Race & Sexual Orientation in The Demon's Surrender: A Review
I just finished Sarah Rees Brennan's The Demon's Surrender. It is the final book in her Demon's Lexicon trilogy and, honestly? There are some issues.
I'm not a die-hard SJer, and god knows I like some really problematic media. There's nothing wrong with liking problematic media, but there is something wrong with not acknowledging your media is problematic, and I haven't seen anyone say anything about TDS. To be fair, it just recently came out, so maybe some more commentary will pop up later, but, well, I guess I should have a go at it now. Of note: spoilers, pretty much left and right.
Basically, Mae, a rich white girl, and Sin, a poor black girl, are competing for leadership of the Goblin Market. Sin has been raised in the Market. She has been groomed for the role, she is the heir apparent. Until Mae enters the picture.
Mae is new to the Market. She's only been to four or five of them. She's smart and gutsy, and after Mae orchestrates a battle, the current leader of the Marketdecides that maybe what she wants is Mae as the leader, rather than Sin. So she sets them against each other, and gives them basic tasks.
Merris had set them problems about the economy of the Market that Sin hadn't really understood. Mae had not only understood them but had come back with suggestions for improvements. A few weeks ago Merris had asked to choose a spot in Londo to move the Market to, and while Sin was still asking around, Mae had got on the Internet and then on the phone. She'd chosen the location on Horsend Hill where they were settled now, which had enough open space to house all their wagons under concealing charms. It was surrounded on two sides by a canal, and was on the site of an ancient hill fort. It was the ideal choice. [p. 31]
There are a couple things immediately jarring about this statement. First, why is Mae so flawlessly competent? She's a rich girl. She's likely never had to never manage money in her life. Or, conversely, why is Sin portrayed as so incompetent, especially when you consider two facts:
01. She has been groomed to take over the Market so presumably she would have been taught some of this.
02. Sin has raised herself and her two siblings. She must understand money and money management.
And yet Sin can't understand basic economics. Or can't get on a library computer and Google a more suitable location. But Mae understands everything. Okay. So perhaps the nitty-gritty details aren't the issue, but later on Merris says:
You know, in all the tests I devised for you Mae has achieved much better results, has shown herself able to be a stronger leader than you could be. [p.37]
Merris' working is key here. Not only has Mae achieved better results, she's achieved much better results. Furthermore, it's in all the tests. I understand perhaps highlighting the different skills of the two ladies, but it seems Mae clearly outshines Sin in nitty-gritty details, while in the areas where Sin should easily outshine Mae [dancing, fighting, performing], they're about the same - or, as Merris' words seem to imply, Mae is better.
Here starts the disturbing pattern throughout the rest of the book: Mae flawlessly handles any situation, while Sin is mostly left dumbstruck. Sin even cedes to Mae's ability to act a role better than her. Mae, working as something of a double agent, arrives at the Magician's ball. The following scene ensues:
People approached Jamie then; they approached him through Mae. Mae smiled and shook hands, held brief conversations. She was acting in a way Sin could only describe as sophisticated.
Sin guessed it was a trick Mae had learned from her mother or a formidable headmistress or someone else in her rich world. She wished she could learn how to do it, and doubted she could pull it off. The best acts need conviction behind them. [p. 196]
We know a few things about Sin in the book: mostly, she really prides herself on her dancing, her fighting skills, and her ability to act. Mae, in The Demon's Covenant, has proven she is just as good a dancer as Sin (at least in terms of dancing up demons). Mae also seems completely capable of holding her own in a fight, despite the fact that she has almost no training and seems to have never worked out in her life. And here we see Sin admitting that Mae pulls off an act she could never manage.
And the book doesn't stop there. Throughout it, Mae is presented as a capable organizer who's quietly determined and able to and will to combat centuries of xenophobia in one fell swoop (as seen by the admission of necromancers and pied pipers to the Market). Sin, on the other hand, is pretty much always at a loss for even the most basic of plans. She gets easily irritated and Mae and is resentful of her trying to take her place at the Market (rightfully so). Mae, of course, is never anything but quietly determined and only snaps at Sin when Sin snaps at her first.
Guess what ends up happening?
Mae, of course, wins the Market, having neatly won over the hearts of many of the Market people. Certainly she needs Sin's support, but the ultimate ending is a rich white girl reigning triumphant, having outclassed the poor black girl in pretty much every way. The poor black girl willingly submits to her leadership, and the two of them have an understanding that in seven years, the Market will hold an election to decide if they want to keep Mae on as leader or elect Sin.
