The Red Man and Others

About The Red Man and Others
In a divided city, two rogues try to get their own back on a religious cult; the small but tough sell-sword Kaila and the teenage con-artist Sebastien don their disguises and play their parts.
In the war-torn north of Cruoningha, Ymke and her father live in exile. When her father rescues a giant warrior, Ymke learns that strength is not a matter of muscle alone, and that sometimes the price of hiding is too great.
As Sebastien is elevated to sainthood on the rock of Otasfaust, the Kaila and Ymke find each other, and a new purpose for their talents.
Three journeys of self-discovery; three stories of loss, love and adventure.

What others said
“… a bit like Robert E. Howard’s gritty historical adventures with a dash of Fritz Leiber’s insouciant humor… Issues of queerness, coping with disability, and found family arise organically within the stories, signalling not a deconstruction of sword & sorcery, but a broader inclusivity.” – Ngo Vinh-Hoi, co-host of the Appendix N Book Club podcast
“Intimate, literate and touching scenes erupt into visceral violence; I was reminded of Poe’s Hop-Frog.” – Ricardo Pinto, author of The Stone Dance of the Chameleon
“Call it New Wave Sword & Sorcery… a reaction to the musclebound masculinity, the unbridled machismo that is found and often-times put at the forefront of Sword & Sorcery. It’s good stuff if you’re open to the idea of new takes on Sword & Sorcery.” – Rogues in the House podcast

About the authors
Over the past decade Angeline B. Adams and Remco van Straten have been mainly active in journalism, working for various local and national publications. They wrote about film, theatre and books, and interviewed authors like Neil Jordan, James Ellroy and Anne Rice. The biographical piece on Robert E. Howard they wrote for Fortean Times received a REH Foundation Award nomination.
Now they are focusing on telling their own tales, instead writing about those of others. These stories are firmly rooted in the green hills of Northern Ireland where Angeline grew up, and the heavy clay of the Dutch coast from which Remco came. They are steeped in their shared love for history and folklore, not shying away from treasured genres and format, yet are infused with modern sensibilities and a healthy dose of black humour. Recently, their stories appeared in the Sesheta anthology Underneath the Tree, in Air & Nothingness Press’ The Wild Hunt, and in Dutch translation in Wonderwaan.
Angeline Adams is involved in disability activism and wrote about disability for various online magazines like The Toast and Disability in Kidlit.
On Ymke, the protagonist of The Red Man and The Return of the Uncomplaining Child, she says: “Ymke’s rebellions, like mine, have often been subtle ones: staying alive in a world that oppresses disabled people is also a form of resistance. But sometimes we’re both surprised by what we’re capable of doing when we really have to – and with the right person by our side.”
Remco van Straten co-created Waen Sinne, an anthology which had a lasting impact on Dutch SFF publishing, and was a jury member for the Paul Harland Award, Holland’s leading contest for speculative fiction. “I spent a lot of my childhood and teens reading, and discovering Robert E. Howard’s Conan stories was a watershed moment. I have always wanted to emulate him, and indeed the title of this collection is a hat-tip to his collection, The Dark Man and Others.”

Further resources for The Red Man and Others
Goodreads
Amazon UK and Amazon US
Book trailer
Short story reading
And find Angeline and Remco on Twitter

Why Turnip Lanterns?
Hallowe’en is one of our favourite festivals, and from childhood both of us have been fascinated with ghosts, monsters and other scary and mysterious things. Over the last few years we’ve gone back to the age-old tradition of carving turnips instead of pumpkins. The turnip’s texture is irregular, with lumps and bumps that decide the features for the carved face. Unlike pumpkins, turnips grow underground and hint at things hidden and slowly emerging from the soil. They symbolise the much older, much more forbidding tradition of Hallowe’en.

World Building

A confession: we’re not much into world building in what, in our own shorthand, we call our Wheelworld stories, the stories around the sell-sword Kaila, scribe Ymke and teenage rogue Sebastien.

