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Since I was thirteen, people have been recommending The Dragonriders of Pern series to me. I've resisted so long because I knew, I knew, that as soon as I picked it up, I'd become obsessed. And here we are at the start of that, oh no.
Dragonsong begins the story of Menolly, who is a fifteen year old teen girl in love with music. Ever since she was small, she has followed around her community's Harper (think traditional Druid bard) and, at his side, learned all the stories of her people. When her mentor dies, Menolly is heartbroken. That heartbreak is made worse when her parents insist it is high time for her to give up her musical aspirations and "settle down as a proper woman." In her despair, Menolly runs away from home and encounters fire lizards, the ancestral evolutionary root of Pern's dragons. All sadness is forgot when Menolly discovers that fire lizards vibrate in tune to melodies.
According to the Girlfriend, Harper Hall is a good place to start for beginners to the universe. We listened on audiobook, and there was a helpful, quick guide to the broader world to catch me up. I was most impressed by McCaffrey's flexible ability to write different types of stories. Previous series are time-hopping space opera, with an entire civilization in the balance, but Dragonsong never felt unimportant or without stakes for being a more intimate, individual tale. There was a great sense of patriarchy creating its own problems: very "cutting off its own nose to spite its face." Menolly's arrival in more feminist spaces was a satisfying victory. The simple, accessible language belied an engaging storycraft, making Dragonsong a brilliant choice for young YA readers.
I want to read the next one! Also: a fire lizard. Please and thank you.
Dragonsong begins the story of Menolly, who is a fifteen year old teen girl in love with music. Ever since she was small, she has followed around her community's Harper (think traditional Druid bard) and, at his side, learned all the stories of her people. When her mentor dies, Menolly is heartbroken. That heartbreak is made worse when her parents insist it is high time for her to give up her musical aspirations and "settle down as a proper woman." In her despair, Menolly runs away from home and encounters fire lizards, the ancestral evolutionary root of Pern's dragons. All sadness is forgot when Menolly discovers that fire lizards vibrate in tune to melodies.
According to the Girlfriend, Harper Hall is a good place to start for beginners to the universe. We listened on audiobook, and there was a helpful, quick guide to the broader world to catch me up. I was most impressed by McCaffrey's flexible ability to write different types of stories. Previous series are time-hopping space opera, with an entire civilization in the balance, but Dragonsong never felt unimportant or without stakes for being a more intimate, individual tale. There was a great sense of patriarchy creating its own problems: very "cutting off its own nose to spite its face." Menolly's arrival in more feminist spaces was a satisfying victory. The simple, accessible language belied an engaging storycraft, making Dragonsong a brilliant choice for young YA readers.
I want to read the next one! Also: a fire lizard. Please and thank you.
After reading DYKES TO WATCH OUT FOR, I was very eager to read more of Bechdel's work, and, since FUN HOME is one of her most lauded, I checked it out at the library first.
Organized thematically, with plenty of ouroboros loops and circles, Bechdel tells the tale of her childhood with a delicate, fine-tuned focus on her father and his relationships. Like a maestra, She taps and alludes to literature and myth to do what they do best: make sense of the chaos and illogic that is life. As she says herself, it's easier to get closer to her parents through fiction, and dang, does Bechdel do it. Knocks that one right out of the park. With words, with pictures, I was enraptured, electrified, enveloped. I read this book in two sittings, I kid you not. It filled me with a longing I struggle to explain or even put into words.
ARE YOU MY MOTHER? a sequel to FUN HOME is sitting next to me. I'm excited.
Organized thematically, with plenty of ouroboros loops and circles, Bechdel tells the tale of her childhood with a delicate, fine-tuned focus on her father and his relationships. Like a maestra, She taps and alludes to literature and myth to do what they do best: make sense of the chaos and illogic that is life. As she says herself, it's easier to get closer to her parents through fiction, and dang, does Bechdel do it. Knocks that one right out of the park. With words, with pictures, I was enraptured, electrified, enveloped. I read this book in two sittings, I kid you not. It filled me with a longing I struggle to explain or even put into words.
ARE YOU MY MOTHER? a sequel to FUN HOME is sitting next to me. I'm excited.
What with everything going on this year, my reading pace has slowed to a crawl. But my partner and I did finish Dragonsinger on audiobook, and it was a more or less delightful continuation of the first novel in the series.
