When I read short story collections intermittently over a long period of time, my reactions are similarly written piecemeal, while they're fresh in my mind. That gives the reviews a choppy, and often repetitive, quality. I'm now trying to go back and edit some of those done in the past, to condense and rearrange them into unified wholes. Accordingly, I've now edited this one.
Although this anthology of apparently original stories was first published in this form in 1994 (the date of the Roc trade paperback edition) the back of the title page indicates that it was originally one part of a larger 1992 anthology from Unnameable Press, Grails, Quests, Visitations, and Other Occurrences. I picked it up at our local flea market, intrigued by the Grail theme. This was one flea market purchase I made as a gamble, but definitely turned out to be a rewarding investment!
The medieval Christian legends of the Holy Grail are probably derived from still older Celtic and pre-Christian legends. (My knowledge of Celtic folklore comes only from a couple of secondary sources, and is very limited.) While Jesus and his disciples shared a common cup at the Last Supper, as would have been normal practice at a Passover meal, the New Testament evinces no interest in the cup itself (and certainly doesn't suggest that it was used to catch some of Jesus' blood at the cross). The whole idea of the veneration of physical relics for supposed supernatural properties is one that's foreign to the Biblical tradition, deriving from the Gentile superstitions of a later milieu. The Grail legends in particular first appear in the late 1100s and early 1200s in the French-language Arthurian romances, which transport the 6th-century Celtic traditions about King Arthur into a high-medieval fantasy world. Also, an important point to recognize at the outset about the editors' principle of selection here is that, as far as they're concerned, the idea of the Grail can simply be a metaphor that covers ANY story about characters seeking anything that they see as important. So in this collection, we actually have stories about the (Holy) Grail, or a Grail; stories that just allude to it peripherally or in passing; and quest-type stories that don't have the Grail as their object at all. Some of the ones in the latter two groups may be good (standouts, even!); but for a themed anthology, this one is definitely unfocused.
Fritz Leiber's very short and unilluminating Afterword touches briefly on some of the above information, but it's mostly just an anecdotal account of his introduction (at the same time as his pen pal H. P. Lovecraft's) to the Grail concept through Charles Williams' novel, War in Heaven, in 1936-37. It's probably of more interest to fans of the Lovecraft/Weird Tales circle in the pulp era than to students of the Grail mythos. There's also no bio-critical information here about any of the 25 contributors. The cover reference to "25 stories" is misleading; four selections are actually poems, and one is a play.
While I'm no poetry expert (and more of a fiction fan), I'd venture to guess that none of the poems will rank as major contributions to American verse, though they all have some beautiful language and evocative images. The connection of Lisa Lepovetsky's "Somewhere in Her Dying Heart" to the Grail concept isn't obvious to me, but she's apparently drawing on a strand of Celtic mythology that I'm not familiar with. Jane Yolen's "The Question of the Grail" takes an entirely different tack, interpreting the Grail, in gender feminist fashion, as exemplified by the female body in its birthing and nurturing function. Both of these consist of just a few stanzas. Still another short poem, "Quest Now" by Margo Skinner, proved to be, IMO, the best of the poetic pieces here, and the most accessible.
"Dagda" by James S. Dorr is a bit over five pages long. It obviously also draws heavily on Irish mythology, equating the Grail with the Dagda's cauldron, but attempting --not very successfully, IMO-- to also tie in the crucifixion of Christ and the Arthurian saga. The portrayal of the Dagda here is more reflective of the original legendary material than Lawhead's more sanitized treatment in his Song of Albion trilogy (which was considerably reinterpreted to make the Dagda the embodiment of primitive monotheism), and the marked earthiness is consistent with the folkloric material; but the poem is probably best appreciated by readers more familiar with Celtic mythology than I am. Diana Paxson's "The Feast of the Fisher King," is actually a masque in verse, originally performed at Mythcon XII in 1981 (according to an author's note) but with some narrative insertions added for this volume. The author has a longtime fascination with the Arthurian and Grail legends, and based this labor of love on Chretien de Troyes account of Percival's first visit to the Grail Castle. It would probably be best appreciated by readers familiar with that work and similar medieval poems; but even if (like me) you aren't, it still has a real power and fascination.
Stories here that didn't work for me included Brian M. Thomsen's "Reunion," Bruce D. Arthur's "Falling to the Edge of the End of the World," and Gene Wolf's "The Sailor Who Sailed After the Sun." In the first one, we have a homosexual Lancelot (which would have been news to Guinevere!), gifted with immortality by the Grail but now apparently dying of AIDS, a contradiction the author doesn't address; it came across as more of an exercise in "political correctness" than a serious attempt at storytelling. Arthur's story is SF, but the science didn't strike me as plausible enough to "suspend disbelief," and the ending came across as a muddled Deus ex machina exercise. Wolfe's short fiction, in my limited experience of it, has usually been rewarding; but this one is a surrealist tale that eventually gets SO surreal that it loses its link to reality, and lost me along the way. (The latter two also have no actual reference to the Grail.)
