sewn (not glued), printed on 80# Finch Opaque paper, with the dust jackets printed on 100# enamel. The slipcases, as with the WS editions, will have artwork pasted onto them. Unlike the WS editions, the Subterraneans will have a portfolio section for the color art in the back of the book, rather than having it interspersed throughout. Bill says that would have been too expensive, and he wanted to keep the price of the books down. For the same reason, the top edges are not gilded. Anyone who has seen Subterranean’s books knows they do beautiful editions.

Justin Sweet used the opportunity of this edition to touch up a few of the color and b&w pieces. You can see samples of some of the color plates at the Subterranean Press Kull page.

Owners of the Wandering Star editions have an opportunity to get the same numbers with the Subterranean editions, but you’d better act quickly, since unclaimed numbers may be shipped, and of course at that point they’ll be irretrievable. The limited edition is selling for $150, the 50-copy leatherbound deluxe edition for $400.

The next volume will be The Best of Robert E. Howard, Volume One: Crimson Shadows, which they’ve begun work on. The specs will be the same, though Bill adds that he’s commissioned the Keegans to produce color artwork which will be exclusive to the Subterranean edition. With luck, it will be published around the end of this year, or early next.

While you’re visiting the Subterranean website, check out some of their other offerings, too. There is much that will be of interest to at least some Howard fans. Former REHupan Charles de Lint has turned in the third volume of his Collected Early Stories, Woods & Waters Wild, and I’ve got my beady little eyes on The Best of Lucius Shepard. Their online magazine, Subterranean, offers fiction by Mike Resnick, Jay Lake, Joe Lansdale and others. All in all, an impressive line-up.

Posted in Reviews, news |

The de Camp Controversy: Part 7

Posted by Morgan Holmes on 16th August 2008

L. Sprague de Camp had his paperback deal and he had books to flesh out. De Camp had already converted four Robert E. Howard stories into Conan stories a decade earlier. He drifted out of science fiction instead writing popular science books and articles and a handful of historical novels. Now he had to get back into the fantasy fiction writing game. His Pusad series had sputtered out probably due to a lack of ideas. Most of those stories were dependent on a joke at the end. There was a bit of luck when Glenn Lord tracked down a box of unpublished Robert E. Howard stories in 1966. Included were four  incomplete stories with synopses, a synopsis for another story, and one fragment.  De Camp was able to create the stories “The Drums of Tombalku,”The Snout in the Dark,” “Wolves Beyond the Border,” and “The Hall of the Dead” from these incomplete stories.

The publication of the incomplete stories, synopses, and fragment in the Del Rey editions allows any reader to contrast the old Lancer/Ace stories to the Howard source material. I can remember reading “The Drums of Tombalku” in Conan the Adventurer and thinking it was not up to par. Yet, I just read the Howard synopsis for the story in The Bloody Crown of Conan and was getting enthused. The old magic was back. Also, the synopsis for “The Drums of Tombalku” is longer than the synopsis for “The Hour of the Dragon.” That means Howard had meant for the story to be a novel. There is certainly enough going on in the synopsis for a novel in skilled hands. De Camp rushed through the story in his usual five mini-chapters. He didn’t even fully explore  the story that Howard had laid out. This could have been a complete novel, another paperback in the series but de Camp could not do it.

The original Howard synopsis for what became “The Hall of the Dead” describes Conan encountering a “monstrous being.” Reading the synopsis, I was thinking of Clark Ashton Smith’s “The Tale of Satampra Zeiros” which is a scary story. I imagine Howard had something along similar lines in mind. L. Sprague de Camp turned the “monstrous being” into a GIANT SLUG!!! Slugs are not scary unless they are eating your tomatoes. They are not carnivorous-they eat vegetables and they love burdock. This coming from someone who lectured readers on how snakes can’t ram with their snout. I used to kill big slugs in Texas with a dash of salt. Was de Camp trying to slip in some sort of joke on unsuspecting readers? Instead of getting a shoggoth or Tsothuggua, we get a mollusc that is regularly eaten in some countries. The Howard synopsis has Conan hacking apart the “monstrous being” after throwing blocks of stone on it. In the de Camp version: “A sword, Conan thought, would be of little use against such a monstrosity.” You also get de Camp’s stopping of the story to engage in a lecture. Ever the engineer, he describes the gate as having “two valves.” In another passage you get: “So meticulous had been the construction of this building, however, that close inspection was needed to show that it was not an ordinary composite stucture.” The sliderule is never far away with de Camp. This story was actually published in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction for the February 1967 issue. The magazine has a long history of being one of the most literate science fiction and fantasy magazines. Edward L. Ferman had become the editor the year before and started to publish some sword and sorcery. Anthony Boucher would have never allowed Robert E. Howard into his magazine. Ferman first published Jack Vance’s stories that became The Eyes of the Overworld and then Howard’s “For the Love of Barbara Allen” for the August 1966 issue. He would publish scattered sword and sorcery including Tanith Lee’s Cyrion during his tenure as editor. Ferman must have wanted a Robert E. Howard sword and sorcery story or a Conan story.

