Book Review: Märchenmond (Magic Moon) by Wolfgang and Heike Hohlbein

Märchenmond (translated: Magic Moon) by Wolfgang und Heike Hohlbein was one of this year's guilty pleasure reads. When I fell into the targeted age range for this novel (young adult fantasy), I took no interest in the genre, but I clearly remember one of my peers reading from the book when my class was given the task to introduce their favourite reads in a series of German lessons before the winter break. This must have been in year 5 (I was 10 years of age). Annika, if I recall the girl's name correctly, introduced us all to Hohlbein's Märchenmond, and whilst she was singing the author's praises, our German teacher proceeded to passionately deride Hohlbein and his opus in the aftermath of her presentation.

Annika's presentation did not capture my interest, whilst my German teacher's opinion on the quality of  Hohlbein's work did stay in the back of my mind for years to come. Nevertheless, I was fascinated by the cover of Annika's edition (the Ueberreuter hardback, which is pictured below). The cover intrigued me and I distinctly remember coveting her hardback copy. As my mother's view of Hohlbein's output turned out to be congruent with my teacher's opinion, my pleas to buy a copy of the book just for its cover naturally failed to convince her. 

Fast forward more than two decades and as part of my ongoing reading project on 1980s German fantasy literature, I finally bought my very own copy of Märchenmond. Not just because of the cover, but the cover art played a huge part in my decision to acquire the book. Of course, it had to be the Ueberreuter hardback edition with the artwork by Ernst Spalt. 

Wolfgang Hohlbein, Märchenmond, Ueberreuter 1st edition, cover art: Ernst Spalt  

Apart from eventually getting hold of the physical copy of this book, I also wanted to put Hohlbein to another test. Based on the sheer quantity of the author's assembly line output of fiction, Hohlbein is, solely from a commercial viewpoint, too prolific a writer and can simply not be ignored when it comes to contemporary German fantasy literature.

Having previously completed the first instalment of Hohlbein's Die Chronik der Unsterblichen in audiobook format, I wanted to give him another chance and explore at least one more book of his. As far as Chronik der Unsterblichen is concerned, I am certain that I shall not be pursuing this vampire series further. Following a promising start and an interesting premise, the story quickly descended into a seemingly never-ending, detailed and repetitive description of fight and torture scenes. 

I hoped that Märchenmond, which Wolfgang Hohlbein has written together with his wife Heike and which has evidently turned many of his readers into fans of the fantasy genre, would be a different experience, perhaps one that would convince me to read other Hohlbein titles. And the big question, of course, was, whether my German teacher would be vindicated in his assessment?

Märchenmond - Very Brief  Summary of the Plot

To sum up the plot, in Märchenmond we encounter Kim, a nine-year-old boy, whose younger sister, Rebecca, is not waking up from a coma following an operation. Kim later learns that his sister is held hostage by an evil magician by the name of Boraas. This interference is preventing her from regaining consciousness in the real world. 

To help Rebecca, Kim himself has to embark on a journey to Magic Moon. Yet, once Kim has arrived in Magic Moon, he soon finds that his quest to free his sister is inextricably linked to saving Magic Moon from destruction by Boraas and the dark forces he has unleashed. On his perilous voyage through Magic Moon, he encounters an array of magical beings and quirky characters, including a dragon, a speaking bear and a giant, who will form a fellowship to assist him in his adventures.

So far, so good. It all sounds like a fairly standard premise for a book in the genre.

My Verdict

What becomes obvious rather quickly is that Hohlbein has attempted to produce a copy of Michael Ende's Neverending Story, and a mediocre one at that. Of course, Hohlbein has also borrowed from other writers, including Tolkien and Lewis, the similarities between Ende's novel, which was published around four years prior in 1979, and Märchenmond, which was originally published in 1983, are striking. Bluntly put, the book is a blatant attempt to ride on the waves of Ende's success.

In both novels the protagonists leave the real world to save a magic realm. Both Bastian, the young boy in Ende's Neverending Story, and Kim in Märchenmond encounter an array of characters, including a dragon and a young warrior prince, and both have to face a series of challenges before their quest is completed. 

