“This Will Be a Quick War” Twenty years ago, Hanlin and Thorem fought side by side as mercenaries in the Border Wars, hired by rich landowners and the settled business interests to push the western frontier farther into lands held by the westlings—the kirangee, the People, who have lived there for untold generations.
Now the business interests intend to encroach still farther on the territory held by the People. Hired by the wealthy Lady Sil of Tidon to assist in this enterprise, Thorem cannot convince Hanlin to join him on another campaign. Following the earlier battles, Hanlin had gone to live with the kirangee, learned some of their ways, married a kirangia woman—and has no interest in making war against them again.
But Hanlin’s and Thorem’s destinies will nevertheless become entangled once more as both are drawn back to the frontier that saw their earlier glories—and failures.
David C. Smith, recognized for a career spent writing sword-and-sorcery and weird fiction, here offers an insightful, often brutal modern novel that vividly brings to life the ferocious wills and dark hearts of the skilled mercenaries and the redoubtable kirangee. The People will raise the sorcery of their ancestors to defend their land at all costs, but Lady Sil will not be deterred, for as Thorem tells his old friend, “As mothers breed sons, the sons breed war.”
David C. Smith is a titan of Sword and Sorcery fiction. His novels are highly coveted, but sadly out of print. Last year Pulp Hero Press released a collection of his stories titled Tales of Attluma; and more recently the novel Sometime Lofty Towers. While it's exciting to see these new releases, I surely hope this leads to more of his work being republished for a new generation.
"I see his ghost in dreams. One day I'll chase him down in Hell, and you'll hear him screaming from the other side of Death."
Haunted by a betrayal many years gone, Hanlin is a man full of rage. Many factors have led him to the decision to finally return north to his homeland. Procrastination over this decision has allowed a past comrade to locate him and try to enlist his aid in one more small war. The mention of the name Ardodan changes everything.
"And what is wisdom?"
"To be content with life and accept it, despite everything we confront in life."
Hanlin's anger is palpable, giving other men pause. To him killing was just a job. His time living with the Westlings has given him a depth and wisdom that he lacked in his youth.
"The past is seldom what we think it is. We choose to remember what we wish to remember, but that is not the past. The past does not hold us; it’s that we do not let go. We hold the past to us as if it were a wild animal, then blame the animal for our own strong grip. Why blame the animal? Why blame the past?"
"How then do we ever let go?"
"As we would that wild animal, very carefully."
Smith has attempted to give us a fair, impartial look at both sides of this border dispute. Although, like Hanlin, I believe most of us would side with the Westlings. This conflict is reminiscent of the American west, but of course this type of incident wasn't exclusive to any one place or time throughout history.
The interview after the story was a nice touch. Gives the reader insight into the poignant personal connection between Sometime Lofty Towers and Smith.
Sometime Lofty Towers does not disappoint. It certainly kept me riveted from start to finish. Bonds are forged, allegiance is betrayed, and one bloody afternoon will settle the score, at least for now. A satisfying, self-contained story, but with room to revisit if Smith chose to do so.
I just finished this and man, not only is it really good, I keep thinking about it - as both a reader who enjoyed the story and a writer who admires the craft. At a glance it can feel a bit grimdark, but keep going because it turns out to actually be a very mature work, as in written by a writer with lots of experience, that feels a bit like if Cormac McCarthy wrote Sword and Sorcery. There is wonder and beauty, but it's more grounded and sublime than, say, some wild realm Elric is passing through.
Apparently Smith's working on a book on writing Sword and Sorcery, from a craft perspective, and I admit I was a little skeptical before reading SLT, as I am skeptical of all books on writing. Now? I'm definitely going to pick up a copy when it comes out.
In the meanwhile, I give my firmest possible recommendation for this book, especially as it includes an interview with Smith placed at the back, one whose additional context deeply enhanced the pleasure I took from the story.
This is violent poetry, sublime and beautiful, the story of a hate-filled man fighting toward peace through bloody battle. It is equal parts sword and sorcery and philosophical novel, i.e. Robert E. Howard's "Beyond the Black River" meets Jean-Paul Sartre's *La Nausée.* I'll refrain from trying to paraphrase the philosophical insights this novel provides; I'm not completely sure I've processed them all. In any case, the depth of emotion and thoughtfulness vitalizes this otherwise gripping tale of sword and sorcery on the frontier, the bloody "interzone" point of contact between "civilization" and "barbarism." The main character, Hanlin, participates in several intriguing literary archetypes: James Fenimore Cooper's "Natty Bumppo," Herman Melville's obsessive "Captain Ahab," even Joseph Conrad's "Mr. Kurtz." Hanlin is driven into the interzone to fight alongside the people he once killed to oppose the profane Sil, whose commercial enterprise degrades humanity to the level of--to use Smith's memorable phrase--"living meat." Put another way: Hanlin fights against the inhumanity of Sil's world. Despite the "Conradian" darkness--the horror, the horror--there is, nevertheless, a deeply moving glimmer of peace (and even hope). This is the literary artistic height that contemporary sword and sorcery can aspire to. The best novel I've read this year.
