Tuesday, October 5, 2021

Class in Danny Phantom

The Danny Phantom cartoon can be read in sorts of ways (the queer/trans and neurodivergent readings in particular are fascinating) but I want to give it a look from another lens that I think may have been neglected a bit: Class. 

 

Danny Fenton bears more than a passing resemblance to one of Marvel’s most popular superheroes, Peter Parker AKA Spider-Man. The show itself could be called Spider-Man + Ghostbusters, though over time it developed enough of its lore to be its own thing. But the similarities to Spider-Man can’t be dismissed. The protagonist, like Peter, has a secret identity that he is dedicated to maintaining; the civilian persona is known as an unpopular child with interest in science while the hero persona is confident and witty. Danny is picked on by Dash Baxter, who is clearly a counterpart to Flash Thompson. Danny is a teenager, just like Peter was when he started in the Earth 616 Marvel universe (meaning, the same Marvel universe that he’s existed in since his first appearance in Amazing Fantasy #15). Danny’s nemesis Vlad Masters/Plasmius could be considered a Lex Luthor reference but he also shares some traits with Spider-Man’s own Norman Osborn/Green Goblin. And neither hero has had the best relationship with the press (see when Danny Phantom was constantly in headlines on in universe newspapers insisting he did things like attack the mayor and Spider-Man's history with J. John Jameson).

 

But there’s one rather prominent difference between the two. Spider-Man is notorious for being the hero with money problems. Ranging from needing funds to pay for things like spidersuits, web fluid, or supporting his elderly Aunt May, Peter Parker has become one of the superhero genre’s working class icons. These things even go back to the early issues from the Lee/Dikto run that took place in high school (which was very brief because heroes, at the time, roughly aged in real time). 

 

 In comparison, Danny Fenton has no obvious monetary concerns. Finances seem to not be a problem for the Fentons (probably because both Jack and Maddie are middle age rather than elderly), based on the property they own (not to mention all the inventions and the giant OPs center). So Danny also uses gadgets but his parents never seem to struggle to pay for things like lab equipment, especially things needed to keep their Ghost Zone portal from exploding. It's mentioned in canon that the Fenton parents sell their inventions, and based on how well they work, it's not surprising that they are financially successful. Combine that with Jack and Maddie both having been to college and it’s clear the Fentons are middle class. 

 

 This middle class status also applies to most of the characters met in the series itself. For example, one of Danny’s friends, Tucker Foley, is shown to live with both parents in a house they’re implied to own (one of the best clues to class status is whether you own or rent your property) and he never seems to miss out on some of the latest PDAs or other technology. His other best friend, Sam Manson, is even shown to be somewhat wealthy. None of the other students at Casper High are implied to be working class except, perhaps, Valerie Gray after she and her father have to move into a small apartment and Valerie takes a part-time job at the Nasty Burger to raise money for college. Even in Valerie’s case, it seems more like karma for the snobby upper middle class girl turned ghost hunter and her father, Damon (who may or may not have been responsible for the death of security dogs like Cujo is heavily implied to be). One thing I think is worth noting is the importance of the C. A. T. from The Ultimate Enemy. While the point regarding that is Danny’s choice to cheat, other than Jack Fenton, it’s not really challenged in the episode just how much influence a person’s score on that test can have on your future. And performance on those sorts of tests can also be influenced by class status (working class or poor kids might not have the same access to tutors or the same amount of time to study).

 

None of this is a problem but it makes it an interesting thing to look at, especially in regards to the plots that the show takes on. For example, how frequently would Danny or his friends be able to eat out, see movies, have family vacations to other parts of the country, or play the latest video games if money was tight in their households? What kind of quality Fenton tech could have been produced? How easily would Sam have stuck to her ultra recyclo-vegetarianism  or kept up with Goth fashion if she were working class? How would Tucker adjust to not being able to potentially afford to buy a new PDA if his got broken? 

 

The show does have some other things that have some implications about class. Vlad Masters is a billionaire and is shown to have acquired his fortune by using his ghost powers in evil ways. The Mansons, despite their money, choose to send Sam to a public school. 

