The Uniqueness of Edgar Rice Burroughs Heroes by Abraham Sherman

Tarzan, The Tarzan Files

Guest Blog by Abraham Sherman: Edgar Rice Burroughs is often regarded as a “pulp writer” who is not to be taken too seriously. His stories are fast-paced and highly imaginative and not focused on the introspection often seen in “literary” works. But, does the absence of the “literary” label mean that ERB’s writing is of any lesser value? Or is there a different type of value in Burroughs that is largely overlooked by the literary critics? What makes one written work literary and another not? Literary writing generally seeks two things – reality and complexity. Burroughs, with his made-up worlds and clear heroes and villains, flies in the face of that, at least on the surface.

Literary works are focused on catharsis, on bringing up the darker side of humanity in a conflicted protagonist and putting him through real life in a way that the reader can say, “See, nobody is perfect and we all have it rough, but there is hope.” In contrast, ERB’s wish fulfillment literature is about providing unmistakable role models, people we wish we could be – examples to aim for in our life and personal character.

ERB’s writing, in comparison to literary writing, demonstrates a unique but equally substantial method of exploring themes and aspects of human nature. His books are no less worthy of note because of their pulp trappings. Pulp is as valid of a form of writing as any other, and it is unfortunate that it is rarely taken seriously by literary establishment critics. The critics often give nods to pulp for its importance in pop culture, for its ability to entertain the average reader, but the vaguely condescending acknowledgment usually stops there. Though some critics look down their noses at ERB’s “wish fulfillment literature,” and though ERB himself described his works as “rotten entertainment”, albeit in a self-effacing manner, that doesn’t account for how his works have endured when so many other authors of “wish fulfillment literature” have been forgotten or passed into obscurity. What is it about ERB that continues to resonate? Could pulpy wish fulfillment literature last as long as his works have lasted? Aside from the obvious answers of his extraordinary imagination and knack for adventure storytelling, some of the answers are found in his characterizations, particularly in his heroes, but in his villains as well.

The reader feels safe with ERB’s protagonists. No matter how wild the world, no matter how high the stakes or dangerous the circumstances, the reader knows that the hero will be extraordinarily competent, will make the best choices, and take the best possible actions. ERB’s heroes are selfless. They fight for causes that are bigger than the individual. They can always be counted on to act in situations of need. The “literary” protagonist, by comparison, is often conflicted and hesitant, and spends much of his time and energy working through his doubts about his moral code. He may take heroic action eventually, but only after battling with himself. In light of that contrast, the “wish-fulfillment” aspect to ERB’s heroes is unmistakable. They are the utterly dependable best friend or father or protector that we wish we had in real life. And they are who we wish we could be, in our most ambitious moments.

ERB’s antagonists are typically cowards, manipulators and lechers. They assert and increase their power at the expense of others. They take, rather than give. They seek to control rather than to set free. Literary antagonists, on the other hand, are typically portrayed as having at least one sympathetic motivation or redeeming quality. The reader may find some of the literary antagonist’s means and/or goals agreeable, others highly questionable. While the literary protagonist is often working to sort out his moral ambiguity, and seeks to make the best choices he can despite his personal failings, the literary antagonist is often fully resigned to the ambiguity and has no scruples about using whatever loopholes he can to pursue his ends. ERB’s antagonists do not usually have redeeming or ambiguous qualities. They exist to provide the opposing force that provokes the hero to action.

Not many of ERB’s characters fall in between the virtual polar opposites of his heroes and villains. But that does not mean that Burroughs denies the reality of human complexity. Rather, there is a method to his portrayals, a method as old as storytelling.

Here is the core of what is one of the most under-appreciated aspects of ERB’s writing. He presents a clear morality through his characters, making them generally very distinct adherents to either good or evil, and in so doing, he creates a picture of the forces at work inside every one of us. One undeniable aspect of humanity is the experience of conflicting desires. ERB, in his works, externalizes and separates the different forces that tug on each of us. And he does it in what are some of the most imaginative, adventurous and entertaining worlds ever created. One of the reasons ERB’s books resonate is because we have in our inner being both John Carter and Matai Shang, both Tars Tarkas and Tal Hajus, both Sola and Sarkoja. ERB brings them out for us, gives them separate identities useful for contrast, and encourages us to take a good look.