Beginning mere hours after Dragonsong ended, Dragonsinger concerns itself with Menolly's first week at Harper Hall. It doesn't seem like all the events of the novel could fit into a week, but I think that's thanks to McCaffrey mimicking so well the overwhelmed and confused feelings one gets when one is dropped in a new place. Our intrepid heroine Menolly rushes and stumbles among teachers, lessons, physical therapy, bullying, fire lizard care, and a festival. She struggles to find her place and make friends in the strange, musical world. One of the friends she makes is the small and clever tenor Piemur, who I understand is the protagonist of the next book.
Menolly was a well-fleshed out character, the plot was engaging, and McCaffrey once again wove a seeming small stakes story with utter seriousness and kept the tension. The patriarchy rankled more than ever. After coming-of-age in the last book, Menolly is still not taken seriously by her male teachers and peers. Not a one can believe a girl tamed nine fire lizards and will not give them away to "deserving" boys. She can't be that talented at music, can she? Menolly has to bring 110% to the table to be grudgingly given respect.
If I had one complaint about the book, it was the lack of female friends and allies. Instead, women were enemies who tore Menolly down. I know this was published in 1977, but that's contemporary with Octavia Butler's Kindred and Wild Seed series, and only seven years from Margaret Atwood's Handmaid's Tale. It would be believable that not all women supported her, but the majority should! If Menolly breaks the gender restrictions, then women can also be Harpers instead of being limited to wives and mothers! Hello???!!! McCaffrey's storytelling decision here was a culture shock to me and my partner, because we're so used to stories about positive female friendship.
Overall, Dragonsinger was a satisfying story, and I don't think it's a spoiler to say Menolly crushes her challengers. I miss her already. I want to read it again.
Beginning mere hours after Dragonsong ended, Dragonsinger concerns itself with Menolly's first week at Harper Hall. It doesn't seem like all the events of the novel could fit into a week, but I think that's thanks to McCaffrey mimicking so well the overwhelmed and confused feelings one gets when one is dropped in a new place. Our intrepid heroine Menolly rushes and stumbles among teachers, lessons, physical therapy, bullying, fire lizard care, and a festival. She struggles to find her place and make friends in the strange, musical world. One of the friends she makes is the small and clever tenor Piemur, who I understand is the protagonist of the next book.
Menolly was a well-fleshed out character, the plot was engaging, and McCaffrey once again wove a seeming small stakes story with utter seriousness and kept the tension. The patriarchy rankled more than ever. After coming-of-age in the last book, Menolly is still not taken seriously by her male teachers and peers. Not a one can believe a girl tamed nine fire lizards and will not give them away to "deserving" boys. She can't be that talented at music, can she? Menolly has to bring 110% to the table to be grudgingly given respect.
If I had one complaint about the book, it was the lack of female friends and allies. Instead, women were enemies who tore Menolly down. I know this was published in 1977, but that's contemporary with Octavia Butler's Kindred and Wild Seed series, and only seven years from Margaret Atwood's Handmaid's Tale. It would be believable that not all women supported her, but the majority should! If Menolly breaks the gender restrictions, then women can also be Harpers instead of being limited to wives and mothers! Hello???!!! McCaffrey's storytelling decision here was a culture shock to me and my partner, because we're so used to stories about positive female friendship.
Overall, Dragonsinger was a satisfying story, and I don't think it's a spoiler to say Menolly crushes her challengers. I miss her already. I want to read it again.
Marie Lu's The Kingdom of Back was a gift through Owl Crate, and I hadn't heard of it (or Lu) until it was dropped on my doorstep. Back in the day, my brother and I had an Amadeus phase, wherein we saw the play, watched the movie, and listened to the soundtrack on repeat. Remembering my brother tinkering at the piano, I was excited to learn about Wolfgang's older sister in Lu's novel.
Marie Ann Mozart, or Nannerl to her friends (if she had friends), is a musical child prodigy at age eight. Her cold father praises her when she plays well, remarking that she can play the music of the Heavens, of the angels, of God themself. If she continues to improve and earn money for the family through performances, the child logic goes, her father will love her and not forget her. As Nannerl ages, however, her brother does too, and it turns out her brother is also a musical genius. His gender identity is far more palpable to the patriarchy. Nannerl despairs until a fairy princeling appears with a offer too good to resist: in exchange for Nannerl completing three tasks and restoring him to his throne, the fairy will ensure that Nannerl, and her music, will never be forgotten.