 

 I am only speculating but I believe part of why things seem so easily affordable is due to the show coming out before the 2008 financial crisis, which laid bare the economic inequalities of modern America. And, of course, it just may not have been an issue the show wanted to bring up that much since they didn’t have an obvious character to rep this issue the way Sam did for animal rights or her own brand of feminism. 

 

Regardless, the show was still pretty good. It at the very least did a good job of making things feel like a proper power fantasy since unlike my parents (though I didn't learn this until after the show ended), the major families tended to lack financial difficulties. 

Sunday, February 14, 2021

Why I Didn’t Like Steve Rogers’s Ending in Avengers: Endgame



Why I Didn’t Like Steve Rogers’s Ending in Avengers: Endgame


There is no objectivity in high art, let alone entertainment like blockbuster movies featuring superheroes. Plus, the movies just like the comics before them have different people working on certain movies than others and plans can get interrupted or changed (like Spider-Man suddenly being added to Civil War) so it’s no surprise that viewers (like myself) could have gotten the wrong idea about what exactly Steve’s arc in the movies was about versus what it actually was proven to be by the end of Endgame. Now if you like the ending, more power to you. Personally, other than Black Panther I think Phase Three did a lot of awful things to the characters of the MCU (which is why I continue to prefer the worlds of the Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes cartoon as well as the comicverse Earth 616 A.K.A. the main Marvel Universe, as they contain my favorite versions of the characters) but I can understand why others don’t share my opinion. But being totally honest, I, as an individual, did not like what happened with Steve’s character arc. This is not passing judgement on the quality but simply my subjective reaction to the narrative choice.


Many reasons have been given why people don’t like the ending. Ranging from: “Steve would never do that if he was in character” (obviously proven false since it happened). “Steve moved on from Peggy and it takes away her life” (again, false, especially since she was implied to be quite willing to enter a relationship with him). “Steve not moving on from Peggy is unhealthy” (arguable, since I’m sure if she said she didn’t want to be with him I’m sure he would’ve backed off and gone back to the present day immediately. And for all we know he’s had several girlfriends post snap.) Or “Steve abandoned his friends” (he’s under no obligation to stay with them. He’s his own man and it’s his own life. But I did find it a bit out of character that he apparently didn’t tell Sam, who he literally just got back after he’d been gone a whopping five whole years, that he was thinking of staying away for a while. Rather, he just showed up all old and gave Sam the shield. Just seemed like an odd writing choice when he could’ve been like, “Hey, Sam. I’m going to see Peggy and may end up staying with her for a while so I might be older when I’m back but I’ll see you again in seconds.”.) For me, I’ve tried to articulate why I hate the ending and it can be summed up by the following points: “The lack of explanation about what happened in the other timeline,” “Steve not having to sacrifice anything,”and “the focus on a wife as the key to a happy ending for Steve.” Again, these are completely subjective.



The lack of explanation about what happened in the other timeline


Let’s try and break down what happened when Steve went back in time. Based on the scene as presented in the movie, Steve shows up at Peggy’s house after the war is over. (The screenwriters also said he showed up after the events of Agent Carter.) The movie never explains what happens with them other than they got their long awaited dance. So here’s some things I imagine he had to settle with her in order for them to even begin to have proper communication: He would have to prove to her that he is in fact Steve Rogers. He may or may not have told her he’s from the future -- I choose to believe that he told her immediately, as well as admitting that due to Endgame’s time travel rules set by the directors, there was another version of himself somewhere in ice. They would have had to actually figure out who they are together now that the war is over and get to know each other in a more intimate way than they had been able to before and decide that the relationship they had established was truly sustainable. Steve and Peggy would have had to deal with the fact that Steve is now a decade older than he was the last time they saw each other and the massive gap in experience since Steve has lived things she hasn’t, like going to space and watching half the life in the universe get wiped out because a purple alien snapped his fingers or even just lived in the Information Age with modern technology. Let’s assume all goes according to Steve’s plan and their relationship is great and they have no more problems than could be expected for a healthy couple.


