The Republic of Thieves, by Scott Lynch (and thoughts on romance)
This is the third book in a series about con artists in fantasyland. In the first two books, the hero, Locke Lamora, was carrying a torch for his unseen lost love, Sabetha. All we knew about Sabetha was that she had red hair, they'd known each other since they were kids, and she was the only female member of his gang of thieves. In Republic of Thieves, we finally meet Sabetha.
On the one hand, it's hard for any character to live up to two fat books of build-up. On the other hand, Lynch is generally good at creating female characters, though he has mixed results in terms of what he does with them. They have a tendency to meet horrifying ends. (There's a particularly egregious example in the first book. To be fair, it's not typical of the series in general. But it made such a bad impression that I nearly didn't finish the book.) But they are also often vivid, interesting, and not defined by their relationships with men. I am especially fond of Zamira Drakasha, pirate captain and doting mom.
So I had hopes for Sabetha. Unfortunately, I did not like her, her relationship with Locke, or Locke when he was interacting with her. Cut for spoilers and crankiness.
Lynch did a very believable job of portraying the toxic effect of sexism. Unfortunately, I didn't like reading about it. It was so realistic that it just did not make the book an enjoyable read.
It also felt out of place, as the world had previously not seemed like a sexist one - yes, Locke's gang was all-male, but there were women in positions of power, women fighters, and generally women doing everything that men did, and this went unremarked-upon. I had assumed, in fact, that the world was supposed to be generally non-sexist and Locke's gang was mostly male by coincidence, which seemed possible given that there were only five of them total. So Sabetha's issues felt more believable for our world than for her own.
But what really got to me was how AWFUL she and Locke were together. Their interactions kept following the pattern of Locke desperately trying to please her, Sabetha telling him to get the fuck away from her, Locke being sexist or stalkery, Sabetha lashing out angrily, and then Locke creeping away to lick his wounds and pine. She seemed mean, he seemed pathetic and creepy, and their relationship seemed completely dysfunctional. And it was really not fun to read.
And since-- again, unlike most of Lynch's female characters-- Sabetha was defined by her relationship with Locke, and she was unlikable when interacting with Locke, I found her unlikable in general. Lynch did clearly and explicitly make the point that the entire problem was caused by society defining her in terms of Locke, but, again, since the society hadn't previously seemed to be like that, it didn't really work for me. I also found Locke so much more likable and interesting when she wasn't around and he wasn't thinking about her, and since I already was attached to Locke, I just wanted her to go away. This is not a response I normally have to female characters. But she was defined by being female in a way that none of the other female characters were.
And while I'm bitching, I am normally very into hurt-comfort, but I found the whole Locke-is-dying sequence to be long, dull, and depressing. And the rig-the-election plot lacked stakes.
It made me realize that something I look for in fictional romance is for the couple to bring out each other's best sides, not their worst. I don't necessarily mean in a moral sense. I have a particular soft spot for amoral assassin couples. But the relationship should make the characters more interesting, more themselves, not less.
I initially liked Miles and Ekaterin as a couple in Komarr, because I thought the relationship was doing exactly that. But in the post-Civil Campaign books, it seemed like Ekaterin had met exactly the fate she didn't want: she had become swallowed up by Miles' life. Not that being a mother isn't important, but she was a mother in Komarr, too. But that wasn't all she was.
Gaudy Night, of course, is not only an example of a couple being more interesting and true to themselves together than they are separately, but is explicitly about that phenomenon, and its opposite.
What are some stories with couples who brought out the best or most true aspects of each other? What are stories where they brought out the worst, or where their individuality became subsumed into couple-ness?
Crossposted to http://rachelmanija.dreamwidth.org/1148931.html. Comment here or there.
On the one hand, it's hard for any character to live up to two fat books of build-up. On the other hand, Lynch is generally good at creating female characters, though he has mixed results in terms of what he does with them. They have a tendency to meet horrifying ends. (There's a particularly egregious example in the first book. To be fair, it's not typical of the series in general. But it made such a bad impression that I nearly didn't finish the book.) But they are also often vivid, interesting, and not defined by their relationships with men. I am especially fond of Zamira Drakasha, pirate captain and doting mom.
So I had hopes for Sabetha. Unfortunately, I did not like her, her relationship with Locke, or Locke when he was interacting with her. Cut for spoilers and crankiness.
Lynch did a very believable job of portraying the toxic effect of sexism. Unfortunately, I didn't like reading about it. It was so realistic that it just did not make the book an enjoyable read.
It also felt out of place, as the world had previously not seemed like a sexist one - yes, Locke's gang was all-male, but there were women in positions of power, women fighters, and generally women doing everything that men did, and this went unremarked-upon. I had assumed, in fact, that the world was supposed to be generally non-sexist and Locke's gang was mostly male by coincidence, which seemed possible given that there were only five of them total. So Sabetha's issues felt more believable for our world than for her own.
But what really got to me was how AWFUL she and Locke were together. Their interactions kept following the pattern of Locke desperately trying to please her, Sabetha telling him to get the fuck away from her, Locke being sexist or stalkery, Sabetha lashing out angrily, and then Locke creeping away to lick his wounds and pine. She seemed mean, he seemed pathetic and creepy, and their relationship seemed completely dysfunctional. And it was really not fun to read.
And since-- again, unlike most of Lynch's female characters-- Sabetha was defined by her relationship with Locke, and she was unlikable when interacting with Locke, I found her unlikable in general. Lynch did clearly and explicitly make the point that the entire problem was caused by society defining her in terms of Locke, but, again, since the society hadn't previously seemed to be like that, it didn't really work for me. I also found Locke so much more likable and interesting when she wasn't around and he wasn't thinking about her, and since I already was attached to Locke, I just wanted her to go away. This is not a response I normally have to female characters. But she was defined by being female in a way that none of the other female characters were.
And while I'm bitching, I am normally very into hurt-comfort, but I found the whole Locke-is-dying sequence to be long, dull, and depressing. And the rig-the-election plot lacked stakes.
It made me realize that something I look for in fictional romance is for the couple to bring out each other's best sides, not their worst. I don't necessarily mean in a moral sense. I have a particular soft spot for amoral assassin couples. But the relationship should make the characters more interesting, more themselves, not less.
I initially liked Miles and Ekaterin as a couple in Komarr, because I thought the relationship was doing exactly that. But in the post-Civil Campaign books, it seemed like Ekaterin had met exactly the fate she didn't want: she had become swallowed up by Miles' life. Not that being a mother isn't important, but she was a mother in Komarr, too. But that wasn't all she was.
Gaudy Night, of course, is not only an example of a couple being more interesting and true to themselves together than they are separately, but is explicitly about that phenomenon, and its opposite.
What are some stories with couples who brought out the best or most true aspects of each other? What are stories where they brought out the worst, or where their individuality became subsumed into couple-ness?
Crossposted to http://rachelmanija.dreamwidth.org/1148931.html. Comment here or there.