As I mentioned previously, I like sword fights in fiction. I think they're cool, and I particularly enjoy sword fights with lightly armored combatants engaging with rapiers, instead of, say, broadswords and shields. Unfortunately, it seems that rapiers, and swords similar to rapiers, don't get a whole lot of respect in fiction, but that's a post for another time.
I also enjoy fencing, ever since I saw an Olympic fencing exhibition as a child. I always try to watch fencing during the Olympics, even if it means watching a stream that's completely in French. During college, I even fenced a little, but I never took it seriously. It shouldn't be a surprise, therefore, that I wrote a character who fought in the style I enjoy, a lightly armored duelist armed with rapier and dagger. (Note: I try to avoid using the technical French and Italian terms for fencing practices.)
Fencing seems to be at least a common interest to genre writers; Brust
in particular delights in fencing. His main character practices a style
of swordplay similar to fencing, and is quick to explain why it's
superior to the "hack and slash" styles favored by his taller, stronger
opponents; one of the reasons is because his target area is smaller, because he uses a sideways stance (the same stances you use in fencing).
However, at the time of my writing I had suspicions that fencing had very little to do with the style of sword fighting common to the Renaissance masters of the approximate time period of my writing. Fencing is, after all, a sport, not a way to kill your enemies or defend yourself (thank God for that). So after a little bit of work, I tracked down Salvatore Fabris's treatise on sword fighting, translated into English. Reading that book was quite illuminating (and dangerous: the book had a propensity to deliver very nasty paper cuts! First blood to you, Fabris!)
To put it simply, everyone writes sword fights wrong. Or at least everyone I've read. Their characters stand like fencers, move like fencers, and fight like fencers. Or, perhaps, I should clarify their style as sport fencing, in opposition to the style I researched, historical fencing. They may have done research into the sport, but not the way people fought back then, or how the masters taught.
One of the basic tenets of Fabris's teaching was that the attacker had the advantage, so it was important, even when blocking, to take offensive action. When you parried your opponent's attack, you maneuvered your blade so that by stepping into the attack, his blade passed to the side of you while yours punctured him.
You don't make those kinds of moves in sport fencing, at least if you've only ever done foil fencing (such as myself). In sport fencing, the rules require you to execute a parry, stop the attack, then execute your own counterattack, otherwise it's an illegal move.
Typically, the more skilled swordsman in fiction is presented as such due to speed, typically the speed of their blades. From I remember of the books of my youth, R.A. Salvatore got one thing right, at least: footwork is incredibly important in fencing, probably moreso than arm movements (at least in sport fencing). The Conan archetype can get by with brute strength, but all of the other characters are fast, fast, fast.
To Fabris, it's more than about moving your sword really fast. It's about being smart, and using angles, leverage, and positioning to void your opponent's attacks while striking with your own. Wouldn't that be much more interesting to read about than someone just being faster, or whatever the hell else causes them to win the fight (some cheap trick, usually)?
Also, Fabris doesn't pretend that your opponent is going to engage you on some long, narrow strip of flat ground, and he doesn't use a side stance in his section on the four guards (or at least the Third Guard, the most generally useful one IMO).
Sadly, in the one story I wrote about this character, a master historical fencer who fought Sword and Dagger, there wasn't a single sword fight or duel. What a terrible waste, but it was quite educational. I'd love to see more books use actual historical styles and techniques, but alas.
By the way, congratulations to the USA women's epee team for winning the bronze. :)
This, my friend, is why I much rather prefer Japanese swordsmanship (kendo, if you know the name) than Olympic fencing. The restrictions are totally different; You need force and spirit and awareness and politeness to score, sure. Just a touch won't cut it. BUT, you can move in all dimensions, with any kind of footwork/stance you want, swap hands if it so suits you, and execute an extremely wide range of techniques. (...half-swording, curiously, is exempted. I'm not sure why.) And best of all... NO RIGHT-OF-WAY. Seriously, just that thing would make Olympic fencing quite unbearable for me.
ReplyDeleteOh, and also: where can I read that treatise? Can it be found online?
Sweet, my first real comment. I'm glad someone's reading the blog! Thanks for posting, man.
ReplyDeleteI had to track down Fabris's Art of Dueling through an Interlibrary Loan from some place in Texas; the book is available on Amazon, but with used copies starting at four hundred dollars, I can't recommend that as a real option. I was able to find the Italian version here (http://www.thearma.org/Manuals/Fabris/book1/fabris_book1.htm), but no English translation.
I'm familiar with Kendo (it's mentioned in the novel Snow Crash, after all), but it's scoring mechanisms seem almost as arbitrary as fencing's. It also doesn't seem like something I'd ever want to try myself, since it seems that there's way too many strikes to the head. And let's be honest, one strike to the head is way too many :).
And I don't really have a problem with sport fencing, the stuff that goes on in the Olympics. I enjoy watching it, of course. The rules, for the most part, make sense to me; it's a sport, after all. But it's not an accurate representation of how people would fight way back when.
Thank you for giving me the link to the Art of Dueling.
DeleteAbout the scoring mechanisms of kendo... well, they seem arbitrary to you, but they don't to me. Alright, I suppose.
And come to think of it... the main thing I find arbitrary in fencing isn't the scoring rules, but the list of prohibited actions. (...hair not comforming?!) Kendo is much more lax regarding that.
As for the "strikes to the head" thing... I'd have ignored that, due to ignorance on your part, but the emoticon makes it seem like you're actually amused that people deliberately injure themselves. So I ask you: name me one contact sport (mainstream somewhere, if possible) wherein one can practice for eighty consecutive years without needing to retire due to head injuries. (Yes, some people manage that. And fifty years is not really that uncommon.) I think you'll find that in most (kickboxing, American football) people can barely manage twenty.
I don't think there's too many head injuries from fencing, to be honest, but I don't know anything about sports medicine. But in most competitive sports, age and all the problems that accompany it are going to degrade your ability to play it as time goes by.
DeleteMy worry about kendo stems less from head injuries (this isn't football, after all) and more frequent headaches and from spending a fortune on aspirin. :) I actually recall an episode of the Mythbusters TV show where the two hosts were clearly not enjoying their kendo experiment for this very reason.
I'm not sure I can change your opinion at this point... but I will try.
Delete1) For every Myth-buster that has a headache after getting hit, there are millions of people that don't. (IIRC, ~8 million people practice kendo world-wide.)
2) Frequent head-aches ARE a symptom of head injury, or at least a medical condition that requires attention. AT NO POINT will a kendoka consider that normal; even the people that consider bruises to be just part of practice.
3) There's a reason that people don't wear armour until after several months of practice, and it's exactly that: First you need to be able to hit safely (ie not use the sword as a club) and receive hits safely (ie not bend forward and risk hurting the back of your head).
You could have asked someone instead of "worrying" about it.