Bright and its sequel, Bright:Samurai Soul, are two of the best things on Netflix (after Arcane).
When Bright (starring Will Smith) first came out, I, like a lot of others, thought and hoped that it was a pilot for a new series. It was awesome. Set in modern day LA, it posits a world where humans live alongside elves, orcs, pixies, fairies, centaurs, dwarves, and other creatures.
In this world, humans are second-class citizens and orcs are third-class. Elves rule the world. It’s an interesting premise, a twist on urban fantasy, and the best thing about it (at least for me) was that magic was used sparingly.
Better than the world, were the characters. Will Smith has played this cop character before, in I, Robot*, and he does it well. Even better was Joel Edgerton’s portrayal of his orc partner. There was plenty of character conflict between the first-ever-orc policeman and his human partner. The movie grabbed me from the start and held me to the end and I really, really wanted more.
Upon rewatching it recently, I discovered that it had a sequel, an anime of all things, called Bright: Samurai Soul. The same premise but in Meiji Restoration Japan? Yes! I went into it primed to like it and it delivered. The one critical item I have on the anime was the choice in colors for the landscape. (My eyes. Please respect my eyes.) But it was not enough to make me look away or keep me from rewatching it. It’s quickly become one of those “I have nothing to watch” go-to kind of movies.
I highly recommend both, by the way, and I want more. More live action. More anime. And I want it now. Why isn’t Hollywood making more of these kinds of movies?
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Conquest (Book 1)
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Ascension (Book 2)
Cover for Ravages of Honor Lineage
Cover for Dominion: A Ravages of Honor Novella
Cover for Featherlight: A Ravages of Honor Novella
*As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
I’ve been a huge fan of The Mummy* (starring Brendan Frasier) since it first came out in 1999, i.e. over 20 years ago when I knew little to nothing of storytelling technique or character development or any of the other things that we could point at and say, objectively, this is why this movie/character/plot works so well.
Since this is such an old movie, I’m not going to bother worrying about spoilers. So if that’s a thing for you, you may want to stop here and come back after you’ve seen it.
The Prologue
The movie opens with what is probably one of the best prologues I’ve ever seen. It’s not an info dump or context-less world-building like an article or encyclopedia entry.
First it gives us a hook.
Second it introduces us to some very important characters, the Medjai leader Ardeth Bay (played by Oded Fahr who has a great narrator voice) and the villain, Imhotep (played by Arnold Vosloo). But more importantly it establishes Imhotep as a sympathetic character motivated by forbidden love. This is very important for this story where the villain could easily have been a caricature of evil. Instead we have the perfect villain, the flip-side of the coin for our hero, Rick O’Connell (played by Brendan Fraser). Imhotep is Rick if he were evil and he is perfect because he is motivated by exactly the same things as Rick himself–love. Since Rick doesn’t start out in love, Imhotep’s love story provides a deep emotional resonance right up front in a movie that is far more a funny action adventure than a straight-up romance.
Evie, our heroine
Enter Evie (Rachel Weisz), who is immediately portrayed as a strong FEMALE CHARACTER rather than a STRONG FEMALE character (read as a Mary-Sue caricature of woman, a man-with-boobs, a vomit-inducing example of toxicity that embodies arrogance by being the strongest, fastest, smartest, most kick-ass person of every room she walks into). Unlike Star Wars’* Rae and Marvel’s* Captain Marvel, Evie is the strong character (who just happens to be a woman) that we need and want.
If you're one of those who thinks that a woman is the physical equal of a man, or that women of the past should conform to modern delusions about women's physical prowess, then you may want to stop reading here.
Evie is the brains of the operation as well as a damsel in distress, the driving force as well as the stakes character. She fulfills all these roles so well precisely because she is NOT the strongest, nor fastest, nor smartest, nor most kick-ass person in any room (much less all of them).
Solid roots in the reality of her world
She is a librarian with obvious faults. She is clumsy but doesn’t immediately shed that clumsiness when a combat scene requires it. She is smart, but she doesn’t have to walk into every situation an announce it, via “Hey, everyone, I have a chip on my shoulder about being a woman in a man’s world.” Instead, like Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice*, she works within the parameters of her world without having the world broken in order to make her look good.
She is also not a character who revels in ball-busting and the writers didn’t have to weaken the male characters in order to make her look good. Each character–whether Rick or her brother Jonathan–had their own skillset and she recognized this and didn’t strut in to show them that all along she was better at everything. She was never afraid to admit she needed help or ask for it.
Why this movie wouldn’t be made today
I honestly don’t know if this wonderful, well-written, well-acted, fun, interesting, and romantic movie could have been filmed today. (Really, guys, we don’t know anyone’s sexual orientation or preferred pronouns.)
While Evie is stuck in the library because she doesn’t have field experience, she is determined to obtain that field experience. She doesn’t blame it on “The Patriarchy”(TM) or whine about it. Not once. Shocker!
[Disclaimer: I am not and have never been a feminist studies person. I am using the term “patriarchy” and “matriarchy” as a layman to mean power held by men and power held by women respectively.]
Enemies to lovers
Without Jonathan, her con-man brother, the opportunity to get field experience would not have existed, but it is her own drive that turns the opportunity into action. Despite Rick lunging at her through the prison bars and kissing her (without her consent, I might add) she is determined to save him, and does. Even though it means putting up with the lecherous prison warden as a partner.
This sets up the enemies-to-lovers between her and Rick. While not a true enemy, that trope still fits. They start out as adversaries.
