GRIEVANCE IS NOT DIVERSITY'S GOOD BUDDY

"Something there is that doesn't love a wall."-- Robert Frost.

“The only remedy to past discrimination is present discrimination. The only remedy to present discrimination is future discrimination."-- Ibrem X Kendi.

Whenever creators of "woke" popular culture indulge in the practice of swapping the established ethnicities of characters formulated by earlier creators, they often defend their actions by pointing at American pop culture's long tradition of privileging Caucasian characters and of stigmatizing "people of color" when such characters were depicted at all. Because of this history-- which wokesters do not hesitate to dub "white supremacy"-- they assume that any alterations they make are beneficial to the culture as a whole, and that only unregenerate racists would object to their idea of diversity.

This radical definition of racism was not born along with the so-called modern Progressives, who became increasingly prominent in the 2010s, not least by reviving the term "woke" to describe a recommended state of liberal hyper-vigilance against any opposing conservative values. Like "woke," the term "institutional racism," aka "systemic racism," had an earlier genesis, appearing in the 1967 book BLACK POWER by Stokely Carmichael and Charles V. Hamilton. That decade saw the political articulation of the two dominant forms of Liberalism, meliorism and radicalism. The names say something about their ideological orientations. Meliorism stems from a Latin word for "better," and thus suggesting the overall betterment of persons influenced by the ideology. Radicalism arose from a Latin word for "root," and became associated with the ideal of theoretically hunting out the "root causes" of some conflict-- though with the added connotation of attacking whatever is alleged to be the root cause, often benefitting one group or ideology rather than society as a whole.      

Froom the 1960s on, American pop culture tended to favor meliorism. When, for example, Marvel Comics introduced Black characters to their universe, such as The Black Panther and the Falcon, the liberal writers involved wanted their readers to better understand the culture of Black Africans and Black Americans. This did not mean that the White readers were in any way expected to cease appreciating either American majority culture or any of the European, dominantly-Caucasian cultures from which America's majority citizenry had been derived.

In comics, this meliorist pattern reached its apogee in the creation of THE NEW X-MEN in 1975. GIANT-SIZE X-MEN #1 sidelined four of the older, entirely Caucasian-American members of the 1960s team and devised an excuse for the two remaining members, Cyclops and Professor X, to go on an international scavenger-hunt for new mutant heroes. Seven crusaders obligingly sign on: one White Canadian, three White Europeans, one Native American, one Asian, and one apparent Black African (later revealed to be of African-American extraction). In the ensuing series, Cyclops still remains the only member from the sixties comic, with the other four from that period being written out (though a slightly later plotline brought back Marvel Girl within the space of an issue or two). Two other members left and stayed gone, ostensibly to reduce the number of characters readers had to keep track of. As it happened, they were both POC, with Native American Thunderbird dying in action and Asian Sunfire leaving just because he felt like being a dick.

The larger point to be taken from these meliorist examples is that there was no trace of a radical ideal that anyone of any race was "owed" representation. Writer Chris Claremont most probably eliminated Thunderbird and Sunfire because he didn't have anything to say about them, while he ostensibly kept Wolverine because he offered more story potential. Yet he also arguably gave more attention to Black African Storm than to Banshee and Colossus, two of the three White Europeans. Narratively speaking, Claremont had three "favorite children" in Storm, Nightcrawler and Wolverine. He concentrated on them so much that even the Caucasian-American Cyclops probably would not have got much attention had Claremont not brought back Jean Grey, who would eventually become entangled in a romantic arc with Wolverine.

So successful was the X-MEN franchise that nearly all other superhero team books, both from Marvel and from its main rival DC, emulated Claremont's melioristic liberal template, all the way through the 1980s and 1990s. That said, larger forces in popular entertainment would eventually shift that melioristic tendency, as grievance-based radicalism began to assume a greater cultural role in the 1990s, specifically through the mainstreaming of hip hop music and of the New Black Cinema, spearheaded by Spike Lee and John Singleton.

