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Jul. 9th, 2019 09:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
auroracloudBeen meaning to post about this for a few days, but I haven't had the right headspace to get a coherent entry together. Trying now!
I recently finished Naomi Novik's Spinning Silver, and oh do I have conflicted feelings about it.
Note: I'm putting all the properly spoilery stuff under a cut, but if you don't want to read any comments about the book, the characters, the way it deals with its themes, it's better to skip the rest of the post.
A lot of it was great. Really, really great. Previously all I'd read from Naomi Novik was the first Temeraire book - I liked it well enough, but never got into the rest of the series. This is so many miles ahead of that I can't even express it. It's beautifully, evocatively written, with rich worldbuilding based on European fairy tales, East European myths and history (apparently Lithuanian, where Novik herself has roots, and you can tell she's got connections, from the writing), and Jewish culture and history. I loved the way the book used various fairytales in new ways without being a straightforward rewrite of any one story (it owes the most to Rumpelstiltskin, but is by no means just an adaptation of that). Just like in Katherine Arden's Winternight trilogy (where I still need to read the last book), I loved the strong descriptions of winter, forests and myths related to them. And I loved the characters; all three heroines were complex, strong characters with agency and depth. Many of the supporting characters were lovely, too, especially Wanda's brothers and Miryem's parents.
I liked the strong role that women's work and Jewish culture and history had in the story. And yes, it's in many ways a feminist, woman-centric rewrite of fairy tales, as the girls/women have a lot of agency, and it shows them learning to survive and reach for their own goals in a world that tries hard to deny them that agency.
But. But. And the rest of this has spoilers, so it goes under the cut.
There are two forced marriages in the centre of this story, both of which feature abusive men who imprison and threaten their wives who had no choice in marrying them. The relationships are mentally very abusive even if there's no physical (or sexual) violence, and the threat of physical violence and death is very strong. Yet the story present it as a happy ending that both of these marriages end up with the man reforming and starting to love the woman (I guess?) and so she's perfectly happy to continue a relationship with him. I could sort of have understood it as a narrative of women learning to make the best of a bad situation, if it had been presented as such, but instead, it was presented as a romantic happy ending. I'm sorry, how the fuck is it romantic to want to continue a relationship with your abuser who's imprisoned you and threatened your life? Even if he's reformed, great, but I can't understand how you could want to go on to have a relationship with him if you have a choice. And this happens with not one but two relationships in the book.
I've heard Uprooted has the same problem and even more strongly, so I guess Novik's ideas of romance are... very different from mine, to put it politely.
I know this kind of trope persists in a lot of het romances, the "woman reforming a bad man with her uprightness and miraculous deeds" but I think it's really, really dangerous, because that sort of thing can encourage women to stay in abusive relationships (of course it's more complicated than just reading that kind of romances, but this trope being a part of our culture doesn't help, I'm sure). And a lot of abusers don't actually reform even if they claim to do so. I just don't understand why an otherwise feminist work frames this storyline as romantic.
This is maybe a good time to add that I understand you can have very different interpretations of this story, or enjoy it despite this, or have different reasons for enjoying this take on the story. I'm describing my feelings and thoughts here, and it gets strong at times, but I recognize different perspectives can be valid. So no offenses meant if you feel differently.
I have different feelings about this with the two couples. With Irina and Mirnatius, it would perhaps be less problematic if we'd have gotten a few more scenes with them. See, the way I understood Mirnatius's story is that he's never really been himself, since he's been possessed by the demon from his birth, and also never had any actual decent people around him before Irina came around. While I'm not sure how realistically you could overthrow that kind of early socialization, you could see the story as a metaphor for / example of a man needing to cast off the curse of toxic masculinity before he can form meaningful relationships or morals. And Irina's strong and moral and I think she'll hold her own in the relationship and be the one who really rules the country, so I can see it working out. But the story should have given us more scenes with them to actually show how Mirnatius and his relationship to Irina have changed, not just leave us with him staring starry-eyed at Irina (from her servant's point of view, too).
