It has become increasingly fashionable in recent years to lament the passing of Roger Zelazny's greatness. Glib cries of ubi sunt have greeted almost every book since Lord of Light (1967) and Creatures of Light and Darkness (1969): "Ah, whence hath gone the 'Zelaz' of yesteryear?" Most recently, for example, Dan Chow remarked in the October, 1982, Locus that Eye of Cat is cause to "quietly redefine our view of Zelazny's work, and move him from the 'A' list to the 'B' list" (p. 11). This negative tide probably was spawned in Richard Cowper's essay, "A Rose Is a Rose Is a Rose...in Search of Roger Zelazny," in Foundation (No. 11/12 [1977], pp. 142-46). Cowper laments what he identifies as the decline of Zelazny's career from Jack of Shadows (1971) to Doorways in the Sand (1976). Since Cowper, lazy reviewers have had an easy mode of "analysis": "Zelazny will never be great again."

Such an attitude, in regard to any author, is very dangerous! The closed perspectives that it produces disregard any possibility of an author growing or changing. A number of years ago, at a gathering at the home of Carl Yoke, Zelazny's boyhood friend and the only author of book-length studies of his works -- Roger Zelazny: Starmont Reader's Guide 2 (1979, rev. ed. forthcoming 1983) and Roger Zelazny and Andre Norton: Proponents of Individualism (1979) -- Zelazny remarked that he was trying to move on to different types of prose. Such sacrilegious tendencies by authors are greeted with resistance by science-fiction and fantasy readers. Somehow an author is always supposed to produce uniform, predictable prose that doesn't violate readers' expectations. For those who think of favorite writers as psychological nests, this is great. There are certainly many authors out there who produce identical eggs that hatch predictably, page by repetitious page, beneath readers' warm behinds.

Certainly, Zelazny cannot be accused of being the same author who produced "Conditional Benefits" in the fanzine Thurban I in 1953. Thanks to the many gods that populate his fictional pantheon for that! Just recently, he has produced two volumes of poetry, When Pussywillows Last in the Catyard Bloomed (1980) and To Spin Is Miracle Cat (1981), that add significant dimension to an already award-filled canon. And more celebration is forthcoming via a second bibliography of his work (following Joe Sanders' Roger Zelazny: A Primary and Secondary Bibliography [G. K. Hall, 1980]) by the man with no periods in his name, Daniel J H Levack. It is entitled Amber Dreams (Underwood-Miller, 1983, signed $25, hardcover $17, paperback $8.95). Zelazny's two most recent works -- one whimsical, the other serious -- dramatically illustrate the multi-faceted nature of the surprises that frequently spring from his growing and distinctive imagination.

The lighthearted volume is Dilvish the Damned (1982, Ballantine, paperback, $2.50; 1982, Underwood-Miller, $30). This reprints a series of stories (which originally appeared from 1964 to 1981) that feature two more of Zelazny's cursed and sardonic protagonists, Dilvish himself and his bogartesque warhorse, Black. In addition, three new stories are added to fill in the history: "A City Divided," "Devil and the Dancer," and "Dilvish, the Damned." Dilvish had the misfortune to come between a wizard and his virgin sacrifice. As a result, his body was turned to stone and left to stand exposed in a village square for two-hundred years, and his soul was cursed to the torment of Hell. The eleven tales are concerned with Dilvish's pursuit of his tormentor, the wizard Jelerak. In Hell, he acquired a powerful and sorcerous ally. Black, who occupies the steel body of a horse, is capable of all sorts of prodigious physical and arcane feats, but he is most aptly marked by his dry, low-key wit. One such instance occurs in "Tower of Ice." After Dilvish is carried at breakneck speed through a series of spectacular, magical boobytraps, the scorched rider remarks, "In the future, I would prefer not cutting things quite that closely." Black responds, "Sorry, I was caught up in the beauty of the moment." Black's sarcastic wit is a good balance to Dilvish's dark demeanor. Like Sam in Lord of Light and other Zelazny characters, Dilvish's compulsion doesn't make him the happiest of men, and his stay in Hell did nothing to improve his humor. Still, he experiences poignant moments as he refuses to deny the needs of those in distress. One of the most effective is the service he performs for a strange, alien being -- the last of her kind -- who has been reduced to a captive goddess in "The Places of Aache." In addition, Dilvish and Black assume the native majesty of the Zelazny protagonist, perhaps because of their ironic denials of love and humanity. Certainly, dignity and respect, in general, have rarely been as well defined as they are in the brief "The White Beast." In sum total, however, the Dilvish tales are swashbuckling rather than serious and are among the few original and enjoyable examples of sword & sorcery available these days.

