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:

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.

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:

Is there a particular fantasy that got you interested in the genre? Do you remember any of the earliest fantasy books you read?

I think one of the earliest–maybe the earliest–fantasy novels I read was Jane Yolen’s The Wizard of Washington Square. I’m not positive it’s the right one, I spend a good amount of time looking for it this weekend, and it feels right. And I have a strong memory for where it was on the library shelves–and Yolen fits for alphabetical by author placement.

Several others followed–those that stand out the most are Julie Edwards’ The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles (an all-time favorite), Robert C. O’Brien’s Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH was something I read a dozen or more times. A Wrinkle in Time, A Wind in the Door, and A Swiftly Tilting Planet were in heavy rotation (the fourth book in the series wasn’t released until I’d moved on from “Juvenile” fiction). The Phantom Tollbooth…what can be said about it that hasn’t been several times before? I’m not going to say anything about Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson, because the emotional scars are still raw. I have strong memories of reading Below the Root by Zilpha Keatley Snyder (not just because it didn’t help me at all with the Commodore 64 game), although I couldn’t find the rest of the trilogy in bookstores or the library.

Also, how cool is the name Zilpha?

There are two big series in my mind, though. John Christopher’s The Sword of the Spirits. I sadly remember very little of it–but I remember reading it often, and that it was one of the earlier books I remember that had a lot of morally gray moments and protagonists who weren’t to be admired all that much.

I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again (and again, and again, knowing me)–the big one for me is The Chronicles of Prydain. The Chronicles of Narnia and/or The Voyage of the Dawn Treader turned me into a C.S. Lewis reader, but the saga of Taran, the Assistant Pig-Keeper, Princess Eilonwy, the ex-king/would-be bard, Fflewddur Fflam, and the oracular pig, Hen Wen…that’s what turned me into a Fantasy reader. The stories based on Welsh-mythology, tapped into my imagination–shaped it, too, actually. Life, love, laughter, and loss–it’s all there. I’ve read the series twice in the last decade, and it still works. It’s my favorite from my childhood, and it’s one of my favorites still.

A few years after that, I came across the DragonLance Chronicles, DragonLance: Chronicles, the original Shannara trilogy and Magic Kingdom for Sale/Sold, and…well, we’ve left “earliest.”

I’m really looking forward to some of the other posts in response to this prompt, iT’s fun looking back on what early books shaped the readers we become.

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:

Has reading a fantasy book ever inspired you to do further research into something else?

Not really–I mean, Fantasy is pretty much about beyond reality, right? I mean, occasionally, I’d do a quick web search to check for a detail or two on a notable fae or mythological figure–just to make sure I remembered them correctly. I did that with Grossman’s The Bright Sword when it came to a knight or two, and some of the characters in Strange Practice by Vivian Shaw. That’s as close as I can think of when it comes to research.

Well, I mean–there’s looking into the backlist of a new-to-me author.

This prompt did made me think of How to Slay a Dragon: A Fantasy Hero’s Guide to the Real Middle Ages by Cait Stevenson.

What should you ask a magic mirror? How do you outwit a genie? Where should you dig for buried treasure? Fantasy media’s favorite clichés get new life from How to Slay a Dragon: A Fantasy Hero’s Guide to the Real Middle Ages, a historically accurate romp through the medieval world. Each entry presents a trope from video games, books, movies, or TV—such as saving the princess or training a wizard—as a problem for you to solve, as if you were the hero of your own fantasy quest. Through facts sourced from a rich foundation of medieval sources, you will learn how your magical problems were solved by people in the actual Middle Ages.

Divided into thematic subsections based on typical stages in a fantastical epic, and inclusive of race, gender, and continent, How to Slay a Dragon is perfect if you’re curious to learn more about the time period that inspired some of your favorite magical worlds or longing to know what it would be like to be the hero of your own mythical adventure.

Were I the sort to be inspired, I think that many of the questions I’d want to research were touched on by this book. Honestly, I was disappointed in the book–I really didn’t think it lived up to the premise. But still, there were some entertaining bits. Obviously, your results may vary. It wasn’t research per se–but it’s me looking into various and sundry fantasy tropes.

I’m really looking forward to some of the other posts in response to this prompt, if only because I expect a good recommendation or six.

