"Story, at least in the European tradition, requires conflict. Characters must be flawed, they must make mistakes, their opponents must get the better of them. Things in some way, shape or form need to get bad, need to entertain uncertainty. In Return of the King, a conventional story, Denethor's actions must bring Pippin and Gandalf and Faramir low, in order to create the tension that will be relieved later in the story when the conflict is resolved.
"However, these basic mechanisms of narrative tension are at odds with the needs of propaganda ... the subject of propaganda has no arc but upward. They begin strong and stronger, they crush all that oppose them, their opposition is flimsy and victory is trivial."
Dan Olson, Trimph of the Will and the Cinematic Language of Propaganda
The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood of Great Renown, in Nottinghamshire, published in 1883 and written by Howard Pyle, is an awful book. Interest in the character of Robin Hood had grown all through the 19th century, starting with his appearance in Walter Scott's 1819 book Ivanhoe, and Pyle — an American — was significant in cementing the version of Robin that dominates the 20th century and the present. All the jargon about robbing from the rich and giving to the poor was central to The Merry Adventures, which pulled together multiple myths about the band of outlaws in Sherwood Forest that firmly established that list of familiar names. Pyle invented none of the characters, so far as I know ... but he expanded them, give them additional parts to play in other stories while rounding out the merry band.
However, the stories are simply ... bad. Every fight goes on and on for an hour without either contestant succeeding in striking the other; Robin is forever blowing three blasts on his horn to "summon five or seven score men" to overwhelm his enemies; there's never any doubt that Robin's going to succeed at some effort — and worst, in nearly ever story there's hardly a conflict at all. By pretending to be someone other than himself, largely playing the part badly, Robin merely catches people unaware and then robs from them. It's so obvious where the story's going that it's painful to sit and wait for the resolution to arrive.
Yet every adventure is describes as great and greater still, with none of the Merry Men ever being in real danger, not for a second. It is as described above: a really awful sort of propaganda for an England that's as interesting as a pasteboard sign outside a failed restaurant. It's been something of a trial to bear up, to reach the end. And that says nothing of the terrible, terrible verse that every character sings at every opportunity throughout.
There is nothing so boring as winning. If anyone doubts me, get yourself on audible and have a listen. If you're paying your monthly fee, the book is free; it costs no credits. The audio version is not quite 11 hours. I'll bet most couldn't get through two.
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