In Which I am a Literature Fangirl
Oct. 6th, 2006 10:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
revenaThe antics of a particularly ignorant troll earlier this evening reminded me that I never did get around to writing about the interesting comparison I wanted to make between Pamela Dean’s Tam Lin and Elizabeth Bear’s Blood and Iron (Oh god, was that really back in August? Thank goodness I don’t have to turn these sorts of things in on time for grades anymore…). I wanted to wait, originally, because I knew what I wanted to say, but not how to say it without sounding sort’ve unintentionally pretentious.
But, y’know, it’s obvious to me now that there are heights of pretension that I could never reach even if I actually strove for them...
So! Here, then, is a little bit of rambling about some similarities I saw between Tam Lin and Blood and Iron that were not the ones I expected (but which were not, on consideration, surprising):
First off, there’s the rather obvious, wholly expected, unsurprising similarity. If you had read any of the press or back cover copy for either of the two books, or heard anyone talk about them, or anything like that, you’d probably be able to guess going in that both stories have something to do with the concept of the every-seven-years fairie tithe to Hell.
(The title of Tam Lin is a dead giveaway, on that one, really.)
So, I was not at all surprised that the Tam Lin ballad plays a bit of a role in both stories. It was interesting to me the different ways in which the ballad/story/legend operates (it’s kind’ve a meta refrain in both, but one that the characters in Blood and Iron are pretty much all totally aware of, whereas those in Tam Lin pretty much aren’t, though the reader sees it. Or can, if she knows what to look for) – but that’s not really what I want to talk about.
The other extremely strong similarity that I felt between the two novels was rather less expected, and is even more interesting, to me.
Those of you who read Tam Lin after going to college and studying some English or some Classics or maybe Drama, or who read it and then went on to study those things (and then probably read it a few more times…) will probably feel, as I do, that one of the most wonderful things about the book is that it’s just jam-packed with allusions. And I’m not talking pop-culture allusions, here (though there’s a little of that. I think the novel is, unlike many fantasy novels, really quite well-grounded in time). No, I mean Literature Dork allusions.
The characters quote the Illiad – multiple translations of it – in chapter three.
Holy shit, I thought to myself, the first time I read it. This is a story about people like me. This is a story for people like me.
Now, that’s a bit of a conceit. I do suspect that Pamela Dean had at least a vague sense of who her target audience was, when she wrote the book. But she probably didn’t actually specifically set out to write a fantasy novel for me, you know? But it felt like it. Still does, when I re-read it.
Now, partly that’s because it’s a story about a young woman and her Humanities education. I’m a young woman! I was in the Humanities!
And partly it’s because it’s a story about magic. OMG I LOVE MAGIC IN STORIES!
And there’s romance. *swoon!* And mystery. And all sorts of other things I like.
But what I really love about it is that it’s a story that takes all that stuff and smushes it together and blends it up real well. It’s a really spiffy, modern fairytale that has a degree in English, and really likes to watch romantic comedies, or something.
There are lots of other fantasy and sci-fi works that make very clear allusions to the classical canon of Western lit. I remember realizing with a bit of start as I was reading one of Orson Scott Card’s Ender series that he was referencing The Rape of the Lock (damned if I can remember which book, or what the reference was, but I swear it’s in there). But not very many successfully and repeatedly connect the fabric of their own stories to that canon.
Tam Lin does, by virtue of having characters who have good reason to be totally aware of that tapestry of story (whether they see their own connection to it or not). Blood and Iron, I am pleased to report, does a very fine job of it, too.
I have to admit that I didn’t think so, at first. This is a little embarrassing, because I actually met Elizabeth Bear (at WisCon, which was a jillion kinds of awesome, if you haven’t been reading here long enough to have seen me babbling about it), and we talked about writing for quite some time at the bar after our workshop dealie was over, and so I have good reason to know that she takes her craft very seriously, and really spends time working on all aspects of character and story. And I’d read a fair chunk of her previously published work, and really liked it, and we discussed that a little, and the discussion was really interesting, and…
In short, I had every reason to have faith that Blood and Iron would be a solidly crafted book. And I was really, deeply, truly annoyed when I read this little bit of it, where the character called Seeker discusses swords and stories with Morgan le Fay:
“I imagine,” Seeker answered, “that I know those stories as well. Which one was Lancelot’s?”
It was a risk, of course. But the witch was in a mood for laughing, and she continued as she had begun. “None of them,” she answered around a chuckle. “His I gave back when I was done with it.” Morgan grinned wider, amused by her own pun. “Few now remember that twist of the tale.”
“What?” I shouted, when I read that bit. “WHAT? But! But! Lancelot is a LATER FRENCH ADDITION TO THE ARTHURIAN MYTHOS!”
(really, Morgan herself doesn’t predate him by all that much, but I was too incensed to consider that, just then)
But I kept reading, and just a few lines further down, I read:
“I thought he was a later invention.”
“Oh, he was and he wasn’t. Bard’s tales shape history as much as history shapes the tales. Especially here, where will is the shape of the world…”
Oh, I thought. Oh. This is going to be another story that’s for people like me!
And it was.
There are certainly parts I myself would have written differently (for what it’s worth, this is true of basically every book I read), and there were things that characters did or said that irritated me for one reason or another. But, oh! The lovely allusions! The metatextuality of it!
One thing that comes up quite a bit in Blood and Iron – usually in a very skeptical way – is the idea that all stories are true. Many of the characters pretty clearly don’t quite believe this much of the time, but I think it’s an important idea for the appreciation of both Blood and Iron and Tam Lin.
Which is not to say that if you’ve never read any of that classics crap (most of it’s not even really in English for god’s sake!), you couldn’t enjoy either of those books. Of course you could.
