/lit/ - Literature

>>21423231
this is a great collection and I was literally reading it yesterday. big book. I went through

>esl retard has read one conan story in his life and has never read any non-conan howard
The common denominator of howard's work is barbarism against civilisation. Barbarians conquer civilised men then become civilised themselves then are conquered by barbarians espousing the values they once had
The upper classes of civilised societies are almost walys portreayed as degenerate, effette weaklings in howard's stories, however it's not like he shows commoners as any better. we see basically little of peasant life in howards works but we do see an underclass of degenerate theieves, crime lords, whores, cutthroats, etc.
Howard sees no problem with a violent aristocracy that conquers and takes things by force. In his essay the hyborian age we see that the numerous barbarian tribes of the north conquered the societies of the south, like the vanir who became the ruling class of egypt. you see this all the time in howard's work, where you usually have a race of unintelligent blacks and a race of lighter skinned blacks who conquered them (originally white or alien races but turned darker through centuries of miscegenation)
Conan has love for the common man but if you see him as some communist figure then you're wrong. Conan is an individualist at heart; he does what he pleases and does not identify with any group other than cimmerian.

Gleaming shell of an outworn lie; fable of Right divine-

You gained your crowns by heritage, but Blood was the price of mine.

The throne that I won by blood and sweat, by Crom, I will not sell

For promise of valleys filled with gold, or threat of the Halls of Hell!
When I was a fighting-man, the kettle-drums they beat,

The people scattered gold-dust before my horse's feet;

But now I am a great king, the people hound my track

With poison in my wine-cup, and daggers at my back.
What do I know of cultured ways, the gilt, the craft and the lie?

I, who was born in a naked land and bred in the open sky.

The subtle tongue, the sophist guile, they fail when the broadswords sing;

Rush in and die, dogs - I was a man before I was a king.