 In contrast, so-called mainstream comics, whether about hero-teams or not, didn't show much of a taste for radicalism. However, the same economic forces that birthed the direct-sales comics market made it possible for the industry to market concepts with a more radical agenda. Ironically, though Marvel Comics had provided most of the first "diverse" superheroes, their main competitor DC Comics invested far more heavily in imprints aimed at adults, principally Vertigo. Some of these "adventures in diversity" had a meliorist orientation. But arguably the more radical ongoing titles attracted more attention, setting the tune for the mainstreaming of "woke comics" in the 21st century. And although titles like SWAMP THING and SANDMAN had their "woke moments," none of the ongoing Vertigo titles were more grievance-heavy than Peter Milligan's SHADE THE CHANGING MAN. The first issue, for example, opens with a sequence in which a noble Black Man intercedes when his White girlfriend is menaced by a White slasher covered in the blood of his victims-- only for the Black Man to be shot dead by a Racist White Southern cop. Edgy, right?

I mention Milligan partly because he seems to be the first writer to taint Claremont's even-handed X-MEN with grievance-based radicalism. This rather short run-- only 22 issues, X-MEN #166-187, from 2005 to 2006-- makes him something of a precursor to the flood of woke comics from Marvel and DC in the 2010s, though not necessarily any direct influence. The proximate reason for the "woke comics boom" was the initial, albeit short-lived, popularity of MS MARVEL in 2014. But if one wants to see an early example of the X's getting put through the grievance mill, the Milligan run is a great place to start.  

Here's Milligan introducing a mutant named "Boy," because his rich White masters think it's hilarious to call him that. You know Milligan's being edgy because he claims the richies are "liberals"-- though I suspect Milligan counts on his readers not to believe him.  

Here's Milligan having Boy rant about "colonialism" for some damn reason.

Here's some general and the President (wonder which one) showing ingratitude to the mutants for having saved the world again.

And finally, here's some villain dissing John Wayne, and the gung-ho American superheroes being deeply offended.

I imagine Milligan viewed his jejune grievance-baiting as "satire," but it's less insightful than even a nineties issue of MAD Magazine. These 22 issues don't show the heroes and their opponents relating to one another in interesting ways: it's all just superficial "head games," particularly the opening arc "Golgotha," involving an alien spore that causes all of the heroes to rail at one another. The only breaks I'll cut Milligan are (1) he probably didn't think he was going to be writing the X-title very long, so he may have just wrote some piddling stories while keeping the status quo stable, and (2) even Claremont wrote his share of "head game stories." But whenever Claremont did this sort of "Naked Time" schtick, the characters weren't only spouting grievances to attack America, capitalism or just overall White Culture, both European and American.     

Though I don't follow current comics, the few comics podcasts I follow don't indicate any major movements back toward an ethic of meliorism at either Marvel or DC. Possibly there aren't as many extreme examples of radicalism as "Gay Son of Superman" and "Captain America, Hydra Agent." But I suspect that the radical ideal of representation for all aggrieved groups-- rather than the ideal of seeking common ground-- remains entrenched. I consider this ideal, as per my Robert Frost quote, one equivalent to maintaining walls-- walls to be exploited by those who profit from divisiveness and so make it unlikely than diversity measures will ever succeed. It's ironic that as I write this, there's ARE indications that Hollywood, which exploited or even exacerbated the most radical tendencies of Marvel and DC, might be backing away somewhat from peddling grievance all the time.      

DENSITY=EXCESS

 This essay exists for the most part to draw a line between both 2013's THE NARRATIVE RULE OF EXCESS and its corollary from 2017, EXCESSIVE COMBINATORY FORCE, and the more recent LOVE, DENSITY AND CONCRESCENCE from 2025. In the last of these, I wrote:

because density has a stronger association than does concrescence with the quality of some physical substance, it also proves somewhat better for describing the finished product. I might say, using my most recent emendations of my potentiality terminology, that "Dave Sim's work excels at dealing with didactic cogitations, while Grant Morrison's work excels at dealing with mythopoeic correlations." That quality of excellence can be metaphorically expressed as a given work's density, in that such density shows how thoroughly the author was invested in a given set of fictional representations (sometimes, though not usually, on a subconscious level).

In contrast to my meager usage of the term "density," I probably have many references to "excess" scattered throughout this blog, since that philosophical concept was thoroughly explored by one of my major influences, Georges Bataille, particularly in the first of his works I ever read, VISIONS OF EXCESS.  In the two linked essays above, my main concern was to apply Bataille's concept to my own concepts of the two forms of sublimity. I won't get into those formulations here, for I'm concerned that excess is a general rule, like density, for judging the presence or absence of excellence in fictional works.   