However, Ende's novel has depth and the author lovingly develops his characters, depicts his settings, engages in world building and designs a series of engaging challenges for his protagonists. In Märchenmond, on the other hand, Hohlbein simply copies the overall structure and characters of Ende's novel. However questionable this 'borrowing' of Ende's ideas may be, Hohlbein, also fails miserably in its execution, first and foremost by neglecting the development of his characters. Compared to the Neverending Story, Magic Moon remains a bland affair of haplessly assembled characters and plot elements. 

What's more, the absence of world-building in Märchenmond is striking, considering that the book is after all a fantasy novel. The reader is largely left in the dark about the workings and forces that govern this world and its people, or the motivation behind Boraas's hostile takeover. Instead, Kim seems to stumble from one encounter with the dark riders into the next, leading to repetitive descriptions of fight and combat scenes, which Hohlbein, going by my experience of Chronik der Unsterblichen, seems to relish. Other types of conflict, which would allow his characters to respond and develop in meaningful ways rather than engage in close body combat, are few and far between.

Kim's initial motivation, the salvation of his sister's soul, is hardly mentioned for the best part of the second half of the book. This element of the narrative is only picked-up towards the end. By then it almost appears as an afterthought. It is also never quite explained how Rebecca is actually linked to Magic Moon and its survival. In the final chapters of the book Kim and his companions encounter an ever-expanding array of settings and characters. How these fit into the hierarchy of Magic Moon is largely left untouched as well. Perhaps Hohlbein expands on these in the sequels to the book.

The moral of the story, whilst subtly delivered through the description of Bastian's experiences and interactions in Ende's book, is, by comparison, overtly thrust into the reader's face in an utterly awkward and clumsy 'tell, don't show' style. For large parts during the final pages of the book, it appears that Hohlbein was in a hurry to make sure the audience absorbs his moral message. As he's failed to do so throughout the book, he resorts to delivering this by way of overt description and exposition in the final chapters. This comes across as awkward and amateurish; and I felt almost embarrassed reading it. I am aware that this was Hohlbein's first published novel. Yet, some passages are so riddled with platitudes, it was an utterly cringeworthy reading experience.

As far as I am aware, out of more than 200 published Hohlbein titles (some of these are ghost-written), there are merely 3 of Hohlbein's books that have been translated into English, including Märchenmond, which was published as Magic Moon by Tokyo Pop in 2006. To this day, the book remains Hohlbein's biggest success. As is evident from Märchenmond, Hohlbein borrows his plots, themes and motifs from other writers in the field, including but not limited to Michael Ende, Stephen King, H.P. Lovecraft and J.R.R. Tolkien. 

Given this lack of an original contribution, to an English-speaking audience blessed with a wealth of contemporary and classic fantasy fiction, Hohlbein's output is clearly surplus to requirements and the quality of his work is surpassed by a large number of even mediocre writers in the genre. 

In a German context this looks somewhat different. There he often appears to be the author of choice of many, especially younger, German readers. Considering that not many German authors were writing in the genre back in the early eighties and not forgetting the commercial success of Ende's Neverending Story, there clearly was an unquenched demand for fantasy fiction amongst the wider German readership, which accounts somewhat for Märchenmond's prolonged success and continuing popularity. With the publication of Märchenmond, Hohlbein and his publisher were able to effortlessly tap into this demand. 

Yet, commercial success alone is not everything and certainly not a measure for quality. As far as Märchenmond is concerned, I wholeheartedly agree with my old German teacher. All those wishing to save themselves from a cringeworthy reading experience are well advised to give this one a miss. 

 

Book Review: Gallowglass by Barbara Vine (aka Ruth Rendell)

Gallowglass - Barbara Vine (Ruth Rendell), Harmony Books, 1990 - 1st American edition  

Before launching into my review of Gallowglass, I would like to make a few preliminary remarks. As Ruth Rendell (aka Barbara Vine) is one of my all-time favourite authors, I actually regret leaving a negative review for Gallowglass. Dating back to my late teens, Rendell has been a favourite author of mine and I am slowly but surely reading my way through Rendell's back catalogue of novels, novellas and short stories. Never particularly taking an interest in her Wexford series, I am a great fan of her standalone psychological suspense fiction, including those titles published under her nom de plume Barbara Vine.