On the boat, we learn that Rick is going back to Hamunaptra because of her. He swore he’d never go back but she saved his neck. In other words, we’d have had no story without Evie’s decision to save him.
The fight on the boat
When she is attacked, she defeats the Medjai because he’s distracted by Rick (who came to her rescue). She takes advantage by poking the Medjai in the eye with a candlestick, not by taking over the fight or fighting alongside Rick. The writers did not break the world in order to make her into something she couldn’t possibly be (clumsy librarian, remember?)
What oppression does look like
The writers show us what an actual oppressive patriarchy looks like via the village where they stop to buy camels. Rick and Jonathan joke about trading Evie for the camels. But they don’t because English/American culture isn’t Egyptian culture. And it hasn’t become one since the 1920s either. Take it from someone who spent enough time overseas to know the difference.
At Hamunaptra, patriarchal prejudice is shown again, via the egyptologist, Dr. Chamberlain (played by Jonathan Hyde) who was hired by the American rivals (what I’m going to call the B-team). He’s the one who goes, “They are led by a woman. What does a woman know?” Notice that the Americans are not the ones saying it. Or even agreeing with him.
Soft power is still power
Even when the A-team and the B-team are having their little pissing contest in the tomb, it is Evie who intervenes to break it up. She suggests they dig elsewhere because she figures out it’s the wrong place. No one maligns her for making them back off. And if you don’t think that makes Evie powerful, you’re wrong. Not all power comes from intimidation, from Hulk!Smash! or from “I am woman, hear me roar” speeches.
Logic and reason
We get foreshadowing and necessary background information via Evie talking about mummification and interpreting things for Rick and Jonathan. It is clear she is the driving factor, the voice of logic and reason arguing against superstition and greed.
Proud to be a librarian
When they are attacked by the present-day Medjai, Evie is not involved in the melee. She falls and passes out running away from a man on horseback. Again, it is reasonable that she is not able to outrun a horse or engage in close quarters combat all of a sudden. Later, a bit drunk, she confesses her lack of combat skills and her pride in being a librarian. This time she is the one who asks for a kiss but unfortunately passes out before she can get it.
Opening the sarcophagus
She is the one that figures out the key and how to use it to open the sarcophagus. When they open it and find the moist mummy inside, no one blames Evie and she doesn’t scold or blame them either. It’s like they are adults and the movie is about finding treasure and defeating evil instead of modern political correctness and social engineering messaging.
Smart jabs
Evie does tells the B-team egyptologist how to open the book. That’s a bit of a jab at the man and he deserves it. She then “borrows” the book while he’s asleep. Smart again. She has the key. She knows what to do.
Her faults
And then we are shown that Evie doesn’t know it all. It was refreshing. Her reading from the book wakes up Imhotep. It also sets her up as a driving force again. One that releases the seven plagues. So she is not all-good, all-knowing, all-feeling, infallible woman. She has a fatal flaw: she trusts in logic and intellect more than she should. One might have expected a woman of that time to be more into mysticism than logic and intellect, but it is not outside the realm of possibility given her upbringing. This makes her believable and sympathetic.
Convenience
She does just happen to push up against the “right” stone to end up in the tunnel with Imhotep and Henderson, the unfortunate man with the glasses. Once there, she asks him for help. She doesn’t attack Imhotep. She is afraid, but she does stand her ground as best she can until Rick and the others do come to her rescue. Again.
Evie wandering into that tunnel is what allows the Medjai to rescue Henderson and keeps Imhotep from finishing him off. It is another driving point of the plot.
Calling the shots
Evie actively thwarts Rick’s attempts to pack and leave. That’s a bit of a plot hole. She was lamenting the loss of her books and clothes when the boat sank. But her argument with Rick reveals how hurt she is by being regarded as merely a contract. So she uses her budding relationship with him to advantage. But he’ll have none of it. He is afraid for her. One might argue that there is a patriarchal aspect to Rick calling the shots. But if you do you must grant everything done at Evie’s direction as matriarchal.
When water turns into blood, who does Rick seek out? Evie of course. Because when he is out of his element, he does defer to her. Does this mean that now we’ve switched to a matriarchal calling of the shots?
It is Evie who takes them to the museum director. The museum director and Ardeth, the Medjai leader, argue with her as an equal. They don’t dismiss her. A little hard to believe perhaps, given the culture of 1920s Egypt, but at least on the museum director’s part, he has worked with her and knows that she is capable. Earned respect on that, and the same can be argued for Ardeth as well. He’s seen what she can do too.
Evil, evil patriarchy
It is Evie who says that they must stop Imhotep from regenerating. The guys agree and then lock her in her room. Yes, they did it for her own good. They knew that she had caught Imhotep’s interest, and not in a good way. If you want, you can blame it on patriarchy, evil, evil, patriarchy that tries to keep you from falling prey to a great ancient evil.
And Imhotep is a threat. He gets into her room despite everything. He is delusional, thinking she is his lost love, Anck Su Namun. Once again, Rick (and a cat) save her. Lucky for her that Rick is not a feminist prince that would have let her rot–or worse in this case.
Saving the guys
It is Evie who figures out where the Book of Life is. They need it to defeat Imhotep. In response, Imhotep ups the game, bringing an army of zombies to her door. They run, but are stopped. Faced with a choice–going with Imhotep to be reincarnated as Anck Su Namun or having her friends killed–she makes the decision to go with Imhotep. It will buy Rick and the others time. And she does expect Rick to rescue her. Again. She tells him so to his face, because she is, first and foremost, a survivor. So this is matriarchal oppression, right? I mean look at all the agency she is denying them. Wouldn’t it be better if they just went down fighting? Who is she to know what’s best for them? Shouldn’t she be getting back at them for locking her in that room?