Eye of Cat (1982, Underwood-Miller, $30, out of print; 1982, Pocket/Timescape, $13.95; 1983, Science Fiction Book Club, $2.98) is much more serious fiction than Dilvish the Damned. It returns to the mythological and mythopoeic themes and characters that marked Zelazny's earlier works. In Lord of Light, it was Hindu myth; in Creatures of Light and Darkness, Egyptian; in the five-volume Chronicles of Amber (1970-1978) and "The Last Defender of Camelot" (1979), Arthurian; and in "Unicorn Variation" (1981), Celtic. At his most creative, Zelazny even generated a mythology for the dolphins in "Kjwalll'kje'k'koothailll'kje'k" (1973). In Eye of Cat, Zelazny turns to Navajo myth and blends it with a pungent dose of shapeshifting aliens. The novel's plot is not very significant. A dignitary is threatened by a humanoid alien with extraordinary psychic powers. The abilities of a team of Earth's psychics are just not well enough developed to be much protection. William Blackstone Singer, the aged and penultimate hunter, is called out of retirement to deal with the invader. Sickened by his wife's death and the knowledge that he is the last of his kind, Singer realizes that he must turn to his greatest "catch" to be successful. He has long carried a major burden of guilt over his capture of the psychic, shapeshifting, one-eyed Cat. He has long suspected that it is an intelligent being, not an animal. Yet, he has allowed it to remain in a zoo for many years. Of course, Cat is sentient, and it has been plotting revenge throughout its long captivity. Its price for cooperation is Singer's life, and Cat is astonished when the world-weary Navajo quickly accepts the bargain. Cat's defeat of the alien assassin is quick and incidental. After it, Eye of Cat gets underway in earnest. The psychic Cat is deeply disturbed by Singer's pathetically non-aggressive mind; it spoils, initially, the great hunt between the two lasts-of-their-kinds. For years, Cat has dreamed of the grandeur of the moment when the Navajo's body would be beneath its claws. Yet, Singer's mental weakness makes almost a mockery of the first steps as Cat seems to be able to anticipate all of Singer's "jumps" through the novel's futuristic "trip-boxes." The hunt grows interesting only when Singer begins to recover a sense of purpose through his racial memory. Soon, Singer realizes that far-off places and the role of the hunted will bring him only death. He returns to his sacred, ancestral lands. There, he begins a mystical regression back through his immediate civilized past to his native gods and the ancient mind-set. Here too, Cat's lamentable and courageous death, although epic, also becomes incidental as Singer proceeds to higher challenges and planes. To try to describe his visionary journey here would be futile. Zelazny captures it as only he can, and it more than excuses any lack of development and tossed-aside events in the first portions of Eye of Cat. What is most important is that stylistically the novel reaches new and different heights for Zelazny as he combines prose, poetry, stream of consciousness, and song to achieve a true multi-genre narrative. This, in itself, is a highly significant step in his development.

Who knows if Eye of Cat will ever be considered the equal of Lord of Light. What should be acknowledged is that when dealing with an author of Zelazny's obvious intelligence and skill, the wisest course is to watch where he's going, not where he's been. Along that future path lies imagination, energy, and innovation.

This transcript comprises 2/3 of the entire article; the rest has been omitted as it deals purely with other authors.