#1: Fire, by Kristin Cashore
Feb. 6th, 2010 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coraaFire, by Kristin Cashore
In the Dells, there are two types of animals: normal animals, which behave as animals do in our world, and Monsters, who have the shape of animals but fantastic colors—and power over the human mind. A brown horse is a horse; a turquoise horse with a snow-white mane, that can snare you with its beauty and destroy you for its own purposes if it so chooses, is a Monster. Fire, named for her red-and-magenta-and-yellow-and-gold hair, is the last living human Monster, but her exceptional beauty and her power over men causes her considerably more grief than joy. Worse, the troubles in the Dells can be traced directly back to her Monster father, who was beautiful and sociopathic, and Fire's quest is as much about proving that she is not like him as it is about ameliorating the damage he did.
This book is both like and unlike Graceling, Cashore's first novel, a book that I recognized as imperfect but still loved. Both feature a superhuman protagonist, but where Katsa in Graceling was a perfect fighter and survivalist, Fire is perfectly beautiful and has powers over the minds of others. (If you want to be very, very overly simplistic about both the characters and gender stereotypes, you could say that Katsa has a 'masculine' power and Fire a 'feminine' one. But it's a whole hell of a lot more complicated than that.) The reason that I don't believe that Katsa or Fire are Mary Sue characters, though—despite the fact that, on the surface, you could make an argument for either one—is that the challenges they are faced with are proportionate to their skills... and their powers cause them as much difficulty as they do advantage.
(As a side note: I am increasingly frustrated with the label 'Mary Sue,' although I think there was some value to its original definition. I think its definition has slipped to the extent that it's now often leveled at any female character who is attractive, interesting or powerful, and I think that's a shame. But that's a rant for another day.)
In Fire's case, this difficulty is immediately obvious. Because of her beauty and her powers, men tend to find her attractive, often beyond their ability to resist... whether she wants them to or not. Anyone who has ever been the target of persistent unwanted attention can already see why this is a problem, but to spell it out: sometimes, yes, the men want to love and cherish her, or obey her, but sometimes they want to rape her, or hurt her or destroy her for not wanting them in return, or simply because they're angry that she has such power over them. And while some women are Fire's allies, others hate her for the way she attracts attention. There's a particularly poignant bit where Fire is traveling with an army, and the army's commander gives her a guard of about twenty people. Part of the reason for this is to protect her from opposing forces, and part of the reason is to protect her from animal Monsters (Monsters crave the flesh of other Monsters beyond all else, which seems to be the only thing keeping animal Monsters from completely overrunning the ecosystem), but she quickly realizes that her entire guard is made up of straight women and gay men, because their main purpose is to protect her from the very army she's helping.
And the funny thing is, this made me identify with her a great deal. I'm hardly such a raving beauty that I drive men insane and provoke fury in women, and yet I've had that experience, of the uneasy realization that someone has an interest in me that I don't reciprocate, and that I can't tell whether they will mean me harm or not, and that I have to be very careful. While Fire's beauty isn't something I can relate to my personal life, Fire's dilemma is.
The other thing about Fire that I like is that she has agency. The path she will take is not clear, and over the course of the book she decides it, figures out what she wants to do and needs to do, and does it, despite the fact that she has to go against the wishes of the other people in her life to do so.
My criticisms of Graceling were the prose and the worldbuilding; the former I found, not bad exactly, but flat, and the latter I found somewhat generic. They've both improved in Fire, but they're both still her weakest points; the prose is still clunky in places and the setting is still medievaloid. But they're also both improved, which is a good sign. I'm hoping that the trajectory continues and the prose and worldbuilding improve again for her third book, Bitterblue, which I'm very much looking forward to.
The romances in this book—Fire and Archer, and Fire and Brigan—didn't hit my happy place nearly as squarely as the Katsa/Po romance of Graceling, but that's okay. I was frustrated with Archer from scene one, because I have no patience at all for possessive boyfriends, but Fire's powers meant that I could at least understand why he was acting that way even if I didn't like it. And I did appreciate that the one person Fire could have a genuine adult relationship with was the one person that had enough mental resistance to resist her unconscious powers. It didn't hit me in my shippy place as much, but by the end, I was rooting for Fire and Brigan.
One of the many ways that Fire is Katsa's opposite is that, where Katsa has no desire for children despite being encouraged by her society to have them, Fire badly wants children of her own but can't conscience bringing another human Monster into the world. There are a lot of this kind of thing, actually, ways in which Fire is almost a perfect counterpoint to Katsa, which I think is why I can't help comparing the two over and over in this review. It does give me hope for the breadth of character types that Cashore can handle.
I predicted before the end that it would turn out that Fire had killed her father, rather than the explanation we got for most of the book, that he had committed suicide. This is a bit unusual, because I'm usually terrible at predicting plot twists, because I don't pay enough attention to plot usually to see things coming. But I'm pretty good at predicting character, and that was the only explanation that made sense for the characters. Predicting it didn't make me feel that the reveal was cheap, though, which was nice.
I didn't realize until after I'd finished that the villain of this book was the same person as the villain of Graceling, because I don't have that great a memory for names and it was already established that Graces aren't wholly unique. I don't think I lost much by not realizing the connection. The two books have only the most tenuous thread of connection.
In the Dells, there are two types of animals: normal animals, which behave as animals do in our world, and Monsters, who have the shape of animals but fantastic colors—and power over the human mind. A brown horse is a horse; a turquoise horse with a snow-white mane, that can snare you with its beauty and destroy you for its own purposes if it so chooses, is a Monster. Fire, named for her red-and-magenta-and-yellow-and-gold hair, is the last living human Monster, but her exceptional beauty and her power over men causes her considerably more grief than joy. Worse, the troubles in the Dells can be traced directly back to her Monster father, who was beautiful and sociopathic, and Fire's quest is as much about proving that she is not like him as it is about ameliorating the damage he did.
