The Worm Ouroboros

Video review here!
Despite some flaws, The Worm Ouroboros is currently my favourite fantasy novel set in Middle Earth. ER Eddison, like JRR Tolkien 15 years later, pulled from the Scandinavian Eddas to inspire his own high-fantasy world, but each work stands quite on its own in spite of that! Eddison’s world avoids the good-vs-evil tropes of other fantasy novels. While heavily romanticized on the surface, full of characters who are all about bluster, bravado, and martial virtues, there’s a strong underscore of irony that’s surprisingly deconstructive for a medieval throwback fantasy written in the 1920s! I adored the moments when the female characters would openly criticize the vain endeavors of the men, or when Lord Gro would show his existentialist side in open contradiction of the vainly heroic narratives spun by everyone around him.

Speaking of the characters, I’d compare them to the simplistic heroes in ancient tales like Homer’s epic poems. They usually have a single character trait, and the conflicts that come about are caused or solved by that trait. Pride, ego, and a constant jostling for power behind the scenes are recurring themes, along with the idea that war is perpetual—an inexorable aspect of our nature that we can’t—or won’t—progress beyond. Grudge begets grudge, dominant powers rise, fall, and eclipse one another in an ongoing cycle that Eddison compares to the cycle of seasons, the waning and waxing of the moon, and the movement of stars. The struggle for power is a force of nature that we’re forever beholden to, repeating our mistakes as we try to learn from them. All this is encompassed in the sigil of the Worm Ouroboros—a serpent forever eating its own tail. The ending is a subversive culmination of this theme, which pokes fun at the whole fantasy genre up to the point it was written. In that way, The Worm Ouroboros is like a transition point between the fantasy that came before and the fantasy that came afterwards.

The few faults come from a few too many plot threads that went underdeveloped or ended with simplistic resolutions, when things seem to be building towards a more complex payoff. Much of the covert manipulation of events from the side characters was wrapped up a bit too cleanly. There were also some drawn-out sequences of travelling from point A to point B, where pedantic descriptions that were supposed to immerse me would instead make me all too aware that I was staring at words on a page (the mountain-climbing chapter being the main example).

Though the Elizabethan writing style is challenging, it was a really rewarding nut to crack. I’d been warned about the letters and other documents being almost unreadable, since they’re written in late Middle-English using archaic spellings and unfamiliar words, but a bit of patience and re-reading, and I was able to understand just about every line! This novel really expanded my diction and satisfied my appetite for challenging, unfamiliar prose styles. Once I got used to the antiquated way that Worm Ouroboros is written, I was taken aback by how beautiful many passages are. After reading this, I’m less intimidated about trying some earlier English writing, like the Green Knight, or the works of Milton and Shakespeare. If you wanna master old, flowery English for your D&D campaigns or renaissance fairs, this is the book for you!

In the current canon of fantasy, I think it’s a real shame that E.R. Eddison’s unique work, which inspired later writers such as Tolkien, Lewis and Moorcock, has fallen into relative obscurity. Because of that, and since it’s about to turn 100 years old, I think it deserves to be re-evaluated by the many fantasy readers that have come about in part because of this novel and its influence. Overall I'm wavering between 3 and 4 stars, so my rating might fluctuate!

An old classic - its style and a lot of its content are archaic and would probably not be published now. The writing style doesn't flow well at all to a modern reader, and the characters are not complex or well developed (as is also true of most of Tolkien's, but his world-building is much more deep and fascinating); it deals more with archetypes than with realistic personalities. Today the plot line would probably work better as a film than as a book, being equally simplistic.

I'd read this as a student of the history of fantasy writing, because Eddison exerted a powerful influence on the development of the field. It's not a light read, but it's interesting to go through it reflecting on how its elements have come down to the fantasy fiction of today.

A long and convoluted tale of time, imagination, and character, in a magical past that never was.

This seems to be the story of how a guy got drugged out of his mind or otherwise slipped away from the world, and decided never to come back. The frame story is never resolved, and the events of the book never come to an end. The main character from the frame story listerally escapes into his fantasy, not as a character (although maybe he does) but as an audience for the story.

Shades of Stephen King's The Dark Tower, Gene Wolfe's The Knight/The Wizard, George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire, and more, lots more. I'm so glad I read this. It feels like a pivot for fantastic fiction, changing the course of uncountable stories for generations.

But I can't give this a five. Maybe it's me, but I found myself skimming a fair amount: but it should be no surprise that a book about escaping reality should often feel like it can't get to the point.

A book that finds the middle ground between adulthood and childhood, full of the BEST characters, played much to advantage. But slow.

Recommended for fantasy fans.