Something billed as literary sword & sorcery, that has a title from a Shakespeare sonnet, is a thing I pounce on. Also the story follows one of the tropes to me most effective/affecting: Two aging fighters return to the fray, with more or less reluctance but strong cause, and find out how much, how little, they have changed, and what change yet is possible for them in spite of damage and inertia.
With a strong analogy to the colonization of North America. There is no sympathy for the colonizers.
Women are done well, with no fuss.
Art writing, in a pulp plot turned to a thoughtful sensibility: kind of my ideal.
I thought this was some out-of-print 70s classic of the genre, turns out it was first released in 2021 before the indie press publishing it folded.
Very glad Brackenbury Books scooped up the rights and did a reissue cuz folks? It's a banger.
Disillusioned veteran Harlin is enticed by entrepreneur Lady Sil to work private security in her colonization efforts of the westlands and fend off those pesky indigenous Kirangee that inhabit them. Having had his ass thoroughly kicked by the Kirangee years before, Harlin initially refuses, until Sil dangles the whereabouts of the traitor responsible for the aforementioned ambush in front of him.
One of the most cynical and angry sword & sorcery works I've ever read, which is saying something. Unlike most sword & sorcery books, however, the targets of Lofty Towers' ire are very deserving ones. Harlin's bitterness at the unchecked consumption of the go-songa* ought to resonate pretty strongly for any reader with half a working brain in 2025.
What can a single person do when the currents of history align against them? The tides will swallow you in the end. And yet, Blood Meridian this ain't. The central fantasy of sword & sorcery is that the strength of your sword-arm will see you through anything, and old pro David C. Smith doesn't forget what he's writing here. Being handy with a blade is not a panacea... but it doesn't hurt. If the tides come for us all in the end, we can best help keep each other above water for as long as we can.
Would that all the sword & sorcery I read was this thoughtful!
*This is what the kirangee call the colonists - I forgot what they're actually called. Smith pulls a bit of a Charles Saunders here, where the prose is peppered with fantasy bullshit words that become clear from context and help draw you into the world.
A modern Sword & Sorcery tale, a fantasy western. It is romantic with philosophy, nature, poetry, and the grotesque. It’s also somewhat existential and our main character is a great gray one, he is himself, an individual. Absolutely beautiful writing, brought tears to my eyes.
Much as a Shakespeare sonnet is an unlikely source for the title of a sword & sorcery novel, this is an unlikely entry into the sword & sorcery field, despite the author's long career writing in that sub-genre.
S&S is closely related in tone to two other genres that rose from the pulps -- the hard-boiled detective and the western. Here, Smith draws strongly from the latter and creates an interesting fusion with techniques of the literary novel to create a tale that is at once fast-paced and visceral, yet also introspective and questions the place of rage, revenge and all of the very-human violent tropes of the two genres. Somewhere between Robert E. Howard's "Drums of Tumbalku" or perhaps "Beyond the Black River" and Clint Eastwood's "Unforgiven" this is a frontier tale of one man's attempt to come to terms with his past and find a place for his future amidst a colonial push to exterminate a native people.
This is a complicated story that reminds us that few people are the villains of their own narrative. The invaders see themselves as rightfully claiming what they need from a backward people who are not, perhaps, even truly human -- but within that sweeping stereotype Smith draws a distinction, and a timely one, that could be read quite clearly as a critique on capitalism and its excesses. Likewise, the natives, who are the only magic-users we encounter, are neither "noble savages", nor New Age cyphers of mystical goodness and harmony with nature. One part Iroquois, one part Lakota, and perhaps one part Howard's Picts they represent a side of human nature, with one set of virtues and flaws, just as the invaders represent another.
Written with lush, at times poetic, prose, this is a very different sort of tale that shows that genre fiction needn't be constrained by its own supposed rules.
