The Totems of Abydos has been fermenting in John Norman’s imagination for many years, and at last he felt it was ripe to release to fans who had heard about it and yearned to read it. They now have their chance.

In a far future, two anthropologists, gross, powerful, dissolute Emilio Rodriguez, and aspiring, young, naive Allan Brenner, who, unbeknownst to himself, carries ancient genes, of a sort no longer welcome on Home World, have been assigned to conduct a study on Abydos, a deeply forested, wilderness planet of little note, whose only evidence of civilization is a single enclave, small, rough, dingy Company Station, a fueling station occasionally utilized by star freighters.

Within the forest, some days from Company Station, are the Pons, a group of small, simian-seeming organisms which seems near the crossroads between animal and rational creature, between nature and culture. They would seem to constitute an ideal object of study with respect to the origins of, and foundations of, civilization. How came it about, so to speak, that something once emerged from the lair, or cave, that was different, radically so? What lies at the beginning?

The results of the study have already been politically prescribed on Home World, that the Pons are to shed light on humanity, that it is, in its original and unspoiled nature, polite, sweet, kind, deferent, diffident, social, noncompetitive, and innocent.

Both Rodriguez and Brenner have a trait in common, however, which may explain why they have been sent, exiled in a sense, to such an out-of-the-way locale. Both seek the truth.

They enter the forest.

If there’s one thing we’ve learned about fans it’s that they are what you might call completists. That is, they’re not completely happy until they possess every single one of their favorite author’s works.

If you’re a John Norman completist you will be thrilled to know that E-reads has finished publication of every book-length work produced by John Norman over the length of his distinguished career. If there’s a gap in your library, you can now fill it by visiting John Norman’s author page and clicking on the missing books.

Having made this declaration we now have to qualify it by reminding you that John Norman has not retired. Not even close. He continues to produce magnificent new fantasies. I happen to be looking at two of them.

One is The Totems of Abydos, decades in the making. We’ll be releasing it in the spring of 2012. The other is Conspirators of Gor, volume 31 of the Gorean Saga. You’ll be hearing more about them as we come up to their publication date. We know you won’t forget. You are, after all, a John Norman Completist.

Mariners of Gor, the 30th installment in John Norman’s epochal Gorean Chronicles and arguably his most astounding adventure yet, is now available in all popular e-book formats as well as paperback.

In Mariners, a direct sequel to Swordsmen of Gor, the action picks up immediately from the end of the earlier book. Many on Gor do not believe the great ship, the ship of Tersites, the lame, scorned, half-blind, half-mad shipwright, originally of Port Kar exists. Surely it is a matter of no more than legend. In the previous book, however, we learn that the great ship, commissioned by unusual warriors for a mysterious mission, was secretly built in the northern forests, and brought down the Alexandra to Thassa, the sea, beginning her voyage to the “World’s End,” hazarding waters beyond the “farther islands,” from which no previous ship had returned. In Mariners, one learns the history and nature of the voyage through vast, dangerous, and uncharted waters, a voyage beset with dangers, both within and without the ship. One encounters storms and calms, fearful marine life and volcanic seas, hardships, treacheries, intrigues, desertions, and mutinies, and entrapments in ice and later amongst the thick, broad tendrils of the narcotic Vine Sea, and, eventually, once come to the “World’s End,” one learns what has been the intent and meaning of this mysterious enterprise, and the human ferocities into which the mariners find themselves introduced.

To read a revealing and deeply candid interview with John Norman, click here.

If you haven’t read or collected the other 29 volumes, visit Norman’s book page and fill in your library.

Early in the fall of 2011 we were contacted by a representative of Mystic Radio requesting a phone interview with John Norman. Mystic describes itself as “a small nonprofit radio station whose listeners either follow the Gor books or BDSM lifestyle.” We regretted that Mr. Norman doesn’t give live interviews but told Mystic that he might respond to written questions. Below are those questions and the author’s answers. You can read them or listen to Mystic’s audio reconstruction here.

1. Q: You have the longest running Sci Fi series; you’re a well-known writer; yet in the late 80’s you were blacklisted. Did you anticipate this? What were your feelings?

A. I think that there was, and may still be, a German science-fiction series, the Perry Rhodan series, or such, which might be longer, and so on. I am not sure of this. As far as I know, however, the Gorean series is the longest, most complex, and most carefully worked out single-world science-fiction series written to date. The German series mentioned, I think, may have been a multiple-world series. I believe Wendayne Ackerman, the wife of Forry Ackerman, translated several of the German books into English. I mention this in part because I think Forry Ackerman, “Mr. Science Fiction,” literally coined the expression you used above, namely ‘Sci Fi’. He was a wonderful human being, and a dear friend. Incidentally, I think the German series mentioned may have had several authors, over the years, as opposed to being written by a single individual. The important thing, of course, is not so much the length of a series, but its quality, its popularity, its difference, its originality, its power, its courage, its importance, and so on.
I did not anticipate the blacklisting, which probably bespeaks political naivety, and, I suppose, a misplaced conviction that America was still a free country, that free speech was acceptable, that the possibilities, the glories, the potential wonderful multitudes of positions and views possible in science fiction, its myriad imaginative worlds, the joys of creativity, proposal, and vision, were literarily, intellectually, and morally legitimate. I did not anticipate a one-restaurant town, with only one item on the menu. I have never felt that art should be limited by, or prostituted to, an ideology. But then I never lived in Nazi Germany, Mussolini’s Italy, or Stalin’s Russia.
With respect to my feelings, as I am a writer, and, in a way, an artist, or something in that direction, I was naturally disappointed to learn of the blacklisting, not so much personally, as morally, and culturally, this having to do with its effects beyond myself, effects having to do with the chill message it transmits to other writers, who might like to write freely and honestly. For example, if an individual with a track record of millions of books sold can be blacklisted, and such, the rest of you folks had better look out. Obviously, in such a case, the market is not economically driven, nor is it freedom- or tolerance-driven. It is politically or ideologically driven. Accordingly, if you want to publish, write what the small, politically uniform minority which controls science fiction, which determines what you will and will not be permitted to read, wants written. Take into consideration in your work the obtaining ideological filters, and strive to celebrate the current orthodoxy. It may be different tomorrow. Choose prescribed ruts and trim your sails to prevailing winds. Do what you are told. It is not so hard to catch on to what is wanted, so do that. Writers of the world, unite, in the way they tell you. You have nothing to lose but your integrity. Science fiction has nothing to lose but its future.
I do not think a free, honest literature is evil, but the censors, the thought police, the ax grinders, the promoters of agendas, might well disagree. We should recognize this sort of thing and respect their views, just as we should respect other views which are similarly narrow, smug, bigoted, uninformed, and stupid.
I personally favor natural liberty, private property, a free market, a free press, limited government, and such, so I gather I am about as politically incorrect as possible. I do not try to be that way. I just manage it. So, say bad things about me, and pretend you do not know me. Big Sister is listening.

2. Q: Why do the books have such a drastic change in characters? In some Tarl isn’t even mentioned.

A. This question is probably best addressed to the books, since they pretty much write themselves. I am grateful that they show up.
In retrospect, it seems to me a good idea to have a variety of protagonists, backgrounds, and situations. I suspect that the hero of the books, so to speak, if one were to look for one, is, at least in part, the Gorean world and its ethos. Too, it seems to me that different central characters might add a freshness and diversity to the series. On the other hand, as I suggested, the books pretty much write themselves. They do what they want. Who am I to object? Sometimes I am surprised, and, as mentioned, grateful. As the Eskimo saying has it, “Who knows from whence songs come?”

