A revolutionary feminist
The idea of being a revolutionary feminist isn’t exactly a ground-breaking one. However, in this context, it is, because the woman I’m referring to is Inessa Armand.
Never heard of her? What a surprise.
Have you heard the one about how V.I. Lenin, married but childless, had a lover who was kinda involved in the Bolshevik party?
That would be Inessa. Except that she almost certainly wasn’t his lover, but she was deeply, thoughtfully, and passionately committed to the Bolshevik party.
There are very few books, it seems, that look at the role of women in the Russian Revolution. There have been a few books written about Aleksandra Kollontai, which I’m keen to get my hands on – but for Westerners especially, she’s a ‘fun’ topic because she spouted all sorts of daring philosophies like ‘free love’ and that abortions ought to be legal. I also have a book on my pile to read that collates the reminiscences of women from the early Soviet era. But, really, compared to the number of books on Lenin and Stalin and Tolstoy, let alone the minutiae of aspects of the Revolution, women get short shrift.
R.C Elwood confronted this in 1996 when he wrote about Armand. He is very open about how he came to write the book, which I like: he’d been struck by some seeming inconsistencies around what little was written about her, he suggested one of his students write a thesis on her, and then… essentially his imagination was captured. One of the problems that he faced is that almost none of her writing has been published. While you can go read almost every little note or letter that Mighty Lenin ever committed to paper, not so for Armand. While it appears that she started several articles, most never got published – and the fault for that appears to lie with Lenin, who was dismissive of her work. And while she probably wrote many letters to Lenin, given the 130+ that he is known to have written to her, they have neither been collected nor published (or hadn’t to 1996; I haven’t seen any evidence of them, anyway).
Elwood’s is a well written, and well structured, biography. (It might seem obvious how to structure a biography, but within standard chronology I have read some truly confusing stuff.) He tells Armand’s story in a straightforward manner, and didn’t seem to me to be making too many leaps of intuition. He also incorporates a fair amount of history about the situation in pre-revolutionary Russia, and the immediate after-effects of the October Revolution; as with Lenin, Armand wasn’t actually in the country for the February one. Sadly, for Armand herself and in thinking about how she might have continued to influence affairs, she died in 1920 – while the Civil War was still going, before War Communism was repealed and the NEP introduced. Thinking about it though, this might almost have been a good thing, since she didn’t have to face Stalin’s rise to power.
My one quibble is Elwood’s use of the term ‘feminist’. He never theorises what he actually means by that, and whether he is using the term in a modern or a contemporary way. He doesn’t spend much time – and none early on – discussing what was obviously a problem for the Bolsheviks: that most women who identified as feminist at this time were doing so from a bourgeois perspective. Consequently, there were real problems for women who identified both as Marxist and feminist, since Marxists said women’s issues were a class problem, not a gender one. Anyway, this leads to some sections where it sounds like Armand evolved from feminism to Marxism, which I would take issue with and I’m not sure was Elwood’s intention.
There are lots of things to like about this book, but perhaps my favourite is the chapter focussing on the historiography of the notion that Armand was Lenin’s lover. Elwood details what he reconstruct of the earliest suggestions of such a relationship, then looks at the actual evidence, and points out all the flaws and inconsistencies. Of course, as he acknowledges, it is a possibility he was wrong; they (with Lenin’s wife Krupskaia) did spend a lot of time in the same places, and they did write to each other a lot. But the weight of the evidence at the moment says they were not involved like that. Apparently you actually could be female and have an impact on politics other than through your sex life. Who knew?
Women of Other Worlds
Helen Merrick and Tess Williams had the chance to attend WisCon 20 in 1996. This book, which they co-edited, sprang directly from that experience. It’s a thick book – well over 400 pages – filled with fiction, poetry, and a variety of non-fiction pieces: some critical essays on authors or particular works, some collected correspondence, a few along the lines of memoirs. I haven’t read the whole lot yet, but the pieces I haven’t read are those that relate to work I’m unfamiliar with. So there are a couple relating to Lois McMaster Bujold, for example, which I’ll read when I’ve finally caught up with the world and read her stuff.