This is probably just my headcanon but it’s also worth noting that despite Steve having led therapy groups himself, he would still have benefited from having modern therapy about the events of Endgame, especially since he just lost two people he cared about: Tony and Natasha. Obviously that wouldn't be an option going back into the past. Hope he had good coping mechanisms since there’s a limited number of people he could talk to about his experiences and none of them are or should be his therapist. And I can just imagine the stress of dealing with being married to the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. during the Cold War.


Endgame never tells us anything about what Steve does in the other timeline. Does he tell everyone that he’s Steve Rogers or does he live under an alias (or perhaps uses the same name but pretends to be a different Steve than the guy who was Captain America)? Does he tell anyone he’s from the future? I would hope at least Peggy and, if anyone else, maybe Howard (or the Howling Commandos). If he lives under a different name, is he still friends with the Howling Commandos? Does he work at S.H.I.E.L.D.? Does he get a more normal job? Do he and Peggy have children? Does he save Bucky, either personally or tell others who have S.H.I.E.L.D. track him down? Does he tell Peggy and Howard about his other self, which could potentially lead to younger Steve getting found sooner? If Peggy knows, how much does he tell her about the future? Because even just mentioning things like the Cuban missile crisis or the Vietnam War before they happen could lead to her, consciously or not, making some different choices that could lead to the timeline being completely affected considering the position of power she inhabits. Heck, saving Bucky alone changes a lot since it’s heavily implied he assassinated a lot of high profile targets, plus Howard living would change Tony a lot. Would Tony still have the same relationship with Obadiah Stane? Would he still become Iron Man someday or potentially do something else to help the world? If they stamp Hydra out of SHIELD, that’s another way the timeline would be completely different -- hopefully for the better.


I imagine questions like this other than “get rid of Hydra” and “save Bucky” would be the sort of things he would keep out of his mind for a while but the closer he’d get to the twenty-first century the more the possibilities would run through his head. If he changes things a lot, would the Avengers still exist or something completely different? Does Thanos still manage to collect all of the Infinity Stones? (Even if Steve gives up fighting, the closer he’d get to the time he left I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d be worried about the possibility of losing people to the snap -- again.) Because of this, perhaps Steve would share future knowledge about things like Asgard, Infinity Stones (and where he knows some can be found), and Thanos to guarantee Earth’s safety?


I’m also bothered by how the film writers and directors had different ideas about how Steve’s time travel worked. The writers favored “Steve was Peggy’s husband all along” which would explain why he didn’t appear back where he’d left on the platform but that also violates the movie’s time travel rules. The directors said an alternate timeline and it’s never explained in the movie itself that his timeline was a different one nor how he got back to the canon MCU. Nor is it explained if Old Steve is here to stay in the MCU or if he’s going back to the alternate timeline after giving Sam the shield. Rather, the creative team just went for what they saw as a romantic and cathartic ending with Steve and Peggy’s long awaited dance but brings up more questions than it solves. It’s a valid writing choice, leaving things up to the audience and ending with the shot of Steve and Peggy going full circle, but I really don’t care for it.



Steve not having to sacrifice anything


I will openly admit that I was influenced by a poster on Reddit that pointed out that considering the theme of Endgame is “Whatever it takes” and that most of the original Avengers make sacrifices or have to move on, it’s pretty disappointing that Steve never really lives up to that. Sure, he loses Natasha but so does everyone. He gets Bucky and Sam back, gets to wield Mjolnir, gets to go start a new timeline with Peggy, gets to come back to the canon MCU when he feels like it, etc. This is probably just due to them wanting to write off Steve since Chris Evans didn’t want to stick around but by the logic of “Steve deserves to be happy,” doesn’t Thor? Shouldn’t he, then, have made just as much sense to gather the stones and get to start a new timeline where he goes back far enough to save everyone on Asgard and prevent Thanos from succeeding in the first place? Is it different just because Steve's other self is in ice? The whole thing really feels like a last minute decision. Examples of things Steve could have sacrificed: his life, his super soldier serum (he’s lost it before in the comics which led to him turning into an old man physically), his chance with Peggy.



