March-April 2025 Miscellany

A busier than expected last few months, which included a chance find of Black Lamb and Grey Falcon, as memorably reviewed by Patrick Stuart. I don't plan to address that here - I'm not certain I'd really care to review it at all - but it's worth reading, however weighty a tome it is.

Some less weighty tomes included....

***

A Wonderful Welcome to Oz

That being a collection of The Marvellous Land of Oz, Ozma of Oz and The Emerald City of Oz. All written by L. Frank Baum, but put into one volume by A) The Modern Library Classics and B) Gregory Maguire, the author of Wicked. (Which you may or may not know as a sort of parallel narrative to The Wizard of Oz published in 1995).

The three volumes so picked are sequels to Baum's first, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1900); Marvellous Land (1904) and Ozma (1907) being the second and third books and Emerald City (1910) being the sixth. Baum, despite a sensational novel, was not good with money, and kept writing them through most of the rest of his life. A Wonderful Welcome to Oz maintains as near as possible the illustrations of John R. Neill, who illustrated most of Baum's Oz books.

I saw this second-hand and grabbed it, largely because I have no connection to Oz whatsoever. The 1939 film rather passed me by as a child, and I have never seen an edition on a library shelf. Yet we still have extensive reference to it, and various revivals or revisions or similar - as witness Maguire's Wicked, and adaptations thereof. 

So do I regret a childhood without Oz? I may say that I do not. In certain respects, it summons up the image of an Alice in Wonderland without the attendant dislocation and peril. The conceit and spleen of Wonderland's inhabitants is sharper than the whimsy and peevishness of the Ozites, however similar the narratives may be. There is a picaresque, unconnected quality to the plot, especially in Emerald City. 

It does all read as very American, of course. It is written by an American and Americans often appear; Oz itself is at the centre of a sparsely inhabited continent. This is on top of lunch-pails growing from trees, or the pragmatic and industrious conceit of the Tin Woodman. Perhaps it's something to do with the air of a well-fed and self-satisfied citizenry? Calling it America's fairyland makes a great deal of sense, I suppose. 

I note that in Oz, men are either A) Non-entities or B) Remarkable but pretty useless eccentrics. Women are sylphs possessed of wide-ranging magics, witches or (merely) driven, competent and practical. If a man happens to possess any of the latter traits, he will turn out to be a woman in disguise. (Applications of the above to any land other than Oz are made at the reader's own risk.) I wonder what Chesterton would have made of this?

Anyway, I remain (alas) unenchanted. 

***

The Etruscan, Mika Waltari (1955; translation into English published in Great Britain 1957)

In its native Finland, this was first published as Turms, Kuolematon. 

A mercenary (Turms) in 5th century BC Greece has to uncover his own background and supernatural significance, believing himself to be cursed. A comment a year or so back brought it to my attention. I think I had heard of The Etruscan before (and Waltari, if only for being something like the only Finnish novelist with a Hollywood adaptation). I will push a little against Alec - Soldier in the Mist reads like Wolfe's use of Waltari's premise, and even plausibly might be a sequel (Turms sends off soldiers to aid  Persia in Xerxes's invasion of Greece towards the end of the book, and these might have included Latro.) There's also differences in tone: Wolfe's supernatural elements are more blatant and the appearance of historical figures more obvious (Pindar, Themistocles). Turms is doing something like writing his memoirs; Wolfe maintains the structure of Latro's day to day use of the scroll. 

The Etruscan also covers a longer span of time. Turms goes from cast-up soldier to maturity, with several years-long stays in various places or roles.  His gradual apotheosis involves not a little heartbreak and blood - and he aids some fairly vile people in his progress. It's just on the historical side of the border between fantasy historical fiction, maintaining that place despite Turms growing to become a sort of priest-king called a Lucumon and referring to himself as an immortal (Turms Kuolematon translating to Turms Immortal). An interesting comparison might be Votan. I think this will reward your curiosity. 

***

Another chance find was The Modern World, Steph Swainston. I think that a longer piece would be necessary to do justice to her Castle novels, but suffice it to say that I think they work fairly well. The central image of the Castle itself, with its competitive immortals, medieval stylings, mysterious Emperor and constant apocalyptic threat represent the sort of setting that would be good for those looking to do something with Space Knights outside 40k.

***

There is a new edition of The 52 Pages, together with the Next 52 Pages! I have a personal attachment to this system, and have used it for some of my work on this blog - but if you have an interest in a nice compact (and free!) RPG system, do take a look!

***

You may or may not know that there is a Price Drop for False Machine products - if you were on the fence, perhaps this is a time to take the plunge.

Too Like the Lightning-Rod: Serendipitous January Reading

I suppose I could bulk this out into a fuller miscellany, but January's almost over and these go quite well together.

