This review is a Writing Repository original.

Merynthia's Master

By Luana Saitta – Independently Published – April 25, 2026

Review by Robin Marx

Revolution is brewing in the seaside city of Merynthia, with the Sicanian underground yearning to overthrow the yoke of the Trynacrian Empire. The enchanted Amulet of Al-Khapish could tip the balance of power in the rebels’ favor, and the Sicanian wizard Barixes Crab-Eye is determined to acquire it at any cost. To that end, Barixes dispatches his light-fingered apprentice Worm to steal the magical artifact. When Worm’s initial attempts to pilfer the amulet end in disaster, Barixes forces him to undergo a startling transformation. Assuming the new identity “Wren,” the wizard’s apprentice goes undercover in the amulet owner’s lavish estate, encountering both unexpected threats and temptations.

Merynthia’s Master is the debut Sword & Sorcery novella by Luana Saitta. While Saitta has previously released a handful of short stories taking place in the same world at Swords & Sorcery Magazine, they focused on sorcerous dabbler Princess Kawtar and her bodyguard/lover Zeynep of the Plains. While I was initially surprised to learn that Merynthia’s Master dealt with an entirely new cast of characters, any faint disappointment at not being treated to a longer Zeynep and Kawtar tale evaporated after reading past the first few pages. As a protagonist, Worm is an entertaining underdog and it’s easy for the audience to root for them. Indeed, appealing characters abound in Merynthia’s Master, with cruel Barixes, affable Trynacrian legionnaire Marcus Posca, and the alluring Qazhia standing out from the pack. Despite the brief page count, readers are given a good sense of the characters’ distinct personalities. Saitta also succeeds in making the bustling pseudo-Mediterranean port of Merynthia itself a character, conjuring a real sense of place that makes the setting come alive.

Merynthia’s Master also benefits from its brisk action. The novella opens with a dynamic chase scene that ranges through, above, and even under the sun-drenched streets of Merynthia. This sequence kickstarts the book, providing thrills and spills from page one. While Worm sometimes wanders off mission, there’s never a lull in the action.

The novella similarly delivers a great deal of spectacle. While swordplay isn’t emphasized to the degree as it is in a great deal of Sword & Sorcery fiction, magic plays a critical role in the narrative. In addition to Worm’s pivotal transformation and the novella’s blockbuster finale, sorcery is put to creative and evocative use throughout. The skeletal scribes working away in a basement, mechanically producing Sicanian revolutionary literature is a fascinating image.

Adding a different kind of spectacle and spice, romance and sexuality occupy a more prominent role in the story than is commonly seen in Sword & Sorcery (at least since the passing of Tanith Lee). The friendly characters of all genders are extremely attractive, enthusiastically receptive to sexual overtures, and completely lacking in jealousy. The sex scenes aren’t incredibly extended or graphic, but they go into a bit more detail than the typical “fade to black” to which many contemporary fantasy authors nervously resort.

Merynthia’s Master covers quite a bit of ground within its slim page count. While I appreciated the fast pacing, parts of the novella—perhaps inevitably—feel underdeveloped. For a story ostensibly sparked by a desire to expel the foreign occupiers, readers aren’t given much cause to cheer on the Sicanian rebels or view the Trynacrian Empire in a very negative light beyond “some of their guards are arbitrary and mean.” Real world history tells us that imperialism rarely works out advantageously for the colonized, but it was vague exactly what yoke under which the people of Merynthia were suffering. The need for an independent Merynthia could have been more clearly established.

Sword & Sorcery stories work best when their authors demonstrate a certain degree of sadism towards their characters, but much of the novella is surprisingly light on conflict. Emotionally I want Elric of Melniboné to finally find peace, but intellectually I understand the story requires Michael Moorcock to put him through the wringer. Similarly, as readers we like Worm/Wren and want good things for them, but the story would have benefited from more obstacles. Worm becoming Wren is a rags-to-riches lifestyle upgrade with even fewer drawbacks than what Will Smith encounters in The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Luxurious accommodations, found family, and plenty of sexy new friends! Love this for you, Wren. Perhaps Wren could have been put through more of an awkward adjustment period with their new form, or maybe a suspicious or unimpressed character could have been included in al-Thari’s household to provide some much-needed pushback.

In the end, however, my gripes with Merynthia’s Master can basically be summed up as “I thoroughly enjoyed this book, I just wish there was more of it.” More background, more interpersonal clashes, more setbacks. The characters are endearing, the action exciting, the spice is welcome, and the prose is the strongest Saitta has delivered to date.

Merynthia’s Master is available in ePub and PDF formats from itch.io, and Kindle and paperback formats from Amazon.

#WritingRepositoryOriginal #BookReview #Fantasy #SwordAndSorcery #MerynthiasMaster #LuanaSaitta

This review is a Writing Repository original.

JANGAR!: Slaves of the Mind Mage

By Logan D. Whitney – Cliffhanger! Press – June 1, 2026

Review by Robin Marx

The pounding of drums deep in the jungle draw savage wild man Jangar to an encampment of Ur-Men—hostile ape-like creatures—who revel as caged humans cower in fear. When he spies a terrified young woman tied to a spire in the outpost’s center, offered up as a sacrifice to the Ur-Men’s lumbering god, Jangar is pushed to violently intervene. Even after his daring rescue is complete, however, Jangar’s troubles have only begun. While Jangar was born to the jungle, Yala—as the beauteous former captive is known—is altogether unprepared for such a dangerous environment and unlikely to survive on her own. As Jangar and Yala set off for civilization, the pair soon encounters threats unknown even to Jangar: the otherworldly Mind Mage and his eerie servitors.

Hot on the heels of February’s Honor Among Rogues: Six Thrilling Tales of Pulp Adventure, JANGAR!: Slaves of the Mind Mage marks the first installment in a new project by Logan D. Whitney. It’s the first novelette of six planned monthly releases; the first five will be DRM-free ebooks, with the sixth installment to be collected along with the previous installments and printed as a mass market-sized paperback.

Where Honor Among Rogues kept to the relatively grounded terrain of Earth’s historical past as viewed through an adventure pulp lens, in JANGAR! Whitney is in full Sword & Sorcery mode. In his Author’s Note, he cites contemporary author Steve Dilks’ hero Gunthar as an inspiration, one that then led Whitney to another character that would become a further influence on JANGAR!: Lin Carter’s Thongor. While the broad-strokes setting of primeval Muu does feel reminiscent of Carter’s ancient Lemuria, readers are also likely to feel the shadow of Edgar Rice Burrough’s Tarzan. Like Tarzan, Jangar is a solitary human raised in the wilderness by animal parents: saber-tooth tigers rather than the gorilla-like Mangani from Tarzan of the Apes. The panther-like Jangar is portrayed as more beast than man, and his interactions with other human beings as guarded and tentative. In one memorable passage, he even teaches Yala how to use dangling vines to navigate the jungle.