The focus on a wife as the key to a happy ending for Steve


Being perfectly honest, this is the main reason why I was so bothered by Steve’s ending. It’s not that he ended up happy or that he got with Peggy so much as I personally don’t care for the idea that the key to Steve’s happiness was marriage (and potentially children). Sure, I get why Steve liked Peggy and why she’s a reasonable choice for love interest from a narrative perspective -- she was the only woman who served with the Howling Commandos and she liked him even before the serum, when he was still small and sickly. If asked for my preference, I would have liked Sharon to be his love interest since I like their romance in the comics but being perfectly honest, I would’ve liked best if Steve’s story had ended with him single.


This is again just my preference but one of the things I liked about Steve’s storyline pre-Endgame was just how much more emphasis was placed on the platonic relationships in his life rather than romantic ones. Even in The First Avenger his bond with Bucky is as important as his romance with Peggy. The next two movies solidify his friendships with Natasha and Sam. Bucky comes back and eventually they rekindle their brotherly bond. It was probably unintentional that romance played such a small role in his storyline overall since for a while they did try to fit Sharon Carter in there but never found a big role for her outside of serving as love interest so the Cap trilogy primarily focused on Steve’s family of choice, which I adored.


That’s part of why I didn’t care for the ending. While in the past Steve gains Peggy, he loses things too. He loses most of his support system. While Natasha and Tony already died, Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Clint, Scott are all still around. Going back to the past would mean he’d lose all but Bucky and friendship with others would be a bit more distant unless the other person knows about the time travel considering how much more he’s seen than anyone on Earth will until at least the nineties. The friendships could still work but it saddens me to think about all the relationships Steve had to give up just to see one woman -- but I have never felt romantic love so I suppose I’ll never understand how it makes people feel so perhaps that’s a reasonable choice since he did wind up going back to everyone eventually. So while Steve’s ending may be happy it seems a bit bittersweet to me since he never sees most of his old family of choice until it’s been so long that he’ll naturally be a very different person simply due to time. Also I’ll admit to have been rubbed the wrong way by the writers insisting on having Steve refer to Peggy as the “love of my life” when even keeping in mind that they did indeed prove to be a perfect couple based on canon, Steve could not have known that at the time since they had never had a real relationship before. It’s probably just me taking it too personally but he knew his friends far longer: Natasha he knew for a decade before she died, Sam for four(? not sure the exact number) years pre-snap, and he and Bucky were childhood friends. That line would have made more sense after the time travel. I'll also say that it shows that the creators didn't want us to think too hard about the fact that there's another Steve in the ice in that timeline because no matter when he eventually comes out of the ice, he still does not get the chance with Peggy Carter and, depending on when he's discovered, he may still be a Man Out of Time. So does he get his happy ending? If so, how? Does he also need a time machine to go to an alternate timeline to end up with Peggy or is that only for MCUCanon Steve due to how devastating his life was, while this hypothetical Steve might have awoken in a world where he might have never needed to fight and so maybe was able to make a happy ending in the present day? That's the only way I can accept this.
 

I wish Steve’s arc could have been finished off in a proper Captain America movie, preferably using this storyline as the plotline.

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Book Review: On the Edge of Gone by Corinne Duyvis

Or: How to Write an Autistic Narrator While Also Writing a Thought Provoking Novel of Science-Fiction




(“Too Long, Didn’t Read” Version: The book itself is solid, but I spend most of the post talking about my lifelong desire for more characters like myself and how wonderful it is to read about a character who is that, rings true, yet isn’t exactly like I am as an individual. Also, I rant about my happiness to see a science-fiction novel that has something truly fascinating to say in this day and age. Also, this review spoils the ending of the novel and Aurora by Kim Stanley Robinson.)


On this blog, I’ve tried to do my part to highlight works that help diversify the fantasy and science-fiction genres while remaining mostly objective about their quality as art and entertainment. And yet sometimes along comes a work where it’s next to impossible to truly evaluate without more than a little bit of bias due to how easy it is for the reviewer to connect to the work in question. 

Let me explain—I am overall rather thrilled at how diverse sci-fi and fantasy have become as of late. There’s been lots more writers of color and LGBT authors getting prominent releases in recent years, ranging from such examples as Caitlin R. Kiernan’s awarding winning novel, The Drowning Girl (which I reviewed here), to authors making their novel debuts this year like Nisi Shawl (Everfair) and Yoon Ha Lee (Ninefox Gambit). Yet as good as this is, I do think there’s been an element where speculative fiction still hasn’t come far enough: disability. 