The difference between the two concepts relates to authorial motive. The author who achieves excellence in one or more of the four potentialities does so because he/she becomes engaged enough with the material to DESIRE to give it a density, a thoroughness, that seems to be like that of lived experience. The creator of a poor work, within whichever potentiality one judges the work by, has no desire, or next to none, to convey investment in the material to his audience. The creator of a fair work has some desire, but only up to a point. It's only the creator of a good work who's totally invested with respect to at least one potentiality.

One example of authors investing "excess effort" in various potentialities can be seen in a comparison I floated between the Lee-Kirby FANTASTIC FOUR and the Drake-Premiani DOOM PATROL. I still believe that the Lee-Kirby work shows an excess of the mythopoeic imagination and that the Drake-Premiani work does not. However, I now realize that the later issues of DOOM PATROL put forth a density of specification with respect to the dramatic potentiality. More simply put, even though the Lee-Kirby FF set the early standard for using soap-opera dramatics, one might argue that Drake was, over time, better at finding interesting ways to exploit the dramatic conflicts of the team and its opponents, at creating the illusion of character progress. In contrast, though Stan Lee was the boss in the collaboration with Kirby, he often let Kirby "have his head"-- and Kirby was not really a "details man." On close study the sixties FANTASTIC FOUR has a rather herky-jerky progress with respect to its characters' serial development, even if Lee's dialogue usually managed to paper over any perceived discontinuities. I said that I doubted that artist Premiani contributed much original material to the collaboration; he probably just drew whatever Drake related in his full scripts. Drake wasn't often capable of mythopoeic imagination, unlike Kirby. But he conveyed a sense of density in the interrelations of the Patrol members, because that was the part of his inspiration to which he best related.              

CURIOSITIES: ONE MAIDEN, ONE MUSLIM

 

While visiting Comic Book Plus. I came across a listing for a small publisher named Elliot, possessed of only two titles, launched in 1944, near the conclusion of WWII and both showing a strong patriotic air. The above cover is from BOMBER COMICS #3, showing most of the characters featured therein. On top are two costumed heroes, Wonder Boy and Kismet, and on the stage below are a black kid named Sunshine (from KID PATROL), the ghost-busting star of GRIMM GHOST DOCTOR and one of his specters, and hero-pilot EAGLE EVANS beating down an enemy while a hot nurse looks on.

The other title was SPITFIRE COMICS, named for its lead feature, SPITFIRE. This concerned a butt-kicking lady spy named Spitfire Sanders, and it's a minor point that it's probably the first war-themed comic with a female lead. 

The title only had two issues and the only other feature worthy of note is JUNGLEMAN, about a jungle-hero who can literally summon beasts to his aid. According to one source Jungleman first appeared in a Harvey title and so this single story may be a licensed reprint.

BOMBER, the other title, lasted four issues and showed a bit more diversity. GRIMM GHOST DOCTOR also appears to be a Harvey recycling, but I have not yet checked the other character's appearances.  Unlike a lot of ghost hunters, Grimm possesses an arcane weapon against spiritual menaces, a "ghost disintegrator," but the hero doesn't seem to use the device much in these four stories. I notice that most of the stories, mainly Rudy Palais, involve the spirits of comely women.          
      

Wonder Boy had been a hero at Quality, which was not yet defunct in 1944, so maybe this was a rare example of a hero being sold to another company without the first company collapsing. One source says that the Quality version didn't have a girlfriend, so the brunette above, seen catfighting a hefty woman, suggests that these are new stories.

Finally, all four issues of BOMBER play host to KISMET, MAN OF FATE, who may be the first Muslim costumed hero. Kismet has neither origin nor special powers, and all four adventures have him fighting Nazis in Europe while garbed in trousers, a cape and a fez. Each episode has the light-skinned Kismet swearing "by the beard of the Prophet" or invoking Allah, so his creator, billed as "Omar Tahan," almost certainly was seeking some personal representation, not unlike Black artist Matt Baker giving Black African tribesmen White wives in the same time period. The stories are nothing special except for #2, in which Satan is so annoyed with Kismet's victories that he sends two infernal emissaries, a big brute and a sexy siren named "Flame," to give the bumbling Hitler a new super-weapon.    

 

EXCITING REACTIONS! REACTIVE EXCITEMENT!

