Another hundred years slip by and we come to Papa Tolkien, who was probably even prissier than Queen Victoria. Have you ever noticed that there arent any girl Hobbits? There are matronly lady Hobbits and female Hobbit puppies, but no girls. The Victorians maintained the public fiction that females dont exist below the neck.
Contemporary fantasists all bow politely to Lord Tennyson and Papa Tolkien, then step around them to go back to the original texts for inspiration and there are a lot of those texts. We have King Arthur and his gang in English; weve got Siegfried and Brunhild in German; Charlemagne and Roland in French; El Cid in Spanish; Sigurd the Volsung in Icelandic; and assorted myghtiest Knights on lyfe in a half-dozen other cultures. Without shame, we pillage medieval romance for all were worth.
Operating by trial and error mostly, weve evolved a tacitly agreed upon list of the elements that make for a good fantasy. The first decision the aspiring fantasist must make is theological. King Arthur and Charlemagne were Christians. Siegfried and Sigurd the Volsung were pagans. My personal view is that pagans write better stories. When a writer is having fun, it shows, and pagans have more fun than Christians. Lets scrape Horaces Dulche et utile off the plate before we even start the banquet. Were writing for fun, not to provide moral instruction. I had much more fun with the Belgariad/Malloreon than you did, because I know where all the jokes are.
All right, then, for item number one, I chose paganism. (Note that Papa Tolkien, a devout Anglo-Catholic, took the same route.)
Item number two on our interim list is The Quest. If you dont have a quest, you dont have a story. The quest gives you an excuse to dash around and meet new people. Otherwise, you stay home and grow turnips or something.
Item number three is The Magic Thingamajig The Holy Grail, the Ring of Power, the Magic Sword, the Sacred Book, or (surprise, surprise) THE JEWEL. Everybody knows where I came down on that one. The Magic Thingamajig is usually, though not always, the object of the quest.
Item four is Our Hero Sir Galahad, Sir Gawaine, Sir Launcelot, or Sir Perceval. Galahad is saintly; Gawaine is loyal; Launcelot is the heavyweight champion of the world; and Perceval is dumb at least right at first. I went with Perceval, because hes more fun. A dumb hero is the perfect hero, because he hasnt the faintest idea of whats going on, and in explaining things to him, the writer explains them to his reader. Dont get excited. Im not putting Garion down. Hes innocent more than stupid, in the same way Perceval was. Actually, hes fairly clever, but hes a country boy, so he hasnt been exposed to very much of the world. His Aunt Pol wanted him to be that way, and Polgara has ways to get what she wants.
Item number five is the resident Wizard Merlin, usually, or Gandalf mighty, powerful, and mysterious. I scratched that one right away and went with Belgarath instead, and I think it was the right choice. Ive got a seedy old tramp with bad habits who just incidentally can rip the tops off mountains if he wants to. I chose to counter him with his daughter, Polgara, who doesnt really approve of him. That sorcerer/sorceress (and father/daughter) pairing broke some new ground, I think.
Item six is our heroine usually a wispy blonde girl who spends most of her time mooning around in a tower. I chose not to go that route, obviously. CeNedra is a spoiled brat, theres no question about that, but she is a little tiger when the chips are down. She turned out even better than I expected.
Item seven is a villain with diabolical connections. I invented Torak, and he served our purpose rather well. I even managed to give him a fairly believable motivation. Milton helped on that one. Torak isnt exactly Lucifer, but he comes close. As usual, he has a number of evil underlings to do his dirty-work for him.
(Stay with me. Were almost done.) Item eight is the obligatory group of companions, that supporting cast of assorted muscular types from various cultures who handle most of the killing and mayhem until the hero grows up to the point where he can do his own violence on the bad guys.
Item nine is the group of ladies who are attached to the bully-boys in item eight. Each of these ladies also needs to be well-defined, with idiosyncrasies and passions of her own.
And finally we come to item ten. Those are the kings, queens, emperors, courtiers, bureaucrats, et al who are the governments of the kingdoms of the world.
OK. End of list. If youve got those ten items, youre on your way toward a contemporary fantasy. (Youre also on your way to a cast of thousands.)
All right then, now for a test: Write an epic fantasy in no less than three and no more than twelve volumes. Then sell it to a publisher. You have twenty years. (Dont send it to me. I dont have a printing press, and I do not read in the field. Its a way to avoid contamination.)