If you check out my book shelf, you will always find, amongst the read copies, an unread Rendell / Vine, ready to be consumed when I am in the mood for another dose of her very special brand of psychological suspense. Luckily, Ruth Rendell, who sadly died in 2015, was a prolific writer and I am thankfully not going to run out of titles any time soon. Many of the titles I have read, I would class as favourite reads, including The Killing Doll, Lake of Darkness, One Across Two Down and the Tree of Hands. 

Numerous of Rendell's plots and motifs stayed with me a long time after reading. Despite having read her novel Grasshopper many, many years ago, I still habitually think of this book and its roof-climbing protagonists, gazing at the rows of terraced houses from the train when I am travelling into London. I can therefore safely say that Rendell's fiction and her style of writing have made a long-lasting impression on me. I am by no means saying that all of her titles are ground-breaking works of fiction. Nevertheless, as far as entertainment is concerned, I have thus far never come across a major let-down. 

Unfortunately, apart from delivering an unexpected twist at the end of the plot, a let-down is what Gallowglass was, at least in my opinion. As a consequence it took me around twelve months to finish this book. I stopped reading two thirds into the novel last November. Around the same time I discovered the BBC mini-series, which I (BIG MISTAKE!) finished watching before completing the book. (For all those interested: The BBC TV adaptation closely follows the book and I would not hesitate recommending it to all those wishing to avoid reading the book.) 

It comes as no surprise that watching the TV adaptation caused me to completely lose my motivation to finish reading Gallowglass until I forced myself through the remaining 75 pages last weekend. Had the book not been written by one of my favourite authors, I might have relegated it back onto the shelf half-read. 

There are several problems with Gallowglass and whilst I cannot really put my finger on it, here are the two main reasons why I only moderately enjoyed this book: 

• The perspective / tone of voice: 

I cannot think of any examples of Rendell / Vine books, in which the author has chosen to tell the story from a character's perspective. Gallowglass, however, is in parts (around half of the chapters) told from the perspective of Little Joe, one of the story's main protagonists. The remainder of the book is narrated from the perspective of a third person narrator. 

In the chapters told from Little Joe's point of view Vine / Rendell naturally adapts her style and language to suit the character's linguistic abilities. Given Little Joe's  background, these abilities are limited, which is reflected in his tone of voice, the conclusions he draws and the observations he makes. If you appreciate Rendell's succinct, elegant and detached mode of storytelling and prose, please be advised that you will not get this for very long stretches of this novel. Whilst reading, I could literally feel that I was trying to read through Little Joe's account of the story quickly, in order to get to the next chapter and be reunited with the third person narrator. 

• Contrived plot / inconsistencies: 

In Gallowglass Rendell / Vine keeps the plot moving at a steady pace, whilst managing to provide accounts of historic events, the characters' backgrounds and motivations. Nevertheless, I felt that the novel was full of incongruities. Why, for example, security magnate Apsoland would employ an ex-teacher (Garnet) without a professional background in security to provide chauffeur services and ensure the personal protection of his wife Nina, aka the Princess, eludes me. 

This point of criticism comes to bear later in the novel as well. Yet, for the sake of keeping this review spoiler-free, let's just say that Apsoland's employee selection and screening processes seem to lack depth. Given Apsoland's profession and stated obsession with security, this was one of the many preposterous elements of the plot and an inconsistency that continued to jar with me until the end, for it is both unbelievable and completely unrealistic, but was also a necessary element to achieve a coherent, albeit contrived, story and the all-important surprise twist at the end.

Sadly, for these reasons I simply did not enjoy the book as much as I would have liked. Gallowglass, however, does not reflect the quality of Rendell's / Vine's other output  and luckily for me, there are many more Rendell / Vine novels to discover. Even though Gallowglass did not convince me, having just started (actually almost finished) The Bridesmaid, Rendell will certainly not lose me as a constant reader.

