Tag: Fantasy with Friends Page 1 of 3

Fantasy with Friends is a weekly meme hosted by the good people over at Pages Unbound. Fantasy with Friends poses questions each Monday about fantasy, either as a genre as a whole or individual works.

This week’s prompt is:

Sometimes people talk about fantasy as allowing readers to see or realize things about our real world that they would not otherwise have seen (that is, they argue that fantasy can more effectively help us see reality than realistic fiction or even nonfiction can). Has this happened to you? Is there something you think about differently now because you were initially inspired to by a fantasy story?

When I read this prompt, I thought something like, “Well, obviously. That’s one of the side benefits of reading anything–especially SF/F because they take us out of our world. This’ll be a piece of cake.” And then I sat down a couple of times to jot down some initial thoughts, and now it’s time for me to write the post–and…I haven’t been able to come up with a single example. Nothing concrete, anyway.

I think at the end of the day, I’m going to have to say it’s people. I think about people, relationships between people, obligations that exist inherently between them–and those we take on ourselves. Fantasy has–and likely will continue to do so–help me think about other perspectives, seeing inherent worth in the individual (which is always easy in the abstract to say one holds to, but is sometimes more difficult in practice). Parenthood, neighborliness, hospitality, relationship of child to parent, love, commitment, care for animals, care for those less fortunate or Other (thankfully, I don’t have to deal with literal trolls or goblins–but the principles apply in not seeing them as necessarily bloodthirsty hoards), seeing nobility where one doesn’t expect it, in seeing the absence thereof where you would be inclined to expect it. Seeing heroes in the little things as well in the big moments.

There’s something about people that you can and ought to see differently in the most paint-by-number Tolkien rip-off, the laziest “this one D&D campaign that I loved” novelization, the “I want to be Travis Baldree” cozy, to the mind-blowing epic of epic that leaves you panting for the next doorstop in the series. Any fantasy novel is going to make you look at people, creatures, magic/tech, and life differently.

(and yes, this should be applied to any other genre in multiple senses, as well–just one of many reasons I wish I’d been able to come up with something more Fantasy-specific)

Go read some of the other responses to this prompt, they’re likely better thought-out and consider different works/angles.

Between a lack of time (one week) and a lack of anything to say (the others), it’s been a while since I participated in one of these. But I have some things to say about this one. I think I do, anyway. Let’s find out.

Fantasy with Friends is a weekly meme hosted by the good people over at Pages Unbound. Fantasy with Friends poses questions each Monday about fantasy, either as a genre as a whole or individual works.

This week’s prompt is:

What role do you think technology should play in fantasy? Some authors try to avoid it (ex. worlds set in an imagined past before modernization or worlds like HP where wizards simply do not use telephones or television even though they have been invented). Yet other authors try to imagine what a world with both technology and magic would look like (ex. The Legend of Korra, Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn series). Can magic and technology work well together? What questions does an author have to address to make it work?

Urban Fantasy is replete with examples of magic interfering with technology (e.g., The Dresden Files, The Rivers of London), as well as tech and magic both operating just fine together (e.g., Mercy Thompson/Alpha & Omega, InCryptid)–and I’m sure there’s plenty of things to say about them, but I’m not particularly interested in them right now. (there’s a first time for everything, right?)

When I read this prompt a few weeks ago, three books/series jumped to mind as ways to approach this idea. In short–I think the two can work well together just fine, depending on the author’s purpose in mixing them. But it can also be fun when they don’t work together. I’m sure I could also invoke Clarke’s Third Law here, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” and do something interesting with that. Maybe I will one day.

The three types of approaches where they work well fall into three categories:
1. Magic and Tech Simply Co-exist. I’m going to submit J.C. Jackson’s Terra Chronicles as our example here. Taking place in a parallel universe to ours, it’s a typical fantasy series in that there’s a lot of magic, elves, halflings, Dark Elves, living next to humans — very standard kind of thing, but their technology matches ours (actually, it’s slightly more advanced). Our primary character is an Elven mage who works as a CSI-like lab tech for the Terran Intelligence Organization (an FBI-like organization). Her strength is in finding ways to use devices to do forensic investigations of magical elements of particular crimes. Some other TIO agents use magic, supernatural abilities, or firearms to apprehend criminals, while relying on tech like ours as tools. Think of Middle Earth post-Industrial Revolution and post-Digital Revolution. It’s the kind of thing that’d make Tolkien cry into his beer, but…

1. Tech Looks Like Magic. Robert Jackson Bennett’s Shadow of the Leviathan series is our exemplar here. I’m just going to quote from my post about the first book in the series here:
   This is a very technological society, but nothing we’d recognize, really. There are no circuits anywhere, no electricity…horses and carts are the primary means of transportation for those who are going too far or need to go too quickly to walk. But they practice all sorts of engineering feats, genetic manipulation, medical marvels, and so on.

