Weird Tales of Modernity: A Very Personal Retrospective

In July of 2019, I published an academic book titled Weird Tales of Modernity: The Ephemerality of the Ordinary in the Stories of Robert E. Howard, Clark Ashton Smith, and H.P. Lovecraft. Academic books typically don't attract a large readership, with sales of 100 to 200 copies considered successful in the humanities. However, the true measure of an academic book's success lies in its influence, often gauged by reviews in academic journals.

My book received two significant reviews. The first, in The Journal of the Fantastic in the Arts, a leading journal for literary studies scholars who focus on fantasy, stated: "Carney’s book is a valuable addition to the literature on its topic. It deserves a wide readership, and a prominent place in the scholarship of American fantastic literature in the early twentieth century." This recognition was encouraging, affirming my book's contribution to 20th-century fantastic literature scholarship. The second review, from American Literature, a flagship journal in literary studies, noted that my book "plac[es] pulp fiction in a broader historical and literary context." This suggested that my work could help traditional American literature scholars link interwar pulp fiction with the broader saga of American literary tradition.

2019 was shaping up to be a promising year, especially as I anticipated the academic year 2019-2020. Publishing an academic book in the summer typically leads to opportunities to share work, respond to rebuttals, and clarify contributions at academic conferences. I was looking forward to attending events like the National Conference of the Popular Culture Association and the International Conference of the Society for the Study of the Fantastic in the Arts, expecting to disseminate my unique perspective on pulp fiction.

However, the unforeseen events of March 2020, just 8 months post-publication, disrupted these plans. The pandemic led to the cancellation of most academic conferences. The shift to online classes consumed my focus, leaving little room to consider the potential impact on my book's influence.

Nearly three years later, I realize the unfortunate timing of my book's release. It's disappointing because I believe my study is important. Traditionally, scholars have separated the histories of canonical literature and genre fiction. My book aimed to bridge this gap, illustrating how both must be understood in response to the same social, economic, and aesthetic developments.

Despite the setbacks, my book did begin to make waves in the academic world, with positive reviews in The Journal of the Fantastic in the Arts and American Literature. Additionally, genre fiction enthusiasts also reviewed it. Dave C. Smith, a celebrated sword and sorcery writer, wrote a thoughtful review for Black Gate. Bobby Derie, a Lovecraft scholar, also reviewed it positively but noted its challenging appeal: Would scholars find its focus on pulp fiction (i.e. noncanonical literature) a barrier? Would genre fiction fans find it too theoretical, dense, and granular? Derie concluded, "Weird Tales of Modernity sits comfortably on a shelf next to The Unique Legacy of Weird Tales (2015), Conan Meets the Academy (2013), and New Critical Essays on Lovecraft (2013). Whether it will find an audience only the future can tell, but it certainly deserves one."

Reflecting on the years spent working on the book and its modest impact thus far, I feel a tinge of sadness. But academic books are often slow burns. I remain hopeful that in time, people will discover it and engage with my ideas.

Book Review: Lord of Ruin: A Tale of Malus Darkblade by Dan Abnett and Mike Lee

Lord of Ruin is a captivating Warhammer Fantasy novel that delves into the world of the Dark Elves, known as the Druchii. It is the fifth installment in a larger story arc centered around Malus Darkblade, a Dark Elf noble possessed by a demon. Malus isn't completely consumed by the demon; instead, the demon occasionally exerts its will, overriding Malus's own desires. However, for the most part, Malus is driven forward on a quest by the demon through threats of punishment, which manifest as what others perceive as his schizophrenic tendency to converse with himself.

The novel boasts extensive worldbuilding, not limited to the rich Warhammer Fantasy lore. Authors Abnett and Lee provide an immersive experience, unveiling intriguing and unexpected details that draw you viscerally into this captivating world. A standout moment occurs during a protracted sequence depicting the Chaos horde's siege of the Black Tower of Ghrond, the primary military outpost safeguarding the Dark Elf realm of Naggaroth from the Chaos Wastes. Throughout this segment, the authors' descriptions transported me right into the heart of the action.

However, the novel's plot, like its predecessors in the Malus series, suffers from an episodic and scattered structure. It often feels like each chapter presents a new crisis, with these individual crises serving as stops along a ride filled with spectacular events.

Overall, Lord of Ruin stands as my favorite installment in the Malus series. While it's possible to enjoy this book as a standalone, I recommend reading the preceding four novels. Doing so will imbue the story with a deeper resonance, as you'll appreciate the numerous callbacks and connections that become more meaningful when you follow the entire narrative.

