by Rae Carson
423 pages, Greenwillow Books
Review by Melissa Conway
I’ve lately become a staunch supporter of flawed
heroines, especially since the more politically correct reader/reviewers among us seem
to have decided that female protagonists in young adult literature should
portray only the best of characteristics; those we would like to encourage our
own children to develop. These readers don’t seem to want their daughters to equate
with the literary loser - the passive protagonist that makes bad decisions. As
if the best way to teach self-esteem is to shun those with self-doubt.
As a writer, I was taught that not only must my main
character overcome whatever external force is driving the plot, that character
should grow/change/learn something valuable by the end of the story. A
character that remains unchanged internally is considered one-dimensional and
unrelatable.
We all know that reading, as more than just
entertainment, is a way to escape the narrow confines of our world, to learn
about other people and places, be they real or fantastical. Reading introduces
us to characters that may not respond to a situation in the same way we might
(or in the way we think we might).
It’s perfectly fine to become annoyed with a character - it might even be an
emotion the author has deliberately coaxed out of you - but I don’t understand
the urge to criticize a character because s/he is not strong, smart and
uncomplaining. A role model from the moment s/he is introduced.
I guess what I’m trying to say is: there’s a
difference between preference and intolerance. For a reader to prefer that a
heroine be strong is one thing; for them to be intolerant of a heroine that is
flawed (or starts out flawed) is another thing altogether.
Rae Carson, in her debut YA Fantasy, The Girl of Fire andThorns, has created a main character that starts out weak, naïve and, well, okay,
she’s stoic, I’ll grant her that - but as a substitute for complaining, she
stuffs her face with food.
Here are some of the comments from low-star Amazon
reviewers: “When I first picked up this book I had
hopes for a strong female lead and what I got was a very weak character who
didn't grown (sic) up until the very end of the book.” “Had a terrible time
relating with the main character and getting into the novel.” “Instead I found
her to be weak, whiny, and unmotivated. I would rather have a strong female
lead take this role.”
What frustrates me about the naysayers here is that they
don’t appear willing to acknowledge that an individual’s personality, whether
in fiction or real life, is shaped by more than just that person’s strength of
will. We aren’t born perfect, and exterior forces do more than just sweep us
along with the plot (or our lives) - they influence us - how we see ourselves
in our world. Carson’s main character is deliberately kept naïve by her own
family. Once freed from their ‘protection,’ however, she slowly throws off the
bonds of self-doubt and self-destructiveness and grows strong. I loved that
about her.
Other criticism leveled against this book had to do with
the heavy underlying religious theme. Here, although the religion in question
is not Christianity per se, it is a close equivalent on a fictional world. One
reviewer said, “We all have tastes. Personally, I
tend not to like fiction that has religious faith as a major theme. It's not my
thing.” In this, I feel that the line between preference and tolerance blurs a
bit, but not much. I’m not particularly religious, but I had no problem reading
about the devout society in this book. Again, the main character was raised
that way, she was taught to believe, and incidentally, she questions her own
faith constantly, especially as magic figures more and more prominently. In
fact, I suspect the subsequent books in the planned trilogy might even address
the concept of religious doctrine as an invention to explain the unknown.
(Perhaps the negative reviews
in this instance might have largely been avoided if the book jacket were more
forthcoming about the religious theme. I encountered a similar ploy by the
publishers of Ash, who didn’t make it clear on the jacket that the story was a
lesbian retelling of Cinderella. Those purchasing the book in a bookstore would
have no way of knowing that salient fact - I certainly didn’t - but in my case
at least, it wasn’t a big deal.)
Now that I’ve gotten all that
off my chest, on to the story! Oh, wait, first I must mention that the
narrative is told in first-person present - another thing readers seem to feel
strongly one way or the other about, but which doesn’t bother me a whit as long
as it’s done well - as it is here.
The Girl of the title is Elisa,
the younger of two princesses. She is overweight and describes herself as not
pretty, but the reader gets the impression Elisa’s unattractiveness is merely
how she sees herself. Her older sister, who will be queen one day, is clever
and decisive, athletic and beautiful - all the traits a younger sister would
naturally envy and reluctantly admire. Elisa has a few things going for her,
one of which is a formidable intelligence - oh, and there’s the little matter
of the Godstone that was divinely placed in her navel when she was baptized.
The Godstone is awarded to one
person every hundred years or so, and is much prized for its intrinsic power.
Exactly what that power entails is kept from Elisa, who is quite suddenly
married off to a neighboring king at the tender age of sixteen. She’s thrust
into this foreign environment just as a vast horde of barbarians, led by
fearsome and evil animagi, is poised to invade her new husband’s country.
Our poor, uncertain Elisa
cannot fathom why she was chosen to be the bearer of the Godstone. She vaguely
knows she has a destiny to fulfill, and luckily, her new situation gives her
the opportunity to seek out just what it is that she should be prepared for.
She’s soon thrust into a dangerous adventure that tests her true mettle, and
reveals she isn’t so useless after all...
I very much enjoyed this novel
and am looking forward to the sequel.
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