The source of their raw materials? The Leviathans that threaten them all. When these Leviathans die/are killed, the Empire’s scientists harvest blood, tissue, and bone for all sorts of things to accomplish the above. Leviathan bone is difficult to shape, but it results in tools and swords that are beyond the strength and endurance of metal. Tissues can be manipulated and applied to humans to extend their abilities (augmenting strength, enabling them to have memories that are like eidetic memory to the nth power, control of their pheromones to alter the behavior of those around them, and so on).

Especially when it comes to the abilities that some of these people have, or the freakish contamination that the murderer is using, in a Fantasy book featuring people on horseback using swords, this looks like magic.

1. Magic Fuels the Technology. Blood Over Bright Haven by M.L. Wang leapt to my mind before the others when I saw this prompt–although The Last Rift Dragon by Shami Stovall and Crownfall by Michael Vadney would also work well here. Bright Haven isn’t as technologically advanced as the above worlds, but it’s more advanced than your typical Fantasy work. Now, I won’t talk about the magic at all–you need that on your own. But essentially, power is extracted and brought into the use of the city of Bright Haven. It provides heat, enables kitchens and vehicles to operate, and more. I really should’ve written something about it so that I could quote it here like I did above, because my recollection is so dim that Edison’s first bulb was likely brighter. Oh well. Those who’ve read the book know what I’m talking about, and those who haven’t…well, you should. I thought it was great–and I’m on the lower-end of its fandom.

Of the three, I think there’s more promise for Fantasy novelists here in this third one–SF is leagues ahead when it comes to commenting on our dependence on energy sources and the abuse to people/environment that can come from it. General Fiction and some Crime Fiction is also working on it. But Fantasy doesn’t get into it much–or when it does, it’s things like deforestation or the like. WHich is all well and good–but Vadney and Wang both do a good job of showing what happens when magic is used for the benefit of some, but not all–and can be twisted for destructive ends. Honestly, we need a lot more of that.

Go read some of the other responses to this prompt, they’re likely better thought-out and consider different works/angles.

Fantasy with Friends is a weekly meme hosted by the good people over at Pages Unbound. Fantasy with Friends poses questions each Monday about fantasy, either as a genre as a whole or individual works.

This week’s prompt is:

Do anachronisms in fantasy bother you? Should fantasy be “similar” to the time period it’s based on, either in terms of language used or things like invention, fashion, customs, etc.?

I’m nervous about my answer to this, because I think it will be easy to go through the last 13 years of posts here and find places I’ve said something other than what I’m about to say. Eh, there’s that old maxim about foolish consistency being the hobgoblin of little minds, right?

By and large, I don’t care.

Let’s start with the language used–either by the characters or the narration (assuming it’s 3rd person). I remember a Creative Writing professor in college saying that you need to choose to either stick with time/place appropriate language or contemporary language–and stick to it. If you falter at the language usage just a bit, you ruin the whole effect, and likely the book. And don’t think you can get away with “what people think people in the fourteenth century sounded like”, you need to know that. And then, since what most people “know” about that century is wrong…well, you’re doomed. You litter your manuscript with “verily”s, “forsooth”s, “thou”s, and “thine”s, you’re apt to flub something up–and the prose is going to feel clunky. Add in the fact that most people don’t understand the proper use of ye, thou, thy, etc. (see John McWhorter’s Pronoun Trouble for a quick discussion of that). I want to say that Stasheff’s Warlock of Gramarye series uses that kind of language, and it bugged me as I read it.

Also, profanity was used to a degree that we don’t like to acknowledge. And the words used to describe minorities, women, and social classes would get authors and publishers in trouble (see the difficulties people have with The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, for example. And that’s relatively modern compared to a Middle Ages-set book)

And then the technology? Well, again, we run into our own chronological snobbery and understanding of earlier eras largely based on fictional depictions in TV and movies rather than pesky facts. Same for fashion.

And then we have to deal with the “time period” idea. Books like the dozens of Shannara books take place in our far-flung future, despite their semi-Medieval trappings, right? So… how do you determine an anachronism? Ditto for Brooks’ Magic Kingdom of Landover series. Or when is the Broken Blades trilogy set? Berne’s Partial Function can sort of be mapped out in relation to his Hybrid Helix, but as it’s on another planet than Earth, who’s to say what counts as legitimate custom for the time?

