THE READING RHEUM: THE STEALER OF SOULS (1967)

 

The earliest stories of Michael Moorcock's Elric of Melnibone appeared during the years 1961-62 in a British magazine, SCIENCE FANTASY, and five of those stories were reprinted in an American paperback in 1967 under the title THE STEALER OF SOULS. 

By 1967 I had become a Fantasy-Zombie of the First Order, having splurged my disposable income into both superhero comics and science fiction paperbacks. I don't remember seeing any of the sword-and-sorcery books of the time, though I'm sure was aware of the comparable "science fantasy" books of Edgar Rice Burroughs. So I bought almost exclusively SF because that's what I found on the secondhand shelves, including an obscure Moorcock title, THE FIRECLOWN. (I may have bought that one because the figure on the cover reminded me of The Joker.)

But by the early seventies I became much more invested in the magical fantasy genre, partly because of the Ballantine Adult Fantasy books, designed to piggyback on the success of Tolkien, and partly because of Marvel's 1970 adaptation of Robert E. Howard's Conan stories. And two years into that epochal period, Roy Thomas collaborated with Michael Moorcock on a two-part story in CONAN #14-15, in which Howard's burly barbarian crossed paths, and swords, with Moorcock's spindly albino. Not long after, I purchased a fair number of Moorcock's Elric books, as well as his related fantasies.

Though I greatly liked the Elric I'd first seen in CONAN, I'm not sure I was ever quite as enthralled by the original prose version. The original set of short stories and novellas concluded with the hero's death by his own cursed blade, and after that, for the remainder of Moorcock's life he kept returning to the character to write prequels and interstitial stories about the doomed swordsman. Obviously, countless fans became invested enough in Elric to sort out all the stories in their proper time-frames, but I can't say that I was ever moved to  do so. I think I enjoyed the stories I did read well enough, but few of them really stood out. Similarly, I find now that the five stories in STEALER are at best uneven, and even the best ones don't grab me the way Elric did guest-starring with Conan.

"The Dreaming City"-- a title Moorcock later used for a prequel book-- describes how Elric begins his spiral into darkness. He's the king of the empire of Melnibone, which is peopled by a race of humanoids who are somehow not related to actual humans, a younger race that shares the same planet with them. Melnibone once ruled the world with an effete sort of cruelty, but their empire has fallen into decline. Elric starts his first story as a dethroned monarch, cast out from the capital city Imryrr by the usurper Yyrkoon. Complicating Elric's situation is that he's in love with Cymoril, sister of said usurper, and that Yyrkoon has consigned Cymoril to a mystic sleep. Elric makes alliances with human generals to mount an attack on Imryrr, but before the attack begins, Elric infiltrates the city alone, as if a part of him wants to play Douglas Fairbanks and spirit the damsel away. Yet Yyrkoon's defenses are too good, and Elric must resort to betraying his own people to human beings. And it's all for nothing, because during the hero's duel with his enemy, his beloved is slain as well.

The story is effective melodrama, but reading it this time out, I found it a little too stage-managed. Not does Elric betray his people and lose his lover, he and the humans are later attacked by avengers from the sacked city-- and sure enough, Elric betrays his human allies for his own survival. And not only is he mystically bound to a sword that eats the souls of those it slays, he calls upon dark gods to empower him by promising them "blood and souls." I can understand why an author writing in the 1960s might want to get away from the simon-pure archetype of many fantasy-heroes, But Moorcock saddles his hero with so much adversity that all the hero's torments begin to feel contrived. Elric is a lot like Shelley's Victor Frankenstein. No matter what good he tries to do, it always turns out badly, and most of his life is spent wallowing in misery while being unable to save anyone.

The second story, "While the Gods Laugh," is the only other one I would rate with high mythicity. Elric, roving from place to place, is hired as a bodyguard by a beautiful woman, Sharilla, who wants to find a magical book owned by the dead gods of their world. Elric agrees to the mission, stating that he wants to know if there exists any divine forgiveness for a sinner such as he. On the way to collect the book, the two are joined by a sardonic fellow named Moonglum, who in many stories will become Elric's sidekick, providing a degree of humor impossible for the gloomy albino. I'll skip past the various perils the trio encounter, though it's worth mentioning that Elric and Sharilla sleep together on the way. The denouement is almost identical to that of "City," in that Elric feels utterly alienated at being unable to discover some "surcease of sorrow." The solipsistic hero will win no prizes for the way he ignores Sharilla's possible feelings for him, though she sees his lack of reciprocation and remains silent.

The other three stories are more like standard sword-and-sorcery perils, with various incidents of moping and grousing. In "Stealer of Souls," Elric accepts a commission from avaricious merchants seeking to destroy a noble enemy, but only because the latter is in league with a wizard with whom Elric shares an enmity. All of the characters are depressingly paper-thin here. In "Kings of Darkness," Elric and Moonglum accept the job of escorting beauteous Queen Zarozina to her kingdom, but the trio gets waylaid in another realm, whose rulers struggle with sibling rivalry and a "curse of the undead." In "The Flame Bringers," Elric's totally gotten over the loss of Cymoril and is shacked up with Zarozina, but her kingdom is threatened by a barbarian tribe with command over an enslaved wizard and his fire demons.

The lesser stories are about on the level of your average D&D scenario. Given Moorcock's reputation, I'm rather depressed to see so few characters with even enough depth for good melodrama. Though Robert E Howard wrote his share of bad stories, even the crummy tales show a passion for vivid if simple characterizations. Moorcock's attitude toward heroic fiction seems like that of Alan Moore. Both creators became emotionally invested in heroic characters in their younger years, but later became intellectually embarrassed by the bad repute of adventure-fiction. Thus both wrote many tales in which traditional heroic figures were downgraded in some way, whether for satire or in the name of a vague "anti-heroism." While admitting Moorcock's breakthrough achievement, I feel like he never tapped the full potential of his own concept, and thus I'm not sure I'll read any more soul-stealing stories in the near future.