Happy Birthday Terry Brooks

In the beginning, there was darkness and chaos. Then J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit appeared, bringing with it a haven of light and order called Middle Earth, and there was much rejoicing. The light provided joy and gladness and order, as well as a lighted pathway through the surrounding darkness. This led to another, larger region of Middle Earth, wherein The Lord of the Rings was found. And there was much rejoicing.

And then...nothing. No matter how great the quest, no more great realms were discovered. Middle Earth was a wondrous realm, to which one could venture again and again. Joy and gladness occasioned those reunions, but frustrated nursed hopes for additional adventures. If only new paths could be found, with great discoveries awaiting them at their end, for life to again blossom with promise and hope for the future! Hope and joy could be simulated in lesser realms like Dungeons & Dragons, but such areas burned with less brilliance and vitality, lacking the structure and order brought into being by a wise creator. So hopes faded, and order struggled to fight off the ever-ravenous hordes of chaos.

Then lo, when all seemed lost, a new path was found. A path burning bright with lights, and the promise of a great new adventure. A path that led to another bright realm created by Terry Brooks called The Sword of Shannara. There more great heroes dwelt, and rose to defend their lands against a malevolent villain and his ravaging hordes. We accompanied our new dwarf, elvish, and human friends on their adventures, stood beside them as they risked their lives for others, grew with them as they overcame all the obstacles that threatened to stop and confound them...and there was great rejoicing. 

Like J.R.R. Tolkien's realm of Middle Earth, this realm of Shannara could not contain all the order, excitement, and joy it promised. So it gave birth to another realm called Landover, wherein great adventures also took place. But the realm of Shannara proved even more robust. It burst with promise, with newness of light, and its depth and richness amazed all who found their way there. The light of Shannara grew brighter, more brilliant than most weary, dispirited wanderers could have possibly imagined. In a land filled with so many interesting places, heroes, and adventures, hope could never die. Order and promise could be sustained. Rejoicing, great rejoicing, could continue unabated, undimmed, forever.

And so, oh Great Creator, we thank you for lighting new pathways amid the darkness, and illuminating the wondrous realms of Landover and Shannara. On this most special day, may your heart burn with order, enthusiasm, and hope for the future. 

Happy Birthday, Terry Brooks! Let there be much rejoicing!

Dragon Dave 

Tay Trefenwyd of Shannara

The Elves in First King of Shannara seem little different from their Human counterparts.  Terry Brooks doesn’t overwhelm you with information on their distinctive language, or how their history and culture differentiates them from Dwarves or Humans.  He refers to his Elves as men and women, just as one might describe the people of our world in terms of their ethnic or national origins.  When compared with J. R. R. Tolkien, Terry Brooks (and every other writer) comes away the loser.  Yet I regard him as a winning writer, and from his Bestselling status, I’d argue that many others agree with me.  For where Brooks really shines is in breathing life into his characters, and three especially important characters in his novel are Elves. One of them is a young Man named Tay Trefenwyd.

Brooks describes Tay as “an affable, easygoing man who cared about the problems of others and had always done his best to give what help he could.  He was not confrontational like Risca or stubborn like Bremen.”  He “accepted people as they were, isolating what was good and finding ways to make use of it.”  “Tay’s big hands were as strong as iron, but his heart was gentle.”  He “knew when to stand his ground and when to yield.  He was a conciliator and a compromiser of the first order, and he would need those skills in the days ahead.” 

When Bremen arrives at Paranor, Tay heeds his former instructor’s warnings, and leaves the center of Druid learning.  Bremen charges him with two duties.  First, he must return to his homeland and convince the king of the elves to send envoys to the Dwarves, in the hopes that both races will unite against Brona’s imminent invasion.  On his journey home, he must evade parties of Gnomes that have traveled in advance of Brona’s forces.  When he reaches Arborlon, his friend Jerle Shannara agrees to help him in any way he can.  The Elf King Ballindarroch also seems amenable, not only to sending envoys to the Dwarves, but also to outfitting a party to find the Black Elfstone, an object of great power that Brona must not be allowed to wield.  But politics rear their ugly head among the Elves just as they do among Humans, and more sinister forces also invade Arborlon, upsetting everyone’s plans.

Throughout all this, Tay must exercise patience, as well as draw upon his inner resolve to complete his second task.  As he searches for the Black Elfstone, he wonders where he will fit in after he has completed his quest.  He feels like a stranger in Arborlon, and he cannot return to Paranor.  He had planned on a life of celibacy, but now his feelings for the lovely Preia gnaw away at him.  While Preia clearly returns his affection, she has pledged to marry his friend Jerle.  Yet she seems like the only person who could give his future meaning, should they survive the war with Brona.  But first he must recover the Black Elfstone, while evading the war parties of Gnomes that constantly harass them.  And then there are the Skullbearers, who once were Druids like him, but gave themselves over to dark magic long ago, and have become like Brona: evil, powerful, and deadly.

