Science Fantasy in the Trente Glorieuses: Maurice Limat’s Chevalier Coqdor Cycle

Abstract

During the years of the so-called Trente Glorieuses (1945–1975), with its economic recovery after World War II, France witnessed the development of a technologized consumer society and a technocratic approach to public planning, which fostered a futuristic outlook and a boom in paperback publishing. A major success story of this era was the Éditions Fleuve Noir science-fiction series, Anticipation, to which popular genre author Maurice Limat contributed numerous novels. Although marketed as science fiction and set far in the future and in outer space, Limat’s novels featuring the Chevalier Bruno Coqdor resemble more often those of a knight-errant from medieval romance. These works of space fantasy express medieval nostalgia but also engage the massive social changes occurring in France during this period while extrapolating France’s survival in the distant future.

1. Introduction

During the years of the so-called Trente Glorieuses (1945–1975), with its economic recovery after World War II, France witnessed the development of a technologized consumer society and a technocratic approach to public planning (Lejeune 2015, p. 76, p. 79; Pulju 2011, p. 7). France’s modernization took place within the structure of administrative planning ostensibly derived from quantified, scientific research, which fostered an atmosphere of futuristic thinking.1 Coupled with the rise of disposable paperback fiction in popular narrative genres that represented one aspect of the overall trend toward consumer culture (Lejeune 2015, p. 107, p. 112), this focus on the future fostered the development of one particular genre: anticipation, a specifically French term for science fiction. Whereas several publishers ventured into this new market with book series specifically labeled as science-fiction, anticipation, or fantastique, the clear chef de file was Paris publisher Fleuve Noir’s iconic series, Anticipation (Douilly 2009, pp. 9–11).

Heavily influenced by the planetary romance and space opera sub-genres, as well as by high fantasy in the American pulp magazines, a significant number of the novels marketed as science fiction through publication in the Anticipation series read more like what today we would call heroic, epic, or high fantasy. In these novels the tropes of this subgenre of fantasy—vaguely historical settings, epic tales of sword-wielding heroes and dragons, peppered with sorcery and magical beings—appear transposed onto the science fictional settings of faraway planets and far future timelines, with extraterrestrials standing in for magical beings such as elves, trolls, or fairies. To illustrate the presence of this type of space fantasy in France during the Trente Glorieuses, this article analyzes the work of a prolific French pulp author, Maurice Limat (1914–2002), focusing particularly on a representative sample from a series of nearly forty novels published between 1964 and 1987 featuring the adventures of the galactic hero, Bruno Coqdor, “le chevalier de la Terre.” Although marketed as science fiction in Fleuve Noir’s Anticipation series, Limat’s Coqdor novels resemble more often those of a knight-errant from medieval romance. These works of space fantasy express medieval nostalgia through their hero’s representation and their adoption of many fantasy tropes. But they also engage the massive social changes occurring in France during this period while triumphally extrapolating France’s survival in the distant future.

2. Science Fantasy in France of the Trente Glorieuses

During the Trente Glorieuses, a number of French science-fiction and fantastique series had begun to crop up, such as Hachette/Gallimard’s Le Rayon fantastique (1951–1964), Métal’s Série 2000 (1954–1956), the more successful Denoël’s Présence du future (1954–2000), and several imprints of the Éditions Opta.2 While these often produced literary works that aligned with contemporary trends in the genre in the US and the UK,3 perhaps the most iconic of these, Fleuve Noir’s Anticipation line, frequently issued somewhat old-fashioned planetary romances and space opera novels. Fleuve Noir’s highly prolific stable of writers—some of which were simply pen names sourced to a group of different writers4 and others of which became almost brand names5—frequently rehearsed familiar formulas to satisfy readers of the disposable format of the monthly paperback novel. Whereas serious French science fiction (sf) developed out of the merveilleux scientifique of Maurice Renard (Evans 1994; Pézard and Chabot 2018) and the speculative fiction of J-H Rosny, aîné (Sadoul [1973] 1975, pp. 12–16, pp. 23–26; Chatelain and Slusser 2012), modern pulp French sf developed from familiar forms such as the French adventure novel (Tadié 1982) and the works of Jules Verne (Sadoul [1973] 1975, pp. 7–8). But it was also influenced by Anglo-American writers whose works were beginning to appear in translation in 1950s France. The pulp magazines of the 1930s to 1950s responsible for the so-called Golden Age of American sf (Westfahl 2019) popularized the planetary romance typified by the work of Leigh Brackett whose more recent novel The Sword of Rhiannon (Brackett 1952), for example, was published as Anticipation #92 by Amélie Audiberti as La porte vers l’infini in 1957, just five years after its original publication.

The planetary romance more closely resembled the Lost World fantasies of Edgar Rice Burroughs, H. Rider Haggard, or J.-H. Rosny aîné than it did sf because of its portrayal of exotic lifeforms on Mars, Venus, and other planets within Earth’s solar system, depictions that would soon be proven to be a gross scientific inaccuracy, thus launching these stories out of the genre of sf. However iconic or entertaining they might be, they reflect neither the “prophetic extrapolation” of John W. Campbell nor the “cognitive estrangement” of Darko Suvin and have instead many elements in common with fantasy (Campbell in Eschbach [1947] 1964, p. 91; Suvin [1979] 2016, p. 15). Edward James and Farah Mendlesohn in the Cambridge Companion to Fantasy Literature (2012) identify plausibility as the major difference between science fiction and fantasy: “The major theorists in the field [of fantasy]—Tzvetan Todorov, Rosemary Jackson, Kathryn Hume, W. R. Irwin and Colin Manlove—all agree that fantasy is about the construction of the impossible whereas science fiction may be about the unlikely but is grounded in the scientifically possible” (James and Mendlesohn 2012, p. 1). As satellite and telescopic photography developed, the planetary romances, “stories set wholly or largely on a single planet” (Pringle 2000, p. 39), did not necessarily die out. Rather, exotic aliens formerly depicted as evolving on Mars or Venus, were simply projected as existing farther out in space, allowing the familiar format to be relabeled the galactic romance, but it also became confused with another emerging label that critics frequently apply to Fleuve Noir’s Anticipation, the space opera.

