Dr. Simon Reads Appendix N Part Two: John Bellairs

Dr. Simon Reads Appendix N: John Bellairs

This is an ongoing sporadic series, in which I explore classic fantasy and science fiction works. Appendix N is the bibliography of Gary Gygax's original Dungeon Masters Guide, and lists a range of classic SF and fantasy authors that influenced his interest in the fantastical. See the first part of this series for more information.

This time around, I have reached the works of:

John Bellairs

Bellairs was a Michigan-born author who lived from 1939 to 1991 when he died of cardiovascular disease. Most of his work, a lot published posthumously, is young adult fiction based on a collection of young anatagonists, Anthony Monday and Johnny Dixon who get involved in various supernatural goings-on. Judging by the adverts tacked onto the end of my Kindle edition of Face in the Frost, these have recently been rebranded, presumably to tap into the Harry Potter/Artemis Fowl/Skulduggery Pleasant/Percy Jackson etc. market; and also of note The House With A Clock In Its Walls, recently released as a film, is one of Bellairs’ stories as well. The man seems to be making a comeback.

The only story of his recommended in Appendix N is The Face in the Frost, a fairly short novel and one of his few aimed at an adult market, first published in 1969.

The Face in the Frost
The story centres around two wizards, Prospero (who is not, apparently “that one”) and his friend Roger Bacon (who is "that one"). The setting is a fantasy world divided into the rugged no-nonsense Northern Kingdom (many years before Winterfell came onto the scene) and the Southern Kingdoms, a loose patchwork of petty nobles all vying over their tiny plots of land like a parody of the later Holy Roman Empire. The wizards are able to travel to other times and places, however, as evidenced by the fact that Roger Bacon has been spending some time in England as a monk, researching a book of magic, and the many anachronistic artifacts that litter Prospero’s eccentric home. Although Prospero is not “that one”, enough vague possibility is left to the reader that he may have been an inspiration for Shakespeare.

Plotwise, the story is pretty simple. A mysterious force is attacking Prospero’s home with eerie shadows and unseasonable weather. The two friends undertake a journey to learn more and in the process it becomes clear that not only is the mysterious tome that Roger Bacon was searching for involved somehow, but that an old colleague of Prospero, long thought dead, is very much alive and seeking to gain sole control of a magic item that he and Prospero once created together.

Although the enemy figure, Melichus, is spoken of often he makes little in the way of a physical appearance, instead seen via his gradual erosion of all that is good and growing, through rotting trees, wintery weather (and the eponymous sinister face in the frost as it grows on every window), and at the last as a shadowy figure pursuing Prospero through the snow by lantern-light.

There are some interesting sequences, such as the two men escaping by shrinking themselves and sailing a model ship down an underground stream, or the sinister town of Five Dials, a Brigadoon-esque illusory town created by Melichus to entrap Prospero, full of subtle eerie details. 

Five Dials

Bellairs has evidently never heard of the writing style guide that suggests omitting every other adjective (I think Stephen King is a big proponent of this). Pretty much all of his descriptions include at least two adjectives for every element which can sometimes make it feel a bit leaden (so I guess the style guide is right), but at the same time imparts a gloomy gothic feel to the proceedings, and he’s certainly effective in evoking a disturbing scene. The ending feels somewhat dissatisfactory in how inconclusive it is, but at the same time I also like that we are never really given a full exposure of Melichus; by being kept a shadowy mystery throughout, he maintains an air of magical menace. By not spelling out his powers explicitly, Bellairs ensures that we never quite know what he’s capable of.

I felt that it was similar thematically to both Ursula K LeGuin’s “A Wizard of Earthsea” (published the year before this book) and Suzanna Clarke’s “Jonathon Strange and Mr Norrell”. The shadowy peril of Melichus recalls both Geb’s “shadow” in Earthsea and the “gentleman with the thistle-down hair” in Clarke’s story; representing in many ways the dark side to the protagonists, figures with nebulous power that gradually cause decay in their wake. The many images of rotting leaves and wood in The Face in the Frost particularly reminded me of the changeling wife in Jonathon Strange and Mr Norrel made from a piece of bog wood. All three books are good at invoking a sense of eerie mystery to magical worlds. Funnily enough, all three authors have cited Lord of the Rings as an inspiration to write magical fantasy.

I didn’t immediately discern any direct influence on D&D from this book. Some have claimed that the idea of wizards having to study spellbooks to learn spells to use later stems from here; I’m less convinced as it’s not a mechanic specific to this book. I think the influence is more subtle, the general nature of magical worlds and an atmosphere to invoke. I think that the occasional anachronism and travel between realms (towards the end of the book Prospero travels to what we may assume is our modern world, with cars and lawnmowers) is one used by Gygax and others; Gygax’s own character Mordenkainen supposedly visits modern Earth, and an early character Murlynd affected cowboy dress and a pair of six-shooters after travelling to the Old West. The message here is not to be too precious about setting and consistency when having fun is more important.