Book Review: Dark Dance by Tanith Lee

Dark Dance (Bloof Opera I), by Tanith Lee, 1992, Macdonald & Co
Cover Art: uncredited 

Tanith Lee has come up in a number of my Goodreads reading suggestions and on the back of these recommendations I decided to actually read something written by the author earlier this year. 

I came across several of her titles, including Silver Metal Lover and Electric Forest, which all sounded appealing, but decided to make a start with Dark Dance, which is the first book in Lee's Blood Opera series. 

As some of Lee's titles command quite a highish price tag on the second-hand book market, my decision to settle for Dark Dance was partially influenced by the availability of the hardback first edition for a reasonable price and, I have to admit, I liked the book's cover. (Sadly, the cover artist is not credited.)

Plot Summary -  Dark Dance by Tanith Lee

Jumping straight into a summary of this book without giving too much away: 

The story follows our heroine Rachaela Day from the point when she is plucked from her solitary and mundane life as a bookshop assistant in London to live with her father's family, the Scarabae, on the family's country estate, up to the point when her then 11-year-old daughter Ruth arrives to join the Scarabae family a decade later.

Having been brought up as an only child by her estranged and now deceased single-mother, Rachaela is at first reluctant to join her relatives. (She has thus far never met her father.) Yet, as circumstances appear to conspire against her, she eventually embarks on the journey to meet and live with this rather weird bunch of characters.

The Scarabae family is made up of a multitude of extremely long-lived oddballs, who idle away their days galloping through the house on toy horses or defiling books in the library before gathering at regular intervals for seagull stews and roast rabbit dinners. (The interaction between Rachaela and the Scarabae takes place almost exclusively during dinner time.)

Following a rather disconcerting nightly encounter with the most reclusive member of the family, Adamus Scarabae, Rachaela's father, the family's dark secrets (a tradition of intergenerational, incestuous relationships mixed-in with a moderate amount of vampire-like behaviours) are gradually unveiled to Rachaela and the reader. 

Overwhelmed by the enormity of it all in combination with an unwillingness to yield to Scarabae family tradition and play her part in this 'familial arrangement', Rachaela makes a first attempt at returning into her old life, but due to abysmal public transport links (Tanith Lee delivers a humorous, yet totally factual, and thus damning indictment of the British public transport infrastructure in these passages) Rachaela is soon retrieved by her very own father, for whom she is, much to her own dismay and bewilderment, now harbouring sexual attraction. 

Following their passionate encounter in the aftermath of Rachaela's 'repatriation' to the Scarabae family home, Adamus, however, reverts to his reclusive lifestyle within the tower. Ignored and neglected by her absent lover and bored-out by the remainder of the geriatric family members, Rachaela decides to embark on a second escape from the family, which ends in her return to London.

Here she intends to take-up her old lifestyle, but finds herself pregnant with Adamus's child. For the ensuing eleven years, we witness how Rachaela fits her life around her unwanted daughter, Ruth, until the family finally start stalking Ruth, who readily abandons her mother to take-up residence with the Scarabae. 

In the aftermath of her daughter's departure from London, Rachaela follows Ruth to the estate. Motivated for the most part by jealousy of Ruth, who is now at the centre of the Scarabae's and, above all, Adamus's attention, and by a sense of maternal duty rather than genuine concern for her daughter's emotional wellbeing, Rachaela attempts to extract Ruth from the family's clutches, but has to resign herself to the role of a bystander, witnessing both Ruth's betrothal to Adamus and her eventual revolt against the family's rulebook. 

Verdict

Dark Dance was quite something else and I am at a loss how to best assign this book to a genre, though I would agree that, purely for the sake of assigning a genre label to the story, I think Urban Dark Fantasy probably sums it up nicely. Perhaps even Urban Dark Erotic Vampire Fantasy? How does that sound?

