Book #246 of 2020:

Daughter of Regals and Other Tales by Stephen R. Donaldson

Stephen R. Donaldson is one of my very favorite authors, and although I don’t remember liking this 1984 collection of fiction as much as his novels or the later Reave the Just and Other Tales, my current reread through his oeuvre seemed like a good time to revisit these eight early stories. And they’re collectively somewhat better than I had recalled, although markedly uneven. Individual reviews below:

Daughter of Regals: Donaldson’s most remarkable talent as a fantasist is his marriage of distinctive worldbuilding with interrogations of moral philosophy and implications of associated intrigue. In this title novella, that plays out almost like a fairy tale, with a seemingly powerless heroine negotiating the dynamics of her rivals against one another and their preconceptions of her in a series of encounters over the course of the evening leading up to her attempted ascension to the throne. I’m deeply skeptical that our protagonist needed to be stripped and threatened with rape in order to tell this story — and of how often this writer uses sexual assault as a plot driver in general — but she’s an engaging presence in an interesting realm, and it’s easy to root for her triumph. ★★★★☆

Gilden-Fire: This was originally part of the second Thomas Covenant book The Illearth War, before being cut for space reasons (and to reduce the amount of narrative told from the perspective of a resident of the Land rather than an outsider like Covenant). It’s a solid ‘deleted scene’ that adds to our understanding of the Bloodguard, but there’s nothing within that’s particularly essential. Excising it from the finished novel was probably the right editorial choice, and I’m not convinced it deserved to be brought back in this format, either. ★★★☆☆

Mythological Beast: Most Donaldson is recognizably his style, even the originally-pseudonymous The Man Who detective novels, but this short sci-fi piece feels way more generic. It’s also just plain weird, with a premise like Fahrenheit 451 meets The Metamorphosis, in which a man comes to realize the sinister nature of his “perfectly safe, perfectly sane” utopia as his body gradually transforms into something nonhuman. I confess I don’t quite get the point of this one. ★★☆☆☆

The Lady in White: This entry is more earthbound than the author’s typical fantasy fare, being set in a medieval village first encountering magic rather than a fully-imagined secondary world. It has the rhythms of an Arthurian quest, but the protagonist is too much of a swaggering Gaston figure for me to care much about his fate. ★★★☆☆

Animal Lover: Goofy biopunk sci-fi that’s somewhere between The Most Dangerous Game and The Island of Doctor Moreau. Now, look — no serious literature is ever going to have a bear with human hands pull a pair of machine guns out of its kangaroo pouch and open fire on a cyborg cop. In fact, I think this is the story I’ve most turned around on, as I remember rolling my eyes at it in the past. But Donaldson doesn’t often let himself indulge in this sort of fun, and the gee-whiz Golden Age throwback (set in the far-future year of 2011) is a charming change of pace. [Content warning for gore and eugenics.] ★★★★☆

Unworthy of the Angel: This entry feels more quintessentially Donaldson, with a protagonist who’s some sort of angelic champion for the downtrodden despite being pretty world-weary and battered himself. It’s one of those short stories that skates by with gesturing towards larger concepts that are never quite elaborated on, but it works just fine in the moment as the nameless hero fights for the soul of a resentful sculptor who’s been using his sister’s sacrifices to fuel his art. It’s a pithy yet complicated look at the creative process and the question of who deserves salvation, which is of course one of this writer’s major themes. ★★★★☆

The Conqueror Worm: By far the shortest tale, as well as the one I have the least patience for. Taking its title from a Poe poem about the inevitable intrusion of death into the performance of humanity’s passions, this story depicts a quarreling couple whose stupid argument — mostly involving the drunk husband baselessly accusing his wife of cheating on him — keeps getting interrupted by a ten-inch centipede that’s invaded their home and scurries around avoiding all efforts to crush it. It’s really too heavy-handed a metaphor by far, and the nominal protagonist is too odious to even enjoy rooting against (as I do think we’re supposed to). Even at just a dozen pages, it’s a waste of the author’s talents and the reader’s time. [Content/spoiler warning for insects crawling inside clothes and implied castration.] ★☆☆☆☆

Ser Visal’s Tale: An engrossing and enchanting trickster fable in the form of a tavern boast, rich with details to summon both the framing scene and the embedded story. Although set in a fantasy world, it’s a strong rebuke to the religious hypocrisy of oppressive institutions like the Spanish Inquisition, and a great illustration of how a character can say one thing — praising the priests for introducing slavery and torture to the realm — while actually (but deniably) conveying the exact opposite stance. There’s a frisson of danger electrifying this final tale, and although I have mixed feelings about the collection as a whole, it definitely goes out on a high note. [Content warning for sexism, mention of rape and child molestation, and use of a racial slur.] ★★★★★

Overall rating for the book: ★★★☆☆

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