The greatest strength of JANGAR!: Slaves of the Mind Mage is its fast pacing. Just 42 pages in length, there’s no wasted verbiage. Jangar and Yala face one struggle after another, with very little opportunity to catch their breath. Readers are only given enough worldbuilding required by the story, and the distant metropolis of Q’oth and the rest of the continent of Muu remain mysterious and ripe for future elaboration.

With a savage barbarian hero, a beautiful woman in need of assistance, brutal ape-men, and glimpses of cosmic horror, the ingredients of JANGAR!: Slaves of the Mind Mage will be familiar to seasoned readers of Sword & Sorcery, but they’re served up in such an entertaining manner that I suspect most fans of the subgenre will happily overlook the lack of boundary-pushing. Indeed, Whitney includes several amusing references to other pulp tales as if affirming the story’s connection to similar adventures, rather than trying to stand apart. Jangar’s jungle home is named “Zan-Tar,” a barely-concealed anagram for “Tarzan.” Paraphrasing Conan’s memorable “if life is illusion, then I am no less an illusion” reflection from “Queen of the Black Coast” (1934), Jangar echoes “If life is a dream, then I, too, am a dream.” There’s even a sly reference to the work of Whitney’s Rogues in the House podcast associate Matthew John when Yala is tempted with the knowledge of how to “walk on worlds,” a phrasing suspiciously similar to the title of John’s first S&S collection.

Fast-paced and action-packed, with a satisfying conclusion, JANGAR!: Slaves of the Mind Mage is a tasty Sword & Sorcery snack. I look forward to future installments. The digital novelette is available now via Amazon Kindle and Payhip.

#WritingRepositoryOriginal #BookReview #Fantasy #SwordAndSorcery #JangarSlavesOfTheMindMage #Jangar #CliffhangerPress #LoganDWhitney

This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on April 24, 2026.

Conan: Cult of the Obsidian Moon

By James Lovegrove – Titan Books – November 19, 2024

Review by Robin Marx

In Conan: Cult of the Obsidian Moon by James Lovegrove, Conan the Cimmerian, still mourning his pirate queen Bêlit, trades the seas for the desert, languishing in the Shemitish city-state of Eruk. His last adventure—an attempted burglary foiled by a sabretooth tiger—having ended in disaster, the barbarian searches for a distraction. One such opportunity presents itself when Conan makes the acquaintance of Hunwulf and Gudrun, an eloped couple on the run from their former tribe. The family and Conan become fast friends after his timely intervention in a tavern brawl, and Conan becomes further intrigued when he meets their young son Bjørn, who demonstrates an uncanny ability to control animals. Conan agrees to look after the boy while his parents stage a final confrontation with their implacable tribal stalkers. Events take a turn for the unexpected, however, when an entirely new threat emerges and the boy is snatched away by a winged reptilian creature. Vowing to make things right, Conan accompanies the bereft parents on a desperate search for the abducted boy. The trail takes them into the blighted Rotlands deep within Kush, where a secretive religious sect has dark designs for Bjørn and a host of other kidnapped children, each harboring their own budding supernatural talent. Stakes quickly escalate, and Conan finds himself pitted against a truly apocalyptic threat.

Following Blood of the Serpent by S. M. Stirling and City of the Dead by John C. Hocking, Cult of the Obsidian Moon is the third release in Titan Books’ series of original Conan the Barbarian pastiche novels. Where Blood of the Serpent was conceived as a direct prequel to the classic Robert E. Howard-penned novella “Red Nails” (1936) and City of the Dead paired a reprint of an acclaimed novel from the series’ Tor Books era with a new sequel, Cult of the Obsidian Moon also introduces a new element to the Titan Books line by tying it into Titan Comics’ Conan the Barbarian storylines. Subtitled “A Black Stone Novel,” Cult of the Obsidian Moon includes several motifs from the first year of the Conan the Barbarian comic and its culminating Battle of the Black Stone miniseries. The recurring carved eye sigil from the comics has a prominent presence in Cult of the Obsidian Moon, and the character James Allison, a 1930s pulp writer who bases adventure stories on remembered past lives, likewise appears in both Battle of the Black Stone and the framing story that bookends Cult of the Obsidian Moon. These references mostly operate at the level of Easter Eggs, however, and non-comic readers need not worry about having their enjoyment of the novel harmed by unfamiliarity with the Titan Comics Conan the Barbarian storylines.

While the comic references are interesting, Cult of the Obsidian Moon doesn’t give readers the best first impression. The James Allison framing story feels mostly extraneous. Bjørn’s father Hunwulf is presented as one of Allison’s remembered past lives (and, indeed, the Cult of the Obsidian Moon novel as a whole is fictionally presented as a manuscript written by Allison and submitted for publication at a pulp magazine called Anomalous Adventures), and Hunwulf himself has a similar ability to experience other incarnations, but these aspects of the story feel underutilized. Conan is the primary viewpoint character, not Allison-recalling-Hunwulf, and substantial stretches of the novel occur in Hunwulf’s absence. Hunwulf’s supernatural talent briefly comes in handy while attempting to avoid the otherwise unpredictable hazards of the Rotlands, but it fails to reappear in the late chapters of the book. Excising both the framing story and Hunwulf’s unusual ability would have given the book a tighter focus, reduced unnecessary page count, and would have made remaining supernatural elements feel more special due to their scarcity. It feels like the book doesn’t really get started until Conan and his newfound friends are forced to leave Shem.

The first third of the book feels regrettably aimless, but once Bjørn is abducted the narrative shifts into high gear. The remainder of the story is a much faster-paced rescue mission in hostile territory. The Rotlands is a sort of living cancer on the land, full of threatening flora and fauna, where any misstep can end in death. When they finally reveal themselves, the reptilian Folk of the Featherless Wing (as the titular Cult of the Obsidian Moon call themselves) boast an interesting backstory and motivations that go above and beyond those of typical evil religious groups in fantasy fiction. And while James Lovegrove’s wisecracking depiction of Conan occasionally feels awkward compared to Hocking’s handling of the barbarian in City of the Dead, Lovegrove does succeed in delivering bloody, spectacular combat. The climactic battle scene starts off exciting and quickly escalates even further, with the odds swinging wildly against the heroes. Readers who enjoy cosmic horror elements in their sword & sorcery adventures will also find a lot to enjoy here as the nature of the Obsidian Moon and the source of the blight at the heart of the Rotlands is revealed.