The way in which ERB celebrates his heroes encourages us to believe that goodness is a worthy pursuit, that we can be a John Carter or Dejah Thoris that remains on guard against the Tal Hajuses, Than Kosises, and Matai Shangs in ourselves and in the world around us. In this way, ERB’s writing serves a purpose for fiction alluded to by English writer G.K. Chesterton – “Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.”

In the “literary” framework, the battleground is predominantly within one’s self, with external conflicts being secondary. In contrast, with ERB, the external conflict is primary. The types of conflicts and characters that ERB created were well suited to the scope of his stories. For ERB, the battle was often for the safety of the jungle, or for a civilization, or for an entire planet. In his 150-to-200-page novels there wasn’t much time for introspection. ERB needed to raise the stakes as high as possible through conflicts between clearly contrasting agendas driven by individuals of fundamentally oppositional character.

ERB’s heroes, for how clear they are, are not necessarily flat or one-dimensional. They have eccentricities and fears, and still have to puzzle their way through situations. John Carter is awkward in his pursuit of Dejah Thoris, agonizes at the thought of losing her, and must use all of his smarts and courage and skill to save her from Than Kosis and Issus and Matai Shang. John Carter has exemplary moral character, but he isn’t all-knowing or all-powerful. He still faces challenges from within and without. It’s just that he faces them with an unbeatable resolve.

In contrasting the pulp style and the literary style, it is worth remembering that we need ennobling, inspiring examples as well as honest self-reflection. We need cautionary tales about the sordid qualities of humanity, and we need encouragement toward the good. We know that both ends of the human spectrum are real, since they both continually tug on us. In the midst of that complexity, the heroism in ERB’s stories rings true like the good advice of a trustworthy friend.

18 comments

  • This is an excellent meditation on not only ERB’s ability but on our own slippery definitions and perceptions in academia. To date, I think only two “literary” people have taken the podium by publishing books that treat ERB with the same respect that other literary authors hold: Erling Holtsmark’s Tarzan and Tradition and my own (Stan Galloway’s) The Teenage Tarzan. Get a copy of them both and read them and I think you will realize ERB had a lot more going than he is often given credit for.

  • Dotar wrote – “I just have this elusive feeling that Burroughs was in touch with something so very primal and so perfectly attuned — that’s why it somehow stimulates the pleasure centers in my brain in such a unique and satisfying way — I feel like Vidal is on the trail of explaining it. I wish there was more.”

    A key to what ERB’s writing does for the reader might be found in what it did for him. Why did he write? Obviously to make money, but why did he write WHAT he wrote? He had been through twenty years of mostly failure. He felt that he had not had much impact on the world around him. He needed his spirits lifted. In our own ways, that’s all of us, isn’t it? His writing provided him with escape, empowerment, encouragement, inspiration, hope and renewed courage, and he shared that experience with his readers. He took people on journeys to other worlds, entertained them like few others ever could, showed them visions of goodness and heroism, and in so doing brushed them off, patted them on the back and sent them on their way with a lighter step and a more courageous heart.

    He wrote for himself, which often imbues writing with universal appeal. If the last hundred years is any indication, that approach worked very well for ERB. He recuperated and reveled in the spontaneous cinema of his imagination, and was brilliant at sharing it with the rest of us.

  • What about this comment from Gore Vidal (its’ from the Gore Vidal Article — next post up from this one). I think he is onto something with the concept of “dream-self”…..I think that’s a good way of getting at the wish-fulfillment piece. And it,in a way, elevates Burroughs — the dream master.

    There is something basic in the appeal of the 1914 Tarzan which makes me think that he can still hold his own as a daydream figure, despite the sophisticated challenge of his two contemporary competitors, Ian Fleming and Mickey Spillane. For most adults, Tarzan (and John Carter of Mars) can hardly compete wit the conspicuous consumer consumption of James Bond or the sickly violence of Mike Hammer, but for children and adolescents, the old appeal continues. All of us need the idea of a world alternative to this one. From Plato’s Republic to Opar to Bond-land, at every level, the human imagination has tried to imagine something better for itself than the existing society. Man left Eden when we got up off all fours, endowing most of his descendants with nostalgia as well as chronic backache. In its naive way, the Tarzan legend returns us to that Eden where, free of clothes and the inhibitions of an oppressive society, a man can achieve his continuing need, which is, as William Faulkner put it in his high Confederate style, to prevail as well as endure. The current fascination with L.S.D. and non-addictive drugs — not to mention alcoholism — is all part of a general sense of frustration and boredom. The individual’s desire to dominate his environment is not a desirable trait in a society which every day grows more and more confining. Since there are few legitimate releases for the average man, he must take to daydreaming. James Bond, Mike Hammer and Tarzan are all dream-selves, and the aim of each is to establish personal primacy in a world which in reality diminishes the individual. Among adults, increasing popularity of these lively inferior fictions strikes me as a most significant (and unbearably sad) phenomenon.