This book is both like and unlike Graceling, Cashore's first novel, a book that I recognized as imperfect but still loved. Both feature a superhuman protagonist, but where Katsa in Graceling was a perfect fighter and survivalist, Fire is perfectly beautiful and has powers over the minds of others. (If you want to be very, very overly simplistic about both the characters and gender stereotypes, you could say that Katsa has a 'masculine' power and Fire a 'feminine' one. But it's a whole hell of a lot more complicated than that.) The reason that I don't believe that Katsa or Fire are Mary Sue characters, though—despite the fact that, on the surface, you could make an argument for either one—is that the challenges they are faced with are proportionate to their skills... and their powers cause them as much difficulty as they do advantage.
(As a side note: I am increasingly frustrated with the label 'Mary Sue,' although I think there was some value to its original definition. I think its definition has slipped to the extent that it's now often leveled at any female character who is attractive, interesting or powerful, and I think that's a shame. But that's a rant for another day.)
In Fire's case, this difficulty is immediately obvious. Because of her beauty and her powers, men tend to find her attractive, often beyond their ability to resist... whether she wants them to or not. Anyone who has ever been the target of persistent unwanted attention can already see why this is a problem, but to spell it out: sometimes, yes, the men want to love and cherish her, or obey her, but sometimes they want to rape her, or hurt her or destroy her for not wanting them in return, or simply because they're angry that she has such power over them. And while some women are Fire's allies, others hate her for the way she attracts attention. There's a particularly poignant bit where Fire is traveling with an army, and the army's commander gives her a guard of about twenty people. Part of the reason for this is to protect her from opposing forces, and part of the reason is to protect her from animal Monsters (Monsters crave the flesh of other Monsters beyond all else, which seems to be the only thing keeping animal Monsters from completely overrunning the ecosystem), but she quickly realizes that her entire guard is made up of straight women and gay men, because their main purpose is to protect her from the very army she's helping.
And the funny thing is, this made me identify with her a great deal. I'm hardly such a raving beauty that I drive men insane and provoke fury in women, and yet I've had that experience, of the uneasy realization that someone has an interest in me that I don't reciprocate, and that I can't tell whether they will mean me harm or not, and that I have to be very careful. While Fire's beauty isn't something I can relate to my personal life, Fire's dilemma is.
The other thing about Fire that I like is that she has agency. The path she will take is not clear, and over the course of the book she decides it, figures out what she wants to do and needs to do, and does it, despite the fact that she has to go against the wishes of the other people in her life to do so.
My criticisms of Graceling were the prose and the worldbuilding; the former I found, not bad exactly, but flat, and the latter I found somewhat generic. They've both improved in Fire, but they're both still her weakest points; the prose is still clunky in places and the setting is still medievaloid. But they're also both improved, which is a good sign. I'm hoping that the trajectory continues and the prose and worldbuilding improve again for her third book, Bitterblue, which I'm very much looking forward to.
The romances in this book—Fire and Archer, and Fire and Brigan—didn't hit my happy place nearly as squarely as the Katsa/Po romance of Graceling, but that's okay. I was frustrated with Archer from scene one, because I have no patience at all for possessive boyfriends, but Fire's powers meant that I could at least understand why he was acting that way even if I didn't like it. And I did appreciate that the one person Fire could have a genuine adult relationship with was the one person that had enough mental resistance to resist her unconscious powers. It didn't hit me in my shippy place as much, but by the end, I was rooting for Fire and Brigan.
One of the many ways that Fire is Katsa's opposite is that, where Katsa has no desire for children despite being encouraged by her society to have them, Fire badly wants children of her own but can't conscience bringing another human Monster into the world. There are a lot of this kind of thing, actually, ways in which Fire is almost a perfect counterpoint to Katsa, which I think is why I can't help comparing the two over and over in this review. It does give me hope for the breadth of character types that Cashore can handle.
I predicted before the end that it would turn out that Fire had killed her father, rather than the explanation we got for most of the book, that he had committed suicide. This is a bit unusual, because I'm usually terrible at predicting plot twists, because I don't pay enough attention to plot usually to see things coming. But I'm pretty good at predicting character, and that was the only explanation that made sense for the characters. Predicting it didn't make me feel that the reveal was cheap, though, which was nice.
I didn't realize until after I'd finished that the villain of this book was the same person as the villain of Graceling, because I don't have that great a memory for names and it was already established that Graces aren't wholly unique. I don't think I lost much by not realizing the connection. The two books have only the most tenuous thread of connection.
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no subject
Date: 2010-02-07 11:44 am (UTC)I think many women indeed will relate to Fire for exactly the reason you do. I was thinking about that just yesterday, because a young woman I know is in the uncomfortable position of trying to discourage the attentions of a young man, and she--like I and like many women--worries that if she doesn't get her discouragement of him juuuust right, he'll switch over into aggressive, dangerous anger.
How old is Fire?
no subject
Date: 2010-02-07 10:08 pm (UTC)And yes: there's a real dilemma there. If you don't say 'no' firmly enough, you risk the guy thinking you're playing games, playing hard to get, etc. (And you risk your friends and acquaintances thinking the same thing.) But there's also the fear that a firm rejection will trigger anger, possibly even dangerous anger; most women know at least one person who was the victim of retaliation for a rejection. It was really interesting to see that knifeblade walking portrayed in a way that is fantastic but very plausible.