Feminine Wiles
In order to distract Imhotep (again) and save her friends (again) she kisses him. Evie uses physical attraction to her advantage, right up to kissing a man she’s disgusted by in order to distract him and save her friends. She didn’t do it by kicking him in the balls. That would have been a TSTL (too stupid to live) moment that would have served nothing except to make Rae or Ms. Marvel look good at everyone else’s expense. Instead of using physical prowess, she used intellect and (dare I say it?) feminine wiles. Something only a truly strong woman would do, because it’s a personal sacrifice for her. It involves an intimacy. It’s a parody of a kiss, of attraction, and she lowers herself to do it. She knows it’s what Imhotep wants and she gives it to him to take away his power.
Who’s saving whom again?
Tied down on the altar next to Anck Su Namun’s mummy, Evie struggles, but isn’t threatening to do things that she can’t possibly do. It’s like she’s waiting to be rescued again. I know that’s anathema to movie-makers today, but it is perfectly done because it’s the only thing she can do at this point (without breaking the world by suddenly empowering her somehow). It makes sense that she was overpowered and had no choice.
Just before she is to be killed, Jonathan and Rick show up. Jonathan uses distraction to draw Imhotep away and this allows Rick to do his thing–hacking at things. Rick then frees her from the altar. But it is Evie’s intellect that saves everyone. It is her knowledge that allows them how to figure out how to get control of the mummified soldiers and direct them to destroy Imhotep and Anck Su Namun.
Woman vs woman
Evie directly engages physically only with Anck Su Namun’s mummy, i.e a woman of equal size (here the mummies are just as strong as if they were living apparently). This keeps with nature and human biology. Unlike female “heroes” who practice waif-fu, taking on men much bigger and stronger than they are, ignoring the physics of mass altogether as if estrogen were some magical substance.
Victory
The kiss at the end is preceded by Rick saying that he’s not going home empty handed–he has the greatest treasure, Evie herself. What a male chauvinist pig, right? How dare he? (yes that was sarcasm, Karen).
Conclusion
Again and again, Evie solves (and causes) problems via her intellect, not her fists. Evie is a product of her world and she does whatever she can not just within those limits, but the limits of biology. She is not genetically engineering, or a magical creation, or a magician who can call up powers. She is human.
The sequels weren’t as good precisely because they took her character and broke her in order to make her more of a man-with-boobs who prefers using physical violence to solve her problems and suddenly “remembers” being trained to fight against Pharaoh’s mistress. Lame, lame, lame. And this is why we don’t like the sequel, The Mummy Returns* and will pretend that it doesn’t exist.
*As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Conquest (Book 1)
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Ascension (Book 2)
Cover for Ravages of Honor Lineage
Cover for Dominion: A Ravages of Honor Novella
Cover for Featherlight: A Ravages of Honor Novella
This review is going to be a little different, mostly because this book was, at least in terms of what I’ve come to expect and like about Kate Quinn’s* excellently written (no, that does not mean it’s a navel-gazing book) historicals.
Like The Diamond Eye*, I picked it up because it promised a story about actual strong women rather than the caricature known as “the strong female character.” (You can read my review of The Diamond Eye here.) It promised a story about survival.
My first quibble with this novel was the clear lack of a protagonist. It felt very much like an ensemble movie (think Avengers* rather than Captain America*). It made it much harder to stay in the story and took me far longer to finish than it should have.
Multiple protagonists vs multiple viewpoints
To be clear, the issue is not that the story is being told from the viewpoint of multiple characters. I love multiple viewpoint because (when done right) it allows for a level of tension that is hard to pull off in most single-viewpoint stories. I even like stories with dual protagonists (most Romances tend to be dual protag). But the lack of a clear protagonist, the dilution of the story by having three women narrators, one of which doesn’t come into the story until chapter four and takes even longer to get rolling, affected this story in a negative way.
I’m not sure it could have been done differently, but I was willing to give Quinn the benefit of the doubt. I was just going, “please, no deus ex machina, please, oh please.” A deus ex machina ending is just one of the things I worry about when I see disjointed beginnings with either no clear protagonists or an ensemble cast, or far too many time jumps. I’ve just been burned too many times.
The women
We have Osla who is the debutante type, Mab, the girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and Beth, an autistic girl who just happened to be living in the same house that was ordered to provide lodgings for Osla and Mab. They all end up as decoders of some kind at Blechley Park, the place where Alan Turing cracked Enigma. If you want the backstory on this, may I suggest the movie The Imitation Game* with Benedict Cumberbach. I offer no commentary on the veracity of the events in this movie, just the relevance of it as a backdrop.
Alan Turing is mentioned, but not a character, which is actually fine. I can appreciate that this would have been another story altogether if he was more than a passing reference and that story has been done.
The Rose Code* works very hard to present us with these very different women coming from different walks of life and what it was like to live in England during WW2. If you are looking for a story about generals refighting the war, this is not the story for you. There’s barely any staff meetings in this at all–or speeches, orders of battle, supply lists, or policies and procedure memos disguised as telling (oh so much telling) breaks in the narrative.