3. Q: There have been books written about, or involving, warriors, Priest-Kings, slaves, Kurii, and such. Does the future hold a book about the Free Women of Gor?

A. The most recent book, Mariners of Gor, deals substantially with Flavia of Ar, who would be about as free as one could get, as she was the confidante of Talena, during her reign as Ubara of Ar, under the hegemony of the occupational forces, after Ar’s defeat. On the other hand, to be sure, she does not remain free very long. After fleeing Ar, to escape impalement, following the restoration of Marlenus, she is captured and enslaved, and finds herself on the ship of Tersites, as it undertakes its long, hazardous journey across Thassa, to the World’s End. To be sure, the narrator, so to speak, and leading character, is Callias, a Cosian oarsman.
In general, I think that something like 99.9 percent of writers are currently busy writing about free women, as they had better do, if they wish to get through the political obstacle course currently in place. Conform, or forget it. Accordingly I do not think John Norman needs to attend to such matters. Everybody else is doing it. That job does not need John Norman. It is being done very nicely, by about everybody else, those who know the score, the ideological requirements, the way the wind is blowing, and so on.

4. Q: Why did you feel a need to change things, like money, and such, in some of the later books.

A. Following Earth likelihoods, given Earth’s obvious cultural influence on Gorean civilization, gold is regarded as the most valuable metal, moneywise, followed by silver, and copper. I think there are two things to take into consideration here. First, Gor is extremely decentralized, without gigantic nation states, or international currency commissions, concerned with standardizations, and such. Accordingly, most money exchanges, between different currencies, would be likely to be done by scale, by weighing coins, and such. A silver tarsk of Market of Semris might not have as much silver in it as one from Venna, or Harfax, or Jad, for example. In short, there is something of a mix, or chaos, amongst cities, but not, presumably, within cities. Also coins might be shaved, currencies debased, and such. Accordingly, one should expect a variety of coinages, and values, in such a situation. Second, as one would expect, given the preceding, differences such as that the number of tarsk-bits in a copper tarsk might vary, depending on the conveniences of exchange. For example, in a major port such as Brundisium, small change might be locally very useful, for example, one hundred tarsk-bits to a copper tarsk, the bits tiny, like drops, perhaps, whereas in many cities there might be eight tarsk-bits, larger, triangular coins resulting from the division of a single copper tarsk, to a copper tarsk. In such a situation, as in others, one supposes money changers might equate, say, two tarsk-bits of one city to, say, fifty tarsk-bits of another. Also, coins may differ from city to city. For example, in Brundisium, “staters” are mentioned, but we do not hear of them in, say, Ar. In passing, one might also mention something which may not be clear to some readers, which is that coins, on Gor, tend to be valuable. Indeed, much exchange, and such, undoubtedly takes place by barter, particularly in the open country; similarly, local gardens would be likely to supply more produce per family than would be expected in a modern urban environment. For example, some slaves might be sold for as little as fifty copper tarsks, or such.

5. Q: Do you specifically have a map of Gor and / or pictures of some of the items and animals that are in the books that are not of earth that were done by an artist according to your specifications?

A. There are several wonderful maps of Gor available on the internet, here and there. They are speculative, of course. All, I think, represent intelligent conjectures. Each is, as far as I am aware, compatible with descriptions in the books. I welcome them all. I appreciate them all. With respect to animals, there have been animals on various covers, in independent art works, and so on. I think all that is available, here and there. There was once a project to produce a graphic novel based on a Gorean book, which project, unfortunately, failed of fruition. A number of fine drawings were worked out there, based on descriptions in the books. I would suppose the rights to those drawings would belong either to the artists, or to the individual, or company, which was undertaking the project. I would guess that a graphic novel based on one or more of the Gorean books might be an interesting and remarkable project. There is, however, nothing in the works along those lines at present.

6. Q: You had originally started writing as John Lange, and then changed to John Norman. Since Lange was already known, why the switch to Norman?

A. I think there may be a mistake in the assumption behind the question here. It is an easy mistake to understand, and a very natural one. The first three Gorean books were all written by “John Norman,” but the first three were copyrighted under the name “John Lange.” After the first three, they were copyrighted under the name “John Norman.” I do not know why the change was made, as I had nothing to do with it, but it does seem a good idea to copyright the books under the name “John Norman,” as that is the name under which the books are written. There are, incidentally, various reasons for using the “John Norman” name. Most obviously, it separates fiction from nonfiction, from, say, scholarly books, articles, and such. As considerable differences between these sorts of writing are involved, that seems a good idea. Pretty clearly science-fiction writing, or adventure-fantasy writing, is one thing, and academic writing is another. The worlds are quite different, at least allegedly. A minor reason is that it seems very few people can pronounce “Lange,” but almost everyone I have met is really good at pronouncing “Norman.”

7. Q: Why is there a new money measurement/calendar system, and other alterations, in the later books that differs from the first ten?

A. This question seems to overlap somewhat with question 4, above. I understand that that is the case because the questions are proposed, at least to some extent, by different individuals. At any rate, one might refer back to question 4, dealt with above. With respect to the calendar, if one means by the “calendar” the Gorean year, its divisions, and such, that is the same throughout the books, with the possible exception of mentioning a holiday, or such, here or there, not mentioned in the earlier books. If by the “calendar” is meant Gorean chronology, one should note that Gorean chronology, like that of the ancient world, is diverse. For example, Ar’s chronology is based on years “Contasta Ar,” or “from the founding of Ar,” rather as Roman chronology is on years “Ab Urbe Condita,” or “from the founding of the city.” On the other hand, in Port Kar, years are reckoned, following the establishment of the Council of Captains, rather as, in year such-and-such of the Council of Captains. Other polities might reckon time in terms of Archon Lists, years of a Ubar’s Reign, and so on. For example, one would not expect Babylonians, Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, and so on, to reckon time in the same way. Even in the modern world there are diverse calendars. There are, of course, “alterations” in a series, as it progresses. One may hear of a new city, a new river, and so on.

8. Q: In the 70’s, the books started to gain followers and people started living according to your books, calling themselves Goreans, some even believing there is a Gor out there. It was either the sci-fi group went to Trekies or Goreans. What was your first reaction to this and what are your current feelings? What are your feelings toward individuals who have chosen to follow the life of Gor as a lifestyle? How is it that you wrote about such things and in a time when it was more shunned than accepted? Were you worried about the erotica side and how it would sell? How to you feel about the way many have embraced the books as a way of life? Did you anticipate there would be such a following when starting to write the series so long ago?

