Most intransigent Reader, two wanderers, whose years hang about them like millstones, though their wisdom rattles beads in the nursery of the mind, seek humble access to your cloud-bedizened person.
Prospero and Roger Bacon are two elderly wizards in a fantasy realm of small principalities and feuding warlords. When a series of ominous supernatural manifestations begin to haunt the mansion of Prospero, the two friends set out on a quest to discover the source of the evil occurences. Their travels are hampered by ghosts, wild beasts, chimaeras, inclement weather, nightmares of all sizes and shapes yet the wizards fight back with magic staff and chanted spell and bloody minded perseverence. The best weapons in their arsenal are their sense of humour, their refusal to admit defeat and give in to fear and despair.
- Oh, good heavens! Great elephantine, cloudy, adamant heaven full of thunder stones! Roger! You can’t be serious. Are you?
- If I were serious, I would never have become a wizard, would I?
Inspired by the autor discovering the prose of J R R Tolkien on a trip to England, The Face in The Frost is written as a homage to the grandmaster of fantasy, in flowery prose and with heroic scope, half in jest, half as thrilling horror story that unveils all the phobias Bellairs experienced in childhood: the dark and damp recesses of a cellar, monsters waiting in the shadows of the garden, strange noises rattling the windows, acrophobia, snakes and spiders and thunderstorms.
All of Prospero’s fear of dry insect shells, crackling, peeling, dusty things with skeletal limbs, choked him and made him thrash around in the chair until we woke up.
I enjoyed the story from start to finish, equally appreciating the sarcastic jokes and cantankerous personalities of the wizards and the mood pieces that sent chills down my spine in lonely cemeteries or haunted houses. He are a few more examples of what I’m talking about:
On a shelf over the experiment table was the inevitable skull, which the wizard put there to remind him of death, though it usually reminded him that he needed to go to the dentist.
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They saw a haggard moon, with pinch brows and grieving mouth, rising into a blackness distant and calling. Like children lying on grass and looking into a cloud-vaulted day-time sky, they felt that they were going to fall upwards. Hollow ocean depths hung overhead, so that looking up was like standing on the edge of a cliff.
Elements from fairytales can be spotted here and there: transport solutions inspired by Cinderella, a ‘... competent, but somewhat sarcastic mirror in a heavy gilt frame. When the magician was not trying to get something out of it, it was given to tuneless humming and crabby remarks’. Like asking its patron if he ‘discovered a cure for mangy eyebrows’ . Powerful spells are delivered in doggerel verse like the following :
Higgeldy-piggeldy
John Cantacuzene
Swaddled in Byzantine
Pearl – seeded robes
Put out the eyes of his
Iconophanical
Prelate for piercing his
Priestly earlobes.
The only reason I did not rate the story five star for its inventive and beautiful prose is the lack of meaningful character development and the simplicity of the plot. It’s a case of the succes of style over substance, a divertimento that enchants but leaves little behind. Yet I would not hesitate to put the name of Bellairs next to Jack Vance who wrote in the Dying Earth cycle about wizards and their quests in an alternative humorous and melancholic manner. I might add Fritz Leiber, Gordon R Dickson and Gene Wolfe to the list of similar writers. I believe also that the more recent favorite by Sussana Clarke “Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell” was partially inspired by the characters of Prospero and Roger Bacon here.
Let me say goodbye for now with another extract written in the alliterative style of Beowulf:
My crest is cropped by croaking cranes! I go to drown in doleful dumps, deadrunk with drearyhead.