“Wolves Beyond the Border” has a very typical de Campian touch when he takes over. The Wizard has swamp demons in a bag that is stolen by Gault Hagar’s son. When released the demons will attack only those who are upright. The Howard synopsis has “turn their magic against them, and rout them.” Again de Camp is having fun at the expense of the story. It reminds me of his The Clocks of Iraz in which an enemy uses a tower with a clock on each wall to coordinate attacks. They are  foiled by having each clock showing a different time. Clever but not the stuff of great sword and sorcery.

The fragment that became “The Hand of Nergal” had originally been in de Camp’s hands. In the end he couldn’t write a story without a Howard synopsis to guide him. It was turned over to Lin Carter who created a story out of the fragment. The story is very typical Lin Carter with the deus ex machina climax that he was so fond of using. Conan becomes a bystander while two magic talismans battle it out. Carter claimed to have written “The Hand of Nergal” after carefully studying Robert E. Howard’s style and storytelling but the result of all that study was very Carteresque. Had the name been changed from Conan to Thongor and inserted into a Lin Carter book, no one would have noticed.

“The Snout in the Dark” is longer than “The Drums of Tombalku” even though there is less story. It also has a horrible title. There is a reason for its length. First you have a Howard draft for the first four chapters in addition to a synopsis for what would become a seven chapter novelette. Secondly, Lin Carter was brought in as an indespensible third wheel. De Camp made changes to Howard’s story. The Howard story has Diana to be presented to the King. Diana is kidnapped by Tananda. De Camp changed this in having Diana presented to Tananda. De Camp just removed an element of tension from the story. Who wrote the line “Not every shaft hits the butt?” Was it de Camp or Carter? My guess is it was Carter. “Spells and spooks” is another term in the de Camp & Carter Hall of Shame. Another line of gruesome prose is: “You cannot do anything with these people; they are as hide-bound and as thick-headed as the barbarians of my own north country–the Cimmerians and Aesir and Vanir.” Robert E. Howard would have never written a line like that. You hear of  Hollywood screenplays that get rewritten by someone other than the original author. Then that version gets rewritten by yet another all the while as it gets worse with each change. “The Snout in the Dark” reminds me of those Hollywood screenplay disaster stories.

De Camp’s efforts in fleshing out these stories are perfunctory to say the least. These stories are routine and superficial. He removed elements from Howard’s plots that weakened the stories. The end result was boring in comparison to the original Howard source material. He managed to screw up Robert E. Howard story lines. De Camp just was not cut out to be a writer of sword and sorcery. He needed a co-writer and worse was to follow.

Posted in L. Sprague de Camp |

The de Camp Controversy Part 6

Posted by Morgan Holmes on 10th August 2008

A big part of the de Camp controversy is the role of the paste up Conan stories he wrote, pastiches as they are known. These non-Robert E. Howard stories were entwined with the original material for decades. The stories themselves are polarizing but more so the concept of non-Howard fiction inserted as co-equal with the original Howard fiction. I know of some who hate all pastiches as a result of the original de Camp & Carter stories. Interestingly, pastiche defenders I have known generally evade discussing any merits or demerits of the de Camp & Carter stories. I have seen some who squeal like the proverbial stuck pig when a thread of pastiche bashing gets started. My own psychoanalysis is these people have thought of writing their own Conan story at some time and internalize any pastiche demolition as a personal attack on themselves.

