compulsions in fiction
15 Sep 2008 06:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaigouThis is only a sideways mention of a series I read, and it's not even a complete review because THE FREAKING IMAC IS DEAD AND I THINK I LOSTS ALLS MAH EBOOKS GUHHHHH which is really annoying, it's like having the lightbulb burn out in your library and suddenly your entire book collection is GONE.
BUT ANYWAY. I cannot quote to illustrate any points (or even to remind myself if I'm right/wrong in my recollections), so this is very elliptical way to only sort-of-recommend a series, got that?
A month or two ago I ended up perusing the online ebook-versions (late at night, natch) of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lilithsaintcrow's Watcher series. Now, for whatever reason -- no problem confessing this, that it was mostly my own, and not book- or author-fault -- I just never really got into the first Valentine book. At the time I was under the impression that was the backbone series, with the rest being off-shoots, and if I couldn't get into the introductory book, why frustrate myself trying to keep up with sequels, right?
Let me say it again: ANYWAY. The first book in the Watcher serieswhich right now I can't even TELL YOU WHAT IT IS BECAUSE NO FREAKING IMAC *sobs* but it's, uh, Watcher something, leave to edit later, blah blah blah. ANYWAY. is Dark Watcher. It had a well-written teaser, I liked the first chapter posted online, and it fit the mood of what I was looking for. AND, and this is important, it was the series that predated the Valentine series.
NOTE: I don't know for certain whether it's necessarily the first majorly published work, because it's almost impossible these days to get a chronological list of an author's works. Amazon doesn't give you, frex, the year of first printing, only the year of the specific printing. So a book could've been published in 1998 and it may still say 2007. I mention that because that makes it really hard to be able to guestimate whether an author's work has improved in X years or over Y books, or whether this book is the author's latest and greatest.
Therefore I am making my best guess which seems to be from what little indication is out there that the Watcher series predates Saintcrow's current series. And that's of interest because when I read a series, half of me is reading the series -- and the other half of me is watching the author.
There are two things that really stand out in an author's work, if you read over the course of a growing series, two things I've sort of learned to look for as signs of an author's growth. The first is genre-breaking, which is far more subtle than it might sound. Sure, anyone can write an urban fantasy series with a little bit different thrown in, or whatever, but there are still bounds of the genre and it takes practice, and confidence, on an author's part to start muscling past those.
The other thing is when the author moves from likeable main characters to sympathetic main characters... who are not necessarily likeable. That, perhaps, is the biggest honking sign of all (to me) that an author has started to really flex his/her muscles, both in exploring characters that may not automatically drag an audience in, and in having the confidence to write such a character with or without audience approval or immediate obvious attraction points.
The premise is pretty straightforward in the Watcher series (and I'm being really simplistic here, remember STUPID BURNT-OUTLIGHTBULB IMAC): witches are part of the Light, so violence/blood/death is harmful to them on a fundamental level. Watchers are people (always men, for reasons of basic physical strength) who have just enough of the Dark in them to battle the Dark effectively, and for that reason also find Witches painful because Light != Dark, etc. Every now and then, there's just the right, hrm, wavelength such that a Watcher finds The Witch who resonates with him, and it's not just a cessation of the physical pain from being around Light but an actual physical pleasure. (And since we all know that most guys consider feels-good to be a required prerequisite for in-love-with, ahehehe I simplify but hey...)
The first book, I enjoyed, it was there, I read it in an evening, it was like wanting pizza and getting a good pizza. You're not expecting cordon bleu, here, just freaking pizza. I was willing to overlook elements that are standard for urban-fantasy/romance-paranormal genre-mix -- again, note, this is a personal dislike -- where there's any emphasis/usage of characters talking about how the Goddess will provide, or capitalizing She, or emphasis on the Wiccan Rede. Makes me grit my teeth, it does; I don't like religiousity in, well, much of anything if I can avoid it.
The other biggie? I can't stand reading books about characters who are writers. I especially can't stand reading about characters WHO OWN BOOKSTORES. Because either it's not realistic and it's all romanticized (you want to make me cry? you really wanna? write a scene where SOMEONE CLOSES THE BOOKSTORE EARLY. That will do it, because I will be sobbing: think of all the sales you might be missing, do you realize such inconsistency means you could be losing customers who just won't ever come back since they can't trust you'll be open when you said you would? ...and soon this dog is a puddle of sob on the floor).
Or maybe as bad, the book gets the details right and then I'm moaning in pain at the little things, OMG, don't bring back those memories! Which if you think about it means I just can't win.
Every time an author writes a fictional bookstore closing on a whim, a former bookstore owner cries. Think of the kittens!
I was less thrilled, or maybe I should say just lukewarm, about the two main characters. I mean, neither of them were bad, nor badly written. They were solid, they had a definite chemistry between them, and it was a workable sturdy (emphasis on this) romance. It was probably the fact that as soon as Mr Tall Dark and Deadly walks through the door and feels that indescribable! jaw-dropping! socks-off! draw to the heroine, that was pretty much the standard romance clue-bat that this is The Destined Couple.
Again, I'm not saying this is bad in and of itself. This is part of the genre, and if you're going to write romance successfully, from everything I can tell, then you must -- and as close to the first meeting as possible -- make it clear that both characters have just been hornswoggled by the most incredible lurve-at-first-sight. Failing that, there must be strong lust-at-first-sight. It's like, a law, or something.
Okay? See that? That would be author in Early Years, writing to a genre's requirements. NOT A PROBLEM.