Yes, there are vampires or vampiric elements, but this aspect of the story is not really touched upon in great detail and the reader is largely left in the dark about the specific nature of the Scarabae-type vampire. Some reviewers highlighted the erotic elements within the story. Yet, despite the explicit nature of a handful of passages, I wouldn't describe Dark Dance as Erotica or Erotic Fantasy either. The book is not exactly littered with descriptions of erotic scenes. 

Yes, Dark Dance contains explicit references and descriptions of intergenerational incest. Some readers clearly are put off by this. Deal with it, or don't. It's the premise of the book. I repeat: Dark Dance is about incest as a longstanding tradition practised within the Scarabae family. The plot revolves around it, the family's peculiar characteristics and, above all, their longevity are derived (somehow) through the practice of incest. If you are put-off by references to and the description of incest, don't read Dark Dance. Your choice. 

Yes, the storyelling remains at times rather vague, both in respect of the characterisation of  the main protagonists, their motivations and their backstories. However, through this omission of backstory and lack of explanation Dark Dance derives its appeal (at least for me), i.e. through the elements of the plot, which are not touched upon. The unexplained adds to the appeal of the book.

As a deliberate stylistic choice, this ommission adds a layer of mystery and kept me guessing and pondering about the protagonists' choices and motivations long after finishing the book. Why, for example, is Adamus opting for a reclusive lifestyle away from the family, whilst at the same time complying with its traditions? What is the reason behind the persecution of the family, their residence in exile and how did they come to be what they are today in the first place? I am very much hoping that some of these aspects will be addressed in Personal Darkness, the second instalment of the Blood Opera series, which I shall definitely be getting hold of.

Lastly, I have to mention that I enjoyed Lee's style of writing immensely. It's evocative, atmospheric, sparse at times and not overly descriptive. She has an incredibly subtle sense of humour, which brilliantly came to life in her depiction of Rachaela's transport nightmare following her first escape from the estate, and she is extremely apt at conveying deadpan humour through dialogue. I will certainly be reading more by Tanith Lee.

Book Review - The Killing Doll by Ruth Rendell

The Killing Doll, first released in 1984, showcases Rendell's tremendous talent as a writer of psychological suspense, and being the first Rendell I ever picked up, it introduced me to her work some twenty years ago. It also turned me into what I would describe as a constant reader. Though years may pass without reading one of her novels, there is usually an unread Rendell on my shelves. As soon as I have completed it, another appears to fill the void. 

At the age of 85 Ruth Rendell very sadly passed away in May 2015. Yet, thanks to her prolific output spanning over fifty years and comprising of over sixty titles, I will not be running out of reading material for a while. Though I am not overly keen on her Inspector Wexford series, I am particularly fond of her stand-alone, psychological suspense novels and the books she chose to publish under her pseudonym Barbara Vine. 

Ruth Rendell (17 February 1930 – 2 May 2015)

Too eager to explore her plots and to meet more of her ill-fated characters, I have thus far never ventured into re-reading my Rendell / Vine books. As The Killing Doll was my first ever Rendell, which I read back then in its German translation Der Pakt (The Pact), I thought it was time to make an exception and get hold of the original, English version for a re-read. I was not to be disappointed.

Ruth Rendell - The Killing Doll, 1984, Book Club Associates Edition 

Judging by other readers' reviews, The Killing Dolll seems to divide opinions, both between seasoned fans and those new to Rendell's work. Whichever side of the fence you are on, the book appears to provoke strong emotions in both camps. Whilst some praise it for its tight plotting and unexpected twist at the end, others seem to criticise it for its alleged lack of pace, the absence of likeable characters and its subject matter; i.e. the protagonists' dabbling in the occult. 

The plot by and large centres around the Yearman family, comprising of siblings Dolly and Pup as well as their widowed father Harold. Coinciding with Mrs Yearman's demise, Pup begins to dabble in magic rituals, selling his soul to devil in exchange for worldly goods and, above all, physical growth. He enlists the help of his sister Dolly, an apt seamstress, who - owing to a facial disfigurement - has  very few social contacts and leads an isolated life mostly confined to and maintaining the family's home. 

