The Completely Bonkers World of Niel Hancock’s The Circle of Light

So, let’s say you’re a young boy with aspirations of being a professional outfielder, but a need for glasses thick enough through which to glimpse a shadowy possible future, coupled with a complete lack of agility, dexterity, or grace, shunted you to the library instead of the ballfield. There, you discover The Lord of the Rings and thought, I have finally found My People. You begin devouring every fantasy novel you can find, the more Tolkien-like, the better. A story can never have too many elves or old man wizards.
Things are great for a while. It’s all new to you. You spend most of your nights reading by flashlight and most of your days failing all your classes because you haven’t slept in two years, but it’s all worth it. You’re reading great books, discovering amazing worlds.
Ships in 1-2 days.
And then, one day, you happen upon a series of books by Niel Hancock called The Circle of Light. The covers show talking animals, an elf-like creature, and mystical objects, and the blurb even name-checks Tolkien with a breathless come-on: “A magnificent saga for all who love THE LORD OF THE RINGS!” You strap on a stadium buddy, stock up on root beer and chips, and settle down to read what you assume, even at age 13, will be a another solid Tolkien ripoff.
What you get, instead, are some of the most gloriously bonkers fantasy books ever written.
How bonkers?
It’s a series of extremes
Take the names: This is a series of books in which the main characters are a dwarf, an otter, and a bear. In case that seems difficult to remember, they are literally named Dwarf, Otter, and Bear. When you first encounter an aged wizard you might expect him to be named Wizard, but instead he’s rather improbably called… Grayfax Grimwald.
The story zigs and zags in unexpected ways
Hancock ended up writing 13 books in this universe (known as Atlanton Earth), three quartets and a standalone. The first four actually comprise the end of the story. The second set offers the beginning, and the third is set somewhere in-between.
The technological level of the universe also shifts unexpectedly: In the beginning it seems like a fairly standard middle-ages setting (except, of course, with magic), but abruptly the characters run into an army sporting World War I-style rifles and cannons. It’s almost like Hancock had some idea about reincarnation and different states of existence (hint: he totally did).
If you don’t have at least a passing familiarity with the tenets of Buddhism, the plot won’t make much sense
This series flew so far over my head when I was a kid, it might as well have been a satellite orbiting the earth, but if you do some basic reading about Buddhist teachings, the plot suddenly clicks into place.
There’s something strangely, weirdly subversive about the original cover art
Created by the author’s wife, the original covers are just… well. Take a gander at the cover for the second volume, Faragorn Fairingay. Look at those tiny bedroom slippers on the floor—for the otter in the bed—and feel reality slipping away from you.
The plot of the first four books (which is, again, the end of the tale) turns out to be a Macguffin
That’s right: It’s set up as a quest story, framed against an epic battle between two Queens, one representing light and one darkness (natch), and in the end, when the evil queen takes possession of the powerful magical relic in a moment of triumph and activates it… she is absorbed by the light and everyone is invited to the next level of existence, basically. In other words, the whole quest, like life itself, was merely an exercise in gaining wisdom.
To say these books blew my thirteen-year old mind would be putting it mildly. I’m still recovering.
What stories changed the way you look at sci-fi and fantasy?