The story
Amid the drama of war, we get three distinct characters who become good friends. The first half of the book is dedicated to this storyline. While Osla and Mab are introduced right after each other, it takes us longer to meet Beth. Part of the reason for this is so that we can get to know her through their eyes–she is being abused by her mother who is a religious zealot of the worst kind and ignored by her father who is a useless human being who does whatever he is told. Shy, downtrodden, and meek, Beth turns out to be a genius rather than “slow” like she’s been told all her life. They didn’t have a word for autism back then so that word is not used and we get to deduce what’s happening via Osla and Mab and then Beth as she comes out of her shell.
Worldbuilding
The worldbuilding that Quinn does is — as always — quite excellent. It focuses on the personal stuff first and foremost. It’s why the characters are real and engaging.
This is a world where Beth’s love interest is a Cambridge man of non-Caucasian descent who falls in love with her mind. Truly. He does. It’s not a line, although at first we can’t blame her for thinking it is. But he is married and she’s a “good girl.” She hasn’t had a choice thanks to her overbearing bitch of a “mother” and milquetoast “father.” Yes, I’m bringing modern sensibilities into this, but Quinn does not. At least I don’t think she does. I didn’t get to live in 1940s England so I can’t be sure of some of the sentiments on display, such as…
Zarb (the man that Beth falls for) is married because he got a girlfriend (a barmaid) pregnant and they decided to do the right thing for their son. They will never divorce because of their son, to whom they both feel a duty and not just because he’s in braces due to polio. They have an open relationship, as in the wife takes Beth aside and tells her how happy she is that Zarb has finally found someone he can be in love with and they have her blessing. The wife is in a relationship with a man who is a pilot and she wants her husband to be happy.
This is the kind of responsible, honorable devotion that you just don’t see touted much in fiction (or real life) today. I was pleasantly surprised. It emphasizes personal responsibility (to the child, first and foremost) rather than servicing the idea of consequence-free sex and pleasure-seeking. Now, that is more like the WW2 generation I remember via my great-aunt and great-uncle.
Another interesting relationship is that of Mab and Francis. Mab got pregnant when she was young, had the baby, and her mother is raising the girl as Mab’s sister. Mab’s goal in life is to shed her wrong-side-of-the-tracks upbringing and become the best wife she can be to a man who will treat her right. I was stunned at her thoughts about what it would take to get to that point and her willingness to do what today would be radical things like keep his house, have his kids, warm his bed, and make a good future together. She talks about it in very grown up terms, not silly romantic notions, as an actual adult who sees her own value in those things. She does not see herself as an oppressed, barefoot and pregnant woman forced to be less than she could be. She sees herself as a partner who takes care of him and his needs and is taken care of in return. I was floored. This is not allowed in modern fiction, is it? I know I haven’t seen much of it.
Meanwhile, Osla is dating Prince Philip, the future prince consort of England, and yes, it was very weird reading about him as a fictional character. The point is that all of these women were in very interesting, unconventional relationships. Osla has been working to shed her “dumb deb” (debutante) image, the one where she is nothing but someone who goes shopping, has her hair done, and goes to parties and is “of society.” She wants to be a functional, useful member of society. Again, shocker! Social media would have words for you. It’s all about the likes, baby.
Why I kept reading
It is these types of interesting characters that kept me despite issues I had with the structure, the lack of a clear protagonist (it was Beth; she’s the one that solves the story problem) and the addition of a story frame (the post-war storyline; probably the most accessible example of a story frame I can give you is the Princess Bride; the grandfather reading the story to his sick grandchild is the frame, a story that touches the other story at several points, not just via prologue and epilogue) that complicates an already diluted narrative.
Probably my biggest pet peeve was the withholding of information regarding who Osla’s fiance/husband was at different part of the story. It would have added a lot of dramatic tension to know rather than hold it back for a reveal. Since the character certainly knew who she was engaged to, we should have known too. This trick was repeated with Mab as well and I had to backtrack several times to see if I’d missed something. This is probably why it took me so long to get through it and why I was vacillating between staying with it and finishing it out.
Recommendation
While not as good as The Alice Network* or The Diamond Eye*, I do recommend this book. It has a visceral feel and the research is solid. Quinn goes into what she made up for dramatic effect, and what was part of real history. But most of all, if you’re going to read it, read it for the characters who are not the “strong female character” caricatures. The are actually strong women. Heroes. Survivors.
*As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
Shadow and Bone* caught my attention on Netflix. Neither a fan of YA nor a big Fantasy reader, this was quite a feat and in no small part it was due to the skill with which the story is written (both by Leigh Bardugo in the book and by the show-runners at Neflix).
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I had a lot of fun discussing this and am really looking forward to doing episode two. You’ll notice that Justin and I approach storytelling from different perspectives and that’s one of the things that makes exchanges like this interesting. As a writer I’m always interested on how others “digest” a particular story.
Another reason I enjoy these is that it’s the closest we get to doing panels when we are not at cons. And we do this kind of thing whenever we get together, whether we’re holed up in a hotel room at a con or doing a video chat just because.
I especially enjoy Justin’s commentary because it’s not just vague generalizations like “I liked it” or “This was so neat.” We can have an intelligent discussion about what we enjoyed, what we found lacking, and what we learned.
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Conquest (Book 1)
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Ascension (Book 2)
Cover for Ravages of Honor Lineage
Cover for Dominion: A Ravages of Honor Novella
Cover for Featherlight: A Ravages of Honor Novella
As a huge fan of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander*, I (like everyone else) have been looking forward to the end of Droughtlander with the streaming of Season 6.
How big of a fan am I? I often refer to my Ravages of Honor series as an “Outlander in space.” We share a heroine who is pulled through time, the fish-out-of-water trope, as well as the focus on relationships. We are not pure Romance because while there is a deep, driving, and defining love story, the story itself does not end with the couple getting together and going on to their HEA (happily ever after). The story continues past that and their love story (rather than Romance) continues as they get older, have children, and go on other adventures.
Limited expectations:
I know that the pandemic gave us Droughtlander and I knew that we were going to get a shorter season, only eight episodes. But what I did not expect was the cliffhanger ending and the shortened story lines which were just dropped and then summarized with a few trite lines of dialogue.
With no announcement of when season 7 will come, I felt more than a little cheated by the ending, especially since the storylines were (mostly) well done. There was tension and emotional investment, something that Gabaldon and the show-runners do very well, and they certainly kept me guessing.
It’s like deja vu all over again:
I did have deja vu several times, to the point where I went to check the release dates on the off-chance that I was watching the wrong season. At first I thought it might be the disparity between the books and the show. But that wasn’t as much of an issue as what they did: cut off two rather important storylines and then leave us hanging.
The good things:
There was a cute little subplot involving the Beardsley twins, and an even more interesting one between Claire and Tom Christie, an old compatriot of Jamie’s. I found Claire and Christie’s developing and reluctant friendship to be very interesting and its platonic nature is much needed as we rarely see such things develop between male and female characters without at least some hint of sexual tension.
I don’t know how realistic the polyamorous subplot between the Beardsley twins and Lizzie would be given the time period and attitudes, but it was well done and I know that Gabaldon often throws out historical accuracy for the sake of story, a trait that I do admire. It however, felt short or at least not as well-developed as it could be. So maybe the shortened season is to blame for this as well.
They did a great job with the Malva character. There was something about the look on her face from the moment we met her that said, this person isn’t all that she seems, but only barely. She kept setting off the hairs on the back of my neck and I was wondering, once again, where I had seen her. Well, her name does start with “Mal” and I kept telling myself, “Nope, it can’t be that. Nope, nope, nope.” But it was. Throughout the scenes of her father punishing her, you get this sense that she’s not quite the victim she is being portrayed as. With how the storylines were shortened and abandoned, it’s hard to tell if this was intentional or merely coincidental.
Conclusion:
Another well-done aspect is the unwavering faith that Claire and Jaime have in each other. A lot of drama over his alleged infidelity would have ruined their characters and I was really glad to see that the show didn’t go there, no matter how tempting it might have been.
And if this post has that ending abruptly feel to it, well, yes. Because I honestly have nowhere else to take it. I’m thinking they did the best they could with what they had.
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Conquest (Book 1)
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Ascension (Book 2)
Cover for Ravages of Honor Lineage
Cover for Dominion: A Ravages of Honor Novella
Cover for Featherlight: A Ravages of Honor Novella
I can see why Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone* is such a hit. It certainly struck a chord with me and I’m not even the target audience. I’m not a fan of fantasy. And normally I don’t go out and read anything that has been turned into a series because usually it’s not worth my time and I’ve been disappointed more often than I care remember.
Some comments about Shadow and Bone (they were dismissive of its YA roots and ‘simpliciy’ and some reviews even knocked it for using tropes as if tropes should be avoided in fiction) did however prompt me to at least look at it and once I did I was hooked.
The number one reason I can’t get into a story or stay in it long enough to finish it has to do with narrative distance–either the story is written at arm’s length (omniscient, third distant, or present tense) or the writer can’t make up his/her mind who’s head and heart they are in and just decides, screw it, I’m going to head-hop and violate viewpoint whenever I please because I don’t care or don’t know any better. Frank Herbert’s Dune* is a good example of something I just can’t read anymore and the head-hopping is why. The writing is not just clunky but the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard.
Fortunately for me, Bardugo’s writing is the polar opposite. It is well-written, well-plotted, and well-crafted. Yes, the plot is simple (even, dare I say, simplistic) but it has to be. It has to be because it’s a single viewpoint novel. And because Bardugo only shows us Alina’s head and heart, the book is different from the series which (I suspect since I haven’t read the other books) takes material from the other books and weaves in multiple storylines.
So, if you’re expecting a cheap novelization of the series, where some hack has been hired to turn the outside-in script into a thinly veiled outside-in narrative, you’ll be disappointed. Bardugo’s novel has depth and resonance. Bardugo’s novel is about characters. Bardugo’s novel is about relationships and emotions. And yes, some of that definitely comes through in the series, but there are also a few important differences.
One of the ways I knew that I was in for a treat was in the way Bardugo handled the opening. We don’t start in Alina’s head and heart (she is not yet the viewpoint character) but with a properly written (do you have any idea how exceedingly rare that is?) prologue that is not just time a time-skip, but a hook written from a viewpoint not used again, i.e. the author-narrator’s via third-distant viewpoint.
The rest of the novel (the main narrative) is from Alina. Now, I do have to pause here and explain something. Most well-written first-person is first-person retrospective narration. The reason to use first person is because we want the character narrating the past from the future. Gabaldon’s Outlander is an example of properly done first person because it is retrospective. Unfortunately, I see more and more non-retrospective narration because writers are constantly being told that if you’re using I/me you’re writing in first. Not true. If the story is unraveling in real story time, it’s not retrospective and it’s actually third-person. And if you’re using the pronouns I/me you’re actually writing third-person with first-person pronouns. Which is fine as long as you don’t screw it up, and Bardugo does not.