Dolly sews Pup's ceremonial robe and is from time to time allowed to attend the so-called 'temple', which Pup has created in an unused room in the house, whilst their father - oblivious to the ceremonial magic practised under his roof - is completely absorbed by his obsession with historical fiction and, eventually, his new wife, Myra.

Following Mrs Yearman's death, Dolly's interest in occult matters is amplified when she attends a number of seances and gets further fuelled by her desire to employ magic in order to banish Myra from the family home. Yet, after discovering his business acumen and penchant for casual sex with a string of affairs, both Pub's emotional connection to his sister and involvement with the occult are waning, and he is increasingly viewing his preoccupation with magic as a childish pastime obsession. Though still fond of his sister, both his sexual proclivities and newly found role as a businessman leave little time to devote to his sister's emotional well-being.

Despite this, Pup continues to perform rituals to please his sister, thereby continuing to fuel her belief in his abilities. When in the aftermath of one such ceremony involving the ritual stabbing of Myra's effigy in the form of a cloth doll, Myra is discovered dead in the Yearman's bathroom, Dolly's belief in the efficacy of her brother's geomancy is reaffirmed, triggering a fateful spiral of events and further accelerating Dolly's descent into madness. 

To me, The Killing Doll delivers perhaps one of the best contemporary depictions of a protagonist's gradual descent into substance abuse and schizophrenia as well as the concomitant circumstances of isolation and dysfunctional family relations, which in the end enable the condition to take hold and completely engulf the individual.

I therefore firmly belong into the camp of those, who did not merely enjoy the novel but would also recommend it to all those wishing to explore Rendell's body of work further. After all, to maintain the reader's interest, characters do not have to be likeable. Quite the contrary. Childish preoccupations such as dabbling in occult writings and rituals as well as unexpected chance encounters (similar to the one at the end of the book) can have fateful consequences and are therefore utterly believable. As for the alleged lack of pace, I would argue that Rendell does not deviate from her usual norm and succinct style, telling a story spanning a timeframe of over five years in the space of less than 240 pages suggests that the book is not cluttered with unnecessary detail.

German Fantasy Literature of the 1970s and 1980s - A preliminary reading list and an ongoing reading project

I am not entirely sure when exactly I started toying with the idea of creating a reading list for popular German fantasy fiction published in the late 1970s and 1980s, but I believe it coincided with the time when I was reunited with my copy of Hans Bemmann's 'Stein und Flöte' (english title: The Stone and the Flute) some six months ago.

Hans Bemmann - The Stone and the Flute (Stein ind Floete), Goldmann

Shortly after its arrival, Stein ind Flöte (first published in 1983) was allocated a space on my bookshelves and ended up in the fantasy section, where it is currently leading a lonely existence as the only fantasy novel written by a German-speaking author. (My copy of Michael Ende's Neverending Story is currently back home in Germany.)

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the fantasy section of my shelf is populated by a diverse bunch of primarily British or American authors, who have traditionally dominated the genre. Other nationalities appear to be conspicuously absent. As a result, I got intrigued and decided to delve a little deeper into the matter in order to see whether I could locate works that fit the fantasy label and were published in Germany during the 1970s and 1980s. Ende and Bemmann aside, who else was at the time writing similar books in Germany? Who inspired authors like Ende and Bemmann; and who, in turn, was inspired by their work?

I am aware of the widely embraced distinction between Fantasy Fiction and Phantastik in German-speaking literary circles. In my view this separation constitutes an artificial barrier, which is perhaps necessary for an academic engagement with the matter. For the purposes of my investigation, however, I shall continue to refer to the genre as 'Fantasy' to avoid complicating matters unnecessarily. All those familiar with Ende's Die Unendliche Geschichte (Neverending Story), which was first published in 1979, will probably agree that the fantasy label fits the book rather well and I will thus use it as a descriptor going forward. 

