Gary Romeo, Fictioneer
by Brian Kunde

Gary Romeo is a scholar of fantastic fiction specializing in Robert E. Howard studies, who also has a strong interest in L. Sprague de Camp and his works. He is active in the Robert E. Howard Electronic Amateur Press Association and is the founder of the premier forum devoted to de Camp, the Yahoo Group d for de Camp.

In addition to these distinctions, he dabbles in pastiche fictions centered around his literary interests, which I and others have enjoyed. Three of these, "No Other Gods," "Incident at the Opera," and "Robert E. Howard in Cross Plains," are the subject of the present article. A bibliography of his e-zine Sand Roughs is appended.

Two of the stories are true pastiches, semi-serious takes on Howard's Conan the Barbarian; the other is a sort of day in the life tale, also related to Howard, but more tangentially. None speak directly to the subject of L. Sprague de Camp, though the two Conan pastiches, by their very nature, could be said to be in his tradition.

1. "No Other Gods."

Of the three, the piece most people are likely to have seen is "No Other Gods," published in the anthology Dreams In The Fire: Stories and Poetry inspired by Robert E. Howard (2011), edited by Mark Finn and Chris Gruber. Gary considers it the best of the bunch, and it certainly stands on its own the best, as full appreciation of the others require a bit of inside knowledge.

"No Other Gods" is a tale of "Tanan the Barbarian," a raw youth at the beginning of his career in the civilized nations; he can be compared to Howard's Conan about the time of "The Tower of the Elephant." We get a wealth of geographical detail on Tanan's world in the story, and the parallels with Howard's Hyborian Age are patent. For instance, "Norland," Tanan's native country, is plainly Cimmeria, "Cedarium" is Venarium, "Parthonia" is Aquilonia, "Katay," Khitai, and "Frostland," Vanaheim.

There are differences. "Frostland" is west of "Norland" rather than northeast of it, for instance. Some places have no obvious cognates. "Jemoria," an agricultural nation with dark-skinned natives, may (or may not) be meant to stand in for Howard's Shem. "Nozarta," the scene of the action, ought to be Zamora, but has none of the flavor of that country; rather, it seems one of the core Hyborian ("Landian") nations, likely Nemedia or Koth (I would lean toward the former). "Vanus," its capital, is Zamoran in function, at least, being a major commercial transfer point between exotic foreign nations and "Parthonia," greatest of the "Landian" realms. All in all, however, the impression given is of Conan's world, concealed behind Groucho Marx mustaches.

There are four sections, showing Tanan's initial efforts to assimilate into Landian culture. His initial experience of civilization seems a positive one. The people he meets are by and large good and fair, though he does encounter some xenophobia. He knows he's starting at the bottom of the heap, but isn't really bothered by it. While we're told he "wanted a quick route to riches," he seems inclined to better himself by working hard rather than resorting to anti-social Conan-style short cuts. It works pretty well, though. One feels Conan, had he fallen in with decent people, might have taken the same tack. Gary is very good in letting us into his main character's thoughts and motivations, and having these ring true.

Anyway, Tanan inserts himself into a crowd of day-laborers and calls attention to himself to a prospective employer by demonstrating his strength. He gets the job; helping unpack a caravan. The local laborers go nutso at having a barbarian picked over one of them, but are quelled when Tanan takes quick vengeance against one who has insulted him.

The second section sees Tanan at his rather tedious job. We learn more of his supervisor, Zebe the Jemorian, and his actual employer, the merchant Junius Aranorn; both are nice guys. Tanan finds a landlady and bedwarmer in a local widow, and a friend in Renpete, a native Nezartan. In the course of the scene Gary sketches deftly sketches in something of the local culture. Ranpete lives frugally and is able to sock away most of his earnings, serving as a good example for the more spendthrift Tanan. From him Tanan learns how to save a bit by taking free meals provided as charity at the temple of "Ketra" (Mitra). The catch is he has to attend services.

The third section finds Tanan mentally comparing Ketra to his own god "Hrom" (Howard's Crom, down to the last detail), and gradually coming to respect the civilized god. He also, from the services he attends and Ranpete, learns of a rival god, Atiliza, whose religion is a cult and an "abomination to Ketra," only tolerated because for commercial purposes Vanus has to accomodate people (and their gods) from all over. Atilizans also feed the poor, but only if they convert completely. Intriguingly, their temple contains a large golden image. Atiliza, incidentally, is of minotaur-like appearance -- I suspect because he is set up as Ketra's foe. A bull-derived god seems an appropriate opponent, since Ketra is modeled on Howard's Mitra, in turn likely derived from the Roman Mithras, portrayed in iconography as a bull-slayer.

