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Peregrine Primus
Peregrine was the bastard son of the King of Sapodilla, the last pagan kingdom in the world to resist christianity. Accompanied by his page and the rather time-worn sorcerer, Appledore, the prince sallies forth into the Dark Ages to find his fortune. What he find sinstead is: dragons, whores, Huns, Roman Legions, emperors and a most fantastic collection of mysteries and adventures.
220 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1971
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About the author
Avram Davidson
431 books94 followersAvram Davidson was an American Jewish writer of fantasy fiction, science fiction, and crime fiction, as well as the author of many stories that do not fit into a genre niche. He won a Hugo Award and three World Fantasy Awards in the science fiction and fantasy genre, a World Fantasy Life Achievement award, and a Queen's Award and an Edgar Award in the mystery genre. Davidson edited The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction from 1962 to 1964. His last novel The Boss in the Wall: A Treatise on the House Devil was completed by Grania Davis and was a Nebula Award finalist in 1998. The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction says "he is perhaps sf's most explicitly literary author".
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
January 5, 2026
“I don’t want to be a king. I want to travel around lightly and encounter adventures and have a lot of interesting fun. What’s the point of being a bastard if people are going to try to make you a king?”
Young Peregrine, bastard son of King Palandrine of Sapodilla, as in “the last pagan king in lower Europe!” is kicked out of the royal palace to make way for the legitimate heirs and sent to make his fortune among the crumbling ruins of the ancient Roman Empire.
The location of his native lands and the exact timeline are kept deliberately vague by the author, who wants to cram into his picaresque adventure as many historical and fantastical references as the young shoulders of his hero can carry. So, with a last palindrome dedicated to his amiable father, in the company of a stable boy named Daft Claudius and of a slightly rumpled uncle named Appledore ( The best royal combination philosopher, metaphysician, sorcerer, and impromptu a capella bard any weeny court like this is ever likely to see again in this cycle of the sun. ), Peregrine goes out into Early Middle Age history:
Stop, murder us not, tonsured rumpots!
One of the frequent subjects for satire and wordplay is religion, understandable given the conquering march of Christianity, on a warpath to stamp out all forms of heresy and/or pleasurable vices.
The subject may not be entirely fresh (only last month I read a similar literary adventure from John Myers Myers) but Davidson brings to the text his erudition, his sense of humor and his joy of language. He is almost forgotten now, but he had on his mantle shelf Hugo, Nebula, World Fantasy and Ellery Queen awards. The blurbs on his novels are written by some of my favorite writers in the field, like Gene Wolfe, Jack Vance and Ray Bradbury:
‘Avram Davidson, to me, combines many talents and attributes including imagination, style, and perhaps above all, wit’ (Ray Bradbury)
>>><<<>>><<<
There is little in terms of plot to be found here, although several paths are offered to Peregrine for consideration: he might search for his older illegitimate brother, he might seek Princess Poppyseed who appeared to him in a dream, he might decode the prophecy of a strange giant he met on the road * or he might try to resolve the mystery of a crown and flag he finds in a dragon’s lair.
* “In this age of change and of decay, of progress and retrogression, many are those who must move on if they at least would stand still.”
In the end, Perry, Claud and Appledore will chase money, drinks and brothels across the lower Pannonia, get into tousles with dragons and Huns, survive revolutions and torture dungeons and so on ...
Sic friatur crustulum, as Ovid puts it: ‘thus’ or, ‘in that matter, does the cookie crumble.’
I was having too much fun with the language and the pig Latin citations to bother checking out the references made in the text, although general Stilicho (358-408) and Empress Theodora (490-548) are known to historical records. I wouldn’t swear the same for Augustus the Penurious, aka Stinky Gus, or Atilla IV, Grand Hetman of the Hun Hordes, Scourge of God, King of the Hun Horde Number Seventeen. Surely, they were not contemporary with a certain wanderer that goes by the name of Ulyxes, speaks in modern slang and complains about the fidelity of his wife Penny. I doubt there ever was a Saint named Vespertilionid, a converted vampire of good family, but apparently omphiloskepsis * is a real heresy that can get you banned from a city on the Stygian Riviera.
* navel gazing
My favorite scene in the book seems lifted wholesale from a Monty Python sketch and describes a hilarious General Anathema performed in the central plaza of Chiringirium. It is too long to include here, but it does include a recipe for vegetable curry.
The ending of the novel is a little too ambiguous and too literary for immediate decoding, but at least it leaves the door open for a sequel that goes by the name of Peregrine: Secundus.
I hope I can get my hands on a copy later this year.
Young Peregrine, bastard son of King Palandrine of Sapodilla, as in “the last pagan king in lower Europe!” is kicked out of the royal palace to make way for the legitimate heirs and sent to make his fortune among the crumbling ruins of the ancient Roman Empire.
