Contents

Editorial Page 1Odds and Sods Department Page 4The Bearded Triffid - A Column On Science Fiction Topics Page 6Better Living Through Chemistry Page 9Bards, Fantasy and the Dark Ages Page 10Heroics - as it is spoken. Page 13The Lay(ing) of Kaiwyn and Genefar Page 16Letters Page 19The Convention is Over by Graham P. Collins Page 21

Art Credits Dan McCarthy - Cover and Page 15 Skuffi Kidd - Page 8 Graham Ferner - Page 22 Michael Hamilton - Pages 3 and 20

All Rights Reserved.Copyright on Material Reverts to Authors on Publication.

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Alex Heatley (Editor).P.O Box 11-708Manners Street Wellington.

Subscriptions are available at the rate of $4:00 for four issues.Overseas Subscriptions by arrangement.

Phlogiston is published every three months. Next publication date is 1stMay 1985. Deadline for Contributions 1st April 1985.

Readers are invited to submit material for publication, however, no promise is made of publication. Any published material entitles the contributor to a free copy of the issue in which it appears.

Editorial

On the Downfall of the Capitalistic Society and the Arrogance of the Middle Class Intellectual

"May you live in interesting times" is an old Chinese curse suggesting that what makes the great backdrop of society interesting to historians may not be pleasant to those living it. I cannot think of a time since 1901 that the human race or, for the purposes of this essay, Western civilisation has not experienced "interesting times".

Since the 1950's one of the fashionable subjects discussed by intellectuals has been the problem of over-population. Isaac Asimov for example expressed the opinion that if something wasn't done to slow the birth rate modern society would crumble by about the year 2000. It seemed that the only thing to do was encourage the use of contraceptives and prohibit couples from having more than two children.

In true fashion the Western world ignored such doom-criers and the years ticked by. By the start of the eighties it was apparent that the world population was not increasing as fast as had been predicted. In the Western World economic and social factors had changed to the extent that people were having fewer children. The world population was still increasing but at a slower rate. One of the unfortunate consequences of this was that in at least one country a government found itself in the position of trying to justify the building of power stations to supply electricity to met population growth that hadn't occurred!

The purpose of this example is to illustrate the errors of prediction. Many writers and public figures have tried to predict the future and no matter what is predicted something different comes to pass. The problem is that modern society is so complex that picking out a trend, such as increasing population, and examining it in isolation means that other trends with contributing factors tend to be ignored. For example: the welfare state seems to produce a society composed of mainly middle income families, middle income families have fewer children than high or low income families, hence a contributing factor to a decreased birth rate that no one seems to have predicted. Yet most of the predictors picked out that easy access to oral contraceptives would change social patterns and lead to a lessened birth rate.

These days two of the fashionable topics seem to be the "How many TV's can you sell before everyone has one" argument and the "Increased unemployment due to automation of jobs" prediction.

The first argument merely states that in a capitalistic society there comes a point where the demand for a particular product levels off and may even go into a decline. If a company is geared to produce 10,000 TV sets a week and the demand levels off at 100 TV sets a week then the company has a minor problem on its hands.

People have been predicting since the 70's that the introduction of industrial robots and the computerisation of jobs will lead to a reduction in available jobs. In a society where anyone who doesn't have a job is considered less than human (it seems mostly by those who have had jobs for ten or more years). This is going to (so these predictors say) place an amazing strain on society leading to riots, civil unrest (more riots) and eventually a breakdown of society.

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Both these combine into the downfall of Capitalistic Society argument. Which tends to follow these lines :

If a company discovers that the demand for the product line it is producing is falling it can do several things: Go out of business, cut prices to try and squeeze other competitors out of of the market or develop another product line (for example video recorders).

In the first instance unemployment results, the second produces reduced profit margins which encourages company directors to look around for means of cutting costs (to keep profits high and shareholders happy) and as labour is a large cost of producing many goods automation seems to be a good solution. Of course this produces unemployment but this isn't the company's problem.

The third alternative doesn't throw people out of work and can actually employ more people for research and development (often abbreviated to R&D) but it has a more serious effect. As product lines proliferate the average income has to rise to be able to afford the extra goods. For example at the moment the craze is for video recorders which cost (In NZ) about $2000 but only those who can afford a TV set will want a video recorder and even then they might not have the income to afford one. Add to this unemployment caused by automation and the number of people able to afford products such as video recorders starts to decrease. Demand for the product levels off and the company is back to the problem of keeping profits up while trying to compete in a market where every other company has the same problem.

Again the attractive solution is to automate and cut labour costs but this produces more unemployed who can't afford the products that the company makes leading to more unemployment as the company either lays off more people or goes bankrupt. It can be seen that this vicious circle tends to have an exponential effect, starting off small and slow and increasing in size and speed at a faster and faster rate.

All this leads to the "Downfall of Capitalistic Society" according to some intellectuals I've talked to (other factors complicate the problem such as the need by governments to throw money at pyramid projects in order to keep the economy turning over - for example massive spending on defence). I'm not sure whether such a thing is likely to occur as it depends on a real reduction of the number of jobs for the cycle to take place and it is not clear whether current unemployment is large enough to trigger the cycle.

