When thinking about weird fiction elements in sword and sorcery pieces, I wonder what kind of weird essence has usually been attached to it. What are the parts from weird fiction that normally make it into a sword and sorcery tale? When I think of weird fiction elements in S&S, I think of the uncanny, the indescribable, the inevitable, the unnamable; I think of a sense of madness and deliriousness; I think of a sense of corrupted time, of incalculable time, of civilizations and beings more ancient than recorded time, more ancient than humankind; I think of the alien, the bizarre, the inhuman, and the abnormal; I think of things and situations that defy rationality, defy reason, defy reality, defy nature; I think of the unexpected and the monstrous; I think of that which common humankind can never stop, can never understand, can never defeat; I think of strangeness, of the eldritch, and of creeping weirdness. Sometimes, it is nature that defies its own laws. There are moments when even the natural, the wilderness, approaches us in alien and unknowable ways. Sometimes, unearthly forces defy nature or reality. Other worlds, things from other times, the ancient past, come to torment us. At any moment, anything, or anyone, can surprise us and suddenly become unfathomably mysterious or touched by that which appears totally mad or unreal.

Weird fiction wants us to consider what we would do or think if we ever realized that there were worlds, creatures, or civilizations on Earth—or even out in the farthest depths of outer space—that were far older than human history; it wants us to consider that other sentient life might have existed long before the ancestors of the human race were even born. What would you do if you learned or you knew that something like us, but not human enough, had lived on this planet long before the human race existed? How long have aliens stirred amongst us? Do you believe in extraterrestrial life? Do they believe we exist? What is our relationship to the unknown and the unknowable, the blasphemous? I think of the spaces in S&S stories where dark phantasies encounter science-fiction and mutate with terror and horror, spaces inhabited by the supernatural or by arcane scientific laws. Forces of weird fiction attempt to make readers uneasy and unsure of the world around them. Such weird forces work upon S&S characters and make them doubt those around them, doubt reason, and doubt sanity. These elements may try to make us taste insanity, perhaps a kind mixed with helplessness. Such elements convey the unknowable and the indescribable—inasmuch as we are able to comprehend such entities—making us reflect on our limitations, reflect on the unknown, reflect on unforeseen doom. What more does weird fiction do for us? After all, fiction of the weird is well-nigh indefinable, perchance a result from overexposure to alien impressions and matters of madness.

Wendigo illustration by Henry Fox for Famous Fantastic Mysteries

In order to better appreciate and understand the elements of weird fiction that are in, and have for a long time been in, sword and sorcery compositions, we must dive into the works of purest weirdness. What better way to start and understand weird fiction than by examining and reading the writings of Algernon Blackwood (1869–1951), who was without a doubt a master at writing in the weird fiction mode? More importantly, I believe that Blackwood’s story “The Wendigo” offers great examples of some of the kinds of weird elements that usually worm their way into various stories in the S&S genre. In addition, this story is one of the best examples of a tale through which one might mull over the notional conceptualization of what an encounter with the weird or uncanny might be like.

Examining the weird fiction elements in “The Wendigo” can help readers compare or take note on how such characteristics manifest and how they are similar from and different from the elements of weird in many S&S tales. It is my understanding that weird fiction resonances show up and behave differently in a typical sword and sorcery story than they would within a cosmic-horror or weird-fiction yarn, their natural yet unearthly habitat. Understanding these weird vibrations can help us better value what S&S really is and what makes it run.

After all, not everyone agrees on what weird fiction is or even what is sword and sorcery. Not everyone can agree on what characteristics are of the weird; similarly, there is much debate over what characterizes a sword and sorcery work. I am one who believes that Clark Ashton Smith (1893–1961) did conjure sword and sorcery pieces, but I understand that not all of his works are in the sword and sorcery genre; yet, I am a firm believer in the idea that Clark Ashton Smith has his place in the S&S family because of his influences upon the genre, but this is not the only genre family to which his works should be fitted. As for weird fiction, I am of the thought that cosmic horror, or Cosmicism, and Lovecraftian horror are all connected to, or within, the genre of weird fiction; so, you can call the horror in sword and sorcery stories “cosmic horror,” you can call it “Lovecraftian,” but, to me, all that means is that the horror in sword and sorcery can at times be identified as “weird” or representative of weird fiction.

