The Lesson Of History Is That No

Believe It Or Not, Friendships Are Difficult To Write In Fiction. They Can Easily Come Across As Forced, Particularly If They Involve Too Much Explication And Too Many Overt Gestures Of Affection.

More Than One Philosopher Has Claimed That We Ever Remain Children, Far Beneath The Indurated Layers That Make Up The Armour Of Adulthood. Armour Encumbers, Restricts The Body And Soul Within It. But It Also Protects. Blows Are Blunted. Feelings Lose Their Edge, Leaving Us To Suffer Naught But A Plague Of Bruises, And, After A Time, Bruises Fade.

With The Black Company Series Glen Cook Single-handedly Changed The Face Of Fantasy—something A Lot Of People Didn’t Notice And Maybe Still Don’t. He Brought The Story Down To A Human Level, Dispensing With The Cliché Archetypes Of Princes, Kings, And Evil Sorcerers. Reading His Stuff Was Like Reading Vietnam War Fiction On Peyote.

Children Were Meant To Be Gifts. The Physical Manifestation Of Love Between A Man And A Woman. And For That Love All Manner Of Sacrifice Could Be Borne.

Oh Yes, I Have Learned Much From Tremorlor, And So Assume A Like Strategy. Silence, A Faint Mocking Smile Suggesting I Know More Than I Do, An Air Of Mystery, Yes, And Fell Knowledge. None Could Guess My Confusion, My Host Of Deluded Illusions And Elusive Delusions!