Space opera, a term that “emerged in the 1950s,” referring back to the implicitly better sf of the 1940s Golden Age (Vint 2014, p. 23), is “essentially a form of adventure story in which space travel plays a critical element” (Reynolds 2012, p. 12). Long disdained as an inferior form of sf because of its pulp and serial cinematographic origins, it nonetheless has become the best-known form of sf through the popularity of visual media franchises like George Lucas’s Star Wars and Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek. Taking the form seriously, Andy Sawyer defines space opera as “committed to action and adventure, focused upon the heroic and [it] frequently takes a series or serial form which allows for either a sense of escalation or constant variations on a comparatively narrow set of themes” (Sawyer 2009, p. 505).

Apart from their off-Earth space settings, planetary romance and space opera resemble in many ways what we now know as heroic or high fantasy, which trace their origins back to medieval romance, especially the cycles developed around King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Indeed, eminent Belgian historian of sf and fantasy Jacques van Herp argues that “Au premier abord, l’H.F. [heroic fantasy] apparaît comme une variété de S.O. [space opera]” (van Herp [1974] 1996, p. 389), and he treats these two sub-genres of science fiction in the same chapter of his Panorama de la science-fiction (1974). In “Le ‘Space Opera’ et L’ ‘Heroic Fantasy,’” van Herp cites two schools of writing, that of Edmond Hamilton, Leigh Brackett’s husband, and Edgar Rice Burroughs. Citing Francis Carsac’s (1919–1981) Ceux de nulle part (1954) as a French example of the Hamiltonian school, van Herp argues that “[t]ous ces romans tiennent de l’épopée” (van Herp [1974] 1996, p. 387); “le combat engagé s’étend au moins à une galaxie, l’homme se trouve confonté à une race hostile, absolument étrangère et le destin d’un univers est en jeu” (ibid.). Furthermore, “[c]es romans versent aussi dans les péripéties picaresques, tandis que les héros se promènent à travers l’univers” (van Herp [1974] 1996, p. 389). Indeed, as we shall see, this definition fits well Maurice Limat’s novel series featuring the adventures of a space knight-errant, le Chevalier Bruno Coqdor.

Whereas Anglo-American authors began to eschew the planetary or galactic romance and space opera in the 1950s and 1960s, opting for a more scientifically rigorous form of sf, several French writers flourished under the Anticipation umbrella by continuing to produce this type of novel for the developing paperback market. The most successful of these was the Perry Rhodan space opera series, translated into French from the original German of K. H. Scheer and Clark Darlton and published under the Anticipation imprint. But Fleuve Noir also cultivated local French writers who contributed to multiple popular collections including Angoisse (1954–1974), Espionnage (1950–1987), Spécial Police (1949–1987), and, of course, Anticipation (1951–1997). These include the Belgian Peter Randa (né André Duquesne, 1911–1979), Frenchmen Max-André Rayjean (né Jean Lombard, 1929), Jean-Louis Lemay (né Jean Cauderon, 1915–2009), and the composite F. Richard-Bessière (the collaborative pen name of editor François Richard [1913–2001] and writer Henri Bessière [1923–2011]). But among the most prolific of Anticipation’s writers from 1959 to 1987 was Maurice Limat (Heurtel 2002; L’officier and L’officier 2022), publishing more than 140 novels with Fleuve Noir (Heurtel 2002, p. 6).

The defining factors of the space opera—relating an adventure narrative that takes place in space and focusing on the heroic figure—perfectly describe dozens, if not hundreds, of Fleuve Noir’s Anticipation series published during the Trente Glorieuses. What is particular to Limat’s Coqdor series is the manner in which it recounts the adventures of a noble hero specifically titled “Chevalier.” Limat thus calques upon the spaceship story traits borrowed from one of the early ancestors of modern fantasy: medieval French romance. For this reason, I find the term “space fantasy” the most pertinent descriptor for his work. To further underscore Limat’s originality, it should be noted that the urtexts of modern high fantasy would not appear in French translation until the early 1970s. For example, J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit (1937) and The Lord of the Rings (1954–1955) trilogy were translated by Francis Ledoux and published by Stock in 1969 and Christian Ledoux in 1972–1973, respectively. The first two volumes of C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia (1950–1956) were translated by E. R. Blanchet and Anne-Marie Dalmais and published in children’s editions by Hachette and Gallimard in 1952 and 1953, but the complete cycle was not translated until 2002. It was unlikely that Limat’s medieval revival was influenced by these Anglo-American classics.

3. Maurice Limat and the Chevalier Coqdor Cycle

Maurice Limat (1914–2002) was a versatile writer with a long career who published under multiple pseudonyms6 and mastered the conventions of several popular genres. Although little scholarship has been dedicated to his work, historian and publisher Jean-Marc L’officier insists that “Maurice Limat, loin d’être de ces auteurs mineurs, fut au contraire un véritable créateur d’univers, […] un auteur qui, au-delà et par-dessus ses romans individuels a su créer une superstructure fictive, les rassemblant et les regroupant, historiquement et géographiquement” (L’officier 2008, p. 7). After several youth-oriented sf and adventure novels published with Ferenczi & Fils in the 1930s and 1940s, Maurice Limat developed brand status at Fleuve Noir, contributing 33 novels to their Angoisse (fantastique, horror, and suspense) series and 106 to the Anticipation series from 1959 to 1987 (Lyau 2011, p. 115). He also published spy novels in the “078 Services Secrets” series for the Société des Éditions Générales (S.É.G.). Although van Herp considers him an “honnête auteur moyen” (1996, p. 374), the Belgian critic qualified his space opera Monsieur Cosmos (1956) as a successful example of French sf of its era, comparing Limat’s work to that of space opera writers who appeared in Anticipation in translation, such as the British Vargo Statten (né John Russell Fearn, 1908–1960) (van Herp [1974] 1996, pp. 526–7).