With Miryem and the Staryk King, though... Well, what I did appreciate about the story was him learning to appreciate and respect her, and learning to see where he had acted wrong before and correct his course of action and become a decent man/fairy/supernatural being/king/whatever. That story was well crafted and came through clearly. But I would have been happy with that. Why on earth did she have to properly marry him? I liked the development of their relationship towards the end of the book, but I never for a second got the feeling she loved him. What on earth did she accept him for? I appreciate that she demanded equal treatment and keeping her own culture and was not going to hear of any romantic quests and brooding longing and whatever, but I didn't feel an ounce of romantic chemistry between them. He maybe fell in love with him, but there wasn't even a sentence anywhere that suggested to me she would have felt that way for him. She started to understand him and care about him, and she cared for his land and the friends she made there, and was happy about carving herself a role there, but that's all. Maybe if the story had explicitly stated that she just accepted him for his kingdom and the friends she had there, I'd have been fine with that.
I feel like a part of this is the assumption that if there's a man and a woman in a story who have a lot to do with each other and aren't family, then it's 100 % sure they will fall in love. A lot of straight readers and writers seem to operate with that assumption, and it's one of the reasons I don't often enjoy straight romances and ships. (The others are the way straight romances are often filled with tropes I hate, such as the "woman reforms the bad man with her love/moral uprightness" trope.) When straight romances avoid these pitfalls, I'm just as happy with them as with same-sex romances. It's the assumption that man + woman = automatic love that drives me barmy, and I felt that was definitely in play here, because I felt no romance, yet Novik seems to think she established one well enough to end her story with that. And Miryem totally didn't need a romance. Why did the author have to stick her with one?
And it leaves me a really bad taste in my mouth that a story which seemed to be about women overcoming dangers ended up being about women happily marrying the said dangers once the dangers make a show of caring about her. Well, at least Wanda and her brothers found their family and home, so that part of the story was happy in a way I could accept. And like I said, I think Irina will do a great job of governing the country, and she can probably keep Mirnatius in check now that he's demonless, whether or not there's actually love between them or not. It may also be a good thing that the Staryk kingdom now has a kick-ass accountant? I just wish Miryem had simply gotten a job there rather than, well, what happened.
Honestly, the book could just have ended two pages earlier and I'd have been happy with it, even with the problems of Irina and Mirnatius. But Miryem's ending felt like such a kick in the gut, or like swallowing poison in the last spoonful of a wonderful dessert. Literally two pages earlier I was ready to praise the book to high heavens, and now I just don't know what I think and feel about it.
I'm also a bit surprised that most reviews and comments don't seem to have a problem with this. Though I know I'm not the only one, and I did know already before the reading that some readers had problems with the gender roles and such in this book, but I kept hoping it wasn't actually going to go where it was going, or that it would convince me of that ending better than it did. Anyway, I really liked this review by Liz Bourke on Tor.com and it's a more succinct exploration of a lot of my feelings and issues. And I agree I'd have felt better about the story if the endgame ship had been Miryem/Wanda.
Well, on the upside, I'm now reading Catherynne M. Valente's Space Opera and I enjoy it a lot. It's quirky madness and glittery queerness are the perfect antidote to the queasy feeling left by the problems of Spinning Silver. I know her style isn't for everyone, but I enjoy it. I guess my own brain is weird enough? Besides, it's pretty easy to win me over with the phrase "Eurovision in space". I'm not that into Eurovision, but I am European, so I've been watching it pretty much always, and I love this kind of crazy twist on it that's more like a space tornado than a twist.
ETA: I feel kind of unpleasant now because I don't like writing about things I don't like and have serious problems with. I'd much rather just share my love for things, or the occasional snarky amusement like I do when an old Doctor Who story has stupid writing or bad costume choices. But I was also feeling bad with this inside me without getting it out, so I just kind of had to write about it properly. So if you disagree with me, please don't be too hard on me. Maybe I'll have some chocolate now. And read more Space Opera. Or watch more Good Omens. Or both.
I recently finished Naomi Novik's Spinning Silver, and oh do I have conflicted feelings about it.
Note: I'm putting all the properly spoilery stuff under a cut, but if you don't want to read any comments about the book, the characters, the way it deals with its themes, it's better to skip the rest of the post.
A lot of it was great. Really, really great. Previously all I'd read from Naomi Novik was the first Temeraire book - I liked it well enough, but never got into the rest of the series. This is so many miles ahead of that I can't even express it. It's beautifully, evocatively written, with rich worldbuilding based on European fairy tales, East European myths and history (apparently Lithuanian, where Novik herself has roots, and you can tell she's got connections, from the writing), and Jewish culture and history. I loved the way the book used various fairytales in new ways without being a straightforward rewrite of any one story (it owes the most to Rumpelstiltskin, but is by no means just an adaptation of that). Just like in Katherine Arden's Winternight trilogy (where I still need to read the last book), I loved the strong descriptions of winter, forests and myths related to them. And I loved the characters; all three heroines were complex, strong characters with agency and depth. Many of the supporting characters were lovely, too, especially Wanda's brothers and Miryem's parents.
