Conan the Barbarian, v. 32: The Second Coming of Shuma-Gorath and Other Stories

Collects: Conan the Barbarian #250-8 (1991-2)

Released: July 2016 (Dark Horse)

Format: 240 pages / color / $19.99 / ISBN: 9781616558666

What is this?: After losing the princess, Conan is tormented by

The culprits: Writer Roy Thomas and penciler Mike Docherty

In retrospect, it’s obvious Chronicles of Conan, v. 32: The Second Coming of Shuma-Gorath and Other Stories collects stories from a title heading for its end.

Even more than the previous volume, Chronicles of Conan, v. 31: Empire of the Undead and Other Stories, Second Coming uses continuity to give stories more weight and more interest than they would usually have. In fact, Thomas is so invested in using previous Conan stories — usually stories that he himself wrote — that in Conan the Barbarian #254 he completes a Savage Sword of Conan story he wrote in 1979 that never got an ending.

The continuity Thomas is calling on should be in service of the main story, in which Conan travels back to his home village in Cimmeria to see if it has been destroyed, as he has seen it destroyed in his dreams. Unfortunately, the continuity is of dubious value.

Thomas scatters footnotes throughout the book. Almost every Conan story has some reference to Conan continuity, which, before Thomas took over this time, was rare. But as I said, this is the sign of a title that’s about to wrap things up: As he retraces his path back to Cimmeria, Conan revisits the signposts he encountered when he first journeyed to civilized lands. And that’s a good idea! If the story were more focused, if the overall structure of the Second Coming storyline fit together better, it might work. But it’s hard to see, for instance, how #253 does anything but divert Conan’s journey home momentarily; yes, it reintroduces the wizard Kulan Gath, whom Conan and Elric of Melnibone killed in Conan #15, but surely Thomas could have integrated Gath into the storyline more elegantly, rather than having Conan encounter him while visiting old friends. And why resurrect Kulan Gath at all? He’s not an iconic villain; rather, he’s a magical speedbump in Conan’s early career.

Sometimes these callbacks are necessary; for instance, a brief flashback in #252 to Savage Sword of Conan #2 is used to explain why Conan is no longer a general and secret consort to Yasmela, whom he had been serving since #246. (Both Savage Sword #2 and #248-9 are adaptations of the Robert E. Howard story “Black Colossus,” with SSoC continuing a little farther forward in time.) I’m thankful for the footnotes, even though I’m not sure half these references and flashbacks serve any purpose other than Thomas shouting, “Hey hey hey — these stories are important!” But they aren’t. The purple plague in #255-6 is a distraction easily disposed of, a fillip meant to disguise that the story’s only purpose is to revisit the Lost City of Lanjau from Conan #8. A stopover in Numalia gives Thomas a chance to mention a few characters and places from Conan #7. An old lover (from Conan #48) rescues Conan from the snow and the walking dead in #258; their dead son, who grew to an accelerated adulthood after Conan sired him with an uncanny northern woman, is mentioned, even though he appeared in a non-Thomas story (#145). All these old stories add up to a bunch of distractions bolted onto a plot that needed to be leaner to succeed.

It’s a shame, because the storyline has some entertaining — even chilling — parts. Queen Vammatar of the Hyperboreans, who opposes Conan’s return to Cimmeria, commands the dead and men’s loins; in many ways, she’s the standard sorcerous femme fatale, but Thomas and artist Mike Docherty sell her resurrection power as something truly dangerous and chilling. The creators don’t make the dead as powerful a threat as well as the best zombie tales do, but they can’t, given the Code-approved nature of a serial book. The design of Vammatar’s servitors, the Witchmen of Hyperborea, is almost effective, as their featureless white masks are unnerving, but they seem to be wearing black bodystockings, which makes them look like semi-villainous Mummenschanz.

Cona’s lieutenants, Zula and Red Sonja, exit this story early, having had enough of Conan’s love affairs and desiring more exciting work now that the peace has been won. Thomas evidently agrees with me that Conan works better with a sidekick, though, so he assigns Conan a new one: Hobb of Anuphar, a fat sybarite whose cowardice is supposed to work as comic relief. It doesn’t work, since Hobb’s competence is marginal and his one-note bumbling grows tired quickly. By the end of the story, we don’t know much about Hobb other than he’s Volstagg the Voluminous, except without the charisma or strength.

And we don’t even get the second coming in the title! That doesn’t happen until the next volume, Chronicles of Conan, v. 33: The Mountain Where Crom Dwells and Other Stories. (To be fair, #252-8 are the first seven parts of the Second Coming of Shuma-Gorath storyline.)

Docherty’s art, other than the disappointment of the Witchmen design and the too cartoony skeletal warriors in #255-6, is solid as always. His work looks strongly influenced by John Buscema, although that might be traced to the finishes by long-time Conan inker Ernie Chan. His art is detailed enough to show the rough edges and grime of a time undreamed-of, but it’s never so fussy or confusing that it’s hard to follow. I have gained an appreciation for artists who can draw a clear battle scene, which is a must for Conan; Docherty does a great job with action, and I never have to ask how a character gets from point A to B. If I had to find a flaw with Docherty, other than the occasional design misstep, it would be that his art doesn’t inspire ecstatic praise; he’s solid, not transcendent.

