Fred Patten's YARF! reviews (complete)

ANTHRO's index of anthropomorphic literature

The Yarf! reviews by Fred Patten

Note: This file weighs in at well over 3 MB, including all the cover images. If you’re not on broadband, you probably want to try the low speed version instead.

Welcome to the “Patten’s reviews” wing of the Anthro Library! Since this is a collection of columns from a dormant (if not dead) furzine called YARF!, a word of explanation might be helpful: In its day, YARF! (aka ‘The Journal of Applied Anthropomorphics’) was perhaps the best-known—and best in quality—of furry zines. Started in 1990 by Jeff Ferris, YARF!’s roster of contributors reads like a Who’s Who of furdom in the last decade of the 20th Century. In any issue, the zine’s readers could expect to enjoy work by the likes of Monika Livingstone, Watts Martin, Ken Pick, and Terrie Smith; furry comic strips such as Mark Stanley’s Freefall… and Fred Patten’s reviews of furry books and comics.
Unfortunately, YARF! has been thoroughly inactive since its 69th issue, which was released in September 2003. We can’t say whether YARF! will ever rise again… but at least we can prevent its reviews from falling into disremembered oblivion. And so, with the active cooperation of Mr. Patten, Anthro is proud to present Mr. Patten’s review columns—including the final one, which would have appeared in the never-printed YARF! #70.

   Howling Mad is not the first werewolf tale about a wolf that turns into a man rather than the familiar vice-versa, but it may be the first to use that concept for a serious novel rather than a one-gimmick short story.
   Not that Howling Mad is completely serious. At one point, Darlene introduces the humanized wolf, Joshua, to movies by taking him to see An American Werewolf in London. That’s a joke, but it’s also Peter David’s acknowledgement of the novel’s model. The plot is original, but the basic concept and the mixture of black comedy and horror is too similar to be coincidental. Yet there is a key difference. Landis’ movie is a tragedy in which the werewolf hero is powerless to alter his doom. David’s novel is a quirky thriller in which Joshua the werewolf (wereman?) has considerably more freedom of action. The story keeps the reader guessing what will happen to him, except for the fact that there will be a happy ending because the novel is told by Joshua as a flashback.
   A demonic werewolf (eight feet tall, bipedal, with fiery eyes) is terrorizing a Canadian town and forest. It attacks both men and animals. The only survivor of one of its attacks is the leader of the local wolf pack, who is badly enough wounded that he is unable to escape when found by hunters. The wolf is sold to a New York City zoo, which is where he is when the next full moon turns him into a man. The novel relaxes and segues into his humorous misadventures as he encounters Darlene, an animal-rights activist who can’t hold on to a boyfriend, and she determines to teach him human ways. Yet he is only human for a couple of days each month; the rest of the time, he’s a wolf being hidden in a no-pets-allowed apartment house. He is also a wolf who feels an obligation to his pack and mate, and is torn between his developing relationship with Darlene and his need to return to his forest to help defend it against the monster. And the demonic werewolf has his own agenda in New York to strike against Joshua.
   This comedic thriller is primarily about humans, but there are plenty of clever anthropomorphic incidents in it. When Joshua tells of his life as leader of his pack, it’s a good realistic wolf’s-eye description of lupine sociology. When the wolf turns human, he gains human intelligence but not knowledge. (David essentially admits that he stretches coincidence pretty thin in keeping Joshua free in the midst of New York long enough to figure out speech and the necessity of wearing clothes.) When he turns wolf again, he retains his human memories but they are compressed by his wolf’s intellect. This enables Joshua to make many sardonic comments about civilization from the viewpoint of an intelligent animal while he is human. After he becomes a wolf again, David plausibly describes how his wolf’s memory of what he learned as a human might help him battle the demon. Joshua is more richly characterized than a fictional wolf who conveniently has human intelligence. Howling Mad is a novel that is definitely worth adding to Furry reading lists.

A three-page prologue gives the impression that this novel is going to be very imitative of Watership Down. Fortunately, this is misleading. Cat House is in that genre, the talking ‘realistic animal’ story, but it is refreshingly original and imaginative.
The setup is the same as in Watership Down, or in countless folk tales of how the Maker created the world and all of the furry, feathery, and scaly people upon it. In this case, the focus is upon the cats— Felis domestica in particular. Their name in Peak’s animal language is the ‘farries’, evoking resonances of both ‘furry’ and ‘faery’.

   A large community of farries live together with their paladins (the human companions who feed and protect them) in a modern suburb of San Diego, on the edge of the California desert. The farries love and reward their paladins with affection, but they really prefer to conduct their social affairs outside of their paladins’ notice, in back alleys and vacant lots.
   This farri community is different than most. One of the Creator’s rules to all animals is to be fruitful and multiply, which cats do frequently and joyfully. However, some female farries are taken by their paladins to be scarred, after which they no longer go into heat. They can still enjoy the pleasure of mating, but if they cannot go into heat, they are usually fated to watch the toms go courting elsewhere. But this community contains a wise cat, Mistress Halina, who organizes the scarred girls and teaches them how to be sophisticated in attracting the toms. Halina’s Den soon becomes the most popular social spot in the community.
   Halina tries to maintain friendly relations with everyone. But one of the toms, Coron, is so disgustingly brutal to the girls that she is forced to order him away permanently. In revenge, Coron starts a campaign to convince the normal females that it is sacrilege against the Creator for cats who cannot bear young to continue mating. Unfocused jealously quickly swells into an organized, self-righteous crusade to force Halina’s girls from the community. At the same time, a drought is driving wildlife from the desert into the housing development. This includes individual menaces such as rattlesnakes and hawks, and a very large menace in the form of a pack of krahstas (coyotes), the age-old enemies of the farries. And this pack has an unusually skillful leader, Dahrkron, a fanatic who believes himself blessed by the Creator to destroy all farries.
   Cat House switches back and forth between three viewpoints: Halina and her closest friends, Mahri and Melena, as they try to fight the growing prejudice against them; Dahrkron and his pack as they grow in strength and daring attacks; and Roger Anderson, Halina’s paladin, who works for the San Diego Courier and who suspects that one of his neighbors is engaged in organized crime. This third plot is nicely handled, but it seems to have no connection with the novel other than to serve as an example of the paladins’ own affairs which keep them too busy to notice what is happening among the farries all around them. It feels like poorly-justified padding, which keeps annoyingly interrupting the real story. But despite this, Cat House is a strong enough and unusual enough anthropomorphic novel to make it a must-read title.

		#3 / Mar 1990


	Title:	*Franky Furbo*
	Author:	William Wharton
	Illustrator:	The author
	Publisher:	Henry Holt & Company (NYC), Oct 1989

	ISBN:	0-8050-1120-X
		Hardcover, 228 pages, USD $50.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	ISBN:	0-8050-1157-9
		Trade paperback, 228 pages, USD $12.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   William Wiley is an elderly writer of children’s stories. His popular character is Franky Furbo, a magical fox who has adventures with humans and with animals on Earth and in outer space. But the fox is not fictional. In 1944, Wiley was a young American soldier participating in the attack on Monte Cassino during the Allied invasion of Italy. He and a German soldier were caught in an artillery barrage, and both were dying when Franky Furbo saved their lives. It took months for the clever fox to nurse them back to health, during which he told them his life story and helped the two to exchange memories to make them all friends. When Wiley returned to the Army, his insistence that he was saved by a talking fox got him a psychiatric discharge. Nobody believed him except for the girl that he later married. To save his own reputation, Wiley stopped insisting that Franky Furbo was real and turned the fox’s adventures into a series of children’s fantasies. So after forty years, Franky Furbo is a popular fictional character throughout the world, but only William Wiley and his family know that he is real.
   Except that they don’t. The novel begins with Wiley’s discovery that his wife has only been humoring him all this time. She loves him but she can’t believe in his delusion. Crushed, Wiley begins to doubt his own sanity. He has to admit to himself that he has deliberately simplified Franky Furbo’s adventures, because even he could not comprehend all that the fox told him—of being able to teleport around the world in an instant, to read minds, to speak all languages, to transmute himself into any shape or size. The only thing that Franky Furbo could not do was to understand why he was so different from other foxes. He had been obsessed with solving the mystery of himself. Now Wiley must also find out the answer, or admit to himself that he is crazy. The only source of information would seem to be the German soldier who Franky Furbo also saved—if Wiley can find him after over forty years.
   Franky Furbo is an unusual blend of themes. It is partly a pseudo-traditional young children’s fantasy, partly a novel of psychological self-analysis, partly modern science-fiction, and partly a sophisticated inspirational fantasy (a la Richard Bach’s Jonathan Livingston Seagull). The beginning is dangerously weak; a bit too cute and simplistic. But that turns out to be deliberate; the author is downplaying elements that will reappear more seriously later on.
   The novel is also a riddle right up to the climax as to whether Franky Furbo is a real or an imaginary character. There are clues throughout the story; for example, consider the author’s name, the protagonist’s name, and the meaning of the Italian word ‘furbo’. (At the risk of getting too cute myself, I will say that Wharton dares to go where Doc Smith only hinted at.) But most importantly, Franky Furbo and other anthropomorphic characters appear often enough through samples of Wiley’s children’s stories, through Wiley’s memories of the ‘real’ Franky, and in other revelations, that the reader will not feel cheated. Don’t let the bland opening put you off; Franky Furbo is definitely a novel that anthropomorphic fans (especially fox fans) will enjoy.
   A ‘prepub’ announcement in Library Journal last year stated that, “The story is something of a fairy tale, which may or may not explain why Steven Spielberg is now in the midst of filming it.” Nobody else seems to know anything about Spielberg filming Franky Furbo, so maybe the story was only optioned and then dropped. Or maybe it will still appear on the big screen someday.

   This anthology contains fifteen new stories, plus a brief introduction by Norton, written especially for it. All of them deal with cats in S-F or fantastic situations, and all are well written. Other than that, the editors have aimed at a wide variety of moods, styles, and treatments. There are grim dramas and comedies; adventures on distant planets and in wizards’ dens; tales told by the cats themselves and stories in which humans observe strange things that happen to cats. Some cats are normal; some stories reveal that humans have no idea what ‘normal’ means when dealing with cats. There are ghostly cats, magically enchanted cats, and scientifically bioengineered cats.
   The most anthropomorphized cats are the witches’ and wizards’ familiars, in Elizabeth H. Boyer’s Borrowing Trouble, Donna Farley’s It Must Be Some Place, P. M. Griffin’s Trouble, and Ardath Mayhar’s From the Diary of Hermione. Cats encounter, and in some cases save Earth from, interstellar or pandimensional vermin in Jaygee Carr’s Wart, C. S. Friedman’s The Dreaming Kind, Mercedes Lackey’s SKitty, Patricia Shaw Mathews’ The Game of Cat and Rabbit, and Ann Miller and Karen Elizabeth Rigley’s It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s … Supercat. (One of those is actually an old English folk tale in a S-F setting; see how quickly you recognize it.) There is a shared-world story, Wilanne Schneider Belden’s The Gate of the Kittens, which is set in Andre Norton’s Witch World universe; although Norton’s own story here, Noble Warrior, is a Victorian thriller with a nod to Kipling’s Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. There are stories in which cats are revealed as benevolent galactic guardians of inferior species (humans), as brave protectors of mistreated children, or as cupids who help their humans find romance.
   Technically, not all the stories in Catfantastic deal with anthropomorphic cats, but enough do to justify a review of it here. Besides, I hope that none of Yarf!’s readers will be so narrow-minded as to ignore a good story just because its cats happen to be ‘normal’. And several stories feature more than one anthropomorphized cat—not to mention anthro birds, mice, dogs, and even a sea serpent and a hobgoblin or two. The wide variety in Catfantastic means that not every story may be to your taste, but the majority of them should be.

		#4 / May 1990

Cover is of a later Puffin edition
	Title:	The Eleventh Hour: A Curious Mystery
	Author:	Graeme Base
	Publisher:	Harry N. Abrams, Inc. (NYC), Oct 1989
	ISBN:	0-8109-0851-4
		32 art pages + 7 text pages, USD $14.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   You may not instantly recognize the name Graeme Base, but you are almost certainly familiar with his alphabet book, Animalia, by now. “Unruly unicorns upending urns of ultramarine umbrellas”, and so forth. Published in America in 1987, it was a best-seller fine-art book for all ages despite its “children’s picture book” categorization. It established the young Australian artist’s reputation as a master of wonderfully rococo visual fantasy in the tradition of Brian Froud and Patrick Woodruffe, but specializing in anthropomorphized animals rather than on creatures of færie.
   Now Base has followed Animalia up with another art book in the same vein. The Eleventh Hour: A Curious Mystery is an ostensible children’s picture book with rhyming text. It is Horace Elephant’s eleventh birthday, and the wealthy young pachyderm organizes a sumptuous party for himself at his luxurious estate. A number of his animal friends spend the day at party and at play, only to be rudely confronted by a dramatic mystery in the evening. The reader is warned on the first page to watch for clues and hidden messages in each picture. The fact that some of these clues require the reader to be able to read musical notation, Morse code, mirror writing, rebuses, and Egyptian hieroglyphics, to name just a few of the different codes, emphasizes that this is much more than just a children’s book.
   But it is an art book for all ages. Young children can enjoy the lush paintings full of colorfully costumed animals without worrying about the puzzle. The main purpose of the mystery is to give older readers a justification (as if any justification were needed) to study the paintings especially closely, instead of breezing through the book—to consciously see all of the fine details hidden in each complex illustration. Horace is a very wealthy elephant, and his home is a palace rich in architecture and interior décor of all history from the temples of Karnak to the drawing rooms of Mozart’s patrons. The party costumes of Horace’s animal guests are a treat for connoisseurs of lavish clothing and jewelry.
   The solution of the mystery is given, with a listing and explanation of the hidden messages, in a sealed section at the back of the book. You had better check the copy of The Eleventh Hour that you pick up before you pay for it, because of eight copies at the bookshop where I got mine, only two were in fact sealed. The seal is a paper wafer designed by Base especially for this book. You will miss a minor but delightful bit of his art if your copy of the book does not have it.


	Title:	The Coachman Rat
	Author:	David Henry Wilson
	Publisher:	Carroll & Graf Publishers, Inc. (NYC), Oct 1989
	ISBN:	0-88184-508-6
		171 pages, USD $13.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This is the story of the rat that Cinderella’s fairy godmother transforms into a human coachman to take her to the Prince’s ball, and of what happens after the stroke of midnight. The coachman, Robert, reverts to his rat form but retains his human intelligence and speech. Neither rat nor human, yet both, he struggles to discover where he now fits into the societies of men and of rats—and he innocently brings tragedy and doom to all.
   The jacket blurb describes The Coachman Rat as “a brilliant and provocative” retelling of “the fantasy-horror tale” of Cinderella. I hadn’t known that Cinderella was a horror tale, but these are revisionist times. We must rely upon those who are wise enough to see beyond the surface to reveal to us the true meaning of things. (Such as all those helpful souls who pointed out that Disney’s The Little Mermaid is demeaningly sexist and an insult to womanhood.) How many orphans went hungry due to the taxes to pay for the Prince’s ball? What about all the wretches suffering in the royal dungeons while the Prince poses as the benevolent sovereign? Never thought about them, didya!?
   This “gripping fantasy” is more than just a retelling of Cinderella. There are equally strong portions of the Pied Piper legend and of the French Revolution’s Reign of Terror in it. Wilson blends them together very imaginatively. Yet the novel reeks of a self-conscious cleverness that stifles any real emotion. All of the characters are stereotypes, introduced one at a time and displayed to be seen for what they are before being activated to react against the other stereotypes. Amadea (Cinderella) is Goodness; the Prince is Nobility; Biggs the drunkard is Greed; Dr. Richter the scientist is Intellectual Pretension; Jenkins the scholar is Humanity; the scheming Devlin is Politics; John the palace guard is the Easily-Misled Masses—and Robert is Everyman, the Fool of the Tarot deck, an innocent who has the capacity and the opportunity to develop into anything, and who is molded through carelessness and callousness into a grim punisher. There are some witty lines, some convincing philosophical arguments, and some unexpected plot twists. But it remains a clever puppet play rather than a live drama. These puppets perform until all of their strings have been cut. Then it’s all over. Applause for the author, please.

		#5 / Jul 1990


	Title:	Carmen Dog
	Author:	Carol Emshwiller
	Publisher:	Mercury House (San Francisco), Mar 1990
	ISBN:	0-916505-70-2
		Hardcover, 161 pages, $15.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	ISBN:	0-916505-77-X
		Trade paperback, $9.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Mercury House is strongly promoting this as “a feminist Animal Farm.” It is certainly feminist, but I see closer stylistic parallels with Pinocchio and with the classic Italian comic operas. The characters are deliberately histrionic; they posture exaggeratedly; the action takes place in a few locales that are described in the manner of artistically-stylized stage sets. There is the imagery everywhere of opera and of haiku; two very intellectual art forms. Carmen Dog is totally different in mood from the dramatic adventure narrative of Animal Farm.
   Females are changing throughout the world. Female animals are evolving into humans; female humans are devolving into animals. Pooch is a pedigreed golden setter who is the devoted pet of an upper-class couple, from whom she has picked up a passion for opera. Pooch finds herself taking on more and more of the household wifely chores, including minding the baby, as her mistress degenerates into a nasty snapping turtle. One day when the master is on a business trip, the mistress becomes too dangerous to stay around. Pooch flees with the baby into the streets of New York City.
   The world’s men are extremely annoyed. They are sure the females are doing this just to be contrary, to upset the natural order of male dominance. A doctor gets a government grant to perform electroshock research on the womanized animals. Among those caught and delivered to him are Pooch and the baby. (Pooch had managed to see a performance of Carmen before her capture and is now calling herself Pucci; she dreams of becoming an opera star.) The doctor shocks everyone, including the baby. His assistant is his dumpy wife, Rosemary, who seems kindly but is too passive to restrain him. (Besides, a good wife does not contradict her husband.)
   Pucci and the other animal-women escape. She hopes to find refuge with an operatic impresario, Valdoviccini, but he is, alas, more interested in her for reasons of lust than for her talent. The government decides that women are more trouble than they are worth. It constructs an Academy of Motherhood on Fifty-seventh Street:

Meanwhile, the animal-women are being gathered into a secret sisterhood, whose leader is none other than Rosemary. To keep the police from seizing Rosemary, many of the animal-women disguise themselves in Rosemary rubber-masks and frumpy housecoats. The police disguise themselves as Rosemarys to infiltrate the feminist movement. Rosemary advises the women to disguise themselves as policemen to infiltrate the military-industrial leadership. Soon New York is filled with badly-disguised Rosemarys and policemen rushing about. There is more, but it all ends in a grand climax in which everyone realizes that mankind and womankind should live in harmony as equals – “Neither Conqueror nor Conquered; Neither Victory nor Defeat”, as Pooch titles the grand aria in the opera she writes to commemorate the birth of this new world.
Carmen Dog is full of animal-women in various stages of hybridization: Chloe, the sexy Siamese cat woman; Mary Ann, the awkward duck(?)/swan(?) woman; Isabel, the murderous wolverine woman; and more. This is a different and a clever novel, but it may be too self-consciously literary and affected for the tastes of the average Furry fan.


	Title:	*BRIXOI*
	Author:	Tom Foster & Ken Fletcher
	Publisher:	Neo-Zagatine Press, Apr 1990
	ISBN:	—
		100 pages. $10.00 (incl. postage & handling)
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

BRIXOI is a Neo-Zagatine publication of exactly 100 8¹/₂" x 11" pages, issued simultaneously by Ken Fletcher in Minneapolis and by Tom Foster in Memphis. Ken Fletcher and Tom Foster have been drawing funny animals for years in fanzines, and this is a sampler of their work. Some pages are drawn by Ken Fletcher. Some are drawn by Tom Foster. Some are drawn by both Tom Foster and Ken Fletcher. A lot of the art is brand new, while other pages are reprints of old fanzine covers, personal Christmas cards, convention flyers, and the like, going back to 1982 or 1971 or whenever. (The copyright date on page 31 is 30,000 B.C.)
The book? fanzine? folio? is divided into four sections: The Art of Getting Around; The Cartoon Artist; In Search of Frogsworth; and Miscellaneous Row. But there is no real continuity. BRIXOI is just a collection of (presumably) what Foster & Fletcher consider to be some of their best fanzine funny-animal drawing of the past couple of decades. Sober and drunken funny animals. Funny animals flying spaceships and driving Model Ts. Funny animals playing the piano or washing dishes. Funny animal carpenters and sheriffs and bag ladies and politicians and soldiers and mythological deities. 100 pages of funny animals. An inside-back-cover Afterword refers to this as “the first book of BRIXOI”, so maybe there are more coming. I can certainly remember some great funny animal drawings by Fletcher and/or Foster over the past twenty years that are not in this volume, so there is room for more.


	Title:	*Normal u.s.a.—chili maneuvers*
	Author:	Michael Jantze
	Publisher:	Harvest Moon (Los Angeles), 1988
	ISBN:	—
		200 pages, $7.50 + shipping & sales tax
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

Do newspaper comic strips such as Berke Breathed’s Bloom County with a mixed human/anthropomorphic cast qualify for inclusion in an ‘Anthro Alert’ column? If you’re willing to stretch a point, you might want to read Normal u.s.a.—chili maneuvers, by Mike Jantze; Los Angeles, Harvest Moon, 1988. Normal began as a comic strip in the Cal State Northridge Daily Sundial in the mid-’80s, but this is a collection of new, unpublished strips that continue the lives and misadventures of his characters after Jantze graduated and the college paper dropped the strip. (It is part of an as-yet-unsuccessful development of Normal u.s.a. as a regular comic strip that Jantze is submitting to the newspaper syndicates.)
Normal u.s.a. has a mostly human cast, but there are a few delightful fantasy-animal characters, notably A. C., the beer-drinking armadillo whose relationship to the protagonists, Norm and Lynn, is halfway between a pet and a self-invited permanent house guest. (He cooks up a mean pot of chili.)

		#6 / Aug 1990

The Redwall Trilogy, by Brian Jacques. Illustrated by Gary Chalk.

Cover of the Philomel Books edition
		Title:	*Redwall*
		Publisher:	Philomel Books (New York), Mar 1987
		ISBN:	0-399-21424-0
			Hardcover, 351 pages, $15.95
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

		Publisher:	Avon Books (New York), Mar 1990
		ISBN:	0-380-70827-2
			Paperback, 351 pages, $4.50
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	*Mossflower*
Publisher:	Philomel Books (New York), Sep 1988
ISBN:	0-399-21549-2
	Hardcover, 431 pages, $16.95
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







		Title:	*Mattimeo*
		Publisher:	Philomel Books (New York), May 1990
		ISBN:	0-399-21741-X
			Hardcover, 448 pages, $16.95
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   The Redwall novels teeter between a juvenile and adult readership. The original British editions are published by Hutchinson Children’s Books, Ltd., but the U.S. paperback edition by Avon Books is packaged as an adult literary fantasy “in the glorious tradition of Watership Down”. The final novel has just appeared in hardcover, and the first has just been reissued in an ‘inexpensive’ mass-market edition.
   The trilogy is actually closer to an anthropomorphized version of Tolkien. Jacques’ world does not have magic, but his animal characters wear clothing, build their own houses and castles, and fight with their own swords and crossbows. Like Tolkien’s Hobbits, Jacques’ protagonists are peaceful yeomen (mice, moles, squirrels, rabbits, badgers) whose community is menaced by an army of carnivorous conquerors (weasels, rats, stoats, foxes) led by a truly evil commander. The woodland community must train itself to fight for its survival. One among them stands out as a warrior, and he must go on a dangerous quest while his mates try to hold the invaders back until he can return with aid.
   Redwall is the story of the castle-like monastery of that name, an abbey in the forested land of Mossflower. Matthias is a young mouse in training to enter its Order of healers and scholars. However, he is more fascinated by the legend of Martin the Warrior, the brave mouse who drove away Mossflower’s enemies generations ago. When Mossflower is invaded anew by the hordes of Cluny the Scourge, a rat who combines the attributes of Attila the Hun and Genghis Khan, Matthias proves to have the skills of leadership to rally a resistance against them. But Matthias is convinced that he must obtain Martin’s long-missing sword before he can be a true warrior, so he leaves on a long quest to find it, while his friends grimly defend Redwall Abbey during the increasingly desperate siege.
   Mossflower is Martin’s story. It is basically Redwall with the details reversed. Martin is a young Northern barbarian mouse who wanders into Mossflower, an animal community that had been conquered a generation earlier by the wildcat Verdauga and his mustelid ruffians. Verdauga has just been succeeded by his sadistic daughter Tsarmina, who is so murderous that she provokes the sullen Mosslanders into open revolt. Where Redwall was about vicious predators attacking the peaceful animals in their abbey, Mossflower is about the peaceful animals escaping into the woods and forming a Robin Hood-style peasant army to besiege the villains in their dark castle of Kotir. But the peasants fare badly against Tsarmina’s trained fighters, so Martin and two companions leave on a quest to find the legendary badger warrior, Boar the Fighter, and enlist his aid. Again the novel splits into two parallel stories, that of the heroic questors and that of the woodland animals battling to save themselves and their home.
   Mattimeo features three parallel stories. Slagar the Cruel, a fox injured in the battles of Redwall, returns about a dozen mouse-years later for revenge. He kidnaps the community’s children, including Matthias’ son Mattimeo, and takes them to be sold into slavery to he rats of the underground kingdom of Malkariss. Matthias leads a rescue party after the slavers. It has barely left Redwall when the abbey is attacked by an army of crows, magpies and rooks led by General Ironbeak. The novel shifts back and forth between the hardship of young Mattimeo and his playmates as they are dragged towards the evil rats’ kingdom; the adventures of Matthias and his warriors as they race to overtake the slave caravan; and the battles inside Redwall as its woodland defenders are forced down floor by floor into the cellars.
   The three Redwall novels bring to mind another comparison; the classical theatrical animated cartoon series such as the Road Runner and the Coyote, or Tom & Jerry. The first one is delightful, but watching three or more at the same time makes it overly obvious to what extent they are similar to each other. All three novels have the same types of characters who react in the same ways. All three involve an ancient prophecy that must be unriddled. All three have stylistic repetitions that, taken together, seem too unimaginative. Jacques’ novels were originally published a year or more apart, but now they are all available together. You will probably enjoy any one of them, but it may be a mistake to read all three too closely together.

	Title:	*It’s Raining Cats and Dogs… and Other Beastly Expressions*
	Author:	Christine Ammer
	Illustrator:	Cathy Bobak
	Publisher:	Paragon House (New York), Oct 1988
	ISBN:	1-55778-057-9
		Hardcover, vii + 247 pages, $19.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	ISBN:	1-55778-086-2
		Trade paperback, $9.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Publisher:	Dell Publishing/Laurel Books (New York), Nov 1989
	ISBN:	0-440-20507-7
		No illustrations: viii + 279 pages, $5.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   The title tells it like it is. The Preface defines it further: “The nearly 1,000 terms in this book are arranged into nine general animal categories: cats, dogs, domestic fowl, farm animals, wild animals, birds, reptilians and amphibians, insects, and marine animals. They are roughly alphabetical within these categories, but the reader is advised to consult the complete index at the back of the book.”
   This is a brisk and chatty dictionary of animal-related expressions in modern English, such as blind as a bat. Cats and dogs are popular enough to merit chapters of their own. Other animals are clumped into broader categories. For some animals, such as the horse, there are three or four pages filled with phrases. For others, such as the ostrich, there is only a single term.
   The general format for each entry is to begin with a literary quotation which alludes to the animal (e.g., “Paulina her first husband made a stag.” Thomas Pecke, Parnassi Puererium (1659)); to define the origin of the animal’s name (from Latin, Old English, or whatever); to briefly describe the animal’s characteristics; and finally to cite the catchphrases, with an attempt to establish their origins or at least the period to which their earliest usages have been raced. Ammer also includes some negative information; for example, she reveals that the term crazy as a loon does not derive from that waterbird’s maniacal-sounding cry, but the other way about. The bird was called the diver until the early 17^th century, when people began to use the name loon because it sounded like a lunatic laughing. Phrases cited go back as far as the Old Testament and Æsop’s fables (which Ammer dates to 570 B.C.), and are as recent as current sports slang and comic-strip references.
   The book is designated by its publisher as ‘humor/reference’, indicating that it is equally appropriate for pleasurely browsing and for serious etymological study.
   There is a good index, making it easy to locate each term. In addition to the expressions and definitions themselves, here is interesting information on the evolution of animal names (e.g., hound was the general English word for all dogs until about 1050 A.D., then dog replaced it and hound came to mean specifically a dog used for hunting), and on the invention or creation of items with animal-related names such as hot dog and hobby-horses. There are even references to Warner Brothers’ Bugs Bunny and to Al Capp’s Skonk Works—which call attention to the only omission that I noted; there is no mention of a Mickey Mouse affair as a term of disparagement. (There is also no mention of E. C. Segar’s Eugene the Jeep, which popularly was the inspiration for the name of the U.S. military’s well-known General Purpose vehicle, but that could be justified on the grounds that the book does not include references to fantastic or mythological animals at all.)
   It’s Raining Cats and Dogs… is very comprehensive in its coverage. Ammer is a professional lexicographer with numerous dictionaries and similar educational books to her credit. The original edition came out in October 1988, but it is still available in bookshops. Now there is also a popular paperback edition, in Dell/Laurel’s The Intrepid Linguist Library series, which is priced more conveniently for a fan’s personal bookshelf. Note, however, that the Laurel edition does not contain the humorous cartoon illustrations of the Paragon House edition.

		#7 / Sep 1990


	Title:	*Skywater*
	Author:	Melinda Worth Popham
	Publisher:	Graywolf Press (St. Paul, MN), May 1990
	ISBN:	1-55597-127-X
		206 pages, $17.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Skywater is a superb nature novel in the tradition of Jack London’s Call of the Wild. It follows a band of coyotes who are driven by the pollution of the ground water from their home territory in the Sonora desert near Yuma, Arizona. The coyotes are introduced through the eyes of an old retired couple, Albert and Hallie Ryder, who give them names based on brand products: Dinty Moore, Kodak, Boyardee, and the like. The novel uses these for convenience, but makes it clear that this is a deliberate human convention. The coyotes’ own awareness of their identities is more basic: The leader, the loyal follower, the challenger, the two females, the three-legged (injured) one, etc. The coyotes are anthropomorphized as little as possible, mostly just to give them a common goal—to search for the legendary Skywater, the home of all waters—and an awareness that it to their mutual advantage to seek this goal together, instead of living as loners as coyotes usually do.
   Popham convincingly puts the reader into a coyote’s mind, to see and think and be aware as a real coyote. The small amount of anthropomorphization is consistent with native American psychologies and beliefs. The leader, Brand X, thinks of the Moon in terms of his dead father’s white eye; the coyotes superstitiously regard undrinkable seawater as reserved for the spirits of their ancestors. But in general, Skywater presents the coyotes realistically rather than humanizing them to the extent, say, of Felix Salten’s Bambi: A Life in the Woods.
   The story takes a group of scruffy, look-alike, non-talking animals and succeeds in making each of them sharply individualized, capable of nonverbal communication, and sympathetic. It also realistically presents the dangers faced by modern Southwestern wildlife: Crossing busy highways, the large Yuma Proving Ground weapons test range, the inevitable result when large predators lose their fear of humans and come raiding for food in human communities. Popham shows that there are many people who are seriously concerned with wildlife preservation who nevertheless feel that coyotes are so prolific and are a menace to genuinely Endangered Species that they need to be cut back. It is because she presents all the ecological arguments in such an objective manner, and still comes out strongly in favor of the coyotes, that the ‘moon-callers’ stand out as such sympathetic characters. And it is because this is primarily an adventure novel and only secondarily an educational tract that readers will enjoy it whether they care about the Message or not. Seven coyotes against modern human civilization—do they really have a chance? Read Skywater and find out.
   Skywater is realistic enough that it may not be to the taste of those who prefer anthropomorphs who dress, talk, and act just like regular humans in animal costumes. Those who are intrigued by characters who mix their species’ individual traits with human-level intelligence will enjoy Skywater—and may find it a valuable reference for constructing coyotid Furry characters.


	Title:	*Shaman*
	Author:	Sandra Miesel
	Publisher:	Baen Books (New York), Oct 1989
	ISBN:	0-671-69844-3
		306 pages, $3.50
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

About half of Shaman does not have any anthropomorphic characters, but it is a very good novel that you should enjoy anyhow. Ria Legarde is an unhappy citizen in an overly regimented and monitored future. She has dreams in which her consciousness visits parallel worlds, some better and some worse. Her mind is lured to an Earth that has trained ESP powers, and which has bioengineered otters to partnership with humanity. Ria becomes a close friend of Lute, an otter technician, and visits him often. There is a lengthy scene in which she is invited to the otter’s coastal community to join one of their festivals. Ria remains in mental contact with Lute when she must return to her own world, and the two work together to save her from PSI, the ‘thought police’.
Miesel extrapolates upon the otter’s natural playfulness and gregariousness to give her intelligent otter people a lively and impish personality, which is just as serious and practical as the drably-enforced ‘responsibility’ of Ria’s society. The otters’ own communal life-style is patterned after the extended families of the Polynesians.


	Title:	*Cathouse*
	Author:	Dean Ing
	Publisher:	Baen Books (New York), May 1990
	ISBN:	0-671-69872-9
		247 pages, $3.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

Dean Ing’s Cathouse is in no way related to Michael Peak’s Cat House, reviewed in Yarf! #2.

   Cathouse consists of two novellas that were originally published in Baen’s The Man-Kzin Wars (June 1988) and Man-Kzin Wars II (August 1989). If you have those, you don’t need this. These are shared-world stories, set in Larry Niven’s Known Space universe. Niven established in his stories that mankind has repeatedly beaten the cat-like Kzinti in a series of violent space wars, but the instinctively warlike Kzinti won’t give up. In this new series, other writers are describing the events of the Fourth Man-Kzin War. Cathouse is fully understandable on its own, and Ing is more successful than some writers in depicting the Kzin as intriguing Furry anthropomorphs rather than just a savage alien enemy.
   Carroll Locklear is human scholar captured by a small Kzinti warship when the war breaks out. He is dumped on an unexplored planet for temporary safekeeping. Locklear discovers that the planet is actually a base of the Outsiders, mysterious aliens whom nobody has ever seen but who left their artifacts throughout the galaxy. The world is a prehistoric zoo, with specimens in suspended animation from both and the Kzin homeworld of 40,000 years ago.
   In the first story, Locklear has to awaken the ancient Kzin, reach an understanding with them, and manipulate ancient-modern Kzin rivalries to his advantage to gain his freedom. In the second story, Locklear is having his own problems with the Neanderthals whom he revives in the Earth biosphere, but these fade to insignificance when human space-navy mutineers come to the planet. Locklear has to return to the Kzin biosphere and get involved in their deadly politics again to win their help against the modern humans, who are the most viciously murderous of all.
   Ing shows the Kzin as tiger-like anthropomorphs with an intelligence that has evolved from feline traits. A key story development is the manner in which Locklear and some of the Kzin use their intelligence to rise above their conflicting instincts for their mutual advantage.


	Title:	Ratha and Thistle-chaser
	Author:	Clare Bell
	Publisher:	McElderry Books (New York), Apr 1990
	ISBN:	0-689-50462-4
		232 pages, $14.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Bell’s Ratha series (Ratha’s Creature, 1983; Clan Ground, 1984) is set twenty-five million years in Earth’s past. Hominids have not yet appeared, but a clan of large, cougar-like cats have evolved to intelligence. They have developed a language and a tribal society, and they have learned how to herd primitive deer and horses for a permanent food supply. The cats protect them from other predators, and take care that their own appetites do not outmatch their herd’s breeding powers. However, the clan is far outnumbered by hostile wild felines, some of which are unintelligent and some of which are equally smart but unwilling to restrain their gluttony and would slaughter the whole herd for an immediate feast. Also, the cats of the clan have noticed that the offspring of mating within the clan are always intelligent, whereas the cubs of matings between themselves and wild cats may or may not be intelligent.
   Ratha is introduced in Ratha’s Creature as an adventurous adolescent who dares to question the traditions and beliefs of the clan. She is driven out to become an outcast. During her wanderings before she returns to the clan, she mates with an Un-Named cat; but when her cubs are apparently unintelligent, she sorrowfully abandons them. By the conclusion of the first novel, Ratha is the new leader of the clan of the Named, and the adventures in Clan Ground confirm her in this position.
   Ratha and Thistle-chaser is set three years after the first novel and two years after the second. It tells two parallel stories. One is of a crippled, solitary young cat who is obviously one of Ratha’s abandoned cubs. The second is of the clan, forced by a drought to search for a new pasture for the herdbeasts, who discover the seacoast. Ratha’s daughter has already staked out her lonely home here, surviving on shellfish and fish trapped in tidal pools. The wild cat’s intelligence is erratic, but to what extent is this actual feeble-mindedness and to what extent is it due to growing up as a truly feral child? Whatever the reason, is she an equal of the clan? Intelligence aside, what psychological and emotional scars does she bear that might prevent her friendly adoption by the clan? And can Ratha, now accustomed to leadership, afford to acknowledge that she made a mistake? Ratha’s two old clan friends, Thakur and Fessran, watch with growing unease as stubbornness and misunderstandings on both sides appear to lead toward an unavoidable and tragic conflict.
   Bell’s intelligent cats are attractive creatures. They are plausibly anthropomorphized, with consciousness laid over their feline attributes rather than replacing them. In fact, it is difficult to read these books without being subtly depressed because Ratha’s people are not alive today—i.e., their fight for survival as told in these stories must have ultimately failed.
   If you have read the first two novels, you will enjoy this one. If you have not, you should start with Ratha’s Creature. In addition to giving the full background of Ratha and her cubs, it is a more satisfying story. Ratha’s actions seem more like her own decisions. In Ratha and Thistle-chaser, there is more of a feeling of the author’s manipulation of the story. It soon becomes clear that Ratha and Thistle-chaser are going to stubbornly avoid listening to reason and refuse to see each other until a Dramatic Confrontation at the climax of the novel. It is well-handled when it comes, but it is expected.

		#8 / Nov 1990


	Title:	The Cold Moons
	Author:	Aeron Clement
	Illustrator:	Jill Clement (pictures & maps)

	Publisher:	Delacorte Press (New York), Apr 1989
	ISBN:	0-385-29694-0
		Hardcover, xiii + 333 pages, $16.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Publisher:	Dell Laurel (New York), Jul 1990
	ISBN:	0-440-550331-0
		xvi + 314 pages, $8.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This is basically Watership Down with badgers instead of rabbits. It is more than a bland imitation, however. Badgers were protected in Britain until 1975, when they became identified as carriers of tuberculosis which was spreading to other animals, notably the domestic cattle population. A policy of killing infected badgers was applied so broadly that by the 1980s there was a serious danger of the total extinction of wild badgers in Britain. It was against this background that The Cold Moons was first published in Wales in 1987, to rally public and environmental support for the badgers.
   Bamber, the sole survivor of a badger group gassed by humans, wanders into the larger community of Cilgwyn. His warning shocks its badgers, who react in various ways. Eldon, the complacent leader, hopes that it is a false alarm which they can ignore. Buckwheat, a council member, feels that they must migrate to a new home immediately. Palos, who seeks Eldon’s position, tries to turn the disagreement to his advantage. The arrival of the humans with their poison gas and hunting dogs forces the badgers to flee before they are fully ready. Their long trek across Wales is beset with hardships, tragedy, and heroism. During its long course, the badgers gradually come to rely upon two younger, stronger guides. Beaufort, Buckwheat’s son, is urged by his father to accept more responsibility; but while Beaufort is dutiful enough, he at first lacks the spark of leadership that the badgers desperately need. Kronos, Palos’ son, is an even worse schemer than his father, and he plots to trick the badgers into accepting him as a benevolent leader who will soon reveal himself as a sadistic dictator. The Cold Moons tells of the badgers’ search for a new home as they struggle against three enemies: the natural dangers of their trek; the deadly sabotage of Kronos which threatens to destroy them before Beaufort can grow into leadership; and the pursuing governmental badger extermination units.
   This is good enough to merit a favorable recommendation, but it is still close enough to Watership Down to make comparisons inevitable, and it does not match the literary genius of Richard Adams’ classic. The Cold Moons is told in a narrative format; there is not a line of dialogue in it. For example:

   By presenting the entire novel in this third-person, voice-over manner, Clement mutes its intensity. The characters seem like historical figures rather than living people whom the readers can care about.
   In both novels, the story continues beyond the point that the reader expects to be the end of the book. But Adams makes General Woundwort’s attack against the rabbits’ new home into an exciting extension of the story, whereas Clement’s surprise addition seems weak and anticlimactic. Both novels radiate their authors’ obvious love of nature, but Clement pushes his message too deliberately, to the extent that The Cold Moons has a Disneyish ‘all animals are friends; only Man the Hunter kills’ air of propaganda aimed at the uneducated animal-loving urban public.
   But these are quibbles. You may be annoyed by certain aspects of the novel, but you will not feel that you wasted your time by reading it.

		#9 / Dec 1990


	Title:	Rememory
	Author:	John Betancourt
	Publisher:	Popular Library/Questar (New York), Oct 1990
	ISBN:	0-445-21045-1
		197 pages, $4.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This is a cross between Blade Runner and Total Recall, a fast-moving cyberpunk thriller set in a depressing future. The story, full of violent crime and political terrorism, is forgettable. What is memorable is the glimpse of new bioengineered societies that combine aspects of racial minorities, religious sects, and urban super-gangs.
   There is superpollution to the degree that nose filters are needed to breathe in the streets. Aircars fly through the skies, but it costs $500 for three hours at a parking meter. Individual police forces have been absorbed into the SecurNet, a Gestapo that ruthlessly enforces national public order. Major government offices have become hereditary, although the pretense of democracy is still maintained.
   People are dropping out of this society through bioengineering. It began a couple of generations earlier as cosmetic surgery. It has evolved into the rejection of a human race, which no longer offers anything to the individual, and the development of new artificial species that promise family and brotherhood. New ghettoes have formed for peoples such as the techs, proud of all their mechanical implants; the glitterfolk, pleasure-seekers who flaunt flashing electronics and neon body-parts; and especially the animalforms such as the catmen, the dogmen, the penguinmen, and others who have turned themselves into their chosen totem animals.
   Slasher, Hangman, and Jeffy are three catmen criminals who specialize in robbing dogmen, the rivals of the cats. As the novel follows them, it flashes past intriguing details of the catmen and dogmen societies, with passing references to other animen. There are bodyshops such as Animen-R-Us, where humans can get themselves converted. Conversion used to be an individual adult choice, but now that animal communities have developed, parents have their children converted as soon after birth as possible. Catmen and dogmen can transform themselves at will, were-animal style, between a human bipedal posture and an animal quadrupedal stance. Animen adults have enhanced muscles and steel claws; children have plastic practice claws. Bioengineered body forms establish the basic feline or canine structure, including head-shape, fangs, claws, tail, and so on; but the skin and body-fur are easily interchangeable. A catman can appear as a tiger, a leopard, a cougar, a cheetah, a man-sized Siamese cat, or just about any other feline almost as easily as a human can change clothes. There can also be hybrids, such as a dogman smuggler with the head of a Doberman and the body of a wolf or a husky.
   Rememory is worth reading for these glimpses of animan life, and for the semi-pathetic, semi-psychotic movement among the animen to deny their humanity and proclaim their adherence to their free animal nature, at the same time that they are developing their own political corruption and their own brutal Gestapo, the Shadowcats. The plot is for those who enjoy lots of blow-’em-up, shoot-’em-down action, chase scenes, and cynical double-crosses.


	Title:	*The Foxes of Firstdark*
	Author:	Garry Kilworth
	Publisher:	Doubleday (New York), May 1990
	ISBN:	0-385-26427-5
		371 pages, $18.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

O-ha is a young vixen in Trinity Wood, an ancient forest near the English coast. She chooses a mate, A-ran, who “changes his name to A-ho to reflect her family name as was traditional among foxes.” They are happy until he is killed as the result of a fox hunt. O-ha grieves for several months, during which men come to tear up the forest and build a new suburban community; and an American fox, Camio, escapes from a big city zoo into the countryside. After a stormy courtship, the two mate and Camio persuades O-ha to start a den in the town’s new scrap-yard instead of fleeing with other wildlife into the receding forests.

The last half of the novel describes the foxes and their cubs growing up in a world of garbage dumpsters, pest-control poisons, and animal-rights activists. There are still many dangers to keep a fox’s life short. The most fearsome is O-ha’s old enemy, Sabre, the literally-bloodthirsty hunting dog of the local manor lord. Fox-hunting may have become passé, but Sabre is obsessed with killing the only fox who ever eluded him—and her whole family. He gets loose from the manor just as O-ha’s and Camio’s cubs become old enough to leave home. The conclusion is tense and imaginatively twisting.
It goes without saying that there are many similarities between The Foxes of Firstdark (first published in England in 1989 as Hunter’s Moon) and other novels in the Watership Down tradition. There are also refreshing differences. Instead of migrating ahead of man’s advance, the foxes adapt to coexist with humans in a suburban environment. The now-obligatory animal languages and religious myths are developed (and Kilworth does an excellent job of it), but it seems that these are not species-wide nor fixed. The American Camio is unfamiliar with the British foxes’ customs, and a generation gap develops between the parent foxes and their cubs. There is a semi-naturalistic species typecasting—since the protagonists are foxes, dogs tend to be antagonists—but there are both friendly and unsympathetic characters among all the animals, developed consistently with their species’ traits. The Foxes of Firstdark is a worthwhile addition to the serious talking-animal wildlife literature.


	Title:	*Midnight’s Sun: a Story of Wolves*
	Author:	Garry Kilworth
	Publisher:	Unwin Hyman (London), Sep 1990
	ISBN:	0-04-440683-5
		317 pages, £12.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   The two novels are a matched pair. There is no direct connection between them, but they share a common background. Kilworth’s different animal species have realistic predator/prey relationships, but they are aware of each other’s cultures and there are some overlapping similarities. To make a rough human comparison, an inhabitant of a Catholic country might be hostile to an inhabitant of a Protestant country, but they would share a general familiarity with each other’s beliefs, and know more about them than they would about Judaism, Islam, or Buddhism. So Kilworth’s wolves do not associate with foxes or coyotes or other canids, but their folk myths share many elements. The wolves have their own tales of Firstdark, and some of their myths seem similar to the foxes’ myths but from the wolves’ point of view. None of the canids are very familiar with the customs of other species such as the felines, the ursines, and so on; but what glimpses there are of them in both novels are consistent. (Kilworth indicates the differences between animal languages by having the canids speak English and its dialects; the felines speak French; the birds speak German; and presumably the rodents, mustelids, and others have their own tongues.)
   Aside from this common background, the two novels are quite different. The first is about foxes in England who adapt from life in the wild countryside to coexisting with humans around the fringes of expanding urban areas. Midnight’s Sun features wolves in their traditional open territories. The locale is presumably northern Canada or Alaska. There are humans around (they seem, through the wolves’ eyes, to be identifiable as resident natives, ‘civilized’ naturalists/scientists, and ‘civilized’ hunters), but the wolves have no interests in co-existing with them and prefer to avoid them as much as possible.
   These statements are all generalizations. The novel contains many exceptions, all well justified. One of the main themes is how the protagonist reacts to events and confrontations that are ‘out of the natural order of things’.
   Midnight’s Sun is a dramatization of the natural history and sociology of wolves as lived by one individual, Athaba. Athaba goes through just about every role that wolves normally live: Cubhood, young adulthood, loyal pack hunter, outcast, loner, father, leader. In a brief Author’s Note, Kilworth speculates on possible similarities between the psychology of wolves and primitive men. The novel draws a rough parallel between wolf-pack behavior and the speculative social behavior of prehistoric man.
   The wolves are organized for the welfare of the pack. They are not supposed to waste time on anything besides hunting and teamwork. This is generally a good rule because life is harsh and food is uncertain. A lone wolf is vulnerable but the pack is strong. Faulty teamwork can result in packmates getting killed while attacking dangerous prey such as elk. Yet absolute reliance upon tradition robs the pack of flexibility which may become essential for survival when new problems arise.
   Athaba has more imagination than the average wolf. This is both an asset and a liability, in different situations. He goes through several dramatic shifts in his status among the other wolves. His different adventures are too closely interrelated to describe in a plot synopses without giving away some surprises, but he leads an exciting life. It’s obvious that he will survive until the end of the book, but the reader is kept guessing about the fates of other characters: Athaba’s parents; Ulaala, his mate; his cubs; Skassi, his enemy; the strange human with whom he is stranded alone for weeks.
   There was no hint in Hunter’s Moon that Midnight’s Sun was coming, so it’s a wild guess as to whether Kilworth has any more animal novels planned. But he has left room to write about other canids from coyotes to dingoes, not to mention the other animal types. If Kilworth can keep up the level of quality in these two adventures, let’s hope that he has a long series ahead of him.

Title:

Galen the Saintly

Author:

G. Raymond Eddy

Publisher:

Lightpen Press (Carrollton, OH), quarterly from Aug 1990

ISBN:

—

24 pages, $2.50 per issue

Availability:

Am / BN / Al / Pw

G. Raymond Eddy has been creating anthropomorphic religious comic-art stories since at least 1984 for several fanzines and small-press magazines. He has decided to start his own imprint, Lightpen Press, “to provide a centralized location” for his stories. Galen the Saintly is a 24-page, 5.5" x 8.5" black-&-white comic book, published roughly quarterly. #1, A Gold One for the Wall, appeared in August 1990; #2, The Angelskates, in December 1990; and #3, The Masquerade, is scheduled for May 1991.

   Eddy has described himself as active in Christian church work. Galen, his cheerful mouse angel, is happily more reminiscent of the heroes of Horatio Alger (who was also a Christian minister) than of those modern comic-art religious tracts that try to scare you into salvation. Galen is friendly, intelligent, hard-working, a positive thinker, and always helpful. In these first two issues, he is the guardian angel of a human radio disk jockey and a ‘normal’ anthropomorphized mouse. Both are amiable but weak-willed, in need of a Big Brother role-model to keep themselves morally straight.
   Both stories use the same plot gimmick. Galen becomes so friendly with his wards that he allows them to borrow an angelic gimmick—a tape of heavenly music, in the case of DJ Raffy Johnson, and a pair of super-skates, in the case of Augustus P. Sharpcheddar. Both misuse them (innocently, in Raffy’s story, and deliberately, like a spoiled brat, in Gus’s), and Galen has to cover up for them and take the gimmicks back before any serious damage is done. In the first issue, Galen is the only animal character amidst a human cast; in the second, there are humans, anthropomorphized-animal mortals and angels, and normal ‘dumb’ animals.
   The stories are pleasant but very lightweight. The story similarity of the first two issues is unfortunate; I hope that #3 will show more originality. Galen is a strong character who is forced by his role as a guardian angel to remain passive until his naïve charges make a mistake, and then diplomatically correct them. This makes him a great social worker but a rather bland story protagonist. Because Eddy is keeping the stories gently humorous, they are shallow and vague as to background. There is no explanation of why a heavenly mouse is appointed as the guardian angel of a human in one story and of a mouse in the second; or why he is no longer the G.A. of Raffy in the second. (I got the idea from my own long-ago Sunday-School lessons that a Guardian Angel assignment was for the lifetime of the designated mortal.) In The Angelskates, Galen has to keep saving an anthropomorphized, clothes-wearing mouse from a ‘natural’ alley cat, and I couldn’t help wondering why the cat wasn’t equally anthropomorphized—although Eddy would have faced a large batch of new problems if it had been intelligent. (As long as the cat is a dumb animal, there is no issue of whether it’s being ‘good’ or ‘evil’ by following its instincts.) Criticisms such as this may be taking the stories too seriously—but if they aren’t worth taking seriously, then are they worth $2.50 per issue? Galen himself is likeable enough to make this comic worth reading. Issue #2 notes that #3 may look different, since Eddy’s art will be inked by Larry Blake.


	Title:	Sleepers: Part 1
	Author:	Vito Bianca & Kevin Vetrone
	Publisher:	Rock Soup Studio (Wappinger Falls, NY), 1990
	ISBN:	—
		57 pages, $7.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This large, album-format graphic novel is a goulash of every politico-thriller clichè of the past two decades. German war criminals who infiltrated into the U.S. after World War II have organized a hidden Fourth Reich that is almost ready to take over America. Meanwhile, Japanese ultra-nationalists who are behind the modern Nipponese economic imperialism are about to openly buy up America. Simultaneously, Soviet Commie hardliners who want to discredit Gorbachev are plotting an ominous mission in the U.S. At the same time, a corrupt politician is favored to win the next presidential elections. And don’t forget Organized Crime. All of these groups are about to make their bids for power, and it looks like the only question is which dictatorship America will fall under—if it isn’t destroyed first in the crossfire between the rival gangs.
   Who can stop this? FBI agent Mac Talons, that’s who. But Talons is a wise guy, a loose cannon; always on the verge of expulsion because he refuses to fit the FBI’s approved image. The Bureau has tolerated him up to now because he’s always gotten results. But will the Bureau believe that all these fantastic plots are real? Can Talons, alone, fight ninja assassins, Mafiosa, Nazis and more?
   This funny-animal thriller contains lots of cynical humor and obviously-exaggerated suspense. So quibbles about realism aren’t very pertinent. The beginning is slow and heavy with bulging speech-balloons full of exposition. But once the story starts moving, there’s lots of action and reasonably witty smart-ass macho dialog. It does end with a cliffhanger. Art is good; spelling is variable.


	Title:	*BRIXOII*
	Author:	Tom Foster & Ken Fletcher
	Publisher:	Neo-Zagatine Press, quarterly from Apr 1990
	ISBN:	—
		100 pp/volume. $10.00 (incl. postage & handling)
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   In Yarf! #5, I reviewed BRIXOI as 100 pages of funny-animal art that Tom Foster and Ken Fletcher had drawn together. “A lot of the art is brand new, while other pages are reprints of old fanzine covers, personal Christmas cards, convention flyers, and the like, going back to 1982 or 1971 or whenever. […] Funny animals in the past and in the future. Sober and drunken funny animals. Funny animals flying spaceships and driving Model Ts. […] An inside-back-cover Afterword refers to this as ‘the first book of BRIXOI’, so maybe there are more coming.”
   Indeed there are. It turns out that BRIXOI is Volume 1 of The Brixoi Chronicles, which will be published four times a year, in an edition of 100 copies. BRIXOII has just been published; it will be followed by BRIXOIII, BRIXOIV, and so on. The cost is $10.00 per volume; they do not say whether subscriptions are available.
   BRIXOII is also 100 pages, divided into four sections. However, this volume contains more new pages than reprints, and the contents are more pertinent to the named sections. The Imaginators (A Brixoi Tours Special) consists of a Time-Travel Plus tour “of unpronounceable geographies and geographic personalities who have escaped the mundane and traded it for the exotic commonplace”. Send In the Frogs is 32 pages of frog cartoons, dominated by a short story, Frank Frog, Beale Street Detective. This indicates that The Brixoi Chronicles will be more than just an archive of Foster’s & Fletcher’s old funny-animal at with a few new items. It will showcase their current work. Order a sample volume and see how you like it.

		#12 / May 1991


	Title:	Catfantastic II
	Editors:	Andre Norton & Martin H. Greenberg
	Publisher:	DAW Books (New York, NY), Jan 1991
	ISBN:	0-88677-461-6
		318 pages, $4.50
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Catfantastic (reviewed in Yarf! #3) was evidently popular, because here is Catfantastic II. It contains eighteen more brand-new fantasies about cats; and they’re all magical or anthropomorphic pusses this time.
   The stories are all enjoyable, although there is not quite as broad a range of settings and moods as was in the first volume. There are no pure comedies, and only a few that are wryly humorous adventures. There is a preponderance of mood pieces about cats who are the loyal companions and protectors of lonely old women, frightened young girls, and friendly but doddering old wizards.
   But there are stories that are dramatically different. Clare Bell’s Bomber and the Bismarck describes how a highly unusual cat was responsible for the sinking of the Third Reich’s prized battleship. Elizabeth H. Boyer’s Nordic The Last Gift tells how the ancient jotun, Skrymir, creates cats and kittens to amuse his lonely housemaid; and how the vain hero, Airic, foolishly gives them the jotun’s last gift for mankind. In Patricia B. Cirone’s Papercut Luck, a paper-cat good-luck charm comes to life to save a peasant girl’s family as the Mongols besiege Canton. And in Elizabeth Ann Scarborough’s The Queen’s Cat’s Tale, Queen Guinevere’s cat relates how it was really Morgan le Fay, disguised as a cat, who was responsible for the fall of Camelot.
   Nine of the eighteen stories are by authors who were in the first anthology. Three of those are sequels to their earlier stories, so if you enjoyed the original adventures of Marylois Dunn’s Cat, Ardith Mayhar’s Hermione, or Andre Norton’s Thragun Neklop, you can read their further exploits in Dunn’s Shado, Mayhar’s Hermione at Moon House, and Norton’s Hob’s Pot. The other stories are independent tales, set in worlds of high fantasy or modern American metropolises; in dignified mansions and raucous carnivals and bleak animal shelters; featuring ‘ordinary’ cats and cat-goddesses. If you liked Catfantastic, you’ll like Catfantastic II, II … er, too.


	Title:	Buffalo Gals And Other Animal Presences
	Author:	Ursula K. LeGuin
	Illustrator:	Margaret Choclos-Irvine
	Publisher:	New American Library/ROC (New York, NY), Oct 1990
	ISBN:	0-451-45049-3
		236 pages, $4.50
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   If you missed this when it came out as a Capra hardcover in 1987 or as a Plume trade paperback in 1988, here it is in a mass-market edition. Don’t miss it this time!
   LeGuin’s ‘animal presences’ are not the usual anthropomorphic stories. This collection consists of eleven introductions, the same number of short stories, and twenty-one poems. But that’s misleading. What is a ‘story’? Some of these are traditional romantic adventures with a plot and characters, yes. Others are more like essays, or entries for very technical scientific journals. Anthropomorphism is carried to plants and rocks—not plants and rocks that speak to us with human voices, but the question of how we should go about attempting to communicate with plants or rocks.
   This collection contains science-fiction, fantasy, anthropological fiction, and poetry. In the lead novelette, the award-winning Buffalo Gals, Won’t You Come Out Tonight, a young Anglo girl is lost in the desert and is taken care of by the local animals. They are anthropomorphized in the style of pre-Anglo Amerind animal personifications, and the young girl undergoes quite a culture shock. May’s Lion, toward the back of the book, is somewhat similar. LeGuin relates an incident (a farmwife in the Napa Valley is confronted by a mountain lion that has wandered from the hills) in two different ways: as a modern American woman would perceive it, and as a pre-Anglo Amerind woman would have perceived it. A story? A lesson in cultural anthropology? You decide.
   Not all the tales deal with the ‘soft’ sciences. Schrödinger’s Cat seems to be traditionally anthropomorphized, since it features a talking cat and dog. But it is really an anthropomorphized demonstration of quantum mechanics. Direction of the Road anthropomorphizes perspective—and if you know of any other story by any author that has successfully done this, please let me know about it.
   Buffalo Gals is a different anthropomorphic book. It is highly imaginative, and it will make you look at commonplace things in a totally new way. Read it!


	Title:	The Abandoned
	Author:	Paul Gallico
	Publisher:	International Polygonics, Ltd. (New York), June 1987; 2nd ptg., Mar 1991
	ISBN:	0-930330-64-1
		256 pages, $5.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Paul Gallico (1897-1976) wrote many popular stories that featured animals, such as The Snow Goose. Only three were anthropomorphic fantasies: The Abandoned (1950); Thomasina, The Cat Who Thought She Was God (1957); and Manxmouse (1968). The Abandoned is the best of these; ironically, it’s the only one that hasn’t been made into a movie. So it’s good that the novel is being kept in print.
   Unfortunately, the last edition that was easy to find was the Avon paperback, which went into several printings in the 1970s. International Polygonics picked up The Abandoned in June 1987 and has just reissued it, with a very attractive cover by Quay. There is also a matched edition of Thomasina. But International Polygonics is a small publisher, and its quality paperbacks are hard to find except in comprehensive, ‘real’ bookstores. The big shopping-mall chain bookshops don’t carry them.
   The Abandoned are those cats who do not live with human companions and must survive as alley strays. In particular, those abandoned are Peter Brown, an 8-year-old London boy who is transformed into a cat’s body after an accident, and Jennie Baldrin, a street-wise tabby who teaches Peter to be a cat. Gallico had a sharp eye for the behavior of cats, and The Abandoned may be the best novel ever written for rationalizing and explaining their habits.

   There are many of these lessons throughout the novel.
   The Abandoned is also the story of Peter’s life as a cat in the slums of London and Glasgow, and of his and Jennie’s experiences as ship’s cats in getting to Glasgow and back again. It’s a mixture of fantasy-adventure for older children and a romance for adults, as Peter matures emotionally in his husky tomcat’s body from a frightened child under Jennie’s motherly guidance into her lover and protector from other toms. The setting of London rebuilding after the wartime bombing is a bit dated today, but the characterizations of cat personality types are timeless. This novel is worth looking for if you haven’t already read it. Or, since it’s ‘literature’, ask your public library to get it.
   (Interestingly, animation historian John Canemaker quotes a forgotten review of a Felix the Cat cartoon from the November 20, 1922 issue of the New York Daily News in his new, and excellent, study, Felix: The Twisted Tale of the World’s Most Famous Cat (Pantheon, April 1991). The 1922 review, by ‘P. W. Gallico’, who was just beginning his writing career, raves about how great the Felix cartoons were and concludes, “We’re for five reels of Felix and only one reel of other folks.”)

		#14 / Jul 1991


	Title:	The Little Fox
	Publisher:	Celebrity Home Entertainment (Woodland Hills, CA), 1988
	Catalog number:	CHE 3022
		80 minutes, $14.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   In Yarf! #7, an uncredited animated cartoon character appeared on page 33. Although animated cartoon funny-animals are invariably anthropomorphic, Yarf! hasn’t devoted much attention to them. I wondered what response this would get. None, it turned out. In fact, most readers didn’t recognize that this fox cub was from an animation model sheet rather than by one of Yarf!’s regular artists. Of those who did recognize the movie character, most knew him only as the star of The Little Fox, one of those previously-unknown animated features that appear in the video rental shops. And nobody knows where they come from.
   This seems unfair, especially in this case. The Little Fox may be unknown in America except to those who have seen it on the Disney Channel, or on Celebrity Home Entertainment’s 1988 Just For Kids video release. But in Hungary, where it was made, it was so popular that the government commemorated it on a set of postage stamps.
   The American video industry is paranoid about identifying any movies as ‘foreign films’, for fear that the public will avoid them as being arty rather than entertaining. Celebrity Home Entertainment tried to have it both ways with The Little Fox, publicizing its popularity without saying where it was popular. “Award Winning Animated Feature” appears on the cover. What award? “Based on a best-selling book”, says the back cover. What book? The movie’s credits have not been removed, but they have been shifted to the back of the tape. “Produced by Pannonia Film Studio, Budapest. Directed by Attila Dargay. Screenplay by Attila Dargay, Istvan Imre, Ede Tarbay. Music by Peter Wolf.”
   Unless I blinked when I shouldn’t’ve, the American credits do not mention the best-selling book. It’s Vuk, by István Fekete (1900-1970), a forestry engineer who was Hungary’s most popular author of children’s nature novels around the middle of this century—Hungary’s version of America’s Ernest Thompson Seton or Germany’s Felix Salten. Vuk is Fekete’s novel about an orphaned fox cub who grows up to get revenge upon the farmer who killed his parents by avoiding all the farmer’s traps and watchdogs and stealing his prize poultry. The novel is a best-seller in Hungary, but it has apparently not been translated into English. (The Hungarian Embassy and a Hungarian bookshop in New York City say that none of Fekete’s books have been published in English, but the Los Angeles Public Library has Fekete’s Thistle (Bogancs), about a puli sheepdog puppy, published in English in Budapest in 1970, so I hope that Vuk will turn up in English, too. Judging from Thistle and from Fekete’s reputation as an author of ‘true life’ nature novels, I suspect that the movie is anthropomorphized much more than the book is.)
   Pannonia Film Studio is Central Europe’s largest producer of animation. Attila Dargay (1927- ) has been associated with it since it was separated from Hungary’s nationalized motion-picture industry in the 1950s to specialize in cartoon and puppet animation. (It is completely independent today.) Dargay has directed several features for Pannonia, but Vuk was the first to feature a total animal cast. The characters show his art style, just as Chuck Jones’ cartoons show his art style. Vuk was released in 1981. It became the biggest box-office grossing film in Hungary that year, and in 1982 it won Dargay the “Author’s Prize” at the National Feature Film Festival in Pècs. The set of seven Hungarian postage stamps was released on November 11^th.
   The translation of Vuk into The Little Fox, by Robert Halmi in 1987, is faithful. The movie is complete. Vuk, a peasant’s name in Southern Hungary and the Northern Balkans, has been changed to the more American-sounding Vic, and there are a couple of other similarly-minor changes, but most of the movie is unchanged even when the jokes may be too obscure for American audiences. In an early scene, after Vic’s first successful raid on the henhouse, the farm dogs gather to decide whom to blame for letting the fox get away. They sniggeringly decide to tell the farmer that the German shepherd was at fault. The emphasis is more meaningful if you realize what the average Hungarian’s opinion of Germans has been since the Nazi occupation during World War II. It’s an enjoyable film, and Yarf!’s readers should know for whom the credit is due for Dargay’s portrait of Vuk/Vic in Yarf! #7.


	Title:	Zone Yellow
	Author:	Keith Laumer
	Publisher:	Baen Books (New York, NY), Dec 1990
	ISBN:	0-671-72028-7
		247 pages, $4.50
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Keith Laumer is best-known for his many Retief stories, but he first made his reputation as a notable s-f author with his 1962 novel Worlds of the Imperium, with its striking imagery of an endless series of alternate earths, all parallel in time but diverging gradually in physical resemblance. Brion Bayard, from our world, is kidnapped into another which has the technology to travel between all the earths, to prevent a would-be dictator from creating a trans-universal empire. In the 1965 sequel, The Other Side of Time, Bayard encounters a force of travelers from so far away that they’re no longer even human, but are more like one of the monkey peoples in the (later) Planet of the Apes movies.
   Twenty-five years later, Laumer has returned to the Imperium. Bayard’s earth is invaded by new dimension-travelers from still farther, where simians never evolved and the intelligent species has grown from the rodents—rats, in particular. Ylokk rat-soldiers pour in mass waves through transfer portals in all the largest cities, catching humanity by surprise. Defense is difficult since the Ylokk are so intermixed with terrified civilians. Governments are reluctant to order heavy firepower against their own cities and peoples. Colonel Bayard and two soldiers embark in a shuttle on a ridiculously-hopeless three-man retaliation against an entire non-human world…
   And what was a s-f pseudo-high-tech military thriller turns into a fairy tale. The mysterious Ylokk aren’t intelligent rodents with an alien civilization, but outright funny-animal rats. There’s a Ruritanian good rat monarchy with a rat king and queen and Lord Privy Seal and dukes and barons and fancy-dress sentries, who live in a beautiful pale-green jade palace “replete with crenellated towers, slim spires, flying granfallons, and ominous fire-slit openings”. The royal family’s armorial bearings are sable, a griffin or, on a bend argent, three mullets of the first, if you’re interested in how closely it parallels our society. It sounds like Ozma’s palace in the Emerald City, inhabited by the cast of The Nutcracker and the Mouse-King. Bayard and his companions, with the aid of a mysteriously helpful Ylokk general, learn rat-language in what seems like about 15 minutes, and are immediately rescuing a cute rat princess from the evil rat-communists (called the Two-Law faction, but it’s obvious who Laumer is parodying) who have overthrown the monarchy and launched the invasion of the human earths, to kidnap the ‘monkey-men’ to be the rats’ slaves. The royalists are peace-loving and will happily call off the invasion if they are restored to power, and you can take it from there, I’m sure.
   Zone Yellow is fun on an anthropomorphic level, with its rats in royal purple robes and gingerbready Eastern European villages (their currency is called zlots; remind you of any European money?). In comparison with the other two Imperium novels, it’s almost embarrassingly simplistic—and ethnocentric. The entire rat-citizenry sullenly dislikes its rat-communist bosses, but it takes a human (read ‘American’ since Bayard started out as a U.S. government official in the first novel) to inspire them to fight for their freedom.


	Title:	Who P-P-P-Plugged Roger Rabbit?
	Author:	Gary K. Wolf
	Publisher:	Villard Books (New York, NY), Aug 1991
	ISBN:	0-679-40094-X
		255 pages, $17.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This is the authorized sequel to Disney’s 1988 hit movie. Gary Wolf is also the writer of Who Censored Roger Rabbit?, the novel upon which the movie was based, but you can forget about that. This mystery’s title emphasizes Roger’s distinctive stutter created for the Disney movie. The cover shows the official Disney visualizations of Roger, Jessica, and Eddie Valiant. The jacket blurb advertises that this novel stars “the characters from one of the most popular and innovative movies of all time”. The back cover features a rave review by “Michael D. Eisner, Chairman of the Board and CEO, The Walt Disney Company”. And the first page of the story flaunts references to Uncle Walt and to the Roger Rabbit short cartoons, Tummy Trouble and Roller Coaster Rabbit. The only thing that the packaging lacks is a banner headline: “This Is Not Literature; This Is Disney Merchandising”.
   That grump out of the way, the story is enjoyable. Curiously, it doesn’t match up with the setting of either the first novel or of the movie. It shows a new alternate universe altogether. The date is “1947, more or less”, but there are characters from the 1930s through the 1950s walking about together. David O. Selznick is just beginning to shoot Gone With the Wind, and it is to be a comedy with all Toon stars. Toons usually speak in word balloons, as they always did in Wolf’s original book, but they can speak aloud when they have to, as when they are acting in movies. There are brief references to the new creations of the Disney movie, but they are effectively offstage or ignored: no Benny the Cab or other inanimate-object Toons, no Doris or Judge Doom, no Toontown with its own laws of physics. Eddie Valiant casually mentions that it’s now common for bullets to have been dipped in Dip, and all of a sudden Toons are just as vulnerable as the humans to death by gunshot.
   The most significant change is that the social and physical distinctions between humans and Toons have been blurred. In his earlier novel, Wolf used Toons as metaphors for the discriminated-against minorities of the 1930s and ’40s. Here, they are the minorities of the 1990s despite the ‘1947’ date. Roger Rabbit is no longer the equivalent of a Stepin Fechit; he’s a Bill Cosby or a Danny Glover. Jessica Rabbit is the social equal of Mae West or Rita Hayworth. There are still Toon neighborhoods but they’re not slum ghettos. Eddie Valiant’s sister is married to a Toon detective in the L.A.P.D., and Eddie has three Toon nephews who dress and act the way you would expect from Toon triplet nephews. Several human characters have distinctly Toonlike names, such as UCLA linguistics Professor Ring Wordhollow and Tom Tom LeTuit, chief of the Cuban secret police. And, possibly from associating with Toons so much (but more likely because this is a comedy-mystery), the whole human cast acts in a much zanier and more Toonlike manner then it did in the previous novel or in the movie—including Eddie and such notables as David O. Selznick and Clark Gable.
   The plot is a repetition of the formula of the first novel. Roger Rabbit is one of the finalists under consideration for the starring role of Rhett Butler in Gone With the Wind. But the gossip tabloids are headlining a torrid romance between his wife Jessica and Clark Gable, and the scandal could ruin his chances. So Roger hires cheap private eye Eddie Valiant to prove that there’s really nothing going on. Instead, Eddie finds evidence that Jessica is pregnant with Clark’s baby. Then one of the other Toon actors trying out for Rhett Butler is murdered and Eddie is framed. Is Roger trying to eliminate his competition and set up a fall guy? Are Jessica and/or Clark trying to keep Eddie from talking about them? Was the murdered Toon really blackmailing Selznick, and what secret is the movie mogul hiding? Are Toons passing themselves off as humans, and vice versa?
   This is a genuine murder mystery, but it’s treated much more lightly than in the original Roger Rabbit novel. The dialogue contains more witticisms, and they are humorously sarcastic rather than bitterly cynical. The background atmosphere of the hopelessly oppressed Toon minority is almost gone. The mystery is wrapped up neatly but not as ingeniously, and Wolf is sloppier in tying up all the loose ends. More importantly, since the reader is constantly aware that this is an authorized Disney story, there’s never any real suspense as to whether Jessica is Bad or things just look that way.
   Fans will enjoy several new funny-animal supporting characters, such as Delancey Duck, publisher of the sleazy Toontown Telltale, and Large Mouth Bassinger, the ritzy publicity agent who decorates his office in a maritime motif. The ‘About the Author’ note states that Wolf is already at work on his third Roger Rabbit novel.


	Title:	Rats and Gargoyles
	Author:	Mary Gentle
	Publisher:	Viking/A Roc Book (New York), Apr 1991
	ISBN:	0-451-45106-6
		416 pages, $18.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Rats and Gargoyles and Humans and Katayans. Katayans are just like Humans except that they have long, whiplike tails with a tuft of fur at the end. They all inhabit a weirdly magnificent city which is the real star of this novel. No name is necessary; the city dominates the world. It is a mélange of the greatest cities of Renaissance Europe with their Cathedrals, their Palaces, their Universities, their wide plazas for gaudily-dressed militia to drill in, their canals and harbors, their thieves’ quarters and dungeons and catacombs and networks of sewers providing secret passages everywhere. And above all, their deadly court intrigues.
   In this city, this world, the Gargoyles are supreme gods. The Rats are the nobility and the army. The Humans are lower-class merchants and laborers. The Katayans are from the countryside, and the social status of the few Katayans who live in the city has not been settled yet.
   Everyone is plotting against everyone else. The Rats are scheming against each other, the Gargoyles, and the Humans. The Humans are divided against each other, the Rats, and the Gargoyles. There aren’t enough Katayans in the city to have a faction, and nobody is sure whose side the individual Katayans are on. The Gargoyles remain contemptuously aloof, occasionally idly destroying a building or transforming a victim into something hideous just to remind everyone of their power. But one of the Gargoyles is bored—and insane—and it decides upon a sadistic plan to amuse itself which will probably destroy the world.
   The book contains reproductions from numerous illustrated 16^th- and 17^th-century treatises on astrology, numerology, Hermetic science, and other fields of learning that were suppressed by the Church. They are the laws of physics and nature upon which this world exists: the crystal spheres of the heavens, Rosicrucianism, Masonic science, and the like. These elements are introduced slowly, so the reader does not need a background familiarity with them. They are gradually added together until a fantastically new natural universe has been constructed for the apocalyptic climax of the novel.
   In her Acknowledgements, Gentle also credits the works of Alexandre Dumas. His influence is most evident in the scenes featuring the Rat nobility, which will feel familiar to fans of The Three Musketeers and Twenty Years After:

   There are many fascinating characters of all species in Rats and Gargoyles. Those among the Rats include Plessiez, the scheming Bishop; Charnay, his earthy henchwoman; Desaguliers, the harried Captain-General of the King’s Guard; and the King/s of the city him/themselves (eight pampered Rats permanently joined by their knotted-together tails).
   Rats and Gargoyles is not totally anthropomorphic, but there is more than enough in it to captivate the attention of Yarf!’s readers.
   This novel was originally published in July 1990 in Britain. The sequel, The Architect of Desire, has just appeared there (July 1991), but it features only the human characters.

		#18-9 / Jan 1992

2007 note: #18-19 was the only combined issue of YARF!


	Title:	K-9 Corps
	Author:	Kenneth Von Gunden
	Publisher:	Ace Books (New York, NY), Feb 1991
	ISBN:	0-441-09128-8
		229 pages, $3.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This first volume in a new series of galactic exploration-team adventure novels is enjoyable reading. Ray and his talking scout dogs (shown in Jim Thiesen’s cover painting as Great Danes or Mastiffs, although Von Gunden avoids describing them except to frequently refer to them as “huge” or “immense”) are intelligent and likeable. So is almost everyone else except for the villains. The story reeks with macho good fellowship, dramatic action against the ferocious wildlife of frontier planets, and trailblazer versus bureaucrat conflict. A reference to telepathic smaller and more independent scout cats that served with special teams (pg. 81) hints at other anthropomorphic characters who may be introduced in the sequels.
   The writing and the action are generally good, on a scene by scene basis. The overall story, unfortunately, doesn’t make a lot of sense. Ray and his nine dogs are one of a number of scout teams that hire their services to corporations or to the Federation’s Planetary Colonization Bureau, to check out newly-discovered worlds and to verify whether they are suitable for terraforming and human settlement. It is implied that humans (and their bioengineered dogs and cats) are the only intelligent life in the known galaxy. Ray and his pals, and several more scout teams—a total of 137 explorers and scientists—are disturbed at the beginning of their new assignment because their contract to investigate Chiron virtually orders them to ‘discover’ that the planet has no intelligent life, and to ignore all evidence to the contrary. (Saying Dances With Wolves should let you guess the rest of the story.) Okay, this assumes that the government would be naïve enough to expect scientists and explorers—notoriously anti-authoritarian types—to “not notice” intelligent natives just because they’ve been ordered not to, even when the natives are throwing spears at them and trying to burn their base camps. Actually, the government isn’t that naïve, because it’s posted a military commando team to liquidate any explorer who disobeys the orders and mentions natives in his reports. Presumably the other scouts won’t notice this, or will blame the natives who they aren’t supposed to have noticed. Hmmm, just what kind of place is this Federation? Well, despite being a single galactic government with no apparent enemies, it seems to be heavily armed. Why? The military has to defend itself against the judiciary, while the judiciary has secret agents licensed to kill who are spying on the military, and both are scared to death of the executive… It’s an interesting galaxy, as long as you don’t mind some big lapses in logic.
   There’s one that relates directly to the dogs. Although they are described as equal in intelligence to humans—and Von Gunden does a fine job of showing them to be that smart, yet still possessing canine personality traits which make them distinct from humans—they all talk in a mild Bizarro English. “If Ray say so, we work with them, sure enuff.” “What we do?” “Is fun to chase antelopes once more.” “No, I on way to see Ray when saw you here. Thought I tell you first.” This leads to a touching moment on the next-to-last page when the dogs ask Ray to teach them better English. That’s a nice bit of character development, except that if you think about it, there’s no reason why the dogs shouldn’t have spoken normal English from the beginning. Nobody taught them to talk funny; their dialogue is just written that way. But Beowulf and the other dogs are such appealing mutts that readers must forgive the flaws in the writing for the opportunity to meet them.