Yes, there have been more characters with disabilities as of late, but as with women, people of color, and LGBT characters, the genre truly expanded when writers of this background began to get major marketing campaigns for their work in the mainstream publishing industry. Authors with disabilities and mental health problems typically only get this same recognition when they’ve already had a good run in the industry and have drawn attention to their private lives (a good example being young adult author John Green’s vlogs on his struggles with mental illness on the vlogbrothers Youtube channel). Thankfully, we now have author Corinne Duyvis, an author I am currently struggling to review objectively due to her writing about a character who is easy for me to relate to while writing from her own perspective.

Disclaimer: I, the author of this blog you are reading, am an American born in the mid 1990s who is a black maybe straight maybe aromantic asexual (don't know and I don't really care too much about labels, I just when it comes to my own life I'm romance and sex repulsed) cis female Christian who was diagnosed first with Asperger Syndrome, and after DSM-V and my SSI got cut off, Autism Spectrum Disorder. I’ve found characters who’ve I’ve felt were fairly relatable (Meg Murray from the Time Quintet, who I headcanon as autistic; Harriet M. Welsch from Harriet the Spy, who I also get an autistic vibe from; Tori Beaugrand from R. J. Anderson's Quicksilver, and so on) but it’s been a struggle of my life to find a character who represents more than two or three of my traits. Most black female characters are extroverts and neurotypicals; most characters on the spectrum are white. I’ve been an avid reader since I first read Shannon Hale’s Princess Academy back when I was ten years old, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time looking for others to add to the above list of “great characters who are like me.” The closest I can usually find is an introverted reader character, who’s often white. (There’ve been plenty of great characters, of course, just not ones who fall in that particular category.) At this point in my life, I’ve more or less resigned myself to the fact that I’m not likely to find too many characters like me, so I’ve taken to writing them myself, but then along came this book. 

Corinne Duyvis is a Dutch autistic author. She understands my woes regarding representation considering she writes about it frequently on the Disability in Kidlit website that she edits. So I was understandably interested when she confirmed that her second novel would be a young adult science-fiction release that features a protagonist who is a mixed-raced (half-Dutch, half-Surinamese) black autistic girl. While I’m neither Dutch nor biracial, this book automatically represents a character who is more like me than most I’ve read. So. You can understand how hard it is to talk about the novel without going, “Oh my God! This is the book I’ve wanted to read since I was eleven years old! Where has it been all my life?!” I’ll do my best to explain why you should read it, however, as I feel that, like Dexter Palmer’s Version Control, I think it is one of the most important works of science-fiction of the 2010s, young adult or not.

The book is set about twenty years in the future, in 2035. In the future Duyvis describes, climate change had continued to ravage the Earth, but scientific advancement continued enough that NASA had found a habitable star system and there were plans made to explore. And then news of the comet came. The comet would primarily hit Eastern Europe and consequences would be devastating. Due to this, many people focused their attention on leaving Earth during the six-month period of warning. Generation ships were made purely for the purpose of avoiding the comet. The novel is set in the author’s hometown, Amsterdam, and begins on the day the comet is set to hit. From there, Denise Lichtveld, the protagonist, and her mother end up getting the chance to stay for two days after the comet on a generation ship just before it leaves. The plot, from that point forward, is how Denise struggles to find a place for herself, her sister Iris, and her mother on the ship and the interactions she has with other characters.

And now it’s time to talk about the characters. As with Duyvis’s previous release, Otherbound, they are diverse. Iris, like Denise, is black, as well as bisexual and a trans woman. There are prominent women in a romantic relationship, Jewish characters, and Muslim characters. There is attention drawn to mental illness, as Denise and Iris’s mother is a drug addict who suffers from depression. I thought this was well-done as the characters are people first, and it only comes up when Denise notices it in the narrative. There’s no preachy “accept everyone” propaganda (unless you feel that just having the characters feels preachy, in which case this is not the novel for you). They are all well-drawn, the characters. While the reader is encouraged to want Denise and her family to be given a chance to stay on the ship, the other characters are also fighting for the chance for their own family members to get a shot. And they are not villainized by the narrative—the ship truly does have limited slots available and they are willing to take in people who are disabled as long as they are “useful” (we’ll get back to that later). An example would include the autistic doctor on the ship. 