I acquired two bits of reading which I only got round to in the last month or so. Both have a nice connection to the Magical Enlightenment stuff I've been putting together under the name The Rest of All Possible Worlds.

***

No. 1 : The Letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

These were a chance find in a book giveaway. I picked up the Everyman edition. 

Lady Wortley Montagu was alive from 1689-1762. She's perhaps most famous for having gone with her husband as part of an embassy to Constantinople and brining back smallpox vaccination. That's impressive, but forms only one part of her letters. 

She writes sending back reports of her travels - to her lady friends in Britain, to the Abbe Conti in France. These are a mix of responses to their letters, personal news and her discussions of the places she visits. Her journey across Europe takes her through Amsterdam, Prague, Genoa, Leipzig and such places - and she finds time to comment on the local habits, the doing of the aristocracy and so forth. It's when she reaches Ottoman territory that things become more interesting (though comparisons of 18th C London and Amsterdam have their purposes). 

Thus, then to Belgrade, Adrianople, then Constantinople. We are given her impressions of these territories quite closely, with the consciousness of being 'outside of Christendom' (however many Greek or Armenian Christians she encounters). Aside from how observant and discerning Lady Wortley Montagu may herself be, she also has the advantage of being able to enter the women's quarters - to go into the bathhouse and harem and report back. This isn't exactly untitillating, though I note her discussions of Western Europe weren't shy of mentioning dalliances. But it does give her a different insight into the ways and means of another culture - which she uses to pass comment on European customs, be they Catholic or Protestant.

Indeed, Lady Wortley Montagu is sufficiently questing, sufficiently outspoken and well-connected to make her something of a proto-feminist. She's not the model of a Bluestocking - that would come later in the 18th Century - but her remarks on women's education and status certainly indicate a dissatisfaction with the status quo (at least for her class) and places value on the work and wisdom of her sex. 

She wrote throughout her life, and her letters from Turkey only form part of this. Indeed, once she gets past reports from abroad, she is able to write in a more focused way on the place of women - especially to her daughter. Lady Wortley Montagu would live apart from her husband in Avignon and northern Italy toward the end of her life; her letters are still undulled by a long stay and full of the observations of another country.

None of this is crucial reading, of course. But I found it valuable to read the sort of accounts that would fuel what we think of as the Enlightenment; read them in their original mix of the dull, the obvious, the prejudiced, the now-remarkable and the exciting. If you are the sort of person to have read your way to this blog, I think I would suggest reading a similar set of letters at some point. 

***

No. 2 - Terra Ignota

A recent series of four novels (published 2016-2021) by Ada Palmer, Professor of Renaissance Studies at the University of Chicago (I've approvingly linked before now to her blog, Ex Urbe). It's a semi-Utopian society in the year 2454 and a series of tensions and conflicts within it.

First things first: this is embedded with - shall we say - culture war lightning rods. Nation-states as we know them are abolished, courtesy of rapid transport in the form of flying cars. Citizens present themselves in as gender-neutral; that the narrator is going back through apply 'He' and 'She' is controversial. The nuclear family has fallen so far out of favour as it may be said to be abolished. Public religion has been banned, following a period in the 21st century called 'the Church Wars'. Reservations for religion still exist, as do private counsellors called senssayers. Censorship is widespread, if sensitively applied. There is an ongoing in-world controversy about childrearing and cybernetics which is akin to other debates about home education and significant surgery for minors. 

Hence my image of lightning rods. I don't know if anyone was jumping up and down hoping to burn these books, but this is clearly inflammable stuff. Which, naturally, makes it fascinating. 

I've seen Terra Ignota referred to as a dizzying mix of heaven and hell to a 21st century reader, rather like 2025 would be to a human being of the 16th century. This is not wrong, though clearly some would find it far more heavenly than others. And, indeed, you should likely prepare for something to bother you unpredictably in Terra Ignota. 

The world of Terra Ignota has been divided into Hives. These have coalesced over time into several large entities, more akin to culture-blocs than nations - and certainly not geographically contiguous. Wikipedia's guide to these is quite good, laying out the nurturing Cousins and ambitious Humanists. 

It is a world of solid freedoms, drawing from the Enlightenment - and deliberately written to evoke the 18th century. Thinkers of the period are quoted - Voltaire especially - and the writing style is composed to match. There is a focus on the correct form of government, of conflict bounded by a sense of goodwill, of plenty, of debate, of competition among elites. This last part is rather characteristic; it is both delightful that we get such a top-down and wide-ranging view of things, from characters who can and who want to learn all they can about a situation - but one does sometimes have to wonder what the lowest members of the Hives do with themselves. 

