I'm not really one for "native" stories, you know the sort of Dances With Wolves scenarios where the noble savage steps out of the jungle to teach stumbling, bumbling Joe White Bloke that his ways are evil and embracing the jungle is his only hope. Disney's Pocahontas, anyone?
But when I read Card's America, I found it to be a refreshing look at the genre. Without giving away any spoilers, the story is basically that the feathered serpent of Aztec myth shall return and clean the corruption of the Europeans - here referring to all whites - from the Americas. Many stereotypes do appear, such as reference to the money-grubbing North Americans and the pipes running into the earth to suck out the oil like a leech - though I had to wonder, "is the oil vital to the ecosystem, exactly?" But I digress. Poverty and filth as seen on the news contrasts with the lifestyle of the male protagonist, but curiously, it is the indian woman he encounters who has all the prejudices. He wants to help, she resents his heritage. And when he protests that he is not European, she corrects him, saying that only the indians count as Americans.
That theme struck me as the most interesting - the idea that one's identity must be tied up in one's cultural past. And why not? I can't deny my own heritage any more than I can deny the color of my own skin. But fascinatingly, Card does not really take sides. In the world of the story, it eventually becomes unfashionable to be "European," but the boy finds that, though he embraces the change brought by the feathered serpent - coming in the form of an indian Messiah with his all-conquering armies driving out those whites who won't assimilate - the boy still resents the change for stealing his identity.
So one must ask the question: at what point have the "invaders" become natives?
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The Wizard Knight Completed
Having finished reading The Wizard, I can now say that I've no idea what the story was about. Better yet, I loved it in spite of what some might consider a glaring lack of direction and focus. There were so many plots and subplots that it was quite confusing at times but I shall herein attempt to make meaning out of the events in the life of Able of the High Heart.
As a die-hard Tolkien/Jacques fan, I rely a great deal upon the immediate plot when reading a book. Though I like subtleties and engaging dialogue and insightful character development, it is the plot that knits it all together for me. That is where The Wizard - and the book before it - deviate from the norm. The only real plot is the life of the main character and the frustrations and confusions that make it interesting. As such, there are at least three major armed conflicts that are in no way related to one another, seemingly pointless court intrigue that is eventually dropped, several trips to Aelfrice that interject high adventure and more twists that lead nowhere, and towards the middle and end, several characters that had been painstakingly developed throughout the story are simply dropped, only to be replaced by lesser support characters that behave roughly the same way, and in the last handful of chapters, seemingly dozens of new characters are introduced and hastily given the microwave development treatment.
So bewildered as I was by the end of the novel - a bittersweet closing that was dulled by my confusion - I had to go back and rethink my approach to understanding literature. Perhaps reading "literary" fiction in magazines and anthologies over the last couple years helped out, since those are based heavily upon character development. Realizing this, I went back through my mind to formulate this conclusion: The Wizard Knight duology is about Able and his lovely lady and their struggles and adventures in a strange world. At that it all made sense - or made more sense - because Able developed as a character - then again, I may have to go back and review that, he seems somewhat static at times - and his entire quest, kings, knights, and giants aside, was to rediscover his past and wed his true love, who may wind up being torn away from him in the end. What a twist!
Aside from my rather late discovery, The Wizard was rather more linear than the previous book, with sequential events and larger plots replacing the career hopping experience from The Knight. The world was much more fleshed-out and the mythology of the several worlds of Mythgarthr explored more fully. The dialogue was a joy to read, though the general lack of attribution got old in the denser conversations. That dialogue was actually a two-edged sword, since half the time, the characters could not stay on topic. Where in Middle-Earth, everyone remained politely silent until Gandalf had his 18.5-page speech out and done, in Mythgarthr the conversations are more realistic, with everyone and their dog - no, really - wanting to have their say before the chapter ends. To further complicate things, some dialogue goes in maddening circles, such as when there is a murder:
"Do you know who killed him?"