From a thread on Twitter about King Arthur, which is worth reading: ...the popularity of arthur stories is largely a manufacture of british protestants to invent a pre-catholic, post-roman, christian romantic past that could be deployed in the service of social conservatism as articulated through storytelling, architecture, and interior design.

We find this thought very freeing as authors who have lost too much time to find out “which foods are old world and which new world produce” and are reluctant to make their late medieval-ish fantasy conform precisely to the limits of what tech existed in what analog country in our world. It’s detail-focused, rather than processing from generalities upward. It’s never been our ambition for Wheelworld (the clue is in the fact we’ve begun ironically referring to it like that) to be one of those ultra-precise fantasy worlds where we know every linguistic, historical, topographical, flora/fauna detail.

One of the maps of Ricardo Pinto’s Three Lands, from Stone Dance of the Chameleon

We love created worlds like that. There’s an incredible complexity and subtlety that becomes possible when you truly know every inch of your fantasy world. Our friend Ricardo Pinto, with his Stone Dance of the Chameleon series, surpasses Tolkien in the depth and originality of his conlangs, genealogies and history. His website offers a taste of the background material he created for his magnum opus (and we really recommend the revised, seven-part edition). Our imagination however works the other way round, and we lean into that: broadly, we look at what the story needs, and make the world to fit those needs.

In this approach, we follow in the footsteps of Robert E. Howard, creator of Conan, whose Hyborian world is overlaid on the map of Europe as we know it, and whose place and personal names purposely echo cultures we know. His Aquilonian kingdom reminds us of the medieval French Aquitaine; when he mentions the people of Shem, we know roughly where they come from. It’s a shorthand for him, using the general knowledge of the readers, so that he can get on with the story he wants to tell. Likewise, for The Red Man we’ve used a version of the northern Netherlands, Road to Starohrad is set in Prague (sort of) and for The Return of the Uncomplaining Child we looked (literally) at Fritz Lang’s Nibelungen. We allow our readers’ associations to construct our world in their minds.

Map of the Hyborian Age by Robert E Howard

If we had made a map of Wheelworld, it would be a bit like that of Europe, though stretched out in certain parts, shrunk to insignificance in others. Our “northern Netherlands” definitely seem to be larger. Our approach has been to unfurl the world under our characters’ feet as we’ve needed new parts of it. None of them had the kind of education, or the kind of things expected of them in life, to give them a king’s or a scholar’s understanding of their world. So that world has… unrendered bits. Their world is like a medieval map, with vague “somewhere over there”s and “here be monsters”.

And things work a bit differently in that world generally. How different depends on what we’d like to do, or sometimes where our trio leads us. We haven’t talked about this before because it always seems like such a cop-out when meticulous world-building is a thing many people adore in fantasy.

Detail of the Hereford Mappa Mundi

Our curiosity lies more in the daily human relations of the world than its full historical record. Oh, bits of its history have emerged and continue to emerge. It’s getting more solid, and parts of it will get very solid as we take you through the rest of our heroes’ adventures. But its life and vigour rely on there being hinterlands; unmapped, unregarded bits. And one theme that keeps coming up is the precarity of civilisation: not even the lofty bits, but the everyday standards, like not murdering your neighbour. In that sense too it’s Howardian.

Granted, at least he did have a map!

Rueful Yet Hopeful

The Appendix N Book Club podcast has quickly become one of our go-to podcasts: the hosts and their guests discuss the Fantasy books that inspired the Dungeons & Dragons roleplaying game with affection but also a modern sensibility! Ngo Vinh-Hoi, the podcast’s co-host, wrote a really nice review of our story collection:

I recently read the fantasy short story collection The Red Man and Others as a palate cleanser from a longer SF&F reading project and I’m very glad that I took the time to do so!