I think that this is especially the case with some groups. Palmer seems to have a moderately good idea of who the Cousins are, what sort of person joins the Utopians, and so forth. But while I can see that she knows that there are the sort of people (who aren't Princes or wunderkind) who would join the orderly Masonic Empire I don't get the impression she has a notion of how they think or act. Which is a problem if part of the conditions for later conflict is that the Masons have become the largest hive, with no sign of stopping!

One can certainly take the whole series as an extended meditation and discussion of the Enlightenment, and how it might shake out if sufficiently embraced and extended. There's a set of scenes toward the end which could certainly be read as referential of A) Postcolonial thought and B) A transition from Liberal Democracy to Social Democracy. That is, the end of the Enlightenment, or perhaps a phase thereof. 

I won't delve into the plot here (really). I was more often appreciative of it than swept up in it. The main point I have is that I was not quite satisfied by Terra Ignota, and you should probably read it. It is doing the things that one would wish Science Fiction to do, and it is doing them from a well-read informed position. 

Certainly, it sometimes tries too much - the elements of theodicy are not what they could be (but then, perhaps they are as good or as informed as our theologically innocent [or, perhaps, theologically sophomoric] narrators). The vast list of characters is benefit and hazard both. The extensive reference to the Iliad and Odyssey are apt, but liable to flap a little too loose. There are elements that clearly point forward from present debates - but then the approach to them and the framing feels a little too like the early 2010s, at least in rhetoric, and it turns out that this is exactly when this was written. This can make it feel...late to the party. (The art, culture and sensibilities of the Utopians feel especially guilty of this. It's not un-sensical in universe, but it really does have something too much of Tumblr in it. Though paradoxically, Terra Ignota doesn't feel that 'online', really. Thank the 18th century and the flying cars.)

There are other ways Terra Ignota undercuts itself. I've highlighted the Masons above. There's a sense in which the Mitsubushi are having their cake and eating it by being so based in East Asia without being formally a national or regional culture (also, though it almost certainly isn't the intention, it's difficult to un-see a Yellow Peril element). Religion is private, but there are lines in the fourth book, Perhaps the Stars, of it being unspoken general knowledge that certain hives have a reputation for having many members from a certain faith. And that the religious reservations are freely accessible. This reframes things awkwardly, and if it was going to appear, should have done so earlier. 

There's an anime-esque cast of thousands, along with long scenes of back-and-forth dialogue in moments of vital action. A little cumbersome, but not objectionable - and better than the alternative. There are one or two moments of smug, glib, triumphalist anti-authoritarianism that I associate with the (movement? subgenre? tendency?) tendency Hopepunk, but these are happily few and far between. Palmer has explicitly linked Terra Ignota and Hopepunk in essays and such material, but that doesn't distress me. 

I suppose my reaction to Terra Ignota is largely that I wish to like it more. The flaws it possesses are not severe, but they are flaws. But it is undeniably of such a substance that one can grapple with.

Returning to the Veins of the Earth

Patrick Stuart of the False Machine has announced a remastering of Veins of the Earth. I imagine most readers already know what this is; for those who don't - well, it's a vision of the 'Underdark' of D&D fame as examined and remodelled through the lenses of A) Real world caving expeditions, B) Geological time and C) Nightmares, possibly relating to the above.

If you haven't read it, then I can recommend it. If you want someone else, then here's the Questing Beast review. 

Anyway, I've been rereading it over the last week and a half, with an eye towards the remaster - and here are some thoughts.

The Pariahs of the Earth: It's almost impossible to imagine any worthwhile changes to this bestiary. The nature of the various monsters, the art, the assorted off-putting or unsettling or downright mystifying descriptions rather makes Veins. Are they difficult to use versus a pack of level one Goblins? Of course, but one rather has to push the boundaries a little if a work is to stand out at all. (To say nothing of the all-important conceptual density.) Cluttering this up with a low-level goblin / rat / other substitute to carve your way through would be a mistake.

Some of the entries have Treasure or Trophy paragraphs (as, say, the Scissor Fish or Fossil Vampire) - I would like to see these appear for every entry. Not that every entry needs them, but it would be a way to say 'These are here, look out for them'. To point to something of mine for a moment - the Gifts and Trophies entries for Humanity's Elementals is a model I like.

I would also like to know how some of these beasts climb and navigate. Sometimes that's in the text, sometimes it can be clearly derived from descriptions (the salamander-men have two legs and two arms and will climb more like human beings that snakes).

Cultures in the Veins: Likewise, it is very difficult indeed to imagine changing these. Things like the Dvargir are so very emblematic of Veins that changing them would be a mistake. (The dErO are charming, as always.) The Gnonmen don't quite strike the same note, but we have had a hint at a potential remodelling in the form of the RayMen, whose J.B.S Haldane-influenced society strikes the right note of alienness demanded by the Veins.

