Tag Archives: Quest

Never Ending

Stories about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table are legion, but they usually end before or at Arthur’s death. After all, what’s left to say about Arthur and his knights after the legendary king dies? Nothing. The story is over.

Then again, Arthur is the once and future king, so perhaps stories about Britain after his death are as pertinent to the Arthurian myth as the ones during his life. Maybe stories don’t end just because certain characters, even main ones, die. Perhaps the stories continue, but with new characters and different adventures. Just maybe the stories go on forever. Lev Grossman thinks that might be the case, and he makes a compelling argument in The Bright Sword, his thoroughly enjoyable addition to the Arthurian myth.

The story opens with a knight, Collum, traveling to Camelot to join King Arthur and the Round Table. Collum is a poor orphan, and he’s wearing stolen armor. His chances of acceptance into this elite fighting group appear slim, but his timing is perfect. Many of Arthur’s bravest knights never returned from the quest for the Holy Grail. And then there’s Mordred, King Arthur’s bastard son. Just days ago, Arthur and Mordred killed each other in a battle that claimed most of the remaining Round Table.

Britain is now a dark and divided land. While Arthur brought unification, order, and peace, he was the “last light in the darkness.” Old Britain is asserting itself. The fairies never went away, but they’ve become bold again. Christianity is in retreat, and threats from foreign lands are everywhere. The remaining knights are ragtag so they can’t be choosey. Collum is in.

He isn’t without talents. At seventeen, Collum is incredibly strong and quick. He’s the greatest fighter his island, Mull, has ever seen, but Mull is tiny and remote. Regardless, he’ll be handy on a quest. And what do you know? These undistinguished knights suddenly have one. They must find the rightful heir to the throne. Arthur was tall, but this task is taller.

As they travel across Britain and Fairyland, the knights encounter all the major characters from the Arthurian legends, but Guinevere, Merlin, Lancelot, and Morgan le Fay aren’t the romanticized characters you might remember. They help make this addition to the canon all the more appealing.

Like all quests, this one is full of enchantment and danger. A successor is found, but the cost is great and much is uncertain. But that’s a quest for you. “Stories never really [end], they just [roll] one into the next. The past [is] never wholly lost, and the future [is] never quite found.” Quests, like stories, never really end. They’re never quite resolved.

That’s good news, my friends, because your grail is still out there, and you’ll never attain it. But like Collum, you can have wonderful adventures as you try. Quest on and quest well.

Gladiola Overdrive, Chief Editor

Charles Portis – Truly Gritful

Charles Portis’ True Grit, which was published in 1968, is considered a classic American Western, and that’s a shame because in reality it’s a classic regardless of genre. The story is narrated by the flawless Mattie Ross. Now to be clear, the only thing that’s flawless about Mattie is her storytelling.

Mattie is an old woman when the book opens. It’s the 1920s, and the Old West is long gone. Mattie is a smart woman. There are only two things in the world she loves: her church and her bank. But she doesn’t want to talk about them. She wants to talk about her quest to avenge her father’s “blood over in the Choctaw Nation when snow was on the ground.” It was in the 1870s, and Mattie was 14 years old. Her father, the “gentlest, most honorable man who ever lived,” was gunned down by Tom Chaney, a hired hand on her family’s Arkansas farm. Mattie travels alone to Fort Smith to finish her father’s business and start a little business of her own. She’s going to bring Chaney to justice, dead or alive.

But Chaney has escaped to the Indian Nation, which is just over the Arkansas state line in Oklahoma. That territory is a “sink of crime” but that’s not the Indians’ fault. They’ve been “cruelly imposed upon by the felonious intruders from the States.” The local sheriff has no jurisdiction in Indian territory, so Mattie needs the assistance of a U.S. Marshal. She asks for references and settles on Rooster Cogburn, a “pitiless man, double-tough, and fear don’t enter into his thinking. He loves to pull a cork.” He’s a man with grit. A Texas ranger, LaBoeuf (pronounced LaBeef) is also looking for Chaney because he killed a state senator. This odd trio goes into the Indian Nation searching for a killer. What’s the worst that could happen?

This isn’t Disney’s version of the Old West. There are no singing cowboys on horseback. Actually, LaBoeuf does sing some, but you get my point. Mattie can recall “when half the old ladies in the county were ‘dopeheads.'” I never heard anyone in the Apple Dumpling Gang say that. There’s a high body count, and no one returns unscathed.

Rooster Cogburn is an iconic character in American literature, but the story is a classic because it’s told by Mattie Ross. Her voice is matter-of-fact, unintentionally humorous at times, and indelible. “I have known some horses and a good many more pigs who I believe harbored evil intent in their hearts. I will go further and say all cats are wicked though often useful.” You’ll remember Mattie Ross for a long time. She’s the one with true grit.