A. This seems to be a “suitcase question,” namely, a question which, actually, contains several questions. I will try to answer a couple of them. I think that is about all one has a right to expect. Hopefully the answer to all, or most, of the preceding questions is at least implicit in what follows.
1. The Gorean books are fiction, and are meant to be read and enjoyed as such.
2. One does not know if a “Gor,” as an astronomical world, exists, or not. Given that there are billions of stars in a galaxy, and that there seem to be billions of galaxies beyond these, stretching on, far out of sight, and so on, and that extrasolar planets are common, between six and seven hundred having been detected to date, it seems possible that a Gor exists somewhere. There are many fascinating issues involved in these matters. Much depends on whether life is abundant or rare in the universe. My bet is that we are “not alone.” Simulations of primeval environments have resulted in the abundant, natural formation of organic molecules, but, so far, no cells, no civilizations. Perhaps one should give such experiments a billion years or so.
3. I think the Gorean phenomenon is largely independent of what would normally be taken as “science-fiction fandom.” With all due respect to “typical science-fiction fandom,” which I very much respect, and toward which I have very positive feelings, the Gorean books are not written for “typical science-fiction fans.” Indeed I am not sure they would understand them. Some science-fiction writers apparently don’t. They are written for adults, highly intelligent, highly sexed adults, of both sexes. Similarly, the Gorean books are not simply adventure fantasy, but intellectual, philosophical, and psychological novels. Also, some of them certainly have elements of sensuous romance. The Gorean books are their own country, their own world, not a part of someone else’s country, or someone else’s world. They are not out, for example, to think up the 673rd variation off genetic engineering, denounce capitalism, woo antimenite editrices, or such.
4. Interestingly, I know very little about the “Gorean phenomenon,” other than the fact that it apparently exists.
5. Interestingly, also, I do not regard the Gorean books as “controversial,” as they are based, for the most part, on history, anthropology, biology, psychology, and such. It is true, of course, that certain ideologies, and certain competitive ambitions, are more likely to prosper if certain facts are overlooked, ignored, or denied. I think one should accept human nature, and the profound, wonderful differences amongst human beings, sexual and otherwise, for what they are, and then worry about putting together a world in which humanity might flourish, rather than be lied to, threatened, coerced, sickened, and stunted. To be sure, this is a value judgment. Some people doubtless prefer a culture that is a penitentiary, assuming they are, or expect to be, the guards and wardens.
6. Presumably one either writes for a market or one writes what one feels like writing, and hopes for the best. I went at things the latter way. There is money in flattery, sycophancy, and hypocrisy. But I would rather make money, if I make it, another way, honestly, so to speak.
7. Sex, and sexual needs, and sexual natures are part of life. These things have been selected for, in diverse species, in thousands of generations. It is hard to believe, for example, that the human species has been wrong up to now. I suppose that a fifty-thousand-year mistake is possible, but it seems unlikely. Perhaps raccoons and giraffes have been wrong up to now.
8. I am in favor of people being safe, healthy, happy, fulfilled, and so on. What makes people safe, healthy, happy, and fulfilled? That probably depends on the individuals involved. I think the test of “life consequences” is important here. I have no objection to individuals involving themselves in safe, healthy, happy, fulfilling Gorean relationships. Master/Slave sex, for example, can be emotionally and physically rewarding for both partners. I am not in favor of cruelty, to a slave no more than to any other animal. The slave is to be cherished, and know herself the belonging of her master. She exists to love and serve her master. She is not to be abused, but enjoyed. In the collar there are many rewards. The Gorean relation has nothing to do with hurting people. If it is not beautiful, it is not Gorean.
9. I did not anticipate the success of the Gorean world, its popularity, and so on. I did not even anticipate the blacklisting, for example, and it still seems surprising to me, as I am not clear, really, that there is anything there to be blacklisted about. I am naive, I guess. Also, I did not anticipate the extent of antimenite power in publishing. That, too, was naive. It did not occur to me that women might exist who have serious reservations about half of the human race. Interestingly, the Gorean books have a large, grateful, warm female readership. Indeed, supposedly some sixty percent of the Gorean readers are women. That did come as a surprise to me. So I gather that not every woman is turned on by, or thrilled by, antimenite-approved males, when they recommend males.

9. Q: The women’s movement really didn’t come fully into effect until the late 70’s. Prior to that, many individuals were raised to believe women should be submissive to the male. They were to care for the man and meet his needs. You grew up in a time when this was so, and were an adult as the change occurred. Was the Gorean life of women submissive to men your belief or fantasy.

A. There is no Woman’s Movement. There are several women’s movements, historically, and presently. For example, when a woman provides the unsolicited and not particularly interesting information that she is a feminist, she is not likely to be doing much more than proclaiming her alleged political correctness, and that she is to be immediately and uncritically approved. What is she telling us? Not much, I am afraid. Is she an Equity Feminist or a Gender Feminist, a Difference Feminist, or an Identity Feminist, or some other kind of Feminist, or some combination of these, and other sorts, or what? Feminists range from loving wives and devoted mothers to man-hating lunatics. Some major divisions seem visible, the Votes-for-Women movement, ending in the Nineteenth Amendment; the glamour-jobs-for-middle-class-white-women movement, the affirmative-action-special-privileges-based-on-gender sort of thing; and the far-left agenda of some portions of contemporary Feminism. (It is interesting that when the media interviews a woman for the “woman’s view,” they always select, or so it seems, a woman from one of the leftist movements, a radical, so to speak, and not a representative sample of the other 99.9 percent or so of the female sex.)
I was never, personally, raised to believe that women should be submissive to men, nor, as far as I know, were many others of my generation. If one is a Christian, and takes St. Paul seriously, on the other hand, one might. I think he said that wives should submit themselves to their husbands. In that sense, there might have been religious views along these lines. The three possibilities seem to be that wives should yield to husbands, or husbands to wives, or there should be a fight, as in a democracy of two. I think the usual situation is that the wife submits to the husband in some things, and the husband to the wife in others. That seems to work pretty well. After all, husbands usually know more about some things than wives, and wives usually know more about some things than husbands. I do not think it would be a bad idea, personally, if wives submitted themselves to their husbands. I think that is a good idea. Perhaps I will call it to the attention of my wife. On the other hand, I was never taught that sort of thing.
The Gorean books are obviously fantasy. On the other hand, their popularity, and their impact, is largely a function of fantasy mirroring reality. Without this they would not have the power, the impact, the reality they do.
What is crucial here, given our present context, the Gorean books, and such, is biology, and what is fulfilling and what is not fulfilling. To many women, it is sexually thrilling to be collared, stripped, chained, and knelt, to be subjected to indisputable male dominance, and many, in their hearts, feel something profoundly right and beautiful in being owned by, and handled by, a strong, possessive, uncompromising master. What is important here, again, is the test of life consequences. I do not presume to impose my views on others, and I would prefer that they do not attempt to impose their views on me, and everybody else.

10. Q: One of your readers wanted to know what the 12 slave kisses were. They were mentioned, but not explained.

A. I do not think they had better be explained. Would you explain them? Some would seem obvious. This matter, I conjecture, is best left to the imagination. Needless, to say, as a portion of the training of a slave girl, they would most likely have to do with a variety of ways of pleasing a Master.

11. Q: What would your ideal kajira be? You write of various personalities. Do you have a favorite kajira?

A. I do not think I have a concept of a single ideal kajira. Women are wonderful, different, and unique. I think rather than a single ideal there would be a thousand ideals, and, perhaps, one for each woman. I see no reason why Margaret’s kajira and Allison’s kajira might not both, in their own way, be ideal. Might we not bid heatedly on either one?
I am fond of almost all the kajirae in the books. I am not sure I have a favorite. Let each male conjecture his favorite kajira, and let each female conjecture her ideal Master.

12. Q: Many times we write from personalities that we have met in our life. Are any of your characters made from individuals met within your life, over the years.

A I think this question cannot well be answered. I would suppose that the individuals one has met, and the individuals that one has read about, and so on, might influence one. That might well be the case. Indeed, one might take one aspect from A and another from B, and so on. I think the character of Torm, the Scribe, might be based on the Dutch Humanist, Erasmus of Rotterdam,. On the other hand, I think the safest general answer to this question is either “No,” or “Not to my knowledge.” Sorry.

