The Welcome Rise of Incidental Gay Characters in Fantasy and Historical Fiction!

You guys, I’m so excited. Literature reflects our society, whether that literature takes place in modern-day America, on the moon, or in a made-up world.

Which is why I’m so pleased to see gay and queer characters sprinkled throughout the young adult novels I’ve been reading. It’s not that this in itself is now- but it’s how it’s being done.

Just like including people of color or people with disabilities or other people who get less representation in fiction, there’s a right and a wrong way to write a queer character. I’m excited because I happened across two novels in a row with queer characters where:

1. Being gay or queer wasn’t their only character trait, or even their central character trait.
2. Like every character should do in a well-crafted story, they supported the central theme of the story and/or added a richer dimension to the novel’s world.

This kind of writing is exciting to see in any genre, but I’m most excited that I’m seeing it more in historical fiction and fantasy. The kinds of historical fiction and fantasy that feel the most rich and realistic include a wide cast of characters. Why would every person in a fantastical world be straight? And were there only straight people living in the past? Certainly not.

*sigh* Just ignore the fact that the cover has yet another White Girl in a Prom Dress…

I recently finished Ash & Bramble by Sarah Prineas, a novel that deconstructs the idea of fairy tales and what happens when we go against the fate that “Story” has planned for us. It’s a fascinating allegory for creating your own path in life and going against societal expectations.

The main character, Pin, encounters two women who support this theme, Templeton and Zel. Neither of them followed the expectations that a fairy tale had in mind, and Templeton tells about how they subverted the classic “Rapunzel” story.

Templeton tells Pin:

 

“So the Godmother’s got the prince all picked out. He’ll climb up the tower, rescue her, true love, the end. Doesn’t matter what the prince really wants, or the pretty doll really wants. This is Story at work, you see? … But I got there first. I’d been visiting every night. Zel grew her hair out long as a rope.” She gives her arm muscles a proud flex. “We fell in love, and we wanted to be together,  no matter Story’s intentions. So I became a storybreaker.” (341-42)

Templeton goes on to talk about how she climbed up the tower, cut off Zel’s hair, and had a scuffle with the prince. Subverting a heteronormative love story serves as a perfect example of rebelling against Story’s (and society’s) expectations of what should happen.

I might have cheered and punched the air at this passage when I read it. Honestly, I should just write a blog post devoted to Ash & Bramble, because the novel is thoughtfully constructed and there are lots of fascinating thought puddles to dive into.

This cover is so pretty…that font! *grabby hands*

Rae Carson’s most recent novel, Walk on Earth a Stranger, isn’t entirely historical fiction, as there’s a magical element, but other than the main character’s ability to sense when gold is near, the world is a very realistic 1849.

Lee escapes a dangerous situation in her hometown in Georgia, disguising herself as a boy to join a wagon trail to California.

Carson certainly did her historical research, which makes the journey come to life. She highlights the expectations of women, which turned into deadly dangers on the trail, as illustrated by one woman who undergoes a dangerous birthing process in Death Valley.

Lee disguises herself as a boy to avoid detection and to make her journey easier. Many of the people on the wagon trail are going to California to seek their fortunes, but Carson writes about other reasons why people braved the trail. Lee’s otherness isn’t missed by two men from Mississippi, who mistake her for one of their own:

“‘What do you mean I’m one of you?’

‘A confirmed bachelor. San Francisco is a new world, with more money than laws. There’s a place for us there. To live the way we want to live, without interference.’

[…] Jasper must trust me completely to be so frank. Or maybe secrets have a way of making people so lonely that they eventually take a risk on someone” (312-313).

 

The “confirmed bachelors'” (a term which, Rae Carson notes at the end, may or may not have been used in America during this time, although it was certainly used by their British contemporaries) desire to create a new life and identify for themselves underlines this central theme in the story, enriching Lee’s personal story and making the world feel more organic and alive.

The portrayals in both of these novels are well-done, although there is always the danger of using underrepresented groups in stories to back up the main, straight, cis-gendered, white person’s journey or perspective. I think, though, that these characters mentioned above are a step in the right direction.

Ultimately, I hope to go into a bookshelf and see a diverse mix of novels, to see stories with queer people or people of color as the main characters in stories that don’t center on that part of their identity.

The call for more diverse stories, and by extension more diverse writers, publishers, and editors, is becoming more and more vocal, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that YA literature is paving the way for more diverse stories. YA literature continues to dominate the book market, and I think – I hope – that it will lead in progress as well as sales.

What do you think? Is YA succeeding in diverse portrayals, or is there more work to be done?

 

 

Review: The Girl of Fire and Thorns Trilogy

This review contains spoilers for A Girl of Fire and Thorns, The Crown of Embers, and The Bitter Kingdom.

Sometime in high school, after reading about yet another vaguely medieval-European fantasy world populated by agile, fair-skinned white people, I decided that, if I ever was to become a writer in the future, I would write a fantasy book in which the protagonist was either a) fat, b) black or darker-skinned, or c) gay. I hadn’t encountered much diversity in fantasy, which seemed to be a genre in love with medieval England and France. 