What would be useful is a separate table appended to these entries of other items from that cultural - EG, the Dvargir Carbide Lamp. The index goes a certain way to do this, but could be broken down more - X, X items, X locations and so forth. If adding or shoring up these entries, some other general purpose details might be good (that the Dvargir capital is City 1A is good, and interesting to learn through a treasure table - but what is the general pattern of Dvargir settlements?). I admit, that too many details of some entries may be less of a boon than hoped for.

Likewise, I suppose - how does Culture XYZ use the light and the darkness?

Generating the Veins: The bit that strangles me a little here is the Large Scale Maps. The overall principle makes sense once explained, but I would be interested in an extra part in the worked example in the Appendices. One more page, explaining 'This is how I decided that this section here is an Eight Mile Waterfall' (or a series of cascades, or...). As with the rest of Veins, no-one has to act make the same decisions, but knowing how someone else has made those decisions is useful. (I may have to do a worked example here!)

Some other, less general points:

• The Gegenschein - how many moths are going to appear in your work, Patrick? (The trilobites are different, I know that.)
• In Appendix III there's talk of a settlement generator in the sequel. I know that this isn't quite a sequel, but some settlement or trading post details would be good. What food and lumes are traded? What games and forms of entertainment are shared in the Veins? What card game would a dErO, an Ælf-Adal and a Substratal all enjoy playing?
• Are the Zombie Coral building anything?
• When the current font is in bold, some of the detail of serifs is lost and takes a moment to identify - see especially As and Ms. 

***

I'm not certain that I'm necessarily the best person to answer the question of what to do with Veins - I've not tried to run it, and I've had it in my headspace for too long. But I am interested in seeing what comes of it, and look forward to seeing it remastered.

Conquistadors of Tartarus: The Murmuring Fraternity

There are those who will assure you that Hades is sunless. That warmth and light and the rest of the sun's qualities are quite unknown to the underworld; that even if there is sight, then that sight is blurred, obfuscated by the realm of darkness, accepted only as much as it needs must be.

Those who assure you of this have not been there. Now, in the Year of Grace 1580 - or as near as can be told, after the cataclysm at Lepanto - there are settlements on the Styx inhabited by more than ghosts. In the pious fortress of God's Ravelin, or the impromptu forum of Rome Oldest and Newest, the techniques of Hadean astronomy are developing. There is day, and there is night. The sun's rays produced the metal gold in the Earth, and continue to filter down into the Underworld. Even those who do not opine that Hades is truly in the earth admit that it is paraterrestrial - so that the sun reaches even them.

Not that this is sunlight as men know it. So we see the bleak light of Wanhope as the vaults of Hades brighten, the livid clarity of Febriterce, the aching monotony of Rackhour and the sulking slow dwindling of Bittergloam. These are strange states to dwell in - and those who know the surface world still find themselves caught out by the passage of 'days' in the underworld. One or two clocks, in point of fact, did survive the trip down from the Gulf of Patras; given the state of sixteenth century clockwork, no-one is really sure that Wanhope to Wanhope really is twenty-four hours, or even that Febriterce even falls at the same time every day.

Still, there are some effects of the light that equal those on the surface. During Bittergloam, there appear in certain places great gatherings of things like birds. They are dark and small, but bearing about their heads a sort of intangible sorcerous veil. Flying one way, they are distant but clear points in the distance - flying another, they are deceptive little specks that one must focus on carefully, like frogspawn. Flocks wing together in the near-dusk, forming assorted patterns in groups ten thousand or more strong: now a great disc, now a twisting serpent, an unwinding helix, a sinuous crescent, a wolf's head. Then after perhaps an hour, they disperse. 

Given the lack of predictable natural life in Hades, these are not merely birds going about the unclear but ordinary business of avian life. Theories have been proposed by residents of the Underworld. By some it is thought that these are souls of the thoughtless, of those who obeyed in error - who now follow nothing in particular, save that they follow. By others, they are traces of birds as they dwell on the surface, set as a half-measure in the half-realm below. 

An interesting notion holds that these are the souls of humans in purgatory, showing themselves to living Christians and Virtuous Pagans below, indicating that the proper process of human redemption and the afterlife is going on, somewhere. As souls in Purgatory are going through a form of penitence, the birds naturally wear supernatural hoods and there is a soft noise of myriad whispered prayers. 

A variation on this holds that these are not souls in Purgatory (who are really far too busy going through Purgatory) but souls of those on Earth - who sin, or think on sin, and so are brought near to the realms of gloom and flame. They swarm and group and gather as vice and hope war in them, as one sin or another grips them. A spectral trail follows them, trace of their spiritual journey - and, even when briefly set as a bird, the seat of their spirit-handling intellect is the head.

