The Worm Ouroboros is not an easy book to love. The language is archaic ("resembling nothing written since the seventeenth century," as Orville Prescott says in his introduction to the Ballentine edition), the descriptions dense and ornate, the plot rambling, the action frequently slow, and the heroes so very much larger than life that they verge on parodies of the heroic archetype. Yet it is a highly regarded and highly influential Fantasy classic -- and has been a personal favorite, if not from the first time I read it forty years ago, at least from a second reading five or six years later. Some books just take time to absorb, they are like a rich and exotic meal full of strange and possibly even suspicious ingredients (was that a claw I just swallowed, an eyeball I saw hiding under that lettuce leaf?), not easily digested, likely to produce an occasional twinge while your system struggles to assimilate them, but never to be forgotten afterward.
In its general outlines, the tale sounds like a typical Epic Fantasy:
The King of Witchland, Gorice XI, lays claim to Demonland -- under what manufactured pretext it's not entirely clear. The proud Lords of Demonland deny his claim, but unable to refuse a challenge (as the reader soon learns, this is inevitably a failing of theirs) they offer to settle the matter by wager of battle: a wrestling contest between Gorice himself and the Demons' own stalwart champion, Goldry Bluszco. King Gorice, be it known, is a notable wrestler, and has already defeated and slain many great champions, tastefully decorating one of the rooms in his castle with their bones. Nevertheless (and in spite of some dirty tactics on the part of the Witch), it is Goldry who wins the match and Gorice who dies, which should put an end to any designs the Witches have on Demonland. But while the Demons are arrogant and honorable, the Witches are arrogant and treacherous -- and also adept at arranging the facts to suit their own purposes. They easily conclude that since Goldry could not have won under ordinary circumstances, he must have been the one who cheated. For this and other reasons, the new king, also called Gorice (and presented as a reincarnation of all the previous Gorices, though he is already alive and of mature years at the time of his predecessor's death -- in Eddison's universe, a person or a deity can have several avatars going at once) does not feel bound by any prior agreements.
While the last Gorice was a man of immense brute strength, Gorice XII is reknowned as a magician. He therefore devises a terrifying spell, the final upshot of which is that Goldry is whisked away to some unknown location. Goldry's older brother, Lord Juss, and Juss's great friend, Brandoch Daha, embark on a quest to recover the missing champion, leaving the younger brother, Spitfire, to hold the reins of power at home. But Juss and Brandoch Daha are an unconscionably long time on the road -- largely because, when given the choice between doing something the easiest and most direct way, or the most difficult and dangerous way, they always choose the latter as more worthy of their mettle -- and meanwhile Gorice takes advantage of their absence to send an expeditionary force to invade Demonland. From there on the story follows a fairly predictable course with battles, defeats, deeds of valor, acts of treachery, seductions, escapes, politics, and a host of other staples of High Fantasy.
It should be obvious from the above that Eddison had no genius for inventing names, and that those he did use for people and places have nothing like the beauty, elegance, or consistency of Tolkien's invented names and languages. His practice of labelling his various nations and races Demons, Witches, Goblins, Pixies, Imps, etc. is an awkward one. And as if that were not confusing enough, he also located his story -- for no apparent good reason -- on the planet Mercury.
Yet with all this against it the book has certain qualities, and has them in such abundance, that in the end even its faults become part of its charm.
One of these qualities is scope. If Eddison's heroes are larger than life, they are nevertheless perfectly in proportion with the vastness of his landscapes, the narrative sweep of his tale, and the extravagance of his imagination. Moreover, they must be mighty men indeed (and mightily aware of it) in order to hold their own against such magnificent adversaries as Gorice and his rather confusingly named ranks of warriors, courtiers, and noblemen -- every bit as monstrous in their villainy as Juss, Spitfire, Goldry, and (my personal candidate for the most egotistical character in all of Fantasy) Brandoch Daha are in their heroism.