	Title:	K-9 Corps: Under Fire
	Author:	Kenneth Von Gunden
	Publisher:	Ace Books (New York, NY), Aug 1991
	ISBN:	0-441-42494-5
		250 pages, $3.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   K-9 Corps II is more of the same. This time Ray Larkin, Beowulf, Grendel, Gawain, Tajil, and others—some of the same dogs as in the first novel, and some replacements for casualties, are sent to join the military compound on the planet Hephaestus in guarding the Federation prisoners sentenced to the ruby mines there. Simple—except for the riots of the miners, the attacks by the native predators, the treachery among the troops—and the very dangerous powers of the rubies themselves, rare gems capable of increasing the psi-powers of any sentient life… (back cover blurb)
   The dogs still talk funny. The independent scout cats make their appearance. They are more aloof and snotty, and their grammar is much more sophisticated, but otherwise they’re on a par with the dogs. The two teams get along like the Army and the Navy; there’s a lot of interservice rivalry during peacetime, but they work together smoothly once the action starts.
   One interesting change is that, as a result of the political fallout from the events in the first novel, it is revealed that the Federation government has been suppressing news of other intelligent species in the galaxy. So in the three years between the two novels, galactic civilization has evolved from humans-only to looking like the cantina scene from Star Wars.


	Title:	The Enchanted Cat (illustrated)
	Editor:	John Richard Stephens
	Publisher:	Prima Publishing & Communications (Rocklin, CA), Oct 1990
	ISBN:	1-55958-045-3
		246 pages, $12.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This trade paperback has the look of a lavish literary/art anthology for cat lovers. But in addition to the poems about cats, and the writings by Hemingway and Poe and Twain and Kipling and Montaigne about cats, and the reproductions on almost every page of paintings of cats by such artists as Goya and Picasso and Toulouse-Lautrec and Renoir, there is an extensive coverage of the relationship of cats to fantasy. This includes cats in religion (cats as gods in various cultures), cats in folk tales, and cats in contemporary fantasy literature. This is a superb reference book for all who are interested in cats in mythology and folk culture through the ages, although it stops short of modern anthropomorphics.
   The typography and design of The Enchanted Cat suggest the gift books of the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries. Although there are selections up through the 1980s, the emphasis is upon the works of Victorian and Edwardian authors and artists such as Arthur Rackham, Lewis Carroll, John Greenleaf Whitttier, Beatrix Potter, and their contemporaries. The editor seems to have an aristocratic disdain for modern popular culture. There are a few 19^th century cat cartoons by A. B. Frost and Theophile Steinlen, but the only 20^th century cat cartoons are book or magazine illustrations by George Herriman, Charles Addams, and Edward Gorey—with the exception of a single panel with a cat from Winsor McCay’s intellectually-acclaimed Little Nemo in Slumberland. You won’t find Krazy Kat, Felix the Cat, Sylvester P. Pussycat, or Garfield here.
   Here are some of the items which I found interesting: many photographs of Egyptian drawings and sculpture of divine cats or gods posing as cats; a 1799 star chart of the constellation Felis, part of an attempt by French astronomers J. E. Bodé and Joseph de Lalande to arrange stars they had discovered into new constellations (there was no public interest in the new constellations of stars invisible to the naked eye); an Italian version of Puss in Boots that predates Perrault’s more famous version by about 150 years; testimony from the July 1556 mass trial of “certain Wytches at Chensford in the Countie of Essex” that describe how witches receive cats from Satan to be their familiars; a spell cited at a 1665 witch trial to turn a witch into a cat and back again; the famous compilation of cat paintings of 19^th century artist Louis Wain, which grow increasingly abstract as Wain became progressively insane; and tidbits of folklore scattered throughout the book, such as that, for about twenty-five years in the mid-19^th century, the native guards at the Government House in Poona, India, saluted and addressed any cat seen near the front door after dark as “your Excellency” on the off-chance that it might be the reincarnation of Governor Sir Robert Grant, who died there in 1838. The Enchanted Cat contains plenty of material that will intrigue the readers of YARF!

   The modern international Olympic Games have become world-famous since 1896. But suddenly, since the 1980 Olympics in Moscow, it seems that every Games has to have its own anthropomorphic mascot. Wodka’s brief article in the official magazine of the United States Olympic Committee tells how this tradition developed over the past twenty years. The first mascot was actually adopted by the 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich (Waldi the Dachshund), but the mascots did not capture the public’s attention until the 1980 and 1984 Games were so heavily promoted by Misha the Bear and Sam the Eagle.
   The article lists and describes all eleven of the Summer and Winter Games mascots from Waldi to Cobi, the avant-garde dog mascot of the 1992 Summer Games in Barcelona. In most cases the designers are credited and some production history is given. For example, the Soviet government put a committee of artists to work to design its mascot, and created a whole biography for him that was generally considered unnecessary and ignored. (Misha the Bear’s full name is Mikhail Patapych Toptygin.)
   The Olympic mascots have become omnipresent every four years on posters and enameled pins, but it’s difficult to find much background information about them, or about how the characters’ designers and names are selected. This article should answer most questions. Unfortunately, there are only a few illustrations, and they are of some of the best-known, recent mascots. A look at the earlier and more obscure characters would have been more interesting.

		#21 / Jul 1992


	Title:	Horse Fantastic
	Editors:	Martin H. Greenberg & Rosalind M. Greenberg
	Publisher:	DAW Books (New York), Dec 1991
	ISBN:	0-88677-504-3
		314 pages, $4.50
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

DAW Books’ two Catfantastic anthologies must be successful, because now we have Horse Fantastic to the same formula. These are seventeen brand-new stories about fantastic horses: ghostly horses, demonic horses, talking horses, horses of the gods, extraterrestrial horses, horses that turn into people and people that turn into horses, horse statues that come to life, Biblical horses, and more, including one tale each of a unicorn and a pegasus. There are horses in urban New York City, horses on the racetrack, horses on the rodeo circuit, horses in primitive cultures, and horses in a variety of mythical lands. Mercedes Lackey has a new short story in her Kingdom of Valdemar setting, Stolen Silver; and Mary Stanton’s The Horse Boy brings her Courts of The One Hundred and Five to ancient Baghdad.
However, Horse Fantastic is more tenuously related to anthropomorphic literature than is Catfantastic. That series features more stories in which the cat is the protagonist or the motivator, or is characterized with human intelligence. Most of these Horse Fantastic stories feature humans as their main characters, who have some personal problem created or solved by an encounter with a benevolent or a malevolent magical horse. The horse may be the catalyst but most of the reacting is done by the human. Nancy Springer’s The Most Magical Thing About Rachel is the only story among the seventeen in which anthropomorphized horses play more than a bit role. Unless you choose to shelve Horse Fantastic along with Catfantastic as a set, you will have a hard time justifying keeping this in your anthropomorphic library. It is enjoyable reading, but it’s mostly not morph fiction.


	Title:	Cats in Space, and Other Places
	Editor:	Bill Fawcett
	Publisher:	Baen Books (Riverdale, NY), May 1992
	ISBN:	0-671-72118-6
		407 pages, $4.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   If anyone doubts that felinoids are the preferred animals of most s-f writers, just consider how many anthologies of cat s-f & fantasy stories there are compared to those which feature any other animal. Cats in Space contains sixteen stories and one poem, written from 1939 (A. E. van Vogt’s Black Destroyer) to the present. A couple appear to be published here for the first time, but most are reprints.
   Three (Fritz Leiber’s Space-Time for Springers, Ursula K. LeGuin’s Schrödinger’s Cat, and Cordwainer Smith’s The Game of Rat and Dragon) have already been included in Jack Dann’s & Gardner Dozois’s 1984 anthology Magicats!, but the other fourteen are new to an animal-theme s-f anthology.
   The book is divided into two sections. ‘Cats’ contains ten stories and the poem, about normal housecats or derivatives of them, such as the bioengineered, talking, space-going Kim in Fritz Leiber’s Ship of Shadows. ‘Alien Cats’ contains six stories about interstellar felinoids such as C. J. Cherryh’s hani, Anne McCaffrey’s Hrrubans, and Larry Niven’s kzin (in a story by Greg Bear & S. M. Stirling, The Man Who Would Be Kzin).
   The stories are mostly science-fiction, although there are a few magical fantasies. The second part cheats a bit in that Cherryh’s Chanur’s Homecoming is not really a story. It’s Chapter 12 from her novel of the same title. It’s dramatic, but if you haven’t already read the novel, you won’t have any idea as to what’s going on except that two factions of cat-people are shooting it out for control of a space station. It starts and ends on cliffhangers. It’s understandable that Fawcett would want to include something about the hani in this book, since they are one of the most charismatic felinoid alien species in all s-f, but this fragment is merely confusing by itself.
   A couple of other stories are also cheats in that the cats are very minor characters. David Drake’s Bullhead is a fantasy about an early 19^th-century frontiersman warlock who happens to have a talking-cat familiar in his cabin. The cat, who talks with a hillbilly accent, appears in only two brief scenes in the forty-page story. (The warlock’s talking mule has a much larger role.) Robert A. Heinlein’s Ordeal in Space uses a kitten trapped on a 35^th-floor window ledge to force the ex-spaceman protagonist to reminisce about the space trauma that wrecked his career, and force him to overcome his fear of heights. The cat itself is barely in the story. As usual, this criticism is not aimed at the quality of the stories; they are fine. They are just not really cat stories.
   But since they are good reading, and since the book does contain many good short stories about anthropomorphized cats (and a few other animals), it is definitely recommended. Other highlights besides those named are Cordwainer Smith’s The Ballad of Lost C’mell and Fredric Brown’s Mouse. Morph fans will also appreciate Dean Morrissey’s humorous cover painting of two alley cats about to blast off in a rocket ship constructed out of junk. If this ever becomes available as an art print, it will be on most morph fans’ walls within weeks.

		#22 / Jan 1993


	Title:	The Ancient Solitary Reign
	Author:	Martin Hocke
	Graphics:	Illustrations by Shirley Barker; map by Ursula Sieger
	Publisher:	Trafalgar Square (North Pomfret, VT), Jul 1990
	ISBN:	0-246-13469-0
		358 pages, $21.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This British anthropomorphized nature novel features owls. Young Hunter is hatched into a woodland Barn owl community where a peaceful adolescence gives him the feeling that he is living in a settled, serene world—the “ancient, solitary reign” of Barn owl society from time immemorial. Alas, his world is just about to become engulfed by every disaster known to British owldom.
   Man’s spreading urban development destroys the forest. The Barn owls are squeezed into the same territory as the Tawny owls and the Little owls, forcing the species into conflict for living space. Reckless hunters render the remaining woods unsafe. Dangerous pesticides make eggs infertile. The Barn owls dissent among themselves over how to react to these threats. Winger, a fanatically socialistic owl, stirs up enough discontent against the conservative council to replace them as the leader. But are his revolutionary ideas really solutions, or will they lead the owls into greater peril? Hunter is a reluctant hero whose sense of duty leads him into one adventure after another against his community’s enemies. But the greater his successes are, the harder he is pressured to support one faction or the other. It begins to seem inevitable that Hunter’s greatest danger will come from the Barn owls’ own politicians.
   Barn owls are by nature more solitary than most British mammal or bird species. This has made it a challenge to bring them together in a community that is anthropomorphic enough for interesting character interaction, yet still depicts their particular attributes with realism. Hocke’s society of the ancient solitary reign is imaginative enough that it is intriguing even if not entirely convincing. The story keeps introducing new surprises every few pages, which are individually dramatically justified but eventually prime the reader to feel, “It’s about time for the plot to swing in another unexpected direction,” and it does.
   The Barn owl’s normal dialogue is good, but an unfortunate attempt to distinguish between the other owl species and classes by assigning them different accents is much too artificial. They read like parodies of upper- and lower-class British accents and American accents. And while the dialogue is usually clever, it is not always convincing. Hunter is introduced with his brother and sister as fledglings in the nest. They take for granted being fed by their parents, until the day that their mother tells them that they must start to learn the way that Barn owls live “by a process we call education.” Hunter’s sister asks whether this education will consist of only theory or actual practice. That’s a pretty sophisticated question for an infant.
   Still, considering how many novels are populated by characters who act unbelievably stupidly, it’s a change to find one where the characters seem to be more intelligent than they should be.
   Hocke also tends to lapse into florid prose, especially when concluding a chapter. “But [Hunter] did not want to disturb Steeple or his mother and knew that he must gather all his strength to face yet another journey fraught with the danger and excitement that had so quickly become the essence of his hitherto sheltered and innocent young life.” This is ironic considering that one of the more ridiculous owls is the pompous and posturing Bardic, whose sonorous epics of Barn owl history put everyone to sleep.
   Despite these small flaws, The Ancient Solitary Reign is a suspenseful and often brutal drama which incorporates most of the instincts and attributes of Barn owl life. This Trafalgar Square imprint is not so much an American edition as an American marketing of the original May 1989 British edition by Grafton Books.

		#23 / Mar 1993

These novels are all sequels to novels reviewed in previous issues of Yarf!


	Title:	The Children’s Hour
	Author:	Jerry Pournelle & S. M. Stirling
	Publisher:	Baen Books (New York, NY), Nov 1991
	ISBN:	0-671-72089-9
		316 pages, $4.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This new “novel of the Man-Kzin Wars” takes place forty-two years after the ferociously predatory tiger-like kzin conquered the human colony world of Wunderland, and began using it to launch invasion fleets against the Solar System. A commando mission is finally sent to Wunderland, to sabotage the latest kzinti fleet and, if possible, to start or support a human resistance movement against the kzin overlords. Good guys and bad guys are found on both sides. The commandos’ assassination target is a charismatic ‘noble enemy’ kzin commander who is more admirable than many of the human low-life types that the commandos have to work with.
   The Children’s Hour was first published as two separate stories in the Man-Kzin Wars anthologies, as was the previous novel reviewed in Yarf! The two halves of Cathouse were better integrated into a single novel. The Children’s Hour remains two obviously separate stories stuck together, with a completely new alien menace, the thrint, appearing unexpectedly halfway through the book to threaten both the humans and the kzin.
   Morph fans will be intrigued by the portrait of the kzin sociology, and how the kzin rulers on Wunderland interact with their conquered human servants. The giant felinoid warriors were originally described by Larry Niven as so touchy, proud, and viciously argumentative that it seemed unlikely that they could work together to build an interstellar civilization. Jerry Pournelle & S. M. Stirling have developed a plausible description of how the kzin culture works. The title refers to the revelation as to how the kzin raise and train their feral young. The telepathic, mind-controlling thrint are also fascinatingly non-human, but they are not depicted in as much colorful detail.


	Title:	Catamount
	Author:	Michael Peak
	Publisher:	New American Library/Roc Books (New York, NY), Mar 1992
	ISBN:	0-451-45141-4
		282 pages, $4.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Peak’s second fantasy is again set in the dry foothills around San Diego, California. Sarena, the young puma who was a supporting character in Cat House, is a major character here, but the rest of the cast is brand new.
   Catamount repeats Peak’s formula of switching between three simultaneous stories, two starring animals and one featuring humans; all of them blending animal-fantasy mythology with realistic Southwestern zoology. Sarena is a lone mountain lion wandering through the semi-arid countryside. Pumas are naturally solitary predators, but Sarena has never seen another of her species. She is now old enough to seek a mate. She gains an unlikely companion when she meets Lanakila, a bald eagle driven far from his natural territory. The two team up for their mutual advantage.
   Eight large dogs escape from a kennel where guard dogs are trained. They form a wild pack led by Grash, a German shepherd. Peak gives a sympathetic picture of the potentially dangerous but bewildered dogs trying to live off the land. But there is not enough game for them and the better-adapted coyotes. It appears as though the dogs are either headed for a tragically fatal confrontation with Sarena and Lanakila, or they will be forced to raid suburban back yards and eat pet dogs and cats, which is sure to bring the police and their eventual extermination. Peak keeps the reader guessing whether this fate can be avoided.
   Laura Kay is a reporter for the San Diego Union who covers a report that the California Department of Fish and Game is about to issue 250 permits for trophy-hunting of mountain lions, and that animal-rights activists plan to disrupt the Department’s meeting. She also gets involved with the story of the feral dog pack terrorizing the foothill suburbs, and she learns that Fish & Game is also after some ruthless poachers. As she investigates these stories, she becomes romantically involved with Keith Gallatin, a rock-star environmental activist who has a more-than-natural rapport with animals. Peak makes a pretense at presenting the environmental issue sympathetically but objectively. But it’s clear that the worst of the animal-lovers are merely embarrassingly overenthusiastic but harmless, while the pro-hunters and NRA activists all come across as gun-nut sadists who just love to blow away innocent wildlife and endangered species.
   Catamount is simplistic as propaganda, and Peak resorts too often to dei ex machina to get his protagonists out of the desperate situations into which he casts them. But there are some interesting anthropomorphic characters, even among the villainous coyotes.

		#24 / May 1993

These are more sequels to novels reviewed in past issues of Yarf!


	Title:	Mariel of Redwall
	Author:	Brian Jacques
	Illustrator:	Gary Chalk
	Publisher:	Hutchinson Children’s Books (London, UK), Oct 1991
	ISBN:	0-09-176405-X
		387 pages, £12.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This fourth Redwall novel also follows its author’s formula. We learn that Redwall, the forest abbey where all animals live in peace, is near the seacoast. Mariel, a tomboyish young mousemaid, is brought to Redwall for healing after she has escaped from Gabool the Wild, the dread Lord of Terramort Island, King of the Searats, Warlord of all Rodent Corsairs, Captain of Captains (pg. 5). Gabool’s pirates captured her father’s ship and killed or tortured everyone, and Mariel is determined to return to Terramort and slay Gabool in revenge. Meanwhile, Gabool is going mad and has begun to kill his own officers, whom he suspects of plotting against him. Greypatch, captain of the Darkqueen, decides to desert with his rat-crew, give up the sea, capture Redwall, and live as robber barons with the peaceful animals as their slaves.
   Once again the novel splits into two parallel adventures, one involving a heroic quest and the other set at Redwall. Mariel is joined by the handsome mouse warrior Dandin, the witty rabbit troubador Tarquin, and the stolid young hedgehog Durry Quill. They have numerous near-fatal escapades with quicksand bogs, treacherous toads, a giant lobster, and similar dangers as they decipher the cryptic map that shows the way to Terramort. Meanwhile, Greypatch’s scurvy gang is a laughable menace when compared to the evil armies that besieged Redwall in the earlier novels, but it is now many generations after the days of Martin the Warrior. The current inhabitants of Redwall are totally unfamiliar with having to defend themselves. Abbot Bernard quickly bars the strong walls against the swaggering rats, but how long can the naïve animal peasants and children stand against the sadists who know all the tricks of dirty warfare?
   Mariel of Redwall stands on its own better than the third novel did, and it is a good one with which to start the series. But it does have a couple of annoying aspects. Nobody expects the villains to win, but the ghost of Martin the Warrior keeps appearing so often to help the heroes that there is virtually no suspense. And you need a thick dictionary of British dialects to follow the dialogue, what with the “Harr, shiver me timbers, matey” speech of the searats, the “I say, old chap, wot ho, pip pip, wot bally rot” of the rabbits, and the “Hurr aye, doant ‘ee worrit, owd lad” of the moles and hedgehogs.


	Title:	K-9 Corps: Cry Wolf
	Author:	Kenneth Von Gunden
	Publisher:	Ace Books (New York, NY), Feb 1992
	ISBN:	0-441-42495-3
		250 pages, $3.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   K-9 Corps III reads as though it were written by Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes fame. It opens with space scout Ray Larkin, his human partner Ake Ringgren, and their talking bioengineered scout dog team buying a fancy luxury space yacht with the treasure they found in the second novel. They are just blasting off to return to Earth when they are attacked by a government battle cruiser and five single-pilot fighters, with all atomic cannon and lasers blazing! Oh, no! So there’s this spectacular space battle with the spaceships zipping and zooming around each other, shooting rays and missiles and space torpedoes; and of course the troopers’ shots all miss while our heroes’ shots are all dead hits. Better yet, the space yacht turns out to have anthropomorphic weapons! Its robot missiles and torpedoes must’ve been programmed by a fan of centuries-old Earth movies like Dr. Strangelove and Dark Star. They spout lines like, “I am proud to report that I am fully operational and prepared to execute my instructions,” and, “Open wide, Mama, this cowboy’s home from the range!” as they home in on the Federation’s fighters. (Don’t ask if there’s any reason for this battle; just lookit how exciting it is!)
   That’s in the first two chapters. The story goes downhill from there, after they arrive back on Earth and immediately have to fight all the military warlords and the killer punk biker gangs and the crime bosses who rule the cities, and the giant crocodiles and slavering bears in the sewers under the ruins of New York City, and the carnivorous multi-trunked elephant-squid, and the…
   And the scout dogs still talk funny. Somehow their “We love you, Ray! You our Man! We die for you!” dialogue isn’t as endearing as it was in the first novel. It’s gotten old; it’s a schtick that’s worn out and needs to be replaced by something fresh. An endless succession of battles with increasingly exaggerated menaces isn’t it.

		#25 / Jul 1993


	Title:	K-9 Corps: The Last Resort
	Author:	Kenneth Von Gunden
	Publisher:	Ace Books New York, NY), Jan 1993
	ISBN:	0-441-42496-1
		252 pages, $4.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This fourth volume in the K-9 Corps series is the best so far. It’s still nonstop action with little depth, but the drama flows more smoothly and plausibly.
   Ray Larkin, Ake Ringgren, and their team of genetically enhanced talking scout dogs are wandering through 24(?)th-century galactic civilization, which is reeling after the interstellar civil war that led to the fall of the corrupt Terran Federation. The Last Resort begins with the team accidentally saving the life of one of the galaxy’s richest businessmen. In gratitude, he offers to take them as guests to Neverland, the most luxurious, adventurous, exclusive, and expensive resort planet imaginable, which he owns. Can you say Westworld and Jurassic Park, boys and girls? It’s obvious to the experienced team that something is wrong on Neverland even before they land. However, they assume it’s just some minor larcenous enterprise of dishonest employees, which they can easily expose. But it turns out to be much more deadly than that. Soon Our Heroes are fleeing from a planetful of robotic war machines, scientifically resurrected carnosaurs, licensed-to-kill secret agents, and take-no-prisoners commando teams, all out to exterminate them before they can escape offplanet to reveal what they have learned. (But no ninjas. How did he miss throwing in ninjas?)
   Seriously, the progression of the mystery from light-hearted detective work to Oh shit, we’re in real trouble! discovery is nicely handled. The action is choreographed less implausibly than in the third novel, so that it seems like a handful of Good Guys really might stand off a planetful of professional killers.
   More importantly, the dogs—Beowulf, Frodo, Mama-san, and the rest—have an improved role. In the first three novels, they seem to do little more than hero-worship their human ‘pack leaders’ and blindly obey orders. In The Last Resort, they seem more confident. The humans and dogs talk more as social equals, with the dogs joining in the macho good-buddy joshing between Ray and Ake. This gives them a stronger and more likeable personality, and better presents them as individuals rather than interchangeable extras. Also, their bizarro-speech is downplayed, so that it seems more like a colorful accent than an indication of a lack of education or an inferior status. These are encouraging developments. Let’s hope that Von Gunden continues to expand on them.


	Title:	The Nine Lives of Catseye Gomez
	Author:	Simon Hawke
	Publisher:	Warner Books/Questar (New York, NY), Oct 1992
	ISBN:	0-446-36241-7
		216 pages, $4.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Simon Hawke likes to surprise his readers. This novel is a spin-off of his six-volume Wizard of… series, which began with The Wizard of 4^th Street in 1987 and may have ended with The Wizard of Santa Fe in 1991. It is set in the 23^rd century, which looks like today’s world except that magic has replaced technology. In the first novel, a group of sorcerous vigilantes comes together to battle a cult of foul necromancers who prey on humanity. The necromancers scatter, and the good wizards have to track them down individually in London, Hollywood, Paris, et cetera. In The Wizard of Santa Fe, they seemingly kill the final necromancer, although there are still some loose ends. One item that did not appear to be a loose end was the appearance of a tough alley cat with magically enhanced human intelligence and speech, who helps the wizards. Catseye Gomez was a colorful character, but his role was not large enough to make the novel stand out as ’morph fiction.
   Now Gomez is back, starring in a novel of his own. He’s wandered from Santa Fe to Denver, where he immediately gets involved in a mundane murder mystery. Because Gomez is a Mickey Spillaine fan. It seems that 20^th-century popular literature is still big in the 23^rd century, and Gomez’s hero is Mike Hammer, the tough-guy private eye. So he’s not about to stay uninvolved when an investigative reporter is murdered—a reporter who owns a sexy calico cat whom Gomez is interested in.
   Gomez and Princess are by no means the only talking animals in the novel. The 23^rd century is full of intelligent dogs, horses, and other pets magically enhanced for rich owners. (Also unicorns and some grotesquely ‘cute’ fantasy hybrids that shouldn’t have been tried.) But the intelligent animals are now demanding civil rights. New social problems are being created. Can a pet bring suit against an abusive owner? If an owner tires of an intelligent pet and throws it out, what should happen to it? You can’t just put an intelligent animal to sleep at the local pound (well, you legally still can, but not even the most callous bureaucrat would dare order that), and the city can’t feed them indefinitely. Can you even lock up or neuter an intelligent animal against its will? The reporter was investigating the newly-formed Equal Rights for Animals (ERA) movement, which is trying to get a bill onto the Colorado ballot in the next state elections, when she was car-bombed. Is someone involved with the movement guilty? Or did the reporter have other enemies who are trying to use the ERA as a scapegoat? The police are investigating, but no PI worth his trench coat would leave a case like this to the bulls, especially when an alley cat can go places and snoop where no human can.
   The Nine Lives of Catseye Gomez is more than a regular murder mystery with a talking-cat investigator. The ERA angle gives it a much wider ’morph connection. The background depicts how human urban society is being modified by the presence of intelligent, but not otherwise anthropomorphized, animals in its midst. For example, many of the animals are cynical over the fact that, whether they win legal rights or not, they’ll always be dependent upon humans’ goodwill for their homes and meals, since animals without hands can’t do much for themselves. Gomez is one of the few talking animals who is willing to revert to ‘wild’ nature to preserve his independence, eating garbage from trash cans and killing mice to devour them raw, instead of getting nauseated by anything cruder than packaged pet food.
   However, Hawke does have a writing problem that makes the novel hard to start. He always begins each story in a series with a summary of what has gone before. Since Catseye Gomez is the seventh set in his magical 23^rd century, the book opens with a tremendous expository lump. The plot doesn’t really start to move until page 36. Stick it out, because it’s worthwhile reading after that point.

		#26 / Sep 1993


	Title:	Son of Spellsinger
	Author:	Alan Dean Foster
	Publisher:	Warner Books/Questar (New York, NY), Apr 1993
	ISBN:	0-446-36257-3
		376 pages, $5.50
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Fans of Foster’s Spellsinger series can rejoice! Six years after The Time of the Transference, which Foster had said would be the final Spellsinger story because he had used up the plot potentials of that funny-animal world, a seventh novel has finally appeared.
   (Curiously, the advance publicity for this novel, including photographs of its cover in ads just before its release, clearly showed the title as Son of a Spellsinger. Did somebody at Warner Books decide at the last minute that the obvious allusion was too risqué?)
   The first six Spellsinger novels related the adventures of Jon-Tom Merriweather, a young human wanna-be rock singer who was magically transported into a world shared by humans and talking, clothes-wearing funny animals. Because music has magic powers, Jon-Tom was drafted as the reluctant aide to Clothahump, the turtle wizard, who sent him to combat various menaces that threatened to destroy or enslave this whole world. Jon-Tom made several friends (notably Mudge, the rascally otter) and formed attachments (notably Talea, a human girl). In what was originally the final novel, he decided to remain in this world instead of returning home.
   Since The Time of the Transference was intended to be the last story, Foster wrapped up all the loose ends and closed it with a happily ever after finale. To keep from reneging on this, Son of Spellsinger takes place eighteen years later, and it stars the children of Jon-Tom and Talea, and of Mudge and his wife. Jon-Tom’s son Buncan, and Mudge’s son and daughter Squill and Neena, are restless adolescents, bored with the lazy life that their parents are content with. When a sloth merchant comes to tell about a legendary fabulous treasure to which a dying fox mercenary gave him a clue, the adults aren’t interested in leaving home to help find it. Buncan, Squill, and Neena see this as their opportunity to have an Adventure, and they sneak away to make the most of it.
   Son of Spellsinger features the same sort of picaresque wanderings as in the previous novels. The human and otter teenagers are constantly in danger as they travel from one new animal community to the next. The menaces that they encounter include a band of hound robbers, a woodchuck wizard, a mink nobleman who kidnaps and tries to ravish Neena, a tribe of murderous meerkat desert raiders, and an evil religious cult (the species is supposed to be a surprise) that is conducting unholy experiments to create new kinds of animals to be their zombie slaves. The three teens also meet new friends: Gragelouth, the sloth merchant who is slow but not stupid; Snaugenhutt, a once-mighty rhinoceros warrior who has become a drunken bum; and Viz, Snaug’s exasperated tickbird squire who has been trying to reform him.
   The novel is fun. Unfortunately, it does not quite measure up to its predecessors. The changes that Foster has made in his formula have weakened it. The earlier novels thrust Jon-Tom, Mudge, and their various companions into desperate quests to save the world. It’s true that this began to feel very stereotyped by the end, but it did give the stories a greater thrill of impending doom than the misadventures of three teen runaways just bumming around. Although the three are often in personal deadly danger, there is always the feeling that they can end their problems just by turning around and going home. Jon-Tom was a more likeable protagonist for the reader to identify with than his shallow, know-it-all, rebellious son. Squill and Neena are more frenetic versions of their otter parents; but while Mudge was often rash, he was not completely foolhardy. Finally, Foster has tried to update the musical magic by making Buncan, Squill and Neena wanna-be rap singers. The problem here may be with me rather than the novel, because I don’t pretend to like rap music, but somehow Foster’s rapping doesn’t seem as convincing as his rocking.
   However, these flaws are only minor and in comparison with the other Spellsinger books. Son of Spellsinger is still delightfully entertaining.


	Title:	Forests of the Night
	Author:	S. Andrew Swann
	Publisher:	DAW Books (New York, NY), Jul 1993
	ISBN:	0-88677-565-5
		284 pages, $3.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

This is an incredibly suspenseful thriller. To oversimplify for the sake of an easy comparison, it’s like BladeRunner with the future society’s Replicants replaced by ’morphs—from the viewpoint of the ’morphs. It depicts a mid-21^st-century America full of new slang, new high-tech crimes, and new world tensions, but also some very old hatreds and passions. There’s always going to be a downtrodden minority, and this time it’s the ’morphs. But is this just basic human nature, or is somebody deliberately manufacturing a suicidally explosive clash here?
Swann (the name in the copyright statement is Steven Swiniarski) does an excellent job of presenting a future that has evolved enough to be exotic, but is still familiar enough to be comprehensible. Cryptic references seem at first to be just to build up the colorfully futuristic ambience, but they gradually connect to clarify each other and advance the plot. The clearer it is, the more ominous it becomes.

   American ghettos are filled with ‘moreaus’, most of whom are ex-soldiers biodesigned to fight in a spate of foreign wars about twenty-five years earlier, who poured into the U.S. during peacetime until immigration of non-humans was shut off. Nohar Rajasthan is a young, American-born, cynical private investigator of tiger stock. He has played it safe by handling cheap moreau cases exclusively, and not getting involved in ‘pink’ (human) affairs. Then a mysterious client offers Nohar more money than he can afford to refuse, to look into the murder of the campaign manager of an influential Ohio Congressman, who has inexplicably brought pressure to have the police investigation shelved.
   The murder-mystery aspect of the novel is well developed. Nohar is led to increasingly dangerous complications, such as a rat street gang pushing a new, scientifically sophisticated deadly drug; and interference from both local and federal investigators who have their own rivalry, one of whom is an illegally biogenetically-altered human. But the deadliest twist of all is entirely Nohar’s own fault, because he knows that a moreau must never, never get emotionally involved with a pink woman.
   The story is well worth reading on this level alone. ’Morph fans will also appreciate all the tossed-off glimpses of what this moreau society is like, such as a rabbit-owned bar named Watership Down.

If there are any essential novels for a ’morph fan’s library, Forests of the Night is one of them.

		#27 / Nov 1993


	Title:	Dinotopia; A Land Apart from Time
	Author:	James Gurney
	Illustrator:	The author
	Publisher:	Turner Publishing (Atlanta, GA), Sep 1992
	ISBN:	1-878685-23-6
		159 pages, $29.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Artist James Gurney is well known in the SF field for his cover paintings to SF and fantasy paperback novels. He is also known to the readers of National Geographic Magazine for his artistic recreations of lost civilizations. Now he has combined both his specialties in a tour de force which is deservedly a national best-seller. Dinotopia evokes the 19^th-century literary wonder of Vernean SF, illuminated with the artistic splendor of a Doré or a Rackham.
   Dinotopia is written as the travel diary of Professor Arthur Denison, a Victorian-era explorer who is shipwrecked with his young son Will on a large unknown island. They find a civilization of humans and dinosaurs living in harmony. Since this is a fictional travel diary, the emphasis is less on story or action than on Prof. Denison’s scholarly notes and sketches. There are full-color paintings on virtually every page, including numerous double-page panoramas of Dinotopia’s forests, cities, and street scenes.
   Some among the general public may superficially consider Dinotopia little more than a variant of Alley Oop or The Flintstones, with better art. ’Morph fans should be aware of the significant difference that this is not a land of humans with domesticated dinosaurs, but a society in which humans and intelligent dinosaurs live as equal partners. There is apparently some debate as to whether Dinotopia should be considered anthropomorphic, because the dinosaurs are not designed as funny animals. There are degrees of anthropomorphism. Suppose that you were developing a world in which most* mammals were equally intelligent and willing to live and work together; humans, horses, dogs, elephants, deer, pgs, etc—but were not otherwise any more anthropomorphized than they are in reality. How would you design a common language for so many different mouth forms and vocal chords? What would a written alphabet look like that must be used by many species with hooves or paws but no hands? What would houses, public buildings, furnishings, or sanitary facilities look like for so many different body types? This is certainly a scenario that should interest Yarf!’s readers.
   Gurney’s human-dinosaur civilization is richly and intriguingly depicted, eve if its practicality seems idealistically utopian. Denison’s diary runs from November 1862 until, apparently, late 1866. It covers four years’ worth of touring the small continent’s forests, farms, cities, schools, government buildings, industries, health facilities, transportation and communication networks, cultural events, and so forth; but there is not one word about the less pleasant social services—police, courts, prisons, armies. Can everyone among all the species, even the intelligent Tyrannosaurii, be so reasonable and good-natured? There is not even a fire-fighting agency mentioned, despite one city, Volcaneum, being located next to an apparently active volcano; and another, Treetown, being totally constructed of wood.
   Although this is a pseudo-scientific journal, there are some personalities in it. Prof. Denison is happily willing to spend years compiling his notes, which he vaguely expects to eventually bring back to Boston’s learned societies. Will, twelve years old when they are shipwrecked, is growing up to become a Dinotopian. A romance develops between him and Sylvia, a teen-aged human native; and he dreams of becoming a Skybax rider, one of the elite couriers who fly upon pterosaur partners between the island’s cities. The first person whom the Denisons meet is a young female Protoceratops, Bix, “one of the few dinosaurs who can ‘speak’ human languages.” (That is, one of the few saurians whose vocal chords can produce human speech. The humans and dinosaurs have become accustomed to each other’s languages, and Bix helps the Denisons to comprehend the meanings within the reptilian grunts and squeaks.) Bix becomes the Denisons’ friend and personal guide. Most other individuals, human or saurian, are met only in passing, such as “a distinguished Stenonychosaurus named Malik, the timekeeper for all of Dinotopia.”
   Dinotopia describes the Victorian present of this fabulous land. A sequel, The World Beneath, scheduled for fall 1995 publication, will present Prof. Denison’s findings in the island’s subterranean caverns, which (it is hinted) contain the secrets of man’s prehistoric arrival upon Dinotopia and the development of this unique civilization. Gurney’s imaginative tale may not be standard funny-animal fiction, but it is definitely of interest to intelligent fans of anthropomorphics.

* Only ‘most’, not all, since there should conveniently be some dumb animals for the carnivores to feed upon without disturbing their intelligent neighbors.

   The editors of Yarf! have suggested that it would make a nice change of pace from the usual book reviews to begin 1994 with a preview of the ’morph comics scene for this year. Okay! The ’morph comics publishers have been contacted, and here are their replies.
   ’Morph comicsdom is, broadly speaking, mirroring the general comics industry. There are the Big Two publishers—Antarctic Press and MU Press—and a number of other publishers with only a couple of ’morph titles each.
   The larger of the Big Two is Ben Dunn’s Antarctic Press, in San Antonio. Antarctic is producing more anthropomorphic titles than any other publisher, and it also has a large line of manga-influenced comics. Antarctic’s ’morph comics fall into two categories: those edited by the publisher, and those packaged by outside editors.
   Those edited directly by Antarctic Press include primarily their short-story anthology titles. Furrlough, Wild Life, and Genus usually contain from four to six items per issue. These comprise short stories, episodes of serials, collections of pin-up pages, or previews of new Antarctic comics and other ’morph-related news, such as flyers for the ConFurence convention or ads for ’morph cartoonists’ art-print folios. This has the disadvantage of filling the issues with lots of advertising, but the advantage of making these comics a good survey of the entire ’morph marketplace.
   Furrlough is Antarctic’s flagship title, with thirteen issues to date. It began as a venue for ’morphic military stories, and it still contains a preponderance of these, although its policy has broadened to include ‘high adventure’ tales of all sorts. There have been theme issues for fantasy and for space opera. Editor Shon Howell says that he personally would like to schedule more theme issues, but the creators are happier when they have total freedom to write and draw whatever they want instead of being constrained to work within a particular theme. Furrlough’s most popular series is Ted Sheppard’s Stosstrupp, following the exploits of a German sniper platoon on the Russian front in a new Eurasian war in 2028 A.D. Joe Rosales started a Roman Legion series set during the last days of the Roman Republic in Furrlough’s early issues which was extremely popular, but Rosales hasn’t had time to finish any new stories since issue #6—a situation which his fans hope will soon change.
   Wild Life and Genus have been typecast as Antarctic’s comedy short-story titles, although it’s more accurate to say that they cover everything that won’t fit into Furrlough. There’s certainly nothing comical about Kjartan Arnôrsson’s Mink in Genus, a black magic/horror serial. But it’s true that most of the stories in these two titles revolve around light, humorous situation-comedy scenarios. Wild Life contains the more G- and PG-rated fare, while Genus gets the stories involving more mature situations. Wild Life has had four issues to date, and Genus has had three.
   Up to now, Furrlough has been bi-monthly and the other two have been quarterly. Antarctic is increasing the frequency starting in 1994; Furrlough is now monthly, and the other two are bi-monthly. Furrlough has also just reprinted its first issue, and a Furrlough Annual is in the works. Also, Antarctic published a one-shot, Hit the Beach, during summer 1993 which was similar to Wild Life and Genus. This sold well enough that there will be two issues of Hit the Beach during 1994, a swimsuit issue in July and (tentatively) a lingerie issue around the end of the year. Finally, Antarctic has a definitely-adults-only short-story title, Velvet Touch, which featured humans only during 1993. It may get some ’morph stories that are considered too strong for Genus during 1994.
   Those of Antarctic’s titles that are put together by creator-editors may be totally creator-produced, such as Steve Gallacci’s Albedo, or the creator may assemble the main contents and leave a few extra pages for Antarctic to fill with its advertising. Gallacci’s Albedo, featuring his popular Erma Felna, EDF military-political space-opera saga, has been Antarctic’s top-selling title up to now. Gallacci originally published Albedo under his own Thoughts and Images imprint; when it moved to Antarctic, it started over as Volume Two. It has just switched from black-and-white to color printing, and is beginning again as Volume Three, Number One. Antarctic is also publishing Command Review, the collected reprints of the Erma Felna stories without the other contents of Albedo. #4 recently appeared, and future issues should come out approximately quarterly.
   Albedo was Antarctic’s top-selling title, but Paul Kidd’s and Mike Sagara’s Tank Vixens has just shattered that record. Albedo has been selling around 4,000 copies per issue recently; the first issue of Tank Vixens, just out, having received orders for just over 6,000 copies. Tank Vixens was designed as a spoof on ’morph fandom’s three favorite hang-ups: sexy furry women, military action with big guns, and gonzo humor. Even the advertising in the issues is satirical. Kidd and Sagara designed Tank Vixens as a bi-monthly two-issue mini-series, although they have ideas for sequels if the title is popular—which it already seems to be.
   Mike Curtis’ Shanda the Panda is a soap opera featuring Shanda Bruin, the young manager of a movie theater in Cedar Rabbits, and her friends and associates—their lives, loves, and personal problems, including enough adult situations to make this a Mature Readers title. Shanda has had problems in finding a regular artist, but the current plan is that Michele Light will draw every other issue while other artists fill in the issues between hers. Curtis reportedly has his stories outlined up through issue #50 or so (the latest out is only #4).
   Carole Curtis (Mike’s wife) is the writer of Katmandu, drawn by Terrie Smith. This is an exotic melodrama set on a desert planet inhabited by warring cat-peoples, with romantic entanglements between the enemy species. Katmandu is scheduled as “at least” a three-issue mini-series (#2 has just appeared), which may be extended if sales warrant it.
   In Fred Perry’s Gold Digger, young fun-loving nympho human archaeologist Gina Diggers and her adopted sister Cheetah (actually a were-cheetah) roam the world looking for ancient treasures, most of which turn out to have ancient supernatural curses on them. In the earliest stories Cheetah appeared in her human guise most of the time, but by now she seldom bothers to turn back from her natural appearance as a furry cat-woman with a body-builder’s physique. Also, they have discovered so many hidden tribes of other animal peoples, both friends and enemies (and all with very sexy bods) that, at the moment, the ’morphs usually outnumber the human cast. Even the supernatural demons are usually furry. Gold Digger started out as short stories in Antarctic’s pre-’morph anthology comic, Mangazine, graduated to a four-issue mini-series, and now has its own monthly title that is up to #7.
   ’Morphs and manga mix in Antarctic’s bi-monthly American edition of Japanese fan-cartoonist Satoru ‘Ganbear’ Yamasaki’s Fantastic Panic. This is a light-hearted sword-and-sorcery romp in which the main characters are ’morphs based on the twelve animals of the Oriental Zodiac. Shon Howell says that Fantastic Panic is still coming out in Japan, so there’s no telling how long this title may run.
   In addition to these scheduled titles, Antarctic Press is always looking for new ’morph ideas, including either reprints or new material. Antarctic published a two-issue mini-series during 1993 of John Nunnemacher’s Buffalo Wings short stories from Yarf!, and Nunnemacher is now continuing this series in Wild Life. Dan Flahive started Space Wolf as a four-issue mini-series that was interrupted after #2 due to a medical emergency in his family; one hopes that Flahive will be able to finish the series during 1994. Kurt Wilken has a one-shot tentatively scheduled for March or April—Aztec Amazon Animal Women, consisting of theme short stories rather than a novel. Mike Curtis and Terrie Smith are preparing an outer-space series, Nautilus, which won’t start until the latter half of 1994. Other titles are in negotiations and it’s too soon to talk about them.
   During 1993, Shon Howell was Antarctic’s sole editor of its ’morph titles, with the assistance of several stalwarts such as Joe Rosales and Matt High. The workload has grown to the point that Joe Rosales has just been made the full editor of Wild Life and the titles being written by Mike and Carole Curtis, and they hope to get another assistant or two. It’s evident that Antarctic Press has a major commitment to publish anthropomorphic comics.
   The second of the Big Two ’morph publishers is Edd Vick’s MU Press in Seattle. Up through fall 1993, Vick was publishing a variety of comics (mostly but not exclusively ’morphic) almost single-handedly, with some assistance by Chuck Melville after he moved to Seattle in 1991. In late 1993, Vick made Melville the full editor of almost all of MU’s comics, but he also split the company into two imprints. MU Press is now the imprint for anthropomorphic comics exclusively, and the non-’morph titles are coming out under a new imprint, AEON Press, which Vick edits. Vick remains the publisher of the overall company.
   MU’s constant problem has been that most of its comics are labor-of-love projects by cartoonists whose daily jobs do not allow them enough spare time to draw them on a regular schedule. Dwight Decker’s popular swashbuckling melodrama, Rhudiprrt, Prince of Fur, has seen only two issues since 1991, #7 and the just-published #8, due to the resignation of the original artist and the sidetracking of more than one new artist by ‘real life’ commitments. Chicago animator Will Faust, the penciller of #7 and #8, has just become its sole artist. He will attempt to draw three or four issues of Rhudiprrt a year single-handedly, but his regular job of animating TV commercials often requires him to put in a twelve-hour day, so don’t be surprised if he continues to fall behind schedule.
   This problem has even overtaken Chuck Melville’s own Champion of Katara, a sword-and-sorcery three-issue mini-series. Melville wrote and drew the first two issues shortly after he settled in Seattle, but his increasing editorial work at MU has kept him from finishing the final issue. Frustrated readers of the first two issues can be reassured that #3 should definitely be published by summer 1994.
   That problem should not affect Vicky Wyman’s five-issue Xanadu mini-series, Xanadu: Across Diamond Seas, which has just begun monthly publication. Wyman’s story was completed over a year ago, so it’s just a matter of printing it each month through May. At least two more Xanadu sequels are probable if Diamond Seas and the recently-collected original novel, Xanadu: The Thief of Hearts, sell well enough.
   Of MU’s other ongoing ’morph titles, Cathy Hill’s Mad Raccoons is an annual scheduled for publication in time for the San Diego Comic-Con each August. The 1994 issue will be #4. Wild Kingdom, MU’s erratic and erotic ’morph anthology, will appear whenever they get enough short stories to fill an issue. The hope is that #3 will be out in May or June, and #4 by the end of 1994. Wild Kingdom #1 is currently in its third printing, by the way. Unfortunately, MU’s pin-up tile, Beauty of the Beasts, has not sold well enough to continue past last summer’s #2. A few pin-up pages will probably be added to each issue of Wild Kingdom, but it looks as though textless pin-up pages alone are not strong enough to sell a comic book.
   The Furkindred shared-world albums are being redesigned for a standard 32-page comic-book format, since the 100+-page graphic-album package and the increased production time that each required (#2 was published over a year ago) have tended to inhibit sales. The next title out will be a one-shot comic, Furkindred: Let Sleeping Dogs Lie, written by Dean Graf and drawn by Terrie Smith. This is a sequel to their short story, Just Another Day on the Farm, in the original Furkindred anthology, which was the most popular single story in this shared-world project so far. Chuck Melville describes the plot as, “Ian and Morgan, two human astral travelers who are stuck in furkin bodies, travel across the hostile Acostan southlands in search of an ancient treasure that just might mean a way home for them…” Sleeping Dogs should hit the comics shops in May or June, and it will be promptly followed by what would have been the third album, Furkindred: Ferret’s Wheel. This will appear as a five-issue monthly mini-series, probably beginning in early summer. The contributors will include Roy Pounds II, Dan Kaufman, Mark Ashworth, Gerald Perkins, Chuck Melville, Heather Hudson, and Gus Norman, among others. Ferret’s Wheel will lead directly into the fourth story-arc, starting the war between the Mathoka and the Acosta and their allies which has been developing since The Furkindred began; however, this next mini-series will not start until all of the contents are on hand, to ensure that there will be no delays between issues once publication has begun.
   In addition to these ongoing series, MU has many new titles in preparation. Individual schedules will vary with the individual artists, but in general MU will try to arrange these as mini-series of no more than three or four issues, and will wait until the series are completed before announcing them, to avoid the problem of excessive lateness between issues.
   The first issue of Lou Scarborough Jr.’s Dance of the Radio-Men should be published just about now. This is an offbeat mini-series scheduled for six to eight monthly issues. “Rachel Plympton is a television line producer for a superhero program who, in the process of saving her show and studio from being sold out from under her, herself becomes a ‘super-hero’. The series deals with the idea of imagination as both commodity and survival for the humans known as Teerithians. Rendered in traditional animation techniques, this is the first original concept-animation comic,” says Melville. This is a rather marginal ’morph title; it is set on Teerithia, an Earth-like planet whose people look roughly like the generic funny-animal background characters in Carl Barks’ Duck universe.
   Writer Paul Kidd is preparing Cyberkitties as a monthly mini-series of at least three issues, starting in June. Each will contain two to four stories, each drawn by a different artist. Chuck Melville, Tom Milliorn, Eric Blumrich, Toivo Rovainen, Pat Shuttlesworth, Monika Livingston, Mike Raabe, and Phil Morrissey have signed up so far. The Cyberkitties are Morgana, Alex, and Tammi, three cat-ladies who run The Cat-Byte Detective Agency and Pizza Delivery service in twenty-first-century corporate-controlled Seattle. Cyberkitties will commit satirical mayhem on cyberpunk (especially as depicted in the Shadowrun FRP games), vampire fandom, New Age shamanism, Political Correctness, pop-culture snobbery, street samurai, and whatever else Kidd and the artists decide to skewer.
   Steve Gallacci is working on two projects for MU. One is Birthright, a series of three graphic albums collecting his three-volume interstellar political melodrama which appeared in Fantagraphics’ Critters in the late 1980s. At the moment, Gallacci is checking into whether the original negatives can be obtained from Fantagraphics or Fantagraphics’ printer after so long. If they can, this will save considerable time and money. If they cannot and the original art must be re-photographed, Gallacci may take the opportunity to revise some pages that he was unhappy with, and the project will take longer in production.
   The second is Beatrix (working title), tentatively scheduled as a three-issue mini-series ‘by Steve Gallacci and Friends’. Readers of Gallacci’s Albedo and MU’s Wild Kingdom have already seen a couple of short stories featuring Beatrix Farmer, a young single rabbit-woman trying to find a steady job and boyfriend. Bea’s mundane problems become fantastic when prankish aliens turn her into a super-heroine, dressing her in a flashy invulnerable costume that she can’t ever take off. This event will be the focus of the book-length second issue, which is being drawn by Taral Wayne. The first issue will reprint the first two stories, with two or three others set before Bea gets her super-dress. The third issue will explore how being stuck inside an invulnerable costume affects Bea’s social life, as developed in another three or four short stories. The writers and artists include Gallacci, Taral Wayne, and Fred Patten for sure, with a couple of others currently expressing interest. Gallacci wants to have at least the first two issues completed before publication is scheduled, so don’t look for Beatrix before late ’94 or early ’95.
   Even though Chuck Melville’s Champion of Katara #3 is months behind schedule, plans are in the works for at least two future Katara mini-series. Melville has recently finished a separate novel in the Rowrbrazzle apa, Felicia: Melari’s Wish. This took five years to serialize. Melville will redraw a couple of the early pages to make the overall art style more consistent, and repackage the installments to fit into a standard comic-book format. MU should start its publication in late 1994. Melari’s Wish introduced the fox-sorceress Felicia, who was so popular with Rowrbrazzle’s readers that Melville found himself having to answer many questions about her background. Figuring that the general public will also want to know more about Felicia, Melville is writing a second, three-issue monthly mini-series, Felicia: Sorceress of Katara, to relate her early years. The artists for Sorceress of Katara will be Mike Raabe and Diana Vick, and the current plans are to publish this first, leading in to the later events in Melari’s Wish. Sorceress of Katara may begin in ate summer or early fall.
   Another series reprint from Rowrbrazzle is Vixen’s Keep, drawn by Mark Wallace and written by several of his friends in the Society for Creative Anachronism under their SCA court names. Medieval weaponry and clothing styles are guaranteed to be accurate. The Keep is an academy run by a determined feminist noblewoman to train ladies in the jousting arts, to prove that a lady can be more in this male-dominated aristocratic society than just a fainting damsel who needs her knight’s protection. Vixen’s Keep will be a single graphic album containing several short stories, some completely drawn by Wallace and others penciled by him and inked by Margaret Carspecken. Phil Morrissey will draw the cover. Publication is tentatively set for June or July.
   Several years ago, Steel Tiger Press published two issues of Menagerie, an anthology comic book. The most popular thing in it was a ’morph s-f adventure serial, Scarycat and Mousekanaut, written by Paula Shoudy and drawn by Mike Raabe. The two chapters won enough fans that there have been requests to continue the story with another publisher ever since Menagerie disappeared. The problem has been that neither the original art nor the negatives for the first two chapters were kept for a reprint, and no other publisher wanted to pick up a serial in mid-story. It has finally been agreed that Mike Raabe will both write and draw a one-shot which will summarize the first two chapters and complete the adventure. MU hopes to publish this Scarycat and Mousekanaut one-shot around summer 1994.
   Two mini-series which should start around the end of 1994 are The Adventures of Kitty Malone, by John Speidel, starring his feline adventuress who has appeared in short stories in various ’morph comics over the past decade; and Stellar Babe, by Phil Morrissey, relating the misadventures of his sexy space cadet who has only appeared in pin-up art until now. It has not been decided how many issues each of these may run.
   Edd Vick and Chuck Melville say that this includes all of MU’s plans for 1994 which are reasonably definite at this point. Paul Kidd has two more series that are nearing completion in the scripting stage: Fangs of K’aath, a 30-issue graphic-art serialization of his Arabian Nights-style text novel (MU’s recent Princess Karanam and the Djinn of the Green Jug one-shot was excerpted from Fangs); and Hive, a 12-issue melodrama set in a society of anthropomorphic bees, modeled upon medieval Japanese court intrigue. But they are having trouble finding artists for these. The problem is that Kidd wants both titles released as ongoing monthly comics, not broken up into several mini-series. MU is frankly not in a position at present to pay any artist to draw the number of issues in advance that are necessary to guarantee that these titles will come out reliably for at least several months, once they begin publication. (Are there any angels out there?) Finally, two as-yet-untitled one-shots are currently being negotiated: a story by Mike Kazaleh (an actual story, not a selection of art pages like Kazaleh’s other recent one-shots); and a collection of material by William Van Horn.
   Even though MU Press is much smaller than Antarctic Press, it still has dynamic plans to increase its production of anthropomorphic comics during 1994.
   One of the oldest ’morph-community independent publishers is Jim Groat, with his GraphXpress. Its stability always looks shaky, but it is coming up on its tenth anniversary soon. GraphXpress is currently publishing only one title, Red Shetland, a parody of sword-and-sorcery in general and of Marvel’s Red Sonja in particular. Groat says that Red Shetland #8 will probably be published in February 1994, and he hopes that #9 will be out in time for the San Diego Comic-Con in August. Number 8 is being scripted and drawn by Red’s co-creator, Richard Konkle, and it will conclude the current story-sequence in which Red, the mercenary warrior-maid, has been hired by the aristocratic Lady Mizbich to find the latter’s kidnapped husband. Number 9, written by Groat and Konkle and drawn by Terrie Smith, will start the sequence in which Red finally “is humbled by the steed who is my better” (which will release her from her vow of chastity)—and it’s not who most fans expect it will be.
   A tenth anniversary is also coming up for Stan Sakai’s Usagi Yojimbo, now appearing as a bi-monthly color title from Mirage Press. Sakai says that volume 2, #5 through #8 are scheduled for the first half of 1994. The current story-line features separate 20-page tales set during Usagi’s wanderings as a lone ronin through the medieval Japanese countryside. It will probably be another few months before Sakai starts planning the return of some of the regular supporting class, or another adventure spread over several issues. But there will be a three-issue serial, Battlefield, in the backup stories describing the rabbit ronin’s early life. Issues #6 through #8 ( March—July) will tell how Young Usagi reacted upon getting his first taste of warfare.
   The interstellar adventures of Usagi’s distant descendant, Space Usagi, are about halfway through their planned run. Space Usagi was designed as three three-issue bi-monthly mini-series, to be published by Mirage in rapid succession. Space Usagi II: White Star Rising #2 and #3 are currently finishing the middle sequence, and Space Usagi III #1 will begin in late spring or early summer. The overall adventure encompasses the betrayal of Space Usagi’s Shirohoshi (White Star) clan and the seizure of their castle by the villainous Kajitori (Firebird) Empire, and Usagi’s efforts to organize a popular resistance against the Kajitori and to train his murdered lord’s son, Prince Kiyoshi, to rally the clan to victory. Sakai says that there are discussions about making Space Usagi a regular ongoing comic book, after the third mini-series has ended, although if it has to be produced continuously, other writers and artists may be brought in to help share the workload.
   “How do you define an anthropomorphic comic?”, is as subjective a question as, “How do you define science fiction?” Opinions vary with personal tastes. Many fans don’t count the titles that feature only one or a small group of ’morphs living in an otherwise-human world. That would eliminate Biker Mice from Mars, Buster the Amazing Bear, Cerebus, Dinosaurs for Hire, Dream Weavers, and the original, Mirage-published Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
   But Archie Comics’ monthly Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Adventures, a spinoff of the TV cartoons, has taken on a ’morphic life of its own. Credit goes to editor/writer Dean Clarrain, who has been developing an intricate and reasonably mature independent story line within the constraints of producing a kids’ funny-animal book, and to several other writers and artists (notably regular penciller Chris Allan) who know the fine distinction between funny animals and ’morphs. Over the past couple of years, an increasing group of animal characters has overwhelmed the original human supporting cast: Katmandu, the four-armed Himalayan tiger-warrior (good guy); Al’Falqa, the Saudi hawk-chieftain (good guy); Armageddon, the hyper-evolved shark-warlord from the future (villain); the Mighty Mutanimals (team of heroes); and numerous others—notably Ninjara, the female fox-ninja. Ninjara was introduced in TMNTA #28 while having been naïvely allied with a villain in Japan. The Turtles invited her to return with them to visit America. By issue #56 (the present), Ninjara seems to have become a permanent resident of the Turtles’ and Splinter’s New York sewer home, and she has discreetly but definitely become Raphael’s lover. Chris Allan often draws Ninjara in a manner that proves the adage that properly-designed clothes can be sexier than nudity. New details are slowly being given about Ninjara’s past and her heritage among a tribe of kitsune (Japanese fox people), which adds even more to TMNTA’s ’morphic atmosphere.
   About fifteen issues ago, the Turtles received a time-travel cry for help from their own future selves, in a late 21^st-century Earth far gone in ecological disaster. Their future selves would not reveal their personal futures to the present Turtles, but it was obvious that they had been severely battered (Raphael has lost an eye), that Splinter was no longer around, and that some tragedy had separated Raph and Ninjara. This has cast a somber mood over the present Turtles, and created an ongoing subplot in which they are constantly wondering whether there is anything they can do to change the future and avoid their own doom. This theme will feature prominently in the stories for 1994.
   Well-known cartoonists in our field who have worked on stories for TMNTA (including its spinoffs such as the quarterly TMNTA Special, or various three-issue mini-series like TMNT Presents: Donatello and Leatherhead), either recently published or due in 1994 include Mike Kazaleh, Ken Mitchroney, Garrett Ho, Bill Fitts, Mark Bodé, Gary Fields, Milton Knight, and Stan Sakai. Readers who assume that Archie’s TMNT Adventures is just another mindless juvenile funny-animal comic like Archie’s Sonic the Hedgehog or Harvey’s Woody Woodpecker should give it a try.
   Golden Realm Unlimited published its first comics around the middle of 1993, including the anthropomorphic Tall Tails #1, written by Jose Calderon and drawn by Daphne Lage. This takes place in the Kingdom of Lifdell, a fantasy land with a traditional D&D-style cast (warriors, wizards, healers, thieves, bards, etc.) battling the evil Trolls. Well, actually, the story seems to be starting with the old super-hero plot gimmick of Let’s Have the Heroes Mistakenly Fight Each Other, but presumably they’ll get back onto the track of the real villains soon. Golden Realm’s titles all also follow the current marketing trend of coming in three editions; a regular Readers’ Edition ($1.50 in Tall Tails’ case), a higher-quality Collector’s Edition with a different cover ($2.75), and a Gold Edition “limited to 500 copies, signed and numbered by the artists and writer and is sealed with a Certificate of Authenticity” (inquire for price).
   Daphne Lage has apologized for all of GRU’s second issues being late, which was due to their finding out the hard way how much work is involved in self-publishing independent comics, and how long it actually takes for the money to come in. “In a nutshell, there wasn’t enough money to print on schedule and we had to wait until we sold enough first issues before we could go to presses with the second.” This has caused missed deadlines, the need to delay further for resolicitation, etc. Tall Tails #2 should be out around now, and “the third issue will not be expected to ship until March 1994 at the earliest. We are hoping, with this policy” (waiting until a new issue is completely ready to be printed before announcing a publication date and soliciting orders), “to be able to come out on a regular monthly schedule (bi-monthly at worst).” Lage also sent information about GRU’s Dream Weavers, but that’s one of the titles featuring only a small group of ’morph super-heroes in an otherwise human universe (not counting all of the interdimensional horrific demons).
   Miami cartoonist Juan Alfonso has been producing a cute but naughty adult small-press booklet, X-Tra Spicy Tales, for the past couple of years. He is now upgrading it to a regular comic-book format, for publication by the independent Conquest Press. The new X-Tra Spicy Tales #1 will debut in February, with a 28-page story featuring the Cute Bears, X-rated parodies of the Care Bears. Number 2 will come out in time for the San Diego Comic-Con in August. Alfonso has also just published in December an eight-plate X-Tra Spicy Tales Portfolio of ’morph orgies in various fantasy settings.
   This concludes the news from those who replied to the request for information for this preview. As to other comics worth looking for—well, there are several whose publishers are not happy at having them categorized as ‘’morph comics’, but they are popular with most ’morph fans.
   Gladstone’s ongoing publication of the Disney comic books is making available again many classic stories by Carl Barks and Floyd Gottfredson and his writers, and excellent new stories by William Van Horn, Don Rosa, and some of the European Disney writers and artists. Gladstone is beginning Don Rosa’s epic 12-issue Life of Scrooge in Uncle Scrooge, which will take two years to complete. (This may be somewhat controversial, because there has been gossip that Carl Barks is not happy with the detailed life-story that Rosa has written for his character.) Readers also won’t want to miss the first American publication of a series of wonderfully witty and wacky fantasy tales starring Mickey and Goofy, written by Cal Howard and Greg Crosby and drawn by Jaime Diaz more than a decade ago for foreign sales. These were originally intended for publication as 44-page albums, but most (starting with Don’t Call Me Tut) will be serialized over three issues of Donald and Mickey.
   Reed Waller and Kate Worley’s ‘Omaha’, the Cat Dancer; Martin Wagner’s Hepcats; and Jeff Smith’s Bone. ’Nuff said, okay? All transcend mere ’morph popularity. They have been getting rave reviews throughout the comics field ever since they began, and if they aren’t enjoying the massive sales of the psychotic costumed heroes, they nevertheless seem to be financially secure enough that their publication is assured throughout 1994 (barring personal emergencies befalling the creators, like Reed Waller’s recent cancer—which, it seems, was caught in time).
   On the other hand, what about the comic-book spinoffs of current trendy TV cartoons featuring animal characters, which are theoretically aimed at the discerning satire-appreciating public rather than the kiddies? When asked for information about Marvel’s The Ren and Stimpy Show comic book, Mike Kazaleh said, “Well, I guess you can include Ren and Stimpy if you want to, although I don’t really think of them as funny animals. They’re drawn as animals, yeah, but they’re more like funny things. Martians, maybe.” It turns out that there’s not much to say about them, since there is no continuing story line. You know what to expect if you like Ren and Stimpy, and you’ll get more of it during 1994. As for Matt Groening’s new Bongo Comics’ new Itchy and Scratchy Comics, ‘Bart Simpson’s Favorite Cartoon!’, the ‘carnage-crammed’ first issue parodies Tex Avery-type cartoon violence with 28 pages of nothing but “bone-crushing anvils, hostile bulldogs, angry bee swarms, red-hot pokers (…) runaway steamrollers, skull-smashing falling safes, even eyeball-pecking canaries!” inflicted upon long-suffering Scratchy cat by the fun-loving Itchy mouse. It’s too early to tell whether this ‘satire’ title will feature this one-track formula forever, or (we hope) more varied plots will appear.
   Is that it? Other new publishers have released one or two ’morph titles during 1993, but they did not reply to the request for information about their 1994 plans. These include Sun Comic Publishing’s Tom Katt #1 (by John Dean), and Bugged-Out Comics’ Zog the Frog #1 (by Stanley White). There may be others that were overlooked in this survey; if so, our apologies for not contacting them. The independent comics field is unfortunately littered with tiny publishers who get out one or two issues and then disappear. (Remember the glossy color flyers at the 1991 San Diego Comic-Con for Studio 91 Creation’s Mogobi Desert Rats, which turned out to be considerably artistically superior to the black-and-white #1 issue? Did that ever get past #1? What’s happened to Randy Zimmerman’s third attempt, as Massive Comics Group, to publish his Tales from the Aniverse?) Let’s hope that Zog the Frog and any other new titles are doing well and they will continue during 1994. And there will probably be two or three more brand-new publishers who appear with first issues this year. Keep an eye out for them, because the next Bone or Usagi Yojimbo or Xanadu may be among them.

		#29 / Apr 1994


	Title:	Magicats II
	Editors:	Jack Dann & Gardner Dozois
	Publisher:	Ace Books New York, MY), Dec 1991
	ISBN:	0-441-51533-9
		213 pages, $3,99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Here are still more fantasy short stories about cats! Yarf! has already reviewed DAW Books’ two Catfantastic anthologies, but Ace Books’ Magicats series is actually older. The first volume was published in June 1984.
   These anthologies are similar in that both are devoted to short stories about bizarre cats, or cats in bizarre situations. But there are differences between them. Catfantastic features brand new stories written especially for that series. Magicats consists of reprints—the best SF and fantasy cat tales written over the years. Catfantastic stars domestic pusses, while Magicats is open to felines of all species. Housecats do predominate, but mountain lions, tigers, and jaguars are also present.
   There is also a subtle distinction in emphasis. Each of the Catfantastic stories is a short adventure fantasy in which a cat is the lead or pivotal character. Doubtlessly the authors were influenced toward this slant by being asked to write for an anthology featuring cats. Each Magicats story contains a cat, but the cat may be incidental rather than the main focus. These stories were not all written with a cat foremost in the author’s mind. The focus in some is on the message (the horrors of war), or on the human characters (the animal rights movement), or on the genre (comedy or murder mystery). These stories contain cats who may be vividly presented and may be central to the action, but they do not seem to be necessarily cats. They could have been dogs or some other animal just as easily. So Magicats and Catfantastic are not simply duplicates of each other. Each series has a different ‘flavor’ to it.
   The dozen stories in Magicats II span the three decades between 1961 and 1991, with the exception of John Collier’s 1940 A Word to the Wise. They are all excellent reading, although only three of the twelve really have anthromorphized cats: the Collier anecdote, Fritz Leiber’s Kreativity for Kats, and Pamela Sargent’s The Mountain Cage. Two are about human were-felines: Lucius Shepard’s The Jaguar Hunter and Avram Davidson’s Duke Pasquale’s Ring. Three are fantasies featuring ordinary cats: Isaac Asimov’s I Love Little Pussy, Ward Moore’s The Boy Who Spoke Cat, and Tanith Lee’s Bright Burning Tiger. (Well, Lee’s fiery tiger is hardly ordinary, but it is not anthropomorphic.) The last four stories not only feature normal felines, they are not even fantasies. Michael Bishop’s Life Regarded as a Jigsaw Puzzle of Highly Lustrous Cats is surrealistic stream-of-consciousness of a psychotic who is obsessed with cats; Ursula K. LeGuin’s May’s Lion is a sociological essay showing how women from two different cultures would perceive a cougar; and Lilian Jackson Braun’s The Sin of Madame Phloi and R. V. Branham’s The Color of Grass, the Color of Blood depict life (and death) in modern American homes from a housecat’s point of view.
   From the specific aspect of anthropomorphism, the Catfantastic series will be of more interest to readers of Yarf! than Magicats. But if you like good writing, fantasy, and cats—anthropomorphized or not—then you will have to read both series.


	Title:	Turning Point
	Author:	Lisanne Norman
	Map:	Michael Gilbert
	Publisher:	DAW Books (New York, NY), Dec 1993
	ISBN:	0-88677-575-2
		267 pages, $3.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

’Morph fandom has a reputation that is practically synonymous with furry eroticism. Well, it’s not just ‘us’ any more. Here is an inter-species romantic space opera that lets it all hang out and is proud of it. A human woman meets a felinoid alien—a handsome, studly, furry hunk of a cat-man—and:

   Carrie Hamilton is a repressed young woman on a male-dominated world. Not only does the colony planet Keiss have a strongly patriarchal society, but it has recently been conquered by brutally militaristic aliens, the Valtegans. Keiss’ menfolk are fighting a guerrilla war to regain their freedom, but Carrie is considered too delicate to help. She has an uncontrollable telepathic talent that makes her overly susceptible to the pain and stress felt by others, a liability in combat situations. Her father and brother are arranging to marry her to the town’s richest and most arrogant lout, smugly sure that they are acting in her best interests and that her opinions are not worth listening to.
   The first time that Carrie stands up to them is when she finds an injured cougarlike forest cat, and insists on nursing it. Only Kusac isn’t a wild animal. He’s a member of another alien race that’s also at war with the Valtegans. His spaceship was shot down on a reconnaissance mission, and he was too badly injured to keep up with his felinoid shipmates as they escaped into the forest. Kusac is the Sholan team’s telepath, so he quickly senses how good-hearted Carrie is.
   Turning Point is skillfully composed as a light adventure space opera, but it’s not hard to see all the wish-fulfillment clichés beneath the surface action. Everyone else is frightened of the fierce animal Kusac appears to be; only Carrie senses his inner nobility. Kusac uses his telepathic powers to train Carrie to control her own gift, helping her to grow from a confused girl into a strong woman. As she nurses him back to health, he gradually turns from a wild animal who is her loyal protector into (once he drops his telepathic disguise) a handsomely humanoid cat-man; the beast becomes the Beast to her Beauty. He next rescues her from her impending forced marriage, as they use their combined telepathy to find and join the other Sholans. When one of the more paranoid cat-men attacks Carrie, Kusac fights a spitting, clawing animal battle to protect her. Carrie is the only one who can bring the mutually suspicious Sholans and the human guerrillas together to fight the Valtegans as allies. And when the macho guerrillas want to send her back home to safety, it’s Kusac who demands they let her show that she can fight just as well as a man.
   The romantic theme runs overtly throughout the action. True love becomes reinforced by their telepathic link into an unbreakable bond. Both the Sholans and the humans have trouble accepting the inter-species romance, but they are proud to openly display their affection. Let it serve as a model for future human-Sholan friendly relations. The novel ends abruptly, with Carrie’s family convinced to welcome Kusac as a son-in-law, and the two lovers about to journey to Shola to break the news to his family. There is obviously room for a sequel, to tell what happens to Carrie as the only human on a planet of cat people. Is one coming?

		#30 / May 1994


	Title:	The Weigher
	Authors:	Eric Vinicoff & Marcia Martin
	Publisher:	Baen Books (Riverdale, NY), Nov 1992
	ISBN:	0-671-72144-5
		313 pages, $4.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

This SF novel does a fine job of establishing an alien culture that seemingly shouldn’t exist. The novel is narrated by Slasher, a razor-fanged, bloodthirsty carnivore on a distant planet that is discovered by Ralph and Pam Ayers, a husband-wife pair of human explorers. The Ayers do not take a major role until about ninety pages into the story; the opening is devoted entirely to establishing Slasher’s lively, vivid daily life.

   Slasher is Coalgathering’s town Weigher, the closest thing this society has to a civic official. She acts as an arbitrator in any disputes whose participants are willing to settle them peacefully rather than take them to the town’s challenge lawn, where disagreements are fought until one litigant is dead. Only Weighers who are strong enough to enforce their rulings are respected, so Slasher must maintain her reputation as the potentially deadliest fighter in town as well as its wisest balancer of fairness. Since she is getting past her physical prime, she is resigned that it will probably be only another few seasons before she is fatally replaced by a younger and more agile challenger.
   All this is changed when two strange monsters float down from the sky and introduce themselves as people from another world who want to study this one. Partly because they are immediately challenged by an enemy of Slasher’s, she keeps them from being instantly killed. She also realizes that they may be able to offer new viewpoints that will help with some problems that she has been having with some of Coalgathering’s more troublesome inhabitants.
   By this point, the reader is probably wondering how such ferocious, vicious animals could ever coexist long enough to form any society. This is practically the first thing that Ralph and Pam Ayers start asking:

Unfortunately for Slasher’s people, they were lone predators before they were social animals. The instincts for communal living and cooperation are comparatively weak. The evolution into townships with populations in the low hundreds has already reached about as far as it can go before people start growing murderously irritable through overcrowding and too many differences of opinion. Slasher can intellectually understand that her world has only another few generations before it suicidally self-destructs. But she still embodies her species’ instincts. Her attempts to arrogantly force Coalgathering to adopt improvements based upon the humans’ knowledge sparks a conservative rebellion that forces her and the Ayers into a humiliating exile. Humiliating to her, that is; the two humans are fascinated by their involuntary trek across this world, looking for a new community to settle into. And Slasher must settle the turmoil between her individualistic ego and her understanding of the need to promote cooperation rather than dominance, for her world’s good as well as her own.
Ken Kelly’s cover painting for The Weigher shows Slasher and her people as a cross between shaggy large wolves and grizzly bears. Some of the situations imply that they may be more lean and lithe than this, and their tails are definitely prehensile enough to be significant aids in a fight:

Since The Weigher is told from Slasher’s viewpoint, the reader is in the midst of the anthropomorphic action at all times. Vinicoff & Martin develop an elaborate and fascinatingly appealing society, considering how bloody it is. There are scenes depicting these carnivores’ feral courtship, family life, education, commerce, shipping, and even religion.

		#31 / Jul 1994


	Title:	Animal Brigade 3000
	Editors:	Martin Harry Greenberg and Charles Waugh
	Publisher:	Ace Books (New York, NY), Feb 1994
	ISBN:	0-441-00014-2
		276 pages, $4.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This anthology features seven stories about teams of human and animal partners in dramatic situations on interstellar worlds. The creatures range from ’morphs to intelligent aliens to well-trained domesticated beasts. Four of the stories are reprints; three are written especially for this anthology.
   Unfortunately, this concept works better in theory than it does in actuality. For starters, over 40% of the book is filled with the 113-page Dragonrider, by Anne McCaffrey. This was the second Pern story in Analog SF, the sequel to her Weyr Search. The two together comprise Dragonflight (1968), the first novel in McCaffrey’s classic series about the human Dragonriders and their intelligent native dragon partners who protect the world of Pern from the deadly Thread-like spores of a neighboring planet. That novel is certainly worth reading, but in its entirety. Why read Part 3 and Part 4 without Parts 1 and 2? And if you don’t read Dragonrider, almost half of Animal Brigade 3000 is wasted.
   On the Tip of a Cat’s Tongue, by Karen Haber, introduces private detective Willem Seaton to a rich client who talks through her cat.

   The imagery is striking of the detective who reports to a stately woman whose voice comes from her pet cat as it wanders through her office. And the mystery is a clever one. But the cat seems to be more of an unusual prop than a character.
   Exploration Team, by Murray Leinster (1956), puts two humans, three giant Kodiak bears and a cub, and a bald eagle on a hell-world where every native life form is ferociously deadly to mankind. The eagle is merely well-trained, while the bears (Sitka Pete, Sourdough Charley, Faro Nell, and her cub Nugget) are giant, bioengineered mutations. “There was need, on my home planet,” the frontiersman Huygens explains to Colonial Survey officer Roane, “for an animal who could fight like a fiend, live off the land, carry a pack and get along with men at least as well as dogs do. […] the bears want to get along with men. They’re emotionally dependent upon us! Like dogs.” (p. 156). There is constant drama as the humans and bears trek through the jungle to the rescue of colonists who had relied on robots to keep them safe from the hellish sphexes, the night-walkers, and other monsters. There’s also some humor as the slightly stuffy Roane learns how to get along with the 12-foot-tall, two-ton, slobberingly friendly Teddy bears. The story was written for an earlier generation, however. Today’s readers may not be totally receptive to the clever concept of settling a planet by killing off all the native animals and replacing them with nice, safe mammals bred to love humans.
   All the Angles, by Jack Nimersheim, is the first story here with a real ’morph character. In fact, it’s narrated by Thom Cat, the feline partner of Jerry Jones, a professional team of human and enhanced animal. ‘Professional’ what? Thom spends so much time arrogantly boasting about how clever he is that the little details never get described. Thom’s story is about how he and Jonesy hired out as mercenary secret agents to the Deimos government which was losing a rebellion against Mars, and he personally won the war for little Deimos. In one scene, Thom is briefly mistaken for a normal cat (until he starts mouthing off), so presumably he is not very physically different from one. But in another scene, “Withdrawing the laser knife from my neck pouch, I cut through the fine mesh in less time than it takes to tell you about it;” implying that he has hands instead of paws. The story would be more enjoyable if it had less back-patting dialogue and more details about the characters and action.
   The Undecided, by Eric Frank Russell, is the oldest story (1949). A Terran spaceship crashes on a distant planet. The crew of eight must defend themselves from the hostile local military until they can repair their ship and blast off. Although the Terrans talk telepathically among themselves, the story is told mostly from the point of view of the aliens. Sector Marshal Bvandt slurged in caterpillarish manner across the floor and vibrated his extensibles and closed two of the eight eyes around his serrated crown and did all the other things necessary to demonstrate an appropriate mixture of joy, satisfaction and triumph. (p. 193). Bvandt and his aides grow increasingly frustrated as their attempts to capture or destroy the mystery spaceship are stymied by its unknown inhabitants, who each seem to be of a completely different species. The sluglike locals wonder (as the reader is obviously supposed to) whether its crew is composed of amorphous shapeshifters, or maybe the master races of several different worlds of a space empire. But since this story is in Animal Brigade 3000, the reader will guess from the beginning that the Terrans consist of one human and several different intelligent animals (dog, cheetah, owl, etc.) who have evolved into a society of mutual equality. (Yeah, but it’s still the human who’s the captain.)
   Schurman’s Trek, by Roland J. Green, is set on a planet where human scientists are helping to establish a colony of bioengineered elephant ’morphs, the Hathi, during an interstellar war. When the planet is attacked by the enemy, human Roberta Schurman and Hathi Clan-Mother Drina have to lead the nervous elephant people on a long, dangerous trek to safety. This is the best story in the anthology for depicting a ’morph culture that mixes the instincts and attributes of its base species with human intelligence.
   Harry Harrison’s 1967 The Man from P.I.G. was written at the height of the James Bond/Man from U.N.C.L.E. craze, and is a humorous s-f variant on that theme. A newly-colonized planet appears to be haunted; its harried Governor calls the Patrol for a top-notch Secret Agent to save them; and all that he gets is an amiable farmboy with a herd of squealing pigs! But this is Bron Wurber, the Man from P.I.G. (Porcine Interstellar Guard). His boars and sows are better-trained than the best attack dogs. Harrison plainly studied up on swine, and he works a lot of data about the different breeds and their abilities and capabilities into this adventure, as Bron’s detective work brings him and his herd under attack by the evil alien empire’s saboteurs and their criminal human hirelings. There are no ’morphs here, though; only domesticated animals.
   So Animal Brigade 3000 is a mixed bag. There are only three stories featuring real ’morphs, and one of those is more annoying than enjoyable. Three other stories are worth reading, although they are about trained animals rather than ’morphs. And the longest in the book, Dragonrider, cannot be recommended as long as McCaffrey’s Dragonflight is easily available instead.