But overall, the female protagonist just seemed... well, awfully nice. Again, not bad, but just... I wouldn't go so far as to say she's the kind of woman you love to hate because otherwise you'd have to admit she's the most lovable person you've ever met. Not a Mary Sue. But still, not exactly tempestuous material. Does good deeds. Is kind to her friends. Cares about small animals. Etc.
Second book is Storm Watcher, and it started to play with things a bit more -- and here's what I mean by following a series for a very specific reason, to watch growth. The second book didn't try quite so hard to make the female protagonist an automatic sex-bomb, or at least an obvious one. And where the first male protag had seemed (IIRC) mostly hung up on having Done Violent Things, the second one had some kind of track record (and I mean that in the legal sense) that predated his work.
Not entirely a good boy, let's say -- but this is still Early Author, so I didn't hold my breath for (and therefore was not disappointed when) Guy-Protag #2 didn't ever trip fully over teh line into being an asshole or showing illicit tendencies or, uh, something.
That said, Gal-Protag#2 still sat squarely on the "attractive and good" line of things, though it was also obvious the author was starting to play with the notion of a heroine who wasn't out-of-the-box perfect, but had a history of some sort. It was still, like Guy Protag, a bit on the fuzzy side -- and I mean that in the sense of "acknowledged or referenced but not exactly displayed within the book's actual events", okay, that's bad phrasing, more like... I dunno. Like the characters referenced what they had done, or gone through, but that any after-effects were, at most, kinda minimal. Or played-down.
And it was still sturdy writing, with good pacing (although by book two I was noticing a tendency to cut away from any significant fight scenes, which I think may have been a genre-restriction for the romance-half, since that genre doesn't seem to really encourage pages of gun battles and blood and fun stuff).
What mattered to me was the bigger picture, that I could see from Book A to Book B that there was some pushing going on, from the author, about the story, moving away from the "obviously they'll fall in love because they're both fundamentally loveable people" -- to the "they're so damaged and they know it and they're still loveable" -- so I kept reading.
Which is where I hit the thrill of watching an author grow because if you ask me (ergh, Lili, don't kill me) if you want to read the first two, then, do so. But it's the third book where you finally get to see the author just blow right out of the ballpark and those stupid genre requirements. Because it's the third book -- Fire Watcher where finally, finally, you get a main character who is not only damaged, and knows it, she doesn't fucking care. And if you give her any shit about it, she just might kick your ass.
No more of these insipid oh-so-loveable, does-good-deeds, works-hard-to-be-liked, characters that garner sympathy only (if you ask me) because they're written to be fundamentally likeable. Now we finally have a character who isn't entirely likeable, doesn't care if she's likeable, but for that very human reason is so very much sympathetic.
[A side note: Saintcrow's not the first author I've watched grow in this manner. Diana Francis is another one; her first series was solid, likeable-sympathetic characters; her second series is damaged, strong, resilient, sometimes even defensive sympathetic characters who don't want, nor need, to work their asses off to be liked. Just FYI, if you're casting about for more of this vein.]
So the unlikeable (if sympathetic) character is a push away from the romance-genre standard, but Saintcrow didn't stop there, which told me there'd been a lot of growing between the second and third books. The second book just questioned, a little, but the third book didn't stop at the romance edges. It also hit the fantasy side, too, to push at the wiccan-emphasis urban-fantasy expectations: which means the FMC's take on "violence and blood and all that icky stuff" was not, I repeat THANK GOD IT WAS NOT I COULDN'T TAKE ANYMORE, the usual "oh noes violence oh how horrible!!eleventy-one!!"
Man, I really wish I had the ebook *sniffle* and then I could quote. Failing that, I must try to reproduce fro memory, but it's my favorite freaking line of the book because damn it, it needs to be posted on a freaking billboard and reproduced outside every World Fantasy Con for the next twenty years. Or something. Just to remind all those authors who think wiccan-influenced means namby-pamby crystal-weenie.
It went something like this: there's some kind of threat, so the Watcher picks up his weapons and goes to defend. The witch picks up her weapons and gets ready to join him. He's all, wtf, woman, are you crazy? Because y'know witches by definition are light and good and wouldn't hurt a fly.
The witch's reply is something along the lines of, "just because my religion doesn't believe in violence doesn't mean I won't kick the ass of anyone who attacks me," or something like that. And then she slammed the magazine home in the gun, racked the slide and was out the door. Or roughly like that, I can't recall, the line was way better than that but you get the idea.
(Meanwhile on the western front, the dog was going YES YES TOTAL FRICKING EPIC WIN YES ABOUT TIME)
ETA: I should note that yes, I'm aware there are plenty of urban fantasy heroines-using-weapons stories out there. That's not the issue here; my glee here was that for once an author saw that there doesn't have to be a complete divide between "being a pacifist" and "defending oneself". That you can believe in peace, and do your best to work for peaceful resolutions, but if you're down to defending your life, then you do. Believing in peace should not make you a doormat, and this is not a contradiction in terms. Too many authors seem to think it is, or just avoid the issue altogether and stay on one or the other side of the ultimate this-or-that divide. /eta
I did go on to read the fourth book (remember me and book-limits so book four is doing pretty good). It was pushing more on the romance side, this time letting the FMC also have some screwed-up (legal and material) backstories, as a con-artist and thief. Not exactly the most sympathetic (to a romance-genre audience) character, so it proved to be a good book, enjoyable.
Except I spent most of the time wanting to tug on the writer's sleeve and say, could we get back to the character who had the attitude? and saw possible love staring her in the face and didn't say, omg, it can't be! and didn't say omg, I don't deserve it! but instead did say, this is gonna be on my terms and if I say slow this fucking bus down, you are gonna SLOW THIS FUCKING BUS DOWN.