The Kingdom of Back is a gorgeous piece of art. Lu's lyricism and vivid imagery painted the page as easily as a brush. I had no trouble visualizing and "hearing" the music of the Mozarts and the Kingdom. The relationship between the siblings was protective and sweet, which was refreshing from all the depictions of siblings who are at each others' throats. While Nannrel was a very withdrawn person and narrator, I felt the pacing very good, though it was sometimes difficult to tell how old everyone was supposed to be (ex: I was imagining her as 12-13, then an 18 year old flirted with her, so I had to mentally re-orient myself to picture her at 16). The plot twist towards the end practically knocked my block off. I did not see that coming!
If I had one quibble, I would say that Lu was too authentic to the eighteenth century and Nannrel's biography. Others will consider this factor a strength, so this quibble is perhaps overly reliant on my preferences. The eighteenth century, on the whole, makes me want to scream. For upper class women, it's an incredibly stifling time period, (unless she broke out and joined a revolution). If one looks up Nannrel's later life on Wikipedia, one can tell that Lu wanted to work within the real Marie Anne's historical biographical framework, and I would have much preferred a heavier lean into fantasy and its magical possibilities. I keep waiting for Nannrel to have a grand, feminist awakening that her father is a horrible, little man, and that sort of happened, but not really. I kept waiting for her to shout "Enough!" and she never did. She's not a completely passive heroine, but she succumbs to patriarchy rather than overcomes it, and that leaves a weird taste in my mouth.
Overall, The Kingdom of Back is a beautiful little read, and I recommend it to historical fantasy fans, or anyone who wants to give that genre a try. Be prepared for small triumphs only.
Marie Ann Mozart, or Nannerl to her friends (if she had friends), is a musical child prodigy at age eight. Her cold father praises her when she plays well, remarking that she can play the music of the Heavens, of the angels, of God themself. If she continues to improve and earn money for the family through performances, the child logic goes, her father will love her and not forget her. As Nannerl ages, however, her brother does too, and it turns out her brother is also a musical genius. His gender identity is far more palpable to the patriarchy. Nannerl despairs until a fairy princeling appears with a offer too good to resist: in exchange for Nannerl completing three tasks and restoring him to his throne, the fairy will ensure that Nannerl, and her music, will never be forgotten.
The Kingdom of Back is a gorgeous piece of art. Lu's lyricism and vivid imagery painted the page as easily as a brush. I had no trouble visualizing and "hearing" the music of the Mozarts and the Kingdom. The relationship between the siblings was protective and sweet, which was refreshing from all the depictions of siblings who are at each others' throats. While Nannrel was a very withdrawn person and narrator, I felt the pacing very good, though it was sometimes difficult to tell how old everyone was supposed to be (ex: I was imagining her as 12-13, then an 18 year old flirted with her, so I had to mentally re-orient myself to picture her at 16). The plot twist towards the end practically knocked my block off. I did not see that coming!
If I had one quibble, I would say that Lu was too authentic to the eighteenth century and Nannrel's biography. Others will consider this factor a strength, so this quibble is perhaps overly reliant on my preferences. The eighteenth century, on the whole, makes me want to scream. For upper class women, it's an incredibly stifling time period, (unless she broke out and joined a revolution). If one looks up Nannrel's later life on Wikipedia, one can tell that Lu wanted to work within the real Marie Anne's historical biographical framework, and I would have much preferred a heavier lean into fantasy and its magical possibilities. I keep waiting for Nannrel to have a grand, feminist awakening that her father is a horrible, little man, and that sort of happened, but not really. I kept waiting for her to shout "Enough!" and she never did. She's not a completely passive heroine, but she succumbs to patriarchy rather than overcomes it, and that leaves a weird taste in my mouth.
Overall, The Kingdom of Back is a beautiful little read, and I recommend it to historical fantasy fans, or anyone who wants to give that genre a try. Be prepared for small triumphs only.
I was scrolling on tumblr one day, minding my own business, when suddenly an excerpt of HEARTSTOPPER popped up on my dash. "Oh no," I murmured into my screen. "This might fulfill all my standards."
Three hours later, I was still in my pajamas and clutching at my computer desperately, saying, "Oh no, this EXCEEDS all my standards and isn't finished yet??"
So uh, needless to say, I quite loved this comic. HEARTSTOPPER follows the (mis)adventures of Charlie, an anxious, out-of-the-closet gay high schooler, and Nick, a kind-hearted rugby player. When Nick and Charlie meet during form group (which I think is the British equivalent of homeroom), Nick is friendly, Charlie is understandably wary, but soon they're attached at the hip. A love affair blooms and blooms and blooms.