Another quality is a heightened sense of drama. These characters live intensely -- one has the impression they need to live intensely, or they would wither and die. They also have wit, style, and a flamboyant sense of effect. In addition, the stakes in this story are always very high. It is evident from the beginning that the Gorices seek total world domination, and that the only choice for any nation that wishes to remain free is to annihilate the Witches or be annihilated by them.
If Eddison's heroes and villains are improbable and exaggerated, they are far from cardboard constructs. Lord Juss and his brothers are honorable and courageous, they carry chivalry to impossible extremes, but they are not without their faults. They are the rulers of Demonland (and enjoy great wealth and luxury as a result), yet they seem to spend no time actually governing their people. Nor do they ever spare a thought for the needs or the sufferings of the common folk; they fight for their homeland out of pure possessiveness -- and of course for personal glory.
On the other side of the coin, some of the Witches are actually rather admirable. Lord Corund, for instance, though callous and bad-tempered, shows occasional glimmers of loyalty and nobility, and he is particularly splendid in defeat. The most interesting character of all is Lord Gro, a Goblin in service to Witchland after betraying his own people at some date previous to the beginning of the story. He is not only a turncoat, but he has a habit of changing sides fairly often. Unlike most traitors, however, he always throws his lot in with the losers rather than the winners. In theory Gro can plot treachery and mayhem with never a qualm, and council King Gorice to ever more dastardly deeds, but in practice he invariably betrays his own best interests by yielding to an instinctive identification with lost causes and forlorn hopes. His motives in doing so seem to be more aesthetic than moral ones, but they are no less deeply felt and compelling for that.
But above all else, the great strength of this book is the very thing most likely to put some readers off, and that is the language. It may be archaic, but it has the ring of authenticity; it is also gloriously, ardently, brilliantly poetic. Scenes like the one of King Gorice and Lord Gro conjuring in the iron tower, or the Demons' entry into Carcë near the end, are particularly breathtaking. While the movement of the story sometimes slows down in the wealth of detail, at other times Eddison seems to write with an almost "demonic" energy. He was at his best describing beauty flavored with the dark and the grotesque. "Gorgeous" seems to be the current buzzword when it comes to writing, but those who have not read Eddison have not yet encountered truly gorgeous prose.
For all these reasons,The Worm Ouroboros is an ambitious, over-written, deeply flawed, and infuriating book. It is also a masterpiece of imaginative fiction.
In its general outlines, the tale sounds like a typical Epic Fantasy:
The King of Witchland, Gorice XI, lays claim to Demonland -- under what manufactured pretext it's not entirely clear. The proud Lords of Demonland deny his claim, but unable to refuse a challenge (as the reader soon learns, this is inevitably a failing of theirs) they offer to settle the matter by wager of battle: a wrestling contest between Gorice himself and the Demons' own stalwart champion, Goldry Bluszco. King Gorice, be it known, is a notable wrestler, and has already defeated and slain many great champions, tastefully decorating one of the rooms in his castle with their bones. Nevertheless (and in spite of some dirty tactics on the part of the Witch), it is Goldry who wins the match and Gorice who dies, which should put an end to any designs the Witches have on Demonland. But while the Demons are arrogant and honorable, the Witches are arrogant and treacherous -- and also adept at arranging the facts to suit their own purposes. They easily conclude that since Goldry could not have won under ordinary circumstances, he must have been the one who cheated. For this and other reasons, the new king, also called Gorice (and presented as a reincarnation of all the previous Gorices, though he is already alive and of mature years at the time of his predecessor's death -- in Eddison's universe, a person or a deity can have several avatars going at once) does not feel bound by any prior agreements.