Which makes me cheer ten times more than any sort of compulsive fantasy-based "omg look it's destiny" kind of storyline, even if that second kind of storyline has enough other going for it that I enjoy it despite the compulsory aspects.
This is also why I enjoy Emily Veinglory's, uh, *sobs for ebooks* starts-with-an-M series. I think they may even be in print now, can't recall. She expands over the course of three books, as well: the first is very much 'compulsory love' even as the characters in the actual romance are puzzled as to how two unlikely such as they ended up in this, well, head-over-heels love. The second book revolves around a character who, despite feeling in love, and believing his partner loves him (to some degree), still cannot accept that it's truly love so long as there was this lingering aspect of Speshul Magix Spell that created the love.
Makes for a great willfully-damaged so-sympathetic character as he nearly destroys what love he does have out of fighting the idea that even if he loves another, that another was forced in some way to love him as well. Third book? Goes the final step, and a character is drawn inexorably to His Won Twu Wuv... and in the end, says, fuck this for a lark and walks away from the drawn-to-undeniable-luuurve and picks the unlikely but definitely chemistry-with and worthy-partner not-spesphul-lurve-spell character.
I felt like getting up and doing a jig, much the same way I did later when reading Saintcrow's third book and the FMC made it clear that speshul chemistry or not, she'd play along on her terms, adn work it through to her satisfaction.
And all that brings me to a final point, but this story I'm not recommending because it's a fanfic and the particular fandom is only I know only vaguely (I clicked on someone's flist link by accident and got sucked in, OKAY!?) and let's just NOT GO THERE, so bear with me. I humiliate myself in public enough already, I don't need to be doing it ALL the time, PEOPLE.
Two main characters: one quite suave, powerful, influential, classy, holding all the cards along with being a ruthless political bastard. He walks the line of "that guy with everything," except for being unable to trust anyone because they all want something from him. The other a socially-isolated, near-untouchable, exiled from his first culture and unwelcome in his second, who doesn't give loyalty nor respect lightly: he has nothing but his sense of self-respect. He's not giving anyone jackshit, because what he had's already gone, and what he's managed to keep is too precious to lose. With me so far?
It's the basic setup of at least a hundred (or more) genre novels out there, whether predominantly romance or predominantly SFF. Now throw in the classic shared trope (romance & SFF) of some kind of compulsion or bond. Don't forget a whole whallop of classist-based conflicts, and a cultural expectation among the upper-class characters that bond = love!slave (and I use 'slave' in a very literal sense, of being damn-near brainwashed into mindlessness as result of bond).
Now, it's total crack, and I'm reading happily, because the characters can't go two paragraphs without knocking heads. For character reasons (and well-supported ones, at least what I could see in the story), neither is going to be so vulnerable as to say, "hey, y'know, I think this bond is doing... uh... other stuff to me, if you know what I mean," and dear readers, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
Carrying on! So I'm wallowing happily in the angst-ridden conflict of one character who won't "lower" himself to admit he just might have, gasp, feelings for a social untouchable even as he, well, does -- and the other character who just won't. bend. his. freaking. NECK.
Again, it's a setup similar to who-knows-how-many-other stories I've read, published, draft, fandom, original, it's a classic. And I was fully prepared for the slight let-down of what I get in just about every single heavy-on-the-romance genre story with this plot line: push will come to shove somewhere along the way, and the dominant/more-powerful character will draw a line in the sand.
The underdog, the feisty one who's rebelled and mouthed off and generally been recalcitrant about going along except begrudgingly or only under unusual duress because s/he has pride, damn it, and is not a freaking doormat to any magical bond or compulsion or even just plain old love -- that's when the submissive character has this complete about-face, a moment of truth, and bows his/her head and says, okay, yes, I admit it, I am totally yours, absolutely in love, blah blah blah, lays it all out or at least enough that apparently Lurve has won over Pride.
Well, I don't know about you, but the day Lurve tries to knock my self-respect and sense of pride out of the game plan is the day I sock Lurve a solid one to the face and tell it where to get the fuck off.
And that's where this particular story did not take that route, and in doing so -- for maybe even the first time, I'm trying to recall and can't -- did not subjugate the secondary/submissive character for the sake of Happy Union and Eventual Ever After.
Here's the deal. For some people, being submissive isn't just seen as weak, it's seen as losing self-respect. That's not always an accurate conflation but it's a very human one, in my experience. This is compounded when on the other side of the interpersonal conflict stands a character for whom even showing weakness is in and of itself a weakness; there's the usual insecurity for the protag ("if s/he thinks I'm weak, then, am I going to be pitched along with his/her other weaknesses?").
But there's also another type that responds badly, which is the person who says, "why is it you fight hard against being weak but you think nothing of demanding I be weak, myself?" ... in this kind of conflict, it's, how to put it? One character's dominant traits are seen as (or may even actually be) carrying a message of: for me to be strong, which I insist on being, that means you must be weak.
"It is not enough to win. Others must lose." -- Gore Vidal
So mouthy less-powerful character has finally mouthed off one time too many, and the dominant character pushes the point and says, does it stop here or does it not stop here. Y'know, the: lay it all out kind of moment. And the writer's neatly woven in an additional threat (or at least just emphasized it) which is that to some degree the submissive half (and I use that term 'submissive' very loosely here) is reliant on the dominant in some way: for safety, for continued life, for protection, something pretty freaking big. Something big enough to make bending pride an actual possibility within characterization, because no matter how stubborn we are, sometimes we gotta admit we're gonna have to bend, no matter how much we don't want to, even just on principle.