L. Sprague de Camp is a strange case for moving into Howardian sword and sorcery. De Camp started in John W. Campbell’s Astounding Science Fiction in 1937 when the magazine was still Astounding Stories and Campbell was working under editor F. Orlin Tremaine. He had helped John D. Clark plot two stories that eventually ended up in Astounding. He decided to give it a try and became a regular. De Camp was writing almost as much non-fiction for the magazine as fiction from an early stage. Some of his science fiction holds up, “Living Fossil” and “Employment” remain favorites of mine. “Lest Darkness Fall” pretty much established the sub-genre of alternate history with “The Wheels of If” solidifying the field.  De Camp wrote some stories for Unknown with Fletcher Pratt about Harold Shea who travels to various fantasy worlds based on myth. De Camp would later use this series as reason for him being a pioneer of sword and sorcery with Howard, Kuttner, Leiber, Page, Moore etc. I have said in the past that de Camp was the master of the “Ribald Action Nerd Story.” Another term I have invented for Harold Shea is “Sword and Sliderule.” I personally hate these stories. They don’t hold up well, the humor is dated and I wonder if they were funny even for the time (early 1940s). More often than not, the stories are boring. Most of de Camp’s fantasy from Unknown lies unreprinted today. “Solomon’s Stone,” “The Undesired Princess,” “The Stolen Dormouse” have not been reprinted in close to 45 years. Guess no one is interested in reading them. Humor was the De Camp hallmark and the distinguishing feature of his fiction to this day. A word that pops up repeatedly to describe de Camp’s fiction is silly or “silliness to it all.”

De Camp himself stopped writing while serving in the Navy in Philadelphia in WWII.  He slowly began producing in 1946 after a three year absence from fiction writing. Perhaps an indication of the future was his creation of his Viagens/Krishna series. De Camp thought Brazil would be the dominant nation of the future (did he ever get that one wrong) and Portuguese would replace English as the lingua franca of Earth (wrong again). He created a planet called Krishna that was his attempt at writing sword and planet but without Burroughs’ “lapses of logic.” “A Queen of Zamba” (Astounding Science Fiction, 1949) was the first novel in this series. A typical Krishna story is an accountant has to go to Krishna to find somebody thought lost. Earthmen have to disguise themselves as a native who are at a pre-industrial level of technology.

It was right after the start of the Viagens/Krishna series that he discovered Conan. He liked the idea of sword and sorcery so much he created his own Hyborian Age called Pusad. Set in a prehistoric time with a portion of Atlantis still afloat (Pusad) with a panoply of various kingdoms, tribes, and nations. “The Eye of Tandyla” (Fantastic Adventures, May 1951) was the first. It is the typical humorous de Camp fantasy that you see throughout his career. De Camp used the skeleton of Hour of the Dragon for “The Tritonian Ring” (Two Complete Science-Adventure Books, Win. 1951). This could possibly be de Camp’s best novel. I remember when I read it I couldn’t put it down. Unfortunately, the rest of the Pusad stories just don’t hold up. “The Owl and the Ape” (Imagination, Nov. 1951), “The Stronger Spell” (Fantasy Fiction, Nov. 1953), “The Hungry Hercynian” (Universe, Dec. 1953), and “Ka the Appalling” (Fantastic Universe, Aug. 1958) all depend on a joke at the end of the story. Three of the stories feature Gezun of Lorsk who is an oaf and a boor. During this time de Camp was writing more non-fiction for magazines than fiction. The Pusad series petered out pretty quick showing de Camp couldn’t keep up any momentum of his own creation.

The next stage was converting some unpublished Robert E. Howard adventure stories into Conan stories for Tales of Conan (Gnome Press, 1955). In this case, de Camp was boxed in by having to follow Howard’s storyline and couldn’t change the stories too radically.  A close reading of them will reveal some problems. “Hawks Over Shem” has action taking place in a Shemite city-state. There is mention of a “square of Adonis” which jars the reader who is aware that Adonis is Greek and really doesn’t belong. Couldn’t a “square of Melkart” have sufficed which is of Semitic origin? In “The Road of the Eagles,” he has a Yuetshi exclaiming “Khosatrel Khel!” You can almost see the character slapping his knee and toothless gums flapping in the breeze. Talk about breaking the mounting tension in the original Howard cossack story.