I can pile on examples along those lines. But you see where I’m going. One of the cruxes of the issue is that by and large, Fantasy novels don’t have a time period to be anachronistic about. They’re (mostly) some sort of Medieval/Middle Ages thing. Although some are more Renaissance-ish (The Gentlemen Bastards leap to mind). And I’m honestly not sure when things like Winter’s The Burning or Chu’s The War Arts Saga is supposed to be. Don’t even get me started on Wang’s Blood Over Bright Haven or Vadney’s Crownfall (books that I will be returning to in a few weeks for another topic)…

Now, at the same time–someone sitting around a campfire with their armor and sword sitting next to them using a post-Edison device–like a phonograph or a pocket calculator–is going to throw readers out of the moment. But a retired mercenary orc using a goblin invention to introduce humans on the other side of the kingdom to espresso-based drinks is fun. If you can justify it in-story, go for it.

Part of the fun is that it’s Fantasy, we get to set aside a lot of the reality of time, place, custom, and whatnot for something that serves the story and characters best. People complaining about a warrior riding a gryphon into battle wielding a musket instead of a crossbow is missing the point. Also, now that I’ve thrown that sentence together off the top of my head, if anyone can point me to a series/book that fits that scenario, please tell me.

I’d encourage you all to go read some of the other responses to this prompt, I can tell from the title of Briana’s post at Pages Unbound that there’s going to be some good diversity of opinion. I think it’s entirely possible that people like Briana are going to make me alter my position (I’m going to wait until Monday evening to read her post, so all I can go off of is the title).

Fantasy with Friends is a weekly meme hosted by the good people over at Pages Unbound. Fantasy with Friends poses questions each Monday about fantasy, either as a genre as a whole or individual works.

This week’s prompt is:

What are some interesting witches in fantasy? Is there a certain portrayal of a character that makes them a “witch” vs. a “sorceress” or other magic worker, in your opinion?

Funnily enough, when I sat down to write this post, I could think of four depictions of witches that stuck with me to try to talk about. And then more and more popped into my mind. I’m not going to pretend that I have an exhaustive list to talk about in a minute, but it’s bigger than I thought.

But let’s start with the second half of the prompt first–what makes a witch different than another kind of magic user? Am I very, very sure that there are technical definitions and better ways to define it than I’m about to use? Sure thing. But I’m not the guy to go to for that (at least not with witches). Their magic is rooted to and tied into nature in some way. There’ll be some connection with ley lines frequently. Not only will there be a tie to nature, some witch depictions will be tied to a type of nature–earth magic, water magic, air magic, etc. There’s a degree of ritual to their magic, ingredients to assemble, key words–if not entire incantations–frequently crop up (and precise words, not just a random pseudo-Latin word that is tied to spell work, like Dresden and his apprentices use). Frequently, to get all the power out of a spell or working, you need to have a full coven, or circle–and that fullness changes from author to author.

Because of the ties to nature and ingredients–frequently involving blood of some sort–other magic users or whatever in a fantasy novel will be distrustful of witches, at the very least, leery of them. They might not be seen as inherently evil, but they’re inherently creepy and you might not want to get to involved with them. In other series/novels, that’s not as prominent, but it’s more common with witches than with wizards or sorcerers, etc.

There’s something I enjoy about the way others react to them that I find appealing. Atticus O’Sullivan starts the Iron Druid Chronicles not trusting any witch, period. And early on, his prejudice seems well-founded and rational–but by the end of the series, and in some of the spin-off stories/series, it seems like Atticus shouldn’t be quite to quick to distrust. But he’s wise to be leery. Adam Hauptman and most of the other North American Werewolves have similar distrust of witches, and there are few reasons to question that. What’s fun about this kind of approach is watching the protagonists have to deal with the witch that seems to be the exception to the rule, and to question their prejudice. Even better is watching them deal with a witch who seems to support the prejudice in the way they act, and then to have our protagonists try to work with them nonetheless.

So, some interesting witches in Fantasy. Here’s the list I came up with:

Amber Benson’s The Witches of Echo Park series, shows a coven of well-established witches bring a new member into their number. Then there’s warfare with people trying to manipulate the group. This is the series that jumped to mind when I saw the prompt.
The Christmas Witch books by Dan Murphy and Aubrey Plaza. They’re written for kids, but these tales of Santa’s sister show someone who fits the above description in a way that will satisfy adult readers.
Patrica Briggs’ Mercy Thompson and Alpha & Omega series (which are really one sprawling series) feature witches that should be kept at a distance. There are three types: a weak type of practitioner who doesn’t use blood in their workings; a stronger type that will use donated/given blood; and the strongest/nastiest who will take whatever blood they want. It’s easy to distrust most of these.
I’ve already talked about the depiction in The Iron Druid Chronicles by Kevin Hearne. What’s nice about Hearne is that you pretty much like every witch in the series, even the ones you shouldn’t (at least at the beginning).
The Brightest Sword (and Arthurian legends/retellings in general) have some great witchy characters.
The Chronicles of Narnia has a fairly narrow depiction of witches. Don’t trust them–they’re either aligned with Jadis consciously, or support her without realizing it (see Prince Caspian).
Alix E. Harrow’s The Once and Future Witches has to be one of the better books about witches–Harrow ties witchcraft into womanhood (not everything on this list is focused on gender), and the alternate history of this book makes the whole thing just a wonder.
The Morris and Chastain Supernatural Investigation series by Justin Gustainis pairs a PI with a white witch to look into supernatural crimes. As I recall (it’s been over a decade), there’s a little conflict with other witches who don’t think she should be helping out the PI, the FBI, etc. The witch was my favorite part of the series, I have to say.
Faith Hunter’s Jane Yellowrock series–and the (as of last week) two spin-off series feature witches pretty prominently. Some of the witches are good about interatcting with the broader supernatural community–and even entities like the FBI. Others, aren’t that interested and try to avoid dealing with them at all. This group of series has probably my personal favorite witches and depictions of them on this list.
I can’t believe that the last one to make this list was Kim Harrison’s Hollows Series. What as I thinking? The protagonist, Rachel Morgan, is a first-person narrator and witch. As far as fictional depictions of witches, especially all the work that goes into their spellwork (and the preparation for that work) really shines in Rachel’s life, these 19 books have to make up a part of a discussion of modern witchery (at least one more in-depth than this one).
I haven’t read any of them yet, but I’ve only heard good things about the Witches series within Pratchett’s Discworld.

At the end of the day, they’re not my favorite type of magic user to read about. But since the Grimm boys popularized them so much (not that story tellers going back at least to the Greeks), and even Shakespeare used them so prominently, it’s hard to deny the place of witches in Western fiction. If only for variety’s sake.

Go read some of the other responses to this prompt, they’re likely better thought-out.

Fantasy with Friends is a weekly meme hosted by the good people over at Pages Unbound. Fantasy with Friends poses questions each Monday about fantasy, either as a genre as a whole or individual works.

This week’s prompt is:

Are you a Brandon Sanderson fan? Some readers online have called his books the “fast food of fantasy?” Do you think that’s a valid criticism?

I am not a Brandon Sanderson fan. Mostly that’s due to my personal commitment issues. I’ve read 4 books by the man–one or two of my sons and I read The Reckoners trilogy some years back and I read The Frugal Wizard’s Handbook for Surviving Medieval England largely because of the title (and I wanted to read something by him that didn’t involve devoting a huge chunk of my life). I enjoyed all of them–some more than others, but there was nothing about them that made me “a fan”–nor am I a detractor. He seems like a nice guy who has had a lot of success and does a decent job of paying it forward. I’ve also heard his classes are more than worth the time.

Oh, I’ve also heard he’s masterful at taking a bunch of seemingly unconnected narrative threads and pulling them together in the last 10% or so of a book. Even if you know that’s his game, he can still really impress a reader the way he does it.

My friends and acquaintances that are into Sanderson do tend to make me wish I had the patience and bandwidth to try based on the way they talk about his stuff. But I don’t.

So why am I bothering to write a post this week? It’s because of the second part of the prompt.

Some readers online have called his books the “fast food of fantasy?” Do you think that’s a valid criticism?

First of all…I couldn’t find the short video I wanted to where Andrew Zimmern talks about his favorite fast food fries. But I did find this quotation/image at kitchenbusiness.com:

If you’ve ever seen Zimmern talk about food–you know that he knows a thing or two about a thing or two. And if he can talk for a few minutes about Fast Food French fries (and have positive things to say about some of them), there’s gotta be something there worth talking about. I’m pretty sure I could do the same thing with Alton Brown and others–I just remember Zimmern’s right now.

But that quotation speaks to my beef with the assumption of the question (and I don’t think that the nice people behind Pages Unbound concur with it, they’re trying to give us something to talk about)–fast food does not mean bad food. Fast food fantasy does not mean bad fantasy.

This goes beyond not trying to yuck someone’s yum. But it certainly starts there. Just knock off that kind of nonsense.

We’ve talked about what makes good Fantasy fiction in this series before–it should be some form of escapism (sure, it might be escapism in order to examine/critique our society, culture, whatever); probably have an element of magic; and take place in a world where things don’t quite work like ours, probably in at least some sort of fantastical fashion.