And that paragraph or so of that scene, I just wanted to freaking frame, because when the less-protag has to face, intellectually, that his true answer -- what in his heart he'd want to say, what he considers his Truth -- may put his own life on the line. It's a struggle to force himself to deny what he wants to say, and to instead say what the situation requires he say; it's the most freaking-ass reluctant apology / agreement I could hope to read. He hates every minute of that answer, and I adored it, it was freaking true to the character, it wasn't any of this mindless "omg epiphany of luuuurve" crap.
It was the same stubborn, fighting, defiant, proud character that I'd enjoyed seeing kick back even when he was down and outnumbered and knew he'd be going down but was gonna take at least three with him.
Because the truth is, for a character like that, such a moment is not one of being Raised Up Into Ever After Happy, but a moment of being broken. The more a character, or person, defines their entire self-respect in a certain way, the more potential there is for being totally broken by having to deny that definition. (I hope that makes sense.) No one, damn it, no one ever wants to take the One Thing that truly defines them, and deny it, even for the sake of Twu Wuv, even if life is on the line -- and even if they do deny it, they'll hate it with every fibre of their being, and they may even hate themselves for compromising what they see as their final, ultimate definition of Self.
The definition here? That we can have free will, that our destiny is in our own hands, that we can be handed a bad set of cards and still find a way to win the game -- or at least make it out with our shirts intact -- and compulsory love puts all of that on the line. How, then, could you ever concede to compulsory love, unless you are also willing to admit or accept that this must also mean you do not have free will? That you are not in control of your life, that you're a pawn being tossed about the board and there's not a damn thing you can do about it?
And when the scene ended, did he stick around for some sexual healing? No freaking way. He was outta there: still so very accurate to what I'd predict/expect from a character like that. He'd just been, by his definitions and standards, utterly humiliated. Like hell if I'd stick around in that case, either -- if nothing else to slink off (if not flee straight out) to lick my wounds, recover some sense of self-pride, get the facade back together again before dealing with public consumption. Etc.
And that brings about the point where the dynamic reverses, that of the dominant character realizing s/he must also reveal weakness, vulnerability, reveal that any such agreement comes at cost. Can't have all the cost paid around here just by one person. Some things must go dutch, all the time, all the ways.
That's why a lot of the SFF/romance blends I've read leave me annoyed, or just bored, or even totally turned-off, because they posit a strong character who kicks back -- and is then transported by whatever to set aside any sense of pride to (well, in my opinion, based on the character up to that point) humiliate themselves by confessing vulnerability. Because it is a confession, and it is a vulnerability, if you do it and it is not immediately and clearly reciprocated.
No one would believe a character who lives his life defending himself with a gun in each hand, who then faces down his rival and suddenly has epiphany about violence is bad, mmkay? -- and we'd doubly not believe it if the rival then doesn't also do the same. In fact, we'd be rooting for the first guy to pull out a hidden gun and shoot the rival dead if we were to get a rival who then says (without disarming at all), "see, that wasn't that hard, aren't you feeling so much better now?"
*BANG*
Yeah, now I feel lots better.
So why do authors play that game with romance? Or am I the only one who sees it as an imbalanced power play, and incomplete until the dominant reverse, or allow to be reversed, the power dynamic such that a responding vulnerability on the dominant-part creates an ensuing equality between them? Like see-sawing, one's up, the other's down, and then back and forth until there's equilibrium.
That kind of (but not entirely but go with me on this one) segues back around to the Watcher series, and the reason I didn't read further. (I think there's only one more book in the series, but, uh, whatever.) It was because I finished the fourth book and found myself thinking: what if, just maybe, a Watcher walks through the door and feels all drawn and mystically happy around this one Witch... and yet, he is not in love with her?
And in fact, may over the course of the story fall in love with someone else completely? What if the entire romance-genre setup of "omg! mystical happy feelings! must be destined luurve!" were tossed out the window?
Well, for starters, it wouldn't be romance. That just doesn't seem to be how that genre wants to work; it likes questions, but it only likes so many questions, and one question that it doesn't like is any possibility that Mr/Ms Right isn't clearly labeled from the get-go and never in doubt through the whole thing. That's not why people read romance, to be asked that. There's a security in romance, that you know these two will get together (which is part of the reason for the compulsion-tropes, as well, to get around the "these two would kill each other!" issues).
So in that sense, I could hardly fuss that the author didn't ask this question, because that's not genre-pushing, that's just plain leaving the genre completely behind. And knowing that didn't make me like or enjoy the book(s) any less, it just made me want to find someone who did ask that question, who did put characters up against a total compulsion and let the characters kick and fight and scream and do their best to not give into physical desire or at least not while also signing up for luuurve-brainwashing at the same time, or who may even walk away from the absolute-security of One Twu Wuv for something more uncertain but less controlling. (Unfortunately the only one I've found, really, is Emily Veinglory, but I'm still looking.)
Okay, so that's where my brain is at right now. For my next trick, my brain's going to be in the fridge, looking for dinner.
[if you read between the lines, that's the entire explanation about my quest for crack in the current wip, because bizarre psychological questions like these are my crack, baby.]
BUT ANYWAY. I cannot quote to illustrate any points (or even to remind myself if I'm right/wrong in my recollections), so this is very elliptical way to only sort-of-recommend a series, got that?
A month or two ago I ended up perusing the online ebook-versions (late at night, natch) of
lilithsaintcrow's Watcher series. Now, for whatever reason -- no problem confessing this, that it was mostly my own, and not book- or author-fault -- I just never really got into the first Valentine book. At the time I was under the impression that was the backbone series, with the rest being off-shoots, and if I couldn't get into the introductory book, why frustrate myself trying to keep up with sequels, right?Let me say it again: ANYWAY. The first book in the Watcher series
NOTE: I don't know for certain whether it's necessarily the first majorly published work, because it's almost impossible these days to get a chronological list of an author's works. Amazon doesn't give you, frex, the year of first printing, only the year of the specific printing. So a book could've been published in 1998 and it may still say 2007. I mention that because that makes it really hard to be able to guestimate whether an author's work has improved in X years or over Y books, or whether this book is the author's latest and greatest.