Whatever their origin, it is these last two theories that give rise to the name of the Murmuring Fraternity. 

September-October 2024 Miscellany

Orlando Furioso

As referenced previously, I have been reading Orlando Furioso, the work of Ariosto. In some ways, actually saying commenting on this is superfluous - it has been so influential, whether it be known or not, that further remark is probably less than useful. 

I examined previously one segment of it, perhaps the wildest (in terms of sheer wonder). But the piling up of overlapping quests, ensorcellments and duels is most impressive - and will probably bring to mind the longer-lasting kind of heroic fantasy series (be it a novel or something animated).

Interestingly, there's little hint of the 'National Epic' about it. The specific ties to place and people relate to patrons and local rulers in Italy. No wonder it drifted out of memory in a (Romantic, post-Wagner) world. 

***

Speaking of, I recently watched Die Walküre for the first time. Perhaps you won't be so very charmed by Siegmund and Sieglinde's circling interaction, but the frustrated machinations of Wotan, caught between ambition, law, familial affection and his own prideful nature are fascinating. It's the sort of grand conflicted potency that still animates certain strands of popular media.   

***

Megalopolis, dir. Francis Ford Coppola

I don't generally bring to my readers' attention something I think less than good, or at least interesting. I suppose this is an exception.

Perhaps you've already seen the critical responses. This film has a poor reputation. I went in unknowing (beyond certain actors and 'America as modern Rome').

What a strangeness; what a lack of subtlety and deftness and invention. Perhaps we may expect that from a film calling itself a fable, that implicitly develops on the broad lessons and characters of Fritz Lang's Metropolis.

THE HEART MUST BE THE MEDIATOR
BETWEEN THE HEAD AND THE HANDS!

But then it does so while spinning together an over-complex plot, a series of lush visual references that are far too specific (in their 2024-ness and their Roman-ness) to make sense. Cf. again Lang.

  

[You can find this intertitle on a shower curtain. 
In order to imply what about your ablutions?!]

This goes doubly so when referencing the Catiline Conspiracy, and all the associated cultural connotations. If you are going to invoke Marcus Tullius Cicero*, it would be a mistake to place him as a power-hungry blowhard. Certainly a Cicero-esque figure can be an antagonist, an opponent - but what a waste to invoke a great public speaker and lawyer, and then equip him with the poorest of arguments. This is aside from the various suggestions the trial of a traitor to a republic might bring to mind. 

If it's a fable, it's far too specific. If a fantasia, it's too obvious. If a 'relevant' political-social drama in an uchronia, too blatant and unnatural. 

***

A recent discovery (when looking up images of Balaam and his Ass) was Ephraim Moses Lilien (1874-1925). A Jew, born in Austro-Hungarian Galicia - now in the western part of Ukraine. He became an artist, with a line in both Art Nouveau and Orientalism.

See this image of a young Moses (and an old Moses):

or an older King David:

Note the Lammasu.

His image of Judea is a Near Eastern people among Near Eastern peoples. To say nothing of a muscular one: consider Moses above, and this (bearded, explicitly masculine) angel confronting Balaam.

  

From all that, it may not be a surprise to learn that he was involved in early Zionism, even visiting then-Ottoman Palestine. 

I don't mean to imply that his work only focused on such themes - he was an illustrator who took commissions. Including some lovely bookplates.

This bookplate is straight out of E.R. Eddison.

At any rate, I'm quite enchanted by some of these.

Samson in captivity. Remind you of something?

An invite to the Inhalatorium

***

The Dark Brain of Piranesi and Other Essays, Marguerite Yourcenar, 1962

This pairs (to a certain extent) with Jacques Barzun, whose Dawn to Decadence I've been working through. In both cases, we have a French writer, writing in English (Yourcenar lists a translator, but at the time most of these were written, she had lived off the coast of Maine for many years - I'm moderately sure that translator here means 'editor for Anglophone consumption') on a variety of literary and historical topics from across Europe. Piranesi is front and centre, but there are pieces on Thomas Mann, Agrippa D'Aubigne and the Swedish writer Selma Lagerlöf (never heard of her before). So, in part, this is a fascinating survey and introduction. Unlike Barzun, of course, it isn't drawn into a grander scheme. 

So, these are new (to me). They are well-situated in European letters. They are also beautifully written - delightfully clear and frequently beautiful. To say nothing of funny:

"A client of necromancers and astrologers, Catherine [de Medici] would doubtless have been less surprised to find herself accused of the crime of sorcery by d'Aubigne than acquitted of it by scholars who no longer believe in the powers of the Evil One."

As with the Memoirs of Hadrian, throughly recommended. 