Despite the lack of a retrospective narrator, Alina’s narrative unveils the story in an engaging way that had me reading to the end. She put me in Alina’s head and heart and kept me there. I don’t usually read YA because it’s often too shallow, too poorly-written, too focused on teen angstiness and TSTL (too stupid to live) moments and motivations that I just can’t buy into. That was not the case here.
The reveal for why Alina didn’t remember the grisha testing was also well done. I admit, I was wondering how Bardugo was going to handle that (first-person retrospective would have been excellent for handling this) and she didn’t disappoint. It wasn’t a gotcha, a stupid writer trick I abhor.
The book is also different in how it handles the relationship with the Darkling. One Amazon reviewer complained that it was a romance written for 12-yo. Actually, it’s not a romance at all, for any age. As in there is no romance. There is no chemistry. Not between her and the Darkling anyway. The deeper romance is between her and Mal, but I can see how some people would miss that because (a) we don’t get his viewpoint and (b) the kind of devotion that Alina and Mal feel towards each other given their experiences as orphans is not fleshed out until the end where it’s done via dialogue. A multiple viewpoint novel written in third-close could have done this earlier and better and created additional tension, depth, and characterization.
The series actually gives us more chemisty between Alina and the Darkling than there is the book. Some people have called it an enemies-to-lovers romance, but it’s not. If it could be called anything at all, it’s a May-September romance, for certain values of romance (on the weak side of it). Again, because we don’t get the Darkling’s viewpoint, we can’t know what he feels towards her. He tells us somewhat, but we can’t know what he means and what he does not without being in his head and heart. Knowing these things requires multiple viewpoints done in third-close, something that tends not to lend itself to moviezation (yes, I just made that word up; deal with it).
The other thing I really liked about this story was that the climax depended on inner strength and sacrifice (not Hulk! Smash!). Another criticism of this story has been that it’s boring. Well, if you’re looking for a mindless, Hulk! Smash! action extravaganza, this is not it. Truly. Who’d be expecting that?
Like all well-written stories with depth, the story is NOT about the events (the plot) but about the characters and their relationships. As such the climaxes tend to be at least somewhat internal. The Netflix series did an excellent job in balancing this out and presenting it on screen with a bit more oomph than the book. So for the action junkies in the audience, not all struggle is “action” and not all victories involve knocking your opponent out. Some involve self-sacrifice.
Also well done was the hero/villain duality between Alina and the Darkling. He is the other side of the coin. They are both motivated by the same thing — to make a better world. They just have different visions of it and how to get there. This is quite well done, especially for YA where that type of depth is often missing.
Another layer of depth that I haven’t seen touted, or even acknowledged, is the fact that Alina needed the very thing that enslaved her. Think about it. Why is that not the very thing that is being used to sell this? Well, I think it would be lost on most people, because the story is again, about self-sacrifice and about making hard choices and living with them. Not exactly the kind of thing that makes for great teasers.
The only thing I did not like is the epilogue. It was written in present tense and I just skipped it.
I am going to rewatch the series now and go on to read the second book. I highly recommend Shadow and Bone not only for anyone who wants to read a well-written story, but for any writer who is looking for good examples of how to do it well.
Bardugo has now made in on my must-read list along with Gabaldon*, Pataki*, and Quinn. *
(If you want to learn more about viewpoint and why it’s not about pronouns, click here.)
*As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Conquest (Book 1)
Cover for Ravages of Honor: Ascension (Book 2)
Cover for Ravages of Honor Lineage
Cover for Dominion: A Ravages of Honor Novella
Cover for Featherlight: A Ravages of Honor Novella
If you’ve been dying to get back into watching movies in a theatre, you might want to skip The Lost City* a romantic comedy starring Sandra Bullock (as Loretta Sage) and Channing Tatum (as Alan).
I had such high hopes for this. It’s Romance, right? It has a great premise–romance novelist and her cover model go on adventures that mimic what she writers. Great names, right? And then, something, I’m not sure quite what, happened.
I admit to a shit-ton (official Texas unit of measure) of skepticism about Star Trek: Strange New Worlds*. After what they’ve done to the different franchises I’ve pretty much given up on this IP. However, I’ve loved Captain Pike in every incarnation and that’s why I decided to give the pilot a watch when Paramount+ put it up on YouTube for free.
My reservations going into it are that it will turn into a shit-show just like Picard and Discovery, that Hollywood will turn this into something to suborn, appropriate (Hollywood should just love, love, love that word) and make it an SFC (“strong female character”) and PC (politically correct) extravaganza. I’m expecting kind and cuddly Klingons and Vulcans who cry at the drop of a hat. I’m expecting an exploration of today’s “most important social issues” (insert vomit sounds) disguised as story.
Know that I am typing this as I watch (well, almost). I’m stopping the video obviously.
First impression: Oh goodie, aliens that are just like us. Sigh. Well, for those that object to this, I will remind you that while a lot of people giggle when I mention writing about the Broccoli People of Brassica IV and their fetish for hot-butter baths, that witticism is not a story and un-relatable aliens are poor choices for characters. The thing that makes you giggle about the Broccoli People is the fact that you understand the butter reference. I filtered it for you via an ostensibly human narrator, one that you can identify with. That would not happen in a story about actual aliens told from their actual viewpoint.
Star Trek has relatable aliens for a reason: they’d like you to keep watching and even they know that you can’t build a winning franchise around a witticism. Even the Thermians in Galaxy Quest* had to be mostly human and that was a spoof.