And then Denise. I can’t explain what it felt like to read an autistic character from an author who has it herself. Everything about her felt so real. On many occasions, she rambles, not understanding when it’s more common to stop talking. She’s something of a picky eater, considering she says she doesn’t eat almond paste, among other things. She has the classic sensory issues that makes her dislike being touched, particularly without permission. She stims (which can vary from person to person, but in myself manifests as pacing around my house every hour or twirling my phone stylus and in Denise as tapping her thigh). In many ways, Denise’s autistic experience is relatable for me: every symptom I listed we share, also we both didn’t get diagnosed until older than average (Denise at 9, me at 13), we both have books we’ve obsessively read over and over without tiring of, we both love just holding ourselves up in our bedrooms for hours on end, and neither of us really struggle to recognize facial expressions or understand sarcasm. And yet there are ways that we differ that I still thoroughly empathized with (Denise got poor grades in high school, while I only did badly the first year and had a high GPA the next few years after transferring to a school for people with autism; she prefers reading non-fiction about cats, while I prefer non-fiction in scholarly articles and fiction in books). At points in the story, she has meltdowns and needs to lock herself away in a room. She struggles with a mother who tells people about her autism without letting Denise share this information herself. In every way, it rings true. What clinches it for me, though, is how her narrative voice is done. Everything I list is stated in a very personal and matter-of-fact way, which makes perfect sense because for Denise, all of this is normal. She can’t imagine seeing the world another way. Far too often, I’ve read books about autistic characters where the protagonist’s worldview felt too detached from the narrative, which could be blamed on the author being neurotypical and not quite sharing the experience. By writing in her own voice, Duyvis has created one of the greatest characters with autism in fiction, let alone young adult or science-fiction. 

As excellent as all that is, Denise is so much more than a good autistic narrator. She’s a well-drawn and rounded character who is autistic. She’s also something of a hero. So she saves people's lives in this book; she shows how smart she actually is despite the problems she had when she was in school. Denise, like most sixteen-year-old girls, wants to figure out just where she’s going to end up in life (in this case more literally than most). She struggles with social interaction, but forms close and deep emotional bonds with people. And she is far from flawless. She can be pretty rude, if unintentionally; she struggles with having empathy for her mother, since the woman has been pretty neglectful over the years. Denise also has her fears and insecurities, some of which have nothing to do with being autistic. She is human and that is the most important thing. 

Also, I need to bring up the fact that Denise is not only a female autistic character but one who is not white. In a world where the face of autism far too often is that of white males, despite women being more common in population, and white males being far less common than media would suggest, characters like her are very necessary. Denise’s race is handled well, ranging from: people raising eyebrows at her mother being white and Denise and Iris not being so to Denise noting how white the population on the generation ship is. But what resonated the most for me was the following:

“It’s not that I don’t realize I’m pretty. I do, and I am. It’s just that people have certain expectations of girls who look like I do—confidence and extroversion and sass—and that’s not me” (page 123, first edition). 

One of my favorite things about this story is how it really made me think about what we value in society and how we define “usefulness.” Are you only useful if you work? Are you only useful if you can reproduce? Are you only useful if you are young? That very word is at the heart of the conflict of this novel, and it’s an ongoing struggle of the characters to do their part. What made it all worth it in the end is that it ended up not being a story of an autistic girl learning to be better than the neurotypicals, but Denise working with others to redefine value and emphasizing the importance of compassion for all human life.

 In order to continue that line of thought, I also want to talk about the ending. So if you don’t want to know how the book ends, hopefully I’ve told you enough by this point. 

Spoilers From This Point Forward:

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Book Review: Four Roads Cross by Max Gladstone



Max Gladstone’s critically acclaimed Craft Sequence series of novels got its fifth installment this year and the latest release, Four Roads Cross, says so much about how his writing has grown over time and how much depth the series has gained.

