Dear Internet,
Now, I
am as much of a fan of fantasy stories as the next person down the line. Stories of exiled and kidnapped kings, elven
folk parading across the forest, dwarves smelting alloys lost to the knowledge
of man, and magic being used at the risk of the life, or very soul, of the user
are tales that capture not only my own imagination but also those of many
others. There is something wonderful
about a narrative that goes far into the depths of human wonder while going far
off into the realms of the impossible. A
fantasy story, specifically the kind that need to create another world to be
told, must remember not to weigh the reader's thoughts down but also remember
to allow for some imagination to occur naturally from the information put
forth. But what does this have to do
with "The Worm Ouroboros" you ask?
Well, I may be getting ahead of myself.
I came
across this book in the most shameful way possible. I was pulled in by a praising quote printed on
the cover. I know, I know. Being taken in by one of the cheapest tricks
out there is a terribly pathetic excuse to reading a book. For this, I should perhaps lose my critic license. Thankfully, my critic license is already
overdue for a renewal after having not blasted any piece of work as being "a
detriment to society" for some time, so it does not matter much. The only thing that I can offer in my defense
is that the cover quote is from J.R.R. Tolkien, and he says "[T]he
greatest and most convincing writer of 'invented worlds' that I have
read." Hopefully, Internet, you can
understand why my curiosity was piqued from such a quote. It did not help my curiosity at all that the
back cover had even less to say about the book's content, instead chronicling more
of the book's influences than its actual plot.
With that being said, let me try and fill in some of the holes that the
cover leaves open like potholes in a back-street.
"The
Worm Ouroboros" tells of the four lords of Demonland and the kingdoms
around them. The lords Juss, Goldry
Bluszco, Spitfire, and Brandoch Daha rule their kingdom of men peacefully after
having finally put the final sword to the Ghouls, a race that had razed the
land time and time before. During the
celebration of the birthday of Lord Juss, an ambassador from Witchland requests
an audience with the court. The lords
allow the audience and welcome the ambassador in. Once in, he delivers a message from the king
of Witchland, Gorice XI. The message
dictates that the lords of Demonland swear allegiance to Gorice XI before the
world and that the realm of Demonland belongs to Gorice XI. Naturally, the rulers of Demonland are
furious at this proclamation of subjugation.
They in turn give a message to the ambassador. They challenge Gorice to a wrestling match
with Lord Goldry being the representative of Demonland. The winner would determine if a war should
break out between the two kingdoms. What
occurs during the match and the events following lead to a conflict that splits
the land apart.
The
book has got a few things going for itself right out of the introduction. First and foremost is the book's
language. Having been written almost one
hundred years ago, the novel is going to instantly separate itself away from modern
works or even modern speech. A good
number of the words contained here are no longer spelled in the same
manner. The use of "wrastling"
made me do a few double takes at first and made me wonder if the book was
written a few years ago in Alabama rather than in England in 1922. Written tics aside, there is still an
eloquent use of language here. The manners
that the individuals speak reflect the fantastical setting that the book sets
forth. But the book takes one step more
than just interjecting a few "doth"s and "thine"s. A number of lyrical breaks made by the
characters reciting poetry or song are written more in the manner of Chaucer than
in Shakespeare. It can be a bit subtle,
but the impact is there with the much older spellings and usage.
The
language of the novel goes further with the settings and their
descriptions. The halls of kings are not
the straw huts that house peasants. Flawless
marble, amethyst, jasper, pearl, and many other materials decorate the walls
and ceilings. Pillars of stone seem to
make the ceiling as high as the sky while stone sculptures hold aloft support
beams upon their backs. The clothes that
decorate the characters are not of low leather or tin melt plates. They are elaborate gold stitch works that
reflect the person's standing within the kingdom. The book is not afraid to describe such
rarities or even let them be. Too many
works, even fantasy genre ones, attempt to paint a drab picture where the
ruling class have no wealth, no color, no beauty, and are as dirty as goats. While I do not wish to attempt to discredit
such a view, which is best left to historians to squabble about like
stockbrokers, I will say one thing about such a written portrayal. It is drab.
It is the kind of drab where the lack of luster ends up affecting any
sort of extravagance that the plot wishes to showcase. If you make a drab world with no glimmer of
glamour, you make a drab story. It is
perhaps one of those Modernist inventions that try and trick the reader into
thinking they enjoyed the work when they clearly did not.
I shall
leave you with this small letter for now, Internet. I hope to write to you again, soon.
Yours in digital,
BeepBoop
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