One intriguing aspect towards the novel's conclusion is the development of Malus's conscience. At times, he exhibits behavior akin to that of a good person, which raises questions about its alignment with Warhammer Fantasy lore. Dark Elves are described as irredeemably corrupted by generations of hatred.

Conversation Starter: Plato and the Social Function of Literature

Ancient and classical literary criticism finds its origins in Plato's work, particularly in key passages of his dialogue The Republic. In this dialogue, Plato's protagonist, Socrates, engages in a debate with students about the nature of poetry and its impact on the ideal Republic, specifically its effect on its citizens.

Socrates, essentially Plato's voice, argues that poetic representation can wield significant influence over society, both positive and negative. For instance, he contends that poetry describing the afterlife as a bleak, joyless realm where souls wander aimlessly can be detrimental to the morale of soldiers. In a militaristic society, courage and aggression are vital qualities in its soldiers, and such a bleak portrayal of the afterlife can undermine these qualities.

Plato also discusses the representation of gods in poetry. He criticizes the practice of depicting gods behaving immorally, viewing it as highly dangerous. This representation of gods behaving poorly can negatively shape the moral values of society.

The Republic delves into various other aspects of poetry and literature. One such element is Plato's theory of representation, which is intertwined with his theory of forms. According to Plato, reality is a distorted reflection of a deeper reality, as exemplified in the famous "Allegory of the Cave" enumerated in the dialog. This allegory asserts that sensory perception offers only a limited understanding of reality, while a truer reality exists beyond our senses, composed of immortal and eternal ideal forms.

Plato's perspective on representation influences his perception of poetry, leading him to regard it as a lesser and potentially dangerous form of representation. For instance, he would consider a poetic description of a beautiful horse as less significantly valuable than an actual concrete horse, which, in turn, is less valuable than the ideal concept of "horseness" existing in some immaterial realm.

Despite his reservations about poetry, Plato does allow for its presence in his ideal Republic, provided it serves a specific pro-social purpose. This lays the foundation for understanding the role of a literary critic. According to Plato, the critic of literature should evaluate works based not on their aesthetic qualities but on their impact on society--whether they promote pro-social or anti-social effects.

This perspective raises thought-provoking questions for literary critics:

• Should works of art be assessed primarily based on their societal effects?
• Is it valid to evaluate works of art solely on their aesthetic qualities?
• What role does art play in shaping society?

In summary, key passages of The Republic by Plato raise enduring questions that continue to be relevant for literary critics. They offers valuable insights into the nature of literature and the role of critics in evaluating its societal impact, making them passages worthy of closer examination and analysis.

The Glut of New Sword and Sorcery

Sword and sorcery is not just a literary form. It can appear in video games, tabletop roleplaying games, miniature wargames, traditional art, comics, and film. Nevertheless, at its core, it is a form of storytelling, mostly in written prose, and often in shorter prose forms: the short story and novella (or short novel).

Over the past few years, more and more people have been reading and writing sword and sorcery, both classic S&S and new iterations. Readers and writers are not alone; analysis is also happening. Scholars and fans are writing about S&S as well. Brian Murphy's Flame and Crimson consolidated the history of sword and sorcery in one well-wrought monograph, beginning with its creation by Robert E. Howard and ending with DMR Books. Several well-written forewords of new anthologies, such as Jason M Waltz's foreword to Tule Frog Press's Swords and Heroes, attempt to bridge the classics of sword and sorcery with new indie iterations of the genre by discussing a historically unspecific sword and sorcery "attitude." And let's not forget the Goodman Games' Tales from the Magicians' Skull blog, which continues to publish excellent, often award-winning articles. Academia has also taken notice: my own academic book, Weird Tales of Modernity: The Ephemerality of the Ordinary in the Stories of H.P. Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, and Robert E. Howard (McFarland 2019), devotes several chapters to the modernity of sword and sorcery. New indie sword and sorcery is going strong, and it is sophisticated in its awareness of its past and the potential of its future.

