Category Archives: Robert E. Howard

One Final Robert E. Howard Anniversary This Year

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Cross Plains Universe
Scott A. Cupp and Joe R. Lansdale, ed.
Monkey Brain Books
296 p.
Given free to attendees of the 2006 World Fantasy Convention

In all the hubbub earlier this year about all the anniversaries related to Robert E. Howard, one seems to have been overlooked.  This year marked the fifth anniversary of the publication of Cross Plains Universe, an anthology put together to mark the Robert E. Howard centennial as well as the 30th anniversary of Lone Star Universe, an anthology of Texas writers. 

Now as anniversaries go, the fifth isn’t all that big a deal unless you forget and your wife has to remind you.  (Can I get an “Amen” from the brethren?)  Also, this book was never made for sale to the general public, at least as far as I know.  If you weren’t able to attend the 2006 World Fantasy Convention in Austin or one of the following Howard Days, where the book was made available in the gift shop, you probably haven’t seen a copy.  I’d even wager that many of you might not be aware of its existence. 

If you are able to score a copy, do so.  It’s worth your while.  A brief perusal of the contents will show you why.

After an introduction by Scott Cupp, Ardath Mayhar leads off the stories with “The Pillar in the Mist”, the tale of a young Briton who has to prove his prowess as a warrior on the moors one night.  Rick Klaw and Paul O. Miles give an interesting alternate history take on the pulps in “A Penny a Word”, while in “Slim and Swede and the Damned Dead Horse:  A Tale of Bloodson” C. Dean Anderson mixes two of Howard’s favorite genres, western and sword and sorcery.  Bradley Denton provides poetry in “The King Comes to Texas.”  Howard is resurrected from the grave in “An Excerpt from The Stone of Namirha” by Bill Crider and Charlotte Laughlin.  “Two Hearts in Zamora” by Jessica Reisman is the story of a pair of girls who find themselves in a dangerous land.  Co-editor Scott Cupp provides a weird western with “One Fang”.

l. to r., Cupp, Reasoner, Crider, Lansdale

One of Saddam Hussein’s sons meets an end not seen on the evening news in “The Bunker of the Tikriti” by Chris Nakashima-Brown.  Gene Wolfe tells the tale of “Six From Atlantis”, while Mark Finn lets us know why a Conan movie wasn’t made in the early 70s in “A Whim of Circumstance”.  James Reasoner’s contribution is a twisty El Borak story, “Wolves of the Mountains”.  The incomparable Howard Waldrop tells what happens when some seniors make a trip across the border in “Thin, on the Ground”.  Grandchildren learn about their grandmother’s encounter with a warrior king in Carrie Richerson’s “The Warrior and the King”.  Lillian Stewart Carl provides a historical adventure in “The Diamons of Golkonda” while “Prince Koindrinda Escapes” is an alternate history tale with giant apes from Jayme Lynn Blashke.

L. J. Washburn tells how a young Bob Howard helps solve a murder in Cross Plains during the oil boom with “Boomtown Bandits”.  Chris Roberson’s “The Jewel of Leystall” is an installment in his Paragaea series, and very much in the vein of Howard.  Neal Barrett, Jr. tells a tall tale in “The Heart”, while Lawrence Person explains why you don’t mess with “The Toughest Jew in the West”.  “The Sea of Grass on the Day of Wings” by Melissa Mia Hall is a meditation on Howard’s final hours.  Finally, Michael Moorcock gives us the story of Ronan the Red Archer in “The Roaming Forest”.

As you can tell, the contents of this anthology are quite varied, with stories told in the style of Howard, using new characters, characters and settings previously created by the contributors, Howard’s characters, and even Howard himself.  All of the contributors are from Texas or resided there at the time of writing, which is why some of the names may not be familiar to you. 