This is where "The Arrogance of the Middle Class Intellectual" appears. It seems that such people (and I must include myself in this) have a tendency to believe that such changes are not going to affect them. Such changes only affect the "Working" class who seem to be represented as unable to adjust to changes in society.

Such intellectuals sit around discussing the effects of massive unemployment and tsk tsking about the poor Working class who are going to be unable to adjust to increased leisure time, being on the benefit and so on. Secure in the knowledge that such things are not going to affect them as "they can always find another job".

It is arrogance of the highest sort to sit around and stereotype a section of society and treat it in patronising terms. It is denial of humanity to treat living breathing people as an amorphous, stereotyped, collective blob. And it is this behaviour I wish to denounce. It makes me wonder how sincere people are when they can state that they support anti-racism and feminism and yet trot out such arrogant comments.

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It may well be that in the next fifty years society is going to change in such a way that capitalism withers away and becomes something quite different to today's society. But I am confident that all of humanity is going to have to adjust to changing conditions and all of humanity are going to share in the process of changing society to better suit the individual.

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Odds and Sods Department.Firstly I would like to announce a price rise. From this issue on the price of an issue is one dollar and the subscription is four dollars for four issues. The issue price is increasing due to public opinion - many people have suggested that I might as well increase the price to $1 and stated that they felt the Zine was easily worth that much, If they change their minds I shall be unhappy.

The subscription increase is because I worked out one day that after deducting the cost of postage and envelopes I only had 27 cents per issue to pay for printing costs. This is just not worthwhile so rather than abolish subscriptions I've decided to increase the subscription rate by a whole 25 cents an issue (Wow!!). Of course until your sub runs out you have nothing to worry about.

On the personal front: I've recently shifted house and I'm currently flatting in the Aro Valley area. So if you are in the habit of writing to my home address please use the address on the contents page.

From J.C Kearsley comes some information about Lionel Fanthorpe culled from "The SF Book of Lists" by Michael Ashely (Virgin, 1982) which reveals that Fanthorpe is the most prolific SF novelist with 121 novels to his credit. He is, however, merely the 3rd most prolific Sf short story writer with only 265 stories. For those of you who wish to track down books by Fanthorpe I've extracted a list of the 26 pseudonyms that he used in writing his novels and stories: Neil Balfort, Othello Baron, Erle Barton, Lee Barton, Thornton Bell, Leo Brett, Bron Fane, Mel Jay, Marston Johns, L.P Kenton, Victor La Salle, Oben Lerteth, John E. Muller, Elton T. Neefe, Phil Nobel, Peter O'Flynn, John Raymond, Lionel Roberts, Rene Rolant, Deutero Spartacus, Robin Tate, Neil Thanet, Trebor Thrope, Pel Torro, Olaf Trent and Karl Ziegfreid. Good hunting!

Tim Jones has just produced another issue of Timbre. This issue is nine months late and has a publication date of August. It's entitled "Timbre #2 A magazine of misunderstanding" and is available from Tim at 20 Gillespie St, Dunedin for trade, articles, letters, artwork or $0.50. Timbre contains mainly material written by Tim with a few letters thrown in for good measure. The layout is a little chaotic which makes it a trifle difficult to read. There is little artwork (I think I've cornered the market...) and it contains a review of Phlogiston!! On the whole not a bad effort and I look forward to the next issue, whenever it may appear.

Wait! I haven't finished yet. . . .

For those readers out there who are weird enough to like socialising with other SF fans (Fen for short) I have received some information about a convention to be held in Auckland over Easter weekend (April 5 - 8). Called Orcon and billed as New Zealand's Seventh National Science Fiction Convention (it isn't but I won't bore you with the sordid details as to why not) it's being organised by the same crew that produced Norcon '84 (Nigel Rowe, Tom Cardy, Malcolm Stenerson, Cathryn Symons, Michael Kowalwski and Duncan Lucas). Membership is $NZ 20 and further information can be obtained from P.O Box 1814, Auckland. The Convention Hotel is quite expensive so if you can stay with friends it would probably be a good idea. Caveat Emptor.

The real action is going to be later on in the year at Aussiecon - The 43rd World Science Fiction Convention. Aussiecon will be held between the 22nd and 26th of August in Melbourne, Australia. Fen from all over the world will be attending along with many SF writers (For example Jack Chalker, Robert L. Forward, Joe Haldeman, Vonda N. McIntyre, Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle and Bob Shaw are all members) and it's a convention not to be missed. Membership is $Aust 60 (at current NZ exchange rates about $100). For further details either write to me enclosing a

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stamped,address envelope and I'll send you photocopies of the relevant information or write to Tom Cardy P.O Box 1010 Auckland, or write to Aussiecon Two, GPO Box 2253U, Melbourne Victoria 3001, Australia (A quick tip - according to reports you'll get a faster response out of me than either of the other addresses)

A new contributor to Phlogiston is David Harvey. David is a published author and his book of children's stories has recently been released in NZ. Entitled "Dragon Smoke and Magic Song" and illustrated by Pauline Baynes it's a snap at a mere $14.95 (I expect to receive a free copy for review any day now ... Hint Hint). David's next work "The Song of Middle Earth" will be, according to him, published early this year and should be well worth picking up. David is also a lawyer in his spare time and the only problem I have with him is that every time he sends me a letter I think I'm being served with a summons for libel.