Because few things in life can possibly be more exciting than an essay in which I revise some old terms.

I was never quite satisfied with the terms I devised in 2020 and 2021 for the basic oppositional setup of the roles of protagonist and antagonist, which are fundamentally integral to all narrative. I started out with a three-part series, starting here, in which I used the terms "challenger" and "defender." Later I sought to substitute "aggressor" for "challenger," but I never found myself using any of the terms on a regular basis. From experience, this indicates that I'm not fully comfortable with a given term or set of terms, because when I am comfortable, I start interweaving new and old on a regular basis, as can be seen with all the stuff I've been doing lately with "eminence."

It hit me that I needed terms that were more neutral in terms of moral nature, since some icons have no morality as such. This line of thought led me back to the beginnings of life, at least as conceived by Ernst Cassirer:      

Every organism, even the lowest... [possesses] a receptor system and an effector system... The receptor system by which a biological species receives outward stimuli and the effector system by which it reacts to them are in all cases closely interwoven...

This struck me as so basic to the fundament of all life that I wanted my new terms to reflect this process in lit-crit terms, and this led me to two terms, most often used in chemistry. From Merriam-Webster: 

EXCITANT: tending to excite or stimulate

REACTANT: a substance that enters into and is altered in the course of a chemical reaction   

Examples time:

In the original debut-film of GODZILLA, the sulky saurian rises from the depths, and whether he's out to trash Modern Japan for its sins or is just looking for old feeding-grounds, he parallels the stimulus, the excitant, that hits an organism's receptor-system-- said organism being Japan. Japan then takes the role of "reactant," marshaling the energies of its "effector system" to protect itself. As in many monster-movies, not least those devoted to Rodan and Mothra, the excitant, the thing that shakes up the status quo, is the Prime icon.

Godzilla becomes one of an ensemble of three Prime icons in GHIDORAH THE THREE-HEADED MONSTER, but this time, all of them are reactants. The titular Ghidorah provides the excitant, invading Earth and threatening its destruction. Humankind can do nothing to stop Ghidorah, but some humans are able to intercede with the fundamentally beneficent Mothra, and she attempts to enlist Godzilla and Rodan into defending the Earth. Though the scene of the "monster-conversation" might be one of the looniest things ever in a giant monster film, it still culminates in the three rampaging titans joining together like a Jurassic Justice League to stomp three-headed butt. This time the three former excitants become reactants, but they're still the Prime icons here.

Things get more complicated in those situations where excitant and reactant share the Prime spotlight, rare though it is. In KING KONG VS GODZILLA, the Big G still doesn't quite have the moxie to get first billing. But as in his previous two films, he functions as the excitant. Now, having said that. KKVG was not the first of Tojo Picture's "monster duel" films. That was GODZILLA RAIDS AGAIN-- but in that film, Godzilla is faced with two separate reactants: the humans with their guns and tanks, and another colossal critter, Angilas. Both Angilas and all of the humans are Sub antagonists to Prime Godzilla. Angilas was probably created only because it was cheaper to film a battle between two men in rubber suits than to have Godzilla stomp all over Tokyo again. But Kong had more stature than Godzilla, and so he, the "reactant," gets an arc as developed as that of the "excitant." Though Kong is originally brought to Japan for the same reason an American entrepreneur takes his first iteration to New York, his desire to pick a fight with the big reptile ends up making his interests converge with those of humanity, who make Kong into their unwitting catspaw. Despite the role of the humans in arranging the battle of the two Primes, they remain Sub icons only.        

The sort of human string-pulling seen in both KKVG and GHIDORAH is not strictly necessary, though. THE WAR OF THE GARGANTUAS concerns two brother-monsters-- one that seeks to avoid conflict and only feeds on fish, another who feeds on humans. This leads to human armies seeking to exterminate both giant beasts, but even if no humans appeared in the story, the main conflict would still be between "excitant" Gaira and "reactant" Sanda, who comprise the Prime icons of the narrative.   

More examples to come, as they occur to me.

      

MIKAMI MEDITATIONS PT. 6

 In the first MIKAMI MEDITATIONS, I hadn't read the full corpus of the 1991-99 GHOST SWEEPER MIKAMI manga, so I followed the only available information source for a particular datum: the age of the female lead Reiko Mikami. Wiki claimed that Mikami was 31 years old, but I never saw anything in the original manga that even came close to confirming that inaccurate info. However, upon re-reading one of the later arcs, "Relentless War," Mikami's age is decisively stated-- at least. as decisively as anything else that appears in an amateur online translation, the only source for the SWEEPER stories in English.

