The Chalchiuhite Dragon: A Tale of Toltec Times

by Kenneth Vennor Morris

Huitznahuacan is a peaceful, innocent city nestled in a hidden valley, whose citizens are as ignorant of war and strife as they are of the world outside. Recently, however, portents have indicated that the coming year will bring momentous events, perhaps even the reincarnation of the god Quetzalcoatl. Meanwhile, the Toltec Topiltzin, emperor of the vast northern realms, has heard of Huitznahuacan and set out to add it to his empire. Mistaken identities, miscommunication, and an evil high priest threaten the pacifistic Huitznahuatecs' attempts to stave off the invasion.

Creator of Celtic fantasy and re-teller of Norse, Chinese, and other myths, Morris is considered, along with Tolkien and Eddison, one of the three great fantasy stylists of the century. This newly-discovered novel of Aztec fantasy reaffirms his reputation as a true master of the genre.

Genres: Fantasy, Fiction, Historical

304 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1992

About the author

Kenneth Vennor Morris - sometimes using the Welsh form of his name Cenydd Morus - was a Welsh author and theosophist. Born in South Wales, he moved to London with his family as a child, and was educated at Christ's Hospital. In 1896 he lived in Dublin for a while, where he became friends with George William Russell. From 1908 to 1930 Morris lived in California as a member of staff of the Theosophical Society headquarters at Point Loma. The last seven years of his life were spent back in his native Wales, during which time he founded seven Welsh theosophical lodges. Morris was a friend of Talbot Mundy, and the two writers often commentated on each other's work in The Theosophical Path magazine.

Reviews

[Gregory Mele · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really wanted to love this book.

Morris was hailed by Ursula K. LeGuin as one of the great founding voices (with Tolkien, Eddison and Dunsany) of modern fantasy -- placing him on a short list to which she did not even add Lewis. His short stories fictionalizing the legends of Wales, are beautifully written and inspired later giants of Celtic fantasy (especially with a YA bent) such as Lloyd Alexander and Evangeline Walton. He was a staunch Theosophist, and I have a soft-spot for Theosophy (both in principle and in the sure kookiness of Blavatasky's 'Secret History'). Finally, this is a novel about the Toltecs, and I myself write fantasy fiction inspired by Mesoamerica.

So, what went wrong?

Well, a lot went *right*; There are truly poetic passages in this text and a clear love and admiration for the society Morris sought to represent. While the story of Quetzalcoatl Tolpitzin probably receives more attention than any other (more on that in a moment), Morris actually tells about the events leading to the divine emperor's *birth*. There are some humerous side stories (such as a pair of escaped soldiers who find a hidden valley and declare themselves "kings" of a new *republic*. The story is fresh and reads like an actual myth from the era and culture and the magical elements are subtle and feel more like magical-realism than high fantasy, giving the story an interesting pseudo-fantasy quality.

However, some of the strengths are also weaknesses. There are numerous places where the ensuing 90 years of archaeology makes some of the story's descriptions and assumptions inaccurate, but I don't fault the author for that, even though one of those things now cast into doubt is how much the original myths of Quetzalcoatl really paralleled those of a Christ-like figure (which, with this Theosophist bent, Morris expands to a more Vishnu like tale of a compassionate deity who incarnates during times of moral strife and societal decay). Again, this is mythopoeia -- the archaeological truth isn't so much crucial to the tale as is the mythic/moral truth the author is trying to write about, and it was nice to for once not have a story about Mesoamericans that obsesses over human sacrifice. OTOH, because the story is written like a myth, it does not read like modern fiction, anymore than does the Popol Vuh or Nibelungenliad -- there is little actual dialogue, and the characters remain forever at arms' distance; not so much flesh and blood people as archetypes. (If you find the Silmarillion too dense and archaic in voice, this will break you.)

Likewise, Morris' own metaphysical interests weigh the narrative down. Not just in the sense that he wishes to show the more enlightened members of Mesoamerica to be students of the same "perennial truth" or "universal religion" that was at the center of Theosophical thought, but because several of our viewpoint characters at times wander into ecstatic states that fills pages of text, but says little and does not advance the story. Readers often struggle with Nahuatl names and concepts, and Morris does not help in his unwillingness to explain, merely to immerse. *I* understand why there are multiple Tlalocs (storm god) and Tezcatlipocas (god of magic, mysticism, etc), but I doubt anyone walking in cold would understand why a "priest of the Red Tezcatlipoca" and a "servant in his heart of the Black Tezcaltipoca" would be at cross purposes, especially since all they have been told is that "Tezcaltipoca is the Soul-of-the-World, and his black and red natures are at cross purposes". OK...