When I think of sword and sorcery works with elements of weird fiction in their veins, what most immediately comes to mind are Robert E. Howard’s “The Shadow Kingdom,” “The Tower of the Elephant,” “Xuthal of the Dusk; or, the Slithering Shadow,” and “The Devil in Iron;” Karl Edward Wagner’s Bloodstone and Death Angel’s Shadow; and Clark Ashton Smith’s “The Tale of Satampra Zeiros” and “The Black Abbot of Puthuum.” I believe that some of the weird elements that appear in these works can also be felt in Algernon Blackwood’s “The Wendigo.” To be fair, many of the weird shades that readers encounter in “The Wendigo” are not exactly the same as the weird hues in sword and sorcery pieces, but looking at where such characteristics of the weird merge and diverge can be fun and can help readers hold a stronger grip on the S&S genre.

In “The Wendigo,” we encounter the eldritch and the uncanny, something that seems to happen in numerous sword and sorcery stories too, especially where characters battle monstrous foes. Where S&S stories are different, is that the characters in S&S tales can fight and do battle with the eldritch horrors, and they often win, or at least escape them. The weird horror in “The Wendigo” is not battled or defeated, but it represents a spiritual corruption, almost something diabolical, something that is part of a larger, cosmic corruption, possibly linked to madness related to the natural world. Sword and sorcery thrusts upon us nearly all manner of blasphemous, shapeless, difficult to describe monsters, but that usually does not prevent a S&S protagonist from finding a means to defeat or to escape from the eldritch enemy.

I sense a wee smidgen of a sword and sorcery element in “The Wendigo.” What I mean to say is—look at the character-types of S&S and those in “The Wendigo.” Adventurers, explorers, hunters, travelers—similar sorts appear in “The Wendigo” and in S&S stories. Despite the fact there is this similarity, I must take into account how sword and sorcery from time to time can offer up more types—e.g., thieves, sorcerers, necromancers, and scholarly investigators. A not insignificant point, “The Wendigo” does have a character with a weapon, and S&S tales do love characters with weapons; having said that, it is obvious that “The Wendigo” is not a fighting tale, but it does show us a rifle and a knife. S&S shows us knives too, but it forbye offers occasional imagery of swords, pikes, maces, scimitars, clubs, daggers, spears, bows, arrows, various bladed weapons, and wizardly necessities to boot.

To me, “The Wendigo” shows us an enemy, an uncanny antagonist, that can never be defeated or escaped, an enemy attached to an evil that is one with the wilderness, and we can never escape the wild, can never escape nature, can never escape the evil within the nature of humankind or the natural world. In “The Wendigo,” the fight is never over because we must always be pushing the evil away as we try to control ourselves. The horror can seize hold of anyone, can touch anyone wherever they may be and lift them into the evil of the wilderness and wilds. S&S horrors typically do not reach this level of vastness and omnipresence, but they share a weirdness and a facet of irregularity similar to the evils in “The Wendigo.”

I truly recommend reading “The Wendigo” any time of the year. Weird fiction is one of my most favorite genres, and my preferred sword and sorcery works are those that go heavier with the weird. If you want to understand sword and sorcery, if you want to better hear the whispers of the weird in S&S, you really should go to the source of purest weird, and Blackwood’s weird works are great spaces in which to become better acquainted with the forces of the weird and with what exactly weird fiction tries to accomplish.

I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the possibility that not everyone will find Blackwood’s writings to their tastes or sensibilities. “The Wendigo” might be unduly unhurried, mayhap a tad sluggish, for readers favoring the fast-moving frenzy of many sword and sorcery tales. Nevertheless, if one were to desire a puissant understanding of the weird fiction powers of the sword and sorcery genre as a whole, I would suggest giving Blackwood a go. If Blackwood does nothing for you, try reading other tales of weird fiction written by other writers. Reading weird fiction offers up signs of the more hidden eldritch tentacles that help steer and shape the sword and sorcery stories I hold dear, and mayhap it could offer deeper enlightenment and enjoyment for you as well.

Thank you for reading.

Safe travels.

If you’ve liked what you’ve read here, check out some of Matthew Pungitore’s writings at his BookBaby author-page.

Matthew Pungitore graduated with a Bachelor of Science in English from Fitchburg State University. He volunteers with the Hingham Historical Society. The town of Hingham, Massachusetts is where he was brought up, and he has lived there for many years. Matthew is the author of The Report of Mr. Charles Aalmers and other stories, Fiendilkfjeld Castle, and Midnight's Eternal Prisoner: Waiting For The Summer.

Contact him at: matthewpungitore_writer@outlook.com