Therefore I am making my best guess which seems to be from what little indication is out there that the Watcher series predates Saintcrow's current series. And that's of interest because when I read a series, half of me is reading the series -- and the other half of me is watching the author.
There are two things that really stand out in an author's work, if you read over the course of a growing series, two things I've sort of learned to look for as signs of an author's growth. The first is genre-breaking, which is far more subtle than it might sound. Sure, anyone can write an urban fantasy series with a little bit different thrown in, or whatever, but there are still bounds of the genre and it takes practice, and confidence, on an author's part to start muscling past those.
The other thing is when the author moves from likeable main characters to sympathetic main characters... who are not necessarily likeable. That, perhaps, is the biggest honking sign of all (to me) that an author has started to really flex his/her muscles, both in exploring characters that may not automatically drag an audience in, and in having the confidence to write such a character with or without audience approval or immediate obvious attraction points.
The premise is pretty straightforward in the Watcher series (and I'm being really simplistic here, remember STUPID BURNT-OUT
The first book, I enjoyed, it was there, I read it in an evening, it was like wanting pizza and getting a good pizza. You're not expecting cordon bleu, here, just freaking pizza. I was willing to overlook elements that are standard for urban-fantasy/romance-paranormal genre-mix -- again, note, this is a personal dislike -- where there's any emphasis/usage of characters talking about how the Goddess will provide, or capitalizing She, or emphasis on the Wiccan Rede. Makes me grit my teeth, it does; I don't like religiousity in, well, much of anything if I can avoid it.
The other biggie? I can't stand reading books about characters who are writers. I especially can't stand reading about characters WHO OWN BOOKSTORES. Because either it's not realistic and it's all romanticized (you want to make me cry? you really wanna? write a scene where SOMEONE CLOSES THE BOOKSTORE EARLY. That will do it, because I will be sobbing: think of all the sales you might be missing, do you realize such inconsistency means you could be losing customers who just won't ever come back since they can't trust you'll be open when you said you would? ...and soon this dog is a puddle of sob on the floor).
Or maybe as bad, the book gets the details right and then I'm moaning in pain at the little things, OMG, don't bring back those memories! Which if you think about it means I just can't win.
Every time an author writes a fictional bookstore closing on a whim, a former bookstore owner cries. Think of the kittens!
I was less thrilled, or maybe I should say just lukewarm, about the two main characters. I mean, neither of them were bad, nor badly written. They were solid, they had a definite chemistry between them, and it was a workable sturdy (emphasis on this) romance. It was probably the fact that as soon as Mr Tall Dark and Deadly walks through the door and feels that indescribable! jaw-dropping! socks-off! draw to the heroine, that was pretty much the standard romance clue-bat that this is The Destined Couple.
Again, I'm not saying this is bad in and of itself. This is part of the genre, and if you're going to write romance successfully, from everything I can tell, then you must -- and as close to the first meeting as possible -- make it clear that both characters have just been hornswoggled by the most incredible lurve-at-first-sight. Failing that, there must be strong lust-at-first-sight. It's like, a law, or something.
Okay? See that? That would be author in Early Years, writing to a genre's requirements. NOT A PROBLEM.
But overall, the female protagonist just seemed... well, awfully nice. Again, not bad, but just... I wouldn't go so far as to say she's the kind of woman you love to hate because otherwise you'd have to admit she's the most lovable person you've ever met. Not a Mary Sue. But still, not exactly tempestuous material. Does good deeds. Is kind to her friends. Cares about small animals. Etc.
Second book is Storm Watcher, and it started to play with things a bit more -- and here's what I mean by following a series for a very specific reason, to watch growth. The second book didn't try quite so hard to make the female protagonist an automatic sex-bomb, or at least an obvious one. And where the first male protag had seemed (IIRC) mostly hung up on having Done Violent Things, the second one had some kind of track record (and I mean that in the legal sense) that predated his work.
Not entirely a good boy, let's say -- but this is still Early Author, so I didn't hold my breath for (and therefore was not disappointed when) Guy-Protag #2 didn't ever trip fully over teh line into being an asshole or showing illicit tendencies or, uh, something.
That said, Gal-Protag#2 still sat squarely on the "attractive and good" line of things, though it was also obvious the author was starting to play with the notion of a heroine who wasn't out-of-the-box perfect, but had a history of some sort. It was still, like Guy Protag, a bit on the fuzzy side -- and I mean that in the sense of "acknowledged or referenced but not exactly displayed within the book's actual events", okay, that's bad phrasing, more like... I dunno. Like the characters referenced what they had done, or gone through, but that any after-effects were, at most, kinda minimal. Or played-down.
And it was still sturdy writing, with good pacing (although by book two I was noticing a tendency to cut away from any significant fight scenes, which I think may have been a genre-restriction for the romance-half, since that genre doesn't seem to really encourage pages of gun battles and blood and fun stuff).
What mattered to me was the bigger picture, that I could see from Book A to Book B that there was some pushing going on, from the author, about the story, moving away from the "obviously they'll fall in love because they're both fundamentally loveable people" -- to the "they're so damaged and they know it and they're still loveable" -- so I kept reading.