    I just have this elusive feeling that Burroughs was in touch with something so very primal and so perfectly attuned — that’s why it somehow stimulates the pleasure centers in my brain in such a unique and satisfying way — I feel like Vidal is on the trail of explaining it. I wish there was more.

  • MCR wrote

    I think Henried pointed this out in another comment section but Stanton only seemed to love the “surface details” of the books-they have cool aliens, hot babes, etc. He couldn’t seem to get past that and instead spent most of his time just nitpicking Burroughs, probably because he missed that the first time around and didn’t want to admit it.

    I ran across an interview of Stanton today where he mentioned that one of the things he liked about the books (not the comics) was the sense of being an “adventurer or explorer”……I find that kind of strange, because that’s what he removed from the story. He made JC more of a hostage – -hijacked by the Thern medallion.

    I just watched Dances with Wolves the other night and was really struck by all the little moments where he’s soaking in his surroundings, the culture, the majesty of it all and you can feel it affecting his spirit, his one-ness with it all. That whole dimension was lost.

  • Wonderfully expressed, Abraham, and I agree! These things are what I personally feel draws me keenly into my enjoyment of ERB’s works. I LOVE a hero who is confident, solid, utterly trustworthy, and not “broken.” I accept how the film changed that about John Carter, but I would still love to see him portrayed the way he was in the books. And we will get to see that in part 1, because as both Stanton and Taylor have said, John Carter will “hit the ground running” in JC2, now that he’s worked out the difficult aspects of his history created for the first film. It’s part of the reason I want to see those sequels SO badly!!

  • This is a really good article and defense of ERB Abe. You got what makes ERB’s work last.

    With 062241’s comment about Pulp vs Literary the movie might have worked better if Stanton had loved the actual book. I think Henried pointed this out in another comment section but Stanton only seemed to love the “surface details” of the books-they have cool aliens, hot babes, etc. He couldn’t seem to get past that and instead spent most of his time just nitpicking Burroughs, probably because he missed that the first time around and didn’t want to admit it. (As a side note I earlier heard about Gore Vidal’s passing and found his essay on ERB and his love of his work and how he still felt about it when he read it again later. And he is someone people would classify as “literary” as an author yet he praised Burroughs more than Stanton or fellow “literary” fan Michael Chabon did.)

    I’ll end by stealing an idea from Pascalahad: This comment from Dejah Thoris near the end of A Princess of Mars:

    “Was there ever such a man! (Some skipping here) Alone, a stranger, hunted, threatened, persecuted, you have done in a few short months what in all the past ages of Barsoom no man has ever done.”

    And Carter’s response:
    “It was not I who did it, it was love, love for Dejah Thoris, a power that would work greater miracles than this you have seen.”

  • Pascalahad, along with the Tars Tarkas/Gozava/Sola content, that excerpt is one of my favorite parts in the series. I see it as John Carter’s mission statement, the summary of the impact he had while he pursued Dejah Thoris and helped everyone he could along the way. His character and abilities made saving the world essentially a side mission to saving his wife and her people!

    Superheroes do usually have a city that they take care of. And we can see how much people love those stories. Taking that and amplifying it to the scope of an entire, cohesive, detailed world full of exotic cultures is what John Carter is all about, and the prospect of a truly robust film being made according to that premise gives me goosebumps.

  • There’s this extract, from Warlord of Mars:

    “Twenty-two years before I had been cast, naked and a stranger, into this strange and savage world. The hand of every race and nation was raised in continual strife and warring against the men of every other land and color. Today, by the might of my sword and the loyalty of the
    friends my sword had made for me, black man and white, red man and green rubbed shoulders in peace and good-fellowship. All the nations of Barsoom were not yet as one, but a great stride forward toward that goal had been taken, and now if I could but cement the fierce yellow race into this solidarity of nations I should feel that I had rounded out a great lifework, and repaid to Mars at least a portion of the immense debt of gratitude I owed her for having given me my Dejah Thoris.”