With this in mind, I started my search for books that would fit the description. To be added to the reading list, candidates had to fulfil two criteria: they had to be first published in Germany during the 1970s and 1980s and should be categorised as 'Fantasy'. Science fiction was to be strictly exempt from the list. Reading lists showcasing the German contribution to science fiction are easily obtainable as is evident by this Goodreads reading list, featuring all of the Kurd Lasswitz award winners to date: 

https://www.goodreads.com/list/show/127293.Kurd_La_witz_Award_Winners

At this point I was still blissfully unaware that I had set myself a rather ambitious task. Collating and locating reading lists on specific topics is normally never a real issue. Most of the time someone else has already done the hard work, completed the research and compiled a ready-made reading list. All that's usually necessary is to review and eventually source the books in question. Not on this occasion.

Initial searches on the web yielded almost no results and didn't provide much further insight or suggestions on how best to tackle the question. Amongst the names that came up repeatedly were authors Wolfgang and Heike Hohlbein, who, particularly when considering their commercial success, have earned their place in any list on German fantasy fiction. Beyond that, there was a heap of suggestions, including contemporary German fantasy authors such as Bernhard Hennen or Cornelia Funke, whose works were published from the late 1990s onwards and therefore did not meet my selection criteria. 

Gnook suggestions for Wolfgang Hohlbein

Gnooks, which I love consulting for book recommendations (if you are not familiar you should pay the site a visit, as it can be an invaluable resource when looking for author suggestions) also didn't come up with viable options for my list.

By sheer chance, I came across Robert Corvus's discussion of Georg Zauner's 1981 science fiction novel Die Enkel der Raketenbauer, which led me to further investigate the author. 

It turns out that Zauner is not only a Kurd-Laßwitz award winner (the most prestigious award for science fiction literature in Germany) and the father of Stefan Zauner (ex lead singer of epic pop formation Münchener Freiheit) but also wrote fantasy fiction. Zauner's Marana oder die Hochzeit der Elfe met all the selection criteria for my reading project and therefore made its way on to my list.

Georg Zauner, Marana oder die Hochzeit der Elfe (Verlag: Benziger, 1984)

Whilst Zauner's Enkel der Raketenbauer appears to be somewhat of a rarity and currently commands a high(ish) price amongst collectors, a hardback copy of Marana oder die Hochzeit der Elfe (Benziger, 1984) can be purchased with relative ease and for a comparatively modest amount.

Robert Corvus discussing Georg Zauner's Die Enkel der Raketenbauer

Following this initial breakthrough, I was soon running out of suggestions again until, once more by sheer coincidence, I discovered an anthology of modern German Fantasy short stories, which I was able to source without problems. 

Jörg Weigand (editor) Vergiss nicht den Wind - Neue deutsche Fantasy-Geschichten, Bastei Lübbe, 1983, Cover Art: Tim White

Edited by Jörg Weigand and originally published by Bastei Lübbe in 1983, Vergiss nicht den Wind, features fantasy short stories by twelve German authors, including Wolfgang Hohlbein, Lothar Streblow, Dietrich Wachler, Bernhard Kreimeier, Iny Klocke, Ulrich Harbecke and Ulrich Weise. This selection of short stories aims to showcase, as stated by Weigand in the preface to my edition, that '[...] German fantasy literature can be equally as entertaining and fascinating as its Anglo-american counterpart [...]'.

We shall see.

If nothing else, as an anthology Vergiss nicht den Wind might offer a few possible starting points for further research. For now, I'm pleased that I was able to populate my preliminary reading list, albeit sparsely and with difficulty, and managed to get my reading project off the ground. Who would have thought that information on popular German fantasy fiction and genre authors of the period in question is so scarce and difficult to come by? Especially considering Ende's monumental publishing success with Die unendliche Geschichte, I would have expected a fair number of authors riding the fantasy wave at the time.

Suggestions for suitable reading material that fits the criteria for my selection are gratefully received. 

Book Review: Dark Harvest by Norman Partridge

It's 1963, it's Halloween and in a secluded backwater somewhere in the US teenage boys are being starved by their parents and locked away in their bedrooms, whilst waiting for the town's yearly hunting ritual to begin.