***

It's been interesting reading reviews of Hugh Cook over at False Machine - see here and here. Just from the reviews, The Worshippers and the Way sounds oddly like Punth avant la lettre - I'd be fascinated to hear from any readers who could say for sure!

*As once portrayed by Anton Lesser. 

To the Moon, Like All Lost Things

I've been reading Orlando Furioso, the epic poem of Ludovico Ariosto.  

Lacking or ignoring the many heroic poems of the early Middles Ages, from the Song of Roland to the Germanic and Icelandic sagas, the chief Renaissance epics were a peculiar blend, created by four Italian poets: Boiardo, Pulci, Ariosto and Tasso. The first two begin to the 15C, the other pair to the 16th. Once as familiar throughout the West as Shakespeare and Goethe are now, those four names and their glory survive only in their country of origin. When the gondoliers of Venice sing for the tourist, it may be bits of Tasso's epic. As late as the beginning of the 19C, Ariosto and Tasso were read, quoted and enjoyed by educated Europeans. At the same time, Dante's Divine Comedy, also an epic adventure and now one of the "great books" was looked down on as Gothic, a piece of medieval obscurantism. What is the "more human" subject of the other four Italian epics? ... Instead of the old epic's warriorlike sober sadness, the provide for the sophisticated Humanists and courtiers the excitement of love-making and of what has been called the "The Marvellous", the miraculous, performed by black or white magic.

From From Dawn to Decadence, Jacques Barzun, 2000.

Alas, I've next to no Italian. I'm reading the translation by Guido Waldman - prose rather than the original verse, first published 1974 by Oxford University Press. 

Anyway, let's look at Canto 34. Orlando - Roland - is mad (furious, even). His English cousin Astolfo goes on a journey to recover his lost wits. He enters one of the chambers of Hell, then ends up in the Earthly Paradise with St John the Evangelist. The Saint then takes him to the Moon in Elijah's flaming chariot to recover the lost wits of Roland.

The chariot passes through a barrier of flame, that covers the earth (Cf. The Discarded Image). They ascend to the moon - which is as big as the earth, and in appearance like untarnished steel. It is apparently inhabited: castles and nymphs are mentioned. 

Then, as Waldman has it: He was led by the Holy Apostle into a valley shut in between two hills, where everything that is lost on earth (be that the fault of time or fate) fetches up miraculously. What is lost here collects up there. I do not mean only dominion and wealth, subject to the vagaries of fickle Fortune.....

Let's skip forward to compare a Canto, quickly:

75 Le lachryme e i ſoſpiri de gli amanti inutil tempo che ſi perde a giuoco, E l’otio lungo d’ huomini ignoranti Vani diſegni che non han mai loco, I vani deſideri ſono tanti Che la piú parte ingombran di ql loco, Ciò che in ſomma qua giú perderti mai La ſu ſalendo ritrouar potrai.	LXXV  The lover's tears and sighs; what time in pleasure And play we here unprofitably spend; To this, of ignorant men the eternal leisure, And vain designs, aye frustrate of their end. Empty desires so far exceed all measure, They o'er that valley's better part extend. There wilt thou find, if thou wilt thither post,  Whatever thou on earth beneath hast lost.
From the original.	From the William Rose translation.

Waldman: The tears and sighs of lovers, the useless time lost in gaming, the chronic idleness of ignorant men, the empty plans which know no rest, the vain desires are in such numbers that they  clutter almost the whole place. In short, no matter what you ever lost ere you would find if you went up there.

But we soon find some solid objects:

[Astolfo] noticing a lofty pile of tumid bladders from which seemed to emanate a hubbub of cries, he was told that these were the ancient crowns of Assyrians and of Lydia, of the Persians and Greeks - once so illustrious, now forgotten almost to their very names.

There's quite a few of these, so I'll add them in bullet point form - again, all Waldman.

• 'gold and silver hooks...gifts made in hope of reward to kings, to greedy princes, to patrons'
• 'garlands he saw which concealed a noose: all flattery....'
• 'Verses written in praise of patrons wore the guise of exploded crickets'
• 'gilded bonds, jewel-studded shackles' which are 'Love affairs pursued to little purpose'
• 'eagles' talons....the authority which lords vest in their servants'
• 'bellows littering the hillside....the praise given by princes and the favours conferred on their favourites'
• 'Cities and castles and treasures....in a confused jumble of ruins. They were treaties, he was told, and ill-concealed plots.'
• 'snakes with maidens' faces: the work of coiners and thieves'
• 'broken phials: service as wretched courtiers'
• 'A great mess of pottage....is the charity left by a person after his death'
• 'a great mound of sundry flowers once sweet-smelling but now reeking....was the Donation of Constantine to good Sylvester'
• 'quantities of bird-lime for ensnaring; your charms, good ladies'
• 'Folly, however, whatever it's degree, is missing from there: it stays down here and never leaves us.'