I have a very great weakness for friends-to-lovers stories in school settings because that is what happened to me in real life, and HEARTSTOPPER's writing is so sweet and sincere that I would happily accept multiple cavities to continue reading. Other reviewers have compared it to a warm bath or petting a floofy puppy and they're exactly right. The art is equally earnest and complements the characters wonderfully. Minor characters also casually inhabit diverse identities, including a trans woman of color. Reading the comic made me interested in reading Oseman's other work, as HEARTSTOPPER takes place in the same universe as SOLITAIRE and RADIO SILENCE.
Overall, HEARTSTOPPER is ten kinds of lovely and I would recommend it to anyone who needs a cuteness pick-me-up. I'll be happily reading 'til the end.
Three hours later, I was still in my pajamas and clutching at my computer desperately, saying, "Oh no, this EXCEEDS all my standards and isn't finished yet??"
So uh, needless to say, I quite loved this comic. HEARTSTOPPER follows the (mis)adventures of Charlie, an anxious, out-of-the-closet gay high schooler, and Nick, a kind-hearted rugby player. When Nick and Charlie meet during form group (which I think is the British equivalent of homeroom), Nick is friendly, Charlie is understandably wary, but soon they're attached at the hip. A love affair blooms and blooms and blooms.
I have a very great weakness for friends-to-lovers stories in school settings because that is what happened to me in real life, and HEARTSTOPPER's writing is so sweet and sincere that I would happily accept multiple cavities to continue reading. Other reviewers have compared it to a warm bath or petting a floofy puppy and they're exactly right. The art is equally earnest and complements the characters wonderfully. Minor characters also casually inhabit diverse identities, including a trans woman of color. Reading the comic made me interested in reading Oseman's other work, as HEARTSTOPPER takes place in the same universe as SOLITAIRE and RADIO SILENCE.
Overall, HEARTSTOPPER is ten kinds of lovely and I would recommend it to anyone who needs a cuteness pick-me-up. I'll be happily reading 'til the end.
If you've been following me on Twitter, you might have noticed by current nerd obsession with Vampire: the Masquerade. My tabletop group started on a chronicle almost a year ago now, and I've succumbed to its bite with gripping enthusiasm. This review is going to be from the point of view of a fellow writer and story-creator, rather than a gamer figuring out how to start a chronicle. C.T. Phipps provides a good review from a gamer's POV here and I agree with Kira's Pros list here.
For my GoodReads 2020 Reading Challenge, I've embarked on a project to read a clutch of VTM books in more or less chronological order, following the life of my favorite Non-Playable Character (NPC), Cuthbert Beckett. I thought I'd start with a rulebook, so I have a firmer grasp of how the canon world works. Because Vampire: the Masquerade, Fifth Edition Core Book is not a novel however, it took me forever and a half to read.I was also too busy writing Beckett fanfiction to read whoops lol
My experiences with White Wolf (both in reading this book, trawling their wikis, & consuming Let's Plays) have formed me into a vulture. Their goal to coalesce all vampire lore into one cohesive universe is very admirable. However, over and over, again and again, they fail to do so with complete respect and full nuance to the various global cultures they're borrowing from. I'm a vulture because I must pick off the intriguing meaty bits from some seriously racist, homophobic, and sexist bones. I read the Corebook in the interest of lore, and the micro-aggressions stacked with alarming speed. By the end I felt like writing a letter to beg them to hire at least one brown Muslim diversity reader. They really need one. From my understanding of this Corebook's history, it used to be worse, before Paradox Interactive bought White Wolf and enforced changes. They should've gone farther.
There's also the horror aspect. I may actually be the worst horror fan. I cannot be convinced that humans are basically selfish, evil creatures, which is the premise of Vampire: the Masquerade as a whole. A lot of the rules strike me as improbable grimdark nonsense, and the Game of Thrones-esque political intrigue holds very little appeal to me. I often fail to understand why anyone would want to do XYZ powerplay/atrocity, when alternatives like "drink some blood-laced hot cocoa, have a nap, and calm down" are on the table. Maybe I'm too hope-punk. Maybe as an artist, I err more on the side of "Do the Single Worst Thing Possible To The Characters," as opposed to "repeatedly have bad things happen until the characters despair." More on the personal end of personal horror.