Limat was an early practitioner of the popular novel series featuring a recurring central character. In addition to the Angoisse series featuring “Teddy Verano” (a psychic investigator) and “Méphista” (a mysterious opera singer who also gets involved in paranormal investigations), he developed several recurring characters who crossed paths in the scores of novels he published under the Anticipation imprint, including the space cop Robin Muscat and the physicist Dr. Stewe. The most memorable of these by far, however, are the “chevalier de l’espace,” the psychic knight-errant Bruno Coqdor and his dragon-like sidekick Râx, an alien animal that resembles a cross between a bat and a bulldog. From 1964 to 1987, the hero of over three dozen volumes, Coqdor reappears after Limat’s death in a homage novel penned by Jean-Marc L’officier and Jean-Michel Archaimbault, Le quatorzième signe du Zodiaque (2006).

As we shall see, the Coqdor cycle exemplifies French pulp sf of the Trente Glorieuses in its engagement of futuristic gadgets, its triumphant images of French survival in the far future, and its commentary on contemporary issues. But the construction of its hero, the Chevalier Bruno Coqdor, its far future outer space setting (in lieu of the marvelous world of a portal fantasy), and its conservative political and religious ideology reflect the tropes of space fantasy. Through various other fantasy motifs ranging from the dragon-like companion animal, Râx, to the weapons Coqdor wields, to the series’ engagement of feudal loyalty and the ideal of courtly romance, it reflects a certain medieval nostalgia. Indeed, despite his official military position, Coqdor’s picaresque adventures greatly resemble those of a medieval knight-errant from the Arthurian tradition: “le chevalier Coqdor […] est au service de l’humanité, à travers les mondes où il sauve les malheureux, où il lutte contre les démons” (Limat 1969, p. 58). As we shall see, the science-fictional elements of Limat’s storytelling in this cycle provide simply a stylish veneer, reconciling an age-old form of storytelling and ideology with the modern value placed on science and technology during the Trente Glorieuses. Above all, they project a triumphant image of France far into the future. As Jean-Marc L’officier notes, when other French sf writers relied on characters with English-sounding names, Limat proudly vaunted heroes who hailed from France (L’officier 2008, p. 9), such as Coqdor, le Commandant Martinbras, and Robin Muscat, a galactic police commissioner whose headquarters are in the megalopolis, Paris-sur-Terre, “la capitale millénaire, dont le rayonnement montait maintenant jusqu’aux étoiles” (Limat 1964c, loc 295). Even the author himself, admits of a novel not directly related to the Coqdor series, L’oeil écarlate (Anticipation #1266, Limat 1983), that it “n’est pas tout à fait de la science-fiction. C’est ce qu’on appelle l’heroic-fantasy. De la science fiction qui pourrait partir du Moyen Age avec les aventures extraordinaires mais dans le thème médiéval” (Limat qtd Hermier and Heurtel 2002, p. 21).

3.1. Bruno Coqdor as Knight-Errant

Although it is never explicitly stated how he has received the honor, Bruno Coqdor’s official title is that of “Chevalier,” and he travels around the galaxy rescuing young men and women of all ages from the various things that threaten them. Limat’s hero resembles nothing so much as the knight-errant of the chivalric tradition, “both a knight that travels or adventures and one that deviates or wanders” (Beaumont 2013, p. 99); knights are also “self-appointed protectors of women” (Krueger 2000, p. 144). As outlined below, Coqdor’s character reflects many of the traits of knights identified by scholars of medieval romance, including prowess with edged weapons (Kaeuper 2000, pp. 99–100), restraint in violence (Kaeuper 2000, p. 102), piety (Kaeuper 2000, p. 104) and moral superiority (Hahn 1988, p. 4), a concern that any violence practiced be licit (Kaeuper 2000, p. 109), and even knighthood’s incompatibility with marriage (Hahn 1988, p. 7).

Like the medieval knight-errant, Coqdor’s beauty is the external reflection of his inner morality (Hahn 1988, p. 8), as we see from his first appearance in Limat’s 1964 novel, L’étoile de Satan, set in the year 2931 (Limat 1964b, p. 5):

Bruno Coqdor pouvait avoir vingt-cinq ou vingt-huit ans. Grand, très large d’épaules, il était blond, avec des cheveux très serrés en boucles, et des yeux d’un bleu-vert éclatant. Les lèvres vermeilles, très sensuelles s’ouvraient entre un nez droit, volontaire, et un menton sans faiblesse.

(Limat 1964b, p. 8)

Indeed, his striking green eyes become an epithet for the hero, as Limat frequently refers to his main character as “l’homme aux yeux verts” (Limat 1976, p. 209); his nose and chin reveal his iron willpower and physical strength. His features clearly betray his terrestrial origins: “la Terre, sa patrie, dont il portait les caractéristiques raciales” (Limat 1964b, p. 8). He is not alone in the order of knighthood, but the “haut clan des chevaliers, [est] en nombre fort limité” (Limat 1973, p. 72); he is thus part of a tiny elite. Like medieval knights, Coqdor plays a role in a military hierarchy; as a member of “la Milice impériale” (Limat 1964c, loc 349), he is officially attached to “le ministre des Flottes imperials” (Limat 1964c, loc 250).

