Reading any fantasy before JRR came in and starting flooding the world with tiny men and their hairy feet is sometimes a dicey proposition. Not because most of it is bad (probably no better or worse than any fiction written in the 1920s) but because the sensibility is so vastly different. The idea of what fantasy "should" be hadn't exactly been codified so you mostly get people's attempts at trying to figure their way around a genre that hadn't really coalesced into the various styles that we know today. If you're lucky, then you can get someone like Lord Dunsany, who could write compelling about fairies and the like with some of the most elegant prose to be put to paper and still manage to tell his story in less than epic length. Other times, you wonder if they're getting paid by the word (in the case of stuff that made it into pulp magazines, they probably were).

I went through a phase where I decided to find the semi-major works of early fantasy, most of which aren't real well known today. I've tackled Lord Dunsany already and I have "The Well at the World's End" and "Lud-in-the-Mist" floating around somewhere, and while I'm sure those will have their challenges, none of that quite prepares you for what you're going to experience in "The Worm Ouroboros", probably ER Eddison's best known work.

You know you're in for a good time when the introduction goes out of its way to point out the flaws of the book as a way of telling you to look past and forgive all that (my edition is from Replica books, which I didn't buy because it was printed in my home state of New Jersey, but it's certainly a nice touch) before the book even starts, and honestly the two things they highlight (the first chapter and Eddison's apparently overly rich descriptions of banquet halls) aren't even anywhere near deal-breakers. Amusingly, the one line description of the plot doesn't even come close to depicting what happens in the rest of the book. It's not a package really designed to sell people who wouldn't normally be interested in proto-fantasy literature from the early part of the 20th century on the concept. So let me try and do a better job.

So what the heck is all this about? In a nutshell, the dominion of Witchland coverts nearby Demonland and after getting rebuffed decide to go all out, kidnapping one of the main lords and scattering the rest, forcing the good men of Demonland to raise an army, get their dominion back and vanquish their foes in Witchland, all of whom are pretty decent warriors led by a king who seems to both a sorcerer and a Time Lord at the same time.

A couple things are worth noting before you even start. For one, Eddison came up with a lot of these concepts when he was a child and as an adult didn't bother to change any names when he wrote his book out, thus if you're thinking that a book populated by people from the nations of Demonland, Witchland, Goblinland and Impland might have been conceived by a twelve year old, you aren't that far off (oddly enough, everyone in those places are just regular people, though there's a stray reference the folks in Demonland having tiny horns that is never mentioned again). However, the book is much more sophisticated than that, having a pretty decently worked out history (given in the backpages of the book) and a fairly realistic set of relationships between the nations as well as a good amount of shared history from the main characters (years before "Games of Thrones", Eddison's book has the characters reminiscing about the time they engaged in a genocidal war with the population of Ghoulland, eventually wiping them all out) that helps flesh out the proceedings and give some weight. All this helps because instead of trying to write a book that children could read, he decided to write it in a 16th century style of writing, meaning that the only people who would be able to fathom what was going on are readers with a lot of patience, or contemporaries of Chaucer (indeed, letters the characters write to each other that are quoted in the text are as Olde English as ye can get). It's not the worst style in the world to handle, but it is a bit of an adjustment, although I think ultimately the archaic style fits the story he's telling here. For me, it was like watching a Shakespeare play, where the language can come across as gibberish until you start to get into the rhythms of it, then it sounds perfectly natural (it wears off, though, so unless you're able to read the book in one fell swoop be prepared to flail about for a bit everytime you dive back into it while the brain makes the necessary changes). He commits to this pretty much a hundred percent, which is impressive in itself, although a few stray references to tennis balls nearly took me out of the text (this happens at least twice).

It's also a novel completely comprised of action. In a world where we're used to learning about everyone's deepest thoughts, Eddison's characters keep those thoughts to themselves. Unless it's said in the dialogue, the motivations of each character can only be judged by their actions alone (typically involving a sword) and except for a few weak stabs at introspection you've got nothing but raw action and people talking about what they're going to do when it's time for raw action.

With all those caveats, though, is any of this worth it? Surprisingly, for those who have the wherewithal to withstand the battery of really ancient sounding prose, yes. Once you get into the story the prose is extremely well written, able to set atmosphere and mood extraordinarily well. While most writers would take scenes and ramble on for pages of description, Eddison for the most part keeps it fairly normal (for the style, you'll never mistake this for Hemingway) and there are scenes that are completely immersive, not even the battle scenes but some of the quieter moments give him a good opportunity of showing off his skills at painting with color and tone. The plot itself is one overarching event (getting Demonland back and stopping Witchland) with a lot of little events and sideplots going on in the meantime, with alliances bouncing off each other as people weigh loyalty and vengeance and power, the costs of it and what all that means to them. He gives ample time to the folks at Witchland and while some of them have names that make it hard to tell them apart you can also see where he strives to give everyone distinct personalities, even the ladies (not an easy feat for this part of the century) who in some instances are even more bloodthirsty than the men.

