Born from the vivid imagination of Robert Howard, Kull had the misfortune of having an all-too-famous relative, namely Conan the Barbarian. While the adventures of the Cimmerian are well-known to many, also thanks to the iconic early 1980s film, the character of Kull of Valusia never really gained much popularity, both during Howard's lifetime and after his death.

Often reduced to the rank of a mere draft of the much more celebrated Conan, Kull is actually a character with a strong personality, set in the Thuria era, different from Conan's time, and in a very precise and defined context. An exile from Atlantis, Kull manages to ascend to the throne of Valusia, a kingdom as splendid as it is full of dangers, with conspirators around every corner. Even Howard himself, indeed, dedicated very little time to Kull's tales, publishing only three short stories during his life, with another dozen to be published only years after his suicide. To understand the close connection between Kull and Conan, one only needs to think that the Cimmerian's debut, "The Phoenix on the Sword," was nothing but a reworking of an old Kull story originally rejected, "By This Axe I Rule." A forerunner, then, not a faded copy, that certainly had the merit of at least sketching out that literary universe in which Howard would skillfully move once he defined the character of Conan the Barbarian. Despite its lack of fortune, the charm emanated by the Kull cycle is undeniable, even considered superior to Conan's by some due to the low number of stories produced, a factor that would thus avoid a certain repetitiveness that in some respects would characterize the Conan cycle. While the Cimmerian would find himself acting in a wild and decadent world, Kull would instead become a protagonist in an elegant and refined society, with the court's conventions rubbing against his barbaric origins. This theme, the relationship between civilization and barbarism, where the latter is described as the more real and sincere human condition while the former is nothing more than an expression of a weakening and decaying process, would be a theme present in various of Howard's works, whether it was the Conan cycle or Kull's.

Kull of Valusia's debut came with the short story "The Shadow Kingdom," sometimes rendered also as "The Phantom Kingdom," in the magazine "Weird Tales" at the end of the 1920s. Already presenting all those elements that would characterize Howard's writing, self-contained short stories with a dry and compelling style, it would effectively open the season of the so-called "Sword and Sorcery," a fantasy genre where the protagonist faces both flesh-and-blood enemies and threats from the supernatural world. While the lovely collection published by Edizioni Nord about twenty years ago has long been out of print, it might be interesting to approach the character of Kull starting from the comics recently dedicated to him, such as those published in Italy by Panini Comics. Inspired by the story that kicked off the cycle, "The Shadow Kingdom" faithfully retraces the original work, managing to recreate very effectively those atmospheres that only Howard was capable of. Newly arrived on the throne of Valusia, the barbarian, an Atlantis exile, finds himself dealing with internal and external foes, in an attempt to provide some stability to his kingdom and restore it to its former glory. Among palace conspiracies and cults to confront, Howard's character will eventually prevail, not just through physical strength but also due to cunning and wisdom, an element that partly differentiates him from Conan the Barbarian, a character certainly not foolish but surely less reflective and sophisticated.

It is also interesting to note how a series of elements from the Kull cycle would later be taken up and incorporated into works related to Conan's, such as the character of Thulsa Doom and the Serpent Cult, reprised in John Milius's 1982 film and the early '90s animated series dedicated to the Cimmerian, clear evidence that that short cycle of stories offered more than one interesting cue. Arvid Nelson's work, and the excellent translation by Luigi Mutti, do justice to Howard's style, while the graphic aspect, curated by Will Conrad and José Villarrubia, manages to turn into beautiful boards that grandiose and detailed narration typical of the father of Kull and Conan. In case anyone was wondering, of course the entire album is in color, unlike some mid-'70s Conan comic series, and the 12 euros of the cover price are truly well spent. The Panini Comics series, inaugurated with this issue, continues with other albums, and it would be a pity not to catch up on them: it might be an excellent opportunity to rediscover a character as fascinating in fantasy literature as he is little known, and who knows, it might inspire someone to go read the original stories. 

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