The other new contributor is John Witstyn. John is a fireman by profession and has threaten that if I say anything funny about him he'll come round and burn all my books. I'm not sure whether he was serious or not but as John lives in Wellington I'm not taking any chances. Besides I don't think I can write anything more humorous than his writing. . .

This issue is notable in that none of the material was solicited, all of it was offered to me at various stages over the three months since the last issue. To those who contributed a big thank you, to those I had to write rejection letters to - sorry but better luck next time. At the moment I have two articles in the works for issue five, but I still need more material. On the artwork front, one of my more steady contributors is dropping out as he is diverting his energies towards a comic. So I need more artwork, if you can put pen to paper and create please send it in. Finally I hope you enjoy this issue and if you can think of anyone who would like a subscription please show them a copy. The more people subscribe, the better the quality of the Zine.

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The Bearded Triffid - A Column on SF Topics by Alan RobsonNote to the reader: This column has an unconventional structure

Indeed, (The English Assassin) is so logical an end to the series, I'm not clear why Moorcock plans a fourth. I take it that his enthusiasm for the fourth, provisionally entitled 'The Condition of Musak', must have ebbed, inasmuch as it has not appeared in the last three years, while he is known to be working on other projects.

Peter Nicholls, Foundation 9, Nov 1975

The Condition of Musak by Michael MoorcockAllison and Busby LimitedCopyright © Michael Moorcock 1977Winner of the Guardian Fiction Prize

"Of course", said Alan, "it's really all a question of lifestyle. There isn't any alternative when you only have one choice". In the background the Beatles sang 'Ticket to Ride' at low volume on the stereo, and Alan hummed along with as he loaded ammunition into his imperial 200 typewriter.

"I see what you mean". Alex found this amusing. "It all comes down to fashion in the end. You can't buy the costumes any more".

The Entropy Tango by Michael MoorcockA Jerry Cornelius NovelNew English LibraryCopyright © Michael Moorcock 1981

Jerry Cornelius was born into the magazine New Worlds. Over the years, in a series of novels and short stories, Moorcock and many other writers (notably Norman Spinrad - see his 'The Last Hurrah of the Golden Horde') took Jerry through a series of apocalypses. He was perhaps the most successful metaphor of entropy, that guiding principal culled from thermodynamics that the new wave writers paid so much lip service to (See Pamela Zoline's 'The Heat Death of the Universe' - one of its most extreme manifestations, though totally unconnected with Jerry. And that is probably the most profound connection of all).

He is beautiful, ageless, bisexual, multi-talented, murderous, drug-sodden, an eternal adolescent who is privy to the secrets of time travel and semi-immortality. He is both ruthless and sentimental, equally at home in a squalid crash-pad or the exotic palace of an obscure Indonesian potentate.

Neil SpencerReview of 'The Condition of Musak'New Musical Express, 2 July 1977, page 56

The Lives and Times of Jerry Cornelius by Michael MoorcockAllison and Busby LimitedCopyright © Michael Moorcock 1976

The flying boat settled at its cruising altitude of 50,000 feet. The reverberations of the four huge engines shook the cabin. Alex stropped his knife gently backwards and forwards, testing the edge occasionally to see how keen it was. "What are you going to do now?"

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Alan looked out of the window at the swell of the sea far below. "I thought I might go to Australia", he said, "but the Israelis won't give me a visa".

Alex shrugged. "Perhaps it's time to transmogrify?"

"I don't think so", said Alan. "I've done it too many times. It doesn't look any different from the other side".

"You know best". Alex began to shave the hairs on his legs, one by one. As he shaved, he whistled 'Dixie'.

The Alchemist's QuestionBeing the Final Episode in the Career ofThe English Assassinin The Opium General and Other Stories by Michael MoorcockHarrap LimitedCopyright © Michael Moorcock 1984

Jerry Cornelius is the paradigmatic native of the inner city; his roles constitute a genuine paradigm set of strategies for living there.

John Clute'The Repossession of Jerry Cornelius'The Cornelius ChroniclesNew York: Avon, 1977

From the streets below there came the sounds of M16's as the revolutionaries played with their victory. Alan moved the curtain gently over the window and took the telephone off the hook. "From each according to his abilities", he said softly, "To each according to his needs".

Alex looked up with a puzzled frown. "Was that the one who played the piano?" he asked, "Or was it the one with the greasepaint moustache?"

"Both", said Alan.

The whimsicalities to be found in all the books are, in fact, not random, not mere conceits, but make internal references. That is to say, while I strive for the effect of randomness on one level, the effect is achieved by a tightly controlled system of internal reference, puns, ironies, logic-jumps which no single reader may fairly be expected to follow . . . .

Michael Moorcock'In Lighter Vein'SojanManchester: Savoy Books 1977, page 156

Jerry was a creature of the 1960's who hung on into the 1970's. By the time that the 1980's came along he was a bit of a has been, almost a member of the establishment. The 1980's were the wrong time, the wrong place and full of all the wrong people. And that seems to be the reason for subtitling the new Jerry Cornelius novel as the final episode in his career. The mood of the book is sad, shot through with nostalgia. Most of the characters are there on stage; but many are not. Frank Cornelius,

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Karen Von Krupp, Mrs Cornelius. They are dead. not as they have died so many times before, but permanently removed. The times are all wrong, and they won't be back again. They've closed down the roof garden at Derry and Toms.