When not on an official mission, Coqdor is frequently called on to help those who appeal to his reputation for serving humanity, broadly defined as including not only those from Earth but all humanoids around the universe: “On m’appelle le chevalier de la Terre. Parce que je me dresse contre les forces du mal, partout où elles se manifestant dans le cosmos” (Limat 1969, p. 150). He dons a form of armor—his spacesuit—and carries an array of high-tech weapons, but he is never without “son poignard […] l’arme classique des astronauts” (Limat 1964c, loc 892). Despite the advanced weaponry, like “le rayon paralysant” (Limat 1964c, loc 548) or “les rayons inframauves, ces supercanons atomiques” (Limat 1964c, loc 70), available to his hero in the far future, Limat repeatedly mentions the edged weapon among the standard equipment of the space trooper, particularly “son couteau.” Like the knights of the Round Table, Coqdor is experienced in battle and prepared for any eventuality: “En homme accoutumé à une vie de combat, Coqdor avait le sommeil léger” (Limat 1964a, loc 598). Physically imposing, he is tall, with an athletic form (Limat 1964c, loc 59, loc 1478), and possesses an iron will and constitution: “sa prodigieuse nature, […] sa volonté soigneusement entretenue par une vie forte et sans tache” (Limat 1964c, loc 168). In keeping with the magical aspects of high fantasy that infuse space fantasy, Coqdor is not only an adept at arms, but he is also gifted with mental telepathy, “sa voyance” (Limat 1964c, loc 53), which allows him to see events happening at a distance, read others’ minds, and often command others to obey his will through the force of his gaze: “son regard vert dont il connaissait bien le pouvoir de persuasion” (Limat 1964c, loc 75). In addition to his physical and mental prowess, he is something of an intellectual: “Son esprit hautement évolué, attentive aux grands problèmes métaphysiques” (Limat 1964a, loc 1370).

As a “chevalier” he is attributed with the physical and moral traits of nobility, even royalty. In addition to “le noble visage” (Limat 1964b, p. 54), he has powerful, even royal hands: “Ses mains puissantes, élégantes, ses mains royales” (Limat 1969, p. 69). He has, of course, nearly complete self-control: “il se domina” (Limat 1964c, loc 404). In addition to “sa témérité” (Limat 1968, p. 119), “[h]onneur, fermeté, fierté” are his values (Limat 1975, p. 168). Indeed, “honneur” (PF 154–155) and “déshonneur” (PF208) are especially important to him, and he deplores the lack of a sense of honor in contemporary youths, perhaps echoing the sentiment of his creator, Limat. Showing restraint in violence, he takes life only if absolutely necessary (Limat 1968, p. 183), and he holds prisoners sacred (Limat 1968, p. 204). In one of his first adventures, he takes on a squire figure; when Alf meets him, the youth acknowledges the Chevalier’s social superiority, as he “fit un pas puis d’un movement submit, ploya le genou, saisit la main du chevalier terrien et y posa ses lèvres” (Limat 1964c, loc 267). Since Bruno saved Alf’s life, the latter dedicates his own life to Bruno and admits that having a positive role model will allow him to turn his life around: “depuis que je vis dans votre ombre, il me semble que je bois à une source de fraîcheur (Limat 1964c, loc 661).

Coqdor’s surname signals his gallic masculinity, the “golden cock,” a seemingly ennobled version of the national symbol of the coq gallois, while his given name of Bruno registers strength.7 According to a website on the meaning of boys’ names, “Bruno holds strength from the Old High German word brunna, which means ‘armor’ or ‘protection’.”8 A model of romantic masculinity, Coqdor is bored when idle, “un homme d’action capable de réactions immédiates” (Limat 1964c, loc 1075) who “détestait la passivité” (Limat 1964c, loc 75). He nonetheless feels intensely when saddened or frustrated; in the second novel of the series, Particule zero (1964), he is imprisoned by his enemies and unable to help his companions, falling into a feverish state: “Il souffrait. Raide et baigné de sueur, il se concentrait incroyablement” (Limat 1964c, loc 825). His “angoisses” become nearly a “martyre cérébral,” but his force of will is such that he pulls himself together (ibid.). With his body forced into idleness in his cell, he uses his mental telepathy to assess the situation and develop a plan of action.

Bruno’s sexual attractiveness heightens his masculinity and further likens him to the hero of courtly romance: “Il était de ceux qui intéressait les hommes et qui bouleversait les femmes” (Limat 1964a, p. 190). He is frequently the champion of women of all classes. In several novels he comes to the aid of a planetary queen or priestess (see

Table 1. Selection of Coqdor novels summarized as courtly missions.

Anticipation Volume #	Coqdor Series #	Date	Title	Summarized as Courtly Mission
241	1	1964	L’étoile de Satan	Save the Dzorien people from the sterile immortality bestowed on them by techno-science, “une oeuvre pie” (p. 38). Adopts his dragon-like sidekick Râx.
252	2	1964	Particule zero	Recover a stolen gadget and protect the people of Queen Imris of Aardoo from space pirates. Redemption and atonement for his protégé Alf.
262	3	1964	Ici finit le monde	Avenge the Syrrax, the people of a beautiful but untouchable dame, from a brutal race of cyclopes.
308	8	1967	Le Dieu couleur de nuit	Rescue a young earth woman kidnapped by primitive Indigenous people of a strange planet with an ancient dark God.
341	10	1968	La planète de feu	Lead 4 juvenile delinquents on a redemptive adventure quest to manhood, disguised as a dragon/salamandre to complete mission. Rescue a damsel in distress from magicians with the help of his own “dragon,” Râx.
379	11	1969	Le treizième signe du zodiaque	Fly across the galaxies to discover a space-time portal whose secret must be protected to prevent its exploitation for political aims or greed.
464	18	1971	Un de la galaxie	Help Queen Tadda of the “Technocratie de Liis” to save her dying civilization. Rescue himself and his imprisoned crew.
556	22	1973	S.O.S… ici, nulle part!	Embark on a rescue mission for an Earth girl’s fiancé, and answer the call of the enlightened Mercurian priestess, Davéhat, to save her planet.
676	24	1975	Où finissent les étoiles?	While investigating a strange black comet, assist a less advanced civilization on Urizz from the threatening hegemony of the K’Toon from a neighboring planet.
749	26	1976	Les incréés	Use his psychic powers to save the universe from the strange shadow beings of the novel’s title: the as yet “uncreated” or unborn beings who cause universal panic until understood.