While the last Gorice was a man of immense brute strength, Gorice XII is reknowned as a magician. He therefore devises a terrifying spell, the final upshot of which is that Goldry is whisked away to some unknown location. Goldry's older brother, Lord Juss, and Juss's great friend, Brandoch Daha, embark on a quest to recover the missing champion, leaving the younger brother, Spitfire, to hold the reins of power at home. But Juss and Brandoch Daha are an unconscionably long time on the road -- largely because, when given the choice between doing something the easiest and most direct way, or the most difficult and dangerous way, they always choose the latter as more worthy of their mettle -- and meanwhile Gorice takes advantage of their absence to send an expeditionary force to invade Demonland. From there on the story follows a fairly predictable course with battles, defeats, deeds of valor, acts of treachery, seductions, escapes, politics, and a host of other staples of High Fantasy.
It should be obvious from the above that Eddison had no genius for inventing names, and that those he did use for people and places have nothing like the beauty, elegance, or consistency of Tolkien's invented names and languages. His practice of labelling his various nations and races Demons, Witches, Goblins, Pixies, Imps, etc. is an awkward one. And as if that were not confusing enough, he also located his story -- for no apparent good reason -- on the planet Mercury.
Yet with all this against it the book has certain qualities, and has them in such abundance, that in the end even its faults become part of its charm.
One of these qualities is scope. If Eddison's heroes are larger than life, they are nevertheless perfectly in proportion with the vastness of his landscapes, the narrative sweep of his tale, and the extravagance of his imagination. Moreover, they must be mighty men indeed (and mightily aware of it) in order to hold their own against such magnificent adversaries as Gorice and his rather confusingly named ranks of warriors, courtiers, and noblemen -- every bit as monstrous in their villainy as Juss, Spitfire, Goldry, and (my personal candidate for the most egotistical character in all of Fantasy) Brandoch Daha are in their heroism.
Another quality is a heightened sense of drama. These characters live intensely -- one has the impression they need to live intensely, or they would wither and die. They also have wit, style, and a flamboyant sense of effect. In addition, the stakes in this story are always very high. It is evident from the beginning that the Gorices seek total world domination, and that the only choice for any nation that wishes to remain free is to annihilate the Witches or be annihilated by them.
If Eddison's heroes and villains are improbable and exaggerated, they are far from cardboard constructs. Lord Juss and his brothers are honorable and courageous, they carry chivalry to impossible extremes, but they are not without their faults. They are the rulers of Demonland (and enjoy great wealth and luxury as a result), yet they seem to spend no time actually governing their people. Nor do they ever spare a thought for the needs or the sufferings of the common folk; they fight for their homeland out of pure possessiveness -- and of course for personal glory.
On the other side of the coin, some of the Witches are actually rather admirable. Lord Corund, for instance, though callous and bad-tempered, shows occasional glimmers of loyalty and nobility, and he is particularly splendid in defeat. The most interesting character of all is Lord Gro, a Goblin in service to Witchland after betraying his own people at some date previous to the beginning of the story. He is not only a turncoat, but he has a habit of changing sides fairly often. Unlike most traitors, however, he always throws his lot in with the losers rather than the winners. In theory Gro can plot treachery and mayhem with never a qualm, and council King Gorice to ever more dastardly deeds, but in practice he invariably betrays his own best interests by yielding to an instinctive identification with lost causes and forlorn hopes. His motives in doing so seem to be more aesthetic than moral ones, but they are no less deeply felt and compelling for that.
But above all else, the great strength of this book is the very thing most likely to put some readers off, and that is the language. It may be archaic, but it has the ring of authenticity; it is also gloriously, ardently, brilliantly poetic. Scenes like the one of King Gorice and Lord Gro conjuring in the iron tower, or the Demons' entry into Carcë near the end, are particularly breathtaking. While the movement of the story sometimes slows down in the wealth of detail, at other times Eddison seems to write with an almost "demonic" energy. He was at his best describing beauty flavored with the dark and the grotesque. "Gorgeous" seems to be the current buzzword when it comes to writing, but those who have not read Eddison have not yet encountered truly gorgeous prose.
For all these reasons,The Worm Ouroboros is an ambitious, over-written, deeply flawed, and infuriating book. It is also a masterpiece of imaginative fiction.
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