Which is where I hit the thrill of watching an author grow because if you ask me (ergh, Lili, don't kill me) if you want to read the first two, then, do so. But it's the third book where you finally get to see the author just blow right out of the ballpark and those stupid genre requirements. Because it's the third book -- Fire Watcher where finally, finally, you get a main character who is not only damaged, and knows it, she doesn't fucking care. And if you give her any shit about it, she just might kick your ass.
No more of these insipid oh-so-loveable, does-good-deeds, works-hard-to-be-liked, characters that garner sympathy only (if you ask me) because they're written to be fundamentally likeable. Now we finally have a character who isn't entirely likeable, doesn't care if she's likeable, but for that very human reason is so very much sympathetic.
[A side note: Saintcrow's not the first author I've watched grow in this manner. Diana Francis is another one; her first series was solid, likeable-sympathetic characters; her second series is damaged, strong, resilient, sometimes even defensive sympathetic characters who don't want, nor need, to work their asses off to be liked. Just FYI, if you're casting about for more of this vein.]
So the unlikeable (if sympathetic) character is a push away from the romance-genre standard, but Saintcrow didn't stop there, which told me there'd been a lot of growing between the second and third books. The second book just questioned, a little, but the third book didn't stop at the romance edges. It also hit the fantasy side, too, to push at the wiccan-emphasis urban-fantasy expectations: which means the FMC's take on "violence and blood and all that icky stuff" was not, I repeat THANK GOD IT WAS NOT I COULDN'T TAKE ANYMORE, the usual "oh noes violence oh how horrible!!eleventy-one!!"
Man, I really wish I had the ebook *sniffle* and then I could quote. Failing that, I must try to reproduce fro memory, but it's my favorite freaking line of the book because damn it, it needs to be posted on a freaking billboard and reproduced outside every World Fantasy Con for the next twenty years. Or something. Just to remind all those authors who think wiccan-influenced means namby-pamby crystal-weenie.
It went something like this: there's some kind of threat, so the Watcher picks up his weapons and goes to defend. The witch picks up her weapons and gets ready to join him. He's all, wtf, woman, are you crazy? Because y'know witches by definition are light and good and wouldn't hurt a fly.
The witch's reply is something along the lines of, "just because my religion doesn't believe in violence doesn't mean I won't kick the ass of anyone who attacks me," or something like that. And then she slammed the magazine home in the gun, racked the slide and was out the door. Or roughly like that, I can't recall, the line was way better than that but you get the idea.
(Meanwhile on the western front, the dog was going YES YES TOTAL FRICKING EPIC WIN YES ABOUT TIME)
ETA: I should note that yes, I'm aware there are plenty of urban fantasy heroines-using-weapons stories out there. That's not the issue here; my glee here was that for once an author saw that there doesn't have to be a complete divide between "being a pacifist" and "defending oneself". That you can believe in peace, and do your best to work for peaceful resolutions, but if you're down to defending your life, then you do. Believing in peace should not make you a doormat, and this is not a contradiction in terms. Too many authors seem to think it is, or just avoid the issue altogether and stay on one or the other side of the ultimate this-or-that divide. /eta
I did go on to read the fourth book (remember me and book-limits so book four is doing pretty good). It was pushing more on the romance side, this time letting the FMC also have some screwed-up (legal and material) backstories, as a con-artist and thief. Not exactly the most sympathetic (to a romance-genre audience) character, so it proved to be a good book, enjoyable.
Except I spent most of the time wanting to tug on the writer's sleeve and say, could we get back to the character who had the attitude? and saw possible love staring her in the face and didn't say, omg, it can't be! and didn't say omg, I don't deserve it! but instead did say, this is gonna be on my terms and if I say slow this fucking bus down, you are gonna SLOW THIS FUCKING BUS DOWN.
Which makes me cheer ten times more than any sort of compulsive fantasy-based "omg look it's destiny" kind of storyline, even if that second kind of storyline has enough other going for it that I enjoy it despite the compulsory aspects.
This is also why I enjoy Emily Veinglory's, uh, *sobs for ebooks* starts-with-an-M series. I think they may even be in print now, can't recall. She expands over the course of three books, as well: the first is very much 'compulsory love' even as the characters in the actual romance are puzzled as to how two unlikely such as they ended up in this, well, head-over-heels love. The second book revolves around a character who, despite feeling in love, and believing his partner loves him (to some degree), still cannot accept that it's truly love so long as there was this lingering aspect of Speshul Magix Spell that created the love.
Makes for a great willfully-damaged so-sympathetic character as he nearly destroys what love he does have out of fighting the idea that even if he loves another, that another was forced in some way to love him as well. Third book? Goes the final step, and a character is drawn inexorably to His Won Twu Wuv... and in the end, says, fuck this for a lark and walks away from the drawn-to-undeniable-luuurve and picks the unlikely but definitely chemistry-with and worthy-partner not-spesphul-lurve-spell character.
I felt like getting up and doing a jig, much the same way I did later when reading Saintcrow's third book and the FMC made it clear that speshul chemistry or not, she'd play along on her terms, adn work it through to her satisfaction.
And all that brings me to a final point, but this story I'm not recommending because it's a fanfic and the particular fandom is only I know only vaguely (I clicked on someone's flist link by accident and got sucked in, OKAY!?) and let's just NOT GO THERE, so bear with me. I humiliate myself in public enough already, I don't need to be doing it ALL the time, PEOPLE.
Two main characters: one quite suave, powerful, influential, classy, holding all the cards along with being a ruthless political bastard. He walks the line of "that guy with everything," except for being unable to trust anyone because they all want something from him. The other a socially-isolated, near-untouchable, exiled from his first culture and unwelcome in his second, who doesn't give loyalty nor respect lightly: he has nothing but his sense of self-respect. He's not giving anyone jackshit, because what he had's already gone, and what he's managed to keep is too precious to lose. With me so far?
