It
is amusing, with all the years of disdain heaped on Howard’s style
by snobby critics, to see writer after writer fail at imitating it.
Poul Anderson is certainly the most celebrated writer to ever take up
a pen and write a Conan novel. One of the luminaries of the Golden
Age of SF, Anderson won seven Hugos and three Nebulas in his
lifetime, along with a SFWA Grand Master award and a slew of
lesser-known accolades. I expected something interesting, at least,
but this book is a terrible chore to have to wade through.
Conan
the Rebel delves into one of the more interesting periods of
Conan’s life – when he sailed with Belit, the deadly Queen of the
Black Coast. The original story is divided into two parts, and a lot
of action is elided and alluded to, but not shown in between them, so
there is a place for a broader tale. I only wish it did any kind of
justice to the material at hand.
Concerned
primarily with a rebellion in Stygia, the book is atrociously slow to
start, spending the first three chapters doing little but show us
scenes of characters talking to each other. The story opens with the
villain, the Stygian wizard Tothapis, having a vision sent by Set
that he has to stop Conan, and then we spend a lot of time with him
talking to other Stygians about what that might mean. Then we get a
whole chapter where Belit fills in her backstory, which we didn’t
need.
The
characterization of Conan is all right here, not really accurate, but
not as bad as Offutt usually made him. The characterization of
Belit, however, is fatally off. In the original “Queen of the
Black Coast”, Belit is depicted as a woman who was really more than
a little insane. A blood-hungry madwoman who commanded her warship
in the nude and took no prisoners, evoking a superstitious awe from
her crew. She was also the one real love of Conan’s life in the
canon, and he never loved again after her death.
This
Belit is far too well-adjusted and chatty, but that doesn’t matter
as much, because if you thought this book would be Conan and Belit
carving a path across Stygia, you would be wrong. Instead Belit gets
left behind on her ship and we don’t even see her again until the
end, all while Conan makes goo-goo eyes at a young chief’s daughter
who we have never met before. It is a sad waste of one of Howard’s
great characters, and yet another silly attempt to make Conan Fall In
Love with the damsel of the week. It’s even less explicable
because his one great love interest is right there.
The
plot is a muddled tangle on nonsense where Conan is supposed to go
and get a sacred axe of Mitra to use against the Stygians, and there
are express elements of divine intervention which do not fit the
Conan universe at all. Gods, like magic, are never present as real,
tangible deities in Howard’s fiction, they are often spirits or
monsters who are worshiped as gods, but are not anything of the sort.
The quest for the axe plotline is a standard, high fantasy trope,
and it doesn’t fit Conan at all.
Anderson’s
prose is perfectly good, but he lacks any lightness or sense of
adventure. The plot slogs along at a deathly slow pace, and it seems
much, much longer than its 75,000 word length. The characterization
of the hero is weak, and he spends a lot of time bantering with his
band of scrappy misfits and being rescued from things the real Conan
could have handled himself. All of these early pastiche writers
completely lacked the sense of Conan’s primal, savage vitality and
iron will. Conan won many battles just because he refused to give
in, because he could endure pain and hardship no civilized man could
withstand, and because his willpower enabled him to overcome sorcery
and treachery.
None
of that is in evidence here, and while I was expecting this one to be
a bit better than the standard pastiche, it is really much, much
worse. A dull, dragging bore of a book.
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