Likewise, Nopaltzin, our principle viewpoint character, belongs to some mystical order, but it is never named, detailed nor in anyway made clear, anymore than it is who his mysterious Master was, even though the Master's death and final injunction is central to starting the story off. Then, 2/3 of the way through our story, Nopaltzin becomes a minor character as the narrative shifts to the Toltec point of view...

In essence, The Chalchiuite Dragon is a fascinating literary exercise to create a foundational and moral/mystical mythic telling of the birth of the mortal incarnation of Qutezalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent, last of the great Toltec emperors, who attempted to ban human sacrifice and instill an era of peace and harmony. It's a bold task, and if the text where streamlined, some of the passages trimmed and exercised, it would be an interesting pseudo-myth. As it is, it reminds me of William Hope Hodgson's "The Night Land" -- an ahead-of-its-time, truly original work that is so bogged down by the author's literary choices as to be impenetrable for most readers.

[Dan Trefethen · Rating 4 out of 5]

In her landmark 1973 essay 'From Elfland to Poughkeepsie', Ursula Le Guin discusses what comprises 'real' fantasy, and gives examples from three 20th century masters of the art: J.R.R. Tolkien, E.R. Eddison, and Kenneth Morris.

Everybody knows Tolkien, and I read Eddison after reading this essay (and I now own a first edition of 'The Worm Ouroboros'), but I had not read Morris. Until now.

This book had a strange history. Morris died in 1937 and was best known for his books about Welsh mythology, but this book wasn't published until 1992, and the original manuscript was held in the Theosophical Society archives for years. (Morris was deeply committed to Theosophy). His mentor in Theosophy asked him to write a book about pre-Columbian times, and he delivered the manuscript of this book, subtitled 'A Tale of Toltec Times', in 1935, where it was kept for decades.

The book itself shows the immersive nature of Morris' writing – sometimes difficult to understand, partly because of the totally different approach to life of the Toltec people of his imagining. Morris created (Tolkien would say “sub-created”) an entire society (multiple societies, actually) that integrates religion, nature, and human affairs in ways that would seem unusual to us. Their thinking is different. Their actions are different. They seem to have powers we don't have. Yet they are as recognizably human as anyone.

We know very little about Toltec society, the pre-Aztec people of Central America and Mexico. Morris imagines a war-like society that encounters an idyllic, isolated subset of people who do not know war. The confrontation is almost predictable, but the resolution is not. The ending has, to my mind, too much similarity to the Christian origin story, but the development of the plot that involves a clash of cultures is intriguing. Morris seems to be saying that while conflict may be a fact of human nature, our concept of war may not be universal. The sad part of this is that it was written just prior to the greatest conflagration in world history.

[MB Taylor · Rating 1 out of 5]

Setting this one aside. I got 60+ pages into it and it hasn't really engaged me. I think there's a interesting story in it, but it's hard to tell.

I had a couple of problems getting into it.

First, I couldn't wrap my head around the place and character names. I assume Morris is being faithful to authentic Toltec names, but I can't even begin to guess at how to pronounce them and longer ones sort of blur together in my mind. A personal failing no doubt.

Second, and more significantly, the text is heavy on description, explanations and mysticism and light on anything really happening. I get it that Nopaltzin is really into the mystical aspects of his life and lives in wonderment of everything around him, but I found it pretty boring to read about.

It also didn't help that I found the first paragraph almost totally incomprehensible:

It was the Eve of Teotleco, holiest of festivals, the last day in the year House 12 in the holiest year-bundle in history. In a couple of hours the sun would set and the new year, Rabbit 13, begin, let but which pass and we would be in Reed 1, Ce Acatl, the holiest year.

Years, I guess, come in groups of 13 and have names like "House", "Rabbit", and "Reed". But what's a year-bundle? Is that a group of 13 years, or something else? And how can everything (the festival, the year-bundle and the year "Ce Acatl") be the holiest? It's probably just me again, but I don't want to think that hard at the beginning a novel.

I was disappointed that I didn't like this better; I was hoping for an interesting story that gave me some understanding of what it was like in Toltec times and some flavor of the history, but I didn't want to be immersed in the culture.

I'm not completely convinced that I wouldn't enjoy this more at a different time, so back to the unread pile it goes. I'll probably never pick it up again, but I might.