), in another, he chastises a woman who has been forced to prostitute herself, telling her that “La vie d’une femme, quelle qu’elle soit est toujours précieuse” (Limat 1969, p. 125). Whereas in the early novels, Coqdor was rarely romantically or sexually involved with a woman, this changes in the 1970s, but as with the knight-errant of the Arthurian tradition, marriage is incompatible with his adventuring lifestyle. For example, in the first and second Coqdor novels, he helps dowager queens, so romance is out of the question. In the third novel, Ici finit la terre, the belle dame in need of rescue, “Strya, dernière descendante de la noble race Syrrax” (Limat 1964a, loc 1709), is literally untouchable, a ghostlike projection from the distant past. In the eleventh book, La treizième signe du zodiaque (1969), there is a femme fatale figure, Giovanna Hi-Ling (Limat 1969, p. 156–7), described as a forbidden attraction (168–169). In the 1970s, however, things change for Coqdor and he is regularly portrayed with a love (or just sex) interest, perhaps reflective of the relaxation of sexual mores after May 1968. Although Coqdor’s liaisons are not the egoistic sexual conquests of a Don Juan, they are generally portrayed as ill-fated for one reason or another. Marriage is not in the cards for Bruno, in contrast with his good friend Robin Muscat, who is portrayed with an intelligent and attractive wife and son in Les incréés (1976). In S.O.S… ici, nulle part! (1973), Coqdor gives in to his desire for the fiery Indigenous priestess and the leader of Mercury’s anti-colonial rebellion, Davéhat. Their liaison, however, ends abruptly when Davéhat undertakes a suicide mission to save humanity from the knowledge that the mysterious S.O.S. messages being received on her planet came from the beyond. In Où finissent les étoiles (1975), Coqdor similarly submits to an irresistible desire for a beautiful humanoid alien, Ffaal, while on a mission to rescue her people. Only in Les incréés (1976), does Bruno experience (and act on) a more commonplace sexual attraction for the Greco-Terran “doctoresse,” Evdokia Flaas, as the two become lovers on a mission.

Each novel in the series, of course, recounts a new adventure upon which the wandering chevalier Bruno Coqdor embarks, often in tandem with another recurring character in Limat’s fictional universe, most frequently his friend Robin Muscat, a commander in the galactic police force, Interplan, a futuristic Interpol. Like the knights-errant in Arthurian romance, Coqdor’s reputation frequently precedes him, and inhabitants of planets he visits request his help; as his young friend Monique Farnel explains: “le chevalier Coqdor […] est au service de l’humanité, à travers les mondes où il sauve les malheureux, où il lutte contre les démons” (Limat 1969, p. 58). His own attitude toward adventure reveals that his service comes from a deep commitment to humanity rather than a narcissistic need to fight and win. He insists, “il n’y a pas d’aventure sans héroïsme […]. Et l’héroïsme exige toujours une part de sacrifice” (Limat 1968, p. 211). His missions can easily be framed as courtly missions like those found in the Arthurian romances of Chrétien de Troyes, in which the knight leaves court to seek adventure and along his way aids those he finds in need, especially damsels and ladies in distress (see Table 1). Indeed, one of his adventures is framed in terms of Perceval’s quest for the Holy Graal (Limat 1973, p. 203). In another, as he fights to help his crew escape their captors, he is told: “Tu te bats Coqdor […] [p]our une belle et pure et noble cause; le salut de l’équipage de l’Océan céleste (Limat 1971, p. 218). Selfless, he repeatedly puts himself in danger for others.

3.2. Outer Space as Magical Fantasy World

The deep space setting and frequent astronomical references, as well as the future date of Coqdor’s adventures clearly liken Limat’s cycle to science fiction, a genre whose tropes he skillfully adopts throughout the series. Space explorers, colonists, and the military to support them are main characters in these novels, as are the alien—albeit almost always quite humanoid—races they encounter. The author seems to enjoy creating descriptions of seemingly scientific phenomena and invents numerous futuristic gadgets both for the humdrum planet bound and the space traveler, such as the “tankélec” (Limat 1969, p. 162), “sidéropneu” (Limat 1964a, loc 185), “sidéradio” (Limat 1964c, loc 245), “le reliefcolor” (Limat 1964c, loc 299), “librorama” (Limat 1964b, 5), “un crayon atomique à mine inépuisable” (Limat 1969, p. 13), and ashtrays that disintegrate the butt (Limat 1971, p. 11). Of course, “robots, mobots et biobots” (Limat 1964a, loc 988) assist man in his work, and human scientist characters inhabit this universe, such as the recurring Dr. Stewe. Indeed, Coqdor’s assignments are usually to space exploration vessels, and he frequently accompanies research parties to the surface because of his telepathic powers, which help with communication with any Indigenous species. But as Brian W. Aldiss famously wrote: “Science fiction is no more for scientists than ghost stories are written for ghosts. Most frequently, the scientific dressing clothes fantasy” (Aldiss 1973, p. 1).