The location of his native lands and the exact timeline are kept deliberately vague by the author, who wants to cram into his picaresque adventure as many historical and fantastical references as the young shoulders of his hero can carry. So, with a last palindrome dedicated to his amiable father, in the company of a stable boy named Daft Claudius and of a slightly rumpled uncle named Appledore ( The best royal combination philosopher, metaphysician, sorcerer, and impromptu a capella bard any weeny court like this is ever likely to see again in this cycle of the sun. ), Peregrine goes out into Early Middle Age history:
Stop, murder us not, tonsured rumpots!
One of the frequent subjects for satire and wordplay is religion, understandable given the conquering march of Christianity, on a warpath to stamp out all forms of heresy and/or pleasurable vices.
The subject may not be entirely fresh (only last month I read a similar literary adventure from John Myers Myers) but Davidson brings to the text his erudition, his sense of humor and his joy of language. He is almost forgotten now, but he had on his mantle shelf Hugo, Nebula, World Fantasy and Ellery Queen awards. The blurbs on his novels are written by some of my favorite writers in the field, like Gene Wolfe, Jack Vance and Ray Bradbury:
‘Avram Davidson, to me, combines many talents and attributes including imagination, style, and perhaps above all, wit’ (Ray Bradbury)
>>><<<>>><<<
There is little in terms of plot to be found here, although several paths are offered to Peregrine for consideration: he might search for his older illegitimate brother, he might seek Princess Poppyseed who appeared to him in a dream, he might decode the prophecy of a strange giant he met on the road * or he might try to resolve the mystery of a crown and flag he finds in a dragon’s lair.
* “In this age of change and of decay, of progress and retrogression, many are those who must move on if they at least would stand still.”
In the end, Perry, Claud and Appledore will chase money, drinks and brothels across the lower Pannonia, get into tousles with dragons and Huns, survive revolutions and torture dungeons and so on ...
Sic friatur crustulum, as Ovid puts it: ‘thus’ or, ‘in that matter, does the cookie crumble.’
I was having too much fun with the language and the pig Latin citations to bother checking out the references made in the text, although general Stilicho (358-408) and Empress Theodora (490-548) are known to historical records. I wouldn’t swear the same for Augustus the Penurious, aka Stinky Gus, or Atilla IV, Grand Hetman of the Hun Hordes, Scourge of God, King of the Hun Horde Number Seventeen. Surely, they were not contemporary with a certain wanderer that goes by the name of Ulyxes, speaks in modern slang and complains about the fidelity of his wife Penny. I doubt there ever was a Saint named Vespertilionid, a converted vampire of good family, but apparently omphiloskepsis * is a real heresy that can get you banned from a city on the Stygian Riviera.
* navel gazing
My favorite scene in the book seems lifted wholesale from a Monty Python sketch and describes a hilarious General Anathema performed in the central plaza of Chiringirium. It is too long to include here, but it does include a recipe for vegetable curry.
The ending of the novel is a little too ambiguous and too literary for immediate decoding, but at least it leaves the door open for a sequel that goes by the name of Peregrine: Secundus.
I hope I can get my hands on a copy later this year.
February 14, 2022
This is a book you either love or hate. If quirky prose, obscure knowledge and eccentric humor are your thing, you'll love it. All you have to do is sit back and let the author take you for a unique ride.
What's it about? The style, as much as anything. But there's also a story unlike any you have ever read. It's a screwball fantasy, full of unlikely characters and subtle clues that, while the setting may be Europe just after the fall of the Roman Empire, it's not quite the Europe we know. This book and its sequels are essentially a first run at the setting that Davidson explored more seriously and in more detail in his Vergil series.
What's it about? The style, as much as anything. But there's also a story unlike any you have ever read. It's a screwball fantasy, full of unlikely characters and subtle clues that, while the setting may be Europe just after the fall of the Roman Empire, it's not quite the Europe we know. This book and its sequels are essentially a first run at the setting that Davidson explored more seriously and in more detail in his Vergil series.
January 11, 2020
The Peregrine of the title is the bastard son of a king, sent out on his own as he approaches manhood. The setting is in the declining years of the Roman Empire, an age of petty kingdoms and the burgeoning of Christianity as a Europe-wide religion. In this respect Peregrine is a heathen still, as was his father.
Davidson adopts a joky, referential, allusive style – with cod Roman numbers (VVVXXXCCCIII) and embedded quotations, “wine-dark sea,” “they looked at each other ... with a wild surmise,” “minding the stoa,” “confound their politics, frustrate their knavish tricks,” – as his hero, along with page Dafty and mage Appledorus, goes out into the world partly in search of his elder brother Austin (also one of the King’s by-blows.) Along the way Peregrine falls into the company of Hun Horde Seventeen. You get the drift.
Peregrine, as his name suggests, is a traveller: not only that, but also, when fantasy bleeds into Davidson’s tale, at times a falcon.