Long after the key events and great battles in First King of Shannara fade away, I think I’ll remember Tay Trefenwyd.  For I understand all too well what it is to feel like I don’t belong.  I’d rather be conciliatory rather than confrontational.  And I constantly wonder if I can ever meet others’ expectations of me, and even more important, if I can achieve the high goals I have set for myself.  Against one of Tolkien’s Elves, a person infused with superhuman powers, who has amassed great knowledge and wisdom in his long life, and who hails from a culture much more impressive than my own, I can only end up the loser.  But I can view another Man as a role model.  And Tay Trefenwyd, while very much an Elf of Shannara, is also very much a Man.

Dragon Dave

The Familiar Flavor of Terry Brooks

In my youth, I enjoyed Terry Brooks’ first three Shannara novels so much that I revisited them numerous times.  But I had never read the prequel to his first novel, The Sword of Shannara, which he published roughly two decades later, and it has been a long time since I’ve read any of his stories.

I found diving into First King of Shannara refreshing, and at the same time comforting, hungry as I was to recapture the magic his novels once held for me.  Brooks certainly knows how to tell an entertaining story, and his prose flowed smoothly as he introduced me to his characters and the dilemmas they faced.  He threw a lot of history at me in the opening chapters, but then he gave me a breather as Bremen returns to Paranor, the center of Druid learning.  There he tries to warn them that the evil Brona is leading an army of Gnomes, Trolls, and Skull Bearers to invade the land.  I enjoyed meeting his friends, and hoped that he could convince the council to accept his arguments.  Unfortunately, just as they once expelled him from their order, the Druids refused to see his point of view.  So they again cast him out.  But this time, some of his friends accompanied him, recognizing his wisdom, and the urgency of the situation.

Returning to Shannara as I did, without remembering much from the original trilogy, the novel struck me afresh, yet soothed me with a sense of déjà vu.  I enjoyed following the protagonists as they fought Brona’s minions, sought out the magical items necessary to combat the villain, and repeatedly faced off against the forces of evil.  I felt sad when the characters I had come to care about died, but rejoiced in the survivors’ triumphs.  With his prequel, Terry Brooks left me satisfied, and interested in rereading that first great novel, The Sword of Shannara, as well as the ones that immediately followed.

As a teen, J. R. R. Tolkien’s novels left me wanting more great stories like The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.  In Terry Brooks, I found a writer who sated my hunger.  While my palate has evolved since my teens, it’s comforting to know that I can occasionally order a former favorite off the menu, savor its familiar flavors, and leave the table satisfied.  If, after watching Peter Jackson’s films, or reading Tolkien’s books, you find your stomach rumbling, might I suggest a house special: one of Terry Brooks’ delicious and satisfying Shannara entrees?

Dragon Dave

Falling In Love With A Totally New Hobbit

One of the seminal events of my life was when a friend loaned me his paperback copy of The Hobbit in Junior High.  While I had read Fantasy novels before, J. R. R. Tolkien’s story was wholly different from anything I had encountered before.  One of the first things I did, after I finished the book and gave it back to him, was buy my own copy.  Then I read it again.

Perhaps because the story remains so precious to me, I felt somewhat reluctant to see "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey" in the cinema.  This is nothing against Peter Jackson: I had, for the most part, enjoyed his adaptations of The Lord of the Rings.  Of all the filmmakers out there, he was the one I most trusted to bring Tolkien’s story to the big screen.  Yet I told myself not to expect too much from the adaptation, and put off seeing it. 

Sitting in the cinema, there were aspects of the movie I loved, such as the look of Bilbo’s house and Hobbiton.  I loved the way Jackson brought the dwarves to life, giving them each their own personalities.  I loved the way he way he captured the silliness of the dwarves’ song as they hurled Bilbo’s precious plates and saucers while they clean up after themselves.  I loved the visual scope of Bilbo, Gandalf, and the dwarves journey across the incredible landscape of Middle Earth (which some insist is really New Zealand). 

Yet, there were also aspects that kept me at a distance from the movie as I watched it.  By adding so much to the story, it seemed as if Jackson slowed the pace to a crawl.  Perhaps because I saw it in 2D, or because it had been filmed at 48 frames per second, I felt like I was seeing too much: every scene looked like it was taking place on a set, and refused to blend into the background.  He added extra characters and situations that I didn’t remember, that made the movie darker, and more in keeping with the tone of The Lord of the Rings.  But most of all, I kept on expecting certain scenes to play out a given way, only for the characters to surprise me, and resolve the momentary conflict in a different fashion.  I couldn’t believe my memory of those scenes was faulty: clearly Jackson was tinkering with Tolkien’s story, changing those precious moments in a way he felt superior for moviegoers.

