All posts by Lars Walker

The ‘Mountain’ in my hand

The package arrived yesterday. At last, after many a year, I can hold a paper version of Hailstone Mountain in my tremblous hand.

The book is thinner than I expected. I suppose that’s because of the 6”x9” format – more words per page. I’m used to thinking in terms of what’s called “mass market paperbacks,” the roughly pocket-sized books you generally see on racks in stores (or used to). For some reason, we self-publishers seem to gravitate toward a larger size. Perhaps we’re compensating.

Maybe the cream paper that I didn’t select would have been a little thicker, too.

In any case, my books are my children, and I’ve known this one only electronically up to now. Like having a kid whose mother took custody and then moved to California – you only know him through Zoom calls. Now at last he’s made his way to my doorstep. He needs money, of course.

I wonder how I should deal with selling these things at Viking events, as one by one they get instantiated in the physical universe. My bestseller at events is Viking Legacy. After that, it’s The Year of the Warrior (the paper version I have printed, not yet available on Amazon). West Oversea comes in third. This one follows in the sequence. I figure demand for each successive book should be smaller than for the previous one. I anticipate carrying a couple cartons of the later books of the saga with me to events, but I don’t imagine I’ll have to stock as many of those. It’s already a lot of cartons to lug around.

At the festival in Green Bay, I was signing somebody’s book and they complimented my handwriting. This surprised me. I’ve always considered my handwriting awful, for the practical reason that it’s hard to read. My writing may possess a certain grace of form, but it’s not pragmatically effective.

I wish my art to be useful as well as aesthetic. But not enough to write slower.

‘The Road to Middle-Earth,’ by Tom Shippey

This was Tolkien’s major linguistic heresy. He thought that people could feel history in words, could recognize language ‘styles’, could extract sense (of sorts) from sound alone, could moreover make aesthetic judgments based on phonology. He said the sound of ‘cellar door’ was more beautiful than the sound of ‘beautiful’. He clearly believed that untranslated elvish would do a job that English could not.

I didn’t really know what I was getting into when I bought Tom Shippey’s The Road to Middle-Earth. I had read his Tolkien biography, Author of the Century, and generally enjoyed it. When I stopped to see my friend Dale Nelson recently, he praised TRTME as one of his most prized books. So I thought I’d give it a try.

And it is a fine work. A deep-diving overview of J. R. R. Tolkien’s ideas, work life, and achievements. But it may have been more of a book than this reader was qualified to handle.

I was pleased that the author seems to have moderated his comments about Augustinianism and Manicheanism, which (in my opinion) went too far in his Tolkien biography, where he actually labels C. S. Lewis a Manichean. What he’s actually talking about is our conception of evil – is it (as Augustine – and C. S. Lewis, whatever Shippey says – insisted) a lack, a corruption of the good, or does it have existence in itself? He seems to be convinced that if you believe the Augustinian view, you can’t really embody evil in a character. I’ve never accepted that – it’s enough to have a character submit to evil and live out its qualities.

My personal difficulty with the book, I’m afraid, was that I haven’t read enough of the post-Rings Tolkien material. I’ve read the Silmarillion, and several of the books involving single stories, but I couldn’t make it through the books of Lost Tales, and never even tried to read The History of Middle Earth. That means that a lot of the material Shippey deals with in the later chapters of this book was unknown, or only vaguely known, to me.

But if you’re a true Tolkien geek, I would say this is a book you absolutely ought to read. It’s been revised twice, and the author conscientiously corrects previous errors (mostly errors of ignorance).

Highly recommended, for its proper audience.

Hurricane memories, and writing update

Photo credit: Laura Adai. Unsplash license.

I don’t follow the news obsessively, but my impression is that, in terms of Hurricane Milton, things could have been a lot worse. It seems as if the storm hit with less force than expected. No doubt there has been great loss and suffering, but apparently it might have been worse.

Almost as if our prayers had efficacy.

So I’ll come out and say it, and let the skeptics laugh at me (since they will anyway) – thanks and praise be to God.

I can never forget my Florida years, when I lived in a mobile home and ruminated much on hurricanes in my lonely bed. One year a bad one (I think it was called Aaron. Or Erin) hit while I was on vacation in Minnesota. I came home to find my tin house almost unscathed – but the screen porch had been excised as neatly as if by a surgeon’s knife. The only damage to the main structure was a slit in a window screen.

That looked like divine timing in my case. I had recently lost my job, and I took the insurance money for the porch and lived on it, until I got work back home in the north. I sold the house without a porch.