Otherwise, though, I was really impressed by the quality of the other selections I read here. There weren't any that I didn't like to some degree, and almost all ranged from really good to outstanding. We have stories here that touch on significant themes like family, doing the right thing, good and evil; written with a variety of approaches and settings, but with a consistently high quality of characterization, felicitous style, and (often) emotional impact.
My favorite story in the whole book is Janny Wurts' "That Way Lies Camelot," a masterpiece of depicting the everyday world touched by the magical. Two other favorites are Ilona Ouspenskaya's "Curse of the Romany" and "Hell-Bent for Leather" by Jeremiah E. Phipps. (The Romany or Rom people are popularly known as Gypsies; and from the author's last name, she might herself be from that ethnic background.) In the first one, the titular curse is lycanthropy, and this is a great contribution to the tradition of werewolf fiction. Phipps' story is another one with nothing to do with the Grail. It's zany, off-the-wall, and solidly tongue-in-cheek; I could also say sweet and nutty. (The last two adjectives sound like a candy bar, but this confection actually might be good for you as well as tasty.) A critic might accuse Phipps of wildly overusing coincidence, but this reader chalked it up to Providence. (Anyway, critics wouldn't let their hair down enough to read this yarn --their loss!)
Neil Gaiman's "Chivalry" is surreal, with the Holy Grail turning up in a modern-day British thrift store, and an earnest Sir Galahad showing up to seek it. But here the surreal elements interact with the everyday world in a way that points out the possibility of the "magical' (broadly defined) and numinous in real life, and works in a way that the surreal in Wolfe's selection doesn't. "Invisible Bars," by Dean Wesley Smith, also has a modern setting, with a reinterpreted take on the idea of the genie in the lamp; it's effective and well-crafted, but while its message is thought-provoking, I'd say it isn't a complete picture of the truth of the situation. Traditional fantasy worlds are the settings for "The Gift of Gilthaliad" by Brad Strickland and the late Marion Zimmer Bradley's "Chalice of Tears," both of which concern magical cups. Strickland's millenia-spanning story, told mostly in straight narration, has something of the flavor of pseudo-myth in the mold of The Silmarillion; Bradley's is a simple, straightforward morality tale about judging by appearances. Andre Norton's "That Which Overfloweth" apparently depicts the Christian Holy Grail, in a far-future setting (I say apparently, because the author eschews any explicit reference to Christ or Joseph of Arimathea --but the description carries implicit hints of both). This is a grim and grisly, beautiful and uplifting, sweet and bitter story --and the first work by Norton that I've tried to read and actually finished and liked (if "liked" is exactly the right word). The theme behind Mercedes Lackey's "The Cup and the Cauldron" is that Christianity and all other forms of spirituality are basically alternate descriptions of the same reality. That's not, obviously, a theme I endorse; but the author does write well and has created a finely-crafted story with engaging characters.
Orson Scott Card's contribution here, "Atlantis," is an SF story that alternates between the viewpoint of a protagonist living ca. 120,000 B.C. and a future researcher studying the past by means of technology that allows one to view (but not hear) past events, on a sort of screen, as they happen. It presents a speculation that the flooding of what is today the Red Sea at the end of the last Ice Age was the origin of the stories of both Atlantis and Noah's flood. Personally, I take the Genesis account more literally than Card does, which makes it harder to suspend disbelief; but taken on its own terms, he does present a compelling and meaningful story (and more plausible factually than, say, Jack London's Before Adam). And in any case, the real message of the story isn't the speculation, but the life lesson that the researcher draws from it. "Visions" by Lawrence Watt-Evans shows the mundane world invaded by a touch of Divine grace, to good effect; it's a tale vastly superior to my only previous experience with his work, "The Guardswoman." Alan Dean Foster's "What You See" was my first experience with his work, and one of the best pieces of supernatural short fiction that I've read in a long time. "Hitchhiking Across an Ancient Sea" by Kristine Kathryn Rusch is an example of pure realistic descriptive fiction, with no speculative element at all (and no real connection to the Grail mythos),
Several of the authors here are ones I'd never heard of; but these stories were excellent introductions. In "The Awful Truth in Arthur's Barrow," humorist Lionel Fenn delivers one of the least substantial of the stories, being played entirely for laughs; but it's an absolute hoot, a real masterpiece of over-the-top, zany humor rendered in perfectly deadpan style. "Storyville, Tennessee" by Richard Gilliam makes excellent use of traditional zombie lore (not the cliched' "zombie apocalypse" model that's come to dominate the field); but Lee Hoffman and Rick Wilber also deserve high marks, respectively, for "Water" and the outstanding "Greggie's Cup." All in all, this is one of the best anthologies I've read in recent years!