WRITERS AND FIGHTERS
In a
straightforward world, boxing is boxing. From the view of a romantic, however, it’s
the sweet science. And for those with
a more hardboiled twist, it’s the fight racket, prizefighting, or the train to Palookaville...For writers, it’s
the Golden Fleece.
There is a
cinematic lyricism inherent in boxing, which has spoken to the souls of
uncountable scribes since the early Greeks first began throwing fists at one
another. Writers who have never thrown a punch, and those who have both given
and taken their share of fists to the face, have found their true muse in
boxing’s gladiatorial clashes.
But there is
something more tying writers to fighters—fighting is writing and writing is
fighting...A writer’s blank page is his ring, words are his punches, tone and
intonation are his footwork, re-writing and re-writing are the miles and miles
of roadwork and sit-ups, the bell is the deadline, the blood on the page is the
blood on the canvas...and the sweat is the sweat in both professions.
Fighters are
taught to punch through their
opponents to knock them out, while writers strive to break through a reader’s cynicism
and turn his world upside down. And while untold symphonies of words have been
used to capture the drama of real world bouts, it is in the world of fiction
where writers have taken the metaphoric spirit of boxing and delivered the
knockout punch.
The fight fiction genre has become an integral part of our
cultural history—especially when economic times have been as tough as the characters
in a fight fiction tale. I have long been fascinated by the history of fight
fiction and those writers who have used it to create stories going far beyond
the big fight finish of most boxing tales.
Even before the explosion of fight fiction in the pulps of
the ‘30s and ‘40s, Jack London was penning fight stories for the masses, such
as his classics A Piece of Steak and The Abysmal Brute. Feeding the need of
the everyman to rise above his daily
struggle for survival through vicarious fight entertainment, London’s fight
tales were devoured.
London learned to box by sparring with his friend Jim
Whitaker, and his love of the sport never waned. Wherever his wanderings took
him, London always had a pair of boxing gloves, and was always ready to mix it up with
any challenger. Most often, however, London’s regular sparring partner was his
wife, Charmian Kittredge, with whom he routinely boxed at home.
Even travelling to the Solomon Islands on his sloop Snark, sailing on the Tymeric between Australia and Ecuador, or aboard the Dirgo from Baltimore to Seattle,
Jack and Charmain would put on their bathing suits and square off for an hour
of sparring before throwing buckets of salt water on one another. Because he
couldn’t strike back against Charmain as he would against another man, London
developed an almost impenetrable defense, making him more than a challenge for
any man he toed the line against.
London hated bullfighting and hunting, considering them without any sporting interest. However, the specific mano-a-mano science of boxing fascinated him. He always tried to attend professional fights as a reporter in order to secure a ringside seat.
London hated bullfighting and hunting, considering them without any sporting interest. However, the specific mano-a-mano science of boxing fascinated him. He always tried to attend professional fights as a reporter in order to secure a ringside seat.
In 1905, he wrote one of his most highly regarded fight
stories, The Game, which was
serialized in Metropolitan Magazine. The story caused a clamor when critics
claimed the story’s conclusion was over-the-top as a fighter could not be
killed by hitting his head on the canvas. London’s reply was a claim to have
seen it happen in the West Oakland Athletic Club.
Eventually, lightweight champion of the world, Jimmy Britt, settled things in the San Francisco Examiner when he was quoted as saying, “With...nothing more to guarantee me he knows The Game than his description of his fictional prize-fight, I would, if he were part of our world, propose or accept him as referee of my impending battle with Nelson."
Eventually, lightweight champion of the world, Jimmy Britt, settled things in the San Francisco Examiner when he was quoted as saying, “With...nothing more to guarantee me he knows The Game than his description of his fictional prize-fight, I would, if he were part of our world, propose or accept him as referee of my impending battle with Nelson."
During the height of the pulp era on the ‘30s and ‘40s,
Robert E. Howard was another writer who banged out fight stories while also
engaging in the pugilistic arts. Even though as a child he was bookish and
intellectual, in his teen years he took up bodybuilding before eventually
entering the ring as an amateur boxer.
The first heyday
of fight fiction, however, came in the American pulps from the turn of the 20th
century through their final issues in the 1950’s. While the sports pulps have
not become as collectable as the hero pulps or the detective pulps, there were
at least fifty sport pulp titles available monthly during their zenith—and
their pages were filled with fistic action.
Two pulp
magazines in particular, Fight Stories
and Knockout published nothing but
fight fiction during their run on the newsstands. Jack Dempsey’s Fight Magazine was another, but it only had a short
run. Fight Stories often featured tales
staring Sailor Steve Costigan, the lovable, hard-fisted, and innocent semi-pro
pugilist who regularly squared-off against dastardly villains in exotic ports
of call. Created by Robert E. Howard, the Sailor Steve
Costigan stories have endured to become the standard of the genre and are still
readily available.
