Good for the Gander?

Apparently the gands that appear in Gandalf and in Jǫrmungandr (the name of the world-girdling serpent in Norse myth) are really the same root. Cleasby and Vigfusson say “the exact sense of this word is somewhat dubious; it is mostly used in poetry and in compounds, and denotes ‘anything enchanted’ or ‘an object used by sorcerers’, almost like zauber in German, and hence ‘a monster, fiend’.”

Thinking of Gandalf as “Fiend-elf” certainly lends a new dimension to his character. I never associated him with Midgarð’s Serpent, either, but I think maybe Tolkien did. You’ll remember Gandalf’s description of the Balrog after they’d fallen into the deep water: “His fire was quenched, but now he was a thing of slime, stronger than a strangling snake.”

Gandalf and the Balrog are originally from the same class of supernatural being (the Maiar), so that’s another link in the monstery chain.

[images: GANDALF & BILBO by Tim Kirk; THOR, HYMIR, & JORMUNGANDR by Inga Torfadottir; THE WORM OUROBOROS by Keith Henderson]

[Originally posted on Facebook, but ported here, since the Facebots are turning more and more toward eeeeeeeeeeevil.]

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Lang Story Short: Lang’s WHILE THE CITY SLEEPS (1956)

The movie I watched tonight while mostly avoiding exercise was Fritz Lang’s While the City Sleeps (1956), a melodrama about newspapermen, and the women who sort love them sometimes, during the hunt for a serial killer. I was hoping for a shot of noir-dark espresso, but it turned out to be a thin brew overfull of non-dairy whitener and too much sugar—not bad, but mostly pretty weak stuff for the guy who made M (1931).

A newspaper ad for the movie. Left: a woman screams as the silhouette of a hand reaches for her. Text above her reads "Sensational LIPSTICK murder!" Below her, written in cursive is the sentence "Ask Mother" which is underlined by a drawing of lipstick. 

Right: a photo of a woman lightly dressed is standing, reading a letter, behind an opening door. In front of the door, with his hand on the doorknob, is a guy in a messenger's costume. 

Text on the image: "A GIRL leaves her door open... A STRANGER tiptoes in..."

Text left of the image: A BIG CITY NEWSPAPER blazes wth murder Headlines! THEN THE CHASE  as newsmen and woman <sic> feud with each other... to be the first to find the killer!"

Text below the image: the movie title. Beneath that: "Ten Top Stars! Ten Peak Performances!" And below that the names and photoes of the major cast members. At the bottom: behind-the-camera credits.

Dana (Daner) Andrews played the unlikeable-but-not-in-an-interesting-way lead, a drunk and lazy columnist/TV personality that somehow everyone thinks is a big deal. Vincent Price has an interesting turn as the effete, cuckolded heir of a publishing empire, and good work is done by Ida Lupino as a mercenary and merciless newswriter, George Sanders as the mellifluously treacherous head of a newswire service, and Thomas Michell as the beleaguered but unbowed editor of the New York Sentinel.

The serial-killer storyline verges on something interesting, especially when the oily hero engages in some of the sneaky, criminal behavior that we’ve seen the oily murderer commit. Then the movie backpedals the parallel: the hero is supposed to be very good and clever, whereas the murderer is a “mama’s boy”. (There may be some latent homophobia here; apparently he wears cologne LIKE A COMMON WOMAN OF THE STREETS NOT A REAL MAN.) Also: the murderer reads comic books. (The excited squeaking sound you hear in the background comes from Dr. Fredric Wertham as he fondles himself.)

The movie has another story about the jostling for power in a multimedia empire; it works a little better. And when the soap-operatic elements of that story cross the serial-killer plot, they both become more entertaining (at the price of a little plausibility). The serial killer only attacks single women, but the publisher’s wife has taken an apartment in town where she can engage in assignations with one of her husband’s underlings. Living as a single woman, she catches the killer’s attention… already drawn to that apartment house, because the hero’s fianceé lives across the hall. (You see what I mean about plausibility. The movie’s NYC is much smaller than the real one.)

The parts are greater than the whole, but (all snarking aside) this is a watchable story about newspaper people knifing each other to publish the truth at all costs, which in a way is kind of inspiring.

While the City Sleeps also features Howard Duff as a police detective; you’ll remember he made his screen debut in the Star Trek movie Brute Force (1947). But even I wouldn’t have the impudence to suggest that this movie, too, is a piece of the Star Trek universe.

Just kidding. Of course #EverythingIsSTARTREK

Above left: we see a young(ish) T’Pau officiating the mortal combat between Shere Khan of the Jungle Book and Uncle Billy from It’s a Wonderful Life. I hadn’t been aware that they were Vulcans, subject to the plak tow, the blood fever, but we can’t ignore the evidence of our own eyes. 

In the unrelated photo to the right, Celia Lovsky explains to Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner that they must fight to the death for the love of the Great Bird of the Galaxy.