The whole thing is incredibly colonialist, and indeed functions as a miniature of the colonial narrative: Mae, the rich, white foreigner comes in and revolutionizes a native's land with "superior" organization and technology. But it's all for the better, and the "native" (in this case, Sin) admits that, and eventually comes to support the usurper.
Things are further problematized by the fact that it is Mae who hatches the plan that ultimately saves the day (above the smaller struggle-for-the-Market plot) [cf. p. 369]. Mae, a character who we are supposed to believe was just a "normal girl" less than a year ago, manages to hatch a plan that takes down a circle of powerful magicians. Sin? Goes along with it. She stands there and watches. Kills some people. Functions as a pawn.
Sin spends most of the book in the background of her own narrative, and is rarely given a chance to shine. She's flawed, and honestly I adored Sin, but the text's treatment of her is extremely problematic.
I'll be frank: from a narrative perspective I loved Sin and I disliked Mae. Sin was flawed and wonderful and I don't mind my characters with weaknesses at all, but after a point it went from "reasonable weakness" to outright "parody of a strong character." In contrast, Mae is presented as perfect. I cannot recall one time in the text where her actions and thoughts are presented as wrong or flawed in any way. That's already annoying in a character, but when that character is rich and white and her strengths are contrasted against the flaws of poor, non-white woman, well, then there's an issue.
Additionally, I took issue with the portrayal of gay characters in the novel. Actually, I took issue with the portrayal of gay characters in the entire series.
Mae's brother, Jamie Crawford, is ostensibly one of the four main characters of the series. I use the word "ostensibly" because, of the main four, he's the one who's barely in it. He's also gay, though you wouldn't know that from the first book: aside from a few offhand references and some stereotypical performativity there's really nothing to suggest his orientation. The author comes out and states it in the second book, which is great and all, but Jamie only shows up in about a fourth of the scenes in the second book. The second book's focus, narrated by Mae, is primarily on her heterosexual romances with the two Ryves brothers.
The third book? Jamie's barely in it at all, and there's hardly a mention of him until halfway through the book. Then he disappears for another 100 pages, showing up in one brief scene, and then a few more towards the end.
Jamie is supposed to be, along with Nick, Alan, and Mae, one of the four main characters. Nick and Mae both get to narrate their own books, and Alan is very much the focus of both Nick and Sin's narration. Jamie gets, by quite a large margin, the least amount of screentime, and that's already irritating.
But the other issue is he's also, in the author's own words, the "damsel in distress."
Yeah, Jamie spends most of the series being helpless and freaking out. Which isn't to say he doesn't have his own moments of strength and the spotlight (he cuts off his own hand to escape the magicians) but for the most part he is overwhelmingly helpless, despite being a magician. Indeed, the only time he really has any power he is given power by Nick Ryves, the heteronormative titular demon.
This wouldn't be quite so much of an issue for me if the other gay magician, Seb, wasn't equally, if not more, helpless. Indeed, Seb's few moments in the narrative involve him being hopelessly awkward, or bullying Jamie.
There's also the issue of the sexlessness of the gay characters. On top of being mostly invisible, Jamie's romantic interactions consist of one chaste kiss with Seb and the admission of a couple illicit kisses with an old friend. This wouldn't honestly bother me if all the heterosexual relationships weren't about steamy makeout scenes described in loving detail. I didn't really care about seeing Seb and Jamie make out, but I do care about seeing the gay characters stories given the same type of stories and romances as the straight characters.
Jamie and Seb aside, there was one instance, at the very end of the book, where two women were presented as the parents of a pied piper. Although not stated outright, the text implies they're lesbians. They also had their voices stolen by their son on accident, and really, I wouldn't make much of it, except for silencing is a huge issue for LGBTQA individuals already, and considering Jamie and Seb's invisibility within the text, and their silence, it just struck a little close to home.
Indeed, there were other things in the narrative that I just personally disliked; for instance, I despised Nick/Mae and was irritated to see it validated at all, and it was validated in such a way that I found both out of character and excessive. I found the whole quest for the black pearl pretty convoluted and out of nowhere (the pearl itself smacked of the bad kind of deus ex machina for justifying Nick/Mae). I admit that I just didn't like the book very much (which is a shame, because I loved the first one) but I also think these issues bear thinking about outside of my personal dislike.