Can those things be done on a popular level with an easy entry point for readers of a wide variety of ages and education levels (not to mention familiarity with the tropes and conventions of fantasy), that don’t take a lot of intellectual vigor to get through the material, and possibly be more entertainment than anything? Yes. Can that be accomplished by a writer who shoves as many classical allusions into their language and characters as possible, drawing on myths and folklore from a variety of cultures, to create a scathing critique and challenge to the status quo in Western politics and power structures? Absolutely. I don’t think I want a steady diet of the latter–not sure I want a steady diet of the former, either. But give me a mix of both–along with a mix of other genres–and I’d be satisfied.

I think I should probably throw a couple of paragraphs in between the last two, but at this point, I think my point is made. But let me go back to the fast food idea for a second:

Today, I’d rather have some curly purple fries from Boise Fry Company with some of their custom ketchups and salts rather (to name one superior Fast Food fry). But there was a time in my life when fresh McDonald’s Fries (especially in a properly-filled Super-Sized sleeve) were one of the greatest culinary pleasures of my life. Now, I’m not there anymore. Partly because I think they’ve done something to the way they prep them–also, they don’t do a good job of filling the smaller sleeves now. But do I discount those earlier times? No. In fact, if I could hop in a TARDIS and have one right now (or is it right then?), I’d probably be pretty happy. A tasty fry is a tasty fry no matter if it comes in cardboard packaging or is served on a heavy plate by someone wearing a dress-shirt and tie.

And man, I really shouldn’t write using this metaphor so late at night…

So, sure, someone might “eat” a lot of Sanderson right now–but even he can’t put things out fast enough to satisfy people who only read Sanderson. So those people might decide to walk under the Golden Arches and head over to the place with the Ping Pong Ball head and read some McCaffrey, or just beyond that to the girl with red pigtails and try a Heather Fawcett book or two. Maybe they’ll want something more filling and try some Martin. Or they decide they want a particular texture and go for Brent Weeks or R.F. Kuang, or…. So let’s grant the whole Sanderson is fast food idea. At some point, a reader is going to want something else to eat–and will look for something like him, but not. And there are shelves and shelves of things that’ll fit. So leave his readers alone, and be ready to point them at something else they’ll like.

Of course, that’s my opinion. I could be wrong. Go read some of the other responses to this prompt.

Fantasy with Friends is a weekly meme hosted by the good people over at Pages Unbound. Fantasy with Friends poses questions each Monday about fantasy, either as a genre as a whole or individual works.

This week’s prompt is:

What are some of your favorite magical systems in fantasy? Do you like magic to be explained in detail or to be a bit vague? Do you think magic should have a “cost” or not?

I think the best way for me to tackle these three questions is all at once. But in general–I prefer magic to be at least a bit vague, otherwise it’s “science.” And I don’t know if it “should” have a cost, but most of the time, I enjoy it more when it does.

I really should’ve done more thinking ahead of time before trying to list favorite magic systems, I literally have no idea what I’m going to end up mentioning.

I really enjoy Newtonian magic as seen in The Rivers of London–and its cost to circuit boards and eventual cost to the brains of practitioners due to Thaumaturgical degradation. Although I have frequently been impatient at how long it takes Peter and others to make progress in learning the systems. At the same time, I’m intrigued by some of the other schools of magic that Peter is encountering.

On the other hand, the magic of Abercrombie’s The First Law is described so vaguely that it’s more mystery than system. Which reminds me of Tolkien’s lack of system (and, I believe, Shannara’s). It’s more magical if it can’t be explained by rules–it’s just something that happens in the way the user wants it to. There’s something inherently more interesting about that. (as fun as it is to wrap your brain around something).

I think Butcher gives us a good mix of mystery and rules in The Dresden Files and The Furies of Calderon. I think he’s on the way to giving us something similar in The Cinder Spires. Most of the cost there comes from exhaustion and the mental/physical toll taken in using it (oh, and to tech, too). You can learn a lot about the rules of this type of magic or that–here’s how potion-making work, here’s how fire magic works, etc. And then the Fury-based abilities of Calderon are just cool–even if it’s a little cheapened by everyone (except poor young Tavi) having some.

If there are rules to the magic in what Arcandius Moog does, I can’t see it. Which just makes it a joy to watch.

The clear divisions of magic abilities and classes in Benedict Jacka’s Alex Verus series are really cool to see. There are sort of rules to it all, but Jacka doesn’t give us a lot of info about it (which is just as good as there not being rules). We see how Alex uses his precognition, with a little bit of understanding of some of this allies’ abilities–but just some ideas.

