The “high fantasy” genre and the “sword and sorcery” genre developed at around the same time, with J.R.R. Tolkien (The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings) being the pioneer of the former and Robert E. Howard (Conan the Barbarian) being the pioneer of the latter. They have a lot of surface-level similarities, but if you dig even an inch below the surface, you’ll start to see that they are more different than they are alike.
To begin with, Tolkien and Howard worked off of different source material. Tolkien was a medievalist who used medieval history and literature, especially that of the Anglo-Saxons, to inspire his work. He also was inspired by Norse mythology, his own Catholic faith, and his experiences in WWI. LotR has a sweeping, epic quality, with a fully fleshed-out world. Howard was working off of old colonialist adventure fantasies like She: A History of Adventure by H. Rider Haggard. His stories are set in a sort of composite legendary past that is at times medieval, at times prehistoric, and at times nineteenth-century colonial. Unlike LotR, Conan the Barbarian doesn’t have as complex metaphysics, and also isn’t as broad in scope. They’re pretty straightforward, rough-and-tumble stories that place a heavier emphasis on exciting action than on slowly traveling through landscapes. (The LotR books are a lot slower than the movies would suggest.) Sexuality is also front-and-center in Howard’s work, while it is almost completely absent in Tolkien’s.
Bluntly, Conan isn’t that deep. It’s pulp fiction, in the original sense. It’s fun, it’s exciting, and it’s entertaining, but it doesn’t have any of LotR’s deep themes concerning the weighty moral decisions that define our lives, the effects and costs of war, humanity’s relationship to history or divine providence, or anything like that. The worldbuilding is not as detailed or as complex, and operates more according to Rule of Cool. “Sword and sorcery” films tend to be B-movies that you watch on a lazy Sunday afternoon, as opposed to the LotR films, which are a masterclass of cinema. I don’t intend to throw any shade at it for that! Not every story needs to be deep and complex, and it’s perfectly valid to prefer Sword and Sorcery over something like LotR.
What I will throw shade on it for is Howard’s overt racism. There’s a real conversation to be had about racism in LotR, and I won’t pretend that LotR is completely free of problematic racial undertones. But Conan doesn’t have “undertones.” The original Conan stories are extremely racist, at least as bad as Lovecraft. It’s also equally sexist. An example is “The Queen of the Black Coast,” a story that takes a lot from She, which is about how Conan arrives in a tropical nation via trading vessel, where he’s attacked by the (white) Queen Belit and her (black) warriors. He slaughters all the warriors, and Belit promptly falls into his arms becuase he’s such a sexy manly man, and then helps him raid her own kingdom (which is inhabited by black people). At the end she’s kidnapped by a monster and dies.
(This is actually one of the tamer Conan covers.)
I mean… say what you will about Tolkien, but there’s a big difference between your evil mooks being a fictional race of imaginary demon-like beings that might have racial coding, and having your evil mooks be actual black people. And while Tolkien gets flack for having few female characters, the female characters that he does have (like Eowyn, Arwen, and Galadriel) are fucking awesome.
I think the difference between Conan and The Lord of the Rings is best illustrated by comparing Conan with his nearest LotR equivalent, Aragorn. Aragorn and Conan are both examples of a broadly similar heroic archetype — they’re heroic men with swords who wander the earth to fight monsters and stuff — but the similarities end there. The different ways that Tolkien and Howard choose to portray them indicate starkly different conceptions of masculinity and what it means to be a hero.
