Fifty years from now, when the literary history of this time is finally written, much that is popular now will have faded into obscurity. Meanwhile, much that is obscure or little-known will be raised up as innovative genius.

David Forbes

So it is with Gene Wolfe. Not even one of the most popular or well-known among science-fiction and fantasy authors, he has long ago transcended any sort of genre label to produce some of the best novels and stories I have ever read.

Over the last few years, interest in Wolfe has increased and many hard-to-find works by him have seen new publication. So it is with ìLatro in the Mist,î (Orb Books, 640 pp. $17.95) a collection of his novels ìSoldier in the Mistî and ìSoldier of Arete.î

Both novels follow Latro, a Roman mercenary employed by the Persian Empire around 479 B.C., who loses his short-term memory after an injury in battle. Stranded in Greece with the victorious forces of Athens, Sparta and their allies running around, Latro writes down daily his account of his quest for a way home and the restoration of his memory.

In balance for the loss of his memory, however, he can see what other mortals cannot: the panoply of goddesses, gods, nymphs and ghosts dotting the landscape of ancient Greece.

Wolfeís writing style is, as always, pitch perfect. Eloquent without being too wordy, he gives Latro his own unique style (the novel is supposedly his manuscript, after all). That conceit allows him to fill the reader in on enough of ancient Greece to make the setting comprehensible without taking away its exotic power.

But what raises ìLatro in the Mistî to the level of masterpiece is its multi-layered nature. On one level, this is high sword-and-sorcery at its best, with the (relatively) virtuous Latro crossing swords on many occasions while dealing with political intrigue, cunning sorcerers and the like.

Certainly, Wolfe punctures those genre tropes with glee even as he brings out the best in them. The action is quick, bloody and exciting, but there are few cardboard damsels in distress (some very capable Amazons aid the protagonists).

But wait, thereís another level, Wolfe loves to play with names and this work is no exception. ìLatro,î he conveys in an aside, means ìpawn;î and throughout, itís mentioned that he probably has another name. Furthermore, Latro barely knows Greek, so he calls the ancient states by their more literal titles. Athens, appropriately, becomes ìThought.î

Sparta ó depicted, despite some admirable qualities, as a psychotic police-state ó is ìRope,î and its ruling soldier class, obsessed with keeping their serfs under controls, ìRope Makers.î

As historical fantasy, ìLatro in the Mistî never forgets the first part of that equation. The reader does see the marble halls of power, the philosophers and poets that we know from the history books (Pindar has a fairly large supporting role). It also sees the lives of slaves, the inside workings of an Athenian brothel, and the funeral rites of rural farmers.

But look past that. As Latro sees each day anew, he repeatedly looks at people around him with new eyes, and not always for the best. At first, Latro is fairly aware of whatís been happening to him, as the text he must read each morning is still short. As the books continue and the size of his ìbookî grows, he can only read certain parts, limiting his awareness accordingly.

This adds an increasingly disjointed feel to the identities of all involved, opening its own philosophical can of worms.
As if that werenít enough, Wolfe also deals with the Greek deities appropriately. Forget ìClash of the Titansî-style schmaltz: These figures are mysterious and at times genuinely terrifying.

Thereís a definite kick in the ribs here to the academic status-quo assumption that the ancient Greeks were the greatest of philosophers, but somehow mysteriously lost their senses when it came to their mysticism and religion. Wolfe views both as essential parts of their culture and presents them accordingly. Ironically enough, the ever-practical Latro, who sees the gods without particularly worshipping one of them, gets quite good at flattering whichever divinity is in front of him at the time.

Then again, he may just be insane from his head injury, fitting happenstance into his own hallucinations. Then again, he does seem to know things his fellows fail to see. Then again, he may just be a lucky fool.

Then again, so might we all.
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David Forbes, who writes book reviews for the Daily Planet, may be reached at marauderAVL-at-hotmail.com. Suggestions and comments are always welcome.