A complete review of the book would be… extensive, to say the least. But there are a few pieces that especially made me think. For a start, there were a few pieces of fiction that I didn’t really like. That’s an odd place to start a discussion of the collection, perhaps, but it was an important thing for me to realise and come to grips with. Part of me expects to always like everything in a particular set: all feminist SF, for example, or everything by Ursula le Guin… even everything SF, period. (This account for my dismay at not enjoying Terminal World by Alastair Reynolds as much as I had hoped, given my love of everything else he’s written.) So to discover that I didn’t like everything chosen by Merrick and Williams for inclusion was interesting, and gave me pause, and was ultimately quite useful in helping me think through my attitudes. There was much fiction I did like, of course, and one of those in particular was “Home by the Sea,” by Elisabeth Vonarburg. It’s a marvellous tale about struggling with identity, and family, and personal history, in the context of a vague environmental disaster. Kelley Eskridge’s “And Salome Danced” is also a brilliant piece, creepy and lush and subtle. Showing just how useful the internet has become in facilitating criticism, it’s followed by a essay comprising email correspondence from the Fem-SF list about that story, allowing for all sorts of interesting comparison and discussion.
As an anthology relating to WisCon, there are of course a couple of pieces relating to James Tiptree Jr, although – not unexpectedly – they’re neither straight biography nor criticism. There’s an excerpt from one of the cookbooks put out to raise money for the eponymous award, which is hilarious and sounds delicious and makes me want to buy the book, and Pat Murphy’s reminiscences about how the award got started. And Justine Larbalestier contributes an essay on “Alice James Raccoona Tiptree Davey Hastings Bradley Sheldon Jr”, and the stories told about that collection of identities, that makes me itch to go read the bio sitting on my shelf.
Judith Merrill, to whom the anthology is dedicated, finishes the anthology, with an excerpt from her memoirs, and a reflection on the compiling of the same. She had been a Guest of Honour at the con, and died before the anthology was completed. It’s another bio that I really must get my hands on, because she sounds like a most amazing woman, especially in the context of her time but really for all time. I’ve read hardly any of her work, and I’ve tried looking for one of her novels (Shadow on the Hearth), but she seems to be totally out print, which is tragic.
What Merrick and Williams show in this book is how different sorts of writing can work together to give an impression of a community, all its different aspects and ways of relating and divergences. It’s my sort of book; good fiction, good criticism, humour and an attempt to understand the world, or bits of it anyway.
An open letter
Dear Joanna
– do you mind if you call you Joanna? I’m not going to pretend like I know you from your writing, but Ms Russ feels rather distant and Professor Russ is rather intimidating. I do kinda get the feeling, from your work, that should I meet you in a social setting, after I recovered from my awkward fangirl-induced silence and/or hysteria, you would be Joanna. Thus –
Dear Joanna
I’m 31. That means all of your novels were written before I was born. Much of your short fiction was, too, and almost all of your reviews. (Happily you’ve kept writing essays and the like, so I’ve got heaps still to read – not that I’m even through your fiction yet.) Despite being an historian myself, and one obsessed by the ancient and medieval worlds at that, there is a small part of me that is still somewhat amazed that work from before my birth can have an impact on me. Although I quite like Ancient Greek tragedy, for example, medieval literature rarely affects me on a visceral level; it’s too foreign; I mostly like the ancient tragedies because they’ve become so wrapped up in Western European culture.
The point is, your fiction does affect me. I’m only a child of the ’70s by the grace of three months, and I grew up in Australia, so I don’t really understand the anti-feminist rhetoric that so clearly affected The Female Man, for example. I sometimes get made fun of for identifying as a feminist, which is insulting and horrible and all those sorts of things, but it’s never turned actively nasty, actively hostile – which I know is a blessing. Reading The Female Man, especially the section where you anticipate reviewers’ reactions? Well. It was like a punch to the guts to realise that you expected that sort of reaction. And it makes me admire you fiercely for being willing to put your work out there and endure that sort of reaction because you believed in your work, and in what you were saying.
(All of this may make me sound naive and innocent. I’m not, really. It’s just that my understanding of second-wave feminists’ experiences has often been a bit academic, I guess. Hostile critical reviews, especially when they’ve already been actively anticipated and lampooned, are not academic.)