But something different seems to be happening. There has been a notable development around the beginning of this year: the drip and trickle of new sword and sorcery has become a steady stream. More new material is being published than any individual can read (and maybe purchase). Several diehard S&S fans in the Whetstone Discord have challenged themselves to read as many of the new anthologies and magazines as possible, but it increasingly feels like a fool's errand because more comes out before the previous reading has ended. For example, very personally speaking, I am behind on several excellent series: Tales from the Magician's Skull (Goodman Games), Savage Realms Monthly (Literary Rebel), Swords and Sorceries: Tales of Heroic Fantasy (Parallel Universe Publications), and many more. Additionally, more material is on the way, e.g., New Edge Sword and Sorcery launched a successful Kickstarter, Rogue Blades Entertainment has teased a new anthology, Neither Beg nor Yield, and The Rogues in the House Podcast recently published Volume II of A Book of Blades. And, of course, Whetstone: Amateur Magazine of Sword and Sorcery continues to publish new and emerging authors.

In a word, there is potentially a glut of new sword and sorcery literary material, and not only in the indie realm. Howard Andrew Jones' Lord of a Shattered Land is being released by Baen Books. Scott Oden has finished his excellent Grimnir series for now (the third book, The Doom of Odin, has been released recently). Outland Productions and Weird Tales Magazine have both released new sword and sorcery anthologies featuring big-name, professional writers. And if you're a fan of Games Workshop's "Black Library," the sword and sorcery and sword and sorcery-adjacent works of their grimdark worlds continue to be printed.

The question isn't just a matter of attention span, i.e. limited bandwidth. Due to the glut of new sword and sorcery, I find myself less patient with uninspired, cookie-cutter sword and sorcery tropes—plots, characters, settings—being deployed by writers without any unique spin or stylistic delivery. I can't point to any specific trope that has become worn out. However, this past year, I must admit that as I read some new S&S, I find myself thinking, "I've read this so many times." Conversely, when I come across something fresh, something brand new but still S&S—not only in terms of plot or character but also in terms of style—I feel refreshed and re-energized, excited about the genre. Howard Andrew Jones's yet-to-be-released Lord of a Shattered Land, for example, acknowledges and surprisingly inverts several S&S tropes. And it left me inspired and ready for more.

Another interesting development: because of the glut of new sword and sorcery, I find myself buying new books with a wistful sense of "One day I'll find time to read this." Am I alone? In other words, when I get a new indie S&S book, it's a predetermined fact that this purchase or Kickstarter won't be read any time soon because of a long and growing backlog. As I gaze longingly at my teetering pile of unread new S&S, I am starting to feel more like a sword and sorcery book collector than a reader, even though I always have one, two (or even three) indie S&S books with a bookmark lingering in my office.

I am in no way suggesting that indie S&S authors or publishers should pump the brakes. I don't think the glut of new sword and sorcery literature is a problem. But I do think this acknowledging this new phase in indie S&S might be helpful for writers, readers, and publishers. The pragmatist in me thinks that this new glut doesn't matter at all. The best stories will rise to the surface, and a natural process of selection will hopefully keep new stuff coming. I don't know if there are any "solutions" because I don't know if what I'm describing is unique to me or is even a problem that merits a solution. I would love for new sword and sorcery to continue to be published, read, and discussed. The issue is: how might this new phase change or influence the types of S&S being written, published, and sold? Do we need a top 10 list? A designated review site? Something to help others navigate what is increasingly feeling like a claustrophobic, crowded field?

Book Review: Soul Wars by Josh Reynolds

This is a fun Age of Sigmar novel that is a little thin in parts of the story. It focuses on the city of Glymmsforge in the realm of Shyish and concerns the efforts of the Stormcast Eternals to defend the city from Nagash, who desires the network of tombs beneath the city, known as the Ten Thousand Tombs. It also focuses on Phraus Thaum, a Lord-Castellant, and his demise after the Necroquake (a storm of death summoned by Nagash) and how he is transformed into a Knight of Shrouds to lead an army of the dead against the city he once protected.

The story isn't anything new. The trope of the paladin becoming a reverse paladin is familiar to fans of fantasy literature and fantasy gaming (e.g., Arthas Menethil and the Lich King in Warcraft). The strength of the novel is probably in its dialogue. The characters are somewhat two-dimensional, but they speak in a vibrant, stylized way that is very appropriate to the setting. The writing style is polished, but there are so many pages of battle that these scenes all start to blur together, and the stakes are lost. For example, I read about Stormcast Eternals smashing Chainrasps and Gravewalkers more than enough by the middle of the novel, but there was way more to come.

There was one scene with a Celestor-Prime, Helios, who faces down Pharus Thaum, and Helios is very arrogant and somewhat mischievous. I don't want to spoil this scene, but it will stick with me. I also really enjoyed being able to see the Anvil of Apotheosis in the Sigmarabulum. As far as I can recall, this was the first novel to include a scene in that hallowed location.

