But I lied, because I just can’t resist this. A while back, I wrote a post about True Blood, the new HBO series based on Charlaine Harris’s Southern Vampire books, plus a little bit about that explosively popular semi-new genre urban fantasy. (Twilight, anyone? ::snork!::) I mentioned one of my favorite urban fantasy authors, Carrie Vaughn (who is also represented in my blogroll)–I don’t just love her writing because her book titles are so droll, seriously. And one of her latest blog posts is too irresistible to pass up.
It’s called “Carrie’s Analysis of Urban Fantasy Part II: When Things Go Wrong” . So really I should entitle this post, “Lisa’s Analysis of Carrie’s Analysis of Urban Fantasy etc” but that’s too long even for my long-winded, 50+ word-sentence-loving self. So, see below for my takes, and feel free to share your own if you’ve got ‘em!
1. The label urban fantasy. 15 years ago, urban fantasy was what we called stuff like Charles DeLint and the Borderlands series and all those rock ‘n’ roll elf stories. There was a whole other group of just plain vampire novels. Stuff like Tanya Huff’s “Blood” series, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro and P.N. Elrod. About 3-4 years ago, the label started getting used by marketing folks for “books with a kick ass heroine, vampires and/or werewolves in something resembling the real world, usually with lots of hot sex, and a cover showing the backside of a leather-clad woman with a tramp stamp.”
I try not to fall into this trap, which I call “the Insufferable ::Fillintheblank:: Snob Trap.” It’s tempting to go ahead and jump right in this time, I admit, because her criticism is not without merit–but I think she’s exaggerating the creativity of times past and painting an overly one-dimension picture of times present. The first four books in the “Undead” series by MaryJanice Davidson, for instance, are a marvelous spoof on the present-day genre take–humor didn’t really exist in the earlier incarnations of urban fantasy. And she doesn’t mention Sonja Blue at all–for shame!
2. The tramp stamps on the covers. This is that tattoo on the small of the back that low-rise jeans seem specifically designed to show off. This pisses me off because tattoos as a symbol of alternative lifestyles and/or rebellion have been co-opted by the mainstream to such an extent they don’t really mean anything anymore, except to tell readers, “Hey! Sexy kick-ass lady here!”
I understand and respect her objection, but I think my early entry into the military prevented me from internalizing the idea that tattoos were a symbol of alternative lifestyles and/or rebellion, because 90% of enlisted military folks get at least one, and that was regardless of gender, political or religious affiliation or sexual orientation. (No, I didn’t get one–I couldn’t come up with one that I was absolutely positive I wouldn’t be sick of a year later.)
3. The kick-ass heroine straps stiletto blades to her forearms — strike one! She does it in the first chapter — strike two! She never actually uses the stiletto blades — three strikes, you’re out! I think this pisses me off so much because stilettos strapped to forearms are not a very practical choice of weapon. Rather, it’s a badge that says, “Look at me, look at how kick ass I am!” Honey, if you have to TELL everyone you’re a kick-ass heroine, well…
This one, I agree with–actually, I don’t think she went far enough with it. The heroine who we’re informed is a Black Belt! who hardly ever actually demonstrates this or worse, does and makes it pretty obvious that the author doesn’t have a clue what being a “Black Belt” actually entails. Or the heroine who packs a gun but obviously doesn’t know one model of firearm from another. Or has that Magik Weapon We’ve All Dreamt Of that only has a safety feature when it’s a useful plot device and loads and unloads itself as the plot requires. The only thing worse than a wet dishrag of a heroine (see: Twilight) is a pretentious kick-ass dishrag of a heroine (more on this in No. 5).
4. When a novel includes transgressive sex that isn’t really necessary for the plot, and is only there to make the book seem edgy. What gets me about this is it’s not really edgy because when it’s not necessary for the plot, the reader isn’t invited to engage with the transgressive sex, to imagine themselves as active participants and thereby make the whole thing uncomfortable and eye-opening and interesting. The reader is just there to watch and go “ooh.” This is called voyeurism, which is the only real sexual kink some of these books are engaged in.
Laurell K. Hamilton, are you reading this..?
5. The novel mistakes the ability to inflict violence for strength. There comes a point where the ability to inflict violence — and the downright glee in doing so — doesn’t make you strong, it makes you a bully. Some of these kick-ass heroines are actually bullies, and not very much fun to spend time with.