This is not a novel to be taken very seriously. It’s a jeu d’esprit on Davidson’s part but passes the time well enough. I note that once again he employs the word wee to mean small. There’s Scots ancestry there somewhere.
Davidson adopts a joky, referential, allusive style – with cod Roman numbers (VVVXXXCCCIII) and embedded quotations, “wine-dark sea,” “they looked at each other ... with a wild surmise,” “minding the stoa,” “confound their politics, frustrate their knavish tricks,” – as his hero, along with page Dafty and mage Appledorus, goes out into the world partly in search of his elder brother Austin (also one of the King’s by-blows.) Along the way Peregrine falls into the company of Hun Horde Seventeen. You get the drift.
Peregrine, as his name suggests, is a traveller: not only that, but also, when fantasy bleeds into Davidson’s tale, at times a falcon.
This is not a novel to be taken very seriously. It’s a jeu d’esprit on Davidson’s part but passes the time well enough. I note that once again he employs the word wee to mean small. There’s Scots ancestry there somewhere.
May 7, 2015
"Peregrine: Primus is a picaresque fantasy best described as the Davidsonian approach to the curiously modern amorality of the Dark Ages. It is the first novel in a trilogy describing the adventures of Peregrine, bastard son of the pagan king of Sapodilla, which, as all men know, was adjacent to both Navarre and to Pannonia, and was the last remaining bastion of pagan orthodoxy in what that generation considered the encroaching sea of Christian heathenism."
Who, reading this flyleaf, would ever bother to pick up the book? Somewhere, someone told me to read this, so I tried. Nine pages later it's no better than the above, and I concede defeat.
Who, reading this flyleaf, would ever bother to pick up the book? Somewhere, someone told me to read this, so I tried. Nine pages later it's no better than the above, and I concede defeat.
January 13, 2020
I tried, I really tried, but I just could not get through this book. The phrasing was bizarre and there seemed to a be a lot of clever quips that, either I'm too thick to get or, made no sense at all. Just plain weird, but not in an endearing way.
October 21, 2016
I couldn't read it... the attempt to write in an accent made me read each line 5 times. It gets two stars because the part of the story I understood, I liked. Wished I knew what people were saying.
July 20, 2025
No one can say I didn't try. I made it to about page 100. Avram Davidson wrote at least one terrific book (The Phoenix and the Mirror) and at least two not very good ones, of which this is one. What I liked about The Phoenix and the Mirror was that in many ways it didn't fit the usual genre standards with the usual genre trappings. It was a fantasy, but it was an unusual, different kind of fantasy.
So too is this one, except that this one is actively annoying. Things just happen, there's no sense of a plot, and it's too much for me to both watch Celine and Julie Go Boating at the time same time as my reading this, something has to give, and it's this. It's linear, it has characters, but it's like the author doesn't understand how much weight to give to his events: where you paraphrase, where you skim over with a short summary, where you stop for exacting verbatim descriptions with dialogue, he's doing it in all the wrong places.
He ought to know, he's a prolific author and editor. And yet, he sure doesn't seem to. So I've stopped.
(Note: I'm a writer, so I suffer when I offer fewer than five stars. But these aren't ratings of quality, they're a subjective account of how much I liked the book: 5* = an unalloyed pleasure from start to finish, 4* = really enjoyed it, 3* = readable but not thrilling, 2* = disappointing, and 1* = hated it.)
So too is this one, except that this one is actively annoying. Things just happen, there's no sense of a plot, and it's too much for me to both watch Celine and Julie Go Boating at the time same time as my reading this, something has to give, and it's this. It's linear, it has characters, but it's like the author doesn't understand how much weight to give to his events: where you paraphrase, where you skim over with a short summary, where you stop for exacting verbatim descriptions with dialogue, he's doing it in all the wrong places.
He ought to know, he's a prolific author and editor. And yet, he sure doesn't seem to. So I've stopped.
(Note: I'm a writer, so I suffer when I offer fewer than five stars. But these aren't ratings of quality, they're a subjective account of how much I liked the book: 5* = an unalloyed pleasure from start to finish, 4* = really enjoyed it, 3* = readable but not thrilling, 2* = disappointing, and 1* = hated it.)
February 15, 2023
In a medieval world that's like a seedy and disreputable neighbour to Guy Gavriel Kay's, where paganism is giving away to Christianity, the bastard son of a pagan king is invited to go seek his fortune elsewehere, and with a stableboy and tutor as his companions, he has assorted encounters and adventures that mingle the sacred and the profane more or less routinely, and which are as often baffling to everyone concerned as not. Peregrine soon gets the swing of things, however. With it high erudition and colourful characters and situations, this is Umberto Eco crossed with jack Vance, but, as with all Davidson, still very much its own thing.
November 22, 2015
Virtually incomprehensible.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews