Joe Bernstein
2018-10-05 23:57:01 UTC
This is much more discussed here than the last recent book I reviewed,
but I don't find the sort of discussion I was looking for. So here's
my try.
This book tells the story of someone who begins as a man in his 30s,
running a bagel shop by day, a role-playing game by night. He seems
to live a fairly stressful and ordinary life. But then, through an
act of heroism, he comes to the attention of a wizard recruiting for
what the book itself calls a "mahou shoujo" - magical girl - team.
My first reaction was - "Holy cow! Ryk Spoor is bidding for the
Tiptree Award?" If he was, he failed:
<https://tiptree.org/award/2017-james-tiptree-jr-award> [1]
But after reading the book twice, I don't think he was.
I've read and seen very little from the magical girl subgenre. Some
stories from the category were much advocated at The Stars Our
Destination when I worked there; as usual, I reacted against such
advocacy, a reaction this time considerably strengthened by the
manifest impossibility of ever assembling <Sailor Moon> to read or
view, in those days before Wikipedia, Google, or much of anything
Web. My log tells me I watched both seasons of <Magic Knight
Rayearth> within the past decade, but I remember nothing at all of it.
So one reason I'm posting this is that I want to find out from people
more experienced with the genre, perhaps from the author himself,
whether I'm completely off base in saying:
<Princess Holy Aura> is primarily a tribute to the magical girl
subgenre.
Because if this is true, it affects everything else I noticed.
1. Its propulsive plot and appealing characters. Duh.
2. Its weak characterisations. (I don't mean all its characters are
weakly portrayed, but it does have some weak characterisations in
characters who'd better have been stronger - but I'm guessing
characters like Tierra MacKintor and Cordelia Ingemar, the main
two I'm talking about, normally *aren't* strongly characterised in
magical girl manga / anime.)
3. Its care in avoiding the obvious depths possible to the core idea.
It doesn't avoid *all* of them. The book takes care to keep the
possibility that its protagonist could be seen as a pervert in heaven
front and centre, even though it keeps refuting the idea. But a
whole lot of other stuff is weakly developed if at all. We're told
that somewhere inside the transformed protagonist's mind there's a
discrete bit representing her former male self, reacting in fairly
predictable ways to milestones in her female life. But we're also
told that this character ultimately has no desire whatsoever to do
as the book's setup demands, and go back to male life when the
apocalypse is averted. Huh?
I think this dissonance invites a couple of misreadings:
a) There really are female and male parts of the protagonist's
personality, they struggle, and the female part wins because the
personality is spending most of its time in a female body.
b) The man had been on the edge of poverty. The girl is actually
quite well off. The book is a parable of class.
But if we interpret the book through the shojo manga lens, there's a
simpler explanation. *Of course* girlhood is the right state for a
shojo manga heroine, whether or not it's the state she was born to.
So here we are. Much of what I wanted to see in this book - better
characterisation of all the girls, but especially the two I named;
substantially more attention to the psychic costs of the
transformation - amounts to saying I wanted to read a different book
from the one I picked up, and can reasonably be discounted. But I
think the book *does* have a genuine flaw, at the end, when the
darkness proper to the protagonist's decisions is undermined by their
lack of clear motivation. [2]
Which doesn't even come close to overcoming the enjoyment the
previous hundreds of pages had brought me. If this were really a
review, trying to inform readers about the book, the above would
be wholly disproportionate; the review should be nine-tenths positive.
But if there are any readers here who do need to be informed about it,
it's news to me; and the above is meant instead to provoke a
discussion.
Joe Bernstein
[1] In fact,
<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_James_Tiptree_Jr._Award_winners>
- which also lists the honour books, and names publishers for all -
lists not *one* Baen book. This just shouts "Bias" but I'm not sure
whose.
[2] If the book offers *any* motivation for the protagonist's
decision, it's got to be that as a girl she has closer relationships -
with friends, with a budding romance, with the wizard posing as her
father - than in her old life, which apparently involved plenty of
TV. The two aren't explicitly linked, but remarks about friendship
among the girls often show up near remarks about the male self. But
we haven't actually seen the male self watching TV, which the girls
seemingly do too - they certainly talk about TV shows - we've seen
him running a game (really well, with much knowledge of his players,
and a strong bond with one of them), and interacting with his
neighbours. If the point is that well-off teenagers can have richer
social lives than badly-off thirtyish bachelors, um, duh - but that
suggests something really problematic about the decision. If the
point is that the male self really had been pathetically lonely, um,
no.
but I don't find the sort of discussion I was looking for. So here's
my try.