Dale Hoover fills in on #253, and although I’d admire his clean, unfussy work on a number of other titles, it just doesn’t fit with the dirty, blood-stained world of Conan. The depiction of the mutilation of a prince whose life-force was drained, turning his extremities to bone, suffers from being too clean and too neat; the panels have little chance of communicating the horror of seeing someone’s hands and feet reduced to bone. Also, I’m not a fan of the cheesecake design and poses of Imojen, a Kothian rebel leader. Still, his cartoony flashback drawing of the Dweller in the Dark is adorable.

I enjoyed this volume, even if I can see the flaws — the irrelevant fill-in flashback in #251, the Thomas-ian obsession with resurrecting stories and characters that no one finds as interesting as Thomas himself does. But Second Coming does feel like it has a direction and a point, even if that point is to get closer to the end of this series.

Rating: (3 of 5)

Chronicles of Conan, v. 31: Empire of the Undead and Other Stories

Collects: Conan the Barbarian #241-9 (1991)

Released: March 2016 (Dark Horse)

Format: 224 pages / color / $19.99 / ISBN: 9781616558659

What is this?: After avoiding a demigod’s son’s revenge plot, Conan and his cohorts join the Khorajan army.

The culprits: Written by Roy Thomas and drawn by Gary Hartle and Mike Docherty

Since the next volume of the Chronicles of Conan — Chronicles of Conan, v. 32: The Second Coming of Shuma-Gorath and Other Stories — is scheduled to come out next week, I thought I’d review the most recent volume as a warm-up.

Is Chronicles of Conan, v. 31: Empire of the Undead and Other Stories better than the preceding volume? Oh, Crom, yes — it would be almost impossible for Roy Thomas, Conan’s first writer, to conceive of anything as dire as The Death of Conan and Other Stories.

With that low bar cleared, it’s time to look at whether Empire of the Undead is good. That question is a bit more complicated …

Those who know Thomas by his superhero work probably realize Rascally Roy never met a bit of continuity he didn’t think he could mine for a story. That’s the case with Empire of the Undead, where Thomas follows Michael Higgins’s continuity-ignoring implant with a storyline that brings back old friends and old rivals. Red Sonja returns, but that’s not so unusual: she pops up every now and then. Thomas also reunites the surly Cimmerian with Zula, one of the pirates who sailed with Conan and Bêlit in Conan the Barbarian #84-94 — a deep cut, to be sure.

Zula is a welcome addition — I’ve said before that Conan works better in the long term when he has allies to work with. But the returning villains … I’m not sure. Thomas introduces El-Ron, the son of Zukala, whom Conan fought in #5 and #115 and allied with in #14, and reintroduces the bat-like Afterlings, which appeared in #43, Stygian wizard Shu-Onoru, Zula’s old master who appeared in #85-6, and Stygian prince Katuman, who appeared in Savage Sword of Conan #2 and 3. (Other characters from the past also pop up, but I’m not going to list them all.) Thomas also uses Varnae the Vampire, who has long been established as the most ancient vampire lord in the Marvel Universe, as a villain for the second storyline in Empire.

These villains fall flat, though. The returning characters don’t serve much narrative purpose, as each of them — save for Shu-Onoru, who has a strong connection to Zula — could have been a new character without sacrificing any effect on the plot. Varnae is particularly out of place, as the story he’s in has none of the traditional vampire trappings, and he’s defeated by the clichéd “one thing that can defeat him” — a magic spell that Zula reads, in this case. Also, the Conan editorial staff was lying down on the job; other than Zula, the book contained few footnotes stating which issues these characters came from. Strictly speaking, they aren’t necessary, but it would have been nice to give readers some context.

Despite Thomas’s determination to link everything in his latest run to something he did more than a decade before, the book largely succeeds. The first story, a three-parter called “The Sorcerer and the She-Devil,” is fine, with Red Sonja’s feisty return mostly managing to hide the plot’s unwillingness to let either her or Conan affect it. (Does Thomas have something against Scientology? Naming the villain El-Ron tends suggest he does, but I can’t find anything online about it.) The following two-parter with Varnae the Vampire is notable only for the return of Zula; otherwise, #244 and 245 is a series of fights, usually with the heroes losing, interrupted by monologues.

The book finally gets into gear with #246, when Conan, Sonja, and Zula arrive in besieged Khoraja. Conan begins to ascend the Khorajan military ladder, as he has done in many other cities and states, and helps the Khorajans defeat the desert nomad wizard who threatens the city. Thomas gives the story a little nuance, showing the Khorajans are not completely innocent: their high command is just as stupid as the generals Conan usually serves under, and the city has an oppressed minority that Sonja is ambivalent toward, even when they try to kill her. I also appreciate that Thomas ignores Conan’s final fight with the uncanny leader of the nomads — we all know Conan’s going to win, right? — and instead concentrates on Zula and Sonja’s battle with demonic underlings. I admit laughing out loud when after the battle Sonja and Zula found Conan in post-coital bliss with the Khorajan princess.

Additionally, Thomas gives more depth to Sonja than I anticipated he would. At first, Sonja displays her customary rivalry with Conan, although she lacks the usual camaraderie she usually has with him. (It turns out Sonja was hired to assassinate El-Ron, and Conan kept getting in the way of her plan.) But as the book goes on and she continues to adventure with Conan, her rivalry continues, although Conan is mystified at why she’s so angry about his successes. When Conan quickly becomes a captain in the Khorajan army, Sonja bristles. It’s easy to see why: in Empire, Sonja is every bit the warrior Conan is, but it’s always Conan who gets credit for being the superior warrior. Her resentment cools a bit at the end when Conan, elevated to general, promotes her to captain. Overall, Sonja is more insecure than usual, but I can live with that, given how difficult it must be to live, even for a while, in Conan’s shadow.