So there's no question that Mikami is 20 years old, only three years older than her high-schooler colleague Tadao Yokoshima. His age of seventeen is frequently repeated, and maybe artist Takashi Shiina felt he had to keep reminding readers of Yokoshima's status, since he spends so little time in school. There's some degree of change in the characters' attitudes and circumstances during the span of the series, but SWEEPER is a static series timewise, so no one really ages. In an early story, Mikami tells Okinu that she considers herself a "mature woman" and her ardent suitor Yokoshima to be a "brat." Mikami also avers that the student needs another ten years to catch up with her, which might have impressed me as her admitting to considerably more years than twenty. And then there are a couple of late stories where Yokoshima insults Mikami by calling her an "old hag," which certainly sounds odd if only three years separate them. 

However, I am aware of one other manga, ZERO'S FAMILIAR, in which a teenager calls a woman of only twenty-three years an "old woman." So there's some probability that this was a familiar type of joke in Japanese culture, a slam meant to be aggravating but not technically accurate.

Had I thought about it, an early story, "Love Needs Its Time," shows that Shiina always had a loose sense that Mikami and Yokoshima aren't far apart in age. At the conclusion of "Time," Yokoshima flashes back in time to when he was a baby, and a very young Mikami, possibly just three years old, encounters him.

  Mikami's age puts an interesting spin on the first time Shiiina depicts Mikami and Yokoshima meeting as relatively mature entities, in a sequence from the arc "The Right Stuff."

              

The main point of the flashback is to regale readers with how the Mikami/Yokoshima relationship got set in stone from the start: the lust-monkey makes some foolish pass at his boss and she beats the hell out of him. However, the flashback is more important for offering a deeper motivation for Mikami to hire the high-schooler. As I've said before, if she was truly repulsed by Yokoshima's advances, Mikami would just fire him and look for another cheap employee to do her heavy lifting. 

The internal chronology of "The Right Stuff" also mentions that Mikami's mother Michie died (or rather, faked her death) five years previous to the "static time" of the ongoing series, which would make Mikami fifteen at the time. One presumes she finished both high school and her training as a ghost sweeper under her sensei, so she's about twenty when she opens her agency. Clearly she wants to be an independent businesswoman, and she appears to have no romance in her life. The only time Shiina showed her evincing any interest in romantic life was when Mikami was ten years old and crushed on the older Saijou. Yet he had only filial feelings for her, and thus one may assume that, for all intents and purposes, Mikami's turned her back on romance at this crucial time in her life. 

Mikami wants to carry on her mother's profession of ghost-sweeping, but for reasons I've discussed elsewhere, she also intends to make a lot of money from it. She's aware of her phenomenal looks but views them only as assets in attracting a customer base. She may not be totally immune to flattery, though, since after scorning Yokoshima's clumsy come-on, she responds to his verbal praise with the interesting sentence, "Since you're so honest, I'll forget about that [attempted assault] from before." In other words, before Yokoshima has said anything about being willing to work for cheap, Mikami unfreezes a bit at his compliments. She starts unburdening herself as to how she thought she'd hire a good-looking guy to help sell her image to customers, but she was afraid she'd have to pay a lot of money for such an assistant, which would cut into potential profits. Yokoshima knows he's not good-looking, but he's so besotted with Mikami that he offers to do her dirty jobs for a pittance. However, in practice, Yokoshima does gain some additional remuneration whenever he peeps on his boss in the shower, and she brings this up frequently-- though again, it doesn't bother her enough to make her sack him. But does she keep Yokoshima around purely because she saves money by employing such a doofus to do all her hard work? She almost certainly enjoys holding on to her money and may even get some sadistic satisfaction at beating him down when he propositions her, apparently wanting to keep her virginity as much as a big bank account.                 

Yet Shiina almost certainly knew the persuasive power of the "hot girl falls for homely guy" trope, so as early as the Volume Four arc "Dad's Here," Okinu suspects that Mikami harbors tender feelings for Yokoshima despite his considerable demerits. Yet Shiina waits until the late arc "Right Stuff" to depict the original dynamic that prevailed when the sexy exorcist met her stooge-- and that flashback takes place during a real-time story in which Yokoshima has harnessed his psychic powers to a level that almost surpasses Mikami's abilities.

