A Yank at Valhalla

Edmond Hamilton A Yank at Valhalla

INTRODUCTION

Edmond Hamilton (1904–1977) was one of the early grandmasters of epic science-fantasy adventure. Whether it was galaxy-spanning space operas, with the seeming impossibility of crashing suns for weapons, or world of magic and mystery where the ancient Aztec Gods possessed seemingly supernatural powers, Hamilton, like Dean Koontz, was always able to supply a plausible scientific premise for his tales — which is, perhaps, not surprising considering he received his degree in physics. A poetic stylist and superb storyteller, in the vigorous, colorful Chretien de Troyes tradition, whose tales never let down or became boring for a moment once they begin, the consistent quality of Hamilton's work earned him a place in the top ranks of science fantasy writers for more than four decades, beginning in the mid-1920s. Most of his novels, and many of his shorter works, were recognized as classics on publication. At the top of any list of his novels are The Star Kings, The Valley of Creation, The Star of Life, Battle for the Stars, A Yank at Valhalla, The Sun Smasher, The City at World's End, and The Haunted Stars. Memorable shorter works include: What's It Like Out There? The Man who Evolved, Exile, Devolution, The Birthplace of Creation, The Cosmic Pantograph, He that Hath Wings, Requiem, and Sunfire.

In A Yank at Valhalla, the author's euphonious protagonist, a war-weary aircraft pilot on a scientific expedition in the Artic, helps discover a strangely shaped gold cylinder covered with runic symbols. Flying it back to the mainland he soon finds his plane is being drawn northward by an irresistible force. When he spots a vast chasm in the earth spanned only by a shimmering bridge of rainbow hues, with a noble castle rising on the far side, and a golden-haired Valkyrie on a flying horse being pursued by hideous giants, our hero realizes he may have flown over the rainbow, but he hasn't landed in Oz! When he is rescued by the Valkyrie, he discovers her name is Freya, and although he wasn't planning to fall in love with a warrior-maid and demigoddess, he does. Soon Odin, Thor, Baldur, and the other Norse Gods welcome him into the fraternity of Valhalla, as a brother warrior and reveal the super-scientific secrets that have kept them alive — and hidden — for tens of thousands of years. But what he does not suspect is that he, and his love for Freya, is part of Loki's long-brewed plan to free the sinister giants of Jotunheim, trigger Ragnarok, and bring on the Twilight of the Gods! The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction calls A Yank at Valhalla one Hamilton's most 'formidably composed' novels, 'dark in texture,' 'one of the novels for which he will be remembered.

Here is how Edmond Hamilton author described himself for the lamented science fiction pulp, Startling Stories, around the time he was writing A Yank at Valhalla (which title is, of course, a play on the titles of a number of World War II era films):

'One of the toughest jobs a writer has is trying to write a few lines about himself. I've tackled this chore a couple of times in the past, and each time I've found It harder than trying to do twice as many words of fiction.

'When Joe Doakes, writer, sits down to do a little piece about himself, he finds himself smack on the horns of a dilemma. He can write a modest little piece intimating that he is a quiet little guy who never did anything and doesn't deserve any notice. But, if he does, the readers are likely to declare, 'Doakes is a worm.'

'On the other hand, he can give subtle, not-too-blatant hints to the effect that he is a combination of D'Artagnan, Casanova, and Einstein. That will be interesting, all right, but those who read it will probably announce, 'Doakes is an egotistic ass.'

'In an effort to steer a middle course, I will simply give a few of the vital statistics and pass to more interesting subjects. The statistics — white and unmarried and a little too old for the military, say they; some two hundred-odd published stories behind me, and I hope — some more ahead.

'Until the war cut off civilian travel, I knocked around a good bit between Canada and Panama. But the only place I ever went back to five times is Mexico, where my variety of Spanish always puts people in stitches and does much to further good relations between the two countries. The tragedy of my life was when the tourists discovered Acapulco and living went up from a buck and a half a day to nine dollars.

'The most interesting thing about any science fiction writer, I should think, is why he does it — why he spends year after year writing futuristic stories. And, believe it or not, the answer is childishly simple. It is because the writers are the deepest dyed fans of all.

'Perhaps that statement will be challenged by some of the younger fans. I've met a lot of them across the country, I think they're swell people and I've had a lot of good times with 'em. But — I've never met any who had any deeper enthusiasm for fantasy fiction than the average s-f writer.

'In my own case, though it sounds like a big lie, I was an enthusiastic science fiction fan before I could read. That was way back in the halcyon times, years before World War One, when H. G. Wells published an article in the old Metropolitan Magazine called 'The Things that Live on Mars.' I couldn't decipher the text but the fantastic illustrations got me.

'Later on, I graduated to the old weekly magazines that ran occasional fantasies. Julius Unger, that indefatigable bibliophilist of science fiction, once dug up some of my own published fan-letters from those journals and cast them in my teeth.

'All that was a long time ago. I've done a lot of reading in three or four languages since then. But I will still always drop anything in my library for a new science-fiction story, and I still get as much blast out of a good one as ever.

'The point that I'm trying to get over is that science fiction writers turn out the stuff because they like it. If they didn't, they'd turn to the far easier existence of riveters or refrigerator-salesmen. And if anyone says that that would be wonderful, I here and now denounce him as a low character unworthy of fandom.'

It should be noted that although unmarried at the time of this article, Hamilton would soon marry Leigh Bracket, the award-winning author of science fiction, mystery and western novels, and, as screen writer, of such films as The Big Sleep (the Bogart and the Mitchum), Rio Bravo, Hatari! and Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. During the period when Hamilton was writing the now impossible to find Captain Future stories, Ms Brackett even pinch-hit for her husband on one, The Comet Kings, which most fans consider the best novel in the series. A close comparison of Hamilton's best novel, The Star of Life, and Brackett's best, The Starmen, reveals remarkable similarities of style, theme and intent and demonstrates just how much these two authors came to influence and expand each other over the years.

Jean Marie Stine

3/15/2003

Chapter I The Rune Key

Bray called excitedly to me from the forward deck of the schooner.

'Keith, your hunch was right. There's something queer in this trawl!'

Involuntarily I shuddered in the sudden chill of fear. Somehow I had known that the trawl would bring something up from the icy Arctic sea. Pure intuition had made me persuade Bray to lower his trawl in this unpromising spot.

'Coming, Bray!' I called, and hurried through the litter of sleds and snarling dogs.

Our schooner, the sturdy auxiliary ice-breaker Peter Saul, was lying at anchor in the