Just to prove that my life hasn't been wholly consumed by Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, here's the run-down of what I've been reading, or have read, lately:


Pride of Carthage by David Anthony Durham

I've always had an interest in Hannibal, ever since reading Harold Lamb's highly fictional bio of the Carthaginian general while I was in grade school; indeed, Men of Bronze's Hasdrabal Barca belongs to the same illustrious family. Thus, I picked up this book with great glee. Durham's style is far more literary than I'm accustomed to seeing in the HF genre, which made it -- as Carla pointed out in a previous comment -- a ponderous read. But, once I got into it, I warmed more and more to the style of writing and even earmarked things to try in my own books. Insofar as I could tell (I'm not a Roman-o-phile) the author knows his subject; his portrayal of Hannibal is excellent and I found his battle scenes brutal and brilliantly done. I would recommend this one.


The Afghan Campaign by Steven Pressfield

Salivating. That's the only way to describe how I've awaited a new Pressfield novel. His Gates of Fire remains at the pinnacle of the ancient historical sub-genre. I'm also quite fond of Tides of War; his first novel of Alexander, Virtues of War, contains the best character sketch of Memnon of Rhodes I've ever read. Yes. I've been salivating over the release of The Afghan Campaign*. Nor was I disappointed. It follows two Macedonian recruits fresh from the homeland as they join Alexander's army in Sogdiana and Bactria -- what we moderns call Afghanistan. For three years, the natives of the region fought a harrowing guerilla war against the Macedonians that only ended after Alexander's political marriage to Rhoxane, the daughter of a powerful Afghan warlord. Pressfield describes the years of slaughter, and its effect on the young soldiers, with all the color and brutality you might expect. Don't pick it up expecting another Gates of Fire -- heroes of that caliber have no place in this gritty, Vietnam-style narrative.


Who's Who in the Age of Alexander the Great by Waldemar Heckel

By no means 'light reading', this encyclopedic reference contains over 800 biographies culled from the historical record -- basically anyone who ever came into contact with Alexander, from Persian grandees to Indian ascetics to his own corps of loyal Macedonians. They're all there, along with extensive footnotes and sources. I swear, it's like an idea generator for HF set in the age of Alexander . . .





*And it doesn't hurt that this one came out a month before Memnon: it generates interest for the era and, by putting my name on Mr. Pressfield's amazon.com page, gives me an excellent set of coat-tails on which to ride. Ahhh, positioning . . .

For a first time effort, I think the Great Book Giveaway of 2006 was a success! Amid the comments there were eleven entries. Problem is, out of those eleven I couldn't pick just two -- even at random. No, really . . . I suck at that sort of thing because I want everyone to win. So . . . everyone wins! All eleven of you will receive a hardback copy of Memnon and one of the new paperbacks of Men of Bronze!

To the right, under my profile, click email me and let me know your shipping address and if you want your copies autographed. I will then get your copies in the mail to you ASAP. Thanks for playing :)

This evening, I'll share my thoughts on Durham's Pride of Carthage . . . and the book I finished in the wee hours this morning: Steven Pressfield's The Afghan Campaign.

Last week, my gargoyle-esque vigil over my mailbox, my routine of endlessly peeking through the curtains in hopes of seeing a white van bearing a FedEx logo, came to an abrupt end. Indeed, it snuck up on me. One minute, I was sipping tea and trying to wrangle a description of the Libyan landscape from a black and white photo; the next, I was being summoned by a solid knocking at my door.

Memnon arrived! After the requisite capering, along with a bit of unrestrained salivating, I was able to focus enough to open the box and draw out my first copy. It's a beautiful book; the jpeg I have posted really doesn't do it justice. The colors are richer, crisper, and in the photos you can't see the underlying stucco-like background. The central image of the fighting hoplites is glossy while the rest of the cover is matte, almost like a polished tile set into a wall. The title is carved in relief (I think the technical term is embossed; it's not raised but rather lowered). As with Men of Bronze, the pages are ragged on the long edge. Inside, it's full of those little touches that make Medallion books so spiffy -- hoplite figures reminiscent of old vase paintings decorate the section dividers (the book is organized into sections based around specific events in Memnon's career), a sharp font, tiny warrior glyphs as page breaks. There are a few more, but I'll let them be a surprise.

And the text itself is virtually error free. Sure, I've found a few places where I wish I'd used a different word, where I questioned my logic in writing a specific sentence, but I've yet to find a single hiccup added (or overlooked) in production. So, allow me to publicly gush and be effusive over the talents of Adam Mock and Jim Tampa, who handled art and production, as well as my editor Ross Plotkin, who caught and corrected a metric crapload of my errors. Thanks guys!