The plot ripens into adventure with the fourth and final section, by far the longest. Tanan, having spent most of his earnings and with but a week of his temporary employment remaining, decides to rob the Atilizans. He scales the wall of the temple at night and finds but one priest in residence to guard it. He attempts to go unnoticed, but the priest detects him and unleashes a supernatural menace. Since I don't want to spoil the story, I'll just say here that it's impressive and effective, and definitely outclasses Tanan. It takes both luck and wit for the barbarian to get out alive. On the plus side, he does, and with loot.

In the conclusion, despite the attractions of Ketra, Tanan decides he won by virtue of the qualities Hrom gave him at birth, and decides to stick with his native god.

I found this story a good, fun read, and at its climax an exciting one. If there's a flaw its that Tanan's shift to thievery, while well set up, has an abrupt feel, and a completely opportunistic one. He rationalizes his targeting of the Atilizans masterfully (quite a de Campian element for a Howardian pastiche!), but I get no impression, other than from the prejudiced opinions of the Ketrans, that Atiliza or his adherents are in any way evil. While more is required of devotees of Atiliza than from those of Ketra, offerings are evidently hoarded by the priests, and a big bogey is retained to protect the temple, such things do not in themselves make for an evil religion. The bogey, one might argue, is simply a prudent measure, given local hostility. The upshot is, Atiliza is no Set, nor even a Yezud, and Tanan comes off as an amiable opportunist of flexible ethics.

2. "Incident at the Opera."

"Incident at the Opera," the other Conan pastiche, originally appeared as Gary's REHEAPA 'zine Sand Roughs #15, summer solstice 2014 issue. It's a tale of "King Conac," by origin a barbarian from Comeria, but at the time of the story the monarch of a great civilized nation. In Howard's works it's most comparable in feel to the Conan tale "Phoenix on the Sword" and the various Kull tales in which Kull sits in judgment in regard to some petty case or other, usually involving extralegal marriage. In fact, I would call it as much a Kull pastiche as a Conan.

But while the story may riff off Howardian heroes, Gary's targets are modern: first, the February 2014 slaying by ex-policeman Curtis Reeves, Jr. of Chad Oulson for texting in a movie theater; second, the phenomenon of texting itself. The actual incident is presented in thin disguise; the individuals appear as "Cureeves" and "Chadoul," who are characterized much as their true-life counterparts, and the movie theater setting is translated into a premodern amphitheater, right down to the provision of expensive refreshments to those attending. Incidental details are amusing; the opera performed is based on a military disaster of some decades before, which the reader will recognize from Howard's Conan tales as Aquilonia's attempt to colonize Cimmeria, which came unglued at the Battle of Venarium.

The story is told in four chapters. Only the first is set at the opera; it introduces the perpetrator and victim and portrays the events leading up to the killing. The second chapter gives us the aftermath. Marcus, Captain of the Public Guard, has arrested Cureeves, but is reluctant to deliver the summary justice he would ordinarily exact due to the suspect's background as a guardsman and hitherto sterling character. He brings the case to the king, Conac.

Conac is presented sympathetically and in accord with Howard's characterization of Conan at the same age, though perhaps a bit more cultured. Through Marcus's report we learn of the details of the crime and of the strange new phenominon called "scribing." This fantasy version of texting involves inscribing abbreviated messages on lead foil tablets and delivering them to their recipients via runners. The practice is an outgrowth of a former practice of using the same techniques and medium for "curse tablets." Conac asks to see some of the curse tablets and retires to study them (and the case).

The third chapter takes us from disguised retelling of contemporary events into pure horror for poor Conac, which is in ironic contrast fall down funny to the modern reader (this one, anyway). After reminiscing on his youth (and his own experience with cognate-Venarium) Conac accidentally activates one of the curse tablets, which calls up an apparition that cannot be banished. It would be a crime to reveal it here. Read the story!

In the fourth and final chapter Conac has implemented a cumbersome but effective solution to the curse, and renders judgment on the case to Marcus, colored by his own horrific encounter with "scribing." While just, his pronouncement is, in the circumstances, understandably biased in favor of Cureeves, though Cureeves does not get off scot-free. It makes a good ending to the story, though it is the shortest of the chapters, and feels a bit rushed. Highly recommended, all the same.

3. "Robert E. Howard in Cross Plains."