How dare he tamper with Tolkienian perfection!

Although I wasn’t anxious to see it again, my wife asked for "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey" for her birthday.  As we don’t have a 3D TV or Blu-ray player, we watched the 2D version of the film.  With this second viewing, I found that everything I loved about the movie remained the same, yet those aspects I had disliked faded away.  The pace seemed well adjusted to the story, and the additional scenes and characters, no doubt drawn from sources such as The Silmarillion, blended better into the overall story.  Likewise, the foregrounds and backgrounds blended together on my smaller screen, so I no longer felt as if I were watching actors on a physical set.  Most important, this time I found myself more accepting of the different way certain key scenes played out (at least from the way I remember them). 

I don’t know why, but sometimes aspects of a movie I disliked at first fade away with a repeated viewing.  If you love the novel, but experienced a similar reaction to "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey" in the cinema, I suggest that you try a second viewing.  Perhaps, like me, you’ll find you enjoy it more the second time around.  As for me, watching the movie again made me want to read The Hobbit again.  I don’t think I will, because I don’t want to be comparing the novel with the second and third films while in the cinema, but now I feel drawn to make that second attempt at (and actually read all the way through) The Silmarillion.  I also want to read Terry Brooks’ High Fantasy novels again, like The Sword of Shannara.  Ooh, and I’d also like to reread Jim C. Hines' humorous Goblin trilogy, and…

Dragon Dave

Terry Brooks Definitely Doesn’t Suck

In part, what prompted yesterday’s post about alligators and mummies was a panel discussion at a Science Fiction convention five years ago.  A writer with a few short stories to her credit launched into a diatribe on what, to her mind, constituted proper Fantasy.  The man seated next to her, Eldon Thompson, had written three High Fantasy novels.  He mentioned that Terry Brooks had served as his mentor, and that he had written a screenplay for Brooks’ novel, The Elfstones of Shannara.

The woman turned to Thompson and said, “I think Terry Brooks sucks.”

Terry Brooks is a New York Times Bestselling author.  In the 1970s, editor Lester Del Rey used Brooks’ first novel, The Sword of Shannara, to launch the modern High Fantasy market.  I enjoyed reading his Shannara and Landover novels in my teens and twenties.  His novels were the perfect compliment to the Dungeons & Dragons games I played with my friends, and formed a major portion of my shelf-space.  While I admired J. R. R. Tolkien’s richly imagined Middle Earth, I found the Shannara novels more accessible than The Lord of the Rings. Of course, as we grow older, our tastes change, and I haven’t read Terry Brooks in a long time.  Still, I have fond memories of doing so, and would like to reread his books again.  Providing it was faithful to the original material, I’d also love to see a Shannara movie. 

I’m not sure why we, as common people, feel the need to pull down the mighty.  Just as some zoo visitors might jeer and seek to provoke strong, predatory animals (but only if they’re in a cage), we jeer celebrities and those who have reached the top of their chosen profession.  Remember how the Bee Gees dominated the air waves in the 1970s, until a couple radio personalities convinced their listeners how cool it would be to burn their Bee Gees albums?  Remember how moviegoers took a dislike to an interview in which Tom Cruise actually dared assert an unpopular opinion, and how it almost cost him his moviestar status?  Remember how Brendan Fraser dared gain weight and star in “Furry Vengeance” after his three Mummy movies?  Forget all the movies that received good reviews and generated lots of revenue.  Suddenly, we cry, “The guy’s lost it as an actor! It’s his fault Universal decided to pull the plug on the current series and reboot The Mummy franchise!”  It’s as if we feel that, through bringing down the mighty, our own accomplishments will accrue more significance.

To a certain extent, I’m conflicted as to what I wrote yesterday.  Criticism of another’s work can prove valuable, and is sometimes necessary.  But slamming someone’s efforts because they’re not (or no longer) to your taste, or ridiculing their previous accomplishments because they’ve since done something else that you didn’t like, only serves to show others how ruthless you can be.

Most of us admire strength and despise weakness.  I suppose that’s why we attack others when they’re down, or make provocative remarks “just to get a reaction.”  We regularly probe our friends and peers in innumerable ways, and if these tests elicit what we regard as weakness, we lose respect for them.  I’ve never understood that mindset, but then, there’s so much of human behavior that I don’t understand.  (I guess that’s why I decided to be a writer, ha!)  But on one topic I have no doubt whatsoever. 

Terry Brooks definitely doesn’t suck.  In fact, I regard him as a masterful storyteller. 

Great!  Now that I’m remembering how much I loved his stories, I’m tempted to pull one of his books off my shelf and set it in the pile by my bed.  As if I haven’t got enough to read….

Dragon Dave