The opening with the bird fricasseers (oh sorry, the “sustainable” wind power turbines) really raised my hackles and then I remembered, “Oh yes, Star Trek is as much a science fantasy as Star Wars.” Oh put away your objections. I’m a physicist, not someone who learned they science from watching Star Trek or reading SF or that abomination called I Fucking Love Science. That is, I used to be an actual fucking scientist and my “Star Trek is somehow science” bubble was burst my first semester of you know, actual fucking science class. Which is good for the show because it turns out the bird fricasseers fit right in with the milieu of “Star Trek science” which isn’t, i.e. it’s just a fantasy.
I was happy to see Ethan Peck playing Spock. I liked him in that abomination known as ST:D (how fitting that acronym turned out to be). And I loved, loved, loved that it opened with the whole mating thing, because I’m a romance writer first and foremost and maybe that will change, but I doubt it. Yes, deep down, I’m a romantic, at least when it comes to my science fantasy.
And at least these writers didn’t make the mistake of confusing “start in the middle of the action” with “start with action” so I have a buy-in because there is some hope of this not turning into a mindless Hulk!Smash! story which isn’t really sci-fi so much as a thriller or action-movie or super-hero jerk-off set in space.
Kate Quinn’s writing always seems to draw me. While her works are classified as historical fiction, they are–more importantly–works about characters. And not just any kind of character. Well-developed characters. Her writing is technically excellent and her storytelling is exemplary (at least it has been for everything I have read of hers). I am of the firm belief that readers will jump genres for good writing, good storytelling, and good characters.
Quinn supplements her storytelling with an afterword where she goes into where she took creative liberties for the sake of the story. Prioritizing the telling of a story–as opposed to mindlessly parroting a history lesson for the sake of showing us just how much research she did–is one of my favorite things about her works. She also serves the reader by focusing on just a few characters, not a cast of dozens that serves nothing but to (once again) show us how much research a writer did. Honestly, if we wanted a history lesson we’d go to a history book.
Since I grew up in Ceaucescu’s Romania (that means under the abomination known as communism) there were several things that resonated with me in this.
The first was the fact that the Soviet man was fine with paying lip service to standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the Soviet woman, but he still expected her to cook the meals, do the laundry, and subordinate herself to him. Like every promise made by Communism, equality of the sexes was and is and always will be a blatant lie.
The second was the fact that there was paperwork for everything, notably, filing for recognition/sanction of a sexual/romantic relationship between an officer (a man) and an NCO (a woman). As long as you filed the right paperwork, the Soviets were fine with officers screwing subordinates. All while they were actively fighting at the front, nonetheless. And while she was legally married to someone else. Yup. Pretty much how I remember it too.
The third was the fact that people were reported and shot for defeatism. Defeatism was saying anything that criticized how things were going. It was grumbling about the length of lines, the lack of food, the corruption of the Soviet system, the sexism, the double standards, all of it. It really hit home and it’s alive and well today in what we might call toxic positivity, where only optimism and praise and positive thoughts, feelings, and expressions are acceptable. Anything that is negative, critical, or that questions something deemed as the “in thing” (hype) is not allowed. Spend any time on social media or any kind of group activity and you’ll see it in action.
While I cringed every time Mila, the main character, said “For the love of Lenin” it is probably an accurate portrayal of how Lenin came to replace God in the lives of many people who bought into the poison he and his cohorts were selling. (This is phrase I don’t ever recall hearing but different country, different generation).
Mila is very realistic in that she understood the games that had to be played in the Soviet system–like saying, doing, and parroting the right things (i.e. you know it as political correctness). I did not get a sense that Quinn herself was taking sides in this, because she balanced it out with such things as Mila’s comparative diary entries, “official version” vs “unofficial version.”
Mila is a sympathetic character. She was a mother at fifteen (yes, under the Soviet system which would not punish the much older man who got her pregnant and married her only because her father forced the issue). Mila had to move back with her parents in order to raise her son. Despite multiple attempts to divorce, she was unsuccessful (because, again, the Soviet system was set up in the favor of husbands and fathers who were not required to provide for or be in their children’s lives).
She had to somehow make it while raising her son, working at a factory, attending school, including university, and doing all the right Party volunteering. She had help from her parents, but we’re still talking about being a single mother going to work and school and being a good little communist (which meant waiting in ration lines and doing the other jobs we had to do, the ones that earned us real money not the worthless money they paid us with). Despite these hardships she decided to take up shooting as a hobby, so that she could teach her son. She knew that she had to be both mother and father to the boy. That’s how Mila ended up a sniper in the Soviet Army during WWII.
I really appreciated that patriotism and “love of Lenin and the Party” were not the only things driving her. She had very personal stakes in this–she wanted to protect her son. She wanted to be able to teach him that grown-ups do things by example and she had to be that example in his life. This is something sorely lacking in stories featuring the “Strong Female Character” (SFC) trope which is just a caricature, a man with boobs who just punches things and shoots stuff.
Unlike the SFC, Mila is never the strongest, fastest, smartest, best-at-everything. No, Mila has to struggle and fight and earn the respect of those around her. She is wounded. She makes mistakes (real ones that cost lives). She is actually surrounded by men who are stronger, faster, and smarter than she is. Men she must train and lead into battle. And while she does put on her “respect my rank” attitude initially, she goes on to earn their respect. Unlike in stories where the presence of the SFC requires that all men be automatically weaker, slower, and dumber in order to make her look good.