Disclaimer: I’m a huge Craft Sequence fan, as it you might remember from my reviews of Full Fathom Five and Last First Snow, but I wasn’t immediately on board with its first book, Three Parts Dead. When I read that book, I wondered: Why do people love this so much? I did appreciate things about it (the black female lead represented on the cover, multiple female characters yet no sign of a romance subplot, the unique setting) but I couldn’t embrace it since I found it kind of . . . dull, honestly. My biggest problem was that I couldn’t really connect with Tara since we didn’t learn much about her. Having now read Four Roads Cross in its entirety, I can now say that this is no longer the case. This is another great entry into this series.

The basic plot is thus: A year after Three Parts Dead, Tara Abernathy now serves as the inhouse Craftswoman for the church of Kos the Everburning. The problem? The moon goddess Seril is back and the people aren’t happy. Protests rock the streets; journalists interfere; and one of Tara’s old classmates from the Hidden School is working with a necromantic firm to take over the church. Officer Catherine “Cat” Elle and her vampire friend Raz are also in this book, getting involved in all sorts of situations. Oh, and a farmer’s market plays a large role and adds an extra human element.

As with the previous entries, this book uses the Craft and the fictional gods as a way to talk about finances, the effect of religion in a post-industrial society, class struggles, and more. Every side is presented and even though Gladstone takes a hard look at modern values and society, he never falls into the trap of portraying the “old ways” as inherently superior. Just like in the current global nation-states most of us reside in, the characters of the Craft Sequence have to work to find the right balance. But don’t think this book is just about social issues or is depressing. There’s lots of cool worldbuilding, like the use of a dragon in one chapter or golems for travel. And there's plenty of action that's well-written and cinematic in scope. 

The prose in this book shows how Gladstone’s writing has grown. Certain passages of this book were beautiful, though at times his descriptions were a bit over-wrought. His pacing has certainly improved. His dialogue has also gotten better with time.

My favorite thing about the book, as tends to be the case, were the characters. Of this cast, Cat shone to me. Her path to get over her addiction and her friendship with Raz, who was also great, was empowering and fun. Tara truly became a character to me in this book: now I understand her motivations, her struggles, insecurities, and I loved her relationship with Seril as they learned to work together and co-exist despite Tara’s lack of faith. Abelard continues to be a sympathetic and likable believer. New additions like Ellen Rafferty stood out. (For fans of the series, there are cameos of a few characters from the other books and they are great.) And that’s just a few of the dynamic and fascinating characters the book provides.

In summary, Four Roads Cross is a great entry into the Craft Sequence. It also serves as a proper sequel to Three Parts Dead, even improving on that book in many ways. It's not my favorite entry, as I'm still in love Last First Snow, but if you liked Three Parts Dead or if, like me, you were kind of "meh" on it but are interested in more of this world, give it a shot. If you're a fan of the Sequence in general, it continues the excellent quality Max Gladstone has become known for. I enthusiastically recommend it.

Score: 4.5/5

Monday, August 3, 2015

Book Review: Last First Snow by Max Gladstone



Every year in fantasy there comes what Jo Walton termed the “important book.” This is the book that’s everywhere, that’s reviewed by everyone in the genre, ends up on most of the critic best of the year lists, and creates a love-it-or-hate-it response from readers due to its polarizing nature. Last year the most obvious examples of important novels were City of Stairs by Robert Jackson Bennett and the Southern Reach Trilogy by Jeff VanderMeer. Like Walton, I believe that there are some books that should have become important novels but simply never got the same level of attention they deserved. This year in fantasy has given us possible important novels (like The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu, Uprooted by Naomi Novik) but if given the choice for one that's likely to slip through the cracks, my vote is going to Last First Snow by Max Gladstone.