If you can get past the sluggish start, Cult of the Obsidian Moon is a worthy addition to the body of Conan the Barbarian pastiche work. The early, meandering chapters could have benefited from some tightening, but once the story is truly underway it quickly escalates and accelerates, throwing itself heedlessly to a bloody, action-packed and horror-filled climax.

#ReviewArchive #BookReview #Fantasy #SwordAndSorcery #ConanTheBarbarian #ConanCultOfTheObsidianMoon #JamesLovegrove #GrimdarkMagazine #GdM

This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on March 3, 2026.

Against the Demon World

By D.M. Ritzlin – DMR Books – February 1, 2026

Review by Robin Marx

Northern barbarian Avok Kur Storn’s life is disrupted when cultists of Iljer visit his chieftain father, hoping to entice the Cytheran people to abandon their traditional god in favor of demon worship. Emphatically rebuffed, the Iljerists skulk off to the wilderness and immediately prepare to summon an infernal agent of retribution. Suspicious of the ominous visitors, Avok attempts to disrupt the ceremony, only to find himself dragged to the demon-infested moon called Uzz. Forced to serve as a slave, a spy, and a gladiator, Avok must use his wits and his brawn to survive—and eventually escape—a hellish dog-eat-dog world of cruel fiends and bizarre, otherworldly creatures.

Against the Demon World is set in D. M. Ritzlin’s sword & sorcery setting, Nilztiria. While this is the first full-length novel to feature Avok Kur Storn as its protagonist, the character has appeared in a number of short stories found in the author’s previous collections, Necromancy in Nilztiria and Dark Dreams of Nilztiria. While there are some fun references to other Nilztiria fixtures like the frequently quoted Xaarxool the Necromancer, no prior experience with either Avok Kur Storn or Nilztiria is necessary to enjoy this novel.

Ritzlin’s publishing house DMR Books was established to print sword & sorcery fiction both classic and new, and the author’s own work likewise fits comfortably in the old school pulp fantasy style. Barbarian heroes with mighty thews, diabolical sorcerers who command chaotic magic, and slavering beasts are all present and accounted for. Both the strengths and weaknesses of Against the Demon World owe a great deal to the early days of the fantasy literary genre, so fans of this type of fantasy are likely to enjoy it, while those who prefer a more epic scope and detailed world-building may be better off looking elsewhere.

The brisk pacing of Against the Demon World is its greatest strength. The novel is a hair over 200 pages long, and there is zero wasted space. This is a book that refuses to sit still; there’s always something going on. Deadly combat, daring escapes, encounters with dangerous and strange wildlife (or dangerous and strange women!) crowd the narrative. Over the course of the book Avok Kur Storn is rarely allowed a moment to catch his breath, and neither is the reader. While the bare-chested, kilt-clad warrior protagonist might prompt one to expect the influence of Robert E. Howard and his barbarian Conan, in practice the breakneck pacing and heroic protagonist more often recalled Edgar Rice Burroughs. Like Burroughs’ John Carter of Mars, Avok Kur Storn is a reflexively valiant and noble character, skilled in martial pursuits but lacking Conan’s brutality and moral ambiguity. While—trapped on Uzz—he may spend his nights in the arms of his alluring ram-horned succubus mistress Heltorya, once he meets the pure-hearted damsel Izura, there’s little doubt who Avok will end up with.

As in Burrough’s Barsoom stories, the weirdness of Against the Demon World also appeals. Much of the story takes place in the demonic duchy of Xidobala, where expendable slaves live and die at the mercy of Heltorya and a class of callous, inhuman rulers. Avok is frequently the only human among fiends, each physiologically distinct. When Avok is taken on a sky-ship ride, the vessel turns out to be a steel-bound beast with pterodactyl wings and a massive eye at the end of its furry “bowsprit.” Even away from the demon-haunted cities, the fauna of Uzz remains strange; Avok encounters yellow-skinned cyclopes and spherical bat-like creatures. Weirdness even encroaches on Avok’s very body, as immediately after arriving on Uzz an eyeball-bearing tentacle is grafted to the back of his head (seen in the excellent cover art by Bebeto Daroz) to make him a more effective spy for his demonic master. Ritzlin also has an aptitude for coming up with entertainingly offbeat names: Xaarxool, Nelgastrothos, Voormeero, Quanguulosh, and—my favorite—Scrotar, all roll off the tongue in a pleasing way.

While Against the Demon World benefits greatly from classic pulp pacing, it also carries forth two of the weaknesses of old-fashioned fantasy: weak dialogue and thin characterization. Too often the dialogue lacks subtlety, with characters frequently openly stating their thoughts or intentions, without much in the way of witty repartee, attempts to dissemble, or character-revealing phrasing. Actors often lament that villains get all the best lines in scripts, and that seems to be the case in this book as well. Through Heltorya’s spoiled pouting and Quanguulosh’s Skeletor-like scenery chewing the demons are allowed to showcase their personalities a bit, but Avok is mostly limited to defiant vows, helpful explanations to companions, and shouted warnings. Unusually for a sword & sorcery hero we get to spend some time with Avok Kur Storn’s whole family (the Kur Storns are still around, they’re not relegated to a tragic backstory!), but readers still don’t get much of an idea of what makes Avok special and interesting beyond “He’s a brave fighter and he’s the hero that the book is about.” While this comparative lack of dimension isn’t as noticeable in the shorter Avok Kur Storn stories, it becomes more obvious at novel length. Ritzlin’s other primary hero character, Vran the Chaos-Warped, at least has more of an interesting gimmick in that magic misfires in his presence. As it stands, Avok Kur Storn doesn’t have much that separates him from the barbarian pack.

Against the Demon World is a lean, action-packed adventure boasting a wonderfully weird setting. Readers familiar with pulp sword & sorcery will find a lot to love here, but those accustomed to more modern fantasy stylings may find themselves yearning for a greater focus on characterization, even if it results in a thicker page count.

#ReviewArchive #BookReview #Fantasy #SwordAndSorcery #DarkFantasy #Grimdark #DMRitzlin #DMRBooks #AgainstTheDemonWorld #GrimdarkMagazine #GdM

This review is a Writing Repository original.

The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre

By Philip Fracassi – Tor Nightfire – September 30, 2025

Review by Robin Marx

Horror fiction has been undergoing a resurgence in recent years, and with outstanding releases like Gothic and Boys in the Valley Philip Fracassi quickly established himself as an author worth watching. Released by Tor’s Nightfire imprint, The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre feels somewhat different from past Fracassi books, but more of an expansion of his repertoire than a permanent change in direction. It experiments with genres in a way that is interesting, but perhaps not entirely successful.