Artists Gary Hartle (#241-7) and Mike Docherty (#248-9) are solid artists, and I have no complaints about them. They aren’t superlative stylists like Barry Windsor-Smith or John Buscema, but both know how to draw Conan and his world, telling comprehensible stories. More importantly, in my eyes, they give Sonja more clothing than a chainmail bikini. Hartle’s one-piece swimsuit with lapels and a fur-trimmed cape is only a moderate improvement, but Docherty gets rid of the lapels (and cleavage) as soon as he can, adding leather armor around the neck and shoulders and a loincloth. It’s not practical, but it’s nice to see someone moving her in a more sartorially useful direction.

More amusing than Sonja’s clothing is the contrast between Conan’s interior and cover artists. Hartle and Docherty, as I mentioned, are good, but they never were considered “hot” artists; on the other hand, the covers are contributed by artists who were the most sought-after pencilers of the day. Todd McFarlane, Jim Lee, and Whilce Portacio, a trio that would help found Image Comics the following year, contributed the covers for #241-3, and Art Adams drew #247-9. Those are impressive artists to line up for a title that was aimlessly wasting readers’ time in the previous collection.

No one’s going to pick up Empire if they haven’t been reading Chronicles of Conan for a long time. But if you made it through Death of Conan without your interest in Conan being extinguished, then you might as well pick up Empire, especially since Thomas seems to be adding a little more depth than he has to to the stories.

Rating: (2.5 of 5)

Chronicles of Conan, v. 23: Well of Souls and Other Stories

Collects: Conan the Barbarian #174-81 and Conan the Barbarian Annual #10 (1985-6)

Released: March 2013 (Dark Horse)

Format: 232 pages / color / $18.99 / ISBN: 9781616550523

What is this?: Conan, along with a Zingaran captain and a teenage girl, continues looking for a fabulous treasure, but he finds more than he’s looking for.

The culprits: Writer Jim Owsley and artists John Buscema and Ernie Chan

In previous reviews of the Chronicles of Conan series, I have complained about a great many things. The most important, to me, was the series’ lack of supporting characters and ongoing narrative. Every issue was the same: Conan steps into a new situation, starts stabbing people, and walks out the end, often as the only survivor. That narrative doesn’t provide much tension: He has to survive, since he’s the main character.

With Chronicles of Conan, v. 23: Well of Souls and Other Stories, writer Jim Owsley (the future Christopher Priest) has changed that. Conan has a partner, Zingaran captain Delmurio, and a sidekick, Tetra, a lovestruck teenage girl who Conan has taught to be a fearsome warrior. They are on a quest to find treasure — simple enough, but one rarely used for long-form Conan stories.

Well of Souls isn’t going to convince a reader with no interest in Conan to start reading the series. However, it might lure readers who are interested in the character or concept back to the series by giving them reasons to invest in the title rather than an individual story. The supporting cast is vivid enough to make readers care about them. Delmurio and Tetra have personalities, and readers will most likely have an opinion about them; when they leave Conan’s side, the barbarian picks up a new companion, who will presumably also make readers like or hate him. The extended plot pays off in a not completely unexpected fashion after seven issues (two in the previous volume, Reavers in the Borderland), and a new plotline begins.

It’s a solid foundation for a series. It’s only a baseline, but it saddens me how badly previous volumes miss that mark.

The individual issues are on the whole mildly interesting, elevated by the structure but showing only flashes of excellence. Issue #175, with its war-haunted river town and mysterious boatman, is the most atmospheric and probably the best issue in the collection. Even the less interesting issues have elements that momentarily pique interest; the opening story, which largely revolves around a mob of uninteresting war orphans, has some surprisingly vicious moments and ruminations about the ethics of keeping occupied populations in line that redeems the fleeting romances and undifferentiated crowds.

Despite my faint praise for the individual issues, Owsley has a better handle on Conan’s world than the writers who preceded him. The settings are filled with casual violence and superstitious people who cannot recognize false prophets or true prophecy when it is shouted at them. People die soon after they appear, and they die when it seems like they are going to join the ongoing cast. Owsley gives the protagonist more dimensions than he usually possesses in Marvel comics; the Conan in Well is as brooding, angry, and violent as usual, but the presence of Tetra restrains his lustful side. The narration says he is affected by her resemblance to lost lovers Red Sonja and Bêlit, but it’s clear Conan sees her adoration and reacts to it. Given her youth, he can’t return her affection, and he doesn’t want to reject her outright, so he doesn’t flaunt his sexual preference of other women to her. When her eyes are no longer on the barbarian, Conan goes back to his lecherous ways almost immediately.

Well of Souls has plenty of areas where it could be improved; better choices by editor Larry Hama might have prevented colorist George Roussos from assaulting readers’ eyes with a technicolor Hyborian Age or convinced artist John Buscema to cast aside the teenage Tetra’s furry bikini and loincloth ensemble, even if it is accessorized with green furry boots. (What animal could those boots have come from?) Making the spelling of man-monster Keiv (not “Kiev”) consistent would have helped. Having Owsley restate the overarching plot — on a quest to find treasure, based on a map Conan and Delmurio each have half of — would have been useful as well, since the reader often knows only that the trio are going to some destination. Hama also makes a mistake in issue #176, referring to Conan’s adventure with ex-mercenary Redondo as being in Annual #9 instead of #10. Since Annual #10 is included in Well, that’s not a big problem, but collection editor Chris Warner might have given the story in #176 greater impact by putting Annual #10 before #176. On the other hand, the continuing narrative doesn’t give much room for the annual, so it might not have been feasible.

