REVIEW: Conan the Barbarian Annual #11

By James C. Owsley and Ernie Chan
 Review: Will Dubbeld

"Bride of the Oculist"

Robert Howard's steely-eyed Conan the Barbarian has been looting, slaying, and fornicating his way through popular culture since his birth in 1932. From the pulps that spawned Conan to the deluge of novellas, spin-offs, films, television shows, and comic books that followed, our archetypical ideal of a barbarian warrior has been that of a Cimmerian thief-king.

Although Conan is most probably famous for appearing in movies, Marvel Comics holds the distinction of the longest running licensee having produced comic books featuring Conan starting in 1970 and closing up shop in the mid-'90s.
Annual #11 dropped in 1986 and melds perfectly the Pulp sensibilities and 1980s Marvel feel that we all know and love.

The cover of Annual 11 depicts Conan in full Frank Frazetta form, sword in hand and voluptuous woman wrapped around his leg. Behind him stands a robed group of . . . what appears to be the mutants from Beneath the Planet of the Apes. From his right, flying thorough the air, is some blond guy in a karate gi whose flying missile kick is zeroed in on the barbarian's head.

And we're off to the races.


After that humdinger of a cover, the story opens with a sort of Tales From the Crypt/Haunt of Vault of Whatsis narration as told by Richel the Oculist, a sort of medieval arcane optometrist/recreational surgeon. Via a mix of serendipity and deus ex machina Conan sets out to rob the Oculist's castle, only to run afoul of his wife and her paramour. Unlucky for the Cimmerian, the aforementioned paramour is our Kung fu blonde from the cover. One glorious bout of fisticuffs later, Conan is led away in chains.

Here's where the fun begins.  Richel springs Conan on the condition he'll find his wife, who has absconded with his  fortune and run off with one of her many dalliances. Enlisting the aid of Kung fu blondie, Conan follows a trail of breadcrumbs to the many lovers of the Oculist's wife, all of them afflicted with boils and flesh rot.
The Oculist, it seems, having learned of his wife's infidelity has tainted her perfume with poison. Poison that infects the unlucky with boils and flesh rot...

The duo follows the trail to a baron, followed by a blacksmith, to a whole tavern full of men, a butcher, a baker, a wax worker, and "a small company of the Corinthian army".
All infected with the same flesh-eating plague.

Mrs. The Oculist gets around.

Interspersed with the chase is a healthy amount of barbarian swordplay and wry humor, pulp narrative, a dash of suspense, and at the end of the day the book reeks of fantasy high-adventure. I couldn't be more pleased with this particular Dollar Box find.
Although I'll probably not be spending the time (and frankly, the money) to complete a Marvel Conan set, periodic additions such as this one are equally a welcome addition and distraction from the rank-and-file superhero books.
By Crom . . .