The setting echoes early modern Northern Europe, a world coming unmoored in socio-religious upheaval and simmering violence but thus rife with opportunities for adventure. Our protagonists Kaila, Ymke, and Sebastien are the overlooked and never-weres, struggling to get by and stay true to themselves through cleverness, skill at arms, and not a little luck. Issues of queerness, coping with disability, and found family arise organically within the stories, signalling not a deconstruction of sword & sorcery, but a broader inclusivity.

Overall this collection reads a bit like Robert E. Howard’s gritty historical adventures with a dash of Fritz Leiber’s insouciant humor, filtered through Adams’ and van Straten’s own rueful yet hopeful sensibility. The absence of overt magic might technically disqualify these stories as sword & sorcery, but the themes of anti-authoritarianism and survival in an indifferent world make these tales at least S&S adjacent. We’ll just have to wait for more tales of Kaila, Ymke, and Sebastien to be sure:-)

As a bonus, co-author Remco van Straten provides some lovely pen & ink story heading illustrations (more please!) and there are two “Extras disc” essays where the authors outline their influences and writing process.

I’d definitely recommend the The Red Man and Others to fans of sword & sorcery who have worked their way through the classics and are ready for stories that honor the past yet look to the future.

Ngo Vinh-Hoi, co-host of the Appendix N Book Club podcast

When writing anything that hints at social commentary, or drives a point home with a sledgehammer, there is a constant tension between our best and worst instincts about what the world is, about what people are. The compromise we arrive at is perfectly stated in this review: “rueful, yet hopeful.” Amongst other things, the stories in The Red Man and Others are about wiggle room: the possibility, if not the inevitability, of change. In future stories you’ll see that the events of Otasring have changed our trio of “never-weres”. Whether it’s for better or for worse – well, it’s complicated.

You can find The Red Man and Others on Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com. If you like it as much too, we would love to hear from you: positive reviews and ratings on Goodreads and Amazon are like gold nuggets for indie writers!

Winter Song

The song that’s sung (badly) on the book trailer for The Red Man and Others had several sources of inspiration. A friend said it was nice that we got Tom Waits for the soundtrack. Not wholly inaccurate; Waits has this rustic/rusty quality I aimed for, as if some folklorist of yore had found some old men in a pub on some godforsaken island, got out his reel-to-reel and started taping.

The best example I have of this, and what was at the forefront of my mind, is Í Gøtu ein dag from Eivør Pálsdóttir’s self-titled debut. I understand it’s a traditional song from her native Faroe islands. Eivor’s got one of the greatest voices around, and we hope that she’ll visit Belfast one day, so we can see her live. Meanwhile, we’ll make do with the live recording of her The Swing tour, which we had on repeat during a fair bit of the writing of our collection, in particular The Red Man.

There’s another live track where Eivor uses a thumb piano. As we’ve got one too, I decided to use it on our track. Missing a bit of a beat to tie the track together, I then used a cardboard box as simple drum. When we heard the result, both Angeline and I had the same thought: The Wicker Man. And why not!

I’d taken the lyrics from the story in The Red Man and Others, where it was a prayer to the god of Winter-to-Come, with some extra lines added at the start. Then I timed the result, and found it ran too long for the animation, so cut the middle lines out again. This is the fullest version of the song:

Winter, winter come to me
For thy helpmate waits for thee
Winter, winter, stay with me
Play thy courtship patiently
Winter; will you take this bride
To wed and rule the countryside
(Chorus)
Of moist and soil your love will grow
Underneath your cloak of snow
Let her seed creep in the ground
There to wait, new life to found.

We wanted to make it a song that was very earthy yet poetical, and an acknowledgement of winter in the cycle of life. It’s so different from the ballad sung by Ymke’s father and the Red Man a bit later in the story, of which we only wrote a few lines of the chorus:

And weren’t we merry and filled with joy
When at last we were united
Our lips met each others’ and hands clasped together
Our passions forever ignited

(RvS)