Yet Shiina was careful not to undermine the comical tension, so Yokoshima never transcends his "stooge-self" and Mikami always remains the harsh mistress. The capstone story to the entire series, "Break Your Destiny," shows Mikami as a true tsundere, unable to dispense love without putting her potential paramour through the wringer to make sure of his devotion. The two of them being closer in age, though, makes it seem as though their perverse relationship came about in the same period of life wherein more normative couples usually date and get married for the first time. That makes it more likely, at least for proponents of the "hot girl/homely guy" trope, that this fractious couple will be able to unite at some future date as well.          

MONSTERS VS. VILLAINS

 Though I've made distinctions elsewhere on the blog as to the theoretical nature of monsters and villains in terms of the goal-affects "persistence" and "glory," here I'll confine myself to one quick observation, building off the following quote:

"Why, this fellow seems to take a diabolical--I might almost say pathological-- pleasure in crimes of violence, revenge, avarice and self- protection. Sometimes it seems as if he delights in the pure deviltry of the thing. It is weird."

The "fellow" in question will later be revealed as The Clutching Hand, a nemesis to Arthur B. Reeve's hero Craig Kennedy in both the 1914 silent serial THE EXPLOITS OF ELAINE and the identically-titled movie novelization (which ran in 1914 magazines to promote the serial). Though Reeve was the sole creator of Craig Kennedy, in all likelihood he was a hired gun in working on the serial, whose narrative would have been controlled by the producers, principally George B. Seitz, also a director and writer on the serial. The Clutching Hand may not be the first costumed villain in literary history, but he has been credited as being the first in narrative cinema, for whatever that's worth.

The full serial is not extant, but the Reeve novel is. I haven't yet decided to read the book online, but that opening line struck me as very indicative of the appeal of villains. While there are villains who have tragic backstories, they're usually not as tragically-oriented as monsters. One thinks of the Frankenstein Monster arising, a tabula rasa in a grotesque form, only to find himself an instant pariah, or the Browning version of Dracula, vaguely yearning for a proper death. Stoker's Dracula is more the cold-hearted plotter, but I see in him none of the glorious elan one sees in super-villains like the Hand. Dracula doesn't leave mocking notes about his lawbreaking ways, much like a later breed of villain who obligingly leave clues to their virtuous opponents. Not dissimilarly, Fu Manchu has his own way of "signing" his murders, and in the first novel Nayland Smith remarks on how Fu won't lower himself to use mundane weapons but always has to use more exotic devices.

More on these matters as they occur to me.                   

THE READING RHEUM: THE SLEEPING SORCERESS (1972)

 

SLEEPING SORCERESS was the second of the Lancer paperbacks to spotlight novel-length adventures of Elric. It's not nearly as well-composed as the first novel and is more transparently a fix-up of separate stories. All the stories here are, like the tale "The Singing Citadel" in the collection of the same name, are prequels to 1962's "The Stealer of Souls," in that they all concern Elric's conflicts with his first major enemy, the sorcerer Theleb K'aarna. The stories written from the 1960s and 1970s set the foundation of Moorcock's multiverse, but as he himself has commented, he was often making up things as he went along.   

Book One of SORCERESS, entitled "The Torment of the Last Lord," is the source of the image of a sleeping enchantress whom, one presumes, the hero will rescue-- though in the whole of the book, this is only true up to a point. Elric and his sidekick Moonglum have just left behind Queen Yishana in "Citadel" in order to pursue Ka'arna, and they encounter a castle inhabited only by the sleeping body of Empress Myshella, an ally of the Powers of Law, just as Elric is aligned to the powers of Chaos. Myshella instantly reminds Elric of his lost love Cymoril, whom he tried to rescue but slew instead, but despite those bad memories, he finds a magical means to revive her. Myshella wakes up just as Theleb K'aarna, allied to an army of Mongol-like warriors, marches on the castle to eliminate its potential threat to Chaos. Myshella summons forces that destroy the horde but K'aarna escapes. Not surprisingly, Myshella is instantly drawn to the brooding albino, and she soon becomes the newest in Elric's "Bond Girl" collection.