Best known as the creator of Conan The Barbarian, Solomon
Kane, and other sword and sorcery
characters, Howard had a lifelong interest in boxing, attending fights and
avidly following the careers of his favorite fighters. During the height of the
pulp era, he banged out numerous fight stories claiming to considered his
fictional fight tales—especially The Iron
Man, and the adventures of Sailor Steve Costigan—as among the best of his
works.
Howard wrote more stories about Costigan and his pugilistic ilk than any of his more famous fantasy series characters. His boxing tales and the hundreds of other two-fisted pulp yarns helped a generation of readers to fight through the Great Depression and the tough years to follow.
Howard wrote more stories about Costigan and his pugilistic ilk than any of his more famous fantasy series characters. His boxing tales and the hundreds of other two-fisted pulp yarns helped a generation of readers to fight through the Great Depression and the tough years to follow.
During the ‘50s, the printed tales of fight fiction gave
way to a wider appreciation of live bouts. Television brought those fights into
American living rooms for all to see. However, as the public became jaded by
the scandal of fight fixing and the real life encroachment of organized crime
into the fight game, a new realism in fight fiction wrapped its hands with tape
and pulled on battered leather gloves illegally loaded with lead.
Published in 1958, The
Professional written by W. C. Heinz cast a harsh reflection of the seedy
circus-like atmosphere of boxing with its assorted hangers-on, crooked
promoters, and jaded journalists. With his lean sentences, rough-and-ready
dialogue, dry wit, and you-are-there style, Heinz brilliantly used the cynical
eyes of fictional sports writer Frank Hughes to recount the trials of
middleweight Eddie Brown and his crusty trainer, Doc Carroll, as Brown prepares
for a championship fight.
Heinz’ novel is still as revered today as it was when Hemingway—himself an amateur pugilist and teller of fight stories such as Fifty Grand and A Matter of Colour—declared it the only good novel about a fighter I've read and an excellent novel in its own right.
Heinz’ novel is still as revered today as it was when Hemingway—himself an amateur pugilist and teller of fight stories such as Fifty Grand and A Matter of Colour—declared it the only good novel about a fighter I've read and an excellent novel in its own right.
Movies also reflected the public’s growing disenchantment
with boxing in the ‘50s. Humphrey Bogart’s final screen appearance in 1956’s The Harder They Fall—based on Budd
Schulberg’s 1947 novel—dramatizes a thinly disguised account of the real life
boxing scandal involving champion Primo Carnera.
Bogart's character, Eddie Willis, was based on the career of boxing writer and event promoter Harold Conrad. The book and film pulled no punches, showing brutal and brutish fight scenes coupled with the cynical and humiliating treatment of fighters by those surrounding them—which further reflected the middle class workers’ own feelings of punitive treatment by upper management.
Bogart's character, Eddie Willis, was based on the career of boxing writer and event promoter Harold Conrad. The book and film pulled no punches, showing brutal and brutish fight scenes coupled with the cynical and humiliating treatment of fighters by those surrounding them—which further reflected the middle class workers’ own feelings of punitive treatment by upper management.
Finally, in 1969, the noir edge of fight stories was capped
with the publication of Fat City. Written
by Leonard Gardner, Fat City, set in
the small-time boxing circuit of Stockton, California in the late ‘50s, became
an acclaimed film from director John Houston in 1972. As in The Professional and The Harder They Fall, the message of Fat City was a harsh metaphor for the
impossibility of a public striving to get ahead while surrounded by forces
determined to derail them at every turn.
As the ‘70s progressed, however, the public became primed
for a change. Unlike prior generations, this change in popular entertainment
would not be tied to the socio-economic factors of the day. Instead, a blurring
of the lines of fact and fiction—especially in the world of boxing—was
occurring as the hyper embellishments of celebrity
were inflicted upon larger popular culture as a whole.
In boxing, the anger, power, and sheer showmanship of
Muhammad Ali—the man who would become boxing’s greatest ambassador—had
revitalized the public’s fervor for ring action. Ali’s larger than life,
love-me-or-hate-me-I’m-still-the-greatest personality overshadowed the ever
darkening machinations of the trademark spiky-haired head and grasping fingers
of promoter Don King.
In 1971, Joe Frazier fought Ali in a bout hyped as The Fight
of the Century. Frazier prevailed over Ali, who was returning to boxing
after being suspended for three years for his refusal to obey the draft. The
defeat sent Ali on a quest, fighting contender
after pretender to the
heavyweight throne in an attempt to obtain another title shot.
The Rumble in
the Jungle
in 1974, pitted then world Heavyweight champion George Foreman against former
world champion and challenger Muhammad Ali. This fight, coupled a year later
with The Thrilla in Manila (the
climax of the bitter rivalry between Ali and Frazier) returned boxing to the
world stage like nothing before.
Norman Mailer's bestselling non-fiction work, The Fight, documented The Greatest Fight of the Greatest Life with all the power of a great fictional narrative. This revered work ushered in an era of self-involved journalism, which laid the ground work preparing the public for a little film that could go the distance...Rocky.