ABE currently shows 11 copies available with prices ranging from a steal to a gouge.  One thing to keep in mind, though, is that unsigned copies of this book are rare.  With the exception of Gene Wolfe and L.J. Washburn, all the contributors, including artist Gary Gianni, were at the WFC and participated in the mass signing, and Washburn sent signed bookmarks with her husband James Reasoner.  Before you buy a copy online, check to make sure you’re getting a signed copy.

Dispatches From the Lone Star Front, Christmas Edition: The Santa Claus Bandits

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This is going to be brief, in part because Damon Sasser did a thorough write-up on this crime last year, and I see no need to repeat what he said.  Also, Damon quoted from one of Robert E. Howard’s letter describing the crime.  Instead, I’ll provide a brief summary of what happened and then get into why I was reminded of this.

Site of Ratliff’s lynching

In short, four men robbed the First National Bank in Cisco, Texas on Friday, December 23, 1927.  The men were Marshall Ratliff, Henry Helms, Robert Hill, and Helm’s brother-in-law, Louis E. Davis.  The men started from Wichita Falls, in Northwest Texas.  They chose the bank in Cisco because Ratliff’s mother once ran a cafe there, and he knew the city.  To keep from being recognized, Ratliff wore a Santa suit into the bank.

Things went wrong from the get-go.  The end result was 14 causulties, including 6 fatalies, three people (all children or teens) kidnapped, two gun battles, and the first manhunt from the air in the state.  Davis died of his wounds received in the first gun battle, Helms went to the electric chair, and Ratliff was lynched after killing a deputy sheriff in an attempted jail break.

The whole thing almost reads like a movie script, one with equal measures of drama and comedy, especially if the Keystone Kops are involved.  It amazes me that law enforcement couldn’t catch wounded men driving on the rims because the tires have been shot out.  Twice, the second time ending in a chase on foot.  Two of the three crooks still on the loose got away; Ratliff was wounded in the leg and captured. The photo below shows the posse after capturing Hill and Helms in Graham.  Hill is the man in the front row to the right of center with his arm in his dark coat; Helms is the man on his left looking down.

The competency of the bank robbers wasn’t much better.  Ratliff was mobbed by children who thought he was Santa as he walked to the bank.  The robbers had to abandon the getaway car shortly after leaving the scene of the crime because they didn’t think to check the fuel level before the robbery and ran out of gas.  They were so intent on transferring their hostages to the next car that they forgot to transfer the money and left it in the original car.  Getting turned around in the dark after spending the night hiding in the country, they drove back into Cisco to steal another car (one the police wouldn’t be looking for) thinking they were driving into Breckenridge.  The two remaining robbers surrendered in Graham; they hadn’t eaten in days and were too weak to resist.  The whole thing sounds like one of Donald E. Westlake’s caper novels.

To get full details, read Damon’s post or see Gangster Tour of Texas by T. Lindsay Baker (filled with photos and maps) or A. C. Greene’s  The Santa Claus Bank Robbery for further details.  The Baker book is a tour book of gangster sties in Texas.  The bank in Cisco still exists, although it’s in a different location.  Other than the site of the first Hilton hotel (yes, that Hilton), the bank robbery is Cisco’s only real claim to fame.

The reason I’m bringing this crime up is because on Christmas Eve 1950, a highly fictionalized dramatization of the story with the title “Christmas Present” was broadcast on Tales of the Texas Rangers, a Dragnet-style radio program.  I heard it rerun the other day on satellite radio while driving my son to meet his grandparents.

The show took great liberties with the story, moving the story to 1931 and reducing the number of bank robbers to two men and one woman accomplice.  Both of the men wore Santa suits and pretended to be charity bell ringers, with one relieving the other.  The story also introduced a poverty stricken man who had been duped into renting the Santa suits in order to raise money to give his children a Christmas.  The thieves are caught with old fashioned detective work, with not a single shot being fired.