Something about Vampire: the Masquerade keeps me coming back though. Maybe its the roots in Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics. I like that how all the lore is together. The art is fun, particular concepts are fascinating, and the characters are engaging. I like thinking about magic, morality, and adventure. I like when justice is served, after great struggle. A thoughtful Appendix reminds Storytellers to be mindful when depicting fascism, sexual assault/rape, racism, and other harmful -isms. It is literally in the rules that all fascists should be dead or have abandoned their fascism by the end of the game's story. There are repeated warnings for mature content and potential triggers, which I hardly ever see in American books. I adore Beckett and his fellow historian vampires.
If I put all the collected juicy good bits in the mind's earth, a beautiful story could grow. It might be rough going, but I'd still like to read more. Keep playing and baring my Brujah teeth.
For my GoodReads 2020 Reading Challenge, I've embarked on a project to read a clutch of VTM books in more or less chronological order, following the life of my favorite Non-Playable Character (NPC), Cuthbert Beckett. I thought I'd start with a rulebook, so I have a firmer grasp of how the canon world works. Because Vampire: the Masquerade, Fifth Edition Core Book is not a novel however, it took me forever and a half to read.
My experiences with White Wolf (both in reading this book, trawling their wikis, & consuming Let's Plays) have formed me into a vulture. Their goal to coalesce all vampire lore into one cohesive universe is very admirable. However, over and over, again and again, they fail to do so with complete respect and full nuance to the various global cultures they're borrowing from. I'm a vulture because I must pick off the intriguing meaty bits from some seriously racist, homophobic, and sexist bones. I read the Corebook in the interest of lore, and the micro-aggressions stacked with alarming speed. By the end I felt like writing a letter to beg them to hire at least one brown Muslim diversity reader. They really need one. From my understanding of this Corebook's history, it used to be worse, before Paradox Interactive bought White Wolf and enforced changes. They should've gone farther.
There's also the horror aspect. I may actually be the worst horror fan. I cannot be convinced that humans are basically selfish, evil creatures, which is the premise of Vampire: the Masquerade as a whole. A lot of the rules strike me as improbable grimdark nonsense, and the Game of Thrones-esque political intrigue holds very little appeal to me. I often fail to understand why anyone would want to do XYZ powerplay/atrocity, when alternatives like "drink some blood-laced hot cocoa, have a nap, and calm down" are on the table. Maybe I'm too hope-punk. Maybe as an artist, I err more on the side of "Do the Single Worst Thing Possible To The Characters," as opposed to "repeatedly have bad things happen until the characters despair." More on the personal end of personal horror.
Something about Vampire: the Masquerade keeps me coming back though. Maybe its the roots in Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics. I like that how all the lore is together. The art is fun, particular concepts are fascinating, and the characters are engaging. I like thinking about magic, morality, and adventure. I like when justice is served, after great struggle. A thoughtful Appendix reminds Storytellers to be mindful when depicting fascism, sexual assault/rape, racism, and other harmful -isms. It is literally in the rules that all fascists should be dead or have abandoned their fascism by the end of the game's story. There are repeated warnings for mature content and potential triggers, which I hardly ever see in American books. I adore Beckett and his fellow historian vampires.
If I put all the collected juicy good bits in the mind's earth, a beautiful story could grow. It might be rough going, but I'd still like to read more. Keep playing and baring my Brujah teeth.
As people with the (mis)fortune to know me irl definitely know and people who follow me on social media may know, I've been obsessed with Vampire: the Masquerade this past twelvemonth. As a tabletop setting dating back to 1991, VtM has many rulebooks, novels, comics, and storyteller books available. Enough to get lost in, really. As part of my 2020 GoodReads challenge, I decided to read a selection going along the vague timeline of Vampire and centering on my favorite recurring character, Cuthbert Beckett.
The Book of Nod is the setting's take on the genesis of vampires. In VtM's world, the curse God bestowed upon Caine led to the creation of vampires, with Caine as the first blood drinker. Never heard that one before, am I right? I was confused and amused too. The Book of Nod details how this came about, various laws and advice Caine doled out when he ruled the First City, Enoch, obliquely references how Enoch fell, and the Flood. There are then Proverbs and sayings attributed to various vampire founders, and prophecies concerning the end of vampires as a race.
