In literature, as in life, everything has its moment in the sun—though some moments are of course more equal than others. I dare say some last so long that they’ve been burned to a crisp well before they’re over.
Consider, for instance, the unabashed action hero. I think it’s safe to assert that the sun set on the Arnie archetype some time ago. These days, readers demand certain failings from their favourite fictional figures. Certain shades of grey to ground the good guys and the bad.
Thus, some stories are simply no longer told. Genres come and genres go—from popular consciousness, if not the fringes of the entire picture. I mean, I don’t suppose we’ll be waving goodbye to paranormal romance any time in the foreseeable future, but it doesn’t have quite the hold it once did, does it? Similarly, though it pains me to say, the New Weird has gotten awfully old.
But you must be wondering what all this has to do with the debut of one Luke Scull. Well, consider what his gripping first novel is called; it can come as no surprise that The Grim Company is as grimdark as fantasy gets. And though grimdark fantasy has been all the rage in recent years, the writing is on the wall.
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