Nearly eighty years old, retired high school teacher Rose DuBois lives a quiet life at the titular Autumn Springs Retirement Home in upstate New York. She’s comfortable in her routine and surrounded by friends, most notable among them the affable former professor Beauregard Mason Miller, with whom she enjoys a warm companionship that—to Miller’s obvious chagrin—hasn’t quite blossomed into a Golden Years romance. A shadow falls over Autumn Springs, however, when Rose’s friend Angela dies of an apparent bathroom fall. Given their advanced age, the Autumn Spring residents largely take the death in stride, but the retirement home administrator’s horrified reaction to Angela’s body and the extent of the injuries seen on the corpse make Rose wonder if foul play was involved. In the days to follow, more of Rose’s friends and acquaintances fall victim to similar mishaps and maladies. Rose’s suspicions mount, and with Miller by her side she begins to investigate the deaths that the larger retirement community mostly shrugs off. Her stubborn persistence, however, marks her as a future target for a shadowy murderer.

The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre benefits from its brisk pacing. While the story itself is a bit of a slow burn—for most of the book the retirees are blissfully unaware that a killer lurks in their midst—individual chapters are brief and proceed at a rapid clip, frequently hinting at the murder to come, depicting its actual execution, or the discovery of the aftermath. While the proper amount of attention is spent on nice character-establishing moments, there isn’t a lot of extraneous fat; this is a lean, fast-moving book.

The appealing characters are another highlight of the book. Readers spend the most time with Rose and Miller, and both are well-rendered, realistic-feeling characters. I’ve met people very similar to them, and I imagine many other readers have as well. But we also get to spend some time in other characters’ shoes, frequently in their final desperate moments, and Fracassi doesn’t skimp on the supporting cast’s characterization. I noted it in my review of Boys in the Valley, but Fracassi’s uncommon ability to breathe life into a large cast of supporting characters through economical and empathetic characterization is again showcased in The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre. The elderly residents’ vulnerability and isolation are especially poignantly rendered in one brief chapter late in the book, after it has been unequivocally established that a killer is stalking the halls of the retirement home. Desperate to flee, various residents phone family members and former spouses begging for sanctuary until the danger has passed, only to have their pleas fall on deaf ears. Their relatives are all busy with their own lives and don’t welcome the intrusion from the old folks; better they go back to being out of sight and out of mind, warehoused at faraway Autumn Springs.

While promoted as a “slasher” novel, that aspect doesn’t arrive until quite late in the narrative. Most of the murders are orchestrated to appear as accidents or deaths from existing health issues, the knives only come out towards the end. Indeed, the “Massacre” in the title almost feels like a misnomer, suggesting more of a kinetic bloodbath than the methodical and gradually escalating series of serial killings we are presented with. While there are some gory passages, horror elements in general are fairly muted. Subtle supernatural elements do appear in the book, but they’re plausibly deniable and so lowkey that part of me wonders if Fracassi would have been better off omitting them entirely and aiming more squarely at the thriller genre. Had Fracassi pursued that direction, he could have further augmented the mystery elements of this book. There are a handful of attempts to misdirect the reader regarding the masked killer’s identity, but they’re quickly discarded; Fracassi doesn’t really commit to the red herrings in a way that made me as a reader entertain them to as realistic possibilities. And while we eventually learn the murderer’s identity, even despite a handful of first-person perspective scenes we do not receive much insight into their motives for the killings beyond opportunism and contempt for the infirm.

Straddling the mystery and horror genres, The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre feels slightly less self-assured than Fracassi’s Gothic or Boys in the Valley. I get the sense that Fracassi is trying something new here, going out on a limb. Indeed, in the Afterword Fracassi remarks that the final novel did shift and grow beyond his original concept, changing through his development of Rose as a character and the experience of losing his parents. If you’re already acquainted with Philip Fracassi’s work, The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre is well worth checking out. Fracassi’s strengths—empathetic characterization and effective pacing—are present and accounted for. Horror enthusiasts unfamiliar with Fracassi are better directed to something like Boys in the Valley first, however, as the “slasher” marketing overstates the amount of gore and brutality present in the actual novel. “Final Girl” labeling aside, Rose owes more to Jessica Fletcher than Laurie Strode. Even if the mystery elements aren’t as developed as they could have been, The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre is an easy recommendation for thriller fans. I enjoyed the time I spent with Rose DuBois and Beauregard Mason Miller and I’m pleased to see Fracassi resist complacency and push himself in new directions.

#WritingRepositoryOriginal #BookReview #Horror #Mystery #TheAutumnSpringsRetirementHomeMassacre #PhilipFracassi

This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on November 7, 2025.

The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale

By Joe R. Lansdale – Tachyon Publications – October 7, 2025

Review by Robin Marx

Joe R. Lansdale is your favorite horror writer’s favorite horror writer. Widely anthologized and the recipient of no fewer than ten Bram Stoker Awards, it doesn’t feel accurate to characterize the prolific East Texas author as underrated, per se, but to this reader it has long felt like Lansdale should be much more of a household name, up there with Stephen King. Lansdale’s Hap and Leonard series of novels has received popular acclaim from crime fiction fans, but readers who are less plugged into the horror short fiction scene (as opposed to the novel market) are all too often unacquainted with his work. Tachyon Publications is attempting to rectify this injustice with The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale. This convenient volume packages 16 tales spanning the lengthy career of this “Champion Mojo Storyteller.” The stories gathered here are dark, occasionally crude, often bleakly humorous, frequently gross, and always offbeat.

The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale opens strongly with “The Folding Man.” Some teenagers out joyriding after a Halloween party encounter a big black automobile carrying a group of nuns. One of the boys decides to “moon” the nuns as a joke, and the sight of his bare buttocks immediately sends the nuns into a murderous rage. When their savage high-speed pursuit fails to eliminate all the teens, the nuns produce a bizarre mechanical man from the trunk of their car, dispatching it like the robot from The Terminator to hunt down the survivors. Relentlessly paced, filled with graphic violence, and operating by incomprehensible nightmare logic, “The Folding Man” sets the tone for the stories to follow. It lets the reader know that they are now in Lansdale’s world, in which a quirky, chance encounter can rapidly escalate into something horrific and fatal.

