The Sword of Shannara

The Sword of Shannara, a fantasy novel written by Terry Brooks in 1977, tells a classic, derivative story that lacks elements to make it stand out in the crowd. To make matters worse, its narrative is also marred by repetition and the author’s inability able to detach himself from his greatest inspiration: The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien.

The protagonist of the book is Shea, a half-elf who, one day, receives a visit from a mysterious Druid, called Allanon, who explains to the young man that he’s the last descendant of the elven king Jerle Shannara and, therefore, the only one capable of wielding the mythical Sword of Shannara. His mission is to form a party to recover the weapon and destroy the Warlock Lord.

One can already tell by the name of the villain that the tone that permeates the story will be light and unpretentious. The very names of the towns and valleys share this characteristic: there is the Shady Vale, the Skull Kingdom, the Mist Marsh. These are very suggestive names, whose main function is to easily define these places. The reader will not be surprised to discover that the Skull Kingdom is the home of the villain and that there is a lot of mist in the Mist Marsh. In the same sense, almost all of the characters are caricatures of what one would expect of the genre: the vile counselor Stenmin, for example, has “shadowed eyes” and an “angular face”, wears reddish robes to indicate the danger he represents, and is often seen stroking his pointed beard.

The narrative has an episodic structure, as is often the case with fantasy adventures. Brooks builds each chapter with its own beginning, middle, and climax. There is a focus on describing the environments to establish their atmosphere. In the scene that takes place in Mist Marsh, for example, the slow-paced narrative is effective in capturing the discomfort of the characters, their disorientation, and in suggesting that there is something lurking in the mist. The suspenseful scenes in the book often begin with a vague feeling of restlessness and discomfort, which eventually grows until the threat is discovered and the action scene finally starts. It’s a simple structure, and predictable to a certain extent, but it works very well in building the tension.

This tension, however, is constantly undermined by the exhaustive degree of repetition in the narrative. The Sword of Shannara is narrated in the third person, and the narration often shows what the characters are thinking, which can be problematic if they are all thinking the same things. It’s not uncommon for the reader to follow in detail the reflections of one member of Shea’s party about the dire state they all find themselves in, and then have to read similar thoughts from another companion in the party, and finally have a third character voicing them out loud for everyone else to hear.

In the counsel scene that forms Shea’s fellowship, for example, the events that the reader has read in the last 150 pages are summarized twice for characters that have not witnessed them. The moment a colleague of Shea wonders “for the thousandth time” about the boy, the reader will not understand the “thousandth” as a hyperbole. Terry Brooks is anything but economical.

The Sword of Shannara’s inspiration on Tolkien’s classic novel is also more than blatant. It not only shares the same premise as The Lord of the Rings, but also has very similar characters and dialogues, and even the main events are structured in the same order.

The story about a young man from a bucolic village who suddenly finds himself in the center of world-wide conflicts that go beyond his understanding is not a rare one. Usually, it’s even a wise elder who initially guides this young hero, warning him that it is up to him – and to him alone – to save the entire world. The problem with The Sword of Shannara is not that its story is simply based on a genre staple, but that it’s a drab collection of them. The Sword of Shannara is not simply inspired by The Lord of the Rings; it actually eats and regurgitates Tolkien’s work.

After Allanon (Gandalf) tells Shea (Frodo) and his creative brother Flick (Sam) about their mission, he mysteriously goes away and leaves a letter instructing them to talk to the guardian Balinor (Aragorn), who will wait for them in a tavern. The scene that presents Balinor – who is also the real king of the city of men, which is even built against the face of a mountain – is the same as in The Fellowship of the Ring, with Balinor wearing a hood that hides his face, leading the protagonist to suspect his identity. After the encounter, a Skull Bearer – dark creatures that were once men, but were consumed by darkness for their ambition – attacks the village forcing them to flee. And before he finds himself in Culhaven, the kingdom of dwarves – finally a change! – where his Fellowship of the Ring will be formed, Shea is also mortally wounded in battle, being taken there barely conscious, where he is magically healed. From there Shea joins the dwarf Hengel (Gimli), the elves Dayel (Legolas) and Durin (certainly a joke) and the prince of the little kingdom of Leah, Menion (Merry and Pippin mashed together), and travels under a mountain where they lose a member of the group.

Brooks even structure the events in virtually the same order. Tolkien’s influence is so great that it can be observed in the narrative structure, in the archetypes of the characters, and even in the language used, especially the choice of expressions: “Shea was certain that the man not only knew who he was, but what he was, and that he had stepped from the frying pan into the fire.”

Brooks at least succeeds in condensing the entire The Lord of the Rings trilogy into a single volume, starting The Two Towers in the middle of his book and putting The Return of the King at the climax, bringing together situations, characters, and peoples: Rohan and Gondor, for example, are both represented by the people of Callahorn, whose city of Tyrsis is at the same time Helm’s Deep and Minas Tirith. At least, the author saves the reader from reading an entire trilogy copying Tolkien’s work.

After all, reading The Sword of Shannara becomes only a game of reference, with the reader at every moment trying – and easily succeeding – to make parallels with The Lord of the Rings, realizing, for example, that Brooks puts Denethor as the brother of Aragorn and being advised by Grima Wormtongue.

The book cannot even be considered a good “inspiration”. For each good choice Brooks makes, he commits two atrocities. On the one hand, the author puts that the characteristic of ignoring the problems of others and only caring about them when they finally start to interfere directly in one’s own life is not exclusive to the elves, but a universal problem, being shared even by the protagonist, who only decides to act when the Skull Bearers are at his door. This way, he expands the force of the theme: it’s not only the fantastical elves that doom others for being egocentric; everyone is like that. On the other hand, he writes deeply embarrassing dialogues like the “I believe in you, Menion Leah. Now you remember to believe in yourself” that is thrown in without any sort of preparation – Leah, after all, rarely doubts himself – and the problem of Balinor’s line, “my life is of secondary importance in comparison with Tyrsis”, being said just a few pages after “Balinor was the key to Tyrsis”: Balinor’s dialogue is supposed to make him sound heroic, but just makes him sound stupid.

The Sword of Shannara is not a good start for Terry Brooks. It’s a repetitive book that gets carried away in its references to The Lord of the Rings. However, now that Brooks has purged Tolkien from his chest, perhaps his next works have more to say and don’t just read like bad fanfiction.

June 25, 2020.

Review originally published in Portuguese on January 04, 2016.