As a detective story told with the limits of radio, it was pretty good, even if it didn’t have much resemblance to the facts.  One of the consultants on the show was Manuel T. “Lone Wolf” Gonzaullas.  Gonzaullas was one of the Rangers in the (unsuccessful) plane search for the bank robbers in the original crime.  My last installment of this series focused on a Texas Ranger, so I’ll save Gonzaullas for another time.

Blogging Conan: Iron Shadows in the Moon/Shadows in the Moonlight

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This has always been one of my favorite Conan yarns, in spite of the fact that it’s mostly an adventure story, without the depth of “The Tower of the Elephant” or “Red Nails”.  Still, there are some significant aspects to the story which could be overlooked. And that’s a shame, because the two things I want to focus on directly relate to some of the criticisms of Howard in particular and sword and sorcery in general.

There will be spoilers in this post.  Just so you know.


 The story opens with a young girl, Olivia, in a marsh on the edge of the Vilayet Sea, where she has fled from Shah Amurath, to whom she had been sold.  The Shah has cornered her on the edge of the sea and is about to take her back to the city of Akif when Conan bursts out of the reeds.  He has something of a grudge to settle.

Conan had been with the Free Companions, raiding along the Turanian, Zamoran, and Kothian borders, when Amurath had trapped and killed most of his companions.  They weren’t killed swiftly or painlessly.  Conan is the only survivor.  He’s been hiding out in the swamp, waiting for nightfall to row across the Sea in a boat he found earlier in the day.  Of course Conan makes short work of Amurath, even though he’s only wearing a loincloth and Amurath is in full armor.

This brings us to the first point I want to make.  Some people, who either clearly haven’t read Howard or paid sufficient attention if they did, criticize the Conan stories because they find Conan to be to much of a superhero.  Apparently they think he comes out of every fight without a scratch, in spite of the fact Howard routinely describes Conan’s body as being covered with scars.  Conan has been slithering through the muck, eating raw muskrats and roots he dug up.  Hardly the life of a successful superhero.

Conan and Olivia row all day and night until they come to an island.  Well, Conan rows.  Olivia is just along for the ride.  There they find an abandoned temple filled with large iron statues.  They decide to hide on the island until a passing ship has gone by, for fear of being captured.  Instead, the ship lands, filled with pirates.  Conan kills their captain in single combat but is taken captive and held in the temple while the pirates decide what to do with him.  (Not much of a superhero if he lets himself get captured, is he?) Some say he’s now the rightful captain, others that he isn’t because he wasn’t one of them when he killed the captain.

Olivia has stayed hidden during these events.  And this brings me to the main point I want to make.  The story is told entirely from her viewpoint.  Our knowledge of Conan’s activities come from what he tells Olivia.  His captivity is never described from his viewpoint.  What we see is the character development of Olivia from a simpering wall-flower to someone who chooses to live by the sword.

One of Howard’s favorite themes is on full display here, that of barbarism vs. civilization.  After he rescues her, Olivia tells Conan that her father, the king of Ophir, sold her because she refused to marry a prince of Koth.  She was sold several more times before she became the property of Amurath.  When she mentions her people consider Cimmerians to be barbaric, Conan’s response is that they don’t sell their children.

At first Olivia is afraid of Conan, but before the end of the story, she not only overcomes her fear of him but much of her fear in general as well.  She slips into the temple after the  pirates are asleep and frees Conan.  And while she hasn’t completely overcome her scream queen tendencies by the end, she is braver and more hardened than she was when we first meet her.  She thinks through how she was treated by civilized men and compares that treatment to the treatment she receives from Conan and decides she much prefers the treatment of a barbarian to that of a “civilized” man.  Given a choice, she decides to sail with Conan and the pirates for a life of raiding.  She’s not simply another nearly naked damsel in distress (although I wish someone would explain to me why those type of characters are so bad, without taking a sanctimonious tone).