Cover of the deluxe edition
	Title:	Fur Magic
	Author:	Andre Norton
	Illustrator:	Alicia Austin
	Publisher:	Donald M. Grant, Publisher (Hampton Falls, NH), May 1993
	ISBN:	1-880418-20-7
		173 pages, $18.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Deluxe edition
	ISBN:	1-880418-19-3
		173 pages, $65.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This juvenile fantasy featuring Native American themes was originally published in 1968. Norton was a Guest-of-Honor at the 1992 World Science Fiction Convention in Orlando, FL, and this lavishly illustrated edition of Fur Magic was intended to commemorate that occasion. Unfortunately, production difficulties postponed it for so long that it was not published until the middle of the following year. But it is available now, and the delays have not affected the quality of the book.
   Cory Alder is an urban child spending a Summer vacation at his dad’s Army buddy’s ranch in Idaho. But what was supposed to be a treat has turned into a severe emotional trauma. The shy boy has discovered that he is terrified of real horses and of the great outdoors.
   Cory’s ‘Uncle Jasper’ and their ranch hands are Nez Perce’ Indians. From their conversation, Cory picks up the native myths of the beginning of time, when the Old People, the animals, lived in tribes and conducted their affairs as the Indians themselves later did. Then the Changer (Coyote to the Nez Perce’; Raven or other animals to different tribes) created humans, and the world turned upside down. According to the legend, the Great Spirit exiled the Changer for his meddling. He has been trying to get back and correct his mistake ever since, by using his trickery to make mankind destroy itself so the animals will rule the world once again. Uncle Jasper comments sardonically that, considering what the world news says about the way humanity is headed, that’s not so hard to believe.
   As Cory wanders about the ranch, he stumbles over the hidden medicine bundle of Black Elk, an ancient medicine man who follows the old ways. The shaman insists that Cory must purify the bag by holding it in a stream of strangely-scented smoke. The smoke makes Cory dizzy; when he recovers, he is in the body of Yellow Shell, a beaver warrior in the days of the Old Ones.
   Most of Fur Magic is the story of Cory as Yellow Shell of the beaver tribe, who was on a scouting mission against war parties of the vicious mink tribe. Cory has Yellow Shell’s memories but his own mind. The frightened human child is no match at first for the seasoned animal warriors. He is led by an otter brave to the otter tribe’s village, where he learns that the old ways are beginning to change. The minks have grown bolder and are now in alliance with the crows, who are spies of the Changer. The Changer is the enemy of the Old People, for they know that in his arrogance he is about to make a new animal (man) who will enslave all the other Peoples. The otters’ shaman recognizes that Cory/Yellow Shell is two spirits within one body, and this is a wrongness which only the Changer himself can alter. The medicine otter lets Cory join two emissaries who are being sent with a peace pipe to the tribe of Eagle, where he may find advice on how the Changer can be persuaded to aid him. Thus the boy begins a quest to return to his own body and world, learning self-reliance and courage in the process.
   Fur Magic is more successful as a broad panorama of this mythic America inhabited by the animal tribes, than as an adventure story. Cory is the only major character; all others are met only in passing, and are gone within two or three pages. There is practically no dialogue. Yellow Shell was on a lone scouting mission when Cory entered his body; no other beavers are encountered, and Yellow Shell does not know the languages of any of the other animals whom they meet—they communicate only briefly through sign language. There are several hints that Cory is being invisibly guided and protected during his quest (But time was important. He could not be sure how he knew that, only that it was so.), which removes any real dramatic suspense. What is left is the spectacle; the landscape of the pure American wilderness, inhabited by animals dressed as Indians and following indigenous customs.
   This is why the novel excels through Alicia Austin’s artwork. Austin is an award-winning fantasy artist who specializes in paintings and allied graphics depicting animals wearing the clothing of their lands’ native peoples—North America, Africa, the Arctic Circle, etc. This is exactly what Norton has described in Fur Magic. The characters are not anthropomorphized to the usual funny-animal extent; they are large but otherwise normal animals who are wearing little more than ceremonial body paint, and carrying a buckskin or turtleshell pouch and a spear or two. Austin shows these in ten full-color plates—one for each chapter—and forty black-&-white illustrations; practically one for every other double-page spread. The book, like all of the Donald M. Grant fine editions, is printed on top-quality paper and has sewn binding within sturdy blue cloth-covered boards. This is a novel that you can be proud to display on your bookshelf.

		#32 / Sep 1994


	Title:	Adventures of the Rat Family; A Fairy Tale
	Author:	Jules Verne
	Translator:	Evelyn Copeland
	Illustrator:	Felician Myrbach-Rheinfeld
		Introd. by Iona Opie; Afterword by Brian Taves. Part of The Iona and Peter Opie Library of Children’s Literature
	Publisher:	Oxford University Press (New York, NY), Dec 1993
	ISBN:	0-19-508114-5
		71 pages, $14.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

This curiosity is the first English publication of Jules Verne’s only children’s fairy tale, and (presumably) his only story featuring talking animals. It originally appeared in the Christmas holiday (January 1891) issue of Le Figaro illustré, with illustrations by Felician Myrbach-Rheinfeld which are reprinted here in sepia. Thematically, Verne’s tale resembles those of Perrault or Madame de Beaumont, although Verne’s is brisker and wittier. Verne obviously had fun packing the story with as many puns as he could think of, which are enumerated at length in an academic nine-page Afterword by Verne expert Brian Taves.
The tale demonstrates Verne’s passions for intellectual concepts and for the theater. It mixes magic with the scientific theory of evolution and with Oriental philosophies of reincarnation, which were then in vogue; and it is constructed like a traditional stage extravaganza. The members of the Rat family are the familiar exaggerated character stereotypes of Commedia dell’ arte; the exotic locales (such as “Ratopolis, a very pretty city… [its] boulevards, squares, and streets, are lined with magnificent cheeses in the form of houses”, seem suspiciously like stage sets; and at the climax, when the wicked magician Gardafour loses and vanishes toward the Nether Regions, the illustrator literally shows him dropping through a trap door which has opened beneath his feet.

   In this ‘age of fairies and magicians’, evolution has been simplified into five broad categories: mollusks, fish, birds, quadrupeds, and humanity. Theoretically, one moves up or down this ‘ladder of creation’ depending upon whether one has been good or evil. This transmigration of souls is carried out by the various good fairies who monitor our deeds. Unfortunately, there are also wicked fairies and greedy magicians who do not hesitate to manipulate this evolution for their own profit.
   The Rat family is a household of pleasant and industrious rodents who have earned their right to humanity; as has daughter Ratine’s loyal fiancé, Ratin. However, Ratine’s beauty has been noticed by haughty, spoiled Prince Kissador, who demands that she submit to his pleasures. When she refuses, Kissador orders his unscrupulous hired magician, Gardafour, to regress her and her family back to mollusks. Meanwhile, Ratin has achieved his transformation into a man, and he hurries to the good fairy Firmenta to plead for justice. Firmenta is an old rival of Gardafour, and she speedily recommences the Rats’ advancement towards manhood. But Gardafour and Kissador are too spiteful to accept defeat gracefully. They keep sneaking up every time Firmenta’s back is turned, and trying anew to capture Ratine.
   I’m not sure how Adventures of the Rat Family looked to late 19th-century readers, but it seems marvelously quaint and dated today. Despite much talk about how kind and sympathetic and devoted to aiding the deserving needy Firmenta is, it seems clear that she is really delighted at the opportunity to thwart her old enemy Gardafour. The Rat family are little more than pawns in the struggle between these two spellcasters, while Ratin hides behind Firmenta’s skirts, wringing his hands, and Prince Kissador scowls and makes ugly faces. (Firmenta is most definitely the type of fairy who would enchant the Beast’s entire household because she feels he needs to be punished.) Verne’s writing style here was floridly archaic even in his own day, and some of the scenes may have been deliberately burlesque, such as Ratin’s histrionic pledge (as a handsome, impeccably-dressed young man) of undying love to the oyster that Ratine has become. The story continues only because Firmenta blithely assumes that she has decisively won each time she defeats Gardafour, leaving him to creep back for another try. But she is, after all, only a woman; and as Verne says on the final page, “Ah! Women! Women! Beautiful heads often, but brains, none at all!”
   Oxford University Press’ publicity says that this rediscovered tale “is certain to become a children’s classic.” With lines like the above? I don’t think so. But Verne clearly intended this story to be an old-fashioned comedy for adults as much as a thrilling adventure for the little ones. While we may not laugh at quite the same things that the 19th century Parisian public did, there are still enough chuckles in the tale (and in our observation of what the last century’s intelligentsia passed as P.C.) that it is worth reading today.


		Title:	Majyk by Accident
		Author:	Esther Friesner
		Publisher:	Ace Books (New York, NY), Aug 1993
		ISBN:	0-441-51376-X
			282 pages, $4.99
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	Majyk by Hook or Crook
Author:	Esther Friesner
Publisher:	Ace Books (New York, NY), May 1994
ISBN:	0-441-00054-1
	262 pages, $4.99
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

Esther Friesner’s “sensationally silly series”, to quote the blurb on the second novel, starts out only marginally anthropomorphic but it grows more so. If you can imagine Disney’s Aladdin with a Furry Genie, you’ve got the general idea. Friesner has been doing this plot much longer than Disney has—her first novel, Mustapha and His Wise Dog, in 1985, featured a sarcastic talking dog with an otherwise human cast in an Arabian Nights locale. Her new Magyk series has a setting that’s more Grimm Brothers’ European than Middle Eastern, but the main fantasy character—Scandal, the cat—is very close to the Robin Williams Genie in his personality.
Orbix is a comically stereotypical fantasy world, with wizards, barbarian warriors, dragons, and the whole lot. But no cats. Until one wanders there from our world, emerging through a rathole in the kitchen of the Academy of High Wizardry run by Master Thengor, the greatest magician on this world. Thengor is dying of old age, and his control over Orbix’s raw Majyk is starting to slip. The cat is discovered by Kendar Ratwhacker (the narrator), the clumsiest student at the Academy. He is so incompetent that he has been assigned to the humiliating, unMajykal duty of roaming the castle with a club and whacking any rats that he finds. Since nobody on Orbix has ever seen a cat, Kendar assumes that this is just a funny-looking rat. He is chasing it through the Academy when they blunder into the cloud of now-highly-unstable Majyk. The resulting explosion demolishes the Academy, leaves most of the Majyk stuck onto Kendar (making him the new most-powerful wizard on Orbix, except that he hasn’t the slightest idea of how to control it), and bestows intelligence and speech upon the cat, who appoints himself Kendar’s fast-talking guardian since the nerd obviously needs a keeper.

Most of the ‘weird words’ are actually pop cultural references, such as the one above about an M.I.T. grad. Scandal’s running patter is full of “He’s dead, Jim!” and “Hasta la vista, bay-bee!” one-liners, which Kendar just shakes his head over and doesn’t even bother to try to understand after the first few minutes. This series’ ‘silly’ humor is based primarily on incongruities such as Nixon jokes and Jackie Gleason/Honeymooners lines in dragon-haunted forests or troll-filled sleazy taverns. How are you supposed to react to a barbarian warrior maid who combines the body of Marvel Comics’ chain-mail-bikini-clad Red Sonja with the personality of Elmyra in Tiny Toon Adventures?
Despite Kendar’s comment about animals not normally talking on Orbix, it turns out that plenty of them do on the other side of the planet. They only meet one of these, for a couple of brief paragraphs, in Magyk by Accident:

   In Magyk by Hook or Crook, circumstances take Kendar, Scandal, and a new set of companions around this Big Bend on a magical mission of mercy. It seems that the other side of Orbix is not entirely anthropomorphized. Humans and talking animals in the kingdom of Wingdingo (capital city: Loupgarou) have been coexisting in an uneasy proximity. Now evil human King Wulfdeth has usurped the throne and is oppressing the citizens, especially the talking-animal peoples, and our two heroes have to restore the peace.
   For the setting, just imagine any deliberately hokey movie swashbuckler such as The Crimson Pirate or The Black Falcon with ’morphs as the oppressed peasantry and humans as the haughty nobility. The majority of the gags are ovine, since the locals whom Kendar and Scandal first meet are sheep. There are crews of wooly pirates snarling, “Arrrh, matey!”, in ships with names like the Bawdy Bellwether and the Golden Fleece, or taverns like the Frisky Ewe. Their dialogue is topheavy with lines like (just before a sword-fight), “D’ye fancy we’re lambs fer the slaughter?”
   Loupgarou has plenty of other inhabitants, such as wolf merchantmen and some furry female courtesans of mixed species. Unfortunately, these are only seen briefly in passing. Every time that Kendar and Scandal are about to meet some of these others, they get whisked into a confrontation with the human villains. Our heroes spend most of the novel bouncing between the evil humans in the castle, and the rebel sheep in the countryside. Majyk by Hook or Crook contains a few delightful scenes and double entendres, but readers will also be frustrated by the number of near-misses with other interesting-sounding characters and places whom Kendar and Scandal do not see (such as a reference to one of the main seaports, Port O’ Morph). Readers will also have to decide for themselves what their appetite for bad puns, movie-&-TV trivia references, and similar sheer silliness is.

		#33 / Dec 1994


	Title:	A Night in the Lonesome October
	Author:	Roger Zelazny
	Illustrator:	Gahan Wilson
	Publisher:	William Morrow/AvoNova (New York, NY)

	Hardcover edition, Aug 1993
	ISBN:	0-688-12508-5
		280 pages, $18.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Paperback edition, Sep 1994
	ISBN:	0-380-77141-1
		280 pages, $4.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   I like Gahan Wilson’s cartoons. But I think that he was the wrong choice to illustrate this pseudo-1930s horror-mystery-comedy. Roger Zelazny implies in his wry dedication that his goal is to evoke the spirits of Weird Tales at its classic Lovecraftian heights, blended with the fog-shrouded England shown in those famous horror movies which introduced the Vampire, the Monster, and the Wolfman. Illustrations, slightly exaggerated, in the realistic pen & ink style of The Strand and similar popular fiction magazines of the 1890s, and of the 1930s horror-pulp illustrators, would have been more appropriate than Wilson’s ghastly-giggly squiggly cartoons.
   On the other paw, Wilson’s reputation instantly identifies a book as delivering a particular kind of dark-horror humor. In that sense he was the best possible choice, for that is exactly the mood of A Night in the Lonesome October.
   This whatdunit-thriller takes place during an October of an unnamed late-Victorian year. There are 31 chapters, one for each day. A group is gathering in London and the nearby countryside to play a deadly, supernatural game, upon which the fate of the world rests. This is not a contest between Good and Evil. The whole cast might be considered Evil; but, for their own reasons, some of these players want to save the world while the others want to destroy it. Some names are slightly disguised, but the reader will recognize the Serial Killer, the Vampire, the Witch, the Graverobbers, the Mad Russian Monk, the Druid Priest, the Scientist with his Monster, the Clergyman Turned Demon-Worshipper, and others—not to mention the Great Detective, who is investigating this secret meeting of unusually suspicious characters.
   But only half of the players are humans. Each has a talking-animal familiar, and it is through the cast of familiars that the mystery is related. The narrator is Snuff, the hound who is the partner of the Ripper. Others are Graymalk, the cat; Nightwind, the owl; Needle, the bat; Cheeter, the squirrel; Quicklime, the snake; and more. Like the humans, each of the animals must figure out who is to be trusted, what information is reliable, which clues are real and which are setups for deadly traps. It can be as fatal to reject a genuine offer of friendship as to be overly naive. Stupid animals do not survive in this game, so most of these familiars are adept at clever dialogue loaded with cynical double meanings and subtle misdirection. The players must also take each others’ physical attributes into consideration in planning useful alliances. Snuff has a good nose and strong jaws, while the avian familiars can get a good view of the entire countryside, and Quicklime or Bubo the rat can investigate small, enclosed places. Some of the animals also have supernatural powers of their own, which may or may not be obvious.
   This is about all that can be said without spoiling part of the creepy puzzle. Zelazny is a master at starting out with situations that are intriguing enough to hook the reader even though they are bewilderingly mysterious, and are only gradually revealed. However, it is immediately clear that this is the animals’ tale. The focus is upon them. The human players are seen through their eyes. Also, the familiars are not mere pets. Each has a strong individuality. and some are loyal to their human partners while others are more interested in looking out for themselves.
   The story starts slowly, as the players come together and cautiously, politely, sound each other out. Then the eldritch game begins. Who will survive until October 31st—and who will survive what happens on All Hallows Eve?
   A Night in the Lonesome October is a highly unusual, imaginative, and sardonic thriller. It smoothly blends the stereotypes of classic horror fiction with the formalized moves of a game of Clue—with monsters and talking animals in the roles of Col. Mustard and Mrs. Peacock.


	Title:	Samurai Cat Goes to the Movies
	Author:	Mark E. Rogers
	Illustrator:	The author
	Publisher:	Tor/Tom Dougherty Associates Book (New York, NY), Oct 1994
	ISBN:	0-312-85744-6
		286 pages, $10.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

I’m sorry, but my tolerance for *Concentrated Cute* was overwhelmed by halfway through the first chapter.


		Title:	Emperors of the Twilight
		Author:	S. Andrew Swann
		Publisher:	DAW Books (New York, NY), Jan 1994
		ISBN:	0-88677-589-2
			283 pages, $4.50
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	Specters of the Dawn
Author:	S. Andrew Swann
Publisher:	DAW Books (New York, NY), Aug 1994
ISBN:	0-88677-613-9
	284 pages, $4.50
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   These are the second and third novels in Swann’s trilogy which began with Forests of the Night (reviewed in YARF! #26). That was a superbly-written, although grittily-depressing, political murder mystery set in a mid-21st-century society in which bioengineering has become common. America’s ghettos are filled with ‘moreaus’, animal-peoples who are mostly descendants of super-soldiers made to replace humans in armies of twenty to fifty years earlier. They have become the new lower class. Bioengineering of improved humans is illegal in most nations, but that has not stopped various security agencies who want their own super-agents. Most of this background was gradually built up in the story of Nohar Rajasthan, a cynical tiger private investigator who handles cheap but safe cases for the moreau community, until he is pressured to take an extremely dangerous investigation involving probable top-level corruption and murder in the U.S. Congress.
   Emperors of the Twilight and Specters of the Dawn are less direct sequels than separate novels following two of the supporting characters from Forests. That was set in Cleveland in the early 2050s. Emperors and Specters are set in Manhattan and in San Francisco at the end of the decade. The three give readers a look at the human/moreau social situation as it develops over a decade, in three major urban centers across America.
   Emperors of the Twilight is, technically, only a borderline ’morph novel. Its protagonist is Evi Isham, the ‘frank’ (bioengineered human, or ‘frankenstein’) federal agent who was assigned to track down Rajasthan in the first book. That was six years earlier, and she’s practically forgotten that case. She has been assigned to a desk job in Manhattan since then. Four pages into the story, Evi is exercising on the balcony of her penthouse apartment when she becomes aware that a sniper is aiming at her from the adjacent building. Approximately the next 150 pages are high-intensity, exquisitely choreographed violence. Evi desperately struggles just to stay alive while being hunted by at least two rival assassination teams, who do not hesitate to explode whole buildings around her. Plenty of ’morphs are seen in brief supporting roles, but the main cast is all human.
   Emperors is a tour de force in the genre of Die Hard-type thrillers. The action is non-stop, and the reader has to assume on faith until over halfway through the novel that there will be a satisfactory justification for the neverending, over-the-top mayhem. Swann brings it off! A real plot slowly, gradually emerges from the murk, and the reader is solidly with Evi as she begins to take command of the situation. Emperors is extremely highly recommended, but readers should be aware that ’morph characters are downplayed except for one scene depicting the moreau radical underground in the Bronx.
   ’Morphs are highlighted again in Specters of the Dawn. Angel Lopez is the rabbit moreau teen gang member who Rajasthan rescued in Forests. She moved from Cleveland to ‘tolerant’ San Francisco, and has been working as a waitress for the past seven years—a dead-end job, but the best honest work a moreau can hope for. She is wearily resigned to her lot, when she meets Byron Dorset, a suave, sophisticated fox who saves her from a beating by punk human supremacists. In a nine-day whirlwind romance, Byron sweeps her off her feet, pours gifts upon her, hints at marriage, and is murdered. The shock of losing Byron, and the suspicion that the police will make a politically-correct arrest of the supremacists rather than looking for the real killers, awakens her enough to realize that Byron himself was suspiciously too good to be true. Her smoldering investigation into who he really was, despite opposition from both moreau urban terrorists to conservative human federal bureaucrats, uncovers secrets that could touch off a long-feared human-moreau second Civil War—or control the 2060 presidential elections.
   Swann develops these two taut thrillers with superb control. Both are filled with brutality in hate-filled 21st-century America, but they are handled quite differently. Evi in Emperors isn’t aware why unexpected assassins are after her, but sudden death is part of a secret agent’s job description. She knows how to handle overt, sustained violence—and Swann provides it for page after page without turning it into boring overkill. The mystery is less the killers’ motivation as it is what deadly trap Evi will face next, and how she will get out of it.
   Specters is a more conventional detective puzzler. The violence is more covert and sporadic, and Angel is no trained death machine. But she has her street smarts, and a fiery temper with the pressure of a lifetime of being pushed around behind it. The more that she learns, the more dangerous and higher-level the plot is revealed to be; the madder she gets. Mad enough to bring anybody and everybody down, if she can.
   As with Forests of the Night, the moreaus’ anthropomorphic nature is not just for decoration. Angel is a genetically engineered rabbit whose great-grandparents had been designed for combat as part of the Peruvian infantry. Her speed, the strength of her kick, and her other lepine attributes are key factors in Specters’ action in several scenes.
   Swann’s three novels have been billed as a trilogy. It helps to read all three, but each of them is completely self-sufficient. There is also no reason to end them with Specters of the Dawn; there is still a whole world of human-moreau relationships to explore.

   ’Morph fandom is doing just fine in its own little world. However, it often seems as though it is unknown and/or misunderstood by the broader society of ‘fandom in general’, which has the notorious stereotype of us as a group of mental adolescents who slaver over funny-animal pornography.
   Two articles have just appeared which present a much more favorable and accurate description of us. Both are written by major practitioners in our field, and are probably as comprehensive as they can be without getting so detailed as to become boring to general readers.
   File 770 #105, August 1994, published by Mike Glyer (5828 Woodman Avenue, apt. 2, Van Nuys, Calif. 91401; no individual price listed, $8.00 for 5 issues) is a 22-page issue of Glyer’s Hugo-winning fanzine of general commentary on s-f fandom. This issue includes a three-page survey of furry fandom, Essential Refurance, by Taral Wayne.
   Taral mentions the creation of the ‘funny animal’ apa Vootie, by Reed Waller and Ken Fletcher in 1976, but he feels that furry fandom wasn’t really established until 1984, when two things happened: (1) Vootie died and was replaced by Rowrbrazzle, a more successful ‘fanzine club’ for funny-animal artists to socialize in and nurture their common interest; and (2) furry independent comics became a self-aware separate category, with Reed Waller & Kate Worley’s Omaha, the Cat Dancer, Joshua Quagmire’s Cutey Bunny (in his Army Surplus Komikz), and Jim Groat’s Equine the Uncivilized.
   Taral’s brief survey covers the existence of furry fanzines such as Yarf! and Bestiary; the furry BBSs and Furry Muck; and the social gatherings at our own ConFurences and other conventions, such as the San Diego Comic-Con, which have become unofficially established as where furry fans should congregate. However, after noting the successful establishment of these, he adds, “The one area of the funny animal field that once led and perhaps lags now, is the black and white comic.” He then devotes a whole page—a third of the article; the largest single portion—to a history of the ’morph independent comics since 1984.
   It seems strange that the bulk of this survey concentrates on what Taral feels may currently be its least successful aspect. The roll call of evanescent titles implies that furry fandom is always on the brink of expiring. But there is a point to this. Taral editorializes that, while we may not be growing, we are not losing ground. Cancelled titles are always replaced by an equal number of new ones. Furry fans are loyal to the genre, and determined to not let it die. But is this enough? “Can [furry fandom] grow far without more development of its public face, the comic book? Or is a professional side in fact irrelevant?” How do we feel about this? Do we want furry fandom to expand, or to remain cosa nostra, our own small, private thing?
   (There are a couple of minor errors. Equine the Uncivilized ought to be credited to Richard Konkle as well as to Jim Groat. Taral says that the final appearance of Vootie was in 1984, and that, “At almost the moment Vootie passed away, Marc Schirmeister brought into being a new apa, called Rowrbrazzle.” Vootie #37 was published in February 1983 and Rowrbrazzle #1 was published in February 1984, so they were actually a year apart; although Taral is correct in that Schirmeister, a Vootie member, tried for several months to keep Vootie going before giving up and creating Rowrbrazzle as a replacement for it. So there was a direct continuity between the two.)
   This favorable survey would be noteworthy if it were not overshadowed by the almost simultaneous publication of a 12 1/2 page analysis in a ‘Special Furry Fandom Issue’ of Phlogiston (#40, the 42-page 4th 1994 issue; published by Alex Heatley, P. O. Box 11-708, Manners Street, Wellington, New Zealand; $NZ3.00 or $U.S.6.00). The File 770 survey is for those who want only a brief description of furry fandom. The Phlogiston in-depth article is for those who want to know what furry fandom is really about. (And Phlogiston #41 includes additional discussions of Furry Fandom in its letters column.)
   This is actually two articles, by Jefferson Swycaffer and Craig Hilton. Swycaffer’s article is itself in two parts. He first defines ‘Furry Fandom’ as “the organised appreciation and dissemination of art and prose regarding ‘Furries,’ or fictional mammalian anthropomorphic characters.” After briefly tracing its fascination back to prehistoric tribal shamanism and the mythology of Egypt and Greece, Swycaffer analyses its attraction in three psychological and behavioristic motifs: the desire for communication with animals, the release of the instinct for sexual attraction, and the release for a kind of parenting instinct, with the latter two effects being triggered by visual cues. The second part is a survey, which is almost as long as Taral’s entire piece in File 770, of the more notable characters and titles in anthropomorphic comics of the past 15 years.
   Craig Hilton’s even longer Insider’s View from the Outside is a masterful description and history of furry fandom, especially since Hilton keeps apologizing for his lack of knowledge due to his isolation in Western Australia. The only gap that I see is in his admitted ignorance as to exactly when & how the tradition of furry room parties with those notorious black sketchbooks got started at fan conventions; and that is covered in the discussions in Phlogiston #41. Hilton has facts here that I didn’t know, such as that the specific term ‘Furry Fandom’ was being used in fanzines as early as 1983. As good as Taral’s and Swycaffer’s articles are, they are almost superfluous next to this seven-page history, which generally gives the same information in greater and more succinct detail. In general, this could appear in the Encyclopædia Britannica as a definitive summary of the entire scope of Furry Fandom.
   It’s nice to know that there is a favorable review of ’morph fandom in File 770 #105, but unless you’re collecting every publication with even a slight reference to our genre in it, you don’t need this. Phlogiston #40, on the other hand, should be read by everyone who is seriously interested in a comprehensive and intelligent depiction of furry fandom—or who wants one on hand to show to acquaintances who ask, “What do you see in that Furry sex stuff?” In addition to the writing, Phlogiston is well-illustrated with a dozen examples of the art of such leading ’morph cartoonists as Hilton himself, Taral Wayne, Ken Fletcher, Chris Grant, Steve Gallacci, Tommy Yune, and others.
   Incidentally, the use of the term ‘Furry Fandom’ by both File 770 and Phlogiston is a strong argument that this has become the standard name for our genre, whether we like it or not—although there is not yet any standardization as to whether the words should be capitalized.


	Title:	Chorus Skating
	Author:	Alan Dean Foster
	Publisher:	Warner Books/Aspect (New York), Oct 1994
	ISBN:	0-446-36237-9
		344 pages, $5.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Authors—and reviewers—of long-running series have the problem that when new titles are too similar to previous volumes, the reaction tends to be, “Ho, hum; the same old stuff.” But when they are too different, there are complaints that, “This isn’t the series that everybody knows and loves!”, rather than congratulations for originality.
   Chorus Skating is the eighth* of Foster’s Spellsinger novels. The first six, published between 1983 and 1986, related the adventures of Jon-Tom Meriweather, a human wanna-be rock guitarist, in a funny-animal universe where music has magical powers. Each novel featured Jon-Tom and his lovably grumpy sidekick, Mudge the otter, on a quest to save the world from some dire menace. There were plenty of colorful supporting characters, such as a rabbit riverboat gambler and a parrot pirate. The series was a skillful blend of humor, light adventure, and a threat of serious danger. Foster apparently decided that he was finished with the series with the sixth volume, because he very pointedly wrapped up all the loose ends and gave it a happily-ever-after conclusion.
   When Foster revived the series in 1993, he got around that conclusion by setting Son of Spellsinger eighteen years later, and starring the teen-age children of Jon-Tom and of Mudge. (Reviewed in Yarf! #26.) It was nice to see the series back, but the teens just didn’t have the charisma of their parents.
   Now Foster has returned to his formula, with all of the plusses and minuses that this means. He has found an amusing and plausible excuse to bring Jon-Tom and Mudge back: they are having a mid-life crisis, and want to prove to themselves that they are not too old to go adventuring any more. Their goal is to have just a little adventure; not much more than a camping trip. But before they realize it, they are joining in the rescue of a beautiful princess—make that a whole bevy of beautiful, headstrong ’morph princesses—from a brigand lord. Events escalate from there until, once again, they must save the whole world from an ominous disaster.
   The parts of Chorus Skating are greater than the whole. Jon-Tom and Mudge are their old selves, and Spellsinger fans will delight to have them back. There are colorful new characters, such as the half-dozen richly-dressed princesses (mongoose, lynx, gorilla, etc.) who are not used to roughing it during their rescue; Lieutenant Naike, the harried commander of the mongoose royal guards who finds himself expected to return each of the princesses to her own kingdom; Silimbar, the tamarin traveling merchant; and many more. There are exotic new locales, like the delta city of Mashupro, consisting of self-aware houses on stilts that can walk about at their dwellers’ commands. And the individual adventures that Jon-Tom, Mudge, and their companions encounter are reasonable and well-handled.
   However, the overall tone of Chorus Skating makes it a comparatively weak novel. The basic premise, of two middle-aged heroes coming out of retirement to convince themselves that they still have what it takes, may be heart-warming but it lacks the drama of the earlier adventures. The world-threatening—nay, universe-threatening—disaster that eventually materializes is the most implausible in the whole series. As a serious menace, it ranks with Dr. Soran in Star Trek: Generations. It also feels like it was tacked on just because Chorus Skating wouldn’t be true to the Spellsinger formula if it didn’t end with a threat to the whole world. As a result, Chorus Skating doesn’t build to a climax as much as it fizzles out.
   It’s been nice to be with Jon-Tom and Mudge once again, but maybe it would be best to leave them in happy retirement now.

*More specifically, it is the eighth paperback volume. The first two books are actually a single novel in two parts, and they were originally published as one title, Spellsinger at the Gate. So it is debatable as to whether Chorus Skating is the seventh or the eighth novel.

		#35 / Apr 1995


	Title:	Dun Lady’s Jess
	Author:	Doranna Durgin
	Publisher:	Baen Books (Riverdale, NY), Aug 1994
	ISBN:	0-671-87617-1
		343 pages, $4.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Camolen is a stereotypical medieval-looking magical world gearing up for a war between wizards. Carey is a courier, a rider who delivers important messages for the wizard Arlen. Dun Lady’s Jess is Carey’s favorite horse, a six-year-old mare who is exceptionally fast, spirited, and reliable.
   When Carey is trapped by agents of a power-hungry sorceress, he triggers a last-ditch defensive spell that transports him and his horse to a different world; a place of theoretical safety. Unfortunately, one of the enemy agents is swept along with him. And one of the effects of the transition to the new world (ours) is that it turns their horses into humans.
   There are two main characters: the horse—called both Lady and Jess, depending upon whether her equine or human personality is uppermost at the moment; and Jaime Cabot, the owner of The Dancing Equine Dressage Center in Marion, Ohio. Needless to say, it is Lady/Jess’ story in which ’morph fans will be most interested. Yet Jaime is the easier character with whom to identify, as an animal-loving woman who helps to educate the frightened horse/woman into developing her human personality.
   The rules of magic are that the people from Camolen automatically think and speak English while they are in Ohio, but they otherwise know nothing about 20th-century Earth technology. The horse finds herself with a strange body, and a suddenly increased intelligence. She not only has to learn human speech, she has to learn to think of herself as a human rather than a horse.
   In a very narrow sense, Dun Lady’s Jess is not truly anthropomorphic. Lady/Jess is never a blend of horse and human, at least physically. She is either one or the other, all the way. The only blend is mental, at the beginning, when she is born with a blank adult human mind and a horse’s memories. The outstanding facet of the novel is the believability with which Durgin describes a horse’s normal thoughts, and then expands them into human terms. Lady’s world was one of simplistic instincts, and of pride in understanding her ‘leader’’s instructions to her. Jess’ world is much more complex and confusing, but also exciting as she suddenly realizes that she understands the meanings behind things that she had always observed but had never thought about. As her comprehension increases, her feelings about Carey also shift from a sort of herd loyalty to desire for a closer intimacy—while, at the same time, she feels a need for a more distinct identity. She is a person with a right to her own interests and feelings, rather than a cypher whose only goal is to do whatever her ‘friend’ wants.
   There are a half-dozen important human characters. Carey’s main concern is to get back to Camolen to complete his urgent mission. He looks at first upon Lady’s transformation as an embarrassment and as the temporary loss of his best horse, until they return home and she becomes a horse again. Carey’s gradual awareness of Jess’ developing human mind leads to correspondingly confused feelings of his own. Is she only an enchanted horse, a magical mockery of a human; or something more? If she has truly become a person, what will happen to her intelligence and human personality if she reverts to a horse?
   Most of the others are those who discover Jess and gradually become her friends. I will not describe them, or the story, in any detail because they are complex enough that it would turn into a very long description. The plot does contain some surprises which should not be given away.
   There are a few ground rules that the reader must just shrug and accept as the laws of nature that make this romance work. We learn in the first chapter both that Arlen has to send messages by Pony Express, because messages transmitted magically may be intercepted magically; and that all the riders before Corey have been waylaid by the enemy sorceress’s hired assassins. In such a no-win situation, the former reason sounds like a weak excuse for why a wizard needs an old-fashioned courier. There is no reasonable (or even unreasonable) explanation as to why horses turn into humans, and back again, while humans moving between the worlds are unaffected. Durgin clearly put some effort into rationalizing why average Americans who find a naked woman who obviously thinks that she is a horse, would bring her home to educate her themselves, instead of taking her to the nearest police station or hospital. Unfortunately, it’s not really convincing. Neither is the justification of why Camolen’s good wizards must remain scattered all around the countryside, vulnerable to the enemy’s concentrated attacks, instead of gathering together for mutual defense. Carey is skeptical, and so is the reader. If you will accept that there are reasons for these situations, however (and all ’morph fiction is dependent upon a pretty generous suspension of disbelief), the rest of the story is logical and intelligent. Durgin keeps the plot balanced evenly enough that it is impossible to guess whether Lady/Jess will finally remain a horse or a human, and whether that result will be happy or tragic.


	Title:	Forest Wars
	Author:	Graham Diamond
	Publisher:	Lion Press (Forest Hills, NY), Jan 1995
	ISBN:	0-9641740-4-9
		416 pages, $21.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Diamond’s first novel, the anthropomorphic thriller The Haven (“A Novel of Bloodcurdling Horror”), was published in 1977. Since then he has written fifteen more books, including some modern Arabian Nights sequels. These have mostly been paperback originals. Now Diamond has become a serious novelist with Forest Wars, a $21.95 hardcover on high-quality paper, attractively and sturdily bound with a dignified dust jacket by Dionisios Fragias.
   However, this is not exactly a new book. Forest Wars is a completely rewritten expansion of The Haven, which was only 347 pages.
   It is not unusual for authors to want to improve their early writing, to retell their first plot ideas with the benefit of years of later literary experience. This allows their fans to get those early stories (and the author to continue to get royalties from them), without the embarrassment of keeping their adolescent, most amateurish writing in print.
   So is Forest Wars a better version of The Haven? Again, not exactly. Diamond has turned what had been merely a forgettably bad novel into a veritable Plan Nine from Outer Space of ’morph fiction, a horror probably not in the sense that he intended.
   Although Forest Wars is 69 pages longer than The Haven, the story has few significant new scenes. Instead, the writing has been padded with extra descriptions of pompous verbosity. For example, an old warrior merely named Rolf in the first version has become Crafty Old Rolf who always carries a mighty weapon, his club of spike. Crafty Old Rolf, top sergeant of the 9th.; a wily ingenious soul with well over twenty years of active service behind him. (p. 8) First came Crafty Old Rolf, heaving his massive club of spike. […] A club of spike could cleave a mongrel’s innards into chopped liver with a single properly-aimed heave. (p. 53) Crafty Old Rolf kneeled beside the sleeping figure, his fearsome club of spike at his side. (p. 223) This kind of writing easily fills pages.
   In this tale of the far future, mankind has been reduced to only one nation on Earth, the Empire of Civilization. In the center is its magnificent capital city, The Haven. The sages had recounted tales of this powerful city, but in his wildest imagination he had never conceived of anything as breathtaking as this. Massive, soaring bulwarks of solid stone, buttressed by parapets and prominent towers, each taller than the last, seemingly reaching into the clouds. Atop these fortifications were complexes of embrasures and casements, and castellated battlements. On either side of Great Gate the walls stretched almost as far as he could see. (p. 198) This city is surrounded by a large nation of parks and fields of happy farmers which stretches for nearly twenty leagues (p. 20) to its farthest border. (About sixty miles. Some empire.) Surrounding the Empire in all directions is the Forest, an endless, impenetrable thicket filled by savage animals of all sorts, but dominated by packs of ferocious, bloody-fanged killer dogs.
   For as long as anyone can remember, the hordes of killer mongrels, in packs up to 2,000 strong, have poured from the fringes of the Forest every year to attack the Empire, which has been defended by the military might of The Haven. It was known as the War Room of Central Command, General Headquarters, and it hummed with activity even in the small hours before dawn. GHQ staff went about their various assignments with quiet military efficiency. […] Security at Central Command, CeCom as it was called, remained the top priority, and was followed by the most rigorous inspection. (p. 24) Can’t have those slavering mongrels sneaking in disguised as janitors, you know.
   But mankind is not alone in defending the Empire. Humanity has become partners with the fierce talking birds: eagles, hawks, falcons, who have thrown in their lot with humanity for mutual protection against the dogs. They will slaughter your species as they once did mine, Antonious the parrot says to Lord Nigel (p. 47). Vandor, king of the hawks, tells the Council, For countless years my species has relied heavily upon friendship and alliance with your Empire. Long ago, when we were cruelly chased from our homes within the wood, we learned we’d find safety within your boundaries. (p. 119) Just how the maddened dogs chased the raptors from their nests is never explained.
   Now a cruel Messiah has arisen among the dogs to unite them into an organized army 50,000 strong! Worse, he has formed an alliance with the hideous vampire bats. These foul aerial monsters were not birds at all. Rather, they were a category of disease carrying, flying rodents. Bats. Nocturnal vampire bats. Their bite inflicted a poison so awful, so repugnant, that victims suffered an indescribable, agonizing torment until, fortunately, they died and found peace. (p. 141) Rodents? Well, at least Diamond knows that bats aren’t hairy giant bugs. Actually, he seems to have a thing about rodents. A warrior mongrel, disparaging the wolves, describes them as, They’re no better than rodents, eternally alert, slinking around with their noses sniffing. It’s uncanny, I tell you. (p. 221)
   Up to now, there has been no love lost between the dogs and the wolves, but they have remained in an uneasy peace. But his majesty, King Dinjar, scion of Perseus the Unifier, king of all wolves (p. 130), knows that if the dogs succeed in overrunning the Empire and slaughtering mankind, they will next turn upon the wolves and reduce them to slavery. So Dinjar proposes that the wolves move into the Empire and join the men and birds—a decision which throws all the dogs into a maddened frenzy. The mongrel army barked so loudly, so cruelly, the earth shuddered beneath their paws. (p. 156)
   There are attention-grabbers throughout the book. Bones cracked loudly as the already decimated body collided forcefully against the trunk of a tree. (p. 224) Can you decimate a single body? With vulture-like squawks the eagles hovered above him, circling, constantly circling while the hapless dog flayed his paws at the air. (p. 4) Shouldn’t that be ‘flailed’, not ‘flayed’? Without a word the hawk-king fluttered his wings. His lieutenants chirped commands to their subordinates. (p. 73) Hawks chirping? An elite champagne ball in The Haven is attended by the priprimrose cream of Emp aristocracy. Dowagers and matrons wore sublime billowing gowns of white and pastel satin, drenched in exotic eau-de-cologne. (p. 55) That ballroom had better be well-ventilated. Caught by surprise, frightened Westland farmers had chosen to burn their fields rather than leave even a single grain of food for the advancing mongrel army. (p. 75) Just picture those bloodthirsty carnivores stopping to harvest the grain and bake it into bread.
   These are only some of the gems from the first half of the novel. The main action—gruesome battles, political treachery, the discovery of a new world, and more howlers (literally and figuratively)—are all in the second half! If you’re the kind of geek who can’t give a party without a TV showing an Ed Wood video in the background, you really need Forest Wars for your guests to read aloud at each other. Remember, it’s the result of almost twenty years of writing expertise.

		#36 / May 1995


	Title:	Lovelock (The Mayflower Trilogy, Book 1)
	Author:	Orson Scott Card & Kathryn H. Kidd
	Publisher:	Tor Books (New York)

	ISBN:	0-312-85732-2
		Hardcover (Jul 1994),285 pages, $21.95,
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	ISBN:	0-812-51805-5
		Paperback (Apr 1995), xiii + 300 pages, $5.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   You would never guess that this is a ’morph novel from its astronautical cover by Donato showing a space station orbiting around the earth. But this scene is appropriate for one of the most convincing high-tech scenarios yet written about bioengineered sentient animals.
   Lovelock takes place one or two hundred years from now, judging by the sociological and technological changes. The communication highway has become such a speedway that even experts can no longer take in the full scope of data roaring at them. The (apparently global) government has just succeeded in bioengineering mentally-enhanced animals to serve leading scientists and administrators as ‘witnesses’. These monkeys, parrots, miniature pigs, and presumably others, look like ordinary animals but their brains have been nanoelectronically engineered as super data processors. They constantly accompany their important human partners, observing and hearing the same things but recording it far better. Their brains can be connected via electronic jacks to computers for permanent downloading, and for replaying key memories. To better assist their human partners, they have also had their intelligence increased.
   Lovelock, the narrator, is an enhanced capuchin monkey, the witness of Dr. Carol Jeanne Cocciolone, a leading gaiologist (a specialist in all aspects of planetary sciences). She is assigned as the head gaiologist aboard humanity’s first interstellar Ark, a pioneering attempt to colonize a habitable planet of another star. To maintain social stability on the decades-long trip, even at near light-speed, and to provide training for the agricultural environment that the humans will need to establish on the new world, the Ark has been designed as an artificial world divided into sixty ‘village’ communities. Colonists have been chosen for their family skills as well as for their technological expertise. Carol Jeanne, her family, and Lovelock are assigned to Mayflower, an old-fashioned New England town.
   The novel tells two stories simultaneously. Lovelock, as Carol Jeanne’s constant witness, observes her disintegrating marriage. Her familial bliss is a sham; her household is dominated by her mother-in-law, who has moved in with them. Carol Jeanne is a workaholic who could ignore her ineffectual husband and his manipulative mother as long as she could escape to her office on Earth. But she is too technologically oriented to be at home in the artificial small-town atmosphere with its mandatory ‘morale-maintenance’ social picnics and town gatherings and song fests, where her gossipy mother-in-law soon shines.
   Lovelock is aware of the problem. Ordinarily, he would devote himself to helping Carol Jeanne. But his mental conditioning is beginning to wear off. As the story progresses, the focus shifts from Lovelock’s mostly passive reporting of Carol Jeanne’s soap-opera problems, to his own awakening personality and realization of his identity as a sapient individual. It is when he starts using his electronic intelligence to investigate the origins of himself and the whole witness program that the story really comes alive as a s-f thriller.
   The ’morph aspects of Lovelock get better as the story advances. A serious challenge to any scientifically plausible story about animals who are the equals of humans is physical reality. Postulating an intelligence-raising drug or mutation that uplifts the intelligence of normal animals to the human level is a pseudoscientific fantasy on the level of faster-than-light travel. It might be possible to raise animals’ intelligence through skillful bioengineering, but why bother? What is the payoff, considering the fantastic research cost that it would take, to have a pig or dog that is as smart as a human? Card and Kidd have found an answer which is unpleasant but plausible.
   Since Lovelock is subtitled The Mayflower Trilogy, Book 1, there is clear warning that this novel is not complete in itself. By the end of this volume, the story has become so gripping that the delay until the second volume is published is quite frustrating. You may want to buy this and put it aside until all three volumes are available, but you will want to read it!


	Title:	Ratha’s Challenge
	Author:	Clare Bell
	Publisher:	Margaret K. McElderry Books (New York), Jan 1995
	ISBN:	0-689-50586-8
		231 pages, $16.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This is the fourth novel in this hardcover Young Adult series; the previous volumes were Ratha’s Creature (1983), Clan Ground (1984), and Ratha and Thistle-Chaser (1990; reviewed in YARF! #7).
A nicely challenging aspect of the novels is that Bell does not provide a pat explanation for every detail. There are clear implications so that the reader may make intelligent assumptions as to what is going on. The continuing story may confirm those assumptions, or it may spring some surprises.
   The Named are a clan of intelligent cougar-like great cats living 25,000,000 years ago. Their intelligence is apparently due to a local mutation rather than to slow evolution. Within a few generations, they have worked out a language and a tribal society. They also figured out the advantages of herding deer and other food animals to keep a permanent food supply. However, they are still far outnumbered by their unintelligent cousins, who are attracted by their animals. The Named (so called because each is an individual with a personal name) have to constantly fight to keep their herds from being wiped out by the dumb cats in a feeding frenzy.
   The first novel told how Ratha became the leader of the Named by adding fire to their stock of primitive tools. This fourth novel is the most clearly and cleverly science-fictional. The Named come into conflict with a new tribe of cats over control of a herd of wooly mammoths. The new clan acts very intelligently even though its cats do not seem to speak. It soon becomes evident that they have a different form of intelligence: the reader will recognize that they are telepathic, operating through a hive mind controlled by their strong leader, True-of-voice. The separate cats serve as this clan’s eyes; True-of-voice makes the decisions and directs the clan’s entire strength with an instant communication and coordination that the individual warriors of the Named cannot hope to match.
   The Named’s previous conflicts have been with cats who only had brute strength and greater numbers. The methods that were developed to fight them are useless against the telepathic hunters. The Named still have their ace-in-the-hole of fire, but Ratha realizes that as soon as the hunters see it, they will be able to figure out how to use it, too. Also, she can generalize from the Named’s own contempt for dumb cats, that the hunters may hold similar feelings without realizing that some cats may be intelligent without being telepathic. Should the Named try to establish friendship with the hunters? But what if the only form of intelligence that they will recognize is as units of their hive-mind? What if calling attention to themselves will only make the Named serious rivals to be eliminated? Ratha has to struggle just to consider the situation objectively, because she is so repelled by the telepaths:

A subplot develops which suggests that there is a distant blood relationship between the two clans, and that the individuality of the Named and the group mind of the hunters may be different aspects of the same mutation. Which is better suited for a feral life-style? In such an environment, with both clans small enough to be barely surviving, can the Named afford the luxury of experimenting with a moral decision; or is the old law of “kill the strangers before they can kill us” the only safe choice? There are several unexpected twists that will keep both Ratha and the reader guessing how to react best to the situation.
In my previous review, I commented that “it is difficult to read these books without being subtly depressed because Ratha’s people are not alive today—i.e., their fight for survival as told in these stories must have ultimately failed.” The jacket blurb of Ratha’s Challenge has a tiny amendment to the statement that the series takes place 25,000,000 years ago; it now says that the setting is an alternate world millions of years ago. Did enough readers complain about the implied extinction of the Named that it was decided to at least hint at a possible survival? I may be cynical, but it seems more likely that there were complaints about scientific inaccuracy—“How dare you teach children that cats were intelligent in the late Miocene epoch?”—and that the change was to defuse them. In any case, Ratha’s Challenge is highly recommended.

		#37 / Jul 1995


	Title:	Mus of Kerbridge
	Author:	Paul Kidd
	Illustrator:	Diesel (map)
	Publisher:	TSR Books (Lake Geneva, WI), Apr 1995
	ISBN:	0-7869-0094-6
		314 pages, $4.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This first novel reads like a cross between Brian Jacques, Georgette Heyer, and Rafael Sabatini. If you can imagine a rough parallel of the European wars of the 17th century being fought between intermixed armies of humans and the creatures of faerie, you’ve got the general idea. But there are no anthropomorphic animals—until the creation of Mus, a common mouse sorcerously bioengineered to become a tiny, furry Cavalier knight.
   The date is specified as 1641 and 1642, although the geopolitical situation is closer to the 1670s. The names and monarchs are different, but Duncruigh, Nantierre, and Welfland are obviously Britain, France and the United Provinces. When Welfland collapses into violent civil war, the progressive revolutionaries gain support from Duncruigh. This is all that Nantierre’s aggressive young ruler needs to ‘come to the rescue’ of Welfland. As the novel begins, Nantierre is completing the defeat of Duncruigh’s expeditionary army and Welfland’s last revolutionary troops, and the repressive occupation of Welfland in the name of a new puppet king who is no more than a Nantierran viceroy; and is turning Welfland’s large merchant fleet into an armada for the invasion of Duncruigh itself.
   But this is a world shared equally by humans, centaurs, satyrs, pixies, and similar creatures of mythology. All are social equals, in a human-based civilization. Think here of Donna Barr’s Stinz series, about rural centaurs living in a late 19th-century or early 20th-century Teutonic society. Some species gravitate toward roles suited to their specialties—the harpies make good aerial scouts and ‘air couriers’, while the centaurs excel as cavalry shock troops—but there appear to be no interspecies prejudices. There are humans, centaurs, etc., etc., among both the nobility and commoners of all nations.
    There is also magic. Kerbridge is an old Duncruighan river and university town (Oxford?) whose centaur baron served as commander of the royal armies on the continent. (pg. 7) Nantierre tries to strike at him through his family at Kerbridge Castle. A spy hires Pin-William, an inept satyr sorcerer, to magically get into the castle. He tries to use a mouse as his remote-controlled agent. The brain & body of the natural mouse are too crude, so its mind must be enhanced and its body anthropomorphized to understand and carry out their orders. But the brave mouse, Mus, is strong-willed enough to throw off Pin-William’s control. He saves the baron’s daughter, young Lady Miriam, and the two become firm friends who turn the Nantierrans’ trick back on themselves, using Mus as a tiny spy to uncover enemy agents within the Duncruighan Parliament.
   Mus is a delightfully anthropomorphized character. Readers will be amused and enchanted by his adjustment to his altered body and mind, his efforts to fit into the ‘human’ society that is now his, and his exasperated attempts to get people to take him seriously as a wanna-be knight in the king’s service. And Mus finds that he is not the only ’morph, after Pin-William attempts to create new animal puppet-slaves without Mus’ ‘flaws’ of independence.
   What about the half-animals? Virtually all other major characters are centaurs or satyrs, with humans, harpies, and others playing only minor roles. Kidd deftly spins a Cavalier-era melodrama full of elegant court intrigue, romance, duels, and knowledgeable 17th-century military action. However, aside from providing colorful decor, there is little need for any characters to be centaurs or satyrs dressed in ruffles and lace. At least Kidd avoids the inconsistencies of less-skilled writers who put half-animals into architecture and clothing designed for humans. The most satisfying scene to take practical note of their physical differences is the Channel naval battle which presages the Nantierran invasion of Duncruigh:

Kidd makes you believe that centaurs can participate in stormy, deck-tossing naval action without falling all over themselves. Mus of Kerbridge is not a comedy, but it certainly blends a sense of humor with its melodrama. It is full of impish, tongue-in-cheek action, led by little Mus who is determined to out-swashbuckle every other knight in Duncruigh.


	Title:	Fluke (movie)
	Screenplay:	Carlo Carlei & James Carrington (from the novel by James Herbert)
	Cast:	Matthew Modine, Nancy Travis, Eric Stoltz, Max Pomeranc, (voice of) Samuel L. Jackson, Comet (dog), Barney (dog)
	Crew:	Carlo Carlei (director); Paul Maslansky, Lata Ryan (producers); Raffaele Mertes (cinematography); Carlo Siliotto (score)
		MGM (2 Jun 1995), 95 minutes
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This is an excellent motion-picture version of James Herbert’s 1977 novel Fluke. Fluke is a dog (played by Comet, a golden retriever) who is suddenly aware that he had been a man in a previous life. He becomes obsessed with finding out who he had been, what happened to his family, and how he had died.
   This is one of the best live-action movies ever made about animals with human-level intelligence. ‘Talking’ is done telepathically (it was the same in the novel), so there is no problem with phoney-looking lip-sync. The dogs do appear through their body language as though they really are conversing with each other. The only failure is in a brief scene at the very end, where Fluke ‘talks’ with a squirrel. The voice-acting and Comet’s acting are both fine, but it is obvious that the real squirrel is simply not relating to the dog. Doubtlessly due to this problem, Herbert’s novel was revised to remove all other scenes where Fluke ‘talks’ with animals besides dogs. Fluke and Rumbo (the other mutt with a human mind) are hiding the fact that they are not normal canines. This is very intelligently staged; so there is none of the artificiality of Francis the Talking Mule-type comedies where the human cast seems exceptionally stupid not to notice how smart the animals are right behind their backs.
   In the novel, most animals are not aware of their previous lives. Fluke’s awareness—and his questioning of why he is an exception—is glossed over with metaphysical patter about how the whole purpose of reincarnation is to improve the soul for Reasons We Do Not Yet Understand. There is doubtlessly Some Divine Purpose for Fluke to have access to his human memories. At least Herbert had the imagination to avoid the cliché of ‘coming back to complete unfinished business because of an untimely death’. There are thousands of humans killed every day in ‘untimely deaths’; if that were true, there should be so many reincarnated animals trying to contact their ‘loved ones’ that it would have been obvious long ago. No, Fluke must have his human memory for some other unknown reason. This seems like a huge cop-out, but Herbert deserved credit for knowing that a metaphysical cop-out was better than a completely unconvincing rational excuse.
   The movie has its own rules of reincarnation. Any mentions of ‘souls’ or of ascending to a higher plane are severely downplayed. Fluke learns that when ‘people’ are reborn as something else, they are to accept this as the natural order of things. They must live the normal life of whatever creature they now are, instead of trying to go back to continue a previous life in their new body. Two scenes make the point that ‘people’ do not forget past lives. All animals are as smart and aware of their human pasts as Fluke is—they simply are ‘hiding it’ as they are meant to do.
   This premise is consistent within the scope of the movie, but it raises some different credibility problems. Presumably one should not wonder about such questions as why cattle or pigs would go so docilely to slaughterhouses if they know what to expect there. Is it only a coincidence that this is so consistent with the ‘Circle of Life’ philosophy in The Lion King, where the herbivores apparently do not mind that their lion monarchs will eat them because it is ‘the natural order’? This switch cancels any questions of why Fluke has ‘come back’ or why, if they all come back, only he is aware of it. However, it creates the opposite question of why Fluke is apparently the only animal who needs to have this explained to him. When he asks Rumbo if he remembers his past life, Rumbo clumsily changes the subject with an embarrassed ‘we don’t talk about such things in public’ attitude. If the subject is not taught to newborn animals (like sex education to American children?), then why doesn’t Fluke know it instinctively like the other animals?
   One problem in both the novel and the movie is with Jeff, the man who had been Fluke’s business partner in his previous life as Tom (Matthew Modine). Fluke does not know whether Jeff (Eric Stoltz) was really his loyal friend or his murderer. It is even more obvious here than on the printed pages that, like Jessica Rabbit in Who Framed Roger Rabbit, the audience is supposed to be kept guessing until the climax. As a result, Stoltz must play the role in an unnaturally emotionless manner, not giving any clues as to whether he is genuinely friendly or just faking it, until the denouement, after which he suddenly displays appropriate normal emotions. It is annoyingly clear that the author/director is jerking the reader/moviegoer around.
   There are several cosmetic changes between the novel and the film. In addition to switching the rules of reincarnation, the locale is changed from England to the American South. Nigel and Reg become the more American-sounding Tom and Jeff, and Nigel’s daughter Polly becomes son Brian. But on all significant points, the film is much more faithful in mood and in basic plot than most movie adaptations are to their original stories.
   Fluke is not a perfect movie, but its good points outweigh its problems. Frankly, even if it were a real ‘dog’ (which it is not), it might be worth supporting with your admission or your video rental, to help show that the public is ready for serious dramas about talking animals. If Fluke is not a success, there may not be any more talking-animal movies except The Shaggy Dog-level comedies for a long time to come.

		#38 / Sep 1995

The *Crimson Bears* series, by Tom LaFarge

		Title:	The Crimson Bears, Part I
		Illustrator:	Wendy Walker
		Publisher:	Sun & Moon Press (Los Angeles, CA), Apr 1993; 2nd printing, Feb. 1995
		ISBN:	1-55713-074-4
			272 pages, $12.95
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	A Hundred Doors (The Crimson Bears, Part II)
Publisher:	Sun & Moon Press (Los Angeles, CA), Feb 1995
ISBN:	1-55713-192-9
	228 pages, $12.95
Availability:	Am / BN/ Al / Pw

Edgar and Alice are two young innocents. The City of Bears is the major city of the bears, and they have grown up comfortably surrounded by bears. They have left home to visit their Uncle Claudio in Bargeton, in the far East of the bear nation. Bargeton is an ancient city near the confluence of several animal peoples, and the newest metropolis of the bears, having been conquered only three generations previously. Claudio is the leader of Bargeton’s Senate, and the young siblings expect to spend a pleasant vacation. Instead, they are swept into a maelstrom of Renaissance-Italianate politics amidst a variety of animals unfamiliar to them, as different factions seek to win their friendship to gain their uncle’s favor, or to seize them as hostages.
The two volumes of The Crimson Bears are published as volumes 26 and 31 of The New American Fiction Series. They are self-consciously literary—which is not a bad thing when it is done well, as it is here. The writing style is leisurely, emphasizing rich description rather than action. Almost two pages are devoted to Claudio’s ornate robe of office alone:

There are similarly intricate word-portraits of fantastic mansions, ornate gardens, market squares teeming with animal merchants, ominous subterranean crypts, and much more. LaFarge’s imagination starts on a level equal with the architects who designed the pleasure palaces for Louis XIV and Ludwig II, and escalates to the macabre splendor of Peake’s Gormenghast castle.
The narrative is a savory stew of antique literary styles. The Clowncats, dissolute descendants of the former feline rulers when Bargeton was known as Concatenopolis, affect the florid rhetoric of 18th-century melodrama:

The lizardish Ceruk are a melancholy species, given to mercantilism and Shakespearean tragedies. A Ceruk father-to-be, boasting of his wife’s newly-laid eggs to his rivals:

   Unlike many novelists whose attempts at old-fashioned writing are shallow and error-filled, LaFarge provides lengthy passages which show his mastery of each of these styles and create a genuine exoticism. He also knows just how much to use, and when to get on with the story. (Sometimes humorously, as when one cat interrupts another to tell him to cut short the tedious bomphiology and get to the point.)
   There is also a strong ’morphic atmosphere. A key subplot revolves around the status of the Ceruk as the most recently evolved of the speakable animals, who still often have unintelligent offspring. An elaborate social code has evolved around how they must treat children who are dumb animals, and how intelligent Ceruk born to feral animals are recognized. This becomes a corkscrewishly twisted lever in the deadly legalistic interplay. Little tidbits are scattered throughout, such as an offhand comparison between caribou and beaver cookbook recipes (of equal disinterest to a carnivore).
   But The Crimson Bears is by no means all wordplay and no action. Edgar and Alice arrive in Bargeton on the eve of an attempted coup which turns into a bloody free-for-all civil war among at least eight different factions. The bears are caught in the midst of rioting, conflagration, murders, and an invading army. The two-volume novel is filled with lavishly described dramatic scenes that cry out for a fantasy artist like Don Maitz or Thomas Kidd to paint them. This is definitely worth reading—although at $26.00 for the two volumes, you may want to have your local library order it.

The Woodstock Saga, by Michael Tod

		Title:	The Silver Tide (The Woodstock Saga, Book One)
		Illustrator:	? (maps)
		Publisher:	Orion Books (London)

		ISBN:	1-85797-563-4
			Hardcover (Apr 1994), 226 pages, £9.99
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

		ISBN:	1-85797-319-4
			Paperback (Nov 1994), 226 pages, £4.99
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	The Second Wave (The Woodstock Saga, Book Two)
Illustrator:	? (maps)
Publisher:	Orion Books (London), Nov 1994
ISBN:	1-85797-367-4
	xi + 244 pages, £12.99
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

Stephen Jones and Jo Fletcher reported in Science Fiction Chronicle, December 1993:

  Watership Down is a hard act to follow. but Tod’s trilogy comes close enough to put him solidly in the ranks of the better British ‘nature novelists’ along with Richard Adams, William Horwood, and Garry Kilworth.
   In The Silver Tide, a community of native red squirrels in Purbeck, in Dorset on the Channel coast, is confronted by a wave of larger, aggressive American grey squirrels spreading throughout Britain, or ‘New America’ as they call it. The peaceful red squirrels do not know how to react to the arrogant grey squirrels, whose attitude seems similar to the stereotype of the American settlers who considered the native Americans a “decrepit bunch of savages” (pg. 80) who did not deserve the land that they lived upon. After one of the Reds of Blue Pool is killed, the others regretfully abandon their ancestral land and begin a trek to find a new home—if there is anyplace in Britain where Reds can live which the Greys will not eventually take over.
   But the story is much more complex than this. The Greys do not fight only with their teeth and claws; they have Stones of Power:

   The Greys have learned how to manipulate Earth power; the primal force controlled through Leylines, pyramidology, and similar metaphysical practices. The Reds have their own power through their worship of the ‘life-giving Sun’. The Greys’ Stone Power is more immediate and obvious, but the Reds’ prayers to the Sun are also answered in a more subtle way.
   As with Watership Down, The Woodstock Saga builds up colorful cultures for the squirrels. The Reds have plant names: trees for the males (Oak, Rowan, Larch, Chestnut) and flowers for the females (Burdock, Bluebell, Meadowsweet). The Greys all have harsh mineral names (Flint, Marble, Granite, Chert). But the cultures are not uniform within each species. One refuge which the Blue Pool Reds find is already settled by a tribe of Reds who have a monarchical caste system, and the two Red societies clash. In The Second Wave, a group of Greys who are willing to embrace the Sun faith unfortunately fall under the influence of a Red fanatic who has perverted their gentle nature religion. He turns the Greys into a Crusading army to slay all Red ‘degenerates’ who do not agree with his decrees of harsh penance for their ‘sins’. So what at first seems to be a conflict between two colors of otherwise-identical squirrels turns out to be much more interestingly complex.
   The biggest annoyance about Tod’s writing is an overuse of coincidence and divine intervention. The Reds’ young intellectual, Bright Marguerite, ‘invents’ counting just in time to figure out a defense against the Stone Power. Why do prayers to the Sun work so well for the Reds of Blue Pool, but apparently not for other Reds? If prayer were as efficacious as it seems here, the divinity of the Sun and the ‘right way’ to worship ought to have become obvious to all squirrels long since. However, the novels have enough merit to make this minor flaw tolerable. Tod is a new author, with at least one more novel in his trilogy to come. Hopefully his writing will mature to match his imagination.

		#39 / Nov 1995


	Title:	Fortune’s Wheel (The Sholan Alliance, vol. 2)
	Author:	Lisanne Norman
	Publisher:	DAW Books (New York, NY), Aug 1995
	ISBN:	0-88677-675-9
		646 pages, $5.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This sequel to Norman’s Turning Point (reviewed in Yarf! #29) is a big surprise in several respects. Literally; at 646 pages, it is almost 2¹/₂ times the size of the first novel’s 267 pages. That story stood nicely on its own, although there was a strong hint that a sequel might be coming. Fortune’s Wheel is clearly labeled as Book #2 in “Lisanne Norman’s sensational new DAW science fiction series!”, and it does not stand on its own. It ends on a cliffhanger, with enough unresolved plots and subplots to fill two or three more volumes, at least.
   Turning Point is a nice space-opera updating of Beauty and the Beast. Carrie Hamilton is a young woman on Keiss, a male-dominated Terran colony planet which was conquered by brutally hostile aliens, the Valtegans, a few years earlier. A human resistance movement has grown up, but none of the men take Carrie seriously when she wants to help. Carrie nurses a wounded catlike wild animal back to health; he turns out to be Kusac, a disguised handsome felinoid from a scoutship of the Sholans, an unknown alien species which is also at war with the Valtegans. Kusac is the scout party’s telepath, so he has no trouble recognizing Carrie’s inner strength and her own latent telepathic powers. Carrie helps Kusac return to his shipmates, and aids him in bringing the Terrans and Sholans into an alliance to overthrow the Valtegans. The novel ends with Keiss liberated, and Carrie as Kusac’s telepathically-linked lifemate who is about to return with him to Shola to meet his family.
    It was obvious that any sequel would involve the culture shock that both Carrie and the Sholans must go through as she becomes the unofficial representative of humanity on a planet of intelligent cat-people. That is actually just the starting point for several unexpected developments.
   Fortune’s Wheel begins deceptively blandly, as little more than an imitation of McCaffrey’s & Nye’s Doona novels, with humans and extremely human-like felinoids learning to get along in a mutual alliance. The opening scenes even seem to have regressed from the exotic atmosphere of Turning Point, where the Sholans were introduced as an intriguingly mysterious furry & fanged people. Fortune’s Point’s depiction of a Sholan space battle fleet is no different from hundreds of s-f human military spaceships, except that the uniformed crews are described as twitching their whiskers and ears and swishing their tails. Carrie’s first impression of the Sholans is similar; they seem like little more than furry humans. It takes time for the differences to begin to develop—and they are differences which surprise not only Carrie, but also the Sholans! (Unfortunately, more details cannot be given without spoiling some of the surprises.)
   Carrie is only one of several important characters, both human and Sholan, in this much larger novel. She and Kusac Aldatan may be mind-bonded lovers, but they are also nervous about their unique relationship, and partly resentful towards the telepathic compulsion which would force them to remain united even if they did not love each other. Kusac’s family and friends react in different ways to his bringing home an alien mate. Factions within both Shola’s political and religious hierarchy must decide whether the human/Sholan bonding is natural or perverted; to be encouraged for interstellar friendship or stamped out to preserve Shola’s social stability. A couple of the sub-plots get so involved with existing Sholan politics that Carrie and Kusac are almost incidental to them.
   One of the first sub-plots is unfortunately also one of the weakest. Norman tries to create some suspense almost immediately by making Carrie the target of murderous isolationists who fear all aliens, while most Sholans are overjoyed by the news that a friendly new space people have just been discovered who will help them fight the Valtegans. Granted that any large social group will have its lunatic fringe, this cell of terrorists snaps together unconvincingly swiftly; and its rationalizations for not believing the Sholan government’s press releases describing the Terrans’ aid seem exaggeratedly paranoid.
   Fortune’s Wheel does carry one major plot through to its conclusion, so this book ends satisfyingly even though there are numerous questions left unanswered. The cliffhanger implies that the Valtegans will return in the next novel, and there are many other sub-plots to be resolved.


	Title:	Babe (movie)
	Screenplay:	George Miller & Chris Noonan (from the novel by Dick King-Smith)
	Cast:	James Cromwell, Magda Szubanski, (voices of) Christine Cavanaugh, Miriam Margolyes, Danny Mann, Hugo Weaving
	Crew:	Chris Noonan (director); George Miller, Doug Mitchell, Bill Miller (producers); Andrew Lesnie (cinematography); Nigel Westlake (score)
		Universal (4 Aug, 1995), 91 minutes
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   1995 has been a good year for live-action movies about talking animals. There is Fluke, which may be the first serious adult-oriented drama about talking animals rather than a comedy. And now there is Babe, which is a comedy (based upon a children’s novel by Dick King-Smith) but a gentle, intelligent one rather than going for low farce. (There is also Gordy, which I haven’t seen yet but which has gotten mostly unfavorable reviews.)
   Babe is also an exciting demonstration of the movie industry’s ability to create convincing talking animals. Until recently, this was not a serious concern. Talking animals were only for laughs, and any crude simulation of an animal spouting witticisms was considered good enough. There have been live-action comedies with animals with animated mouths since the 1940s (Jerry Fairbanks won the Academy Award for Best Short Subject in 1942 and 1944 for his Speaking of Animals one-reelers), but there was no attempt to disguise the fact that these were cartoon lips superimposed onto the faces of unintelligent animals. In movies such as the Francis the Talking Mule series or The Shaggy Dog, the emphasis was not on the animal characters as much as on the human leads. The animals were just the catalysts to keep the human highjinks moving. It has only been since Who Framed Roger Rabbit? in 1988 that producers and directors have had to create sympathetic non-human stars who must be as convincing to the audiences as the human cast.
   Both Babe and Fluke (released just two months earlier) feature superbly-directed animal casts. They imply by their body-language that they really are conversing with each other. But in Fluke the animals talk telepathically, so there is no need to show plausible mouth movements. In Babe the pigs, dogs, sheep, horses, ducks, and other animals are seen to talk among each other. This requires animated mouths realistic enough to sustain the audience’s suspension of disbelief. Babe combines well-directed animal poses with state-of-the-art model and Muppetry work from the Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, plus computerized image blending by Rhythm & Hues. The result is a cast of animal characters who can carry the whole movie, instead of only supporting the human actors. Audiences can identify with and care for them, instead of merely enjoying the movie for its clever camera tricks. (The least-convincing characters are the trio of mice, who wisely are seen only in brief distance shots.)
   Dick King-Smith is a British author of children’s fantasies. This was published in England as The Sheep-Pig (Gollancz, 1983) and in the U.S. as Babe, the Gallant Pig (Crown, 1985). Babe is a newborn pig won by Farmer Hogget at an English county fair. Hogget, despite his name, specializes in raising sheep, although he keeps a normal barnyard for family use. He decides that Babe will do for next Christmas’ dinner. The piglet is turned over to his sheepdog, Fly, to nurse along with her litter of pups. When the pups grow old enough to be sold, Fly turns her motherly attention onto Babe, who idolizes her. Despite her assurances that nobody expects a pig to have the talents of a dog, Babe wants to herd sheep, too. He does so well at it that Farmer Hogget gets the wild idea of entering him in the annual National Sheepdog Trials.
   The childrens’ novel was too short for a feature-length film, so some new scenes were put in to pad the plot. Happily, they complement the story wonderfully. The best is the addition of Ferdinand, a nervous duck who tries to usurp the rooster’s role of crowing to awaken the farm. He hopes to make himself so essential to the farm’s routine that he will take himself off its standard menu of roast duck. Besides being a funny gag in itself, Ferdinand’s acerbic personality and cynical wit adds a bit of bite which the otherwise-overly-sugary cast needs. It also sets up Babe’s own situation. He just wants to herd sheep like his foster mother, Fly, but if he can make himself more useful to the farm than a potential dinner…
   Any story is only as good as how it is directed. Babe is handled just right. James Cromwell as Farmer Hoggett gets top marks as a crusty old farmer who convincingly comes to love the little piglet who ought to be just another item of livestock running around the barnyard. Most of the other actors are the offstage voice cast, whose performances give their animal counterparts the emotional gravity to win real audience appeal, rather than treating them as subjects for hoked-up cartoony laughs. There is much humor, but it is clever and subtle, unexpected more often than obvious. The Sheep-Pig may be a childrens’ book, but Babe is a movie that is designed for audiences of all levels of sophistication. Talking animals aren’t just ‘funny animals’ any more. Kudos to everyone involved, especially Director Chris Noonan with the close association of his mentor, producer-director George (Mad Max) Miller.

		#40 / Jan 1996


	Title:	Outcast of Redwall
	Author:	Brian Jacques
	Illustrator:	Allan Curless
	Publisher:	Hutchinson Children’s Books (London), Jul 1995
	ISBN:	0-09-176721-0
		360 pages, £12.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Jacques’ Redwall adventures, which began with Redwall in Britain in 1986 and in the U.S. in 1987, were already a sensation by the time they started appearing in mass-market paperback editions in 1990. They are now a phenomenon with over a million copies sold, and several literary awards to their credit. They are published as juvenile novels in Britain and as adult novels in America, although —like Tolkien’s The Hobbit and Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia— their appeal transcends age categorizations. Outcast of Redwall is the eighth in the series.
   The ‘high concept’ description is ‘Middle Earth with funny animals’. The world of Redwall Abbey in the land of Mossflower is broadly an English medieval countryside with animal inhabitants. The nice, cute creatures such as the mice, moles, squirrels, and hedgehogs are the friendly peasants and yeomen, while the bloodthirsty, evil carnivores such as rats, stoats, and foxes are the cruel robbers, slavers, and conquerers.
   The first four novels were reviewed in earlier issues of Yarf! as a good story, but basically the same story repeated with only slight variations. Outcast offers some more distinctive variations, but it is still clearly the same oft-repeated theme. It differs primarily in showing a more diffuse panorama of the whole Mossflower countryside. On its own merits, it could be criticized as confusingly vague in comparison with the previous novels. However, this is not a problem to readers already familiar with the Redwall world, and this different focus does make it stand out a bit more. But it does make Outcast a bad novel with which to begin the series.
   The adventure opens with one of Jacques’ stock scenarios: a robber band of vile predators is prowling the countryside, slaying and looting. Their leader is Swartt Sixclaw, a cunning young ferret who dreams of making himself a mighty Warlord. One of his captives is a young badger whom he sadistically rides as his mount. The badger, Sunflash the Mace, escapes in the first chapter after a battle which cripples Swartt’s six-clawed paw.
   The first 150 pages of Outcast tells parallel tales of the two. Sunflash, with his friend Skarlath the kestrel, wanders about Mossflower looking for the home from which he was stolen at an age too young to remember. After many adventures he comes to Salamandastron, the mountainous “stronghold of Badger Lords and fighting hares”, whose leaderless long-eared army acclaim him as their long-lost rightful Lord. Meanwhile Swartt, with his sinister advisor Nightshade, the vixen seeress, lurches from one conquest to another, scheming, betraying, and poisoning his way to power, building his band of ruffians into a formidable army of hardened troops. He, too, eventually comes to Salamandastron, which offers the twin lures of a vast fortune to be looted, and revenge against his old enemy.
   The last 200+ pages focus upon the maneuvering and fighting between the two opponents and their forces, and an unexpected third plot which introduces Redwall Abbey into the story. Redwall is the fortified sanctuary for all animals who would live in peace, such as the mice scholars, the mole farmers, and the squirrel woodsmen. The monastery finds itself with an abandoned baby on its paws; a ferret (the child of Swartt Sixclaw). Abbess Meriam dubiously decides to accept him to see if being raised among peaceful animals can have a beneficial influence on his naturally savage instincts—while fearing that she may be welcoming an unreformable killer into their midst.
   Jacques seems to be trying to retain his popular formula while bringing some minor variations into it. There are more poems than usual, but these are less the standard mysterious riddles to be solved than rollicking battle chants and banquet songs. Outcast reaches new lengths in describing both sumptuous feasts and casual snacks:

The more episodic nature of Outcast means that several intriguing setups which would have been used for the complete story in earlier books are broken off surprisingly quickly, to maintain the protagonist-enemies’ natures as wanderers. Fans of the Redwall series will find enough changes here to intrigue them.
Outcast of Redwall can currently be ordered from British booksellers. The American edition will doubtlessly be out during 1996, although the American dust jackets have generally not been as attractive as the last couple of British cover paintings by ‘Fangorn’.


	Title:	Animal Planet
	Author:	Scott Bradfield
	Publisher:	Picador USA (New York), Oct 1995
	ISBN:	0-312-13428-2
		231 pages, $22.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This is supposedly a sophisticated modernization of George Orwell’s Animal Farm for the post-Socialistic ‘now’. A couple of sections have been rewritten into short stories for journals such as Conjunctions, ‘the Bard College Literary Magazine’. The novel has gotten admiring reviews for its biting satire of ’90s civilization and its stinging parodies of our contemporary social dogmas such as Political Correctness and Power Lunches. Well…
    Mankind, having achieved total social equality, gradually realizes that people are not happy unless they have somebody to look down upon and patronize. So humanity decides to upgrade the animals into this niche. “We want to improve your standard of living,” the do-gooders say as they close the zoos and make the animals get menial jobs. The military ‘liberates’ all the penguins in Antarctica into education camps to teach them how to open charge accounts, and how to get jobs to pay their debts. “These are good people,” General Heathcliff lectures. “These are simple people. You know what your average penguin wants out of life, boys? A nice evening of greens and mackerel. A warm place to go to the bathroom. And maybe a little raw nookie out behind the snowplow.” (pg. 60) Animals are dragged in from the forests and jungles and taught such advantages of civilization as working on factory assembly lines, clerking in shops, and serving as maids and nannies.
   But, inevitably, there arise animal troublemakers. “Creatures who talk too much. Creatures who think they know all the answers. Creatures with bad attitudes toward authority. Creatures who don’t believe in our free-market economy,” the General continues. (pg. 61) Revolutionaries like Charlie the Crow, Dave the Otter, and the four-hoofed, masked urban terrorist, Mr. Big, harangue their advertising-bedazzled brethren against the indignities of being forced to become imitation humans. The animals rise up in a gory revolution. But they have already been too heavily indoctrinated. The freedom that they demand is not to return to their own natural lives, but to have their own Cadillacs, to appear on TV talk shows as equals of celebrities like Newt Gingrich.
   The parallels to Animal Farm are obvious, but Bradfield’s plot is less important than his style. He is hip, cool, or whatever the latest cutting-edge vocabulary is, precisely so that he can satirize such trendy vocabulary as ‘cutting edge’. He carries this to such cynically surrealistic extremes that the style overwhelms any logic. The penguins living in ‘suburban Antarctica’ are already ruining their livers with champagne business lunches and cheating on their wives, before the humans arrive to integrate them into the consumer society. There is an Eskimo whore living down there, shacked up with her Marlboro-smoking sled dog, Rick the Husky. Why? They were “relocated to the South Pole by America’s Federal Housing Program (which had decided to save money by offering housing to needy people in places they didn’t want to live).” (pg. 51-52) Ha, ha!
   Bradfield has a passion for breathless descriptive passages. When Charlie the Crow (the animal-rights activist who is as much of a main character as this novel has) and Buster the Penguin escape to warn the other Antarctic fauna:

There are countless vivid anthropomorphic parodies of modern society, such as three oafish ‘working girls’ (a gorilla nanny, an orangutan hatcheck girl, and a baboon forklift operator) complaining about their jobs and their love lives while they slobber through a meal at a New York Italian restaurant.
If bizarre imagery, cynical witticisms, and occasional clever turns of phrase alone can compensate for a lack of any likeable characters or believable characterizations, and for a story that doesn’t really go anywhere (but that’s the whole point!), then Bradfield may have a winner here. Sophisticated? Heavy-handed? It may be a matter of taste, but I’ll still bet on Orwell and Animal Farm surviving as a classic of literary satire, despite the collapse of Socialism, long after Animal Planet is forgotten.

