I'm going down a trail recently blazed on this very blog by Will Ludwigsen back in July, but I'm coming at it from a different angle. I want to talk about Conan as the product of, as they say, a young man's fancy.
Robert E. Howard, who created Conan (and Kull, and Solomon Kane) also created what we now call the sword and sorcery genre. He died tragically at age 30. That means that the canonical Conan (say that three times fast) was the product of a young man from Texas who never travelled, never married and knew little of the world beyond his own back yard. And yet he was able to synthesize the history he read, the violence he saw around him in Texas boom towns, and what his own imagination created into something that hadn't before existed.
The stories in The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian reflect the rush of a writer staking his claim to a literary world of his own invention. The style is thick and muscular, simultaneously (as Will said in his review) primitive and sophisticated (my favorite line: "He smote him with the beef bone."). Much as Tolkein did for epic fantasy, Howard set the initial bar so high that few have equalled, let alone surpassed what he accomplished.
Yet it's also clearly the work of a young man. Most characters other than Conan are defined by a single quality, and are either good or evil, with little middle ground. In The Phoenix on the Sword and The Scarlet Citadel, Conan is the middle-aged king of Aquilonia, but none of the wounds and injuries he suffers as a younger man tell on him. There's no mention of any aches or pains, and the scars are simply marks of past adventures. Only an inexperienced young man in his twenties would imagine this as middle age. And his women, while not exactly shrinking violets (the pirate queen Belit trysts with Conan on deck, in full view of her crew), are also nothing like actual human beings, being once again defined by two simplistic qualities: how beautiful they are, and how quickly Conan gets them. Had Howard lived, I imagine his Conan stories would have grown in sophistication and depth to reflect his own life experience.
So what's my point? Simply this--he did the best he could, and with nothing but drive and imagination he created a whole new genre. And those are tools anyone reading this blog has to some degree. We often talk about what the books reviewed here mean to boys, and whether or not boys would like them; in this case, I want to use The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian as a challenge to cultivate your own drive and imagination, and apply it to creating something new. If an isolated young man in the middle of the Texas oil fields can create sword and sorcery, then what might you create?