  • I think of Batman and Gotham City, which started more or less as a standard city, and which began to get more moody and gothic, depending on the artist of course, with specific creepy places like the Arkham asylum. DC heroes had generally an imaginary city devoted to them, but they were seldom as distinctive as Batman’s environment was depicted.

    There’s Flash Gordon, of course, but he is more or less inspired by John Carter anyway!

    Conan’s hyborian world is another example that comes to mind. He shares with Tarzan a dubious honor, he was never really adapted in any medium as Howard wrote him! He also became an archetype as the Lord of the Jungle, and his world was pretty developed through numerous pastiches.

  • But for all the influence on superheroes, there aren’t too many examples of other stories that combined character and world the way that John Carter and Barsoom were combined. Superman and his stewardship of Earth is somewhat similar. But there is an exotic, fantasy quality to ERB’s Barsoom stories that really has not been replicated elsewhere – it’s like a prototype of Superman with loads more imagination. There are probably other examples of character/world superhero stories that I’m missing…

  • “Burroughs made Barsoom a character that you fall in love with, not just an arena in which things happen.”

    Exactly! With the Barsoom stories we get attached to the characters, but we ultimately fall in love with the WORLD. The characters are our vehicles. That’s part of the reason that ERB was able to sustain an eleven-book series with different protagonists – the world was the through-character that we ultimately connected with. The reader’s/audience’s surrogates in each book are extraordinary, like figures from myth, but humanized with grit-your-teeth honor codes and personal motivations that inevitably rope them into greater causes. Their incitements to action are personal and individual, but in the course of their adventures they generally acquire a broader view of the needs of the world around them and have a profound impact beyond their individualistic goals. How’s that for an inspiring “rise to the occasion” theme?

    Because John Carter comes to care for the world, so do we. And then, after those first three books, it’s a matter of hitching a ride with the next Odysseus, each one a bit different from the last, but all serving the purpose of taking us to Barsoom and giving us the satisfaction of having made a real difference.

    Pascalahad, that’s a good observation that there is always a good person among the bad guys, ready to lead a revolution for the best of his people. Always a Tars Tarkas or Xodar or Talu. And in that we see another common thread of hope and a sense that nothing is ever a totally lost cause!

    In this discussion it really is becoming clearer to me exactly how ERB was the inspiration for superheroes as we know them. There have always been heroic leaders and mythic figures, but ERB sure kicked something off with his imagination and fun storytelling a hundred years ago!

  • “ERB’s heroes are selfless. They fight for causes that are bigger than the individual. They can always be counted on to act in situations of need. The “literary” protagonist, by comparison, is often conflicted and hesitant, and spends much of his time and energy working through his doubts about his moral code. He may take heroic action eventually, but only after battling with himself. In light of that contrast, the “wish-fulfillment” aspect to ERB’s heroes is unmistakable.”

    I like Pascalahad’s point …. yes, ERB’s heroes are selfless there is no question about that and we like that. They fight for causes — that’s true — but as Pascalahad says, Burroughs personalizes it. When I think of John Carter’s path to Warlord, it’s all about Dejah at first, and then, through her, he comes to love Helium and Barsoom, but in a very personal way. It’s as if Barsoom is just the larger manifestation of what he sees in Dejah Thoris, and all of that is just a “perfect fit” for him, the warrior culture, honor, etc.

    It would be interesting to go back and read Gods and Warlord with some of this in mind. What does he say, specifically, about Barsoom in this regard and the cause he is fighting for beyond Dejah Thoris? I don’t have the quotes at my fingertips so I don’t know.

    But the personal aspect is very unique to Burroughs and helps me understand the strength of the ride he takes you on.

    I also think that this helps explain the pull that Barsoom has had for so many. Burroughs made Barsoom a character that you fall in love with, not just an arena in which things happen.