STOP!! Do not uncover your typewriter, uncap your pen, or plug in your computer just yet. A certain amount of preparation might help. Its a good idea to learn how to drive an automobile before you hop into the family car and take off for Los Angeles, and its probably an equally good idea to browse through a couple of medical texts before you saw off the top of Uncle Charlies head in preparation for brain surgery.
Let me stress one thing at the outset. This is the way we did it. This is not the only way to do it. Our way worked out fairly well, but others, done differently, have worked just as well. If you dont like our way, we wont be offended.
Now, of necessity, we get into a bit of biography. This introduction is designed to provide enough biographical detail to answer students questions and to provide a description of our preparations. I hope it satisfies you, because its all youre going to get. My private life is just that private and its going to stay that way. You dont really need to know what I had for breakfast.
I was born in Washington (the state, not the city) in 1931. (Go ahead. Start counting. Depressing, huh?) I graduated from high school in 1949, worked for a year, and then enrolled in a junior college, majoring in speech, drama, and English. I tore that junior college up. I won a state-wide oratorical contest and played the male lead in most of the drama presentations. Then I applied for and received a scholarship at Reed College in Portland, Oregon, and Reed turned out to be quite a bit more difficult. The college required a thesis for graduation, so I wrote a novel (what else?). Then I was drafted. The army sent me to Germany instead of Korea where people were still shooting at each other. Id studied German, so I got along fairly well, and when I wasnt playing soldier with my jeep and my submachine gun, I made the obligatory pilgrimages to Paris, London, Vienna, Naples, Rome, Florence, and Berlin (before the wall). It was all very educational, and I even got paid for being in Europe. Then I came back to the States and was discharged. I had that GI Bill, so I went to the University of Washington for four years of graduate study. Ive already told you about that, so I wont dwell on it. During my college years I worked part-time in grocery stores, a perfect job for a student, since the hours can be adjusted to fit in with the class schedule. Then I went to work for Boeing, building rocket ships. (I was a buyer, not an engineer.) I helped, in a small way, to put a man on the moon. I married a young lady whose history was even more interesting than mine. I was a little miffed when I discovered that her security clearance was higher than mine. I thought Top Secret was the top of the line, but I was wrong. Shed also been to places I hadnt even heard of, since shed been in the Air Force, while Id been a ground-pounder. I soon discovered that she was a world-class cook, a highly skilled fisherwoman, and after an argument about whether or not that was really a deer lying behind that log a hundred yards away late one snowy afternoon she demonstrated that she was a dead shot with a deer rifle by shooting poor old Bambi right between the eyes.
I taught college for several years, and then one year the administrators all got a pay raise and the teaching faculty didnt. I told them what they could do with their job, and my wife and I moved to Denver, where I (we) wrote High Hunt in our spare time while I worked in a grocery store and my wife worked as a motel maid. We sold High Hunt to Putnam, and I was now a published author. We moved to Spokane, and I turned to grocery stores again to keep us eating regularly.
I was convinced that I was a serious novelist, and I labored long and hard over several unpublished (and unpublishable) novels that moped around the edges of mawkish contemporary tragedy. In the mid 1970s I was grinding out Hunseckers Ascent, a story about mountain-climbing which was a piece of tripe so bad that it even bored me. (No, you cant see it. I burned it.) Then one morning before I went off to my day-job, I was so bored that I started doodling. My doodles produced a map (see over page) of a place that never was (and is probably a geological impossibility). Then, feeling the call of duty, I put it away and went back to the tripe table.
Some years later I was in a bookstore going in the general direction of the serious fiction. I passed the science-fiction rack and spotted one of the volumes of The Lord of the Rings. I muttered, Is this old turkey still floating around? Then I picked it up and noticed that it was in its seventy-eighth printing!!! That got my immediate attention, and I went back home and dug out the aforementioned doodle. It seemed to have some possibilities. Then, methodical as always, I ticked off the above-listed necessities for a good medieval romance. Id taken those courses in Middle English authors in graduate school, so I had a fair grip on the genre.