		#41 / Apr 1996

Books in James Gurney’s *Dinotopia* setting

Title:		Dinotopia: The World Beneath
Author:		James Gurney
Illustrator:		The author
Publisher:		Turner Publishing (Atlanta, GA), Sep 1995
ISBN:		1-57036-164-9
		160 pages, $29.95
Availability:		Am / BN / Al / Pw



		Title:	Dinotopia: Windchaser
		Author:	Scott Ciencin
		Illustrator:	? (map)
		Publisher:	Random House/Bullseye Books (New York, NY), Apr 1995
		ISBN:	0-679-86981-6
			148 pages, $3.99
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	Dinotopia: River Quest
Author:	John Vornholt
Illustrator:	? (map)
Publisher:	Random House/Bullseye Books (New York, NY), Apr 1995
ISBN:	0-679-86982-4
	146 pages, $3.99
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







		Title:	Dinotopia: Hatchling
		Author:	Midori Snyder
		Illustrator:	? (map)
		Publisher:	Random House/Bullseye Books (New York, NY), Sep 1995
		ISBN:	0-679-86984-0
			148 pages, $3.99
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	Dinotopia: Lost City
Author:	Scott Ciencin
Illustrator:	? (map)
Publisher:	Random House/Bullseye Books (New York, NY), Feb 1996
ISBN:	0-679-86983-2
	143 pages, $3.99
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Artist Gurney’s sequel to his 1992 mega-hit Dinotopia: A Land Apart from Time (reviewed in Yarf! #27) is more of the same; heavy on beautiful art but weak on story. Since the art is the primary purpose of the book, this is not a serious problem.
   The first book was presented as the travel diary of Professor Arthur Denison, an explorer who was shipwrecked in 1862 with his twelve-year-old son, Will, on a large unknown island settled by a joint civilization of humans and intelligent dinosaurs. The art book was Denison’s illustrated notes, in the fashion of National Geographic recreations of past civilizations, of his first four years on Dinotopia: the flora and fauna, the unique native costumes and culture, the architecture, city scenes, notable characters among both the humans and dinosaurs, the saurian footprint alphabet, and so on. The diary incidentally recorded Will’s merging into this civilization as he made acquaintances among both the young humans and saurians, and grew up with the desire to join his skybax friend, Cirrus, in becoming one of Dinotopia’s elite messenger corps of flying saurians with human riders.
   The one weak aspect of Dinotopian knowledge was its own history, and this was what (Dinotopia hinted at its conclusion) would be the subject of its sequel. The World Beneath fills in this information in two parallel plots. Prof. Denison is finally ready to launch his expedition into the caverns that underlie the island, which he hopes will reveal the truths behind the legends of Dinotopia’s first, half-man half-dinosaur king and his lost city of Poseidos. Among his party is Bix, the small protoceratops-translator who was the Denisons’ first friend in Dinotopia. Meanwhile, Will and Cirrus receive their chance to join a dangerous mission to escort a convoy across Dinotopia’s last unexplored territory, the Rainy Basin, home of unfriendly tyrannosaurs. The stories remain parallel for the first three-quarters of the book, then merge as Denison and his expedition find an exit from the caverns in the Rainy Basin near where Will and his group are located. There are some brief adventures, but again the main focus is upon Gurney’s lavish art, with beautiful double-page spreads of awesome grottos, the ruins of ancient cities including forgotten mecha-sauroid technology, and so forth.
   What makes The World Beneath anthropomorphic is the presence of such intelligent saurians as Bix and Cirrus, the giganotosaur leader Stinktooth, the ailing baby triceratops Stubbs, and others. The best scene is the special meeting that Prof. Denison calls to propose his expedition, in a gigantic meeting hall in Waterfall City designed for both human and dinosaur elders, including a saurian stenographer with a foot-pedal writing machine. However, due to the artistic nature of The World Beneath, there is very little characterization among the cast. The dinosaurs, in particular, seldom stand out as much more than vivid but isolated pictures.
   Dinotopia as a scenario for stories works better in the series of juvenile novels that has recently appeared from Random House’s Bullseye paperback imprint (for young readers). These are without illustrations, so the whole story is told in a standard fiction format, with plenty of dialogue:

Be warned that these novels may be too simplistic for most of Yarf!’s readers. They all feature twelve- to fourteen-year-old human protagonists, with some of Gurney’s supporting cast (such as Bix in Windchaser and Malik, the stenonychosaurus Timekeeper of Waterfall City in River Quest) as incidental characters. Windchaser introduces Dinotopia through the eyes of Raymond and Hugh, two English castaways who settle their own emotional losses and culture shock through bonding with Windchaser, a young skybax who had previously lost his human friend in an accident and needs his confidence restored. In River Quest, Magnolia (a native human) and Paddlefoot (her Lambeosaur comrade) are apprentices of wise Master Edwick and his Saltasaurus partner, Calico; the Dinotopian equivalent of Chief Forest Rangers. They expect to succeed their mentors eventually, but when Edwick and Calico are gravely injured, Magnolia and Paddlefoot must carry out an immediate investigation of an earthquake-diverted river in the tyrannosaur-dominated Rainy Basin, without their tutors’ comforting guidance. In Hatchling, Janet runs away from remorse with her dryosaur friend Zephyr after she falls asleep while guarding the eggs at a dinosaur hatchery. But she redeems herself by helping Kranog, an almost-extinct dinosaur who is injured in the forest, to save her rare last egg. In Lost City, three young castaways (Andrew from England, Lian from China, and Ned from Louisiana; which makes one wonder how rapidly Dinotopia is filling up with castaways?), find a hidden city of knightly stenonychosaurs and persuade them to rejoin Dinotopian society.
Although all four novels have some mild drama, their emphasis is less on story or characterization than on depicting insecure young adolescents faced with their first mature responsibilities. All are helped by their saurian best friends to conquer their self-doubts, and acquit themselves so honorably that they become famous throughout Dinotopia. This wish-fulfillment similarity, plus the fact that all four are the same basic length, make them all look written to a preassigned formula. In many scenes the dinosaurs talk so humanly that, without illustrations, it is hard to keep in mind that they are not just human playmates. Readers might read one novel to make sure that it is to their taste before buying the others.


	Title:	Toad Triumphant
	Author:	William Horwood
	Illustrator:	Patrick Benson
	Publisher:	HarperCollins U.K. (London), Oct 1995
	ISBN:	0-00-225309-7
		283 pages, £12.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame (1859-1932) has been a literary classic for most of this century. William Horwood began writing sequels to it in 1993 with The Willows in Winter. Toad Triumphant is his second in the series.
   It must take nerve as well as talent to invite comparison with a famous masterpiece, yet Horwood has plenty of both. He is best known for his six-volume Duncton drama; an anthropomorphic saga about political/religious wars among English moles which combines the grandeur of Tolkien’s Middle Earth with the intolerance and brutality of the 17th-century Thirty Years’ War, in a massive 3,681 pages. This is an epic of a different sort than Grahame’s gentle wood-&-stream fantasy, yet Horwood has done an excellent job of simulating both Grahame’s writing style and the personalities of his well-known characters.
   The charm of the world of the Willows falls into two broad categories; the paean to the beauty of the English countryside, as seen through the eyes of Rat and Mole, and the rollicking exploits of the vain and high-spirited Toad. The two are symbiotic. The pastoral scenes are deeply moving, but too placid to support a whole novel on their own; while Toad’s hijinks are lively and amusing, but too shallow and, at their extremes, overly silly to hold our attention. The biggest complaint about Horwood’s writing is that he has imitated Grahame’s faults as well as his virtues.
   Toad Triumphant tells two parallel stories. Rat and Mole get curious about the origins of their beloved River, and decide to leave their River-bank community and explore up to its unknown—and, according to gossip, mysteriously dangerous—headwaters. Horwood is at his bucolic best here, focusing upon the honeysuckle growing on the ruin of an old mill or the butterflies fluttering over the lilacs near the riverbank as the two friends row upstream on their peaceful camping trip. Then, for contrast, Toad comes along in a roaring motor-launch:

Toad decides that Toad Hall needs a statue of himself. The sculptor whom he calls in is a distant cousin, a noted French artiste, Madame Florentine. Think of Miss Piggy as a toad, and you will know her.

Badger, aghast, cannot decide whether the Countess should be endured for long enough to sculpt the statue (a second Toad is bad enough as a temporary guest), or whether she has more permanent, matrimonial intentions which must be firmly discouraged. Toad himself dithers between playing the devoted Romeo or the confirmed-bachelor Figaro. The plot develops in histrionic comic-opera style. A good time will be had by the reader.
The dust-jacket blurb says that Patrick Benson’s numerous pen-&-ink drawings in the tradition of Ernest Shepard have “received outstanding praise”, which I will echo. The Wind in the Willows may not have needed a sequel, but it now has two which can stand with it as equals.

		#42 / Jun 1996


	Title:	House of Tribes
	Author:	Garry Kilworth
	Illustrator:	Paul Robinson
	Publisher:	Bantam Press (London), Nov 1995
	ISBN:	0-593-03376-0
		[xiii +] 430 pages, £12.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

Kilworth has established a reputation as an author of ‘realistic’ talking-animal novels in the vein of Watership Down, with Hunter’s Moon: a Story of Foxes; Midnight’s Sun: a Story of Wolves; and Frost Dancers: a Story of Hares. House of Tribes is a bit different—in fact, it is accurately blurbed as ‘An epic animal fantasy in the tradition of Duncton Wood.’ The animals are superficially like Watership Down’s rabbits, but a bit too clever and well-organized to pass as ‘realistic’.
Pedlar is a young yellow-necked mouse born into a Hedgerow community of British wildlife. They are three fields away from the House, a fabulous paradise too good to be believable:

   But Pedlar begins to have a Dream urging him to go to the House, for his destiny is to play a part in a great event which will befall the mice there. Dreams are believed to be messages sent by the departed ancestors and guardians of all mice, so Pedlar is morally pressured to uproot his life and venture to the House despite his doubts.
   Pedlar becomes so involved in the complex society within the old country mansion that he (and the reader) tend to forget about the plot. The House is no happy playground, although it is more full of mice than it should be. Readers will recognize what the mice do not; the House’s nudnik (human) inhabitants are old and probably senile, and are mostly unaware of the horde of vermin robbing their pantries and chewing up the books in the vast Library. There is a sadistic child among them, but his death traps are usually easily avoided. (Mice who do fall prey are fed to his psychotic, cannibalistic pet white mouse.)
   The House has become overpopulated with mice, who have separated into warring tribes; one for practically every room. The kitchen mice, who control the coveted never-empty larder, are the Savage Tribe, marked by Viking names like Jarl Forkwhiskers, Gytha, and Tostig, and led by the appropriately brutal and bloody Gorm-the-old. The library mice, the Bookeaters such as Owain, Cadwallon, Rhodri, and Gruffydd Greentooth, are literati and mystics, led by Frych-the-freckled who is into witchcraft and black magic. The attic-dwelling Invisibles are aloof cynics who give each other sarcastic names like Whispersoft (he invariably bellows), Nonsensical (the most practical in their tribe), and Ferocious (a coward). The cellar-dwelling Stinkhorns have vulgar names like Phart and Flegm, and you don’t want to know their personal habits. Pedlar gets so involved with these colorful personalities (and others), and their intra- and intertribal feuds, that it comes as a shock when the plot resumes more than a hundred pages later, and we are reminded that Pedlar is there for a purpose.
   Although the divine larder is never empty, it never has enough for all the mice at the same time. The main reason is that the mice are forced to wait for quiet after dark, while the giant nudniks can come into the kitchen and eat as much as they want whenever they want. Gorm-the-old decides to call a House-wide crusade to drive out the nudniks, so the larder will be all theirs. Astrid the high priestess prophecies disaster and a great famine if they are successful, but Gorm (who envisions all mousedom united under his leadership) bulls ahead anyway. Pedlar, not sure whether he should participate in the Great Nudnik Drive or oppose it, is swept up in the hysterical frenzy which will change all of their lives forever.
   Kilworth is talented at establishing his almost-identical mice with sharply individual personalities and characteristics. The story unfolds with drama and wit:

There is a mood of both fatality and of challenge. It gradually becomes obvious that the lives of the mice are to some extent preordained, but their fates can be changed if strong individuals recognize the crisis points and act upon them. Unfortunately, the Fates never speak clearly. Pedlar must gamble as to whether he has been sent to support Gorm in his daring crusade, or to save the mice from Gorm’s madness. To the reader, who will have a more realistic idea of the results of mice attacking humans, the question is more as to whether Pedlar himself can survive, or help any of his friends among the House mice to survive. The results may surprise you.


	Title:	Summerhill Hounds (First Quest™ Books)
	Author:	J. Robert King
	Illustrator:	Terry Dykstra
	Publisher:	TSR, Inc. (Lake Geneva, WI), Nov 1995
	ISBN:	0-7869-0196-9
		250 pages, $3.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

The First Quest™ Books are a series of ‘Young Readers Adventures’ set in the Endless Quest™ gaming world. Although it is a straightforward novel, its literary style and quality are closer to those Choose Your Own Adventure paperbacks. It is a very simplistic adventure in a very stereotypical fantasy setting. But it is certainly anthropomorphic. To quote the back-cover blurb:

   Keep in mind that this is intended for ‘Young Readers’. Otherwise it is too easy to criticize its lack of sophistication. Fantasy-adventure role-playing settings are, by definition, not realistic, but they need to be pseudo-realistic enough to sustain a modicum of believability and suspense. The stereotype of Summerhill Hounds is closer to that of generic Disney animation, especially the funny-animal Robin Hood movie—the one where the Sheriff of Nottingham has Pat Buttram’s hillbilly accent. Here it’s the ‘old codger’ bloodhound, Lank Leonard, whose accent and manners of “southern gentility” (pg. 129) make him sound like the twin of Trusty in Lady and the Tramp—not exactly what one would expect in a setting of early Norman castles with orcs and the Celtic Seelie Court just the other side of the drawbridge.
   We all know that medieval courts included packs of hunting dogs. But would you believe a pack that resembles the cast of a dog show? There’s Mongy the terrier; Reedel the English sheepdog (the furballs with hair covering their eyes—just picture one of those in a manor lord’s deer hunt); Merry the collie; Dea the golden retriever; the aforementioned Lank Leonard; Goldie the cocker spaniel; Gray the deerhound; Sheba the part-wolf deerhound; and Slav the black mastiff. Slav is actually an enchanted fire-breathing mastiff, which is a nice touch of originality; otherwise the crew resembles the multibreed stray-dog casts of Lady and the Tramp or Oliver & Company more than what one expects in a sword-&-sorcery landscape. And, as soon as the bloody capture of the castle is finished, the orcs suddenly start bumbling around more like the buffoonish ogres from Disney-TV’s The Gummi Bears than the serious menaces of Middle Earth.
   There is also the Watership Down-based stereotype of ‘realistic’ animals who have their own language, folklore, and religion. But King’s dog-legends unfortunately lack the word-magic of Adams, Kilworth, Horwood, et al. Two ancestral wolf packs are the Griooowas and the Uuffuffs. The legend of the Silver Dog and the Seelie Hound isn’t bad, but it loses a lot when his First Dogs have names as pedestrian as Humphrey, Ivy, and Kelly.
   One coincidentally identical conceit both here and in Kilworth’s House of Tribes is the least convincing aspect of both novels: That the dogs/mice believe themselves to be intelligent and sophisticated, but that the humans whose buildings they live in are only dumb animals—their pets, here, and unpleasant vermin (like giant cockroaches) in House of Tribes. It’s amusing to observe these animals considering themselves to be so superior, but not really believable that characters smart enough to realize what intelligence and self-awareness are would not recognize the same traits in the humans whom they can see talking among themselves and manipulating utensils.
   What happens to the loyal dogs (plus a supercilious cat named Gato) cast loose in a countryside of fierce wolves, brutal orcs, and a magical Celtic faery realm is at least unexpected. And it’s a quick and relatively inexpensive read. If Disney intends to make any more movies along the lines of The Aristocats or The Black Cauldron, they might keep this novel in mind.

		#43 / Aug 1996


	Title:	Mink!
	Author:	Peter Chippindale
	Illustrator:	Matthew McClements (map)
	Publisher:	Simon & Schuster Ltd. (London), Sep 1995
	ISBN:	0-671-71916-5
		566 pages, £9.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Here is another new “Animal Farm for the ’90s”, according to the cover blurb. Well, it does feature talking animals, and it is written for adults. But it seems closer to Watership Down than to Animal Farm. There is certainly satire in it, but it remains subordinate to a complex and taut drama of politics and survival. Mink! feels more like a talking-animal version of such 1950s and ’60s political thrillers as Forbidden Area or Seven Days in May.
   The first half of the 566-page novel consists of two parallel stories, told in alternating chapters. The first begins with the birth of Mega, a mink, into a dirty, overcrowded British countryside fur farm. The colony is dominated by an aristocracy of conservative Elder mink who rule as high priests. As Mega grows, he is smart enough to see that the creed of peace and brotherhood is more for the Elders’ own good than that of the restless, high-strung common mink. They have the choicest benefits of their cramped world without having to fight for them, as mink instinctually do.
   In the parallel story, the animals of the nearby Old Wood are being nagged by a group of Concerned Woodland Guardians, led by the rabbits, into forming a cross-species ‘Woodland Code’ and ‘Bill of Creatures’ Rights’. But even its most ardent advocate, Burdock, must admit that they are getting nowhere. The animals that do accept the concept of animal rights just splinter into factions—Frogs for Freedom, Worms’ Lib, and the like—which spend all their time making endless speeches and referring proposals to Committees. Also, one key group is not represented; the predators. Burdock’s solution is to persuade one of the more influential of the predators, Owl, to become involved; as much for his shock value as anything else. Also, Owl is the only predator with the intellectual curiosity to be interested in the social affairs of the ‘veggies’, as his fellow predators disparagingly call them. So in the first half of the novel, the story switches back and forth as Mega plots the takeover of the mink community from the decadent Elders, then must figure out how to free all the mink from the human cages; and as Burdock wheedles and cajoles his Congress of herbivores towards accomplishing something, while Owl watches with a combination of boredom and dilettante fascination.
   When the escaped mink arrive in the Old Wood, the two stories merge with the impact of When Worlds Collide. New questions and plot twists arise with increasingly dizzying rapidity. Should the resident predators consider the voracious mink as ‘brothers’, or join forces with the herbivores to oust the invaders to protect their own food sources? Or should it be every animal for itself? What can herbivores do in defense against such overenthusiastic murderers? What ‘rights’ are realistic when a carnivore has to kill its neighbors to keep from starving to death, whether it would prefer to be a ‘good guy’ or not? Mega is convincingly portrayed as simultaneously a sadistic, kill-crazy slaughterer, and as an idealist who is trying to create a paradise for all mink—and who grows increasingly frustrated with such realities as that the mink may overeat the Old Wood into their own starvation unless they curb their appetites. (Since Mega had promised the mink unlimited feasting to gain their support, this development poses political problems for him, as well.) Owl is convincingly portrayed as realizing that he must turn himself from a detached intellectual into an involved activist; but he can see so many variables resulting from each possible decision that he agonizes over the right action to take. The story keeps springing clever surprises on both the characters and the reader.
   The basic plot is an adventure drama and a political thriller strong enough to support plenty of satire, both light-hearted and cynical. British readers are supposed to recognize specific caricatures of prominent public figures of the Thatcher and Major eras among the cast. American readers will get enough humor just out of the clear stereotypes of the Politically Correct, the Do-Gooders, the Devoted Followers who are ready to obey any order, the Manupulators, the Marketing Strategists, the Feminists, and others. The major cast is much more fully developed as realistic individuals than are the famous characters of Animal Farm. Chippindale’s writing is always witty; sometimes obvious, as in the minks’ own version of the British anthem (“Rule Minkmania; Minkmania rules the wood; Creatures ever, ever, ever; Shall be food!”), and sometimes very subtle.
   Mink! is extremely highly recommended. It is good enough to be worth the trouble and expense of ordering your own copy from Britain, if no American edition of it comes along soon.


	Title:	Dinotopia: Sabertooth Mountain
	Author:	John Vornholt
	Illustrator:	? (map)
	Publisher:	Random House/Bullseye Books (New York, NY), Jun 1996
	ISBN:	0-679-88095-X
		133 pages, $3.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   I just reviewed Bullseye Books’ first four Dinotopia juvenile novels in Yarf! #41. I didn’t expect to return to them so soon, but I can’t resist ranting about how this latest virtually destroys the concept of Dinotopia.
   James Gurney’s premise of a large island where humans and intelligent dinosaurs share a harmonious civilization has always been a fragile fantasy. It is good for art books full of beautifully intricate paintings of men and dinosaurs associating together in friendship and equality. Unfortunately, this is the opposite of the requirements of fiction. Novels need drama and conflict. The contradictions among the adventures in Bullseye’s first four Dinotopia novels already strained the suspension of disbelief needed to accept this human-dinosaur brotherhood.
   With Dinotopia: Sabertooth Mountain, it all falls apart. The dinosaurs have become wooly mammoths, dire wolves, giant sloths, cave bears, and all of the other spectacular vanished mammals. The way that these species live in harmony is that, whenever a herbivore or omnivore is about to die of old age, it joins a Death Caravan of elderly philanthropists who totter off to one of the carnivore communities to offer themselves as a meal; so the friendly carnivores are not forced to reluctantly prey upon their neighbors.
   13-year-old Cai, a human boy, is accidentally cast away among the sabertooths who live in a valley at the foot of Sabertooth Mountain. There is only one pass into their valley, and a winter avalanche has blocked it off; so no dying volunteers can get in to feed the big cats—who are getting awfully hungry. Redstripe, the leader of the sabertooth pride, wants them to show their will-power and wait until the pass can be cleared. Neckbiter, Redstripe’s rival who is a sabertooth über alles demagogue, wants to leave the valley through a series of dangerous underground passages through the mountain, and start feasting on all the animals of Dinotopia—starting with Cai. Cai and Redstripe are forced to become allies, escaping from Neckbiter and his brainwashed followers. They must get help for the sabertooths before Neckbiter turns them into murderers and pariahs throughout Dinotopia.
   Although Vornholt offers a weak excuse as to why mammals just happened to be offstage in all the previous books, the unavoidable implication is that ‘dinosaurs’ = ‘extinct animals’, so an extinct giant sloth is as much a dinosaur as is a stegosaur. Dinotopia theoretically separated from the rest of Earth’s land mass 50 or 35 million years ago, so the dinosaurs were spared from the evolutionary extinction which befell them elsewhere. Then early humans migrated to Dinotopia maybe 5,000 years ago, and the two have created a joint civilization since then. But for Dinotopia to also be populated with the Ice Age mammals, it would have to have remained connected to the other continents until only about 12,000 to 10,000 years ago. That’s an awfully short time for tectonic drift to have zipped it over the horizon and far away.
   Nobody knows how smart dinosaurs really were, so it’s at least arguable that they could have been intelligent enough to understand the advantages of a civilization and to develop their own speech. But you can’t extend that intelligence to as recently as the dire wolves, prehistoric camels, and other Ice Age mammals without raising the question of when and why this intelligence abruptly disappeared, since today’s elephants, lions, or horses no longer have it.
   The dramatic conflict in the other novels has already made it hard to accept Dinotopia as so harmonious that it never needs even civil arbitrators to mediate peaceful disagreements or misunderstandings. The literally backstabbing politics among the sabertooths here, and the panicked ‘kill the carnivores before they kill us’ mobs in a nearby human village, completely undermines this crucial plausibility.
   The snowy avalanche that seals off the sabertooths’ valley is seemingly the first time such a disaster has ever occurred. Yet from the description of the narrow mountain pass, how could such an avalanche fail to happen every winter; or at least every twenty years or so? Alan Dean Foster, to his credit, shows in Dinotopia Lost that there are records and emergency plans to deal with disasters that may happen only once in hundreds of years. Vornholt in Dinotopia: Sabertooth Mountain gives the impression that Dinotopia is such a happy land that nobody has ever stubbed their toe in the past, so everyone is completely amazed and unprepared when the slightest inconvenience happens. It is totally unconvincing.
   Hmmmph. On the one hand, I feel that I’ve hardly started on this review. On the other hand, I feel that I’ve already wasted more space on it than it deserves. Let’s hope that Dinotopia: Sabertooth Mountain is just a bad book, and not so abysmal that it ridicules the whole concept of Dinotopia into oblivion.

		#44 / Oct 1996


	Title:	Ramar: The Rabbit with Rainbow Wings
	Author:	Darrell T. Hare
	Illustrator:	Tom O’Sullivan
	Publisher:	St. Martin’s Press (New York City, NY), Mar 1996
	ISBN:	0-312-14031-2
		128 pages, $16.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

According to St. Martin’s publicity release, this book was produced by “the same editor and designer who brought us the Jonathan Livingston Seagull tale,” Eleanor Friede; and “Yes, Ramar (the central character) is a rabbit because Darrell’s last name is Hare. With that out of the way […]”
I find that I am having to struggle to write my own review, because St. Martin’s publicity is so clear, interesting, and succinct that it is very tempting to just quote from it at length:

   It is also difficult to pull out of the book itself because the World-In-Between is such a soft, lovely, dreamy, feel-good place. Despite the fact that one of its most prestigious inhabitants is a radiant white lamb named The Shepherd—“A sheep who is also a shepherd?” he asked. “Yes,” said the lamb. “For life has taught me that each of us must learn to care for ourselves, and to care for ourselves, we must also care for those around us. Thus I am a sheep and also a shepherd.” (p. 103)—it is less like Christianity’s Limbo than like Roman mythology’s Elysian Fields, inhabited by friendly animal spirits. Ramar is definitely an original story concept; at the same time, its spiritual similarity to Richard Bach’s Jonathan Livingston Seagull is so pronounced that the Publicity Dep’t’s credit to editor Eleanor Friede for both novels is helpfully informative.
   The theological setup seems mainly Buddhist, heavily into reincarnation, with a Greek-Roman-Christian veneer. The World-In-Between is the home base of the spirits. They go to Earth to be born into mortal bodies, over and over again, for their edification and betterment, until they become perfect in love. This is an almost impossible goal, for there is always something new to learn. The implication is that anyone who does finally achieve perfection rises above this plane of existence to something better. Ramar is the first new spirit born into the World-In-Between in ages, so he needs to be educated in these ground rules. The three main friends whom he makes are Lydia, the cat with aqua eyes; The Dove Who Rhymed With Love; and Leonardo, the butterfly. Others include Micah the turtle, Yolanda the swan, and Bahrue the man; many more pass briefly by.
   One of the more appealing aspects of this cosmology will be the apparent equality of the animals and the humans. In fact, it is not clear how much Hare distinguishes between them. In an early scene, Lydia explains to Ramar about how the animal spirits go to Earth to be born:

This sounds as though Hare is using ‘human being’ as a synonym for ‘mortal’, rather than specifically homo sapiens. A ‘person’ may be any creature, not just a man. Frankly, Hare seems more concerned with casting his characters as parables than as consistent creatures. Some seem to be one animal or another because that is the form of their most recent mortal life. But others are fresh returnees who are shaken to find themselves transformed into animals because they are still used to their lives as humans—such as Micah, who is a turtle because of the ‘shell of loneliness’ that he built around himself in his human incarnation.
Consistency aside, most fans will appreciate Hare’s basic attitude of human-animal equality on both the mortal and spiritual level. The book is filled with lovely spidery drawings of Ramar and his friends, which begin in black-&-white and grow more chromatically complex as Ramar’s wings add new hues.


	Title:	Thomas (The Deptford Histories, Book 3)
	Author:	Robin Jarvis
	Illustrator:	The author
	Publisher:	Macdonald Young Books Ltd. (Hemel Hempstead, Herts.), Oct 1995
	ISBN:	0-7500-1744-9
		Hardcover, xii + 441 pages [pgs. 442 - 450 are adv’ts], £9.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	ISBN:	0-7500-1745-7
		Paperback, xii + 441 pages [pgs. 442 - 450 are adv’ts], £4.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This is the sixth, and presumably last, of Jarvis’ Deptford funny-animal horror novels. The Deptford Mice trilogy was set in the present, chronicling the desperate struggle of a group of British mice to keep the rats’ evil god, Jupiter, from destroying the world. The Deptford Histories are set in the past, answering some of the questions raised in the first trilogy by showing their origins: how an innocent pet in 17th-century London was corrupted and transformed into the sadistic Jupiter (The Alchymist’s Cat); and how the squirrels and bats in medieval England were betrayed into becoming eternal enemies (The Oaken Throne).
   Thomas returns to the present, or at least the very recent past. One of the Deptford Mice (and one of their few survivors) was the old midshipmouse, Thomas Triton. He was the most reluctant and mysterious of the group, refusing to tell of his past except to constantly mutter that he should leave because he was a jinx; bad luck followed wherever he went; he only brought doom to his friends, especially his best friend…
   This is the tale of the bold young mouse, then Tommy Stubbs, who went to sea looking for adventure. Tom stops in a small village on his way to the coast long enough to become friends with a young teen, Woodget Pipple (think of a fieldmouse version of Beaver Cleaver). Due to a misunderstanding with his girlfriend, Woodget runs away to become a sailor like Tom. The flattered Tom promises to protect his innocent hero-worshipper until he can bring him safely home to Bess. But when Tom and Woodget fall afoul of the evil Oriental serpent cult of Suruth Scarophion, the maritime menaces multiply until it becomes clear that the two mates are both babes in a vast world more ancient, cruel, and horrific than they ever dreamed.
   As the two mice muddle through from one deathtrap to the next, Woodget grows in experience and confidence until he seems almost ready to take the lead from Tom. But Thomas is told as a flashback by the despairing, drunken old sailor, so the reader is aware from the outset that this saga of sorcery and skullduggery in the sleaziest seaports of the sinister Orient will end in tragedy and crushing anguish. (This will be no surprise to the readers of Jarvis’ previous novels.) The only real questions are which well-meant action of Tom’s will bring about Woodget’s doom, and how gruesome it will be.
   In the meantime, supporting characters are wiped out individually and in wholesale lots. An example: Tom and Woodget are tricked by an old salt, Mulligan, into embarking in a human cargo ship which regularly transports animal passengers in a hidden ’morphic community in its hold, amidst all the boxes and bales. Then a sorcerously violent storm tosses the ship about:

In this sixth Deptford book, Jarvis plays variations on his writing style. Scenes begin in ways that readers of the previous novels will find predictable, only to veer so abruptly that you can practically see the author chortling, “Fooled you!” Jarvis’ major villain is usually hidden among the main cast until his or her unmasking at the climax, but in Thomas he is revealed unusually early, so that the reader can watch over his shoulder as he sabotages the unsuspecting heroes. Jarvis is still the master of anthropomorphic morbid horror.
According to the advertising, the first and third novels of the first trilogy, The Dark Portal and The Final Reckoning, are available as ‘talking book’ cassettes narrated by Tom Baker and Jon Pertwee, respectively. Funny; the Deptford books don’t seem particularly Whovian…


	Title:	The Son of Summer Stars (The Firebringer Trilogy, Book 3)
	Author:	Meredith Ann Pierce
	Publisher:	Little, Brown & Co. (Boston, MA), May 1996
	ISBN:	0-316-70755-4
		vi + 250 pages, $17.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Most anthropomorphic fiction features talking ‘real’ animals such as cats or rabbits or hawks or mice, rather than fantasy animals such as unicorns or dragons or griffins. This may be because the appeal of anthropomorphism is partly that it enables us to feel in closer understanding with our actual neighbor-species in this world. Also, fantasy animals usually appear as incidental players in stories where the main cast are human knights or warriors. When a fantasy animal has a major speaking role, its animalistic aspects are seldom more than window dressing. It could just as easily be a human loyal companion or a villain.
   Pierce’s young-adult Firebringer Trilogy (Birth of the Firebringer, 1986; Dark Moon, 1992; and at last The Son of Summer Stars) is a rare exception. It is set on a world without man, or at least where man is primitive and distant enough to be little more than a myth to the intelligent unicorns, gryphons, and others who are the ‘people’ of the story.
   The main focus is upon the unicorns of the Vale, exiled from their true homeland for 400 years since its capture by the evil wyverns; and upon Aljan, the Dark Moon, their prince who dreams of becoming the prophesied Firebringer who will finally lead them to reclaim their ancient Hallow Hills. Much is shown of the unicorns’ herd life, which is a richly anthropomorphic society mixing aspects of Bronze-Age Greek and Plains Indian cultures with the actual sociology of horse herds. Also, the unique aspects of each species—the unicorns’ use of their horns as weapons and to strike sparks to create fire; the gryphons’ flight; the dragons’ fire-breathing; and the wyverns’ multiple heads and poisonous stings—are used as important plot elements, not mere costumery.
   Although The Son of Summer Stars does stand on its own, readers who would enjoy it would appreciate the whole trilogy, and would benefit by reading the novels in proper order. Birth of the Firebringer introduces the impulsive young Jan, adolescent foal of Korr, proud prince (war leader) of the exiled unicorn herd. The exploits which lead to his learning caution and battle wisdom also set the scene of the exotic societies of the unicorns, the gryphons, and the wyverns. (Other animals and birds also talk, but have only incidental roles in the three books.) In Dark Moon, dramatic events mold the personalities and the relationships between key characters. The very existence of the unicorns is threatened, particularly of Jan’s pregnant mate, Tek. These adventures are summarized succinctly in the final volume, but readers ought not to miss the full details.
   The Son of Summer Stars begins with the mature Prince Aljan having restored the unicorns to their full strength, finally ready to march against the wyverns entrenched in their distant former home. But events separate Jan from his herd once again. His new wanderings lead him to a different ‘nation’ of unicorns with their own culture, and eventually to the land of the dragons. These societies are also vivid, and distinct from those of the other animals’. The question arises of whether Jan’s personal destiny lies with his own herd’s, or elsewhere.
   This final novel does have one annoying flaw. The unicorns’ religion is introduced at the beginning of the series, along with their ancient legend of a mystical ‘Firebringer’ who will bring them home. Jan dreams that he might be this fabled warrior. Occasional hints in the first two books nicely flesh out both the religion and the myth. But in this climax, they merge and intensify to an overpowering degree. It becomes clear that the unicorns’ goddess, Alma, is real and is manipulating events. Jan is reduced from an intelligent war-leader to an unconsciously-guided puppet. By the time the climactic battle between the unicorns and the wyverns arrives, it is so obvious that Alma is not going to let the unicorns lose that there is no real suspense.
   In fact, this and a couple of lesser riddles seem so telegraphed as to raise a suspicion that Pierce is deliberately cluing her Young Adult readers, to give them the satisfaction of guessing what is about to happen before it does. After all, the main strengths of The Firebringer Trilogy are the rich portrait of its fantasy world, its colorful animal peoples—usually literally so: Jan trotted beside the crimson mare. Her pale-blue filly pranced alongside. The mare’s sire, the brindled grey, led them over grassy, rolling hills, with the mare’s brother-belovèd […], pale gold, bringing up the rear. (pg. 53)—and its intelligent and sympathetic characters. If it is a bit too blatant that the good guys will win and the bad guys will lose—well, this doesn’t really pretend to be a cliffhanger-type story.

		#45 / Nov 1996


	Title:	Cowkind
	Author:	Ray Petersen
	Publisher:	A Wyatt Book for St. Martin’s Press (New York City, NY), Jun 1996
	ISBN:	0-312-14302-8
		viii + 195 pages, $21.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Cows are an unusual cast for serious fiction. But Cowkind is an unusual novel. Its topic is Rural America in a time of transition, at the end of the 1960s; from the viewpoints of both the farmers and the livestock.
   Cowkind is told in twelve chapters, each focusing upon a different character living at Bob Scott’s dairy farm in upstate New York. The first seven chapters relate the viewpoints of five of Farmer Bob’s milk cows and their calves; White John, the farm’s stud bull; and King, the farm’s border collie. The remaining five chapters switch the focus to the humans; Farmer Bob, his wife, son, & daughter, with a final shift back to the cows in the next-to-last chapter.
   Petersen develops the overall scene slowly in a convoluted, jigsaw manner. The novel not only moves from character to character, but it jumps around in time, from the present (1971) back to 1968, and slowly working forward to 1971 again; with flashbacks within each chapter to still earlier events.
   The daily farm routine is all that the characters have known, from ‘time immemorial’. Farmer Bob inherited the farm from his father, and he expects to leave it to his teenaged son, Gerry. The pattern of life to Bob is growing up on the farm as a boy, undergoing a Rite of Manhood by fighting for America as a teen (his father in World War I; himself in World War II), then returning to the farm to work it until old age and death. The dairy herd have their similar life, the Order; the same from day to day, comfortably familiar.
   The opening establishes that the characters are nervous and uneasy, without knowing why. Changes are coming that bewilder them. The cows are distraught that Bob and Gerry and their part-time helper, Bob’s brother Merle, have replaced traditional hand-milking with milking machines. Bossy, Daisy, and the others do not understand why the human men who used to give them such personal, caring attention have abandoned them to be hooked up to cold machines. Pet has heard the men saying something about the milk going into ‘tanks’, and they have also overheard ‘tanks’ talked about on the farm TV’s newscasts about the Vietnam war, so the cattle wonder whether they have somehow become involved in this war to which Gerry is so opposed.
   Bob himself is no more comfortable with the changing world. He only realizes that his farm is losing money, that it is becoming increasingly old-fashioned, and that to stay out of bankruptcy he must invest in lots of modern technology that he does not really trust. He also does not know how the government can take away part of his farm for things like power-line right-of-ways. He reacts by concentrating on the one thing that he feels he can understand and control: his family. He was just as traditional about how the house should be run. Men worked outside and women worked inside, except when the men needed help. Inside, men were waited on, served their three square meals—breakfast, dinner, and supper. (pg. 5) But this Biblically patriarchial way of life is as old-fashioned as his farming methods.
   To anthropomorphic fans, the best part of Cowkind will be the first ²/₃ of the novel. It starts by establishing the male and female cattle as individuals, with distinct personalities and their own small society. This Order, and the cows’ religion, the Gathering, are gradually revealed as the cows discuss the changes that are taking place, and what they will mean to them. These changes are first glimpsed in a distorted manner from the cows’ viewpoints. (Petersen shows a thorough knowledge of farm routine and the actual sociology of dairy cattle.) The reader will later translate them into human terms and realize what is really happening. There are also parallels between the tensions and problems introduced with the cattle, and what is later seen happening within Farmer Bob’s family.
   It is technically unfortunate from our standpoint that the cows’ society gradually fades into the background as the story increasingly focuses upon the Scotts and their problems. But Petersen is a good enough writer that the reader will remain engrossed until the end. This is good, because there is an anthropomorphic surprise in the last chapter. The social situation among the cows, and between King and his relationship with the neighboring farm’s dog, Scout, make Cowkind worth reading even if they do not fill the book. Most intriguing is Aretha, the mystical cow, a Cassandra whose nightmarish visions of where the trends in modern farming are leading are mocked by her stablemates:

The Animorphs series, by K. A. Applegate

		Title:	Animorphs: The Invasion
		Publisher:	Scholastic Inc./Apple Paperback (New York, NY), Jun 1996
		ISBN:	0-590-62977-8
			184 pages, $3.99
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	Animorphs: The Visitor
Publisher:	Scholastic Inc./Apple Paperback (New York, NY), Jun 1996
ISBN:	0-590-62978-6
	175 pages, $3.99
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







		Title:	Animorphs: The Encounter
		Publisher:	Scholastic Inc./Apple Paperback (New York, NY), Aug 1996
		ISBN:	0-590-62979-4
			154 pages [pgs. 155-157 are adv’ts], $3.99
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	Animorphs: The Message
Publisher:	Scholastic Inc./Apple Paperback (New York, NY), Oct 1996
ISBN:	0-590-62980-8
	151 pages, $3.99
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







		Title:	Animorphs: The Predator
		Publisher:	Scholastic Inc./Apple Paperback (New York, NY), Dec 1996
		ISBN:	0-590-62981-6
			152 pages, $3.99
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This Young Adult series is a new entry in the juvenile/adolescent horror series-paperback market. Instead of featuring independent weird fantasies like R. L. Stine’s Goosebumps best-sellers, it is a super-hero continuing serial which should be read in order for best effect. Each novel presents a complete adventure, but while the first three stand on their own nicely, there is enough backstory by the fourth to make it inadvisable to start reading that far into the series.
   A good ‘high concept’ summary of Animorphs would be, “Marvel Comics’ Power Pack juvenile super-heroes tumble into Robert Heinlein’s Puppet Masters world”. Jake, Rachel, Tobias, Marco, and Cassie are five junior-high-school good buddies (a P.C. gender/ethnic mix), returning to their homes from hanging out at the mall one evening. They are cutting across an abandoned construction project when a battle-battered flying saucer crash-lands almost on top of them. Its vaguely deer-centauroid pilot, a mortally wounded heroic Andalite, reveals that his planet is fighting the evil Yeerks who are trying to conquer the galaxy. The Yeerks—…a gray-green, slimy thing like a snail without its shell, only bigger, the size of a rat, maybe.. (The Invasion, pg. 17)—have recently discovered Earth. They are establishing their beachhead in the kids’ home town, by crawling into people’s ears and taking over their bodies. The city government, the police force, their teachers, anybody could be a Yeerk puppet by now. The dying Andalite prince has sent a galactic radio message to his distant planet to come to Earth’s aid, but Earth may be totally enslaved before their armada can get here. Only the five teens can save Earth, by delaying the spread of the Yeerks until the Andalites arrive!
   The Andalite’s last act is to give the buddies his species’ super-scientific power to morph into any kind of animal. As dogs or cats, they can spy unnoticed and discover which of their neighbors are now Yeerk thralls. As birds, they can observe from great heights. They can sneak into Yeerk control centers as mice, then turn into elephants and trample irreplaceable equipment. And so forth.
   The writing generates a reasonable degree of suspense, if you don’t mind the super-hero/horror-movie level of science or logic. (The Yeerks’ takeover method postulates some cavernlike gap inside human skulls, where the evil slugs can sit upon and control people’s brains. The young heroes’ super-scientific ability to “acquire an animal’s DNA” and rearrange their mass into its duplicate begs the question of how an average junior-high student can expand into a five-ton elephant, or contract into a tiny flea.) The Yeerks’ leader, Visser Three, is convincingly in the Darth Vader mold; absolutely ruthless and nobody’s fool. The teens are no enthusiastic Superboys and Wonder Girls; they are scared kids, very aware of the impossible odds against them. They know that their animal abilities are no real match for ray guns and other deadly sci-fi weapons. They must figure out how best to use their powers in commando-style hit-and-run raids. Tobias gets frozen in hawk form at the end of the first novel, raising the fear in the others that they may also become permanently exiled from humanity.
   Animorphs is not about anthropomorphic characters in the talking-animal sense. It is about how way-cool it would be to become whatever real animal you wanted to, just long enough to try it out. The stories are also ‘educational’ in describing how animals presumably really think and how they are controlled by instinct, without any romantic anthropomorphization.

There are five teens, and the first five novels are narrated by Jake, Rachel, Tobias, Cassie, and Marco, respectively. The first three present variations on the basic plot. The Message introduces Ax, an Andalite adolescent marooned on Earth, whom they rescue from Visser Three. The Predator integrates Ax into the team, and increases the tension as the Yeerks begin to suspect that they have active opponents among the humans. At least two more in the series are advertised. Since these are Apple Paperbacks, the name K. A. Applegate sounds suspiciously pseudonymous, although their copyright is in the corroborative name of Katherine Applegate.
This is a different take on anthropomorphics; one which emphasizes the sensations of you galloping on four hooves, of feeling razor-sharp claws sliding out from your paws, of you soaring in the air almost a mile up and then diving toward a tiny target at sixty miles an hour. Fortunately, these scenes are more convincing than those with the comic-book physics and melodrama.


	Title:	The Pearls of Lutra: A Tale of Redwall
	Author:	Brian Jacques
	Illustrator:	Allan Curless
	Publisher:	Hutchinson Children’s Books (London), Jul 1996
	ISBN:	0-09-176536-6
		406 pages, £12.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Jacques’ ninth Redwall novel is more of the same. Once again a horde of dastardly vermin (piratical rats, stoats, ferrets, and similar predators) threaten the peace-loving squirrels, moles, and other woodland animals of Redwall Abbey. There are multiple interlocked stories, poetry in the form of both songs and riddles, deadly backstabbing treachery among the villains, and plenty of luscious feasting among the Redwallers.
   Ublaz Mad Eyes, a pine marten who is the most cunning and vicious of the pirates of the tropical isle of Sampetra, has proclaimed himself Emperor. He orders his corsair fleet to steal six fabulous pearls, the Tears of all Oceans, from the otter Holt of Lutra. The otters are slain, with one exception, but the pearls (through a series of misadventures) end up hidden inside ancient Redwall Abbey. Ublaz sends his most loyal pirates to get the pearls from Redwall, which they attempt by kidnapping elderly Abbot Durral (mouse) and young Viola (a tomboyish bankvole) and demanding the pearls as ransom.
   The Abbey’s defenders, led by Martin the Warriormouse (grandson of the Martin of the original Redwall), go on a quest to rescue their friends. Meanwhile, the greedy pirates have tired of Ublaz’s cruelties (he sadistically murders his own supporters when he runs out of innocent victims) and mutiny to seize his throne and loot; ineffectively, since they are also busy doublecrossing each other. Grath Longfletch, the sole survivor of Holt Lutra, is waging her own lone-otter war of vengeance. And Tansy hedgehog, Recorder Rollo bankvole, and their friends back at the Abbey try to decipher the cryptic puzzles that tell where the six pearls are hidden. The adventure switches back and forth from one tale to another, merging and separating, until all threads converge at the climax.
   If this plot is familiar, its elements have become honed and polished rather than stale. The poetry is more catchy and sprightly; the riddles (one for each of the pearls) are more varied; the villains are more intelligently sinister; the Redwall banquets are more mouth-watering; the adorable Abbey orphans have grown so impishly cute that you want to wring their necks. And there are some touches of originality, notably Ublaz’s personal guard of carnivorous monitor lizards, a cold-blooded (naturally) gang of assassins. The Pearls of Lutra is a distillation of all the best elements of the Redwall series.


	Title:	Catfantastic IV
	Editors:	Andre Norton & Martin H. Greenberg
	Publisher:	DAW Books (New York, NY), Aug 1996
	ISBN:	0-88677-711-9
		314 pages, $5.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Here is another ‘more of the same’. After a 2¹/₂-year wait since Catfantastic III, this fourth anthology of brand-new stories contains 18 tales featuring cats.
   The stories are ‘weird’, using the late 19th-century popular meaning of that word. Mercedes Lackey’s SCat, about two telepathic cats on a spaceship who help their human partner track down galactic smugglers, is clearly science-fiction. P. M. Griffin’s The Neighbor, about a sorcerer, his young apprentice, and their two cat familiars who track down a murderer in their Medieval European neighborhood, is clearly fantasy. What about Janet Pack’s One With Jazz, in which a jazz fan trying to get a job as a talent scout for a record company finds that his otherwise-apparently-normal pet cat has an uncanny talent for picking hot new bands? Twelve of these eighteen stories are clear-cut fantasies, four are s-f, and two are ‘normal’ except for the cat’s metaphorically winking at the reader.
   The statistics get fuzzier broken down by types of cat. There is one story with an intelligent felinoid alien, and one with bioengineered intelligent cats. Five have cats that pretend to be normal, but talk secretly (by sign language, telepathy, or speech) with their human companions. In three, it is revealed that all cats have human-level intelligence but are hiding it. Two are fantasies with divine cats; and in one of those, Bast gives speech to all cats. Two are about loveable but obviously ‘dumb’ cats in s-f or magical situations. Most of the rest leave the reader guessing as to just how intelligent their cats really are.
   For readers of the previous Catfantastic anthologies, there are six sequels continuing the adventures of cats previously introduced: P. M. Griffin’s The Neighbor (with Master Trouble), Mercedes Lackey’s SCat (with SKitty and SCat), Lyn McConchie’s Deathsong (with Many Kills), Andre Norton’s Noble Warrior, Teller of Fortunes (with Thragun Neklop), Elizabeth Ann Scarborough’s Born Again (with Mu Mao the Magnificent), and Mary H. Schaub’s The Cat, the Sorcerer, and the Magic Mirror (with Drop, the cat previously turned into a boy apprentice, who is a cat again).
   All of these stories are strongly pro-cat. It would be nice to say that all are pro-animal, but the atmosphere is more katze über alles than pan-animalistic, and there are a couple of definitely snide comments about dogs. It is an open secret that most s-f authors are cat people; in fact, one of the panels at the 1996 World Science Fiction Convention was, Are There Too Many Cats in Science Fiction? Obviously, not in the opinion of the authors of Catfantastic IV.

		#46 / Jan 1997


	Title:	Top Dog
	Author:	Jerry Jay Carroll
	Publisher:	Ace Books (New York City, NY), Sep 1996
	ISBN:	0-441-00368-0
		330 pages, $12.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

This is one of those infuriatingly brilliant novels that is so imaginative and mysterious that it is almost impossible to say anything about it without giving away a surprise. Once again, it seems safest to just quote the cover blurb:

   Alice in Wonderland meets Wall Street in Jerry Jay Carroll’s brilliant and witty debut novel. A high-powered executive gets a real lesson in looking out for #1 when he wakes up as a dog. Gone are the stock reports, limos, and cocktail parties. In their place are fairy-tale forests, magical creatures, and hideous monsters. It’s a world where you’re either good or evil. Our hero decides to thoroughly explore both options before choosing. Because he may be a dog now, but he’s still no idiot. And making moral decisions was never one of his strong points…
   A better comparison might be “Donald Trump falls into Middle Earth and is confronted by Gandalf and Saruman”. (Although the moral philosophy espoused by the Good side is closer to C. S. Lewis’ than to Tolkien’s.) There is nothing cutesy about either the protagonist (who narrates the story as a first-person running commentary) or the world in which he is a dog. ‘Bogey’ Ingersol (a childhood nickname because he seemed as cold and tough as Humphrey Bogart) has always been completely materialistic, believing that ‘good’ is whatever wins. Now he is in a world in which Good and Evil are personified. How? Why? Is he dead and in Hell? Has he been sent to a parallel world by super-science or magic? Was he personally targeted or is he a random victim/subject? Is he being brainwashed by corporate enemies? Has he gone crazy? There are constant questions, which Ingersol must figure out on the run because some really nasty monsters are immediately on his trail.
   Most of the main characters in Top Dog are humans, but the first characters whom Ingersol meets are forest animals; a fox, a snake, a badger:

Ingersol is a strong, handsome dog and a good hunter, but he knows how little those really count toward survival in the wild:

When he does get into human lands, he finds that he cannot talk with them as he can with the animals; they consider him to be just another dumb animal himself. This makes him a good spy.
I don’t want to risk giving away anything more. Trust me! Read this one!

   III Publishing is a small press which specializes in ‘Anarchist Fiction’. The advertisements for their other titles indicate a strategy of using the soft-sell of entertaining fiction (“…at times terrifying, at times hysterically funny…”, reads one blurb) rather than abstract political polemics to get across their messages.
   Anarchist Farm is posed as a rebuttal to Orwell’s Animal Farm, though no names from the latter are used (presumably both for coy humor and to avoid any copyright violation). A white pig escapes after being deposed as leader of a farm which has been taken over and is being run by its livestock. Adopting the alias of ‘Pancho’, he wanders into the neighboring woods. He meets wild animals, plus Sabo, a cat that has already defected from his farm (a nameless minor character in Orwell’s novel). They are planning environmental activism against a logging operation that threatens the whole forest. Pancho offers his experience in leadership to Judi Bear, several raccoons (Mischief, Riff-Raff, Rascal, etc), Tex and Mex the coyotes, Bonkers the escaped zoo monkey, and the other furry commandos at Cave Camp, but they reasonably want him to prove himself first. Their inexperienced sabotage results in deaths among both themselves and the humans, and they suspend their activism in confusion.
   Pancho and Sabo move on to another farm which has also just been taken over by its animals, peacefully following the death of its old human owner. Again Pancho’s offer of leadership is rejected, since the animals (Goldie the retriever, Rosy the cow, Bob the black sheep, and others) are doing fine working in cooperation without any formal leaders. (News of the increasingly despotic activities of the other pigs at Pancho’s old farm have given ‘leadership’ a bad name.)
   But Pancho is not power-hungry. He wants to lead both because he genuinely likes to help others, and because he is vain enough to want to be admired for his intelligence. He learns that it is good to want to help, but true help is offered on a basis of equality rather than as a justification to consider oneself superior to one’s fellows. Once Pancho adjusts to becoming ‘one of the gang’ rather than part of an elite leadership, his advice is welcomed. When ‘the corporation’ reactivates its logging and moves to take over the farm, as well, Pancho brings the farm and forest animals together to share their wisdom and experience.
   As news of the success of Anarchist Farm spreads, more animals come in: A group of escaped lab rats who have formed a punk rock band, the Free Radicals; the dogs from a bankrupt dog-breeding kennel, militant German shepherds and tough French poodles (descended from French underground guerrillas). Emma, a wild turkey, undertakes a dangerous mission into a human city to preach the revolution to zoo animals and pets. They are even joined by an enthusiastic band of human environmental activists, who throw away their clothes to demonstrate their solidarity with the animals. The Farm develops a happy animal society, and Pancho starts a romance with Sally, another pig. But the day finally comes when the heavily-armed National Guard marches from the city to seize the forest and the Farm. The animals grimly prepare for their defense, while Pancho and Emma turn detective to unmask animal traitors who are spying for the corporation.
   Despite all the allusions to Animal Farm, Anarchist Farm reads much more like R. L. Crabb’s Junior Jackalope three-comic mini-series, The Fauna Rebellion (Fantagraphics, 1990), with a touch of Robert Shea & Robert Anton Wilson’s Illuminatus! trilogy thrown in. Readers familiar with Animal Farm’s veddy-British setting will be jarred when Pancho finds a North American forest full of black bears and raccoons just next door. But ‘Jane Doe’ (the author is supposedly one of the Cave Camp commandos) does not try to match Orwell’s style. It is quickly obvious that she has moved Pancho’s original farm into a comic-bookish funny-animal land where all animals live together. Expecting serious logic and consistency here is like expecting it in Mars Attacks!
   The strong point of this fable is that it is sprightly and full of humor. Some of the jokes are clever, such as the horse ranch where the horses are named after vehicles (Corvette, Volvo, Rolls, etc, and a pony named Jeep), as a deliberate satire on the practice of naming cars after horses (Pinto, Colt, Mustang, etc). Others are overly forced, but enough jokes work to keep the story moving quickly.
   Most of the characters are good-natured and friendly. The straw-man caricature of ‘the corporation’ as the exaggerated personification of every flaw of capitalism, military-industrialism, bureaucracy, the legal profession, etc, is definitely heavy-handed; but no more so than in many popular thriller movies with an omnipotent Evil Company as the villain. Because the fantasy is so broad and light it is easy to accept the superiority of anarchy in business and military strategy (no leaders; everybody just working and fighting side by side in comradeship) for the sake of this plot.
   All in all, Anarchist Farm has more plusses than minuses. Try it for something different. ($10.00 from III Publishing, P. O. Box 1581, Gualala, CA 95445.)

   William Kotzwinkle’s latest satire is compared favorably in the jacket copy with Candide, Being There, and Forrest Gump. It would have been polite to mention Frank Tashlin’s 1946 The Bear That Wasn’t, too. Kotzwinkle’s setup is a bit more elaborate, since ‘Hal Jam’ does put on clothes and try to pass for human, unlike Tashlin’s bewildered bear. But the punch line is the same. The bear does it so clumsily (jumping into a Central Park pond to eat a boy’s toy submarine that he thinks is a fish, or rolling on his publisher’s office floor to scratch his back, waving his paws in the air) that the self-delusion of the human characters—that he can’t really be a bear; he is just a colorfully eccentric author; he’ll make a great guest on TV talk shows!—becomes as fantastically improbable as is the postulate that an animal that ignorant of human customs would recognize a manuscript and know how to take it to a publisher.
   Tashlin’s fantasy was a succinct 55 pages. If Kotzwinkle weren’t such a sardonically humorous author, this 306-page novel would bloat the joke to tedious length. Fortunately, he adeptly spins it out into several witty variations. It looks at first like a parody of the literary establishment, but before it is over, the bear has unwittingly exposed pomposity in the entertainment industry, the legal profession, the political arena, and more. Everyone looks at Hal Jam without really seeing him. They see only the literary sensation or the media celebrity that they can create to ensure their own success. The reader keeps waiting for the equivalent of the little boy in The Emperor’s New Clothes to shout, “He’s not a man; he’s only a bear!”, but it seems as though this won’t happen here…
   Ironically, the bear’s success makes this somewhat unsatisfying as a ’morphic tale. Despite his continual ursine backsliding, both he and the cast are oblivious to any hints of animalicity. People were more aware of something weird about Mork in Mork and Mindy. There is more Furriness in a subplot about what happens to the college professor who is the real author of that manuscript. This is our problem; we want something out of the novel that Kotzwinkle wasn’t trying to put into it for his audience. But be aware before you spend $22.50 for this. Do take a look at Peter de Sève’s delightful dust jacket painting!

   This is the third novel in Norman’s Sholan Alliance series. Or maybe not, depending upon your definition of ‘novel’. Fortune’s Wheel ends with a cliffhanger, and Fire Margins opens immediately upon the next scene. It is not a separate novel any more than J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Two Towers (the middle volume of The Lord of the Rings) is a separate novel. Anyone who tries to read this without reading Fortune’s Wheel first will be completely lost. And, also like The Two Towers, it ends with a lot more of the story still to come.
   In fact, anybody who has read Fortune’s Wheel may still be bewildered unless they read it recently. I enjoyed it when it came out in August 1995, but it was not so good that it burned itself into my memory. Leaping right into this next chapter fifteen months later, it’s quite confusing at first as to whether Esken and Lijou are good or bad guys; why Kaid and Ghezu are at each other’s throats; and what the differences are between the Guild, the Warriors, and the Brotherhood. If you haven’t read Turning Point and Fortune’s Wheel (reviewed in Yarf! #29 and #39) since they were first published, you may want to browse through them again to refresh your memory before starting Fire Margins.
   It is worth it. The Sholan Alliance is a complex space opera combined with a Beauty & the Beast woman’s romance about the adventures of Carrie Hamilton, the first human woman on Shola, a planet of felinoid aliens, and the friends, lovers, and enemies whom she finds there. Carrie and her furry husband, Kusac, are actually rather in the background for the first half of this hefty 758-page segment of the saga. The main focus is upon the enigmatic, tortured Kaid, who has sworn his loyalty to Carrie and Kusac even though he admits that he was originally ordered to murder them. Why? Can he really be trusted? What is his relationship with Dzaka? This is a soap opera, complete with some steamy interspecies bedroom scenes, so the complex character relationships are more important than the space war with the Valtegans or the uneasy political tensions among both the humans and the Sholans caused by the ‘impossible’ mixed-species marriage and Carrie’s pregnancy. That particular mystery is fully resolved in this volume, which does close on an emotionally comfortable note even though several new plot threads are left conspicuously dangling for the next volume.
   It is slightly unsatisfying that the Sholans act so human that their anthropomorphic aspects seem like little more than costumery. But it is nicely elaborate costumery. Hardly a paragraph goes by without a mention of the characters’ tails switching or their ears or whiskers flicking or their fur bristling, to the extent that Carrie is startled at one point when she sees herself in a mirror and is reminded that she is a furless, tailless human. Okay; how long do we have to wait for volume four?

   This “long-awaited return to the magical world of [Adams’] classic novel” is set during the first year after the defeat of General Woundwort and the successful establishment of the Watership Down warren.
   The book is divided into three broad sections. The first part contains seven ‘traditional stories’ told by the rabbits as they relax in the evening on the grass outside their warren. Five feature the rabbits’ mythical hero, El-ahrairah, and these are anthropomorphic versions of primitive folk myths. The remaining two, The Rabbit’s Ghost Story and Speedwell’s Story, are more in the style of the European peasant folk humor as recorded by the Grimm Brothers in the early 19th century.
   Part II contains four of the many stories which are told of the adventures of El-ahrairah and his stalwart, Rabscuttle, in the course of their long journey home from their terrible encounter with the Black Rabbit of Inlé. (p. xi.) Surely you remember reading about El-ahrairah’s and Rabscuttle’s long journey in Watership Down? These four tales are actually sequentially connected, so they read like four incidents during a single adventure—not unlike reading four exciting chapters from the middle of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. These are realistic in style, in contrast to the fairy-tale mood of the tales in Part I.
   Part III, the longest, presents eight tales of the Watership Down rabbits themselves, during the year that they consolidate their new home and build friendly relations with the new leaders of General Woundwort’s Efrafan warren. These tales are also sequentially connected, and seem more like a mini-novel than separate stories.
   However, Tales from Watership Down is a very accurate description of this book. If it is more than a collection of nineteen completely separate short stories, it is nevertheless less than a coherent novel. It also does not stand on its own—at least, no more than do the Star Trek motion pictures, which are supposed to stand on their own but cannot be fully appreciated by those who are not familiar with the characters and personalities established in the TV series. The reader is obviously expected to be familiar with Hazel, Fiver, Dandelion, Bigwig, Hyzenthlay, Kehaar, and the rest of the cast; and with references to such events in Watership Down as “…the ill-judged raid on Nuthanger Farm…” (p. 5) and “…during the night of Woundwort’s attack—which, it will be recalled, Fiver had spent lying unconscious among Efrafans on the floor of the Honeycomb …” (p. 152). Also, the sequences which are connected do not have beginnings or endings. El-ahrairah’s and Rabscuttle’s adventures are described as having occurred “in the course of their long journey”; and that journey’s origin and conclusion are outside the scope of this book. The further adventures of the Watership Down rabbits begin with the ending of Watership Down—and you had better reread that story if it is not fresh in your memory—and they break off one year later. Some of the new plot threads introduced are complete in themselves, but others are unresolved. Life is like that, but it makes an unsatisfying conclusion to a romantic narrative.
   The first tale is, to this reviewer, the least satisfactory part of the whole book. It is an origin myth, in which El-ahrairah must journey into the Underworld—the land of the gods and the home of the dead—to win The Sense of Smell for all rabbits. On this difficult, meandering journey, he comes to the Kingdom of Yesterday, where dwell all of the animal species that have been made extinct by human beings’ hunting or environmental destruction. Next, he comes to the Land of Tomorrow, which is inhabited by… well, what would you expect to find as the opposite of all extinct species? It turns out to be the peacocks, chipmunks, raccoons, koalas, and all others that are waiting to be made extinct by human beings. This heavy-handed Message sets an unfortunately strident tone of Politically Correct Environmentalism; more akin to Disney’s ‘Man is in the forest’ which unrealistically portrays all animals as loving brothers, and which is contradictory to Adams’ own saga of rabbits constantly menaced by ‘the Thousand’ (innumerable predators besides man). Fortunately, this didacticism is not present in the rest of the book; but it certainly is a sour note to start off on.
   Is Tales from Watership Down worth reading? Certainly, by all fans of Watership Down. But it should not be read by those who have not already read Adams’ classic. And, unfortunately, to those who have, it is sure to compare as anticlimactic. Some parts are as good as any of the parts in Watership Down, but they are only fragments. They do not fit together into a cohesive and satisfying whole.

Two Joe Grey Mystery novels, by Shirley Rousseau Murphy

		Title:	Cat on the Edge
		Author:	Shirley Rousseau Murphy
		Publisher:	HarperPaperbacks/HarperPrism (New York, NY), Jun 1996
		ISBN:	0-06-105600-6
			274 pages, $5.50
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	Cat Under Fire
Author:	Shirley Rousseau Murphy
Publisher:	HarperPaperbacks/HarperPrism (New York, NY), Jan 1997
ISBN:	0-06-105601-4
	244 pages, $5.50
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Cat-themed (and dog-themed) murder mystery series have become one of the most popular subgenres in detective fiction today. But no matter how prominently they may be featured in titles, the animals usually turn out to be only supporting characters. They are normal pets, either of human detectives or of victims. In a couple of series, the cats talk ‘in animal language’ with other critters while the humans are busy detecting.* This is admittedly anthropomorphic, yet it is really just padding. The cats may ‘accidentally’ expose a clue or two (with a nudge-nudge-wink-wink to let the reader know how deliberate this is), but—despite their billing in the blurbs as ‘crime-solving cats’ (or dogs)—their actions are seldom essential to the real solving of the mysteries by the human amateur detective.
   Shirley Rousseau Murphy’s Cat on the Edge and Cat Under Fire are the first two novels in what is at least a trilogy of murder mysteries with actual feline detectives. Cat Raise the Dead has been advertised for July 1997 publication, and the advertisement does not say whether it will be a final volume. Murphy’s series is notable because her protagonists are unabashedly anthropomorphized cats who are hiding their intelligence. When they talk to each other, they have to make sure that no humans are likely to overhear them speaking in English. This is nothing new in juvenile fantasy—just look at Disney’s Chip ’n’ Dale Rescue Rangers, or the Miss Bianca or Rats of NIMH series—but it is a new step for the adult detective genre. It might be an exaggeration to describe this new series as ‘hard-boiled’, but at least it is not ‘cute’ like the other talking-cat novels.
   Cat on the Edge features two mysteries: the murder mystery, and the ‘magic’ puzzle. Molina Point is a California coastal resort village maybe a hundred miles south of San Francisco. The crime occurs in the first paragraph: The murder of Samuel Beckwhite in the alley behind Jolly’s Delicatessen was observed by no human witness. Only the gray tomcat saw Beckwhite fall, the big man’s heavy body crumpling, his round, close-trimmed head crushed from the blow of a shiny steel wrench. (pg. 1) An apparently absolutely mundane crime—so why do two cats who happen to be nearby suddenly gain human intelligence and the ability to talk? And why does a human housewife suddenly find herself transformed into a cat?
   Joe Grey, the cat in question, has an easygoing personality. He would rather hide his new abilities in order to continue living a pampered housecat’s lazy life, than become a celebrity/freak and probably a victim of scientific poking & prodding. But the killer seemingly knows that he is an intelligent witness and tries to hunt him down. An additional problem is that Joe’s human companion, Clyde Damen, was the victim’s business partner, making him an obvious suspect. This becomes a major threat when Joe observes the killer planning to frame Clyde for the murder. Joe will have to save Clyde to protect his own comfortable home life. Besides, he likes the guy.
   Dulcie, the other cat who becomes intelligent, is more concerned with wondering what has happened to them, and why? But when the killer also targets her, she becomes too busy running to ponder metaphysics. Joe, Dulcie, and the housewife-turned-cat, Kate, eventually get together to expose the killer, to get him imprisoned and out of their lives.
   Cat Under Fire takes place a few months later, just after Janet Jeannot, a famous artist living in Molina Point, is brutally murdered. Joe feels that it is none of their business, but Janet had always been kind to Dulcie and she takes it personally. A suspect is quickly arrested, but Dulcie is sure that it is the wrong man and that Janet’s killer is still free. Since the police have stopped looking for other suspects, Dulcie determines to carry on the case herself; with Joe reluctantly tagging along to make sure she does not get hurt.
   In both novels, the cats masquerade as dumb animals while using their natural feline abilities of sharp hearing, superior night vision, and so forth, to spy and find evidence. They next have to figure out how to reveal their findings without exposing themselves—an especially vexing problem in the second novel, since they have to convince the police that there is crucial evidence hidden in a spot that no human could possibly know about.
   The murder mystery is the more satisfyingly handled of the two puzzles. In fact, the question of how the cats have become anthropomorphized fades away. Murphy throws out a handful of clues and suppositions (some obviously contradictory) in Cat on the Edge, but none of them are really proven. By Cat Under Fire, Dulcie has given up wondering, while Joe was always satisfied to take advantage of the benefits of anthropomorphization without worrying about their source. But readers can still sense the mystery hovering just offstage. Could the anthropomorphization wear off? Presumably Murphy plans to reveal the secret eventually, either in the forthcoming third novel, or later if the first two are popular enough to turn this into an extended series.

*Most notably the five Mrs. Murphy novels by Rita Mae Brown with Sneaky Pie Brown (her own cat gets a byline), and the six Midnight Louie novels by Carole Nelson Douglas.


	Title:	Nine Lives to Murder
	Author:	Marian Babson

	Publisher:	HarperCollins/Collins Crime Club (London, UK), Oct 1992
	ISBN:	0-00-232414-8
		188 pages, £13.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Publisher:	St. Martin’s Press/A Thomas Dunne Book (New York, NY), Apr 1994
	ISBN:	0-312-10511-8
		188 pages, $18.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   There are, of course, even more individual cat-themed mystery novels than there are long-running series. Marian Babson specializes in these, with such titles as Murder at the Cat Show, Whiskers and Smoke, and The Diamond Cat. Most are completely unanthropomorphic. Nine Lives to Murder is an unusual and witty foray into fantasy.
   Winstanley Fortescue, a Laurence Olivier-like prominent London actor, regains consciousness after a traumatic shock to discover that he is in the body of Monty, the stage cat at the Chesterton Theatre where he is rehearsing his next play. While dazed, he learns from the conversations around him that he fell from a ladder and struck the cat as he hit the floor. His body is in the intensive care ward at a nearby hospital. Win sneaks in his cat body into the hospital to find out how his real body is doing, and discovers that his fall had been no accident—and that the would-be killer is still trying to engineer a fatal mishap.
   Who could want Win dead? As he eavesdrops, Win is shocked to learn how many of his family and theatrical acquaintances have motives for wanting him out of the way. He also learns which of his friends are genuine and which are only opportunists. Still, nobody really suspects foul play, which means that if Win wants his ‘murder’ investigated, he will have to do it himself—as a cat.
   An additional complication is that Win’s and Monty’s minds were not transferred totally. Each body has the other’s conscious mind superimposed over its original natural instincts. This is handy in enabling Win to operate his new body as a normal cat while hunting for clues, but awkward when he has to consciously struggle against Monty’s instincts to go chasing after mice, or female cats in heat. And the opposite promises to be at least embarrassing, and possibly fatal for Win’s human body, when Monty’s cat-mind recovers enough to reactivate it.
   Unlike most ‘feline detective’ novels, Win in Monty’s body is a genuine case of a cat deliberately investigating a crime. Nine Lives to Murder is blurbed as a ‘comic mystery’. It is light-hearted, but it seldom descends into the cuteness of some of these ‘cat-detective’ mysteries. The U.K. and U.S. first-edition hardcovers have been out for awhile, so you may need to look for them in public libraries rather than bookstores. There are also more recent paperback reprints.


	Title:	Sanctuary: A Tale of Life in the Woods
	Author:	Paul Monette
	Illustrator:	Vivienne Flesher
	Publisher:	Scribner (New York, NY), Feb 1997
	ISBN:	0-684-83286-0
		93 pages, $17.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This lyrical tale of forbidden love was intended to be the first in a collection of literary fables in the style of Borges, to create a modern mythology for ‘the gay and lesbian experience’, according to the Introduction. But Monette died of AIDS in February 1995 before he could complete any more. This slim volume has been published in his memory, and to present his last work.
   “The last forest” has been sealed off from the despoilation of humanity by a witch, at the cost of her own life. (Monette says ‘witch’, although the context makes it clear that she/he is an asexual?/bisexual? Earth Spirit.) The Great Horned Owl, a jealous egotist, decides to make himself master of the forest. He demonstrates the magic Spell that protects the animals from the outside world, and claims that he is the wizard responsible for their safety. Alas, he says; he was so busy completing this enchantment that he was unable to stop new animals, refugees from the outside world, from entering the forest before it was sealed off. He urges the animals to report to him any who are acting ‘different’; just to be on the safe side.
   Although he is careful to never say that ‘different’ means ‘bad’, everyone interprets it that way. Soon the forest has become a web of suspicion, with the owl in the center in the guise of their benefactor. But he realizes that he needs something more dramatic to establish himself as a Leader. He needs a scapegoat who can be portrayed as a danger from which he must save them; someone whose ‘difference’ can be made to seem an actual threat. That someone turns out to be Renarda the fox and Lapine the rabbit; a carnivore and a herbivore who are lesbian lovers—a doubly unnatural relationship.
   Although Sanctuary is a prose tale, it is easy to see that Monette was a gifted poet. The writing is beautifully descriptive, painting an ethereal word-portrait of the enchanted forest and its inhabitants; both physically and spiritually. However, with respect to all who designed this attractive example of the bibliographic art as a memorial to him, it is also obvious that it was never meant to be a novel, either in content or in format. Its 93 pages are in large type with wide margins, counting Flesher’s many modernistic full-page illustrations which are blank on the backs. There are no real characterizations, only shallow stereotypes of the Good, the Evil, the Strong, and the Weak. The prose is delightful to savor slowly, but the story is quickly over. Monette meant to write a short morality tale in the tradition of Aesop or La Fontaine, not a Watership Down or Duncton Wood-style epic adventure. By all means, seek it out and read it, but be aware of what you are getting.

		#48 / May 1997


	Title:	*Lives of the Monster Dogs*
	Author:	Kirsten Bakis
	Illustrator:	Zooks, by Greg Goebel
	Publisher:	Farrar, Straus & Giroux (New York, NY), Feb 1997
	ISBN:	0-374-18987-0
		x + 291 pages, $23.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This strange story is set in New York City between 2008 and 2011, but it is closer in mood to the Victorian ‘things man was not meant to know’ romances such as Fawcett’s Solarion and Wells’ The Island of Dr. Moreau.
   “In the years since the monster dogs were here with us, in New York, I’ve often been asked to write something about the time I spent with them”, (pg. ix) Cleo Pira begins this rambling multiple-viewpoint flashback, overloaded with portents of doom and tragedy. Cleo is a young woman recently jilted by her boyfriend, who after several months is still wandering the streets in a despondent daze, a year after the arrival of the monster dogs.
   These freaks are 150 anthropomorphized large dogs who have come to New York after revolting and escaping from a Teutonic version of Dr. Moreau’s vivisection experiment, set up by a Prussian mad scientist in an isolated colony in Canada a century earlier. Fortunately for the dogs, they have brought the vast wealth of their former masters and are liberal in spending it. Nevertheless, as Ludwig von Sacher, a German Shepherd whose diary is intercut with Cleo’s narrative, notes:

And so it goes. Much of the story seems deliberately obscure, muted down from drama to ennui. Cleo is hired to be the dogs’ sole public relations liaison to the human world. She duly (and dully) records that her friends think that she has been picked because she is so naïve that she won’t be aware of what the dogs are really up to, or the plottings among their own factions. (Her own reason for accepting the job is that she might as well; she hasn’t anything better to do.) Ludwig is so morbidly obsessed that humans are constantly laughing at the dogs behind their backs, and that he is going mad, that he talks about little else. (It is Ludwig who insists on calling the dogs ‘monsters’.) There are frequent comments that the dogs did not just escape from their human masters; they killed them all. Yet when the details are finally revealed, it is in the form of an opera which the dogs present to New York’s cultural elite, written by Burkhardt Weil, a short, round-headed Bull Terrier who wore a monocle and a lopsided cravat:

   That is an excerpt; the novel includes the entire libretto. It seems more like Henry Purcell than Richard Wagner; certainly artistic, but stately rather than dynamic. The major exception to this refined mood consists of excerpts from the diary of the long-dead Augustus Rank, the 19th century scientist who set up the secluded colony to create the dogs. He is a nauseating madman; an egocentric and sadistic combination of Dr. Moreau and Mr. Hyde. At the same time, he is the most charismatic of the cast because he is vibrantly active. His diary shows him as having a stupendous goal, and a determination to let nothing stop him from accomplishing it.
   After a year of living scattered among New York’s finest hotels, the dogs decide upon a magnificent project: to build on the Lower East Side an enlarged replica of Bavaria’s Neuschwanstein Castle as a luxurious home for them all. Cleo carefully notes that Neuschwanstein is best known to Americans through its miniaturized replica in Disneyland. She then tells how the original Neuschwanstein was built by Bavaria’s mad King Ludwig II; with such ponderous emphasis on the castle-builder’s grandiose insanity and fated tragedy that it is obvious that the dogs’ Neuhundstein is being forecast as both the symbol and the agent of their own doom.
   Lives of the Monster Dogs contains many scenes that would make lovely paintings. However, it is rather frustrating in its funneled viewpoint upon melancholy self-proclaimed failures. There is a murky swirl of metaphysics and neurotic psychology: the dogs have serious medical problems which they blame upon their vivisection experiences, but it is impossible to tell whether their declining health is really physical or due to hysterical hypochondria. There are constant hints that most of the incidental characters are smarter than the main cast. The most notable example is Lydia Petze, a white Samoyed with dark eyes and a fine pointed muzzle. “She was wearing a long, narrow gown of pale yellow silk, low-cut so that her big mane of fur fluffed up in the front, and she carried a matching long-handled parasol, which she used as a cane.” (pg. 106) Lydia is a quiet but keen observer whose calm comments show that she is very aware of what the narrator has failed to notice.
   Bakis’ first novel is intriguingly intelligent. It is obviously not meant for readers looking for adventure novels. As a reconstruction of a languidly bygone era (and writing style), it is an unusually different creation.


