yet another book review
I finally read Havemercy, by Jaida Jones and Danielle Bennett, which for some reason I didn't hear of until recently despite it being a fantasy novel with m/m romance written by people with fannish connections.
Havemercy is hard for me to comment on in a way, because there are things I love about it, but objectively it's not a very good book and in some ways it's quite a problematic one.
Havemercy's premise is that Volstov has been at war with its neighbor, the Ke Han empire, for over a hundred years, but is finally getting close to winning thanks to its Dragon Corps. But somehow the war seems to be going almost too well for Volstov. (Does "aerial warfare by dragon" sound a bit familiar? One could politely say that this book owes a major debt to Naomi Novik's Temeraire. One wouldn't, of course, wish to say that Jones and Bennett blatantly stole Novik's idea, because while the dragons in Temeraire are natural, the dragons in Havemercy are semi-sentient machines, part clockwork and part magic. That makes them completely different, see?)
The Dragon Corps, temporarily grounded by a lull in the fighting, are growing bored and acting out, which is especially bad since, due to their military usefulness, they've always been allowed to get away with pretty much anything. Rook, one of the dragon pilots and an all-around unpleasant bastard, insults the wife of a foreign ambassador and in so doing nearly starts another war. The Esar (ruler) of Volstov therefore sentences the whole Dragon Corps to what's essentially a course of sensitivity training under the aegis of Thom, a university student who wants to write a thesis about Dragon Corps group dynamics.
Meanwhile, in another plot thread, a Volstov magician called Royston has been exiled to his brother's estate in the country on account of a dalliance with a foreign prince. There he meets Hal, the young tutor of his brother's children, and a hesitant romance ensues.
Okay, most of what I loved about the book was the male/male romance. It's still rare and welcome to find genre fiction that includes a same-sex relationship at all, especially as a focus of the narrative. And the Royston/Hal affair happens to hit a number of my buttons, in a good way. There's an age difference--Royston is 35 and world-weary, Hal is 20 and somewhat implausibly innocent. There's a status difference--Hal is a poor and distant relation of Royston's brother's wife, treated as not quite a servant but not really a family member either. There's a lot of hurt/comfort. There are many moments of breathless yearning.
But I wasn't entirely happy with how the relationship was developed. Jones and Bennett use various annoying devices to keep the characters from getting into bed together: some misunderstandings, some worries about discovery while they're still in the country, and then once Royston is recalled to the city to help fight the war, the always irritating "Let's not rush into things even though we're madly in love and we both know it, so we won't actually kiss much or have any sex, we'll just live together and cuddle chastely a lot." (Does anyone in the real world behave that way? Okay, I did once have a relationship that included a lot of chaste cuddling before we even admitted we were having a relationship, but I was seventeen and shy and he was eighteen and shy.) It wouldn't have harmed the narrative in any way to get these characters together earlier, without the tedious romance-novel trope of the long, drawn out, obstacle-ridden courtship. In fact it would have helped the narrative, because all the build-up goes nowhere. I was awaiting, with some eagerness, the big scene where Royston and Hal finally resolve their uncertainties and have sex; I wasn't expecting an explicit sex scene like in fanfic, but I did expect an intimate scene of emotional connection, some kissing, and a fade-to-black. Clearly the novel had to be working up to that, I thought, since it had delayed and temporized about Royston and Hal's relationship for so long. And then there was no such scene! The guys do finally get together, but it's entirely offscreen during the novel's somewhat rushed and choppy ending. The lack of that scene of intimacy is, I think, a major problem for the book's emotional structure, and in fact I suspect there originally was such a scene but that a nervous editor made Jones and Bennett take it out. If I'm right, that was a bad choice on the editor's part, because it isn't going to make the book any more palatable to people who are bothered by male/male romance. It only makes it unsatisfying for readers like me who are the book's natural audience.
A relationship between two men is central to the novel's other narrative thread as well. Thom, the university student/sensitivity trainer, and Rook, the dragon pilot, have a hate-at-first-sight chemistry that quickly turns into rampant foe yay. They can't stop thinking about (how to get power over) each other; Thom is constantly admiring Rook's beauty even as he deplores his pathological coldness and bullying; Rook is always slamming Thom into walls and whispering threats into his ears. An outside observer even mistakes them for a couple; Rook's dragon comments that they seem to have some kind of special connection. I was fully prepared for this to turn into another romance, despite my intense dislike of Rook.