He makes some interesting storytelling choices, sometimes taking major events and having them occur offscreen, which at times can give a fairly slow moving book a surprisingly breathless pacing, as if it's always trying to catch up with itself. Magic is mostly kept to a minimum but always present as well, with the characters calling on gods and sometimes seeing those prayers answered in unusual ways. But it doesn't trumpet the weirdest parts of the book, taking them in stride as if this is everyday (the king of Witchland is apparently the same person reincarnated in different guises repeatedly, changing from a wrestler to a sorcerer . . . nobody involved seems to think this is strange) and mythical creatures are treated with equal parts awe and "well, here's another tool for the toolbox".

It's epic event after epic event piling on top of each other so by the time you reach the climax, all the elements have been building to a fever pitch that goes nearly gonzo in how far the book is willing to go to resolve or completely obliterate obstacles in the way of getting to the ending. Those who soldiered bravely through the reams of prose in the earlier pages are rewarded with scenes that are just as off the scale epic as anything ever written in fantasy before and even once everything is resolved (while Demonland are technically the good guys, the book is refreshingly evenhanded in how it treats everyone) you're not prepared for the kind of ending he gives you, which is unlike anything I've read before in its magical strangeness, a kind of "Finnegans Wake" for fantasy that seems to be conscious of not only its own nature but our relationship to myths and legends and how we perceive them. It doesn't seek to elevate the common man as much as depict how we needs lords and kings to fight for us and have all the fun. Its an odd story that has no idea how odd it is, and still retains complete confidence in itself and for the most part justifies that. It's definitely not for everyone, even people who really like fantasy, but for someone able to immerse themselves in it, chances are it'll be nothing like anything they've ever read.

The Worm Ouroboros was published in 1922 so it was on the book shelves for over a decade before the Hobbit came out. Before Tolkien I wasn't sure what fantasy novels were out. I thought he was the first real fantasy author. I was wrong. When I heard about Eddison in our fantasy group I quickly jumped onboard and tackled this high fantasy epic!

This book was interesting. It is very dense and written in faux Jacobean English which made reading it burdensome. The book begins with an emissary from the lords of Witchland going to the demons of Demonland demanding they recognize Witchland as the supreme lords of the land. The two sides decide to settle the debate over a wrestling match. The Demonland winner gets imprisoned and wars erupt between the armies of Witchland and Demonland. The book is filled with mythological creatures, alchemy, war, love, and honor.

Now why 3 stars? Well...the faux Jacobean English really killed it for me. If it was written in standard English it would have been an enjoyable tale. I constantly had to remind myself that I needed to ignore the writing and just focus on the story. It was a struggle to read over 400 pages of this book. Again, the story is great, but the writing was very taxing and I could only read it in about twenty page increments. In my opinion, authors need to write so people understand the story and don't need to translate, comprehend, and read simultaneously.

A friend and I didn't like how Eddison used terminology that conveyed a negative (and confusing) connotation on the groups. We couldn't help thinking Demonland, Witchland, and Goblinland were evil nations, and we had to keep reminding ourselves Demonland were the good guys. When I think of a demon I think of the most evil creature in existence, but in this book they are good guys. What??

I don't know if I'm glad I read it. I don't have the good feeling like I just tackled a giant. It was confusing with all the names, the nations, and the writing, while trying to rewire my brain that demons were good. About two-thirds in, I couldn't wait to finish.

This classic is an epic fantasy masterpiece. A perfect example that proves that works of this kind need not be sprawling volumes in sprawling series. Beautifully told (in an albeit antiquated prose style) and lusciously described it features everything that one might want including perilous journeys, great characters, court intrigue, dangerous sorcery and epic battles.

The characters are great heroes and villains of old, paragons of virtue, loyalty, determination or treachery. They deliver speeches to each other with great rhetorical effect. They jest, banter, jibe and insult each other subtly and mercilessly. They are all likeable (the villains loveable rouges) but they are not what we would think of in this day and age as well fleshed out characters. We never really get a sense of what they are thinking and feeling other than indirectly through their actions, sayings and expressions. Consequently they do not feel real but then they don't need to; this is a fantasy in the fullest sense of the word. Unlike modern fantasy in which the reader expects real characters put into unreal worlds, here the reader cannot expect to empathise and engage with the protagonists. Not a flaw in my opinion but mentioned to give warning to others who might see it as such.

In a brief introduction to the book, the author states: "It is neither allegory nor fable but a story to be read for its own sake". This defies anyone's attempts to find greater meaning underlying the surface but I personally think that it is hard not to feel one learns something about humanity in this story. If nothing else we learn that it is that the struggle and striving that is most important, not the achieving of our goals.

