It’s no mistake that I love old-school fantasy.
Hell, I love it so much that my debut novel was all but a tribute to it. Time and again, these many and varied tales of magic and grandeur have ended up on the top of my to-be-read list; and time and again, I’ve always been left wanting for more.
So I hear you asking, theoretical voice in my head, “Which fantasy saga is your favorite?” “What series sticks with you so much that can whisk your imagination away to lands heretofore undreamed of?”
Well, most will point to books such as J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series, and, of course, Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Barbarian. But what if I told you that none of these truly reached the peak of fantasy’s potential? Authors like Lord Dunsany and Jack Vance may come agonizingly close, yet none (in my opinion) can rival the balance of wit, magic, and grittiness quite like Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser.
In fact, it was Fritz himself who coined the term “Swords and Sorcery.” Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser embodies so much of what I adore in fiction: a keen eye for exaggeration when necessary; a dash of humor to brighten the mood without detracting from conflict; and last but not least, a fantasy “buddy-cop” dynamic featuring heroes whose fates clash, divide, intertwine, and reconverge at different points in time.
What results from this concoction can be witnessed even in today’s literary environment. Along with other fantasy classics such as Howard’s Conan, Moorcock’s Elric, and Vance’s Cugel, the stories told in the world of Nehwon are truly something special, and have since influenced novels and RPGs the world over, some of which you may even recognize.
In this retrospective series, I’ll be starting off by breaking down the first canonical entry in the Twain’s adventures, titled Swords and Deviltry. I should mention that the first two stories, while incredibly fun in their own right, don’t exactly reach the heights of what is to come after. I say this as a pretty big fan, myself, but we all have to acknowledge that the barbarian and thief don’t really shine until they’re working side-by-side later on.
So with that in mind, let’s begin…
Starting off with the novella-length tale The Snow Women, we’re introduced to a young Fafhrd as he’s going about his everyday existence. Life in the northern wastes, as it turns out, is quite brutal and filled with intrigue, as we learn that our barbarous hero lusts to explore the lands along the south - the lands of civilization.
All the while a war of the sexes is waged in his tribe. The reason is that a caravan arrives once each year from the city of Lankhmar. Along with the regular trade and such, the main attraction is the erotic dancers putting on obscene shows for all the men, with the worst offense being that it’s conducted in their communal place of worship. The wives, in turn, constantly scold with hexes of ice, in order to freeze the minds of their men, as well as their loins. When this doesn’t work, deadlier means are used to keep their husbands (and sons) faithful.
Amongst this chaos, Fafhrd is kept on a relatively close leash by his mother Yor, as well as his fiancé Mara, who is pregnant with his child. In spite of this, however, he meets a mysterious woman going by the name of Vlana, who tempts him at first with carnal lusts, then second through her knowledge of the outside world.
As you might have guessed from this description, Fafhrd’s situation is a tinge more complex than that of most fantasy heroes. This plays directly into the idea that our main protagonists aren’t exactly paragons of moral virtue. In fact, as we’ll see later on, these are only the first few steps in their journey to becoming downright scoundrels.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. The Snow Women isn’t a short story by the strictest definition; what’s here is approximately 120 pages of character drama, action, and intrigue told from an omniscient perspective. For some this could be a problem, and I will point it out for anyone who’s more apprehensive of this sort of style. For me, however, the writing shines through with Leiber’s mastery at describing sights, sounds, smells, feeling, and taste; all with an unconventional prose style that breaks the rules just as much as it follows them.
Bring all of these elements together, and even with this being one of the weaker stories on display, we see a world that’s just as real as it is magical - familiar as it is alien.
Next off, we have The Unholy Grail, or better known as the origin for the Gray Mouser. In this tale, our titular thief is referred to as “Mouse,” as he’s a young apprentice to Glavas Rho, one who is an elderly practitioner of white magic. Despite all of this, the youth is constantly reminded that there’s a darkness lurking inside of him. Unlike Glavas Rho, Mouse is forever a gray soul, which isn’t ideal, but it’s still better than one who practices the black arts.
