I recorded a YouTube video—or rather, I recorded the audio for it (the video will take longer to do, so probably sometime next week. I'll amend this post when it's available and include it.)
It talks a bit about my own personal Appendix N, something that I've blogged about here before, although not in many years. My own influences are perhaps a bit more broad than that of the Appendix N, which is mostly limited to heroic fantasy and a few other weird tales type things. I think fantasy fans who expect to have a creative outlet, even if it's just as a table-top roleplaying gamer, would be well served by having much broader influences and tastes, and being familiar with how a great many other genres work and why they work as well as they do. I recall hearing in some authorship advice books for would-be science fiction writers long ago that many of the better and more successful science fiction writers say that all good stories are about people, not science. That's not to say that science isn't an important and in fact integral component of a science fiction story, just as magic and the fantastic is an integral and important component of fantasy, but at the end of the day, if you want a good story, it has to be a story about characters who are relatable in some way or another.
In any case, there's just a few "honorary mention" works that I'd like to add here on the blog as an appendix of sorts to the Appendix N list of the youtube video. For the most part, these types of works either offer similar influences (even though they're different kinds of works) than ones already listed, or the influences are subtle and a bit more difficult to pick out, so they don't really rate being listed as primary "Appendix N" sources.
The first are an array of swashbuckling "romances" of various types. I think my reference to Edgar Rice Burroughs already covers this type of stuff quite well, both in terms of the plot, the general tone and theme of the stories, and the types of characters that it offers. However, I think in some ways, the following works do those things a bit better than Edgar Rice Burroughs does. However, because there is no hint of fantasy or science fiction to any of them, they probably rate as second place behind him. That said, I do not in the least hesitate to recommend that you add the following to your repertoire. Most of these are public domain works that you can get digitally for free anyway, with the exception of the one movie. But you can probably check that out from your public library, or rent it pretty easily (I see you can buy it on Amazon on DVD or blu-ray at a relatively reasonable price.) Anyway, here's the full list, and then I'll discuss them all in the annotated text below:
- The Black Arrow by Robert Louis Stevenson
- Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott
- Scaramouche and Captain Blood by Rafael Sabatini
- The Three Musketeers and The Four Musketeers by Richard Lester et al.
- Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen
First: The Black Arrow by Robert Louis Stevenson. This War of the Roses themed adventure story is fantastic. You'll have to get used to his deliberately old-fashioned language, but once you do, you're in for a real delight. The characters are all quite charming and likable, except those who you're not supposed to like, of course, and the plot moves along quite briskly for a novel from the era in which it was written. Much more exciting than the novels from the same era that my literature teachers always made me read. Like many of these stories, it showcases human nature much better than modern stories do. Joanna Sedley is feminine and delightful, although a bit demure and even sassy at the beginning—as a scared young girl trying to protect her virtue from people who she doesn't yet know should be—and young Dick is everything a young likely hero is supposed to be. Unlike sappy and whiny Luke Skywalker, he's decisive, action-oriented in his outlook, charmingly impetuous and stubborn, yet humble enough to know when he needs to take advice or help from friendly folks who are willing to offer it.
As an aside, there's a decent film adaptation of it dating from 1985 that Disney did as a made for TV movie, starring Oliver Reed as the villain. I say decent in the sense that it's a decent Medieval romance action movie, not decent in the sense that its a great adaptation of the novel's plot exactly. I'm not 100% sure where you can find it; I don't think it's on Disney+, unfortunately, but you can probably find an old DVD copy of it somewhere. I actually had to rip an old VHS copy that I had, since I'm not in the habit of keeping working VCRs around anymore.