THE WORM OUROBOROS

Rambling, obscure, written after the style of the seventeenth century, filled with characters it is difficult to even like, much less love, and the story is supposed to take place on Mercury, though it is not science fiction and there is no particular reason why the author should have hit on that planet more than any place else — this hardly sounds like a recommendation, I know, yet the book is, deservedly, considered a classic.

The story begins when King Gorice XI of Witchland lays claim to Demonland and demands the fealty of her rulers, Lords Juss, Goldry Bluszco, and Spitfire. (Do not concern yourself with the names. The more you think about them, the less sense they will make. Demons, Witches, Pixies, Imps ... none of these means what you think it does, and names of many of the people and places seem to come from a mishmash of sources.) The Demons, as Gorice surely expects, refuse. A wrestling match between the hulking Gorice and Goldry, not mean wrestler himself, is arranged to decide the matter. Since Gorice has decorated his palace with the skulls and and bones of the ninety-nine champions he has already defeated, he is confident of his triumph. However, when the contest begins to go against him, he cheats, and is still defeated. He loses the match and his life in the process. The Witches, having cheated, accuse the Demons of treachery and murder, refuse to keep their part of the bargain, and depart.

And this sets off a series of kidnappings, battles, defeats, victories, treacheries, heroic deeds, more battles, treason, poisoning, battles, and suicide.

The most fascinating characters are the antagonists, that is, the inhabitants of Witchland, and one Goblin who switches sides so often it is hard to keep track of whose side he is on at any given moment. Yet Gro is no opportunist, for there is something in him that forces him ever to take the losing side when he already knows full well that it is about to suffer a staggering defeat. It is not quite compassion; it is undoubtedly a compulsion; it may be on philosophic or aesthetic grounds. Gro does not appear to be entirely certain himself. Corund, if ruthless and ever willing to advise his overlord to triumph by trickery and outright cheating, is nevertheless steadfast, and perversely honorable in his way. King Gorice XII, a sorcerer of great renown, and in some way a reincarnation of all the previous Gorices (another thing not to think about too much, Eddison often had several incarnations of a character living at once) is simply compelling in his own unmitigated wickedness.

Gorice is monstrous in his will to dominate. He cares for no one and nothing but his own ambitions, but Corund — great-hearted though not good-hearted (a subtle distinction) — forgives his one-time friend Gro his treason, although almost certainly in part to please his wife, the supernaturally beauiful Pryzmyra. Pryzmyra is all magnificent contradiction, by turns fierce and sensuously languid. We are to understand that she was given to Corund in marriage when she was barely more than a child, and he at least in middle age. Now he is old, while she has reached a gorgeous maturity. But she is fierce in her affections, and though naturally attracted to the high and noble, is deeply attached to her husband, even when it causes her great difficulty reconciling her loyalty to himand to the Witchesm with her equally fierce affections for her brother La Fireez, Prince of Pixyland and a staunch ally of the Demons. Why she should feel anything but contempt for Gro is a mystery, but something about him touches her.

The protagonists, however, are hardly less monstrous than the Witches, though in a different way, being egotistical in the extreme. Lord Juss’s bedchamber, for instance, is decorated with murals depicting, not the magnificent deeds of his ancestors, which would be too commonplace, no, his chamber is adorned with murals of his own glorious deeds. In their defense, each of these characters seems to admire the others as much as he admires himself. They are presented as beneficent overlords, yet two of them leave their people when war is threatening, in order to pursue a personal point quest. When given a choice between the easy way and the seemingly impossible they always choose the difficult and dangerous course in order to satisfy their heroic nature -- even though their swift and safe return home is desperately needed in order to turn the tide of battle. One gets the feeling that the people they rule do not matter in the least, and only exist to give these lordly characters someone to rule over — for men such as they must rule. It is in their nature. We wish for them to succeed, partly in grudging admiration, and partly because the results of their failure would be so much worse.

Eddison obviously admired the men of an earlier age — or at least an idealized version of them— and longed for a time when men were heroes and women were goddesses, or else not worth thinking about at all. Much of the book is taken up with the rather tedious adventures of Juss and his friend Brandoch Daha. Thankfully, there are also sections devoted to the Witches’ invasion of Demonland, a tender subplot about unrequited love, and another about the jostling for power among those of Gorice’s henchmen sent to lead the invasion.

One reason why the book succeeds is that the author has perfect command of the style he adopts. Writing in the 1920’s, late Elizabethan/Jacobean English is spot on, and he frequently uses it to create stunning and breathtakingly beautiful t effects. As you may have guessed ,from the description above, in spite of its weaknesses, the story is melodrama at its most heart-stirring and magnificent best, it’s characters, if infuriating, so very much larger than life. If you are up for a truly challenging read, you could hardly do better than The Worm Ouroboros.