We learn all of this in retrospect, as our hero returns from a rather lengthy voyage to find that his master has been murdered. The likely suspect? The local duke whose daughter Mouse has a personal connection with.
Little else is needed before the hopeful apprentice embarks on his own quest for vengeance. That’s not all, however, as the story delves into many of the darker parts of the human psyche. Some themes included are that of betrayal, the lingering effects of abuse, torture, and the dangers that come with the unknown.
Mouse, in particular, dabbles with a sliver of black magic, and we immediately see how taxing it can be both on the human body and spirit, as most of his vitality is sucked away with a ritual involving a voodoo doll.
As one might expect, this makes for quite the interesting contrast to Fafhrd’s story; another underlying theme which we’ll see realized even more so in future adventures. Needless to say, though, the narrative ends on a rather poignant note, with some of the most vibrant and charged prose I’ve witnessed since the likes of Howard and Burroughs.
And now we get to the real good stuff. Ill-Met in Lankhmar deals with Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser as they try to make ends meet with their own respective lady-friends. Here we see the Twain meet properly for the first time, and it’s obvious how well the two get along right off the bat. The narrative isn’t quite as lengthy as The Snow Women, yet like its counterpart, it manages to reach novella length in just over 90 pages.
But it’s not for a lack of purpose. Ill-Met weaves in between genres and styles pretty seamlessly throughout, and the wordplay is top-notch. From loss and revenge to scenes of drunken boasting, from thieving heists to cosmic horror; the story has a wonderful way of keeping you engaged and on your toes. You’re constantly asking yourself what’s going to happen next, and therein lies the brilliance. It’s pretty easy for me to say that this is the highlight of Swords and Deviltry, and the point where Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser really hits its stride.
I do have the occasional complaint with the author’s writing. Like I mentioned previously, Leiber’s haphazard use of omniscient perspective can be seen as archaic to some. Yet for me, personally, I think it fits right in with the world that’s being sold to us. It’s a setting that’s constantly in flux, one that indulges in subjects of whimsy, eroticism, and comedy.
Back to the topic of negatives, there are a few points where it feels like we’re being fed too much information as readers. I only noticed this once or twice, myself, but it’s often at its worst during the action scenes. Whereas other fantasy writers of that era painted with broader brush strokes, Leiber tends to give us too much detail in these moments. While it isn’t bad or anything, the pacing can suffer for it at times.
However, this is undoubtedly the exception and not the rule. Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser represents a peculiar style of writing which I think indie creators could benefit to learn from. Just as much as Leiber listened to the advice of so many of his peers, it’s also clear that he bent and broke the rules when it benefited the greater narrative.
Having a proper knowledge of when to use one or the other, I believe, is paramount for any artist seeking to hone their craft.
P.S. This is the first entry in a planned series which I hope to cover in the months to follow. Be sure to keep an eye out for the second installment in this retrospective, as next time I will be taking a look at Swords Against Death.
When I read Swords and Deviltry, I was warned "the first story was written much earlier in Leiber's career than the other two" and, yeah, it's pretty obvious from a technical standpoint, but still enjoyable. (Then I go on Goodreads and read "modern audience" takes on it and I laugh and laugh.) Ill-Met is definitely the highlight though and really helps build hype for the next books.
A must for both sword and sorcery enjoyers and Appendix N explorers. Great review, always happy to see people talking about Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser!
Never read Sword & Deviltry, will give it a look, Otter. But just one small correction there is no book by the name of Conan the Barbarian, but there is one by the title of Hour of the Dragon.
That said, my idea of the ultimate mythological book (as it is more mythology than fantasy) would have to be the Silmarillion. What are your thoughts on it? And also what's the title of your work? I would love to note it down and review it.