But if you have read all of that stuff, if you’re fiercely in love with reading, and with writing, and with “real” literature and genre alike – if a phrase like “all stories are true” makes you tingle all over with pleased anticipation…
Well, Tam Lin and Blood and Iron were written for you.
But, y’know, it’s obvious to me now that there are heights of pretension that I could never reach even if I actually strove for them...
So! Here, then, is a little bit of rambling about some similarities I saw between Tam Lin and Blood and Iron that were not the ones I expected (but which were not, on consideration, surprising):
First off, there’s the rather obvious, wholly expected, unsurprising similarity. If you had read any of the press or back cover copy for either of the two books, or heard anyone talk about them, or anything like that, you’d probably be able to guess going in that both stories have something to do with the concept of the every-seven-years fairie tithe to Hell.
(The title of Tam Lin is a dead giveaway, on that one, really.)
So, I was not at all surprised that the Tam Lin ballad plays a bit of a role in both stories. It was interesting to me the different ways in which the ballad/story/legend operates (it’s kind’ve a meta refrain in both, but one that the characters in Blood and Iron are pretty much all totally aware of, whereas those in Tam Lin pretty much aren’t, though the reader sees it. Or can, if she knows what to look for) – but that’s not really what I want to talk about.
The other extremely strong similarity that I felt between the two novels was rather less expected, and is even more interesting, to me.
Those of you who read Tam Lin after going to college and studying some English or some Classics or maybe Drama, or who read it and then went on to study those things (and then probably read it a few more times…) will probably feel, as I do, that one of the most wonderful things about the book is that it’s just jam-packed with allusions. And I’m not talking pop-culture allusions, here (though there’s a little of that. I think the novel is, unlike many fantasy novels, really quite well-grounded in time). No, I mean Literature Dork allusions.
The characters quote the Illiad – multiple translations of it – in chapter three.
Holy shit, I thought to myself, the first time I read it. This is a story about people like me. This is a story for people like me.
Now, that’s a bit of a conceit. I do suspect that Pamela Dean had at least a vague sense of who her target audience was, when she wrote the book. But she probably didn’t actually specifically set out to write a fantasy novel for me, you know? But it felt like it. Still does, when I re-read it.
Now, partly that’s because it’s a story about a young woman and her Humanities education. I’m a young woman! I was in the Humanities!
And partly it’s because it’s a story about magic. OMG I LOVE MAGIC IN STORIES!
And there’s romance. *swoon!* And mystery. And all sorts of other things I like.
But what I really love about it is that it’s a story that takes all that stuff and smushes it together and blends it up real well. It’s a really spiffy, modern fairytale that has a degree in English, and really likes to watch romantic comedies, or something.
There are lots of other fantasy and sci-fi works that make very clear allusions to the classical canon of Western lit. I remember realizing with a bit of start as I was reading one of Orson Scott Card’s Ender series that he was referencing The Rape of the Lock (damned if I can remember which book, or what the reference was, but I swear it’s in there). But not very many successfully and repeatedly connect the fabric of their own stories to that canon.
Tam Lin does, by virtue of having characters who have good reason to be totally aware of that tapestry of story (whether they see their own connection to it or not). Blood and Iron, I am pleased to report, does a very fine job of it, too.
I have to admit that I didn’t think so, at first. This is a little embarrassing, because I actually met Elizabeth Bear (at WisCon, which was a jillion kinds of awesome, if you haven’t been reading here long enough to have seen me babbling about it), and we talked about writing for quite some time at the bar after our workshop dealie was over, and so I have good reason to know that she takes her craft very seriously, and really spends time working on all aspects of character and story. And I’d read a fair chunk of her previously published work, and really liked it, and we discussed that a little, and the discussion was really interesting, and…
In short, I had every reason to have faith that Blood and Iron would be a solidly crafted book. And I was really, deeply, truly annoyed when I read this little bit of it, where the character called Seeker discusses swords and stories with Morgan le Fay:
“I imagine,” Seeker answered, “that I know those stories as well. Which one was Lancelot’s?”
It was a risk, of course. But the witch was in a mood for laughing, and she continued as she had begun. “None of them,” she answered around a chuckle. “His I gave back when I was done with it.” Morgan grinned wider, amused by her own pun. “Few now remember that twist of the tale.”
“What?” I shouted, when I read that bit. “WHAT? But! But! Lancelot is a LATER FRENCH ADDITION TO THE ARTHURIAN MYTHOS!”
(really, Morgan herself doesn’t predate him by all that much, but I was too incensed to consider that, just then)
But I kept reading, and just a few lines further down, I read:
“I thought he was a later invention.”
“Oh, he was and he wasn’t. Bard’s tales shape history as much as history shapes the tales. Especially here, where will is the shape of the world…”
Oh, I thought. Oh. This is going to be another story that’s for people like me!
And it was.
There are certainly parts I myself would have written differently (for what it’s worth, this is true of basically every book I read), and there were things that characters did or said that irritated me for one reason or another. But, oh! The lovely allusions! The metatextuality of it!
One thing that comes up quite a bit in Blood and Iron – usually in a very skeptical way – is the idea that all stories are true. Many of the characters pretty clearly don’t quite believe this much of the time, but I think it’s an important idea for the appreciation of both Blood and Iron and Tam Lin.
Which is not to say that if you’ve never read any of that classics crap (most of it’s not even really in English for god’s sake!), you couldn’t enjoy either of those books. Of course you could.
But if you have read all of that stuff, if you’re fiercely in love with reading, and with writing, and with “real” literature and genre alike – if a phrase like “all stories are true” makes you tingle all over with pleased anticipation…
Well, Tam Lin and Blood and Iron were written for you.