Corollary #1: The heroine isn’t really a powerful, confident kick-ass heroine. She’s a woman who uses aggression and violence to mask a variety of dysfunctions, insecurities, and stereotypical low self-esteem issues, like believing she doesn’t deserve a nice boyfriend because he’s too good for her.
Corollary #2: There is nothing inherently wrong with this type of character. Flawed heroes, including the flawed heroine who uses violence to mask her dysfunctions, are fascinating. What I don’t like is when these characters are presented as idealized heroines, better than everyone else around them, and the only capable character in the book. Their aggression excuses their dysfunctions rather than explains them. Um, not.
Urban fantasy authors who take this route with their characters are, not to put too fine a point upon it, crappy writers. Not necessarily crappy in the grammatical sense, or the word-choice sense, or even the ability to string together a coherent plot and dialogue sense–but in the inability to develop a literary character sense. I am sorry, but you must be able to do not just all the former, but also the latter as well, or you just. Can’t. Write. Well. Period. Accept it and find another day job.
6. The book has a strong woman character. But only one. You’d think a genre that supposedly celebrates kick-ass women ought to be able to have more than one per series. You’d think a genre that’s supposed to be all about empowering women would be able to pass the Bechdel Test more often.
Tee hee! Carrie knows what the Bechdel test is. I think I’m really in love now…
That aside, this is probably one of my ultimo, absolute pet peeves with the genre, when it is done like this. Luckily, it is not a problem in my favorite series–actually, Carrie’s more guilty of violating the Bechdel principle than most of my other fav urban fantasy authors are; unlike Betsy Taylor of the “Undead” series and Sookie of the “Southern Vampire” series, for instance, Carrie’s Kitty Norville has no real female friends. But stories that are one long, obsessed ramble about One Man’s Supernatural Hotness and One Woman’s Longing For That Hunk of Salami or often, even Multiple Men’s Supernatural Hotness and One Woman’s Longing Etc. give the whole genre a bad, bad name. It isn’t that I object to woman-centered het erotica–I don’t. But let’s shelve it in the “erotica” section, shan’t we? Let’s not pretend it’s some other form of literature taking place in a world that exists outside of the lust boiling in one woman’s head. More on this in Nos. 9 and 10, which also tie back into Nos. 4 and 5.
8. The movie Underworld.
I dunno. I didn’t think it was that bad. Was it good? No, but was it actually supposed to be..?
9. Stories that take place in the “real world” that don’t actually have anything to do with the real world. As in, the world they’re in sure doesn’t look much like the world I’m in. No politics, no pop culture, no current events, no day jobs, no families, no relevance, nothing.
Another hallmark of bad writing, as in, unskilled and untalented writing. Yep. Further emphasized by the presence OF:
10. Metrosexual alpha males. I don’t know how else to describe this. You know, the male romantic leads who are hot, manly, romantic, snappy dressers. They shower regularly. They’re totally built. Rich. Good cooks. Did I mention hot? Ready to come to the heroine’s rescue and dominate her in totally hot sex…And yet sensitive enough to express their true feelings. They’re usually vampires.
When they’re werewolves, they’re rough and growly, like late-1800s cowboys instead! Sad but oh, so true. More one-dimension writing skills, or rather lack of writing skills. Women who write this crap, frankly, had better not even attempt to complain in a feminist-y fashion about the porn-fuelled and/or reactionary (it’s eerily fascinating when it’s both, simultaneously, like here) fantasies some men exhibit in terms of their ideal woman, because all this is is a gender-swap version of the same dynamic.
A lot of these apply to Hamilton, actually.
Which is unfortunate, because particularily in the early books, she was really good at number 9: she talked about politics, arcane laws, pop culture, and dealing with annoying clients (and a greedy boss).
By the way-
POST YOUR CHAPTER. I’ve been dying to read it.
After reading your first post about the Sookie Stackhouse books, I went out and read them and LOVE them. I also got my roommates, sisters and several different customers at the Borders where I work to read them. Anyone who expresses an interest in Twilight (*barf*) I try to gently steer them toward these instead.
Anyway, thought I would let you know that you indirectly earned a dozen new readers for Charlaine Harris through your blogging efforts!
That’s awesome!