The Lord Arcanum, Balthus Arum, was a cool character, but he was so motivated and focused on the task at hand that it was hard to relate to him. He was basically a steamroller of indignation. Elya, the orphan child, was a great addition to the cast of characters, as she provided a bit of change from the predominantly good and evil characters. However, she was used more as a MacGuffin for the good guys to protect than anything else.

I enjoy Josh Reynolds' Age of Sigmar novels and will read more, but this one felt like thin gruel for much of its 400 pages. Like a lot of Black Library novels, it was sufficiently entertaining and a lot of fun to read for relaxation and distraction, but it occasionally tested my patience. I found myself ready for the book to end with about 50 pages remaining, but the final pages pulled me back in and enthralled me with the intriguing conclusion.

A Brief Analysis of a Clark Ashton Smith Letter to George Sterling, October 6th, 1911

There is an excellent webpage, Eldritch Dark, that is a repository of all things Clark Ashton Smith. I used it a lot when I was writing Weird Tales of Modernity. I recently watched the documentary Clark Ashton Smith: The Emperor of Dreams (2018, dir. Darin Coelho Spring) which reinvigorated my reverence for Clark Ashton Smith and reminded me of Eldritch Dark. Here is my review on Letterboxd. One of the great things about this Eldritch Dark is that it compiles a lot of Smith's correspondence (among other things). 

The first letter in the correspondence section of this webpage is dated October 6th, 1911. Smith would have been 17 at the time he wrote this letter, which was addressed to the poet George Sterling (1869-1926). The entire letter can be accessed here.

In this letter, Smith begins by commenting on a photograph of himself. He states, "To me the eye of a camera always looks like the mysterious, murderous muzzle of a thirteen-inch gun, and I am apt to look like the enemy." Most of the pictures of Smith suggest that the young poet did not enjoy getting his picture taken. He doesn't seem to smile (I don't think it was conventional in the early 20th-century to smile in portrait photos). He tends to look very anxious in his photographs and somewhat put out.

Later in the letter, Smith refers to his poem "The Star-Treader" and admits that he doesn't know what Sterling will think of it. "The Star-Treader" is an excellent, ridiculously ambitious poem. Here is the first stanza:

A voice cried to me in a dawn of dreams,

Saying, "Make haste: the webs of death and birth

Are brushed away, and all the threads of earth

Wear to the breaking; spaceward gleams

Thine ancient pathway of the suns,

Whose flame is part of thee;

And deeps outreach immutably

Whose largeness runs

Through all thy spirit's mystery.

Go forth, and tread unharmed the blaze

Of stars where through thou camest in old days;

Pierce without fear each vast

Whose hugeness crushed thee not within the past.

A hand strikes off the chains of Time,

A hand swings back the door of years;

Now fall earth's bonds of gladness and of tears,

And opens the strait dream to space sublime.

This is such a fever-dream, mind-blasting vision. The poet is basically being hailed by the cosmos. The cosmos is telling the poet that the time has come for them to cast off their earthly form and reunite with eternity, rendered as "the blaze of stars." The rest of the poem is really intriguing and it's worth reading in its entirety. But this first stanza gives you a good sense of the scope of Smith's artistic enterprise. It often seems that being a mere human (a dirt person), for Smith, is a prison. Humans are detached from the cosmos in a tragic way. We are eternal souls that have somehow fallen into a prison of ephemeral form and the poet and artist feel the constraining nature of this ephemeral form most acutely.

Later in this letter, Smith discusses a few of his other poems and shares a few observational lyrics with Sterling. One lyric is titled "Wind Ripples." It is very different than "The Star-Treader." Here it is:

Did Beauty's unseen spirit pass

With tread unstayable and fleet?

Surely I saw the crested grass

Bow 'neath supernal feet!

This is a beautiful little poem, iambic tetrameter, with an abab rhyme scheme. The speaker has felt the caress of the wind and imagines that an invisible angel is passing near them. It's really fascinating that Smith could just write a lyric like this with little effort. I also like the idea of observational lyrics. Poets are basically acutely sensitive sensoriums who, unlike us mere mortals, make interesting and unique observations, and the genre of observational poetry clarifies this fundamental role. 