"Give Catherine my love"."She's always had it, hasn't she?" Una softened. "Or what you call love. You're getting feeble again. I had some hope of you in the sixties. Even the early seventies"."Well, I can still make it then, can't I?" His awkward attempt at machismo was awful. "I think I'll hit Prague next"."Leave it out Jerry. Instant gratification will be the death of you. Try growing up"."But I don't want to be a might-have-been".

The Alchemist's QuestionThe Opium General and Other Stories

Goodbye Jerry . It was fun while it lasted.

The Final Programme by Michael MoorcockAllison and Busby Limited Copyright © Michael Moorcock 1969

A Cure for Cancer by Michael MoorcockAllison and Busby LimitedCopyright © Michael Moorcock 1971

The English Assassin by Michael MoorcockAllison and Busby LimitedCopyright © Michael Moorcock 1972

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Better Living Through Chemistry - by Anson Nightmare.

It was a day like any other: Margeret had run out of gnomes and Xenophon's ferret had eaten Mr Wimshurst.

At her youngest's insistence Margeret was now amiably mixing a strawberry yakshake as Zen (he hated being called Xenophon and had oft times waxed lyrical on the culpability of his parents in this regard) explained that Mr Wimshurst had not been completely devoured - merely rent about the extremities - and should eventually recover enough for Zen to bring charges against him for damages to livestock.

"He doesn't properly appreciate my I.Q. of 250 - he will soon find out I have the entire body of statute law memorised". Zen tapped his forehead with a finger that Margeret indulgently noted was as grimy as any other boy's. "He hasn't a leg to stand on".

"Not a very fortunate turn of phrase, dear" remarked Margeret as she skimmed the fur off the shake.

"Less than he deserves, and shall receive. And hurry up with my shake, Margeret!"

"Just finished dear" replied Margeret and smiled happily as Zen drained the glass in a trice, pausing only to spray suds over her arms.

"Hey, this hasn't any taste!" exclaimed Zen. "That's right dear. The red colour is phenolphthalein".

"An acid-base indicator", responded Zen, showing off his encyclopaedic knowledge of everything, "changing from colourless to red in the pH range 8.3 - 10.0", he looked puzzled for a moment, "Commonly prepared as a tenth percent solution in seventy percent ethanol", to his look of puzzlement was added a tinge of unease.

Margeret continued the statement - "Esteemed in the pharmacopoeia as an extremely effective laxative". She beamed as Zen fled the room. She was so glad she'd taken that assertiveness course.

Margeret happily began to flay the umbrellas, a task she normally found unutterably tedious. The sound of anguished pounding revealed that Clytemnestra was still in the bathroom. "Such a girl for auguries - they really must do something about tiling the floor though..."

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Bards, Fantasy and the Dark Agesby David Harvey

The created fantasy world often involves the establishment of an historical and frequently mythic framework or background. Science Fiction often contains the same elements. Pebble in the Sky by Isaac Asimov develops the basis of the Asimovian Myth that the human race originated on Terra and indeed, this myth had been referred to in the Foundation Series as popular among the peoples of the Trantor Republic/Empire. Again, in Orion Shall Arise by Poul Anderson, a book which should be of particular interest to New Zealanders, the Pre-Holocaust world has faded beyond the realms of history and into the mists of myth.

Although modern fantasy sets out to create its own mythic background and historical past, as in Donaldson's Covenant Series and Tolkien's Middle-Earth works, there are occasions when a known mythic or literary cum-mythic background is used to provide a more immediate tapestry for the events of the tale. Pratt and De Camp's Enchanter Series, Poul Anderson's fantasy novels, and Lloyd Alexander's Taran Wanderer stories are examples. Even the myth retold can result in a dramatic fantasy realisation, such as Jim Fitzpatrick's The Book of Conquests and The Silver Arm, Evageline Walton's retelling of the tales of The Mabinogion, and Marion Zimmer Bradley's The Mists of Avalon.

Here I must take issue with Triffdus Barbanigra, aka The Black Bearded Triffid, aka Alan Robson, where he dwells upon the influence of names and language. Although I agree with him in principle that names, and indeed language and idiom, are essential in the good telling of a tale, he has chosen the wrong example. Kevin may indeed be a wimpish name in these days of looser sinews and limper extremities but, nonetheless, it is a name of ancient lineage, going back to Celtic times. Odd upon the ear though it may sound these days it is as valid a name for the Arthurian period of Bradley's day as Gawain (Which has become a whimpish Gavin in modern times) or Gareth or Galahad. The Triffid's reaction is more conditioned by these times than those of the setting of the novel and I cannot agree with him that it detracts from the power and tragedy of Bradley's tale which reveals that she has a creative power and deep understanding of Celtic and Dark Ages society that has not been apparent in her other work.

The period of Bradley's tale is one that is fascinating for me - The "Dark Ages" of Britain and Europe. This is to many an unknown period of history, full of dramatic movements of peoples which commenced well before the last Emperor of the Western Roman Empire and which, in my opinion, began to falter with the final great barbarian movement east of the Third Crusade of 1198. Although historians generally recognise that the Dark Ages ended before that event.

