Realms of Fantasy, February 2008

There’s a fine assortment of stories in the February 2008 issue of Realms of Fantasy, as usual, some that I found more appealing than others, but all of them offering food for thought as well as entertainment. All of them touch, in one way or another, on very current themes, including war, terrorism, and intolerance.

Gulliver’s Travels meets The Communist Manifesto, with a bow to The Wealth of Nations. Welcome to “The People’s Republic of the Edelweiss Village Putt-Putt Golf Course” by M.K. Hobson.

I thoroughly enjoyed this story. In the best traditions of Jonathan Swift et al., Hobson shifts so smoothly and matter-of-factly from the prosaic real world into the most outrageous adventures, that it all seems totally believable. Consider this a political history and philosophy lesson in miniature, with comic relief provided by the golf-obsessed Mrs. Mielcarz.

When a bevy of little people straight out of a miniature medieval court take over the castle at the miniature golf course, manager and maintenance man, Jeremy Schutz, is fascinated and delighted. He begins leaving gifts, eventually gaining the trust of the lovely little Princess Koriander. Unfortunately, Jeremy’s girlfriend, Becky, is the owner of the golf course and a flaming revolutionary. Once Becky discovers the little people and decides to “educate” them, things get very exciting indeed. Becky fosters a bloody revolution and sets up a totalitarian regime; Jeremy counters by teaching the government-in-exile the workings of capitalism.

Jeremy seems an unlikely hero. He begins as a total Caspar Milquetoast, develops a spine somewhere along the line, but never quite succeeds in breaking out of the mold. Becky begins as a tyrant and simply becomes more and more unreasonable, inevitably going the way of all tyrants. As for Koriander, would that all rulers were as magnanimous and skilled in diplomacy as the little princess-turned-queen, although she displays her ruthless side as well.

Warning: “Blood and Oil” by Josh Rountree is not only gory, but has a well-developed “yuck!” factor. Richard the Remade, the Unman, leads his army of clockwork or semi-mechanical warriors and beasts against the Flesh King, Simon Hollowmander. Each considers the other an abomination. Richard has allowed the Tinker King to remake him as a mechanical-human hybrid and is now about the Tinker King’s business. Simon, Richard’s father, who supposedly holds life sacred and is repulsed by the mechanical imitation of life, has foregone all his principles for the sake of the battle; he fills out his army with reanimated corpses and murders his closest friends and advisors so he can drink their blood to power his magic. Will Richard succeed in killing his father, or does he have something even more extreme in mind? And, to quote Southey’s comment on war, “What good came of it at last?”

In the battle between technology and magic, neither side looks very appealing. Their motivations are unclear, and I was left wondering whether the good guys or the bad guys had won—or whether it would have made any difference to the general population. Wars are ugly business at best, and this one is no exception.

I found “The King of the Djinn” by Benjamin Rosenbaum to be strangely disturbing. It left me with a feeling of unease that I couldn’t quite pin down. Is it preaching the futility of life, or of religion, or the inevitability of terrorist activities, or…I couldn’t really reach a conclusion; you’ll have to make up your own mind. I’ll say only that the writing is compelling and thought-provoking, even if I didn’t care for the way it played out.

In it, Musa is a highly spiritual man, one who prizes the solitude which allows him to pray without ceasing. He credits his friend, the strange man he thinks of as “The King of the Djinn,” for steering him toward a simple but spiritually rewarding life. But Musa’s friend turns out to be less than friendly, betraying his trust in the worst possible way. Perhaps the “djinn” is really Satan or one of his minions?

“Hobnoblin Blues” by Elizabeth Bear presents the god Loki, expelled by the Aesir, in the guise of a hard-drinking, drug-abusing, bisexual pop idol/rock star. Like most public figures of that sort, he has a band of loyal followers who seem to love him in spite of himself. The public, of course, is more fickle, ranging from one extreme to the other.