The ever-reliable John Buscema drew all the issues of the regular series. Buscema was getting near 60 when these issues came out, but his art is as strong and vivid as ever. Owsley’s intense Conan would not work half so well with another artist, as Buscema’s work on the barbarian hero conveys a hardness that has nothing to do with his musculature. Buscema’s penchant for cheesecake — de rigueur for fantasy, I know — gets a little out of hand, as no woman in Well conceals her navel, and Tetra’s outfit is, as described, gratuitous. Frequent Conan inker Ernie Chan penciled the annual and does a good job of it.

The immediate future looks good for the title. The overarcing plot is controlled by a new adversary, not Conan, but the villain looks like he has a plan and is putting it into place. With Owsley remaining on Conan until #213 (another four volumes or so), the stories should retain their barbarousness, and Conan should remain well rounded.

Rating: (3.5 of 5)

Chronicles of Conan, v. 20: Night of the Wolf and Other Stories

Collects: Conan the Barbarian #151-9 (1983-4)

Released: December 2010 (Dark Horse)

Format: 200 pages / color / $18.99 / ISBN: 9781595825841

What is this?: Conan stabs his way through another nine issues of his eponymous series.

The culprits: Writer / artist John Buscema and writer Michael Fleischer, with fill-in art from Gary Kwapisz

There’s no doubt the comic book direct market is in trouble. Sales have been declining for years, and unlike at the direct market’s dawn, few titles are guaranteed a continued existence. This is discouraging for those of us who would enjoy long runs for new characters and titles or hope titles that have always been at the fringe of economic viability (Power Man & Iron Fist, Defenders, Alpha Flight, etc.) will get a new ongoing series. The only good news is that almost every current title should have a purpose or a hook.

You don’t see too many zombie titles any more. If you’ve read comics in the late 20th century, you’ve probably come across a zombie title or three. They’re the ones that lurched along, all semblance of life drained away, still repetitively doing all those things it did when it was new and vital. There’s no creative reason to publish these comics: no overarching plots, no exciting young creators looking to work with the character, no groundbreaking creativity. There’s just a semi-loyal audience hanging around, large enough to make money off of. For a Marvel comic, there’s something humorous about this: Marvel zombies helping zombie comics titles survive. A zombie support network, if you will.

Conan the Barbarian was a prime example of a zombie title. After original writer Roy Thomas left, there was a drop-off in the writing quality; few of his successors had a handle on Conan and his world like he did. Truth to tell, even Thomas was having trouble by the end of his long run. The title floundered. So by issue #151 — where Chronicles of Conan v. 20: Night of the Wolf and Other Stories begins — what was the purpose of this title?

The easy answer is that Conan stuck around to give artist John Buscema, often inked by his frequent Conan collaborator Ernie Chan, a place to play. Conan is the title the elder Buscema brother was most associated with, and if he wanted to do the title, why not let him? The art still looks great; there’s no doubt about that. Conan and his enemies are dynamic, active enough to still occasionally surprise the long-term reader with their vividness. Conan himself hasn’t devolved into a copy or parody artistically, although I have my doubts about his blue-sleeveless-tee-tucked-into-furry-bikini ensemble. Still, the monsters are monstrous, and the girls are as gorgeous as ever. And Buscema even started plotting the stories. Giving Buscema a forum for his work and keeping him happy seems a worthy goal, right?

But it’s hard to shake the idea that even the art has lost its freshness. I’ve seen the Conan / pretty girl / evil-wizard / monster set piece before, and if Buscema moves the elements of this stock tale around artfully, he can’t disguise that they are the same elements. I find myself wishing Marvel would have given Buscema a new challenge, something for him to flex his character design and artistic muscles on.

On the other hand, Conan must have sold. So the zombie stays in the publishing schedule.

The writing is a larger problem. Certainly there’s nothing new there. The stories aren’t the worst in the Chronicles of Conan series, but Buscema and Michael Fleischer (writer #151-4, dialogue #155-9) aren’t breaking new ground. There are no overarching plots, no development of Conan’s character (although 21st century readers should know that’s not a priority), and few characters — good or evil — are worth seeing again. Conan’s violent edge has dulled into a paternalistic affability; he’s a nice guy by this collection. A nice guy who guts a few people every issue, but he’s not out to destroy, and he’s not always on the make.

The same elements are used again and again — abducted maiden, lost city under attack (that one’s used twice), evil woman trying to control Conan (again, twice), the perilous inn. Issue #155, in which Conan rescues a grateful toady from a semi-competent wizard, is the best of the lot, and although there are a few attempts at twists (the wolf in #158, the wizard’s identity in #157), the execution produces limp results. (The twist in #158 is spoiled on cover, for instance.) This is partially down to Buscema, who is presumably learning the ropes as a writer; in #156, for instance, the final third of the story is a flashback in which Conan doesn’t appear.