Firstly, there’s the way their appearances are described. This is how Conan is described in “The Queen of the Black Coast”:
The stranger stood there with his back to the mast, eyes narrowed alertly, sword ready. […] [The shipman] saw a tall powerfully built figure in a black scale-mail hauberk, burnished greaves and a blue-steel helmet from which jutted bull’s horns highly polished. From the mailed shoulders fell the scarlet cloak, blowing in the sea-wind. A broad shagreen belt with a golden buckle held the scabbard of the broadsword he bore. Under the horned helmet a square-cut black mane contrasted with smoldering blue eyes. — Robert E. Howard, “The Queen of the Black Coast”
Conan is tall and very muscular, he wears shiny and impressive-looking armor, his belt has a golden buckle, and he has a cloak that flutters dramatically in the wind. His hair is long and compared to a lion’s mane, and he has smouldering eyes. His body is described so often and with such detail that it borders on being homoerotic. He’s also got super fancy clothes from famous places, which really make him stand out. Howard writes that “…his gorgeous scarlet cloak could have been spun nowhere but Ophir.” You don’t need to know where Ophir is to know that that cloak is really expensive and noticeable.
Aragorn’s appearance in his introduction is almost the exact opposite of this. He is “a strange-looking, weather-beaten man” wearing clothes that are “caked with mud” and “travel-stained,” in simple browns and greens for camouflage. He shares only two features with Conan: “a shaggy head of dark hair” and “the gleam of his eyes.” Aragorn’s appearance is not described very often, and AFAIK his musculature is not mentioned at all. During his first conversation with the hobbits, Aragorn and Pippin both say outright that Aragorn looks unattractive, or at least that he looks unappealing at that moment:
“I believe my looks are against me.”“They are, at first sight at any rate,” laughed Pippin with sudden relief […] “But handsome is as handsome does […] we shall all look much the same after lying for days in hedges and ditches.” — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring.
In short, Aragorn doesn’t look the part. He doesn’t look like a legendary hero, he looks and probably smells like a vagabond.
But Aragorn also doesn’t need to look the part. His kingship and heroism are not determined by or dependent on how he looks: “All that is gold does not glitter.” The only shiny thing about Aragorn are his eyes, in which there “gleamed a light, keen and commanding,” a hint of who Aragorn really is. Aragorn’s kingliness is not immediately obvious, but it is a persona that he can put on and take off when necessary. Frodo gets a first glimpse at this side of Aragorn in the House of Elrond, when Aragorn is talking to Arwen, and he’s suddenly dressed more like Conan, with shiny mail and a dramatic cloak: “To his surprise Frodo saw that Aragorn stood beside her; his dark cloak was thrown back, and he seemed to be clad in elven-mail, and a star shone on his breast.” Then, during the Council the next day, Aragorn is back in his grimey travel clothes, and the magic is gone.
Aragorn only wears three legendary items — the Ring of Barahir, indicating his lineage, a brooch called Elessar, from which he takes his regnal name, and his sword, Anduril, which is literally named after how shiny it is. Its presence induces his kingly persona. When Aragorn and co. meet Éomer and they nearly come to blows, Aragorn draws the sword:
Aragorn threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Anduril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. […]Gimli and Legolas looked at their companion in amazement, for they had not seen him in this mood before. He seemed to have grown in stature […] and in his living face they caught a brief vision of the power and majesty of the kings of stone. — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers
When he draws the flashing sword, Aragorn suddenly appears powerful, legendary, and commanding. But this version of him is unfamiliar to Legolas and Gimli. The heroic and idealized version of Aragorn is there, but it is hidden and understated. Conan may “glitter,” but Aragorn does not feel the need to. This shows that he is modest, a sign of good moral character, and also shows that he does not need to forcibly ensure his dominance by intimidating or competing with other men. The one time he does, in the above scene, it is an anomaly. Tolkien does not need to display Aragorn’s heroism through a bombastic description of shiny and legendary clothing, and that ties into The Lord of the Rings’ general theme of the most unexpected people being capable of heroic deeds. One does not need to look like a hero in order to be one, and one does not need to draw attention with a flashy display in order to have a commanding presence or to earn others’ respect.