De Camp moved out of science fiction and fantasy fiction completely by 1959 writing only some non-fiction sporadically for science fiction magazines during the late fifties and early 60s. De Camp had a fairly successful period of writing historical adventures, all set just before or during Hellenistic period. The discovery of sword and sorcery may have spurred de Camp into writing something in that he had a degree of competence. An Elephant for Aristotle (1958), The Bronze God of Rhodes (1960), The Dragon of the Ishtar Gate (1961), The Arrows of Hercules (1965), and The Golden Wind (1969) may be among the best things he ever wrote. Elephant and Dragon are my two personal favorites and also the two most heroic. This was the closest that L. Sprague de Camp ever got to writing straight sword and sorcery without a co-writer. Leon of Atrax (Elephant) and Bessas of Zariaspa (Dragon) are heroic characters. A characteristic of de Camp’s fiction is to poke fun at his heroes. This is almost not present in An Elephant for Aristotle but mildly present with The Dragon of the Ishtar Gate. These novels play to de Camp’s strengths as a writer with the ancient history, architecture, science, zoology, political machinations etc. De Camp’s style is straight forward, not poetic, but perfectly serviceable. His last two novels have increasing cynicism and lack the heroic element of the first three. I think de Camp felt comfortable writing about this period with its Greek adventurers discovering the first elements of science. You would never have him writing a novel set in Dark Ages Europe. These are the novels I send people to if they are looking to discover de Camp. If there is a literary reputation for posterity, these novels are at the core.

If someone had predicted in 1948 that L. Sprague de Camp would morph into the writer of the new adventures of Conan–no one would have believed him. There is nothing in de Camp’s fiction output up until “The Eye of Tandyla” and “The Tritonian Ring” to indicate this radical new direction. It would be like having Isaac Asimov all of a sudden deciding to write Elak of Atlantis stories after Henry Kuttner died. If someone familiar with the field would have been asked to produce a list of writers who could have taken up the mantle of Conan, I doubt de Camp would have been in it. Bryce Walton, Frederic Arnold Kummer, Jr., Norvell W. Page, Leigh Brackett all come to mind as being closer to Robert E. Howard in content and outlook. P. Schuyler Miller would have been higher up the list than de Camp. Miller had written the letter to Howard including a map of the Hyborian Age and chronology of Conan’s career in 1936. Miller himself was no slouch as a writer producing blood and thunder cave-man genocidal warfare in “People of the Arrow” (Amazing Stories). A few years later, Miller co-wrote “Genus Homo” with L. Sprague de Camp. It is unusual to have an established writer switch gears like this. I will leave it to others to speculate on the motive.

Posted in L. Sprague de Camp |

Watch Out or Sprague Just Might Psychoanalyze You

Posted by Morgan Holmes on 4th August 2008

I had some inquiries regarding the L. Sprague de Camp letter to REHupa that included a psychoanalysis of de Camp non-admirers. Here it is, Sept 8, 1991:

“We have had visitors, one of whom, Dr. Lynne Hazard, is a first-cousin-once-removed-in-law.  A consulting psychologist, she looks as lady scientists do in stories but rarely in real life: tall, blond, and gorgeous.

I asked her about a psychological curiosum I have often met in my biographical work on Lovecraft and Howard. Why should a grown man form so intense an emotional tie to another, whom he never knew personally and who in fact died before he was born, that if anyone says anything about his idol that does not present his hero in a wholly saintly and heroic light, the admirer is furiously resentful, takes the statement as a personal affront that he is duty bound to avenge, and spends years trying to ‘get even’ with the author of the statement? Since the resentful one never knew his idol, his infatuation is not with the real man but only with his mental image he has built up from what he has heard or read.

Dr. Hazard said yes, she had met such obsessions. She said the worshipful follower was usually conscious of a ‘void’ within himself. This might be a lack of some quality he desired, or an egregious failure in business, trade, profession, or personal relationships. So the follower identifies himself with his adoree and cannot admit that his hero has any flaws, like those of other human beings, whatever, since that means confessing his own short-comings.