The history of the Dark Ages is not as well documented as earlier or later times, but the rays of light provided by such works as The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, The Book of the Dun Cow (So named because of the colour of the hide upon which it was written) the work of the Venerable Bede, The Chronicles of Layamon, Wace, Geoffrey of Monmouth and Gerald of Wales as well as the Northern Sagas and the beginning of the Eddaic Epic later collected by Snorri Sturlsson are illuminating.

It was not until the troubadours of Languedoc who flourished in the days of Eleanor of Aquitaine, wife of the great Angevin - Henry II, that the notions of chivalry developed. These concepts, which were not reflected as brilliantly in the reality of the times except by rare figures such as William Marshal - Earl of Pembroke, were carried through in the works of Chretien de Troyes, the books comprising The Matter of Britain - The Quest for the Holy Grail and The High History of the Holy Grail, and Wolframm Von Eschenbach's Parzival. The final splendour of chivalraic writing

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came with Malory's Arthurian Chronicles (of which Morte D'Arthur is but one) and Spenser's poem The Faerie Queen.

Although these works are set against the the period contemporary with the writers, the tales themselves derive from the oral or bardic tradition that was the only form of real record keeping outside the monasteries during the turmoil of the Dark Ages. Even then, the tales themselves had elements that went beyond the Dark Ages to an earlier time - to a deeper mythic past. It was during the Dark Ages, however, that the tales became crystallised from accounts of ancient religious rituals to a part of the quasi-literary culture of the time.

An explanation for this shift in emphasis lies with the shifts in religion and cultures that began with the Romans, who sought to eliminate the Celtic Druidic religion of Gaul and Britain and substitute for it the State Religion of Rome. When that religion became Christianity after Constantine, a further shift took place. Multi-theistic paganism was replaced with monotheistic Christianity, though pagan deities, feasts, and themes were grafted onto the State Religion. The Irish St. Bridget, for example, was well known to pre-christian Celts. The "barbarian" Goths, Vandals, Alans, Slavs, Wends, Jutes, Danes, Saxons, Norsemen and Franks brought with them their own Gods and their own assaults on the "Older" religions. Consequently, the memory of these beliefs was kept alive in a few secret festivals and more openly in the tales and songs recounted by the bards, troubadours, jogleurs, minstrels and other travelling entertainers of the time.

We cannot know why the Elves hated iron (although we can hazard some reasonable hypotheses) or who the Fomorians, Firbolg and Tuatha de Danaan were. The Great Mystery of the Holy Grail has a deeper pagan significance, bearing some relationship to the Cauldron of re-birth or the Cauldron of Dagda All-father of Eire. Those who would embark on a quest for such origins will never achieve it. Much of the availiable literature, particularly for the Arthurian legends is in French and rests in the vaults of libraries overseas. However there are reprints of The Celtic Myths and The Cletic Dragon Myth in this country*. The Book of the Dun Cow and ancient accounts of the great battles of the Tuatha de Danaan - the battles of Moy Tura - are not for antipodean eyes. One should not despair. As is the case with all Quests, the undertaking and the journey are as important as the achievement. From time to time gems appear on the road amid the worthless dust.

It is the bold writer who will attempt to write a fantasy which combines myth and history. Keith Taylor is one such. His two books, uninspiringly entitled Bard and Bard II (Ace, 1984) are set in the Britain and Western Europe of 511 - 512 AD. The bard is Felimid Mac Fal, a descendant of the Tuatha de Danaan of Eire. He has two relics of the Tuatha de Danaan - a sword named Kincaid and a harp named Golden Singer. Felimid is a bard of the third level, not very advanced but far enough on that he can, with his harp, charm sleep, sadness laughter and the elements to a certain degree. Bard introduces Felimid as a rover, slightly unscrupulous, an opportunist and filled with a desire to return to his homeland, Eire. In his travels he encounters the Jutes of Kent, roving bands of robbers, villains, the occasional magician and a band of Count Arthur's companions. The tale tells us that Felimid fought at the Battle of Mount Badon. The fragile nature of the society of the time is evident, as is the anarchy of life in the Dark Ages. Taylor has studied his background. The notes about the author are frustratingly brief, but he has an intimacy with his setting. The action in both books is fast and does not let up. The plotting is tight and well related. Looming over the whole of the first book is the shadow of Tosti Fenrirs-get, a shape changer of violent and awesome proportions. The final climax is dramatic and compelling. It is good fantasy that is not too far divorced from a world that was once known and it is not totally outrageous. It is a book that I would recommend for a howling winter's night by the fire rather than on a beach in summer.

* Available through Book-Reps(NZ) Ltd, Auckland

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Bard II takes us away from Britain to the other side of the Channel and finally into the Baltic as Felimid joins forces with Gudrun Blackhair, a notorious Danish pirate. Though the pace and plotting are good but we learn more of Felimid the Man as the book develops. There is a scent of tragedy about him - the bard who, although a rover, finds himself driven by forces that even he cannot understand and further from the Emerald Isle for which he yearns so much. I would offer one caveat - read Bard first - there is a crucial incident in Bard II that requires knowledge of the first book. But if you found Bard a good read, you won't have forgotten much of the plot by the time you pick up the second volume.