13. Q: Where do you see Ar going, once Cos, Tyros, and the other occupational forces have been driven from her walls?

A. I prefer not to publicly speculate on these matters. I think it is much better to wait and see where the books go, and what they do. To be sure, in Mariners of Gor, we discover the series risking the vastness and turbulence of Thassa, the sea, as the ship of Tersites essays its perilous voyage to the World’s End. At this time, Marlenus is restored to power in Ar, and Talena, who served as a puppet Ubara during the occupation, has become a fugitive.

14. Q: There are a number of lengthy plot arcs within the books. How far in advance did you plan them? Did you take it a book at a time, or did you have some grand vision from the start? How far back were you thinking about the fall of Ar, for instance?

A. The series is constructed in a rather Ptolemaic manner, namely, in terms of a great cycle associated with its epicycles. In short, each book, though complete within itself, should advance the series as a whole. For example, the “others,” “those who are not Priest-Kings,” the Kurii, did not emerge immediately in the series. It did seem appropriate to balance the power of the Priest-Kings, which otherwise would not seem challenged, by a counterpower, one vast enough, and of sufficient sophistication, to threaten them. The Gorean humans would seem caught between these two dangerous, titanic forces. They seem scattered, small, and weak, but even a mighty scale, suitably poised, weighing worlds, might be tipped by so little as a grain of sand. Both Priest-Kings and Kurii, of course, enlist humans as allies, when it is thought to their advantage.
I do not know what will happen in the series.
The books have not yet told me.

15, Q: There are rumors, due to the change in style of writing in some of the later novels, that you have been getting help and/or others, such as your sons and students, are writing them. What is your response to individuals who are stating this?

A. I am not personally aware of any changes in a style of writing, or such, in the series. On the other hand, Tarnsman of Gor was first published in 1966. So it is quite possible that changes, in one thing or another, or of one sort or another, may have taken place. As far as I know, however, things are pretty much the same.
In any event, I am, and remain, at least to date, the only author of the series.
I wish you well,
John Norman

Read John Norman’s latest installment of the Gorean Saga, Mariners of Gor.  And for all John Norman’s books, click here.

Mariners of Gor, the 30th installment of John Norman’s bestselling Gor Chronicles, is emerging from the production line and heading for release this fall. It is John Norman at his most vivid, stirring and imaginative and extends the Gorean adventure into a realm of daring vision.  We believe Norman fans will acclaim Mariners of Gor one of the finest creations in this vast, world-spanning saga.

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From Mariners of Gor

******************
We plied our levers, at a ten-beat, which strong men can maintain for as much as an Ahn, and continued this beat for something like twenty Ehn, and then the keleustes, warned to silence, put aside his hammers. The ship drifted forward a bit, noiselessly, through the fog. Then it rocked in place. One could hear the water lapping against the hull.
There was no command to bring the oars inboard.
The beat need not be rung, of course, but may be called softly, from amidships, if appropriate.
But there was only silence.
Then there was a rift in the fog, like the sudden, whispering drawing aside of a curtain, but briefly.
Aiii! cried a man.
We stood then, at the thwarts, and first beheld her.
Then the fog again closed in. I did not think we were more than seventy-five yards from her.
It seemed we were a chip, floating on the sea, off the coast of some ponderous, drifting immensity.
What is it? asked a man.
A ship, said a fellow. A ship.
Oars! called the captain, and we resumed our position.
Back oar, said the second officer, shuddering.
No, said the captain. Stroke!
Withdraw, urged the second officer.
Stroke, called the captain.
We did not know if he were curious, courageous, or mad. I think he was a good officer.
The ship moved a little forward, but there was murmuring behind me and to the side, consternation, and I do not think that every oar was drawn. Had we been a round ship I think the lash would have fallen amongst us.
If you must, said the second officer, go closer, look, and then flee, but it is pointless, and none will believe your report.
Stroke, called the captain.
It is rumored that there were gigantic dragons of the sea, prodigious monsters, lurking beyond the farther islands, aquatic prodigies guarding the end of the world, set there by Priest-Kings, as one might post guard sleen about the perimeter of a camp, but this thing, in the glimpse we had had, was no water-shedding, surfacing monster, toothed and scaled, nothing alive, as least we commonly thought of life, nothing curious, jealous, and predatory.
Your command will be taken, said the second officer.
Stroke, called the captain, softly, peering into the fog.
Desist, Captain, I beg of you, said the second officer.
The captain then was silent, listening.
The patrol ship was not large. She was a light galley, and she, though fitted with ram and shearing blades, was built more for speed and reconnaissance than fencing at sea, the ship the weapon itself. She was only some fifty foot Gorean from stem to stern, some ten feet in her beam. Such ships are less likely to engage a medium- or heavy-class galley than support such larger sisters in their altercations, perhaps hovering about, like a small sleen, awaiting an auspicious moment to take advantage of an otherwise distracted foe. We had only five oars to a side, and a rowing crew of twenty, two to each oar. Our common concern, or prey, were small boats, with a crew of four or five, tiny merchantmen, or smugglers, if you like, hoping to run the blockade to the farther islands. Larger galleys, rogues from the coastal ports, not signatory to the imposed treaties, or, more dangerously, pirates or merchantmen from Port Kar, our enemy, detected, would be reported to Telnus, in theory to be intercepted, if possible, on their return to their home ports. To be sure, interceptions were rare, and it was suspected that this had more to do with understandings and secret fees than faulty intelligence. Many high captains of both Tyros and Cos were wealthy men.
There, whispered the lookout, suddenly, pointing.
Ah! breathed the captain.
The fog had parted, again, and we could see the monstrous structure, now some fifty yards abeam.
Clearly it was a ship. It was wood. It was carvel-built, the mighty planks fitted, not the clinker-construction with overlapping planks. That construction is common with the serpents of the north. It ships more water, but with its elasticity, with its capacity to shift, to twist and bend, it is less likely to break up in a heavy sea. The ship had six masts, apparently fixed, which suggested it was a round ship, which has fixed masts, and often more than one, say, two or three, though never so many as six. The round ship, with its size and weight, though oared, usually by galley slaves, chained to their benches, relies more on its sails than a long ship. Interestingly, though the ship was carvel-built it was square rigged, with tiered sails, on tiered yards. The square sail is an all-purpose sail, whose single canvas may be adjusted to the wind. The mighty structure before us had a blunt, rearing prow. It had no ram, no shearing blades. It would be slow to come about, and a small galley might easily outdistance her, much as a racing kaiila might easily overtake a caravan of bosk-drawn wagons. It was not built for war, but for space and power, for height and storage, perhaps for invulnerability. We did not know what cargo it might carry. In its holds it might carry the stores of a small city. Its maneuverability would be so sluggish that the deft adjustments of shearing blades, responsive to subtleties of the ship’s movement, so common in the swift movements of Gorean naval warfare, would be impractical, if not impossible. Too, in such a mountain of wood there would be little use for a ram, as it would be of little use against a swifter, darting foe. To be sure, the ship itself would be formidable. It might plow through piers.
The fog then closed in again.
The great ship had been abeam.
The captain lifted his hand, and then lowered it.
We rocked, gently.
Back oars, suggested the second officer. Back oars!
No, said the captain.
I sensed he was alarmed. So, too, were we.
It was very quiet.
We were not sure, now, of the position of the great structure, or even if it were moving.
He called for no further stroke.
Then we heard the cry of a Vosk gull. These are large, broad-winged birds, which occasionally fish three and four hundred pasangs from the delta. Smaller gulls nest on the cliffs of both Tyros and Cos.
We did not see the bird.
It was then again quiet, save for the soft sound of water against the hull.
There was then another cry, but it was not the cry of the Vosk gull. It was a wild, shrill, ringing scream, unmistakable.
That is a tarn! cried a man.
Impossible, said the captain.
Even with the fog we could not be so far off our course, or so confused. The tarn, you see, is a land bird, a hook-beaked, vast-winged, gigantic, crested, dreaded, fearsome monster of the skies. Its talons can clasp a kaiila and carry it aloft, to drop it to its death, thence to land and feed on the meat. Its most common prey is the delicate, flocking, single-horned tabuk. A single wrench of that mighty beak could tear the arm from a man. The tarn, you see, never flies from the sight of land. It could not be the cry of a tarn.
Then, again, we heard that shrill scream, as though at dawn, as it might announce itself to the sun, Tor-tu-Gor, as it might inform the world of the privacy and sanctity of its nesting site, as it might warn even larls away from its surveyed domain.
The tarn, it is said, is the Ubar of the sky.
So astonishing then that men, so tiny beside its bulk, might saddle and use such monsters as mounts! Such men are called tarnsmen.
Back oars! Back oars! cried the second officer, standing wildly at the port rail.
Back oars! screamed the captain.
We seized the oars but it was useless. There was no time, no time to even lift the blades from the water.
Emerging from the fog, literally upon us, suddenly visible, was the vast bulk of the great ship.