I think this story deserves wider recognition.  It’s not a perfect story by any means.  But through the character of Olivia, Howard demonstrates a clear contrast between civilized and barbaric standards of behavior.  It’s pretty clear he considers the barbarians to be morally superior to civilized men who sell their children.  We shouldn’t let the adventure aspects make us lose sight of that.

Robert E. Howard

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Barbarism at Home of Heroics

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I’m trying to finish a novel I’ve committed to review (one down, four to go), so I thought I’d point you to an essay that went up a few minutes ago over to Home of Heorics:  ” ‘Barbarian’ – Good or Bad?” by Werner A. Lind.  It’s a well thought-out examination of barbarism contrasted with civilization.  If you’re a fan of Robert E. Howard, you’ll want to read it.

As soon as I get this review done (which I will probably post at Futures Past and Present since it’s more science fiction than fantasy but will include a link here), I’ll look at a couple of items of short fiction.  In the meantime, check out what Werner has to say.

Year Two, Day One

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Although it doesn’t seem like it, it’s been exactly one year since I started this blog.  I’ve learned a lot, not least of which is how much I still have to learn.

I wanted to take this opportunity to thank everyone who follows my posts, whether formally, with your picture there in the sidebar, or informally, checking in when you have a free moment.  While I haven’t met most of you in the flesh, I still consider those of you who have commented, and at times corrected my errors, friends.  If we find ourselves at a convention or Howard Days or some other venue together, let’s make sure we make time for a drink or two.

I’ve got some things planned for this next year in addition to the ongoing series such as the posts about Conan, to give one example. 

At the moment, I’ve got six novels I’m committed to review, including the sequel to Wolfsangel.  That one will be posted in late September/early October to coincide with the release of the book.  It’s number three on the reading list.  I’m hoping to add a Twitter feed within the next month.  That is if family obligations and dayjobbery will let me find the time.

This calendar year also marked several anniversaries I want to acknowledge before December 31st if possible.  One is the five year anniversary of Cross Plains Universe.  This was the anthology released at the World Fantasy Convention in 2006 as part of the Howard Centennial.  Another is the tenth anniversary of the US publication of the Australian anthology Dreaming Down Under.

I started a comprehensive post on some of the collections of Henry Kuttner’s short fiction, both solo and in collaboration with his wife C. L. Moore, that have been published in the last year or two.  I’m still reading through the collections.  Hopefully that post will appear sometime during the holidays.

I’ve also got some English translations of Kazakh historical novels I’ve been wanting to read.  The typesetting is different than that used in US and British books, so I want to make sure I’ve got the time to read them without distractions.

Once again, I want to thank all of you who are regular, semi-regular, or occasional readers of Adventures Fantastic.  If there’s anything you would like to see more (or less) of, please let me know.

What I Think of Conan the Momoan

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photo courtesy of mattrailer.com

I said in my post last Friday that I thought Conan the Barbarian was a semi-decent movie.  Now that things seem to be slowing down a little and I have time to write, I need to define that term.  Simply put, “decent” means not good but not particularly bad, either.  “Semi” means not even that good.

The problem, as more people than I’m going to try to link to have said, is that the movie simply doesn’t deliver in terms of story.  There are just too many holes in the internal logic.  I’ll discuss the things that stuck out to me, but first I’ll discuss why this character isn’t Conan as written by Robert E. Howard.

There were a couple of attempts to tie this movie to what Howard wrote.  Some of the initial lines narrated by Morgan Freeman in the opening were quotes from Howard.  One of the characters summarizes the events of “The Tower of the Elephant” in about one sentence when he’s bragging about Conan’s exploits.  Then there’s the famous quote, “I live…I love…I slay, and I am content” that was taken completely out of context and not even quoted correctly.  The actual quote is from “The Queen of the Black Coast” and is “I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and am content.”  Beyond that, there’s nothing directly from Robert E. Howard in the film.

