A sometimes-didactic but often entertaining set of gender-bending yarns.
Cisnormative folklore conventions become violently upended in this collection of gender-fluid fairy tales.
Mardoll (Transcending Flesh, 2018, etc.) creates a fictive world of dragons, witches, wicked royals, swordplay, and sorcery—and plot contrivances that hinge on seemingly sex-specific prophecies that get twisted into pretzels by characters’ gender nonconformity. Unexpected confrontations ensue. In “Tangled Nets,” a dragon that claims a yearly human sacrifice from villagers, boasting that “no man nor woman would ever kill it,” is challenged by a knife-wielding fisherperson who is neither man nor woman and goes by the pronouns “xie” and “xer.” Conversely, in “King’s Favor,” an evil Witch-Queen who fears a prophecy that she will be killed by a male-female duo of mages gets flummoxed when a person claiming to be “both man and woman” (“nee” and “ner”) appears before her throne. That pattern of trans hero(in)es turning the tables on complacent gender assumptions continues throughout the winsome collection. In “His Father’s Son,” an orphan boy named Nocien (“he” and “him”), who others think is a girl, seeks vengeance on Guyon, a chieftain who killed the youth’s father, Cadfen. The orphan is pursuing a prophecy that a son of Cadfen will kill Guyon, which ironically lulls the chieftain into a false sense of security since he doesn’t imagine that Nocien is actually a boy. Likewise, in the Arthurian “Daughter of Kings,” Finndís (“she” and “her”), whom everyone takes for King Njall’s son, sets out to recover a magic sword stuck in a stone that, according to prophecy, can only be pulled out by a female descendant of the monarch. The plot formula descends into witting self-parody in the title story, which has characters who want to assassinate King Fearghas debate whether shifting away from masculine identification (to pronouns “kie” and “ker” or first-person “they” and “them”) will let them get around a prophecy that “no man of woman born” can kill the tyrant. At times, the author’s trans politics feels obtrusive—“Whether you’re a boy, or a girl, or both, or neither, or something else entirely, Eoghan and I will love you”—and readers may conclude that much trouble would be saved if the Soothsayers Guild warned the public that gender is too subjective and ambiguous a concept for reliable prophesying. Still, there’s much to enjoy in these imaginative stories. They feature lively action (“The dominant left hand…darted out to grab a knife from a man’s belt and stab it into the thick flesh of his thigh”), spooky atmospherics (“Her smile grew wider and the red glow of the strange flickering moss reflected off two rows of surprisingly numerous teeth”), and subtle observations (“A long pause, gentle in intent if not delivery, conveyed all the sighs the Queen never breathed”). Mardoll often infuses a droll comic sensibility into the enchantments, especially in "Early to Rise," a sparkling takeoff on "Sleeping Beauty," in which Prince(ss) Claude ("she," "her," "he," "him," "they," and "them" as her/his/their gender veers between feminine, masculine, and both at once) dispenses with true love’s kiss and instigates pragmatic negotiations with an angry fairy godmother. Readers of all orientations should appreciate the author’s assured storytelling and supple prose.
A sometimes-didactic but often entertaining set of gender-bending yarns.Pub Date: July 10, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-987412-91-8
Page Count: 174
Publisher: Acacia Moon Publishing, LLC
Review Posted Online: Dec. 13, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2019
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
BOOK REVIEW
A first novel, this is also a first person account of Scout's (Jean Louise) recall of the years that led to the ending of a mystery, the breaking of her brother Jem's elbow, the death of her father's enemy — and the close of childhood years. A widower, Atticus raises his children with legal dispassion and paternal intelligence, and is ably abetted by Calpurnia, the colored cook, while the Alabama town of Maycomb, in the 1930's, remains aloof to their divergence from its tribal patterns. Scout and Jem, with their summer-time companion, Dill, find their paths free from interference — but not from dangers; their curiosity about the imprisoned Boo, whose miserable past is incorporated in their play, results in a tentative friendliness; their fears of Atticus' lack of distinction is dissipated when he shoots a mad dog; his defense of a Negro accused of raping a white girl, Mayella Ewell, is followed with avid interest and turns the rabble whites against him. Scout is the means of averting an attack on Atticus but when he loses the case it is Boo who saves Jem and Scout by killing Mayella's father when he attempts to murder them. The shadows of a beginning for black-white understanding, the persistent fight that Scout carries on against school, Jem's emergence into adulthood, Calpurnia's quiet power, and all the incidents touching on the children's "growing outward" have an attractive starchiness that keeps this southern picture pert and provocative. There is much advance interest in this book; it has been selected by the Literary Guild and Reader's Digest; it should win many friends.
Pub Date: July 11, 1960
ISBN: 0060935464
Page Count: 323
Publisher: Lippincott
Review Posted Online: Oct. 7, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1960
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
This large, stately, and intensely powerful new novel by the author of Terms of Endearment and The Last Picture Show is constructed around a cattle drive—an epic journey from dry, hard-drinking south Texas, where a band of retired Texas Rangers has been living idly, to the last outpost and the last days of the old, unsettled West in rough Montana. The time is the 1880s. The characters are larger than life and shimmer: Captain Woodrow Call, who leads the drive, is the American type of an unrelentingly righteous man whose values are puritanical and pioneering and whose orders, which his men inevitably follow, lead, toward the end, to their deaths; talkative Gus McCrae, Call's best friend, learned, lenient, almost magically skilled in a crisis, who is one of those who dies; Newt, the unacknowledged 17-year-old son of Captain Call's one period of self-indulgence and the inheritor of what will become a new and kinder West; and whores, drivers, misplaced sheriffs and scattered settlers, all of whom are drawn sharply, engagingly, movingly. As the rag-tag band drives the cattle 3,000 miles northward, only Call fails to learn that his quest to conquer more new territories in the West is futile—it's a quest that perishes as men are killed by natural menaces that soon will be tamed and by half-starved renegades who soon will die at the hands of those less heroic than themselves. McMurtry shows that it is a quest misplaced in history, in a landscape that is bare of buffalo but still mythic; and it is only one of McMurtry's major accomplishments that he does it without forfeiting a grain of the characters' sympathetic power or of the book's considerable suspense. This is a masterly novel. It will appeal to all lovers of fiction of the first order.
Pub Date: June 1, 1985
ISBN: 068487122X
Page Count: 872
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Review Posted Online: Sept. 30, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 1985
IN THE NEWS
SEEN & HEARD
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