A tale set in Smith’s Attluma world, but very different from the Oron books, or short sword and sorcery tales. The philosophy based portion worked very well, unlike one of the young Oron books. I caught myself thinking about so many things in my own life. I couldn’t put the book down. Very interesting read. Very good.
At first glance, one might think this is just another sword and sorcery novel. But it's not. Not by a longshot. This isn't a novel about overly-muscled, barbarian warriors and half-naked damsels. This is really epic fantasy, heroic fantasy, with depth and meaning, and thoughtfulness, much like Smith's masterpiece, "Fall of the First World Trilogy." Sure, it has some of the tropes and motifs of sword and sorcery, but the author knows those all too well and wisely chose not to overuse them or rely on them. For instance, there are no sorcerers and witches casting spells and summoning demons with the wave of a hand. No, the magic is inherent in this world - it's part of the world the author so carefully and lovingly created. It's earth magic, magical realism, and it's at the heart of Kirangee culture and society - an ancient, native people who were nearly wiped out years earlier during the Border Wars, as they were exploited and their lands stolen from them. The main character is the veteran mercenary Hanlin, who, like his fellow warrior Thorem, once fought against the Kirangee. But now many years have passed, and both men have grown older, and Hanlin begins to see things, to see life, in a different light. Both characters are stand-outs - solid and real, and world-weary. There is a literary quality to this novel, and the dialog is thoughtful, reflective, and insightful, and it moves the story along as it reveals the hearts and souls of all its characters. This novel is timely in it politics and message, crucial in its themes, but is never preachy, and Smith is wise enough to show restraint in his proselytizing, letting his characters speak for him, and for themselves. This novel is at once peaceful and quiet, almost lyrical in its elegant prose, but it's also loud and savage, gruff and gritty. Smith does not ignore the action, either, and he really delivers on his battle scenes. This is a story of evil, greedy men and women who fight to take what they want from others, and destroy what they do not want or need, or even understand. But Hanlin "gets it," and his personal arc is like an epiphany, forcing him to see things, understand things in he could never realize in his younger days. This puts him at odds with Thorem, and they part ways. But as the back cover hints, their "destinies will nevertheless become entangled once more as both are drawn back to the frontier that saw their earlier glories - and failures." If you enjoy intelligent dialog, fine writing, and battles that will make you hear the clash of steel, if you enjoy a tale well told, a tale told with the realism of actual history, "Sometime Lofty Towers" is the novel to read.
There has been a plethora of great new sword and sorcery content recently. To its strength, it has a lot of divergence in theme and tone. But if someone came to me and asked where they should start-what one work really sums up this small press rebirth of a genre held on the backburner since the 70s, I wouldnt have known where to point them.
Until now. This is that book. This is the best single book novel length tale of the newer crop. Unsurprising, as Tales of Attluma by the same author was among the very best of short story collections.
I am overdue to go to the original debut of the author, the stories written before I was even born. I will be starting Oron soon. I guess you could say I am on a David C Smith tear this year.
Sometime Lofty Towers is a fascinating novel: It clearly draws from the sword & sorcery tradition in a number of ways, making Smith's appreciation for that genre evident. Yet it readily departs from that tradition, too, to explore existentialist themes, comment on the dehumanizing greed of colonialism and capitalism, and wonders whether each person is fundamentally the same throughout their lives or can be fundamentally remade by traumas and other pivotal life events.
Those seeking out sword and sorcery or an adventure tale will certainly find elements of that in Hanlin, a brooding ex-mercenary and the story's antihero protagonist; so, too, in the initially personal stakes of the plot, the extended (and quite graphic) battle scenes, and the focus on bodily experience—sweat, exertion, bodies pushed to their limits—through much of the novel's action. That said, the novel offers an elevated literary experience, too. Hanlin is well-spoken and introspective, and he spends ample time in dialogue or reflection struggling to the significance of human existence in light of the mass violence and death he's witnessed (and participated in). Further, the animist beliefs and hunter-gatherer lifeways of the indigenous kirangee people highlight, through contrast, the soulless, single-minded greed of the settlers who encroach upon their lands. Hanlin's interiority is all the more interesting for this: He was a participant in the same colonial warmaking in his youth yet has come to empathize with the kirangee by the time the story begins; he is determined to walk his own path in life yet is pulled and haunted by his past—or at least by his inability to let go of it.
