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of contention. I have my own quirky complaints that start from all this fawning over "ancient archetypes."
    For example, I never much cared for the whole Nietzschian Obermensch thing: the notion-pervading so many myths and legends that a good yarn has to be about demigods who are bigger, badder and better than normal folk by several orders of magnitude. It's an ancient storytelling tradition, all right. But one based on abiding contempt for the masses. One that I gradually came to find suspect in the works of A. E. van Vogt, E. E. Smith, L. Ron Hubbard and wherever you witness slanlike superbeings deciding the fate of billions without ever pausing to consider their wishes. Even Orson Scott Card-who has publicly criticized Star Wars for many of the same reasons that I do-nevertheless returns relentlessly to tales of science fictional Ubermensch demigods ... though Card's are more complex and interesting than most.

    Does anyone else find this obsession, well, just a bit creepy?
    I admit and avow that I am no acolyte of mythology scholar Joseph Campbell, who was made famous by a series of shows on PBS, in which journalist Bill Moyers interviewed him about legends spanning many cultures. In The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Campbell combines the earlier insights of many scholars, pointing out how a particular, rhythmic storytelling technique was used in ancient and premodern cultures, depicting protagonists and antagonists with common motives, character traits and plot twists that seem to transcend boundaries of language and culture. In these classic tales, a hero is beckoned to take on a quest. He begins reluctant, though signs foretell greatness. He receives dire warnings and then sage wisdom from a mentor, acquires quirky-but-faithful companions, faces a series of steepening crises, suffers as he explores the pit of his own fears, and finally emerges triumphant, bringing some boon/talisman/victory home to his admiring tribe/people/nation. Distilling the central message in his books and public statements, Campbell prescribes that all myths ought to be about these figures-like Achilles, Hercules, Orpheus, or Genji-larger than life, following a precise plot outline that is as old as it is rigid and changeless.
    All right, Campbell's admirers use "changeless." The word "rigid" is mine. Still, I'll be the first to admit it's a superb formula-one that I've used at times in my own stories and novels (though always poking at it, trying variations, or even outright reversals). Moreover, by offering valuable insights into this revered storytelling tradition, Joseph Campbell does, indeed, shed light on common spiritual traits that seem to be shared by all human beings.

    Alas, he only highlighted positive traits, ignoring the darker sidesuch as how easily this standard fable template was co-opted by kings, priests and tyrants, by extolling the all-importance of elites who tower over common women and men. King Achilles, slaughtering hundreds of common foot soldiers, while the river weeps. King Odysseus crossing the dire straits while his men all perish. King Arthur ruling benevolently-but with fierce enforcement by mystically anointed knights. King This and brave Prince That .... Above all, while an occasional dark lord or wicked giant gets toppled, hardly any of these heroes ever pause to question the very setup that made the quest necessary in the first place. The feudal order. The capricious Fates. Cryptic elves. The gods themselves.
    I mean, seriously, can you look across the last 4,000 years of recorded history and call it good that society remained changeless for the vast majority of that time?
    Or call good the implication that we must always adhere to variations on a single theme, the same prescribed plot outline, over and over again? Those who praise Joseph Campbell seem to perceive this uniformity as cause for rejoicing-but it isn't. Playing a large part in the tragic miring of our spirit, these demigod/royalty myths helped