It’s no surprise, then, that when I picked up Rae Carson’s A Girl of Fire and Thorns I was pleasantly surprised to find a strong, intelligent protagonist who was overweight anddark-skinned, living in a tropics-and-desert climate that was a breath of fresh air from the typical mountains-and-pine forest fare.

Let me have my obligatory “Megan-Moans-About-The-State-of-YA-Cover-Art” section first, though. Let’s look at the US and UK cover art for this trilogy:

  

 

The woman posing in these photographs is so clearly white that it’s insulting, given that the protagonist Elisa is explicitly described as “dark-skinned” several times throughout the trilogy. Compare these frankly appalling covers to the UK versions:

                         

I don’t know how I feel about her face being covered in all three of these cover photos–in the first one it makes sense since she spends a good deal of time in the desert, but having it covered in all three? That stinks to me of marketing being afraid of showing the full face of someone vaguely Arab-looking on a YA fantasy novel cover, 21st century be damned. That’s problematic, along with the fact that, while definitely more “ethnic” than the US cover art’s cover model, her skin tones seems to have been digitally lightened in these photos. Yikes. However, I love the distinct backgrounds of these covers, as they set the tone and location of each book far better than the US versions.

Okay, enough moaning and groaning about typically racist cover art, because a) What else is new, and b) The writer rarely gets any say on what goes on the cover. The far more important section of this review is what I’m calling

 Why You Need to Read This Trilogy Right Now:

1) The main character undergoes substantial and realistic character growth

Elisa begins as a princess moving into a new kingdom, insecure in political marriage she is entering into. She is overweight and fully aware of it, but eats as a coping mechanism (also making this a book that realistically portrays an overweight person). Though smart and wise, she has yet to learn to speak up for herself and find her leadership role. By the end of the first book, she is far healthier (a long trek through the desert will do that to a person), and more confident. She continues to grow through the second and third book in tremendous ways. She copes with death, she makes mistakes (how many protagonists are allowed to really screw up and learn from it?), and she figures out how to disagree with people that she loves and respects. It is very satisfying to see Elisa’s character reach her full potential by the end of The Bitter Kingdom, in which she has blossomed into a courageous leader with conviction, confidence, and enough political savvy to put an end to a major conflict.

2) The magical element in the story is unique and compelling

When I try to describe the magical element in this trilogy, that Elisa is divinely chosen and has a “Godstone” embedded in her stomach, people tend to roll their eyes. It does sound weird, but Carson makes it believable; there is lore behind the bearers of Godstones, there is a religion that tries to make sense of it, and, as religions often do, certain things are wrongly interpreted. Godstones are also a power source, which makes the enemy, a race born with Godstones embedded in them, even more formidable. Elisa learns to harness her Godstone throughout the trilogy, praying and learning to draw energy from the earth to heal or to destroy. What is absolutely phenomenal about this magical plot device, though, is that it doesn’t end up being a deus ex machina at the end of the trilogy. Once Elisa has mastered the use of her Godstone, it seems clear that she will overpower and win through divine force. It is so much satisfying, then, when she loses her Godstone and still manages to solve the main problems through her own power. 

3) It has unique things to say about destiny and divine intentions

A typical trope in a fantasy novel is having a character that is destined to do something Great. Whether it’s fulfilling a prophecy or having a birthright, it usually serves as the overall map of the story. This trilogy seems to follow that trope for most of the book, since Elisa is a bearer of the Godstone, which is divinely given to those burdened with a specific task that isn’t usually known until completed. As Elisa’s kingdom falls into threat, it seems clear that her divine mission is to unite the kingdoms and restore peace, but in fact her Godstone falls out after a seemingly insignificant act unrelated to the political turmoil, suggesting that divine will might have very little relation to how many lives you save or how good of a ruler you are. In the end Elisa saves the kingdom because she is strong enough, brave enough, and intelligent enough. 

4) It contains a great romantic relationship

It’s always a perk when a well-written fantasy work has a likeable romance that doesn’t overshadow the main plot of the story. At the beginning of the first book, Elisa is engaged to King Alejandro, who is gorgeous and kind, but also an ineffective ruler and uninterested in Elisa. While working with a desert rebellion, Elisa has a budding romance with a young man which isn’t able to last, subverting the “Main woman meets The One immediately and the rest is just inevitable” trope. Her growing friendship and then romance with her royal guard, Hector, however, is where the real meat and potatoes of the romance plot is. From their growing realization of their feelings to their tender and clumsy first time together, the romance feels grounded and realistic, and you can’t help but root for these two characters, who are likeable as individuals and who complement each other well as a couple.

5) It’s exciting!

I can’t overlook the fact that these are, first and foremost, entertaining books. There are plenty of shocks and twists, fascinating world-building, and interesting characters who aren’t what they first appear to be to keep the reader turning pages late into the night.  