On this ‘re-read’ of Eddison’s fantasy classic I listened to the audio version produced by Librivox. Now normally Librivox recordings, given that they are free, can be pretty hit-or-miss. This, I am happy to say, is a case where they stumbled upon an excellent reader. Jason Mills tackles Eddison’s delicious, albeit often difficult and certainly archaic, prose with panache and style. For me his accent didn’t hurt either and leant the reading a somewhat exotic flair (for those of us across the pond at least). The reading was smooth and very well paced, with emphasis and inflection exactly where I would expect it and just the right mood injected into each scene…very well done. If you’ve had trouble overcoming Eddison’s prose due to its idiosyncrasy on the page then perhaps listening to this version might be your best gateway into the Worm.

Ah the Worm...how to describe it? I would liken it to an opera scored by Wagner with a libretto written by Shakespeare based on a story cribbed from Homer. I’ll admit that statement is in some ways blatant hyperbole, but I think it still aptly express the ambience of the book. I’ve written a previous review on the Worm so I won’t go into too much of an overview of the story itself and will instead record my impressions of things that struck me from this re-read. One thing to note in general though: this is without a doubt an elitist work. As far as characters go if you are not one of the great and mighty, whether good or evil in disposition, you need not apply (with the possible exceptions of Mivarsh Faz and the single chapter given from the POV of a common soldier of Demonland and his family, but even then they display a distinctly worshipful attitude towards their ‘betters’). So if you cannot abide a fantasy world that does not model itself along the right-thinking ideals of liberal democracy then you might want to give this one a pass.

I’ve mentioned in my previous review how many of the characters are archetypes – supermen striding across the page generally lacking in psychological realism. I’d still generally stand by that statement, but I did notice that with perhaps the exception of a few of the Demon (good guy) princes quite a few of the characters displayed much more complexity than I had previously given them credit for: Lord Gro of course is an interesting character – a philosopher and courtier so in love with lost causes that he is driven to betray his friends and allies when they ascend too highly on Fortune’s wheel, and who is also the hapless lover of two peerless ladies who may admire him but can never return his love; Corund the stalwart general of the Witchland armies who is no hero, but displays a nobility of character and strength of personality that makes him admirable for all his villainy; his wife Prezmyra a lady of peerless beauty and iron strength of will, utterly devoted to her husband and her brother and who will never back down from her convictions once she has set herself a goal. Corund and Prezmyra are fast becoming my favourite characters in the book and who better to express their virtues than Eddison himself through the mouth of Lord Juss, their enemy:

For royal and lordly was Corund, and a mighty man at arms, and a fighter clean of hand, albeit our bitter enemy. Wondrous it is with what cords of love he bound to him this unparagoned Queen of his. Who hath known her like among women for trueness and highness of heart? And sure none was ever more unfortunate.

It is a book chock-full of cinematic moments against which you can almost hear the swelling score as in the return of Lords Juss and Brandoch Daha to Demonland from their expedition to Impland, or the return of the Demons to the steppes of the Moruna as seen through the eyes of Lord Gro. Not to mention the death of Gro: both in its manner and the actions that precipitate it, which are just so apt, so expressive of who he is and the tragedy of his life, that I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry upon reading it. I was struck as well by how much the expedition to Impland made by Juss and Brandoch Daha seemed so similar to something you might read in Malory with its constant procession of tests and marvels that are stumbled upon in the wild and which our heroes must simply accept and overcome. I was also a little surprised to note that Juss’ testing on the mountain of Zora Rach Nam Psarrion had glimmers of the Lovecraftian in its expression of existential horror: “…but that pain was a light thing beside somewhat he now felt within him the like whereof he never before had known: a deathlike horror as of the houseless loneliness of naked space, which gripped him at the heart.” Or again:

The cloud had lifted from the mountain’s peak and hung like a pall above its nakedness. Chill air that was like the breath of the whole world’s grave: vast blank cloud-barriers: dim far forms of snow and ice, silent, solitary, pale, like mountains of the dead: it was as if the bottom of the world were opened and truth laid bare: the ultimate Nothing.

But of course one of the primary reasons to come to this book and fall in love with it is the language. Whether Eddison is describing an epic action of great heroism or villainy, or simply a commonplace occurrence seen with the eyes of glamour he provides the reader with a veritable feast of words. Here are a few choice excerpts I noticed this time around:

On sleeping in:

Corund answered, “Truly I was seldom so uncivil as surprise Madam Aurora in her nightgown. And the thrice or four times I have been forced thereto, taught me it is an hour of crude airs and mists which breed cold dark humours in the body, an hour when the torch of life burns weakest.”

The ambiguity of the fall of night:

Behind them rolled up the ascent of heaven the wheels of quiet Night: holy Night, mother of the Gods, mother of sleep, tender nurse of all little birds and beasts that dwell in the field and all tired hearts and weary: mother besides of strange children, affrights, and rapes, and midnight murders bold.