I thought for a while before buying these two books. There is so much fantasy about these days that, if it isn't published by Unicorn (Allen & Unwins fantasy imprint), Sturgeon's law applies with a vengeance. When I first saw Bard I feared an American popularisation and a great deal of harsh and unresonant language and idiom. If Taylor is an American, he has left the New World far behind him and has immersed himself in the poetry, paganism, beauty and barbarism of the Dark Ages.

The same cannot be said for Kenneth Flint and his book The Riders of the Sidhe (Bantam 1984). This is part of the tale of Lugh Samildana called Lamfada - Lugh of the many Talents named Long Arm. Lugh is the great hero of Celtic myth. He is the saviour of the Tuatha de Danaan, is Llew of Wales and represents the Sun God of the Western European pantheon. Whereas Jim Fitzpatrick's The Book of Conquests and The Silver Arm are lyrical prose poems, magnificently illustrated by the author and far too short, it does not mean that they cannot be savoured, but the same cannot be said of The Riders of the Sidhe. There are parts of the book which are good but on the whole it lacks the lyrical quality, resonances of language and proper use of idiom that is appropriate to such a tale. I do not advocate absolute archaism in any writing, but Flint's style jarred and grated. To make matters worse, he tried to 'scientificise' the magic and origins of the Fomor who were the mortal enemies of the Tuatha de Danaan. This 'sciencificisation' takes us to the point where magic is technology and the Fomor are either products of another planet or misbegotten victims of excessive radiation - and that has already been done to the Celtic Gods by Julian May. It is a dreadful shame, for the tale is a great one and The Riders of the Sidhe could have been a very readable popularisation and novelization of a stirring and glorious myth. As it stands the work is flawed.

I have no doubt that we are going to hear more of the Celtic Myths. There are some grand tales - the Fenians, the Cattle Raid of Cooley and the other activities of Cu Chulainn - but we shall have to see. In the meantime, let us hope that our modern bards of fantasy have the artistry and the skill of Felimid Mac Fal.

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Heroics - as it is spokenby

A country squire

Recently, while straying out of the Hutt Valley in search of excitement in the Sinful City, I came upon a copy of Dave Eddings' 'Pawn of Prophecy'. Thinking that it looked more interesting than the book next to it, 'The Finer Points of Thoat Herding' by A. Robson, I decided to purchase it.

The reason I paid good shekels for this item is that I, like some of you who are reading this, am a compulsive reader and was in the position of being temporarily 'word-less'. I don't know about you but I feel uncomfortable, become nauseous, get green spots before my eyes and start to shake uncontrollably if I don't have words within eye-shot for more than twenty minutes. An hour of this deprivation and the only cure is to sit down for a uninterrupted reading of 'Lord of the Rings', 'The Compleat Works of William Shakespeare' or 'The Los Angeles Urban Telephone Directory'.

But I digress, 'Pawn of Prophecy' lasted three hours, twenty-four minutes and some seconds, and left me with a desire for more. Why? Not a simple question: Garion - the hero, is a brattish fourteen year old. The portrayal is so good, especially in the 'spoken' passages, that picturing him in my mind's eye is easy. OK that's nice. But I also found that I could picture the other characters equally clearly. Silk (A sly scheming trickster), Aunt Pol (a person to strike terror into the heart of any boy, large or small), Barak (A huge 'bear' of a man), Durnik (A country smith) and of course, Mister Wolf (Belgarath - Sorcerer Extraordinaire and Aunt Pol's father).

This is surprising - much of fantasy writing I've read, concentrates on the Hero and the Villain to the exclusion of all others - at last a book that is different! The villains are alive in all their hiss-boo splendour, Asharak (A nasty with a scarred face), Brill (Another nasty only this one has, dare I say it on these clean pages, B.O), Salmissra (The slimiest snake of them all) etc ... People you'd to hate. As someone reasonably wise once said "Without good villains what would the Hero's do?". You can imagine a Hero's convention with them all sitting around passing remits on superannuation schemes, payments for wear on swords, armour insurance and special overtime rates to be incorporated into treasure etc ... What a thrilling book that would make - like reading the minutes of a meeting of retired Union officials.

Oops, off the path again, where was I? Oh yes, I found the vocal passages in 'Pawn of Prophecy' real. The characters were saying the sort of things that I would have said in similar circumstances (Not that I encounter those sort of circumstances often. Upper Hutt is not as exciting a place as Sendaria, let alone some of the other places in the book). Mr Eddings has managed to 'de-scriptualize*' his characters. So many stories have characters that have superhuman strength and abilities, do superhuman things and sound like zombies.

I suppose that, to some of these authors the closest their characters come to having any sort of personality is that they may be called 'purse-ons' i.e turned on money machines. They exist to create wealth, fame and book sales for their creators. Unfortunately, a nasty side effect is that some easily impressed children take the forms of expression the characters use and start copying them in every day life. Soon their easily impressed parents are copying them and the next step is that the Concise Oxford has another printing, now including the words 'zap', 'bif', 'kapow' or whatever.

