There are many stories of American artists, in various disciplines, who have not achieved the public acclaim they deserve. Chief among them, of course, is me. But another is Stan Lynde, best known for a long-running western comic strip called Rick O’Shay. I was vaguely aware of Rick O’Shay when I was a kid, but I had the opportunity to follow it closely toward the end of Lynde’s run with it, when he was turning it away from what the syndicate had asked him for—a gag-a-day strip—to what he’d always wanted it to be—a serious adventure strip with continuing stories. The strip gained new depth (at least in my view) when Lynde experienced a Christian conversion and started working in religious themes.

But he quarreled with the syndicate, and quit (the strip went on for a while without him) to draw another—a post-Civil War adventure strip called Latigo. Sadly, those were not the times for westerns, and Latigo languished and died.

Today, Stan Lynde writes western novels. As a fan of his comic work I bought one to see how it was, and I’m happy to report it’s very good indeed.

Marshal of Medicine Lodge is one of a continuing series starring Merlin Fanshaw, a Montana deputy US Marshal in the 1880s. He’s a lot like Rick O’Shay—a decent fellow whose instincts are good, though he’s young enough to still need some seasoning. He gets the chance to grow up a lot in this story. Continue reading Marshal of Medicine Lodge, by Stan Lynde →

Full disclosure: I received a free copy of The Cross and the Cosmos Anthology: Year One, from Frank Luke, a friend of this blog who is also an editor and contributor to the volume.

The Cross and the Cosmos: Year One is a collection of Christian science fiction and fantasy stories from the Cross and the Cosmos e-zine. As you would expect from such a publication, the quality of the stories varies considerably.

I was most impressed by a couple time travel stories by Kersley Fitzgerald. The stories, both about a single family, deal in very fresh ways with the old problems of temporal transport. The first story, “Saving Grase,” in particular, combined time travel conundrums with the kinds of mundane frustrations any mother who has tried to manage small children on an airline flight must be familiar with.

I also liked a couple supernatural westerns by Cathrine Bonham, “Souls Are Wild” and “Black Hat Magic.” They were pretty effective evangelical takes, I thought, on the old “he sold his soul to the devil” theme.

Frank Luke contributed three very good fantasies, set in a universe that seems part Norse and part Tolkien, but in which the Christian religion is practiced pretty much as it is in our world (how that works isn’t explained). Frank needs to tighten up his stories a little and watch for neologisms like “quite the woman,” but I got caught up in the narrative and wanted to know what else happened to the characters.

The bulk of the stories, I have to say, aren’t quite as good. Some of them were frankly preachy and simplistic, and most were weak on wordsmithing. One story seems to have been published before the author was done with it, because she inserted “[RUSSIAN PHRASE]” in the dialogue a couple time, apparently planning to look the phrases up but never getting around to it (unless that was a glitch in my electronic version).

I must confess I found it irritating that every single fantasy that involved warriors included female warriors as a given, as if ours is the only world in the universe where men’s greater strength leads societies, in general, to reserve the role of fighter for them. I suppose egalitarianism is so ingrained in our younger generation of Christians that they can’t conceive of anything else.

There’s some good stuff in The Cross and the Cosmos: One, and some disappointing stuff. Suitable for teens and up.

Years ago, I discovered a few mystery novels set in the yacht sailing world, written by Bernard Cornwell. Kind of like Dick Francis books with salt water. I scarfed them up, because I love a good sailing tale for some reason (maybe it’s genetic; heaven knows I haven’t had much experience in the field). Cornwell stopped writing them and turned to a more lucrative career in historical novels, and I’ve found very few books of the sort since.

So I was intrigued to discover Timothy Frost’s Final Passage, which turns out to be a well-written, well-plotted story of danger and deception, which pleased me much and only irritated me here and there.

Martin Lancaster, the hero and narrator, is the hard driving, upwardly mobile owner of an advertising agency in London. He’s also a bit of an idiot, or so it appears at the beginning. Because it turns out he’s badly overextended, and the loss of his major client sends him to the verge of bankruptcy. He also has a rash habit of making heavy bets on his own races, and losing them. A timely acquisition by an American firm saves his bacon, and also permits him and his brother to continue their plans to participate in a transatlantic yacht race they’ve been planning on. Continue reading Final Passage, by Timothy Frost →

What to say about the third book in Jeffrey Overstreet’s The Auralia Thread fantasy series, Raven’s Ladder? It’s difficult to decide, really, because these books are in a class by themselves, unlike anything you’ve ever read. Most fantasies are derivative to one degree or another. The Auralia Thread is a thing unto itself. It reminds me a little of Mervyn Peake’s Titus Groan books, but the resemblances are remote, and very few of you will have read them anyway.

Although the story isn’t locked into one location, the bulk of Raven’s Ladder takes place in the city-state of Bel Amica, which we’ve known only by reputation in the previous books. Since most of the Bel Amicans we’ve met already were favorable characters, one is inclined to think well of the place. But the rottenness in sophisticated, luxurious Bel Amica is as serious as was the rottenness in the ruined kingdom of Abascar. It’s just a decay of a different kind. Continue reading Raven’s Ladder, by Jeffrey Overstreet →

You can generally tell when my budget situation is getting tight by the way I start reviewing “classic” books, downloaded for free to my Kindle. And so we come to one of the first English mystery novels, Wilkie Collins’s 1859 book, The Woman in White.

I enjoyed The Woman in White, but found it frustrating at the same time. The story’s compelling, the characters wonderful, but (although I think I’m better suited to handle old fiction than most readers today) I found the Victorian conventions aggravating. Also, like any pioneering work in a genre, the author isn’t entirely sure how to handle his material, and does things which later writers, working in an established tradition, would never waste time on.

The Woman in White centers on two women who physically resemble each other, leading to tragic consequences. The first is Anne Catherick, who, when the hero, artist Walter Hartright, first encounters her, has recently escaped from an insane asylum. Hartright, unaware of this, chivalrously helps her find her way in London. The second woman is Laura Fairlie, a prospective heiress for whom Walter is soon hired to be drawing tutor. He falls in love with her without delay. But Laura is betrothed to a man of “her own class,” who eventually turns out to be an utter scoundrel. And so the foundation is laid for a diabolical plot to deprive her of her fortune and (perhaps) her life. Continue reading The Woman in White, by Wilkie Collins →