Weird Westerns are one subgenre in with Lansdale excels, perhaps due to his Texan background, and this volume includes a pair of them. In “The Hoodoo Man and the Midnight Train,” a gunsmith with some aptitude for folk magic and his apprentice are hired to retrieve the soul of an innocent woman condemned to an eternity as a passenger on a ghostly train guarded by a demonic duelist. The clever and methodical way in which the Hoodoo Man tackles this supernatural predicament feels like a satisfying blend of the early Witcher stories by Andrzej Sapkowski and the Silver John Appalachian folk horror tales by Manly Wade Wellman. “The Hungry Snow” is the second Weird Western, in which a wanderer known as the Reverend Jedidiah Mercer encounters a handful of bedraggled travelers stranded in the Rocky Mountains. Having exhausted their supplies, the hapless survivors have resorted to cannibalism. While the Reverend is understandably cautious around his hungry and desperate new acquaintances, the party as a whole face a greater threat: a prowling Wendigo lurking just beyond the campfire. Like “The Hoodoo Man and the Midnight Train,” “The Hungry Snow” features a level-headed and resourceful protagonist using their expertise and their wits to extract themselves from dire straits.

The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale also includes a pair of post-apocalyptic tales, each with an appropriately unconventional spin. “Tight Little Stitches in a Dead Man’s Back” chronicles the descent into madness of a scientist emerging from an underground shelter into the world he had a hand in destroying. Humanity is all but extinct, and the surface world has been claimed by bizarre, hostile wildlife, forcing the scientist and his estranged wife to shelter together in a lighthouse waiting for the inevitable. While it still feels a little overstuffed to me, like it has more than enough ideas to sustain two separate stories, “Tight Little Stitches in a Dead Man’s Back” was one of the more memorable stories from the George R. R. Martin-edited volume Wastelands 2: More Stories of the Apocalypse (2015). The frequently anthologized novella “On the Far Side of the Cadillac Desert with Dead Folk” is another work of exceptional post-apocalyptic fiction. When a bounty hunter and his ruthless quarry are captured by religious zealots building an undead army, the two enemies must join forces to escape torture and death. Replete with a “Jesusland” theme park, sexy nuns, Mouseketeer ear hat-wearing zombies, and a dash of necrophilia, this story epitomizes Lansdale’s gonzo, deranged appeal.

The second novella collected in The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale is probably his most famous work, due to the well-received 2002 film adaptation by Don Coscarelli (Phantasm, The Beastmaster, etc.): “Bubba Ho-Tep.” Set in an East Texas retirement home, the story is told from the perspective of an elderly man who is either Elvis in his twilight years or an impersonator who has kept up the act so long that his original identity has become foggy. When their fellow residents begin dying under mysterious circumstances, Elvis teams up with a nearly victimized Black man convinced that he is former President John F. Kennedy. They soon learn that a resurrected Egyptian mummy prowls the halls of their old folks’ home looking for souls to devour. With a colorful cast of addled characters and Lansdale’s trademark wit, comedy is very much at the forefront of “Bubba Ho-Tep,” but he doesn’t neglect the horrific aspect of the premise. The reader is reminded that the retirement home residents are incredibly vulnerable, death at the hands of the mummy results in eternal torment, and outside assistance is not coming. The threat may be somewhat ridiculous, but it is a lethal one, nonetheless.

Regular, well-meaning folks in the wrong place at the wrong time are common horror protagonists, but Lansdale also relishes putting the reader in the shoes of the truly despicable. Callous, bigoted, deceitful, or just plain demented. Sometimes they get their just deserts, sometimes they don’t. “My Dead Dog Bobby” is a two-page piece of flash fiction about a young boy playing with his decomposing pet. Lansdale is sometimes lumped in with the old splatterpunk movement—a categorization that’s not always undeserved but also feels slightly reductive—and there’s plenty of grue in this story, but readers may find their initial revulsion for the narrator replaced by pity by the short’s end. “By Bizarre Hands” is a chilling character study of a psychopathic traveling preacher visiting a widow on Halloween with plans to molest the woman’s developmentally disabled daughter. And rather than let readers off easy with the relatively reassuring “Bubba Ho-Tep,” The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale instead concludes with one of the darkest stories in the book: “Night They Missed the Horror Show.” Two racist, idiotic high school boys attempt to kill a dull evening in their Podunk town by dragging the corpse of a dead dog behind their car. Later in the evening they encounter a pair of even crueler men and quickly find themselves in a desperate situation. In his introduction to the piece the author aptly describes it as “a story of the bad guys meeting some really bad guys.” Many of us have had the misfortune of encountering people that just seem “off” or somehow fundamentally broken inside, and Lansdale is uncommonly effective at portraying that sort of ominous individual on the page.

The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale is a worthy retrospective of a bona fide horror master’s extensive career. The folksy, the humorous, the gory, the gonzo, and the pitch-black elements of his body of work are all present and accounted for across this collection’s 16 entries. If you’re new to Lansdale, this is an excellent place to start. If you’re already acquainted with him, this volume likely includes your favorite Lansdale story alongside several less familiar treasures.

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This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on September 18, 2025.

The Buffalo Hunter Hunter

By Stephen Graham Jones – S&S/Saga Press – March 18, 2025

Review by Robin Marx

As The Buffalo Hunter Hunter begins, Etsy Beaucarne is struggling with an undistinguished academic career. A surprising opportunity falls in her lap, however, after a distant relative’s crumbling journal is discovered hidden in the walls of a decrepit parsonage. Penned in 1912 by her great-great-grandfather Arthur, a Lutheran pastor posted in Montana, Etsy hopes to use the manuscript as the springboard for a new research project, ideally leading to publications and tenure. But as transcriptions of the brittle and faded pages are delivered, she discovers a much darker and more troubling narrative than expected.

The premise established, Etsy’s story fades into the background. The Beaucarne Manuscript makes up the bulk of The Buffalo Hunter Hunter. Arthur Beaucarne’s religious ministrations to the small town of Miles City are disrupted when an ominous stranger begins attending his sermons. Invariably seated in the rearmost pew, the visitor is a Native American man dressed incongruously in a black Jesuit robe, battered cavalry boots, and dark glasses. Disturbed by the man’s intense scrutiny, Arthur nevertheless finds himself fascinated by the visitor. Eventually the Indian approaches Arthur after a Sunday service, introducing himself as Good Stab of the Pikuni (Piegan Blackfeet tribe), and says that he has come to the church to confess his sins. Over a series of weekly visits—the chapel dimmed so as not to aggravate his unusual sensitivity to light—Good Stab unburdens his soul, and Arthur dutifully recounts the man’s anecdotes in his journal.

During his first visit, Good Stab describes encountering the scene of a bizarre massacre, with dead white men surrounding a wagon containing a caged and hissing chalk-white man with fangs. After a series of catastrophes, the so-called “Cat Man” escapes from his prison and Good Stab undergoes a traumatic metamorphosis.