Most of the magic in Jacka’s new series, Inheritance of Magic seems very rule-based, and is hard to describe as magic, it’s much more science-y. Now, I find it fascinating to watch Stephen’s autodidactic stumbling through it, don’t get me wrong. It’s just not as fun as the range-free stuff of others. The cost of this magic is primarily front-loaded, you have to have the right materials to form something–and I like that. Typically when I think of costs to magic, it’s personal cost to use it. But in this case, it’s about having all the stuff that goes into making a sigil.

That reminds me of the magic in Kevin Hearne’s Ink & Sigil books–there it’s about the materials, too. You have to know how to create the sigil, the right kind of inks to use, and then the best paper. The cost is simple–use a sigil and it’s gone. But as long as you have paper, ink, and a good pen–and the time to combine them–you’re good to go.

Then there’s the cost-heavy Seven Kennings trilogy by Hearne. Using magic takes time off of your life, people can age decades in a night if they use enough power. Seeing some people take those chances because they have to adds a lot to the drama of the situation. But it loses a few points for me by everyone having abilities.

Babel, or The Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators’ Revolution has a very set-in-stone (or a precious metal) system. R. F. Kuang does a decent job of setting that up and explaining it to the reader overall. Especially when you consider that the magic system is of so little importance to the book. The cost to that magic is more of a moral and ethical thing than anything else. And that’s maybe a greater cost than some of the others on this list.

One more and then I’ll get off this ramble. M.L. Wang’s Blood Over Bright Haven has a great system to its magic. I was utterly fascinated by it and wanted more and more of it–well, until a certain point in the book where the protagonist, Sciona, really figures out the system for the first time. Then it becomes fascinating and horrifying. And the costs? Unthinkable. But I won’t say more than that. We’re all better off not knowing.

Time prevents me from getting into Raistlin’s magic, or the Kingkiller Chronicles’, or Dark Lord Davi’s magic (as fun as that might be). Or any of the others that might come to mind as I ramble on. But I think this is enough free-associating as I scan my bookshelves (and skip over more books than I want to).

I look forward to seeing what other people writing on this have to say. I expect to be reminded of a handful of things I should’ve remembered for this post, and to get some leads on new-to-me books.

Fantasy with Friends is a weekly meme hosted by the good people over at Pages Unbound. Fantasy with Friends poses questions each Monday about fantasy, either as a genre as a whole or individual works.

This week’s prompt is:

When reading a favorite fantasy series, which reading order would you recommend? For instance, when reading Narnia, do you think people should go by publication order or by chronological order? Or, if you like to recommend Tolkien, do you think readers should start with LotR or The Hobbit? Feel free to discuss any favorite fantasy series you have!

Generally speaking, for your first read it should always be in publication order. Period.

For re-reads, that’s up to the reader and their interests. Maybe once in chronological order, just for giggles. But that’s only on a re-read.

The exception I’d make to that (at this point in my life, I can think of one—I’m open to others) is reading The Lord of the Rings prior to The Hobbit. I came to LotR later in life than I should have—having been unable to get through The Hobbit in childhood. Yes, yes, I know—there are so many red flags raised by this admission. I have no defense. Anyway, in college, I had several friends tell me to skip The Hobbit and jump right to LotR. A few years later, I didn’t pay attention to them and started with it—and not only finished, but then went on to read the rest. As the two were clearly written for different audiences, it totally would’ve worked to do skip The Hobbit, LotR tells you everything you need know about its predecessor, and does so at the level of the rest of the series.

Narnia, on the other hand needs to be read in the publication order the first time. Spoilers ahead. In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the reader—like the children—don’t understand who the witch is or who this Aslan everyone’s talking about it. You’re confused and in suspense just like them. If you, as some will tell you, read The Magician’s Nephew first—you will run into problems. 1. You won’t give a hoot about the lampstand bit. 2. You will know who Aslan is, how much greater his power is than the White Witch’s. So when everyone’s telling the children to wait for Aslan, the reader can go “oh yeah,” he’ll sort it out. 3. You’ll wonder why no one is using Jadis’ name—and really, someone who’s only known by a title rather than a name is more ominous. 4. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is a better book than The Magician’s Nephew and is more likely to get people to read on. There are likely better and more reasons along those lines, but I’ll save that for better writers than me—and I need to get going anyway.

Yes, there’s that letter that Lewis wrote to a young reader where he said he didn’t care, but suggests the chronological order. I’d point out that Lewis isn’t infallible. But also, he’s writing to someone who’d read the books at least 4 times. Not a new reader.

Before I get into things more—let me talk about a couple of other series.