I am currently in the toils of shaping The Elder King up for its paperback regeneration. I’m finding more than one spot where I’d like to do some re-writing, but I am practicing restraint. I don’t want the e-book and the dead tree version to be too different from one another. I only change obvious – and small – errors. Mostly.

But I just discovered that a certain character, when I introduced him in this book, looked differently from the way I describe him in The Baldur Game. Which means I’ll have to dip into TBG and make some changes tomorrow. I guess it’s another divine providence that publication has been delayed.

Though I have no doubt there are myriad inconsistencies I’ve missed completely, and with which I’ll just have to live.

Leif Eriksson Day 2024

Painting of Leif Eriksson by the Norwegian artist Christian Krohg. Krohg liked his models, male and female, to have a little meat on their bones.

I’m thinking a lot about the people of Florida today. I lived there eleven years, you know, and if I still lived in my old house, I’d be in the path – though on the opposite side of the state, so chances are the damage will be less there. But many a night I lay in bed thinking about hurricanes. More about that, perhaps, tomorrow.

I feel I should acknowledge Leif Eriksson Day, a holiday we Norwegians love to talk about, but rarely do much to celebrate. Heaven knows it’s my busy time of the year.

Leif Eriksson features in the Netflix series, Vikings: Valhalla, the sequel to the History Channel Vikings series. It should not have surprised me that they made him about 40 years younger than he actually was and sent him gallivanting around Eastern Europe and the Mediterranean as sidekick to a young Harald Hardrada.

The story of the discovery of America (Vinland) in the sagas is recounted in two different sagas, The Greenlanders’ Saga and The Saga of Erik the Red, which feature enough similarities to argue for a common factual basis, but which are quite different in content. One version (I forget which offhand) says America was first sighted by a man named Bjarni Herjulfsson, who did not go ashore. Leif, when Bjarni finally arrived in Greenland, bought his ship and went to the new country himself. The other saga credits the first sighting to Leif himself. Either way, Leif is the first Norseman to actually go ashore in Vinland.

Most stories about Leif mention that he was the first missionary to Greenland. That’s a somewhat complex issue, in fact. The saga says that King Olaf Trygvesson (whom you may recall from The Year of the Warrior) commissioned Leif to take the gospel back to his home, where he had good success with his message, except in his father’s case. His father, Erik the Red, rejected the new faith violently, and it caused a separation with his wife, Leif’s mother Thjodhild.

However, historians today tend to doubt that account. They note (and I’m talking from memory here, because for the life of me I can’t find documentation, though I know I’ve read it in more than one book) that early accounts of Olaf Trygvesson’s life say he “evangelized five lands” (I think it was five), while later accounts make it seven lands. One of the extra lands – added centuries later – seems to have been Greenland. Hence, they assume that the Greenland business was invented later in time and just appended to the list by later writers.

For my own part, I decided to square the circle in my novels. I portray Leif as a Christian (which is perfectly plausible) but say nothing (as far as I recall) about Olaf’s commission.

The foundations of a tiny church have been found in Greenland, near the farmstead identified today as Brattahlid, Erik’s and Leif’s home. This seems to corroborate a passage in the sagas that says that Thjodhild built a private church out of sight of the house, so her husband wouldn’t have to look at it.

However, I spoke to a man at the Viking Festival in Green Bay last weekend, who told me about a tour he’d taken to Greenland. There he met a man who believes he has good archaeological evidence that the farm identified as Brattahlid today is not the real one. He locates Brattahlid further up the fjord.

In any case, I do consider Leif a Christian. So I resolve to celebrate his holiday.

Next year, for sure.

The Viking house in Green Bay

I am (once again) reading a very long book, and so will be a while getting to my next review. As I pondered what to post tonight, it occurred to me to check whether there was any video about the Viking House that formed the centerpiece for the Midwest Viking Festival in Green Bay – from which I returned on Sunday.

And behold, there is one. This seems to be a promotional video, produced before the house was relocated to Green Bay, touting the idea of making it part of the campus.

The house is in a form called a “grind house,” after the “grind” (rhymes with “wind,” I think) which is a section of the house comprising its length between the sets of internal pillars. The buildings are constructed in an almost modular fashion, as I understand it.

The video features my new friend Owen Christianson and his wife Elspeth. Owen is – as I mentioned yesterday – a physicist. He also has a black belt in karate (I kid you not).

All in all, a formidable individual.

Festival report, Green Bay 2024

The Midwest Viking Festival in Green Bay is, once again, history (in two senses). I made the four-hour-plus drive to and from without incident, and had an excellent time.