	Title:	*Changespell*
	Author:	Doranna Durgin
	Publisher:	Baen Books (Riverdale, NY), Feb 1997
	ISBN:	0-671-87765-8
		338 pages, $5.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This sequel to Dun Lady’s Jess (Baen Books, 1994; reviewed in Yarf! #35) is a good example of a genuine sequel, rather than a single novel in multiple volumes. The two novels each stand on their own. Readers who liked Dun Lady’s Jess will enjoy these further adventures of the cast. Those who have not read the first story will find enough background well blended into the narrative that they will not feel that they have missed anything important. (Spoiler warning: this review will give away some of the important plot developments in Dun Lady’s Jess. If you feel you should read it before you read Changespell—both are recommended—you might want to stop reading this review after the next paragraph.)
   The setting of the first novel is the magical world of Camolen, engaged in a wizards’ war. When Carey, a courier of the wizard Arlen, is about to be caught by the villains, he triggers an emergency spell that flings him and his horse into an unknown world. This turns out to be Ohio. An unexpected side effect of the transition is that Carey’s mare turns into a human. The adventure/romance novel switches between several viewpoints, but the main story is that of Lady the horse who must learn how to be Jess the woman. She and Carey have to work out their relationship; are they master and loyal pet, good friends, or lovers? Carey desperately needs the aid of a reliable steed to save his friends and all of Camolen from the sadistic sorcerers, but can he ask Jess to give up her humanity and return to being a ‘mere’ animal for their benefit?
   One of the story’s intriguing facets is the way Durgin handles the distinction between intelligence and memory. A human is much smarter than a horse, so when Lady/Jess is human, she is able to understand a lot more of what she saw as a horse. As a horse, her intellect is much more limited, but she knows who her friends and enemies are. And, as anyone who is familiar with real horses knows, they can be exasperatingly cunning and contrary when they want to be.
   Changespell reveals at the beginning that one of the main problems of the first novel has been solved. Arlen, the master mage, has devised a changespell that allows Lady/Jess to choose whichever identity she prefers, rather than being stuck as either a horse in Camolen or a human on Earth. So she remains in Camolen, but she still switches between her equine and human forms. Most humans might not understand how anyone could prefer to be a dumb animal, but she knows that each form has advantages that the other lacks. Her real friends respect her preferences. In fact, she wishes that Carey would stop being so damn respectful about “removing his psychological dominance as her former master”, and resume his former close relationship with her. She is not nearly as concerned as is Ander, another of Arlen’s handsome riders who appoints himself Jess’ tutor/guardian. His ‘protection’ of Jess from Carey is obviously based more on jealousy than any real need. But is Carey being unnecessarily noble, or is he really not interested in Jess? Is Ander offering a personal relationship that she should take seriously, or is his idea of ‘care’ actually as psychologically dominative as he accuses Carey of being?
   The new menace, to everyone’s surprise, turns out to be inspired by Arlen’s changespell for Lady/Jess. A group of unscrupulous wizards decide that if he can turn a horse into a woman, they can turn other animals into a new class of servants who will have human form and abilities but not human rights. It doesn’t take long for some of those wizards to turn completely criminal, reverse the spell and use it for blackmail. “Recognize us as your new lords or we’ll turn you all into sheep or worse!” Things are even worse than they seem, although more cannot be revealed without giving away too much. Lady/Jess is suddenly in mortal danger in both her forms, and is hard-pressed to decide whether being horse or human is best for fighting, spying, or fleeing in each of the rapidly changing situations. She is also confused by how to interpret the attitudes of her two suitors. If she volunteers for a dangerous mission and Carey lets her go, does that mean that he is respecting her right to make her own decisions or that he doesn’t care about her safety? If Ander tries to hold her back, does this mean that he cares more for her or that he feels that she should let him make all the important decisions for both of them?
   Dun Lady’s Jess has some annoying improbabilities built into the basic structure of the magical world of Camolen, such as why wizards need to send messages by heroic Pony Express riders rather than instantly by magic. Durgin provides answers, but they are less convincing than they are obvious excuses to make the story more exciting. This is not quite as blatant in Changespell, and what there is of it is more ‘traditional’, such as setting up the heroes’ desperate commando raid on the villains’ fortress for the grand climax. Changespell wraps itself up neatly, as Dun Lady’s Jess did. It would be nice to see the cast return again, yet there are no frustrating dangling plot threads in case they do not.

   Discounting childrens’ play money and such trade script as Disney Dollars and (Joe) Camel Cash, the new post-socialist Mongolian government has recently issued what may be the first national currency to feature an anthropomorphized animal: a fu (good fortune/happiness) dog.
   Mythological animals and animal/human hybrids on paper money are nothing new: dragons, unicorns, winged horses, Singapore’s merlion, and many more. But with the exception of depictions of pre-Christian art featuring animal-headed gods, centaurs and the like from such nations as Egypt and Greece, these fantastic animals have not shown any hint of anthropomorphization.
   The dog is one of the traditional animals of the Oriental zodiac, and one of the six domestic animals considered most benevolent towards man. Since before recorded history, the dog’s favored position in man’s household has been to guard his family and possessions. (Please excuse the masculine emphasis, but Oriental theology has always been patriarchally oriented.) Until the 20th century, most long-haired Oriental spaniels and terriers such as the shih tzu and the Pekinese were popularly believed to be crosses of dogs and lions, and are still called fu (good luck) or shih (lion) dogs interchangeably. Statues of lion dogs on guard were a fixture at the entrances of important public buildings, and Buddha riding on a giant fu dog remains a standard scene in religious popular art.
   Returning to the domestic scene, the dog is seen as the most devoted and helpful of the animal members of the household; somewhat similar to the brownie in British folklore. To emphasize this aspect, the current Mongolian brown-&-orange one-tugrug note (1993 issue) depicts the dog with hands instead of paws, so it can make itself as useful as possible.
   (Unfortunately, none of the other Mongol Bank notes depict fantastic animals, anthropomorphized or not. However, there is a pleasant pastoral scene on the backs of some of the higher denominations.)

The large white space contains a watermark portrait of Jengiz Khan.

		#49 / Jul 1997


	Title:	Pig Tales: A Novel of Lust and Transformation
	Author:	Marie Darrieussecq
	Translator:	Linda Coverdale
	Publisher:	The New Press (New York, NY), May 1997
	ISBN:	1-56584-361-4
		151 pages, $18.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   The unnamed narrator tells on the first page how difficult it is to write her manuscript, now that she is a big pig without hands, wallowing in the mud. The story is her rambling reminiscences, in excruciating detail, about her feminine problems as she gradually transformed into an obese, multi-dugged, corkscrew-tailed sow.
   This opening is important, since the story takes quite a while to reach that point. It starts with the narrator’s pride when she became the top beautician at Perfumes Plus, a tres chic beauty/health salon. It is quickly obvious what this boutique really was, since her main duty was screwing anything (of both sexes) more animate than the furniture, with offhand references to her bosses paying off the vice squads by giving them free privileges. Naturally, her status as Perfumes Plus’ premiere beauty suffered as she started to bulge and rip her tight dresses, her hair turned to stiff bristles, she grew extra teats, and so on (even though a growing number of customers didn’t mind, as their tastes were swinging toward animal-style sex). Her emphasis in this first part is on her frantic use of the boutique’s beauty aids in an attempt to keep her good looks; her worries that changes in her menstrual routine meant that she had become pregnant—or sterile—or had cancer (she belatedly realized that it was due to her shift from human to porcine femininity); how her rivals among the female staff plotted her downfall; and her despair over the growing disgust of her sophisticated lover, Honoré, towards her.
   Inevitably, she was thrown out on the streets and became a bag lady. This was not too bad, since she didn’t mind the cold due to her thickened hide, nor did she find eating garbage offensive any more. But the focus remains on her personal affairs. There are only frustratingly vague glimpses of the increasingly chaotic political situation: the right-wing expulsion of all foreigners from France; a new Reign of Terror; replacing the Arc de Triomphe with a cathedral; a counterrevolution; the extremist government’s conversion of the SPCA into a super-Gestapo. This may have had something to do with the animalization of humanity, but the narrator didn’t really care. “There was a lot of talk about Edgar’s [the fascist political leader] mental illness. It seems he was neighing and eating nothing but grass, down on all fours. Poor Edgar.” (pg. 114) “The director was extraordinarily handsome, even more so than Honoré. He sniffed my rear end instead of shaking my hand, but aside from that he couldn’t have been nicer, a truly refined man, well dressed and everything.” (pg. 115)
   For ’morph fans, the crux of the novel is her meeting with Yvan and becoming his mistress. Yvan had become a wolf, and was proud of it. He had learned to shift back and forth between his human and animal states by willpower, and he taught her the advantages of both existences. “Yvan loved me equally well as a woman and as a sow. He said it was fantastic to have two modes of being, two females for the price of one, in a way, and what a time we had.” (pg. 122) They could have it as human-human, human-pig, human-wolf, or wolf-pig. Yvan also taught her that one could be a sow and still be elegant. He got her a jeweled collar and leash, and took her out promenading around the boulevards, as an aristocratic socialite with his pet blue-ribbon pig. Unfortunately, this was only a tragically brief interlude. Without Yvan’s strong personality to support her, the narrator sank back into her increasingly squalid swinish existence.
   With Pig Tales’ concentration and obsession on kinky sex—including lurid scenes of the highest government officials’ secret torture/snuff orgy nests—it is probably no wonder that this 27-year-old schoolteacher’s first novel became France’s publishing sensation of 1996. (The French title, Truismes, is a pun on ‘truisms’ and ‘truie’, the French word for ‘sow’. Curiously, the nameless narrator has a name in the French edition: Zoé.) It skyrocketed to the top of the best-seller charts as soon as it reached the bookshops. According to Livres Hebdo #217, 20 Sept. 1996, pg. 47, “The print run of the book swelled from 4,000 copies on 28 August [its release date] to 55,000 copies on 17 September!” By the end of 1996 there were 173,000 copies in print, with sales passing over 3,000 copies a day at its peak. It became a finalist for France’s literary Prix Goncourt, and a major movie directed by Jean-Luc Godard is in production.
   The novel’s reception in America is problematical, and its appeal to ’morph fans is even more so. This first-person flashback is overwhelmingly permeated with the narrator’s shallowness, which would seem a major irritation. The story is totally self-centered on a basically boring person. It becomes imaginative only as her viewpoint shifts from human to porcine. There are some intriguing descriptions of her emotional turmoil during the transformation of her feelings and instincts. But this is over halfway through the novel, which may make it too little and too late for some readers. Also, most of the detailed descriptions are of human lusts. The references to doing it doggy (or piggy or horsey…) style are very brief, as though she assumes that the human readers for whom she is writing her memoirs would not be interested in this.
   However, the French critics seem to feel that this is one of the points which makes Pig Tales such a devastating satire. It reveals the unimportance of world events in comparison to one’s banal personal concerns. So it is only natural that the comments about France’s political collapse (with machine-gun-toting SPCA terror squads ruling the streets) are brief and annoyingly cryptic, while the narrator goes into pages of detail about what she wore and what makeup she used and how hard she tried to please her lover of the moment; with as many piggy-wiggy puns as possible. Well, chacun à son goût. The French love Jerry Lewis, too.


	Title:	Empire of the Ants
	Author:	Bernard Werber
	Translator:	Margaret Rocques

	Publisher:	Bantam UK (London, UK), Mar 1996
	ISBN:	0-593-03385-X
		Hardcover, 275 pages, £9.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Publisher:	Corgi Books (London, UK), Jan 1997
	ISBN:	0-552-14112-7
		Paperback, 348 pages, £5.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   In the early days of the s-f pulp magazines, there was a vogue for ‘scientific fiction’ as sugar-coated scholasticism. Many of these worked nicely at awakening ‘the sense of wonder’ in adolescent readers, although anyone who went on to actually study astronomy or zoology or biology soon realized that they were much too anthropomorphized (or geomorphized) to be accurate as scientific education. Most were too didactic to be worth much as fiction, either.
   (For an example appropriate to this review, read Clifton B. Kruse’s Dr. Lu-Mie (Astounding Stories, July 1934). The human narrator is kidnapped into a termitarium by Lu-Mie, a termite ‘scientist ’. The story is mostly an educational travelogue of the daily routine in a termite nest, as observed by the narrator as Lu-Mie boastfully shows him around, and as he flees through its corridors trying to escape.)
   Science fiction has advanced considerably in the last sixty years. Bernard Werber’s Empire of the Ants (originally published in France in 1991 as Les Fourmis, from Albin Michel) is excellent both as an intriguing two-pronged mystery novel, and as a basically accurate depiction of life among different species of ants despite their anthropomorphization.
   The initial protagonist of the human mystery is Jonathan Wells, a young husband who has recently lost his job. So it is a godsend when his scientist Uncle Edmond dies and he inherits Edmond’s house in the Fontainebleau forest district of Paris. This is an upper-middle-class neighborhood of residences and nearly woodlands, where the well-maintained houses are several centuries old. Edmond’s house seems normal except for the locked cellar door and the note, ‘ABOVE ALL, NEVER GO DOWN INTO THE CELLAR!’ Since Jonathan has a ten-year-old son and a yappy poodle, you can imagine for how long that admonition is observed.
   Six kilometers away, in the forest, is the russet ant metropolis of Bel-o-kan, home to 18 million inhabitants. Its story starts by following a young ant, the 327th male of the current breeding season. The introductory scenes among the ants are of a travelogue nature until 327th joins an expedition of 28 other ants to bring in some carrion from the forest. 327th falls slightly behind the others on the trail; when he catches up to them, they are all dead without a mark upon them. 327th rushes home to warn Bel-o-kan of a danger, as ants are supposed to do, even though he does not know what killed them:

Since 327th cannot prove there is a danger, the ants soon ignore him and return to their regular duties. Neuter worker ants are more regimented and less imaginative than males, and the ant city is just awakening after a winter’s hibernation so there is much to do.

327th decides to form a small group, to convince a few ants to follow him and see the bodies of the dead expedition. Their verification will be enough to convince the city that there is a real danger to mobilize against; to identify the unknown enemy and to prepare a defense against it. However, 327th has hardly begun when he narrowly escapes being murdered by ants within Bel-o-kan itself. This is unheard of! Different species of ants have different modes of fighting, and the russet ants have been warring with a city of dwarf ants who have recently migrated into their forest. But the species are so distinct that no ant has ever been able to disguise itself successfully enough to enter another’s city; nor are ants individualistic enough for any to be persuaded to betray their own cities. And ants do not attack each other within their own Tribes. So who is trying to kill 327th? And why?
The two stories are interwoven, although there are about three chapters of the ant mystery for each chapter of the human mystery. Both are intriguing, with unexpected surprises. But they are so separate that they might be two entirely different novels. Jonathan’s cellar turns out to be a dark stairway that goes down and down—and down—and down—until his story seems about to turn into a Lovecraft pastiche, with hideous squeaks echoing from abysmal depths:

The story of 327th, and the two comrades he finally enlists to solve the ant mystery—the 56th female (a ‘princess’ who will soon leave Bel-o-kan with other young females to start new cities) and the 103,683rd soldier, an old neuter warrior/guard—is exciting. But it seems to be a realistic adventure of warfare among the ant nests of a Northwestern European forest, battles against other natural predators of ants such as woodpeckers and moles, and the fictitious puzzle of identifying the enemy among their own fellow russet ants. There appears to be no possible connection, except that there are constant hints that Jonathan’s scientist uncle, who left the warning to never enter the cellar, was conducting experiments on ants.
I don’t want to spoil this book by revealing too much, but I will warn that it ends on a cliffhanger—though not the cliffhanger that the reader is led to expect. The sequel, Le Jour de Fourmis, has already been published in France. Empire of the Ants itself is scheduled for an American edition, under a straight translation of the French title—The Ants—from Bantam Books this December. Most of the mysteries in this first volume are answered, although some of the answers—especially in the human mystery—are more Hollywood-dramatic than convincing. (People who know there are monsters around will wander off alone into the darkness…) But the emphasis of the novel is a murder mystery among ants which manages to simultaneously keep the ants natural enough to be ‘seriously educational’, and anthropomorphized enough to stand out as individuals. Making realistic ants sympathetic enough for the reader to care about them is a good enough trick that Empire of the Ants is worth reading for that alone.

		#50 / Sep 1997


	Title:	Kevin & Kell: Quest for Content
	Creator:	Bill Holbrook
	Publisher:	Online Features Syndicate (Norcross, GA), May 1997
	ISBN:	—
		138 pages, $9.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This is the first collection of Bill Holbrook’s Kevin & Kell comic strip. Kevin & Kell’s main claim to fame is that it is the first daily strip created especially and exclusively for Internet publication, where it appears mostly on CompuServe forums. It is also one of the most imaginative funny-animal strips ever published anywhere, thanks to its clever usage of animal traits in a modern situation-comedy setting.
   Kevin & Kell Dewclaw are a modern couple—though their mixed marriage is definitely not typical. Kevin (in his mid-thirties) is a rabbit, and Kell (in her late twenties) is a wolf. It is the second marriage for both of them. Kevin’s first marriage broke up when his militantly independent rabbit wife walked out on him, leaving him with their adopted daughter Lindesfarne (mid-teen), a porcupine. Kell’s first husband was killed trying to singlepawedly bring down a moose, leaving her with a young-teen cub, Rudy. Kevin & Kell met and developed a romance through an online discussion forum. By the time they finally realized that he was a herbivore and she was a carnivore, they were too much in love to break it off.
   At the time Kevin & Kell begins, they have been married for a year and are expecting their own first child. Lindesfarne and Rudy are in the throes of teen step-sibling rivalry. Rudy loses no opportunity to remind her that he is a macho predator, while Lindesfarne loftily points out that, as a more mature porcupine, she is nobody’s prey. Kevin’s & Kell’s families have both disowned them in hostility over the mixed marriage, and Kevin’s inept brother-in-law Ralph keeps trying to eat him. Kevin works at home, as the sysop manager of the Herbivore Forum. Kell has an office job at Herd Thinners, Inc., a public-service corporation which helps manage population control.
   Kevin & Kell: Quest for Content presents the first year of the strip, from September 4, 1995 to August 29, 1996. It contains 258 Monday-Friday daily strips (actually 257; the 12/13/95 strip is accidentally printed twice and the 12/14 strip is missing) and six monthly Sunday-format strips. The humor revolves around two major topics: computers, and ‘the law of the jungle’ as applied to modern American life.
   Part of Kevin’s attraction for Kell was that she was tired of being pawed by the slavering, predatory males with whom she had previously associated. An early question is what the first child of their mixed marriage will be like. The child, Coney, is born two months into the strip; and how she affects their family is a continuing theme. Kevin’s status as a herbivore is useful for household chores (he doesn’t have to mow the lawn; he grazes it). Contrariwise, Kell finds her job at Herd Thinners harder since she has to work farther afield to avoid preying on any of Kevin’s family or friends. Rudy and Lindesfarne and their friends are focuses for teen and school-related humor. Rudy, as a wolf cub, tends to eat his own homework, both the paper variety and in field classes like Sneaking Up On Prey 101. He develops a puppy-love relationship with Fiona Fennec, and is crushed when she has to return with her parents to the MidEast. (But they stay in touch via the Internet, providing lots of jokes based on email romances.) Kevin listens to the online complaints of insects; their lifespan is so short that they’re dead before they can get tech support. Rudy is scolded for drinking out of the toilet. When Lindesfarne gets into an online argument, she doesn’t flame, she quills. Kevin has hardware problems because practically everyone in his household sheds. When Kevin is called away from home on a mysterious freelance assignment in early April, Rudy and Lindesfarne join forces to investigate whether he is really the Easter Bunny.
   Kevin & Kell almost never merely places animal heads on human bodies. Virtually every joke depends on the animal natures of the characters: that they are carnivores or herbivores, or that they are color-blind or they shed. Despite this mixed cast, Holbrook has made the Dewclaws into a loving family that is more functional than many in today’s TV and comic-strip situation comedies.
   Kevin & Kell is Bill Holbrook’s third comic strip. He has been writing & drawing On the Fastrack and Safe Havens, both with human casts, for the newspapers since the 1980s; he is currently producing all three simultaneously. As a result, Kevin & Kell does not show the rapid changes in art style which many beginning cartoonists’ strips go through during their first months. It has a professional consistency throughout.
   Holbrook was a Guest-of-Honor at ConFurence VIII this past January. He announced that he was trying to sell a Kevin & Kell volume, but that so far no book publisher was interested because they only collected ‘newspaper comic strips’ and Kevin & Kell did not appear in newspapers. Holbrook apparently gave up, because this book is self-published. Kevin & Kell: Quest for Content is available for $9.95 + $1.75 shipping from Holbrook’s own Online Features Syndicate, P. O. Box 931264, Norcross, GA 30093. The book contains an advertisement for other Kevin & Kell merchandise such as T-shirts, screen savers, and mouse pads.


	Title:	Reinardus; Yearbook of the International Reynard Society
	Publisher:	John Benjamins Publishing Company (Amsterdam), 1988-1997
	ISSN:	0925-4757
		ca. 200-250 pp. each, Hfl. 117,– (v. 1-9), Hfl. 130,– (v. 10)
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   I would like to thank Michael Russell of Orlando for informing me about the International Reynard Society and its Yearbook. To quote from the Society’s literature, “The International Reynard Society was founded in 1975 by Professor Kenneth Varty of the University of Glasgow and the late Nico Van Den Boogaard of Amsterdam, to group together medievalists and other scholars in […] essentially, the associated fields of the so-called ‘Beast Epic’ of Reynard the Fox, the Fable tradition, and the short comic narrative genre exemplified by the Old French Fabliaux.” It has held an International Colloquium in Europe every two years since 1975 (Glasgow in 1975, Amsterdam in 1977, Münster in 1979, Paris in 1981, and so on), almost always at universities; a special out-of-sequence colloquium was held in Tokyo in July 1996.
   Its Yearbook consists primarily of the publication of scholarly papers which have been read at these colloquiums. “Reinardus aims to promote comparative research in the fields of medieval comic, satirical, didactic, and allegorical literature, with emphasis on beast epic, fable and fabliau, including sources, influences and later developments into the modern period. The methods and critical interpretations it offers are as wide-ranging as is its subject matter, since it considers discussion and the coexistence of conflicting views as more important than the defence of a specific methodological point of view.”
   Each volume consists of 15 to 25 papers in either English or French (and very occasionally Italian), usually about evenly divided. Despite the Society’s comment about “later developments into the modern world”, there are barely a handful of articles which touch on anything more recent than the 18th century. Some average titles are:

   Most articles are unillustrated, but there are a couple in each volume which include plates showing Medieval or Renaissance woodcuts, photographs of humorous carvings in old churches, and the like.
   Frankly, Reinardus seems too academically dull for the average ‘Furry fan’. However, it is an excellent source for information about all aspects of the Medieval Reynard the Fox fable and other talking-animal satires. The discussions of Reynard encompass profiles of the entire cast: King Nobel the lion, Isengrim the wolf, Bruin the bear, Tibault the cat, Baldwin the donkey, Chantecleer the rooster, Grimbert the badger, Belyn the ram, Cuwert the hare and many others who have faded into anonymous background roles in the streamlined modernizations. These essays also detail the brutal and adult nature of the original fable. In modern versions, Isengrim asks King Nobel to punish Reynard because the fox has ‘insulted’ him, which implies little more than that the wolf is haughty and not bright enough to think of witty comebacks. The unexpurgated tale specifies how the insult was that Reynard broke into the wolf’s home during his absence to rape his wife and blind his cubs, just to flaunt his power. The original texts quoted in Reinardus will be of interest to anyone wanting to compile notes on Medieval French and Dutch scatology, obscenities, and erotic scurrility.
   Reinardus is also horrendously expensive. The current foreign exchange rate of the Dutch guilder is U.S. 50.8¢. This makes the first nine volumes approximately $60.00 apiece, and the current volume $66.00, not counting shipping. However, the cost is only U.S. $30.00 per volume to members of the International Reynard Society, and membership in the Society is free upon request. For membership information, inquire to the International Secretary, Dr. Brian J. Levy, Department of French, The University of Hull, Hull HU6 7RX, England, U.K.; or e.mail: b.j.levy@french.hull.ac.uk. For information about ordering Reinardus, the publisher’s North American address is: John Benjamins North America, P. O. Box 27519, Philadelphia, PA 19118-0519; (215) 836-1200; customer.services@benjamins.nl; http://www.benjamins.nl.
   To digress, even if the Society and Reinardus are too scholarly for the tastes of most of our group, it seems incredible that apparently none of us (with the exception of Michael Russell) have even been aware of the existence of this international society of enthusiasts of talking-animal legends and stories, which has been holding conferences all around Europe (and in Japan) every two years since 1975, and publishing a thick annual collection of studies for the past decade. I have been active in ’morph fandom since the early 1980s, and I had never heard of such an organization during all this time. It makes one wonder what other anthropomorphisms may be out there that we don’t know about.

It has been debated for centuries whether the ethereal beauty of music can be expressed in words. Zabor does a good job of it in this sometimes-hauntingly mystical, sometimes-raunchily earthy tale of a Bear who longs to become an alto saxophonist in the contemporary East Coast jazz scene.
The Bear is a mutant, or, to get away from the mecha-sci-fi connotations of that term, a freak.

When the Bear was a cub in a circus, his trainer had lost him in a poker game to Jones, a well-meaning but weak-willed drifter around New York’s popular music world. Jones vaguely intended to keep the animal as a pet while he was small (a great conversation piece and a way to meet women); by the time the cub manifested his intelligence, they were good buddies. The Bear appreciates the way that Jones treats him as an equal, and they work out a sidewalk dancing-bear act that pays the rent. But the Bear gets restless:

   The Bear can’t take the cabin fever of staying hidden in Jones’ apartment, emerging only to play a trained dumb animal, which is getting increasingly impractical as he matures into a brown bear too massive to look safely cute any more. He is tormented between common sense—it’s too risky to reveal himself; he’ll end up shot or ‘disappeared’ into research laboratories or at best shunned as a grotesque freak—and the desire to get together with his own people.
   But who are his own people? His advanced intelligence in an ursine corpus has given him instinctual mixed allegiances. Other bears have an appreciation of the poetry of nature: moss and moldering earth, a continuous undercurrent of insect life, the green difference between the smell of treeleaves and the lolling ferns that found sufficient reason for being in the medallion light that dappled down to the ground through the cover of the oaks and maples. (pg. 232) But other bears are stupid and brutish; besides, who wants to spend the rest of their lives shitting in the woods and hiding out during hunting season? His intellectual peers are those who share his understanding of the poetry of music, especially jazz; the current heirs of Charlie Parker and John Coltrane and their brethren. But they tend to be alcoholics or dopers who burn themselves out early; besides, who wants to spend the rest of their lives in the overcrowded, polluted concrete jungle getting fucked over by the cold-eyed Corporate Suits who control the music industry? Also, does the Bear really have the talent as well as the appreciation to join the musicians as a true colleague? And if he does, will they accept him as an equal or as a mascot, a novelty act?
   All of these themes are explored at length, with many unexpected twists and turns, in Zabor’s flowing prose. Fans of Beauty and the Beast—the TV series with Vincent and Catherine—will appreciate the emotionally confused relationship and romance between the Bear and Iris. Fans of jazz will appreciate the realistic portrait of that world and industry, both cynical and idealistic. A word of warning: Zabor is a jazz musician and journalist, so there is a lot of jazz talk here. But The Bear Comes Home is a bona fide anthropomorphic story set within that milieu, and one that does justice to both to a much better degree than, say, Space Jam does to either funny animal movies or to sports movies.

‘Anthropomorphic novel’? Since there is no formal definition of that term, it is a matter of individual taste. I do not want to impose my tastes on Yarf!’s readers, so here are a couple of novels which are not anthropomorphic enough for me, but you may feel otherwise.

This diary of a housecat is basically a feline Black Beauty. The animals talk to each other, but otherwise they do nothing that real cats and dogs would not do.
If Foudini’s story differs much from that of any normal housecat, it is in his origins. He is not a house- or kennel-born kitten; his mother is a feral alley cat who raises him in hiding in an apartment house’s laundry room, giving him street-wise advice:

She disappears when he is just a few weeks old. Foudini is caught and adopted by an animal-loving young couple, who already have a large friendly dog. It takes the incredibly patient humans and wise old dog several months to gain the trust of the skittish kitten, whose ability to disappear in a locked room gains him the reputation of a feline Houdini.

Foudini and Sam the dog begin to hold real conversations and plan some activities together. Foudini is kept locked indoors, and when Spring comes and the snow melts, he is fascinated by the green stuff that he sees through the window sprouting out of the ground and on bushes. He wants to see it up close.

   About a year later, when Foudini is a more dignified adult, the man and woman get another kitten, Grace. It is now Foudini’s turn to be exasperated by the wild scamperings of a headstrong kitten who refuses to listen to his wise council.
   The narrative does grow exotically surrealistic when Foudini records his dreams and the dream cats whom he meets in them: Cleopatra’s cat, Snow White’s cat, and Freud’s cat. Since they tell him things which are beyond his experience (he does not know what they are talking about, but the reader will), they must be real supernatural cats and not just his subconscious.
   So this novel is a plausible anthropomorphization of the thoughts of an average suburban pet cat. It is enjoyable on that level, and is therefore successful on its own terms. It is not very exciting for readers looking for a more dramatic adventure than the life of a pampered parlor pussy.

The know-it-all narrator of this wittily erotic fantasy is a Mesopotamian clay bowl from 4500 B.C. being bought by a rich London art collector—the umpteenth collector who has owned the bowl during its existence:

   The bowl has been a silent eavesdropper on 6,500 years of human history; a collector of its collectors: temple priests, merchants rich or poor, farmers, prostitutes, painters, ship captains, and more. And does it have stories to tell of what it’s seen! Mostly stories of sex: Amorous sex, exhibitionistic sex, neurotic sex, vengeful sex, sex as a power trip, kinky sex, sex facilitated or interrupted by frozen iguanas. (It’s amazing how these iguana-cicles keep popping up at the most unexpected moments down through the ages.)
   While the boastful bowl babbles incessantly to the reader, it is quiet as a quahog to the cast. However, the bowl is handed to Rosa, a 26-year-old art appraiser to authenticate; and Rosa turns out to be a type of human new to the bowl: A genuine psychic who can tell the true age of objects just by touching them. Rosa is fascinated by the past she can see by holding the bowl (she doesn’t realize that the bowl is sentient and is deliberately feeding her selected memories), so she keeps it longer than usual to ‘run tests’ on it.
   As Rosa observes the past through the bowl, the bowl observes Rosa and her acquaintances at their daily life. Rosa is desperately trying to get laid. Nikki is a nymphomanic/kleptomaniac who seems determined to fuck every Jehovah’s Witness (of either gender) in England; she can bedazzle them and have them undressed in under ten minutes, singly or in pairs. Lump, a muscular Amazon, claims to have returned from the dead (and considering the other fantasies in this novel, she probably has); she is now above sex, but not above gleefully embarrassing would-be macho studs whenever possible. Lettuce is a non-stop kvetcher who constantly whines about nobody loving her, but who still has better luck at finding bedmates than Rosa does.
   It gets wilder. One of the statements above turns out to be deliberately misleading, but which one can’t be revealed without becoming a spoiler. But one thing that The Collector Collector doesn’t get is anthropomorphic, except for the bowl’s constant back-patting monologue.
   If a novel about a talking bowl turns you on, here’s another book you may want to watch for. Science Fiction Chronicle, October 1997, pg. 20, reports the recent sale to the London publisher J. Cape of two novels by Bo Fowler, “the first of which is narrated by an intelligent supermarket trolley (Brit-speak for ‘shopping cart’), in a 6-figure deal…”.

   Jacques’ tenth annual Redwall novel plays up the Long Patrol, the ‘legendary army of fighting hares’ who loyally serve the mighty badger ruler of the rocky natural castle of Salamandastron.
   Tamello Tussock, the teen son of a retired Long Patrol Colonel, runs away from home to join the Patrol and win fame & glory as his jolly old pater did, sah! He is taken under the paw of Russa Nodrey, a hardbitten squirrel wanderer who teaches the naïve hare some basic woodcraft and scouting techniques so he won’t embarrass himself too badly when he reaches Salamandastron to enlist. In fact, they run into a scouting mission of the Patrol first, on the trail of Mossflower’s latest horde of invading savage vermin, the Rapscallions led by Damug Warfang (a Greatrat), their bloodthirsty Firstblade (king). Tammo and Russa find themselves serving with the Patrol in deadly guerrilla fighting much sooner than expected. Meanwhile, the evil Rapscallion army, looking for easy conquests and rich looting, is headed toward Redwall Abbey; and the peaceful animals of Redwall, now several generations older, discover that the entire south wall of their fortification is crumbling.
   The Long Patrol follows Jacques’ tried-&-true Redwall formula of feasts and riddles at the Abbey, treacherous backstabbing amongst the cutthroat villains, and desperate missions by this volume’s heroic animal fighters; with all the exaggerated British accents of upper-class silly twits (the hares), incomprehensible Yorkshire yeomen (the moles), rough Scottish bullies (the vermin), and so on. This is set a couple of generations after the previous volume, The Pearls of Lutra; its animal children are now Redwall’s wise elders. The investigation of their ancient walls by Abbess Tansy (hedgehog), Foremole Diggum, Craklyn the Recorder (old squirrel), Friar Butty (young squirrel), and Shad the guard (otter) gives some perspective as to how much time has passed since the events in the first two or three volumes took place.

   Over two years after its first volume, the conclusion of The Wolves of Time has finally been published. In this two-volume novel, Horwood does for wolves both more and less than what he did for moles in his Duncton hexology. The six Duncton volumes comprise an awesomely sweeping epic of the politics, passions, and religious wars of the moles of the English countryside, unnoticed by the rest of the world. In The Wolves of Time, wolves regain dominance of the whole world from humanity. But, compressed into only two volumes, the epic seems shallow and unfinished, with gaping plot holes and unresolved questions.
   The Wolves of Time: I, Journeys to the Heartland establishes that humanity had virtually destroyed the earth during the Dark Millennium, and a rapidly approaching apocalyptic war would finish the job. It is time for the cosmic balance to shift back in favor of the more noble wolves, in harmony with nature. But wolves, along with practically all other wild animals, are virtually extinct. Nine wolves among the pitiful remnants of those barely surviving throughout Europe and Central Asia receive a supernatural summons to migrate to wolfdom’s mystical Heartland in the Carpathian Mountains and reform the legendary Master Pack, the Wolves of Time. There one of the cubs to which they will give birth will be the reincarnation of their god, Wulf, who will return from the Otherworlds to save them from the Mennen’s deluge of pollution and militaristic doom. The nine wolves have desperate adventures in their treks from Spain, Scandinavia, Italy, Khazaria (Kazakhstan), and elsewhere in Eurasia to the High Tatra mountains within the Carpathians, where they finally retake the Heartland from the evil Magyar wolf pack which already occupies it.
   Seekers at the WulfRock opens with a 44-page retelling of the last days of the Mennen by Matthias Wald, an elderly shaman of the humans of the new world who follow the wolves. I was born in Anno Lupi 12, or A D 2023 by the old Gregorian Calendar, which I believe some communities in Europe still cling to. But since the tribe in which I was raised honours the Wolves and not the flawed Christian god, we mark the passage of our rites and rituals, as we do our seasons, by respectful reference to the year when the God Wulf ended his last mortal life upon this earth and began his journey on the wolfway to the stars, so signalling the end of the Dark Millennium, and our survival. (pg. 7) Those last days were characterized by the spread throughout Europe of the chaotic civil strife which tore the old Yugoslavia apart in the early 1990s, intensified with nuclear and biochemical weapons, rather than formal warfare between nations; ending with a complete breakdown of society during 2011-2013.
   Shifting to the main story, the Wolves of Time under their leader and ledrene, Klimt and Elhana, have grown to fourteen strong since they seized the Heartland from the corrupt Magyar pack during the confusion after Klimt killed its dictatorial leader, Hassler. But the Magyars’ witchlike ledrene, Dendrine, has built them up again through an incestuous union with her own son, Führer, and an insidious propaganda campaign that has convinced other nearby wolves to join them. The Wolves of Time are now outnumbered and under siege. Klimt has sent three of his followers through the Magyar lines into France and Spain, to learn if they can gain any new recruits from the wolves there and to find out what is happening to Western Europe in the Mennen’s genocidal war. Five of the remaining eleven are cubs who have just reached maturity. One of them is presumably the reincarnated Wulf, but they are not yet sure which.
   The novel intermixes several stories: the Wolves under Klimt build a defensive position in the Heartland. Klimt’s emissaries, Aragon, Jicin and Stry, gain new packmates and have adventures in the Pyrenees. Klimt and his sons Solar and Lunar make an epic journey eastward into Khazaria, which rivals Frodo’s and Sam’s journey into Mordor. The Wolves, under Klimt’s loyal deputy Kobrin, are hard-pressed to hold the Heartland in his absence. The sadistic Mennen terrorist overlord, Huntermann, plots to leave no human or animal life in his wake.
   Seekers at the WulfRock is relentlessly dramatic and horrific, with a colorful lupine religion and folklore similar to that of the rabbits in Watership Down. But the action feels more manipulative than convincing. Disgusting events happen which seem more for shock value than because they are reasonable. Powerful characters are introduced who suddenly drop out of sight with little or no explanation. Humans are said to be evil because of the debauchery and collapse of Christianity, but nothing that they are shown doing is any worse than the perverted tortures practiced by Dendrine and her Magyar wolves. The Wolves of Time themselves are constantly sparring for alpha status within the pack; this is natural for wolves, but how does it make them morally superior to Christians? (And what is supposed to be happening outside of Europe and Central Asia? The story ignores the rest of the world.) If the different dates in the novel are correlated, “the year when the God Wulf ended his last mortal life upon this earth” is 2011 in one place and 2073 in another place.
   Is this Horwood’s fault, or the publisher’s? When Journeys to the Heartland came out in February 1995, it was advertised as the first of a trilogy, with Wanderers of the Wolfways as the second volume coming in 1996 and Seekers at the WulfRock in 1997. Wanderers of the Wolfways is now just the name of one of five parts in Seekers at the WulfRock. If Horwood’s story was drastically condensed and simplified by the publisher (as happened to Stephen King’s early novels), that could explain the characters who suddenly disappear; the buildups that do not lead to anything; the unreconciled discrepancies. Many of the questions might be resolved into one: Is this novel supposed to be a history of actual events starring anthropomorphized wolves and their gods, or is it the Bible of a new post-Holocaust wolf-worshipping religion written by Matthias Wald, a primitive fanatic? Divine revelations are notoriously lacking in logic and consistency, blind to their own flaws, and full of demonizations of prior and rival religions. But these questions are not answered, leaving The Wolves of Time incomplete and ultimately unsatisfying.

This fourth ‘novel’ in Norman’s Sholan Alliance series is, like the second and third, simply a hefty chunk taken out of a single non-stop saga. The review in Yarf! #46 of Fire Margins, the third book, could practically serve equally well for Razor’s Edge. The story starts in the midst of one cliffhanger (and if you don’t remember who all the characters are and what they were doing when Fire Margins came out a year ago, you’d better skim it to refresh your memory), and it breaks off at another cliffhanger.
The series starts in Turning Point. Carrie Hamilton, a young woman on Terra’s first colony planet, Keiss, encounters Kusac Aldatan, a handsome felinoid alien, in the course of a space war with a third species, the tyrannical reptilian Valtegans. An irresistable mating follows, which is partly voluntary romance à la Beauty and the Beast and partly involuntary bonding à la the ‘Recognition’ in ElfQuest. In Fortune’s Wheel, Carrie goes with Kusac to Shola, and the reader gets the politics of a whole planet of Cat People. Despite the belief by both Human and Sholan geneticists that such a mixed-species bonding is impossible, Carrie and Kusac have a cub. In Fire Margins, the reason for the bonding is discovered as the ‘Leska partnerships’ spread. In Razor’s Edge, more Sholans and Humans are instinctually compelled to become Leska mates, not only in pairs but in Triads. This creates havoc with existing marriages and social order, and sets up several scenes of romance-novel passion:

But romance is only one of several interwoven themes. Humans and Sholans searching for the Valtegan homeworld find neutral planets where the reptiles have sold prisoners from both their species into slavery. This leads to training the telepathically-linked Leska pairs to carry out commando-raid rescues. Still more semi-’morphic alien species are encountered: the arboreal Chemerians; the U’Churians, like Sholans but with even shaggier fur.
Norman’s authorial strengths and weaknesses are also interwoven. There is an emphasis on emotional tension, built through conversations between powerful characters seeking to psychologically dominate each other. This is good for establishing complex and interesting personalities, but it also creates a glacial buildup to the action scenes. Norman reveals more about the mysterious Valtegans, making them more repellently non-human yet somehow sympathetic rather than the cardboard villains that they had been. However, by comparison this makes the Sholans seem even more like humans in high-quality furry theatrical costumes rather than true anthropomorphs. The Sholan Alliance serial is still recommended, although—since it is now at 2,323 pages with no end in sight—readers had better allow at least a month to get through it.

   Run to the Wild Wood is the fifth novel in what the jacket blurb calls “Tom McCaughren’s classic wildlife series.” This seems to be a genuine popular classic. The first, Run with the Wind (1983), reads as though it was meant to be a solo novel, and the third, Run Swift, Run Free, was described in its blurb as the conclusion of a trilogy. This new novel is dedicated, For all those who asked me to write another fox book. It looks as though McCaughren’s readers will not let him stop.
   The Run… novels are a ‘realistic’ nature fantasy series, in the tradition of Adams’ Watership Down and Dann’s Farthing Wood novels. The main difference, besides the featured talking-animal species (foxes), is that the setting is Ireland rather than Britain.
   Foxes are usually solitary, except for mates who stay together only long enough for a litter of cubs to be born and mature. In Run with the Wind, Vickey, a vixen, becomes concerned that too many foxes are being killed by man as the Irish countryside becomes domesticated. She persuades several lone foxes to band together for their mutual survival and to seek a new home where man has not yet spread. In the next three novels the fox-friends find a remote valley and settle into it, raise their own cubs despite difficulties, and have to reluctantly see part of their community leave after Glensinna (‘the Valley of the Fox’ in Gaelic) becomes overpopulated with foxes. There are a few incidental talking animals of other species, notably otters.
   This new story is started by badgers. Human developers are tearing up an ancient forest that has been a badgers’ sett for centuries. The badgers know of the foxes’ successful settlement away from Man, so they send a message to beg the foxes of Sinna to lead them to a safe new woodland before they are all killed. Most foxes are reluctant to get involved in another species’ troubles, but Old Sage Brush, their blind elder advisor, volunteers to lead a party of yearling foxes to aid the badgers on their almost-suicidal trek. This will be valuable experience for the young foxes, barely grown out of cubhood. And, as Brush tacitly admits, he would rather risk his ancient life on one last adventure than huddle in his den waiting for death.
   The journey (and the novel) is in two parts. Old Sage Brush, three of the next generation (Fang, Hop-along, and She-la), and their cubs (Young Black Tip, Scat, Little Running Fox, and Twinkle) first must successfully cross the partly built-up countryside to the badgers’ Fragrant Wood. There are farmers with guns to avoid; human highways to cross without becoming roadkill; and all the natural dangers that make the lives of foxes risky even without man. The worst are a pair of giant Irish wolfhounds whose gentleman farmer/master (he also keeps peacocks, which freak out the foxes) allows them to romp about the fields and woods. Wolfhounds are frisky and friendly to humans, but they will playfully tear apart any foxes, badgers, or smaller game they can catch. After the foxes reach the badgers, the trek to their fabled new homeland becomes even more dangerous. The route to the Valley of the Dragon (an ominous name for a rumoured paradise) forces them to pass even closer to human communities; and those wolfhounds keep coming back.
   There are many dramatic scenes, but few that could be called fast-paced. Since their blind leader must have situations described in detail before he can offer wise guidance, the novel is often very expository:

With a blind and elderly leader and another who is missing a paw, and a party of refugee badgers who are slow and almost blind themselves in the daylight, the foxes must rely more on guile and subterfuge than on their traditional speed and nimbleness in their latest Run. In addition to the talking foxes and badgers, they persuade a community of hares to help them in one dangerous situation. Run to the Wild Wood is also a good naturalists’ tour guide to the current state of the Irish countryside.


	Title:	Great Apes
	Author:	Will Self

	Publisher:	Bloomsbury (London), May 1997
	ISBN:	0-7475-2987-6
		xi + 404 pages, £15.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Publisher:	Grove Press (NYC), Sep 1997
	ISBN:	0-8021-1617-5
		xi + 404 pages, $24.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

If this literary psychedelic satire had been published entre nous, there would probably be panic that it would get all Furry fandom censored as perverts and degenerates. As a mainstream novel, it has won critical acclaim from The Times Literary Supplement (London), The Observer (London), The Daily Telegraph, The Guardian, and the rest of the intellectual establishment for its savage putdown of humanity.
Simon Dykes, a successful London avant garde artist, is undergoing an emotional crisis. His wife has divorced him, taking their children. He is consciously worried about losing his perspective, his artistic insight. Unconsciously, his work has been growing apocalyptically melancholy to an extent that is worrying his acquaintances. Dykes mechanically slogs his way through the arty-farty artistes’ community:

   After an evening of intense depression and chemical experimentation, Simon wakes up in a world in which everyone has turned into chimpanzees. He freaks out and is incarcerated in the emergency psychiatric ward at Charing Cross Hospital.
   The camera pulls back, as it were, and the world is populated by chimpanzees—not anthropomorphized as much as intelligent. Self has educated himself in detail on chimp social behavior, and he has redesigned civilization in its image. The main viewpoint of this chimpunified society is that of Dr. Zack Busner, clinical psychologist, medical doctor, radical psychoanalyst, anti-psychiatrist, maverick anxiolytic drug researcher and former television personality (pg. 28), the prestigious author of such best-selling books on psychoses and neurology as The Chimp Who Mated an Armchair. (Self is obviously pastiching Dr. Oliver Sacks, author of the famous mid-’80s pop-psych The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales.) Busner is called in as a consultant by the puzzled Charing Cross staff, who have never encountered a fixation like Simon’s: although clearly a chimp like themselves, he insists that he is a human and behaves as one might if humans were intelligent, acting out his delusion consistently down to the subconscious and instinctual level. Busner is intrigued—Simon’s dramatic pathology could lead to a new armchair psychological best-seller—and he adopts Simon as his personal patient.
   The reader observes this new world by following Busner and his medical colleagues at some length before the story returns to Simon. London is still London, but it has been redesigned for the smaller simian bodies. Dialogue is primarily translated hand-signs, with simian vocalizations inserted. The chimps wear clothing only above the waist, so they can proudly display their genitalia and engage in casual matings and groomings in the streets.

   Simon is convinced that he is human and that he has gone mad, seeing everyone turned into chimps. But since the story presents a panorama of a chimpunified London that is far more extensive than Simon’s viewpoint, the reader is deliberately left confused. Is Simon crazy? Has the unique blend of alcohol and drugs that he took projected his mind into an alternate world? And what will happen to him? Will he remain in a padded cell for the rest of his life? Will he return to the human world? Or, with Busner’s guidance, will he be ‘cured’ and released to blend into chimp society?
   The novel starts in the human world, and does not become totally chimpunified until Chapter 6. By midway through the book, the reader has become used to a society in which male friends fondle each other’s genitals in public; strangers casually fuck in elevators or during Underground commutes; parents who do not sexually caress their young children are considered guilty of emotional child abuse (not showing them sufficient love); and executives demonstrate their corporate dominance by dashing about their offices screaming, urinating, slapping and throwing shit at their underlings. Yet these gross activities are performed in an atmosphere of blasé rationality by sophisticated intellectuals.
   Self has taken a step beyond the usual anthropomorphized world peopled with funny animals acting in a totally human manner. He has created a radical culture that is simultaneously anthropomorphized and animalized; that is both shocking and almost boringly commonplace. The London Times compares Self’s vigorously raunchy satire to the style of the more outrageous standup comedians. “There is a Swiftian energy to Self’s scatology,” says The Independent. That’s true… Great Apes is not completely unique, then. Simon Dykes is to some extent following in the footsteps of Lemuel Gulliver through the Country of the Houyhnhnms.

~~Three~~ four cartoon-art novels:


		Title:	*Harum Scarum* (The Spiffy Adventures of McConey #1)
		Author:	Lewis Trondheim
			Kim Thompson, editor & translator
		Publisher:	Fantagraphics Books (Seattle, WA), Dec 1997
		ISBN:	1-56097-288-2
			48 pages, $10.95
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	The Hoodoodad (The Spiffy Adventures of McConey #2)
Author:	Lewis Trondheim
	Kim Thompson, editor & translator
Publisher:	Fantagraphics Books (Seattle, WA), Jul 1998
ISBN:	1-56097-338-2
	48 pages, $10.95
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   The McConey series may be hard to track down, but it is worth the effort. These wittily hilarious adventures should not be missed. They are American editions of French bande dessinée albums, published in the same high-quality format as the original albums. Unfortunately, American editions of French comic-art novels tend not to sell (Tintin and Asterix being notable exceptions). Attempts to bring popular, long-running series to America usually only get out two or three volumes before their publishers give up. So go out and order these McConey albums at your local comics shop right away; firstly, so you won’t miss them in case your shop doesn’t regularly carry odd items like the European-format albums, and secondly, because sales now will help Fantagraphics to continue publishing the series.
   Harum Scarum is set in a funny-animal generic large French city, which could be Paris in the 1930s. A rabbit (McConey, a medical student), dog (Inspector Ruffhaus, a plainclothes policeman), and cat (an unnamed tabloid journalist) are fleeing in panic from a tenement apartment from which horrific roars are heard. The apartment belongs to Martin Walter, a scientist who has discovered how to turn rodents into giant monsters. Both the government and two rival gangs of foreign spies want the formula, and also intend to kill our Odd Trio as inconvenient witnesses.
   Harum Scarum is a comedy-thriller along the lines of movies like Danny Kaye’s classic Knock on Wood, the most recent of which is probably Bill Murray’s The Man Who Knew Too Little. The snappy dialogue could be taken from any Rocky and Bullwinkle adventure, but the situation is more ominous and the villains are more cruelly menacing than Boris and Natasha. The rabbit is a non-involved college student who just wants to get out of this mess in one piece (“The minute I walk through this door, I ain’t seen nuthin’, I ain’t heard nuthin’.”); the cat is a gonzo extrovert who dreams of getting a front-page scoop (“‘The Monster on the Fourth Floor’… No… I need more of a grabber… ‘The Hideous Monster of Terror!’ Naw… Gotta preserve that urban angle. Wait! Got it! ‘The Hideous Monster of Terror on the Fourth Floor’!”); and the dog is a not very bright but, er, dogged detective who is determined to do his job honestly despite his superiors’ heavy-handed attempts at cover-ups.
   The setup in The Hoodoodad is markedly different. ‘Paris’ has become 1990s current. The rabbit (still McConey), cat (Richie), and dog (Doug) are now three middle-class bachelor drinking buddies. McConey is the levelheaded member of the trio; Doug is playing around (he’s just learned that he has an 8-month-old daughter by a former girl friend; he shrugs it off as no big deal); and Richie is even more frenetic (the sort who is easily convinced that he is a flying saucer abductee). Early on, five whole pages are spent just showing an evening dinner and Scrabble game at Doug’s apartment. Trondheim’s sharp dialogue keeps what could have been a boring scene amusing, and the subtle establishment of the personalities is important. (Richie: “Hey! How ’bout we play Scrubble instead—dirty words only?”)
   The following synopsis should have a spoiler warning, although the story’s merit lies in how it is told rather than the plot itself. McConey accepts an ‘ancient cursed pebble’ from a crazed bum to keep him from committing suicide over it. Richie laughs, until he gets a couple of bruises, is chewed out by the police for goofing off in public, and can’t find his dictionary.

   The cat grows increasingly hysterical as his ‘ominous bad luck’ imperceptibly builds up. His pals shrug it off as just Richie being Richie, until they realize that the weirdness has become too blatant to be ignored or explained away. By this time the cat is practically a basket case from trying to convince them that he’s not imagining it this time; it’s REALLY REAL!! Okay—so how do you exorcise a genuine hoodoo?
   A biographical profile, Short Road, Many Turns: Lewis Trondheim, by Bart Beaty in The Comics Journal #201 (also published by Fantagraphics), January 1998, pgs. 27-33 is illuminating in describing Trondheim’s career and his McConey series. Trondheim treats his funny-animal cast as actors. Their personalities remain basically the same, but there is little or no continuity between the four albums produced so far. (One is a Western.) Fantagraphics is publishing them out of order, because the self-taught Trondheim is an artistic perfectionist who cannot bear to let the public see anything besides his most recent work. He insists on redrawing his first albums rather than allowing them to be reprinted, even though the oldest was originally published as recently as 1993. The art is colored by Brigitte Findakly, Trondheim’s wife, who “us[es] a palette composed primarily of dirty browns” and similar earth/grime colors which “evoke a naturalistic sense of color that acts as a counterpoint to Trondheim’s simpler anthropomorphic characters and deliberately spare drawing style.” Beaty does not need to define Trondheim’s art style since the article’s sample panels speak for themselves; but it is roughly similar to Sergio Aragones’ or Harvey Kurtzman’s rather than Disney-cute. (Primitive? Stylistic? It’s an art critic’s call.) Beaty approves the quality of Kim Thompson’s translation, although he criticizes Thompson for taking extreme liberties in Americanizing idioms and jokes. The protagonist’s name is really Lapinot rather than McConey, and the series is Les formidables aventures de Lapinot. (One would have to look hard to find any dictionary that would translate ‘formidable’ as ‘spiffy’ rather than ‘tremendous, terrific,’ but the stretch to trendy, less elegant synonyms like ‘groovy’ or ‘bitchin’’ is clearly there.) Dialogue references to such American pop-culture icons as Fred Astaire, the I Dream of Jeannie TV series, and Cap’n Crunch cereal do seem a bit jarring in the artistic context of such a French setting. But this approach doubtlessly keeps both the brisk humorous pace and the common touch much more successfully for American readers than would a more intellectual translation retaining the proper French names.
   If you cannot get these through your local comics shop, order them directly from Fantagraphics Books at 7563 Lake City Way, N.E., Seattle, WA 98115; (206) 524-1967.

   This is the compilation of Wyman’s second Xanadu five-issue mini-series (inked by Monika Livingstone) published by MU Press during 1994; the companion volume to Xanadu: Thief of Hearts, published by MU in December 1993. The two will make an attractive matched set in any fan’s bookshelf.
   Vicky Wyman created Xanadu a decade ago to bring swashbuckling romance to the genre of anthropomorphic comics. This world is divided into three social classes: the hereditary ruling magic-working nobility (mythological and practically immortal animals such as unicorns, dragons, griffins and pegasi); a middle class of freeborn merchants and soldiers (wild animals such as lions, bears, foxes and wolves); and the lower-class domestique servants (cats, dogs, the standard barnyard livestock). There are two empires: Xanadu, modelled upon Renaissance Europe, ruled by the young unicorn Empress Alicia since the death of her father Allynrud three years earlier; and the Golden Realm, modelled upon feudal Japan, ruled by the wise Queen Mother of the Golden Dragons. During Allynrud’s long reign the two empires did not associate much beyond the exchange of proper diplomatic formalities. But Alicia, young and enthusiastic, wants to shake up the old order. She shocks her court in Thief of Hearts by socializing with the lower classes, and starts establishing closer relations with the Golden Empire.
   Across Diamond Seas is a direct sequel to Thief of Hearts. The adventure stands on its own, but the reader is expected to be familiar with the main characters and their relationships. The Golden Realm sends Empress Alicia an invitation to attend the celebrations for Queen Mother Joo-sama’s Golden Millennium. To accept the invitation and personally visit the court of Oriental dragons seems like an excellent next step to Alicia. She selects an escort consisting of Fatima, her lady-in-waiting (fox); Fatima’s lover, Tabbé le Fauve (cat); Tabbé’s friend Jonathan (mule), and Kinomon, a young dragon guard from the Golden Empire, to accompany her on the long sea voyage.
   The Xanadan court’s unfamiliarity with the Orient and the Southern Seas route there is the excuse to introduce both them and the reader to exotic new lands and perils. There are vicious pirates, and fierce but honorable aboriginal seafarers who are funny-animal dinosaurs. The real danger, however, comes from this world’s rarest but most magically-powerful nobles, the kyryn.
   These hermit-like wizards usually lead a solitary, monastic life. But Tzu Kai and Tzu Li, the first kyryn born in centuries, are adolescents bored with nobody but elders to associate with. They escape to roam the world and have some fun. When Tzu Kai spies the Xanadan galleon, he decides to make the lovely Alicia his toy, while his sister develops a crush on Kinomon. Alicia, herself young and headstrong, finds herself at the mercy of a handsome but petulant almost-god. Kinomon’s determination to remain faithful to the memory of Firepetal, his martyred fiancée, is sorely tested by Tzu Li’s magically enhanced seductiveness. Tabbé and the others must fight to rescue them before it is too late.
   Alicia, the dynamically regal unicorn, has become established as one of the most popular of the Xanadu cast in the ten years since the first comic-book issue appeared. Across Diamond Seas will please her fans by giving her a more personal and dramatic role than that of the imperious figurehead to which she was largely limited in Thief of Hearts. But the nation of Xanadu has itself emerged as a star. Fans have shown their curiosity for more information about Xanadu’s unique noble/freeborn/domestique society; what the Empire consists of beyond the Ever-Changing Palace and a couple of huts in the slums; and the cryptic allusions to such unexplained events as Emperor Allynrud’s violent death. Unfortunately, this second novel shifts the setting to almost literally uncharted waters, answering none of those questions. Readers will have to await future volumes to learn more about Xanadu’s history.
   Xanadu was first published by Steve Gallacci’s Thoughts & Images company, and this latest graphic novel is also available from there; $12.95 + $3.00 shipping to Thoughts & Images, P. O. Box 19419, Seattle, WA 98109. (But make cheques payable to LX, Ltd.)

   This is the second annual trade paperback collection of Bill Holbrook’s Internet-exclusive ‘newspaper’ comic strip. Kevin & Kell: Quest for Content, the first collection (reviewed in Yarf! #50), collected the strip from its beginning on September 4, 1995 through August 29, 1996, with a couple of omissions. Seen Anything Unusual? presents the 260 Monday-Friday strips from September 3, 1996 through September 1, 1997, plus five undated larger ‘Sunday-format’ strips.
   Kevin & Kell is a family situation-comedy set in a funny-animal community which is more beholden than most to the Law of the Jungle. The main characters are recently-remarried Kevin Dewclaw, a brawny rabbit; his wife Kell, a demure wolf; Lindesfarne, a mid-teen porcupine who is Kevin’s adopted daughter from his first marriage; Rudy, Kell’s twelve-year-old son from her first marriage; and Coney, Kevin & Kell’s year-old baby (a carnivorous rabbit). Kevin works at home as the sysop of the Online Herbivore Forum. Kell is a staff predator at Herd Thinners, Inc., a corporation of carnivores who handle necessary population control. Kevin & Kell’s mixed marriage (a herbivore and a carnivore) is highly controversial.
   The strip’s humor emphasizes the animal nature of the cast as applied to such situations as Internet sociology, mixed marriages, (step) sibling rivalry, and high school romances. Examples include the ‘corporate jungle’ office politics (literally ‘eat or be eaten’) at Herd Thinners, Inc.; Santa’s reindeer appearing on Kevin’s ‘Online Celebrity Chat’ during the Christmas season; and Rudy’s Predator Studies 102 high-school class, taught by Ms. Catherine Aura, a vulture (she doesn’t mind cleaning up after the class).
   Some of the strips feature stand-alone gags, but most present short weekly/five-strip story arcs. In addition to generic social themes and those tied to seasons or holidays, there are a few which parody topical pop-culture icons such as The X-Files.
   One of Kevin & Kell’s main attractions is its appealing characters. Most of the supporting cast who briefly appeared during the first year are back, and there are new friends and neighbors such as Ms. Aura; and Lindesfarne’s high-school beau, Fenton Fuscus (a bat—he sees her “in a different way than everyone else!” by ultrasound waves). There have been a few unlikeable characters introduced for conflict, but they tend to appear only briefly. Kevin’s stupid brother-in-law, who always tries to eat him, makes only one appearance during this year; and Kell’s abusive personnel director at Herd Thinners only lasts a week before becoming a mounted trophy head. The entire regular cast is intelligent and likeable.
   It is difficult to tell after only two years whether Kevin & Kell is a ‘real time’ strip or not. Lindesfarne and Rudy seem to maintain their same ages from 1995 through 1997, but Coney was born during the strip’s second month and she celebrates her first birthday in October 1996. It will probably take another year or two to tell whether the characters are growing older or not.
   The only complaint about these two annual collections is that each leaves out a couple of its year’s worth of Monday-Friday strips. This is apparently necessary due to the paperback format. Two strips missing from 262 is not much, but it is still annoying. Both volumes are self-published by Bill Holbrook, and can be ordered directly from him at his Online Features Syndicate, P. O. Box 931264, Norcross, Georgia 30093. Add $1.75 for postage & handling.


	Title:	The Book of Night with Moon
	Author:	Diane Duane

	Publisher:	Hodder & Stoughton (London), Jul 1997
	ISBN:	0-340-69328-2
		404 p., £17.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Publisher:	Aspect/Warner Books (NYC), Dec 1997
	ISBN:	0-446-67302-1
		viii + 390 pages
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This is announced as the first novel in a new series, The Cats of Grand Central Station. But it can also be considered the fifth in Duane’s Young Wizards series. So You Want to Be a Wizard (1983) introduced 13-year-old Nita Callahan and her 12-year-old friend Kit Rodriguez. They are recruited into the secret brotherhood of wizards who keep the universe running, despite the machinations of the Lone One (a.k.a. the Old Serpent, Fairest and Fallen, etc) who invented Death and Pain at the beginning of time and is constantly trying to spread them throughout creation. Nita and Kit learn that all beings are intelligent (they talk with trees, automobiles, and a white hole) and have their own wizards, and that wizards of different species sometimes work together during emergencies. In Deep Wizardry, High Wizardry, and A Wizard Abroad, Nita and Kit occasionally work with (and are transformed into) some of these others, but their presence is too slight to qualify the series up to this point as anthropomorphic.
   The Book of Night with Moon is part of this world, but it focuses upon cats rather than humans. Rhiow (the main character), Saash, and Urruah are three wizards among New York City’s feline community. In addition to their regular work of secretly aiding and guiding the Big Apple’s cat denizens, and serving as liaison with the other species’ wizards (Nita and Kit make a walk-on appearance), NYC’s cat-wizards have the special guardianship of the transdimensional worldgates hidden beneath Grand Central Station which lead to all worlds and times. Of all wizards working on Earth, the People knew most about energy—being able to clearly perceive aspects of it that ehhif [human] and other species’ wizards couldn’t. (pg. 176) These portals are in constant need of adjustment since sunspots, magma flows deep in the earth, and even construction in nearby streets can cause them to drift out of alignment. But minor problems begin intensifying until it becomes clear that they are not due to natural causes. The Old Serpent is personally making another attempt to destroy the world. After the Gates briefly fall under the Lone One’s control and New York is flooded with dinosaurs (Luciano Pavarotti is eaten during a concert by a tyrannosaur), the three cat-wizards along with Arhu, a cynical street-waif kitten wizard-trainee who is potentially the most powerful of them all, must journey Downside into the heart of the enemy’s realm to keep the very nature of matter and energy stable.
   Broadly speaking, The Book of Night with Moon is a rewrite of So You Want to Be a Wizard. The focus is feline and the viewpoint is slightly older. Instead of two young teens who are tutored by adult human wizards, who interact to some extent with talking animals and objects, the protagonists are adult cat-wizards who become the tutor of a young cat and interact to a minor extent with humans. The social relationships among Rhiow, Saash, Urruah, and other adult cats of Manhattan are on a more mature level. As senior wizards, they initiate action rather than needing to sneak out when their parents aren’t watching. But both stories involve The Book of Night with Moon (the book of all knowledge), the discovery of an active plot by the Ancient Enemy, and the need to carry out a commando raid into a perverted demonic imitation of NYC to restore the cosmic balance.
   Duane develops a detailed feline culture for Rhiow and her friends, but it seems more artificially cute than convincing. Lots of cat-words are dropped into the dialogue, and there is a four-page glossary of Ailurin. This comes across as both affected and unoriginal; Richard Adams and others have already done it. Animal religion and folk-tales are also growing stale. Duane can claim originality in having her animals casually talking about quantum mechanics and hyperspace, but this gets heavy-handed:

Duane also tries to rationalize the basic inconsistency of talking-animal fantasies which authors usually just ignore: If all animal species—and objects—are equally intelligent, why don’t they show it? Granted, Rhiow’s own position was a privileged one […] Rhiow’s life with her ehhif was certainly made simpler by the fact that she could clearly understand what they were saying. Unfortunately, most cats couldn’t do the same, which tended to create a fair amount of friction. (pg. 67) And intelligence does not necessarily negate prejudice:

This forces Duane to create explanations for why these sophisticated and proudly independent species are so dependent upon one ‘stupid’ species for their meals, whether served in doggie & kitty dishes or elsewhere. “All right,” he said, and he brightened. ‘It’ll be ehhif lunchtime soon, and they’ll be throwing lots of nice leftovers in that Dumpster around the corner. […]” (pg. 47) Or why they constantly fight among themselves, or dash into the streets and become roadkill. Duane tries to play these as either the baneful influence of the Lone One or for humor; even deliberately creating new inconsistencies to show that the cat-wizards aren’t as all-knowing as they believe, as when they are trying to figure out the purpose of the ehhif’s ‘opera’:

While the attempt at rationalization is admirable, it is usually less than convincing; but it demonstrates the novel’s ambitious nature. The cover blurb makes an obvious comparison with Williams’ Tailchaser’s Song, the other epic fantasy about heroic cats who challenge the Ruler of Darkness and its demonic minions. The Book of Night with Moon is a complete story, so The Cats of Grand Central Station seems as though it will be a genuine series of separate adventures rather than a single adventure in multiple volumes.

The Wild Road, by ‘Gabriel King’ (Jane Johnson & M. John Harrison)

		Publisher:	Arrow Books Ltd. (London), Nov 1997
		ISBN:	0-09-924252-4
			Photos. 463 pages, £5.99
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Publisher:	Ballantine/Del Rey Books (NYC), Mar 1998
ISBN:	0-345-42302-X
	No photos. x + 365 pages, $24.95
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This is also announced as the first novel in a new series; “…the gorgeous first volume in a magical quest fantasy—a Watership Down for cat-lovers,” says a blurb quoted from The Daily Telegraph (London). It could equally well be described as a Lord of the Rings for cat-lovers, since Watership Down is too ‘naturalistic’ to have animal heroes who defend animal royalty while animal wizards battle a human evil necromancer who seeks to corrupt and enslave the world. The Wild Road is actually even closer to Williams’ Tailchaser’s Song than is The Book of Night with Moon.
   All three are adventures featuring domestic cats who lead a secret life unsuspected by the humans who consider them to be mere dumb animals. The Wild Road has the broadest scope, encompassing both the realistically harsh world of (talking) feral urban cats and the Celtic/British fantasy world of ancient ruins and spirits, of natural Earth magics and malignly twisted sorceries.
   Tag, a carefree London pet kitten, is recognized by Majicou, the cat wizard, as one who is Destined for Great Deeds. Unfortunately for Tag, Majicou is in desperate need of a hero Right Away. So Tag is lured from his comfortable home before he is really ready, and bewilderedly prodded to undertake a quest to find the King and Queen of Cats and escort them to Tintagel before the spring equinox.
   The Wild Road has some problems. The first is that of Tag’s dour personality, which ranges from grimly determined at his most cheerful to gloomily convinced that he is doomed to fail. Granted that, from his Oliver Twist-like back-alley adolescence of starvation and brutalization by bullying tomcats, to his semi-delirious trek toward Tintagel as the necromantic Alchemist’s minions pick off his companions one by one, he hardly gets a moment’s rest. His companions are in the same situation, yet their attitudes range from steadfastly optimistic to wittily sarcastic. The Wild Road is really carried by its supporting cast. The reader gets depressed and exhausted with Tag, then relaxes when the scene shifts to Sealink, Ragnar Gustaffson Coeur de Lion, Mousebreath, Cy for Cypher, or one of Tag’s other companions.
   An allied problem is Tag’s early inexperience. This is realistic, but it is carried to exasperating length. Even his companions get tired of it, as when Sealink, a calico New Orleans-raised world-traveler, chews him out over his lack of direction: “Why, kitten, you got no plan! Until you met my old mate, you didn’t even know where Tintagel was! This whole trip so far, you just got pushed from pillar to post. Every way the wind blowed, you went! A traveler’s at the will of the journey, hon. No one accepts that more than me. But you got to learn that will, then use your skills!” (pg. 83) The reader is wishing that Sealink had taught him that lesson at least twenty pages earlier, so that the quest would stop drifting and finally get organized.
   Another serious problem is the arbitrary way Tag’s companions are or are not killed. A quest needs situations of mortal danger every so often. But there is one scene where—well, to avoid spoiling it, let’s say that it would be like if, in Disney’s The Lion King, when Scar pushes Mufasa off the cliff and he is falling into the stampede, the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio suddenly appears and waves her wand to save him. The scene in The Wild Road is beautifully described, but it leaves the reader feeling “What!?!” The result is that it quickly becomes hard to take any of the dramatic scenes seriously, even when they do result in death. The naturalistic flow of the story has been interrupted by the obvious hand of the author. No matter how desperate the situation is, a companion in mortal danger may be saved at (or after) the last minute—or a seemingly-safe character may suddenly die just to have an unexpected tragedy.
   If those are the problems, what are the advantages? Mainly, the writing. The novel is filled with excellently evocative scenes and dialogue:

The characters are charmingly varied in their personalities and accents. The fantasy scenes would practically all make magnificent paintings, even when they do feel overly set up by the author. There are many unexpectedly imaginative surprises, such as the real identity of the mad Alchemist. The Wild Road is one of those novels which, despite its flaws, is definitely worth reading. It is also similar to The Book of Night with Moon in being a complete story by itself, even though it is the first in a planned series. (The second novel has been announced as The Golden Cat.)

   Change Rover’s name to the Tramp, and this could very well be the adventures of the star of Disney’s 1955 classic movie (one for which the appelation ‘classic’ is not just sales hype) before he met Lady. This attractive volume is a collection of 38 brief tales, of five to eight pages, narrated by Rover, a streetwise masterless city dog.
   Rover makes it clear at the start that he enjoys his life as a wanderer, without any ties. However, he is a ‘knight of the road’ in the honorable sense of that nickname for a hobo. He is always willing to stop long enough to help those in need, whether just to give advice to a younger pup or to lure human aid to a dog baking to death in a locked car. In one tale he makes sure that evidence to a human murder is dragged from the killers to where the police will find it. Usually he helps out dogs against human cruelty, although sometimes other canines are the villains, as when he exposes one dog who is stealing food from another. And when he runs into a pack of stray dogs with a join-us-or-fight attitude, he has to use his wits to decline without a bloody battle.
   The stories are short and relatively undramatic realistic city-dog behavior, so a plot summary does not do them justice. What makes Rover’s Tales enjoyable is Lewin’s brisk writing, which gives Rover a breezy, wry personality with a sardonic quip. He’s a canine Davy Crockett; a noble gunslinger who rides through town, stopping just long enough to right some wrong; a Robin Hood in the original sense, not involved in court intrigue but robbing the rich to help the poor—occasionally using a scam which would be nasty if the victim weren’t so obviously deserving of it. Sometimes his aid or advice is appreciated; sometimes the recipient is too dense or arrogant to acknowledge it, in which case Rover just shrugs and moves on. In a couple of cases, it is Rover who learns the lesson. (He’s not too proud to admit his own mistakes.) Each tale is a brief incident, quickly told; Rover/Lewin does not try to stretch it beyond its story-value.
   There is enough of a sameness about Rover’s Tales that you will probably not care to go through all thirty-eight at one sitting. But it is a book just made to be read in small bits, easy to put down and return to until you have finished them all in a few days.


	Title:	Reading the Rabbit: Explorations in Warner Bros. Animation
	Author:	Kevin S. Sandler
	Illustrator:	?
	Publisher:	Rutgers University Press (Piscataway, NJ), Jul 1998

	ISBN:	0-8135-2537-3
		Hardcover, x + 271 pages, $49.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	ISBN:	0-8135-2538-1
		Trade paperback, x + 271 pages, $19.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Books of animation studies are not reviewed here because they usually do not discuss the cartoon actors as funny-animal characters. However, Reading the Rabbit does this to an extent sufficient to make it worth calling to our attention.
   This anthology of a dozen scholarly essays ‘follows the intellectual tracks laid down’ by several collections of academic writings on animation since the early 1980s. But it is the first study to focus upon the Warner Bros. cartoons rather than upon American animation in general or the Disney cartoons in particular. In fact, it tends to look upon Disney as the animation industry’s Evil Empire. Reading the Rabbit has two purposes. It documents the history of the classic WB theatrical cartoons and their Looney Tunes stars, and it Points With Alarm to how the WB Management of the 1990s is evolving into Disney’s Corporate Twin, to the detriment of its characters’ popular and lively personalities.
   Judging by Kevin S. Sandler’s Introduction: Looney Tunes and Merry Metonyms, he is more concerned with rallying the fans of Bugs and his gang to speak out for their future than with mummifying them for history. Sandler notes that the Looney Tunes characters have two public images today. One is as the sassy, irreverent animal stars of the 1940s and ’50s, now famous through several classic studio-approved titles such as Duck Dodgers in the 24 ¹/₂th Century and What’s Opera, Doc, plus other Politically Incorrect but still available (if you know where to find them) cartoons like Bugs Bunny Nips the Nips and Tin Pan Alley Cats. This image is reinforced by idolized director Chuck Jones’ stories of the Termite Terrace animation staff’s uninhibited creative freedom, thanks to the contemptuous neglect of their management. The second image is that which WB’s management is creating today, of Bugs Bunny and Michigan J. Frog as dignified corporate symbols; of Bugs and his pals appearing on USPS postage stamps, not to mention on a flood of family-friendly merchandising items pouring from Warner Bros. Studio Stores throughout the nation. Let’s hope that Warner Bros. animation does not lead Termite Terrace to the Magic Kingdom, stressing civility over impertinence; pleasantries over hilarity. The lukewarm success and critical failure of Space Jam raise the important question: Are the Looney Tunes characters headed in the right direction? (pg. 28)
   For an academic study, Reading the Rabbit goes after the current WB management with some sharp skewers. Sandler compares the Looney Tunes cast’s past freedom to engage in one-upsmanship and satirizing of their bosses with the present attitude. When WB revived its theatrical animation in the late 1980s, new directors Greg Ford and Terry Lennon got out barely two cartoons. Management’s ire was raised by their portrayal of the Looney Tunes stars in Blooper Bunny, a parody of WB’s Bugs Bunny 50th Anniversary celebrations. This backstage view of the leading WB cartoon characters showed them as ‘actually’ temperamental and egotistical actors who try to savagely upstage each other. Finished in 1991, Blooper Bunny was put on a shelf for six years (it was finally seen on the Cartoon Network in 1997) while Management polished its own completely-opposite scenario, as seen in Space Jam (1996), of the whole Looney Tunes ‘community’ as the best of friends who only pretend to be adversaries in their movie performances.
   Fans will doubtlessly be most interested in the next-to-last essay, Bill Mikulak’s Fans versus Time Warner: Who Owns Looney Tunes? This cites the Hollywood Reporter’s November 1, 1995 story about Warner Bros.’s discovery on the Internet of fan-drawn pornographic cartoons featuring its characters, and follows it up. The essay is rather one-sided since Time Warner’s legal department had little to say publicly whereas Mikulak downloaded plenty of fannish comments. He also obtained copies of two of Time Warner’s cease-and-desist letters from the fans, and he quotes these to present WB’s official stance. Mikulak notes that the ‘appropriation’ of popular copyrighted characters by their fans for their own non-commercial, and often erotic use has a long tradition (he cites Star Trek fandom), and that WB’s charge that erotic depictions are a ‘perversion of [WB’s] innocent cartoon characters’ is belied by the obviously lusty nature of much of the humor and innuendos basic to such personalities as Pepé le Pew and Minerva Mink, which build upon an established public acceptance of exaggerated cartoon sexual humor going back to Tex Avery’s Red Hot Riding Hood (1943).
   In demonstrating his point, Mikulak quotes from numerous fannish Internet open conversations. These require his defining for the academic record of such terms as ‘furvert’, ‘spooge’, ‘anthropomorphics’, ‘furries’, ‘FurryMUCK’ and ‘Drooling Babs Fanboy’. Furry fandom isn’t being discovered by only the sensationalistic tabloid media any more; this book is from Rutgers University Press.
   Other essays which emphasize the Looney Tunes stars and their personalities include Kirsten Moana Thompson’s “Ah Love! Zee Grand Illusion!”: Pepé le Pew, Narcissism, and Cats in the Casbah, and Kevin S. Sandler’s Gendered Evasion: Bugs Bunny in Drag. Linda Simensky’s Selling Bugs Bunny: Warner Bros. and Character Merchandising in the Nineties is less concerned with the characters’ personalities than with how WB’s marketing experts are trying to spin the image of those personalities to achieve maximum merchandising potential, with the bland Looney Tunes Family in Space Jam as the result.
   Fans should also be interested in Gene Walz’s Charlie Thorson and the Temporary Disneyfication of Warner Bros. Cartoons. Thorson, a mid-’30s Disney character designer famous among animators for his ‘cute’ style, was hired by WB in 1937. He is probably the least-known of Bugs Bunny’s ‘fathers’. He was assigned in 1939 to design a rabbit for a cartoon to be directed by Ben ‘Bugs’ Hardaway, and he labeled his model sheet as “Bugs’ Bunny”. Thorson’s design was considered too cute for the sarcastic personality wanted for the character, but the name stuck. Fans who especially like adorably cute funny animals will appreciate the illustrations which include Thorson’s original model sheet designs for Bugs, Sniffles the Mouse, and others.
   The rest of the book is of more interest to the animation fan than to the funny-animal fan, although even such essays as Michael Frierson’s The Image of the Hillbilly in Warner Bros. Cartoons of the Thirties and Donald Crafton’s The View from Termite Terrace: Caricature and Parody in Warner Bros. Animation describe numerous cartoons which feature Porky Pig, Daffy Duck and others, as well as animalized caricatures of human celebrities such as Crosby and Sinatra. The writing is generally brisk and most of the essays are well illustrated. (Not Fans versus Time Warner, unfortunately.) Reading the Rabbit is one of those books which, if you do not want to keep it, you should be able to donate to your local library for a tax deduction (keep your sales receipt) after you finish reading it.


