The Platypus Biteth Not His Tale: The Platypus Reads Part XL
I've finally finished E.R. Eddison's epic fantasy "The Worm Ouroboros." I know of nothing comparable to it except "Dune" and "The Lord of the Rings." If you are a lover of epic and fantastic literature, you should read this book.
*Potential Mild Spoilers Ahead*
That said, let me move into a discussion of the work. The strength of "The Worm Ouroboros" lies primarily in its ability to enchant. The wealth of settings from bright halls to sorcerous chambers, ruined towers and woody bowers, edges of glaciers and fields of slaughter provide a rich set of backdrops that fire the imagination. Eddison also adopts a deliberately archaic style; a modified King James English. This, combined with the episodic and heroic style of the work, make the reader feel as if he is encountering something from Malory or Spenser. Heroic feats, shows of courtesy, and fierce combats abound. All this takes place in a stunningly constructed, though not perfectly, subcreated world. Lewis and Tolkien both gave "The Worm Ouroboros" their hard-earned praise on this count.
Having discussed the main strength of "The Worm Ouroboros," I will now turn to the weaknesses. The defects of the book are few, but make the work as a whole a grand and shimmering failure.
The first defect is that while all the characters are archetypal, the heroes, the lords of Demonland, never transcend their archetypes to become real. Lord Juss, Spitfire, and Goldry Bluzsco are so similar, in fact, as to be almost interchangeable. The Lord Brandoch Daha stands out among the heroic ensemble, but also never rises above the level of paste-board archetype. This might not be such a defect, except that the villains of the work, the Lords of Witchland, manifestly do become real and tangible characters. I must openly confess to liking them, horrible villains all, a great deal more than I like the heroes. The most touching moment of the work is when the Lords of Demonland wish to have their enemies returned from the dead so that they can have the joy of contending with them again. As the gods answer their prayers, they behold their enemies through a magic glass about their daily lives at castle Carce in scenes so lovingly drawn that I too wished to have them back again.
The first defect perhaps has its root in the second, that the worldview of the book is abominably Nietzschean. Tolkien was quick to spot this out and it seems to have formed the source of a quarrel between Eddison and Tolkien the one time that the authors met. The Lords of Demonland are supermen, incapable of defeat or resentment, but also incapable of any real human sentiment or striving. At no point during the work did I get any sense that, great as their tasks and trials might be, the outcome would be anything but an all-conquering victory for the demons. This might not have been a problem had the Demons displayed some real virtue or personality. Instead, they come off as nothing so much like a coterie of, two-dimensional, profligate, English aristocrats about town and seeking "a good time." By contrast, the Witches, as deplorable as their characters are, have real human emotions and struggles; in particular, and here I agree with Tolkien, the Lord Gro. Gro is easily the most compelling character in the work as his soaring intellect and feeble body make him utterly unfit for the heroic world in which he is forced to live. His suicidal death in battle rises to the level of Shakespearean tragedy. In the end, Eddison's "The Worm Ouroboros" demonstrates something that Nietzsche never quite caught on to: Supermen are boring, humans are interesting.
In the end, even these two mighty defects cannot completely overcome Eddison's achievement. As C.S. Lewis points out in his "Allegory of Love," their is no shame in soaring so high and failing. A monumental ruin is still grander than a well-built flat. However, with Tolkein, we may much enjoy visiting the ruin, but still prefer to live in the flat.
*Potential Mild Spoilers Ahead*
That said, let me move into a discussion of the work. The strength of "The Worm Ouroboros" lies primarily in its ability to enchant. The wealth of settings from bright halls to sorcerous chambers, ruined towers and woody bowers, edges of glaciers and fields of slaughter provide a rich set of backdrops that fire the imagination. Eddison also adopts a deliberately archaic style; a modified King James English. This, combined with the episodic and heroic style of the work, make the reader feel as if he is encountering something from Malory or Spenser. Heroic feats, shows of courtesy, and fierce combats abound. All this takes place in a stunningly constructed, though not perfectly, subcreated world. Lewis and Tolkien both gave "The Worm Ouroboros" their hard-earned praise on this count.
Having discussed the main strength of "The Worm Ouroboros," I will now turn to the weaknesses. The defects of the book are few, but make the work as a whole a grand and shimmering failure.
The first defect is that while all the characters are archetypal, the heroes, the lords of Demonland, never transcend their archetypes to become real. Lord Juss, Spitfire, and Goldry Bluzsco are so similar, in fact, as to be almost interchangeable. The Lord Brandoch Daha stands out among the heroic ensemble, but also never rises above the level of paste-board archetype. This might not be such a defect, except that the villains of the work, the Lords of Witchland, manifestly do become real and tangible characters. I must openly confess to liking them, horrible villains all, a great deal more than I like the heroes. The most touching moment of the work is when the Lords of Demonland wish to have their enemies returned from the dead so that they can have the joy of contending with them again. As the gods answer their prayers, they behold their enemies through a magic glass about their daily lives at castle Carce in scenes so lovingly drawn that I too wished to have them back again.
The first defect perhaps has its root in the second, that the worldview of the book is abominably Nietzschean. Tolkien was quick to spot this out and it seems to have formed the source of a quarrel between Eddison and Tolkien the one time that the authors met. The Lords of Demonland are supermen, incapable of defeat or resentment, but also incapable of any real human sentiment or striving. At no point during the work did I get any sense that, great as their tasks and trials might be, the outcome would be anything but an all-conquering victory for the demons. This might not have been a problem had the Demons displayed some real virtue or personality. Instead, they come off as nothing so much like a coterie of, two-dimensional, profligate, English aristocrats about town and seeking "a good time." By contrast, the Witches, as deplorable as their characters are, have real human emotions and struggles; in particular, and here I agree with Tolkien, the Lord Gro. Gro is easily the most compelling character in the work as his soaring intellect and feeble body make him utterly unfit for the heroic world in which he is forced to live. His suicidal death in battle rises to the level of Shakespearean tragedy. In the end, Eddison's "The Worm Ouroboros" demonstrates something that Nietzsche never quite caught on to: Supermen are boring, humans are interesting.
In the end, even these two mighty defects cannot completely overcome Eddison's achievement. As C.S. Lewis points out in his "Allegory of Love," their is no shame in soaring so high and failing. A monumental ruin is still grander than a well-built flat. However, with Tolkein, we may much enjoy visiting the ruin, but still prefer to live in the flat.
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