I won’t apply this diagnose to any present or former fellow REHUPANs, but others may if they wish.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would think someone had written a caricature of de Camp like the semi-famous “Blond Negroes and Noble Cabbages” passed around at a science fiction convention in the late 1970s.

Posted in L. Sprague de Camp |

The de Camp Controversy Part 5

Posted by Morgan Holmes on 3rd August 2008

One of the most infuriating aspects of L. Sprague de Camp to some people is de Camp’s indulgence in posthumous psychoanalysis. An examination of de Camp’s writing on Robert E. Howard uncovers a habit going back almost to de Camp’s discovery of Howard.

De Camp’s introduction to King Conan (Gnome Press 1953) includes the tale of de Camp going over to Oscar J. Friend’s apartment and meeting Harold Preece: “Preece told me how frustrating Howard had found life in Cross Plains, Texas; how he could never get very far away because he supported his parents by his writing and because his mother had kept him too closely tied to her apron-strings. This excessively close relationship proved fatal to Howard. Preece echoed my own thoughts: ‘If he’d only gotten away. If he’d only gone out with girls the way the other boys did’.” De Camp also included the line: “And, without doubt, Howard was a psychological case-study. Howard suffered from delusions of persecution, and his end constituted a classic case of Oedipus complex.” De Camp included this line in The Science Fiction Handbook in 1953 also. So right off, de Camp is figuratively peeing in the swimming pool.

In 1963 with Swords & Sorcery, the first of the sword and sorcery fiction anthologies include the line “Although a big, powerful man like his heroes, he suffered delusions of persecution and killed himself in an excess of emotion over his aged mother’s death.” He did the same thing with the introduction to the H. P. Lovecraft story (“The Doom That Came to Sarnath.): “He dwelt with two aged aunts, seldom ventured abroad save at night, and indulged in many obsessions and affectations.” The other dead writer, Lord Dunsany, on the other hand is described as “the kind of lord than many people would like to be if they had the chance. He was 6’4″ tall, and a sportsman, soldier, traveler, and a man of letters, with a grand gift of poetic speech.”

The Spell of Seven in 1965 repeats the formula as Mark Finn has pointed out in a previous post. It is here the infamous “Maladjusted to the point of psychosis” line is trotted out. That line was reused in 1967 with Conan (Lancer, 1967). I am in the medical field and a comment of this nature is called “editorializing.” If you were to say this about someone living, you would probably get sued. My Legal Encyclopedia and Dictionary describes libel as: “Any malicious defamation expressed in printing or writing and intended to blacken the memory of one who is dead or the reputation of one who is living and expose him to public hatred, contempt, or ridicule is a libel.” A good attorney could probably make a case of libel in this instance.

Conan also included the oft repeated line by de Camp: “His personality was introverted, unconventional, moody, and hot-tempered given to emotional extremes and violent likes and dislikes.”

An essay entitled “Conan’s Ghost” (The Conan Grimoire, Mirage Press, 1968) recycles introverted personality line and also an inadvertently funny line from Alan Nourse, M.D.: “That sleep-walking alone indicates a profoundly neurotic personality,” “probably hysteric and hyper-suggestible. It’s obvious that here was a fellow who wasn’t wired up just right in the matter of sex.”

“The Miscast Barbarian” (Literary Swordsmen and Sorcerers, Arkham House, 1976) is a splicing of “Memories of R.E.H” (Amra, Vol II, #38) and “Skald in the Post Oaks” (Fantastic, Oct. 1972) and recycles previous comments. De Camp paraphrases himself: “It seems obvious that the dominating factor in Howard’s life was his devotion to his mother, which answers to the textbook descriptions of the Oedipus complex.” With incredible hubris de Camp then denies doing what he just did:  “We must bear in mind, however, that posthumous psychoanalysis is at best a jejune form of speculation.” Let us not forget the line– “It is plain he was not a well-balanced human being.”