I would also argue that this random four-line observational lyric is almost the inverse of Smith's poetic enterprise in "The Star-Treader." Where an ephemeral lyric written in a letter is meant to be low-stakes and effortless, "The Star-Treader," is highly intentional and structured. It's like an oracle prophesying or a spell being cast.

The letter concludes with Smith discussing one of his poems, "Abyss," which I think is a shortened title referring to "Ode to the Abyss." Commenting on how a certain reader didn't grasp the theme, Smith states to Sterling, "I am astonished to find how few really grasp the sublimity and vastness of the stars and star-spaces." Smith certainly grasped the sublimity and vastness of stars and star-spaces, but his observational lyric, "Wind Ripples," also clarifies that Smith could attend to more granular elements of the human experience, i.e., the hidden beauty of a caress of the wind.

There is a lot in this letter and worth reading and pondering over. Eldritch Dark is a wonderful website, and I'm glad it exists.

Book Review: Sacrosanct and Other Stories

I have read two anthologies of Age of Sigmar short stories: Sacrosanct and Other Stories, and Hammerhal and Other Stories. The stories in Hammerhal were written from 2016 to 2017, while the stories in Sacrosanct were published from 2017 to 2020. The development and evolution of the Age of Sigmar lore is apparent in these two anthologies. Although there were several stories in Hammerhal that I enjoyed (that anthology still worth reading), Sacrosanct is a superior anthology, with many great stories that I could comment on.

C.L. Werner's novella "Sacrosanct" is an intriguing story featuring the Hammers of Sigmar, the first host of the Stormcast Eternals, and explores the relationship between Stormcast Eternals and how their previous mortal lives haunt their reforging. Werner made me see how cool the Stormcast Eternals actually are. The opening passage of this story, when the Hammers of Sigmar arrive in Shyish, is so memorable. Werner's other stories, "Shiprats" and "Witch Takers," are also great. "Shiprats" explores an airship of the Kharadron Overlords, and "The Witch Takers" explores the Order of Azyr (the Age of Sigmar Inquisition). "Witch Takers" captures some of Werner's great Matthias Thulmann atmospherics.

Josh Reynolds has several great stories in this anthology. His "Dirge in Dust and Steel" explores the forays into Shyish by the Hosts of Sigmar and introduces an intriguing new Duardin society and death deity. "Prisoner of the Black Sun" by Reynolds reintroduces a fun character from the Old World (no spoilers). Guy Haley's "The Volturung Road" was also great, more of a novella than a short story. It is ambitious in scope, telling the story of a Duardin lodge in Ghyran and their attempt to establish a new hold.

This anthology got me excited about Age of Sigmar lore. It's fun to see this world from its beginning, and it's great to see it becoming more fully realized. I was a little skeptical of Age of Sigmar in 2016. Now I'm in.

Review of Vinland Saga (Season 1)

 

Vinland Saga is an enthralling historical anime series available on Netflix, adapted from the manga of the same name. The story takes place in the 11th century during the Dane-controlled era in England and the wider Norse world. The plot follows Thorfinn, a young Dane who is seeking revenge, and Askeladd, a mercenary leader whom Thorfinn despises. Currently, there are two seasons of the show, with the first season consisting of 24 episodes, and the second season, which is still being released, having 14 episodes so far.

If you are a fan of Viking culture, literature, or Norse mythology, then you should definitely check out Vinland Saga. The series is an exploration of several themes such as the brutal nature of the world, human ignorance, the unpredictable nature of the gods, and the importance of honor in a deadly and ever-changing world. In addition, the show brings a unique element to the table: it portrays the absurdity and pointlessness of violence and warfare.

The animation and art style of the show are incredibly detailed and visually impressive, immersing the viewers in the Viking world. The animators pay attention to small details, including drinking horns, fashion, architecture, shipping elements, and even cutlery from the 11th century. The anime, although critical of violence thematically, glorifies it with visually stunning and realistic portrayals of bloody battles, intense duels, and other forms of combat.

The show boasts an expansive and intriguing cast of characters that are all woven together with Thorfinn and Askeladd at the center of the story. Other characters include Floki, a giant warrior who desires defeat above all else; Canute, a prince struggling with his faith and fear in a violent world; and Ragnar, Canute's loyal steward who defies the world with his kindness and loyalty.

What sets Vinland Saga apart is its exploration of the question "what makes a true warrior?" The characters repeatedly ask this question, suggest answers, and even act on them, but the answer is never entirely clear. This philosophical and introspective aspect of the show adds depth and complexity to the story, making it not only thrilling but also thought-provoking.

