Thongor Against The Gods

I've wanted to read this for a long time - the sheer blatant unsubtleness of its cover and title made it somewhat legendary in my days of running the Sutekh library back in the day. I never got round to reading it back then, and I'm glad I left it until after I've read most of the good Conan stories (all the Robert E. Howard and Robert Jordan). After all, Conan should rightly be seen as the standard by which all barbarian fiction is to be judged.

In comparison to the barbarian stories of Howard, Thongor felt shallow and pale. The exoticness of the word was painted in broad, blunt strokes, and the characters had little force. Howard's Conan wasn't deeply developed, but he was richly and lovingly (almost lustfully) portrayed. Scarcely a page passed without an evocative description of Conan's powerful musculature rippling in the harsh sunlight as the tiger-like barbarian tensed for battle. In comparison, Lin Carter's Thongor was merely Strong, and his wife Sumia merely Slim and Beautiful.

I don't think I'll be seeking out the rest of Carter's Thongor series in a hurry.

Hippopotamus

Recently finished Hippopotamus, a novel by Stephen Fry. 'twas an amusing read, with Fry's usual dlightful wit suffused throughout. I'm used to his full-on tidal wave of linguistic gymnastics from A Bit of Fry And Laurie, so this novel felt very restrained and calm in comparison. The ending was somewhat underwhelming, but the characters and use of language made the book a worthwhile read. I haven't read any of his other books, and I will keep an eye out for them.