Although it's not written in as deliberately archaic a format, Sir Walter Scott's Ivanhoe was actually published a full 68 years earlier, and it is my next recommendation for a swashbuckling adventure story. It's hard to discuss the superlatives of this novel without sounding like I'm gushing or exaggerating. As proof of concept, note that my online nom de plume is taken from this novel. The nature of the characters like Ivanhoe himself, his angry, stubborn father, the jealousy of Rowena, the tragic unrequited love of Rebecca, the sinister designs of Brian de Bois-Guilbert—all are done with a keen eye towards the observations of real human nature, but with also a keen eye towards using, and yet modernizing the themes of the chivalric romance genre. There are also little moments of keen insight; although the Jews in the story, who play a particularly prominent role, are treated very sympathetically (Rebecca being largely seen as the most virtuous and praiseworthy character of all that make an appearance, for instance) are still shown in such a way that it makes it clear that Scott isn't unaware of their nature. When Isaac of York is seen haggling over the price of the ransom of his daughter with exaggerated bitterness, for instance, comes across as based on behavior he probably witnessed personally. It ends on an overly happy note, as if the overthrow of Prince John's ambitions means that the English would truly form peacefully out of the Anglo-Saxon and Norman ingredients, as if Prince John wasn't due to become King John himself in just a few short years, and that a specific English Identity wouldn't forge itself until the time of King Edward III and the Hundred Years War several centuries still in the future from the point of view of the characters. Desdichado also doesn't mean "disinherited" in Spanish, it means unhappy. And the Anglo-Saxons weren't still making references to pagan gods half a millennium after converting to Christianity, and Zernabock was a Slavic pagan god, not an Anglo-Saxon one. In the most ironic of mistakes here, Scott mispelled the Anglo-Saxon name Cerdic as Cedric—and now Cedric is a much more recognized name than Cerdic is, even though it was just an accidental creation of a novel-writer's. Oh, well. Nobody reads Ivanhoe to get a true account of the life and times of John and Richard. There are at least three decent adaptations to the screen that I'm aware of, although I know for sure that more exist, including several from the silent film era. The 1952 one is the best, although it follows the plot of the novel the least. Plus, you'll never have a better Rebecca than a young Elizabeth Taylor. Wowza. A 1982 adaptation as a TV movie is closer to the original, and works quite well. Plus, it has Sam Neill as de Bois-Guilbert, which is a fun shout-out for Jurassic Park fans. The 1997 joint A&E and BBC miniseries is probably the most accurate in terms of costume and set design, and follows the novel fairly closely. Ciaran Hinds is a great de Bois-Guilbert, but unfortunately Steve Waddington as Ivanhoe himself is kind of a boring plank of wood, and Susan Lynch's Rebecca isn't a fraction of the attractiveness, femininity and innocent likeableness of Elizabeth Taylor's. In fact, those traits being key to the development of the plot, one could certainly say that abandoning them in favor of modernish proto-woke sensibilites of a strong, sassy Rebecca who certainly looks stereotypically Jewish, but not exactly super attractive, was probably a poor move. The whole story hinges on Rebecca being of superlative worthiness and virtue in pretty much every regard.
As an aside, although it's a different story in most respects, Ivanhoe overlaps in many ways with the story of Robin Hood, being centered as it is on the arrival of Richard the Lionhearted to overthrow the ambitions of his treacherous brother John. Although not named exactly, the character of Locksley from Ivanhoe is clearly meant to be Robin Hood. I don't know that I have a particular Robin Hood book to recommend and it's not on the list except as an aside, although I have fond albeit vague memories of the Howard Pyle one from my childhood. I can absolutely recommend the Errol Flynn and Olivia de Haviland film adaptation from 1938, though. It's still one of the best things Hollywood has ever managed to produce, even now. But I'll just add it as an addendum on this discussion of Ivanhoe rather than as its own thing. My Ivanhoe recommendation is really for the novel itself above and beyond any of the visual adaptations of it.
Next, the best two novels by Rafael Sabatini need to get a shout out. These are Captain Blood and Scaramouche respectively. They're more recent than any of the other novels listed here; my printed copies come from the early 1920s, and I wouldn't give them up for anything—although I also have Kindle versions that I got for free (because public domain) of both. Sabatini was an interesting fellow. He obviously has an Italian name and an Italian father, but an English mother, and he grew up partly in England, Italy, Portugal and Switzerland. English was actually one of the later languages added to his impressive linguistic repertoire, but he wrote with a proficiency in it that few others have manged before or since; in fact, for those not used to reading "difficult" texts, they may come across as a bit dense and florid. Personally, I love them, and think some of his dialogue is among the best I've ever read in any type of work period. As with Edgar Rice Burroughs, he shows us incredibly virtuous and desireable women, and the type of man who is worthy of them. In fact, he does this better than Burroughs, honestly.
In addition to those two novels, it's probably worth checking out his novels The Black Swan, The Sea Hawk and St. Martin's Summer. Both of the two I first mentioned have Hollywood adaptations which are considered excellent examples of the output of classic Hollywood, although both pale in comparison to the books on which they are somewhat loosely based. Captain Blood even has basically the same cast and crew as The Adventures of Robin Hood, including director Michael Curtiz, Errol Flynn as the leading man and Olivia de Haviland as the love interest, and Basil Rathbone as the swordfighting rival. But really; do yourself a favor and read the books before you try and watch the movies.
I've made off-hand references to movies that are good adaptations of books I recommend that you read, but my next recommenation is actually a movie that I like better than the book on which it is based. Alexandre Dumas is often called the last word in swasbuckling action, and while I can see that, I've always preferred Sabatini; the death of Constance and therefore of a satisfying romantic conclusion to D'Artagnan's story arc was always a bit unhappy to me, and I've not liked The Man in the Iron Mask or The Count of Monte Cristo quite as much either, although I don't hesitate to offer them up as great stories regardless. The double film The Three Musketeers (1973) and The Four Musketeers (1974) leisurely takes two full movies to adapt the novel, and is supremely well done (plus they are usually packaged together and can be bought on blu-ray or DVD at a pretty reasonable price.) The cast is wildly impressive; Michael York plays D'Artagnan, with Richard Chamberlain, Frank Finlay and Oliver Reed as the musketeers, Raquel Welch as Constance, Faye Dunaway as Milady de Winter, Charleton Heston as Cardinal Richeleu, Christopher Lee as Rochefort, etc. There's a lot of little additions of humor in this version of the movie, but it's also deadly serious, especially in the second movie, which is a fair bit darker than the first one. (My favorite comic line comes from when D'Artagnan is trying to take a ship across the channel to England. The guard tells him that is pass is for just one person. Michael York, as D'Artagnan indignantly says that he is just one person. His servant doesn't count.) I've always appreciated it as much for its incredibly well-done swordfights and action scenes as for anything else; so many action scenes today look so fake and honestly mostly boring in comparison (Pirates of the Caribbean, I'm looking squarely at you.)