Between Good Stab’s visits, mutilated and exsanguinated human bodies begin appearing outside Miles City, partially skinned in apparent imitation of the wasteful fashion of white hunters of buffalo. Arthur quickly draws a connection between the corpses and his unusual guest and begins to investigate. Over time he begins to suspect an ulterior motive underlying Good Stab’s visits.

As it makes clear surprisingly early on, this book is a vampire novel. The Buffalo Hunter Hunter shares some superficial elements with Anne Rice’s 1976 Interview with the Vampire, and fans of the latter are likely to enjoy Stephen Graham Jones’ novel. But it’s also simultaneously a compelling revenge tale that deals unflinchingly with the Native Americans’ genocide at the hands of white colonizers. Rage, guilt, and regret feature prominently, and Good Stab’s anguish is powerfully rendered. Jones is himself of Blackfeet heritage, and it felt like the historical setting gave the author license to write about his ancestors’ plight in a more unfiltered and immediate way than his works set in the modern day.

Literary weightiness aside, The Buffalo Hunter Hunter is a particularly original vampire story. The Old West setting is fresh, as is the fact that—in Jones’ world—vampires literally are what they eat. Vampires begin to take on characteristics of the creatures they habitually consume. Too much deer blood and stubby antlers begin to sprout, for example. The same principle extends to human prey; when Good Stab subsists on white victims, he grows to resemble them, gaining a pale skin tone and scraggly beard. If he is to maintain his original form, he’s forced to devour his own people. It could be argued that this is a metaphor for cultural assimilation: associate too much with the white man and Good Stab begins to become one, but isolating himself among his fellow Pikuni is likewise harmful and unsustainable in the long term.

Beyond this novel depiction of vampirism, the book also boasts an abundance of chilling moments. With unlimited time at their disposal, The Buffalo Hunter Hunter repeatedly demonstrates that a sufficiently patient and motivated vampire can concoct tortures of breathtaking malice. Fates literally worse than death.

The Buffalo Hunter Hunter benefits from the strong and distinct voices of its two primary narrators, Good Stab and Arthur Beaucarne. Both are unreliable narrators in their own way. Good Stab is fond of using colorfully literal translations of his people’s words for animals (big mouth, blackhorn, real-bear, prairie-runner, etc.), but he occasionally slips and betrays a more fluent command of American English than the disarming Indian stereotype he playacts as. Arthur, on the other hand, reveals a tendency to dance around sensitive topics, to avoid examining or grappling with the uncomfortable until it’s too late.

Unfortunately, the robust characterization on display with Good Stab and Arthur ends up making the novel’s primary flaw more visible. When the Beaucarne Manuscript concludes, the narrative returns to the present day, with Etsy left to deal with her great-great-grandfather’s disturbing legacy. But because readers have spent so little time with Etsy, she feels much less satisfying as a viewpoint character. Good Stab and Arthur’s words are given heft by a lightly archaic style and the weight of history, while Etsy is just a modern gal with modern job frustrations and a cute cat. Relatable, but underequipped for the task of carrying such a heavy story’s ending. Perhaps this issue could have been ameliorated by having Etsy resurface periodically during the middle portion of the book to share her reactions and own investigative footwork, rather than showing up for a few brief pages in the beginning and then reappearing only to shoulder the last tenth of the book. The violence depicted in the finale also felt tonally different than what readers had been presented with previously. Less gritty, more gonzo.

Despite the comparatively weak finish, The Buffalo Hunter Hunter remains the most original and exciting vampire novel in years. Stephen Graham Jones has released many strong books in a short span of time, but this one is particularly passionate and multidimensional. While I suspect Jones’ best work is still ahead of him, The Buffalo Hunter Hunter stands out even among an already robust catalog of work.

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This review originally appeared in New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine Issue #3, released on December 9, 2024.

Shared World

By Jonathan Ball, GMB Chomichuk, James Gillespie, Chadwick Ginther – Stranger Fiction Inc. – November 20, 2023

Review by Robin Marx

Released under the auspices of Jonathan Ball’s Stranger Fiction Inc., Shared World collects six short stories by four Canadian authors, all taking place within the same jointly created Sword & Sorcery setting. While the concept of a shared Sword & Sorcery world immediately summons to mind Robert Asprin’s enduring Thieves' World series, surprisingly no acknowledgment is made of this antecedent. Instead, Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s introduction hearkens back to the days of Weird Tales magazine, when names and motifs from H. P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos horror stories began cropping up in the more fantasy-oriented creations of his correspondents Robert E. Howard, C.L. Moore, and Clark Ashton Smith. The argument is that not only is there a long history of cross-fertilization between authors working in the pulp fantasy milieu, but that elements of Lovecraft’s Mythos in particular have had a strong presence in Sword & Sorcery fiction since the earliest days of the genre. Shared World is positioned as an heir to this literary tradition.

The setting of Shared World is a post-apocalyptic one. In the distant past, a great human civilization approached godhood. A mysterious calamity wiped out their kingdoms, however, leaving their monolithic ruins scattered across the shunned and monster-infested Once Lands. Various tribal societies keep to the less inhospitable margins of the wilderness, but one dominant metropolis has coalesced in the form of Khyber, a mighty city serving as a central gateway to three continents. Elements of the Cthulhu Mythos are prominent in Shared World, with several stories concerned with strange gods of the “dead but dreaming” persuasion. The tales are united by a central tension between characters striving to keep those ancient gods dormant and those seeking to hasten their return.

While the stories are presented in a mixed order for variety’s sake, each of the Shared World contributors has a particular focus. For example, both stories co-written by GMB Chomichuk and James Gillespie deal with members of the Vani, a tribal people, and begin with the same inciting incident: a Vani apparently driven mad by greed has slain the Spear King and sold his seven children into slavery. “Kaa-Rokaan,” the first story in this diptych, involves a Vani scout who ventures forth to rescue the enslaved tribesmen. Rokaan is assisted in his task by the totem spirit, or “Kaa,” of a crow. While he is initially disappointed in not being chosen by a more martial totem like Bear or Boar, Rokaan eventually comes to appreciate his spiritual ally’s strengths as he deals with the alien obstacles barring the path to his enslaved comrades. “Kaa-Shufa,” the second entry by Chomichuk and Gillespie, follows the Bear totem warrior woman tasked with pursuing Lothar, the traitor who killed the Spear King and sold his offspring. Shufa learns that Lothar’s heinous crime was motivated by desperation, and the two become uneasy allies in a quest that leads them deep underground, where yellow lichen-infected cultists attend to an alien god on the verge of an apocalyptic awakening. The Chomichuk/Gillespie stories are an intriguing blend of First Nations mythology and Lovecraftian horror, with resourceful heroes and their inscrutable spiritual allies pitted against eldritch threats.