I have to admit I didn’t initially catch that the title of #154 — “The Man-Bats of Ur-Zanarrh!” — was a play on a 1958 Batman story, “Batman — The Superman of Planet-X,” in which Batman encounters the Batman of Zur-En-Arrh, an alien planet. (Not many other people would have caught it had Grant Morrison not resurrected the idea for his recent Batman run.) Clever — but not clever enough to save the story or the book. In any event, when a war between winged humans and bat men on a floating city — a war in which Conan rides a giant dragonfly — seems a little ho-hum, it’s probably time to strike the curtain and call it a day.

There are reasons for zombie titles to exist — or there were, at least. They served as a safe place to launch new creators, such as Frank Miller on Daredevil, and new ideas. They provided a feeling of a shared universe, which was more important then than it is today. These zombie titles also give readers a nice feeling of continuity: there’s Conan on the newsstand; it’s been there for a decade, and it will still be there in another decade.

That last is a luxury the direct market will no longer allow, though, and the other two aren’t relevant to Night of the Wolf. The only reason for Conan to continue throughout the ‘80s was economic. But that’s not really a reason for anyone but Conan diehards to read Night of the Wolf in 2012.

Rating: (2 of 5)

Chronicles of King Conan, v. 1: The Witch of the Mists and Other Stories

Collects: King Conan #1-5 (1980-1)

Released: August 2010 (Dark Horse)

Format: 192 pages / color / $18.99 / ISBN: 9781593074777

What is this?: Conan the barbarian is now the older Conan the king.

The culprits: Writer Roy Thomas and artist John Buscema

As we grow older, we learn things about ourselves. That we have an unexpected talent for cooking, perhaps, or that we’re never going to make it as a major-league shortstop, or if nothing else, that our abilities peak at some point during our youth, and only hard work will keep them from deteriorating in an alarming fashion. It’s a hard lesson to learn but a necessary one as we make the transition from youth to maturity.

In The Chronicles of King Conan, v. 1: The Witch of the Mists and Other Stories, however, writer Roy Thomas informs us that Conan never has to learn that lesson. He will always be at the top of his game, and he never truly reaches that mental maturity. Readers have been following Conan for 80 years — about 50 by the time the issues collected in King Conan came out — and in that time, the barbarian hero has changed little. You might expect that becoming king, with the responsibilities that entails, would change mighty Conan.

You would be wrong. Conan the King is the exact same character as Conan the Barbarian. True, Conan has an army behind him, and he has a son, but it has remarkably little effect on his behavior. And Thomas should know; forty years after Conan the Barbarian #1, v. 1, and Thomas is still the definitive Conan comic book writer.

King Conan begins with Conan’s son, Prince Conn, being kidnapped by a Hyperborean witch; King Conan decides to rescue his son alone. Fine; I understand that. But after the rescue and a battle in Zingara, Conan decides to take the fight and his army to Stygia, where Thoth-Amon, the architect of the kidnapping and unrest in Zingara, is hiding. That makes a modicum of sense, although Conan has always shown that a lone hero is better than an army when it comes to defeating wizards and monsters.

But Conan goes himself, and he takes along his heir, Conn. This, of course, is idiotic, as a non-dynastic king like Conan should return home to find his throne occupied and his wife (at best) exiled. Instead, Conan follows Thoth-Amon to the ends of the earth, heading farther and farther from his kingdom, each mile being one more he’ll have to travel on the way back. This is the way of the American action hero, I realize, to take care of such things by himself, but it’s not one of that archetype’s more endearing attributes. There is no cunning to this Conan, and less intelligence. He has no real plan, blundering farther and farther south and endangering his son and his men. I think the idea is that Conan is a pre-historic Alexander, putting the world under his boot, but there’s nothing to support that idea other than Conan’s continuing but illogical success and an inexhaustible supply of willing soldiers.

Conan, as a king, should be confronted with different problems than when he was an adventurer. But there’s no statecraft here or even large-scale battles, no intrigues or imperial entanglements. For some reason, no one engages his army or presents any challenge to them other than their intended adversaries; the countries he invades to fight these wizards don’t protest at all. Why should they? It’s Conan! There are a surfeit of wizards to kill, strange places to visit, usurpers to depose, and monsters to fight — just like before. Such a static world for a character like Conan.

Part of the problem is Thomas’s mania for adapting stories. Issues #1-4 are adapted from stories by L. Sprague de Camp and Lin Carter: “The Witch of the Mists,” “The Black Sphinx of Nebthu,” “Red Moon of Zembabwei,” and “Shadows in the Skull,” which were originally published in the ‘70s and collected in Conan of Aquilonia. Issue #5 starts retelling 1957’s Conan the Avenger, by Björn Nyberg and de Camp, in flashback. It seems odd that Thomas would let other authors choose his opening arc, especially an arc so problematic as those in Conan the Aquilonia. That’s not to say Thomas slavishly followed the original stories or that adapting stories is a bad idea; for instance, Thomas’s creation of Red Sonja was a result of adapting a non-Conan story by Robert E. Howard, “The Shadow of the Vulture.” And I understand that those four stories had the setup that Thomas wanted to start with. But I think using those stories at a later point would have been a better idea.

There are two redeeming points to King Conan. One is the book shows the maturation of Conn. His father is an impossible role model to live up to, but he tries anyway. He kills his first man in this book, and he gets a glimpse of true evil in Thoth-Amon. If Conan had sent Conn on a military campaign while Conan stayed at home, to get the boy some seasoning, this might have been a fascinating story, although it would have made it into Conan: The Next Generation. (Not that I would have minded.) The idea of telling the story of this prince maturing into a man is a good one; it’s just not what the book is about.

