Years ago, someone explained to me that author Michael Moorcock’s work could best be described as the opposite of Robert E. Howard. Howard’s creations, most famously Conan the Barbarian, were barbarians who lived violent lives and eventually became powerful kings. Moorcock thought it was more interesting to do the opposite and have a king become a barbarian.
I read one of the Elric books about twenty years ago, but more recently, I decided to try Moorcock again and went for the first of his Corum series, The Knight of the Swords.
Set in a fantastic world that may or may not be Earth (we’re told it’s called that, but it’s bowl-shaped instead of round), we meet Prince Corum, a cultured young man living in a castle with his extended family and some servants. Corum is a Vadhagh, an ancient race that used to be more numerous. They and the Nhadragh race used to be at war, but that was years ago. Vadhagh, we’re told, look largely human but have paler skin, may be a bit taller, have almond-shaped eyes and tapered ears. Nhadragh are darker and have some hair around their eyes. And there are still humans, called Mabden.
One day, Corum’s father suggests Corum ride off and visit some other Vadhagh castles. That turns out to save Corum’s life. A Mabden nobleman is leading a genocidal force against all Vadhagh, and because he isn’t home and instead on the road, he manages to survive the attacks. That spurs Corum on to vengeance, but this Moorcock’s work, so things never really go as planned. Corum is more of a scholar and an artist, and even though he does have some armor and weapons, he isn’t particularly skilled in fighting.
What follows is a lot of misery for Corum. He loses a hand and eye, washes out to sea, meets a human woman who loves him, and goes on various quests, initially for revenge, but later for other reasons. If anything, Corum is more or less irrelevant to what happens. Most of the plot has things happen beyond his control. He doesn’t really have much agency in what happens, and much of what happens seems to be there just to make him much more miserable.
And yet, I greatly enjoyed this. Moorcock’s writing style is Hemmingwayesque, with simple sentences and mostly simple words (aside from the ones Moorcock makes up), but he uses that not just to show a man without any ability to keep himself from suffering, but also to discuss the philosophy around ideas like hatred, love, revenge, duty, and violence. The end result is a hero who doesn’t really want to be a hero, but decisions made by him and by others force him to become so. Will I go on to the remaining five novels in this series? Probably. This one was rather short all told.
Grade: B+
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