I’ve written about Gladstone before. As far as I’m concerned, his Craft Sequence is the most exciting new fantasy series published in recent years. Through this thematic series, Max Gladstone has used his magic system of the Craft and the Deathless Kings to explore issues relevant to our time: the tyranny of corporations, water shortages, the rise of secularization and its effect on religious fervor. His vibrant, diverse, and complex characters grapple with very modern problems in a world so much like our own. The most impressive thing about these books isn’t that they’re like reality—it’s how he manages to show how different his universe is while still revealing universal truths of the human condition, all while still telling an entertaining story. In this latest entry, Gladstone tackles his most political subject yet: protest.

In Dresediel Lex, the wards in the Skittersill are falling and if they do fall, it could literally set demons on the world. So to try and develop the area, the King in Red hires Craftswoman Elayne Kevarian to help negotiate a deal. The only problem is that the people of the Skittersill have their own plans for the future, and they have their own leader in Temoc, a priest of the old gods who’s taken to community organizing while trying to create a better future for his family. To quote the front flap: “Elayne and Temoc must fight conspiracy, dark magic, and their own demons to save the peace—or failing that, to save as many people as they can.”

This novel doesn’t sugarcoat its issues. Instead, Gladstone writes a complex, multi-layered story where there are no true heroes or villains. As in real life, sometimes the characters have to make deals with the opposing side despite feeling that they’ve compromised everything they’ve ever believed in. As in life, they all have a point. And as in life, they find no easy answers or solutions. Life is messy and so is the way things eventually end up in Last First Snow. The novel comes to a proper conclusion, if one that the reader may have wished could have been avoided. But it’s that staunch realism and brutal truth about life that the novel offers that makes it such a compelling read, if not a very optimistic one. Make no mistake: this is a very entertaining book, with lots of dramatic tension and action in the latter half. However, due to its serious subject matter and grey morality, it may not be the ideal choice for those looking for a light, escapist read.

As with every Craft Sequence entry, Last First Snow’s highlight is its characters. Returning to the series are Elayne, the King in Red, and Temoc. As this novel is set chronologically twenty years before Two Serpents Rise, Gladstone uses the events of the story to help develop Elayne and Temoc into the characters as we knew them in Two Serpents Rise and Three Parts Dead. While I’d always found Elayne to be one of the more interesting older female characters in fantasy literature, seeing her as the protagonist and seeing things through her own perspective humanized her in such a way that I can definitely say that she is easily my favorite Craft Sequence protagonist yet. Temoc is another I came to really understand and love through this book; while I may not have agreed with every choice he made, he remained sympathetic throughout the narrative. Kopil, the King in Red, is just as frustrating as he’s ever been; he makes good points and his choices are understandable, but they are still quite hard to forgive. Gladstone also introduces several new and interesting additions: Temoc's wife, Mina, a wonderful and determined woman; Chel, conflicted but strong; Tan Batac, born and raised in the Skittersill but has been away long enough to be considered the enemy by its people; and the Major, who was perhaps my favorite new character for the mystery surrounding this character and just how dedicated they were to the cause. (Though I was a bit confused by a certain revelation regarding the Major and just what the reader was supposed to have learned about the Major's identity.)

The prose is just as the other books are, so there’s not much to say there: the usual clipped sentences, with lots of fragments and one-line paragraphs. It’s a style that can get very frustrating, but it does work.

Diversity-wise, the novel can claim to feature two older protagonists. Both Elayne and Temoc are over fifty. Elayne is actually a rather rare breed in the fantasy genre: a female protagonist who is over fifty, unmarried, and childless who is portrayed as neither hating men nor children and is in fact the most fair-hearted person in the novel. Also, Temoc’s culture is heavily inspired by the indigenous cultures of America.

In summary, Last First Snow is a fantastic novel. It expands the fantasy genre in terms of character, setting, and plot choice. The style is easy to read and very compelling; the narrative gives just as much tension and suspense to court negotiations as to genuine action scenes. It’s not a novel for everyone, but it’s certainly worth a look. Perhaps the biggest flaw is just how slow the pace is for its first half, but once the halfway mark is passed, everything comes together. What it sacrifices in pacing it gains in perhaps the most well-developed cast of characters Max Gladstone has given us yet. If it doesn’t become one of the illusive “important novels,” it will certainly be one I and other likeminded readers will cherish—at least until the next one comes out. Highly recommended.

Score: 4.5/5