To add even more interest, The Book of Nod is presented as a primary historical source. Just like in history class, we have footnotes, introductions, and referenced scholastic quibbles over what such-and-such means or the truth of a certain line. The Book is a compilation of fragments painstakingly tracked down and unearthed. Historians and archeologists called the Mnemosyne (or Memory-Seekers) went to great trouble to get this all together, and it was just as fun to read their Indiana Jones-like adventures as it was to read the pseudo-Genesis. The head of the Mnemosyne is Aristotle de Laurent and he's the main writer, but he references his childe Beckett plenty.
Honestly, I didn't think I'd like The Book of Nod as much as I did. I'm Catholic, an amateur historian, and a product of Catholic high school. A lot of media that plays with Christianity annoys me because the writers didn't take the time to really get the culture and history they're parodying. There were some missteps. Chupp calls the Talmud a "Midrashim." which struck me as incorrect? I'm no expert, but the Talmud should at least be considered THE midrash, right? Or just...call it the Talmud. There was a confusing bit about how Caine and Abel were actually separate groups of people who went to war. I was sure this was leading into the accepted Catholic Genesis-is-a-metaphor theory, but then Sun and Moon gods literally cursed/blessed people, so I was confused why/how/where this was different than the Abrahamic God telling Caine to piss off. I guess because there were two gods? Where was the evidence of that?
Overall, however, The Book of Nod was quite a fun bit of world-building. As a reader, writer, and gamer, I delighted. If you're looking for a little extra oomph for your Vampire: the Masquerade experience, it's definitely worth picking up a copy.
The Book of Nod is the setting's take on the genesis of vampires. In VtM's world, the curse God bestowed upon Caine led to the creation of vampires, with Caine as the first blood drinker. Never heard that one before, am I right? I was confused and amused too. The Book of Nod details how this came about, various laws and advice Caine doled out when he ruled the First City, Enoch, obliquely references how Enoch fell, and the Flood. There are then Proverbs and sayings attributed to various vampire founders, and prophecies concerning the end of vampires as a race.
To add even more interest, The Book of Nod is presented as a primary historical source. Just like in history class, we have footnotes, introductions, and referenced scholastic quibbles over what such-and-such means or the truth of a certain line. The Book is a compilation of fragments painstakingly tracked down and unearthed. Historians and archeologists called the Mnemosyne (or Memory-Seekers) went to great trouble to get this all together, and it was just as fun to read their Indiana Jones-like adventures as it was to read the pseudo-Genesis. The head of the Mnemosyne is Aristotle de Laurent and he's the main writer, but he references his childe Beckett plenty.
Honestly, I didn't think I'd like The Book of Nod as much as I did. I'm Catholic, an amateur historian, and a product of Catholic high school. A lot of media that plays with Christianity annoys me because the writers didn't take the time to really get the culture and history they're parodying. There were some missteps. Chupp calls the Talmud a "Midrashim." which struck me as incorrect? I'm no expert, but the Talmud should at least be considered THE midrash, right? Or just...call it the Talmud. There was a confusing bit about how Caine and Abel were actually separate groups of people who went to war. I was sure this was leading into the accepted Catholic Genesis-is-a-metaphor theory, but then Sun and Moon gods literally cursed/blessed people, so I was confused why/how/where this was different than the Abrahamic God telling Caine to piss off. I guess because there were two gods? Where was the evidence of that?
Overall, however, The Book of Nod was quite a fun bit of world-building. As a reader, writer, and gamer, I delighted. If you're looking for a little extra oomph for your Vampire: the Masquerade experience, it's definitely worth picking up a copy.
As I said in my review of The Book of Nod, found here, I've decided to read books from the tabletop setting Vampire: the Masquerade for my 2020 GoodReads Challenge. I'm attempting to go in a sort-of chronological timeline of my favorite character Cuthbert Beckett's life.
The Book of Nod deals with the popular theory of vampires' genesis, and Revelations of the Dark Mother is advertised as a twisted mirror version of it. The Book of Nod focuses on the masculine Caine, the triumphs of civilization, and how to live a good undead life. Revelations of the Dark Mother focuses on the feminine Lilith, the chaos of nature, and how to cause harm. Nod's stories are accepted by vampires worldwide as containing truth; the Revelations' myths are only believed by a volatile fringe group known as the Bahari.
For those who are semi-familiar with real world theology, the Barhari and their teachings will remind of a loose group of faithful who center their worship on the feminine and believe that the only way to experience enlightenment is through pain. I was reminded of Catholic religious who practice flagellation to clear the mind & meditate; fasting during Lent so that one may have a physical reminder of one's devotion to God; or the Greek cults of worship to Hestia, Hecate, and other female goddesses.
