Thursday 25 August 2011

"Wildfire," Sarah Micklem

This is going to be a long slog, but I have to work out my feelings about this book. I picked up "Firethorn," the first book in Micklem's series, by chance--it was a free copy. And I loved the hell out of that book! It had everything--a vision quest! A believable pseudo-medieval universe! A religion that didn't merely involve people saying "Gods!" instead of "God!"

A sequel was promised. I was stoked for years for this book, people. I snapped it up right away. And I was disappointed. Everything in "Wildfire" was amped up to epic fantasy levels. What I had loved about "Firethorn" was the smallness of it--there might be kings and queens off fighting somewhere, but what was most important were the conflicts in the heroine's life. Now I had to care about royalty and intrigues and magic again. Plus, there were all the epic fantasy cliches I had grown to hate so well.

I'm concentrating on the cliches that apply to female characters, because in the first book Firethorn was so kickass that I have to mourn what I wanted her to become. I could go on and discuss all the other things that irk me about epic fantasy, but then this post would probably span across ALL SPACE AND TIME (no, things are really not that bad between epic fantasy and me. Really).

First off:

1. The Magical Hooker

Why, oh why, does the magical hooker character exist? I'm not discussing prostitute characters in general, I'm talking about women who are Top Hooker--beautiful, cultured, the favorite of every man (and quite possibly the target of every woman). Think Inara in "Firefly"--the dominant feature of the character is that she's very good at pleasing other people.

In "Wildfire," Firethorn is sent to a courtesan's house to learn the art of being a "whore-celebrant." However, Firethorn is written as stubborn and a bit introverted. In the first book, she reacts to a traumatic experience by running off into the woods, and she finds camp life hard to adjust to because of the lack of privacy. Firethorn does work as a healer, which is a "people" sort of job, but it's obvious that she's not just a passive magic-worker--she prescribes treatments to her patients, and if they're not obeying her good advice, she'll lay down the law. A job that involves being pleasant to a bunch of strangers, who have a total command over her body and time, would tire her out pretty quickly.

Plus, by the time she arrives at Courtesan Boot Camp, she's not in the best physical shape--she has cataracts in one eye, a bunch of scars on her back, and partial paralysis on one side of her face. This wouldn't be so much of a problem for the time period except that the society she's in at the time puts an emphasis on physical perfection.

Micklem overcomes these handicaps by suddenly gifting Firethorn with the power to learn a new language in a few months, to the point where she can spout off her own original poetry--all because she knew a few words of this language as a very young child. Like I said, magical hooker.

I liked Firethorn better when she was just a horny witch doctor. There aren't enough female characters who both like sex and know about things other than sex (unless they are ridiculously evil sexy sorceresses).

2. The Love Triangle

Oh, love triangle, plot device which pops up everywhere. I understand why: it's a very useful device in a genre which demands at least a trilogy out of every storyline. The author can work in one lover per book, then pit them against each other in the third and final volume. Unfortunately, it only works when the protagonist has two decent prospects to choose between.

The main plot of the first book kicks off when Firethorn falls in love with a knight and follows him off to war as his camp follower or "sheath." Her warrior, Galan, is part of the class of men who conquered her country, and she's part of the native or "mud" class, so she's socially inferior and he does treat her like it. At one point he even whips her for some minor transgression, and she takes it in her stride. At the end of "Firethorn," when Galan offers Firethorn a cottage and a small piece of land, he's being amazingly generous--foolhardy, according to the men in his social class. Part of the dramatic tension of "Firethorn" comes from watching Firethorn try to protect herself as best she can, while keeping Galan's image of her as a sweet, innocent mudwoman intact.

However, even if Galan is a problematic love interest, it's easy to see why Firethorn wants to be with him. He's sexy, daring, and important in his clan, which reflects well on Firethorn and also means that she doesn't have to worry about being forced to sleep with her man's masters. As a camp follower, Firethorn can also follow him to places she wouldn't have access to on her own, with some level of protection. It's a good arrangement all round, as good goes by the standards of Firethorn's universe.

Prince Whatever-His-Face pushes Firethorn through the mountains while she's manacled and freezing, then spends the rest of his time sulking over his lost wife and kingdom. He intends to get his kingdom back through some hare-brained scheme that involves training Firethorn as a courtesan, then ritually tattooing her and sending her to his usurping brother as a "princess" to marry, after which Firethorn will spy on the brother, or kill him, or something or other. His other main characteristic is that he's celibate. That's it. It's like watching a romantic epic where the hero transforms from Viggo Mortenson into David Miliband.

This wouldn't be so much of a problem if the prince was just a plot device to send Firethorn off on another adventure, but Firethorn falls deeply in love with the prince, mainly because he treats her badly and won't sleep with her. At this point, she is no longer a rather defenseless camp follower but a successful courtesan, so the "I love you despite your treatment of me" storyline seems sour instead of natural to the situation. Firethorn can have her pick of rich, successful men, so why fall in love with the dullest of the bunch?

3. Pregnancy

Fantasy authors writing from a female character's perspective usually have to find a way for their heroines to have tons of sex and never, never, never have babies. This phenomenon is usually explained by some form of contraceptive, magical or otherwise (unless you're George R.R. Martin and don't understand the differences between contraceptives and abortifacients, but THAT is a topic for another time). Firethorn takes some berries to keep herself from getting pregnant when she first meets Galan, which I was willing to believe as a possibility.

At the end of the first book, Firethorn runs out of the berries. She mentions that her periods have stopped and that she might be pregnant. (She's mentioned wanting Galan's child before.) I wanted to see this happen. Would she have to end the pregnancy? If she didn't, how would she manage childbirth in camp, and how would she deal with a baby? How would she and Galan function as a family, or would they split up? Usually childbirth and kids mark the end of a female character's story arc, and it would be great to follow a character dealing with children while existing in her own right. I wanted my barefoot and pregnant protagonist, dammit!

And of course, it didn't happen. It turns out that Firethorn is not pregnant--she's temporarily barren because of some sex voodoo that some mean priestesses laid down on her. This is discovered (and reversed!) while she's working as a courtesan. (Why you'd want to reverse the process while you're working as a courtesan is beyond me, but it happens.)

Sexual magic is generally a boondoggle in the first book--Firethorn's friend and fellow camp follower, Mai, sells love potions and brings Firethorn into her business. At one point, Firethorn, jealous of Galan and frightened by his interest in a noble lady, begs Mai for a charm to keep Galan's attention, and Mai gives in. When the charm "works," Mai tells Firethorn that the charm didn't have any power--the point was to reassure Firethorn and keep her belief alive, and hopefully that would do the rest.

In the second book, sex magic is real. Maybe not the stuff that Mai does, but ladies who are classier than Mai can really do magic. Oh, there's a knot in Firethorn's uterus that was put there by sex priestesses? All right, then.

Authors--if you have to bend the rules of your own universe to preserve your protagonist's infertility, you might want to come up with another explanation.

Oh, goodness, that was insanely long.

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