Some of us are not meant to go through life unbranded.

Aug 30, 2007 11:33

Whiskey and Water, Elizabeth Bear

Go on, just read it, DO! But do yourself a favor and read Blood and Iron first.

As with Blood and Iron, I am intensely disappointed with the reviews you can find on the internet.

Many just pass the book off as “good, but over my head.” But sometimes I wonder if the reviewer even read the same book I did.  **

He said: There are two mostly independent climactic battles.

She said: Dude, did you even read the book?

Three battles simultaneously climaxed the book; embedded in the battles were many, many conflicts. Let me count: Whiskey vs. Bunyip, Prometheus vs. Faerie, Hell vs. Heaven, Hell vs. Faerie, Faerie vs. Heaven, Matthew vs. Jane, Mother vs. Daughter, Dragon Prince vs. Dragon, Jewels vs. herself … OK, I don’t wanna count them all.

The whole point of the book and its many battles and conflicts could have been how one can’t avoid the inherent conflict in life (Matthew, Don, Carel) - or maybe it was about finding a way to live, somehow, through the conflict (Elaine, Whiskey and Autumn) - or perhaps the message was that you can choose your side only to discover the other side might be your ally (Heaven, Hell, and Faerie), or your ally might betray you in a way that ends up being your salvation. Or at least, the salvation of those you love.

The culmination of Whiskey’s fight with Bunyip fittingly symbolized the nature of conflict: power surges between polarities that really are not very different, until finally waves crash over the boundaries of beaches. In the end, does it matter who won?

He said: Whiskey is the titular star and gets a great deal of screen time, but he's trapped in an untenable position with few options and ends up remarkably passive.

She said: Whiskey really isn’t supposed to have options. Whiskey is a force of nature, a myth, a symbol. OK, so he temporarily carries a woman’s soul around while she doesn’t want it, a fact essentially castrates him. Even so, he’s not passive; he’s trapped until she reclaims her humanity. Even before that, he does everything he can morally do to act on behalf of his allies. And doesn’t that take us back to the first point about power and battles? Which his final battle symbolizes quite graphically?

He said: … what held the book together, I think, are the three human tourists who show up in New York at the start of the story, who almost immediately get into trouble and attract attention, and who cut a brilliant arc through the tangled complexities of the book with a wonderfully human fascination, curiosity, and sense of exploration. As far as I'm concerned, the pivotal center of this book is Jewels. … . Slowly coming to understand Jewels's perspective was, for me, the most satisfying parts of the book; I don't want to spoil it for anyone else. But the tension between what Jewels wants to be and what she actually is and how that changes the story felt like it encapsulated a truth about the role of humans in magic and the role of listeners in stories.

She said:

(1) Geoff and Althea, the other two humans, were completely throw-away characters. Completely. Geoff’s fate was absolutely not a surprise. Sorry. And Jewels is neither terrifically absorbing or central. Matthew Magus is the character about whom the plot orbits. All stories have tentacles leading back to Matthew’s choices, friendships, and struggles. He’s the symbol of humanity and our struggle with magic and meaning, not Jewels. (And no, we don’t have to be told the why to appreciate the scarring in his past.)

(2) Jewels’ identity and purpose in the book was transparent, and not pivotal. The first time we see anything of her as a character (other than her physical presence), she wanted to cut the Merlin, so badly that she thought it out loud. Why the Merlin? Power. The other was the early reveal that while she’d been extensively scarified, she had no power of her own. Physical scar, emotional scar, hmm, wonder if there’s a connection?

This story only tangentially touches on body mods, which are only another symbol for pain and identity. If that brand of self-reclamation interests you, as it does me, the book will come into sharp focus toward the end when Matthew says “Some of us are not meant to go through life unbranded.”

(3) Jewels’ story is an interesting thread in a complex weave. I think E Bear could have done more, graphically, viscerally, with Jewels and body modification and what that sometimes means to people. I also think she dances around queerness too much, in her stories; sometimes seeming reluctant to look it head-on. Autumn and Carel have a love that one barely gets to see, until the very end of the story. Autumn was not a throw-away, she really does change the course of events, yet one has a hard time feeling why. Bear starts to strike a balance, however, with a trans person in this story, refusing to imbue the character with more power and significance than the story called for, but giving us a jarring glance into a life most of us will not live.

He said: … not putting God on stage means that one of the powers is mostly noticable by its absence, the author has to deal with his unwillingness to appear, and everyone is left guessing what Heaven wants. A bit of mystery is fitting, but too much ineffability leaves Heaven looking senile, passive, or powerless. Bear addresses the problem sideways by giving us a single representative of Heaven in the person of the angle Michael …

She said: btw, I did not include this reviewer’s clip of text between Michael and Christian, as I absolutely agree. Wonderful writing! As is the whole mess of inter-relationships between Heaven, Hell, God, Lucifer, Satan, Christian, Faerie, and their various creators. And to say a lot more would spoil some of the surprise factor completely: the character of Christian is a brilliant commentary on contemporary American religion. Brilliant, I tell you!

As for leaving God out of the picture, I don’t think that was because God was too difficult to write, but rather quite intentional and meaningful. Consider one of the premises of the book that “All stories are true. All stories are lies.” And the device of multiple devils, all created by the stories of various (human) authors. So, who created God?

But that’s not really core to the novel, is it?

Elizabeth Bear is an amazing author. She can take us from fast-paced, driving action (Hammered et. al.) to speculative, futuristic societies (Carnival), to high but twisted fantasy. The Promethean books, so far, let us glimpse what this woman is capable of writing. It is in these books that she lets her subconsious play freely, and the deeply layered and sparkling stories that emerge are entrancing. But they are not for the light reader.

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** I’m rebutting this particular review simply because his experience of the story was so dramatically different than mine … 

e. bear, book review

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