*Scriptualize - sound like a script from a very bad 'B' grade movie

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Anyway, Red Herring (or Rainbow Trout) aside, what I meant to say after all this verbiage is that I found David Eddings' book a gem. So much so, in fact that I found myself essaying forth again to buy the second and third books in the series and was heard to emit a groan when I found out that the fourth and fifth books weren't available yet.

I decided, since my wife was pestering me for bed-time stories and I'd temporarily run out of combinations of elephants (pink and grey, with and without trunks, smallest and largest), lions without roars, frogs, geese and all the other people that usually satisfy this demand (every night for three years now - NOT THAT - bedtime stories) that I would read a chapter of 'Pawn of Prophecy'. It went down so well that I will probably be mutilated beyond recognition when I tell her in a weeks time that the rest will have to wait, it hasn't been written yet. Oh well, I guess we'll have to wait for the fourth and fifth books. Write faster Dave - please.

Does anybody out there know of any book or short story or something which I might be able to substitute and so save my life? (My wife does LOVE her bed-time story and she's bigger'n me and fights dirty).

Please Help

Anyway, have a lovely day and may the force be with you.

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The Lay(ing) of Kaiwyn and GenefarAttributed to

Soletreeburg's Skald

---------------------------------------------------------------------- Gracious, goodly, Lord of Light Lands, Kaiwyn Kai's kin, royal ruler, He whose grace and fine demeanour, He whose fair and noble visage,He whose strength and battle prowess In the striving for his kingdom, Fiercely in the sharp swords' chatter, Swiftly in the spear-shafts' shattering, Led the people of his birthlands To the peace that is now with them.

In honour just and great in wisdom, Sits he in high carven doom-seat, Hearing those who come before him, Hearing claims and matters grievous, Sifting through what comes before him, Makes dread judgements and decrees.

In his hall upon his high seat, A carven hall of oak and elmwood,Hung with targes and banners glorious,And with stag-horns, many pointed, And with boars' tusks sharp and deadly, Remembrances of fine day's huntings. In the firepit glowing gaily, Heated coals lie softly smoking; Gathered round it noble warriors, Mighty thegns and jarls high-honoured, For a feasting through the evening, And a singing after eating. Now there come great silver platters, Placed upon the groaning tables, Trenchers full with viands a-steaming, Tasty breads of Bran's fine making, Pitchers full of mead and Rhenish, For the feasting of Great Kaiwyn, He of Kai's kin, royal ruler.

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II

Noble Kaiwyn looks about him, At the worthies there a-gathered, At his champions bold and thick-thewed, Bearing scars of conflicts fiercesome,At their wives and fair young daughters, At their lordings and retainers, But the seat beside him, empty, Tells the tale of Kaiwyn's torment; There alone he solitary seated, Above the salt, none seated closeby, The fair Queen's Seat is standing empty, For although he rules in splendour, With rich jewels upon his fingers, Bracelets silver on his forearms, Golden torque above his gorget, Yet her never took unto him, Lady fair to bear his children; Yearns he now for woman's company, And the cries of children round him, For though he was a mighty foeman, And a wise and noble sovereign, Though he hunted with great vigour, Coursing over dales and valleys, Chasing through the leafy forests; Though he had a mighty treasure, Caskets full of gold and silver, Rubies that were red as hearts-blood, Diamonds shining with cold ice-fire, Though he had these in great measure, And much more than that besides them, Never had he seen a lady, That he craved for couch companion, And a spouse to rule beside him.

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III

Upon a day fair fine and shining, In the spring with bright buds bursting,Through the new green, softly swaying,Came from Harless Free-Lord Branfell, Strong-armed, bold and worthy lordling,Owing none the hand of homage. With him riding like a sun's ray, Rode a lady on a palfrey; Genefar she hight, his daughter, Only child and much beloved, Clad in samite, white and whispy, Fair face framed in golden tresses, And the curve of her lithe body Held the gaze of all who saw her. Lo! A glamour hung about her, Like a veil all shining silver, But her eyes were bright like star-jewels,And they caught the eyes of Kaiwyn, Held him bound like iron fetters, As she stood full fair before him, In his hall beside her father; Then in Kaiwyn rose a maelstrom, Hot and strong it raved all o'er him, Kaiwyn's curse had come from darkness, Crawling through the twisting valleys Of his mind from deep within him, Filled his body with a-throbbing, With a roaring and a thunder, Burst his leathern breeks asunder ...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

This fragment was found at the archaeology site known as The Haavihaus in Orkeland and is significant for a number of reasons.

Firstly, it is one of the longest extant fragments of the saga-man known as Soletreeburg's Skald. The true identity of this saga-man is unknown and it is obvious that his name is what would be now termed a nom de plume. For surely, his name refers to his place and second, his calling is not that of a mere skald - other fragments of his work reveal otherwise. These other works are older and are original renderings of full length tales developed by other authors - especially a triad of tales of a certain diminutive dragon - works that are well known to scholars

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Secondly, although the "Skald" is known to have dwelt in Orkeland, the fragment published herein is obviously set in the West. The author has, however, engrafted many of the titles common to his region, such as thegns and jarls. Yet the tale is set in the West because of the reference to Harless, an area on the Western Shore which later became a fief of Kyrion, under the Dominion of the Ducal Count of Great Solfin and the Spire. Curiously, the names Branfell, Kaiwyn and Genefar are unknown to the chroniclers.

