Short Take: Robert E. Howard, "The Pool of the Black One"

Robert E. Howard's "The Pool of the Black One," starring his Conan the Barbarian anti-hero, is the tenth of the "Conan" stories to be written, and the sixth to be published. It first appeared in the October 1933 issue of Weird Tales (cover at right). In keeping with the Conan stories that preceded it, there's no overlap with the earlier material. Some continuity between the stories would be welcome. If nothing else, it might have staved off the lapsing into formula that mars this piece. As in "Queen of the Black Coast" and "Iron Shadows in the Moon," a solitary Conan once again falls in with some pirates, and while accompanied by a lust-inspiring woman, investigates an apparently abandoned ancient temple or city. They confront a supernatural threat there, and the story ends with Conan on a boat, embarking on a future as a pirate king. One also sees Howard's apparent rule for keeping the main female character alive at the end. If she and Conan have had sex at some point in the story, she will not survive. But if he hasn't tumbled her, she will live, and Howard will titillate the reader with the prospect of the two's coupling after the story's end. The main distinction of "The Pool of the Black One" is that Howard goes further than he has before in portraying Conan as an amoral, opportunistic killer. The character has always left a body count in his wake, but this time he's a calculating, might-makes-right assassin. It's something of a shock to see an ostensibly heroic protagonist engaging in cold-blooded murder. The supernatural enemy in this episode also sets it somewhat apart. There are unambiguously racist overtones in Howard's depiction, and the spectacle gets one thinking about the role paranoia plays in colonialist evils: when confronted with the other, one rationalizes slaughter and enslavement out of fear it will be one's fate if one doesn't do it first. A reader won't think for a moment that such implications were intended--Howard is the last writer one would consider philosophical--but such anxieties do seem at the heart of the story's climactic violence. But with all that said, the piece is a reasonably entertaining page-turner, especially if one hasn't read a Conan adventure before.

Short Take: Robert E. Howard, "Xuthal of the Dusk"

"Xuthal of the Dusk" was first published under the title "The Slithering Shadow" in the September 1933 issue of Weird Tales (cover at left). It is the ninth story Robert E. Howard wrote featuring Conan the Barbarian, and the fifth to see publication. Fahfrd and the Grey Mouser author Fritz Leiber hated it, but others may find it among the more compelling of the Conan stories. It's a particularly lurid piece. In addition to the standard violence of the fight scenes, as well as some bits in the vein of Lovecraftian mythos horror, the story has a strong and at times perverse sexual edge. It opens with Conan and a slave-girl named Natala walking in desperation through the desert. They are out of water, and as Conan prepares to kill Natala as an act of mercy, they see a city in the distance. Once inside the gates, the two find there are no people about, and they eventually learn why. The citizenry have all the food and drink they could want, and they spend most of their time indoors intoxicated from eating the lotuses found in the city's pits. The great downside of life in the city is that it is the stalking ground of a Lovecraftian demon that preys on those who cross its path. Howard does a fine job of maintaining the story's suspense. In the opening section, he effectively dramatizes Conan and Natala's predicament, and he maintains a sense of urgency as they search for water and food in the city. Once that is resolved, he ably shifts the story's tension to the terror of becoming the demon's victim, and then to Conan and Natala's determination to flee the city. But what stands out the most is the story's rather overt handling of sex: an intoxicated townsfellow's vocal lust for Natala; the mutual desire Conan and a woman encountered in the city have for each other; and the eyebrow-raising scene where one sexy woman punishes another with a multi-corded whip. Howard not only has a taste for sex and violence; he's fascinated by bondage and domination, too. One may find that the Conan stories with the strongest sexual material are the most intriguing; it's interesting to see just how off the beaten path Howard can get. "Xuthal of the Dusk" joins "Queen of the Black Coast" as a key story in that canon.

Short Take: "Black Colossus," Robert E. Howard

This review was originally published on Pol Culture.