Chadwick Ginther’s two contributions to the anthology are set in Khyber, a crowded and colorful metropolis pleasingly reminiscent of Fritz Leiber’s Lankhmar, or Sanctuary of Thieves' World fame. In “When the Gods Send You Rats,” a heavily tattooed midwife (inscribed with songbirds for babies delivered and crows for enemy lives taken) is attacked by a humaniform swarm of rats bearing an enchanted crown. She joins forces with the Rat-King, one of Khyber’s ubiquitous Rat-Catchers, and the pair soon discover that the rodents of Khyber are attempting to summon an extradimensional entity that threatens to devour the entire city. “Red” is another excursion deep below Khyber. When her dissolute haberdasher brother Needle is abducted under mysterious circumstances, deadly swordswoman Redala visits a string of Diviners and disreputable underworld figures in an effort to pick up his trail. While we only get a small taste of the setting, both of Ginther’s stories present Khyber as a bustling and chaotic city filled with bizarre communities, each with their own social codes and mores—fertile ground for Sword & Sorcery adventures.

Jonathan Ball’s pair of stories return to the tribal side of the setting. Both tales feature Draxas, a beastlike woman cast out from the matriarchal Shaaraka cannibals for the heresy of atheism. In “There Were Once Words,” Draxas tracks a hooded sorcerer through blighted wildernesses, eager to learn about the sleeping gods he serves. She ends up with more than she bargained for in her final confrontation with the sorcerer. “Circle of Stones” is a sequel that deals with the fallout of her fateful encounter with the sorcerer. Half of the story is a flashback dealing with Draxas’ bloody expulsion from the Shaaraka, and the remainder centers on her newfound devotion to dark gods. Ball’s entries emphasize mood over plot, and Draxas is an interesting—if challenging—character. Clad in leather of human origin and messily slurping the marrow from women’s bones, it wasn’t until a few pages into her introduction that it became clear Draxas was intended to be human, rather than a ghoul or some other monster.

Despite its regrettably bland title, Shared World is a fascinating literary experiment. The anthology was released simultaneously with Khyber, a companion collection of stories by Ginther. Although they have not yet appeared at the time of this writing, Once Lands by Chomichuk & Gillespie has been announced, as well as Draxas by Ball. The Shared World project’s website has an open call for contributors, and it will be interesting to see if the Once Lands are adopted by writers outside of this initial circle. With plenty of space for further development, Shared World offers a tantalizing look at a Lovecraftian Sword & Sorcery setting boasting a lot of potential.

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This review originally appeared in Old Moon Quarterly Vol. 6, released on January 16, 2024.

Tales From The Magician’s Skull – No. 11

Edited by Howard Andrew Jones – Goodman Publications – August 18, 2013

Review by Robin Marx

Tales From The Magician’s Skull No. 11 collects eight new Sword & Sorcery stories curated by Howard Andrew Jones. It features cover artwork by fantasy paperback master Sanjulian, and each story is illustrated by artists including Jason Edwards, Tom Galambos, and Stefan Poag.

“Test of the Runeweavers,” by H. T. Grossen, receives the cover treatment for this issue. Young Frode, a member of the Viking-inspired Aegirvarg people, embarks on his first ocean voyage as an apprentice runerikr, or wielder of spoken rune-based magic. Investigating mysterious coastal raids, Frode and his fellows encounter strangers from a far-off land with their own potent ideograph-based magic. This brisk story covers a great deal of territory despite its slim page count, and the rune magic feels flashy and novel.

“Lady of the Frost” is the latest Shintaro Oba tale by C. L. Werner, a name that should be familiar to fans of Warhammer and Games Workshop’s Black Library imprint. As with previous installments, wandering samurai Oba comes into conflict with a supernatural threat from Japanese folklore. “Lady of the Frost” is a solid example of sword & sorcery adventure in an underrepresented setting.

Trespassing in temples devoted to bizarre and malign gods is a common (and exciting!) trope in sword & sorcery, but if this issue has a flaw, it’s the inclusion of three such stories in a single installment. Bill Pearce’s “The Eyes of Rath Kanon” is the first of this issue’s unadvertised evil temple trilogy. The twisty plot and shifting loyalties intrigued, but despite a strong start and conclusion it felt like the middle portion of this contribution lacked the propulsive momentum found in the other stories.

“Ghostwise” by Caias Ward was the highlight of the issue, and a story I suspect Old Moon Quarterly readers are especially predisposed to enjoy. Dark-skinned but with chalk-white hands, gun-slinging mystic Obba Babatunde is summoned to a king’s court to attend to a haunted princess with identical markings. Like Obba himself, Princess Jansynth exists simultaneously in both the realms of the living and the dead, making her vulnerable to constant ghostly attacks unless she can build up her own defenses. As she struggles to keep her soul intact, Jansynth learns a devastating truth about her spectral tormentor and her own heritage. Cleverly plotted, “Ghostwise” reminds me of the early Witcher short stories by Andrzej Sapkowski, where the true monster isn’t always obvious at first glance. Ward’s hero and his talents are worthy of further elaboration, and I hope to see more Obba stories in the future.

Set in Earth in ancient times rather than a secondary world, Mark Mellon’s “Melkart and the Whore of Babylon” masterfully transforms antiquity into a lush and decadent sword & sorcery setting. Envious of her influence on Babylon’s populace, King Belshazzar plots to use a religious ceremony as cover and assassinate Inanna, the priestess of Ishtar, replacing both her and the goddess she serves with a more amenable sect. Unwilling to participate in such a dastardly scheme, Belshazzar’s hired sword Melkart immediately reveals the conspiracy to Inanna, offering himself as her protector at great personal risk. Just as the odds seem insurmountable, “Melkart and the Whore of Babylon” concludes with a truly epic finale.

Dawn Vogel’s “Kick in the Door and Improvise” distinguishes itself from the other stories by virtue of its humor. Unable to infiltrate a castle due to the bright moon overhead, two thieves hired to steal a king’s crown seek magical assistance. A sorcerer offers to dim the moon to hide their approach, provided they can collect all the ingredients required for the spell on a tight schedule. The final heist itself ends up almost an afterthought; most of the story concerns itself with the hunt for an elusive black pearl. The wry, freewheeling tone and focus on spell components pleasantly reminded me of the Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves film, and the story offered a refreshing change of pace from the uniformly serious tales composing the rest of the issue.

In “The Lens of Being,” by Daniel Amatiello, a pirate queen stumbles across a menacing cult lurking in a cliff-side temple complex on the coast of India. While the heretical Buddhist sect featured in the story had great potential, its aims and methods felt underdeveloped and the climactic monster too familiar. Not a bad story, but it suffers by appearing alongside two other temple raid stories.