Naturally, Thom and Rook turn out to be long-lost brothers. As the book's dragons are stolen from a homage to Temeraire, this development originates, I suspect, in Sarah Monette's Doctrine of Labyrinths series. One brother who's climbed out of the gutter to a tenuous and carefully-guarded bit of status, and one who holds proudly to his social origins? Check. One brother who's gay (probably--it's not entirely clear that Thom's gay but he certainly seems to be) while the other is both straight and rather homophobic? Check. Both brothers psychologically damaged to a notable degree? Check. A relationship crackling with homoerotic, incestuous energy? Check. In Monette's series, one brother's incestuous desire for the other is explicit, whereas in Havemercy it's all subtext, but the similarity is nevertheless obvious. Every major element in Havemercy is thus utterly derivative, although in some ways I like it better than either Temeraire or the Doctrine of Labyrinths. Novik's Temeraire series is, to my dismay, a World Without Gay PeopleTM, while the Doctrine of Labyrinths is unpleasantly sex-phobic and, in later books especially, full of contrived angst. In Havemercy it's possible for two men to fall in love and be happy together, and I don't want to downplay that as a good thing to see in a book, despite my reservations about the overly conventional, romance-novel way Hal and Royston's relationship was written.
There's more to Havemercy than male/male homoeroticism, of course, but frankly the homoeroticism is the most interesting thing about it. The plot isn't especially compelling and the worldbuilding is sketchy and marred by info-dumps. The novel also doesn't have any women characters in major roles, and the women who are in the book are often depicted quite objectionably as hysterical shrews (Royston's brother's snobbish, prejudiced, constantly-fainting wife), or vengeful harpies (the ambassador's wife, who accuses Rook of rape after he insults her--and I should say that it was never entirely clear to me that Rook didn't rape her, as we only hear about the sex from his POV and he's a sociopathic creep). This kind of thing really makes me angry: a story can focus on erotic/emotional relationships between men without either excluding or demonizing women, without giving inadvertent support to the (fallacious but understandably common) argument that m/m-centric fiction is inherently misogynistic. There's no reason a story about gay men can't also be a feminist story, and all of us who write male/male stories, whether fanfiction or original fiction, need to do better.
(Incidentally, I've skimmed Shadow Magic, the sort-of sequel to Havemercy which is set in the same world but mostly features new characters, and it seems to have no same-sex relationships at all. Tons and tons of m/m homoerotic subtext, yes, and a male character who reads like every gay stereotype ever but who as far as I can tell isn't specifically identified as gay in the sense of, you know, wanting to have sex with men. I am distressed but not entirely surprised at this development.)
You know what I'd like to see in 2010? Not just more published sff that features queer characters and relationships (both f/f and m/m) but better queer sff. Stories that actually reflect on queer experiences beyond sex and romance (or that explore what a world that doesn't discriminate against queer people/relationships might be like), stories that innovate in more ways than just queer inclusivity, stories that don't rely so much on convention and cliché (especially conventions borrowed wholesale from the heterosexual romance genre). Sadly, given how few books are being published these days, I doubt 2010 will be a breakthrough year in that regard.
Havemercy is hard for me to comment on in a way, because there are things I love about it, but objectively it's not a very good book and in some ways it's quite a problematic one.
Havemercy's premise is that Volstov has been at war with its neighbor, the Ke Han empire, for over a hundred years, but is finally getting close to winning thanks to its Dragon Corps. But somehow the war seems to be going almost too well for Volstov. (Does "aerial warfare by dragon" sound a bit familiar? One could politely say that this book owes a major debt to Naomi Novik's Temeraire. One wouldn't, of course, wish to say that Jones and Bennett blatantly stole Novik's idea, because while the dragons in Temeraire are natural, the dragons in Havemercy are semi-sentient machines, part clockwork and part magic. That makes them completely different, see?)
The Dragon Corps, temporarily grounded by a lull in the fighting, are growing bored and acting out, which is especially bad since, due to their military usefulness, they've always been allowed to get away with pretty much anything. Rook, one of the dragon pilots and an all-around unpleasant bastard, insults the wife of a foreign ambassador and in so doing nearly starts another war. The Esar (ruler) of Volstov therefore sentences the whole Dragon Corps to what's essentially a course of sensitivity training under the aegis of Thom, a university student who wants to write a thesis about Dragon Corps group dynamics.
Meanwhile, in another plot thread, a Volstov magician called Royston has been exiled to his brother's estate in the country on account of a dalliance with a foreign prince. There he meets Hal, the young tutor of his brother's children, and a hesitant romance ensues.
Okay, most of what I loved about the book was the male/male romance. It's still rare and welcome to find genre fiction that includes a same-sex relationship at all, especially as a focus of the narrative. And the Royston/Hal affair happens to hit a number of my buttons, in a good way. There's an age difference--Royston is 35 and world-weary, Hal is 20 and somewhat implausibly innocent. There's a status difference--Hal is a poor and distant relation of Royston's brother's wife, treated as not quite a servant but not really a family member either. There's a lot of hurt/comfort. There are many moments of breathless yearning.
