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A review by briandemarco_97
The Well at the World's End by William Morris
4.0
Whether it's music, literature, or film, the beginnings of genres are always murky. It's never exactly easy to say who "started" the surreal movement in painting or jazz in music - so it is with the fantasy genre. Stories of heroes going on fantastic quests facing monsters and demons go back ages. Are we, then, to say that Homer invented Fantasy with the Iliad and the Odyssey? Or was it that elusive individual who first penned Beowulf? And what about the medieval legends of King Arthur and the Round Table? Is that not Fantasy? In truth, the answer is almost always that no one person invents the genre or movement. But there is almost always someone who takes all the pieces that exist and forms them into something new that spawns a thousand others.
For fantasy, that person is William Morris.
William Morris is given this dubious honor because his books were the first (that we can find, at least) to take place entirely in invented worlds that, according to Lin Carter, have entirely escaped the wear and tear of ever having actually existed. Before Morris's works, fantasy was dreamlands like in "Phantastes" or "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" or heroic works set in far away corners of the world that may not actually exist, but are still supposed to be part of Earth.
"The Well at the World's End" is William Morris's best known story, and it was the obvious choice for my second book in the Year of Fantasy. It is one that I enjoyed very much and have very little in the way of criticism (as evidenced by my four star review). There is one major criticism I have; the rest are simply minor nitpicks. But we'll get to that.
First, the good. The world is very richly imagined in this book. Unlike worldbuilders today, Morris doesn't give us a name of the world or a map or five appendices. He simply says "once upon a time in the kingdom of Upmeads" and we're off. The nice thing about this is that the world unfolds before us exactly as it does for Ralph, our main character. We are discovering it just the same as he is and it is always mysterious. There's plenty of danger and excitement along the way, and lots of tyrants and Kings and armies. It's also a pretty good story, with a classic knight going on a quest with fair maidens and a magical object at the center. Morris was very consciously hearkening back to the medieval heroic tale (which is evident in the style and language he uses, so be warned). The women in this story are also not entirely powerless like in lots of old fantasy. There's still a bit of old world attitude towards female temperament and mind in there (and somehow every single woman is exceedingly fair), but the two main female characters in the story actually do helpful things.
As I said, I have mostly only minor nitpicks. The book indulges in my absolute least favorite old convention, the story within a story, wherein we'll get a break from the main plot so that some other character can take 5 or ten pages (or several chapters, at its worst) to tell us something else from their POV we probably don't need to know. The main character, Ralph, is also a bit too perfect for much of the story, for he has the dubious distinction of making every female he comes into contact with fall in love with him, even when they only met him five seconds ago, and there's never really any doubt he's going to succeed and be alright. But that's also par for the course with medieval romances, and since that's what Morris was aiming for I can let it slide.
And now, for the only major criticism I have of this book: it drags. It's 562 pages long, and though that's bathroom magazine material by today's fantasy standards, it could be much shorter. Like I said, the story within the story thing gets a bit much, it doesn't happen super often. Where it really starts to drag is around the last 150 pages or so. The ending of this book is very long and drawn out, and most of it feels completely unnecessary.
So, "The Well of the World's End" is a very great book. If you read it with a firm knowledge of where fantasy went in the 20th century, you can really get a grasp of how this book laid the path for everyone else to follow. Morris created his own world, and in doing so paved the way for Lord Dunsany, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Tad Williams, Brandon Sanderson, and every child who's ever drawn a map of a place that doesn't exist - including me.
So thanks, Mr. Morris. You've done well. If only you could see where the fantasy genre has gone.
For fantasy, that person is William Morris.
William Morris is given this dubious honor because his books were the first (that we can find, at least) to take place entirely in invented worlds that, according to Lin Carter, have entirely escaped the wear and tear of ever having actually existed. Before Morris's works, fantasy was dreamlands like in "Phantastes" or "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" or heroic works set in far away corners of the world that may not actually exist, but are still supposed to be part of Earth.
"The Well at the World's End" is William Morris's best known story, and it was the obvious choice for my second book in the Year of Fantasy. It is one that I enjoyed very much and have very little in the way of criticism (as evidenced by my four star review). There is one major criticism I have; the rest are simply minor nitpicks. But we'll get to that.
First, the good. The world is very richly imagined in this book. Unlike worldbuilders today, Morris doesn't give us a name of the world or a map or five appendices. He simply says "once upon a time in the kingdom of Upmeads" and we're off. The nice thing about this is that the world unfolds before us exactly as it does for Ralph, our main character. We are discovering it just the same as he is and it is always mysterious. There's plenty of danger and excitement along the way, and lots of tyrants and Kings and armies. It's also a pretty good story, with a classic knight going on a quest with fair maidens and a magical object at the center. Morris was very consciously hearkening back to the medieval heroic tale (which is evident in the style and language he uses, so be warned). The women in this story are also not entirely powerless like in lots of old fantasy. There's still a bit of old world attitude towards female temperament and mind in there (and somehow every single woman is exceedingly fair), but the two main female characters in the story actually do helpful things.
As I said, I have mostly only minor nitpicks. The book indulges in my absolute least favorite old convention, the story within a story, wherein we'll get a break from the main plot so that some other character can take 5 or ten pages (or several chapters, at its worst) to tell us something else from their POV we probably don't need to know. The main character, Ralph, is also a bit too perfect for much of the story, for he has the dubious distinction of making every female he comes into contact with fall in love with him, even when they only met him five seconds ago, and there's never really any doubt he's going to succeed and be alright. But that's also par for the course with medieval romances, and since that's what Morris was aiming for I can let it slide.
And now, for the only major criticism I have of this book: it drags. It's 562 pages long, and though that's bathroom magazine material by today's fantasy standards, it could be much shorter. Like I said, the story within the story thing gets a bit much, it doesn't happen super often. Where it really starts to drag is around the last 150 pages or so. The ending of this book is very long and drawn out, and most of it feels completely unnecessary.
So, "The Well of the World's End" is a very great book. If you read it with a firm knowledge of where fantasy went in the 20th century, you can really get a grasp of how this book laid the path for everyone else to follow. Morris created his own world, and in doing so paved the way for Lord Dunsany, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Tad Williams, Brandon Sanderson, and every child who's ever drawn a map of a place that doesn't exist - including me.
So thanks, Mr. Morris. You've done well. If only you could see where the fantasy genre has gone.