Let’s start with Harry Connolly’s Dark Fantasy/Urban Fantasy series, Twenty Palaces. Del Rey published three books in the series and decided not to continue (tragically, oh, so tragically). We pick up with our protagonist after he’s been on a mission with an enforcer of a society that controls/polices magic for some time. After Del Rey declined to continue the series, Connolly published a prequel where the protagonist meets the enforcer. Frankly, I cared more about Annalise coming into Ray’s life as a flashback. You can stomach the way she treats Ray when she first meets him better than if that were your intro to her. Seeing Ray get his first/only spell is more enjoyable when you’ve seen it in action, etc.

The next series isn’t fantasy. But it’ll make my point better. Gregory Mcdonald’s Fletch series (don’t judge them by the Chase movies, which are fine for what they are, but they can’t hold a candle to the books). Here are the two orders to choose from:

Publication Order of Fletch Books

Chronological Order of Fletch Books

source: Book Series in Order

I’d add that reading them in any order works, too. When I first encountered the series, Fletch Won hadn’t been published, and I got the rest in a haphazard fashion by buying whatever was available at a used bookstore or two. Now, Fletch is the best way to encounter the character for the first time. I’d argue that the publication order is a really good way to read them—with the random way I stumbled onto coming in a close second (although you should do Fletch Won and Fletch, Too last even then). Like with The Magician’s Nephew, Fletch Won answers questions raised by Fletch and maybe Fletch and the Widow Bradley. And that’s a big factor. But the biggest is that when Carioca Fletch (a direct sequel to Fletch—starting hours after it) Mcdonald starts flexing different authorial muscles, and his storytelling shifts. Fletch Won is closer to the style of the other books in the series, but is still closer to Carioca. Fletch, Too is clearly more of the same kind of storytelling that started in Carioca—it’s deeper, not as dialogue-driven, there’s more atmosphere, it’s about the locale as much as it is the story and characters. Also, there’s a lack of concern for news stories, which is a driving force in the others.

This gets us back to my main point—prequels come along and explain things that the reader already knows—no one cares about the lampstand in Nephew, no one will care about the origin of Ray’s Ghost Knife (well, it’s a fun scene regardless, but you won’t care as much), or no one will care about Fletch meeting a woman right before his wedding if we don’t already know that the new woman will be his second ex-wife. If you read them in publication order, on the other hand…

But all three point to something else—the author has grown, their ideas about the series have matured and changed—in some cases, the first book or two were written without any plan of books to come in the series, and were written that way. It’s only in retrospect that an author decides to go back and explain some things—or play with things we already know.

Of course, that’s just my opinion; I could be wrong. I look forward to seeing what other people writing on this have to say. I expect it to be better (and likely shorter) than this..

I didn’t get this up yesterday–you might have noticed things were busy around here. A day late and at least a quarter short, here’s my

Fantasy with Friends is a weekly meme hosted by the good people over at Pages Unbound. Fantasy with Friends poses questions each Monday about fantasy, either as a genre as a whole or individual works.

This week’s prompt is:

Do you currently prefer standalone fantasies or series? Is there a certain number of books that seems like “too much,” whether that means the series feels intimidating to start or just that the author might need to move on to something else? Is there a point at which you worry that a series is just a “cash grab?”

Ahhh, yet another This or that, Coke or Pepsi, kind of question that I shrug at. It depends?

There is something so satisfying about opening a book and spending 150-600 pages immersed in a complete idea. Beginning-middle-end and then you’re done.

t the same time–the pleasure of spending years with a story, watching characters grow, develop, storylines going deeper and more intricate than they could in a standalone…there’s something so fantastic about that.

Really it depends on the story that the author wants to tell. If a story needs multiple volumes–and the author has the chops to develop it over them–then bring it on. If the story wavers too much, gets too thin, or runs out of steam somewhere in the second or third volume–than editors and authors have made a mistake.

Similarly, I don’t think there’s a magic number. And that again goes back to the story the author is trying to tell, and the skill of the author.

I’m not saying there are no “cash grabs” in Fantasy fiction, but there have to be easier (and more profitable) ways to grab some. But I’ll let others who know more than I do weigh in on that.

I thought I had more to say on this, but I’m just coming up with variations on one idea: it just depends on the author, the themes, the characters, and the story. Oh, well, sales and a publisher’s willingness to keep buying the books (unless it’s a self-published series, then it’s just sales). Can I think of books that I wish had a sequel but didn’t? Yes. Can I think of series that were cut short because of sales/publishers? Sure. Can I think of series that went on too long, and should’ve been walked away from while they were still good? Yup. Series that needed one more book to really say everything? Yeah.