This book tells the story of someone who begins as a man in his 30s,
running a bagel shop by day, a role-playing game by night. He seems
to live a fairly stressful and ordinary life. But then, through an
act of heroism, he comes to the attention of a wizard recruiting for
what the book itself calls a "mahou shoujo" - magical girl - team.
My first reaction was - "Holy cow! Ryk Spoor is bidding for the
Tiptree Award?" If he was, he failed:
<https://tiptree.org/award/2017-james-tiptree-jr-award> [1]
But after reading the book twice, I don't think he was.
I've read and seen very little from the magical girl subgenre. Some
stories from the category were much advocated at The Stars Our
Destination when I worked there; as usual, I reacted against such
advocacy, a reaction this time considerably strengthened by the
manifest impossibility of ever assembling <Sailor Moon> to read or
view, in those days before Wikipedia, Google, or much of anything
Web. My log tells me I watched both seasons of <Magic Knight
Rayearth> within the past decade, but I remember nothing at all of it.
So one reason I'm posting this is that I want to find out from people
more experienced with the genre, perhaps from the author himself,
whether I'm completely off base in saying:
<Princess Holy Aura> is primarily a tribute to the magical girl
subgenre.
Because if this is true, it affects everything else I noticed.
1. Its propulsive plot and appealing characters. Duh.
2. Its weak characterisations. (I don't mean all its characters are
weakly portrayed, but it does have some weak characterisations in
characters who'd better have been stronger - but I'm guessing
characters like Tierra MacKintor and Cordelia Ingemar, the main
two I'm talking about, normally *aren't* strongly characterised in
magical girl manga / anime.)
3. Its care in avoiding the obvious depths possible to the core idea.
It doesn't avoid *all* of them. The book takes care to keep the
possibility that its protagonist could be seen as a pervert in heaven
front and centre, even though it keeps refuting the idea. But a
whole lot of other stuff is weakly developed if at all. We're told
that somewhere inside the transformed protagonist's mind there's a
discrete bit representing her former male self, reacting in fairly
predictable ways to milestones in her female life. But we're also
told that this character ultimately has no desire whatsoever to do
as the book's setup demands, and go back to male life when the
apocalypse is averted. Huh?
I think this dissonance invites a couple of misreadings:
a) There really are female and male parts of the protagonist's
personality, they struggle, and the female part wins because the
personality is spending most of its time in a female body.
b) The man had been on the edge of poverty. The girl is actually
quite well off. The book is a parable of class.
But if we interpret the book through the shojo manga lens, there's a
simpler explanation. *Of course* girlhood is the right state for a
shojo manga heroine, whether or not it's the state she was born to.
So here we are. Much of what I wanted to see in this book - better
characterisation of all the girls, but especially the two I named;
substantially more attention to the psychic costs of the
transformation - amounts to saying I wanted to read a different book
from the one I picked up, and can reasonably be discounted. But I
think the book *does* have a genuine flaw, at the end, when the
darkness proper to the protagonist's decisions is undermined by their
lack of clear motivation. [2]
Which doesn't even come close to overcoming the enjoyment the
previous hundreds of pages had brought me. If this were really a
review, trying to inform readers about the book, the above would
be wholly disproportionate; the review should be nine-tenths positive.
But if there are any readers here who do need to be informed about it,
it's news to me; and the above is meant instead to provoke a
discussion.
Joe Bernstein
[1] In fact,
<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_James_Tiptree_Jr._Award_winners>
- which also lists the honour books, and names publishers for all -
lists not *one* Baen book. This just shouts "Bias" but I'm not sure
whose.
[2] If the book offers *any* motivation for the protagonist's
decision, it's got to be that as a girl she has closer relationships -
with friends, with a budding romance, with the wizard posing as her
father - than in her old life, which apparently involved plenty of
TV. The two aren't explicitly linked, but remarks about friendship
among the girls often show up near remarks about the male self. But
we haven't actually seen the male self watching TV, which the girls
seemingly do too - they certainly talk about TV shows - we've seen
him running a game (really well, with much knowledge of his players,
and a strong bond with one of them), and interacting with his
neighbours. If the point is that well-off teenagers can have richer
social lives than badly-off thirtyish bachelors, um, duh - but that
suggests something really problematic about the decision. If the
point is that the male self really had been pathetically lonely, um,
no.
--
Joe Bernstein <***@gmail.com>
Joe Bernstein <***@gmail.com>