More Viking stuff. More or less.

My life is suddenly full of Viking stuff again. I just got a commission to translate, not a book, but a brochure, for a Norwegian foundation devoted to the translation and publication of a complete edition of the Flatey Book, the largest and best preserved saga manuscript we have from Iceland, and incidentally one of the most beautiful medieval illuminated manuscripts in existence. The publishers are my old friends at Saga Bok publishers, with whom I’ve worked before. It gives me a wholly undeserved sense of importance to be involved in such a project at any level.

Also it occurred to me to share the movie trailer below, a soon-to-come Norwegian adventure film about the Birkebeiners, a legendary Norwegian rebel army that overthrew a king of questionable pedigree to replace him with another king of questionable pedigree. The new king was a baby whom two Birkebeiners (the name means “birchlegs,” because in the early phases they were sometimes so poor they had to wrap their legs in birch bark for lack of warmer leggings) rescued by carrying him over the mountains by ski.

The trailer, alas, is in Norwegian, but I think you can follow the sense of it. This isn’t strictly a Viking story, as it takes place in the 12th Century, after all the pillage and plunder stuff had been pretty much worked out.

Personally I’ve always been ambivalent about the Birkebeiners, because I like to imagine that one of my ancestors might have been a leader of the opposition party, the Baglers. But, like any modern Norwegian, I imagine I had ancestors on both sides.

I have no idea if there are plans to release this movie in English. I just do these things to frustrate you.

‘Laramie Holds the Range,’ by Frank H. Spearman

I so enjoyed Whispering Smith, which I reviewed here, that I picked up another Frank H. Spearman western, Laramie Holds the Range. It’s very much of a formula with Smith in terms of characters, but the plot is quite different.

The background of the story seems to be the Johnson County War, that long (1889 to 1893) Wyoming conflict between big ranchers and small ranchers (or, as the big ranchers called them, “rustlers”). The facts of that brutal struggle are relentlessly depressing to anyone looking for romance in the history of the real west, and its final resolution is entirely unsatisfactory. Therefore many writers have attempted over the years to re-cast it along more chivalric lines. Fine books have been written from the big ranchers’ side (The Virginian), and the small ranchers’ side (Shane). Author Spearman more or less splits the difference in Laramie Holds the Range. Its improbably named hero, Jim Laramie, avoids taking sides, seeing some wrong in both. But in a pinch he helps the small ranchers, because they’ve been dealt a bad hand and have been treated badly by the rich men.

Jim Laramie is the son of an early settler in the Falling Wall region, near the town of Sleepy Cat. The area is known as a nest of rustlers, but no one has ever seriously accused Jim of being one of them. Nevertheless, men working for “Barb” (not, I’m pretty sure, short for Barbara) Doubleday, the big rancher in those parts, tear down Jim’s fence one day. Jim travels to Sleepy Cat to confront Barb, fully aware it could mean his death, or both their deaths.

But he never sees him on that occasion. Instead he meets Kate Doubleday, Barb’s daughter, newly arrived from the east. She showed up unannounced one day, her father having been unaware of her existence, and since he didn’t kick her out she took up residence at his ranch. Jim is smitten with her immediately, and decides a) not to kill Barb for the time being, and b) to court Kate. This proves difficult, as she, based on her father’s opinion, considers him next thing to a rustler and an enemy. The story proceeds to tell how Jim overcomes killers, bad weather, and a cloud of lies to remain true to his friends, hang on to his land, and get the girl.

Great fun. Slightly old-fashioned writing, but Spearman knew how to build characters, and told an entertaining tale. Jim Laramie is essentially a taller version of Whispering Smith, but I’m perfectly OK with that.

Jessica Jones: Don’t Fight Your Demons Alone

I was a big fan of the “Daredevil” series that released last year on Netflix. It was more brutal than I’m used to, but the story ran deep. Tying up the series with Kingpin paraphrasing part of Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan is the kind of deep water I hope to find in most shows I watch. So when the next installment of this street-level view on the Marvel universe came out with “Jessica Jones,” I hoped to see something similar. But no. (The spoiler flag is on the field.)

Krysten Ritter on the set of 'Jessica Jones'“Jessica Jones” is not the story of a moral crusader. It’s the story of a survivor of emotional and sexual abuse. Granted, she’s a unique survivor of a unique type of abuse. Jessica (portrayed by Kristen Ritter) has super strength, endurance, and the ability to fly—brought on through a chemical exposure a bit like the first step Matt Murdock (Daredevil) took in his origin story. Her abuser is not only a master manipulator, like at least two other characters in the show, but a man who can control people’s minds for several hours at a time.  Continue reading Jessica Jones: Don’t Fight Your Demons Alone

‘Sherlock’ and the Case of the Jumped Shark

I knew better. But I was seduced.

OK, let me rephrase that.

I had decided, at the end of the last season of BBC’s Sherlock, to stop watching it. I’d liked the first season very much. The second season I liked quite a lot. The third season alienated me. The production went from being a detective show (featuring lively riffs on the original Conan Doyle stories) into being a soap opera about the friendship of two men. I was particularly irritated by the condescending attitude I thought I detected toward the original material. As if Doyle had been waiting for the 21st Century for someone to inform him what he’d really been writing about.

But then they offered a Christmas special, which aired last night on PBS, and they did it in period, set about 1895, with Holmes smoking a pipe again and Watson sporting a handlebar mustache. I couldn’t resist that, could I?

Well, I couldn’t. And I guess it’s just as well. It was only 90 minutes, and that was long enough to put me off the series permanently. Continue reading ‘Sherlock’ and the Case of the Jumped Shark