Sunrise and the hope of morning:

Day goeth up against the tyrant night. How delicate a spirit is she, how like a fawn she footeth it upon the mountains: pale pitiful light matched with the primeval dark. But every sweet hovers in her battalions, and every heavenly influence: coolth of the wayward little winds of morning, flowers awakening, birds a-carol, dews a-sparkle on the fine-drawn webs the tiny spinners hang from fern-frond to thorn, from thorn to wet dainty leaf of the silver birch: the young day laughing in her strength, wild with her own beauty; fire and life and every scent and colour born anew to triumph over chaos and slow darkness and the kinless night.

Dive deeply into Eddison’s fantasy or don’t enter at all. It is like a heady draught of strong wine that pleases the palate as it ennobles the spirit and gosh it’s a lot of fun!

170914: like nothing you have ever read. nowhere betrays it was written in the modern era, in elaborate language, in diction, in creating archetypal characters who are not remotely mundane. an acquired taste, perhaps you can only read him again and again. i may not like the names of the races he designs- too simple, too twee, but the action is superbly fantastic...

I read this solely because it was on a reading list that I had assigned to myself. I know, it is a classic, inspiring to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. The archaic language and the rambling descriptions were barriers for me. I had to set myself a reward to be appreciated at the end of each chapter. There are many better ways to spend hours of your life.

wow! nothing like good old epic fantasy fun to keep you going on a backpacking trip. closest comparison is to the Odyssey, rather than lord of the rings, but the fellows in this book make Odysseus look like a hack. Highest quality feats of strength, political intrigue, dashing of skulls on rocks, bringing-forth of darkness, and all manner of derring-do. Totally sweet; although if you can't see yourself reading shakespeare for pleasure, it might be tough to get through due to olde english aspirations as far as spelling and grammar.

I honestly think it's a shame Nietzsche never had a chance to read this book. I'm sure he'd have gotten a kick out of it.

A very strange fantasy novel written in (sometimes breathtakingly beautiful) Jacobean prose, peopled by a cast of utterly amoral aristocratic warriors throwing away the lives of countless thousands of their subjects so that they can fill the existential void of their own lives with glorious deeds of war. If there's a more engaging, sympathetic and stimulating presentation of 'Master Morality' in fiction then I've yet to find it.

For such an early work of fantasy (or perhaps because it is pre-Tolkien) it is amazing to see how many of the cheap and shallow clichés of later fantasy are pre-emptively subverted here. There is no battle between good and evil. White knights rescuing damsels are not entitled to sex. The brave and powerful protagonists are not tactical or military geniuses. And perhaps most thrillingly of all, the female characters are not denigrated. Their social roles (in accordance with the Chivalric/Nordic setting and culture) are restricted to domestic environments with a heavy emphasis on their sexuality and manipulation of men - yet where most actual Medieval romances use this to attack women for logically following out the principles of such an environment, Eddison treats their courtly intrigues, manipulativeness and weaponising of sexuality as being just as worthy of interest and admiration as the martial deeds of their male counterparts.

I would give it five stars if it weren't for the damned names. Keely's excellent review makes the astute point that though some of the characters may blend together, this is entirely appropriate as these characters are expected to act in accordance with their class and group. This connects with how the exciting character drama of the novel is manifested through the philosophies demonstrated by their actions, posturing and deeds, rather than internalised descriptions of psychological conflict (Lord Gro being the exception, a character so brilliant, complex, contradictory and vibrant he seems to vampirically suck out all internality from the characters around him). Accordingly we shouldn't hold the vague indeterminacy of personality against Eddison since he is drawing on literary cultures that conceived psychology in a more publicly-oriented and rhetorically-minded manner; a mindset which contemporary novels seldom attempt to replicate.

That does not, however, forgive the man for writing a long scene of political intrigue involving three competing characters called Corinius, Corund and Corsus - all of whom begin the story with nearly identical roles and personalities so that when, later on, their characters do begin to diverge, the reader is already used to glazing their eyes and treating them as an amorphous, interchangeable trio of capital C's. By the time any of these characters have enough actions under their belt to make them distinguishable from one another, it is perhaps too late to really consider them as individuals rather than multi-headed manifestations of their collective social position.

The book is out of copyright so free ebooks can be obtained online - though some physical editions (such as the Fantasy Masterworks one) contain interesting little illustrations done by Eddison himself. These are useful for revealing a strange detail of this book - though the characters come from 'Goblinland', 'Demonland', 'Impland' and so on, it is not therefore clear that they are actually different races as most post-Tolkien fantasy would rather problematically assume. These are all men, or something more than men (at least, if you take their own word for it!) who do not need green skin or dark lords to find sufficient reason for bashing each other's brains in with a smile on their faces. There are higher ideals at stake for them - not ones of tyranny or justice - but an ideal of struggle, violence and strength as the prerequisite for giving meaning to the hollow void of a dark and shallow existence. This is an aristocratic view of life which holds that so long as one can hold a sword in hand, every peasant and slave is merely more meat for the grinder of one's own glory.

It's a testament to Eddison's brilliance that he can make such a world seem appealing.