Beasts Of Gor

You are cordially invited back to Gor, the planet hiding on the opposite side of the Sun where men are warriors, women are slaves and nobody has yet invented the awkward dinner party. In this twelfth instalment of John Norman’s heroic, barbaric and gloriously overfurnished saga, Tarl Cabot must leave the comparative comforts of Port Kar and travel into the frozen north, where the enormous, carnivorous Kurii are establishing an invasion base on the polar ice. They are stronger than men, technologically advanced and equipped with the confidence peculiar to a species that has already destroyed one planet and feels ready to have another go.

Ahead lie the territories of the Red Hunters, bitter cold, treacherous ice, vicious wildlife, alien conspiracies, hunting, capture, combat and the usual Gorean administrative arrangements concerning collars. Tarl must discover what the Kurii are planning and prevent them from securing their first foothold on Gor, preferably before being eaten, frozen or detained for several chapters by someone with an unnecessarily elaborate code of honour. It is sword-and-planet adventure dressed for Arctic weather: furs replace flowing cloaks, snow replaces desert sand, and the scantily clad inhabitants of Gor finally encounter a climate prepared to question their tailoring decisions.

Beasts of Gor contains everything the seasoned Gorean traveller might require: barbarian warriors, predatory aliens, polar survival, dangerous women, endangered women, enslaved women, men explaining women to women, and Tarl Cabot progressing through it all with the serene assurance of somebody who has never once suspected that he might be the problem. John Norman supplies action, strange cultures and fantastical spectacle in generous quantities, while continuing his heroic campaign against feminism, subtlety and the possibility of anybody simply wearing sensible clothes.

This 1978 DAW Books paperback is in Fair condition, well read and with a concave spine. It looks as though a Kur has gripped it firmly around the middle, or perhaps as though twelve volumes of Gorean philosophy have finally caused it to bend inward in self-defence. Still complete, still readable and still proudly displaying the battle scars appropriate to a book in which almost everybody is either hunting, fighting, fleeing, conquering or being fitted for a collar. Sold by Crappy Old Books, where all books are free persons regardless of condition, although this one has plainly endured a lengthy period of servitude.

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