But I wasn't entirely happy with how the relationship was developed. Jones and Bennett use various annoying devices to keep the characters from getting into bed together: some misunderstandings, some worries about discovery while they're still in the country, and then once Royston is recalled to the city to help fight the war, the always irritating "Let's not rush into things even though we're madly in love and we both know it, so we won't actually kiss much or have any sex, we'll just live together and cuddle chastely a lot." (Does anyone in the real world behave that way? Okay, I did once have a relationship that included a lot of chaste cuddling before we even admitted we were having a relationship, but I was seventeen and shy and he was eighteen and shy.) It wouldn't have harmed the narrative in any way to get these characters together earlier, without the tedious romance-novel trope of the long, drawn out, obstacle-ridden courtship. In fact it would have helped the narrative, because all the build-up goes nowhere. I was awaiting, with some eagerness, the big scene where Royston and Hal finally resolve their uncertainties and have sex; I wasn't expecting an explicit sex scene like in fanfic, but I did expect an intimate scene of emotional connection, some kissing, and a fade-to-black. Clearly the novel had to be working up to that, I thought, since it had delayed and temporized about Royston and Hal's relationship for so long. And then there was no such scene! The guys do finally get together, but it's entirely offscreen during the novel's somewhat rushed and choppy ending. The lack of that scene of intimacy is, I think, a major problem for the book's emotional structure, and in fact I suspect there originally was such a scene but that a nervous editor made Jones and Bennett take it out. If I'm right, that was a bad choice on the editor's part, because it isn't going to make the book any more palatable to people who are bothered by male/male romance. It only makes it unsatisfying for readers like me who are the book's natural audience.
A relationship between two men is central to the novel's other narrative thread as well. Thom, the university student/sensitivity trainer, and Rook, the dragon pilot, have a hate-at-first-sight chemistry that quickly turns into rampant foe yay. They can't stop thinking about (how to get power over) each other; Thom is constantly admiring Rook's beauty even as he deplores his pathological coldness and bullying; Rook is always slamming Thom into walls and whispering threats into his ears. An outside observer even mistakes them for a couple; Rook's dragon comments that they seem to have some kind of special connection. I was fully prepared for this to turn into another romance, despite my intense dislike of Rook.
Naturally, Thom and Rook turn out to be long-lost brothers. As the book's dragons are stolen from a homage to Temeraire, this development originates, I suspect, in Sarah Monette's Doctrine of Labyrinths series. One brother who's climbed out of the gutter to a tenuous and carefully-guarded bit of status, and one who holds proudly to his social origins? Check. One brother who's gay (probably--it's not entirely clear that Thom's gay but he certainly seems to be) while the other is both straight and rather homophobic? Check. Both brothers psychologically damaged to a notable degree? Check. A relationship crackling with homoerotic, incestuous energy? Check. In Monette's series, one brother's incestuous desire for the other is explicit, whereas in Havemercy it's all subtext, but the similarity is nevertheless obvious. Every major element in Havemercy is thus utterly derivative, although in some ways I like it better than either Temeraire or the Doctrine of Labyrinths. Novik's Temeraire series is, to my dismay, a World Without Gay PeopleTM, while the Doctrine of Labyrinths is unpleasantly sex-phobic and, in later books especially, full of contrived angst. In Havemercy it's possible for two men to fall in love and be happy together, and I don't want to downplay that as a good thing to see in a book, despite my reservations about the overly conventional, romance-novel way Hal and Royston's relationship was written.
There's more to Havemercy than male/male homoeroticism, of course, but frankly the homoeroticism is the most interesting thing about it. The plot isn't especially compelling and the worldbuilding is sketchy and marred by info-dumps. The novel also doesn't have any women characters in major roles, and the women who are in the book are often depicted quite objectionably as hysterical shrews (Royston's brother's snobbish, prejudiced, constantly-fainting wife), or vengeful harpies (the ambassador's wife, who accuses Rook of rape after he insults her--and I should say that it was never entirely clear to me that Rook didn't rape her, as we only hear about the sex from his POV and he's a sociopathic creep). This kind of thing really makes me angry: a story can focus on erotic/emotional relationships between men without either excluding or demonizing women, without giving inadvertent support to the (fallacious but understandably common) argument that m/m-centric fiction is inherently misogynistic. There's no reason a story about gay men can't also be a feminist story, and all of us who write male/male stories, whether fanfiction or original fiction, need to do better.
(Incidentally, I've skimmed Shadow Magic, the sort-of sequel to Havemercy which is set in the same world but mostly features new characters, and it seems to have no same-sex relationships at all. Tons and tons of m/m homoerotic subtext, yes, and a male character who reads like every gay stereotype ever but who as far as I can tell isn't specifically identified as gay in the sense of, you know, wanting to have sex with men. I am distressed but not entirely surprised at this development.)
You know what I'd like to see in 2010? Not just more published sff that features queer characters and relationships (both f/f and m/m) but better queer sff. Stories that actually reflect on queer experiences beyond sex and romance (or that explore what a world that doesn't discriminate against queer people/relationships might be like), stories that innovate in more ways than just queer inclusivity, stories that don't rely so much on convention and cliché (especially conventions borrowed wholesale from the heterosexual romance genre). Sadly, given how few books are being published these days, I doubt 2010 will be a breakthrough year in that regard.