Above all, in Limat’s fictional universe of the MarTerVénux alliance, characters and readers are most often confronted with scientific phenomena that meet the criteria of Arthur C. Clarke’s oft-cited Third Law on UFOs, that “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic” (Clarke [1968] 1984, p. 36). This dictum supports the relationship between the space opera and the heroic fantasy in space fantasy as it allows authors to substitute the theme of magic with the theme of advanced science, and vice versa, something that Limat does frequently. For example, when Coqdor’s team discovers a phenomenon that today we would refer to as a wormhole in space, the author describes it as the “tunnel fantastique” or the “fantastique tunnel” (Limat 1964a, loc 691, loc 869). In the first novel L’étoile de Satan, Professor Ghowix’s research has allowed for the extreme longevity of the inhabitants of the planet Dzor; not only is his lab described as “un antre de sorcier évolué” (Limat 1964b, p. 51), his technique involves “la reconstitution quasi magique des cellules” (p. 26) of his coplanetriotes. Furthermore, on several occasions Coqdor’s team encounters various types of space ghosts: “il sied dans l’espace, de se méfier des fantômes, des illusions savamment entretenues par les savants et les mages” (Limat 1969, p. 147). In addition to the likening of advanced science to the magic of medieval romance, Limat depicts outer space locations using the language of fantasy and the marvelous.

Jeff Rider discusses “The Other Worlds of Romance,” identifying how “[a]n encounter between the central world and another one is one of the most common ways of beginning a romance” (Rider 2000, p. 116). Similarly, a Coqdor adventure is launched when he either encounters a new world or humanoid race on his travels, or a being from another realm intrudes upon the known fictional universe of the galactic federation. Similarly, the most obvious works of modern fantasy involve the creation of a “secondary world.” Following the typology of fantasy outlined by Farah Mendlesohn in Rhetoric of Fantasy (2008), taken as a whole, the Coqdor cycle set in Limat’s fictional universe that spreads out from the MarTerVénux federation, represents an “Immersive Fantasy.” Mendlesohn describes this as follows:

The immersive fantasy invites us to share not merely a world, but a set of assumptions. At its best, it presents the fantastic without comment as the norm for both the protagonist and the reader […]. The immersive fantasy is that which is closest to science fiction; as such, it makes use of an irony of mimesis, which helps to explain why a sufficiently effective immersive fantasy may be indistinguishable from science fiction: once the fantastic becomes assumed, it acquires a scientific cohesion of its own.

(Mendlesohn 2008, p. xx)

Mendlesohn underscores the potential similarity between fantasy and science fiction here, but I take a step further in the case of Limat’s Coqdor cycle, arguing that as an immersive fantasy which takes place on a completely fictionalized secondary world, it is no longer science fiction because it has lost—or never really aimed for—the scientific plausibility of so-called hard science fiction. And significantly, various individual novels within the Coqdor series reflect the different types of fantasy found in Mendlesohn’s typology. Mendlesohn combines two related types of fantasy in her identification of the “Portal-Quest” fantasy: “In both portal and quest fantasies, a character leaves her familiar surroundings and passes through a portal into an unknown place” (Mendlesohn 2008, p. 1). Almost all Coqdor’s adventures—also like the medieval romance—send the hero on a quest for one thing or another, usually the solution to a problem.

If we broaden somewhat our definition for the portal, a gateway through which the character passes and which becomes a central focus of the narrative, which is about “entry, transition, and exploration” (Mendlesohn 2008, p. 2), we might consider that the spaceship itself and some modes of travel, such as the sub-space jump invoked by Limat to allow intergalactic travel, represent portals. However, only a couple of Coqdor’s adventures really focus specifically on the portal narrowly defined by Mendlesohn as a device that allows access to a completely other world: “the fantastic is on the other side and does not leak” (Mendlesohn 2008, p. 1; original emphasis). Rarely do we find this type of isolation between the “full secondary world” (Mendlesohn 2008, p. 2) and the newly entered realm accessed by a very literal portal. However, some novels come close. In Le treizième signe du zodiaque (1969), Coqdor discovers a literal portal that allows interplanetary travel through a space-time leap, but it lacks the closure suggested by Mendlesohn. And in Ici finit la terre (Limat 1964a), Coqdor discovers what he believes to be the graveyard of the stars, a region of the universe where dying stars fall and new stars are born, but his crew refuses to believe it.

In many cases, the Coqdor novels present the reader with the “Intrusion fantasy,” in which “the fantastic is the bringer of chaos. It is the beast in the bottom of the garden or the elf seeking assistance” (Mendlesohn 2008, p. xx). Thus, in Ici finit le monde (1964), two types of beings or entities appear to penetrate the hero’s fictional consensus universe of the known planets that form the galactic federation, one benevolent and one malevolent. Similarly, in Les incréés (1976), seemingly malevolent shadows form and multiply, attacking life forms, intruding on the ordered universe until Coqdor can figure out how to dispel them. And in many novels, beings from other planets, known or previously unknown, seek Coqdor’s assistance (see Table 1).

Whatever the type, fantasy transports a character ostensibly from the shared consensus world of the reader across a threshold to a marvelous alternate world of magic and mystery. The far future and outer space settings of the Coqdor cycle and other planetary romances perform a similar operation for their readers. Although the novels’ characters all exist within the fictional universe of the cycle, the reader is transported into a marvelous alternate dimension of wonder as the author describes space voyages and planetary exploration. Furthermore, just as the imaginary world of fantasy includes fascinating, exotic beings like elves and fairies, the extraterrestrial inhabitants, along with the flora and fauna of the science-fictional world delight the reader. As Bruno Coqdor travels around the galaxy and beyond, in search of or carrying out a mission for the Ministry of the Imperial Navy (Limat 1964c, loc 250), Limat fosters the sense of wonder that fantasy and science fiction hold in common through his descriptions of the imaginary worlds that Bruno visits, and in which the vocabulary of the French merveilleux and fantastique prevails. Indeed, fantastique is one of Limat’s favorite descriptors, as is féerie. The titular Planète de feu (Planet of fire) of volume 10 offers a hell-like landscape, “un paysage dont elle ne savait s’il émanait de la féerie ou du cauchemar” (Limat 1968, p. 194). About the planet Acorra, “les légendes couraient et laissaient croire à des domaines fabuleux” (Limat 1969, p. 163). The cosmos itself is described as a “féerie. C’était merveilleusement beau” (Limat 1964a, loc 965); “Il était l’ordre, l’harmonie. Partout on y retrouvait le merveilleux équilibre de la création et dans la féerie végétale, les merveilles animales, la splendeur animale […]” (Limat 1964a, p. 1121). Limat clearly has mastered the tradition of French fantasy from the medieval romance through the fairy tale and applies that vocabulary to his fictional universe of wonders and marvels, over which he merely paints a veneer of science-fictional details.