The issue ends on a particularly strong note with “Bound in Brass and Iron,” by Matthew X. Gomez. When partially devoured bodies start turning up at the scene of a newly constructed temple, Liam the Black is hired to investigate. The trail leads him into a deeper temple, where a forgotten demon strains against its binding. This is the best of the issue’s unofficial evil temple trilogy, with a resourceful hero, fascinating spellcraft, and tense action.

Each issue of Tales From The Magician’s Skull concludes with a brief appendix called “The Monster Pit,” featuring game statistics of the monsters appearing in the various stories for use with publisher Goodman Games’ Dungeon Crawl Classics roleplaying game. It’s a gimmick, but a fun one that hopefully encourages tabletop gamers to engage more with the literary roots of their hobby.

Since launching in 2018, Tales From The Magician’s Skull quickly established itself as a quality venue for fantasy tales written in the pulp adventure tradition, and both the fiction and the artwork in this issue maintains that high level of excellence. Tales From The Magician’s Skull benefits from a tight focus on sword & sorcery, making it a one-stop venue for fast-paced fantasy action.

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This review originally appeared in New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine Issue #1, released on November 30, 2023.

Woman of the Woods

By Milton J. Davis – MVmedia, LLC – June 13, 2013

Review by Robin Marx

While Charles R. Saunders may have founded the “Sword and Soul” sub-genre of fantasy, Milton Davis has quickly become one of the field's most indefatigable contributors and promoters. Through his publishing house MVmedia and via collaborations with other creators (including Saunders himself, prior to his 2020 passing), Davis continuously works to create and lend a platform to African- and African diaspora-inspired fantasy and science fiction literature.

Set in the world of Uhuru, which previously appeared in Milton's Meji series, Woman of the Woods follows the adventures of Sadatina. Born to a member of the Shosa, an elite corp of spiritually-imbued fighting women who are forbidden from possessing families of their own, Sadatina is bequeathed to a warm but humble farming family. Even separated from her birth mother, Sadatina distinguishes herself from her adopted family with her superior athletic and hunting ability.

Tragedy strikes, however, when at the tender age of 13 she finds herself drawn into an inter-generational conflict between her people—the Adamu—and the Mosele. Driven from their lands by the encroachment of the Adamu, the Mosele have submitted to the dark god Karan. While the Mosele's counter-invasion was barely fended off long ago, ever since the Adamu have been plagued by sporadic attacks from Karan's servitors: demonic creatures called nyoka (“serpent” in Swahili). One such raid claims the lives of Sadatina's family. She vows revenge, making a home in the wilderness and hunting the nyoka with the assistance of her inborn martial ability and her loyal “sisters”: a pair of orphaned lionesses Sadatina has raised since they were cubs. Viewed with both awe and fear by the people of surrounding settlements, she becomes known as the “Woman of the Woods.”

Her solitary battle does not last long, however. Word of her nyoka-slaying prowess spreads as attacks intensify, and she is sought out by the Shosa as a potential recruit. Sadatina is suspicious of urban society and hierarchy, but the threat of Karan's nyoka grows by the day. Her own quest for vengeance and the needs of her people inevitably push her into assuming a central role in the conflict. Over time she gains new skills and weapons, but also heavy responsibilities and nagging doubts.

Gender is handled in a nuanced fashion in Woman of the Woods. The Shosa warrior women are an accepted and valued part of society, but they are also a breed apart. One must be chosen by the god Cha to join their ranks, and—while Sadatina is allowed an uncommon degree of autonomy—refusing to join is generally not an option for the average villager. They are the symbolic wives of the Adamu people's leader and, while celibacy is not required, bearing children is forbidden and harshly punished. Non-Shosa girls and women appear expected to adhere to traditional gender roles. As presented in Woman of the Woods, Uhuru is neither an egalitarian utopia nor a setting where only the heroine is allowed to occupy a place outside marriage and childbearing.

Religion also plays a central role in Woman of the Woods. The Adamu follow Cha, who is framed as a benevolent but demanding and occasionally distant god. The Mosele worship Karan, a malicious being of stone and magma. The Adamu deride Karan as a demon with delusions of grandeur, but where Cha is content to guide his people through ambiguous visions the divine aid Karan grants his supplicants is frighteningly concrete. His baboon-like ginanga nyoka act as terrifying shock troopers, while the cunning jackal-headed washaka strike under the cover of stealth. Karan’s most devoted human servants gradually gain physical aspects of their god, becoming the stone-skinned mjibwe.

While the story delivers exciting Sword and Soul combat in abundance, at times the war between the Adamu and Mosele is portrayed in an unusual light for such an action-oriented story. Milton makes it clear early in the book that the Mosele were already present in the river valley to which Cha is said to have led the Adamu. The two peoples coexisted for a time, until friction developed between the agrarian Adamu and the cattle-herding Mosele, as burgeoning farms absorbed grazing lands formerly used by the Mosele. While it is left unclear who sparked the original conflict, the Adamu certainly finished it, driving the Mosele out of their ancestral home and across a parched desert and into the mountains, ironically pushing them into the arms of the dark god Karan. As the Mosele return to the Adamu-occupied valley, bringing nyoka with them, the Shosa remain vigilant for Karan’s corruption.

The uneasy moral ambiguity at the heart of the conflict is highlighted by a point in the book where Sadatina herself leads a war band to an Adamu settlement showing signs of Mosele influence. She says “You will kill anyone or anything that approaches you. This is not a rescue. This is a cleansing.” This chilling passage and the massacre that follows seem to make the subtext text: this war is ethnic cleansing and the “heroes” are enthusiastic participants. While it appeared Davis was about to boldly grapple with ethnic cleansing in an Africa-inspired setting, this daring element of the plot is quickly and frustratingly dropped and the story returns to the fantasy genre’s more conventional human versus supernatural struggle.

While the story is exciting and the cover artwork by Chase Conley (director and storyboard artist at Marvel Studios) stunning, the book itself could have used some tighter editing. Words are occasionally omitted, and the early chapters of the Kindle edition include footnotes that appear to be editorial comments addressed to the author.

Editing issues and Davis’ apparent change of heart regarding the ethnic cleansing theme aside, Woman of the Woods is a worthy contribution to the Sword and Soul movement. I also appreciated his dedication to Saunders (“Dossouye has a sister now”), an acknowledgment of his mentor’s own groundbreaking woman warrior. Strong Black women remain a lamentable rarity in Sword & Sorcery fiction decades after Dossouye’s 1979 arrival, but Sadatina makes for a compelling African-inspired warrior, boasting courage, faith, and an indomitable spirit.

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