I know I might have lost some friends with this, and I'm open for debate, but ... there it is.
I'm not a die-hard SJer, and god knows I like some really problematic media. There's nothing wrong with liking problematic media, but there is something wrong with not acknowledging your media is problematic, and I haven't seen anyone say anything about TDS. To be fair, it just recently came out, so maybe some more commentary will pop up later, but, well, I guess I should have a go at it now. Of note: spoilers, pretty much left and right.
Basically, Mae, a rich white girl, and Sin, a poor black girl, are competing for leadership of the Goblin Market. Sin has been raised in the Market. She has been groomed for the role, she is the heir apparent. Until Mae enters the picture.
Mae is new to the Market. She's only been to four or five of them. She's smart and gutsy, and after Mae orchestrates a battle, the current leader of the Marketdecides that maybe what she wants is Mae as the leader, rather than Sin. So she sets them against each other, and gives them basic tasks.
Merris had set them problems about the economy of the Market that Sin hadn't really understood. Mae had not only understood them but had come back with suggestions for improvements. A few weeks ago Merris had asked to choose a spot in Londo to move the Market to, and while Sin was still asking around, Mae had got on the Internet and then on the phone. She'd chosen the location on Horsend Hill where they were settled now, which had enough open space to house all their wagons under concealing charms. It was surrounded on two sides by a canal, and was on the site of an ancient hill fort. It was the ideal choice. [p. 31]
There are a couple things immediately jarring about this statement. First, why is Mae so flawlessly competent? She's a rich girl. She's likely never had to never manage money in her life. Or, conversely, why is Sin portrayed as so incompetent, especially when you consider two facts:
01. She has been groomed to take over the Market so presumably she would have been taught some of this.
02. Sin has raised herself and her two siblings. She must understand money and money management.
And yet Sin can't understand basic economics. Or can't get on a library computer and Google a more suitable location. But Mae understands everything. Okay. So perhaps the nitty-gritty details aren't the issue, but later on Merris says:
You know, in all the tests I devised for you Mae has achieved much better results, has shown herself able to be a stronger leader than you could be. [p.37]
Merris' working is key here. Not only has Mae achieved better results, she's achieved much better results. Furthermore, it's in all the tests. I understand perhaps highlighting the different skills of the two ladies, but it seems Mae clearly outshines Sin in nitty-gritty details, while in the areas where Sin should easily outshine Mae [dancing, fighting, performing], they're about the same - or, as Merris' words seem to imply, Mae is better.
Here starts the disturbing pattern throughout the rest of the book: Mae flawlessly handles any situation, while Sin is mostly left dumbstruck. Sin even cedes to Mae's ability to act a role better than her. Mae, working as something of a double agent, arrives at the Magician's ball. The following scene ensues:
People approached Jamie then; they approached him through Mae. Mae smiled and shook hands, held brief conversations. She was acting in a way Sin could only describe as sophisticated.
Sin guessed it was a trick Mae had learned from her mother or a formidable headmistress or someone else in her rich world. She wished she could learn how to do it, and doubted she could pull it off. The best acts need conviction behind them. [p. 196]
We know a few things about Sin in the book: mostly, she really prides herself on her dancing, her fighting skills, and her ability to act. Mae, in The Demon's Covenant, has proven she is just as good a dancer as Sin (at least in terms of dancing up demons). Mae also seems completely capable of holding her own in a fight, despite the fact that she has almost no training and seems to have never worked out in her life. And here we see Sin admitting that Mae pulls off an act she could never manage.
And the book doesn't stop there. Throughout it, Mae is presented as a capable organizer who's quietly determined and able to and will to combat centuries of xenophobia in one fell swoop (as seen by the admission of necromancers and pied pipers to the Market). Sin, on the other hand, is pretty much always at a loss for even the most basic of plans. She gets easily irritated and Mae and is resentful of her trying to take her place at the Market (rightfully so). Mae, of course, is never anything but quietly determined and only snaps at Sin when Sin snaps at her first.
Guess what ends up happening?
Mae, of course, wins the Market, having neatly won over the hearts of many of the Market people. Certainly she needs Sin's support, but the ultimate ending is a rich white girl reigning triumphant, having outclassed the poor black girl in pretty much every way. The poor black girl willingly submits to her leadership, and the two of them have an understanding that in seven years, the Market will hold an election to decide if they want to keep Mae on as leader or elect Sin.