In addition to the damsel in distress and knights-errant, the fantasy other world is inhabited by marvellous beings in exotic costumes and fairy-tale creatures such as unicorns and, most iconically of heroic fantasy, dragons. One of the most engaging characters in Limat’s oeuvre is the Chevalier Coqdor’s dragon-like companion, “Râx, le pstôr ramené de la planète Dzo, bouledogue-chauve-souris qui lui était attaché merveilleusement” (Limat 1964c, loc 29). With his “talons” (Limat 1964c, loc 53) and “ailes membraneuses” (Limat 1964c, loc 36), “cette sorte de monstre” (Limat 1964c, loc 301) resembles nothing more than the dragons later popularized in fantasy works from the novels of Anne McCaffrey to George R. R. Martin’s Game of Thrones. Another mythical creature appears in La planète de feu, where little wildlife can survive, but one species has evolved thick armor plating that allows it to thrive on the fiery planet, a species that highly resembles the “salamandre” (Limat 1968, p. 143) of Ancient Greek lore and medieval bestiaries.

Beyond their fantastic flora and fauna, Limat’s fictional worlds are inhabited by marvelous extraterrestrial beings dressed in exotic costumes (Limat 1964c, loc 205). In the second novel of the series, Particule zéro (1964), we learn of the knight-errant’s acquaintance with a diverse array of beings, “des gens venant du Sextant et de Bételgeuse, d’Aïrran de la Grande Ourse et de Noisy-le-Sec de la Terre » (Limat 1964c, loc 25). They travel with a variety of animal species: “des insectes-plantes, des chiens-poissons, des oiseaux-mammifères, toutes les formes extraordinaires et gracieuses, étonnantes et admirables, que la main du Créateur” has created (Limat 1964c, loc 228). Limat reveals his conservative outlook, in his frequent references to Coqdor’s religious faith, another aspect of the space hero’s character that links him to the Christian knights-errant of the medieval romance, as does the political structure of his imagined future.

3.3. Conservative Political and Religious Ideology

Medieval romance developed specifically out of the feudal context of a military hierarchy that structured society through the relationships of lord and vassal, with a king or emperor at the top of the pyramidal social structure. Similarly, Limat expresses nostalgia for a bygone political structure of monarchy and empire in the Coqdor novels. As a whole the series projects the future Earth’s government as an empire, “l’Empire terrien” (Limat 1964c, loc 323), which is part of a larger galactic “confédération des Étoiles-Unies” (Limat 1964c, p. 774). Obviously, the more immediate context for the author’s nostalgia is that of France’s waning colonial empire, and his image of space colonization reflects the ambivalence of the French people in the age of decolonization abroad that coincides with the Trente Glorieuses at home. Precisely during the decade when France’s colonial empire is being dismantled, Coqdor’s adventures are set against the backdrop of a benevolent galactic empire that brings technology to largely grateful planets that have now become members of the galactic federation. Rarely does Limat problematize this issue as Coqdor encounters peoples at various levels of “civilization,” from the hyper-advanced Dzoriens to the stone age “naturels de la planète Hixxi” (Limat 1964a). Notably, a good bit of the plot of S.O.S… ici, nulle part! involves the anti-colonial movement led by Bruno’s eventual lover, Davéhat, who is also a hereditary priestess. Limat’s inability as a metropolitan Frenchman to relate to colonial independence movements appears stunningly in the explanation that Luc Delta—another recurring hero and friend of Coqdor’s—gives to Bruno of the Mercurian locals’ attitudes: “leur vieille race demeure malgré tout assez hostile à ceux, venus de la Terre ou d’ailleurs, qu’ils continuent à considerer comme des envahisseurs” (Limat 1973, p. 31). Coqdor retorts, without irony, “—Je sais. Comme tous les persécutés, ils sont d’abord terriblement racistes” (ibid.) In addition to their conservative political ideology, the Coqdor novels offer a surprisingly conservative religious ideology, as well.

Religion and magic are the bread and butter of heroic fantasy, and Limat’s science fiction engages far more readily than that of most of his compatriots with Christianity, as Bradford Lyau observes of his other Anticipation novels from 1959 to 60 (Lyau 2011, pp. 121–23). As seen above, despite the infinite variety of life across the galaxies, for Coqdor, it all belongs to God’s creation, and Bruno’s faith is invoked many times throughout the cycle. Thus, just as certain medieval romances stress the Christian ideology underpinning the deeds of the knights they depict, so Bruno Coqdor invokes his faith in times of trouble, and that faith is specifically identified as Christian: “le christianisme” (Limat 1964b, p. 71) and “la grande revelation christique” (Limat 1971, p. 23). Various novels refer to “la main du Créateur” (Limat 1964c, loc 228), “Le maître du cosmos” (Limat 1964c, loc 1792) and the Bible (ibid.). There is an essential human essence in all the diverse array of humanity across the universe that derives from a common creating hand: “l’homme, toutefois, en dépit des variations infinies des races, demeurait égal à lui-même, tout comme sa compagne traditionnelle, l’Ève éternelle” (Limat 1964c, loc 228). Ultimately, Limat’s attitude toward science reveals the conservative nature of his science fantasy; for Limat, science is “l’outil prodigieux que le Maître de toutes choses a mis à la disposition de l’homme” (Limat 1969, p. 41). This is not to say that science fiction doesn’t criticize or question science, but it typically does so from a standpoint of rational humanism. Limat’s exploitation of the motifs of medieval romance and heroic fantasy is not unique. As Jean-Marc and Randi L’officier observe, other writers also published works of “heroic-fantasy,” such as Kurt Steiner’s Ortog novels (L’officier and L’officier 2022, p. 217) and works by Pierre Barbet and Jean-Louis & Doris Le May (L’officier and L’officier 2022, pp. 247–8).9

