Review: Swords and Deviltry by Fritz Leiber

“Lankhmar Book 1: Swords And Deviltry (Lankhmar)” (Fritz Leiber)

It is a mistake to approach Swords and Deviltry as a cohesive work, as I did, since it in fact consists of four shorter works written and published between 1962 and 1970. The last selection in the book, the novella called Ill Met in Lankhmar, won both the Hugo and Nebula awards in 1970. Thus, while there is plenty of coherence and continuity among the stories, there is no overarching plotline.

The first story, scarcely more than a vignette, depicts almost in freeze-frame the meeting between the book’s two protagonists, Fafhrd (pronounced FAF-herd) and the Gray Mouser. The two subsequent chapters narrate the origins of these two characters, respectively, and establishes the motives that drove them from their homelands to the city of Lankhmar. In the concluding chapter, the initial still-life vignette is expanded into the first adventure that the two heroes share together.

As I mentioned in my earlier first impressions, Leiber himself coined the phrase “swords and sorcery” to describe the genre in which he wrote. The tales contained herein fit that description pretty well. Vividly descriptive combat scenes share the pages with almost Lovecraftian expositions of magic rituals.

In terms of genre, the Fafhrd and Gray Mouser stories also exhibit, to my mind, many characteristics of the picaresque mode of narrative. Picaresque novels are typically travel adventures which feature as their main characters rogue-like heroes or antiheroes. Leiber’s stories match these criteria quite well. The political and religious satire of many picaresque novels, however, is missing from these tales.

Leiber writes in a flowery, epic style which never ceases to impress with its range of vocabulary and inventive use of compounds. “Snow bandages” and “ember worms” are just a couple of simple yet evocative inventions with which he brings his world to life. The characters, from the white-clad Snow Women to the hideously deformed sorcerer Histromilo, are boldly drawn.

Occasionally, however, the writing style overshoots its mark. In particular, Leiber’s work suffers from an over-abundance of adverbs. Bone-jarring instances like “surlily” were enough to jolt me out of the reverie that the otherwise intricate language had cast over me. I also winced at Leiber’s occasional use of Latin, which should have no place in a fantastical world. That point could be debated, though, since by rights English should have no place in a work of fantasy either. But that’s a philosophical discussion for another time.

So, all talk of style and genre aside, how are the stories? Each of them is tremendous fun to read, and provides the perfect escapist fix for a rainy day. Voluptuous actresses, tyrannical dukes, cunning thieves, and scheming snow-witches populate the colorful lands of Leiber’s tales. This motley cast, along with our heroes, are a joy to encounter.

Both protagonists, though from different backgrounds, share a striking number of similarities, which explains the instant bond that forms between the two. Both are hard-drinking, impulsive, roguish, and proficient in combat. Yet they are also warm, at times jocular, and honorable in their own way.

There’s not much emotional or philosophical depth to be found in these stories. Leiber does display a talent for writing thought-provoking or poignant scenes, but rather than dwelling on them or further exploring their possibilities, he always leaps too soon into the next raucous or ribald adventure. “The Unholy Grail,” which chronicles the transformation of the wizard’s apprentice Mouse into the Gray Mouser, presents the most textured story-line in the collection. The hero receives his epithet because, although he trains under a white wizard, his heart is also tinged with a dark lust for violence and black magic. This is further borne out by the transformation of his passive title of Mouse to the transitive Mouser, or catcher of mice. This suggests an almost Skywalker-like inner conflict between good and evil. Yet sadly, when we meet the Gray Mouser again in the next chapter, few traces of this struggle manifest themselves in his character.

For both protagonists, women are their prime motivating factors. The northern barbarian Fafhrd escapes his backward homeland with the actress Vlana in search of “civilization.” The Gray Mouser, meanwhile, escapes the land of a tyrannical wizard-hating duke with the duke’s daughter Ivrian. Both women are powerful figures in their own right, and Ivrian is arguably the most emotionally complex and ultimately tragic figure in the story arc.

The last story concludes on a somber and climactic note. Many of the stories in the subsequent collection, Swords Against Death , were penned in the 1930s and 1940s, decades before Leiber wrote those in the present volume. I’ll be interested to see how much attention is given to the continuity of the story-line, whether Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser will experience some emotional fallout from the events they just witnessed, or whether they’ll simply strike out in search of yet another rollicking self-contained adventure. I suspect the latter, but in spite of myself I very much look forward to reading it.