The argument to counter this criticism is that the film captures the spirit of the Conan stories.  But even there the film falls short.  I won’t rehash the origin story criticisms.  Others have said it better than I.  Nor will I get into the depiction of Conan as a crusader against slavery.  There’s no point in throwing stones at the fight choreography.  In this type of movie, the If-I-Did-This-In-A-Real-Fight-I’d-Be-Gutted school of combat is almost unavoidable.  Instead I’ll point out a few lapses in logic that others seem to have missed.

First, Tamara.  She seems to be the only one of the female monks who has any idea how to fight, and she’s quite accomplished at it.  Why?  Is she unique in her interests and abilities in this area, or was she singled out for special training?  If she was, what explanation was given to her and the rest of the monks?

If Tamara’s such a great fighter, and tells Conan that she won’t go with him after he rescues her, why is she docilely accepting being tied up in the next scene and at no time trying to escape?  Is she into bondage?  The sex scene didn’t indicate she was, but maybe that was too racy for the R rating.  Nah.  Probably not.

In the final fight scene, Tamara falls through a bridge of wooden slats.  She has a chain on her wrist, and Conan catches the chain to save her.  The distance she falls before he catches her is enough to dislocate her shoulder if not tear her arm off.  She isn’t even bruised.  That’s pushing things a little too far.

Last gripe about Tamara.  If she was supposed to fill the role of Belit in this film (it was Belit the above quote was spoken to), why does he ride off and leave her in the end?  Belit was the one great love of Conan’s life.  There was no real reason for him to leave her.  Except maybe that since he’d bedded her, it was time for new conquests.  And he would never do that to Belit.

I can’t buy Conan deliberately allowing himself to be taken prisoner in order to get close to one of the men he’s after.  My memory may be misleading me, but I don’t recall Conan ever doing anything like that.  I do remember more than once him threatening to kill anyone who laid a hand on him.

When Tamara is kidnapped from the ship, why wasn’t there a man on watch?  Robert E. Howard’s Conan would never be so stupid as overlook a thing like that.  And earlier, when Khalar Zim first tries to kidnap her, don’t any of these people realize they’re coming.  Khalar Zim has a land ship pulled by eight elephants, fer cryin’ out loud.

I didn’t buy the scene where young Conan fights and kills the Picts early on, either.  Not while holding an egg in his mouth.

On the other hand, there were some things I liked about the movie.  The fight scene with the sand demons was exciting and (I thought) genuinely suspenseful.  Of all the scenes, I thought this one best captured the spirit of Robert E. Howard, at least until he defeats the sand demons and fights Khalar Zim directly.  Too bad more of the others didn’t.

I don’t have any major gripes about the sets and the cast, although I know some people do.  Jason Momoa did a much better job as Conan than I expected him to.  I can see him playing this role again.  I only hope he gets to, and in a film that’s actually based on Howard’s work.  Unfortunately, the movie is doing so poorly that it will probably kill any chance for a genuine Howard adaptation for another generation.

One final thought.  The makeup Rose McGowan wore as Marique placed an image in my head that I can’t get out, so I’m going to share it with you.  Her hair reminded me of Londo Mollari from Babylon 5, while the spots on her neck and forehead made me think of Dax from Star Trek:  Deep Space Nine.  If those two ever had a love child, Marique is what she would look like.

Conan the Movie

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I just came from seeing this movie called Conan the Barbarian.  It’s a semi-decent sword and sorcery flick about this guy who has these adventures.  He just happens to be named Conan.

Interestingly enough, one of my favorite writers, Robert E. Howard, also created a sword and sorcery character named Conan who goes around having all these adventures.

Other than some place names, there’s not much more in common than that.

I’ve got to pack up the van for one last short summer jaunt before school starts for my son on Monday.  I’ll write a more detailed review sometime in the next few days.  I doubt anything I have to say will have any impact on how well the film does, but I do want my thoughts to be coherent.  I will say that the movie wasn’t as bad as I feared (an advantage to setting your expectations really low) but not as good as I’d hoped.  I’ll elaborate on the semi-decent remark in the full blown review.