Thirdly, the fragment reveals very strong Celtic influences and from that we may conclude that the author was no mere skald but indeed a bard. In addition, the piece develops into a vein beloved by the Celts - satire. The poem begins as a laudatory paean to Kaiwyn and has the potential of a great romance. We can only speculate that, for some reason or another, Kaiwyn withdrew his patronage for some trifling slight - probably intoxication, a great stimulus to bardic creativity - and the author then subtly shifted the emphasis from praise to satire.

What is frustrating in the extreme is that the fragment ends where it does, for the last couplet obviously is an opening to a particularly brilliant attack in the satirical mode.

(From the proceedings of the Sunheart Institute of Celtic and Literary Studies - a paper presented by Dr. Mith Andir)

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Son of Letters (The Answer's Forty-Two?)

Ruth McCarthy Dunedin.

"Dear" Alex, You've really gone too far this time! I will not tolerate it! I suppose you think it amusing that my father likes to be paid in small furry creatures, I don't. Do you know why my sense of humour does not stretch to laughing off my father's perversions? It is because all those small furry creatures come into my room seeking refuge. What am I to do with all the little buggers? As quickly as I let them out the window they come back in through the door. The squirrels sit on the pelmet board and throw acorns at me. The opossums are worse. The capybara eat everything. The S.P.C.A have sent me a very rude letter about "the conditions to which your animals are subjected" and are threatening legal action. I tell you from one load of shit to another. I shall go mad.

And it's spring, Alex! Do you know what small furry creatures do in spring? They have baby small furry creatures. The last of them have finished mating, after weeks of peculiar noises, mating calls at all times of day and night, and the fear of prosecution under the "Indecent Animal Behaviour Act". Now they are making nests out of my notes. The room is filled with shredded paper and dung. And I have no notes to learn from, no quiet to learn in, it's impossible to concentrate due to the smell and I have a Latin exam tomorrow. At night they all climb into my bed, for the warmth and to hide from my father, and they gnaw on my toes. I get no sleep and everyone thinks I'm becoming a masochist. I'll sue you if I don't pass my exams!

Yours, as ever

Ruth McCarthy.

Sometimes being an editor isn't easy - I'm not sure to do about the above letter. Dan does so like his small furry creature first thing in the morning and I'd feel a heel if I denied him his little foibles. But Ruth does seem to be encountering problems. . . my only advice is to consider emigrating.

Michael NewberyWellington.

Dear Alex,

( The first paragraph has not been edited out - Ed )

I thought I'd allocate you a letter about Phlogiston 3, if only to put in a vote for Augustus X. Well drawn and stylish. Very Jerry Corneliusish (for whom I have a fondness) if I may say so. Keep those cords and lechers coming in.

As for "The Bearded Triffid", alas! Kevin is a wholly appropriate name for an Arthurian story. I agree that names are very important, nevertheless, had Tolkein chosen to write "The Lay of Kevin and Jennifer", I suggest that he would have transcended the limits of Kevin and Jennifer: would

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have redefined their connotations in fact. That Marion Zimmer Bradley did not do the same to "Kevin" for Alan Robson is possibly a comment on her prose, or on the depth of Mr Robson's dislike of "Kevin" (I don't know, being acquainted with neither the book nor Mr Robson).

I loved your handling of Tim Jones's letter, Alex - "Dear Alex, ...(the first paragraph has been edited out - Ed) Now for my comments on Phlogiston 2". The mind fair boggles at the contents of para 1. (Laurence Sterne Rules **). A comment, Alex: since you have access to all these lovely founts, why not put yer editorial appendages (let me rephrase that, on the other hand...) in a different fount?

(The trouble is, Mike, finding another fount as nice as the one these letters are done in - I'm having to settle for this one - Sob!)

Like the Clipboard piece, also the "New Zine". Clifton, however, should stick to ankles. Nice artwork throughout.

I'm glad the Prospectus has succeeded in attracting students; applications will be considered if submitted (in quintiplicate), neatly written upon $50 notes.... Mr Turner may like to consider the advantages of MATH373 to his chosen career.

On consideration, three references in the Prospectus require knowing the people concerned for full appreciation and another arose because Bruce thought up the names in the bath - the rest is solvable, fair enuf? (No - but you're making the rules. . .)

Michael Newbery

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The Convention is Over Say goodbye, convention goersAs we sing a fannish songHow it breaks my heart to leave hereNow the convention is gone

High above the lift is emptyAnd the fen are turning saneFor the convention is overWe may never be the same

Like all cons it was some meetingThe concom were headless hensBut the joys of cons are fleetingFor trufans and neofen

Now the dead-dog party's startingThis will be our last (good high)/(long sigh)For the convention is overI will miss it 'til I die

High above, the dawn is breaking And the fen are falling downFor the convention is over We've 'til noon to leave the town

Now the dead-dog party's endingThis will be our last warm beerFor the convention is over I will miss it 'til next year

Alternative second verse: (Guess-who-of-honour second verse)

High above, a window's breakingAnd the glass is falling rainFor the guest of honour's ragingHE won't come back here again

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