The second highlight is John Buscema’s art. Thomas is Conan’s definitive writer, and Buscema is one of the two most celebrated Conan artists. His Conan is much the same as it was in Conan the Barbarian — he has crow’s feet, and his hair is grayer, but he’s still strong as ever. His Conn is more realistic, strong for a teenager but obviously not Conan. Since the material is much the same as Conan the Barbarian, he gets to draw monsters and wizards and … well, not many scantily clad women, but there are some. Fans of Buscema’s Conan work will likely not be disappointed.

But they won’t be surprised, either. And that’s the problem with King Conan. Despite the change in premise, there is little to discover that you can’t find in Dark Horse’s Chronicles of Conan series.

Rating: (1.5 of 5)

Chronicles of Conan, v. 17: The Creation Quest and Other Stories

Collects: Conan the Barbarian #127-34, Conan Annual #6 (1981-2)

Released: April 2009 (Dark Horse)

Format: 240 pages / color / $17.95 / ISBN: 9781595821775

What is this?: Conan wanders through a world filled with magic, evil men, and scantily clad women.

The culprits: Writers J.M. DeMatteis, Bruce Jones, and Roy Thomas and penciler Gil Kane

The Chronicles of Conan, v. 17: The Creation Quest and Other Stories is significant in a negative way: it’s the first volume of the Chronicles of Conan series without an issue of Conan the Barbarian written by Roy Thomas or dawn by either Barry Windsor-Smith or John Buscema.

Instead, we get J.M. DeMatteis wrapping up his run, which started in v. 15 , Bruce Jones starting his run, which lasts until v. 19, and art by Gil Kane.

This lineup does not exactly inspire confidence. DeMatteis’s introduction, in which he says, “I finally realized … the kinds of stories I wanted to tell were best suited to other venues,” doesn’t help matters either, nor does his admission that he was unable to deliver stories that pleased Buscema — they didn’t meet Buscema’s ideal of what Conan stories should have in them. Now, Buscema is just one man, and he didn't own the character, but I think he does have a pretty good handle on what makes Conan tick.

Although he doesn’t contribute to this issue, Buscema’s indictment of DeMatteis’s Conan writing seem to be borne out here. The first issue, #127, feels like a half-baked reversal of Robert E. Howard’s Conan story “The Frost Giant’s Daughter” (adapted in Conan the Barbarian #16); a magic spell animates snow and ice into a magical totem for a village, but the spell has human form, forgets it’s a spell, and escapes to find love with Conan. And it has the dumb name of Xean. I admit, the reversal is nice — the cold woman of snow flees from her protectors and toward Conan — but the idea of the sentient, amnesiac spell is never developed, buried beneath action sequences: Conan fighting a polar bear! Conan fighting Vanirmen (as he did in “Frost Giant’s Daughter”)! Conan fighting Vanirmen again! And then it ends, with a priest telling Conan why the story ends, not that either he or we could have figured it out.

DeMatteis does try a more traditional Conan story in #128-130, a quest story in which Conan must pay an old friend’s ransom with treasures stolen from around the world. It’s a bit lackluster, however; the old friend’s wife teleports Conan into and out of danger, removing a good deal of tension, and the resolution of the story is a superhero cliché transported into Hyboria for the amusement of the locals. The end revelation that the friend, his wife, and their kid are essentially gods doesn’t help either, although it does give Conan a chance to repudiate his friend’s power creep: “I find … I have unleashed yet another god upon a world that has seen too many gods already. … I will long remember what you were — and try to forget what it is you’ve become!” It seems a rare true and original character note for Conan in DeMatteis’s work in this volume that he would distrust a friend, even a childhood one, once he learns the friend is more than human — because he is above the simple pleasures of mankind.

Jones’s work, on the other hand, is in keeping with the spirit of Conan; Buscema would later work with Jones on Conan. Issue #131 is a smart adventure story with a cursed ring, and even though the ending is contrived, it does signal a return back to direct stories with a sharper edge. The next issue’s setup isn’t exactly in keeping with Conan’s usual endeavors — he competes in deadly Olympic-style events to win a valuable sword — but even though Conan doesn’t really think much during the story, it does give him a chance to show his sense of fair play and his appetite for drink. The final two Jones issues are CSI: Hyboria, in which Conan solves the mystery of who cursed the princess, the gypsy’s true identity, and how to save an innocent woman from a death trap. In the latter, Conan’s helped by a bit of deus ex serpentia, but it is Hyboria: gods do occasionally pop out of the woodwork to help. Although you shouldn’t be able to have lunch with them.

When I said Roy Thomas doesn’t write any issues of Conan the Barbarian for this volume, that’s only technically true: Thomas does contribute Conan Annual #6. It’s Thomas nearing the end of his Conan stories, with a padded story that shows it was probably for the best he stopped writing Conan for most of the ‘80s. The story has a normal-length, single-issue kernel at its center: a man thinks he’s a conqueror reincarnated, and megalomania ensues. Thomas adds in giant spiders (who disappear early), a mistress and a wife (not as exciting as they sound), and Technicolor demons, but they all fall flat. With an artist like Buscema or Windsor-Smith going nuts on the art, perhaps it could have been something; instead, the art is drawn and inked by Gil Kane.