Book Two, "To Snare the Pale Prince," is a needlessly confusing sequel to the story "To Rescue Tanelorn" from CITADEL.  "Tanelorn" seems to take place after Elric meets Rackhir the Red Archer in the 1972 ELRIC novel before the latter has visited the mystical city of Tanelorn, while in the short story Rackhir resides in the city and protects it from a Chaos-inspired invasion by an army of beggars from the corrupt realm Nadsokor. Elric is referenced in "Tanelorn" but he does not appear-- and yet, "Prince" tells readers that Elric has visited Tanelorn at some previous time, and thus the albino and his buddy become allies with Rackhir's forces as they defend themselves from a new invasion. This time K'aarna allies himself with Urish, King of Nadsokor, who also has a previous grudge against Elric. The two villains conspire to steal a magic ring from Elric, knowing that he and Moonglum will come to Nadsokor to retrieve it. The evildoers also unleash a new invading force upon Tanelorn, a gaggle of demons who look like women and who therefore prove difficult for Tanelorn's defenders to strike down. Elric summons a troop of male demons, described as "ape-like," who destroy the female creatures and then die as well. ("Beauty and the Beast," anyone?) Elric recovers his ring and there's a rather pointless exchange with the hero's demon patron Arioch. K'aarna gets away again but this time his next foray against Tanelorn transpires not much longer afterward.

Book Three, "Three Heroes with a Single Aim," takes place during a period when Rackhir has invited Elric and Moonglum to abide in Tanelorn. The peace of the eternal city does nothing to dispel Elric's anomie, so he rides out into the wilderness, possibly hoping to die. Instead, he stumbles across K'aarna utilizing a mystic device to transport alien reptiles from another cosmos in order to attack Tanelorn. When Elric seeks to destroy the device, it hurls him into another dimension, which is the hero's first real encounter with the Moorcockian multiverse. He meets both Prince Corum of the "Swords trilogy," conceived around the same time, and Erekose, a character whom Moorcock loosely formulated in 1957 and then updated for a stand-alone novel in 1962, and they all realize, in some vague metaphysical manner, that they're all aspects of the same "eternal champion." I wrote up my impressions of "Heroes" in a previous post and my re-reading now does not alter my verdict:

Trouble is, while such heroes are interesting individually, they're not quite as interesting when they meet each other.  In the 1972 "novel" THE SLEEPING SORCERESS-- actually a collection of three separate novellas featuring Moorcock's most popular character, Elric of Melnibone-- the albino-skinned protagonist encounters two other heroes. Both are, like Elric, aspects of the "Eternal Champion," a sort of archetype that remains constant in many multiversal domains.  One is "Prince Corum," who had his own series of adventures around the same time as Elric. The other calls himself "Erekose," though he's not entirely identical with the character from the one-shot 1970 novel THE ETERNAL CHAMPION. For one thing, the Erekose-warrior in this story is explicitly black-skinned. I have not recently reread ETERNAL CHAMPION, but as I recall no reference is made to the race of the original Erekose. I assume Moorcock was having a bit of fun playing around with the racial identities of his heroes in different incarnations.

The crossover-novel brings the three heroes together in the equally eternal city Tanelorn, where they battle the magic of an evil sorcerer. It's a decent enough story but loses some punch given that all three heroes sound and act pretty much the same. Further, this sequence of SLEEPING SORCERESS was originally derived from a similar section in the 1971 Corum novel THE KING OF THE SWORDS. Since they're pretty much the same story, I decided to count the Elric version as "best crossover," simply because it stands upon its own better as a crossover-tale.  Further, it's a good basic representation of Moorcock's "Eternal Champion" concept, though perhaps not its most complex manifestation.

After Elric helps the other two heroes overcome an adversary in the other dimension-- a singularly underwhelming threat-- Elric returns to his own world and uses magic derived from the other dimension to thwart K'aarna's plot. Again, K'aarna gets away, as he must to satisfy the continuity. But the threat of Myshella must arguably greater. She has to perish because, if she's allowed to survive, she might tempt the hero away from his dolorous quest to slay lots of sorcerers and monsters before he dies. In the final analysis, there is enough symbolic discourse in all three chapters to justify my saying that its mythicity is high. But SORCERESS is not even close to being as aesthetically pleasing as ELRIC OF MELNIBONE.