Howard’s characterization of Conan is well-described in this paragraph:
…his was the endurance and vitality of a wolf, his thews steeled and his nerves whetted by the hardness of his life in the world’s wastelands. He was quick to laugh, quick and terrible in his wrath. He was a valiant trencherman, and strong drink was a passion and a weakness with him. Naive as a child in many ways, unfamiliar with the sophistry of civilization, he was naturally intelligent, jealous of his rights, and dangerous as a hungry tiger. Young in years, he was hardened in warfare and wandering, and his sojourns in many lands were evident in his apparel. — Robert E. Howard, “The Queen of the Black Coast”
Once again, there is a mention of Conan’s bulging muscles, and his muscles are compared to steel and stone. He is shaped by “the hardness of life” and “hardened in warfare” — he grew up in the metaphorical “school of hard knocks,” and this is what makes him a Manly Man who can endure suffering. Stone, steel, hardness, and both metaphorical and literal hard edges are what make him who he is. There is little room for softer or gentler qualities. Conan is described as having a “weakness” for alcohol, in the colloquial sense, but this isn’t a real weakness. Hard drinking is a manly hobby, and being able to hold one’s alcohol is a way of proving manliness.
Conan is intelligent, but unsophisticated; he is not as eloquent as Aragorn, and he will not wax lyrical or recite ancient poetry. Conan “growls” and “grunts” his dialogue, and mostly speaks in short sentences. His naivete is an almost Noble Savage-like quality. Conan exists outside of civilization, so he is able to comment on its decadence. Conan is Howard’s attempt to strip away all the complexities and frivolities of civilization and leave masculinity with the basics of fighting, drinking, and sex. You know, like the line from the movie, “to crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of your women.” Or this:
Let me live deep while I live; let me know the rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my palate, the hot embrace of white arms, the mad exultation of battle when the blue blades flame and crimson, and I am content. Let teachers and priests and philosophers brood over questions of reality and illusion. I know this: if life is illusion, then I am no less an illusion, and being thus, the illusion is real to me. I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and am content. — Robert E. Howard, ”The Queen of the Black Coast.”
I mean, I love philosophizing, but I can also get behind the idea of living for life’s own sake. If we’re all living in a simulation, then nothing is real, so we may as well take it all at face value and enjoy it while we can. But, Conan’s simplistic existence means that he does not face any moral conundrums or experience any failure. In writing his heroic ideal to reject civilization, Howard implies a rejection of the “higher” inventions of civilization like art, philosophy, and technology as unnecessary and unmanly.
For example, there’s this line:
“Give me a bow,” requested Conan. “It’s not my idea of a manly weapon, but I learned archery among the Hyrkanians, and it will go hard if I can’t feather a man or so on yonder deck.”
Could you imagine Aragorn telling Legolas that his weapon is unmanly?!
Howard goes out of his way to specify that a bow is an unmanly weapon before allowing Conan to use one. This is probably because Howard thinks bows are light and nimble in comparison to phallic swords with which one can “hew” things. That’s actually completely wrong. Drawing a war bow requires an insane amount of upper-body strength:
In order to draw a longbow to its fullest extent, and shoot the arrow for five hundred yards, you have to bend it so far that the flight of your arrow is beside your ear. The string at that point should make an angle of ninety degrees. The draw weight is 100 to 170 pounds. That requires huge strength. In addition, archers in battle are expected to repeat the action of shooting this weapon between six and ten times per minute. — Ian Mortimer, The Time-Traveler’s Guide to Medieval England
And over here Howard’s all like “bow go swush lol it’s not manly.”