John Norman (credit: Gorchronicles.com)

In response to birthday greetings extended to him by his fans and posted on gorchronicles.com, John Norman, creator of the bestselling Gor science fiction/fantasy series, asked his agent Richard Curtis to post the following response:

Some remarks by John Norman, on his having been apprised of his 80th Birthday

Dear Richard:

Thanks so much for forwarding the thoughtful birthday greetings from the staff and members of Chronicles of Gor. And thanks, too, for your kind wishes. All this is much appreciated.

When much younger I had two ambitions, the first was to live to be forty years old, with no objections to living longer, and the second was to live to see the year 2000, though I learned later it should have been 2001, as there is no year zero. As one can see, my ambitions were relatively modest, and would have been unlikely to satisfy a Caesar or Napoleon. On the other hand, some nice things have happened to me over the past several years, which I would never have dared to include among my ambitions. I met, fell in love with, and married a wonderful woman who changed my life. I have known the joys and tribulations of fatherhood, and beyond. I had some wonderful teachers, and, over the years, have had the privilege of sharing the joys of philosophy with a great many students, some of whom understood what I was talking about. Then, later, I began to understand the lies endemic in my culture, what was being done to the young, and why it was being done, the veiled march of a narrow, demanding, unhappy, alien will to power, dating back to the Nineteenth Century, the program of a smug, zealous, bigoted minority, drunk on its ersatz religion, to impose its will on a planet, determined to create a world in its own short-sighted, constricted, historically refuted, pathological image, a rosy image now so familiar that the bright fever of its illness, still hysterically denied, is almost invisible. It is not so hard to do this, to change things, provided it is not obvious what is being done. How is it to be done? By the enforcement of attitudes, by the employed arsenals of social engineering, by means of incomplete and distorted information, by means of social coercion, smiling upon and flattering mindless conformity, frowning upon and execrating even suspected skepticism and independence. The free mind is its greatest danger. Let one who thinks without permission be denounced; let him be insulted and slandered. Decry authentic difference. Do not neglect guided policies in hiring and promotion; be certain to replace education with indoctrination; seize the devices of mass communication to promote an agenda; do not neglect to disguise statism in the garb of benevolence, to cloak totalitarianism in the rhetoric of liberty; forecast utopia but be unclear as to its details, that every uncritical fool may rejoice and read into it whatever he wants; fear the free mind; it is dangerous; why point out the stone walls and iron bars of the future? You hope to be its warden and jailer; but there may be others, less scrupulous, more clever, and more ruthless, who may profit from the path you have laid, who will climb the ladders you have built, who will capitalize upon the mindless dependence you have fostered and steal the future you thought would be yours.

Ah, dear John Norman, beware. Surely you know by now how unwelcome. particularly to arsonists, is the cry of fire in a burning theater.

What are they afraid of, the teapot tyrants, who would control what you may and may not read, and would thereby control what you may and may not think. Do you not understand, John, the battle is finished, the war is lost. Continue to cry out, John. Tell them that nature is not evil, that humans are not evil, that happiness is not evil, that bodies, and needs, are not evil, that joy, and fulfillment, are not evil. And perhaps one day there will be new battles and new wars. Who knows? It may be that truth is hardy, that it has good genes.

If any might read this, somewhere, somehow, sometime, suspect at least that you need not take your values and virtues from strangers who bear you no good will, from those who are alien to your heart, from the haters, the bigots, the power seekers, the betrayers of life. Your values and virtues are your own, as is proper. Love them and be true to them.

I suppose I should apologize for all this, but I am now eighty years old, and am out of practice. It is too late to start now.

It is pleasant to have sneaked out from under my bourgeois camouflage, if only briefly.
I thank all my friends for their good wishes. They mean much to me. Long ago, I climbed a mountain and beheld a mighty sea, and beyond that sea a new world, a fresh, green, unfamiliar world, with glowing horizons. We went down to that sea and built our ships. And together we have voyaged to far shores. Remember there are always lands which you have never seen, and adventures you have not yet lived.

I wish you well,
John Norman

“There was little noticeable, little remarkable about Edward Chance, saving perhaps that he had once shot and killed a man….His craft, medicine, was more than a business with him, more than a professional skill. It was a way of healing his own heart too.”

In Ghost Dance, it is through Chance’s keen eyes and weary heart that readers travel along on a journey of discovery and sorrow.

On the run across the plains, Chance stumbles upon Running Horse, a Sioux warrior enacting the sacred and violent ritual of the Sun Dance. Quickly, Chance is pulled into the world of the Sioux people. As their civilization teeters on the brink of destruction, the Sioux perform the mournful and frightening Ghost Dance. Clashes with the white man are rising; the Wounded Knee Massacre approaches, still in the unknown distance; and violence and anger threaten the traditions of a proud and once-great people.

Nearby, in her quaint sod house, Miss Lucia Turner awaits the full impact of those clashes. Dust on the horizon signals great change coming to her once-simple life. Lucia will soon become a different kind of woman.

With Ghost Dance author John Norman brings the same vigor and passion of storytelling and imagination that enriches his classic Gor novels to a vivid story of historical upheaval and personal exploration.

What was it like, growing up in the Depression? And how did that experience shape your views about the nature of society and the individual?

