Skip to main content

Final Thoughts on The Savage Tales of Solomon Kane: The Platypus Reads Part CCLVII

Excluding fragments, the final Solomon Kane story is Footsteps Within.  Drawing near to the far side of the African continent, Solomon Kane is captured by Arab slave traders who recognize the Englishman and decide to sell him to his enemies among the Turks.  One of the Arabs, a wise man and a hadji, also recognizes Kane's staff as the mystic staff of Solomon.  According to the legend the hadji tells, King Solomon used the staff to banish all the jinn of Arabia into Africa.  His discover goes unheeded by the others and they soon find themselves stumbling on the tombs/prisons of one of the jinn.  The sheik, thinking that there is gold inside, ignores the hadji's protests and opens the vault thereby unleashing the horror within.  Kane, regaining his staff, confronts the beast, frees the slaves, and finds new purpose as he realizes the religious significance of the talisman he has been carrying.

And that's where our story ends.  For whatever reason, Howard gave up the character.  There have been a few attempts by other authors to continue the story, but since the rights are in doubt a true continuation seems unlikely.  What we can see, is that Howard was beginning to work in more Lovecraftian elements while at the same time trying to shore up Kane's religious faith and status as a Paladin.  Popping out on the far side of Africa leads me to believe that Howard was also setting up a series of oriental adventures followed perhaps by a series of American adventures (we already know that Kane has fought against Native Americans in Darien -a reference to the Pequot War seems chronologically problematic, but who knows).  It all sounds interesting, and I'm sad that there isn't more.

So where do I go with final thoughts?  The Savage Tales of Solomon Kane is a wonderful triumph of pulp fiction.  However, like so many stories from this time period, it is marred by fits of ethnocentrism and outright racism.  The writing lacks the polish of Howard's later Conan stories, but also lacks their quixotic amorality.  As with everything in Robert E. Howard's brief literary career, the only real statement I can make is that I wish there was more.  Perhaps it's fitting, then, that the collection closes with poem The Homecoming of Solomon Kane, a poem which ends with our hero striding out along the dunes bent on further adventure.

Sic transit gloria mundi    

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Platypus Reads Part XXVII

Thoughts after reading the "Iliad" to prepare a Greece unit for my students: -Hector is a jerk until he's dead. He even advocates the exposure of Achaean corpses and then has the cheek to turn around and ask Achilles to spare his. He rudely ignores Polydamas' prophecies and fights outside the gate to save his pride knowing full well what it will cost his family and city. After he's dead, he becomes a martyr for the cause. -Agamemnon has several moments of true leadership to balance out his pettiness. In this way, he's a haunting foil to Achilles: the two men are more alike than they want to acknowledge. -We see that Achilles is the better man at the funeral games of Patroclos. His lordliness, tact, and generosity there give us a window into Achilles before his fight with Agamemnon and the death of Patroclos consumed him. -Nestor is a boring, rambling, old man who's better days are far behind him, and yet every Achaean treats him with the upmo...

California's Gods: Strange Platypus(es)

We've noticed lately a strange Californian dialectical twist: there, freeways take the definite article.  In other parts of the country one speaks of I 91 or 45 North.  In California, there's The 5, The 405, The 10.  Each of these freeways has its own quirks, a personality of sorts.  They aren't just stretches of pavement but presences, creatures that necessitate the definite article by their very individuality and uniqueness.  They are the angry gods to be worked, placated, feared, for without them life in California as we know it would cease.  Perhaps that's fitting for a land whose cities are named for saints and angels.  Mary may preside over the new pueblo of our lady of the angels, but the freeways slither like gigantic serpents through the waste places, malevolent spirits not yet trampled under foot.

Seeing Beowulf Through Tolkien: The Platypus Reads Part CXCIX

After spending a few weeks wrestling with Tolkien's interpretation of Beowulf , I found myself sitting down and reading Seamus Heaney's translation of the text during a spare moment.  I came to the place where Beowulf presents Hrothgar with the hilt of the ancient sword that slew Grendel's mother.  Hrothgar looks down at the hilt with its ancient runes and carvings depicting the war between the giants and God and meditates on the fortunes of men.  In a flash of insight, I thought: this is the whole poem! Let me explain.  Tolkien believed that the genuine contribution of the Northern peoples to European culture was the theory of courage.  The Northern heroes, at their best, were men who fought for order against chaos -a battle they knew they were doomed to lose.  If they were true heroes, their souls would join the gods and aid them in the final battle against darkness and its monsters and again go down fighting, spitting in the face of the meaninglessness...