The Roots Of The Mountains 

The Roots Of The Mountains (Part I)

William Morris

Review by Kiran Fane

This is not our first review of the works of William Morris, nor will it be our last. Neither is this my first, second, or even third time reading The Roots of the Mountains. So it will come as no surprise when I say that this book is one of my absolute favorites. At the risk of spoiling the review, it is then quite evident that I consider The Roots of the Mountains to be well worth the reading. I intend to do a review of Part two in addition, so I will primarily note herein the aspects of the prose and all which it reminds me of amongst some unapologetic ramblings from a long-time fan.

This book will appeal to any who find joy in the old style of literature, epic fantasy, poetry, romantic writing, and heroic historical fiction. For everyone, this work resonates in similarity with epic poems such as the Nibelungenlied, or Beowulf as this book contains many ballad poems. There is talk of deities, maidens, and arm-rings, all of which remind me of the Poetic Edda. I have noticed similarities to the Völundarkviða personally. Those who enjoy Tolkien will find great pleasure in being inspired by the same works as that venerable author. 

For those unfamiliar, The Roots of the Mountains follows after The House of the Wolflings, but it is easily a standalone title in its own right. To me there is a slight tonal shift from the earlier book to the latter, with Roots being more gentle in nature. Even with the Germanic premise of the story, The Roots of the Mountains avoids overusing common tropes of European world-building. Based in an age so far back in history, the reader does not recall any of the more unsettling recent histories of the real world. Instead it focuses on these ancient conflicts between Germanic tribes and a fictitious version of the Huns called The Dusky Men.

Hyldyr’s version of the book includes a wonderful family tree at the beginning, which first-time readers will appreciate. Many of the characters within this tale are called by two names, and the family tree greatly reduces any confusion this may cause, thus enhancing the reading. And what a cast of characters it is! Whether it be those in the House of the Face, Wolf, or Steer—amongst many others—I am drawn in easily by the world and those who inhabit it. Other houses are mentioned only in passing, hinting at vistas made all the more enticing by their unseen nature. Each name evokes such imagery, and I am left curious about the House of the Sickle or Summer and what ideas William Morris may have had for them. 

Often in old literature, Latinate words overweigh the narrative to an almost distracting degree. This series is centered on historical Germanic tribes, and Morris made the greatest efforts to write in a heavier prose that harkens to his very particular inspirations. For example, ‘Doom Ring’ would conjure, in the modern reader, images of a place of terrible danger. And yet in truth, 'doom' is merely the Germanic word for ‘fate’. For the sake of brevity, and so as not to rob the reader of their own joyful discovery, this brief example shall suffice. In comparison, Morris’s other writings contained more Latinate words than The Roots of the Mountains, but I confess I have enjoyed all of his works regardless. With this work William Morris took on a shift with his own pioneered genre. I think the world rejoices in it, only forgetting the call of his name in all the echoes from the original sound. 

Word choice is a strange means of expression. Like the tilt of a painter’s brush, even avid readers struggle to notice, in the moment, whether German or Latin words predominate. Whether the reader sees the author’s work or not, the final product bears the underlying quality hidden within those brushstrokes. In this age, there is a timelessness to the Germanic phrases, whereas Latin, which is today common most often in scientific settings, suffers a certain technicality that I feel can tarnish a work's artistry. Though that is not to say that Latinate words do not serve their own role admirably. 

However, for most it is simply easier to rely on those words and too often they become thoughtless and forgotten on the page. I can admit, perhaps there is some bias at play with my German upbringing. For me, the words feel familiar, like a bedtime story from my Oma. Regardless of my particular taste, it is undeniable that the prose, characters, and plot never suffer from this linguistic limitation which might have proved an impossible burden to less skilled writers than Morris. Nor is one ever left with the impression that William Morris sacrificed artistic merit in the avoidance of more Latinate words. Above all, I appreciate the effort he puts into making his stories feel authentic to their region. William Morris’s prose is a true benchmark for quality. My personal favorite aspect of that prose is the manner in which Morris thickens the dialogue, allowing conversation to slow the pacing of his narration so that the reader might more fully engage with it. 

One might see the use of symbolism, which I so enjoy plunging into thoughts of what every detail could mean in that symbolic manner. There is an undercurrent of knowledge that the characters are descendants of gods sharing a relation. I do not recall it is ever specified in The Roots of Mountains, but it is made clear in The House of the Wolflings. Of the finer details I am less certain and intend to study further. As well, due to how Morris was as a person, not enough of his ideas are well-known. In more ways than one he did not write for the sake of recognition. For instance, Morris turned down the poet laureate position of the United Kingdom at the time, because he did not agree with the politics. A scandal that would not see him widely celebrated in his time.

Because William Morris was a polymath one could assume there is always more to know, and perhaps there is. The space between the lines feels almost filled to bursting with invitation for the reader to let flow their own thoughts and ideas. Despite this invitation, The Roots of the Mountains is a fairly straightforward tale. I do not believe that Morris took anything directly, but instead, as many natural poets are, he was both touched and deeply moved by the oldest stories of our world.

These elements, as they are utilized, serve to enhance the atmosphere beyond simple, if impressive, environmental descriptions, and impressive they most certainly are. I do not feel it unfair to say that William Morris’s environmental descriptions are of a quality almost unrivaled throughout the centuries between his writing and our modern age. His heavy prose serves to steady the story’s pacing. Where now, too many things feel as if they are rushed here and there from one conflict to the next, The Roots of the Mountains invites one to breathe and take in the tale as one journeys through it. I feel as though I am far afield in the lands he created, and as I am one who cherishes naturalism, this is what I enjoy most about his prose. I would highly encourage one to appreciate these scenic stops, as the book is filled with subtle foreshadowing that can easily be missed if one moves too quickly.

Perhaps unexpectedly, The Roots of the Mountains is a fantastic romantic tale that follows an eclectic cast of characters as they attempt to bring together their disparate peoples, while still managing to include an engaging dose of physical conflict. Our primary protagonist is Goldmane or Face of God. Each character, from Iron Face to The Bride, Penny Thumb, to The Friend, carries their own unique personality conveyed through superb description, Penny Thumb and Dallach being notable examples. The symbolism of the characters' names is ever-present, and I feel rather strongly that not enough scholarly attention has been paid to the study of these finer details and their underlying meanings. Such as The Face of God being a representation of the sun, while Sunbeam is his cherished friend and companion. I personally enjoyed pondering the symbolism of each character and wondering at their correlations to the gods and in many ways this ties closely with the Eddic works.

The story carries one along through its myriad rising and falling arcs, each one a fully realized event in its own right. The chapters are short and all-encompassing of their events. The plot of The Roots of the Mountains is a direct affair, owing to Morris’s efforts to bring back earlier story structures. Goldmane is set to wed the Bride, which feels obvious considering her moniker, but the way in which this simple premise and their romance plays out is a thoroughly enjoyable read, which more to come in Part two. The central romantic side of the plot is the unification between the houses of the lands. This book feels authentic and rich, even down to the subtlety of the time period, such as only knowing of people when one sees smoke rising in the trees. Rare were messengers in those days, and rarer still were all the lands explored. There was not one moment in which I found myself bored, despite the heavy prose and simple, almost peaceful plot lines. When there is action, it does not disapoint. This is not a fast read and I suggest not to expect that from any of Morris’s works, but neither would I expect anyone to wish to read them quickly for every words is worth savoring. 

Part one ends on a suitably satisfying note, leaving one with the impression of a pause before a greater plunge that encourages you to keep reading, to continue onward toward the ultimate conclusion.