Blogging Conan: The God in the Bowl

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Coming of ConanThis is one of the shorter Conan pieces.  It was probably the third Conan story Howard wrote and one of the few rejected by Farnsworth Wright when he submitted it to Weird Tales.  It wouldn’t see publication until years after Howard’s death.

This story has always been one of my favorite Conan tales.  It’s unique in that it’s at heart a police procedural, and a rather good one, even if it does have some stereotypical good cop-bad cop interplay. It’s also something of a locked room mystery.

Conan has broken into a museum of sorts, having been commissioned to steal a particular artifact.  Instead he finds the night watchman bending over the corpse of the building’s owner.  Conan thinks the man is another thief.  He realizes his mistake when the watchman pulls a cord, which rings a bell summoning the city watch.

The prefect in charge of the watch thinks Conan is the killer and wants to beat a confession out of him.  Accompanying the watch on their rounds this particular night is Demetrios, chief of he Inquisitorial Council.  He understands just how foolish such a course of action will be.

Instead of beating Conan, Demetrios interrogates him.  Conan freely admits he’s in the building to steal, but steadfastly denies killing the owner, whose name is Kallian Publico.  It’s a shame Howard didn’t write more of this sort of thing, because he seems to have had a knack for this type of dialogue.  I think this story has examples of some of Howard’s crispest, best dialogue in any of his works.  Other suspects are eventually brought in, including Kallian Publico’s chief clerk, Promero.  When the prefect orders a particularly sadistic guard to beat Promero for information, Demetrios does nothing to stop it.  In fact, Howard’s entire portrayal of Promero is one of disdain.  Conan at one point calls him a weakling and a fool.

The contrast between how the police treat Conan and how they treat Promero is intriguing.  Demetrios tends to believe Conan’s story that he didn’t kill Kallian Publico, while the prefect insists he did and on the basis of little evidence.  Demetrios respects Conan’s courage and strength while Promero’s weakness attracts only bullying.  It would be easy to dismiss the actions of the police here as entirely stereotypical of crime fiction of the day, but I think that would be a mistake.  While there is some stereotyping going on in the way the police behave, I think Howard was using that to make a point about strength and weakness.  Weakness attracts abuse.  Demetrios respects Conan’s strength too much to challenge him.  He knows he’s likely to lose.

The other thing of interest is what is implied by the sarcophagus that everything centers around.  It seems Kallian Publico had acquired a bowl shaped sarcophagus from Stygia earlier in the day.  It had been sent as a gift from Thoth-amon (who appeared in “The Phoenix on the Sword“), priest of Set, to Kalanthes, priest of Ibis.  Ibis and Set don’t get along, so why Thoth-amon would send Kalanthes a gift is something of a mystery at first.  Kallian Publico acquired the sarcophagus from the leader of the caravan transporting it.  The caravan leader didn’t want to go out of his way to deliver it, and so left it with Kallian Publico to deliver.  Of course, Kallian Publico had no intention of delivering the sarcophagus.  Instead he opened it…and received what was intended for Kalanthes.

“The God in the Bowl” seems (to me at least) to be considered a minor Conan story.  It’s certainly not one of the ones I’ve heard talked much about at gatherings of Howard fans.  I think that’s a shame.  Howard was stretching himself as a writer with this story.  By adding the mystery/police procedural element, he was trying something new.  A careful examination of Howard’s oeuvre reveals he did this frequently when he wanted to branch into a new genre.  That fact that not all of his attempts were successful is less important than the fact that he tried and wasn’t afraid to experiment.  We would have been poorer, and Howard’s work less moving, if he hadn’t tried at all.

