A Princess of Mars

I am a very old man; how old I do not know. Possibly I am a hundred, possibly more; but I cannot tell because I have never aged as other men, nor do I remember any childhood.

Earth-frame mystery gives way to survival, captive politics, romance, and interplanetary return; sampled open/mid/end anchors show a clear arc without a dead middle, so plot scores 90.

"Dejah Thoris, daughter of Mors Kajak of Helium." "And the nature of your expedition?" he continued. "It was a purely scientific research party sent out by my father's father, the Jeddak of Helium, to rechart the air currents, and to take atmospheric density tests," replied the fair prisoner, in a low, well-modulated voice.

Carter, Dejah, Sola, and rival Martian groups have clear roles, though Carter's competence dominates; Dejah's royal identity and Sola's backstory give the cast functional depth, so cast scores 87.

The thing, which more nearly resembled our earthly men than it did the Martians I had seen, held me pinioned to the ground with one huge foot, while it jabbered and gesticulated at some answering creature behind me. This other, which was evidently its mate, soon came toward us, bearing a mighty stone cudgel with which it evidently intended to brain me.

New territory, combat, escape, and alliance regularly refresh the action line; the fight chapter typifies how the serial keeps resetting stakes, so pace scores 94.

I opened my eyes upon a strange and weird landscape. I knew that I was on Mars; not once did I question either my sanity or my wakefulness. I was not asleep, no need for pinching here; my inner consciousness told me as plainly that I was upon Mars as your conscious mind tells you that you are upon Earth.

Direct pulp narration sells speed and marvel more consistently than nuance; Carter's matter-of-fact Martian arrival voice typifies the prose's momentum-over-refinement trade, so prose scores 84.

The lesser gravitation and lower air pressure on Mars. I was determined, however, to explore the low structure which was the only evidence of habitation in sight, and so I hit upon the unique plan of reverting to first principles in locomotion, creeping.

Barsoom's low gravity, ecology, technologies, races, customs, and geography make an unusually usable adventure planet; physical rules are narrated as lived constraints, so world scores 96.

He directed that I remove his body to Virginia without embalming, and that he be laid in an open coffin within a tomb which he previously had had constructed and which, as I later learned, was well ventilated.

A sealed manuscript, tomb that opens only within, and apparent death promise an immediate impossible journey; the foreword's coffin-in-tomb directive sets the hook before any Barsoom action, so hook scores 97.

I opened my eyes upon a strange and weird landscape. I knew that I was on Mars; not once did I question either my sanity or my wakefulness.

A formative planetary-romance template pairing alien-world travel with serial adventure momentum; Carter's instant acceptance of Mars codifies the subgenre's transport-and-wonder engine, so innov scores 96.

Above me shone the red eye of Mars holding her awful secret, forty-eight million miles away. Did the Martian reach the pump room? Did the vitalizing air reach the people of that distant planet in time to save them? Was my Dejah Thoris alive, or did her beautiful body lie cold in death beside the tiny golden incubator in the sunken garden of the palace of Tardos Mors, the jeddak of Helium?

Arizona return and the distant red planet retain the romance's longing rather than falsely closing it; the cave wake leaves Carter facing Mars across space, so ending scores 90.