The first of your work that I read was “When it Changed,” and I had the advantage of reading it without already knowing the reality of life on Whileaway. When I gave a copy of that story and The Female Man to a friend of mine entering law school (she has a Masters in Philosophy as well, don’t worry), I had to scribble out the intro to “When it Changed” because it revealed who the narrator was, which is of course most of the fun. Since then, I’ve read one of your Alyx stories, The Two of Them, “Souls” (which I was overwhelmingly excited to see as a double with a Tiptree story!), and To Write like a Woman. I really enjoyed that collection of your non-fiction, by the way, and I’m dead keen to get the others. You have such an incisive mind, and such a delightful turn of phrase. I especially enjoyed your essays on “What can a Heroine do? or why Women can’t Write,” and “Somebody’s Trying to Kill me and I think it’s My Husband: the Modern Gothic.” You maintain an inspiring balance between humour, and compassion, and cutting criticism that makes your work wonderful to read. So, thank you for that. You have indeed inspired me.
My one issue I wanted to mention is your early dismissal of stories you said you were set in “galactic suburbia.” Admittedly I only know about this from Lisa Yaszek’s book of that same name. I quite enjoy the (well-written) stories set there, and I’m wondering whether you have changed your mind since your discussion of them. If you haven’t, that’s fine… I guess I wonder if, with distance between then and now, things have changed. And at the heart of that wonder is the question of whether you think things actually have changed enough for it to be worth changing your mind. This is getting convoluted; let me explain my (now admittedly naive) thought process. I am presuming that part of your dismissal stemmed from the idea that those stories weren’t feminist enough, and that female authors ought to be writing more challenging, more overtly feminist, work. Maybe I’m wrong; maybe you just didn’t like them. Fair enough. But if my assumption has any truth, do you now think that there can be a place for more domestically-oriented texts? Hmm… it may well be that I am just digging myself in deeper now, and this is making me sound totally unreconstructed.
The reality is, this is fanmail. I love your work. I love that you write/wrote fiction and non-fiction, that you are an academic who is passionate about science fiction, that you are a passionate feminist, and – what spins me out – that you have been those things for so long (sorry, I don’t mean to imply that I think you are old…). You are an inspiration to me.
With deep regards and immense gratitude
Alex
2011 Book Club
Thanks to a tip from Tansy, I have just signed myself up for an online book club for 2011: women in science fiction. I’ve read two – The Handmaid’s Tale and Lilith’s Brood (although I read that as three separate books) – and already own another – Mappa Mundi, which I will read before the designated month because Robson is one of the GoH at Swancon36/Natcon50. Of the others, I’ve been hanging out to read more than half of them, and know the names of most of the others, so this will be a great opportunity to get stuck into them and also discuss them to bits! I’m looking forward to it a lot.
Galactic Suburbia 20!!
You can download us from iTunes or from our website!
In which we talk World Fantasy, female editors, Joanna Russ, James Tiptree Jr, Connie Willis, Pat Murphy, and more World Fantasy – plus Alisa tells us off for not mentioning how awesome certain books actually are (we totally did).
News
World Fantasy Award winners!
Peter Tennant at Black Static looks at the stats for women being published in recent horror & dark fantasy anthologies; the Hathor Legacy compares representation of female authors in two recent horror anthols.
Cat Sparks is the new fiction editor of Cosmos, taking over from Damien Broderick.
Discussion on the lack of female editors in pro fantasy publications (read through the comments which raise many important points about the post).
Steampunkgate (yes, really):
Charles Stross criticises the “glut” of steampunk and calls it out at a subgenre;
Nisi Shawl talks about the literary side of steampunk just isn’t as diverse and interesting as the other aspects of steampunk… yet;
Catherynne Valente rants and then raves about steampunk;
Scott Westerfeld gets cranky about the steampunk haterz.
Small press turned imprint to publish line of multicultural SF/Fantasy for children.
Jeff VanderMeer reports on Amazon Best of SF/F lists for 2010.
What have we been reading/listening to?
Alex: Changeless, Gail Carriger; The Two of Them, Joanna Russ; Brightness Falls from the Air, James Tiptree Jr; Full Moon City, ed Darrell Schweitzer and Martin Greenberg; backlog of Tor.com (esp. AM Dellamonica’s “The Cage” and Robert Reed’s “The Next Invasion“) and Strange Horizons (esp. Sandra McDonald’s “Seven Sexy Cowboy Robots“).
Alisa: Fire Watch, Remake (both Connie Willis); White Cat by Holly Black; Ethan of Athos by Lois McMaster Bujold.
Tansy: The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, NK Jemisin, Adventures in Time and Space with Max Merriwell, by Pat Murphy.
