At what cost progress?

Those who have read my novels might have noticed the recurring theme of recognizing the price that has been paid for progress. While I have been accused of being a luddite in my time, I certainly think that any price we have paid is well worth it. The ability to refrigerate food alone is probably worth any damage (real or perceived) that it has done to society.

That being said, I shall now begin my weekly ridiculous diatribe. If you are one of the half-dozen or so people who read this blog last week, you saw me praise Edgar Rice Burroughs's John Carter of Mars novels and specifically mention the strong female characters. While I appreciate a strong female lead like Thuvia, and love the fact that we see them more and more in today's media, I have to wonder what happened to the John Carter type?

Many people scoff or roll their eyes when I say that my favorite literary character is Howard's Conan of Cimmeria. A second favorite of mine is Flemming's James Bond. Both characters are often disregarded as one dimensional brutes who solve every problem with physical violence. Folks who take this view might have a point, but I ask you: Is that so bad? We have progressed as a society to the point where sensitivity and critical thinking are lauded (as they should be) but let us not forget that many of the major problems throughout history have been solved by men of action.

I am not advocating cracking fools over the head with a sword, but I fear the day that direct action has been driven so far from our collective consciousness that we become as soft as the people in Robert Howard's poem A song of the Naked Land:

"But our brothers still dwell in the sun-seared waste

And their sons are hard and lank;

They will hunt the wolf-pack that we chased,

And drink the water we drank.

They will know the hungers we once had,

While the stream of centuries runs,

Till they burst from the desert, hunger-mad,

To slaughter our slothful sons."

Robert E. Howard

as always, quotes and images used without permission. Come and get me coppers! But seriously, art by the late great Frank Frazetta, natch!

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