If there was a fault with Mila (and it’s really not) is that she was a fish who had no sense of being in water. Some of her comparisons with how things were the same in the US as in the USSR really showed this. There’s a scene where she is gifted some diamonds (a necklace, bracelets, and a brooch). She immediately thinks that she should give the brooch to the political officer minding her as a bribe so that he can gift it to his wife or mistress. And then immediately figures it must be the same in the US. No, actually it’s not even though she can be forgiven for thinking this since she was in Washington DC at the time. While DC is corrupt and bribes happen all the time (whether actual bribes of money or the trading of favors) there is no political officer hovering–the IRS, yes, but not a member of the Party. And while you may be fined and jailed for failing to pay taxes on that kind of gift, you’re very unlikely to get shot for it (at least not yet).
The drama with the diamonds was probably inserted to make a point and I do appreciate how well it was handled. I’m not the type of reader to confuse the character with the writer, and that’s why I think that extending the drama with the diamonds to the epilogue worked so well. It’s fifteen years later and Mila is back in the USSR with a new husband whom she must keep safe because his father criticized Stalin and thus his entire family was wiped out. The diamonds go to pay the right bribes to keep him safe. Fish. Water. Well done. I was especially impressed with the balance imparted in the narrative and the fact that she included an epilogue and filled it with all the right things. The main story was over. The epilogue was absolutely necessary–as an epilogue.
Last, I loved, loved, loved that she solved the story problem with my favorite type of gun. Thank you for doing the research on that one and getting it right.
What I didn’t like….
Present tense. It’s horrid, even done by Quinn. Nothing pushes me out of a story faster than something that should have been past tense written as present. There are several present tense entries by Mrs. Roosevelt sprinkled throughout since this story is dual time-line, i.e. we hop back and forth to a post-WWII visit to the White House. I skipped them.
The use of “the marksman” instead of giving us the name of the assassin failed to convey ANY sense of tension. He knew who he was so withholding that information from the reader was annoying. It would have been much more interesting and tension-inducing to know who he was so we could worry when he showed up in Mila’s viewpoint. Instead he was some “anonymous” shadowy figure. Hell, you could even write an omni narrator and say something like “The would-be assassin went by George, but that was not really his name, just the one he was using for the job” and gone with that. Or even used his actual name. It wouldn’t have mattered at all if we knew his actual name. But the attempt to play with the reader here was insulting. And it denied us much needed tension since he was interacting with her and the “big reveal” wasn’t. Not at all.
*As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
Two days after I binge-watched Star Trek: Picard, the most interesting thing about it is how utterly forgettable it was.
Let me start with the disclaimer that my identity does not revolve around any franchise, be it Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter, Marvel, or any other. So if your identity is in any way wrapped up in Star Trek, you may not want to read on. And if you’re wondering why I spent the time, you can blame it on the COVID-19 scare and the allure of a free month of CBS All-Access. It turns out that you do indeed get exactly what you paid for.
What do I remember about this?
Stupid writer trick #1: Open with a dream sequence.
Yup, if you don’t already know it, opening with a dream sequence is one of those writer-no-no’s that will get your manuscript rejected. It’s only slightly less bad than “it was all a dream” ending. BTW, that is why publishers want a synopsis. That way they don’t have to read your entire manuscript to find out it was all a dream and they can reject it outright without too much of a time investment.
Stupid writer trick #2: Start with action.
In this case we have a woman and man making out and then all of a sudden, they are attacked. He is killed. She kills the attackers. Aaaaaannnd… we don’t care. We don’t care because we have no idea what this had to do with Picard’s dream (at least with him we might nominally care because we like Picard from previous shows/movies) or Picard or anyone else for that matter. Thankfully this was a short sequence rather than some extended fight-bore-a-thon so there is that.
Stupid writer trick #3: Amended flashbacks.
Yeah, cause if flashbacks aren’t enough to make you want to stop reading/watching, we’re gonna go ahead and give you a second flashback of the same exact scene, but the second time, we’re going to add information we withheld the first time. Why? Well, because we didn’t want any tension (you know that stories are about tension, right?) in the story. We thought it would be oh-so-clever to withhold relevant information from you because we have to work our way through the stupid writer trick checklist. Honestly, if you’re going to have a flashback in the first place, do the whole damned thing. This story would have benefited from the tension of us knowing that Dr. Jurati wasn’t who she was pretending to be. Withholding that information did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for the story but hurt it.
Notice how the first three things I remember about this are all things that annoyed me? That’s not good. So what did I like about it?
It had a pitbull. I have a soft spot for pibbles and Number One (LOL!) had far too little screen time. Saving grace, nothing bad happens to the dog.
It was nice to see Troi and Riker’s HEA, but that part was woefully short given the rest of the 11 episodes.
My interest was piqued by the Borg. They are some of my favorite bad guys so I stayed to see where it would go. Which was really nowhere much. Time to watch First Contact and scrub out the lingering memory of this.
Now, like all Star Trek (yes, all!) you have to suspend your disbelief on the science. And this was one of the big difference I saw between Picard and the rest of the ST franchises, i.e. Picard was far more character-driven. Yes, the pacing was slower, but the story required it. And the “science”? Well, it’s as scientific as WWII dog-fights in space.
The ending itself was disappointing even though they (mostly) avoided the potential deus-ex-machina climax with two carefully planted plot devices (i.e. that Riker was on active reserve and that Dr. Soong was working on a golem). Stupid writer trick #4 (deus-ex-machina) avoided.