Pet Subject
Capclave and World Fantasy Convention! Alex and Tansy interrogate Alisa about her trip away, her loot, her adventures and all the gossip.
Please send feedback to us at galacticsuburbia@gmail.com, follow us on Twitter at @galacticsuburbs, check out Galactic Suburbia on Facebook and don’t forget to leave a review on iTunes if you love us!
The Two of Them
I could say that I read this book, by Joanna Russ, to continue my education into feminist sf. That would partly be true. It does, however, make it sound like my reading of it was like adding bran to my muesli; something I felt I ought to do. And initially, there might have been a smidgeon of this in my thinking: I’d heard about The Female Man, for example, but hadn’t read it until last year. And it was so… amazing, and confronting, and challenging, that I realised I had to read more Russ to keep experiencing that. While also getting the chance to educate myself. It’s the same thing I get with reading history: I love the knowledge, and I love knowing it too.
The Two of Them is quite different from The Female Man. It’s a much more conventional narrative, in that it generally keeps to the same point of view throughout and has a generally straightforward timeline. There is some leaping between past and future, but that’s not exactly radical.
That said, there are some glimpses of the Russ I was expecting from The Female Man. There are instances of the author speaking to the audience, questioning her own narrative – not just her techniques, but the structure of the narrative itself. And this only happens towards the end of the story, so all of a sudden the reader is struck both with the fact of the story being a construction, and that the narrator may not be entirely trustworthy. That’s quite disconcerting.
The story revolves around a woman who was a teen in the US in the 1950s. She ends up working for a shadowy organisation that is never fully explained (which reminded me of the company in Iain Banks’ Transition, to the extent that I wonder whether he was influenced by it), and finds herself on a planet that is clearly based on the idea of a Muslim world. There, she meets a young girl who wants to be a poet, but only men are allowed to be. (Incidentally, it was at that point I got a weird feeling of deja vous. Flicking to the front of the books, I discovered a note thanking Suzette Haden Elgin for allowing Russ to use the characters from her short story “For the Sake of Grace” – I know I’ve read, sometime, in an anthology I can’t remember the name of. This is a fascinating example of intertextuality.)
The story moves into an exploration of issues concerning colonisation – does she have a right to interfere with how this planet’s society works? – and, of course, patriarchy and paternalism and coming face to face with the unconscious sexism that she’s been living with for years. Russ develops this particularly well, because the reader too is largely unaware of the sexism: it’s not like those stories where the characters are oblivious but the reader is shouting in rage. The discovery, the revelation, of how her personal relationships have been functioning is as surprising, and horrifying, and I guess depressing to the reader (well, this reader anyway) as for her.
Tied in with this meaty, crunchy (hi Tansy) exploration of issues, there’s also a scifi/adventure story. The SF element isn’t especially overt: there are space ships, and maybe time travel, but they’re just a part of the book’s reality – they don’t rate a great detailed explanation, because they don’t matter, in the same way that a toaster or a radio don’t rate explanation in a mainstream novel. It’s also short, at around 180 pages.
I can’t wait to read the essays on this novel in on Joanna Russ, which I’ve had sitting on my shelf for ages. I’m sure there are all sorts of issues and hints and allusions that I’ve missed, because they were specific to Russ’ context. This is the other thing I love about Russ’ writing: it allows for multiple re-readings, because it’s so complex – as well as being a great read.
Galactic Suburbia #19: the Greco-Roman issue
You can get us from iTunes or download us here!
While Alisa is away, Alex & Tansy play… in ANCIENT GREECE! We talk awards, the end of publishing as we know it, stressful feminist debates, Vonda McIntyre, Twitter fiction, Stargate, and whether there’s enough Greek & Roman mythology in modern fantasy.
News
Tansy wins WSFA Small Press Award for Siren Beat;
Last Drink Bird Head Award Winners;
John Joseph Adams takes over from Cat Rambo & Sean Wallace as editor of Fantasy Magazine;
Realms of Fantasy dies: from Shawna McCarthy, and the publisher;
Wiscon committee disappoints through inaction (also here); and then finally moves to disinvite Elizabeth Moon as GoH (warning, many of the comments on that one are pretty awful to wade through); also here and here;
Paul Collins on how the ebook revolution isn’t working so well ;
Cat Valente on tedium, evil, and why the term ‘PC’ is only used these days to hurt and silence people;
Peter M Ball explaining how white male privilege uses requests for civility to silence the legitimate anger of others;
on Vonda McIntyre’s “Dreamsnake”, a controversial Hugo winning novel from 1979 which has been out of print for 10 years; and an interview with Vonda McIntyre about the book.