The June 1933 issue of Weird Tales (pictured) featured Robert E. Howard's "Black Colossus." It was the seventh story he wrote featuring his Conan the Barbarian hero, and the fourth to be published. It's a stunning piece of sex-and-violence, sword-and-sorcery pulp adventure. The opening scene owes a good deal to H. P. Lovecraft's work: the desolate landscape, the otherworldly ruins, and the premise of banished gods seeking to reestablish their rule over our world. Howard's treatment of the premise is far more reactionary than Lovecraft's. The heroic adventure genre more or less dictates the threat will be contained or defeated by the story's end, but as entertainment Howard's approach is more immediately satisfying. After the prologue, the setting shifts to the city of Khoraja some months later. It is under siege by nomadic tribes. They are under the command of a mysterious sorcerer named Natohk, and they have captured the city's king. Natohk's sister Yasmela, who rules the city in his stead, encounters Conan one evening. He is serving in Khoraja's defense as a mercenary, and Yasmela, following the advice of an oracle, puts him in command of the city's soldiers. The battle set pieces that follow are masterfully handled. Howard's prose is characteristically florid, but the flood of adjectives, similes, and metaphors never bog it down. If anything, the purple heightens the story's pace. The climactic revelation of Natohk's connection to the banished gods of the story's opening is fairly predictable. But one may be so caught up with the bravura of the combat scenes that it seems beside the point. If the rush of these sequences weren't enough, there's also the overt presence of sex. It's a source of a fair amount of the story's suspense, both in the threat of Yasmela's rape by Natohk, and in her increasing desire for Conan. Howard's ample inclusion of eroticized descriptions of the princess keep things heightened as well. He never fails to keep one turning the pages. "Black Colossus" is literary junk food, but it's a fine reminder of how tasty good junk food can be.

Short Take: "The Scarlet Citadel," Robert E. Howard

This story was originally published on Pol Culture.

Robert E. Howard’s “The Scarlet Citadel,” originally published in the January 1933 issue of Weird Tales (cover at right), is something of a sequel to “The Phoenix on the Sword,” his first story featuring Conan the Barbarian. It takes place during the character’s “King Conan” period, when he is the middle-aged ruler of the city of Aquilonia. The story is not among Howard’s more compelling ones. It is mediocre adventure pulp which follows a very basic formula: the hero is defeated, only to come back and be victorious over his enemies. As with “The Phoenix on the Sword,” Conan is fighting efforts to strip him of his crown, but he’s not dealing with an assassination attempt this time. His enemies here confront him on the battlefield. They still use treachery to draw him out and defeat him--a king he thought an ally calls for his help in what turns out to be an ambush. His enemies are working with a sorcerer, Tsotha-lanti, who gives Conan a choice: renounce his throne and accept exile, or face death in the sorcerer’s dungeon. He chooses the latter. The dungeon sequence, in which Conan faces numerous threats in his efforts to escape, is easily the best part of the story; Howard catches the reader up in the dread of the unknown. But the story never regains its tension after Conan is free. One knows exactly where the story is going at that point: Conan is going to avenge his earlier defeat on his enemies, and he of course does just that. There is little suspense in the tale’s final section; it’s just violent spectacle. The better aspects of other Conan stories, including the use of irony and the portentous hints of the supernatural world, are not much present.

Short Take: "The Tower of the Elephant," Robert E. Howard

This review was originally published on Pol Culture.

Robert E. Howard’s sword-and-sorcery short story “The Tower of the Elephant,” first published in the March 1933 issue of Weird Tales (cover image at left), is a sterling example of pulp adventure fiction. Conan the Cimmerian, Howard’s barbarian-thief antihero, comes to the thieves’ quarter of an unfamiliar city. His curiosity has been piqued by the city’s so-called Elephant’s Tower, a tall, silver temple rimmed with jewels. He learns the temple is home to a fabulous gem known as the Elephant’s Heart, and he resolves to steal it. Of course, this is easier said than done. The task requires scaling the tower wall and entering from the top. And as Conan learns, there are defenses against intruders that are far beyond the threat posed by human guards. Howard does a fine job of crafting the story, and he develops it a good deal beyond Conan defeating challenges in pursuit of a goal. The rather ironic final act, in which Conan shows his heroic side, is imaginatively conceived and very well executed. The major action setpiece, a battle with a giant spider, is almost as impressively handled; Howard’s depiction of the spider’s predatory tactics is both shrewd and quite suspenseful. The story is also admirable in ways that are surprising for Howard. With the alien figure who plays a central role in the story's final section, the treatment isn’t the least bit reactionary; the figure is sympathetic rather than a threat. Howard’s most off-putting characteristic is probably his misogyny, but here those sentiments are restricted to the mouth of a fellow who dies at the business end of Conan’s sword. The odious comments are not what prompt his death, but it’s a relief to see him treated as an antagonist regardless. Overall, the story has all the best aspects of pulp-adventure entertainment, and very few of its weaknesses.