And it is a very great pity that, with the above paragraph, I just put more thought into the Bahari philosophy than the book's author did.
I DNF Revelations of the Dark Mother at page 18 because I read this with my own two eyes:
"Although their allegiance to Lilith might make the Bahari seem like natural feminists, the truth is far more complex. Female does not necessarily equal exalted. On the contrary--most women, in the Bahari view, are descendants of Eve, the third and most inferior woman. Created from lonely Adam, lacking Lilith's original gifts and her divine gestation, these women really are the cheap cattle that misogynists scorn. Until and unless a woman consumes the Mother's blood and takes her Oath, that woman is an animal--worthwhile in her own way, certainly, but far below the Bahari."
What. The. Fuck.
There are SO many things going wrong that I could be here all day. Misogyny is not complex: it's the boring, banal pain that almost every person on the planet experiences every damn day, unless he's a cishet white man. How can one claim to worship the first woman and not see women as people? How does a philosophy, which paints itself as counter-cultural and in opposite to the masculine-dominated Caine stories, get to make those claims when it spouts the patriarchal norm?
On a meta-level, why is the author going out of his way to assure misogynists that they have a place among the Bahari? Is that the demographic White Wolf wants playing their games? Also: while they did try to disguise it under pen names, why on EARTH did White Wolf not hire a woman to write this book? Hello??? I realize this was published in 1998, but that seems like such a no brainer. Female fans of VTM exist.
It hit me in a flash: Revelations of the Dark Mother is bullshit. The author does not care about theology, or female VTM fans. He likes slasher horror movies, where the serial killer tries to teach their victims a "lesson" by torturing them. This isn't like high-vaulted Greek myths, or a darker twist on Catholicism. It's just. Torture Porn. A misogynist typing out 60 pages of drivel like a monkey at a typewriter. Uncreative. Not worth anyone's time.
Dear God, I hope the Victorian Trilogy goes better.
The Book of Nod deals with the popular theory of vampires' genesis, and Revelations of the Dark Mother is advertised as a twisted mirror version of it. The Book of Nod focuses on the masculine Caine, the triumphs of civilization, and how to live a good undead life. Revelations of the Dark Mother focuses on the feminine Lilith, the chaos of nature, and how to cause harm. Nod's stories are accepted by vampires worldwide as containing truth; the Revelations' myths are only believed by a volatile fringe group known as the Bahari.
For those who are semi-familiar with real world theology, the Barhari and their teachings will remind of a loose group of faithful who center their worship on the feminine and believe that the only way to experience enlightenment is through pain. I was reminded of Catholic religious who practice flagellation to clear the mind & meditate; fasting during Lent so that one may have a physical reminder of one's devotion to God; or the Greek cults of worship to Hestia, Hecate, and other female goddesses.
And it is a very great pity that, with the above paragraph, I just put more thought into the Bahari philosophy than the book's author did.
I DNF Revelations of the Dark Mother at page 18 because I read this with my own two eyes:
"Although their allegiance to Lilith might make the Bahari seem like natural feminists, the truth is far more complex. Female does not necessarily equal exalted. On the contrary--most women, in the Bahari view, are descendants of Eve, the third and most inferior woman. Created from lonely Adam, lacking Lilith's original gifts and her divine gestation, these women really are the cheap cattle that misogynists scorn. Until and unless a woman consumes the Mother's blood and takes her Oath, that woman is an animal--worthwhile in her own way, certainly, but far below the Bahari."
What. The. Fuck.
There are SO many things going wrong that I could be here all day. Misogyny is not complex: it's the boring, banal pain that almost every person on the planet experiences every damn day, unless he's a cishet white man. How can one claim to worship the first woman and not see women as people? How does a philosophy, which paints itself as counter-cultural and in opposite to the masculine-dominated Caine stories, get to make those claims when it spouts the patriarchal norm?
On a meta-level, why is the author going out of his way to assure misogynists that they have a place among the Bahari? Is that the demographic White Wolf wants playing their games? Also: while they did try to disguise it under pen names, why on EARTH did White Wolf not hire a woman to write this book? Hello??? I realize this was published in 1998, but that seems like such a no brainer. Female fans of VTM exist.