It may be beating a dead horse or space warp at this point. But the Lipstick Killer was played by “John Barrymore jr” who later rebranded himself as John Drew Barrymore. Under that _nom de guerre_ he later contracted to play Lazarus in what is almost certainly the worst Star Trek episode from any series, “The Alternative Factor”. Barrymore never showed up for work, which some attribute to his well known substance abuse problems, and other people attribute to him having actually read the script. The producers recast the part hastily, and Robert Brown (worthy of a better fate) got to scream Lazurus’ incoherent lines through a fake beard that changed mysteriously in every scene. (The story of this doomed episode is well told by Marc Cushman in volume one of his These Are the Voyages.)

[I originally posted this on Facebook on July 14, 2018, but I’m trying to move my more substantial posts over here, since the Facebots are trying to make that place ever more evil.]

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Is This Thing On? How About That Other Thing?

Stephen Fabian's cover for Eisenstein's BORN TO EXILE

Stephen Fabian’s cover for Eisenstein’s BORN TO EXILE

Thing 1: I return to the Blog Gate, writing about Phyllis Eisenstein’s brilliant Born to Exile.

Thing 2: I’ve got a little series of e-books going. The first is Ambrosii, out now from Amazon worldwide. The second one, dubbed Monsters, is slated for release in October. I’m shooting for one of these a month for a while. Each one will be an experiment, in some way, so I’d be interested to hear your comments (at Facebook or Livejournal).Ambrosii.new

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The Late, Late Show

I was watching TV, and for some reason there was a rather elderly Kim Basinger talking about awkward marriage proposals she’d received in her life. “But the worst,” she said, “was from Maxen Wledig.”

This interested me, as Maxen Wledig is the only Roman Emperor to appear in the Mabinogion, and I had no idea that Kim Basinger had dated him, or, indeed, any of the Roman emperors. I was sure I must have misheard, but when I tried to adjust the volume I woke up.

A young man wearing a headband and a gown or loose shirt sits in a boat at gazes bemusedly at the sea.
The header image for “The Dream of Maxen Wledig”
in Brooke’s Wonder Stories from the Mabinogion (1908)
artist unknown

[I posted this originally at Facebook, but have been porting my posts from there over here, since the Facebots seem increasingly dedicated to evil. I added the image on 7/14/2025.]

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Crosspost Test from WordPress–please ignore

Happy Friday 13. Continue reading

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Aged in Oaken Heroes: Heroic Fantasy & Imagined History

What is the proper setting for heroic fantasy? Sometimes it seems that the Heroic Age is like the Golden Age of Science Fiction: twelve (according to the now-elderly wisecrack).

Anyway, it is widely agreed that heroic fantasy is set in some age before we learned that “digital watches were a pretty neat idea”, a period frequently described as the Middle Ages.

And this is almost perfectly dumb.

Jump into the dumb!

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Removable Blast from the Past

In my recent move, I offloaded a bunch of my books to my office. Now I’m unboxing them and clearing off shelves and cleaning up the office.

The following constitutes progress:

Shocking fuzzy images that will shock you fuzzy!

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ChiCon!

Here’s my schedule for ChiCon 7:

Panel: “Violence in Fantasy”

tagline: “The use and misuse of violence in SF and fantasy. How much is too much?”

Panellists: D.H. Aire Doug Hulick James Enge, Scott Lynch (moderator)

Fri. Aug. 31, 10:30 AM-12:00 PM

Wright room (silver level, west tower of the Hyatt Regency)

Also

Reading: James Enge

(I’ll probably be reading some fantasy with violence in it, although I haven’t settled on a text yet.)

Sun. Sept. 2, 2:30-3:00 PM

DuSable room (silver level, west tower of the Hyatt Regency)

Here’s a PDF map of the Hyatt Regency Chicago, if it’s not one of those hotels you know like the back of your hand.

http://www.chicon.org/graphics/Hyatt_levels_map.pdf

I keep on misreading ChiCon as “Cowtown”, even when I type it, so here’s a song to celebrate the con.

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TL;DR?

Rene Sears interviewed me for today’s edition of the Pyr newsletter, Pyr-A-Zine, in which I sound off on political systems in fantasy, history (true or feigned), what is and is not a trilogy, and the proper way to eat a sandwich through your nose. (Well, everything except that last part.)

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Which, Whicher, Whichest? (Keep It or Chuck It #2)

Summerscale, K. The Suspicions of Mr Whicher

Nowadays the hideous murder of a child needs something special to get noticed–it has to occur at a midnight showing of a Batman™ movie, or involve Cheez Whiz™, or something™. Then it can grab our attention. Otherwise it’s just one of those awful but expectable things that happens sometimes, like a politician lying.

The world wasn’t actually more innocent in the 19th century–but it sometimes pretended it was (and that’s the essence of Victorianism, I guess). In 1860 a young boy was taken from his family’s English country house and brutally murdered, not necessarily in that order. The physical evidence immediately showed that someone inside the household must have killed the boy–that the murderer was possibly a member of his own family. The country was shocked… and fascinated.

Follow the clew!

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