Finally, although this has very little applicability to RPGs or the type of stuff that we're likely to do in fantasy, you'll be hard-pressed to find a keener or more astute observer of human nature than Jane Austen. Her novel Pride & Prejudice may turn up the noses of some RPG fans. It shouldn't. It's not the model on which the entire gigantic genre of chick-lit and its medium-jumping genre of rom-coms and chick-flicks is based on because she's a hack; it's genuinely one of the classics of English literature, and nobody should consider himself educated if he hasn't read it, in my opinion. And it has much more applicability than most recognize because of Austen's superb observations leading to her fantastic characterizations. In fact, I read exactly this passage to my youngest son not long ago, from near the end of the novel because of it's applicability right now still: "I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son, I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves, allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. ... You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretentions to please a woman worthy of being pleased." A woman worthy of being pleased! Such a rare commodity, and yet Elizabeth Bennet certainly qualifies, and any man who wants to find one such himself had better not approach her with pretentions!
Mr. Darcy got a lot of attention from all of the girls because of his proud, entitled demeanor, his rugged good looks, and his obvious wealth, but he didn't have what it took to transform that marked attention into a successful relationship. Something my charming, good-looking, and flirty son doesn't really get. He's got the alpha attitude, but no idea how to turn all of the girls who look his way into a genuine girlfriend prospects. I'm not too concerned about that yet; he's only 17 after all, but sometimes that man-o-sphere MGTOW-friendly crap he reads on the internet gives him what it takes to be attractive, but not to be successful in the long-run. And to be fair, women who aren't worthless, entitled, pushy, and unacceptable anyway are few and far between, relatively speaking, but all the more reason to know how to deal with them when you do actually find them. You can't treat them like the floozies that you're used to day in and day out and expect to have a successful reaction from them. (Not that kids his age say floozies. I think ho's is his preferred vernacular, or maybe thots.)
On the other hand, when Austen writes the following, it's all projection: "Did you admire me for my impertinence? ... You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. The fact is that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking, and looking, and thinking for your approbation alone. I roused, and interested you, because I was so unlike them. Had you not been really amiable, you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains you took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and in your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously courted you. There—I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it; and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly reasonable."
I'm not sure if the projection is on the part of the character (Lizzie Bennett, the protagonist) or the author herself, but that's a woman projecting her own attitude on to men laid out pretty bare and blatantly. Men don't really think that of women, and don't want women who are constantly challenging them. Regardless of whether it is Austen the author or Elizabeth the character who's doing the projection, it should be eye-opening to the kind of hapless, beta try-hard who acts like that how much women despise that kind of behavior in a man, and encourage them to knock it off before they become objects of friend-zoned contempt. When they do that, they are in turn projecting what would be pleasing female behavior and doing that themselves, expecting women to appreciate it the same way a man would. They don't.
All of this discussion from this and the other works thus-far mentioned had already previously engendered in me in my setting design a desire to more faithfully reproduce human nature. Women and men are not the same, at a basic psychological level. Pretending that they are is super off-putting to me in fantasy nowadays, after taking a bit of a red-pill on this. Of course, it wasn't a hard red-pill for me to swallow, because I actually know some real women, and have read these kinds of works that took those differences for granted all my life. But when I had it specifically spelled out for me, in spite of decades of indoctrination to the contrary, it resolved cognitive dissonance in my mind and I abandoned the indoctrination as delusional wishful thinking at best, and destructive lies meant to destroy our civilization at worst. At the very least, I can pass that knowledge on to my children better and more clearly than I had it passed on to me, and reflect reality in my fantasy rather than reject it, as so much modern fantasy does.
The following is a C. E. Brock illustration from the first printing of Pride & Prejudice, which has been colorized. Although the two best visual adaptations of it; the one starring Colin Firth as Darcy from 1995 and the one staring Kiera Knightly as Elizabeth from 2005 have her has dark haired, the original illustrations pictured her as a more stereotypical blonde English Rose. Both films are quite good, and are recommended; the former for it's more complete and well done adaptation, the latter for it's emotional insistence and drama. Although cut in length in comparison, it's still pretty faithful and what it does do in its shorter runtime, it does quite well.
You may think it odd that I'd recommend something like this. I've actually publicly stated that I won't read a novel written by a woman unless it's a classic by an author I already know, or comes recommended by someone I trust, and the people I trust for recommendations are few and far between. I've been burned too many times by fantasy or science fiction novels that turned out to be sappy romance novels in fantasy or science fiction drag, and I'm just not interested anymore. But when I know that I'm reading the mother of all romance novels, written by one of the best woman writers that the English language has ever produced, that's OK. In fact, in my effort to encourage broader influences, I highly recommend it.
No comments:
Post a Comment