In short, lovers of YA fantasy should put this on their “To-Read” lists. It is altogether phenomenal.

Bad Book Blues

Don’t you love that feeling when you finish a book that was just great? Maybe it caught you by surprise, like Jennifer Castle’s You Look Different In Real Life did when I finished it yesterday, or maybe it fit the ticket for exactly what you needed. Either way, it leads to a warm feeling when you read the last page and reverently close the book, sitting there and just being for a few minutes before snapping out of that world that the book had you caught in.

Then you dive into another book, hoping for the same wonderful experience, and the book is mediocre, or subpar, or just plain bad. That’s what’s happening with me right now. The good news is, life is too short to read books that you hate (unless they’re assigned for school, in which case, suck it up and make the best of it), and there are far more great books out there that you have time to read.

So. On to skimming Lauren Conrad’s Infamous so I can read and review better things– and hopefully I’ll get a review up of You Look Different In Real Life soon!

Incarceron and a look at the 2012-2013 ITA nominations.

 

It’s been a while since I sat down and sunk my teeth into a YA novel! This one’s been on my list since last fall–it’s gotten a lot of buzz at the high school and junior high level, and the sequel, Sapphique, is already out.

While this book is technically a science fiction story set in a futuristic world, it often feels like a fantasy novel; there’s a quest narrative and a dose of magical elements, and an ingenious mechanism that allows for both a dystopian, futuristic prison, and an opulent kingdom designed to match “Era” standards, everything fitting into an aesthetic and social system from days gone by, to exist in the same book.

Let me break it down, because this is where things get a bit complicated. Incarceron is a living prison. It is sentient, constantly watching and recording its prisoners, and nobody has ever escaped. Finn is convinced that he was born on the Outside, but the only clue he has is a mysterious mark on his wrist and a crystal key.

In a separate part of the world, or perhaps in a separate world altogether, there’s the land where everything is designed to feel like the past; carriages, castles, gowns, and the works. Although there is some cheating on the sly with out-of-era technology, the social system stays dated. Claudia, daughter of Incarceron’s warden, is betrothed to be married, but when she finds a way of communicating with Finn, she begins to learn about the prison, which is entirely different from what she and her people have been told. In return, Finn begins to piece together his mysterious past.

In terms of prose, there’s nothing too exciting going on here, but the world Fisher creates is fascinating, and it gives way to some interesting ideas to chew over. I was particularly fascinated with what these worlds were ideally supposed to be and what they ended up being instead. Both Incarceron and the “Outside” were designed to be paradises, and so either side considers the other side as a paradise. In the beginning, Incarceron was to be a place where criminals were relocated and reformed to be a part of this amazing society with excellent education and technology, but instead factions split up and crime breaks out. And Claudia’s world, too, is far from perfect, even though it was designed to be.  “We will choose an Era from the past and re-create it. We will make a world free from the anxiety of change! It will be Paradise!” reads a decree that opens up an early chapter of the book.

That leads the reader to ask, why do we idealize the past? Is it because we only choose to see the good details and ignore the bad or inconvenient ones? It seems natural to become nostalgic for things gone, to shy away from change and to keep things old. Yet the citizens of this Era-restricted world constantly cheat with modern conveniences; hidden washing machines, secret elevators, carefully-used Skin Wands. It’s interesting that society seems unable to make a comfortable mesh of these old and new things; instead they pretend that everything is old, hiding away new conveniences like some ugly but necessary secret.

The fate of the prison, too, makes the reader wonder, as the characters in the book do, if man automatically reverts to evil. When criminals are given the best resources, will they still return to crime and evil, despite all best efforts? I really don’t think so. I mean, Australia turned out okay.

At 442 pages, this book is rather hefty, but the type is forgivingly large and the book flies by. There are some satisfying twists toward the end, including the very inventive and surprising location of the prison. It’s also a nominee for the 2012-2013 Iowa Teen Awards (ITA). While I wouldn’t deem it as the best book of 2012, it certainly is the most inventive one I’ve read this year, and I’m curious to read the sequel.

Then again, I haven’t gotten around to ANY of the other ITA nominations for the year! I need to get on that. Here’s a look at the other nominees:

• Artichoke’s Heart, by Suzanne Supplee
  
• The Big Field, by Mike Lupica
• Chains, by Laurie Halse Anderson
• I Am Number Four, by Pittacus Lore
• Leviathan, by Scott Westerfeld (my GRANDMOTHER has read this one and I have not. Goodness)
• Lockdown, by Walter Dean Myers
• Lost in the River of Grass, by Ginny Rorby
• Maze Runner, by James Dashner
• Out of My Mind, by Sharon Draper
• Payback Time, by Carl Deuker
• Ruined, by Paula Morris
• The Running Dream, by Wendelin van Draanen
• The Truth About Truman School, by Dori Hillestad Butler
• Virals, by Kathy Reichs.

Have you read Incarceron? If so, what did you think? How about any of the other ITA nominations? Any guesses for which one will or should win?