The story is told in snippets of interviews and news articles, interspersed with a second person narration in which “you” is Robbin Howard “Hobnoblin” Just, Loki’s closest companion and fellow musician who gave up immortality to stand by his friend in exile. Surprisingly, the odd presentation works very well. Perhaps we’re accustomed to reading about celebrities in just such a jumbled form. Perhaps, in addition, we’re all incurably curious and fascinated by the doings of the rich and decadent, however bizarre. Despite being repelled by the actions and lifestyle of this self-appointed messenger to mankind, I found myself unable to stop reading.

And the message, the Truth with a capital “T” that Loki brings to mankind? Question authority, do your own thing, and let others do theirs. Sounds rather ’60s. Not quite what one would expect from the infamous trickster, but maybe becoming mortal has a mellowing affect. He certainly has a novel way of getting humanity’s attention.

I do like happy, or at least hopeful, endings, so this next one has to contend with the golf course fantasy for the position of my personal favorite in this issue.

It’s forbidden to give the sacraments to an animal. But what about a shape-shifter? In “And Spare Not the Flock” by Margaret Ronald, priest Cormac has lost his church because he gave last rites to an old woman who was wearing the form of a wolf. Was he right to do so? Cormac isn’t sure himself, nor is his bishop, but his parish have turned their backs on him, and the bishop avoids a decision by sending Cormac to Rome for the Pope to decide. Cormac is devastated by the loss of his flock, but he knows in his heart that he couldn’t have refused the old woman’s need.

It’s a long and perilous journey to Rome for a man traveling alone and on foot; from the bishop’s viewpoint, the problem may resolve itself, as the likelihood of Cormac’s returning, with or without the Pope’s blessing, is slim. But perhaps the problem will work itself out differently than expected.

On his journey, Cormac is followed and eventually befriended by the young wolf/woman who had led him to the dying old woman in the first place. Gradually, he comes to understand that she is as human as he is, and she learns to trust him. He tells her stories: ancient tales learned from his grandmother, and parables from the Bible. There are others like her, she tells him. Others who would listen to his stories. But would they trust him? And what would the bishop think?

In my humble opinion, Cormac embodies the essence of Christianity, far more so than those who presumed to judge his actions or condemn his new companions. Kudos to Ronald for showing us a real man of faith, who perseveres in doing what he believes is right, despite personal danger and his own doubts.

It’s an old story: the little country that gets repeatedly conquered by its big, greedy neighbor but survives to rebel and be reconquered, and so on. “The Singers in the Tower” by Peni R. Griffin has an added feature or two: a ghostly curse and a bit of seamstress’ solstice magic. I especially liked Sheldra, who minds her own business and does her best to avoid being drawn into the insanity that masquerades as patriotism.

Three hundred years ago, King Ramil of Notrone led the uprising. King Ventnor, who had already captured Notrone for Rollin, tired of having to conquer the little kingdom over and over, locked Ramil and a few companions in a tower instead of killing him. He tried by all means fair and foul to learn the location of Hidden Valley where the Shrewish royal family hid and waited for their next chance to recover Notrone. The prisoners resisted his efforts and spent their time singing patriotic songs. Ten years later, when Ramil’s oldest son, Shimar, led the rebellion, more captives were added to the tower. The singing continued, and when an escape was thwarted, Ventnor bricked up the openings and left them there, saying “Sing till you die, for all I care—you won’t get out until ropes are made of sea fog.” Whether the curse was intentional or accidental, the singing continued “all day and all night, night after night, long after they died of thirst and hunger, and winter cold.”

And now, after all these years of back and forth, Rollin again holds Notrone, but Shrews are tolerated, if ill-treated, by the “Rollies.” Sheldra and her brother, Ranu, have come to Crownport so that Ranu can attend the university. Sheldra supports him as a seamstress and does her best to convince him to forget patriotism, ignore insults, and tend to his studies. But Ranu, a mathematician with his head in the clouds, still manages to set off another rebellion, and all the local Shrews are either anxious to escape or eager to join the fray—all except Sheldra, who has had enough of it all, and chooses another path. Perhaps we need more Sheldras in this world.