Orlando's wits are eventually found. 'Wits' take the form of 'a soft, tenuous liquid, apt to vaporise if not kept tightly sealed'. They come in different size phials - and, of course, men lose them for many reasons: in loving, in search of honours, in search of wealth, in trusting princes, in magical baubles, in jewels or paintings. 'Here the wits of sophists, astrologers and poets abound.' 

***

Now, it would hardly be objectionable if you read this post and promptly went out to read Orlando Furioso. However, here's another use for it all.

Let us imagine that Ariosto's moon has some sort of magical realm. It has to be bigger than a vale between two hills - say a great spreading plain between mountain ranges. 

We have hazards to overcome: a wilderness with talons ready to scratch, oddly enticing bird-lime,  and the overpowering odour of rotting flowers. 

We have animal and human threats: serpents with the faces of beautiful young ladies, rival adventurers (who, having lost all folly) are dangerously clearsighted about the possibilities of applied force.

We have valuable magical artefacts: Bellows that can puff Charm Person, Golden shackles that men will willing don themselves. To say nothing of the prestige of an ancient crown or the eternally rare Wits of Men.

We have resources to compete over: pottage-lakes and sheltering ruins.

We have intersecting functions of powerful devices: crowns that can command talons, hooks that can pull down crowns, talons that can claw and maim hook-wielders.  

Anyway, a hexcrawl (say) journeying through all that could prove interesting. Like a more lively version of the Wilderness of Taroc.

The Rest of All Possible Worlds: Publish and Be Damned

The press is one of the great movers of the new age. If you are going to spread ideas or report on a new discovery or promulgate a new law, printed materials can make this happen.

This includes for player characters. A good way to build a reputation is to print an account of your travels and discoveries - even if people violently disagree, the fact that they have to publicly speak against you (or a pseudonymous figure that everyone in the know can identify) will allow your star to rise. 

For TRoAPW's purposes, we will speak of three sizes of publication:

• Pamphlet
• Treatise
• Book

and three types of audience it may be geared to:

• Broad-as-possible
• General
• Specific (and technical)

That's not necessarily low-, middle- and highbrow, but the connection could be made.

We may say that in a city (near the press itself, or on a notable trade route to get them) a fully-fledged book goes for 20 silver pieces, a Treatise 10 and a Pamphlet 2. 

Actually getting something printed and on the booksellers' stalls yourself requires one of the following:

• Paying for it yourself
• Convincing a printing house to print it - usually on the basis that there is a way for them to make their money back
• Convincing a wealthy patron to put up the funds

Or, indeed, a combination of the above.

The costs of paying for it yourself are predictable enough: time and money.  Getting a printing house involved is likely end up with your work edited or suitably adjusted for the market.  Getting a patron involved may distract from your own fame, and indeed yoke you inevitably in the public eye to Lord X or Prefect Y or Arch-Priestess Z - aside from the tie of obligation involved. 

Of course, decent quality maps or illustrations will add to the cost of getting a book printed. 

It is assumed that if a character lacks the skills or inclination to sit down and write themselves, they may hire a hack to do it for them - usually at a rate a little below the average 'white collar' wage in the city you find them. A more highly placed collaborator can do a better job, but may cost more and absorb some of the resulting fame. 

So, what benefit comes from all this?

TRoAPW publishing sits alongside the usual set of carousing rules - but with wider social possibilities. If the Crucible Society want to gain fame from their exploits in the Bronzemount Free State or acclaim for their contributions to the field of Pneumametrics or draw attention to the plight of stranded sailors in the Alamgir Empire, then publishing can accomplish this. 

Looking across to The 52 Pages, in terms of hazard and unforeseen consequences, publishing looks more like 'Training' than the various other options. 

Unless a player wins the jackpot - the right book at the right time with the right distribution network and the right kind of people recommending it - it is assumed that any profits accumulating to them are fairly low. The roof stays over their heads. 

Actually trying to write for that kind of profit is difficult - by the time everyone's aware that they should be paying attention to (again) the plight of stranded sailors in the Alamgir Empire, that section of the market is swamped.
Writing on behalf of a cause or faction - Pneumametrics, say, or in favour of the Jointe in Tsymric - can get you a certain measure of publicity, but a smaller audience than you might hope.
In any case, player characters shouldn't be trying to be professional authors!

There are, of course, two more things to consider.

Firstly, grimoires. It is just about possible to pass on details of a spell without actually having to exactly reproduce a page of a grimoire. Think of an off-the-shelf spell as being like an equation with the final answer not yet given, but all the working shown - and which must then be rewritten for presentation in beautiful calligraphy. 