The whole thing is incredibly colonialist, and indeed functions as a miniature of the colonial narrative: Mae, the rich, white foreigner comes in and revolutionizes a native's land with "superior" organization and technology. But it's all for the better, and the "native" (in this case, Sin) admits that, and eventually comes to support the usurper.
Things are further problematized by the fact that it is Mae who hatches the plan that ultimately saves the day (above the smaller struggle-for-the-Market plot) [cf. p. 369]. Mae, a character who we are supposed to believe was just a "normal girl" less than a year ago, manages to hatch a plan that takes down a circle of powerful magicians. Sin? Goes along with it. She stands there and watches. Kills some people. Functions as a pawn.
Sin spends most of the book in the background of her own narrative, and is rarely given a chance to shine. She's flawed, and honestly I adored Sin, but the text's treatment of her is extremely problematic.
I'll be frank: from a narrative perspective I loved Sin and I disliked Mae. Sin was flawed and wonderful and I don't mind my characters with weaknesses at all, but after a point it went from "reasonable weakness" to outright "parody of a strong character." In contrast, Mae is presented as perfect. I cannot recall one time in the text where her actions and thoughts are presented as wrong or flawed in any way. That's already annoying in a character, but when that character is rich and white and her strengths are contrasted against the flaws of poor, non-white woman, well, then there's an issue.
Additionally, I took issue with the portrayal of gay characters in the novel. Actually, I took issue with the portrayal of gay characters in the entire series.
Mae's brother, Jamie Crawford, is ostensibly one of the four main characters of the series. I use the word "ostensibly" because, of the main four, he's the one who's barely in it. He's also gay, though you wouldn't know that from the first book: aside from a few offhand references and some stereotypical performativity there's really nothing to suggest his orientation. The author comes out and states it in the second book, which is great and all, but Jamie only shows up in about a fourth of the scenes in the second book. The second book's focus, narrated by Mae, is primarily on her heterosexual romances with the two Ryves brothers.
The third book? Jamie's barely in it at all, and there's hardly a mention of him until halfway through the book. Then he disappears for another 100 pages, showing up in one brief scene, and then a few more towards the end.
Jamie is supposed to be, along with Nick, Alan, and Mae, one of the four main characters. Nick and Mae both get to narrate their own books, and Alan is very much the focus of both Nick and Sin's narration. Jamie gets, by quite a large margin, the least amount of screentime, and that's already irritating.
But the other issue is he's also, in the author's own words, the "damsel in distress."
Yeah, Jamie spends most of the series being helpless and freaking out. Which isn't to say he doesn't have his own moments of strength and the spotlight (he cuts off his own hand to escape the magicians) but for the most part he is overwhelmingly helpless, despite being a magician. Indeed, the only time he really has any power he is given power by Nick Ryves, the heteronormative titular demon.
This wouldn't be quite so much of an issue for me if the other gay magician, Seb, wasn't equally, if not more, helpless. Indeed, Seb's few moments in the narrative involve him being hopelessly awkward, or bullying Jamie.
There's also the issue of the sexlessness of the gay characters. On top of being mostly invisible, Jamie's romantic interactions consist of one chaste kiss with Seb and the admission of a couple illicit kisses with an old friend. This wouldn't honestly bother me if all the heterosexual relationships weren't about steamy makeout scenes described in loving detail. I didn't really care about seeing Seb and Jamie make out, but I do care about seeing the gay characters stories given the same type of stories and romances as the straight characters.
Jamie and Seb aside, there was one instance, at the very end of the book, where two women were presented as the parents of a pied piper. Although not stated outright, the text implies they're lesbians. They also had their voices stolen by their son on accident, and really, I wouldn't make much of it, except for silencing is a huge issue for LGBTQA individuals already, and considering Jamie and Seb's invisibility within the text, and their silence, it just struck a little close to home.
Indeed, there were other things in the narrative that I just personally disliked; for instance, I despised Nick/Mae and was irritated to see it validated at all, and it was validated in such a way that I found both out of character and excessive. I found the whole quest for the black pearl pretty convoluted and out of nowhere (the pearl itself smacked of the bad kind of deus ex machina for justifying Nick/Mae). I admit that I just didn't like the book very much (which is a shame, because I loved the first one) but I also think these issues bear thinking about outside of my personal dislike.
I know I might have lost some friends with this, and I'm open for debate, but ... there it is.