“THE BLIND PROPHET OF ARCHERLAND” by H.R. Coursen; Goose River Press, Waldoboro, Maine, 2004; 126 pages, paperback, $10.95.

Writing a good fantasy novel is an extraordinarily difficult task. Most of them are quite bad, in some cases because the ambitions of the author fly too low; in other cases because the author never really learned how to tell a story or write a sentence; and in every case, because fantasy makes superhuman demands on the author: It requires the creation of totally new times, places and cultures – the author invents a world from scratch. Because of these extraordinary difficulties, the successes are extraordinary – the Michael Jordan of fantasy literature was J.R.R. Tolkien, whose “The Lord of the Rings” is by far the genre’s greatest masterpiece.

H.R. Coursen, unobtrusively one of Maine’s best poets over the last three decades and a writer of high ambition and skill, has made his entry in the fantasy genre with his Archerland series, “The Blind Prophet of Archerland” being the sixth installment. In this book, the leaders of Archerland are grappling with the problems of keeping their kingdom orderly and prosperous, and in the midst of it the evil spirit Mazlund stages another attempt to take over the world. Armies, kidnappings, magic spells, murky woods and fogs, as well as a clever climax in the plot, drive the action.

Much of “The Blind Prophet of Archerland” is lighthearted, with jokes and wordplay that range from silly to sophisticated, and some aspects of the book aim clearly at children while others aim at adults. The characters – too numerous to name, or even keep track of easily in so short a novel – engage frequently in abstract philosophical debates which center on the relationship of God to earthly political and social authority. The residents of Archerland are Christians, and Mazlund a fallen angel, and the nature of good and evil is central to their concerns, as in C.S. Lewis’ Narnia books.

But while there’s a good deal of the magic of Lewis, there’s also a lot of the straight-up complexity of heady poets like Dante. The mix is difficult, and the development of both the plot and the characters suffers for it. Because of this, I recommended the book to an aspiring eighth-grade fantasy novelist with reservations.

Coursen’s language, though, is subtle and evocative, especially when from time to time short verses punctuate the narrative, and “The Blind Prophet of Archerland” leaves you with solid feelings of richness and optimism. If taken with appropriate expectations, and some sympathy for the difficulties of the task, it is despite its flaws a rewarding book.

A retired professor of literature at Bowdoin College and a member of Veterans for Peace, H.R. Coursen lives in Brunswick and has published more than 60 books of poetry, fiction, translations and literary criticism.