Gladiola Overdrive, Chief Editor

Stardust Casts a Spell

Neil Gaiman describes his short novel, Stardust, as a “fairytale for grown-ups.” That’s apt but not helpful. All his novels are adult fairytales, and that’s a good thing. There’s something appealing about a writer who finds the world magical, and it makes Stardust an enjoyable read.

The story opens in the village of Wall in England when Queen Victoria was young. That’s vague but helpful because Queen Victoria was old far longer than she was young. As the name suggests, Wall is a solid fixture firmly set in our world, but the walled town borders Faerie, which is each “land that has been forced off the map by explorers and the brave going out and proving it wasn’t there.” As a result Faerie is fantastical and huge, and Wall is there to keep the two worlds separate. But as every fairytale reader knows, walls are useless against magic.

And magic is everywhere, because the Faerie Market, an event that happens once every nine years, has arrived just outside of town. All sorts of enchanted items are for sale. At one stall, Dunstan meets a beautiful faerie girl who’s been enslaved by a witch. And as every fairytale reader knows, faeries be horny. Dunstan and the faerie spend an aerobic night together. Nine months later a bundle arrives outside the wall, and it has Dunstan’s name on it. He names the boy Tristran.

We jump ahead 17 years, and Tristran is single and ready to mingle, particularly with a pretty village girl named Victoria, but she refuses to even kiss him. When they see a falling star land in Faerie, Victoria agrees to grant Tristran anything he desires if he brings her the star.

Quests are perfect plot devices, because they have a way of changing people and what they think they desire. Every fairytale must have a quest, so here we are. Tristran walks into Faerie “too ignorant to be scared, too young to be awed.” Faerie is beautiful and treacherous, and Tristran isn’t the only one searching for the star, who has transformed into a luminous young woman. Her name is Yvaine. A witch has deadly plans for Yvaine, and a Machiavellian nobleman needs the enchanted amulet in Yvaine’s possession. They’re prepared to kill anyone who interferes.

Tristran finds Yvaine first, but she was injured in the fall. How will he get her to Wall when two powerful adversaries are in quick pursuit? Perhaps that unicorn will help.

Gaiman knows how to cast a spell. He seems to believe life is a gift and the world, though it can be cruel and dangerous, is full of wonders. At one point, Tristran writes a note to his mother. “Have been unexpectedly detained by the world. Expect to see us when you see us.” Is this Gaiman speaking for himself or for all of us?

Gladiola Overdrive, Chief Editor

Anthem: Coming Soon to Netflix

The back cover of Noah Hawley’s Anthem informs the reader “[t]his isn’t a fairy tale.” The admonition is repeated inside the covers as well. This is either clever misdirection or false advertising, because the story has a wizard, witch, Orcs, goblins, ghosts, and trolls. Despite the presence of strong female characters and an appealing ethnic diversity that looks like America, this tale is as conventional as it gets: a ragtag group of heroes goes on a quest to save a damsel-in-distress. So don’t be deceived or misdirected. This is a fairy tale, and it was written with Hollywood in mind.

Now wait a minute, Gladiola. How can you say that? You don’t know the writer personally. You haven’t pissed with his penis. To which I reply: true, gross, and that’s not how the saying goes.

This is how I know. All the adults are evil and selfish, and the ragtag heroes are sexy teenagers. But, wait, there’s more. Unlike any teenagers you or I know, they immediately cooperate with each other (even though most of them have never met before) and (though they have no training in combat) they are able to take on a group of professionally-trained mercenaries. Sounds like Hollywood’s youth fetish to me. Plus, Mr Hawley’s background is in television and film.

All this should not suggest the story is bad. As a traditional quest narrative, it succeeds. It’s a page turner. But it is also a vision of contemporary society as seen through Hollywood’s dark, expensive sunglasses. Everyone is one dimensional. The heroes have backstories designed to pluck every heartstring three or more times. All the monsters are irredeemably evil and pulled from today’s headlines. The wizard is a pedophile modeled after Jeffrey Epstein. But he is so sexually cannibalistic, Epstein’s perversions appear quaint by comparison. One family resembles the Sacklers of Purdue Pharma infamy. But the fictional version is so greedy and selfish, the Sacklers come across as pickpockets. Donald Trump does not appear in the story, but he is constantly referred to. Except here he is not a sore loser ex-president, he is a God King – something only Trump himself would believe.

Mr. Hawley never preaches. His skills are more formidable. He screams. He rubs the reader’s face in bromides – all of them variants of WHAT IS WRONG WITH ALL THE ADULTS IN AMERICA! Many things, obviously. But perhaps not as many as Mr. Hawley would have us believe.

I am not discouraging you from reading this book if you are so inclined. It’s a fine fairy tale. However, you could simply wait for it to come out on Netflix.

Gladiola Overdrive, Chief Editor