Aragorn is certainly a capable and skilled fighter, but Tolkien doesn’t place nearly as much emphasis on Aragorn’s fighting prowess, and does not use it as an indicator of his personality or his worthiness. Instead, what Tolkien emphasizes about Aragorn is his ability to heal. This is not just a skill that Aragorn has, it is actually a definitive mark of his kingship — when Faramir, Eowyn, and Merry are injured in battle, an old woman working in the infirmary mentions an old legend: “The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king could ever be known.” Aragorn’s healing is his equivalent of the sword in the stone, an impartial and divinely ordained signifier that indisputably proclaims him the rightful king. What enables Aragorn to take his rightful place as King of Gondor is not his ability to slaughter orcs, but his ability to heal a broken city and restore hope to its people:
…men came and prayed that he [Aragorn] would heal their kinsmen or their friends whose lives were in peril through hurt or wound, or who lay under the Black Shadow. And Aragorn arose and went out, and he sent for the sons of Elrond, and together they labored far into the night. And word went through the city: “The King is come again indeed.” — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
Aragorn is more concerned with the love of his people rather than the fear of his enemies. His willingness to use his miraculous healing to help his people shows that he is compassionate, humble, and gentle. By relating this ability directly to Aragorn’s identity as king, Tolkien implies that these are inherently kingly qualities, which Aragorn must have to rule effectively. Aragorn earns a position of dominance by not seeking to dominate everyone else. True, worthy power is not gained through Conan-like strength or conquest, but through service, humility, and benevolence.
Howard would probably consider these qualities to be a sign of weakness, because hardly ever does he portray Conan as feeling intense emotion or showing kindness. At the end of “The Queen of the Black Coast” — spoilers by the way — the titular character, Belit, dies. Kind of unceremoniously, too. Conan does not appear to grieve for Belit. After she is arranged on her pyre amidst her treasure, he “sat grimly on the pyramid, waiting for his unseen foes.” He does not cry, he does not even silently bow his head, he just focuses on the enemies that he still needs to fight. When Belit’s pyre is actually burned, Conan “stood silently” in front of it, which could imply stoic grief, but it doesn’t say that. There is some vague implication of emotional pain over Belit’s death in this description: “She belonged to the sea; to its everlasting mystery he returned her. He could do no more. For himself, its glittering blue splendor was more repellent…” This might imply that Conan is repelled by the sight of the sea because he associates it with Belit, and looking at the sea is therefore painful. But this isn’t said either. On paper, Conan does not react stoically to Belit’s death — he does not react at all.
In fact, Conan may not have felt any real affection for Belit in the first place. He certainly lusts after her, but nothing in the narration or in his dialogue suggests that he loves her or that he is even concerned about her. He agrees to travel with her only because he likes the idea of adventure, not because of anything about her:
To quest these shining blue realms with that white-skinned young tiger-cat — to love, laugh, wander and pillage — “I’ll sail with you,” he grunted, shaking the red drops from his blade.
I can only interpret “love” here as sex, because that is the only kind of intimacy that Belit and Conan experience (and it is followed by that phallic image of shaking drops of fluid off a sword tip).
Also, I really need a sign that says “Live, Laugh, Love, Pillage.”
Despite the fact that Belit is a powerful and proactive queen, Conan only ever treats her like an object. After a very long and verbose declaration of love in which Belit claims that their love is unbreakable and that she would come back from the grave to help Conan, Conan literally pushes Belit aside like a rag doll:
“…I am yours, and all the gods and all their eternities shall not sever us!” A scream rang from the lookout in the bows. Thrusting Bêlit aside, Conan bounded up…
Howard does not leave time for any similar, if more subdued, declaration of love from Conan. Nor does he have Conan give Belit even the smallest glance of affection or quick kiss before they are distracted by another fight. Instead he simply pushes her aside, with no reaction at all, as if she is an object. This, alongside the narrator’s constant objectification of Belit (she’s literally naked except for her girdle and jewelry, becuase that’s what a normal warrior queen would wear) suggests that Howard considers ideal masculinity to necessarily involve objectification of women. To show affection, even to a beautiful woman, is a sign of softness and therefore weakness.
At least the comics apparently did Belit justice.