Kane was a very good artist who did a lot of superhero work for Marvel and DC; he even did a few fill-ins on Conan the Barbarian for Buscema and Windsor-Smith. Unfortunately, Kane is not Buscema or Windsor-Smith. That’s not a crime on most titles, especially on superhero titles that change artists regularly. But this is Conan; the title had, for more than a decade, been drawn with attention to detail and dynamic characters. Kane falls short on both of these counts. He inks himself on the DeMatteis issues and the annuals and comes across as an unfinished imitation of Windsor-Smith; when inked by others, there’s a marked improvement, although there’s still something lacking. Issue #134 was his last Conan for a while, and I think that was for the best. Like DeMatteis, his best work — which is pretty good — is elsewhere.

I have to give Dark Horse a great deal of credit: they’ve made a reprint series run for twenty volumes (Chronicles of Conan, v. 20: Night of the Wolf and Other Stories, which amusingly features Conan riding a giant dragonfly on the cover, is due out October 13). They don’t skip bad issues; they reprint all the issues they have the rights to without prejudice. The completists in me loves that, but in a practical sense, that means there are the occasional volumes like The Creation Quest. Buscema is back for v. 18 (Isle of the Dead and Other Stories), so anyone reading this volume can write it off as lackluster and buy the next one with optimism.

But for anyone but completists or Bruce Jones fans: skip this volume.

Rating: (1.5 of 5)

Savage Sword of Conan, v. 1

Collects: Selections from Savage Tales #1-5 and Savage Sword of Conan #1-10 (1971-6)

Released: December 2007 (Dark Horse)

Format: 542 pages / black and white / $17.95 / ISBN: 9781593078386

What is this?: Reprints from 1970s Marvel black-and-white Conan magazines.

The culprits: Writer Roy Thomas and a cast of artists, notably Barry Windsor-Smith and John Buscema.

Dark Horse made its second foray into the Conan reprint market at the end of 2007 with The Savage Sword of Conan, v. 1.

This series is as different as two Marvel series featuring the same title character can be. Savage Sword is a black and white, “Essential” type phonebook, while the Chronicles of Conan are full-color trade paperbacks. The two titles being reprinted differed vastly, as well; Chronicles reproduces Conan the Barbarian, a standard comic book. Savage Sword, unsurprisingly, reprints The Savage Sword of Conan, a black-and-white magazine that ran at the same time. Because of rights issues, Chronicles doesn’t include the original covers. Savage Sword does.

Admittedly, Conan is the same character in each. This leads to the question, Which is superior?

Both are written by Roy Thomas, so that’s a wash. There are more adaptations of Conan creator Robert E. Howard’s original stories in Savage Sword, it seems, than any two volumes of Chronicles. That makes sense; there was more room for large-scale adaptations in Sword, which was a larger, more expensive format than Conan. Sword’s first volume has adaptations of “The Frost Giant’s Daughter,” “Red Nails,” “Black Colossus,” “Iron Shadows in the Moon,” “A Witch Shall Be Born,” and the last two chapters of the adaptation of the only Conan novel, “The Hour of the Dragon.”

But “The Hour of the Dragon” highlights Savage Sword’s main drawbacks: continuity. In “Dragon’s” case, the first four parts of the adaptation aren’t included because they were originally printed in Giant-Size Conan #1-4 (1974-5), and the Giant-Size line isn’t reprinted consistently in licensed ventures anyway (the GIT Corp. DVD-ROMs omitted them, although probably for different reasons). This is a major flaw, especially since there isn’t an explanatory note about the missing chapters; I spent 15 minutes looking for the rest of the story before discovering the reason online.

A less worrying — but more consistent — part of that drawback is Savage Sword is not a single narrative. Those used to Chronicles or Marvel’s Essentials might expect Savage Sword to have the thread of a story throughout it. It does not. It hops from one story to another, usually with little regard to the narrative of Conan’s life as a whole. There are exceptions, especially in the original sequels to “A Witch Is Born” and “Black Colossus.” It’s another sacrifice to the freedom necessary for the long adaptations, and in theory it allows Thomas to include Conan stories that are simply good. On a practical level, it allows the reader to easily differentiate between Howard’s stories and Thomas’s own contributions to the canon; with the exception of “The Forever Phial,” a neat little story from the point of view of a doomed wizard that includes Barry Windsor-Smith-like art from Tim Conrad, and “The Citadel at the Center of Time,” a jumping off point for a couple of issues of What If?, most of them are easily forgotten, especially without the lattice of an ongoing story to affix them to.

However, it is the art where Savage Sword shines. Conan artists supreme Windsor-Smith and John Buscema are featured in this volume, with Buscema providing most of the art. Smith’s adaptation of “Red Nails” burns itself into the brain. Buscema’s “A Witch Is Born” allows Buscema to play with light and dark in a truly striking way. The truth is these adaptations give the artists a chance to play with some of the greatest Conan imagery, and they take full advantage. Windsor-Smith and Buscema have rarely looked so good, with the lack of color emphasizing their work rather than diminishing it. And there are more than 500 pages of this beautiful work.

The completist might be disappointed by Savage Sword. Some issues of Savage Sword of Conan are completely reprinted. Others have stories featuring other characters dropped, either because of issues of rights (Red Sonja) or interest (King Kull). Other stories are dropped for reasons I can’t determine.

Conan fans would likely choose Savage Sword over the Chronicles, I believe, while comic fans who like Conan might choose Chronicles but get a great deal of enjoyment out of Savage Sword. I can say, without hesitation, that Savage Sword is the better of the two, in my opinion, and it’s well worth your time.