What have we been reading/listening to?
Tansy: Death Most Definite, Trent Jamieson; Blameless, Gail Carriger, Bleed by Peter M Ball, “Twittering the Universe” by Mari Ness, Shine & “Clockwork Fairies” by Cat Rambo, Tor.com.
Alex: Silver Screen, Justina Robson; Sprawl; Deep Navigation, Alastair Reynolds; The Beginning Place, Ursula le Guin; abandoned Gwyneth Jones’ Escape Plans; listening to The 5th Race, ep 1 (Stargate SG1 fan podcast).
Pet Subject
Classical mythology in modern fantasy. Can it still work? Do you have to get it ‘right’?
Book mentioned:
The Firebrand, Marion Zimmer Bradley
Medea, Cassandra, Electra by Kerry Greenwood
Olympic Games, Leslie What
Dan Simmons’ Ilium and Olympos
Gods Behaving Badly, Marie Phillips
Troy, Simon Brown
Margaret Atwood’s Penelopiad and Jeanette Winterson’s Weight, also David Malouf’s Ransom – along the same lines as Lavinia by Ursula Le Guin
Robert Holdstock’s Celtika, Iron Grail, Broken Kings
A Galactic Suburbia special
And I forgot to mention…
The Galactic Suburbia Spoilerific Book Club!
Consider yourself warned. This is an incredibly spoilery discussion of LIAR by Justine Larbalestier. It’s not a little bit spoilery. It’s a LOT spoilery. And if you don’t believe us that this is the kind of book that you really truly don’t want to be spoiled for, consider the facts:
1) We invented the Galactic Spoilerific Book Club purely to discuss this book
2) We actually feel a bit uncomfortable even mentioning how much you don’t want to be spoiled for this book, because that in itself might mess with your reading experience
3) You trust us, right?
If on the other hand you have read LIAR by Justine Larbalestier, come on by and listen to us flap our hands as we try to articulate just what’s going on in this book.
Also, stretching back into the mists of time before Galactic Suburbia existed (hard to imagine, I know) check out Alex, Alisa and Tansy podcasting back in 2008 with our friend Kathryn, on the (then) entire bibliography of works by Justine. Yes, it’s a Larbalestpalooza!
Galactic Suburbia becomes an adult
I , like you, have to just accept that these show notes are accurate, as I was absent for the recording of this, the 18th episode of Galactic Suburbia! However, Tansy and Alisa have never given me reason to doubt them… yet…. The podcast can be got from iTunes, or streamed/downloaded from here, which is where I’m heading after uploading this post.
Episode 18: Special Horror Edition
In which we discuss translated awards, constructive feminist discourse on the internet, make a special Swancon announcement, and dissect our complex relationship with the horror genre.
News
Geffen Awards (Israel)
Torque Control discussion on women & the Clarke & the dire state of women in British SF, with list of all British releases of SF or SFnal books by women in 2010.
— inspired by interview with Tricia Sullivan.
Torque Control announces they will be blogging about 2010 British SF releases by women in December and ask for readers to join them. Also call for contributions of top 10 female authored SF books in the last decade for a theoretical “future classics’ list.
Super Special Swancon Announcement!
What have we been reading/listening to?
TANSY: The Wiscon Chronicles IV edited by Sylvia Kelso; Azu Manga Daioh by Kiyohiko Azuma; Asimovs & F&SF, Salon Futura
ALISA: secret projects & another Book I Am Not Reading
Pet Subject: while Alex is away, let’s talk about HORROR
– we’re both pretty selective about the horror/dark fiction we read. What does it have to do to catch our eye?
– favourite horror/dark writers
– where do we draw the line on what we like/can appreciate in horror?
– does our feminism get in the way of reading/enjoying horror fiction?
Please send feedback to us at galacticsuburbia@gmail.com, follow us on Twitter at @galacticsuburbs and on Facebook! and don’t forget to leave a review on iTunes!
All’s well that ends…
Enchanter’s End Game: Book 5 of the Belgariad
David Eddings
Me
Oh, the end.