Dark Valley Destiny (Bluejay Books 1983) does not show anything in the way of growth of understanding of Robert E. Howard by L. Sprague de Camp. You don’t get the “maladjusted to the point of psychosis” line but plenty of lines similar in tone. Here is a montage: “Robert’s many lapses into phantasy in order to liquidate discomfort….Together these elements nurtured the violent phantasies of a youthful writer who never learned to cope with reality….Much more real to Robert Howard were the demons and goblins from the depths of hell, the strange and evil creatures from other worlds, and the hate-filled, unregenerate humanity…“the larcenous oil men, the prostitutes, and the witches who passed as fellow mortals along the streets of Cross Plains….Conversely, girls were not likely to be fascinated by Robert. His repute as the town eccentric, his unconventional views, and his spells of misanthropy and moroseness made him unattractive to the local girls…. Her son’s pathological dependence on her.”

L. Sprague de Camp was an engineer by education, not a psychologist, not a psychiatrist. The big question is why did he engage continuously in dressing up his writing with faux psychology? Some have attributed sinister motives. Examing de Camp’s writings on other authors, there is a pattern. If the writer was alive, you got a pass. If you were dead, the psychoanalysis would creep in. The more de Camp wrote on a subject, the more psychoanalysis. He engaged in it with the Lovecraft biography. S. T. Joshi wrote in his H.P. Lovecraft: A Life (Necronomicon Press, 1996: “Whenever de Camp encounters some facet of Lovecraft’s personality that he cannot understand or does not share, he immediately undertakes a kind of half-baked posthumous psychoanalysis. Hence refers to Lovecraft’s sensitivity to place as ‘topomania’–as if no one could be attached to the physical tokens of his birthplace without being considered neurotic…He was out of his depth: and this makes his schoolmasterly chiding of Lovecraft all the more galling…these value judgements were arrived at through inadequate understanding and false perspective.” You could take out Lovecraft’s name in that passage and insert Howard’s and be correct.

De Camp does it to Henry Kuttner in “Conan’s Compeers”: “A mature writer, however, assimilates these influences, so that his writings no longer betrays imitation. Kuttner never reached this stage. This fact, together with his lavish use of pen names, suggests a deeply-rooted lack of self-confidence.” After Lin Carter died, de Camp started the comments about Lin Carter saying he never grew up.  In the early nineties, de Camp was even asking the opinion of a psychologist when describing some de Camp non-admirers in REHupa. He then published the doctor’s opinion in one of his letters of one of the mailings.

I think at the end of the day, de Camp used the psychological mumbo-jumbo to give a patina of authority to his opinions. For whatever reason, he could not just give his opinion and leave it at that, he had to dress it up with pseudo-scientific sounding language as a defense mechanism. I would never think of trying to diagnose a condition of someone dead based on subjective comments given to me by other people. Interestingly, Karl Edward Wagner was a Medical Doctor who did his residency in psychiatry. If anyone could have waded into this area, it was him. His forewords and afterwords for the Berkley Conan books have not a word of psycho-babble.

I was looking over the John D. Clarke, P. Schuyler Miller, and Lin Carter introductions to Gnome Press and Lancer Conan books. There are none of the judgments rendered found in the de Camp introductions. Lin Carter, effusive idiot that he was, was giddy in his appreciation of Howard.

In going over his writings on Robert E. Howard the person, de Camp does not come off as a person capable of much sympathy for others. I deal all the time with family members who are caretakers of failing elderly parents. I have seen the exhaustion and frustration in dealing with a situation that is only going to get worse. Often caretakers have depression after the death of the parent. All that work ultimately does not alter the final outcome, it just makes the passing easier. Robert E. Howard was a caretaker.  Whereas L. Sprague de Camp sees an Oedipus complex and being tied to his mother’s apron strings, I see somebody with a sense of responsibility to take care of a chronically ill parent while at the same time working to bring in money to support the family. That is a hard thing to keep up for years. I have seen it wreck the health of people. It probably never entered de Camp’s mind to talk to people who work in hospice to get an idea of dealing with terminal illness. He was more interested in psychological spot comments to back up his judgments. There is a consistency in print by de Camp from 1953-1983. It was once said of the Bourbons of France that they forgot nothing and refused to learn anything, the situation is similar here.

I happened to notice when looking over the list of people that de Camp thanks in the introduction to Dark Valley Destiny for help included Richard Lupoff. In Lupoff’s The Great American Paperback, he wrote one of the most offensive spot comments on Robert E. Howard I have ever read using the psychotic crazy man description. Those are the results when de Camp’s judgements seep out into popular culture.

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