Rating: (4 of 5)

Chronicles of Conan, v. 11: The Dance of the Skull and Other Stories

Collects: Conan the Barbarian #82-90 (1978)

Released: February 2007 (Dark Horse)

Format: 168 pages / color / $16.95 / ISBN: 9781593076368

Dark Horse’s reprints of Marvel’s Conan the Barbarian keeps marching on with v. 11, The The Dance of the Skull and Other Stories.

Like the previous 10 volumes, v. 11 is written by Roy Thomas. The art is by John Buscema (five issues) and Howard Chaykin (three issues), but the strong finishes by Ernie Chan makes guest artist’s Chaykin’s work strongly resembles Buscema’s. Both the writing and art have a certain sameness compared with the previous volumes of Dark Horse’s Conan, and like many reprints of old comic material, the divisions between volumes are somewhat arbitrary. This is a bit of a problem since it prevents the book from having an identity. Why buy this volume over others? I’m not sure I can say.

Worse, the story in v. 11 begins in the middle of a storyline — and the storyline is a seemingly interminable pause in the quest of Belit, pirate queen and Conan’s lover, to discover the fate of her father. Conan is sent on several side quests, allowing Thomas to adapt several non-Conan works by Robert E. Howard and giving Conan an opportunity to pick up a sidekick. Well, Zula is more a partner than sidekick, but it’s still Conan’s book.

But it’s good to see another recurring character introduced. This is both because Belit’s subplot is quickly disposed of once Conan catches up to her and because Conan has precious few recurring characters. Zula is not a great character — he’s the last of a tribe of Blacks with a striking Mohawk — but he’s another voice, someone to contradict Conan without being evil, stupid, or petulant. Conan continually fighting mystic threats and winning through luck or bullheadedness needs some breaks.

But the plot’s the difficulty — meandering and unfocussed despite a specific goal, and no amount of princesses in slavery, Zula, or Thoth-Amon will fix that. It’s all very forgettable.

(Oh, and I still miss the original Marvel covers.)

Rating: (2 of 5)

Chronicles of Conan, v. 10: When Giants Walk the Earth and Other Stories

Collects: Conan the Barbarian #72-7 and 79-81 (1977)

Released: March 2006 (Dark Horse)

The Chronicles of Conan are one of the unexpected pleasures of life. Usually, when comic books center around licensed properties, it’s impossible to get them reprinted years later. For instance, the latest Essential Spider-Man had to skip Giant-Sized Spider-Man #3 because it guest starred Doc Savage, who is owned by Conde Nast. The Essential Marvel Two-in-One omitted Marvel Two-in-One #21 for the same reason.

Marvel no longer has the license to publish Conan from Conan Properties, but Dark Horse does. So in addition to publishing a new Conan series, Dark Horse publishes reprints of the classic Conan stories from Marvel. They’ve given readers ten volumes so far, which is wonderful. As a bonus, each volume has writer Roy Thomas’s memories of the issues, revealing behind-the-scenes information and the source of names and plots.

There are slight snags, however. Dark Horse doesn’t have the rights to Red Sonja, a character created by Conan-creator Robert E. Howard in a Crusader story and shoehorned into Conan’s world by Thomas. He was like that; Thomas loved to take Howard’s non-Conan stories, throw them into his Conan-O-Tronic blender with a small pinch of Conan Dust, and make them into Conan comics. In any event, Dynamic Forces holds that license, and they are following Dark Horse’s example by publishing a new series and the original Marvel series. Dynamic Forces is on their second volume of reprints. #78 is left out of v. 10 because the issue itself was a reprint of Savage Sword of Conan #1, a Conan / Red Sonja team up.

The other snag is that Dark Horse can’t reprint the original Marvel covers. For the most part, I haven’t missed them. But this week I was selling the odd comics that were duplicated by the trades I have, and I saw a few of the original covers. I didn’t realize how much the trades of Conan missed the covers until I looked at the original individual issues. There’s something dynamic and exciting about those covers that makes you want to buy them off the rack. I mean, they’re not necessary, but after knowing what they looked like, I definitely felt their absence.

And this volume could have used some appeal. I admit, I am not a fan of the type of story in v. 10; Belit, Conan’s lover and pirate Queen of the Black Coast, goes to the heart of her enemy’s empire to rescue her father, deposed king of a small city-state. But after nine issues, Conan and Belit seem only halfway to their goal, with Conan and Belit being forced to sort out the murderous politics of another city-state. Then Conan gets sent on a pointless errand for that city-state and ends up in a time-lost city founded by Alexander the Great … Thomas’s focus is weak at best here; either he was bored or just had so many ideas at the time he couldn’t wait to insert them. Art is by John Buscema and Howard Chaykin. Those of you who have seen Buscema’s art know whether you like him. Buscema, one of the stalwarts of Marvel (as is his brother, Sal), has a strong, detailed style that fits Conan well, especially with his proclivity to make all the men muscled monstrosities and the women scantily clad. Chaykin’s art was inked to make it look like Buscema’s, so there is little to distinguish the two artists (particularly under Dark Horse’s recoloring of the stories). Dark Horse also gets demerits for not getting the contents right. On both the back cover and on the title page verso, they list #82 as part of the collection. It isn’t. Not only is that deceptive, it's also sloppy quality control. Still, it does little long-term harm ... this time.

If you choose Chronicles of Conan titles to buy on a book-by-book basis, I would recommend skipping this one. I doubt that is the case, though, with most readers getting all of them. Despite the meandering plot, this one is fairly inoffensive.

Grade: C+