The Conquering Sword Of Conan – Robert E. Howard, 2005 ★★★½ [Edited by Patrice Louinet]

Farewell to the Hyborian Age

Artists sometimes are most inspired when the world is caving in around them. The need to make sense of the suffering and chaos, or simply wail against the tide, can manifest itself in outstanding work.

Is that why it seems in writing his stories of Conan the Cimmerian, Robert E. Howard saved the best for last? Brilliant as his Conan stories typically are, I don’t know any that holds up as well as “Red Nails,” his final work which caps this third Del-Ray collection of Conan stories.

Yet I still prefer the first volume, The Coming Of Conan, and middle volume The Bloody Crown Of Conan over this. Howard may still offer Conan in all his glory, but the barbarian has shed his familiar world of prior creations for a starker, deeply alien setting. And the yarns Howard spins, while every bit as taut, are more gnarled and knotty.

The Bloody Crown Of Conan – Robert E. Howard, 2003 ★★★★½ [Edited by Patrice Louinet]

A Barbarian Takes Command

Killing people is easy; leading them is not. In this middle volume collecting the original stories, Conan the Cimmerian demonstrates he has the right stuff for both tasks.

Conan creator Robert E. Howard reveals similar adaptive skill. The first Del Ray Conan volume, The Coming Of Conan The Cimmerian, showcased the vast range of Howard’s imagination; in this second volume we see the depth of his storycraft and world-building powers.

“From death to death it came, riding on a river of human blood. Blood feeds it, blood draws it. Its power is greatest when there is blood on the hands that grasp it, when it is wrested by slaughter from its holder. Wherever it gleams, blood is spilt and kingdoms totter, and the forces of nature are put in turmoil.”

The Coming Of Conan The Cimmerian – Robert E. Howard, 2002 ★★★★ [Edited by Patrice Louinet]

Loving, Slaying, and Being Content

Where to begin with Conan the Barbarian? You have movies, comic books, computer games. A number of fantasy writers have taken their hacks and stabs at detailing the Cimmerian’s gore-soaked adventures, either under the Conan name or else a thinly-veiled alternate moniker.

But forget all that. Real Conan begins here with Robert E. Howard’s original stories, set in a mythical long-lost age, which Howard churned out for the pulp-fantasy market. They drench you with a spirit of adventure and appreciation for the splendor and squalor of a unique world:

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.