As the family legend has it, when my father’s company slashed its employee list, he was the last fellow retained, namely, the cut-off started with the next fellow. For example, if there were one hundred on the list, and half were released, and we were counting up from the bottom, he would have been number fifty-one. My wife’s father was not so lucky, and he, apparently, was reduced to picking apples, when they were ready to be picked, and such. The common supper, I gather, was beans. Clearly the Depression, the great depression, with its dislocations, hardships, low salaries, something like a thousand dollars a year, or so, and massive unemployment, something like 20 percent, was a difficult time for a great many people and much of the country. On the other hand, the Depression was not a terrible time for the 80 percent or so who had work, because the prices were correspondingly low. In this way, as father had a job, I, as a boy, and like most people, did not have a first-hand experience of the worst aspects of the Depression. Interestingly, many “veterans” of the times, even those who knew hardship, risk, and scarcity, look back on them with nostalgia, even satisfaction and pride. They tend to see them less as debasing and crushing than as meaningful and challenging. Life was tough, hard, and such, but, too, they did not give up; they stuck it out, they cared for one another, they worked, as they could, they kept their families together, they survived. In some respects, I think it was a good time to grow up, a hard time, but a good time. Statistically, despite all the poverty, there was very little crime during the Depression, and there was, I think, a stabler ethos, and a more coherent moral consensus then than now. The country was less politicized, less Balkanized, less mercenary and competitive, less confused and disordered, than now. In a general answer to your question, I would suppose the times would affect individuals variously. Personally, I am pleased to have had the experience of growing up when I did; it was, in its way, to quote Dickens, “the best of times and the worst of times,” and certainly a times unlike most other times. Consider what it might have been to grow up on the frontier, or in the time of the Declaration of Independence, and such. Special times, times not like others. I gathered that society, ideally, consisted of decent, honest, hard-working, self-reliant individuals, civil and neighborly, not sheep in need of a shepherd, appropriately to be hemmed in within the fences of the state, herds of the state, to be pampered, sheared, or butchered as the state might please. The individual, in my view, however perilously today, and despite obvious risks, should be independent, and think for himself. This will win you no awards, and will generate hatred, and such, but there will always be someone who will understand. And even if there is no one else who understands, ever, it is enough that you yourself understand. That is enough.

When did you become interested in science fiction and fantasy? What were the authors you first got interested in, and how did you get involved in fandom?

I have no idea when I first became interested in science fiction and fantasy. That is a long time ago. Big Little Books, for example, the Flash Gordon books, and various comic books, for example, Buck Rodgers, are doubtless in there somewhere. The Flash Gordon serials at the local theater on a Saturday afternoon were wonderful. I can remember Tarzan books by Burroughs, but I do not think I knew about his various science-fiction works until many years later. I used to enjoy reading Planet Stories, an adventure pulp magazine. That is probably an embarrassment to more sophisticated science-fiction aficionados, but I nonetheless remain calm. John Norman can get away with that. Everyone knows what he is like. Such an admission on his part, as opposed to one on the part of others, is unlikely to jeopardize future sales, invitations to parties, and such. As Sam Moskowitz once said about the pulps, the stories had beginnings, middles, and ends, and heroes and heroines. And, as far as I can tell, there is nothing wrong with that. A French auteur was once asked, supposedly, if he thought stories should have beginnings, middles, and ends, and his response was, “Yes, but not necessarily in that order.” I think the pulps will always hold a place in the hearts of many. My favorite author there, I think, was Emmett McDowell, whom many folks may not remember. Naturally I read H. G. Wells, Heinlein, and Bradbury. I do not remember how I became involved in fandom, but it was undoubtedly a result of being invited to participate in one convention or another. For several years I attended, and participated in, a number of conventions. Then, it seems, a tectonic shift took place in the geology of science fiction. For example, despite millions of sales, I was not permitted to participate in the World Con given in Philadelphia in the year 2000. As my wife nicely put it, “In Philadelphia the Liberty Bell does not ring.” In any event, changes take place, monothink blossoms, orthodoxies must not be threatened, political solidarity must be maintained, censorship is great, when we do it, and so on. I have not been invited to conventions for years now, which certainly shows me, and perhaps other writers, as well, who might be astute enough to pick up the signals. If we can do this to John Norman think what we could do to you. I guess it is a matter of failing to subscribe to the Disciples’ Creed. At any rate, I am no longer interested, in any event, in attending conventions. I wish them well, and I hope, someday, they may become again what once they were, theaters in which a thousand flags may be flown, and a thousand voices heard, authentic science-fiction conventions, not church meetings, not political-party conventions.

In your 1970 book, The Cognitivity Paradox, you seem to be trying to call into question the “truth value” of philosophical premises as a whole — and by implication, the whole field of philosophy. What sort of response did this book receive within the field?

How very nice that you are familiar with the Cognitivity Paradox book!
Philosophical questions, once one gets beyond questions of food, shelter, drinking water, Susan’s availability, and such, are the most important questions that a human being can ask. They are inevitable, recurrent, and persistent. Further, like many other important questions, they are unamenable to quantitative resolution. We cannot resolve them by measuring and weighing, looking and counting, and such. Yardsticks and scales, microscopes and telescopes, cyclotrons and electrostatic grids, are unavailing. It is not obvious that any of the usual sorts of truth theories, for example, correspondence, coherence, and pragmatic, at least as usually understood, will suffice for resolving questions of philosophical truth, should it exist. Accordingly, the book addresses itself to the possibility of philosophical truth, whether or not it is possible, what it might be, if possible, or what it could acceptably be taken to be, if we wish to sustain claims of its truth, and so on. It is my impression that the philosophical community did not know much what to do with such a book. Philosophers pride themselves on looking into assumptions and presuppositions, but they seem unwilling to look into their own. It is much easier to continue on with “business as usual.” I think Nietzsche put it nicely, when he noted that anyone can have the courage of his convictions. That is easy and cheap. What requires real courage is an attack on one’s convictions. I am less dramatic than Nietzsche here, of course. I was not really asking my colleagues to attack their own convictions, but, so to speak, to look and see what they might be, or whether there are any there or not.

How were you influenced by authors like Edgar Rice Burroughs and Robert E. Howard? And how did you feel like your works were able to expand on these influences? What inspired you, in particular, about these types of heroic narratives?

I think, pretty clearly, the three major influences on my work are Homer, Freud, and Nietzsche. Interestingly, however obvious this influence might be, few, if any, critics, commentators, or such, have called attention to it. Perhaps it is so obvious that it is simply taken for granted. In Homer you have the primitive, hardy, aristocratic warrior ethos; in Nietzsche you have the rank, distance, and hierarchy, concern with the etiology of belief, the trenchant culture criticism, and such; and, in Freud, of course, you have the depth psychology, and a sense of the radical centrality of sex to the human condition.

As a boy, as I recall, I read some of the Tarzan books. If I was influenced by them, I shall hope it was benignly. Certainly I have an affection for Edgar Rice Burroughs, and his work. I think he was a wonderful man, and had one of the great imaginations with which our species has been blessed. As mentioned, too, I was not familiar with his other work, or at least I think not, until I was an adult, fully employed, teaching, in a college, and such. I think I was doing research at Berkeley, on a fellowship, or such, when the Burroughs “explosion” took place, and a number of his works, the copyrights supposedly having expired, struck the paperback market. I think, as it turned out, the copyrights had actually been renewed on the original magazine publications of some of the work, which presented, as I recall, some touchy legal concerns. As I recall, I was particularly impressed with several of his series, and, doubtless, in particular, with the Martian series. Given my earlier reading in Planet Stories, and such, you can see how that might be. As before, if I have been influenced by Burroughs, I shall hope that the influence has been benign, and has redounded to the benefit of a wonderful genre of literature. Two remarks are probably in order now. First, Burroughs, I would suppose, had his own influences, which is natural and to be expected, and, certainly, did not invent the genre in which he reveled, and which he did so much to distinguish, nor, obviously, does he own it. Adventure fantasy does not belong to any particular human being, unless perhaps to the author, or authors, of the Gilgamesh epic, and his, or their, copyright would presumably have expired by now. Second, one may simply read Burroughs, and read my work. It seems very clear to me, and to most people, that the two corpuses, for better or for worse, are considerably different. The test is simple. Go, read. I have read some Robert E. Howard, as I recall. And, once again, if there is any influence there, I would hope it would turn out to be benign. Writing springs out of a human life, and a vision of the world, and there are thousands of influences, over the years, which contribute to the nature of any given individual, whether a writer or not. All in all, it would be very difficult for a writer to comment illuminatingly on this sort of thing. There is at least one thing here I would like to credit to Mr. Burroughs, and that has little to do with what he did, but more with how he did it. He, in an era of snobbery, style, pomposity, arrogant sophistication, and such, had the courage to deal honestly and directly, boldly, movingly, straightforwardly, with simple, primitive feelings and emotions. To put it disparagingly, he had the “courage to be corny,” or to put it less disparagingly, and as I would rather put it, he had the “courage to write with spirit and heart, without apology, letting the chips fall where they might.” Did he not touch the hero and the heroine, the warrior and the princess, the scribe and the poet, in us all? He seems to have occasionally felt diffident about the quality of his own work. He is entitled to his views, of course, but I find that a bit sad. He will be read generation after generation, after generation, while one crop after another of the witty and disdainful, the shallow and clever, the polished and sophisticated, the celebrated winners of prizes, and such, comes and goes.  People feel, life feels. He felt. We are grateful, and feel, too.