4. Conclusion: France of the Trente Glorieuses Reflected in Limat’s Coqdor Universe

I conclude this analysis of Maurice Limat’s Chevalier Coqdor series by returning to the position of these works in the developing culture of modern consumerism during France’s Trente Glorieuses. It is a truism of science fiction that it is a genre more about the present than about the future. As Ursula K. Le Guin so famously wrote, “I write science fiction, and science fiction isn’t about the future. I don’t know any more about the future than you do, and very likely less” (Le Guin 1976, n.p.). Similarly, Maurice Limat’s science fantasy engages with contemporary problems. We see both the wonders and the new problems that faced France during the Trente Glorieuses, from the series’ fondness for gadgets, reflective of the rising électroménager of the 1950s (Pulju 2011), to the need for alternative energy sources (Limat 1964c, p. 80) required to fuel industrial development and home consumption (Lejeune 2015). In the model city of the future, Coqdor visits beautiful, clean factories that have been automated to work perpetually (Limat 1964a, loc 1584), an imagery that resonates with the propaganda of the Fifth Republic. Although the author’s tone is ambivalent about the “cités préfabriqués” (Limat 1964a, loc 682) rising in the colonial outposts of MarTerVénux, for inspiration, he need merely look around Paris and the suburbs to the building boom of the celebrated “grands projets” of the era (Lejeune 2015). The rise of consumerism and the growth of advertising in 1950s and 1960s France appear in the leisure activities of Coqdor and his shipmates. They smoke cigarettes—although theirs are of the favored Mars-grown blond tobacco variety—and drink brand-name alcohols, like Cutty Sark and Pimm’s. Along with this progress, however, come new problems that Limat addresses in his novels, including juvenile delinquency and illegal immigration (La planète de feu), the dangers of allowing Technocrats to make social decisions (Un de la galaxie), crimes like piracy, human and drug trafficking (Le treizième signe du zodiaque), and depression and mental illness (Ici finit la terre). Even the Cold War climate of spy craft and secrecy appears in several plots, including mention that the authorities have hidden the existence of space phenomena from the public in the same way that they had concealed knowledge of the UFO phenomenon in the twentieth century (Limat 1973, p. 19).

Throughout the series, Limat grapples with women’s changing roles in society and the issues facing French men in the Trente Glorieuses. Indeed, at one point, his narrator argues that women were treated as disposable objects in the twentieth century, but now in the twenty-third, they are respected (Limat 1968, p. 11). On the one hand, his plots express nostalgia for a bygone age of chivalry, the flip side of which is a benevolent misogyny or a ranking of some women as more valuable than others based on their beauty (S.O.S…. ici, nulle part!). On the other hand, he depicts women in the workforce, space clothing has become a unisex combinaison (Limat 1967, p. 28; Limat 1969, p. 139), and the gender gap in space (despite an increase in female employment, there remain far more men than women on any given crew) is handled with libido-suppressing pills (Limat 1971, p. 37). Furthermore, in the future, nudity is no longer a source of shame (Limat 1971, p. 171).

While some women workers remain simply disposable characters like the many “laborantines” (female lab assistants) and prostitutes (Le treizième signe du zodiaque), others appear in full-fledged professional roles, such as scientists and doctors (L’étoile de Satan, Les incréés). Women even pursue specialized careers in space as “l’astronavigatrice” and “la mécanélectricienne” on board one crew reveal (Limat 1971, p. 38). Certain female professions are particularly sneered at, like the female prison guards described as “gorgones” (Limat 1973, p. 72) or nurses, represented as “ces viragos laissés pour compte” (Limat 1968, p. 82). Unfortunately, a “boys will be boys” attitude lingers regarding social problems like rape (La planète de feu), and Limat questionably depicts a young victim of a near gang rape as later falling in love with one of her assailants. Similarly, a young protégé of Coqdor’s is encouraged to find sexual adventure on an offworld colony town: “Jean était enchanté, comme tous les jeunes gens de bonne famille qui désirent s’encanailler pour une nuit” (Limat 1969, p. 98). The far future depicted by a French male writer born at the onset of the First World War and developing a career in pulp fiction after the Second remains male-dominated. Not surprisingly, Limat’s popular space fantasy fails to offer meaningful speculation about the future evolution of gender roles and relations.

For a writer of his generation, Maurice Limat allows his characters to evolve with the albeit imaginary future times up to a point. But at the same time, his science fiction does not attempt to do what the most rigorous writers of the genre aim for: plausible extrapolation of current events and technologies into the future to explore the technical, social, and moral problems that might ensue from scientific discovery and its applications. Instead, he provides a disposable literature of escape, nostalgic stories of a knight’s adventures in deep space and the far future that abide by the conventions of fantasy with a veneer of science-fictional wallpaper. More importantly, he also offers stories of hope, projecting the economic and technological development of France’s Trente Glorieuses as surviving into the far future, while at the same time, he imagines that the nation has preserved the traditions of its earliest literary culture in the form of his iconic hero, Bruno Coqdor, “chevalier de l’espace.”