"No, I do not."
"I think you do."
"You are welcome to think so, but I don't know."
"Your face says otherwise. You think you know who killed him."
"I might."
"Suppose I asked you to guess?"
"I won't, because it won't do any good."
"But suppose you did."
"I won't, because I don't know who killed him and if I guessed, then the suspect's honor would be soiled."
"But you think you know."
"I might."
And so on. To make matters worse, the question is never answered, nor does it really matter in the end. Yet despite the fact that the murder does not matter, it keeps coming up for at least half the book, finally answered in a cryptic, "could he have done it for such-and-such a reason?" To which the narrator thinks, "the look on my face said that I knew who did it."
Sadly, I have not the foggiest what happened. All I know is that the book was well written and not too hard to follow, so long as I did not devote too much cognitive energy to the matter. Of last concern: ribald humor and suggestive dialogue render this book adult only. Maxism out.
As a die-hard Tolkien/Jacques fan, I rely a great deal upon the immediate plot when reading a book. Though I like subtleties and engaging dialogue and insightful character development, it is the plot that knits it all together for me. That is where The Wizard - and the book before it - deviate from the norm. The only real plot is the life of the main character and the frustrations and confusions that make it interesting. As such, there are at least three major armed conflicts that are in no way related to one another, seemingly pointless court intrigue that is eventually dropped, several trips to Aelfrice that interject high adventure and more twists that lead nowhere, and towards the middle and end, several characters that had been painstakingly developed throughout the story are simply dropped, only to be replaced by lesser support characters that behave roughly the same way, and in the last handful of chapters, seemingly dozens of new characters are introduced and hastily given the microwave development treatment.
So bewildered as I was by the end of the novel - a bittersweet closing that was dulled by my confusion - I had to go back and rethink my approach to understanding literature. Perhaps reading "literary" fiction in magazines and anthologies over the last couple years helped out, since those are based heavily upon character development. Realizing this, I went back through my mind to formulate this conclusion: The Wizard Knight duology is about Able and his lovely lady and their struggles and adventures in a strange world. At that it all made sense - or made more sense - because Able developed as a character - then again, I may have to go back and review that, he seems somewhat static at times - and his entire quest, kings, knights, and giants aside, was to rediscover his past and wed his true love, who may wind up being torn away from him in the end. What a twist!
Aside from my rather late discovery, The Wizard was rather more linear than the previous book, with sequential events and larger plots replacing the career hopping experience from The Knight. The world was much more fleshed-out and the mythology of the several worlds of Mythgarthr explored more fully. The dialogue was a joy to read, though the general lack of attribution got old in the denser conversations. That dialogue was actually a two-edged sword, since half the time, the characters could not stay on topic. Where in Middle-Earth, everyone remained politely silent until Gandalf had his 18.5-page speech out and done, in Mythgarthr the conversations are more realistic, with everyone and their dog - no, really - wanting to have their say before the chapter ends. To further complicate things, some dialogue goes in maddening circles, such as when there is a murder:
"Do you know who killed him?"
"No, I do not."
"I think you do."
"You are welcome to think so, but I don't know."
"Your face says otherwise. You think you know who killed him."
"I might."
"Suppose I asked you to guess?"
"I won't, because it won't do any good."
"But suppose you did."
"I won't, because I don't know who killed him and if I guessed, then the suspect's honor would be soiled."
"But you think you know."
"I might."
And so on. To make matters worse, the question is never answered, nor does it really matter in the end. Yet despite the fact that the murder does not matter, it keeps coming up for at least half the book, finally answered in a cryptic, "could he have done it for such-and-such a reason?" To which the narrator thinks, "the look on my face said that I knew who did it."
Sadly, I have not the foggiest what happened. All I know is that the book was well written and not too hard to follow, so long as I did not devote too much cognitive energy to the matter. Of last concern: ribald humor and suggestive dialogue render this book adult only. Maxism out.
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