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That may be why a series as good as Randall Garrett's Lord Darcy stories went out of print for several years, and why it is back today, in an omnibus edition from sci-fi house Baen Books. First published in science-fiction magazines in the 1960s and '70s, the stories tell the exploits of Lord Darcy, a detective who bears a striking resemblance to Sherlock Holmes. But if Darcy seems familiar, the world in which he lives is anything but. In this alternative universe, King Richard the Lion-Hearted did not die young, having narrowly escaped death at the Siege of Chaluz (the source of his demise in our world), and that particular event changed everything. The brash, irresponsible king's brush with mortality sobered him up greatly, and he ruled wisely and well for another two decades and ensured the continuation of a long line of great Plantagenet rulers that has lasted to the present day. As a result, there was no break between England and France, no Reformation, no formal separation of church and state, and no Enlightenment. The world has thereby avoided the splintering of authority that has characterized the modern era. In addition, rather than the laws of science and technology being worked out into their now-familiar profusion, the laws of magic were developed instead, thereby retarding technological development by making the need for it less urgent. The resulting world is certainly an enchanting place. In the 1960s and '70s, travel is still mainly by horseback and railroad, and the streets and buildings are illuminated by gaslight. Houses, furnishings, and clothing fashions have an 18th-century quality, and the feudal system is in full flower and is administered in a quite decent and humane manner, thanks to the precedent established by King Richard. The Anglo-French Empire is a place of great courtesy and formality, a huge contrast to the real 1960s and '70s in which these stories first appeared. Even a largely just and harmonious political order, however, cannot nullify the human heart's propensity toward sin. That, of course, is where Lord Darcy comes in. In this alternative twentieth-century Europe, he serves as Chief Criminal Investigator for Richard, Duke of Normandy, brother of King John IV, Emperor of England, France, Scotland, Ireland, New England (North America), and New France (South America). Assisted by forensic expert and Master Sorcerer Sean O Lochlainn, Darcy investigates crimes, all of which involve some use of magic either in the commission or investigation. Despite the presence of magic, the puzzles are fairly clued; once Garrett establishes the rules of magic, he sticks to them, and we can trust that all the evidence will be laid before the reader before Darcy presents his ingenious solution. The puzzles are quite good, in fact, which is particularly remarkable in that Garrett was mainly a science-fiction writer (and a widely admired one). Darcy uses deduction to solve the crimes, while Sean serves the function of a forensic scientist. The saga consists of three novellas written in the 1960s, six from the 1970s, and the 1966 novel Too Many Magicians. After Garrett's untimely death, sci-fi and mystery writer Michael Kurland wrote two more Darcy novels in the late 1980s. Garrett's writing style is as elegant and charming as his setting, and his mastery of atmosphere is admirable, as is evident in the following passage from Too Many Magicians:
As befits a series set in the time of the Cold War, even though in an alternative universe, most of the stories include elements of espionage, as the king of Poland, who rules most of Eastern Europe and much of Russia, schemes against the Anglo-French empire. Garrett's series is in fact one of the best of the genre-benders, which have proliferated so madly since these tales were first published. The stories deftly combine elements of mystery, espionage, suspense, Tolkienesque fantasy, science fiction, the techno-thriller, CSI-style forensic mystery, and swashbuckling historical romance. Appropriately, one of the many pleasures of the series is in discovering allusions to classic mysteries such as The Murder on the Orient Express, and noticing characters based on great figures from romantic fiction, such as Nero Wolfe, Archie Goodwin, James Bond, Father Brown, and Doc Savage. In fact, by making Darcy's cousin the Marquis de London, the character obviously based on Nero Wolfe, Garrett accomplishes two very interesting things. One, he suggests that Darcy is a grandson of this alternative earth's Sherlock Holmes and de London a grandson of Mycroft Holmes. Two, and far more importantly, by making these two great detectives officials of the crown, Garrett suggests that in a decently managed feudal realm, men (and women, as we see in other characters) of greatness would receive the honor and positions they deserve. That, perhaps, is what makes these stories last and why they are back in print. The Darcy tales give our weary modern souls a vivid vision of a world in which proper lines of authority have been restored and things make sense. It is thus a world in which people largely accept their place in society and are, as a consequence, normally courteous to one another. Not everybody feels and acts that way, of course, which is why the crimes and espionage occur, but the frenzied quest for status, pleasures, and material things so common in our world is nowhere to be found there. In Darcy's realm, moreover, public piety is the norm, not an exception widely scorned. It is a world not without sin, but one in which evil is held in check by a society and political order devoted to what is good. It is a world very much unlike ours, but one to which we can still aspire. That inspiration, I suggest, is the real magic of Randall Garrett's delightful Lord Darcy stories. — S. T. Karnick is editor-in-chief of American Outlook magazine, published by the Hudson Institute. |
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t remains a
mystery why some works of popular culture last and others don't. Obviously,
a work that manages to speak to something fairly deep in the human heart
has a better chance of lasting, but fashions, including customs of thought,
change over time, rendering even works of significant merit outmoded at
times. Romances and other such artistically less ambitious fare are even
more at the mercy of time's pitiless tides.