In your new book, The Philosophy of Historiography [Published under John Lange's byline], you say that Nietzsche’s attempt to create a new human ideal to replace God in people’s hearts has been widely misunderstood. How do you feel this misunderstanding has happened? People frequently describe Gor as a Nietzschean society — what do you think Nietzsche would make of Gor were he to visit there? What do you think of the popularity of Nietzsche among young philosophers and some post-modern theorists?

In Nietzsche, the expression is ‘Übermensch’, which might be translated variously. A common translation today would be ‘Overman’. It might also be understood as a higher person, a superior person, an ideal as to what a human being might be, a comprehensible ideal toward which a human being might aspire, and such. The term is not original with Nietzsche. It occurs in Goethe, and even in Greek, as ‘Hyperanthropos’.

Briefly, the background here has to do with Nietzsche’s apprehension of what social consequences might follow from a general loss of belief in the existence of a divine entity, one which, supposedly, constituted a foundation for, and an enforcer of, moral rules, and such. It was presumably one thing for “intellectuals,” the cognitive elite, and so on, disengaged from the masses, conversing privately amongst themselves, to reject the existence of such an entity and quite another for a general population, whose morality might be motivated primarily by greed, fear, and other prudential concerns, for example, avoiding punishment and accessing rewards.
“God is dead,” of course, does not have the implication that God was ever alive, in any serious sense. If gods are immortal, presumably they will never get around to dying, say, of divine measles, or such, but they might be forgotten about. For example, who remembers Khnum, the god of the first cataract of the Nile? Accordingly, “God is dead” would be a lovely, poetic, but harrowing, metaphor for the loss of belief in a divine entity. If this was a belief in that which was “holiest and mightiest,” a belief which, in effect, shaped and stabilized a society, one might well concern oneself with the consequences of its disappearance. Might this not “unchain the earth from its sun”? Might not “night begin to close in upon us?” Would we not be straying “as through an infinite nothing?” Assuming that most human beings want to have something to live in terms of, something to, so to speak, “worship,” it is natural to speculate what might be likely to fill the ensuing spiritual vacuum. Nietzsche seemed to fear, plausibly enough, that the most likely candidate for ascending the empty throne, for inserting itself into this colossal spiritual vacancy would be an idol, a particular idol, a “new idol,” namely, the state. It seems to be against the background of these two considerations, the loss of a traditional belief and the supposed need for a new belief, which might well be as monstrous as the state, that one might understand the proposal of a new ideal, not to be worshipped or petitioned, but to be a summons to a higher order of being, rather like a mariner’s star which might serve as a beacon, in the light of which one might conduct one’s life, without hoping to reach it. I think it is quite clear in Nietzsche that the Übermensch is not intended biologically. The word is always used in the singular, never as though there could be more than one. It would be absurd to say, for example, that the Übermensch had blond hair and blue eyes, or brown hair and brown eyes, that he was six feet tall and weighed one hundred and eighty pounds, that he was whiz at math, that he wears size-ten shoes, that you had his autograph, that you had loaned him fifteen dollars, and such. An ideal is involved, not a prediction. The most fit species, given evolution, would seem to be the termite, the crocodile, the shark, and such. Nietzsche, like most 19th Century intellectuals, did believe in eugenics, and he did speculate on the possibility of producing a “master race,” bringing together the finest specimens of all races, ethnicities, and backgrounds, but this is clearly independent of, and separated from, references to the Übermensch. I think the best interpretation of the concept is in terms of a higher self, one forever unattainable. There seems to be a clue to this in his “Schopenhauer as Educator,” one of the essays in his Untimely Meditations (Unzeitgemässe Betrachtungen), where we hear “…for your true nature lies, not hidden deep within you, but immeasurably high above you, or at least above that which you normally take to be yourself.”

In the light of the foregoing, I think it is reasonably clear that an interpretation of the Übermensch in terms of a particular biological entity, or entities, for example, crossing borders, firing machine guns, marching into Paris, dropping bombs, and such, Aryan “supermen,” or whatever, is mistaken. Nietzsche hated the state, authority, force, regimentation; and superstition; he favored finding one’s own way, intellectual diversity, and creativity. As has often been pointed out, it seems likely that if he had been alive during the time of Hitler, he would have been one of the first to be sent to a concentration camp. I think the common misunderstanding of Nietzsche is largely due to his illegitimate appropriation by the National Socialists, who were looking about for intellectuals, and the propaganda of the allies, who were eager to challenge and exploit the foregoing misappropriation.

I am not sure what a Nietzshean society would be like, as he seems to me an anarchist at heart. He did value virility, and somehow failed to believe that women were identical with men. He seems to have thought they were quite different, and very interesting. I have no idea what Nietzsche would think, were he to visit Gor. As a classics scholar I suspect he would find it fascinating.

I did not realize that Nietzsche was popular amongst young philosophers and post-modern theorists. I accept this information, however, with equanimity. He is clearly an unusual and wonderful philosophical voice, one trenchant, insightful, lyrical, poetic, and powerful. He is pretty clearly a major philosopher of the 19th Century and, if we allow philosophy to have important things to say, if we allow it to make a difference in the world, then he is pretty clearly the greatest philosopher of the 19th Century, and, in the “life sense,” one of the greatest of all time. He concerns himself with big things, and speaks well, as opposed to the usual philosophical values of concerning oneself with little things and speaking poorly. One wishes there were more like him. Perhaps some like him as an antidote to statism, authoritarianism, collectivism, redistributionism, egalitarianism, the poisons of monothink, the stultifying demands of political conformity, and such. I am sure he would lose out on promotions today, and could forget tenure.

Why do you think the Gor books are experiencing so much lasting popularity? Do you think there are younger audiences who are just discovering these books afresh? Do you think they speak to a 21st Century audience the same way they did to a 20th Century one?

The Gor books are not mere science fiction or adventure fantasy. They are also intellectual, philosophical, and psychological novels. They have a great deal to say, and have been willing to say it. One of their attributes, for better or for worse, is the fact that they examine an alien culture from the inside, seeing it rather as its indigenous populations might see it and understand it, rather than criticize it from the outside. They are, of course, written for a minority audience, highly intelligent, highly sexed adults, both men and women. This limits readership, but, I think, improves its quality. In any event, the reader is respected, not insulted.

I would suppose there are always new readers who discover the books. One hopes so, at any rate. As mentioned above, the books are written for adults; this is not, however, to deny that many young readers are fully capable of reading the books. Many young readers are, in effect, adult readers. Adulthood does not always index to chronology. Some adults are essentially children, and some children are, for most practical purposes, intellectually, and such, adults. I would count anyone who can read the Gorean books intelligently as, for most practical purposes, an adult reader. The real distinction here is not adult/child, but good/not so good.