Reading the last book in a series is a funny experience. I know someone who will often not watch the last episode or season of a show, or will not read the last book, because she doesn’t want it to end. I Could Not Do That. I need closure. I need to know how it all ends, how the strings are going to be tied together, how the characters could possibly, possibly get out of the bind they’re in. And, sometimes, I need the happy-ever-after, too. I’m that kind of girl.
TEHANI
Oh, completely agree! Not knowing how it ends, ESPECIALLY when you’ve invested in a lengthy series, is horrible! (I’m looking at you Melanie Rawn and Robert Jordan (with respect)). The happy-ever-after is nice, but not always warranted, as long as the resolution makes sense in terms of the character, world-building and plot that’s gone before – why yes, I’m still bitter about a certain Australian big fat fantasy quartet that ended in the most stupid manner imaginable… Fortunately, we don’t have that problem here.
Me
The final book of the Belgariad begins with Garion, Belgarath and Silk’s fairly tedious journey through Gar og Nadrak, on the way to what we have finally discovered is the whole point of the series: a showdown between Garion and Torak. One of the things that really appeals to me about this whole series is on the first page of the story: Garion admits, to himself at least, that he is afraid of this confrontation. I think this really struck a chord with the teenaged me, having perhaps watched a bit too much He-Man, Transformers, and similar, where no one is ever afraid. Garion is quite convinced that he is going to die – and yet he keeps on going. He is dubious about everything he’s discovered about his heritage, from being a sorcerer through to being a king, but he never really considers giving up. This sort of grim determination has become something of a staple in YA, and I think that’s a really great thing – but I still like it here, too.
TEHANI
It’s one of the real high points – demonstrating that it’s okay to be scared, and real courage means you keep going anyway. That’s a massive message, but it’s not preached at us, which makes it even more appealing.
Me
As an aside, I’m really glad that Eddings wrote both Belgarath and Polgara, to fill in some gaps. In the first few pages here we meet that random gold prospector in the mountains, and there’s a tantalising glimpse at both Belgarath and Polgara’s back story. I always really wanted to know more about Polgara being OWNED by someone, and the winter spent by the two of them with the prospector also sounded like it could be a good story. I’m still not entirely convinced by that Nadrak custom, but the prospector’s story was indeed worth it. I also really like the little vignette with Garion talking to the wolves – the idea that wolves have exquisite manners is very appealing – and again, Belgarath in particular gives a bit more about wolfish society.
TEHANI
Makes you wonder when they decided to write those prequels really – the old prospector’s not the only one whose story is explored in the two novels that tell the stories that came before – Vordai’s tale was another, and it makes me think about how much the Eddings team structured to set that up. It can’t have been on the cards from the beginning, because there are continuity errors between Belgarath, Polgara and the Belgariad and the Mallorean, but either they’re really good at making use of little tidbits dropped in along the journey, or they started planning that early on in the book writing.
Me
The only really interesting thing, for me, about the journey through Nadrak country – not being particularly keen on fur or gold mining – is our introduction to Vella, who gets much more of a part in The Mallorean. Her interaction with both her owner and her potential buyer demonstrate a really interesting take on how gender relations can function. It’s never explained, at least not sufficiently, why the custom is for men to own women; it’s also not explained at what ages ownership starts, and all those other messy legalistic things. However, the fact that ownership does not give automatic rights over a woman’s body, that she is well within her rights to defend herself with violence, and that a woman can dance incredibly provocatively and still be reasonably sure that no man will attempt to even grope her … well. That’s a mighty interesting idea. Problematic, in a number of ways, but mighty interesting.
Oh, I guess the other mildly fascinating part of Nadrak is its king, the absolutely revolting King Drosta. Debauched, alcoholic, and more than willing to be a two-faced traitor, he is really quite remarkable as a study in what monarchy can lead to. He’s still totally disgusting.
TEHANI
It’s funny on the reread, how small a part some of those characters actually play, because we know so much more about them from later books. Vella is great, but I remembered her being more present, because I’m confusing things from the Mallorean!
Me
From Nadrak our heroes pass through the land of the Morindim, making a rather interesting differentiation between magic and demon-summoning, and then finally we get back to the great big army that Ce’Nedra has gathered – with a side-trip through Cherek, to see Barak’s wife make the Cherek queen finally grow a spine, which is quite entertaining. So is Ran Borune finally being proud of his wayward child, rather than just doting.