  • Pascalahad wrote

    The only part I don’t necessarily agree with is “They fight for causes that are bigger than the individual”. To me it’s the opposite, they always fight for SOMEONE, more often than not, the person they love. More than that, my perception is that they ONLY fight for the individual, and that’s what is part of the appeal to me. They could fight for me, as a reader, should the need arise, if I was friend with them (another encouragement to be a good person!). Their fight are intimate. Once they rescue the love of their lifes, they settle for the time being, hence the changes of protagonists in the Barsoom novels. Would John Carter still fight for Helium if Dejah Thoris died? Probably not. I often wondered what would happen to him if that happened, picturing him go on adventures, exploring the still unknown areas of Barsoom, with Woola and Tar Tarkas at his side.

    Excellent insight. That’s very helpful. You’re so write about Burroughs personalizes the conflict………it helps me understand that aspect of the appeal better, having read this.

  • What a GREAT analysis!

    Abraham says:
    “Literary works are focused on catharsis, on bringing up the darker side of humanity in a conflicted protagonist and putting him through real life in a way that the reader can say, “See, nobody is perfect and we all have it rough, but there is hope.” In contrast, ERB’s wish fulfillment literature is about providing unmistakable role models, people we wish we could be – examples to aim for in our life and personal character.”
    And . . .
    “ERB’s heroes are selfless. They fight for causes that are bigger than the individual. They can always be counted on to act in situations of need. The “literary” protagonist, by comparison, is often conflicted and hesitant, and spends much of his time and energy working through his doubts about his moral code. He may take heroic action eventually, but only after battling with himself. In light of that contrast, the “wish-fulfillment” aspect to ERB’s heroes is unmistakable.”

    So, it is obvious that Stanton made his choices because he wanted to change ERB’s stories form PULP to LITERARY. No wonder so many people, including myself, were offended by the mopy and reluctant hero, John Carter, portrayed in the movie. These BOOKS are FUN escapement and not meant to be anything but. ERG admitted as much. Stanton didn’t understand the intent of the original books and therefore tried to make them into something they were never meant to be.

    John Carter to me is a man of Action . . . never questioning, impulsive, confident, extremely able, and a warrior who never held back. He didn’t need an “arc” !!

    I agree with MRC last post, Stanton should apologize in the “Directors Cut”

    Ken

  • Typo: the sentence “Burroughs always shows that the evilness is always limited to individuals, and to a whole nation” is missing a word, of some importance! It should read “Burroughs always shows that the evilness is always limited to individuals, and NOT to a whole nation”.

  • Great article!

    The only part I don’t necessarily agree with is “They fight for causes that are bigger than the individual”. To me it’s the opposite, they always fight for SOMEONE, more often than not, the person they love. More than that, my perception is that they ONLY fight for the individual, and that’s what is part of the appeal to me. They could fight for me, as a reader, should the need arise, if I was friend with them (another encouragement to be a good person!). Their fight are intimate. Once they rescue the love of their lifes, they settle for the time being, hence the changes of protagonists in the Barsoom novels. Would John Carter still fight for Helium if Dejah Thoris died? Probably not. I often wondered what would happen to him if that happened, picturing him go on adventures, exploring the still unknown areas of Barsoom, with Woola and Tar Tarkas at his side.

    One hope I had when I saw the trailer for the movie was for John Carter to say after: “I don’t fight for anyone”, to add “…but the Princess of Mars”. That was John Carter to me, in a nutshell.

    One thing of note also about the antagonists, Burroughs always shows that the evilness is always limited to individuals, and to a whole nation. For one dictator, there is always the good side, the good person awaiting in the shadows until his time comes. John Carter is a catalyst in this case, just because the revolution was always in place, just needing a spark to blow up.

    I haven’t read all Burroughs, so there might be exceptions I’m not aware of, but that’s the impression I got from the Barsoom and Amtor books, they’re all about the individual. They open up to epic proportions later on sometimes, but the basis in very individualistic at its core.

  • Thanks for this, Abraham. It’s something I would really like to drill down into. The strange part to me is that, generally speaking, the “rules” of “serious literature” or film are just as strict as the rules of genre or pulp fiction. Character’s must have an “arc”, for example — no exception. If the character doesn’t “grow” and “change”, then he/she is not a real character and it’s not real literature.

    Choosing to not go that route immediately disqualifies a work from serious consideration even if there are enormous talents on display, as with ERB.

    But in the end — it’s all just patterns. One pattern for “serious”, another pattern for “pulp”, another pattern for “gothic romance”, etc.

    There’s at least one “serious” author out there who feels roughly the same way. John Barth, ERB and the Masculine Narrative

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