A Giant among Giants . Some books are optional.  "The Worm Ouroboros", by E. R. Eddison, is not.  It is more than just the birth of high fantasy writing as we know it.  It is a tale that connects with imagination and wonder in a way that books today simply don't do.  When you read "The Worm Ouroboros" you'll realize that modern writers produce stories, but they don't tell Stories.    Since the English language fails to provide me with adequate superlatives for this review, I'll just have to present samples of Eddison's writing:    "But a great wonder of this chamber, and a marvel to behold, was how the capital of every one of the four-and-twenty pillars was hewn from a single precious stone, carved by the hand of some sculptor of long ago into the living form of a monster: here was a harpy with a screaming mouth, so wonderously cut in ochre-tinted jade it was a marvel to hear no scream from her: here in wine-yellow topaz a flying fire-drake: there a cockatrice made of a single ruby: there a star sapphire the colour of moonlight, cut for a cyclops, so that the rays of the star trembled from his single eye: leviathans, all hewn from faultless gems, thrice the bulk of a big man's body, velvet-dark sapphires, crystolite, beryl, amethyst, and the yellow zircon that is like transparent gold." (7)    Everyone can write description, but only Eddison could write description like this.  He makes the colors shine brighter and the shapes of the "monsters" stick out in your mind.  And even though you may not know what a crystolite looks like, you agree that it fits perfectly into this paragraph.  Eddison realized that you can't a world that mirrors the heroic past if you get stuck in the decidedly un-heroic language of modern times.    "Now had they for three days or four a devious journey through the foot-hills, and thereafter made their dwelling for forty days' space in the Zia valley, above the gorges.  Here the valley widens to a flat-floored amphitheatre, and lean limestone crags tower heavenward on every side.  High in the south , couched above great gray moraines, the Zia glacier, wrinkle-backed like some dragon survived out of the elder chaos, thrusts his snout into the valley.  Here out of his caves of ice the young river thunders, casting up a spray where rainbows hover in bright weather.  The air blows sharp from the glacier, and alpine flowers and shrubs feed on the sunlight." (153)    Perhaps it's because I'm a mountain-climber myself, but I found Juss and Brandoch Daha's assault on Koshtra Pivrarcha to be the most memorable chapter in a book built out of unforgettable chapters.  In real life no two mountain ranges are alike, yet most fantasy authors write only staid standard-issue descriptions when they make mountains.  Eddison understood that for us to see the glaciers, feel the biting cold winds, and experience the exhilaration of reaching the summit with the heroes, he needs to give his mountains some real personality.  These samples, of course, only scratch the surface of Eddison's brilliant mix of visceral detail and towering metaphor; he maintains this level, never flagging, for all two hundred thousand words.    But of course "The Worm Ouroboros" could hardly have claimed such a lofty space in the pantheon of imaginative fiction without a plot and character worthy of this lavish writing.  On one side King Gorice XII of Witchland sends his warriors out to crush all opposition and subjugate the entire world to his will.  Opposing him are the adventure-loving lords of Demonland, lead by the magnificent Lord Juss and his family.  The ensuing conflict will rage on land and sea, across continents and mountain ranges.  And without any doubt Eddison crafts his dialogue with the same mastery he displays in his narration:      "La Fireez," said Juss, "we weigh not so lightly our obligation unto thee.  Yet must I hold my course; having sworn a strong oath that I would turn aside neither to the right nor to the left until I had delivered my dear brother goldry out of bondage.  So sware I or ever went that ill journey to Carce and was closed in prison fast and by thee delivered.  Nor shall blame of friends nor wrongful misprison nor any power that is shake me in this determination.  But when that is done, no rest remaineth unto us till we win back for thee thy rightful realm of Pixyland, and many good things besides to be a token of our love."  Said the Prince, "Thou doest right.  If thou didst other thou'dst have my blame."  "And mine thereto," said Gaslark.  "Do not I grieve, think'st thou, to see the Princess Armelline, my sweet young cousin, grow every day more wan o' the cheek and pale?  And all for sorrow and teen for her own true love, the Lord Goldry Bluszco.  And she so carefully brought up by her mother as nothing was too dear or hard to be bought to pass for her desire, thinking that a creature so noble and perfect could not be trained up too delicately.  I deem to-day better than to-morrow, and to-morrow better than his morrow, to set sail for wide-fronted Impland." (315)    One of the most commonly used review terms is larger than life.  "The Worm Ouroboros" is larger than larger than life.  Indeed, after finishing you may wonder whether it would be more appropriate to refer to real life as "smaller than Eddison"
Output: POS