I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that Aragorn is capable of affection. Tolkien isn’t afraid to show his male characters expressing intense and soft emotion. Aragorn has a very strong emotional reaction to Boromir’s death:
“No! said Aragorn, taking [Boromir’s] hand and kissing his brow. “You have conquered. Few have gained such a victory. Be at peace! Minas Tirith shall not fall!”[…]But Boromir did not speak again.“Alas!” said Aragorn. “Thus passes the heir of Denethor, Lord of the Tower of the Guard! This is a bitter end. Now the Company is all in ruin. It is I that have failed. Vain was Gandalf’s trust in me. What shall I do now? Boromir has laid it on me to go to Minas Tirith, and my heart desires it; but where are the Ring and the Bearer? How shall I find them and save the Quest from disaster?”He knelt for a while, bent with weeping, still clasping Boromir’s hand… — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers
Aragorn does not regard Boromir’s death with stoic silence. Instead, he cries bitterly, kissing Boromir’s head and holding his hand even after he dies, in a show of more sincere and intimate affection for his fallen comrade than Conan shows Belit at any point. And Boromir was not even his love interest!
In addition to his profound grief, Aragorn also feels guilt, shame, and anxiety over having failed to maintain and protect the Fellowship, putting the entire quest at risk. This humanizes Aragorn — he has appeared confident and competent throughout Fellowship, but here at the beginning of The Two Towers, he finally breaks down under the weight of despair and desperation. This is portrayed as a moment of human fallibility rather than weakness. When Legolas and Gimli find him still crying over Boromir’s corpse, they do not mock him for being soft; instead they sympathize with and share his grief, and all three of them sing a song to honor Boromir. Tolkien, who lost friends in combat himself, does not think that masculinity requires a rejection or suppression of human emotion, or an impossible standard of perfection. Aragorn’s abilities to grieve and to openly express grief, to make mistakes, to be afraid or anxious, and to sing do not detract from his manliness or heroism at all. Instead, they are an indication of his good character, and therefore another sign of his worthiness to rule Gondor.
Aragorn is, in many ways, a subversion of the typical heroic ideal that Howard’s Conan seems to be emulating. He has moments of human fallibility, he shows emotion, he can cry and sing, he is compassionate and humble, and he does not display his power unless he feels like he has to. He is also not the protagonist. In any other story, the secret heir to the throne with an illustrious royal pedigree and a legendary weapon would be the main character. Conan the Barbarian is the central character of every story about him and the franchise that developed around him, but Aragorn takes a backseat to the simple hobbits, and shares page time with other characters. He also is not the one who defeats the main villain at the end, as Conan nearly always does. Aragorn is not at all diminished by being one of the secondary characters, and Tolkien does not shortchange him by having someone else defeat the main villain. Aragorn can still be important and powerful without dominating the whole story and everyone in it. That is another way that Tolkien conveys his story’s main theme: that great evil is defeated through groups of good individuals working together, and not only by legendary heroes.
This is the difference between Tolkien and Howard. Conan is an exaggerated fantasy of Manly Maleness, and Belit, a woman who appears naked in every scene, immediately throws herself at him and swears eternal love to him after he slaughters all of her soldiers. On the other hand, most of the women in the LotR fandom will tell you that Aragorn is the ideal man, and that they wish he was real. Turns out that women are actually attracted to more “feminine” quality traits, especially if they’re well-balanced. It’s also healthier. Even if you have muscles like Arnold Schwarzenegger, you can’t be Conan. It’s impossible to ever meet that standard. But you can be like Aragorn, even if you’re not a long-lost prince. If having human faults, failing, or experiencing emotional pain, does not make Aragorn any less of a hero or less of a man, then it does not make the readers any less worthy, either. You can be a hero by cultivating Aragorn’s heroic qualities like compassion, wisdom, and humility, and they don’t need any fancy clothes to do it. Aragorn presents an alternative model — one that is still grounded in a nostalgic fantasy of heroic greatness and power, but which has room for both softness and humanity.
To be clear, I’m not saying that sword-and-sorcery is inherently sexist or racist or drenched in toxic masculinity. I’m saying that its influences were. Sword-and-sorcery can and has been done in better ways, but because Howard created the genre in the same way Tolkien created high fantasy, it’s very important to understand how the more toxic elements of his worldview are embedded in it. That way, the genre can address and evolve past them.
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