"Robert E. Howard in Cross Plains" is a complete departure from the other two stories. It's also mistitled. As it is, the reader will come to the piece expecting it to be about Robert E. Howard, and it isn't. REH, while the element the plot hinges on, is also a peripheral one in the tale. A better title would have been "Charlie Howard in Cross Plains," as it's fifteen year old Charlie who's the protagonist, and his sharing of REH's surname is coincidental. We are meant to compare the two, and parallels between them and their lives are evident, if subtle. The most overt are the identical last names and the fact that both grow up in Cross Plains, Texas.

There are five sections. The first introduces us to Charlie at his biology class in Cross Plains High School. Charlie is a bit sensitive, more than a bit socially unsure, and fascinated by girls. His favorite, Debbie Byrd, does not, however, share this class with him. He becomes sexually excited watching a different female classmate; his friend Isaac and another girl notice and laugh, embarrassing him.

In the second section we learn more of Charlie and his background. He's not that great a student. He and his family are relative newcomers to town, and loners who have not managed to fit in. He is not even dating yet, though most of his friends are. In English class, the students are studying works like Ring Lardner's "The Haircut," Jonathan Swift's Gulliver's Travels, and George Orwell's 1984, none of which greatly interest him. English is his worst subject. REH is not on the curriculum, though a field trip to the Robert E. Howard house is announced in class. About REH, Charlie knows that he created Conan, once lived in Cross Plains, was the town weirdo and killed himself, and that's about it.

Section three takes us to Math class, which Charlie shares with Debbie Byrd. He's a decent math student and likes both this class and her, though he's never had the nerve to talk to her. In the cafeteria after class the friends who laughed at him earlier tell him it was because they were making fun of people's names, and they had turned "Howard" into "How-weird." So it wasn't because they had observed his pants tenting. Maybe.

In the fourth section the day of the field trip has arrived. Charlie has gotten permission to go, though his dad was reluctant to let him. (REH was a nut who killed himself; what's he supposed to learn from that? How to kill himself?) Charlie gets him to relent by saying the trip is a requirement. At school he learns that both his English class and Debbie Byrd's are going on the trip, and by chance she's in the bus he gets into. The students are not excited about seeing the Howard House. Most hope to ditch the tour and meet at the Dairy Queen down the street. Charlie can't tell which Debbie plans to do. At the Howard house, he and Debbie are put in the same tour group (just eight students are allowed in at a time). He makes a resolution to finally talk to her and get to meet her. Do or die!

The fifth section occurs perhaps a year later. Charlie is now sixteen and working at the Dairy Queen. Two middle-aged out-of-towners who have come for Robert E. Howard Days enter, and ask if the place has any Howard-related specials. "No, no Conan burgers or anything like that," he tells them. One asks him if he's ever read any Howard. He tells them just some of the Conan comic books, which he hadn't much liked; and he'd had to see the house on a field trip once. The man seems disappointed, but Charlie feels no reason to feel excited over REH; he's had no effect on his life, after all. Later, Isaac comes in and asks if Charlie's taking Debbie Byrd to the school dance next weekend. "Sure, you bet."

So REH did have an effect on Charlie's life. His house provided the opportunity to get to know Debbie. Subtle, as noted. My impression was that this piece was built around something Gary might have experienced personally; I had a strong hunch he was the man at the DQ who questioned the server about Howard, and that he used the incident as a springboard for this ironic little tale about a Howard boy indifferent to Robert E. Howard. (Gary later confirmed my suspicion.)

An okay story, though it will probably only speak to folks with a better knowledge of Robert E. Howard than Charlie Howard has. And it should definitely be retitled.

4. Sand Roughs: a Bibliography.

Above I incidentally mentioned Gary's Robert E. Howard e-zine Sand Roughs. It's also worth a read. It contains a number of articles comparing Howard and his works to other literary figures and theirs, some straight reviews, a few memoirs, and an occasional parody or pastiche. For anyone who hasn't seen these, they're available online on the Robert E. Howard Electonic Amateur Press Association website. So in conclusion, I append the full list of issues, with URLs. I don't know the reason for the long gap between numbers 8 and 9. Full disclosure: Gary used a bit of material by me in issue #12, by permission.

—Brian.

* * * * *

Gary Romeo, Fictioneer

revised from a posting to the
d for de Camp
Yahoo Group,
August 10, 2015.

1st web edition posted 11/20/15
(updated 3/28/21).

Published by Fleabonnet Press.
© 2015-2021 by Brian Kunde.