	Title:	The Complete Wraith!
	Author:	Michael T. Gilbert
	Publisher:	MU Press (Seattle, WA), Apr 1998

	ISBN:	1-883847-34-6
		Hardcover [250 signed & numbered copies], 96 pages, $20.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	ISBN:	1-883847-33-8
		Trade paperback, 96 pages, $12.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   There are differences of opinion as to just when ’morph fandom got started, but few will put it as early as the 1970s. However, some major influences that would lead to our fandom were building up in the ’70s, starting with R. Crumb’s Fritz the Cat and Disney’s funny-animal version of Robin Hood. In the comic-book field, 1976-1977 saw the meteoric six-issue career of Mike Friedrich’s Quack!, a brilliant (well, we thought so at the time) funny-animal semi-Underground anthology. It featured some of the earliest comics work of such later notables as Frank Brunner, Mark Evanier, Michael Gilbert, Steve Leialoha, Ken Macklin, Scott Shaw! and Daves Sim and Stevens. Quack! is sadly forgotten today. A single-volume reprint collection of its six issues would be a Good Thing.
   Quack!’s biggest stars were Leialoha’s Newton the Wonder Rabbit and Michael Gilbert’s The Wraith. Of the two, The Wraith was the more impressive. He was the only character to appear in all six issues. His stories were more varied in mood, ranging from light comedy to mordant sardonicism to straight drama and human-interest. He had a growing supporting cast. When the end came in December 1977, it was The Wraith who stepped forward as Quack!’s Master of Ceremonies to lead all of its characters in a holiday farewell to the readers.
   We may not have a collected Quack! yet, but MU Press has now given us Gilbert’s The Complete Wraith! In some ways this is even better, because it is more than just the stories from Quack! Gilbert wrote a final Wraith tale five years later for a one-shot, Michael T. Gilbert’s Strange Brew. That is included, along with trivia like Gilbert’s personal Christmas cards during this period featuring The Wraith and Ivory.
   For this collection, Gilbert has written an introduction to each of the stories describing how it came to be written and what he was trying to accomplish. Gilbert is known today for his Mr. Monster series and his graphic adaptations of Michael Moorcock’s Elric novels. But in 1976 he had just moved from the East Coast after college to San Francisco to break into its underground comix scene. These introductions scattered through The Complete Wraith! provide a nostalgic autobiography; a personal critical analysis of his Wraith series (which can also serve as practical tips for amateur cartoonists who want to create their own series); and a simplified description of the self-published comics field in the 1970s, when it was in the process of evolving from the underground comix through the ‘ground level’ alternatives (including Quack!) into the independent publishers of the 1980s and today.
   What about the Wraith stories themselves? In the ’70s we loved ’em. Today—well, Gilbert himself chuckles at his youthful naïvete, but their earnestness and determination to be the best work that he could produce still stand out. The Wraith was conceived of as a funny animal spoof of Will Eisner’s The Spirit, but Gilbert quickly turned serious about using Eisner’s design and storytelling technique as a model to study. And The Spirit is such a powerful icon that a tribute by a talented student is worth reading in its own right. Here they are: The Wraith, Cyanide City’s masked crimefighter (Doberman); Ivory Snow, his perky flower-child assistant (lioness; Gilbert’s tribute to the underground comix culture he had come to Haight-Ashbury to join); Inspector Mulchberry, his cynical police force contact (rhino); Prof. Izzy Kabbible, mad scientist (squirrel); Maria Theresa Silver, Gilbert’s attempt at both an Eisneresque femme fatale (generic animal-woman) and innovative page design; and numerous others in briefer parts. The Wraith stories may be early works, not as original or polished as Gilbert’s later and better known Mr. Monster series, but they contain enough humor and imagination to remain enjoyable to today’s readers.

Lucasfilm’s Alien Chronicles, by Deborah Chester

		Title:		The Golden One (Book 1)
		Publisher:		Ace Books (NYC), Feb 1998
		ISBN:		0-441-00561-6
				344 pages, $5.99
			Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	The Crimson Claw (Book 2)
Publisher:	Ace Books (NYC), Oct 1998
ISBN:	0-441-00565-9
	344 pages, $5.99
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

Book 3: forthcoming

   It would be interesting to know how much of this trilogy—actually a single novel in three volumes—is the result of Chester’s own imagination, and how much she was working within guidelines supplied by Lucasfilm Ltd. In any case, Lucasfilm got its money’s worth. If it weren’t for the company’s name in the title, this space opera would seem as dramatic and, yes, original as any other s-f paperback adventure series published today (too many of which are even less thinly-disguised Westerns or Vietnam war novels).
   With that ‘Lucasfilm’ calling attention to its participation, we can see the similarity between this saga of rebellion in an oppressive interstellar empire, and both the famous Star Wars plot and its origins. Virtually every ‘making of…’ book about Star Wars has described how George Lucas studied such sociological analyses of mythological heroes as Bruno Bettelheim’s The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales and Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces. So at the same time that Alien Chronicles is an original adventure about Ampris, a courageous Aaroun slave who wins freedom for herself and her people from their Viis overlords, it goes back at least as far as the story of Moses in the Bible. Its more obvious modern parallels are the sword-&-sandal dramas set in the Roman Empire, about a young slave (usually of Nordic barbarian stock notable for his blond beauty) who is raised in a patrician’s household as a pampered pet, who is eventually thrown out to discover the harsh reality of his people’s status, and who toughens himself as a gladiator in the arena to win his freedom.
   It is also worth comparing Chester’s style of space opera plotting with that of Alan Dean Foster in his interstellar series such as his Thranx novels and his Icerigger trilogy; and remembering that Foster was the now-acknowledged ghostwriter of the novelization of Star Wars, by George Lucas.
   What makes Lucasfilm’s Alien Chronicles a ’morphic novel is the fact that there is not a human in it. The first page inside the cover of paperbacks is usually a blurb summarizing the plot or quoting an exerpt from an exciting scene. Alien Chronicles has chosen to tempt readers by describing the colorful species they will meet: THE VIIS… A race of seven-foot tall, beautifully reptilian creatures. […] THE AAROUN… The race of Ampris are powerful, golden-furred carnivores with sharp teeth. [Roughly a cross between the larger felines and mustelids.] THE KELTH… A submissive, doglike race with stiff, bristly coats and simian hands. [Hyena/jackals.] The Golden One populates the Viis Empire with eight alien races that range from marmosetoid to tortoiseoid appearances, and The Crimson Claw adds two more. This trilogy is Set in a completely new fictional universe, so don’t expect any Wookies.
   These descriptions are not entirely superficial, either. If it is costumery, it is well-designed and consistent costumery. Ampris as a young Aaroun:

Lucasfilm’s Alien Chronicles are published as adult s-f paperbacks, but the advertising in The Golden One is all for the Star Wars Junior Jedi Knights and Young Jedi Knights young adult series. This is another indication that they are comparable to Alan Dean Foster’s s-f adventures, which are published as adult novels but are designed for a teen readership as well. The basic plot is formulaic, but Chester does a good job of making Ampris a strong and likeable ‘heroine’ rather than a ‘female hero’. She may be forced by the Viis to become a gladiator because of her species’ natural predatory attributes, but she is determined to never lose her intellectualism or her feminine nature and become just another brawny brain-dead swordfighter who happens to be a woman. The adventures of this furry, scaly, feathery and tentacled interstellar alien cast should please ’morph fans as much as any fantasy novels about talking animals.

Michael Payne should be familiar to readers of Yarf! for his short stories published here around 1994-’95. He has also had some ’morphic stories published in s-f magazines and anthologies, such as River Man in Asimov’s SF Magazine, August 1993. The Blood Jaguar, his first novel, enables him to expand his storytelling into an adventure of much greater scope, and he takes full advantage of it.
Bobcat is a good-natured but shiftless ne’er-do-well with a catnip addiction living in Ottersgate, a forest animal community vaguely similar to Mark Twain’s boyhood Hannibal, Missouri. He considers himself a practical realist, the opposite of his superstitious neighbor, Skink. So he is especially shaken when he has a terrifying supernatural experience, just after Skink (whose good-luck charm has disappeared) quotes an old family warning from his long-dead grandmother:

So Bobcat and Skink go to Fisher, the community’s no-nonsense shamaness and interpreter of the mystic signs of the twelve Curials, this world’s animal Gods (in which Bobcat does not believe). There is also an unmentioned thirteenth Curial, their enemy, the Blood Jaguar; deity of Death. Fisher discovers that, long ago, Skink’s grandmother was part of an adventuring trio who embarked on a quest to stop the Blood Jaguar from unleashing a plague. They did not succeed, and 50% of the world’s population of Skink’s grandmother’s generation died; a disaster from which the world is still recovering. Now it looks as though the Blood Jaguar is coming back to finish the job—unless this generation’s Skink, Fisher and Bobcat can succeed where their ancestors failed. Bobcat’s opinion is that, if their heroic predecessors could not defeat the Jaguar, what chance do the grumpy old Fisher, the dithering and timid Skink, and a bum like himself have? Bobcat’s adventure is set in an anthropomorphic North America whose gods are patterned upon the Native American animal spirits, but whose politics and nations range from a Yankee frontier-style society of otters, beavers, and similar-sized American wildlife, to a Mongol-style kingdom of buffalo occupying the Great Plains, to an Arabian Nights-city of meerkats on the Colorado River. (Meerkats in North America) A map shows several large animal cities in parts of this North America that the novel never reaches at all. Is this the first adventure in a world which will explore different geographic areas in future stories, or is Payne just throwing in extra details and attention-catching background mysteries for the fun of it?
And then there are the characters and their dialogue:

Bobcat, who has always considered himself a tough survivor, is disgusted by his own unexpected weaknesses when faced with surviving getting caught up in a battle of the Gods; compounded by fighting catnip-addiction withdrawal shakes at the same time. The setting parades a steady flow of exotic animal individuals and communities past the reader, not the least of which are several of the Curials who make unexpected personal appearances. Each one of the nations visited by the Odd Trio questers is so intriguing that Payne could easily set a whole novel in it. The Blood Jaguar is not a story of ‘realistic’ animals like Watership Down or of bioengineered animals living in a human civilization like Forests of the Night, because it is not set in our world at all. Call it a funny-animal Middle Earth based on Amerind rather than Nordic cultural elements. Or, don’t analyze it—just enjoy it!

Two classics of interstellar funny animals available again:


	Title:	*Hoka! Hoka! Hoka!*
	Author:	Poul Anderson & Gordon R. Dickson
	Publisher:	Baen Books (NYC), Nov 1998
	ISBN:	0-671-57774-3
		307 pages, $5.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   The Hoka stories, those zany misadventures of the uninhibited spacegoing teddy bears, have been famous for decades as among the best examples of humorous s-f. There have been two collections of the Hoka short stories and one Young Adult novel between 1957 and 1983, all now out of print. It’s great to see the Hokas back!
   First, a comment on what Hoka! Hoka! Hoka! is not. There are no new stories in it. Neither is it a complete collection of all the stories. It consists of all the material from the first collection, Earthman’s Burden (the first six short stories plus the Interludes that were written to connect them), with the first two of the four stories in Hoka!, the second collection. It does not contain the last two stories or the novel, Star Prince Charlie.
   The main viewpoint in the series is that of Alex Jones, a young, enthusiastic, and naïve Terran Space Navy ensign on a survey mission exploring new interstellar planets for the galaxy’s Interbeing League. Jones is shipwrecked on Toka, an Earthlike world.

   The Hokas have the personalities of human eight- to ten-year old children, and are incredibly psychologically susceptible to Terran popular culture. The captain of the space expedition that discovered Toka had left some of his ship’s recreational literature behind—Western novels—and Alex finds that his Hokan rescuers have remodelled their way of life into what they think Earth society is like: an unconscious parody of a B-Western town, with hard-drinkin’ cowpokes battling the bloodthirsty Injuns (their rival species, the reptilian Slissii), and ignoring the comedy-relief town sheriff to follow the lead of various heroic Lone Riders. (Any Hoka who wants to be a leader proclaims himself a Lone Rider.) Alex focuses the leadership of this disorganized mess upon himself, and inadvertently saves the teddybear cowboys from their tyrannosaurian natural enemies.
   Alex’s accidental heroism results in his being transferred (against his will) from the Navy to Terra’s Foreign Ministry and assigned as the Interbeing League’s first official Plenipotentiary to Toka. His mission is to protect the simple natives from exploitation, and gradually uplift their culture until Toka is ready to become a full member in the League. Alex finds that Toka is divided into hundreds of Hokan tribes, and that they are much less interested in the ponderous educational manuals of the Cultural Development Service than in the popular novels that Earth traders sell cheaply. (If these stories had been written later than the 1950s, the ‘novels’ would doubtlessly have been ‘videos’.) Depending upon which novels a tribe first sees, that Hokan society remodels itself into a teddybear parody of the Victorian England of Sherlock Holmes, a seaport dominated by swaggering “Arrr, matey!” pirates, the burning desert of Beau Geste’s Fort Zinderneuf, a typical ’50s boys’ Space Patrol adventure, and so on. The separate stories take Alex, during his career of ten+ years as the senior human representative, to various parts of Toka to settle emergencies. Alex must rely on ‘local resources’, which usually means entering the make-believe society and guiding it to his purposes—in other words, playing Watson to a Hokan Holmes, becoming a ‘Captain Greenbeard’ pirate king to rally the “shiver me timbers” teddy sailors to a rescue, or playing a stuffy Colonel Blimpish bureaucrat (which he hopes is not type-casting) in an Agatha Christie-ian scenario of mysterious spies and stolen secret treaties.
   The stories are frothy farces, filled with the improbable coincidences of TV situation comedies:

Much of the humor is caused by the physical disparity between humans and the three-foot-tall bears:

The popularity of the Hokas has ebbed and flowed during forty years. Artist Michael Whelan told at the 1998 World Science Fiction Convention about working on a projected Hoka movie that got as far as construction of an audioanimatronic Hoka by SFX expert Rick Baker before being cancelled. The publication of Hoka! Hoka! Hoka! will bring the stories to a new generation of readers, and hopefully renew interest in the friendly, furry aliens. Baen Books has kept to the spirit of the ingroup references in this new edition; its cover (by Stephen Hickman) is a parody of Baen’s Man-Kzin Wars paperbacks, with a furry Hoka impersonating the usual ferocious tigerish Kzin space-warrior.

This is the first collection of all three of Piper’s Fuzzy novels: Little Fuzzy (1962), Fuzzy Sapiens (1964), and Fuzzies and Other People (1984). The Fuzzies are one of the most successful combinations of a believable interstellar alien species and a ‘funny animal’ designed for adult readers. When Star Wars appeared in 1977 and fans discussed all the popular s-f concepts blended into it, it was noted that Chewbacca was basically just a tall Fuzzy. (And the later, shorter forest-dwelling Ewoks were even more Fuzzy-like.)
To quote the original 1962 back-cover blurb of Little Fuzzy:

The Fuzzy trilogy tells two parallel stories; that of the human society on a newly-colonized world after the humans learn they are sharing the planet with friendly golden-furred marmoset-like natives, and of the primitive, innocent Fuzzies themselves. The human story focuses primarily on Jack Holloway, the outback miner who first discovers the Fuzzies and finds himself leading the movement to acknowledge them as intelligent people rather than to exploit them as animals. The Fuzzy viewpoint is dominated by Little Fuzzy, the first Fuzzy to encounter humans, who must learn the difference between good humans and bad humans and help guide his people to the right ones. The Fuzzies’ adventures include courtroom drama as their human supporters try to legally establish their right to be recognized as people rather than animals; scientific suspense in a race to find a cure for a genetic flaw that is driving the Fuzzies to extinction; detective action as Fuzzies are kidnapped to be trained for crime; sociological confusion as Holloway and Little Fuzzy experiment to learn how best to help the Fuzzies without overwhelming their cultural identity and turning them into dependent caricatures of the humans. There are enough scenes featuring the Fuzzies, both in the humans’ cities and in their own forest-dwelling hunter-gatherer society, to captivate any ’morph fan.
The story behind the novels is even more dramatic than the adventures. Little Fuzzy was a Hugo finalist for Best Novel of 1962. Based on that popularity, Piper’s publisher authorized him to write two sequels. But a new editor sabotaged the publication of Fuzzy Sapiens (first published under a different title, The Other Human Race, without Piper’s knowledge), and reneged on publishing the third novel, whose manuscript was lost after Piper shot himself in 1964. The two Fuzzy novels remained so popular that when Ace Books gained the literary rights to Piper’s works in 1975, they commissioned William Tuning to continue the series. Tuning wrote only one novel, Fuzzy Bones, before dying of acute alcoholism; another author, Ardath Mayhar, wrote a fourth novel, Golden Dream: A Fuzzy Odyssey. Then the lost manuscript of Fuzzies and Other People was found, which was not only better-written but which contained plot developments that contradicted Tuning’s and Mayhar’s novels. As a result, there is general agreement in s-f circles that the genuine Fuzzy series is Piper’s trilogy alone; and that Tuning’s and Mayhar’s novels, although well-meant, are best forgotten. Little Fuzzy and Fuzzy Sapiens have been reprinted frequently since 1976 (and Fuzzies and Other People since 1984), but this is the first time that all three have been published together. If you have not read them, this is your chance to get all three in one handy volume. If you have—well, betcha can’t resist reading them again!

This glossy full-color art book of the paintings of Susan Seddon Boulet (1941-1997) is a tribute to her and her work by close friends. Babcock knew her from 1982 until her death, and was very familiar with her artistic and spiritual philosophy; particularly her kinship with the bear as an avatar of ‘a fierce protector, loving ally, and shamanic guide’. Pomegranate, a fine-art press, was the primary publisher of Boulet’s work during her final decade, on cards and calendars and as an illustrator of its books. So both author and publisher had a close personal relationship with her. They selected these 43 images of bears from among thousands of her fantasy paintings and ink sketches.

   Boulet’s earliest paintings here, from the 1970s, show an interest in European mythology, notably Scandinavian and Laplandic. As her work progressed, her interest focused upon North American Native influences. Her bears become less like individual bears in scenes from mythology than a series of less-representational studies of Bear, the nature spirit.
   Bear is usually shown guiding or protecting a Native American—usually Northwest or Plains, sometimes Arctic—as in Bear Woman Dreaming and Earth Family. The bear is not the only animal spirit in her paintings. Many show an abstract assemblage of animal spirits (fox, antelope, hawk, puma, coyote, raven, salmon), dominated by bear; with Native American design elements.
   Each picture is textually described and interpreted by Babcock.

The appeal of this book (other than its general appeal as a gorgeous art book) will be more to those interested in mythological animals and in the artistic interpretation of Native American themes than in anthropomorphized animals in the funny-animal sense. The closest parallel with which fans may be familiar is the art of Alicia Austin, although Austin’s colored pen-&-ink depictions of anthropomorphized American wildlife in scenes of Native American activities are more mundane and illustrative than Boulet’s abstract, spiritual oil pastels.

Heyoka Blackeagle is a hrinnti, “seven feet tall, furry, and equipped with retractable claws,” who was stolen as an infant from the planet Anktan and was rescued from an interstellar slave market by a Amerindian space trader. Raised on Earth, Heyoka is too ferocious-looking when he reaches maturity to have any social prospects except in the human-dominated Confederation’s military. After a successful ten-year career in the Ranger Corps, something happens which casts doubt on Heyoka’s ability to control his own feral nature. He may be unable to remain in human society, unless he can learn the secrets of his species’ violent psychology and physiology. But nobody knows anything about the hrinn. No hrinnti has ever been off Anktan, and the natives are so savage and deadly that no offworld scientists have lived long enough to study their culture. Nevertheless, Heyoka has no choice but to return to the world of his birth—accompanied, against his wishes, by his Ranger partner and only real friend, Mitsu Jensen—and try to find out just how much of his nature is uncontrollable instinct.
Heyoka quickly learns that, while he may be the deadliest killing machine in the Confederation’s commandos, he is (at first) little more than a helpless cub compared to the hrinn raised on his harsh world. The reader quickly discovers that Black on Black is less about Heyoka himself than about the whole hrinn society, which is thrown into deadly tribal turmoil by the appearance of this stranger with Black/on/black fur. The novel features many hrinn characters in exotically primitive settings:

Heyoka’s search into his past reveals a threat of imminent extinction for all life on Anktan, but only an offworlder like himself recognizes the danger. Will he be able to convince the hrinn tribes? And can he persuade the proudly individualistic warriors to organize a coordinated defense to save themselves instead of throwing away their lives in suicidal unorganized bare-claws charges?
Black on Black is full of non-stop drama and excitement. However, it is the same kind of cinematic drama and excitement as in the movie Independence Day. Characters act in ways that make for good suspense rather than for logic. Some of the implausibilities are so obvious that Wentworth feels the need to acknowledge them, such as why Heyoka is found in an offworld slave market if no hrinnti has ever been allowed to leave Anktan:

   Another example is the above citation questioning why Rakshal the priest is spreading dissention instead of wisdom. By turning these apparent inconsistencies into deliberate mysteries, the author is presumably hoping that the reader will get too caught up in the action to realize that not all of them get answered, and not all the answers make good sense.
   But the scenes showing the hrinn as intelligent thick-furred vicious carnivores are vivid enough to make Black on Black enjoyable reading for ’morph fans. Unlikely as it seems, the basic plot is a bloodier, more mature variation of that of the 1965-’66 Kimba, the White Lion TV cartoon series. Like Kimba, Heyoka is a carnivore stolen from his home in his infancy, raised by humans where he observes the advantages of a cooperative society, and returns to the native land he has never known to force his people into a humanlike civilization for their own good, fighting his own feral instincts to do so.
   The descriptions of the hrinnti bristling fur, twitching ears, unsheathed claws, and double rows of gleaming white teeth seem clear and profuse enough to describe them vividly, but they are actually vague enough to have raised some debate among fans as to just which Earth animals they most resemble. Giant canids? Felines? Mustelids? This is one mystery which really does not matter, and is probably best left to readers to envision according to their own preferences.

   Dick King-Smith is the popular author of numerous English talking-animal children’s fantasies such as The Terrible Trins, A Mouse Called Wolf, Magnus Powermouse, and most notably The Sheep-Pig (U.S. title: Babe, the Gallant Pig). Godhanger (originally published in Britain in 1996) is an unusual change of pace; a somber allegorical fantasy for older readers, more similar to Bach’s Jonathan Livingston Seagull or Wangerin’s The Book of the Dun Cow crossed with Adams’ Watership Down than to his usual light adventures starring cheerful, perky animal children.
   Godhanger Wood is an ancient British forest, inhabited by the normal wildlife. ‘Normal’ in this case means that the animals live realistically. King-Smith emphasizes in the first chapters that this is the world of Salten’s, not Disney’s Bambi. The birds selfishly steal food from each other. Baldwin the omnivorous badger will eat anything including the rabbit’s babies if he can get at them. Glyde, the tawny owl who puts on pious Wise Old Owl airs, is scorned as a hypocrite by Eustace, the little owl who points out that Glyde greedily eats cute furry mice just like the rest of them.
   But Godhanger has two special inhabitants. One is its human gamekeeper. Gamekeepers are appointed to protect a forest and its game animals, culling the predatory ‘vermin’ such as hawks, foxes and weasels. But this gamekeeper is an animal-hater who grows progressively psychotic. At first he merely takes a ruthless delight in his efficiency in killing all the animals that he can rationalize as deserving to be exterminated. Eventually he is snaring and blasting every bird and animal that he can find, including the songbirds and game animals. The gamekeeper is presented as an allegorical power greater than nature, unchecked, answerable to nothing except his own fevered passions.
   The other is a majestic bird, the Skymaster, who settles in Godhanger. Almost without realizing it, the other birds come to recognize the Skymaster as their leader. Each sees him as an idealized heroic figure of its own species. He is a benevolent patriarach who tries to gently educate the birds and even the mammals into an understanding of cooperation and morality insofar as it is compatible with their physical natures. Yes, a carnivore must kill to eat, but it does not have to torture its victims or kill more than it needs for its survival; unlike the human who wastefully slaughters for the joy of killing. Soon the gamekeeper becomes such a deadly menace that the Skymaster must take an active role in protecting Godhanger’s wildlife from him. A fatal confrontation is inevitable.
   The Skymaster is depicted in such divinely ethereal terms from his first appearance that it will be no surprise that he is more than mortal (although it is eventually revealed that his mortal form is a golden eagle). But with the Nativity scene, and the formation of the birds who become his loyal followers into 12 Apostles, it becomes evident that the Skymaster is literally an avian Christ whose mission on Earth is to … well, is there anyone who does not know why Christ was born among mankind? And what happened to Him?
   King-Smith excels at describing naturalistic scenes of only slightly anthropomorphized wildlife; rather like an uncensored Watership Down. His mysticism, in comparison, is a trifle heavy-handed:

The action and the plot are slightly inconsistent. At times the gamekeeper seems to be a personification of evil, or to signify that man is more deliberately cruel than the forest animals who only kill to feed themselves. But the gamekeeper is also described as a fanatic who believes that it is his duty to rid the wood of all animals, not as someone who is deliberately evil; and as a madman, not a typical human. There are also two animal characters, Rippin the polecat and Gilbert the feral cat, who are even more sadistic killers of anything that they can catch, than is the gamekeeper. If Godhanger were not so solemn throughout, it would almost seem as though King-Smith was deliberately showing the fallacy of the claim that man is more vicious and wasteful than any animal.
This is a quibble. A more serious problem for some tastes is that, as soon as it becomes obvious that the Skymaster is duplicating Christ’s life, it is equally obvious (to any reader familiar with Christianity) what will be his ultimate fate. This undercuts the novel’s dramatic suspense. To be fair, Godhanger is not supposed to be a suspense story. It is a religious allegory, and it succeeds nicely at creating an uplifting inspirational mood. Serious nature-lovers will appreciate Andrew Davidson’s detailed fine-line animal portraits, which neatly straddle the line between anthropomorphization and realistic zoological studies.

   This is the fifth volume in Norman’s Sholan Alliance interstellar adventure series. The previous four are Turning Point, Fortune’s Wheel, Fire Margins, and Razor’s Edge, reviewed in Yarf! issues #29, #39, #46, and #52.
   Frankly, after four previous reviews, I am getting bored with repeating myself. The novel—it is not a series as much as a single non-stop novel which continues smoothly from volume to volume—is still enjoyable, but there is little new to be said about it. It is roughly comparable to Star Trek or Babylon 5, except that most of the alien characters look and act like standard humans wearing feline or reptilian costumes rather than like TV actors with weird facial makeup.
   The main viewpoint in Turning Point is that of Carrie Hamilton, a young woman on Keiss, Terra’s first colony planet. Keiss has recently been conquered by a brutal reptilian space empire. Carrie encounters a strange cougarlike animal who turns out to be Kusac Aldatan, a handsome felinoid commando from Shola, yet another world which is also fighting the reptilian Valtegans. Carrie and Kusac help Keiss’ commando resistance overthrow the Valtegans, during which the two become inseparable lovers à la Beauty and the Beast. Carrie, as Kusac’s betrothed, returns with him in Fortune’s Wheel to Shola, and rather fades into the background as the viewpoint fragments to jump between many catlike Sholans engaged in that planet’s politics. The Sholans and the humans, who have just discovered each other, are nervously forming a military alliance to jointly fight the Valtegans. Several more humans come to Shola in the course of establishing diplomatic and cultural relations, resulting in numerous mixed marriages to the cultural shock of both species. In Razor’s Edge, the volume just before Dark Nadir, the Sholans learn that a group of Sholans and humans kidnapped by a Valtegan space raider have been sold into slavery on Jalna, a planet previously unknown to them. Carrie and Kusac are part of the commando mission sent to Jalna to rescue them.
   By Dark Nadir, there is no longer a central viewpoint. The story jumps back and forth between numerous characters, feline and human, on Shola, among the rescue party, among the Valtegan villains, and among a brand-new menace that nobody ever heard of before which springs out like the Spanish Inquisition in a Monty Python sketch to ruin everyone’s plans. If there is a difference between Dark Nadir and the previous volumes, it is that the action up to now has mostly been planet-bound; on Keiss, on Shola, or on Jalna. Here it is largely on spaceships flying between worlds. The mission to Jalna has introduced the Sholans and humans to several new spacefaring species linked in a Free Trader alliance. Portions of Dark Nadir are strongly reminiscent of the interstellar political balance in the Compact Space federation of C. J. Cherryh’s Chanur novels. (The opening sentence of Dark Nadir is, No sooner had the young Sumaan pilot, Ashay, landed the shuttle back at the Hkariyash than he was ordered to return to the U’Churian vessel, the Rryuk’s Profit.) Norman skillfully keeps her readers interested in the fate of her characters, but Cherryh does a much better job of making her hani, kif, and other species convincingly alien. Norman’s characters never feel like more than humans in well-made furry and scaly costumes.
   Norman seems to enjoy keeping both her characters and her readers off-balance. The Sholans and humans are bewildered by all the new Sumaan, Jalnians, Touibans, Chemerians, Cabbarans, TeLaxaudins, and others whom they encounter. The Sholans and the U’Churians look so much alike that they can easily disguise themselves as each other. It gets so confusing that there are occasional conversations whose main purpose seems to be to help the readers sort them out. (A fictitious synthesis: “Your fur is shaggier than ours!” “Yes, but we can walk upright more easily on our plantigrade legs.” “Well, digitigrade legs are more convenient for dropping down to all fours when it’s desirable to run really fast.” “I envy you your prehensile tails. We can’t do anything more with ours than swish them back and forth.”) And the similar names! Between pages 532 and 540, there appear Prince Zsurtul, Medic Zayshul, Sub-Lieutenant Zhaddu, and Sister Zhiko; and there is this bit of dialogue on pg. 538: “Lieutenant Dzaou, you are in charge of this unit. Your liaison will be Commander L’Seuli from Dzahai Stronghold.”
   These are all petty annoyances that do not keep Dark Nadir from being an enjoyable continuation of the adventure for Sholan Alliance fans. It is not a good book to start with for newcomers. There is no introductory synopsis, and the book starts in the middle of the action with over a dozen characters whom readers are expected to be familiar with. The Sholan Alliance novel/series is worth taking the trouble of finding Turning Point and starting at the beginning. (The total pagecount is now up to 2,920.)


		Title:	Cat in an Indigo Mood: A Midnight Louie Mystery
		Author:	Carole Nelson Douglas
		Publisher:	Tom Doherty Associates/Forge Books (NYC), Apr 1999
		ISBN:	0-312-86635-6
			381 pages, $24.95
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	Midnight Louie’s Pet Detectives
Editor:	Carole Nelson Douglas
Illustrator:	Ellisa Mitchell
Publisher:	Tom Doherty Associates/Forge Books (NYC), Oct 1998
ISBN:	0-312-86435-3
	350 pages, $23.95
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Murder mystery series featuring ‘pet detectives’ have become extremely popular during the ’90s. However, as I have previously complained, most* of these “animal-lovers’ mysteries” (as one blurb dubs them) only nominally feature the animals (usually cats). Either the animals are normal beasts that unknowingly provide clues to the human amateur detective who is the real star, or they are fantasies in which the cats (with or without doggy ‘Dr. Watson’ partners) talk to each other in the background while their human friend solves the crimes. The animals may do their own investigating and discuss the suspects, but it is invariably the human detective who actually discovers the murderer’s identity.
   There are recent signs in the two major ‘talking animals’ series that this formula may be starting to evolve. One is the Mrs. Murphy series by Rita Mae Brown & Sneaky Pie Brown (she gives her own cat a byline). The animal stars are Mrs. Murphy, a gray tiger-striped cat; her best friend Tee Tucker, a Welsh corgi; and Pewter, a shamelessly fat gray cat. All are pets of Mary Minor (Harry) Haristeen, the young postmistress of Crozet, Virginia. In Cat on the Scent (March 1999), the seventh in the series, the animals do more than surreptitiously move clues to where Harry will notice them. They fetch them and drop them right at her feet, in circumstances where ‘accidentally’ picking out the right clue at a messy scene is stretching good luck. Then at the climax, when one of Harry’s neighbors is shot in his car, the two cats and the small dog jump into the car and drive him to get medical help. Huh!? Is someone subconsciously crying out for attention here?
   Cat on the Scent was followed a month later by Cat in an Indigo Mood, the tenth novel in Carole Nelson Douglas’s Midnight Louie series. (Douglas reveals here that there will be 27 in this series.) Temple Barr is a young public relations agent in Las Vegas. She has adopted—or been adopted by—Midnight Louie, a large black cat-about-town who fancies himself as a feline private eye in the classic Sam Spade/Philip Marlowe style. In the first volumes, Temple stumbles over new corpses in the course of her latest public relations jobs. She also builds up a large supporting cast of friends and enemies, potential lovers and rivals. Soon she is investigating the corpses that they stumble over. Temple’s third-person narrative is occasionally interrupted by short chapters in which Louie, in the first person, tells the reader how he is helping Temple behind the scenes. Louie has his own supporting cast of cat and dog assistants; notably his daughter, Midnight Louise; Ingram, the encyclopedically knowledgeable cat at a mystery-specialty bookshop; and Karma, a spooky Birman with genuine psychic powers who lives with Temple’s landlady. The story ratio is about four chapters in the humans’ Las Vegas to each chapter set in Louie’s animal society.
   Louie enters in Chapter 5 of Cat in an Indigo Mood:

   This should show Louie’s hard-boiled P.I. style. The feline fatale, Miss Fanny Furbelow, wants Louie to investigate the disappearance of her gentlemen cat friend, Wilfred. Neither he nor his human companion have been seen lately. Meanwhile, Las Vegas homicide detective Molina (Temple’s regular antagonist) has discovered a new human murder victim, the first in what may be a series of serial killings. The reader will not be surprised when the human victim turns out to be Wilfred’s missing owner. Soon two parallel investigations are in progress: Molina’s (which Temple soon gets dragged into) for the killer of the humans, and Louie’s for the presumed human killer of Wilfred.
   Louie’s liberated-feminist daughter, Midnight Louise, has kibitzed him from the sidelines before, but Cat in an Indigo Mood is the first in which the two black cats team up for the whole novel as a gumpaw and sassy secretary team to solve the caper. This requires the aid of a new specialist: Nose E., a canine super-sniffer from the police’s drugs-&-explosives team who is persuaded to go AWOL with the cats for a few days for the good of all critterkind against an apparently psychotic killer.
   Douglas tries a couple of new tactics here. I will spoil one by warning that the story surprisingly ends on an infuriating cliffhanger instead of a neat wrapup as usual. And Louie, Louise, and Nose E. finally do something that the humans cannot dismiss as just some local pets coincidentally hanging around in the background of the investigation. Is this a throwaway scene, or will it lead to some more dramatic anthropomorphization in the seventeen novels to come? Another warning: These novels have turned into a convoluted soap opera, so readers who start out with this tenth novel should expect lots of back-story in the relationships between Temple, boyfriend/lovers Matt Devine and Max Kinsella, colorful landlady Electra Lark, homicide lieutenant C. R. Molina, Crystal Phoenix hotel manager Van von Rhine (Temple’s current employer), and many more.
   In addition to the novels, Douglas has written a handful of overly-cute Midnight Louie short stories for some of the Cat Crimes theme anthologies edited by Martin H. Greenberg & Ed Gorman. Now she has ghost-edited her own anthology in this genre: Midnight Louie’s Pet Detectives, a volume of seventeen stories by mystery and fantasy writers. Each is introduced by Louie himself: I may be the master of American Alleycat Noir, but when it comes to Victorian Noir, there is only one contender, Miss Anne Perry… (pg. 17). Louie’s Introductions and some of the stories are for readers who are into Concentrated Cute. Actually, only five of the seventeen feature sentient animal detectives: Daisy and the Silver Quaich, by Anne Perry (dogs and cats), Kittens Take Detection 101 by Jan Grape (kittens, who refer cutely to ‘Uncle Louie’), A Hamster of No Importance by Esther M. Friesner and Walter J. Stutzman (an Arabian Nights hamster meets Oscar Wilde and his coterie of Esthetic Groupies in a Wodehousian farce that is genuinely funny), A Baker Street Irregular by Carole Nelson Douglas (Louie’s British ancestor aids Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler), and Final Vows by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough (Mustard, a ghost, must identify the human cat-killer in his neighborhood before he can be reincarnated in the next of his nine lives. This is part of Scarborough’s Master Mu Mao the Magnificent series appearing in Andre Norton’s & Martin Greenberg’s Catfantastic anthologies.) In many of the twelve others the animal is not a detective by any stretch of the imagination (e.g., a young woman who has just inherited a circus must prove that her star elephant is not a rogue that needs to be killed); and in some the animal is barely present (a woman investigating the suspicious death of a childhood friend in the countryside hears an owl hooting). Some of these stories are very good as detective puzzlers or suspense thrillers, but Midnight Louie’s Pet Detectives is extremely on the light size as ’morphic fiction.

   Weber’s Honor Harrington series of military s-f novels, high-concept-summarized as ‘Horatio Hornblower in outer space’, is one of the publishing success stories of the 1990s. Despite writing eight novels in six years (starting with On Basilisk Station in 1993), Weber literally cannnot produce new Honor Harrington books fast enough to satisfy the fans. He has had to call upon his friends to help write stories set in Honor Harrington’s universe, to elaborate and fill out its background history and astrography. This includes finally giving the real story about the six-limbed treecats of Sphinx, one of the three inhabited planets of the Manticore Binary star system.
   Harrington is introduced on the first page of On Basilisk Station with her inseparable treecat companion, Nimitz. Nimitz is a colorful ‘pet’ whose ability to sense emotions has more than once saved Harrington’s life by unmasking assassins and disguised enemies. There are plenty of hints scattered through the novels that treecats are much more clever than humans suspect. But Nimitz plays the role of a dumb animal (a feline/mustelid version of a pirate’s parrot constantly riding on Harrington’s shoulder) too well for the novels to qualify as anthropomorphic at all.
   Baen’s publicity says, His hordes of voracious fans clamor for more and more Weber. […] they call the Baen offices several times a week demanding more from their main man. One of the things that they have demanded is more information about the treecats. It is in the new series of “Honor’s universe” novellas that Weber is letting the treecats play a bigger role.
   The first of this spinoff series, More Than Honor (Baen Books, January 1998), contains three novellas; by Weber himself, David Drake, and S. M. Stirling. Only Weber’s story features treecats (A Beautiful Friendship, pages 3-132), but it reveals all their hidden intelligence. It is actually a Young Adult story, set 500 years before Honor Harrington’s era and barely fifty years after the first human settlement of Sphinx (around 3400 A.D.). It relates the first meeting of treecats and humans—specifically, between the young treecat Climbs Quickly and 11-year-old Stephanie Harrington, Honor’s ancestor. This adventure gives the story behind the treecats’ true cleverness and their society, and how and why they decide to enter into a symbiotic relationship with selected humans while hiding their intelligence. ’Morph fans will enjoy it; but since A Beautiful Friendship is only one-third of the book, it is not enough to qualify More Than Honor as a ’morphic volume.
   Worlds of Honor, however, consists of five novellas of about ninty pages each, and treecats play important roles in four of them. The Stray, by Linda Evans, is set only 15 years after Stephanie Harrington’s and Climbs Quickly’s mutual bonding. Scott MacDallan, a frontier doctor among Sphinx’s expanding human settlers, has also acquired a treecat companion.

Scott and his treecat partner, Fisher, get involved with the first deadly human criminal that the treecats have encountered. It creates a potential crisis in how the treecats evaluate humans, and a problem in how Fisher is to get information to Scott without revealing his intelligence.
What Price Dreams?, by David Weber, and the immediately following Queen’s Gambit, by Jane Lindskold, sound too similar in synopsis, but their individual tellings fortunately make them stand apart. Both have treecats playing guardian angels/secret agents to protect the royal family of the Star Kingdom of Manticore. The former tells the story of the first ‘adoption’ of a member of the House of Winton, Crown Princess Adrienne, by a treecat, Seeker of Dreams; and how he saves her from assassins. The latter starts with the murder of King Roger III and tells how treecats save his heir, the young Elizabeth III (the older queen in the main series). The Hard Way Home, also by David Weber, is the earliest story featuring Honor Harrington and Nimitz, when she is a young Lieutenant Commander just beginning her career in the Royal Manticoran Navy.

Humans are the predominant cast members in Worlds of Honor, but there are enough treecats and enough scenes (especially in the first two stories) of treecats behaving with open intelligence in the privacy of their own society to make this a satisfactory introduction for ’morph fans to the Honor Harrington interstellar naval-action series.

   This third annual ‘Dead-Tree Edition’ of Holbrook’s online comic strip presents the daily strips from September 2, 1997 through August 28, 1998. For nitpickers, this is missing two strips; 12/2 and 12/3/97. But it includes one of those missing from the first collection, 11/13/95 (between 10/3 and 10/6/97). There are also four of the full-page ‘Sunday-format’ strips, plus an original 12-page Accepting Domestication handbook just for this collection.
   Kevin & Kell just keeps getting better. (See Yarf! #50 and #53 for reviews of the first two collections.) Kevin (rabbit) and Kell (wolf) Dewclaw still have social problems in their woodland community over their herbivore/carnivore mixed marriage. Their children from their first marriages, Rudy (Kell’s wolf son) and Lindisfarne (Kevin’s adopted porcupine daughter), are still facing adolescent angst. But the situations are humorously new.
   Rudy, who was such a klutz that it was affecting his high school grades in classes like Sneaking Up On Prey 101, has improved so dramatically that he is now eligible to try out with his girlfriend Fiona Fennec for Caliban Academy’s hunting team. But this puts him into potential conflict with the school’s jock types like steroid-stuffed Vin Vulpen. It also brings him to the attention of Fiona’s snobbish fennec parents, who rule that they must win the city’s school mixed doubles hunting championship or they will not be allowed to date any longer. Kell’s case of ‘Spontaneous Domestication’ (an affliction among carnivores which carries a severe social stigma, introduced briefly in the second collection, Seen Anything Unusual?, when an office rival at Herd Thinners, Inc. tried to ‘out’ her to get her fired) grows worse. She becomes psychologically compelled to wear a collar and fetch sticks. Kevin’s marriage to a wolf makes him a bad insurance and bank-loan risk. Lindisfarne has a hard time getting together with her boyfriend Fenton Fuscus, a bat, since porcupines are diurnal and bats are nocturnal. The family takes a brief job at Animal Kingdom theme park, which requires them to strip naked (hey, it beats wearing clothes in a humid Florida Summer!) and pose as wild creatures for the tram tours. Bruno’s sheep friend Corrie trims her fleece into a poodle cut to pass as a carnivore. Kevin & Kell continues to take full advantage of the animal natures of its cast. There are also plenty of computer jokes, tied to Kevin’s at-home job as sysop manager of the Herbivore Forum.
   S-f and anime fans will also discover that Holbrook is One Of Us, as they run across ingroup Ray Bradbury and Hayao Miyazaki references. Full value for your $12.95? You’d better believe it! For full ordering information, contact http://www.reuben.org/holbrook or write Online Features Syndicate, P. O. Box 931264, Norcross, GA 30093-1264.


	Title:	*The Ancient Enemy: The First Book of Arna*
	Author:	Christopher Rowley
	Illustrator:	? (map)
	Publisher:	Penguin Putnam/New American Library: Roc Books (NYC), Feb 2000
	ISBN:	0-451-45772-2
		436 pages, $6.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

The subtitle is a warning that this is just the first installment of an epic series, so the reader should not be surprised when it ends on a cliffhanger. Rowley’s previous series, Bazil Broketail, ran for seven volumes over as many years, so The Book of Arna may have more than one or two more volumes to go.
Arna is a world, though whether it is a s-f world or a fantasy world is left unanswered. It is a preindustrial society roughly modelled upon 13th through 16th century Europe. The description of the main characters—peasants, fishermen, merchants, nobility—establishes them as simian, approximately human but of chimpanzee size, with a spider monkey’s soft fur covering all but the face.

The mots are not the only inhabitants of this land. “Where you go, Thru?” said Tucka dukka Tuckra, the leading chook rooster on the Gillo farm. “Where Thru go on such a fine sunny day?” (pg. 5) Intelligent chickens share a symbiotic rural society with mot farmers, living on their farms and eating the bugs that would infest the crops. The mots also have an amiable live-and-let-live relationship with the feral wolves. The wolves are offstage in The Ancient Enemy so it is not clear whether they talk or not, but they are intelligent enough to understand and respect the mots’ property and domesticated animals. The mots in turn respect the wolves’ rights to wild game.

Pyluk, ‘the green-skinned lizard men’, are predatory tribal warriors from the mountains that eat anything they can kill, and they are ferocious killers. The mots have to patrol the plains to guard against spear-carrying pyluk hunting parties that sneak from the mountains to overrun farms and eat both livestock and farmers. The most enigmatic of Arna’s inhabitants are the Assenzi.

The Assenzi are the equivalent of scholars or a monastic order. They live apart except when they are asked to send a representative to serve as a royal or municipal advisor to one of the mot cities. They have some telepathic or similar mental powers which they use to help the mots fight the pyluk, and they are apparently immortal, claiming to personally remember events in the mots’ history back to the beginning of time, about 100,000 years ago. (This raises numerous questions. Are the Assenzi truthful? Do they reproduce? Are they natural or artificial creatures?)
What happened before the beginning of time is one of the mysteries:

So is Arna Earth in the far future, or a colony planet, or an alternate-history Earth, or just a fantasy world? These are background questions subtly scattered into the story which follows Thru Gillo, a young mot in the tradition of a Horatio Alger hero. A farmboy, a star player on his village sports team, and an aspiring artist, he helps his parents save their farm from a greedy landowner, he has adventures in sports tournaments, he saves a comrade in a vicious pyluk attack, he makes friends and enemies in the city, and he has romantic affairs. Thru is a charismatic, engaging hero and his story is enjoyable reading, but aside from an occasional mention of body fur or a brief appearance of a chook or an Assenzi, there is little to remind the reader that the cast is not human.
Suddenly, about page 180, legendary Man the Cruel appears and the novel swings in a completely new direction. The mots’ world is invaded by forty gigantic colonizing ships of human warriors and their families. The command structure seems 17th- 18th-century British Empire; the military structure seems Roman legion; and the religion is basically Mayan/Aztec, ripping bleeding hearts out of victims to offer to their god, He Who Eats. A carnivorous diet is a sign of religious devotion, and Man is not interested in the mots as anything more than succulent domestic beef. The entire mot society is mobilized to save themselves from extinction, and Thru becomes a rising young leader in the new mot armies. The last half of The Ancient Enemy tends to push Thru offstage as new human characters are introduced (notably Simona Gsekk, daughter of a surgeon in the colonizing fleet) and the politics within the human empire are laid out. Several mots and Assenzi pointedly wonder where Man has been for the past 100,000 years, and comment on the instability of a society based on ritual slaughter of anyone not strong enough to protect themselves, hinting that the human empire and its bloody religion are supported by forces not yet introduced. Scenes with large, hairless humans facing off against smaller, furry mots make Thru and his brethren stand out better as anthropomorphized nonhumans. The savage backstabbing among the human political and military elite plausibly excuses the humans’ failure to overrun the mots before they get their defense organized, and the clash of the human and mot armies enables Rowley to display his skill at plotting convincing Roman army-style battle tactics. The Ancient Enemy is definitely worth reading, but be prepared for the frustrating wait for The Second Book of Arna.

*On Her Majesty’s Wizardly Service, aka To Visit the Queen*, by Diane Duane

		Publisher:	Hodder & Stoughton (London), Jul 1998
		ISBN:	0-340-69330-4
			309 pages, £17.99
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Publisher:	Aspect/Warner Books (NYC), Apr 1999
ISBN:	0-446-67318-8
	xi + 354 pages, $14.99
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This second novel in Duane’s The Cats of Grand Central Station series, a sequel to The Book of Night with Moon (Yarf! #54), sends the cat-wizard guardians of the Big Apple to their Limey counterparts who maintain the worldgates that coexist with the London Underground system. The adult cats Rhiow and Urruah are tutoring their young new partner, Arhu, in the use of transdimensional hyperstring manipulation to teleport anywhere on Earth (including explaining why cats rather than humans or any other species are best-suited to be gate technicians) when the gate they momentarily establish to London refuses to close down. The NYC team is Divinely assigned to assist the London gating team in repairing the problem. Investigation reveals that the malfunction is not accidental but is a spinoff of the Lone One’s latest convoluted attempt, centered in London, to destroy all of Creation. This involves sending our world’s late 20th century scientific and military technology to a parallel world’s 19th century society which is not yet socially advanced enough to handle it, then triggering a nuclear devastation which destroys all life; then manipulating time warps to make this dead Earth the primary timeline. The trigger is the assassination of Queen Victoria, which is blamed on the new German Empire.
   If this sounds confusing to you, it is much worse for Rhiow, Urruah and Arhu. The trio, who complacently consider themselves experts in New York’s feline and human societies, must quickly educate themselves in modern London’s feline and human societies, our world’s Victorian London’s feline and human societies, and the parallel world’s Victorian feline and human societies. (Being able to recognize the subtle variations is crucial to awareness of the manipulations of the Lone One, Sa’Rráhh, the Devastrix in her feminine feline form.) There are also problems with the London feline gating team whom they are to assist. Huff, the leader, is so deferentially self-effacing that he and his mate Auhlae basically demote themselves to serving as the New York visitors’ assistants. This not only adds to the responsibility and workload of Rhiow’s team, it embarrassingly creates a perception that they are arrogantly taking over, leading to dangerous friction with Fhrio, the London team’s proud matrix technician. And a prickly romantic entanglement develops between Arhu and Siffha’h, his counterpart on the London team, which threatens the concentration of the youngest and psychically strongest cats when it is most needed.
   Like The Book of Night with Moon, this is an unusual mixture of feline culture and heavy quantum pseudotechnology. Practically every page is rank with reminders of the main characters’ catly nature and their ailurin language. Some of this is delightfully intriguing, while some feels overly ponderous.

In addition to the feline sociology, at one point the team needs important assistance from the Ravens at the Tower of London. Ravens have their own species talents in Duane’s cosmology; they can See through time:

The cats’ mission to forestall this nuclear winter requires that they prevent both the Evil One’s introduction of industrial technology into this timeline’s early 19th century, and the murder of Queen Victoria later in her reign which ignites the final war. Actually, the former by itself should eliminate the main danger, but the story emphasis is on the latter since it provides a more dramatic adventure. The cats become feline secret agents who must search through time from the present to the moment of the queen’s death, then backtrack through the preparations for her assassination to learn the details and plan the right moment to step in and short-circuit it—while fighting off the Evil One’s countermanipulations to eliminate them.
To Visit the Queen (the U.S. title) is an admirable sequel to The Book of Night with Moon. It stands nicely on its own, although there are enough references to the first novel that it would be helpful to read it first. Rhiow, Urruah and Arhu are the same appealing feline personalities, while the new adventure has enough originality that it is more than a mere rewrite of the same plot. Recommended.

The Golden Cat, by ‘Gabriel King’ aka Jane Johnson & M. John Harrison

		Publisher:	Century (London), Nov 1998
		ISBN:	0-712-67890-5
			350 pages, £16.99
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Publisher:	Ballantine/Del Rey Books (NYC), May 1999
ISBN:	0-345-42304-6
	287 pages, $24.50
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This sequel to The Wild Road (also reviewed in Yarf! #54) may complete that ‘magical quest fantasy’. It seems to end with a definite conclusion. But so did The Wild Road, and The Golden Cat begins with a cruel shattering of its happily-ever-after ending. That was a ‘Lord of the Rings for cat-lovers’. Tag (Bilbo), a carefree London pet kitten, was drafted by Majicou (Gandalf) to journey into a perilous realm of brutal feral cats and human vivisectionists, all under the spell of the evil Alchemist (Sauron) to be as callous and sadistic as possible. Tag’s mission was to find the King and Queen of Cats before they were slaughtered, and escort them past numerous dangers to Tintagel where the Queen would give birth to the Golden Cat, the redeemer of all Felidae. This Tag and his brave companions accomplished, although some gave their lives to protect Tag and Queen Pertelot. The Wild Road ended with the Alchemist dead, Pertelot giving birth to three kittens, and the surviving questers relaxing.
   The Golden Cat begins a few weeks later. The kittens (Isis, Odin, and Leonora Whitstand Merril) have reached the scampering about stage. Pertelot, her mate Ragnar Gustaffson Coeur de Lion, and Tag are waiting for one of them to develop into the Golden Cat. Tag’s companions are ready to return to their individual lives. Sealink, the world-roaming American cat, has been made homesick by Pertelot’s kittens to find out whatever happened to her own litter of kittens that she left in New Orleans. But no sooner do the companions separate than two of Pertelot’s kittens disappear under sorcerous circumstances, and the individual companions find themselves in greater danger than ever.
   If The Wild Road had a Tolkienish air, The Golden Cat is closer to a horror novel. The story is in three main alternating parts. Tag and the remaining kitten, Leo, search for her siblings in a British countryside that seems to have been overwhelmed by an aura of ancient magic; the sinister, cruel power of witches and haughty elfin lords. Carefree Sealink returns to New Orleans, the city of good times and good living, to find it made over into the likeness of Lovecraft’s Arkham; a gloomy, ominous nightmare through which creep the starving shadows of her once-jaunty feline neighbors. The third plotline introduces a new character, Animal X, helplessly caged in a sadistic experimental laboratory as bad as any in The Wild Road—or, to continue comparisons, with the diabolical National Institute of Co-ordinated Experiments in C. S. Lewis’ That Hideous Strength. Tag’s other companions from the first novel have more briefly described but even stranger adventures, journeying back through time to Pharaonic Egypt or riding on the back of a gigantic manta ray to the Moon.
   As with The Wild Road, the main asset of The Golden Cat is the marvelously evocative writing which brings scenes to vibrant life. (Some of the horror scenes are so disquieting that you may wish the writing was not so effective.)
   Tag brings Leonora to meet the Reading Cat in an abandoned house:

Also as with The Wild Road, the main flaw of The Golden Cat is the overly obvious authorial manipulation. Characters disappear and reappear for no real purpose other than to justify nicely-written passages about how eerie things are getting. The supernatural menace is convincingly chilling, but is never much better defined than is the Dark Side of the Force. The story does not flow naturally to its conclusion as much as it seems to be an accumulation of graphically stunning scenes until a book’s worth had piled up, with a climax tacked on to wrap it up neatly.

Two by Paul Kidd:


		Title:	*A Whisper of Wings*
		Author:	Paul Kidd
		Illustrator:	Terrie Smith
		Publisher:	Vision Novels (Flushing, NY), Oct 1999
		ISBN:	1-887-038-04-3
			vi + 348 pages [p. 349-352 are adv’ts], $19.99
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	*Fangs of K’aath*
Author:	Paul Kidd
Illustrator:	Monika Livingstone
Publisher:	United Publications (Keston, England), Apr 2000
ISBN:	0-9537847-0-3
	iii + 364 pages, $17.99/£11.99
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   For the past fifteen years, most of the notable anthropomorphic comic books for readers older than children have been published within our own fandom. The largest of these publishers have been small presses like Shanda Fantasy Arts and MU Press, specializing in a handful of titles designed primarily for ’morph fans rather than for the general public. The smallest have been single-title publishers; a ‘company’ that consists of the cartoonist’s own comic book.
   Now these ’morph publishers are beginning to expand from comic books to ‘real literature’. Darrell Benvenuto’s Vision Entertainment Ltd. in America, which published The American Journal of Anthropomorphics and several ’morphic comic books between 1993 and 1998, has just released its first adventure novel, A Whisper of Wings. Martin Dudman’s United Publications in England, which began with the fanzine Fur Scene in 1994 and added its first comic book, Wild Side, in 1998, has now produced its first adventure novel, Fangs of K’aath.
   Not by coincidence, both novels are written by Paul Kidd, who was already penning comic-book stories for both publishers. But the novels were not written for them. They were written years earlier for mainstream publication, and were finally given to Vision and United after years of being rejected by all the major publishers in America and Britain, with comments like, “This is obviously not a story for young children, and no adult is going to read a novel with funny-animal characters. Nobody will ever buy a book like this!” (Early anime fans will find this argument sounding awfully familiar.)
   Kidd does not just write stories with animal-headed characters; he creates whole planets for them. A Whisper of Wings is set in a world of butterfly-winged foxes living in tribal societies roughly analogous to Australian aboriginal cultures, though the land is more forested than Australia’s Outback desert. But although these Kashran live close to nature, they are neither socially primitive nor cute picture-book woodland pixies. Their society is thousands of years old, and rigidly locked into stratified castes and unchangeable traditions. The Kashran possess a psychic force or aura, the Ka, which is more vital than their wing-muscles in enabling them to fly. Individuals with particularly powerful auras, and the mental strength to control them, can focus them into deadly weapons. The planet also has a world-spirit, an ecological ‘Mother Nature’ flow, which some Kashran can tap into.
   These background details are gradually introduced, described, and woven together to become important elements of the story of the mountain forest Katakanii tribe. Shadarii and Zhukora are very dissimilar sisters, daughters of the Lord of one of the tribe’s many male-dominated clans. Zhukora is a young huntress, impatient and hot-tempered, already resentful of her socially predetermined future as the subservient wife of some strutting male. Shadarii is a dreamy, ‘useless’ girl with a habit of wandering away from tasks to spend hours contemplating the beauties of nature. She is also mute, and her lack of speech plus her disinterest in the clan’s normal life have gotten her a reputation as simple-minded.
   As these and other characters are introduced and linked together, a picture forms of a world approaching catastrophe. For a thousand years, the Katakanii and neighboring tribes have lived in a complex society in a close balance with nature. The common hunters and artisans support an aristocracy of a priesthood and chieftans, who display their social status by conspicuous consumption, notably by hosting the most lavish feasts at ceremonial clan and tribal gatherings and sponsoring clan sports events. Decades of a moist climate are ending, and the mountain area is entering a dry spell. The lush environment which had permitted a Kashran population expansion is fading, but the aristocracy refuses to scale back its luxurious lifestyle.
   The ominous situation is, as with many social problems, first openly addressed by malcontents and dissatisfied youth who use it as an opportunity to rebel against tradition. Tribal leaders try to ignore complaints and to silence insistent doomcasters as troublemakers. Intertribal friendly rivalry turns into brutal competition for hunting grounds. Zhukora, who is already unhappy about many elements of the Kashran stagnant society, begins to rally her friends among the young hunters into a sports team that disguises a budding terrorist group. There is practically a separate novel in the sections describing the Kashran jiteng sport, a form of aerial soccer which evolves from ceremonial to deadly as Zhukora and her Skull-Wing team play it. Meanwhile, Shadarii’s growing affinity to the world’s lifeforce opens an unimagined psychic potential, but her low status and her disinterest in Kashran society draw her away from the growing conflict.
   When Zhukora tries to use her sister as a pawn in her plotting, a double tragedy results. One is immediate. The other is more subtle and slowly developing. The Ka is not only a psychic force for physical use, it permeates and influences the personality. The more that Zhukora concentrates on using violence to shatter the aristocracy’s rigid control before starvation overwhelms her tribe, the more she becomes determined upon the slaughter of the entire ruling structure and the conquest of the whole world to force her bloody new society upon all Kashran. The more that Shadarii withdraws from her increasingly alienated peers to commune with nature, the more she transforms into a genuine Nature Goddess and attracts a cult of worshippers who prefer to live outside of the Kashran society rather than reform it. Two sisters evolve into rival primordial forces, each powerful enough to save or to destroy a world.
   In Fangs of K’aath, Kidd switches from a world of tribal forest dwellers to the splendor of a furry Middle Eastern civilization.

   This is the romance of Raschid (Jackal), a Prince, and Sandhri (Bat), a marketplace storyteller. Raschid is the scholarly son of the Shah of Osra’s first wife. But he is the Shah’s second son, since the Shah’s second wife gave birth first. Raschid is happy with this, since he would rather spend his time in the palace library studying, and leave the pompous glitter and backstabbing of court intrigue to his arrogant half-brother Abbas.
   Raschid meets Sandhri when he decides to go incognito among the commoners to record their old folk tales. But he is entranced by Sandhri’s new tales, tailored on the spot to fit her audience. Raschid’s attention quickly shifts to Sandhri herself; a peasant from the mountains, uneducated but obviously quick-witted, sparkling with joy and spontaneity that is so different from the haughty, stultifying court life that is all he has known. Raschid’s brief folk-tale expedition turns into regular trips to the marketplace to spend time with Sandhri, who believes that he is a student from a distant city.
   Unfortunately, Raschid is too important to avoid the court intrigue as he would like. His mother, Lady Shiraj, is constantly scheming to have him replace Abbas as Shah Marwan’s leading son and heir. Raschid’s interest in Sandhri is diverting him from her plans to promote him socially among the nobility. Abbas and his mother, Lady Farasche, have no intention of letting Raschid become a serious rival, and hurting Sandhri would be one way to hurt him. When Shah Marwan callously puts the untrained Raschid in command of a military expedition to settle a rebellion between feuding desert nobles and nomad raiders, he is forced to bring Sandhri with him to protect her. Their adventures in the desert bring them closer together, and also temper them to face their adversaries at court more effectively.
   Fangs of K’aath is the sort of Arabian Nights extravaganza popularized by Hollywood, full of exotically costumed nobles, gossamer-veiled dancing girls, scimitar-waving palace guards, crowded bazaars, a fanatic priesthood, wizened sorcerers, disguised assassins, cruel desert tribes, and more. And they are all funny animals. The royal dynasty are jackals, the Grand Vizier is a tiger, two Emirs are a cat and a fox, the harem mistress is a rabbit, and so forth. The major surprise is that the bats in this world do not have wings, and the reason that they are wingless has to do with the demon-goddess K’aath.
   (Although Fangs is just now published, it was written ten years ago. Comic-book adaptations of parts of it have previously appeared from MU Press.)
   Kidd’s worlds are described with a wealth of detail and color. He suspensefully sets up dramatic scenes—the jiteng games in Whisper; the attack of the assassins at Emir Caïd’s estate in Fangs—and fills them with dazzling action. If they had been written with human characters (or if Whisper had been written as a s-f novel set on some interstellar world with aliens that looked less like funny animals), they would doubtlessly have been published long ago. Thanks to Vision Novels and United Publications, we have the opportunity to read them at last. Buy them to enjoy a good read, to thank Vision and United for their financial gamble in publishing them (both attractively illustrated, too!), and to support the market for further anthropomorphic novels.

   These reviews of the book collections of Holbrook’s Kevin & Kell online comic strip are becoming a happy routine. See Yarf! #50, #53, and #58 for the reviews of the first three volumes. This fourth ‘annual’ collection follows the third by only six months. It presents the Monday-Friday daily strips from August 31, 1998 through September 3, 1999, closing the gap between the comics’ online appearance and their collection into a book format. There is only one strip missing this time, 10/30/98; and this volume’s ‘bonus’ is six more of the full-page ‘Sunday-format’ strips in color. There is also a sampler from Plan Nine Publishing’s first collections of Holbrook’s two non-’morphic newspaper strips, Safe Havens and On the Fastrack, presenting ten of each of them.
   Hopefully all ’morph fans are familiar by now with the funny-animal world of Kevin & Kell Dewclaw, a brawny rabbit married to a demure wolf. Their family includes the two children of their first marriages (Lindesfarne, a mid-teen hedgehog who is Kevin’s adopted daughter, and Rudy, Kell’s twelve-year-old wolf son) plus Coney, Kevin & Kell’s year-old baby (a carnivorous rabbit). Other regular characters include Kell’s fellow office workers at Herd Thinners, Inc., a corporation of carnivores who handle necessary population control; Kell’s wolf parents and brother, who look down upon her for marrying a rabbit; and Lindisfarne’s and Rudy’s friends and schoolmates.
   The average story sequence does not run more than two weeks (ten strips), and many are individual gags. Events during this year’s worth include Rudy’s becoming a star on his school’s hunting team; the Dewclaws being targeted by a hate group, the Institute for Species Purity, because of their mixed-species marriage; Kell’s klutzy brother Ralph becoming an expert webmaster; Lindisfarne’s ongoing teen romance with Fenton the bat; the discovery of Kevin’s first wife’s remarriage to a skunk with 20 children; the revelation that the birds are the secret masters of the world; how the Y2K panic affects the forest animals; a Phantom Menace parody; and plenty more. If you have read the previous collections, you won’t want to miss #4. If not, they are all still available.
   All four Kevin & Kell collections have been published by Plan Nine Publishing (in fact, the company was started by a Kevin & Kell fan to make the strip available in a traditional book format for comic-strip collectors who were not on the Internet), but the first three carried Bill Holbrook’s own address and were available from him by mail order. Plan Nine Publishing has since expanded, and it is now beginning to publish the first collections of other original Internet comic strips—including such funny animal titles as D. C. Simpson’s Ozy and Millie, Thomas K. Dye’s Newshounds, and John Robey’s The Suburban Jungle. With Run Free!, Plan Nine is now marketing the Kevin & Kell collections directly. Order them from Plan Nine Publishing, 2 Salem Street, Suite 314, Thomasville, NC 27360, or via their website, www.plan9.org.

		#61 / Jan 2001

Two private-eye thrillers:


	Title:	*Anonymous Rex: A Detective Story*
	Author:	Eric Garcia
	Publisher:	Villard Press (NYC), Aug 1999
	ISBN:	0-375-50326-9
		276 pages, $23.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

You have to admire an author who can make his novel compellingly readable when it ought to be ludicrously silly. The premise of Anonymous Rex is that dinosaurs did not become extinct, but are still living in modern civilization, disguised as humans. Vincent Rubio, a seedy Los Angeles private investigator in the Sam Spade/Mike Hammer style, is really a Velociraptor in a full-body human suit. A friend of his, a L.A.P.D. detective, is a Brontosaur in disguise. A Brontosaur passing as a human? That must be a really good full-body costume!
Unbelievable? Surely. But this book’s publisher was also the publisher of Gary Wolf’s second Roger Rabbit novel. You’ve heard of Roger Rabbit? That was also over-the-top fantastic. But it was very cleverly developed to carefully build plausible drama and suspense upon that outrageous scenario. Anonymous Rex is also that good. Those who will pretend to swallow the premise will find that it leads to a consistent, intelligent story that supports good drama.

Garcia does try to keep the concept from being too implausible by postulating that, in the millions of years since the dinosaurs were ‘last seen’, they have also been evolving, and they no longer are the behemoths shown in museums’ paleontological recreations (which are themselves exaggerated due to deliberately faked fossil evidence by the dinos):

These three examples out of context may make Anonymous Rex look exposition-heavy and light on action and drama, but in context the novel moves briskly along. Once the rules of Rubio’s world have been established, the story flows smoothly:

As that passage should hint, Anonymous Rex is more than a standard murder mystery with cute references that many of the characters are dinos in disguise. The scenario of a secret dinosaur society hidden within humanity, determined to keep its secret at all costs despite both curious humans and renegade dinos; and of characters with individualized dino-species attributes which they can take advantage of, is paramount to the case. This is a ’morphic novel in the best sense. I agree fully with whoever reviewed this book for Publishers Weekly (July 3, 1999, pg. 62): “You might not believe any of this 30 seconds after you close the covers, and at odd moments the narrative veers into shtick, but while it’s going on you’re mostly going to be dazzled by Garcia’s energy and chutzpah.”

   Chimera is also a tough-guy private-eye thriller set in Los Angeles, but in a decaying future America rather than the present, and featuring a real human P.I. rather than a talking animal disguised as one. Chimera is actually much closer to S. Andrew Swann’s 1993 Forests of the Night, but with a reversal of its central theme; a forbidden love between a human P.I. and his animal-woman client, rather than a tiger P.I. and a human woman.
   Descriptions of technological and social changes put the unspecified date toward the middle or last quarter of the 21st century. A Libertarian revolution has led to a privatizing and decentralization of America to the extent that the national government has become about as weak as the United Nations. The country is unofficially run by big corporations, crime lords, and whoever else can afford a powerful private police force. Nobody is interested in paying taxes for garbage collection, street repairs, or other maintenance of a large civic infrastructure, so America has largely turned into a continental slum sprinkled with pay-as-you-go privatized communities of whatever life-style their inhabitants can afford. The public puts more money into pleasure palaces like glitzy gambling casinos and sports arenas. Chimeras, bioengineered intelligent humanoid animal-people, are a new oppressed menial-labor underclass stirring toward open revolt, as in Forests of the Night; but there is still another new kind of people, the mechanicals with Artificial Intelligence. There are separate chimera and AI equal-rights movements. Many think that they should combine forces, while extremists in each group who believe in their own superiority want to maintain their independence; and it is commonly believed that ‘real humans’ who oppose equal rights for either are fomenting antagonism between the two. When terrorism breaks out, who is responsible?
   Chase Maxwell is another seedy Los Angeles private investigator, living in L.A.’s cheap Crittertown chimera ghetto (North Hollywood) only because he can’t afford anything better. He does not work for chimeras, until he takes a case for one without realizing it.

Maxwell is taking a policewoman and Zoe to his apartment in Crittertown, past the dark ruins of Universal City:

   A ‘furry’ is any human who voluntarily associates with a chimera; it is commonly assumed that the human is looking for a perverted sexual thrill. (Shetterly is familiar with s-f fandom.)
   Zoe Domingo was the ward of Dr. Janna Gold, a scientist specializing in Artificial Intelligence and also a liberal supporting the chimera rights movement. When Gold is murdered, Zoe hires Maxwell to find the real killer. Both assume that Zoe has been set up as a patsy, both to save the police the trouble of looking for anyone else and because Gold was probably killed to set back the rights movement by making chimeras look dangerously feral. But robots are quickly identified as the immediate agents framing Zoe. Have they been programmed by the real villain, or are they intelligent AIs with their own agenda? Soon both Maxwell and Zoe are running for their lives. There are plenty of murders, car chases and shoot-outs; chimera urban riots; futuristic slang; and steamy interspecies bedroom scenes.
   Since the overall mood of Chimera is noir—depression, everybody-is-no-damn-good, no-good-deed-goes-unpunished—the reader is never sure whether anyone including Maxwell and Zoe are telling the truth, whether romance is real or feigned, whether there will be a happy ending or Maxwell or Zoe or both will die at the last minute. Chimera is depressing, but a genuinely suspenseful thriller with lots of surprises.

The jacket blurb begins: Animist is the story of Alex, a recent graduate of the College of Animism. Talented but naïve in the ways of the world, Alex embarks on a quest to acquire his Anim: the animal with which he will bond for life; an animal with which he’ll share an empathic link that will allow him to detect and resist the use of magic.
Yes, Animist is the story of Alex, but it is even more the story of the fascinating fantasy world depicted here. A Medieval European-style civilization is spread among several sentient species. Humani, Lemyri (lemurs), Rodeni, and Delphini are met in the first two chapters. One more is unexpectedly introduced later on; and the author does not say that there are no others. In some nations all species are social equals, while others are dominated by one species or another.

   There is an even greater and more confusing variety of schools and guilds of metaphysics and knowledge; and of religions and gods. These get along about as well as the different schools of martial-arts in a Hong Kong action movie. Since arrogant priests and masters of the different schools can wield deadly force, whether by poison or true magic or calling down a petty god’s wrath, it can be a fatal error to mistake one for another.
   Alex is about to become an Animist. Animism, the spiritual bonding of a human (or other sapient) with an animal familiar, is considered the lowest of the spiritual schools. Theists were the priests of the gods, theurgists were shamans of the spirit world, and the rare and powerful thaumaturgists were true wizards and witches. In comparison to any, Animists were mere dabblers—but they served a separate and dangerous function of their own. (pg. 32) Alex has just completed his College training and must set out into the world for the first time in his adult life on his spirit quest, to find the animal who is his soul-mate, who will become his empathetic twin and enable him to communicate with other animals and gain certain other powers (which are revealed in the story). He hopes, as do all young Animists, to bond with a wolf, lion, or something equally impressive, which will lead to a prestigious position with a rich and powerful patron.
   Instead, fate takes Alex to a large island split between two feuding human kingdoms. He manages on his arrival to accidentally incur the anger of Belthas’ patron god, and things go downhill from there. While trying to stay out of the hands of the king’s guards, Alex stumbles into Belthas’ despised Rodeni underworld.

An Animist’s self-interest lies in using his (or her) affinity with animals to control metaphysical powers to gain fortune and power. But Alex’s affinity combined with youthful idealism leads him to champion the cause of Humani-Rodeni equality in the kingdoms of Belthas and Deridal. This earns him the dangerous enmity of both Humani political leaders and Rodeni extremists who oppose any cooperation with humans and advocate extermination of their oppressors.
The world of Animist is shared by at least five intelligent species, but after the first sixty pages which set the stage, this adventure focuses upon only the Humani and Rodeni. Animist is a complete story, but the stage is still set for far more stories, either featuring Alex and his newfound Anim companion or other Animists. This has the potential to be the beginning of a long and popular series.

	Title:	*La Vida Panthera: A Suburban Jungle Portfolio*
	Author:	John ‘The Gneech’ Robey
	Illustrator:	The author
	Publisher:	Plan Nine Publishing (Thomasville, NC), Jun 2000
	ISBN:	1-929462-08-5
		110 pages, $12.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Plan Nine Publishing was started in 1996 to publish ‘dead tree’ collections of Bill Holbrook’s Kevin & Kell, “the world’s first commercial online comic strip.” Those have been so successful that Plan Nine has recently begun a vigorous expansion to make more of the best Internet comic strips “available for viewing off-line!” in annual collections. John Robey’s The Suburban Jungle started in February 1999 and quickly became one of the most popular funny-animal strips on the Net. La Vida Panthera is its first book collection, compiling the strip from February 1, 1999 to April 5, 2000.
   The Suburban Jungle is subtitled ‘Starring Tiffany Tiger’. It is broadly a Cheers-type comedic soap opera focusing upon Tiffany Tiger, an aspiring actress and model; and her roommate, family, and acquaintances. The latter are concentrated around her neighborhood bar, the big computer corporation where Tiffany works to pay her rent while waiting to make it as a model or actress, and the people she meets on her auditions and first assignments.
   Each strip is a daily comedic gag which advances a more serious ongoing storyline. Tiffany is introduced as a young supermodel-wannabe who is sharing a cheap apartment with Yin, a spaced-out panda (she believe The X-Files is real). Tiffany hangs out in the evenings at The Watering Hole, where she and the bartender-owner, Leonard Lion, trade good-natured amorous innuendos. As the strip progresses, more cast members are added. Tiffany gets her first serious auditions. She gets a temp job at MegaHuge Conglomaco with an opportunity to turn permanent employee. This offers good pay, but ends her freedom to go to modeling auditions. She starts some new romantic relationships; a comedic one with computer-nerd Dover Cheetah (mostly wishful thinking on Dover’s part) and a more serious one with super-stud model Conrad Tiger. It gradually becomes clear that Leonard’s feelings for Tiffany are serious and selfless enough that he will pay ‘Cyrano’ to help Tiffany with her preferred lover.
   Much of the surface humor plays off the fantasy nature of the cast as humanoid animals, especially the predator-prey relationship. Leonard has built up the clientele of The Watering Hole among both predators and prey by enforcing a ‘No Predation Allowed’ policy. This is good for business, but it makes it hard for him to catch dinner. Tiffany is friends with a mouse, Wensley, because she can’t stand the taste of mice, and Wensley takes full advantage of having a tiger protector from other predators. A couple of gags reference TV funny-animal stars like Tony the Tiger, and there are funny-animal parodies of pop-culture stars like ‘Weird Al’ Hamstervic. When rich-kid Dover becomes temporarily broke and can’t afford to buy meals, Leonard tries to teach him how to hunt (away from the bar); unsuccessfully, since Dover is too squeamish to kill even a mouse. These animal gags are kept light and do not affect the more realistic storyline. The Suburban Jungle is therefore a genuine funny-animal fantasy, not a realistic human-interest strip where the characters are merely drawn as cartoon animals; and it should appeal to fans of both gag-a-day strips and continuity strips.
   The art in La Vida Panthera is uneven, showing the rapid evolution that many comic strips go through during their first year as their cartoonist develops a preferred character style. Almost all the characters have animal-muzzle whiskers in the earliest strips; these are gone by the end of the 1999 strips. Robey’s art style gradually grows much smoother. The earliest strips are printed cleanly because they were drawn to be posted on the net in black-&-white. Around the beginning of 2000 Robey turned The Suburban Jungle into a full-color strip. While this looks great on the net, many of the later strips in this collection lose all the sharp details of clothing and any scenes set against colored backgrounds into a muddy gray-to-black monochromatic mass. The last ten pages in the book are printed in full color. This is both an appreciated bonus, and frustrating because it emphasizes what has been lost in the color pages printed in black-&-white. (Since it would be prohibitively expensive to print all the strips in full-color, could future collections print them as black-&-white line-art without the computer color rather than as b-&-w copies of the art with the color added?)
   John Robey draws two Internet strips, and Plan Nine has published La Vida Panthera in tandem with a first collection of his other strip: Childproof the Unicorns: A NeverNever Chronicle (also June 2000, 110 pages, $12.95; but ISBN 1-929462-03-4). NeverNever is a fantasy with a cast of mostly humans, cat-riding tiny faeries, gnomes, goblins, and other non-animal species; but there are pookas (shown as anthropomorphic rabbits) and intelligent talking dragons. It does not have enough ’morphs to be pertinent to Yarf!, but unless you read only ’morphic comic strips, you should try this out, too.


	Title:	*Kevin & Kell: For the Birds*
	Author:	Bill Holbrook
	Illustrator:	The author
	Publisher:	Plan Nine Publishing (High Point, NC), Sep 2000
	ISBN:	1-929462-18-2
		142 pages, $12.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


Title:	*Ozy and Millie II: Never Mind Pants*
Author:	David Simpson
Illustrator:	The author
Publisher:	Plan Nine Publishing (High Point, NC), Dec 2000
ISBN:	1-929462-20-4
	154 pages, $12.95
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Tonight’s Top Story: a Newshounds Collection
	Author:	Thomas K. Dye
	Illustrator:	The author
	Publisher:	Plan Nine Publishing (High Point, NC), Dec 2000
	ISBN:	1-929462-10-7
		156 pages, $12.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Since Yarf! #50, we have been reviewing Plan Nine Publishing’s collections of Bill Holbrook’s Kevin & Kell Internet comic strip. Plan Nine was created by two Kevin & Kell fans, David & Lisa Allen, to make the strip (the first comic strip created especially for Internet publication, in September 1995) available outside of computers. They were so successful that they have become the leading publisher of book collections of the rapidly swelling wave of Internet comic strips, including others that are anthropomorphic. Their first collection of John Robey’s The Suburban Jungle, starring Tiffany Tiger, was reviewed in Yarf! #61.
   Plan Nine is speeding up production. The last half of 2000 saw their publication of Holbrook’s fifth Kevin & Kell collection, plus the second collections of David Simpson’s Ozy and Millie and Thomas K. Dye’s Newshounds, as well as several non-’morphic strips. Anyone who enjoys good comic strips, anthropomorphic or not, needs to keep up with Plan Nine’s latest releases. The company has recently moved to a new address: Plan Nine Publishing, 1237 Elon Place, High Point, North Carolina 27263; www.plan9.org.
   Kevin & Kell: For the Birds is the fifth annual collection of Bill Holbrook’s soap-opera depicting life as it might be in a real funny-animal community where the carnivores prey on the herbivores. Kevin & Kell Dewclaw have a controversial mixed-species marriage—he’s a rabbit; she’s a wolf. After five years, the strip has built up the large cast and numerous plot threads of any highly successful comic strip. Those who are not familiar with Kevin & Kell are advised to start with the first collection, Kevin & Kell: Quest for Content, to get to know the characters: Kevin Dewclaw, a stay-at-home online sysop; Kell Dewclaw, a huntress employed at Herdthinners, Inc.; their teen children, Rudy (wolf, from Kell’s first marriage) and Lindisfarne (hedgehog, adopted) and their high-school friends; plus many more. Those who are already fans can dive right into For the Birds without needing any further introduction.
   For the Birds collects the daily strips from September 6, 1999 through August 19, 2000. Story sequences include the revelation (to the readers) that this world’s animal-&-insect civilization is really controlled by the birds; the accidental transformation of firefly Ray Flambeau into a super-genius by the birds’ intelligence ray, and the birds’ kidnapping of Ray and bat Fenton Fuscus (Lindesfarne’s boyfriend) to protect their secret; Kevin’s startup of an online ‘Flea-Bay’ grooming service to match animals with the right mates, and his rabbit ex-wife Angelique’s attempt to hostilely acquire it; how wealth affects the life of Rudy’s girlfriend, Fiona Fennec; Kell’s problems with office politics at Herdthinners (where everyone is a predator); and much more. As usual, the characters’ animal natures are an integral part of the story and the daily jokes. Wolf cub Rudy drinks out of the toilet, while Lindesfarne sheds her quills in inconvenient places, and she has to be especially careful when she babysits young skunks. Kevin & Kell’s fans know what to expect, and they will not be disappointed.
   Kevin & Kell has been a Monday through Friday black-&-white strip for most of its existence. This volume encompasses the transition in June-July 2000 when it became a daily full-color strip with a ‘Sunday newspaper page’ Sunday strip. Due to the expense and difficulties of printing color mixed with black-&-white strips, most of those in For the Birds are in black-&-white with a separate color section of just six of the Sunday pages. Bill Holbrook attended FURther Confusion 2001 in January, where he announced that since fans want the reprint collections to include all the color, their format will be adjusted to make this economically practical. Future collections will be in full color, but contain only six months’ worth of strips rather than a full year’s, at about the same price.