Accordingly, there are extra costs involved (even before you get to the point of dealing with the magical regulations for that jurisdiction). This involves things like specialist printing presses and secure 'behind the counter' retail transactions. Can't have someone else completing the equation!

So, a pamphlet length account of a new spell costs as much as an ordinary treatise, a treatise with (say) half a dozen spells as much as a full book and a full book with a good number of spells inside it - perhaps as much as ten times the cost of a romance.

***

Secondly, censorship.

Nowhere in Calliste has a formal freedom of the press, or of speech*. There may be city quarters where nobody cares what you say, or what you write - but a law may well have been broken all the same.

Let us speak of six levels of censorship.

1. Review and adjustment of all printed material
2. Review, adjustment of most
3. Review, &c of many
4. Review, &c of certain targeted works
5. Review, &c laser-focussed on certain works
6. Absolute minimum review.

1. and 6. are both basically non-existant- the former for reasons of state capacity, the latter for reasons of social structures.

This is further complicated by how keen the authorities are to actually carry out their duties. The lax censors of the Margravate of Fuchsunddachs may be commanded to review most material throughly (3.) but don't often manage this - unlike the Duchy of Brocq-et-Tod, whose Public Truth Commissioners carry out targeted censorship far more efficiently and dutifully. 

Thus, one pictures something like the below.

1	Painstaking review of all works
2	Painstaking review of most works	Lax review of all works
3	Painstaking review of many works	Lax review of most works
4	Painstaking review of targeted works	Lax review of many works
5	Painstaking review, laser-focused on certain works	Lax review of targeted works
6		Lax review, laser-focused on certain works
7	Absolute minimum review

But states don't have the same laws, or the same short-term policy objectives, or be rooted in the same cultures. The Grand Republic of Melesvulpia may have a robust tradition of political debate and broadsheets, but maintain public order via significant controls on what books of magic can be printed. 

So we might conceive of something like the below.

	Books of Magic		Books of Magical Discussion		Political material		Religious material		Military material
1	Painstaking, all works		Painstaking, all works		Painstaking, all works		Painstaking, all works		Painstaking, all works
2	Painstaking, most works	Lax, all works	Painstaking, most works	Lax, all works	Painstaking, most works	Lax, all works	Painstaking, most works	Lax, all works	Painstaking, most works	Lax, all works
3	Painstaking, many works	Lax, most works	Painstaking, many works	Lax, most works	Painstaking, many works	Lax, most works	Painstaking, many works	Lax, most works	Painstaking, many works	Lax, most works
4	Painstaking, targeted works	Lax, many works	Painstaking, targeted works	Lax, many works	Painstaking, targeted works	Lax, many works	Painstaking, targeted works	Lax, many works	Painstaking, targeted works	Lax, many works
5	Painstaking, laser-focused	Lax, targeted works	Painstaking, laser-focused	Lax, targeted works	Painstaking, laser-focused	Lax, targeted works	Painstaking, laser-focused	Lax, targeted works	Painstaking, laser-focused	Lax, targeted works
6		Lax laser-focused		Lax laser-focused		Lax laser-focused		Lax laser-focused		Lax laser-focused
7	Absolute minimum review		Absolute minimum review		Absolute minimum review		Absolute minimum review		Absolute minimum review

This is not exactly complete - it leaves out, for instance, pornographic material. 'Targeted' in the above refers to a certain type of (EG) magical work - thus necromancy, mind control and so forth.

You will also note that Books of Magic and Books of Magical Discussion are different categories in Calliste. For reasons discussed above, they are different things (just one spell would be enough to make a theoretical tome into a Book of Magic). It may be assumed that most legal systems would wish to keep a closer eye on Books of Magic than Books of Magical Discussion, but Calliste is a big place with a wealth of little principalities and enclaves! 

Of course, it should be noted that states may also wish you to add something to a publication - a seal of approval, for instance. This is aside from states (or state actors) seeking, commissioning or encouraging publishing. 

Illegal presses may exist, allowing you to dodge the above but will have their own complications. The price will be at least comparable to a legal press - any costs (in time or coin) you avoid in not going before the censor you accrue in (for time) the necessary discretion an illegal press requires and (for coin) the premium they extract.

***

So as not to end on that note...TRoAPW is portraying a world in which substantial, influential works are being printed and circulated. Difficult to have an Enlightenment without that. Lawmakers are (perhaps) more often curious than censorious. Publishing in Calliste may be difficult, but it is also widespread. 

I don't insist on TRoAPW being a 'glass-half-full' setting (things might be going badly wrong!) but the glass definitely isn't empty.

*And, indeed, even places that proclaim both may have various organisations, cultural tendencies, &c. that suppress or discourage a certain kind of book.