Now, I want to give a couple of copies away :) In the comments to this post, write down the title of the last book you read. The deadline will be midnight CST on Wednesday, July 26. I'll draw two names from those who participate and send the winners TWO books: a hardcover copy of Memnon AND a paperback copy of Men of Bronze! As PBW says: giveaway open to everyone on the planet :)

Last book I read? Pride of Carthage by David Anthony Durham.

Once again, I have been sucked into the vortex that is fantasy role-playing. But not with dice. No, not this time. Also without my usual band of jolly gamers. That's right. No clink of dice, no witty banter, no sugar overload from too many glasses of Milo's Sweet Tea. This time, I've gone high-tech.

I gave myself an Xbox 360 (kind of as an early Christmas/late birthday present) and with it I picked up Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. Yeah, huge mistake. Writing? What writing*?

Actually, Oblivion is a visually stunning game. If you're unfamiliar with the 360, it basically has the processing power of two or three desktop computers, all enslaved to the idea of playing games. The little details in Oblivion boggle the mind: the weather changes, clouds move, animals traipse by, you can watch sunrises, sunsets (which, I am not ashamed to admit, I did from the lighthouse of the southern port city of Anvil) . . . it's a tiny electronic world of several hundred square miles that's fully explorable. It's main storyline is as epic as you would expect a fantasy storyline to be, an emperor assassinated, evil encroaching, and a mystery to solve. But then, as you travel, you stumble across ruins, dungeons, and villages, each adding more options for gameplay. This is what we used to do with pen, paper, and dice.

Yeah, yeah, I know I have a book to write. But, dammit, the life of my 5th level Orc warrior Gothmog (subtle homage to both Tolkien and you, my good blog-mates) is hanging in the balance! He needs me . . . well, he needs my thumbs and trigger fingers, at least . . .


*Blame my friend, Darren. He started playing it first and then got me hooked, kind of like an FRPG crack dealer: "The first taste is freeeeeeee!"

Robert Duvall might like the smell of napalm in the morning, but give me the smell of new books any day. This past week, I received a spiffy FedEx from across the pond which contained a couple of paperback copies of the Bantam UK edition of Men of Bronze. They were double bagged, so to speak, and thus, once I tore into the inner envelope, I was nigh overcome by the sweet, sweet aroma of fresh ink and high-grade recycled paper. Oh, nirvana . . .

Soon, I'm anticipating the arrival of my copies of Memnon from Medallion. Wait. Anticipating is too weak a word. I'm perched on my mailbox like a chubby, bespectacled Harpy in khaki shorts, flip-flops, and a T-shirt, drooling into my unkempt goatee. Indeed, I carry a Memnon cover flat around where ever I go and often refer to it as "my preciousssssssss!". Really, I pity the poor guy who has to deliver that particular parcel.

Never fear, though. I plan on sharing the wealth. Watch this space in the next couple of weeks for chances to win paperback copies of Men of Bronze, hardcovers of Memnon, and a grand prize which includes the whole 'Scott Oden Library' (yeah, both books -- in hardcover, no less). I'm not yet sure what the contest will entail, but it's not likely to be too hard -- even if it involves Egyptology, Greek history, the stories of Robert E. Howard, and Tolkien trivia (and by damn, the Holy Grail would be the one question that spans all of those).

Ooohh, just for funsies: who was the lieutenant of the Witch-King of Angmar at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields? And no Googling . . .

For the bulk of my admittedly miniscule writing career, I've been attempting to teach myself how to navigate change. On my best days I'm only mildly inflexible; on my worst I'm like granite, resistant to anything short of a chisel or jackhammer. I'll be blunt: I. Hate. Change.

But, change is part of the human condition. That I can admit this at all is proof of how far I've come. I've also learned that such a sense of absolute rigidity makes the publishing industry all the more difficult. From what I can tell, the whole industry operates in a sort of marginally-controlled chaos. Writers rise and fall; editors move from house to house like literary ronin, their wicked red pens for sale to the highest bidder, or they change sides altogether and become agents; agents become editors; new people make the jump from intern to assistant; veterans quit, become disillusioned, retire. And always there's an unending stream of voices clamoring to be heard. This, I'm told, is the reality of publishing.

Not even a smaller house like Medallion is immune. If anything, it's more susceptible to the chaos than its larger cousins. If you frequent Medallion's home page, then you're aware of some of the changes that have been occuring -- dear friends leaving for new opportunities, others taking on added responsibility, new faces, new names . . . and above all the specter of illness. Read this month's Editor's Corner and you'll understand.

So, tonight I'm drinking a toast to my friends who are moving on, to the new people I'll be working with, and to Helen for her continued recovery. And I'm giving myself a little pat on the back for not doing my best Chicken Little imitation ("The sky is falling!"), and for not freaking out when Medjay's release date changed to December '07.

Oh no, that one is surely a blessing in disguise . . .