As the Gorean books deal with human things in a human way, and have to do with human constants, I do not think they are indexed to any particular time or place. One still reads Homer, Herodotus, the Song of Roland, Cervantes, Austen, Dickens, Nietzsche, and so on. I should like to think the books get on well without clocks and dates. It is possible, of course, that particular or local values might differ a bit from time to time. For example, in an age of hatred, censorship, and suppression, they might, in virtue of their integrity and difference, inadvertently play a role which they might not in a more liberated, open time, in which diversity was welcomed and celebrated, and the gates of the literary marketplace were not policed by a narrow, insecure, politically uniform constabulary.

Have you spent any time among the Gorean communities on the internet, such as Second Life? What do you think of the popularity of real-life Gorean slavery among some people in the BDSM community?

No. I am not a computer person. I am, so to speak, still trying to figure out quill pens. I have heard of Second Life, but know very little about it. I have heard that large numbers of my books have been “pirated,” so to speak, and distributed freely in that community. I am disappointed that individuals would do that, if they are doing that. Let us hope that that claim is mistaken. If individuals do care for an author, and his work, it seems to me they should, in respect, refrain from such a practice. Intellectual property is property, after all, as much as a baseball glove or a bicycle.
I know nothing about “real-life Gorean slavery among some people in the BDSM community.” The “BDSM” reference worries me. I dissociate myself from BDSM, at least as I understand it. I may, of course, misunderstand it. I wonder if one would settle merely for “real-life Gorean slavery,” because, as I understand it, BDSM is not Gorean. If something is not beautiful, it is not Gorean. In any event, I am assuming that what is involved here, in any case, is consensual. If a woman chooses to submit herself, voluntarily, to a master, it seems to me that is her business, and his business. She would then, of course, be a slave, and would be treated as a slave. One supposes remarkable fulfillments may occur in such an arrangement. It is, of course, important to treat the slave, however uncompromisingly strict you are with her, however much she might fear you, in a humane way, as one would any other animal. Some men, I gather, dislike women, and enjoy hurting them. That makes no sense to me. Women are wonderful, and precious. It is a delight to own one; why would one hurt her? What would be the point of that, mere sadistic pleasure? I think we might distinguish between, say, S/M sex, or sadomasochistic sex, and M/S sex, or Master/Slave Sex. In a sense they seem opposite. Love is important. It is not to be confused with cruelty. Gratuitous cruelty seems to me uncalled for, and ugly, morally and aesthetically. Too, it seems unworthy of a true master. The point is loving and serving, and owning and mastering, not hurting. To be sure, the slave must understand that if she is not pleasing, she is subject to discipline. She is not to be left in doubt that she is a slave. It is easy to avoid discipline; she need only be obedient, submissive, and found pleasing, wholly, and in all ways. Sometimes a slave may desire to be reassured of her bondage. There are many ways in which the master, if he wishes, may see to this. I have written an entire book, the Imaginative Sex book, in which my views on such matters should be reasonably clear.

Did you watch the 1980s movie adaptations of Gor? Were you involved in them at all? What do you think went wrong?

I had, in theory, a consultancy in connection with the films, and, as I recall, I wrote up something like sixty to eighty single-spaced pages of comments, criticisms, suggestions, grumbles, gasps of astonishment, shrieks of dismay, proposals, and such. As I recall the only change made was in connection with my suggestion that we change one of the character’s names. It was originally ‘Zeno’. In philosophy there are two famous Zenos, one the putative founder of Stoicism, and one the disciple of Parmenides, famed for constructing a series of classical paradoxes, Achilles and the Tortoise, and such. As I am fond of these Zenos I suggested we find another name for the film character. The name was changed from Zeno to Xeno, pronounced the same way. It was nice to have an input.

I am actually quite pleased that the two movies were made. It is very rare, statistically, for an author to be lucky enough to have a movie made in connection with his work, and I had this good fortune twice. I retain an affection for the producer, the crew, the cast, and so on. And might not Rebecca Ferratti have been worth the price of admission by herself? That seems to me quite possible.

At one time I worked for Warner Brothers Motion Pictures, in the great days of Jack L. Warner. As a result of this I probably have a bit better idea than some, at least, of the challenges and difficulties of getting a movie from a book to the screen. This is usually a long and complex process. Moreover, there are likely to be severe constraints involved, many of them having to do with the time available and the costs involved. When one works in Hollywood, it is common to speak of product, properties, the “industry,” and so on. Plato’s Film Studio is very nice, but real films are made in the real world, with real stuff, and real problems.

All in all, then, I am pleased that the two films were made. It would have been even better, of course, if they had had anything to do with my work. It seems to me that that might have been managed.

It is still an open question, to this day, if a real Gorean movie, say, with tarns, tower cities, fleets of lateen-rigged galleys, clashing armies, a genuinely alien culture, and such, might be possible.

One supposes not, for political reasons, if for no other.

Now that you have written over two dozen Gor books, how do you feel your approach to the series has evolved?

I think the approach to the series is pretty much unchanged. One tries to write well, to write honestly, deeply, and attentively. Most real writers will do this.
I have written independently of the market, and the market, astonishingly, came to me.

In a gray, polluted country, where one’s mind is expected to wear a uniform, where acres of books are indistinguishable from one another, where values are engineered, and attitudes are packaged like corn flakes, where a small number of individuals will determine what you may and may not read, something different, that hints at truths you recognize but have been ordered to ignore, is likely to attract attention.
When the Gorean galley came to port, she carried exotic goods and news from remote, surprising lands.

Even if she is driven away, she might not be forgotten.

She has been once to port, and might be remembered. One likes to hear of other lands.
They exist.

I wish you well,
John Norman

John Norman was recently interviewed by io9.com and answered these nine provocative questions.

1) What was it like, growing up in the Depression? And how did that experience shape your views about the nature of society and the individual?

2) When did you become interested in science fiction and fantasy? What were the authors you first got interested in, and how did you get involved in fandom?

3) In your 1970 book, The Cognitivity Paradox, you seem to be trying to call into question the “truth value” of philosophical premises as a whole — and by implication, the whole field of philosophy. What sort of response did this book receive within the field?

4) How were you influenced by authors like Edgar Rice Burroughs and Robert E. Howard? And how did you feel like your works were able to expand on these influences? What inspired you, in particular, about these types of heroic narratives?

5) In your new book, The Philosophy of Historiography, you say that Nietzsche’s attempt to create a new human ideal to replace God in people’s hearts has been widely misunderstood. How do you feel this misunderstanding has happened? People frequently describe Gor as a Nietzschean society — what do you think Nietzsche would make of Gor were he to visit there? What do you think of the popularity of Nietzsche among young philosophers and some post-modern theorists?

6) Why do you think the Gor books are experiencing so much lasting popularity? Do you think there are younger audiences who are just discovering these books afresh? Do you think they speak to a 21st Century audience the same way they did to a 20th Century one?

7) Have you spent any time among the Gorean communities on the internet, such as Second Life? What do you think of the popularity of real-life Gorean slavery among some people in the BDSM community?

8 Did you watch the 1980s movie adaptations of Gor? Were you involved in them at all? What do you think went wrong?

9) Now that you have written over two dozen Gor books, how do you feel your approach to the series has evolved?

His answers are cogent, surprising and revealing.  You can read them here.