The Whore
In my last post, I mentioned that I had a few misgivings about The Warrior Prophet (and the book that precedes it in the series, The Darkness that Comes Before). First among them was that the feminist in me wondered why every female character was some form of prostitute.
I can understand why The Whore is so appealing to authors. Her profession offers the thrill of the illicit and forbidden; it speaks of the demi-monde, the underground, the bohemian. She can be exceedingly glamorous or exceedingly downtrodden (or both), and it’s easy to give her a dark or mysterious past. She has more mobility than the housewife or the schoolteacher; the better to accompany the men on their epic treks or high-stakes adventures. She usually has the opportunity to bed every male character of note, a handy plot device indeed.
As a love interest, she is ideal. Since she is sexual, she is probably beautiful (when it comes to books, a woman is seldom the former without also being the latter). She is physically available for plenty of sex scenes but her emotional inavailability, as well as the presence of her customers, provides conflict and tension. Living in a society that exploits and shames her has given her a tough and cynical exterior but preserved the vulnerable interior - she desires True Love (and possibly babies) but has seen too much of men and the world to believe it is possible.
Of course, I have nothing against characters who are prostitutes. I loved Esmenet in The Warrior Prophet, even though she embodies many of the tropes above. But it bothers me when characters like this come up again and again as the primary - or only - representation of womanhood in novels where the male characters are interesting and diverse.
The Warrior Prophet
As a young girl my favorite genre, both for reading and writing, was fantasy. I had no idea that stories about magic and unicorns were silly, and loved drawing maps of temples, caves, cities, and mythical continents. As I grew older, however, I read less and less of it, concerned with how my reading choices would reflect upon my intellect and cultural acumen. By the time I reached my late adolescence, the books I read were either well-established literary classics or those likely to be approved by my McSweeney’s-revering friends.
But, let’s face it, I was never and never will be cool. So, it’s been a relief and a rediscovery to once again sink my teeth into a fantasy series, albeit with no unicorns. I’ve just completed the second book of the Prince of Nothing series, by R. Scott Bakker.
Of course, it isn’t “just” fantasy - it’s smart, philosophical, and literate, with an eye towards human history, philosophy, and the functioning of complex societies. There is much more depth, and much more fodder for analysis, than in most of the fluff fantasy I read as a young girl. I covered my copy of “The Darkness that Comes Before” with notes and charts and tables detailing my thoughts on the various themes and motives, usually while in a state of giddy elation.
To tell the truth, I don’t think I’d have been satisfied with fluff. But it’s a wonderful feeling to be pulled along by the author, not just by well-crafted prose or psychological insight but simply caring about the characters and wanting to know what happens to them. When one becomes focused on ‘literature’, sometimes reading-for-pleasure falls by the wayside, but with the best books, one not need be sacrificed for the other.
I did have misgivings about the book, but I will speak about them in a different post.
Staying Put
I just came out the other end of a brief time of panic where I thought I would be moving to NYC. For the moment, it seems, I’m not. Same job, same apartment, same friends…so soon after getting settled for good here in Toronto, I’m restless again.
It was a month of getting exciting things in the mail. My copies of Sexiest Soles and Secret Slaves arrived, and they are shiny and beautiful and chock full of excellent stories. Also, my tickets to Der Ring Des Nibelungen arrived at last. After many years of listening, I’ll finally be attending the Ring Cycle in performance for the first time.
One installment I’ve seen already - Siegfried. If it’s any indication of the quality of the whole cycle, it will be a beautiful and imaginative four nights at the theatre. I’m always amazed at how the feel and mood of an opera can come across so differently in live performace than on CD. The first stretch of Siegfriend takes place in a cave, and much of the music has a dim, oppressive feel. It’s a startling breath of fresh air when the action moves to the forest, and the music begins to shimmer with life.
And yes, much of the music is - let’s admit it - boring, and he does wind up singing about his sword for roughly an hour. But there are so many moments of beauty and sensuality that arise seemingly from nothing, and surprise you by surpassing themselves over and over again. Learning to appreciate and love Wagner has been a long process for me, but it seems to be giant leaps forward every time.