I realized that since Id created this world, I was going to have to populate it, and that meant that Id have to create the assorted ologies as well before I could even begin to put together an outline. The Rivan Codex was the result. I reasoned that each culture had to have a different class-structure, a different mythology, a different theology, different costumes, different forms of address, different national character, and even different coinage and slightly different weights and measures. I might never come right out and use them in the books, but they had to be there. The Belgariad Preliminaries took me most of 1978 and part of 1979. (I was still doing honest work in those days, so my time was limited.)
One of the major problems when youre dealing with wizards is the Superman Syndrome. Youve got this fellow whos faster than a speeding bullet and all that stuff. He can uproot mountains and stop the sun. Bullets bounce off him, and he can read your mind. Whos going to climb into the ring with this terror? I suppose I could have gone with incantations and spells, but to make that sort of thing believable youve got to invent at least part of the incantation, and sooner or later some nut is going to take you seriously, and, absolutely convinced that he can fly if he says the magic words, hell jump off a building somewhere. Or, if he believes that the sacrifice of a virgin will make him Lord of the Universe, and some Girl-Scout knocks on his door ??? I think it was a sense of social responsibility that steered me away from the hocus-pocus routine.
Anyway, this was about the time when the ESP fakers were announcing that they could bend keys (or crowbars, for all I know) with the power of their minds. Bingo! The Will and the Word was born. And it also eliminated the Superman problem. The notion that doing things with your mind exhausts you as much as doing them with your back was my easiest way out. You might be able to pick up a mountain with your mind, but you wont be able to walk after you do it, I can guarantee that. It worked out quite well, and it made some interesting contributions to the story. We added the prohibition against unmaking things later, and we had a workable form of magic with some nasty consequences attached if you broke the rules.
Now we had a story. Next came the question of how to tell it. My selection of Sir Perceval (Sir Dumb, if you prefer) sort of ruled out High Style. I can write in High Style if necessary (see Mandorallen with his thees, thous and foreasmuches), but Garion would have probably swallowed his tongue if hed tried it. Moreover, magic, while not a commonplace, is present in our imaginary world, so I wanted to avoid all that Gee whiz! Would you look at that! sort of reaction. I wanted language that was fairly colloquial (with a few cultural variations) to make the whole thing accessible to contemporary readers, but with just enough antique usages to give it a medieval flavor.
Among the literary theories Id encountered in graduate school was Jungs notion of archetypal myth. The application of this theory usually involves a scholar laboring mightily to find correspondences between current (and not so current) fiction and drama to link them to Greek mythology. (Did Hamlet really lust after his mother the way Oedipus did?) It occurred to me that archetypal myth might not be very useful in the evaluation of a story, but might it not work in its creation? I tried it, and it works. I planted more mythic fishhooks in the first couple of books of the Belgariad than youll find in any sporting goods store. Ive said (too many times, probably) that if you read the first hundred pages of the Belgariad, I gotcha!! You wont be able to put it down. The use of archetypal myth in the creation of fiction is the literary equivalent of peddling dope.
The preliminaries to the Belgariad are actually out of sequence here. The Personal History of Belgarath the Sorcerer was written after the rest of the studies while I was trying to get a better grip on the old boy. You might want to compare that very early character sketch with the opening chapters of the more recent Belgarath the Sorcerer. Did you notice the similarities? I thought I noticed you noticing.
When I first tackled these studies, I began with The Holy Books, and the most important of these is The Book of Alorn. When you get right down to it, that one contains the germ of the whole story. After that, I added The Book of Torak. Fair is fair, after all, and equal time sounds sort of fair, I guess. The Testament of the Snake People was an exercise in showing off. (A poem in the shape of a snake? Gee!) The Hymn to Chaldan was supposed to help explain the Arends. A war god isnt all that unusual.
The Marags are extinct, but that equal time regulation was still in place, so I took a swing at the grief-stricken God Mara. I had fun with The Proverbs of Nedra a sort of theological justification for pure greed. Maybe Ill make a deal with the New York Stock Exchange, and they can engrave those proverbs on the wall.
The Sermon of Aldur was a false start, since it speaks glowingly of Unmaking Things, which UL prohibited in the next section. That section, The Book of Ulgo, was rather obviously based on The Book of Job. Note that Ill even steal from the Bible. Gorim came off rather well, I thought. Incidentally, UL was a typographical error the first time it appeared. I liked the way it looked on paper, so I kept it. (Would you prefer to have me claim Divine Inspiration?)