It's the basic setup of at least a hundred (or more) genre novels out there, whether predominantly romance or predominantly SFF. Now throw in the classic shared trope (romance & SFF) of some kind of compulsion or bond. Don't forget a whole whallop of classist-based conflicts, and a cultural expectation among the upper-class characters that bond = love!slave (and I use 'slave' in a very literal sense, of being damn-near brainwashed into mindlessness as result of bond).
Now, it's total crack, and I'm reading happily, because the characters can't go two paragraphs without knocking heads. For character reasons (and well-supported ones, at least what I could see in the story), neither is going to be so vulnerable as to say, "hey, y'know, I think this bond is doing... uh... other stuff to me, if you know what I mean," and dear readers, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
Carrying on! So I'm wallowing happily in the angst-ridden conflict of one character who won't "lower" himself to admit he just might have, gasp, feelings for a social untouchable even as he, well, does -- and the other character who just won't. bend. his. freaking. NECK.
Again, it's a setup similar to who-knows-how-many-other stories I've read, published, draft, fandom, original, it's a classic. And I was fully prepared for the slight let-down of what I get in just about every single heavy-on-the-romance genre story with this plot line: push will come to shove somewhere along the way, and the dominant/more-powerful character will draw a line in the sand.
The underdog, the feisty one who's rebelled and mouthed off and generally been recalcitrant about going along except begrudgingly or only under unusual duress because s/he has pride, damn it, and is not a freaking doormat to any magical bond or compulsion or even just plain old love -- that's when the submissive character has this complete about-face, a moment of truth, and bows his/her head and says, okay, yes, I admit it, I am totally yours, absolutely in love, blah blah blah, lays it all out or at least enough that apparently Lurve has won over Pride.
Well, I don't know about you, but the day Lurve tries to knock my self-respect and sense of pride out of the game plan is the day I sock Lurve a solid one to the face and tell it where to get the fuck off.
And that's where this particular story did not take that route, and in doing so -- for maybe even the first time, I'm trying to recall and can't -- did not subjugate the secondary/submissive character for the sake of Happy Union and Eventual Ever After.
Here's the deal. For some people, being submissive isn't just seen as weak, it's seen as losing self-respect. That's not always an accurate conflation but it's a very human one, in my experience. This is compounded when on the other side of the interpersonal conflict stands a character for whom even showing weakness is in and of itself a weakness; there's the usual insecurity for the protag ("if s/he thinks I'm weak, then, am I going to be pitched along with his/her other weaknesses?").
But there's also another type that responds badly, which is the person who says, "why is it you fight hard against being weak but you think nothing of demanding I be weak, myself?" ... in this kind of conflict, it's, how to put it? One character's dominant traits are seen as (or may even actually be) carrying a message of: for me to be strong, which I insist on being, that means you must be weak.
"It is not enough to win. Others must lose." -- Gore Vidal
So mouthy less-powerful character has finally mouthed off one time too many, and the dominant character pushes the point and says, does it stop here or does it not stop here. Y'know, the: lay it all out kind of moment. And the writer's neatly woven in an additional threat (or at least just emphasized it) which is that to some degree the submissive half (and I use that term 'submissive' very loosely here) is reliant on the dominant in some way: for safety, for continued life, for protection, something pretty freaking big. Something big enough to make bending pride an actual possibility within characterization, because no matter how stubborn we are, sometimes we gotta admit we're gonna have to bend, no matter how much we don't want to, even just on principle.
And that paragraph or so of that scene, I just wanted to freaking frame, because when the less-protag has to face, intellectually, that his true answer -- what in his heart he'd want to say, what he considers his Truth -- may put his own life on the line. It's a struggle to force himself to deny what he wants to say, and to instead say what the situation requires he say; it's the most freaking-ass reluctant apology / agreement I could hope to read. He hates every minute of that answer, and I adored it, it was freaking true to the character, it wasn't any of this mindless "omg epiphany of luuuurve" crap.
It was the same stubborn, fighting, defiant, proud character that I'd enjoyed seeing kick back even when he was down and outnumbered and knew he'd be going down but was gonna take at least three with him.
Because the truth is, for a character like that, such a moment is not one of being Raised Up Into Ever After Happy, but a moment of being broken. The more a character, or person, defines their entire self-respect in a certain way, the more potential there is for being totally broken by having to deny that definition. (I hope that makes sense.) No one, damn it, no one ever wants to take the One Thing that truly defines them, and deny it, even for the sake of Twu Wuv, even if life is on the line -- and even if they do deny it, they'll hate it with every fibre of their being, and they may even hate themselves for compromising what they see as their final, ultimate definition of Self.
The definition here? That we can have free will, that our destiny is in our own hands, that we can be handed a bad set of cards and still find a way to win the game -- or at least make it out with our shirts intact -- and compulsory love puts all of that on the line. How, then, could you ever concede to compulsory love, unless you are also willing to admit or accept that this must also mean you do not have free will? That you are not in control of your life, that you're a pawn being tossed about the board and there's not a damn thing you can do about it?
And when the scene ended, did he stick around for some sexual healing? No freaking way. He was outta there: still so very accurate to what I'd predict/expect from a character like that. He'd just been, by his definitions and standards, utterly humiliated. Like hell if I'd stick around in that case, either -- if nothing else to slink off (if not flee straight out) to lick my wounds, recover some sense of self-pride, get the facade back together again before dealing with public consumption. Etc.