   Ozy and Millie, two eight- to nine-year-olds, are the featured mouthpieces for David Simpson’s views on modern society (notably on social pressures toward conformity) among the students and teachers of Seattle’s North Harbordale Elementary School. Simpson is not the first satirist to present social commentary as coming through the guise of childhood innocence (there was that boy who shouted that the Emperor was not wearing any clothes), but he is one of the few to do so in a funny-animal universe. Simpson’s main cast are Ozymandias J. Llewellyn (~~wolf~~ arctic fox cub), a Zen philosopher; Millicent Mudd (red fox cub), an extrovert and challenger of authority figures; Avery (raccoon) and Felicia Laine (sheep), stereotypical followers of all the latest ‘cool’ trends; Jeremy Studley (rabbit), representative of sports jocks and school bullies; and Stephan Aardvarke, the ultimate computer geek.
   Ozy and Millie’s adults represent the conformity being commented upon. Their attitudes range from Millie’s mother’s practical willingness to put up with it, to the principal’s comically exaggerated belief that schools have a duty to tranquilize or hammer kids into conformity as part of preparing them for life. The major exception is Ozy’s adoptive father, a Welsh red dragon. Mr. Llewellyn and his dragon relatives represent successful nonconformity in adult life. They hold clan reunions in magic castles in Idaho; they run for president on bizarre third-party tickets; they are in charge of all the international conspiracies. They do not accomplish much, but they signify that it is still possible to have fun and imagination after you grow up.
   Broadly speaking, Ozy and Millie is like Calvin and Hobbes except that, where readers were supposed to understand that all the fantasy in Calvin and Hobbes was in Calvin’s imagination, in Ozy and Millie it is real. In Ozy and Millie II: Never Mind Pants (collecting the strips from August 23, 1999 through September 9, 2000 plus an original full-color ten-page story), there really is a whole fantasy world similar to Porky Pig’s Wackyland inside Ozy’s couch. Ozy really does, as a funny animal, get away with not wearing pants in public (and Avery’s little brother Timulty, a five-year-old raccoon child, is usually completely nude except for fur). Mr. Llewellyn really does breathe fire and, during the era of McCarthyism, he ate Senator McCarthy’s car. These fantasy aspects are only occasionally pertinent to one of the continued stories which run for a week or two; usually they are only used for individual gags. Otherwise, Ozy and Millie is a typical funny animal comic strip similar to Carl Barks’ world of talking ducks. There is plenty of fantasy in the stories, but little need for the characters to be talking animals instead of humans. This is a very minor quibble; it is more important that Ozy and Millie is a delightfully humorous and attractively drawn funny-animal strip.

   In Thomas K. Dye’s Newshounds, struggling KPET-TV owner Laura Dilbrook puts her pets to work as the station’s staff. This amusing setup makes Newshounds similar to descriptions of the concept of The Frostbite Falls Review, Alex Anderson’s & Jay Ward’s early 1950s unsold pilot for a TV cartoon series about a North Woods radio station run by animals. (Two of those, Rocket J. Squirrel and Bullwinkle J. Moose, later achieved stardom in a different series.)
   This staff consists of Renata Fayre and Wolfram Blitzen (dogs), the co-anchors of KPET Action News; Sam Shepherd (dog), physical fitness coach and sportscaster; Alistar Katt, social commentator; Kevin J. Dog, cameradog; and Ferris the Rat, janitor. The four dogs look considerably different, but their breeds are not nearly as important as their personalities. Renata and Wolfram are photogenic TV personalities, but Renata is a sharp investigator (and feminist-activist) while Wolfram is all looks and no brains. Sam is a sexist sports jock, while Alistair is as much a social activist as commentator, chaining himself to trees and campaigning for gun control. Kevin is the practical sort who gets things accomplished behind the scenes. Ferris is a TV junkie who believes everything he sees in commercials, and he has an obsession for Tori Spelling.
   Sequences in Newshounds vary between several days’ worth of individual gag strips, and stories that run for a couple of months. The plots bounce back and forth between those in which the KPET staff are treated just like humans (they have to take a DMV test and get a license to drive vehicles, like everyone else) with nobody surprised by their being talking animals, and those in which their animal natures are important. In Tonight’s Top Story, the second Newshounds collection (and the first published by Plan Nine), presenting the strips from January 11, 1999 through March 30, 2000, Ferris gets an invitation to a ‘Vermin Nation Dance … for rodents only’ that turns out to be a trap to kidnap animals for dangerous scientific research experiments. (“What’s this experiment supposed to be about?” “It’s to see how much Stephen King one can read before their eyeballs go on strike.”) When Kevin gets sick from overeating at a party, he decides against taking human stomach medicine and goes out to the lawn to chew some grass. (This begins a story in which KPET’s lawn is discovered to have been sprayed with toxic chemicals.)
   The KPET staff are not the only funny animals in this world. Two talking fish try to get Alistair Katt to publicize their plan to block off the Panama Canal’s entrance locks with a chain of fish. Kevin has Strong Feelings for Stormy, a dog-girl fan of Blackadder whose dog boyfriend is a clerk at a Starbucks. The relationship between the human and funny-animal cast contains mixed signals. Sam Shepherd goes to a baseball game and has to buy a ticket to get in. When a psycho ‘Son of Son of Sam’ tries to kill an umpire during a baseball game, Sam is arrested for inciting the crime because of his name and witnesses hearing him yelling “Kill the umpire!” in the bleachers. Alistair Katt serves as his defense attorney, which the court has no objections to, but they had to settle for Alistair because a human attorney refused to “degrade himself to represent a smelly, toilet water-drinking dog”.
   If you have a favorite Internet anthropomorphic comic strip, the odds are good that Plan Nine Publishing has recently published a book collection of it or is in negotiations to do so soon. (They have been talking with Mark Stanley about a first Freefall collection.) Their books are not carried in most of the bookshops that stock the collections of newspaper comic strips, so take a look at their online catalogue.

   Plan Nine Publishing is not the exclusive publisher of collections of Internet comic strips. Jarlidium Press was recently started by fan-roommates James ‘Tibo’ Birdsall and Dan ‘Flinthoof’ Canaan, two of the main staff of the Seattle area’s ConiFur Northwest conventions. Flinthoof is the artist-author of the online Roomies strip, so we may expect a collection of it soon.
   According to the introduction, Dela the Hooda got its start around a decade ago when Wager & Older, two Canadian college buddies and gaming fans, started brainstorming a scenario inspired by Howard the Duck: what would really happen to an intelligent animal person from an alternate dimension suddenly transported to our world? Originally conceiving of this as an epic new role-playing game, they began several years of development of the fantasy universe from which this character would come. Much of this 22-page introduction consists of excerpts from this background to the world of Mhâr: its history, geography, politics, and position in a 25th century interstellar civilization; and the physical characteristics of its hood (basically funny-animal foxes) inhabitants. This is still under construction. Meanwhile, Older attended the 1997 Anthrocon where he learned about Internet comic strips. Since they were looking at several more years before their Mhâr: the Final Frontier game would be finished, they decided to introduce its basic concept right away as an Internet strip.
   A Nice Place to Visit contains the first couple of years’ worth of Dela the Hooda. (A hooda is a female hood.) Dela (Cordelia Aldershaw). Born on Farawrath, a Genesis (Terra-type) planet located roughly 50 ly from Mhâr, the UIC [United Interstellar Council] homeworld. […] Dela received a post-grad scholarship at Eben Monacron University on Mhâr and moved there […] (pg. 23). After a dozen strips which introduce the main cast on Earth, Dela gives her flashback origin story beginning as a part-time computer programmer at the university on Mhâr. Since Dela is a humorous fantasy strip despite the nominal s-f premise, the campus features a multispecies student body and faculty from planets throughout the UIC including humans, various funny animals, and halflings from Middle Earth; and the classes cover a technological range from hard science to magic. Dela is programming a computer for a professor notorious as ‘Dr. Zap’, the university’s mad scientist, when ‘the energy to the Temporal Warp’ spikes and she is blown through a dimensional Limbo to Peabow, a suburb of Toronto, Canada in our world. Fortunately Dela immediately meets Sue Chan, a young lesbian Chinese-Canadian teaching assistant at one of Peabow’s universities. Sue, an anti-establishment activist, is understanding of ‘unusual’ women and she needs a house-mate to help pay rent.
   This leads into the main continuity. At first Dela tries to remain hidden in Sue’s duplex in case Sue’s fears about government dissection of any aliens they catch might be true. (They aren’t; Canada’s Men In Plaid have Seen It All before.) This leads to looking for ways to earn a living without being seen (telemarketing). Dela soon gets cabin fever and ventures outside the duplex. The gradually growing supporting cast include Sue’s acquaintances who can keep her secret, notably raunchy sexist photographer Jake McRoss; a little girl who treats Dela as an Imaginary Friend (and threatens to turn her in to the police if she will not be a playmate); a grumpy next-door-neighbor who cannot convince anyone that he really sees a ‘giant fox creature’, and others. Eventually Dela begins to take risks; she is not a lesbian, and she wants a social life beyond Sue’s preferences. (Are hood and humans non-interfertile, or does Dela need Protection?) This first collection ends with brief hints of later developments: Dela is not the only furry alien in hiding on Earth; and Dela’s friends and parents on Mhâr are trying to find what dimension she was blasted to, as they sue Dr. Zap for damages.
   Many of the jokes relate to the life and concerns of the youth/counterculture society that normally develops around a college campus. Dela, as an ultimate stranger to Canadian (and U.S.) society, is a natural mouthpiece for ‘outsider’ commentary on the non-logic of such things as TV talk-shows and the news coverage of the Bill Clinton sex scandals. This collection ends with a mini-folio of guest drawings of Dela by seven other well-known ’morphic cartoonists. The Dela the Hooda Treasury is another book that will not be found in regular bookstores. Order it through one of the Furry specialty book sources, or from Jarlidium Press, 2406 SW 308th Place, Federal Way, WA 98023; http://www.picarefy.com/jarlidium.

   This is the first book publication of Hanson-Roberts’ long story originally serialized (slightly out of order) in Furrlough, from #17 (May 1994) through #35 (November 1995). It is much too good a novel to go out of print, so SFA’s attractive graphic novel edition is especially welcome.
   Here Comes a Candle is a thinly disguised fantasy saga of the French Revolution, covering roughly the twenty years between Louis XVI’s coronation and the Reign of Terror. The fact that it is set in a fairy-tale world inhabited by animals does not keep it from being as accurate a historical overview of the causes of the Revolution and its first bloody excesses as the best historical novels such as Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities or Sabatini’s Scaramouche. The world is wide, begins the Introduction, and the population of that portion of it known for the time being as the Peaceable Kingdom may be of good cheer. At last there is no irony in the name. The religious wars are over, and the conflicts between furfolk and featherfolk are merely a memory. The times are civilized— (pg. 3)
   ‘Civilized’ means indolent and socially stagnant. The Peaceable Kingdom is a great place to live for the aristocracy, who spend their lives in luxury, but not so nice for the commoners and peasants who are taxed to pay for revelry and ‘support of the arts’ such as new palaces. One of the noblest estates is Carabas Hall, home of Lord Puss-in-Boots, the effete eighth descendent of the vigorous founder of the line. The three main characters in Here Comes a Candle are Thomas and Nedwin, his two newborn twin sons and heirs, and Galen Birch (owl), their adult tutor. Over the twenty-year span of the novel, Thomas and Nedwin grow to maturity, separate, and are reunited in a manner that neither expect. Both are good-hearted, but Thomas, raised in the isolation of the nobility, is completely out of touch with the reality of the social forces overwhelming the land. The more adventurous Nedwin, who runs away from home to find Adventure (and finds more of it than he had wanted), builds a new life for himself, not returning until the climax to attempt to rescue his brother. Master Birch represents the high-minded founders of the Revolution. An academic philosopher who idealizes Reason and Justice, he favors forcing a new form of government to establish Equality and Justice for rich and poor alike. He is soon swept aside by those more interested in Revenge against the upper classes, soon to be replaced by an attitude toward their fellow Reformers of, “I’d better behead him before he beheads me!”
   These three lead a cast of dozens, with hundreds of background characters. Other major players are Doctor Lucky (duck), whose patients only sometimes recover due to his fondness for prescribing bloodletting to cure all diseases, and his assistant Igor (beaver); the Marquis of Brickmanor (swine), an overelaborate expansion of his ancestor’s house of bricks; Lady Beulah, the ferret who becomes the new Lady Puss-in-Boots and Thomas’ & Nedwin’s stepmother (not evil as much as an overly-haughty example of everything wrong with the upper classes); Thomas’ future bride, the Lady Felice Angora Malkin; Blackboots, the pirate wench, captain of the Bobby Shaftoe; Tinker, the skunk inventor; Mayor Hubbard (dog) of the village of Tuffet-on-the-Green; and Sir Jack, an ass. As can be seen from some of these names, the story is full of wordplay. There is even more in the dialogue, such as referring to a cowardly rooster sea captain as “the chicken of the sea”, or dismissing the elderly Hubbard with “The old gray Mayor, he ain’t what he used to be.”
   My main complaint with many popular Furry artists is that they do not bother to draw backgrounds. That is certainly not a fault of Mary Hanson-Roberts. Her panels are so full of detail that one could spend five minutes looking at each page to take it all in. This often means a dozen or more clearly detailed ’morphic characters in crowd scenes. Yet while her panels may be crowded, they are excellently designed. The reader’s eye is always drawn first to the central subject, then allowed to drift to the rich background.
   This review has been more of technical details than of plot. That is because the plot is as complex as the French Revolution itself. There is bravery, cowardice, reason, foolishness, love, treachery, and more spread out over more than a generation. The narrative is beautifully drawn (most fans will be familiar with Hanson-Roberts’ art from s-f and Furry convention art shows; she also designs greeting cards) and full of witticisms. Here Comes a Candle deserves to be considered along with Art Spiegelman’s Maus as Literature in cartoon-art form with a funny-animal cast.

   Sleepers, ’morphdom’s leading political thriller, started in 1990 as an announced ten part graphic novel. Is that still the plan? Part III came out in March 1997. It’s good to see Part IV at last, but will we live long enough to reach Part X?
   Sleepers is ’morphdom’s contribution to conspiracy fiction about plots to subvert the American or British government by Nazis or similar totalitarian dictators, in the tradition of the James Bond franchise or Levin’s The Boys from Brazil. Mac Talons (eagle) is an F.B.I. agent, a reckless daredevil who got his post mostly through the agency’s respect for his grandfather, a top government investigator of the World War II period. Now his grandfather has just died of old age, and the bureaucrats would like to get rid of Mac because his work, although successful, is too high-profile for the bureau’s preferred anonymity. But Mac, who is currently working on a case against Organized Crime (the Don Keleone Mafia family; donkeys), finds documents in his grandfather’s files about a conspiracy that the F.B.I. never took seriously; a cabal of elderly Nazis and new American right-wingers working with Japanese ultra-nationalists to take over the American government and then help a restored Japanese military government to take over Asia. Mac is soon dodging bullets while his girlfriend Evey (vixen) is kidnapped. In the ensuing hugger-mugger between Germans, Japanese, ex-Soviet agents and American gangsters, Mac (and the reader) is hard-pressed to figure out who is gunning for him, and which of the hidden conspirators are allied with each other, or double-crossing each other, or trying to use him to eliminate their adversaries. The possibilities extend to agents of the conspiracy within the F.B.I. itself.
   A nice touch has been the occasional use of actual newspaper clippings about missing records on Nazi war crimes, Nazi war criminals believed still hiding in South America, Emperor Hirohito’s personal guilt in World War II, extremist right-wing groups in America, and the like to buttress the plausibility of the political conspiracy that is secretly taking over more and more of the American government. There have also been a few brief flashbacks to the military adventures of Mac’s grandfather during the Battle of the Bulge in 1944.
   Unfortunately, this has gotten out of hand in Part IV. Another World War II flashback runs on for 13 of the 56 pages; a major interruption in the flow of the story. The use of newspaper clippings has not only increased, it now specifically identifies Bill Clinton with the hidden conspiracy taking over the U.S. government. There are seven pages (many from conservative editorial columns rather than news articles) about Clinton’s Whitewater coverup, the growing popularity of Fascism among Americans, and Bill & Hillary’s replacement of honest government employees with their own loyalists. Some of the clippings seem so far-fetched as to destroy rather than increase the atmosphere of suspicion, such as one on the Columbine High School massacre (a deliberate step in Clinton’s plot to trick America into adopting gun control laws?), and another on the incident of flashing lights in an episode of Pokémon sending 700 Japanese children into seizures (the Japanese conspirators’ experiments on controlling the public with subliminal broadcasting?). There are two whole pages of comparisons of Clinton’s record with Adolf Hitler’s. Hitler used the burning of the Parliament building as an excuse to pass controversial laws that reduced German freedoms. Clinton used the bombing of the Oklahoma Federal Building as an excuse to pass controversial laws that reduced American freedoms. […] Hitler was despised by most of his military officers. Clinton is despised by most of his military officers […] Hitler didn’t smoke, and prevented others around him from smoking. Clinton sued Tobacco companies and wants to prevent others from smoking. (The implications that the Clinton administration is rigging the government to keep itself in office permanently would have been more effective if this had been published before the 2000 elections.) Mac’s adventures get dangerously bogged down in all this.
   Several pages do flow nicely and the plot does advance some. A promising new character is introduced, sexy F.B.I. agent Hamilton (pigeon?). So Part IV is certainly worth reading. But this is the weakest of the albums so far. Let’s hope that the wait for Part V will not be nearly as long, and that it will return to the story and the action with just a little of the mood-setting supporting material.

A ‘Lost Classic’


	Title:	Guardians of the Three: Volume II, Keeper of the City
	Authors:	Peter Morwood & Diane Duane
	Publisher:	Bantam Spectra (NYC), Aug 1989
	ISBN:	0-553-28065-1
		x + 309 pages
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

The Guardians of the Three is a shared-world fantasy series of four novels published during 1989-1990, written by different authors to guidelines created by Bill Fawcett. To quote the cover blurb:

   Frankly, with the exception of the novel by Morwood & Duane, this series is so bad as to be an embarrassment. None of the first, third or fourth novels have much more plot or characterization than a very amateurish game of Dungeons & Dragons. And only lip-service is paid to the fact that the cast is supposed to be feline. Aside from a few superficial descriptions such as ‘strikingly unusual gray-blue fur’ in the first couple of pages, the characters are regularly described in such standard human terms of appearance and clothing that the reader quickly forgets that they are anything else.
   But the second novel, Keeper of the City, by the husband-wife writing team of Diane Duane and Peter Morwood, is unexpectedly excellent. It does not deserve to be dragged into oblivion with the others.
   Reswen is Chief of Constables of the small independent city-state of Niau, at the edge of the great desert separating the mrems’ lands from the territories of the Eastern Lords. His office combines the duties of a city police force and a Secret Service. (Reading between the lines, Reswen is the head of a Gestapo. Fortunately for the citizens of Niau, Reswen is a benevolently paternal secret dictator who believes in keeping the peace with as light and unobtrusive a paw as possible.)
   It has been so long since Niau and its neighbors have been troubled by the Eastern Lands that many believe that the reptilian liskash are extinct, and were probably mythological anyway. When a trade mission overflowing with exotic Middle Eastern pomp crosses the desert after several generations to establish friendly relations and lucrative commerce, Niau’s wealthy Council of Elders is eager to take advantage of the occasion. Reswen is willing to give the Easterners the benefit of the doubt, as long as he can keep a close surveillance on them. Then a deadly crime wave starts in Niau, while relations between Niau and a nearby mrem nation turn inexplicably hostile. The more that Reswen’s agents fail to find any evidence that the Easterners are behind this, the more sure he becomes that they are, somehow, and are laughing at him as they prepare to destroy Niau altogether. The mystery is cunning and subtly developed. Believable characters are established through clever dialogue. Both heroes and villains are intelligent, and the menace is much more slowly and sinisterly built up—and therefore is more suspenseful—than having an unending horde of screaming, sword-waving desert bandits spurred on by black-robed evil wizards attack the city walls, as the other novels do.
   More importantly, Morwood & Duane make Niau convincingly feel like a city of cats:

And that is in just Chapter 1. Keeper of the City is not merely the only one of the four novels which makes frequent references to the mrem having tails, but actually features the characters using their tails as an extra limb.

   Other feline attributes such as their night vision are key elements of the plot. To give one away (spoiler warning!), the Siamese courtesan described in the page 32 citation can go into heat at will and direct her seductiveness, to bedazzle any desired male in a crowd. (And in this novel, unlike the others, the she-mrem do not have ‘bosoms’.) Keeper of the City is an excellent anthropomorphic novel which really makes its setting feel like a city of humanoid cats, rather than of humans who are only inconvincingly described as looking like cats.
   It is truly unfortunate that Keeper of the City is tied to a minor, forgotten series which does not even give the authors cover credit. The other volumes are not worth reprinting, but they make it extremely unlikely that Keeper of the City could be reprinted on its own. You will have to look for it in the s-f paperback sections of used bookstores, probably under Fawcett since the cover reads: Guardians of the Three: Volume II, Keeper of the City, created by Bill Fawcett. Diane Duane and Peter Morwood are given credit inside, where their biographical blurb describes them as both cat-lovers. It shows.
   (In case anyone wonders why a review of a novel so long out of print, this was a rejected submission to the Program Book of FURther Confusion 2001, where Duane and Morwood were guests of honor.)

   Alan Dean Foster is one of the major authors of modern anthropomorphic fiction, both for his s-f novels featuring animaloid aliens (Quozl, the Icerigger trilogy, and his Commonwealth series, among others) and for his fantasy novels featuring talking animals. The latter category has been dominated by his Spellsinger series (1983-1987 and 1993-94) starring human Jon-Tom Meriweather in a world of clothes-wearing anthropomorphized ‘funny animals’, notably his raunchy sidekick Mudge the otter.
   With Kingdoms of Light, Foster introduces a new fantasy universe with talking animals. The story starts in a very tongue-in-cheek, over-the-top stereotypical FRP-gaming world full of good and evil human warriors, knights and wizards, plus ogres, trolls and the usual lot of fantasy monsters. The evil Totumakk Horde, driven by the much-feared malign necromantic Khaxan Mundurucu, is just about to overrun the civilized Gowdlands. Only the great wizard Susnam Evyndd is powerful enough to stop him. Unfortunately, Evyndd is killed in Chapter Two.
   To flaunt its power and dispirit any remaining resistance, the Khaxan Mundurucu sorcerously hexes all color out of the world. With the light went every suggestion, every hint of color, until all the known world found itself existing in a state of enduring grayness, permanently somber and sad. When on the following morn the sun rose, it would not shine, but instead cast only a cold ashen glow on a world cast down into an abiding melancholy. (pgs. 28-29). But Susnam Evyndd was a cautious man who tried to prepare for every eventuality. His death activates a posthumous spell that transforms the pets in his isolated forest home—Oskar the terrier; the cats Mamakitty, Cocoa and Cezer; Taj the canary; and Samm the python—into human form, and bids them to a quest to accomplish what he could not: Stop the Khaxan Mundurucu. To do this, they must bring color back into the world from the magical Kingdoms of the Rainbow. The humanoid dog, cats, bird and serpent have to learn to set aside their instinctual rivalries and work together as they pass through the six monochromatic kingdoms, each of which has its own magical wonders and dangers—not to mention that the questers are being followed by Khaxan Muncurucu’s own team of a vicious quoll and two vampire bats transformed into human assassins.
   Kingdoms of Light invites comparisons not only with Foster’s Spellsinger series but also with Piers Anthony’s Xanth series. Whether the latter is good or bad depends upon how you feel about Xanth. This is definitely a ‘Spellsinger Lite’. Instead of concentrating upon two strong protagonists like Jon-Tom and Mudge, who stand out amidst a large supporting cast, Kingdoms of Light features a half-dozen main characters who are distinguished more by their animal traits than by their personalities. Instead of dominating the quest, the travellers seem more like gawking tourists, inviting the reader to accompany them as they marvel at the imposing magical natural features and denizens of the crimson, orangey, golden, emerald, azure, and lavender kingdoms through which they wander. Like Xanth, the characters are subordinate to the colorful fantasy landscape, which is largely shaped by the heavy-handed jocular wordplay.
   The anthropomorphism is similarly overtly manipulative for comic relief. Oskar, Mamakitty and the others immediately have normal human bodies, a perfect instinctual command of human speech and reading, and even a good working knowledge of swordsmanship; but they have to keep making guesses as to, “Hey, should we put human clothing on before we go outdoors?” and “No, you can’t just piss on the nearest tree anymore!” Throughout the novel the band compare their new human bodies with their previous animal forms. All agree that hands are, er, handy, but Oskar and the cats are nervous about teetering so far off the ground on only two legs instead of having the stability of four legs, and Taz complains about having to plod on the ground instead of being able to fly swiftly over it. They constantly ask each other whether they prefer their original animal natures or being human, obviously challenging the reader to guess which they will choose at the story’s end. This is intellectually amusing, but it keeps characterization subordinate to authorial wit.
   Occasionally a crisis develops in which being human is not the best way to avoid trouble. These are unexpectedly resolved by one or more of the characters suddenly regaining the right animal trait to combat the menace. “This is the work of Master Evyndd.” Cocoa had come to stand alongside her sister feline. “Once more, the essence of our real selves has saved us.” (pg. 222) This is more satisfying than having each magical rescue be a complete deus ex machina. Nevertheless, stating outright that the companions can count on the spirit of their dead master to save them from any serious danger further reduces them from interesting, individualized characters to a group of chaperoned students.
   ’Morph fans will enjoy the constant references to the human sextet’s original beastly natures. Some of their adventures have them turning back into their true animal forms while retaining their human intelligence and speech. And most of the inhabitants of the Kingdoms of the Rainbow whom they meet are decidedly non-human. …the proprietress in question differed from anyone they had yet encountered. […] her countenance was not in the least humanoid. Spinelike whiskers protruded at least a foot from the sides of her huge, dark mouth. This somewhat intimidating maw was lined with slender, needle-like teeth that made those of the quoll look blunt. Her eyes were wide and wild, with enormous dark pupils. In contrast, the dress and apron she wore were pure homespun. (pg. 130) The other rider spoke for the first time. Oskar noted that he had four horns protruding from his head, a third eye in the center of his forehead, and only three long fingers on each hand. (pg. 141) One kingdom is populated solely by anthropomorphic trees, while in another, Humans who wash up on the beach or otherwise make their way here are reduced to their animal natures. (pg. 299) (Many ’morph fans would undoubtedly love to move there.)
   On the whole, Kingdoms of Light offers more plusses than minuses for the ’morphic reader. The novel comes to a definite conclusion, but leaves the companions undecided whether to retire as heroes or continue on to new adventures. “Perhaps, with time and careful perusal of Master Evyndd’s restored store of knowledge, we can learn how to switch more efficiently between our animal natures and our human selves.” (pg. 371) In other words, buy this book if you want to read sequels.

   Dark Inheritance is a mainstream thriller in the Stephen King-Dean Koontz school of technohorror; of science out of control and creating monsters—maybe.
   Smyth-Archer Chemists (SAC), a British-based multinational leader of the pharmaceutical industry, prides itself in all aspects of medical and psychological research. One of its major projects is to raise bonobos (pygmy chimpanzees) among human families as though they were human children, to study the psychological effects of rearing non-human primates in a technologically advanced environment and outside their own species. SAC also maintains a Primate Preserve in the African jungle, to study bonobos and chimpanzees in the wild, and as a public-relations-friendly retirement community for laboratory apes no longer useful for experiments.
   Dr. Jim Dutton is an anthropologist at Colorado State University in his mid-thirties; the single father of thirteen-year-old daughter Brettany, and foster father of Umber, a bonobo a year younger. SAC supplied Umber to Jim when Brett was two. The human and bonobo girls have been raised as sisters. As Umber has matured, Jim has become aware that she does not match the standard bonobo profile. She is more precocious and intelligent than merely being raised exclusively among humans can explain. Now physical differences are beginning to develop, notably a more humanlike skull. Jim learns that other anthropologists raising SAC-supplied bonobos have noticed similar developments. SAC management refuses to answer any questions except to remind the researchers that their contracts require strict secrecy and that they must not communicate with each other. But Jim learns that the specialty of SAC’s reclusive company owner Geoffrey Smyth-Archer is genetics, not behaviorism.
   The novel begins with four parallel stories which gradually merge. The primary one is that of Jim, Brett and Umber. The second is that of what is going on at SAC. Smyth-Archer is an obsessed experimenter; a modern-day Dr. Frankenstein. He spends all his time in a secret laboratory in SAC’s primate compound in Africa. SAC’s business empire is run by Richard Godmoore, who has over fifteen years built up SAC’s ruthless dominance of the global pharmaceutical industry, and enabled Geoff to conduct his experiments without interruption. It has also let Godmoore skim several million pounds personally. But SAC’s bioengineering of superintelligent apes has grown too prominent to remain hidden. Godmoore’s choices are to either wait until the apes become known to the world in the very near future, and risk a public furore over ‘creating monsters’ which could destroy the company (and his secret personal fortune)—or to see that all the intelligent bonobos and all humans who know about them quickly disappear.
   The third plot follows Brett’s mother, Valerie Radin, a correspondent for the Triple N TV international news channel. She goes after drug kings in Colombia, and on an assignment in Algiers she was on-camera herself with the AK-47 […] taking shots at the snipers that pinned down her camera crew. (pg. 37) She and Jim were lovers in college, but she refused to wed and dumped their child on him because a married life would have trapped her. Jim is still in love with her, while Brett has mixed feelings about the mother who is a famous TV personality but who rejected her. Valerie is becoming too old to continue globehopping into danger spots, and is looking for a mega-scoop that can win her promotion from foreign assignments to a permanent news anchor position. Uncovering SAC’s secret project could be that scoop.
   The fourth is what is going on at SAC’s African Primate Preserve in Equatorial Guinea. Some of SAC’s earliest enhanced bonobos, considered dangerously violent failures, are smarter than the scientists realize. SAC believes that they have been successfully readapted to the wild and are living in natural feral bonobo family groups. But one of these groups has begun to experimentally kill humans, starting with local poachers who will not be missed. They are practicing for a massacre of all humans.
   Halfway through the novel, all the separate plots come together at SAC’s African Preserve. SAC has ordered Umber transferred there, ostensibly to study how an ape raised among humans for twelve years reacts to being returned to the jungle, but actually to get her away from the press in America. Jim and Brett accompany her, supposedly to help her transition back to a feral life, but actually to free her from SAC’s control. Valerie arrives while investigating SAC’s secret, which now includes two killings in America. The unexpected meeting of Jim, Brett, Valerie and Umber is a violent shock when all four need to be at their most alert. Some of the Preserve’s personnel are honest scientists while others have orders to make sure all the troublemakers disappear. The feral bonobos are ready to strike. The key to the climax are the two girls, best friends and almost twins: Umber, raised to understand the feelings and culture of both species; and Brett, her spiritual sister who is so emotionally attuned that the two are almost telepathic.
   For ’morphic fans, Dark Inheritance is primarily Umber’s story. W. Michael Gear holds a master’s degree in physical anthropology, is a member of the American Association of Physical Anthropology, and has conducted studies in the areas of human osteology, paleoanthropology, forensics, and primate evolution (dust jacket biography), so the laboratory scenes and technical discussions are convincing. Umber is a sympathetic character, a consciously confused blend of human intelligence and bonobo instincts, unsure herself just who the ‘real Umber’ is. She has two ‘mirror images’ for comparison: Brett, her human sister, and Sky Eyes, the leader of the Primate Preserve’s rogue group of violent bonobos. Which does she really belong with? She would like to be more like Brett, but is this wishful thinking? Even if Umber is psychologically more human than bonobo, which will the public see her as after the story of the killings makes the news? Can Jim and Brett protect Umber from the other humans? Can Umber protect Brett from the other bonobos? Fans of mainstream thrillers about intelligent lab animals on the run and looking for their place in the humans’ civilization will enjoy Dark Inheritance.


	Title:	*Alysha’s Fall*
	Author:	M. C. A. Hogarth
	Illustrators:	M. C. de Alarcon H., Eugene Arenhaus, Conrad Wong, Dave Bryant, Phil Morrissey, Mike Raabe, & Richard Bartrop
	Publisher:	Cornwuff Press (DeKalb, IL), Sep 2000
	ISBN:	0-9702805-0-5
		xvi + 141 pages, $12.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   M. C. A. Hogarth (well-known in fandom as Maggie de Alarcon before her recent marriage) has been writing the adventures of Alysha Forrest, a ’morphic galactic starship commander, in fanzines since 1996. Alysha’s Fall is a ‘fix-up’ novelization of Alysha’s origins. It consists of a heavy revision of five short stories that appeared in Mythagoras, Pawprints and Yarf! during 1997 and 1998, plus two new stories/chapters. Each has one or two illustrations from among seven artists. In an Afterword, Hogarth traces the development of her protagonist along with her own maturing, from a juvenile’s cartoon character through a romantic feline during adolescence to the self-assured, quietly feminist commander of today. Alysha is featured in some twenty-three separate stories: two of which were published in semi-professional magazines, and another of which, Sword of the Alliance, is one of my unpublished novels. (pg. 137) The seven stories here are the first seven of Alysha’s biography, not the first seven to be written.
   Compared to the earliest versions of the character, the s-f setting of the series was crafted recently, influenced by the galactic civilizations of such authors as Larry Niven and C. J. Cherryh. Genetic engineering of human-animal hybrids starts in 2007, as part of a government-subsidized effort to populate the thus-far empty universe with other intelligent (and human-friendly) life. The genetic technology is soon abused to create Pelted ‘companions’ for the growing demands of the moneyed elite. By 2047 the social situation is so tense that when spaceship technology finally enables the interstellar generation ships to be launched, all the Pelted are sent in them; those designed as hardy colonists and those designed as simple-minded sex toys alike. A devastating war keeps Earth from following up on its stellar colonization for centuries. By the time Earth sends its own human representatives to the stars, it finds a galactic government already established among the worlds settled by the different species of humanoid animals. Once the Pelted lived among Men; now Men live among the Pelted, one world of the multitude encompassed by the Alliance. Even after four hundred years, the irony escapes no one. (pg. xiv)
   This sounds like a setup for a drama of human-Pelted conflict, but that is overly simplistic. To be blunt, this is an unpleasant novel in which almost everyone is no damn good. Hogarth thanks a friend for encouraging her to submit her stories despite her fears that they were too dark and ugly for publication. Her galactic federation is a brotherhood on the surface, but riddled with hatred. Many parties would like to blame it all on human-Pelted rivalry, with arrogant humans considering themselves better than the animal peoples. In fact, there are secret supremacist societies among most of the Pelted species, and just as much prejudice between themselves as there ever was among the human races.
   This is still mostly background. Alysha Forrest is a Karaka’An graduating from high school. She has always dreamed of going on to the space Fleet’s Academe, but after her father’s death her mother degenerated into a cheap whore. Alysha spends all that she has to journey to Terracentrus and the Academe, hoping to qualify for a merit scholarship. But they are a farce; officially for the gifted needy, but in fact all given to students whose parents have enough influence to grab a free pass when they could easily pay the tuition. Alysha is determined to earn enough to enter the Academe, no matter what; and after years of watching her mother spread her legs for whoever had enough money, she knows what to do. Alysha’s Fall examines whether it is possible to keep a high moral standard while submitting to physical degradation for a worthy goal—even when, the more that Alysha learns about the true nature of the Alliance and its Fleet, the less worthy that goal looks.
   Alysha’s first acquaintances on Terracentrus are from the various Pelted worlds. Her own Karaka’An are furred and tailed digitigrade felinoids. The Asanii are also felinoid, but plantigrade. There are the foxine Tam-illee, the wolfine Hinichi, the tigerine Harat-Shar, the Aera who ‘did not owe a majority of their appearance to any single Terran animal,’ the winged but flightless Malarai, and others. And humans, all of whom are among the upper class cadets and faculty/officers at the Academe. Alysha makes friends and enemies among both her classmates and her fellow employees at the notorious Phantasies bordello, and they are not always whom they appear to be at first. Much of her origin story is grim and depressing, but she is a very strong character. It is not giving anything away to those who have read some of Hogarth’s other stories, set after Alysha has graduated and won her command, to say that the conclusion is uplifting and positive.
   For the story to work, the reader must be convinced that a cadet living in a military academy could sneak out every night over many months to work at a whorehouse, without getting caught. Hogarth works hard at making this whopping implausibility believable. It does not entirely work, but it works better than might be expected due to some clever setups. It may be more important that Hogarth clearly has recognized the problem and does something about it, so the reader is willing to cut her some slack. This is, after all, a first novel. Hopefully her next will not be long in following it.

   Sofawolf Press, the Furry small press which started with the semi-yearly magazine Anthrolations in January 2000, has just published its first book. Breaking the Ice is an attractive trade paperback original fiction anthology, containing six stories by different authors written around a shared-world theme. These are the tales of New Tibet, an arctic world inhabited by anthropomorphic animals struggling against poverty, organized crime, and the bleak weather to find a spark of hope. Escape is nearly impossible, and even those who get close find that it is sometimes no more than an illusion… (cover blurb)
   Dead End, by Samuel C. Conway (Anthrocon’s ‘Uncle Kage’) is a brief vignette in which a vulture bartender describes the planet and its social setup to a new arrival (and to the reader). In Susman’s own A Prison of Clouds, an office worker desperate to get himself and his gay lover (both foxes) offplanet makes the mistake of trying to scam a crime gang (polar bears) for the price of two spaceship tickets. Nightswimming, by David Andrew Cowan, is a Romeo & Juliet tale of young lovers (a vixen and a boy otter) forced into life-threatening risks to stay together. Array of Hope, by David Richards, is similar to A Prison of Clouds, but here Lon (fox) is faced with a choice between escaping alone from New Tibet or giving up his dreams to stay with his lover, Raph (bear). In Touch of Gray, by Jeff Eddy, Jecin (snow leopard) is a doctor whose idealism is eroding under the planet’s endless depression. When he is recruited by unseen telepathic ‘gods’ to start killing people who are ‘agents of The Dark’, he neither knows nor cares whether he is really acting under outside guidance or he has gone mad. It is up to his daughter Harmony to learn the truth. Skin Deep, by ‘2’, makes the others seem like light comedies. All the stories are very nicely illustrated by Odis Holcomb.
   The stories are all admirably well-written for fan-fiction. Two of the six are identified as their authors’ first published works. Susman explains in his Foreword, “Depressing worlds are rich cultures for heroic tales; it’s an old cliché that sometimes it takes the worst to bring out the best in us. Even in a bleak, impoverished arctic wasteland, there is sometimes beauty, and it can take many forms. This idea apparently had a lot of appeal: after reading A Prison of Clouds, several other writers said they would love to write stories in the world of New Tibet, and so this collection was born.” (pg. viii)
   But the reader had better have a taste for downers. The other five authors may have followed Susman’s lead too closely. Heroes do need adversity to become heroic, and a gallery of nothing but winning over overwhelming odds would be monotonously simplistic. But so is a collection where everyone (with one exception) is beaten down; or at best a victory is partial and bittersweet. Susman says in a personal letter that this was not intended. The story guidelines make it clear that it should be difficult but not impossible to triumph. It just happened that these authors all decided to avoid what they felt would be an expected happy ending.
   “Even the people who couldn’t get stories done for the original deadline told me that they still want to write stories, and half the people who did get stories done now have new ideas, so it seems inevitable that there will be another volume.” (pg. viii) I will look forward to reading it, but I will also hope for more imagination and variety in how the thick-furred inhabitants of New Tibet react to their icy home.

Gerald Scarfe’s costume design for Mr. Fox
	Title:	*Fantastic Mr. Fox* (opera)
	Creators:	Tobias Picker (music); Donald Sturrock (libretto, based on the story by Roald Dahl); Gerald Scarfe (costume and set designer); Donald Sturrock (director); Peter Ash (conductor)
	Cast:	Gerald Finley, Suzanna Guzmán, Jason Housman, Theo Lebow, Lauren Libaw, Amy Recinos, Louis Lebherz, Doug Jones, Jamie Offenbach, Gerald Finley, Jill Grove, Lesley Leighton, Sari Gruber, Malcolm MacKenzie, Jorge Garza, Josepha Gayer, Charles Castronovo, chorus
		Commissioned for the Roald Dahl Foundation. World premiere at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, Los Angeles Music Center, on December 9, 1998. Performed by the Los Angeles Opera

   Talking-animal comic books and animated cartoons are common. Literature featuring talking animals is more common than one might expect, even excluding children’s books. But operas? Name three. There is Janácek’s The Cunning Little Vixen, and—well, there is The Cunning Little Vixen.
   Now there is Tobias Picker’s Fantastic Mr. Fox, an operatic dramatization of Roald Dahl’s popular children’s classic. Or is there? Fantastic Mr. Fox was commissioned to be the Los Angeles Opera company’s first World Premiere. It played at the Los Angeles Music Center during December 9-22, 1998. But has it appeared anywhere since then? The Internet still has lots of articles about its 1998 Los Angeles premiere, but there is no mention of any subsequent productions anywhere. This is not surprising, since almost all the reviews of its premiere were negative. Too bad if you missed it, but at least you didn’t miss much.
   Gerald Scarfe’s costumes and sets were the main attraction, and they are marvelous. Everything is bright and Modern Art. The tone is surrealistic rather than naturalistic. Mr. Fox is an electric blue, looking like an ice sculpture, while Miss Hedgehog is bright green, resembling a pile of lawn-mower clippings. That may sound sarcastic, but Scarfe makes it work surprisingly well. The effect is like a smooth blend between a semi-abstract posh art gallery and a gaudy circus sideshow, or a preschool/nursery whose interior decorator ran wild with a manic genius. Despite its flaws, Fantastic Mr. Fox is definitely a treat for the eyes.
   Donald Sturrock’s libretto is also in general an asset. It is witty, amusing, and is consistently lively whether you agree with its philosophy or not. Audiences will not be bored.
   But operas live or die by their music. The least popular aspect of this one, according to virtually all the reviews, was Picker’s modern atonal music. It was not merely dismissed, it was reviled as lacking recognizable melodies and as much too sophisticated for what was presented as a ‘family’ (e.g., suitable for children) opera. Despite the claim in L. A. Opera’s program notes that, “Fantastic Mr. Fox is a tuneful, singable opera,” and “There is no recitative in the opera,” it sounded to me like practically all recitative with a musical background, and no tunes or songs at all—just some recitatives that are more structured and with a stronger melodic background than others.
   The basic failure, however, is that Fantastic Mr. Fox is irritatingly affected and pretentious. It seems to concentrate upon the most self-consciously Intellectual aspects of Roald Dahl’s children’s novel and emphasize them. This permeates the wit and imagination of the costuming and the dialogue, to result in something like Anderson’s description of the Snow Queen: “She was beautiful but all made of ice.” Either the opera’s heart is frozen, or it has no heart; take your choice.
   It does have pretention, though. Donald Sturrock’s four-page explication of Dahl’s story contains such statements as:

   As a morality tale, Fantastic Mr. Fox is very similar to Walt Disney’s Bambi. All the animals are loving brothers and Evil Man is the only predator. The all-good animals and the all-stupid/evil humans might have worked if Fantastic Mr. Fox was presented as a comic farce; as a Gilbert-&-Sullivanesque parody of the Disney Morality. As a seriously intellectual moral tale itself, it is too obviously one-sided and biased. The animals can do no wrong, while the humans can do no good.
   By the plot’s own admission, the humans have absolutely no interest in the animals until the foxes begin raiding their farms. The farmers’ ‘resentment’ of this is portrayed as ‘evil’. Their attempts to drive off or kill the foxes is presented as malicious aggression, for which the foxes have a right to take ‘revenge’.
   Many details undercut this moral message. Mr. Fox may be a loving husband and father, while the farmers are all completely selfish; and the foxes may be witty, cultured, dignified and stylish dressers while the farmers are filthy slobs. But they are all equally greedy for as many chickens and geese as they can chow down. Where is the moral high road between Mr. Fox’s supercilious self-conceit over his cleverness and the three farmers’ sneering, sneaky plots to kill him? Mr. Fox’s change of personality, his ‘learning humility’ by getting his tail shot off, comes across as contrived and unconvincing.
   The farmers are repeatedly said to raise the fattest, plumpest chickens and geese in the Valley. By implication they are capable and self-sufficient. But the animals are shown as too humanized and intelligent (Rita the Rat wears a college cap & gown and quotes Spinoza) to be innocent woodland creatures. When Mr. Fox says that foxes have a right to steal humans’ chickens, it sounds like boasting that it’s okay to steal when you are handsome and clever and your victims are ugly and stupid. The major difference between this and Disney’s Bambi, is that in Bambi all the animals are frightened of Man, while in Fantastic Mr. Fox, they consider Man’s farms to be a handy restaurant where they can always feast and then skip out without paying the bill.
   The climax is a classic example of the program notes saying one thing while the action shows something else. The farmers have found the entrance to the foxes’ den and try digging them up with earthmoving equipment. The foxes dig themselves a back exit. While the farmers hover over the front hole, the foxes dash to the unguarded farms and easily carry off the remaining chickens and geese. How is this a ‘clever … and potentially hazardous raid’? When Boggis and Bunce find their farms completely looted, they swear they will not restock until the foxes are all dead. The farmers return with their guns to the front hole and, ‘For all anyone knows, they’re still there to this very day.’ Meanwhile, the foxes have so many chickens that they invite all their friends to the feast (Miss Hedgehog, Rita the Rat, etc.) Mr. Fox musically declaims that he has learned his lesson. He has been wrong to make himself and his family so dependent upon Man. They will return to the forest to live with Nature. All the animals cheer this Environmentally Correct decision.
   Morality? It is plain that Mr. Fox’s noble decision to abandon Man’s farms comes only after there are no chickens or geese left. Also, since the foxes have just strongly implied that they are about to resume eating the forest animals, the animals’ cheering this decision makes another Disney comparison obvious: the Circle of Life opening of The Lion King, where all the prey animals are cheering the birth of another predator. Further, the emphasis on Mr. Fox’s constantly eating the chickens and geese (which appear in several scenes, comically dashing about the farmyard in panic trying to escape Mr. Fox), makes his role as the exemplar of the natural kindness and generosity of all animals to each other look hypocritical, to say the least.
   The opera and its program notes both constantly hammer the point of what a clever morality tale it is. But considered as a morality tale, Fantastic Mr. Fox is condescending, preachy, self-serving, and full of contradictions. Picker’s atonal music guarantees that it will never join such popular fantasy favorites as Mozart’s The Magic Flute or Humperdinck’s Hansel and Gretel as melodic fare for the Classical Radio stations. It is a shame that Scarfe’s costumes and sets will not have much chance to be seen, but c’est l’opera.

   ‘I’ is Sandra Francy, a 17-year-old British high-school student who spends more time cutting class, smoking and drinking, and having sex than studying. By the end of Chapter One she is magically turned into a dog.
   This is not the first Young Adult fantasy in which a rude and wild teenager is turned into a dog (see, for example, T. Ernesto Bethancourt’s 1976 The Dog Days of Arthur Cane) or some other animal to be taught a moral lesson. They spend the novel desperately trying to regain their humanity, which they do in the final chapter after sincerely repenting and vowing to become a better person. Sandra’s reaction is more like, “Hey, I don’t have to go to school at all any more! I can run around stark naked, and shit and fuck in public whenever I want! Cool!!” At least, that is the synopsis implied by outraged editorials in the British press. A month before its release, The Observer reported (Sunday, August 12, 2001): “Lady is already controversial, providing it with the sort of advance publicity that most writers, and children’s writers especially, can only dream of. There have been calls for parental guidance stickers and some kind of ratings system; the Daily Mail called the spokespeople of several parents’ groups who had objected to [Burgess’] 1997 novel Junk (often without having read it) and got the hoped-for response.”
   The novel is actually considerably more thoughtful. The attitude attributed to Sandra is semi-correct, and so is her sluttish personality established on the first page. But she puts much more serious thought into whether to try to become human again or not than is implied in the brief plot summaries. The novel is more intellectually intriguing than voyeuristic.
   At the same time, it is so heavily biased that Sandra’s final decision seems the only practical one. The locale is Manchester, a working-class city (and author Burgess’ home), with an emphasis on the working class. She lives in a society where men are laborers and women are children-breeding housewives, shopkeepers, or minimum-wage officeworkers. The schools are geared to train girls for only those three professions. Her family is insensitive and emotionally nonsupportive. The future offers nothing for any adolescent female with aspirations beyond choosing a boyfriend who is satisfactory in bed and will make the best possible breadwinner for the rest of her blue-collar life. Sandra’s decision to openly become the Great Slut of her peers is partly teen rebellion, partly rationalization that she is only honestly doing what all her classmates wish they had the guts to do and will probably start doing behind their husbands’ backs as soon as they are married (since none of the girls have any illusions that their husbands will be loyal to them), and partly despair for her bleak future.
   As an alternative, Sandra finds that she is not the only ‘canified’ human in Manchester. The cause of her transformation is an alchie (wino) named Terry whom she had insulted. It turns out that anyone he gets mad at is turned into a dog. Nobody knows why; this terrifies him as much as anyone else, and is the reason that he is a derelict instead of being able to lead a normal life. After several adventures on her own as a dog, trying to stay near her human family without getting picked up as a stray, she meets a pack of similar former-human dogs living in a large city park near the slum district where Terry sleeps in alleys. He is maudlinly remorseful for those he has turned into dogs, and will share his food with them. Some want nothing to do with him, while others hang around him hoping that his unconscious magic will eventually turn them human again. There are rumors that this has happened once or twice, though nobody knows for sure.
   It is clear to the reader from the start that Sandra/Lady, and later the other canified humans whom she meets, have their human minds but canine instincts now. Much of their new life is a constant battle between intellect and instinct. It is not revealed until far into the story that this makes them superior to normal dogs, who are unintelligent and unable to understand the barking speech of the canified humans. As Sandra/Lady joins the pack which is the only society open to her now, she becomes immersed in their discussions over whether to embrace or fight canification. This is some of the most interesting reading since it is presented as a mixture of human intellect and canine hedonism and short attention spans. A serious discussion may be broken off due to a sudden urge to race around and get some exercise or to chase a cat. And yes, there are some explicit canine orgy scenes. Debate topics range from the morality of abandoning one’s human family if there is any chance of regaining humanity, to whether there is anything morally wrong with free sex now that they are dogs. Some insist on keeping their human names and acting as humanly as possible (with the result that they terrify humans and risk getting picked up as ‘mad dogs’). Others proudly adopt dog names and revel in a carefree canine life without responsibilities, with the intelligence to avoid human traps for stray dogs. One, Fella, sounds like he is unwittingly reinventing Furrydom.

Fella is exaggeratedly optimistic, but it soon becomes evident that Burgess is deliberately painting the most unflattering portrait possible of humanity (at least British working-class humanity), and the rosiest picture of the life of feral dogs. Like Disney’s Tramp, they live off handouts from friendly humans and easy-to-scavenge tasty garbage, and are cocky about their independence and safety since they have the magical advantage of human intelligence and speech among themselves.
By the end of the novel when Sandra has duly considered all the pros and cons to decide whether to work at becoming human again (Back to school, working away like mad to get exams I wasn’t going to do well at, so I could get a crap job in a crap company with long hours that’d inch by inch by inch turn me into everybody else. Work work work, every day learning how to be good at something I wasn’t good at, doing things I didn’t want to do, living for weekends and three weeks’ holiday a year. Parenthood! Sweating and straining to pop out a fat helpless baby; worry and care and stress. […]) or to remain Lady (…being a dog under the night sky with the dew in her coat, who spills her puppies out and mourns without despair. Her life isn’t worry and work […] I want to be quick and fast and happy and then dead. I don’t want to grow old. I don’t want to go to work. […] pg. 199), the choice is a no-brainer.


	Title:	*Scars: An Ironclaw Novel*
	Author:	Ted MacKinnon
	Illustrator:	Trent Halvorsen, w/ maps by N. David Martin
	Publisher:	Sanguine Productions Ltd. (Cincinnati, OH), Jan 2002
	ISBN:	0-9704583-6-3
		128 pages, $9.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   TSR (now Wizards of the Coast) spun off its Dungeons & Dragons role-playing game into the popular series of DragonLance novels in 1985. There are probably over a hundred of them by now. Sanguine Productions has just started doing the same with its Ironclaw role-playing game, set in a funny animal fantasy world based upon Medieval/Renaissance Europe.
   The good news is that Scars is as good as the best of the DragonLance novels, which is very good, indeed. This includes being completely understandable whether you know anything about the Ironclaw gaming world or not. MacKinnon does an excellent job of putting all the necessary background unobtrusively into the story without slowing down the action. Sanguine is also copying the DragonLance novels’ attractive but tiny typefont, meaning that these 128 pages would probably be closer to 200 in a normal paperback. The bad news is that the text seriously needs proofreading. You haveto putupwith lotsof connectedwords likethis, plus spelling inconsistencies. Is the city Triskellian or Triskellion? Is the author MacKinnon or Mackinnon? But if you like good Conan-esque sword-&-sorcery and you do not mind the annoying typesetting, you will find Scars a real delight.
   The names of the island continent of Calabria and the ruling House of Rinaldi are a tipoff that this fantasy adventure is a pastiche of Renaissance Italian politics—lots of poison and backstabbing. Except that here it is black magic. Calabria is under the rule of four noble families; the Avoirdupois (Horses), Bisclavret (Wolves), Doloreaux (Boars), and Rinaldi (Grey Foxes). Triskellian (or -ion), Calabria’s largest city and major trade center, is the capital and home of House Rinaldi. Three months prior to the start of the story, the reigning Don and his heirs were sorcerorously assassinated, and the Rinaldi lands have been in chaos ever since. Distant cousins may throw the land into a civil war over the succession, and everyone is worried that one or more of the other three Great Houses might seize this opportunity to try to carve up Rinaldi for themselves. Also, nobody is sure who was behind the assassinations. The Don’s unpopular ex-wife is suspected, but she may just be a scapegoat for one of the factions maneuvering for power. Now it seems that the Don’s youngest son, Fabrizio, escaped. He offers the hope of a clearly legitimate heir on whom everyone can agree. Most government officials are already recognizing him. But there are rumors of an imposter, a false Fabrizio who has been seen in the company of a Wizard and her mercenary bodyguards.
   All this is explained in the first couple of pages to Danica (Red Fox), a bounty hunter currently living in Triskellian. She is being hired by one of the nobles (Otter) supporting Fabrizio to capture the imposter before he and his faction can make their power play. Danica, a cynical mercenary (Dani to her friends—except that she doesn’t have any), figures that, considering Calabria’s usual Machiavellian politics, it is even odds that she is being hired by the real imposter and that the other Fabrizio is the genuine one. But as long as this one is backed by the government and his money is good, she does not care.
   Actually, she does. It is clear from the beginning that Danica’s bitterness is based on troubles and betrayals that she has suffered in Triskellian in the past, and that her past—which will be revealed to the reader little by little—will influence her hardened attitudes and determination to “just fulfill the contract and collect the reward and don’t worry about anyone else”. That plan is hopeless anyhow because of Tucker, a cocksure young Raccoon who sees himself as her protector (and clearly hopes to become her lover), who insists upon accompanying her to help her. Danica exasperatedly recognizes that if she were really as callous as she pretends to be, she would just stand back and let Tucker get killed at their first fight. But his innocence (bounty hunters are heroes who capture criminals and villains, right?) awakens guilt over her own loss of innocence (didn’t she originally become a bounty hunter for ideals of justice instead of just the money?). This leads her to investigate the backgrounds of both Fabrizios and learn what their true motives are, before she can decide which one to support at the climax.
   The action includes both well-choreographed swordplay and battles against wizardry. The latter are not as spectacular as in some fantasy novels, but are more convincing in that the magic is held down to a level that a skilled swordfighter could plausibly defeat a skilled spellcaster.

If that passage (which displays MacKinnon’s extremely graphic scene-setting style) doesn’t tempt you, then forget it. I am certainly looking forward to the next Ironclaw novel, and I hope that there will be enough of them to approach DragonLance’s total! Trent Halvorsen’s illustrations are suitably dramatic, although the canids’ ears are so large that their heads look more like Fennecs than Red Foxes or Coyotes. Since you may not find Scars in your local bookstore, it can be ordered over the Internet from Amazon.com or http://www.sanguineproductions.com. Or by mail from Sanguine Productions Ltd., Rookwood Pavilion, 1-PMB-279, Cincinnati, Ohio 45208-1320. For bibliographic nitpickers like me, Scars carries a 2001 copyright date but actually premiered at Further Confusion 2002 on January 25-27, 2002.


	Title:	*The Sands of Time; a Hermux Tantamoq Adventure*
	Author:	Michael Hoeye
	Book design:	Dale Champlin (graphics)
	Publisher:	Terfle Books (Portland, OR), Sep 2001
	ISBN:	0-9675111-2-7
		300 pages, $12.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Hoeye’s Hermux Tantamoq juvenile series is one of the newest success stories in the publishing industry. Hoeye began his first novel, Time Stops for No Mouse, in 1997 but was unable to sell it, so he published it himself (under the label of Terfle Books, Terfle being Hermux Tantamoq’s pet ladybug) in September 2000. He sent out review copies in a very clever publicity campaign, and got enough favorable reviews and word-of-mouth praise in the childrens’ library field to start a bidding war among major publishers for the rights. Meanwhile Hoeye published the sequel, The Sands of Time, himself in September 2001. Penguin Putnam won the bidding war, and its press release talks of Time Stops for No Mouse (the Putnam mass-market edition was published in January 2002) as the first of ‘a three-book deal’ and describes it as the ‘first of several books’ about Hermux. Good for Hoeye and for Hermux!
   Hermux Tantamoq is a young watchmaker in the mouse city of Pinchester. He and his adventures are basically a funny-animal (mostly mice) cross between Paul Gallico’s The Adventures of Hiram Holliday and the Lucas-Spielberg Indiana Jones formula. Hermux is quiet and mild-mannered, but when he senses a crime or a mystery, he does not just report it to the police and then forget about it. In Time Stops for No Mouse, the famous aviatrix and explorer Linka Perflinger brings her watch to Hermux needing it repaired immediately. When she does not return the next day, but a shifty-looking rat shows up asking for it, Hermux investigates. Indiana Jones never got into a more desperate adventure.
   In The Sands of Time, Hermux gets drawn into a scandal when his artist friend Mirrin Stentrill’s gallery exhibit of surrealistic paintings of supposedly-mythical cats is attacked as obscene:

   Stentrill’s exhibit sets off picketing censors, vandals, and a riot at the staid art museum. Things grow worse when an old chipmunk, Birch Tentintrotter, turns up claiming that cats once really existed, and that he has a map to their lost city in the unexplored Western deserts. This leads to anti-chipmunk prejudice, murder attempts by the secret supremicist Brotherhood of Mice, the theft of the map, and a movement to smear Stentrill’s artistic reputation. Hermux and aviatrix Linka Perflinger (now his friend) are soon involved in helping Tentintrotter to find the lost cat city before the expedition of the villains who stole the map. The villains presumably want to loot the city’s treasures and suppress the knowledge that there was a pre-mouse civilization. Their actual motive turns out to be more complex and sinister than that, but do not let me spoil it for you.
   Say ‘juvenile fiction success story’ and everyone thinks of the Harry Potter novels. The Hermux Tantamoq novels are similar in being published as childrens’ books, while written on a level that is equally enjoyable for adults. The characters in most juvenile funny-animal books too often act like children playing at being adults. Those in Hermux’s world feel convincingly mature. And when Hermux and his associates get into danger, there is a real sense of menace that most juvenile talking-animal adventures lack. You believe that they could really die. And some do.
   They also feel convincingly like anthropomorphized animals instead of just humans in animal-head masks.

Both novels have a ‘Book Design’ credit by Dale Champlin. Each of the short chapters (The Sands of Time has 80 chapters) begins with an individualized hieroglyph: a tuxedo for the chapter where Hermux is dressing for the gala opening of Mirrin’s art show; a make-up kit for a chapter set in the riverboat’s dressing room; a compass for a chapter in which the explorers are traveling; a shovel for the chapter where they begin digging for the lost city; and so forth. There are numerous typographic displays: the fancy invitation to the gala opening; newspaper clippings in newspaper column format; the riverboat’s banners in circus typefonts; a handscrawled threatening note. Both books seem to seize every possible opportunity to flaunt bold and unusual typefaces. But there are no ‘illustrations’ in the traditional sense.
The Hermux Tantamoq adventures are witty and imaginative in both narrative and graphics. Read Time Stops for No Mouse first because The Sands of Time is a direct sequel. Both have received rave reviews in the publishing and library press, so there is a good chance that you will be able to find them at your public library.

The Stones of Fire series, by Rick Wilkinson

		Title:	*The Ancient Secret* (book 1)
		Illustrator:	St. Leonards (map)
		Publisher:	Allen & Unwin Australia (Sydney), Jan 2000
		ISBN:	1-86508-094-2
			236 pages, $A16.95
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	Teeth of the Storm (book 2)
Illustrator:	St. Leonards (map)
Publisher:	Allen & Unwin Australia (Sydney), Jan 2000
ISBN:	1-86508-041-1
	[iv +] 208 pages, $A16.95
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This review is the result of a discussion on the OzFurry mailing list last November of Furry novels worth reading that have only been published in Australia or New Zealand and are unknown outside those countries. I would like to acknowledge Shadow 5-tails for recommending these two. They are still in print and, thanks to the global Internet, can be ordered online from the publisher (http://www.allen-unwin.com.au/default.asp) or major Australian booksellers like Angus & Robertson.
   The first of these two was originally published in 1989 under the title The Stones of Fire. It was republished in 2000 under the new title, simultaneously with the first release of its sequel; and the original title has become the series title for both.
   The Stones of Fire is satisfactorily original, although it has clear aspects of Adams’ Watership Down set in the framework of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. Like Watership Down, the animals are presented in realistic settings (the Australian Outback) and are supposed to be acting realistically except for the fantasy concept that they can speak with each other. Like The Lord of the Rings, the plot is a desperate quest to keep an artifact of awesome magical power from the possession of a semi-divine embodiment of evil.
   Mamaragan, the Rainbow Serpent (a demon-monster in Aboriginal mythology, similar to Norse mythology’s world-encircling Ouroboros) is seeking the magical Stones of Fire (opals), lost ages ago, which will give him the power to rule the world.
   Japara, a relaxed young jerboa living in an isolated animal community, is asked by his aunt to look for his uncle Kobor. Kobor is an eccentric wanderer, and the community is used to him frequently disappearing for a week or two on fortune hunting expeditions. This time he has been gone far longer than usual, and ominous strangers have arrived looking for him. Japara seeks advice from Guruk the bandicoot, the community’s testy hermit-mystic. Guruk knows that Kobor went looking for the legendary Stones of Fire, shortly before news that evil Mamaragan, who was killed in his last attempt to conquer the world, has been reborn and is also seeking the Stones. This implies that the Stones are real, in which case they must be kept from Mamaragan at all costs. Guruk offers to join Japara and his best friend Wahn (another jerboa) in a search for Kobor, but actually to learn whether Kobor has found the Stones. Japara and Wahn learn the truth when the three are attacked almost immediately by Mamaragan's cruel agents led by sinister Mamu the warragal (dingo) and Kuperee the kangaroo, out to kill any rival seekers.
   The search for Kobor becomes a quest for the Stones, with the three heroes forced to operate in secrecy to evade Mamaragan's more numerous henchmen. Since the adventure is told with Watership Down-level realism, it is played out as three tiny furry animals creeping through the sere Outback, having to avoid their natural predators as well as animals that would normally be indifferent to them but are Mamaragan’s vicious followers. Other Outback inhabitants are met such as Narina the water-rat, Kinitu the bower bird, Inua the brolga, Boora the pelican and Kulan the possum. Some become loyal friends while others turn out to be treacherous. Due to the nature of the landscape, there are few restful moments:   The Ancient Secret seems to come to a definite and upbeat conclusion, but since it is only volume 1 of two, it is not giving anything away to say that there is lots more of the story to come.

The Ancient Secret seems to come to an upbeat and definite conclusion (it was originally a stand-alone novel). But since it is now Book One of two, it is not giving anything away to say that there is still much more of the story to come. There are about a half-dozen pages of Author’s Notes at the end of each volume in which Wilkinson describes both the real animals and the Dreamtime creatures from which his characters are derived. Some of the latter are syntheses of different versions of a mythical creature. Wilkinson points out that there is no single continent-wide Aboriginal language or mythology. The Australian natives have evolved into dozens if not hundreds of tribes with their own tongues, customs and beliefs; some recognizably based upon their neighbours’ and others quite different. This was why he chose one of the less common Aboriginal names, ‘warragal’, for the native dog rather than ‘dingo’ which was picked up by European settlers from a different tribal language and has become the recognized modern name. The two volumes of The Stones of Fire will introduce non-Aussie readers to a more varied cast than the stereotyped Aussie talking-animal quintet of kangaroo, koala, platypus, kookaburra, and wombat.

   Print-On-Demand (POD) publishing, a.k.a. on-demand publishing, and the very closely allied electronic publishing (ePublishing or eBooks), began in the mid-1990s. They are essentially an evolution of self- or vanity-publishing. Thanks to new electronic publishing technology, it is possible for companies with this specialized technology to print books one copy at a time, as orders come in. Simultaneously, books can be printed and sold in electronic format much more cheaply than printing them in the traditional hardcover or paperback formats. Writers who cannot sell their fiction to a traditional publisher can sign on with a POD publisher by paying the setup fee of usually a few hundred dollars (the price varies depending upon whether the author wants his manuscript proofread, wants a plain or an illustrated cover, and so forth). The publisher will print and ship a copy especially for each order that comes in, splitting the price with the author. It is estimated that over ten thousand novels have been printed by POD publishers during the past ten years.
   But unlike the books from traditional publishers, these exist outside the established publishing industry. They are not on the shelves of any bookstore, although they can be special-ordered if you ask for them. They are not announced, advertised, or reviewed in Library Journal, Publishers Weekly, or any of the literary or trade journals. The s-f specialty magazines like Locus and Science Fiction Chronicle which try to list every new s-f or fantasy book published in a monthly checklist, usually miss these.
   Are there Furry novels among these POD books? There certainly are! But how many, and how do you find them? The two major POD publishers, iUniverse and Xlibris Corporation, each have extensive online bookshops with hundreds of novels, not to mention their non-fiction books. They have automated subject indexes. But ‘Furry’ is not one of their categories, and to call up and read the summary of every one of their Science Fiction/Fantasy titles to see if any look Furry could take literally days. And some Furry novels are not even categorized as S-F, but as Literature or Fiction.
   It is easy to dismiss all POD novels as losers not worth reading, otherwise a ‘real’ publisher would have gladly bought them. But as Furry authors have found out, it is apparently impossible to sell Furry fiction to the mainstream publishing industry no matter how high its quality may be. POD publishing may be the only practical way to get a Furry book into print. So, how do we find out about them?
   I do not know. But to start, here are two examples both published by Xlibris. Books ordered over the Internet directly from Xlibris come with an automatic 10% discount for hardcovers and 15% discount for paperbacks. Hence the Pongo and Jeeves paperback edition is officially priced at $20.99 but only costs $17.84 from Xlibris. If you order it through Amazon.com or any other Internet book service, you will have to pay full price.


	Title:	Pongo and Jeeves
	Author:	R. N. Varhaug
	Publisher:	Xlibris Corporation (Philadelphia, PA), May 2000

	ISBN:	0-7388-2110-1
		Trade paperback, 168 pages, $20.99 ($17.84)
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	ISBN:	0-7388-7102-8
		eBook, 168 pages, $8.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Pongo and Jeeves are two exceptionally intelligent experimental-lab chimpanzees at a Primate Research Center to cross their paths. who secretly
   All Furry by watching eserving targets instead o novels require the reader to accept ryone unlusome realicky enoughstic implausibilities, and Varhaug does a better job than do many Furry writers in knowing where to anthropomorphize and where not to. Pongo and Jeeves cannot speak, because chimpanzees do not have human larynxs no matter how intelligent they may be. Instead they cPongo and Jeeves is essentially a Heckle and Jeckle novel with two chimpanzees instead of magpies. The main differences are that they live in a realistic human world instead of a cartoon funny-animal one; they are two British-accented Jeckles instead of one British twit and a Brooklyn heckler; and they only play pranks on bullies, thieves, the haughty, and other deserving targets instead of everyone unlucky enough to cross their paths.
   All Furry novels require the reader to accept some realistic implausibilities, and Varhaug does a better job than do many Furry writers in knowing where to anthropomorphize and where not to. Pongo and Jeeves cannot speak, because chimpanzees do not have human larynxs no matter how intelligent they may be. Instead they communicate at first by sign language. Later they get a pair of those electronic voice boxes made for people who lose their vocal chords. This enables them to operate over the telephone and plan hoaxes involving Mysterious Voices. Here they are discussing a practical joke involving chimp poop they have just played on the Research Center’s pompous Dr. Randolph Sidonberry:

   ‘Our Randolph’ stops being so funny when he notices that the two chimps show wildly varying indications of intelligence (they occasionally overdo playing stupid) and wants to have them killed and their brains autopsied. Pongo and Jeeves take the risk of revealing their intelligence to a couple of the lab’s employees who are more friendly and sympathetic to animal rights, Patricia and Thor. The latter agree to smuggle the chimps out and allow them to hide in their apartment. Although Pongo and Jeeves try to behave themselves, two chimpanzees shut in a small urban apartment all day will quickly get cabin fever and have to do something to relieve the boredom. They surreptitiously study the apartment building’s other tenants, who soon find themselves the recipients of mysterious curses or blessings depending upon whether they have been naughty or nice.
   Soon Pat and Thor get married and move to a ranch inherited from Thor’s parents. The wide open spaces, and the drive across America to get there, give the two chimps opportunities for many new adventures: impersonating a couple of Roswell-type aliens with their obviously non-human bodies, being captured and escaping from a roadside zoo, having to care for a young baby whose grandmother is felled by a stroke, and more. At the ranch, they start several successful businesses by Internet, including writing doctoral theses and political speeches. They also undertake some public-service projects for their own amusement such as exposing phony charities.
   Some of the episodes do not really require non-human characters, but there are plenty where Pongo and Jeeves take full advantage of their animal natures and abilities. Varhaug throws in many little touches of plausibility; for example, when Thor invites the chimps to join him and Pat in their cross-country drive, he gets a couple of top-quality human masks from a friend in the movie FX business that will enable the chimps to pass as humans from a distance while riding in a car. A couple of the setups do stretch plausibility a bit, but since this is a fantasy-comedy it feels boorish to nitpick it too far. Varhaug tells a good, low-key story (Pongo and Jeeves actually abort a couple of their pranks when they realize that things are getting out of hand and someone could get hurt), and he brings it to a graceful conclusion when it has rambled on for long enough.
   Varhaug obviously paid Xlibris its minimum fee to have Pongo and Jeeves published. The cover is bare typesetting on a white background with narrow brown & ochre strips at the top and bottom; and there are many sentences that begin with lower-case letters, indicating a lack of proofreading.

	Title:	Earth Light
	Author:	Tracy Pierce
	Illustrator:	The author
	Publisher:	Xlibris Corporation (Philadelphia, PA), Nov 2001

	ISBN:	0-7388-6627-X
		Hardcover, 325 pages, $32.99 ($29.69)
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	ISBN:	0-7388-6628-8
		Trade paperback, 325 pages, $22.99 ($19.54)
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	ISBN:	0-7388-6629-6
		eBook, 325 pages, $8.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

Earth Light is basically a ‘Chronicles of Narnia Lite’ with a thick overlay of Oz. 12-year-old Karen Anderson, an orphan living with her aunt and uncle in rural Missouri, becomes friends with two exotic hippie-like wanderers, Fleetwood and Cassandra. Karen is a devout Christian, but Cassandra asks if she has ever considered that God may have created more than one Earth, and that the eternal struggle of Good versus Evil may be going on on other stages with other casts. Karen and her pet cats Kip and Diana are soon transported to the world of Ralactia, where the cats can talk. They learn that they are a prophisied trio of heroes who will lead Ralactia’s zoman inhabitants in their battle against Komora, demon ruler of Darkness, and his foul hordes.
Karen, Kip & Diana meet Fleetwood, revealed to really be Prince Fleetfoot, a silver winged unicorn; Lady Swiftwing, a pastel-blue pegasus; Cassandra, really a vixen; General Singe, a giant black dragon with fur instead of scales; Councilor Jago, an elderly leopard; Dal and Dalwyn, two Robin Hood-like cougar foresters; Rachel Pinebreeze, a young rabbit palace servant; Princess Laura, the lioness teen heir to the throne of Faunuvin; and many, many more including some non-Earth animals such as ithgannae and cataroons. There is a cinematically exotic scene on practically every page:

   This overpowering prettiness is both an asset and a problem. It keeps you reading to see what spectacular imagery will appear on the next page. But it is all so darn nice that it undercuts any serious aura of menace or suspense. Pierce seems to want the reader to take Komora as a personification of evil as deadly as Sauron (or at least as Tash in the Narnian Chronicles), who will plunge the whole world into eternal darkness if he is not stopped. Instead he comes across as more like the Nome King in the Oz novels. Baum may say that he is really, really wicked, but it is impossible to believe that he is a serious threat to Dorothy and Ozma.
   Pierce actually seems less interested in writing a drama than in constructing the world of Ralactia as an alternate Earth which God decided to populate with animal people. Tidbits of information are scattered throughout the adventure. All zomans can shape-shift between their natural animal form and a humanoid form, but only the royalty become winged in their animal forms. The zomans are descended from Earth animals who came to Ralactia before the Flood. The zomans (those who have not become followers of Komora) are all… well, not exactly Christians because God did not reveal himself in Ralactia in the form of Jesus Christ; but that same God, yes. Earth Light ends like The Wonderful Wizard of Oz or like The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, with its child (and cat) hero(es) returning safely home. But we all know that they did not stay there, because there are many more adventures to come.
   Tracy Pierce apparently bought Xlibris’ fancy package with all the trimmings. Earth Light is printed on high quality paper, with no typographical errors that I spotted. The hardcover edition has sewn-in binding, and a beautiful dust jacket that I assume is printed onto the cover of the trade paperback edition. The illustration is by Pierce herself, who ought to be a Hallmark greeting card artist if she is not already one; her animal characters are all adorable. The book’s only technical flaw is the printing of its interior illustrations. The POD technology of storing the entire book in electronic form, artwork included, and squirting it onto paper a copy at a time, has resulted in a very low resolution printout of what were obviously extremely detailed and finely-shaded drawings. Let’s hope that the technology improves before Pierce’s planned second adventure in Ralactia is finished.