I liked the strong role that women's work and Jewish culture and history had in the story. And yes, it's in many ways a feminist, woman-centric rewrite of fairy tales, as the girls/women have a lot of agency, and it shows them learning to survive and reach for their own goals in a world that tries hard to deny them that agency.
But. But. And the rest of this has spoilers, so it goes under the cut.
There are two forced marriages in the centre of this story, both of which feature abusive men who imprison and threaten their wives who had no choice in marrying them. The relationships are mentally very abusive even if there's no physical (or sexual) violence, and the threat of physical violence and death is very strong. Yet the story present it as a happy ending that both of these marriages end up with the man reforming and starting to love the woman (I guess?) and so she's perfectly happy to continue a relationship with him. I could sort of have understood it as a narrative of women learning to make the best of a bad situation, if it had been presented as such, but instead, it was presented as a romantic happy ending. I'm sorry, how the fuck is it romantic to want to continue a relationship with your abuser who's imprisoned you and threatened your life? Even if he's reformed, great, but I can't understand how you could want to go on to have a relationship with him if you have a choice. And this happens with not one but two relationships in the book.
I've heard Uprooted has the same problem and even more strongly, so I guess Novik's ideas of romance are... very different from mine, to put it politely.
I know this kind of trope persists in a lot of het romances, the "woman reforming a bad man with her uprightness and miraculous deeds" but I think it's really, really dangerous, because that sort of thing can encourage women to stay in abusive relationships (of course it's more complicated than just reading that kind of romances, but this trope being a part of our culture doesn't help, I'm sure). And a lot of abusers don't actually reform even if they claim to do so. I just don't understand why an otherwise feminist work frames this storyline as romantic.
This is maybe a good time to add that I understand you can have very different interpretations of this story, or enjoy it despite this, or have different reasons for enjoying this take on the story. I'm describing my feelings and thoughts here, and it gets strong at times, but I recognize different perspectives can be valid. So no offenses meant if you feel differently.
I have different feelings about this with the two couples. With Irina and Mirnatius, it would perhaps be less problematic if we'd have gotten a few more scenes with them. See, the way I understood Mirnatius's story is that he's never really been himself, since he's been possessed by the demon from his birth, and also never had any actual decent people around him before Irina came around. While I'm not sure how realistically you could overthrow that kind of early socialization, you could see the story as a metaphor for / example of a man needing to cast off the curse of toxic masculinity before he can form meaningful relationships or morals. And Irina's strong and moral and I think she'll hold her own in the relationship and be the one who really rules the country, so I can see it working out. But the story should have given us more scenes with them to actually show how Mirnatius and his relationship to Irina have changed, not just leave us with him staring starry-eyed at Irina (from her servant's point of view, too).
With Miryem and the Staryk King, though... Well, what I did appreciate about the story was him learning to appreciate and respect her, and learning to see where he had acted wrong before and correct his course of action and become a decent man/fairy/supernatural being/king/whatever. That story was well crafted and came through clearly. But I would have been happy with that. Why on earth did she have to properly marry him? I liked the development of their relationship towards the end of the book, but I never for a second got the feeling she loved him. What on earth did she accept him for? I appreciate that she demanded equal treatment and keeping her own culture and was not going to hear of any romantic quests and brooding longing and whatever, but I didn't feel an ounce of romantic chemistry between them. He maybe fell in love with him, but there wasn't even a sentence anywhere that suggested to me she would have felt that way for him. She started to understand him and care about him, and she cared for his land and the friends she made there, and was happy about carving herself a role there, but that's all. Maybe if the story had explicitly stated that she just accepted him for his kingdom and the friends she had there, I'd have been fine with that.
I feel like a part of this is the assumption that if there's a man and a woman in a story who have a lot to do with each other and aren't family, then it's 100 % sure they will fall in love. A lot of straight readers and writers seem to operate with that assumption, and it's one of the reasons I don't often enjoy straight romances and ships. (The others are the way straight romances are often filled with tropes I hate, such as the "woman reforms the bad man with her love/moral uprightness" trope.) When straight romances avoid these pitfalls, I'm just as happy with them as with same-sex romances. It's the assumption that man + woman = automatic love that drives me barmy, and I felt that was definitely in play here, because I felt no romance, yet Novik seems to think she established one well enough to end her story with that. And Miryem totally didn't need a romance. Why did the author have to stick her with one?