I shared a motel room with the experimental archaeologist who oversaw the construction of the Viking House, on the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay campus, that is the centerpiece of the encampment. His name is Owen Christianson and he is a physicist (I really didn’t understand his descriptions of his work, but it has something to do with electromagnetics) by day. He’s also a recognized folk artist, and I once took his class in making wooden stave vessels. He was by himself this year because his wife was unable to come along. I was somewhat daunted by his credentials at first, but we actually found a lot to talk about, and parted good friends.

The festival itself runs Friday and Saturday. Friday is a day for school groups; it went okay, but was rather quiet. I feared we were losing public enthusiasm. But Saturday, as it was last year, was a madhouse, and people bought up nearly my whole stock of Viking Legacy (I’d brought extra this year) along with a fair quantity of my novels. I was in no wise disappointed.

As is more and more the case these days, the hard part for me was setting up, tearing down, and packing the car. I’m getting too old for this stuff, I fear, but I expect to keep at it for a while. I’m too proud to hang it up, I imagine, until I actually hurt myself. (Much thanks to Andy and Missy, especially, for helping me tote that barge and lift that bale.)

We got handsome coverage from a local TV station, and I was fortunate enough to get a lot of the air time. I’m the devilishly handsome man in the blue tunic, in case you were wondering.

Into enemy territory — the Midwest Viking Festival in Green Bay

I am, of course, keenly aware of the irony of holding a Viking festival in Green Bay, Wisconsin, home of the Packers. Yet so it is. Life does not always make sense, as I think Nietzsche observed.

In any case, I plan (by God’s travel mercies) to be at the Midwest Viking Festival this Friday and Saturday, selling my books in the ancient Norse manner. I guess I’ll also be doing some kind of presentation. Come and see if you’re in the area.

‘Video Vikings and Christian Conversion’

I now have an article available for your perusal over at the Acton Institute’s Religion & Liberty Online.

‘Right Ho, Jeeves,’ by P. G. Wodehouse

“You have a splendid, chivalrous soul.”

“Not a bit.”

“Yes, you have. You remind me of Cyrano.”

“Who?”

“Cyrano de Bergerac.”

“The chap with the nose?”

“Yes.”

I can’t say I was any too pleased. I felt the old beak furtively. It was a bit on the prominent side, perhaps, but, dash it, not in the Cyrano class. It began to look as if the next thing this girl would do would be to compare me to Schnozzie Durante.

I suppose there must be a time when it would be a mistake to read a P. G. Wodehouse novel, but I can’t think of one offhand. And for this reader, the Jeeves and Wooster stories are supreme. It’s Bertie Wooster’s narration that makes all the difference.

Opinions differ, naturally, on what is the best J&W novel, but I think Right Ho, Jeeves must be in anybody’s top two or three. John Le Carre called it one of his all-time favorite novels. An internet poll in 2009 voted it the best comic novel ever penned by an English writer. Published in 1934, RH,J was Wodehouse’s second full-length Jeeves novel. Critics have noted that these first two books share the common theme of Bertie attempting to assert himself in the face of Jeeves’ intelligence and personality; that element was reduced in later stories. But it can’t have been because it was ineffective as a plot element – it’s irresistible.

When we join our heroes, Bertie has just returned from a holiday in Cannes. He soon clashes with his valet Jeeves over his new dinner jacket – a “white mess jacket with brass buttons” that was all the rage on the Riviera that summer. Bertie insists that he will wear the garment, creating a coldness between master and servant.

So when Bertie gets word that his cousin Angela Travers has broken her engagement to his old friend Tuppy Glossop, he refuses to appeal to Jeeves to solve the problem, but comes up with a plan of his own. Similarly, when his old school chum Gussie Fink-Nottle tells him he can’t work up the nerve to propose to Madeline Bassett (a girl Bertie considers too goopy to live, but just right for the feckless Gussie) he hands him a scheme of his own (based on “the psychology of the individual”).

Needless to say, all Bertie’s plans lead to disaster, and in the end only Jeeves’ fantastic brain can bring about a resolution – a resolution that will involve a considerable amount of discomfort for Bertie himself. One notes a certain refined vindictiveness in Jeeves here, but it’s the affectionate vindictiveness of a parent who wants to teach an errant child a lesson they won’t forget.

No review of Right Ho, Jeeves would be complete without a mention of the classic scene when Gussie, drunk as a lord for the first time in his life, distributes prizes to students at Market Snodsbury grammar school. Here is farce raised to Olympian heights.

What a treat. If you haven’t read Right Ho, Jeeves, do yourself a favor.

‘Hailstone Mountain’ in Paperback

This is to announce the momentous (or mountainous) news that my novel Hailstone Mountain is at last available in corporeal, paperback form.

I’m working at getting all my books incarnated, but this is a start.