TEHANI
Hmmm. Interesting statement “…to see Barak’s wife make the Cherek queen finally grow a spine…” Seems to me, on reflection, that a lot of the great actions by the female characters are orchestrated by someone else (often also female). Is that weird? I mean, I always knew Belgarath and Polgara were pulling the strings of most of the plot, but then there’s the way Islena is pushed around by Merel, and how Adara gently manipulates Ce’Nedra, and more and more examples. Is it a bad thing, or just an example of how women working together achieve more than they would alone? 🙂
Me
Sadly, for much of the time Ce’Nedra’s army is just moving across the Algar plain, and then winching those enormous Cherek warships up the ridiculous escarpment that separates Algaria from the Angaraks. It is actually a fascinating study in medieval-ish warfare: the amount of time it takes to manoeuvre everything and everyone in to position, and then the battle takes basically no time. And I love, love, love that Eddings brought King Fulrach of Sendaria along, made him to be in charge of the supply train, and then actually thought about the practical necessities of an army the size of this one. Feeding one’s soldiers is, of course, of prime importance – but a lot of fantasy writers, when they set up big battle set-pieces, imagine that you can feed hordes on what they can scavenge. When that means stealing from family-sized farms, I think your army is going to get might hungry, and then mighty rebellious, awfully quickly. Anyway – Fulrach comes in to his own, in this section, and it’s a marvellous sight to see. However, I’m no tactician, but surely the idea of having basically every Western king along for the ride – in a land with no electronic communication – is a plan of utmost folly? Yes, the queens are at home, and most of them are able to run the kingdom as efficiently as their husbands, but they’re presuming their populace is happy enough that they won’t take the opportunity to try something like rebellion. That’s a lot of trust. I suppose the number of men they’ve taken away for their own army means there are fewer at home to do the rabble-rousing.
TEHANI
I think the role of the gods plays a big part in how all the kings can bugger off to war. The Western nations all seem pretty secure in their monarchies (barring a bit of dissent sowed by the bear priests), and it’s set up to be their heritage, so the people accept it? Also, I’m no historian, but didn’t the kings of old used to lead their armies in their conquests? I’m thinking of King Richard (ahem, mainly because of Robin Hood stories!) and Alexander the Great here, because my history is rubbish!
Me
Finally there’s fighting, although most of it is off-stage, which is just fine by me. Instead the reader is privy to intelligence as it comes in, and to the after-effects of the fighting: the death, and the injuries, and the bits that often seem to get ignored. And finally someone – Polgara, as it happens – voices what often annoys and saddens me about medieval battles, because it just seems so pointless: setting everything on fire. (Obviously I hate the killing and maiming too, but at least if you insist on fighting those things seem to have a point.) There’s a seriously awesome sorcerous battle at the same time as the fight between the West and the East (since that’s what it comes down to, OH THE SYMBOLISM), lots more fighting – some exquisite set-pieces that reveal rather interesting facets of character, and then OH LOOK how convenient Ce’Nedra, Polgara, and Durnik get kidnapped. SO CONVENIENT. But hey, this way we get to meet ’Zakath, and I love ’Zakath. So urbane, so crazy-violent-mad.
TEHANI
Oh yeah, ’Zakath is awesome! I have so many favourite characters in these books J Am so pleased we get so much ’Zakath in the second series.
Me
Finally, the end genuinely approacheth. We meet Zedar at LAST, and Garion comes face to face with the once-impossibly beautiful god Torak. And then Durnik dies. Quiet Durnik, consistently useful, shrewdly insightful, over-awed by his companions and totally in love with Polgara: he dies. And if you’re anything like me, you’ve forgotten the name that a couple of people have given him over the course of 4.75 books, and it is just heartbreaking. Of course, then Belgarath does something impossibly horrible to Zedar, and the bloodthirsty wench that I am is as pleased as all get out that he gets his come-uppance.
TEHANI
I REMEMBERED what all those people had named Durnik and I STILL teared up! It’s a great scene, terribly sad because of Polgara and Garion’s reactions I think – Durnik’s such a stable part of Garion’s life (one of the very few, if not the ONLY, fixed point for him!), that this hits him right at the core. And poor Polgara.