Norman Mailer's bestselling non-fiction work, The Fight, documented The Greatest Fight of the Greatest Life with all the power of a great fictional narrative. This revered work ushered in an era of self-involved journalism, which laid the ground work preparing the public for a little film that could go the distance...Rocky.
Rocky detailed the
winning underdog story of a fighter who only wanted to go the distance—an achievable, if difficult, goal believed in and
desired by the everyman of the day in
his everyday mundane life, However, the film’s real world inception and
creation was an underdog story to rival its fight fiction, pulp-style, plot. Sylvester
Stallone was inseparable from his onscreen persona as he fought for his
screenplay and starring role against all studio odds—and then went the distance as Rocky would go on to win three Oscars,
including Best Picture.
Rocky and its many sequels were hits and misses with the critics, but not with the public. The average Joe began to see the hype of the real world fights and fictional movie fireworks as almost one and the same. Fight stories were back in the public eye in a big way.
Rocky and its many sequels were hits and misses with the critics, but not with the public. The average Joe began to see the hype of the real world fights and fictional movie fireworks as almost one and the same. Fight stories were back in the public eye in a big way.
In 2000, fight fiction morphed again with the publication
of the pseudonymous F. X. Toole’s, Rope
Burns: Stories From The Corner. Each story in the collection was a gem. But
unlike the tales populating the fight pulps of old, the stories in Rope Burns gave a whole new human face
to the world of boxing, a deeper meaning—all leading to the brilliant Best
Picture Oscar winning film Million Dollar
Baby, based on several stories from the collection.
Rope Burns proved to the wider public, yet again, what fans of fight fiction have always known—the world of the sweet science, at its best, has always been a reflection of what it means to be human, what it means to struggle, what it means to be hit in the face with the daily and millennial challenge of survival as individuals, as families, and finally as a race.
Rope Burns proved to the wider public, yet again, what fans of fight fiction have always known—the world of the sweet science, at its best, has always been a reflection of what it means to be human, what it means to struggle, what it means to be hit in the face with the daily and millennial challenge of survival as individuals, as families, and finally as a race.
In the new millennium, the economy has struggled again. Today,
the ever exploding popularity of mixed martial arts tournaments (MMA) has
brought the fighting arts back to the forefront of the public consciousness.
In MMA, the everyman sees in the caged octagon his own incarceration, its brutality a blow against the state of the world—the stark struggle to survive in a time and place where the rules have change, where the action is faster, more violent, and yet possessed of a choreographed beauty.
In MMA, the everyman sees in the caged octagon his own incarceration, its brutality a blow against the state of the world—the stark struggle to survive in a time and place where the rules have change, where the action is faster, more violent, and yet possessed of a choreographed beauty.
Simultaneously, the thirst for fight stories has increased,
as shown by the popularity and critical acclaim for such MMA-themed novels as Suckerpunch by Jeremy Brown, The Longshot by Katie Kitamura, Choke Hold by Christa Faust, and many
more. Traditional boxing novels are flourishing. Every Time I Talk To Liston and Las Vegas Soul by Brian DeVido; Pound For Pound, F. X. Toole’s
posthumously finished novel; Waiting for
Carver Boyd by Thomas Hauser; and many, many, more continue to tell the
tale of the tape and the story of the squared
circle.
My love of fight fiction and my own writing career eventually
squared off in 2012. Together with fellow scribe Mel Odom, we created the Fight Card series of 25,000 word
novelettes designed to capture the feel of the fight fiction tales of the pulp
era for a new generation.
By the end of 2016, the Fight Card series had published fifty tightly plotted tales of fistic mayhem from 45 of the most promising writers working today. Set in the gangster era of the 1920s through the noir-filled streets of the ‘50s and on to the caged violence of MMA, Fight Card has provided inspiring, entertaining, stories of tough guys caught in tough spots with nothing but their fists, wits, and fighting nature to battle against the odds.
By the end of 2016, the Fight Card series had published fifty tightly plotted tales of fistic mayhem from 45 of the most promising writers working today. Set in the gangster era of the 1920s through the noir-filled streets of the ‘50s and on to the caged violence of MMA, Fight Card has provided inspiring, entertaining, stories of tough guys caught in tough spots with nothing but their fists, wits, and fighting nature to battle against the odds.
The best fight fiction has boxing (or other fighting
styles) at the beating heart of each narrative and provides the resolution
through which each conclusion is reached. Great fight fiction is about
character—the individual’s journey into darkness and back to the light. It inspires
our character and our journeys. It makes us believe we can endure our own
darkness until the light breaks through again.
I savor fight fiction because, as a reader and a writer, it
brings my imagination alive. It makes me want to stand up and cheer. It
elevates me beyond the ordinary and takes me into a world of one man's
determination and skill pitted against another in the brutal ballet danced in
ring or cage. No matter the time period or the style of fighting involved, it
gives me the vicarious experience of being in the ring against an overwhelming
opponent, yet with the resolve to never, never, go down for the count—something
I never get tired of feeling.
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