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PRESTER JOHN
by Norvell W. Page

FLAME WINDS (Jan 28, 2002) From the June 1939 issue of UNKNOWN, this is a Conan imitation by Norvell W. Page (fans of THE SPIDER pulp might recognize that name)-- but although it's colorful and imaginative, it drags on for too long and has too much padding to be really enjoyable. FLAME WINDS might have worked better in a shorter form but then, pulps paid by the word so sometimes the stories were long-winded. This novel and its sequel SONS OF THE BEAR GOD star Page's barbarian hero Wan Tengri, also known as Prester John. Page has the fascinating concept that the medieval legend of a great king by that name was based on a much earlier adventurer and that 'prester' was derived not from 'priest' but from the word for 'hurricane'. Wan Tengri as we come to know him is a gigantic red-bearded Scythian warrior who has wandered into central China in search of plunder and glory. He finds a city ruled by an uneasy alliance of seven wizards, with its true princess imprisoned by magic-- well, it's a perfect set-up for someone with a sword and a lot of nerve. The 'flame winds' of the title are not symbolic but literal. From sunset to dawn around the city, deadly hot winds rush over the landscape and anyone caught in them is roasted to death. One of the best touches is how Wan Tengri finds a way to use the flame winds against the army out to capture him, and the continuing symbolism of these winds, along with his 'Hurricane' name and his claim to be the godson of the wind spirits is neat. Unfortunately Prester John himself is pretty tiresome and by the end of 150 pages the reader has had enough of this egotistical oaf. The vanity and boasting are not bad, really, as you'd expect someone who intends to conquer an empire to have a healthy self-image. But Wan Tengri is constantly bursting out into roars of laughter for no reason (presumably meant to show him as a lusty fun-loving barbarian) and it wears thin awfully quick. He also whistles tunes through his nose a great deal, not an endearing trait. Our hero has also stepped over the line of believable feats. Killing a tiger with a length of chain (without getting a scratch)-- well, it's a stretch but no more than Tarzan killing a lion with only a knife. When Prester John then blithely lifts the thousand-pound carcass overhead and hurls it at some soldiers, though, that's a candidate for the "Oh, Come On!" Awards. The trick that Robert E Howard used was to have Conan slash his way quickly through a half dozen guards and escape, not stand up and beat all of them in a straight fight. The Cimmerian would (if he had to) kill a giant ape with a single quick sword thrust, not wrestle the darn thing to the ground. There are many good points about this book, from Wan Tengri's reluctant sidekick Bourtai to the magic being mostly illusion (Mandrake style stuff), to the hero wearing a piece of the True Cross and vowing to cut a thousand throats for 'Christos', while still invoking Ahriman constantly. But the style is a bit too wordy and the pacing a little too sluggish for FLAME WINDS to be a classic fantasy adventure.

SONS OF THE BEAR-GOD (Dec 13, 2005) For some reason, I had difficulty getting through this book and (even now) a lot of it seems vague. I get the feeling that in a short time, most of the incidents will fade from memory without a trace. Now, Norvell W. Page in his day wrote some of the most compelling, flamboyant and irrational pulp adventures ever to make a reader mouth the words, "What the hell?" But come to think of it, by the time he came up with FLAME WINDS and SON OF THE BEAR-GOD, even his Spider novels had lost a lost of their creative spark and were treading water. Like FLAME WINDS before it, SONS OF THE BEAR-GOD appeared first in 1939 in UNKNOWN (yay! UNKNOWN, one of my favorites pulps!). It's the second installment in the epic of a First Century barbarian warrior who led an adventurous life even Conan would respect. Starting out as a gladiator in Alexandria, he wandered off across Asia, leaving huge stacks of victims everywhere in India, China and Mongolia. This huge red-bearded brute was motivated by an astrologer's prophecy that he would win three kingdoms and he fully intended to act on this. Originally, this walking slaughterhouse was a Scythian named Amlairic, but he came quickly to be known as Wan Tengri, which means "son of the wind spirits" (for he claimed to have the spirits of the upper air as his parents). More interestingly, this itself was a translation of the name by which he was known in the arena... Prester John. It's a legend not as well remembered today as Camelot or the Wandering Jew, but there was a time when many thousands believed in the legendary Prester John, supposed to be emperor of a vast realm filled with wonders, somewhere in the Orient. The Crusaders had hopes that, if they could somehow get a message to this Christian ruler on the other side of the Holy Land, he would come to their aid with overwhelming