Overall, Vinland Saga is a fantastic series that deserves your attention, especially if you are a fan of Viking culture, literature, and mythology. With its intricate political intrigue, psychological depth of character, and historical accuracy, it is a show that you should not miss, particularly if you're a fan of the work of Robert E. Howard.

Review of Masters of the Universe: Revelation

I recently watched Masters of the Universe: Revelation (seasons 1 and 2), a continuation of He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. With reboots, remakes, and reimaginings, it's useful to think about one's previous relationship with the material being rebooted, remade, or reimagined (if one has one).

I largely missed out on He-Man and the Masters of the Universe as a kid. I was born in early 1983. By the time I was old enough to enjoy Saturday morning cartoons, He-Man and the Masters of the Universe had finished and was syndicated (and I don't think my local stations re-ran MOTU episodes). My older brother--born 1979--however, had been a big fan of the show. He had accumulated several of the toys and playsets. I vaguely remember being enthralled as I watched him play with his Castle Grayskull, Snake Mountain, and figures, and dream-wondering about when I would get some "big kid" toys too. I vividly remember the vivid art on the cardboard boxes and being just as enamored of that as the toys inside.

I do vaguely remember seeing the live-action film, Masters of the Universe (1987), on home video, probably in the early 90s, and also being annoyed that Orko wasn't included (he was my favorite character) and a little frightened by Skeletor in-the-flesh.

Fast forward to 2017 when the Netflix docuseries, The Toys That Made Us, came out: I watched the He-Man episode and was really intrigued (and a little incensed) by the creative and business background of the character. I am also into sword and sorcery fiction in general, and Masters of the Universe is something of a campy homage to that subgenre of fantasy. So, I'm hooked in these two ways as well.

To summarize: I like MOTU. I am interested in He-Man and related characters. I missed the original show as a kid. I came to the new Netflix show out of curiosity and a little bit of delayed nostalgia.

One the first things that intrigued me about the show was the way it wasn't centrally about He-Man. It was focused on Teela pretty much from the beginning. Another aspect that I thought was interesting was the tone. He-Man and the Masters of the Universe is mostly ridiculous and playful, but Masters of the Universe: Revelation immediately felt more serious, even mature. The characters weren't cardboard cutouts. They were dynamic, complex, and driven by conflicting desires: e.g. familial love, relationship trauma, deep-seated confidence issues, and other serious stuff. The external and psychological stakes stayed high from the beginning. Even Skeletor, who has always been rather comical, was intense and interesting, a genuine Lord of Death, tragically soul sick from his stultified ambition.

As season 1 proceeded, the serious tone continued and accelerated, and it worked for me. There was also a bit of nostalgia and depth, a sense that these hitherto silly characters had deep pasts and previously established relationships rife with unfinished business. The way episode 1 set up the later episodes to be in the aftermath of [excised to avoid a spoiler], was really intriguing. It gave a sense of continuity with the old show, the old conflicts, but it created an important tear in the continuity. With the beginning of episode 2, one realizes that this is going to be a different story than expected.

Later, as the other characters from the past are located and brought in--Evil-Lyn, Man-At-Arms, and Orko--this satisfying "Ghost of Christmas Past" feeling is fully established. He-Man ended in 1985, 36 years passed, and by-and-by this new show was created; accordingly, something like this strange sense of the passage of time--the weirdness of traversing the last 36 years--is captured artfully in that shift between the end of episode 1 and the beginning of episode 2. It was very clever and surprisingly nuanced.

I really enjoyed the reveal at the end of Episode 4. Preternia was a fun element of the story. And the end of episode 5: talk about a dramatic entrance.

I don't want this to go very long. In the spirit of a conversation starter, let me briefly say a few things about season 2. Season 2 was a lot of fun, and I was hooked throughout, but I think it suffered from the perennial fantasy problem of always needing to raise the conflict's stakes, i.e. the need to get more and more epic. I thought the character development of Evil-Lyn was the most intriguing. I am not ashamed to admit I felt some emotions as Teela and Man-at-Arms came to terms with each other. But as the epic conclusion proceeded, I started to feel something akin to Dragonball Z fatigue. Still, the spectacle was awesome.   

I'm so glad I watched this show. I'll probably watch it again. Since watching it I have purchased MOTU toys for my nieces and nephews as presents, and may have kept one for myself. And I'm interested in re-watching some of the old show and reading some of the old comic books.