And it leaves me a really bad taste in my mouth that a story which seemed to be about women overcoming dangers ended up being about women happily marrying the said dangers once the dangers make a show of caring about her. Well, at least Wanda and her brothers found their family and home, so that part of the story was happy in a way I could accept. And like I said, I think Irina will do a great job of governing the country, and she can probably keep Mirnatius in check now that he's demonless, whether or not there's actually love between them or not. It may also be a good thing that the Staryk kingdom now has a kick-ass accountant? I just wish Miryem had simply gotten a job there rather than, well, what happened.
Honestly, the book could just have ended two pages earlier and I'd have been happy with it, even with the problems of Irina and Mirnatius. But Miryem's ending felt like such a kick in the gut, or like swallowing poison in the last spoonful of a wonderful dessert. Literally two pages earlier I was ready to praise the book to high heavens, and now I just don't know what I think and feel about it.
I'm also a bit surprised that most reviews and comments don't seem to have a problem with this. Though I know I'm not the only one, and I did know already before the reading that some readers had problems with the gender roles and such in this book, but I kept hoping it wasn't actually going to go where it was going, or that it would convince me of that ending better than it did. Anyway, I really liked this review by Liz Bourke on Tor.com and it's a more succinct exploration of a lot of my feelings and issues. And I agree I'd have felt better about the story if the endgame ship had been Miryem/Wanda.
Well, on the upside, I'm now reading Catherynne M. Valente's Space Opera and I enjoy it a lot. It's quirky madness and glittery queerness are the perfect antidote to the queasy feeling left by the problems of Spinning Silver. I know her style isn't for everyone, but I enjoy it. I guess my own brain is weird enough? Besides, it's pretty easy to win me over with the phrase "Eurovision in space". I'm not that into Eurovision, but I am European, so I've been watching it pretty much always, and I love this kind of crazy twist on it that's more like a space tornado than a twist.
ETA: I feel kind of unpleasant now because I don't like writing about things I don't like and have serious problems with. I'd much rather just share my love for things, or the occasional snarky amusement like I do when an old Doctor Who story has stupid writing or bad costume choices. But I was also feeling bad with this inside me without getting it out, so I just kind of had to write about it properly. So if you disagree with me, please don't be too hard on me. Maybe I'll have some chocolate now. And read more Space Opera. Or watch more Good Omens. Or both.
♦
Date: 2019-07-10 04:30 pm (UTC)Rereading Good Omens sounds pleasant. I've never gotten around to finishing it but I hear it's a fantastic read.
Re: ♦
Date: 2019-07-14 10:41 am (UTC)I'll probably get around to rereading Good Omens once I've rewatched the series at least once. :-) I love the book, but it's been a long time since my last reread, so I feel like I first want to enjoy one more time everything I loved about the TV series, before going to the book to see what they left out that I can't remember now. ;-) (Not that I think it'll destroy my enjoyment of the series, I just don't want to think too deeply about the differences yet.)
Re: ♦
Date: 2019-07-15 03:34 pm (UTC)Re: ♦
Date: 2019-07-15 03:35 pm (UTC)Re: ♦
Date: 2019-07-17 02:55 pm (UTC)Re: ♦
Date: 2019-07-17 02:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-14 09:39 am (UTC)Don't worry, this is very interesting. Media reviews have to be critical!
I didn't read under the cut, because I haven't read it yet and a friend of mine has offered to lend it to me, so I will likely read it next year. But... you are not the only person who had problems with it. I don't know your problems with it (and will remain unspoiled), and I pretty much forgot what problems other people had with it, but nobody I know loved it wholeheartedly. Except, apparently, my friend. ;)
no subject
Date: 2019-07-14 10:38 am (UTC)And yeah, I'd also heard about people having issues with the book - in fact I knew that some had problems with the very things I talk about here, or didn't want to read the book because they'd heard about such problems - but I guess I was hoping I'd feel differently about it than I ended up feeling. It may be because I genuinely did like so many things about the book as well, and got drawn deep into the characters, that the thing I didn't like felt worse because of that.
Oh well! Such things happen. I'm just still having trouble figuring out what on earth I'll vote in the Best Novel category of the Hugos! But I'll see about that when I've read everything I'm going to, I guess.