Issues from the early 1920s, a favorite period of many collectors, were 192 pages of eye-straining print and usually included a complete novel, two or three complete novelettes (in reality short novels) and a goodly chunk of a serial. There would also be five or six short stories and a bunch of departments like “Old Songs That Men Have Sung,” “Ask Adventure,” and “Lost Trails.” The letter column, known as “The Camp Fire” was perhaps the best letter column published in any magazine, ever. Usually, authors of stories in the issues wrote long essays where they detailed the historical background of their work. Letters from readers argued over facts in previous stories. In an America just emerging from the Wild West and the First World War, the readers of Adventure weren’t just arm-chair adventurers spouting theories. A typical letter began, “I enjoyed Hugh Pendexter’s story about the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, but he got some of the details wrong. I was there and remember quite distinctly …” and continue on for three pages about the famous gun battle.* Adventure today is most famous for printing the work of an elite cadre of talented adventure writers: Arthur D. Howden Smith, Arthur O. Friel, George Surdez, and many others, although it is these three and its two most famous contributors, Talbot Mundy and Harold Lamb, whose work has been most often reprinted outside the pulps.
It seems clear that Howard enjoyed both Mundy and Lamb. We can see shades of Mundy’s influence, at least topically, in the tales of El Borak and even in the stories of Conan. But for all that Mundy is mentioned more than twice as often as Lamb in Howard’s surviving correspondence, it is Lamb’s writing that seems to have been the greater inspiration.
If Howard had never crossed paths with Adventure until 1921, then he missed the earliest phase of Lamb’s Adventure years, when he wrote the first fourteen stories of his signature character, Khlit the Cossack. Howard does not seem to have encountered the aging warrior until Khlit’s return as a secondary character; this is a shame, for the third through the ninth tales of the wandering Cossack are some of the finest adventure fiction ever written. They take the Cossack across the steppes of Asia, into ancient tombs and the citadels of kings, bringing him face-to-face with emperors living and dead, bold comrades, scheming traitors, and lovely damsels. Tempting as it is to speculate that Robert E. Howard devoured these earliest tales, we have no record that he did so, though it is easy to imagine that he would have enjoyed reading them.
It seems clear, though, that Howard was a follower of the second, shorter cycle of Cossack stories that Lamb penned, featuring characters named Ayub and Demid. Howard wrote a poem titled with the twain’s name, although the poem is unfortunately lost. Demid is lean, hawkish, quiet, thoughtful; a talented swordsman, he is also a natural leader. Ayub is not as bright – he’d rather act first and then think – but he’s a seasoned veteran and loyal friend, a mighty man who wields a massive two-handed sword and who can drink any fellow under the table.
Readers of the Conan tales can find references to Howard’s Kozaks and it is tempting to credit this influence, and the manner in which certain terms are used, to Lamb. But we should not assume too much. While Lamb’s shadow likely lies over these stories, he wasn’t the only pulp writer to pen Cossack tales.
What we do know is that Howard once sat down with a large stack of Lamb stories and transcribed all of the foreign words for equipment and clothing he found within them. Howard scholar Patrice Louinet found a list of these words in among Howard’s papers and, suspecting they might be from Lamb stories, conferred with me. By searching the texts we discovered that the terms were listed in the same order that they had appeared in several Lamb stories: “The Shield,” “The Sea of Ravens,” “Kirdy,” “The Witch of Aleppo,” “White Falcon,” and “The Wolf Chaser.” Clearly Howard must have found inspiration in these stories, or the stack would not have been so deep. For further evidence that Lamb’s tales struck some primal chord, we need look no further than Lamb’s “The Wolf Chaser.” Howard wrote a five-hundred-word recap of the story, then wrote nearly a thousand words of his own take on the events, reusing the place names and some of the characters.
Preserved in Howard’s body of letters are two that he wrote to Adventure. In February of 1924 he wrote the editors to ask more than a dozen questions about Mongolia; Howard wanted to know Mongol names for objects and creatures like swords and tigers, whether or not Mongolians worshipped Erlik, Bon, Buddha, or all three, where exactly the Khirgiz lived, and many other questions besides. He almost certainly had encountered these terms in Lamb’s Adventure tales. In July of 1924, Howard again wrote to Adventure, though this time he asked questions about Europe, wondering what exactly the rights of a Feudal Baron were, how long the Feudal system flourished in central Europe, and other related matters.
Howard had been drawn to history from a very young age, so we should not think that he found all his desire for writing historical adventure from perusing the pages of Adventure magazine. He was keenly interested in Irish history, about which Lamb seems rarely to have concerned himself, and as is well known, wrote widely of a certain Puritan who spent a great deal of time in Africa, another area that never seems to have much interested Lamb.
In Lamb, though, he found a kindred spirit. It is not that the themes Howard so often dealt with in his fiction came first from Lamb, it is that Lamb’s themes resonated so strongly with Howard because the outlook of both men was quite similar. They were drawn to write tales of outsiders and veteran warriors. Both were suspicious of civilization’s strengths and often portrayed rulers and merchants as decadent, greedy, and immoral. Many of Lamb’s heroes were barbarians, or one step removed, just as Howard’s were. And both gloried in bloody action and adventure. Lamb never comes right out and says that barbarism is the natural state of mankind, but in many of his stories it is made clear that civilization will destroy a way of life that Lamb thinks more honorable – that of the folk who protect the borders, who are continually pushed back from the civilization over which they themselves stand sentinel. Overall Lamb was a better plotter (though Howard’s finest stories stand at least shoulder to shoulder with Lamb’s) but Howard was the more gifted storyteller. Lamb’s style is spare and strong, and quite effective, but it rarely rises to the poetic and dreamy heights of Howard’s greatest work.
Howard himself tried Adventure magazine as a market, but never managed to get in. By the time he was writing his finest historical fiction, he’d given up on ever appearing in the magazine – more is the pity – but did have a regular market of his own.