On the Enduring Popularity of Sword & Sorcery Fiction
Posted by Matt Staggs on Sep 7, 2011 in News | 8 commentsIn some ways, Sword & Sorcery fiction’s enduring popularity is due to its uniquely primal elements. It is an embrace of the “first principles” of fantasy fiction–even myth itself: the hero has nothing more than his (and, yes, more often than not it’s a he) might and mien to rely upon in an often antagonistic or at the very least wholly indifferent world. While he might eventually come into his own as a builder of nations and a tribal hero, his quest is his own. Boon companions come and go, the favor (and scorn!) of wizards, witches and kings wax and wane, but the hero and his sword are ultimately alone against the world and its gods and monsters.
Here is fantasy in a crucible: the mythic hero versus fate, a destroyer of the old order and bringer of the new. Gods be damned! He is of the world and not of it. Gold and jewels, beautiful women and princely favor, he has these things, but only for a while: They are destined to slip between his fingers. Upon his journey he must “tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandaled feet.” He must ultimately take, and then transcend. The Sword & Sorcery hero is an avatar of change in a staid world; the Great Leveler. As things rise, so must they fall, as anyone who crosses his path with sword drawn will learn. He has come to bring things down, pulling the temple of the ordinary down around him.
Any talk of “first principles” in the context of fantasy fiction, particularly Sword & Sorcery fiction, must also address the primal nature of the form; its embrace of nature, red, bold and lusty. Here is man as beast, hunter and slayer, fallen away from the niceties (and restraints) of civilization. He has taken up the sword and left behind the assurances and safety of modernity, content to cast his lot with the eternal ebb and flow of Mother Life and Father Death. Perhaps riches will be his, perhaps the grave, but in any case, the hero will meet it blade in hand. After all, death comes for even the cautious, and the Sword & Sorcery protagonist has determined to meet it on his terms. It’s a kind of fatalism, but a brave one: He’s lost everything, but gained the world in an embrace of his true nature.
We speak of nature, so we must also face another undoubtable aspect of Sword & Sorcery’s popularity: its masculinity. It is, of course, only a casual observation, but it seems to this writer that the majority of the form’s fans are male. The hero’s embrace of violence and deceit as ways to an end must appeal to some atavistic but sublimated impulse of the male mind. In the breast of every wage slave and quivering slice of soft, cubicle veal beats the heart of a warrior and a hunter, a raging, howling primal creature that must be free. It has always been so, and likely always will be. Beneath the thousands of years of front-brain restraint, the beast is there, and it slips free of its shackles through the vicarious triumphs of the Sword & Sorcery hero. This is not to say that the genre does not have its female adherents–champions, even–but as a man, I cannot speak of their experience with any credibility. I must leave that to another.
In addition to all of these factors–all of which I embrace–my own relationship with Sword & Sorcery fiction has always been one of aesthetic admiration: I love the immediacy of the form, its urgency and the blood and thunder of its powerful prose. While I do like other kinds of fantasy fiction–the scale of epic fantasy and the erudition of the New Weird–no other form of fantastic prose has ever reached my innermost soul in the way that Sword & Sorcery has. Call the genre reprobate, juvenile or worse (and yes, I recognize and struggle to make peace with the genre’s less than politically correct past as any modern fan must) it is my door to the transcendent. If the portal does not open as readily for you then you must find your own.
Absolutely. This kind of literature is so resonate with our souls, at least those of us who allow it to be. Well said.
Hmm, though I’m not often outspoken concerning S&S (mainly because I don’t consider myself an S&S author, though I love the genre as a reader), I am one who does not believe in being an apologist for the genre. And no, Matt, I’m not being critical of you specifically, though I would like to point out what I feel is one of the common failings of the genre’s modern fans: The apparent need for saying “I’m sorry” concerning past non-politically correct authors and stories within the S&S genre. I think it’s time to move past all that. It’s the past. As a writer of the speculative, I don’t feel the need to apologize for other authors’ past ideas and/or failings.
Hmm, let me apologize. All that sounds harsher than I really mean it to, and I’m not trying to stir up a stink. But, for example, I rarely see mystery and thriller writers being apologists for Ian Fleming’s misogyny in the early James Bond novels. Why do S&S fans feel the need to do so? As long as we cling to the negative aspects, they will haunt us. Only when we can do as any Howard character would do and throw off the mantle that is the ghost of the past will S&S find acceptance. And don’t worry about perceived images by outsiders, because beyond die-hard fantasy circles, the rest of world rarely distinguishes S&S from other fantasy sub-genres.
We must blaze a new trail, the writers and readers and fans, and stop allowing outside influences make us cringe as if S&S is something of which we should be ashamed. It isn’t.
Awesome insights offered there Ty – I hope they don’t shut everyone up!
I hope not. That was not my intention. And I didn’t in any way mean to slam Matt or, in general, S&S fans.
It’s just that too often I feel the S&S community goes around saying “sorry” about things like big men with big swords and women in chain mail bikinis. That was decades ago, for the most part. The genre has grown since then, and the general public and readership is only going to see that if we (as authors and writers and fans) portray it publicly. For example, look at what RBE has to offer today. Heck, look back at authors like Moorcock and Leiber, godfathers of the genre who created their own tropes instead of focusing upon the past. Conan is great reading, Howard is one of the best action writers of all time, but it’s been close to a century. This little sub-genre of fantasy will grow up when we make it grow up. I think it was on the right path up until about the early to mid-80s, but then, probably more than anything, the Conan movies starring Arnold did more harm than good (and I say that as a fan of the first film). It also didn’t help that KEW died far too young, the Thieves’ World series sort of blew up, and that fantasy culture was overtaken by D&D (which there’s nothing wrong with in and of itself, just that it seemed to overshadow fantasy for nearly two decades).
Let’s talk people! Tell me I’m wrong. Curse me out! Call my mother names! Or agree with me!
I’ve had far too little sleep today, if you can’t tell.
Speaking from a woman’s perspective, I can safely say that the idea of taking arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them most bloodily can appeal to female, too, even if not so many as male readers.
Best,
Cynthia
Yes! Thank you, Cynthia.
You’re most welcome. Ty!
Great article, Matt! I think you were right in mentioning the genre’s political incorrectness. These are issues that should mentioned, if not addressed outright. I’m glad that things are changing in the world of sword and sorcery since I first started reading it back in the late 60s, early 70s. I like to view a sword and sorcery world as rich in cultures, religions, and ethnic diversity as the Mediterrean area in the days of Ancient Rome. Sure, there was racial hatred, slaves of all cultures, war, disease, and other “bad things” too numerous to mention — but it was a world that was alive with diversity — and that’s what we need in fantasy (and we are getting it, now, especially in epic fantasy.) Many writers of the old school just didn’t have exposure to other races, creeds, colors, and religions. Their worldview was narrow — tunnel vision — but that has changed and continues to change. The Sacred Genre can and is leading the way.