I’m really looking forward to some of the other posts in response to this prompt, I’m expecting better answers than mind.

I didn’t get this up yesterday–you might have noticed things were busy around here. A day late and at least a quarter short, here’s my

Fantasy with Friends is a weekly meme hosted by the good people over at Pages Unbound. Fantasy with Friends poses questions each Monday about fantasy, either as a genre as a whole or individual works.

This week’s prompt is:

Are there any fantasy books that you think had a movie adaptation that was even better than the book?

I can think of one right off the top of my head. It’s also one of the first movies I turn to when the conversation of “Adaptations vs. Books” comes up.

Matthew Vaughn’s Stardust.

If you’ve watched it and have read the novel, I can almost guarantee you agree. (if not, please tell me—I’ve only run into people who agree, I’d love to hear an argument for the book). I’d love to do a more in-depth comparison, but I don’t have time for a re-read of the book (I did flip through the illustrated version to see if anything jumped out), but after writing a draft of this, I did watch the movie—the power of suggestion. Not that it takes much for me to want to watch it, and I was so glad I indulged.

One of the more obvious strengths is the depiction of Captain Shakespeare, his crew, and the scenes that involve them. The film changed the tone and approach, making it more entertaining. And, then, come on…DeNiro.

The story is focused. The tone is sharpened. It feels like a fairy tale with 21st-century sensibilities. More than that–it’s a fairy tale come to life. The book is a fine, stand-alone fantasy, with some creative touches.

The casting was fantastic. How do you not swoon over Yvaine the instant she shows up? Not just the way they shot Daines, but the way she asserts herself the instant Tristan shows up.

Really, the only thing that’d make the film better is if Tristan got into a hallway battle. No one (including Vaughn and Cox) knew in 2007 just how good Cox would be in those. You think Humphrey revealed his cowardice when Tristan does that sword trick? Put the two of them in a hallway and watch Tristan run up a wall. (as hard as it is to imagine Cavill quaking at Cox)

Okay, I’m getting off target here. Basically, like I said the book was…fine. It comes across as less-fine once you watch the movie–or if you come to it after the movie. I’ve tried the book twice, just to see if it was the time I encountered it. I liked it moderately more the second time, but really, it just made me want to watch the movie.

I’m just rambling now–without re-reading the book, it’s hard to talk about the way it’s not as good as the adaptation. Generally, in every conceivable way the movie is better–but I’d prefer to be more detailed.

I’m really looking forward to some of the other posts in response to this prompt, I’m looking for some new movies to watch.

Fantasy with Friends is a weekly meme hosted by the good people over at Pages Unbound. Fantasy with Friends poses questions each Monday about fantasy, either as a genre as a whole or individual works.

This week’s prompt is:

Do you like reading fairy tale retellings? What, in your opinion, makes a good retelling?

I don’t know that I have a real passion for fairy tale retellings, but more often than not, I enjoy them when I run into them.

I break them into two varieties–straight retellings. I’ve only got one example that comes to mind–Hansel and Gretel by Stephen King and Maurice Sendak (which I didn’t write about, which bothers me, I liked what I thought I wrote). There’s an emphasis here or there that the author brings to mind, or a certain amount of their own style, while retaining a Straight Outta Grim feel. I’ve read others like it, but they’re not coming to mind.

The other type is a reinvention–tweaking the setting, updating, gender-flipping, setting them in the future or whatever. With those…the necessities are that you retain enough of the original that it’s recognizable, but the author throws more than their emphasis or style. But then, you throw it into the future with cyborgs, like Marissa Meyer. Or make Cinderella a secret agent along with some of the other princesses after their “happily ever after”s, like Jim C. Hines did. Or, you take all the Prince Charmings (who really aren’t that impressive when it comes down to it) and throw them into an effort to save all their kingdoms from a common foe. Or–last example–you play with the Fairy Tale tropes and the power of narrative, throw in some guns and crime, like Seanan McGuire did in her Indexing series. I’m waiting to see how M.K. Felix goes beyond her Robin Hood/Snow White mashup before I try to summarize–but I’m eager to see what she does. But the basic elements need to be there–Red Riding Hood should wear red–it’d be great if there was a hood–some sort of wolf-figure and a grandmother; from there, the author can do what they want, as long as it’s interesting.

Or you take a couple of elements/characters and throw them into some larger work–like when the Gruffs show up in the Dresden Files (and Harry can only wish they were billy goats), or Snow White shows up as one of Toby Daye’s most dangerous foes. That works pretty well, too.

I’m really looking forward to some of the other posts in response to this prompt, I ended up not having as much time as I intended to write this and am looking forward to some thoughtful posts.