Blogging Conan: The Tower of the Elephant

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Of all the Conan stories, this one, “The Tower of the Elephant”, is arguably the best.  It’s one of the shortest, but it contains some of the strongest writing Howard ever did.  For example, from the opening paragraph, in which Howard describes the the Maul, the part of town smart people don’t go into after dark:  “Along the crooked, unpaved streets with their heaps of refuse and sloppy puddles, drunken roisterers staggered, roaring.  Steel glinted in the shadows where wolf preyed on wolf, and from the darkness rose the shrill laughter of women, and the sounds of scufflings and strugglings.  Torchlight licked luridly from broken windows and wide-thrown doors, and out of those doors, stale smells of wine and rank sweaty bodies, clamor of drinking-jacks and fists hammered on rough tables, snatches of obscene songs, rushed like a blow in the face.” 

That’s only three sentences.  Yet Howard managed to pack more description in those three sentences, more atmosphere and sense of place, than most writers do in three paragraphs.  He does more than paint a word picture.  He places the reader in the middle of the scene.

It’s into this scene that a young man named Conan comes. 

The plot is pretty straight forward.  Conan overhears a kidnapper bragging in a tavern.  The man mentions a tower known as the Elephant’s Tower.  He questions the man, who tells him that somewhere in the tower, guarded by more than human guards, is a priceless jewel known as the Elephant’s Heart.  The tower is the domain of the sorcerer Yara. 

When Conan says that courage is what is keeping the local thieves from stealing the jewel, the man attacks him.  Conan kills him, then decides to rob the tower himself.  While doing so, he encounters another thief named Taurus, who has been planning the heist for months.  They decide to team up. 

Taurus is killed by one of the guardians of the tower, and Conan proceeds alone.  Normally in these posts about Conan, I would have stopped summarizing by this point, but I’m going to make an exception here.  It’s what happens when Conan finds the jewel that makes “The Tower of the Elephant” stand out among Howard’s work and among works of twentieth-century fantasy.

Conan discovers the chamber containing the Elephant’s Heart is occupied by a creature with the body of a man, green in color, and the head of an elephant, with the head being disproportionately large for the body.  The creature is blind.  He’s also been tortured for centuries by Yara. 

At first Conan is horrified, then as he realizes the creature, who we learn is named Yogah or alternatively Yag-kosha, is no threat he feels a great sense of pity for him.  Yogah explains how he came to be trapped there (mentioning Valusia and Kull’s world, although not specifically naming Kull), then asks Conan to aid him in his revenge against Yara.  Conan does as he’s asks.  He kills Yogah, then squeezes his heart out on the jewel he’d come to steal.  The blood soaks into the jewel as if it were a sponge.  Conan takes the jewel to a lower level in the chamber, where Yara is in a trance.  He awakens Yara and gives him the jewel along with a verbal message from Yogah.  He then makes his escape from the tower.

What?  You think I’m going to tell you all the details of Yara’s demise?  You’ll have to read the story for that.  It’s short, and more than worth your time.

It’s Conan’s reaction to Yogah, even more than Howard’s prose, that lifts this story above most others.  Howard did a lot with the Conan stories to establish the trope of the thief stealing an ensorcelled item, yet in one of the earliest Conan stories he breaks the very stereotype he’s establishing by adding a layer of depth and feeling and having the thief willingly give up the item he’s come to steal. 

The popular misconception of Conan is that he’s a ruthless killer with little or no empathy for the pain of others.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Yes, there are stories in which Conan’s bloodthirsty streak is the characteristic that is displayed most prominently.  But Conan is a three dimensional character.  The compassion he shows here, while harsh, is still compassion.  He acts out of mercy, not bloodlust.  Only by killing Yogah can Conan free him from the torment he’s suffered and allow him to take revenge on Yara.  Conan genuinely feels compassion for Yogah.

It’s easy to see why “The Tower of the Elephant” is considered a masterpiece.  If you haven’t read it, or read it recently, you owe it to yourself to do so.  Then compare the storytelling you find here with what you’ll see in the movie when it comes out this week.  See if there’s a difference.  We’ll talk more about that when I review the move.