And that brings about the point where the dynamic reverses, that of the dominant character realizing s/he must also reveal weakness, vulnerability, reveal that any such agreement comes at cost. Can't have all the cost paid around here just by one person. Some things must go dutch, all the time, all the ways.
That's why a lot of the SFF/romance blends I've read leave me annoyed, or just bored, or even totally turned-off, because they posit a strong character who kicks back -- and is then transported by whatever to set aside any sense of pride to (well, in my opinion, based on the character up to that point) humiliate themselves by confessing vulnerability. Because it is a confession, and it is a vulnerability, if you do it and it is not immediately and clearly reciprocated.
No one would believe a character who lives his life defending himself with a gun in each hand, who then faces down his rival and suddenly has epiphany about violence is bad, mmkay? -- and we'd doubly not believe it if the rival then doesn't also do the same. In fact, we'd be rooting for the first guy to pull out a hidden gun and shoot the rival dead if we were to get a rival who then says (without disarming at all), "see, that wasn't that hard, aren't you feeling so much better now?"
*BANG*
Yeah, now I feel lots better.
So why do authors play that game with romance? Or am I the only one who sees it as an imbalanced power play, and incomplete until the dominant reverse, or allow to be reversed, the power dynamic such that a responding vulnerability on the dominant-part creates an ensuing equality between them? Like see-sawing, one's up, the other's down, and then back and forth until there's equilibrium.
That kind of (but not entirely but go with me on this one) segues back around to the Watcher series, and the reason I didn't read further. (I think there's only one more book in the series, but, uh, whatever.) It was because I finished the fourth book and found myself thinking: what if, just maybe, a Watcher walks through the door and feels all drawn and mystically happy around this one Witch... and yet, he is not in love with her?
And in fact, may over the course of the story fall in love with someone else completely? What if the entire romance-genre setup of "omg! mystical happy feelings! must be destined luurve!" were tossed out the window?
Well, for starters, it wouldn't be romance. That just doesn't seem to be how that genre wants to work; it likes questions, but it only likes so many questions, and one question that it doesn't like is any possibility that Mr/Ms Right isn't clearly labeled from the get-go and never in doubt through the whole thing. That's not why people read romance, to be asked that. There's a security in romance, that you know these two will get together (which is part of the reason for the compulsion-tropes, as well, to get around the "these two would kill each other!" issues).
So in that sense, I could hardly fuss that the author didn't ask this question, because that's not genre-pushing, that's just plain leaving the genre completely behind. And knowing that didn't make me like or enjoy the book(s) any less, it just made me want to find someone who did ask that question, who did put characters up against a total compulsion and let the characters kick and fight and scream and do their best to not give into physical desire or at least not while also signing up for luuurve-brainwashing at the same time, or who may even walk away from the absolute-security of One Twu Wuv for something more uncertain but less controlling. (Unfortunately the only one I've found, really, is Emily Veinglory, but I'm still looking.)
Okay, so that's where my brain is at right now. For my next trick, my brain's going to be in the fridge, looking for dinner.
[if you read between the lines, that's the entire explanation about my quest for crack in the current wip, because bizarre psychological questions like these are my crack, baby.]
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Date: 16 Sep 2008 01:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 16 Sep 2008 02:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 16 Sep 2008 01:58 am (UTC)And yes. God. The imabalance of power in a relationship, the sheer craven bellying under to someone else's stubbornness or strength or selfishness, just because he's HOT....argh. It's what kills most yaoi for me. I've KNOWN stubborn, selfish, strong people like that, and they are ASSHOLES. It kills the hot for me because people like that in real life piss me off. How can I find that hot? >:
no subject
Date: 16 Sep 2008 02:04 am (UTC)The imabalance of power in a relationship, the sheer craven bellying under to someone else's stubbornness or strength or selfishness, just because he's HOT....argh.
Heh, no kidding. Matter of fact, this is what kills 90% of all romance for me, regardless of gender-mix. That said, I really do like the conflict of base physical (because come on, when someone really is the hawt and you know they're probably bad for you but it could be so good in the meantime) versus one's self-respect... and you can explore that through compulsory versus free will. The problem is that authors then break the promise, IMO, by stopping short and going with "well, it's destined". It's the easy way out to write, sure, but it's the boring way if you're a reader. I think.
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Date: 16 Sep 2008 02:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 16 Sep 2008 08:46 am (UTC)It's not, for me, but I guess I've probably made that much clear in way more than enough posts by now...
no subject
Date: 16 Sep 2008 07:52 am (UTC)(For a good take on romance, I personally prefer the Dresden Files series. I can't actually remember a single sexual power-play through all the books so far, which is great for my romance-hating self, but I loved this post anyway. You hit all the points I agree with but couldn't put into words.)
no subject
Date: 16 Sep 2008 08:45 am (UTC)I don't actually mind that classifying a work as "romance" (as a major genre element) means it will, by definition, have a happy ending for the romance. I guess what bugs me is that we're told at the very start who, exactly, will be the two halves of that final romance. It's rather like opening a mystery novel and knowing on page two who committed the murder, and being expected to find the process of solution -- and not the revelation of active agent -- to be absorbing enough to carry the story.
When authors throw in compulsory romance/luurve, it just reduces the complexity/uncertainty that much further. And, in turn, I'd argue, transfer the burden of conflict to an even greater degree to any external force, instead of letting an interpersonal conflict carry the story forward.
Regardless, glad you enjoyed, and if you could do me a favor, sign your reply, so if we converse again I'll know it's you again? Otherwise I'm never sure whether I'm introducing myself (or mentioning the same points) all over again.
no subject
Date: 16 Sep 2008 03:18 pm (UTC)