The Ferret Chronicles, written and illustrated by Richard Bach

		Title:	*The Ferret Chronicles: Rescue Ferrets at Sea*
		Publisher:	Ferret House Press/Scribner-Simon & Schuster, Inc. (New York), Jun 2002
		ISBN:	0-7432-2750-6
			139 pages, $15.00
		Availability:	Am / / Al / Pw







Title:	The Ferret Chronicles: Air Ferrets Aloft
Publisher:	Ferret House Press/Scribner-Simon & Schuster, Inc. (New York), Jun 2002
ISBN:	0-7432-2753-0
	141 pages, $15.00
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







		Title:	The Ferret Chronicles: Writer Ferrets: Chasing the Muse
		Publisher:	Ferret House Press/Scribner-Simon & Schuster, Inc. (New York), Oct 2002
		ISBN:	0-7432-2754-9
			xiv + 189 pages, $15.00
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Title:	*The Ferret Chronicles: Rancher Ferrets on the Range*
Publisher:	Ferret House Press/Scribner-Simon & Schuster, Inc. (New York), Feb 2003
ISBN:	0-7432-2755-7
	? pages, $15.00 [prepublication information]
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

Richard Bach writes Unusual Books. He is best known for his 1970 inspirational fantasy Jonathan Livingston Seagull. Like it, his The Ferret Chronicles (the first two, anyway) are about talking animals who have an obsession, and through a semi-religious revelation they are inspired to use that obsession to improve their lives and the lives of those about them.
At first glance, it is hard to guess the intended readership of The Ferret Chronicles. They have an ‘All Ages’ advisory. They are published in the format of children’s novels, with large type, a low page count, and lots of big pictures (by Bach himself, who is not a good artist although better than some of the Furry fans who post their own art on their websites). Both begin with scenes of ferret mothers or guardians reading to or teaching young kits, as though to imply that The Ferret Chronicles might be read by parents to their own children. But the vocabulary is not simplified, and once the story starts the drama becomes too intense for children young enough to be read to. From Rescue Ferrets at Sea, about the animals’ Coast Guard:

   The Mayday call from the Deepsea Explorer’s human crew reported the 44 humans aboard. The Ferret Rescue Service’s mission is to save all animals that may be aboard human ships, which in this case includes one calico cat, a Shetland sheepdog, an Indonesian parrot, seventy-six ship’s rats and thirty-five mice who had crept aboard seeking adventure where they could find it. (pg. 67) The rescue scene runs for fifty suspensefully detailed pages, with the tiny ferret J-boat trying to secure a lifeline to the foundering large human ship in the dangerously pitching gale and remove the panicked animals, being shoved into a rescue cage by two of the ship’s rats, before the Explorer either sinks or is driven onto the Moray Reef off the Washington coast.
   The equivalent scene in Air Ferrets Aloft has Captain Janine ‘Stormy’ Ferret, a cargo pilot for Air Ferrets, trying to fly an old FDC-4 SkyFreighter from Seattle to Salinas through an unexpected storm that has every sensible pilot diverting to safer airports; growing increasingly stubborn as her autopilot fails, the wing de-icers cannot keep ahead of the ice buildup, cargo pallets break loose in the hold, the number four engine starts sputtering… Bach has a veteran’s knowledge of the air turbulence patterns and weather conditions along the Pacific Northwest, and his pilots’ and air controllers’ radio conversations are detailed and convincing—and, I would think, over the heads of the children who read the usual books designed as The Ferret Chronicles are.
   Rescue Ferrets at Sea and Air Ferrets Aloft are completely separate stories, except for some allusions in both to the pop singing group Zsa-Zsa and the Show Ferrets, and an offhand comment that one of the characters in Air Ferrets is a friend of Boa, the chief engine ferret of the Resolute; so the two novels are set in the same world. Rescue Ferrets is vague as to the relationship between animals and humans, but Air Ferrets makes it clear that they share a joint civilization similar to that in the Stuart Little movies. The humans and small animals politely acknowledge each other. In some cases the animals seem to live within the humans’ cities and ride in their large vehicles with human permission; in other cases the animals seem to have their own miniature towns, roads, vehicles, and other accouterments of civilization openly adjacent to the humans’.
   Rescue Ferrets at Sea is, except for the talking animals, a fictional realistic description of a Coast Guard-type maritime service and one of its dicier rescue operations. Air Ferrets Aloft is a more ethereal fantasy. Stormy Ferret is accompanied, without her knowledge, by three tiny ferret guardian angels who are trying to maneuver her into meeting her divinely intended soulmate, Captain Strobe Ferret, chief pilot of the MusTelCo megacorporation. Both novels contain scenes where the protagonists undergo a profound religious experience, stylistically similar to those in 1940s movies like Stairway to Heaven. In Rescue Ferrets it could be a psychological hallucination, but in Air Ferrets there is no doubt that Someone Up There is looking out for Stormy and Strobe. Both novels are clearly intended to be morally uplifting, with strong female role models, but Bach is a skilled enough author that the message does not get in the way of the story for those who are only interested in the suspenseful drama.
   According to Simon & Schuster’s publicity website, Rescue Ferrets at Sea is a best seller. The Ferret Chronicles are officially published by Ferret House Press, Bach’s own imprint within Simon & Schuster (which is a division these days of Scribner, now owned by Macmillan). S&S’ bio of Bach is, A former USAF fighter pilot, gypsy barnstormer and airplane mechanic, he flies a seaplane today. He writes this series with his ten ferret advisors. The two books are also each available in a $20.00 two-cassette audio edition, read by Bach himself.
   P.S. This review was written in June 2002 when Rescue Ferrets and Air Ferrets were just published. Since then the third novel was published in October, and the fourth has been announced for February 2003. In an in-depth interview in Ferrets, July-August 2002, pages 20-23, Bach reveals that he has titles for well over fifty novels already chosen; some include Teacher Ferrets in the Classroom, Samba Ferrets in Salinas, Archaeologist Ferrets at the Dig, and Billionaire Ferrets in the Boardroom. The relationship between ferrets and humans is much more mystical than I had realized. Bach is not writing these stories as much as channeling dictation from the ferret world. “It’s true that, at the moment, most humans haven’t seen the parallel world of the ferrets, existing on a dimension close alongside our own,” he says in Ferret. “[…] day by day I saw farther into the ferret culture, as though some sunlit fog was lifting, as I watched, from over their land. […] Ferret society, I was shown, is ancient and far-flung, long predating our own civilization, born in a different galaxy from ours. Ferret values capitvated me: their love of action and adventure, their choice to decline the idea of evil, to live each of them to their highest sense of right, without malice or crime or war. […] The ferrets who have crossed over from their world to ours, the ones who chose to be born on Earth and become friends to us, are extraordinary brave animals. They are just as courageous as we would be, choosing to share our lives with a world of creatures who have not yet renounced violence and anger and cruelty. […]” Far out, man!

Two novels of courtship and changing species:


	Title:	*Zuntig*
	Author:	Tom LaFarge
	Publisher:	Green Integer (Los Angeles, CA), Nov 2001
	ISBN:	1-931243-06-9
		338 pages, $13.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

Zuntig takes place in the same animal world as LaFarge’s previous The Crimson Bears and A Hundred Doors (reviewed in Yarf! #38); but where that adventure was limited to the tumultuous city of Bargeton, where bears and cats fought for political supremacy, Zuntig is spread throughout the globe: from swamp to parched desert, from swift-flowing brook to verdant highland vale to gale-swept cliff-face. Each is home to Zuntig, who begins life as a Swamp Ape but is cursed (or blessed) to Change into many new shapes as each life ends but Life goes on.

Swamp Ape society is an elaborate matriarchy, ruled by the Dispenser. She had the best bower and kept all our treasure there; everyone else took the quarters she gave them. She assigned husbands and mated where she liked. (pg. 12) The Apes’ Dispenser at this time is Nildwize, an elderly tyrant who happens to be the aunt of Zuntig and her many sisters. When Nildwize finally admits it is time to step down, a complex rite of succession begins to select the new Dispenser from her kin. The first hundred pages follow Zuntig’s and her sisters’ plottings, with or without their desired mates among the lowly males, to outmaneuver each other to win the Dispensership in the Contest which the crafty and sadistic Nildwize has loaded with humiliating and deadly traps for her own amusement.
Well, it is not giving away much to say that Zuntig finally succumbs to one of these traps, or she would be reigning in apely luxury instead of cast into a journey from one species to another. Some of her adventures, such as life as a blue skink in the Biljub Desert or as a large fish owl upstream from the Swamp, are straightforward and brief. Others are elaborate and lengthy. Zuntig’s time as an alewife herring is submerged both in a literal stream and in a Joycean stream of consciousness:

As refined lemmings, Miss Zuntig Lemming and her neighbors and cousins spend all their time in courtships in the mannerly style of Jane Austen:

A dovekie (auk) has little to do but stare out over the blank grey sea, so this section is related in Shelleyan blank verse:

But when she transforms from dovekie to skua gull, the style shifts to—well, need you be told?:

Set to melody she knows,
More like psalmody than song.
Tap and wheedle, bowed out long—
Up she floats as music grow
Twining like a maddened snake—
Cloth-head hammer raps a skin,
Quaver weary voice and break—
Tune forget all origin,
Stray into strangeness, and awake.

At the core of the
Maelstrom, a known
music accompanies her
Amorphosis,
or shape-loss.

The hammer taps, the bow nor grieves
Nor gladdens Zuntig’s mind.
She rises through the viewless deeps
As through the dreamer’s deepest sleeps
The bubble of his dream still keeps
A climbing way, though blind. (pg. 239)

She begins to ascend
from the bottom-
place of Ocean.

   Since dovekies and skuas are ancient adversaries, prey and predator, Zuntig’s life as a dovekie is further related in the form of opera seria; or, allowing for the physical limitations of a paperback book, a 23-page detailed critique of La Madra skua, the least popular work of Porcosueño, grand master of the Bargeton Pig Opera. From Act Two, Scene Two:
   Zoontica, however, is silent. She hovers round her Egg’s jagged mouth and peers within. She starts back. A head timidly advances into the light. It is downed in ghastly bone-white down! In a quavering voice the uncanny chick sings Estuschéri formí (“I cry out in fear at this world of ruin”). Indignantly the Ten Neighbors cover their chicks’ ears. Loudly they seek to drown her out with joyful peeping. Zoontica soothes her Child, but just when it seems she has succeeded, and some harmony has been restored, Filarbara is marched on by a crowd of angrily chanting dovekie husbands. […] (pg. 273). The birds are all played by costumed pigs, of course.
   And with this, LaFarge returns to his animal metropolis of Bargeton, home of the Bats’ Basilica, of mole booksellers and mink courtesans, of the All Kinds Café where all species of mammals and avians may congregate together; where Zuntig may Change daily or hourly in what has become blasé routine. Is there an end to all this? Yes, but it seems less convincing than it does tacked on because LaFarge has run out of literary styles to pastiche. Zuntig is certainly anthropomorphic, but it is more for lovers of intellectual divertissements than for Furry fans.


	Title:	*You’re an Animal, Viskovitz!*
	Author:	Alessandro Boffa
	Translator:	John Casey, with Maria Sanminiatelli
	Publisher:	Alfred A. Knopf (New York), May 2002
	ISBN:	0-375-40528-3
		viii + 176 pages, $18.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   From Italy, a wildly modern riff on Ovid’s Metamorphoses, begins the cover blurb. The Metamorphoses tell what happens to humans who have been transformed into animals, trees, or other objects by the gods. Viskovitz is a collection of twenty-one vignettes, each (with one exception) narrated by Viskovitz himself, about what happens to him and a small group of companions who are born as animals; a different species in each tale. Viskovitz; his male siblings-pals-rivals Zucotic, Petrovic and Lopez; and the women—beautious, alluring Ljuba; ugly, viperish Jana; and naïve Lara.
   Penguins, dormice, finches. Dung beetles, elk, parrots. Pigs, dogs, bees. The longest vignette is 22 pages; most are five or six pages; the shortest are only three. At first it looks like the stories are only about sex; Viskovitz’s attempts to couple with the desirable Ljuba, and everything that goes wrong. The plots and courtship rituals eventually grow more elaborate, but sex continues to dominate them in one manner or other. The gender relationships and some biological traits are authentic to the species, but heavily overlaid with fantasy; sometimes in an obvious manner (as a praying mantis, Viskovitz’s goal is to get it on with Ljuba without getting eaten), and sometimes in unexpected ways. As bull-elk, Viskovitz and his studly rivals mix head-butting with martial-arts throws. As snails, Visko is as interested in Zucotic, Petrovic or Lopez as he is in Ljuba. In some stories the creatures are more anthropomorphized, but their animal natures still predominate. The scorpion sequence is cast as a Western, with Visko trying to live the role of the lone hero who protects the town’s women and children and gets the girl. The reality is that as scorpions, all the males, females, and infants are trying to viciously kill and eat each other. The dog sequence has Viskovitz as a cynical ex-cop working with rookie Detective Lara from Narcotics to track down missing Detective Zukotic and a fortune in heroin—not easy when Visko has to keep stopping Lara from running out into the middle of a busy street to chase a fleeing suspect’s car, or protect her from all the tough hoodlum strays in Chinatown when she goes into heat. Some chapters are more imaginative, but cannot be described without spoiling the surprise twist.
   The writing is full of wordplay based upon intellectual scientific terminology. Boffa considers it amusing to have unsophisticated animals using big words, or intermixing erudite terms with their rude Anglo-Saxon equivalents. My den was the former nest of a woodpecker hollowed out of a sessiliflore oak, says Visko as a dormouse (pg. 7). As a dung beetle, Visko is dazzled by his first glimpse of Ljuba: How to describe her? Her beauty was simultaneously adelphagous and polyphagous. Every part of her body, emimeron or episternum, prothorax, mesothorax or metathorax, ureters, stigma or scutellum was for my ocelli both joy and torment. She was the queen of scarabaeids, and I couldn’t live without her. (pgs. 56-57) This is witty, but it also becomes tiring rather quickly.
   There is no overlying plot to lead to a climax. In fact, the book ends so abruptly at the bottom of the last page as to leave the reader wondering whether the publisher accidentally left out a final page that would wind down to a more traditional conclusion. You’re an Animal, Viskovitz! (smoothly translated from the 1998 Italian original edition) is not really a novel, and should not be judged as one. It is a collection meant to be read a few vignettes at a time over a week or so. To read them all at once would be like trying to eat a box of rich chocolates at one sitting.

Cover of the Wendy Lamb/Random House edition
	Title:	*Dr. Franklin’s Island*
	Author:	Ann Halam

	Publisher:	Orion Children’s Books (London), Jun 2001
	ISBN:	1-858-81396-4
		224 pages, £4.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Publisher:	Wendy Lamb Books/Random House Children’s Books (NYC), May 2002
	ISBN:	0-385-73008-X
		247 pages, $14.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   The ‘About the Author’ page ends: Ann Halam says, “Readers may be interested to know that Dr. Franklin’s Island was inspired partly by H. G. Wells’s story The Island of Dr. Moreau.” I do not know whether the Animorphs novels by Katherine Applegate were also an inspiration, but Dr. Franklin’s Island reads like a cross between the two.
   Thirty-seven British adolescents, high school students or the equivalent, are winners of a competition by an educational TV program, Planet Savers. They win a trip to a wildlife conservation station in the Ecuadorian rain forest with a side visit to the Galápagos Islands. But their plane crashes somewhere off the west coast of Ecuador. There are only three survivors: Semirah Garson, Miranda Fallow and Arnie Pullman. After a couple of chapters of castaways-on-a-desert-island action, the three discover—and are captured by—the scientist whose laboratory is hidden on the island.
   Dr. Franklin is a modern-day Dr. Moreau; a brilliant scientific megalomaniac. …a few years ago Dr. George Franklin was famous, in science. He had all kinds of ideas about how humans might be changed, in the future, by genetic engineering. […] People listened to him, even though the things he was suggesting were completely impossible back then. And they still are, as far as I know… But he’s very rich, he inherited a huge fortune, so he didn’t need anyone’s approval. He ran his own projects and paid his own scientists to work on his weird ideas. I think he was even a futurology consultant or something to the U.S. government, for a while. Then he got prosecuted for doing some cruel experiments on chimpanzees. That was the end of his public career. (U.S. ed., pg. 77) Dr. Franklin has leased or otherwise taken over this entire small island, which he runs with a scientific assistant, Dr. Skinner, and a staff of locals who believe that they are being employed in some government secret project.
   The initial descriptions of Dr. Franklin’s island laboratory and theories of transgenetic research are convincing in the manner that James Bond’s villains’ super-lairs are superficially plausible. This soon gets exaggerated to the level of a comic-book Mad Scientist when his experimental treatments are able to change Semi, Miranda and Arnie into animaloid humans within a week or two.

The plausibility of the human-to-animal conversions may be weak, but Halam does much better at describing their results: what it feels like to be able to fly like a bird or swim like a fish; to have a bird’s or a fish’s body; to struggle to keep your human intellect from being overpowered by your new animal instincts:

And to relearn how to communicate after losing human speech. Here the story shifts to the Japanese manga/anime stereotyped plot of the reluctant heroes who are turned into superpowered monsters by the villains, then escape and use the powers forced upon them to combat those villains. Can bird, fish (humanoid manta ray), and—it’s a mystery what the third is until just before the climax—reunite and fight effectively with their animal abilities against Dr. Franklin and his staff? Can their transformations be reversed? At the last moment, do they want to become human once more?
Dr. Franklin’s Island is tense drama, starting with the plane crash in the first chapter, for those who enjoyed the Animorphs scenes featuring the characters in action in their animal bodies. Here the heroes are stuck in one form which is not to their advantage or, at first, liking; for example, how does a manta ray escape from an aquarium pool? Halam (a pseudonym used by British s-f author Gwyneth Jones for her children’s/young adult novels) sets up a situation so hopeless that she has to use a couple of dei ex machinæ to get the escape started. But once it is in motion, it picks up speed. This should be enjoyed especially by fans of Furry Transformation fiction.


	Title:	The Linnet’s Tale
	Author:	Dale C. Willard
	Illustrator:	James Noel Smith
	Publisher:	Scribner Paperback Fiction/Published by Simon & Schuster (NYC), Apr 2002
	ISBN:	0-7500-1744-9
		204 pages, $12.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   This curious little trade paperback will be easy to overlook. In format, it is very similar to a novel for young children; A. A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh books, for example. The blurb’s description of a village of cute British woodland animals with names like Peebles Carryforth the Mayor and Opportune Baggs the inventor suggests a comparison with Beatrix Potter’s similar characters such as Timmy Tiptoes and Jemima Puddle-duck, also for young children. Yet the author’s Acknowledgements close with a thank-you to the friend who reminded me at the right moment that this is, after all, a story for grown-ups. (pg. 9) And the vocabulary in the first chapter, full of words like ‘pertinacious’, ‘molossus’, and ‘versification’, makes it clear that this tale is not for any young readers. There is nothing in it that is unsuitable for children (unless possibly the after-dinner scene of the gentlemen mice at the card table with their port and cigars), but an adult reading the story to them would be all night explaining the words on any two pages.
   The Linnet’s Tale is basically a funny-animal version of a Regency Romance a la Jane Austen, as told by an enthusiastically gossipy and rambling linnet (house finch) who lives in their village. There is more to it—the finch, Waterford Hopstep, has literary pretensions and his three-page ‘novel’ is a parody of the Tarzan stories about a baby mouse raised by insects (The leafhoppers taught him their ways and this meant that Greystreak could fairly fly through a thicket of goosefoot, say, covering great distances by swinging from weed to weed and never a paw touching the ground. He also had a mysterious bond with all insect life and was able to communicate with lower creatures by various means, not the least of which was an astonishing and unnerving yell at the top of his lungs which would bring many types of strange multi-legged creatures to his aid wherever he might be. pg. 46); and the reader will also recognize a touch of Robert Louis Stevenson—but mostly this is a Regency Romance told in florid and convoluted (but always grammatically correct) paragraphs like this.
   A sample: the attractive daughters of Mr. Glendower Fieldpea, proprietor of The Bookish Mouse—Tottensea Burrows’ finest mousebook shop, have reached the age that they are being courted by suitors.

Alas, this excerpt has gone on for long enough without adding Mr. Pickerel’s eccentric and overly forward missive to it. Suffice it to say that Mr. Pickerel is not the sort of person to recognize gentle hints, while the Fieldpeas are too polite to tell him bluntly that his attentions are unwanted. Grenadine, who is headstrong, is tempted to accept his invitation just for a lark (after all, an exotic evening with a mysterious and chivalrous stranger might provide at least an interesting diary entry for the evening pg. 107). But Mr. Pickerel has already demonstrated that his extravagantly excessive mannerisms are not those of a true gentlemouse; and if he is not a true gentlemouse, just how safe may she be with him?
Most of The Linnet’s Tale is a witty but sedate pastiche of the social scene of an upper-class English community of the Georgian period. But Waterford the linnet has dropped Pretentious Hints in his Prologue that the entire village of Tottensea Burrows will come to a Shocking and Unexpected but Not Really Tragic End, so the reader is assured of some drama eventually; which, by the time it comes, really is unexpected but not inappropriate, and brings the tale to a satisfactory conclusion. The Linnet’s Tale is very clever, but its true audience are probably less Furry fans than connoisseurs of literary whimsy or of Regency Romances with enough humor to appreciate the lengthy descriptions of field mice in colorful waistcoats and elegant gowns dancing the quadrille at The Tottensea Burrows Midsummer’s Night Fancy Dress Cotillion Ball.

Cover of the 2002 Canadian edition
	Title:	*Firewing*
	Author:	Kenneth Oppel

	Publisher:	HarperCollinsCanada (Toronto, ON), Apr 2002
	ISBN:	0-00-639194-X
		262 pages, CND $15.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Publisher:	Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers (NYC), Feb 2003
	ISBN:	0-689-84993-1
		270 pages, USD $16.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Firewing, labelled ‘Book 3 of The Silverwing Saga’ on author Oppel’s website, will be a shock to any fans of Silverwing (1997) and Sunwing (1999) who thought that those two were as dramatic as it was possible to be. Shade, a young Silverwing bat, became personally responsible for saving the peaceful bat species from a war with owls and other birds who wanted to destroy all bats; from human soldiers who wanted to use bats as suicide weapons with bombs strapped to them; and from the brutal Vampyrum bats who want to enslave all other bats and sacrifice them to their bloody god Cama Zotz. Sunwing appeared to have a ‘happily ever after’ ending.
   This third novel, which begins a year later, is primarily the story of Shade’s son Griffin. Silverwing females separate from the males and migrate to their northern forest breeding grounds to bear their children, who mature quickly enough to return south with their mothers in the winter. The adolescent Griffin is looking forward to meeting his famous father for the first time, and worried that he will not measure up to the legendary bat champion. Suddenly there is a massive earthquake, and Griffin falls from his breeding ground’s underground tunnels into a vast, eerie cavern which is almost a whole underground world. The reader will realize before Griffin does that there is no ‘almost’ to this when he meets Luna, recently his best friend—whose death he accidentally caused.
   It is not giving anything away that is not revealed on the jacket blurb that Firewing takes animal fantasy to new limits in this Furry modernization of Orpheus in the Underworld (although Oppel’s nudge-nudge-wink-wink clues are more to Dante’s Inferno). This huge, blacklit chiropteran Underworld is modelled upon that of Roman mythology. There are no sun or moon, but there is a ‘starry sky’ of luminous minerals embedded in the cavern’s dome. There are ‘Elysian Fields’ oases of lush fruit forests full of tasty insects for the ghosts of good bats, and desolate wastelands for the ghosts of evil bats. But the fruit and insects are ectoplasmic themselves, without nourishment to a live bat who has fallen into the Underworld before his death. Unless Griffin can find an opening to the surface world before he starves, he will become a permanent resident of the Underworld before his time.
   This is only the first of the subplots. Griffin has been crushed with guilt since causing Luna’s death. He hopes to restore her to life by taking her with him back to the surface world. But the Underworld is now her natural home, and she wants Griffin to stay there with her. Unknown to Griffin, his father has followed him to rescue him; but in the supernaturally world-sized cavern, how will Shade ever find him? Goth, who has been deservedly suffering the tortures of the Damned since his death in Sunwing, is freed by Lord Zotz to capture these intruders. Goth is determined to not waste this unexpected new chance for revenge against his hated enemy, either by killing Shade himself or, more sadistically, letting him go after killing his son.
   Firewing cannot be called completely unique since it is so derivative of Roman mythology, but this is a detailed supernatural setting that is rarely seen in Furry fantasy. Oppel creates dramatically phantasmic landscapes and situations. Griffin and Shade are never sure which of its ghostly aspects are harmless to living beings, and which are traps that can hold them until they starve to death—or until Goth catches up with them. Can Griffin save Luna, or is she now a ‘hungry ghost’ which can unknowingly or deliberately doom him? Shade is now a strong adult warrior who can approach his adventures guided by experience, while Griffin is a resolute but nervous young bat who has little to rely upon but his common sense. His dialogue is realistically adolescent:

Firewing offers suspense, pathos, horror, and drama. It features strong characterizations of both adolescent and adult characters. However, readers who have not yet read Silverwing and Sunwing should start with those two. Firewing is complete in itself but you will also enjoy the first two novels, and they should be read first.
One of the FAQs on Kenneth Oppel’s website (http://www.kennethoppel.ca/) is whether there will be any more adventures in The Silverwing Saga? “Absolutely. Just as soon as I get a great idea for a fourth book, I’ll be sure to write it!” A 13-episode Silverwing TV cartoon series has also been announced, animated by Bardel Entertainment in Vancouver for Canada’s Teletoon channel, to premiere in September 2003.

   Blue Road to Atlantis is enjoyable on its own. But appreciation will be increased a thousandfold if you are familiar with Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea (1952), because it is a pastiche of that tale told from the viewpoint of the fish.
   Fishmael, the narrator, is a remora or marlinsucker who has spent his life as the symbiotic companion of the great marlin who is the champion of the sea. All fish in the Atlantic revere the Old Fish’s strength and wisdom. Thus when the news reaches the Gulf of Mexico that a Red Tide is spreading from the coast of Africa (Panic sweeps through the crowd. Red Tide is a rare phenomenon, said to originate with the ripening of a mysterious coastal plant. It drifts relentlessly forward for hundreds of miles before dispersing, carrying a deadly bacteria that suffocates every fish in its broad path. The last Red Tide killed twenty million, approaching as a lovely pink bloom and leaving a wake of silence behind. pg. 17), all the fish are sure that only the Old Fish can save them. He promises to swim (with Fishmael) to legendary Atlantis, whose all-wise Great Spotted Dolphins must know how to stop the Red Tide. But before he can leave, he is hooked by El Campéon, the notorious human fisherman.
   In some respects Blue Road to Atlantis is a very close pastiche of The Old Man and the Sea. Both novels are 140 pages long, and written in Hemingwaylike prose. Fortunately, Nussbaum has not followed Hemingway’s text slavishly. He elaborates imaginatively upon it.
   Hemingway’s story predominantly relates the thoughts of the aged fisherman alone in his skiff as a great marlin pulls him through the sea. Nussbaum’s story has a larger cast of fish so there is much more dialogue. Not only are the Old Fish’s and Fishmael’s lives at stake, but those of all the fish in the Caribbean. Hemingway’s old man is pulled through the sea for two days before the unknown fish comes to the surface. Nussbaum’s story reveals what has been happening underwater during this time. The Old Fish and Fishmael are looking for help from other fish to remove the hook. A Hardheaded Catfish is said to have answers to all questions, but he turns out to be a piscine preacher of the Church of the SubGenius:

When the old man cuts his hand and bleeds into the water, the Old Fish and Fishmael think this is a deliberate attempt to attract sharks to intimidate them. Hemingway has a casual paragraph: ‘He remembered the time he had hooked one of a pair of marlin. The male fish always let the female fish feed first and the hooked fish, the female, made a wild, panic-stricken, despairing fight that soon exhausted her […]’ This becomes a key event in the past of Nussbaum’s fish: It has been many years, and much water has since passed beneath our fins, but I still remember the day the Old Fish lost his beloved Migdalia to a fisherman’s hook. A fisherman who proclaimed himself El Campéon, who dragged our poor Migdalia brutally from the water […] (pg. 3)

In The Old Man and the Sea, the ancient fisherman prays that the great fish will not accidentally dive or jerk the line hard enough to break it. In Blue Road to Atlantis, the Old Fish has become fatalistic. He is sure that the old man is destined to destroy him as he destroyed Migdalia, that he is fated to die with his mission to Atlantis unfulfilled; and so he creates reasons to ignore all practical advice to save himself.
As the Old Fish approaches his end, he sees Hidden Meanings in every comment the old man makes while talking to himself. The story grows increasingly mystical and metaphysical after they finally meet a Spotted Dolphin, who seems to be from Jamaica rather than Atlantis:

Nussbaum fills his tale with clever references (look for the titles of other Hemingway novels like The Sun Also Rises and A Farewell to Arms worked into the text), but he never lets them get in the way of the basic job of telling a fascinating story.

Fey is blurbed as “A rip-roaring spoof of the ‘High Fantasy’ genre.” It is not specifically a Furry novel, but is set in a fantasy world subdivided into different realms each devoted to whatever fantasy themes or myths have been popular on Earth: pagan mythology with satyrs, centaurs and dragons; Christianity with angels versus demons; vampires, werewolves, ghouls and other Undead creatures; Celtic mythology; and so forth. The 20th century added its own new mythical characters: funny animals, dinosaurs (as popularized in movies and bad sci-fi thrillers, not scientifically accurate), movie monsters, outer-space aliens, and so forth. These different groups do not remain neatly segregated once they appear in Fey; they tend to mix together and get into all kinds of trouble.
But now the existence of Fey itself is at stake. Two tiny dragons, Rufus the Red and Caerulia the Blue, travel to Earth seeking a Champion to save their world. They are rivals: Rufus is looking for a traditional heroic knight pledged to support goodness, justice and the Established Order; while Caerulia believes in the diversity (and fun) of Chaos and Shadow. Only pure, innocent faith could see a dragon as it truly was, (pg. 14), so the first humans to recognize them for what they are are two adolescent fantasy fans; Kevin, a British wargamer in homemade polyethylene Samurai armor, and Theresa, an Australian hopeful writer posting her fantasy porn on the Internet and trying to sell her first serious fantasy novel. Both are overjoyed at the chance to travel to what they are sure is their true spiritual homes:

   Naturally it is not all fun and games. Theresa and Caerulia fall afoul of an outpost of knights of order that are as puritanical as the Spanish Inquisition combined with the Nazi SS, and are forced to flee their blood-lizard trackers (velociraptors) in a lengthy scene as seriously terrifying as any that Stephen King or Dean Koontz could write. Kevin and Rufus have never read A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. While the nobles and the military commanders claim to be delighted to be shown how to fight the Minions of Evil more efficiently, the last thing they want is to introduce new weapons into Fey that will make their armored knights and castles obsolete.
   The real problem is the nature of the menace threatening Fey. Due to modern marketing techniques on Earth, the latest wave of fantasy is being pounded into so many people so relentlessly that it is sweeping away all former types instead of coexisting with them. And it is all grim and depressing. Movie fantasy is now dominated by zombies and ghouls, chainsaw-slashing killers, human-exterminating robots and carnivorous space monsters. The publishing industry has become controlled by a few mega-publishers that reject all stories that do not fit the fantasy formula of grim warrior maids hacking and slashing hordes of undead fiends, or the sci-fi formula of grim commando teams blasting and slashing their way across devastated landscapes. Kevin, Theresa, Rufus, Caerulia, and the friends they make on Fey (including talking dinosaurs like Emily Brontosaurus, Gnargnaxx the manticore, Rumblestaad the black furry giant troll, Lurien the satyr, Snick-Snack the crocodile-headed kobold, Taka-shida and Taka-shima the two ninja white mice, Princess Cervine the sexually frustrated deer maid, and others) must figure out how to block Fey off from the relentless surge of mass-produced, unimaginative, soul-stifling formula fantasy.
   Kidd obviously has a personal axe to grind against the ‘nicotine mummy’ publishers and literary agents who reject manuscripts because they are ‘different’. “We don’t want characters, we don’t want ideas! Ideas are thinking, and thinking means no sales! We want books with no thinking. We want books that are fast—you read them, you say ‘hey—we want more’! We don’t want classics—classics you keep, you re-read, you pass to friends! We don’t want them passed to friends, we want the next book moving off the shelves.” (pg. 5) If the nature of popularized fantasy was really as Kidd describes it, the world of Fey would be in as much danger of being Harry Potter-ized as of being Warhammer-ed. But, hey, it makes for a fun story. And while the 100% Furry characters in Fey might be comparatively few, there are plenty of talking dragons and half-animal mythological beasts.
   For ordering information, contact Pure Hubris Ltd., 11A Westminster Street, Victoria Park East, Western Australia 6101, or ias@p085.aone.net.au; or Paul Kidd’s website, http://www.warpedtime.com/squeee

   Pastiches of and/or sequels to George Orwell’s 1945 Animal Farm come along every few years. (See Yarf! #40 and #46 for reviews of Animal Planet and Anarchist Farm.) Here is another. Animal Farm is generally considered one of the finest allegories of 20th century literature; an animal fable portrayal of the Russian Communist Revolution of 1917 and the betrayal of its ideals by its own leadership. Where does a sequel go from there?
   It emigrates to America. Snowball’s Chance converts Snowball from a surrogate of Trotsky to a composite of all the American presidents of the past quarter century. He seems to have a split personality as he shifts from Carter to Reagan to Bush to Clinton to Dubya. Animal Farm is more successful at seeming detached and objective, as though the author is merely reporting what the characters are doing on their own initiative. Snowball’s Chance is more heavy-handed, as though the animals are being manipulated to act out parodies of recent American events.
   There is a foreword by Alexander Cockburn denouncing George Orwell’s reputation as a foe of totalitarian oppression and a champion of individual freedom. Yes, Orwell came to hate Communism (or the hypocritical Soviet bureaucracy). But he was as much a right-wing totalitarian by the time he wrote Animal Farm and 1984. A declassification of fifty-year-old British Military Intelligence files in 1998 has revealed that Orwell was sending them the names of anyone he met whom he considered to be ‘unreliable’ to British society and values; not just Communists but also Jews, blacks and homosexuals. It may be true that Orwell as a literary idol has clay feet, but this is irrelevant to Animal Farm itself, and is a mean-spirited note upon which to open John Reed’s novel.
   Snowball’s Chance begins as a straightforward continuation of Animal Farm. The pigs under Napoleon’s leadership control everything and have become indistinguishable from man. After several years Napoleon and the original revolutionary pigs start dying off of unrestrained gluttony and indulgence. There are no strong leaders among the next generation of pigs. Suddenly Snowball returns! He had not been killed offstage by Napoleon’s savage guard dogs (as Orwell strongly implies but never states), but had escaped.

   Snowball’s dynamic charisma sweeps the animals into proclaiming him as their new leader, to restore their Revolution to its goals of equality for all animals. Snowball promises to do this with increased efficiency, thanks to what he has learned about the way the world really works while living in exile among the humans. He will show the animals how to improve their creature comforts through making more money!
   Abruptly Snowball’s Chance is no longer a pastiche of Communist Russia but of Capitalist America. Snowball and his new close circle of cronies and advisors now look like the Rockefellers, the Bushes, and the CEOs of the biggest megacorporations. ‘All animals are equal’, and Snowball is all in favor of equality as long as ‘some animals are more equal than others’ with greater tax-breaks and stock options.
   Snowball’s idea to enable all animals to live in luxury is to turn Animal Farm into Animal Fair; a big amusement park where the humans will pay for the privilege of seeing the ‘cute’ animals caper around. Fun for all! and the animals will earn a fair and decent living from it. Of course, as anyone who has worked in the entertainment industry knows, performing is inevitably hard (and often demeaning) work. Also, the performers are far outnumbered by the number of menial laborers needed for grunt-work maintenance and cleanup. It is only the executive management (pigs again; no surprise) who can relax all day with guaranteed enormous salaries and benefit plans.
   The copious trash that an amusement park produces leads to the Fair becoming surrounded by unsanitary landfills. The need for resources for new attractions and raw materials for souvenirs forces the Farm to expand into the nearby Woodlands to cut down and strip-mine wantonly. This brings the ‘Pig Farm’ into conflict with the forest animals led by the beavers. The beavers espouse a similar concern for ‘animal equality’ and ‘living in balance with nature’, but it is quickly evident that they are an amalgam of every fanatically self-righteous cause that opposes the Capitalistic status quo: eco-terrorists, pro-Lifers who murder abortion-clinic staffers, the Muslim Fundamentalists who attack the Great American Satan. Long before the dramatic climax which ends this novel, it is clear that if the message of Animal Farm was that the pigs are no better than the human masters whom they replaced, the message of Snowball’s Chance is that Everybody Is No Damn Good.


	Title:	*The Sight*
	Author:	David Clement-Davies

	Publisher:	Macmillan Children’s Books (London), Oct 2001
	ISBN:	0-333-76641-5
		[iv] + 503 pages, £12.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Publisher:	Dutton Books (NYC), Mar 2002
	ISBN:	0-525-46723-8
		465 pages, $21.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Mid-15th century Transylvania is being turned into a vast graveyard of Christians and Turks bloodily slaughtering each other. Unnoticed by the humans, the Carpathian wolves have a similar problem. Since ancient times, the wolves have worshipped the lupine gods Fenris and Tor. The rich lupine religion also teaches of the demonic Wolfbane who brought cruelty and misery into the world; and there is a legend that in days gone by […] in the times when magic and witchcraft ruled their lives and darkness dominated, some wolves possessed the gift of the Sight […] the power to see far-off visions beyond one’s own body. (pg. 8, U.S. ed.)
   Morgra, a witch-like wolf who had been exiled from the packs for murder and practicing black magic, has recently managed to win control of the Balkar, which in the wolf’s language meant Night Hunters, a group of six wolf packs made up entirely of fighting males that had been formed to defend the borders of the land beyond the forest. With the leadership of these guardian wolves came the title of “First of the Wolves,” and never before had a she-wolf laid claim to it. (pg. 7) Nobody is more familiar with Morgra’s cruel nature than her sister Palla, so as soon as Morgra seizes the leadership and begins performing sacrificial rites to revive the cult of Wolfbane and to gain the Sight, Palla persuades her mate Huttser and a small group of friends to flee into exile. Morgra and her lackey, the raven Kraar, order the Balkar to find and slay them because she believes that Palla’s newborn cub, Larka, is the wolf in whom the Sight is destined to be naturally renewed, which could forestall her plans to gain the Sight by witchcraft. To add to the bloody confusion, the wolves opposed to Morgra’s tyranny have been gathering in a rebel pack to destroy her and her Balkar army. But the leadership of the rebels has been won by Slavka, a female equally dominant and merciless toward any dissent among her followers. Slavka, an arrogant skeptic, declares all witchcraft, religion and superstition to be outlawed. Since the growing Larka is showing definite signs of the Sight (she has bonded with her own flying familiar, the eagle Skart), she and her family are also marked for death by Slavka’s pack of ‘free wolves’.
   The Sight is a tense supernatural tale of grim, bloody, depression and despair. However, it has serious problems as either a horror novel or a thriller. Clement-Davies ‘tells’ instead of ‘shows’, using overly florid prose that gives away too much and sabotages the suspense.

You know those horror movies where characters wander away from the group to be killed, one by one? Here they do not wander away as much as they are dragged to their dooms by the author. In one scene, Larka, Khaz and Kipcha come into a clearing dominated by a great tree from which ‘a chunk of raw flesh’ is dangling over a patch of ground ‘thick with dead leaves, though the tree hadn’t shed’, with ‘something else in the odor filling the air that reminded the wolf of’ humans they had recently encountered. (pg. 95) Even though a three-day-old cub should be able to recognize a trap, Khaz couldn’t hear Kipcha. An extraordinary feeling had just come over him. It was as though he were traveling along a deep ravine he could not escape, at the end of which lay he knew not what. He wanted to pull up, but the fear consuming his mind kept him running. (pg. 96) After the first three or four wolves perish from obvious deathtraps that they suddenly have no free will to avoid, there is no longer any suspense as to whether any will ever be intelligent or lucky enough to survive. The only question is which order they will die in, and what the manner of each agonizing death will be.
There is far too much use of the ploy of the good guys just happening to overhear the enemy discussing major secrets:

   Accidentally stumbling upon such an important conversation seems awfully convenient, but such things do happen. But by the third or fourth time this happens (pgs. 125-127; 153-155; 168-169), it not only becomes wearily repetitive, it stretches good luck past all suspension of disbelief.
   As in Watership Down, the featured animals are supposed to be ‘realistic’ except for the conceit that they have their own language and religion. The first dozen pages swamp the reader in wolf vocabulary, always capitalized: Varg = wolves, Dragga = alpha male, Drappa = alpha female, Sikla = omega wolf, Lera = wild animals, Putnar = predators, etc., etc. The result feels less like Watership Down than the nursery tale about ‘high cockalorum’ and ‘cold pondalorum’ where nouns are given humorous replacements just to be silly. These wolves sweat, respect their elders (Wolves, more than most animals, value age in the pack …), have instincts hitherto unknown (…a wolf fears nothing more than death by water…), and otherwise act in ways that seem less realistic than convenient for the author. There is an extended subplot in which wolves rescue a human baby and must care for it through a freezing winter. This begins practically within sight of an ancient Roman statue of the she-wolf suckling two infants, presumably to assure the reader that wolves nurturing human babies is realistic. But these wolves realize that since this is a human baby, he needs clothing, which the legend of Romulus and Remus seems to have missed: …she had understood the need to cover up its furless skin. So the young she-wolf had sat there, gnawing away [at a deerskin], until her teeth had cut an opening in the hide, and together Jarla and Tsarr had managed to lift it in their muzzles over its head. They had felt the need to bind it somehow… (pg. 222). There is commentary on almost every page about how realistic and governed by instinct the wolves are, which makes the frequent contradictory evidence especially stand out. There is also a secret whose solution is hidden in a lengthy riddle-verse, just like in all the Redwall novels. All of the obvious comparisons to Watership Down and Redwall are of a nature which illustrates how inferior The Sight is to them.
   If you feel that you have to read The Sight, borrow it from your local library. It is not worth the cover price.

Sims may be a brand-new plot based on the latest headlines about cloning and immoral scientific experimenting as far as the general public is concerned (“It may seem like science fiction,” says Wilson in his Author’s Note, “but it isn’t. For right now, as you read these words, someone somewhere is altering a chimpanzee’s genome to make it more human. Right now.”), but for s-f and Furry fans, this is old stuff. The basic plot of winning legal equality for bioengineered chimpanzee laborers was used by Robert A. Heinlein back in 1947 (Jerry Was a Man, in Thrilling Wonder Stories). Practically every bioengineering plot twist and setup in Sims that is supposed to be a cutting-edge surprise can be found in some previous s-f novel or a story in some Furry magazine; Watts Martin’s unfinished In Our Image here in Yarf! between 1992 and 1994, or Lawrence Watt-Evans’ Foxy Lady in Zoomorphica over ten years ago, or… The suspenseful action of courtroom dramas and attacks by rogue political/military black ops teams are more standard to lots of mainstream Conspiracy novels and movies, although Wilson blends them into the bioengineering plot smoothly.
I do not mean to dismiss Sims as nothing but a rehash of old ideas. There are no new basic ideas in Westerns, but skilled writers are still crafting tense new Western dramas from the traditional plot elements. I enjoyed Sims very much, and a part of that enjoyment was due to feeling that this ‘day after tomorrow’ drama about bioengineered intelligent animals (“… a science thriller that will come true. One way or another.”) is a mainstream affirmation of what we have been fictionally predicting ourselves for the past decade and more.

Patrick Sullivan is a yuppie labor lawyer more interested in advancing his career than in fighting for causes. When the sim caddies at a posh golf club (that has just rejected his membership) ask him to help them form a labor union, Sullivan agrees only to annoy the club’s stuffy members and to get himself some free humorous publicity. He is shocked when the news that he is representing ‘human rights for dumb animals’ provokes a more serious response than he expected. His law firm pressures him to drop the case. A TV Evangelist denounces him and all other sim-lovers as blasphemers mocking the Lord God. His home is fire-bombed by fundamentalists. Sullivan is torn between not wanting to sacrifice his professional career, and a reluctance to back down under fire. Then Romy Cadman, an attractive pro-sim activist, offers him a quarter of a million dollars to stay on the case. Next a professional commando squad, not drunken red-necks, try to arrange Sullivan’s and Romy’s deaths in a faked automobile accident—but when the two regain consciousness, it is the commandos who have been mysteriously slaughtered. Further dramatic developments make it clear to Sullivan and Romy that they have become caught up in a secret war being waged by powerful rival forces within Big Business, the government, the military, and the scientific community; and that each includes ‘cowboys’ who believe in violence as the simplest way of eliminating their enemies.
There are many sim characters in the story, although most of them are subservient to the humans (explained as the sims being bioengineered for docility). Indeed, one of the weakest points is the novel’s opening: asking Sullivan to help them start a labor union is uncharacteristically non-docile. Also, if sims are smart enough to hire a lawyer, their human-level intelligence should have been plain for the world to see before Sullivan begins to publicize their cause. Another detail that is unconvincing is the apparent similarity between the novel’s society and our own (except for the presence of the sims), considering that there are occasional offhand references to ‘the genome revolution’ having eliminated most genetic diseases (heart disease, diabetes, cancer), and enabled cosmetic body modification (a briefly-seen ‘reptiled’ punk-goth freak has pointed teeth and a long, forked tongue that he waggles in people’s faces to freak them out). If biotechnology has reached that point, then the background of modern society seems disappointingly unimaginative. But this is supposed to be a mainstream suspense novel and ‘not science fiction’, so Wilson probably could not afford to change the social scene too dramatically. Sims is designed for readers who like Stephen King’s and Dean Koontz’s thrillers, with a fantasy menace that is high-tech rather than supernatural.


	Title:	Best in Show: Fifteen Years of Outstanding Furry Fiction
	Editor:	Fred Patten
	Illustrators:	Dave Bryant, Margaret Carspecken, Jennie Hoffer, John Nunnemacher, Conrad Wong, Vicky Wyman, etc
	Publisher:	Sofawolf Press (Saint Paul, MN), Jul 2003
	ISBN:	0-9712670-1-4
		455 pages, $19.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Consider this an announcement rather than a review. Since I am the editor, it would not be proper to review my own book.
   Best in Show is an anthology of 26 short stories originally published between 1987 (1989 actually; I could not find any stories from 1987 to 1989 that were good enough) and 2002 in the Furry small press. Authors include Brian W. Antoine, Gene Breshears, Robert Carspecken, Mick Collins, Jeff Eddy, Phil Geusz, Ben Goodridge, Craig Hilton, Brock Hoagland, M. C. A. Hogarth, Allen Kitchen, Kim Liu, Watts Martin, Elizabeth McCoy, Charles Melville, Michael H. Payne, Matt Posner, Axel Shaikman, Tim Susman, Todd G. Sutherland, Jefferson P. Swycaffer, Tom Turrittin, Lawrence Watt-Evans, Mel. White, and Conrad Wong. Ten are illustrated with art from their original magazine publications by Dave Bryant, Margaret Carspecken, Jennie Hoffer, John Nunnemacher, Conrad Wong, Vicky Wyman and others. The stories are reprinted from the magazines Anthrolations, The Ever-Changing Palace, Fang, Claw & Steel, Fantastic Furry Stories, FurryPhile, Furthest North Crew, FurVersion, HistoriMorphs, Morphic Tales, North American Fur, PawPrints Fanzine, Rowrbrazzle, Tales of the Tai-Pan Universe, Yarf! and Zoomorphica; the website Raven’s Lair; and Brock Hoagland’s book Tales of Perissa. Yarf! is represented by three stories; How George Miles Almost Saved the World by Watts Martin from #14 (July 1991), Mercy to the Cubs: A Tale of the Furkindred by Chas. P. A. Melville from #37 (July 1995), and Rosettes and Ribbons by M. C. A. Hogarth from #58 (January 2000).
   I grew up reading science fiction books from the public library, including such great short-story anthologies as The Omnibus of Science Fiction and A Treasury of Science Fiction edited by Groff Conklin, Adventures in Time and Space edited by Healy & McComas, and dozens if not hundreds of others. These included lots of ‘best of the year’ anthologies which collected the best stories each year from Analog, Asimov’s SF, Fantasy & Science Fiction, Galaxy Science Fiction, Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Fantasy Magazine, Weird Tales, Worlds of If and all the other commercial s-f magazines. Obviously our own Furry small-press magazines (which began with FurVersion in 1987), usually with circulations of only 200 copies or less, were not being considered by the editors of these volumes. This has been a sore point with me for years. Sofawolf Press recently offered to publish a collection of the best short stories from all the Furry magazines if I would select them. Best in Show is the result.
   These stories were not selected with any particular quotas in mind, but they naturally fell into a very broad range in many respects. There is at least one story from just about every major Furry magazine that has published text fiction since Furry fandom developed in the mid-1980s. Most of the major Furry authors are represented. There is hard s-f about bioengineered intelligent animals and how human society adapts to them; interstellar s-f about alien felinoid ’taurs; fantasy about magically talking animals; transformation stories about humans who become animals; and more. There are dramas and comedies; action stories and mood pieces. Many of the major shared-world fiction series such as Xanadu, the Tai-Pan Universe, The Furkindred, and Tails from the Blind Pig have one of their stories included. I am unhappy that not every top-quality author and story series could be included, but Best in Show is as packed as Sofawolf Press could make it; so thick that it should have a cover price of $25 or more.
   There are plenty more Furry short stories in the fanzines and on authors’ websites. If Best in Show sells well, there will be incentive for Sofawolf Press and other publishers to assemble more Furry ‘best’ anthologies as well as collections of individual authors’ stories. It is up to you, the reader.


	Title:	The Iron Star
	Author:	Brock Hoagland
	Illustrators:	Terrie Smith, Carla Speed McNeil, Roz Gibson, Steve Corbett, Sara Palmer, Sarah Wheeler, Briona Campbell, Heather Miranda, Michelle Latta, and ‘Giacomo’
	Publisher:	Shanda Fantasy Arts (Greenbriar, AR), Jul 2003
	ISBN:	0-7500-1744-9
		160 pages, $19.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Brock Hoagland has been writing anthropomorphic fantasy adventure short stories for several years, usually in series. Yarf!’s readers may recall his Hanno and Loris stories about a mouse mage and a leopardess swordsfur around 1996-1998. Other action series notably include his Leiberesque Perissa stories about a young leopardess assassin-for-hire in a decadent Furry Byzantine empire, the first five of which were published as Tales of Perissa in 2001.
   Now Hoagland’s first novel is out. The Iron Star enjoyably ‘fulfills the promise’ of his shorter works. It also presents a much more lusty and erotic subplot than is usually found in sword-&-sorcery. It is set in a Bronze Age (3000 B.C.-1000 B.C.) Aegean culture, a thousand years earlier than the Romano-Judaic society that is usually summarized as ‘Christian’. It is a world where public nudity is much more casually accepted; where most gods are fertility gods to some degree; where prosperous ‘kingdoms’ consist of one city with its surrounding lands to maybe a fifty-mile radius; and where the king must ceremonially usher in each Spring by copulating with a young virgin on a field ready for planting—and when the king becomes too old to do his duty, he is ritually slaughtered and replaced by a virile new king. Hoagland adds an anthropomorphic bonus: the different species are not interfertile, so an equine lad and a feline lass, say, can enjoy bed sports without worrying about inconvenient offspring.
   Brennus is a ‘tall Cougar youth’ from the Northern lands who has ‘come south seeking adventure even more than wealth.’ (pg. 9) His ‘garish, woolen garments that marked him a barbarian: blue-and-yellow checked trousers, red tunic and russet-and-green plaid cloak’ are typical of a Celtic chieftain’s son, and Brennus is a considerably more witty and sophisticated conversationalist than the stereotypical ‘barbarian warrior’. Most of the southern sights which Brennus eagerly takes in are prehistoric Minoan and Greek, including the bare-breasted, full-skirted matrons and priestesses, and the totally nude slave girls.
   Brennus accepts a mission from Zenobaen, the Rabbit Mother Goddess, to obtain a rare black stone that ‘fell from Heaven’ from the heavily guarded treasury of a nearby king before it can ‘destroy the world’. The priests of rival gods are already pestering the king for this stone of the gods, as is the Metalworkers Guild which wants to study the new metal. Brennus enlists the aid of an arrogant young female thief, the Serval maid Tazia, to help him break into the treasury. What Brennus does not know is that Tazia has already accepted a commission from Yanosh, the Hyena high priest of the god Ashkar to steal the sky stone for him. Brennus and Tazia get the stone (defeating a demon guard), but she then steals it from him. Brennus is determined to both get it back and, since he respects anyone who can outwit him, make the fiercely independent Tazia his wife. Brennus’ chase gradually turns into a full-fledged quest, adding Tazia, two saucy slave girls (Jackal and Ewe), a Badger mage, and a group from the Metalworkers Guild (Bull, Ram, and two Boars) to retrieve the stone from Ashkar’s distant high temple before Yanosh can deliver the secret of the sky metal to his bloodthirsty god.
   There is plenty of witty dialogue, especially between Brennus and Tazia (“I’m not going to marry you!”), and a well-planned action scene every few pages. The Iron Star is a lot of fun. If there is any problem, it is that it is low-key compared to those fantasy novels that create an atmosphere of suspense and terror. The menace of the sadistically cruel Ashkar cult gradually growing more powerful is intellectually threatening, but is too distant to be really exciting. The reader knows that the advent of iron will mean bloodier wars and the end of the Bronze Age, but it is hard to feel that this is a horrific doom of the immediacy of what will happen if Sauron gets the Ring. Hoagland nicely justifies why the ‘good Gods’ need Brennus at the beginning of the story. (“There are constraints placed upon those of us of power lest the world fall into anarchy due to our caprice. […] Fate decreed that the sky stone should fall to Earth and I may take no direct action in this. An agent to fetch it and bring it to me so that I may return it to Heaven is the most I can do.” pg. 17) Hoagland justifies just as nicely why the Gods may personally materialize after all for a spectacular battle at the end of the story. But it feels more like the author saying, “Okay, it’s time for a big climax,” than it does that the Gods really needed to appear on stage. Hoagland may be channeling L. Sprague de Camp, who did this sort of ‘travelogue of prehistoric Europe’ where the sorcery was mostly superficial decoration more than once (The Tritonian Ring, The Goblin Tower).
   The Iron Star has about two dozen full-page illustrations by Terrie Smith, Carla Speed McNeil, Roz Gibson, Steve Corbett, Sara Palmer, Sarah Wheeler, Briona Campbell, Heather Miranda, Michelle Latta, and ‘Giacomo’. Practically the first one that you will see is a model sheet of the main characters, posing full-frontal nude. This is an erotic novel, with a sex scene every few pages. The sex is between consenting adults (even with a slave girl, the male always politely asks permission), is tastefully described and is ‘non-kinky’, but there is a lot of it. Read according to your taste for such Adult Behavior.

   “Once upon a time…”
   Those magic words are supposed to conjure up a childhood world of wonderful fairy tales. For a half-century or more, from the late Victorian era to about the 1960s, they did. That was the period when folk tales were sanitized and condensed for safe bedtime stories for mothers to read to their infants, and for six- and seven-year-old beginning readers to discover fairyland for themselves. From Andrew Lang’s late 19th-century colored compendiums (The Green Fairy Book, The Red Fairy Book, etc.) to the mass-produced children’s picture books of the mid-20th century, and of course the Disney movies: every child grew up knowing Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Rapunzel, Beauty and the Beast, Red Riding Hood, Thumbelina, and their magical enemies and saviors.
   Is it still that way, or has the world gotten more jaded? Today everyone seems to be writing cynical parodies of these fairy tales, or new ones which are much more sophisticated. Many of these are clever and excellent, but they lack the simple innocence of the classics.
   Of course, it is not easy to create a new tale that combines the innocent charm of a story for young children with the sophistication needed to hold the attention of grown-ups.
   Rod Espinosa has done it. The Courageous Princess was an Eisner Award nominee for ‘Best Story for Younger Audiences’. Older audiences will enjoy it, too.
   Comic-book writer/artist Espinosa originally created this story as three graphic novels: The Courageous Princess (April 2000), The Courageous Princess 2: The Quest for Home (March 2001), and The Courageous Princess 3: The Kingdom of Leptia (September 2002). Now they are reprinted in a heavy, thick hardbound book, beautifully colored and printed on glossy coated paper. Anyone who missed them originally should definitely get this collected edition.

   And evil, of course.
   New Tinsley is a tiny kingdom on the edge of the Hundred Kingdoms, small enough that everyone knows everyone else. Princess Mabelrose has grown up with the children of the castle servants and commoners as her playmates. As a result, she is considered rough and uncouth by the haughty nobility of larger neighboring kingdoms. When she is an adolescent, she is snatched by the greedy dragon Shalathrumnostrium whose cruel hobby is kidnapping young princesses to serve as his helpless guests until he tires of them. (“You will come when I command you, leave when I dismiss you. Eat what I give you. Wear what I want you to.”) But unlike other princesses, Mabelrose has not been raised to be decorative but useless, helpless to do anything but wait to be rescued. She determines to rescue herself. After sneaking past the dragon’s goblin guards and meeting a friendly talking porcupine named Spiky, she finds that wherever the dragon’s castle is is so far from home that nobody has ever heard of New Tinsley. And so begins The Quest for Home.
   A bare synopsis does not give the full flavor of the quality of the presentation. Espinosa’s art is beautiful, combining a simple cartoon style with exquisite detail. The dialogue is sparse (no bloated speech balloons here), but always compactly intelligent. A minor subplot shows that Mabelrose’s father, King Jeryk, is constantly searching for her; he eventually learns that Shalathrumnostrium’s realm is about as far from New Tinsley as it is possible to be, with all hundred realms to pass through. Mabelrose and Spiky are pursued by the dragon and his horrific minions, and escape them by brave and risky tricks. They also are aided by the peasants and townsfolk whom they meet. Some of these have problems of their own, and Mabelrose feels obligated to help them in return for the friendship they have shown her. Mabelrose’s age is not given, nor does the story say how much time passes, but she looks about 15 at the start of her adventure and about 18 on the final page. The Courageous Princess does not end “…and they lived happily ever after.” There is a satisfactory resolution to Princess Mabelrose’s adventures so far, but she is still far from home.
   The anthropomorphic aspect of The Courageous Princess is slow to start. Spiky, the first talking animal, does not appear until almost the end of the first third. But there are several talking animals in the middle third, and the Kingdom of Leptia is inhabited entirely by talking animals, divided between ‘anifolk’ (anthropomorphized bipedal, clothes-wearing animals) and ‘speaking beasts’ (animals who are intelligent and can talk but are otherwise natural). Part of the plot of this third is the political conflict between the two and how Mabelrose helps them to resolve it. There are more than enough ’morphic characters in these 240 pages to please a Furry reader.

   When I was in elementary school, I visited a friend’s home. One of his brothers had a cute rabbit (or hare?) he had caught, in a cage. I asked if I could pet it. No, I was warned; the rabbit was wild and would bite and scratch. I looked at the rabbit again, and imagined that its expression said, “Come near me and you die!”
   That attitude is immediately evident in the surly, chain-smoking hare Cigarro, the co-star (with beer-guzzling Canada goose Cerveja) of Tony Esteves’ college newspaper comic strip. Cigarro & Cerveja has appeared in the University of Alberta’s approximately-twice-weekly The Gateway since September 17, 1998. Round 1 collects the first 145 of these strips, plus a few more ‘mailing list’ comics which presumably appeared only on Esteves’ www.cigarro.ca website.
   WARNING: book contains foul language. Well, sure; it’s a college campus comic strip. Whaddya expect? Cigarro smokes. (“You see,” she tells a doctor, “I don’t believe that I have been experiencing the full pleasure of smoking. So I thought that maybe implanting 50 cigarettes through my ribs directly to my lungs will do the trick.”) Cerveja—well, Cerveja has too much class to make a spectacle of himself, but he is usually seen holding a beer. In fact, Cerveja is so laid back compared to the in-your-face Cigarro that Esteves has to remind readers that he is a co-star rather than a supporting character.
   Since the two appear au naturel in fur & feathers, and Cigarro is usually glowering, smoking and swearing, it took some time to convince readers that she really is female.

   They are off-and-on roommates but not lovers. Cigarro does not seem interested in sex at all, although she exasperatedly offers Cerveja advice on his infatuations.
   Although Cigarro & Cerveja is about two college students, there do not seem to be any strips with a campus setting. The two are usually seen at the college town’s saloon. The next favorite locale is their dorm room, where studying and complaining about having failed tests does keep the strip pertinent to its setting.
   C&C are not the only regular cast. Cerveja’s hand-puppet Murray has a personality so different from the goose’s (imagine Chucky with a hand up his ass) as to be a completely different character. Dr. Inteligência, ‘the smartest monkey alive’, is a cross between Mojo Jojo and the Brain (of ‘Pinky and the…’). Assorted other squirrels, raccoons, turtles, chickens, beavers and even humans show up frequently in supporting roles such as players in a stud poker game, but no others are regulars.
   Oh, hell! You know what raunchy student newspaper comic strips are like. If you like ’em and do not want to miss one of the best, get Cigarro & Cerveja: Round 1.
   When I first saw this book, I thought it was from the regular publisher of the Calvin and Hobbes strips, the Mutts strips, the Far Side strips, and all the other professional comic strips. It is of that degree of professional printing, far better than you usually get from a self-published book. You can order it from Esteves’ website or from Tony Esteves, Box 165, 12855 97 Street, Edmonton, Alberta T5E 4C5 Canada.
   Website: http://www.cigarro.ca/store.html
   Strip to illustrate the review with: http://www.cigarro.ca/cc020.html

Crocker’s writing is so beautiful that I am tempted to quote far more than is permissible in quotes for reviews. The setting and dialect are similar to Walt Kelly’s Pogo, but the characterizations and the word-portraits of this swamp-world are closer to Kenneth Grahame’s lyrical descriptions of the English river countryside in The Wind in the Willows.
Ossie is a swamp rat, orphaned almost as soon as he is born when Mr. Took, a huge rattlesnake, smashes into their nest and eats his parents and siblings. Ossie escapes but he is left alone, wounded and traumatized:

‘Patient as a buzzard’ is a good simile for the mood and pacing of The Tale of the Swamp Rat. It is not full of action. It is as quiet and leisurely as the current of the water flowing through the swamp:

Its drama is a slow drama. Ossie gradually comes out of his trauma and begins making friends with other young animals to whom Uncle Will the gator introduces him—Gib the owl, Clavis the possum, Philomena and Lodemia the quail sisters, a mouse-child known only as the mouse, and others including a girl-rat, Emma. But an orphaned youngster has a hard time of it. A drought develops, a bad one; the swamp drying up, soft mud becoming hard clay, edible plants turning to brittle stalks. Panic begins to form in the swamp community. Some animals including Uncle Will and the Preacher, a kindly old blue heron, try to keep everyone calm and reasonable. But an Ironhead Stork, the self-appointed Prophet Bubba, starts laying blame right and left:

Bubba persuades most of the animals that the way to refill the swamp is to kick all the gopher turtles out of their homes and fill them up. When that doesn’t work; well, the animals must of just overlooked some of the turtle holes. It’s not Bubba’s fault if the animals are too incompetent to find all the turtle holes! But one scapegoat isn’t enough, especially after all the turtles are driven out but the drought still keeps getting worse. And when Ossie begins proposing an alternate to Bubba’s wild orders, demonstrating that he is not caught up in Bubba’s self-important “LISTEN TO ME!” oratory, he promotes himself to the top of Bubba’s list for his next scapegoat…
So there is a story, but it’s like the story is broken into chunks and dropped into the descriptions of the swamp. And the descriptions of the swamp are so spellcasting that you almost wish there wasn’t a story to interrupt them.

The Tale of the Swamp Rat is published as a Young Readers book. So is The Wind in the Willows for young readers. Don’t be fooled into thinking that this is too young for you. It is not too young for anybody.

Waiting for Gertrude: A Graveyard Gothic Written by Bill Richardson, illustrated by Bill Pechet

		Publisher:	Douglas & McIntyre (Vancouver, BC), Oct 2001
		ISBN:	1-55054-892-1
			184 pages, C$19.95
		Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw







Publisher:	Thomas Dunne Books/St. Martin’s Press (NYC), Oct 2003
ISBN:	0-312-31868-5
	184 pages, US$21.95
Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   If a list is ever compiled of The Ten Weirdest Furry Novels, Waiting for Gertrude is sure to place high on it: a literary erotic fantasy about the high-society social posturing among some of the last two centuries’ most famous writers, composers and actors, reincarnated as the lusty tomcats and queens who prowl through Paris’ tourist-attraction Père-Lachaise Cemetery.
   Père-Lachaise was created in 1804 at the start of the French Empire, reportedly because Napoleon wanted Paris to have a prestigious burial place comparable to London’s Westminster Abbey. It was inaugurated by the removal there of the remains of the poet La Fontaine and playwright Molière. Many of the celebrities of the past two centuries who have lived and died in Paris are interred there, including such composers as Chopin, Rossini, Bizet, Poulenc and Dukas; such writers as Balzac, Daudet, Proust and Oscar Wilde; such artists as Delacroix, Modigliani, Corot, Seurat and Daumier; and such performers as actress Sarah Bernhardt, dancer Isadora Duncan and singers Edith Piaf and Jim Morrison. (There are also scientists, financiers, politicians, military heroes, and filmmakers among others, but they do not appear in this novel. Parisian tourist-information websites provide more complete information.) Like Los Angeles’ Forest Lawn Memorial Park, it is a spacious cemetery where hundreds of tourists come daily to visit the final resting places of the famous, or more likely to gawk at the more imposing memorials that their families or admirers have placed there. Père-Lachaise has a particularly high concentration of 19th century marble cenotaphs and mini-mausoleums in exaggerated florid bad taste.
   In recent decades, Père-Lachaise has also become notoriously infested by feral cats, who have made themselves so much at home among the various tombs that they stare haughtily at the tourists as though they are intruders. The cemetery is closed to the public at night, but anyone standing outside after dark can tell by the caterwauling all night long that when the humans are away, the cats lead an active social life.
   Canadian popular author and radio host Bill Richardson’s postulate is that the cemetery’s cats are actually the reincarnations of the humans buried there. They have updated their talents to create a modern society that blends their human intellects with their new feline instincts. As the leaders of literature and art of their day, the most famous also strive to set the styles among the upper classes of the cats—in a very catty manner, of course. The singers put each other down in posturing to become the premier prima donna with feline vocal chords.

Gioacchino Rossini continues to relax “in retirement” (while implying that he could out-compose anyone else if he felt like it), while others busily adapt their former works for cats. (Georges Bizet’s new version of his Toreadors’ chorus from Carmen:

La Fontaine adapts his rollicking 18th century versifying to 20th century travel guides for the feline tourists visiting the cemetery:

Famous males court famous females (and notoriously homosexual Oscar Wilde chases after ‘Lizard King’ Jim Morrison) in the uninhibited manner of randy cats. But one of Père-Lachaise’s more famous foreign residents is conspicuously missing. Mid-20th century American writer/poet Gertrude Stein has not been reincarnated yet. And after a few decades of waiting impatiently, Stein’s inseparable companion Alice B. Toklas (the novel’s narrator) decides to take matters into her own paws. Toklas, who was usually the organizer/hostess of Stein’s literary salons, has become one of the cemetery’s leading caterers at their top social events. She plots to spike the refreshments at the Annual Renaissance Revue with an aphrodisiac that will put all the females instantly onto heat, and cause an orgy that will result in so many new kittens that Gertrude will surely be among them—won’t she? Unfortunately, Toklas does not take into account the mysterious cat-thief who has recently arisen among the felines, stealing such priceless objets d’art as Bernhardt’s wooden leg, Rossini’s glass eye, and the exaggerated genitalia from the nude marble statue of Wilde over his tomb. This thief has his (or her) own agenda, and the conflict between the two has a bizarre result.
Richardson’s witty novel is by turns spritely, pretentious, and almost impenetrably esoteric as he mimics the writing styles and known personality styles of Parisian celebrity authors, entertainers, philosophers, and society leaders from 1806 to the present. Fortunately, he keeps the “quotations” from the notoriously boring celebrities to a minimum, and emphasizes the sophisticated but lively social infighting among the toms and queens which is the prominent background to Alice B. Toklas’ ongoing search (including resorting to black magic) for the super-aphrodisiac that she needs.

Cover of the UK edition	Title:	Lionboy
	Author:	Zizou Corder, aka Louisa Young and Isabel Adomakoh Young

	Publisher:	Puffin Books (London), Oct 2003
	Illustrator:	Fred van Deelen (pictures and maps)
	ISBN:	0-14-138024-1
		[v] + 336 p., £12.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Publisher:	Dial Books/Penguin Group (USA) Inc. (NYC), Jan 2004
	Illustrator:	? (pictures and maps)
	ISBN:	0-8037-2982-0
		288 pages, $15.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

   Some novels excel at action and drama. Others are noted for outstanding characterization. To me, Lionboy (the first of three volumes) is most fascinating for its exotic setting and its writing style. The drama and characterization are certainly fine, but the world into which the reader is plunged is unique.
   At first it seems to be the present. Charlie Ashanti is the young son of a British mother and a Ghanian father, both scientists doing disease research at London University. Charlie watches The Simpsons on TV, plays football with the local kids—but oddities soon make it clear that it is some years in the future and there have been considerable changes, not all pleasant. The currency is dirhams, not pounds. Ever since the great asthma epidemic of fifteen years before, when so many children fell to wheezing and creaking and coughing all at once that the schools had to close, and the government finally realized it had to act about car pollution, cars had been banned from the housing areas. […] So now most people used electros—little scooters and vans that ran on the electricity from the sun or the windfarms. There was very little oil left (planes couldn’t fly at all, because there was no fuel for them) and very few people had cars with petrol engines. (British ed., pgs. 23-24) There is a clear distinction between the government and the Empire, not explained in this volume but the Empire does not seem to be today’s British Empire. Electric power is more efficient and everyone seems to have computers and cel phones; but resources are running out, sea levels are rising, and a general collapse of health (serious allergies and susceptibility to diseases) is reaching plague levels. There is much more, gradually revealed in little bits until a Europe emerges that is sometimes appalling, sometimes appealing; a mixture of futuristic and retro-rococo—but lively and always vibrantly described.
   For reasons difficult to summarize without revealing too much, Charlie’s parents have been kidnapped and are being taken across Europe to an unknown destination. The kidnappers are looking for Charlie to use as a hostage to force his parents to work for them. Charlie (whose age is not given but who seems to be between 9 and 12) is trying to follow the kidnappers and his parents across Europe, while simultaneously avoiding capture by either the criminals or by adults who are sure he is too young to be on his own. He is, but he has the advantage of a ‘secret power’: he can speak Cat—he can talk with felines of all species.
   (Ordinarily I am prejudiced against novels that mix science fiction and fantasy as though there is no distinction between them, but Lionboy is so well-written that I greatly enjoyed it despite this. The depiction of a futuristic Europe is plausible s-f. Charlie’s ability to ‘speak cat language’ as the result of genetic modification is fantasy since it requires cats to have a language to understand—and they do turn out to be as intelligent in their conversations as any humans.)
   The reader must also accept an extremely Convenient Coincidence. The kidnappers first take Charlie’s parents from London to Paris. Charlie, at a loss as to how to follow them, happens upon a spectacular showboat—Thibaudet’s Royal Floating Circus and Equestrian Philharmonic Academy—on the Thames. For a start, she was huge: a great tall wide old-fashioned steamer. And not only was she huge, she was crimson. Not a soppy dolly pink, but red like the sun going down on a burning African night, like blood oranges and pomegranate seeds. Where she wasn’t crimson she was gold: the hair of her gorgeous carved figurehead, for example, with its green eyes and sidelong inviting smile, and the carved rims of her many portholes, and the curled leaves and vines carved all over her magnificent stern. She had three masts, a bowsprit, cannons and lifeboats along the decks, and two fine funnels amidships, from which sprang puffs of black exhaust. […] She was heading out to sea under power, catching the ebb tide, but her sails were not yet up. Charlie suddenly wanted, more than anything, to see this amazing craft under canvas, bowling along on the high seas. (pgs. 44-45) And the circus will be playing in Paris in a few weeks.
   Charlie hopes to persuade the circus’ lions to help him win a job as the lion trainer’s assistant, so he can join the circus as far as Paris. The lions will do so only if he promises to help them escape after they reach Paris. Charlie agrees, although he feels that he will be betraying them; there is a big difference between unlocking a lion cage, and the lions being able to get from Paris back to Africa on their own. But it turns out that the kidnappers have already left Paris travelling south, so Charlie’s journey must coincide with the lions’ at least for a while longer—although if it is hard for a lone boy to travel unnoticed through Europe, it is a hundred times worse with six lions accompanying him.
   A dust-jacket biography and photograph identifies ‘Zizou Corder’ as the pseudonym of Louisa Young (a mature White woman) and Isabel Adomakoh Young (a young Black schoolgirl). Charlie is described numerous times as racially mixed, the child of a loving White woman and a Black man. If the authors have an agenda, it is smoothly integrated into a rousing good story. Another sign of the authors’ storytelling skill is that they make Charlie’s adventure seem suspensefully difficult but plausibly not impossible. He is young and inexperienced, but intelligent and has been trained by his scientist parents to observe and think. [His mother] always said she couldn’t care less about being a good boy in the ‘doing what you’re told’ sense: she said people often told you to do daft or harmful things, so it was much better to get in the habit of working out for yourself what you should do. (pg. 18) So it feels believable that such a young boy can go as far as Charlie does by keeping a low profile and using his wits. Even better, the adult lions’ emotional maturity and survival instincts complement Charlie’s juvenile insecurity and naïveté, so each helps the other to succeed where either alone would fail. Lionboy is not a very anthropomorphic novel (humans are certainly the main characters), but the few talking cats and lions stand out as felines with intelligence, rather than acting like ‘humans with animal heads’. They are essential to the plot rather than being colorful but throwaway companions.
   The writing style is snappy and rollicking, such as this description of a minor villain: Skinny snivelly Sid stopped snickering to think. It was quite hard work for him, thinking. You could tell by the look on his face, as if he badly needed to go to the loo. (pg. 28) “Skinny snivelly Sid stopped snickering…”—such alliteration reads so naturally that it seems accidental, except that the book is full of such unassuming yet marvelous wordplay.
   There are numerous minor differences between the British and U.S. editions. The British uses “petrol” and “loo” while the U.S. uses “gasoline” and “bathroom”. In the description of the circus ship cited above, the U.S. edition begins “For a start, the ship was huge:…”; it refers to the porthole rims as “sculpted” rather than “carved”, and to “two fine smokestacks amidship” rather than “funnels amidships”. The changes are not great, but considering the number of American readers who have complained about the ‘Americanizing’ of the first couple of Harry Potter novels, those who care may wish to get the British edition of Lionboy.
   Also be warned that Lionboy ends on a cliffhanger. It is described as the first novel in a trilogy, but it is really a single novel in three volumes like The Lord of the Rings. I am eagerly awaiting the second part.


	Article:	*The History of the Olympic Mascot*
	Author:	Andy Wodka
	Source:	The Olympian, Feb 1991 (vol. 17, no. 6), pp. 50-52
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Howling Mad
	Author:	Peter David
	Publisher:	Ace Books (NYC), Nov 1989
	ISBN:	0-441-34663-4
		Paperback, 201 pages, USD $3.50
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	*Cat House*
	Author:	Michael Peak
	Publisher:	Signet Books/New American Library (NYC), Sep 1989
	ISBN:	0-451-16303-6
		Paperback, 255 pages, USD $3.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Catfantastic: Nine Lives and Fifteen Tales
	Editors:	Andre Norton and Martin H. Greenberg
	Publisher:	DAW Books (NYC), Jul 1989
	ISBN:	0-88677-355-5
		Paperback, 320 pages, USD $3.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


Click on any of the images to view it in high resolution (800x1000) in a new window


	Title:	Anarchist Farm
	Author:	‘Jane Doe’
	Illustrator:	Lynne Margulies (map)
	Publisher:	III Publishing (Gualala, CA), Aug 1996
	ISBN:	0-886625-01-8
		190 pages [p. 191-192 are adv’ts], $10.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	*The Bear Went Over the Mountain*
	Author:	William Kotzwinkle
	Illustrator:	Kate Brennan Hall
	Publisher:	Doubleday (New York, NY), Oct 1996
	ISBN:	0-385-48428-3
		306 pages, $22.50
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	*Fire Margins* (The Sholan Alliance, Book 3)
	Author:	Lisanne Norman
	Illustrator:	Michael Gilbert (maps)
	Publisher:	DAW Books (New York, NY), Nov 1996
	ISBN:	0-88677-718-6
		758 pages, $6.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Tales from Watership Down
	Author:	Richard Adams
	Illustrator:	John Lawrence

	Publisher:	Hutchinson (London, UK), Sep 1996
	ISBN:	0-09-180166-4
		198 pages, £14.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Publisher:	Alfred A. Knopf (New York, NY), Nov 1996
	ISBN:	0-679-45125-0
		xiii + 267 pages, $23.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	*The Bear Comes Home*
	Author:	Rafi Zabor
	Illustrator:	Jane Winsor
	Publisher:	W. W. Norton & Co. (NYC), Jul 1997
	ISBN:	0-393-04037-2
		480 pages, $25.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	The Autobiography of Foudini M. Cat
	Author:	Susan Fromberg Schaeffer
	Publisher:	Alfred A. Knopf (NYC), Sep 1997
	ISBN:	0-679-45474-8
		166 pages, $18.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


by issue		by title


	Title:	The Collector Collector
	Author:	Tibor Fischer
	Publisher:	Metropolitan Books/Henry Holt & Co. (NYC), May 1997
	ISBN:	0-8050-5118-X
		221 pages, $23.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	The Long Patrol: A Tale of Redwall
	Author:	Brian Jacques
	Illustrator:	Allan Curless
	Publisher:	Hutchinson Children’s Books (London), Jul 1997
	ISBN:	0-09-176546-3
		358 pages, £12.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	The Wolves of Time: II, Seekers at the WulfRock
	Author:	William Horwood
	Illustrator:	? (maps)
	Publisher:	HarperCollinsPublishers (London), May 1997
	ISBN:	0-00-223678-8
		489 pages, £16.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Razor’s Edge
	Author:	Lisanne Norman
	Illustrator:	Michael Gilbert (maps)
	Publisher:	DAW Books (NYC), Dec 1997
	ISBN:	0-88677-766-6
		652 pages, $6.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Run to the Wild Wood
	Author:	Tom McCaughren
	Illustrator:	Jeanette Dunne
	Publisher:	Wolfhound Press (Dublin), Sep 1996
	ISBN:	0-86327-492-7
		176 pages, £6.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Xanadu: Across Diamond Seas (Xanadu #2)
	Author:	Vicky Wyman
	Publisher:	LX, Ltd. (Granada Hills, CA), Jan 1998
	ISBN:	0-9662574-0-5
		136 pages, $12.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Kevin & Kell: Seen Anything Unusual?
	Author:	Bill Holbrook
	Publisher:	Online Features Syndicate (Norcross, GA), Apr 1998
	ISBN:	—
		140 pages, $11.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Rover’s Tales
	Author:	Michael Z. Lewin
	Illustrator:	Karen Wallis
	Publisher:	St. Martin’s/Dunne (NYC), Mar 1998
	ISBN:	0-312-18169-8
		viii + 230 pages; $21.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	*The Blood Jaguar*
	Author:	Michael H. Payne
	Illustrator:	Kandis Elliot (map)
	Publisher:	A Tor Book (NYC), Dec 1998
	ISBN:	0-312-86783-2
		256 pages, $22.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	*The Complete Fuzzy*
	Author:	H. Beam Piper
	Publisher:	Ace Books (NYC), Dec 1998
	ISBN:	0-441-00581-0
		454 pages, $15.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	*The Power of the Bear*
	Paintings:	Susan Seddon Boulet
	Text:	Michael Babcock
	Publisher:	Pomegranate (San Francisco, CA), Aug 1998
	ISBN:	0-7649-0612-7
		95 pages; $25.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Black on Black
	Author:	K. D. Wentworth
	Illustrator:	The author
	Publisher:	Baen Books (Riverdale, NY), Feb 1999
	ISBN:	0-671-57788-3
		341 pages, $6.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Godhanger
	Author:	Dick King-Smith
	Illustrator:	Andrew Davidson
	Publisher:	Crown Publishers (NYC), Feb 1999
	ISBN:	0-517-80035-7
		155 pages, $17.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Dark Nadir
	Author:	Lisanne Norman
	Illustrator:	Michael Gilbert (maps)
	Publisher:	DAW Books (NYC), Mar 1999
	ISBN:	0-88677-829-8
		597 pages, $6.99
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Worlds of Honor
	Editor:	David Weber
	Illustrator:	The author
	Publisher:	Baen Books (Riverdale, NY), Feb 1999
	ISBN:	0-671-57786-7
		343 pages, $21.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw

	Title:	Kevin & Kell: Accepting Domestication
	Author:	Bill Holbrook
	Publisher:	Online Features Syndicate (Norcross, GA), Jun 1999
	ISBN:	0-9660676-6-5
		147 pages, $12.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Kevin & Kell: Run Free!
	Author:	Bill Holbrook
	Illustrator:	The author
	Publisher:	Plan Nine Publishing (Thomasville, NC), Nov 1999
	ISBN:	0-9660676-9-X
		156 pages, $12.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Chimera
	Author:	Will Shetterly
	Publisher:	Tom Doherty Associates/Tor Books (NYC), Jun 2000
	ISBN:	0-312-86630-5
		285 pages, $23.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	Animist
	Author:	Eve Forward
	Publisher:	Tom Doherty Associates/Tor Books (NYC), Jun 2000
	ISBN:	0-312-86891-X
		336 pages, $23.95
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw


	Title:	*Dela the Hooda Treasury 1: A Nice Place to Visit*
	Creators:	Style Wager and Greg Older
	Publisher:	Jarlidium Press (Federal Way, WA), Jun 2000
	ISBN:	—
		118 pages, $7.00
	Availability:	Am / BN / Al / Pw