Me
And finally, finally, Garion and Torak meet. If I was disappointed by Belgarath vs Ctuchik, and Belgarath vs Zedar seemed totally one-sided, this particular battle is quite a good one. I especially like that it really started with Torak trying to win Garion over, promising to be his father; and then he once again tries to seduce Polgara (EW), but of course it all comes back down to violence. It is pathetic, in the true sense of the word, that all Torak wants (it seems) is love and acceptance – but he can’t go about getting it in the normal way. Eddings does really interesting things with his gods, I think, and making Torak so very tortured allows the possibility that he’s not as completely irredeemable as the rest of the books would suggest. But, of course, he’s still the bad guy, and as a result he dies.
TEHANI
Reading this again, I really felt sorry for Torak. And while I know that he’s not even portrayed all that well in the prequels, it gives you one of those, “Oh, if only someone had helped him see the light when he was young…” moments! Silly, I know, but that’s the reaction I had this time around!
Me
It’s a cataclysmic finale, and in some ways anything after it is always going to be a let-down. But, just like I love the end of The Lord of the Rings because it shows everything going back to normal, I do quite like the end of this book, and the series. Most importantly, of course, we are reminded that Durnik is The Man with Two Lives, and it’s all okay in the end. He and Polgara get together (at LAST), and – skipping right to the end – she doesn’t even have to give up her magic. I was pretty unimpressed that the gods would make her do that, originally; now I actually find it kind of funny, to imagine Polgara going through those weeks and months without trying magic, only to discover it was there all along. Is that mean of me? I have always wondered, though: if you can hear a fellow sorcerer doing magic, why hadn’t Garion or Polgara heard Durnik practising? Surely his first few attempts would have sounded like all the bells on the island.
TEHANI
Maybe Belgarath muffled the sound – or mucked about with his own noisiness while Durnik was practising, or, or … heh, maybe we just have to accept this part as one of those little mistakes we find when we revisit our darlings. I always thought it was funny though – her reaction when she finds out she’s been all selfless for no reason is actually rather restrained really!
Me
Garion and Ce’Nedra get married. Yeah yeah. Like that wasn’t always going to be perfect.
And, of course, there’s teasing hint from Polgara that maybe the story isn’t finished yet – that the Mrin Codex doesn’t finish with Garion’s battle, so maybe there’s still something left to do. OH REALLY?? How convenient! An opening for a further series of books!
TEHANI
Such a cynical thought! But for all its faults, and the Mallorean has definite faults (the main one, for me, being that it’s actually the entire plot of the Belgariad retold with some different characters!), I’m really glad we got the second series, because I love all these characters! I think that’s why the reread, despite the issues we’ve talked about as we’ve gone along (hey, the Suck Fairy http://www.tor.com/blogs/2010/09/the-suck-fairy came to visit in the years since we read it last!), was so easy to do – we love the characters, and they still deliver on their awesome.
Me
All up, I was pleased at having done this re-read. I still enjoyed the characters that I enjoyed the first two times around – especially Polgara and Silk – although their mannerisms did get a little tiresome after a while. There’s only so many times Silk can turn white at Relg going through stone, and say exactly the same thing each time. I was certainly more aware of the problems inherent in this story than I was originally, especially in the men vs women stakes – and so often they did seem to be a confrontation. That Ce’Nedra would threaten tears at Garion so frequently was quite off-putting, but then – she is only sixteen, so perhaps allowances can be made. Although not many. Actually, I was struck this time by just how many strong women there actually are, and strong in different ways: Polgara, Porenn the Drasnian queen, Vella, the Dryad queen, Vordai in the swamp, Barak’s wife Merel … it’s actually quite a good list.
A number of people have tried to convince me that re-reading The Mallorean is A Very Bad Idea. I’m not convinced. I won’t be doing it immediately, but perhaps in the medium-term future….
TEHANI
Oh, I reckon we go visit Sparhawk first!
This reread has been great fun – it’s been ages since I’ve gone back to any old favourites (simply too many new books to read to go back to the oldies, although the old darlings still get pride of place on my bookshelves!), so I was glad to have to make time to get through these again. It’s such a comfort read, but it also helps me to see where I’m at with my reading now, and examine my baseline for my current favourites, which is interesting in itself! Maybe I’ll put some Anne McCaffrey or Raymond Feist back on my To Be Read shelf and see if the experience is the same!
Randomly Yours, Alex 