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 fantasy books do you think will be classics in the future?

This question is making me stumble. That’s not Pages Unbound’s fault. It’s just the way my brain works.

First, I’m stumbling over the idea of “contemporary.” Are we talking about the last couple of years, the 21st century, or something else? And, yes, I’m certain that the way this question is phrased is that it’s up to me to decide for the purpose of this post. I’m sticking with this century, although I’m squeamish about calling it contemporary.

For the purposes of this post, I’m not going to define classic as anything more than “you know it when you see it.”

The other problem I’m having with this question is that I don’t know how many people can predict what’ll become a classic. How many people e reading about that band in the Mines of Moria back in 1954 were thinking, “There will be an entire genre that’s largely defined by people reacting to/reacting against/building from this book?” Did Peter S. Beagle’s editor know the impact that little book about a unicorn would have on countless readers for decades?

Who knows what effect the events in the world and what’s being published are going to have on the aesthetics of generations to come? It’s so hard to guess what books will be read in 2060, what books that writers of 2090 will resonate with. How many of those things we’re throwing awards at will be punchlines to our great-grandkids?

Isn’t that part of the fun? Reading something and having no idea what people who aren’t on social media are thinking about it? What’s going to get passed on to a child/grandchild—and what percentage of that will actually get read? (I know full well what my kids do with the books I give them, but that doesn’t stop me from trying). I love it when I stumble onto someone younger than me stumbling onto The Prydain Chronicles and feeling what I felt in elementary school. I imagine a lot of Tolkien’s early fans felt a sense of satisfaction and surprise seeing his work captivate their children and grandchildren. I’m eager to look around in my dotage and see what I recognize on bookstore shelves—or the shelves in people’s homes (I’m one of those people who spend half their attention as a guest scoping out the titles on my host’s shelves to really understand them)

And lastly, I know that no one is going to bring up my guesses in 25 years to point and laugh at me. No one is going to Nelson Muntz me. (Will anyone in 25 years know Nelson Muntz?) This is, of course, assuming I live to my mid-70s. (get your mockery in early, folks—you don’t know what this sedentary lifestyle is going to do to my longevity).* Still, I hate giving an answer I can’t feel reasonably sure is correct.

My big prediction is that there are going to be fewer White European Dudes (percentage-wise) in the Fantasy Canon. We’re going to see a lot of non-Europeans, a lot of Women, and read a lot of voices that will make Tom Bombadil say, “That’s a little strange.” There are plenty of future classics that aren’t making a lot of Best Seller lists here in the States/UK, and my grandkids are going to go wild over them and shake their heads at me for missing.

But that meandering is not what the question asked for. So here’s my stab at it…just a stream of consciousness here, totally not binding. I hope that The Name of the Wind will be seen with affection by a bunch of people who can’t be bothered to care about the fate of The Doors of Stone. I don’t know if I’d put money on The Lies of Locke Lamora standing the test of time, but I’d love it if it would. It’s possible that all/part of A Song of Ice and Fire will be considered a classic—see TNotW, but all of them feel less stand-alone-ish than Rothfuss’ book is, so we might actually need a conclusion. I’m sure something by Jemisin—if not her entire oeuvre—will be a classic, I don’t know that I can choose one. Brandon Sanderson almost has to have a future in the canon—if only because of volume. Terry Pratchett, too (but will people find him funny?) R.L. Kuang? John Gwynn? Nnedi Okorafor? S.A. Chakraborty?

As much as I adore some of Gaiman’s works** I’m guessing his stuff is doomed to obscurity***. I don’t know if Joe Abercrombie is going to last longer than this generation (I hate to say that, I hope he does), ditto for Seanan McGuire or Jim Butcher. I’m not trying to throw shade on the subgenres, but I don’t know that the best Romantasy or Cozy Fantasy authors are going to be remembered, much less celebrated.

I cannot wait to see what titles and authors are mentioned by the less cautious bloggers–a.k.a. those who don’t have to issue paragraphs of disclaimers before their anxiety will let them publish–have to say. Check out this post for links to the braver-than-me-souls.

* Wow, this is taking a dark turn.

** Stay with me here.

*** Deservedly.

Do you have responses to this? (either for the comment section below or from your own post)