It hit me in a flash: Revelations of the Dark Mother is bullshit. The author does not care about theology, or female VTM fans. He likes slasher horror movies, where the serial killer tries to teach their victims a "lesson" by torturing them. This isn't like high-vaulted Greek myths, or a darker twist on Catholicism. It's just. Torture Porn. A misogynist typing out 60 pages of drivel like a monkey at a typewriter. Uncreative. Not worth anyone's time.
Dear God, I hope the Victorian Trilogy goes better.
My quest to read more Cuthbert Beckett-centric Vampire: the Masquerade fiction continues! We're onto our first proper novel and I was astounded by the leap in quality and feminism present in this work. My partner was shocked when I babbled to her about the good writing within A Morbid Initiation.
Regina Blake's life is in uproar. When her mother Emma dies after a mysterious illness, her father is swamped in grief, Hungarian relatives invade her home with some very strange ideas about burial rites, and her wedding to the dashing Lt. Malcolm Seward is delayed for years. She is alone in her mourning and in investigating these bizarre relatives, who only come out at night and carve symbols of witchcraft into wood. If the missing body and scratch marks on the coffin are any indication, Emma is not wholly dead. Regina vows to stop at nothing to find out what happened to her mother. At least the alluring Miss Victoria Ash is kind of her....
As a fan and as a writer, I enjoyed A Morbid Initiation. Regina is a brilliant protagonist and dogged, Sherlockian gumshoe. Like any good Gothic vampire tale-spinner, Boulle doesn't shy away from sexuality, decay, death, and corruption. However, whereas lesser writers (*cough, cough* like whoever wrote Revelations of the Dark Mother *cough, cough*) would use this excuse to use, abuse, and de-power Regina, gender minorities, and characters of color, Boulle resists this trend. Even when Regina is under the influence of vampiric powers, she is always herself and as independent and powerful as one can be under the circumstances. Boulle is also brave enough to pose the question of what defines a monster. While none of the vampire characters are saints, the colonialist humans actually committed the atrocities that made me the most squeamish.
While A Morbid Initiation did have hiccups, I still found myself very invested in the plot, characters, and the theme of initiation. Even though I'm in no way new to White Wolf's lore, I was engaged as ever in Regina's journey of discovery. The parallelism between her and her erstwhile betrothed, Malcolm, gripped me like a fever. Beckett does pop in for a few chapters, and everything he does is a tantalizing delight. I can't wait for the next book when his and Regina's journeys converge.
If you're looking for a novelistic entry point to Vampire: the Masquerade, I heartily recommend A Morbid Initiation. I'm very much looking forward to the next book.
Regina Blake's life is in uproar. When her mother Emma dies after a mysterious illness, her father is swamped in grief, Hungarian relatives invade her home with some very strange ideas about burial rites, and her wedding to the dashing Lt. Malcolm Seward is delayed for years. She is alone in her mourning and in investigating these bizarre relatives, who only come out at night and carve symbols of witchcraft into wood. If the missing body and scratch marks on the coffin are any indication, Emma is not wholly dead. Regina vows to stop at nothing to find out what happened to her mother. At least the alluring Miss Victoria Ash is kind of her....
As a fan and as a writer, I enjoyed A Morbid Initiation. Regina is a brilliant protagonist and dogged, Sherlockian gumshoe. Like any good Gothic vampire tale-spinner, Boulle doesn't shy away from sexuality, decay, death, and corruption. However, whereas lesser writers (*cough, cough* like whoever wrote Revelations of the Dark Mother *cough, cough*) would use this excuse to use, abuse, and de-power Regina, gender minorities, and characters of color, Boulle resists this trend. Even when Regina is under the influence of vampiric powers, she is always herself and as independent and powerful as one can be under the circumstances. Boulle is also brave enough to pose the question of what defines a monster. While none of the vampire characters are saints, the colonialist humans actually committed the atrocities that made me the most squeamish.
While A Morbid Initiation did have hiccups, I still found myself very invested in the plot, characters, and the theme of initiation. Even though I'm in no way new to White Wolf's lore, I was engaged as ever in Regina's journey of discovery. The parallelism between her and her erstwhile betrothed, Malcolm, gripped me like a fever. Beckett does pop in for a few chapters, and everything he does is a tantalizing delight. I can't wait for the next book when his and Regina's journeys converge.
If you're looking for a novelistic entry point to Vampire: the Masquerade, I heartily recommend A Morbid Initiation. I'm very much looking forward to the next book.