Somehow, Smith manages to weave all these elements into a rather short novel, only somewhat exceeding the length of a novella. Every scene, I think, is quite deliberate in its construction, either succeeding at immersing readers in the story's world (and its darkness) or meaningfully exploring characters and themes at once. Even the at times drawn-out battle scenes are seemingly meant to tell us how Hanlin experiences his world, and how colonial-capitalist ambitions treat all life as expendable. (Smith mentions in an interview the formative influence of watching the Vietnam War unfold during his early adulthood. Not coincidentally, the antagonists undertake a costly campaign against a people determined to fight them off, and the ultraviolence of some of the melees is less reminiscent of the Lord of the Rings films and more of Apocalyse Now.)
Sometime Lofty Towers offers an uncommon experience and a well-crafted narrative for readers of adventure fantasy and "literary" fiction both, I think; it has definitely scratched both itches for me. I'll have more to say about this novel later, but I absolutely recommend it, the only caveats being that Smith does not hold back much with his clear-eyed depictions of colonial cruelty and the horrors of war.
David C. Smith’s "Sometime Lofty Towers" is a philosophical sword-and-sorcery novel that pushes the borders of fantasy into a meditation on violence, memory, and the ache of human aliveness. At its core is Hanlin, an aging warrior haunted by the betrayals and atrocities of a brutal frontier world, who is drawn unwillingly into another campaign of conquest against the indigenous kirangee. As Hanlin navigates fraught reunions with old comrades and adversaries, Smith unspools a narrative as much about inner reckoning as about martial strife.
The novel opens amid the grim aftermath of wars and plagues, establishing a mood redolent of despair and rage. Hanlin’s voice—laconic, wounded, given to introspection—anchors the sprawling cast and bloody events. Through his eyes, readers encounter not just swordplay and skirmishes but also the burden of memory and cultural guilt. Smith’s prose lingers on the harshness of existence, the difficulty of letting go of the past, and the futility of violence perpetuated by cycles of invasion. The forest and its people are rendered with empathy and detail, offering a vital counterpoint to the encroaching ambitions of Hanlin’s former allies.
As Hanlin is reluctantly pulled into Lady Sil’s schemes and must confront both betrayer and betrayed, the novel interrogates the cost of participating in conquest, even for those who fancy themselves disillusioned or regretful. The indigenous kirangee are not mere backdrop; their rituals, philosophies, and responses to trauma are woven with as much care as any battle. In particular, interactions with the shaman Maur elevate the work beyond simple genre fare, drawing out conversations about the meaning of wisdom, the nature of rage and belonging, and the fleeting beauty of life’s seasons. The magic here, grounded in the land and its history of suffering, feels true to the emotional landscape cultivated within the prose.
Smith’s narrative arc swells to a crescendo both violent and cathartic: friends and enemies alike are claimed by fate’s inexorability. Yet even as blood runs and towers fall, Hanlin’s story becomes one of surrender—to grief, to love, to the cycles of history. The author’s own afterword reveals the personal impetus behind the work, deepening its emotional resonance: "Sometime Lofty Towers" is informed by rage against corporate and historical wrongdoing, shaped by intimate loss. There is a mournful wisdom in the way the story closes, with Hanlin finding, if not peace, then a measure of acceptance and resolve to teach the next generation.
For readers who crave fantasy that explores the cost of violence and the complexity of cultural encounter, this is a rewarding and sorrowful tale—one that lingers long after its last battle is fought.
This is a brutal story that never loses its compassion. While it grows from the same roots as The Last Samurai or Avatar, to my eye it escape ls their white-savior exceptionalism or easy absolution, and it's unrelentingly critical of the links between colonialism and Western masculinity. Think Unforgiven but explicitly about genocide, and grounded in a plainspoken version of Cormac McCarthy's grim humanism. I'm not the best person to speak to how the story depicts Indigenous cultures, but my impression is that Smith cared a great deal about learning the real history and impacts of colonial violence. Well worth your time.
Short but well constructed and paced tale centring on Hamlin, an older warrior who is dragged back in a frontier war he had tried to put behind him. His experiences and the passage of time have reversed his loyalties so that he aids the indigenous people he previously slew. This obviously puts him in opposition to old comrades and the expansionist powers in the land. Hamlin's anger at these people comes over well as his main driver but I would have liked a bit more of his backstory.
A real achievement - powerful, brutal and emotionally resonant. Like a revisionist western in a sword-and-sorcery world. Pretty grim at times, though never graituitous, and never feeling cheap in its use or subversion of genre tropes. Highly recommend this one.
****1/2: sword & sorcery + existential philosophy + post colonial theory all set to a gripping pace of plot and character development. And in a tight format, the novella, too. Many authors would’ve dragged this out over a thousand page trilogy. I admired this greatly.