armies. No such luck. The story seems to have been just wishful thinking, but those of us who enjoy folklore and legend will feel a little tingle at the name and all it implied. Norvell Page starts with the traditional legend, but he adds a twist. "Prester" is usually thought to mean "Presbyter" or priest, hence John the Priest. But Page thinks the Greek word originally meant "hurricane", referring to "the violent storms which swept the narrow seas of the Mediterranean", and that the huge carrot-top who awed the crowds at the arena was therefore known as "Hurricane John". It was only late in life, after he settled down on a throne, that his title took its priestly meaning. What a great promise for a series, the exploits of the young Prester John as he fought his way to establish an empire in Asia. (Think about Talbot Mundy writing this.) Yet, somehow, Page disappoints with these two books. There is certainly enough action and suspense, plenty of color and spectacle, lots of magic and illusion, and some rather clever remarks. But it never really came to life for me. The writing is just too dense, too packed with unnecessary details that disrupt the flow, and the story seems to wander erratically (ah well, many of the later Spider stories suffered from this, too). Wan Tengri himself just irks me no end. Naturally, being a footloose swordsman trying to start a life of conquest, he can be expected to be bloodthirsty, proud and ambitious; that goes with the career. But this guy is so egotistical that it passes being amusing and just wears thin. His constant bursts of gusty laughter for no perceptible reason make you wonder if there's isn't something basically wrong inside that red-haired skull. I know in real life, soldiers of fortune and would-be conquerors were horrible people, but I get enough of them when reading history. In pulp adventure, a little idealism and heroism in our protagonists is welcome. Wan Tengri's relationship with his sidekick, a little runt of a wizard named Bourtai, is also unpleasant. The two are not friends or companions at all. Wan Tengri is basically keeping the magician (whom he calls "monkey-face") a captive for his skills at minor spells; Bourtai understandably wants to either escape from this hulk or somehow murder him if he gets a chance. Any number of times, Wan Tengri is either betrayed by Bourtai or is right on the edge of breaking the wizard's neck, and it's not good-natured chaffing, either. These guys hate each other. My other misgiving is that Wan Tengri (or Prester John, which I prefer) is just so strong and durable and efficient with weapons that he crosses the line of human limits and takes a few more steps after that. Maybe he was really the son of Zeus or something. I grew up reading Doc Savage, Tarzan and Conan, and there were times when I just cranked my suspension of disbelief up another notch and went on the story. Wan Tengri never fights less than half a dozen swordsmen at a time, and he goes through them as if they obligingly stand there with their heads tilted back to be cut off. Our hero suffers the sort of injuries that in real life would have ER doctors frowning and shaking their heads, but that's part of swords and sorcery fiction. It's when Wan Tengri faces a huge bear in the arena (yes, another arena) and blithely proceeds to break its back using a leather cord, that something in my imagination starts to give off smoke and I have to put the book down for a minute. On the other hand, probably many readers will have fun with this story. It's certainly energetic and creative. "The Sons of the Bear-God" themselves turn out to be an ancient race of hairy white men who somehow were running around Asia in the dim misty past. These folk under their legendary monarch Tinsunchi worshipped the Heaven-Bear and their descendants went on to populate the islands of Japan. By historic times, the bear worshippers had been nearly wiped out and only survived in small numbers as the mysterious Ainu. (Aha! So that explains those people, eh?) There are many other neat touches, as when Wan Tengri discovers a strange brass tube with a glass circle on each end, and finds that its magic lets him see farther than his naked eyes. Or the way the king of the bear-worshippers is protected by a metal curtain which has high voltage running through it. Obviously a bit ahead of their time, these proto-Ainu. Prester John has some sick interesting interpretations of Christian doctrine that might not fly today. Around his neck, he wears a piece of the True Cross (another one?! That thing must have been huge!) which he touches as a defense against black magic. He has made a promise to "Christos" to deliver fifty thousand new worshippers in exchange for occasional help in building his empire. ("It was a fine thing to have a god like Christos who cared only for more worshippers and not a tittle for the loot that might come through the conquest.") Theologians, please address your concerns about his beliefs to Norvell W. Page and not Dr Hermes Reviews™