Somewhere in a cornfield outside town the October Boy, a pumpkin vine dressed as a scarecrow featuring a carved head and candy stuffing, awakes and returns to be hunted down by the community's teenage boys. Any number of perks and a chance for a fresh start await the winners of the race and their families. It's therefore no surprise that all the 'lucky' winners of previous hunts have escaped this small-town setting, never to be seen again by those they left behind.

Dark Harvest by Norman Patridge, TOR 2007, Cover Illustration by Jon Foster

Book Review - Lady Of Light (Westria Book No 1) by Diana L Paxson

As can be expected from the first book of a series, Lady of Light sets the scene and introduces the reader to the main protagonists of Paxson's Westria Series. The plot takes place after the so called 'Cataclysm', a divine intervention which destroyed the previous civilisation and its technical advancements. As a result, Westrians inhabit a medieval-type, feudal setting and believe in a pagan-style religion, in which the Gods and Goddesses are worshipped in elaborate rituals. Access to the divine powers can be established with the help of a set of crystals, representing the elements of fire, water, earth and wind.

Since the mid-2000s Paxson (born: 1943) has primarily written non-fiction on spiritual as well as mythological topics, establishing herself as a well-respected voice within the fields of Asatru (the worship of Norse Gods and Goddesses) and Runes. She has also carried on writing books in Marion Zimmer Bradley's Avalon series, on which she has collaborated for a number of years (partially uncredited) whilst Bradley was still alive. Following her passing, Paxson has authored a number of  instalments in the series on her own, the last one being Sword of Avalon.

Though not as widely discussed amongst readers, Diana Paxson is also known for her Westria novels, the Chronicles of Westria: a series of 8 books set in the fictional kingdom of the same name, a post-industrialist state with feudal structures. The first book in the series, Lady of Light, was originally published in 1982. It was followed by the release of Lady of Darkness in 1983. Initially published as individual instalments, TOR released a volume titled Mistress of the Jewels, which combined both books into one edition in 1991. On the cover of Mistress of the Jewels it is wrongly stated that this edition contained the first book of the series. To avoid any doubt and confusion, the author's website provides the definitive chronology and further information on the various editions. It can be found here.

Mistress of the Jewels, The Chronocles of Westria Book 1 and 2 - Diana L Paxson, Cover Illustration by Thomas Canty, Publisher TOR, 1991

Summary and Review - The Planet Savers by Marion Zimmer Bradley (Darkover Series)

An extremely short novella and initially released in 1958 in one of the pulp magazines, The Planet Savers is understood to be the first published short story / novella set on Zimmer Bradley's Darkover. 

It's a fairly quick read, easy to source (available in various print editions and as a digital download) and most readers of the Darkover books probably have come across it at one point or another. It's not necessary to make it your starting point, if you wish to delve into the world of Darkover (the books do not have to be read in order of publication), but it's as good a starting point as any - or it might perhaps be an interesting add-on for readers already familiar with the setting.

In The Planet Savers Darkover's population (Terrans and Darkovans alike) are threatened by the outbreak of a deadly virus for which no cure or vaccination exists. Only the tree-dwelling Trailmen living in the hostile mountain ranges of the Hellers seem to be immune to the fever. 

Book Review: American Coven by Amy Cross

My first venture into the literary world of Amy Cross. It was a bizarre ride. 

Cross appears to be an author with a prolific digital output and a minimal, almost non-existent personal presence on the web. A large number of her many titles are currently available as free downloads on Amazon. That's exactly where I came across American Coven, which was suggested to me as a recommendation - most likely as a result of having purchased quite a few dark horror novels with supernatural elements in my time. American Coven fits that description rather well. 

American Coven - Amy Cross

Book Review: Disordered Minds by Minette Walters

Diligently working my way through all the unread books on my shelf, I finished Disordered Minds by Minette Walters a couple of weeks ago. Taking place in the early 2000s, the plot of the mystery unfolds against the backdrop of the British / American offensive in Iraq back in 2003. The main protagonists, Jonathan and George, set out to exonerate a convicted murderer, Howard Stamp, posthumously. 

Disordered Minds - Minette Walters