Overall Quality 4.0 / 5.0 (entertaining, if light, read)
Gay Inclusive? Moderately – two secondary gay characters
Gay Positive? Very – both characters are well-rounded and important to the story

Okay, yeah, I have to admit – the plot is nothing new. Mysterious Monster Makes Mayhem; Sassy Star Saves the Day.

Specifically, the vampires are up to no good – a newly made vampire possessed by a demon begins wrecking havoc on the Mercy Thompson’s small community. It’s up to her, along with her werewolf allies and lone vampire friend, to figure out what’s going on and put a stop to it.

Once again, with textured characters and a involving alternate world, the author brings the story to life. It says a lot about the characters when they each have their own minor concerns that almost rival the main story for interest.

For example, Mercy’s gay werewolf cowboy friend (whew!) Warren returns. At one point, he’s wounded by the Big Bad of the story; and certain members of his pack – sensing weakness in a guy they never really cared for because he’s gay – try to take advantage to knock Warren from his position in the pack. It’s a relatively minor thread, but the relationships (good and bad) that exist between these characters possess a vitality that keeps me turning pages as fast as I can.

On the other hand, the fact that subplots nearly eclipse the main story doesn’t speak well of the main story. Considering Briggs’ inventiveness in her world-building, it’s a bit of a let-down to find the central plot to be relatively formulaic.

Nevertheless, Blood Bound was an immensely entertaining and enjoyable read with an exciting climax and meaty denouement (an improvement over the first book’s conclusion). A great read for a rainy Sunday afternoon.

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See also my review of the first Mercy Thompson book, Moon Called.

Overall Quality 4.5 / 5.0 (fun, engaging story)
Gay Inclusive? Moderately – two secondary (but important) gay characters
Gay Positive? Very – both characters are well-rounded and fully fleshed-out

A supernatural (or urban fantasy) mystery adventure. Mercy Thompson is a sassy, free-spirited, and no-nonsense walker – that is, a shapeshifter who can transform easily from human to coyote, thanks to her Native American heritage. She lives in a world shared by werewolves, vampires, witches, and the fae (fairy spirits, ranging from gremlins to ogres to mythological monsters).

She has an uneasy but generally congenial relationship with the werewolf pack next door. In fact, she finds herself torn between the pack’s Alpha (Adam), and a former werewolf flame (Samuel). The romantic triangle is not resolved in this book – in fact, it’s not resolved until the end of Book 3.

The romance takes second place to the main story – a mysterious attack on Adam’s pack that leaves Adam on the verge of death and his (human) daughter Jesse kidnapped. Who would perpetrate such an attack? And why?

Briggs brings a lot of strengths to the book, including great characterizaton and a well-conceived alternate universe in which magic and supernatural creatures are real. The world-building (seeing how the supernatural elements fit into the “real” world) was just as interesting to me as the main plot. Briggs even manages to work a little social commentary into her world-building. The fae, for example, have recently been outed to the public, and most of them have been moved onto reservations.

Gay-wise, Adam’s pack includes a gay werewolf named Warren (who was a cowboy before he was turned), and his boyfriend Kyle. They are close friends of mercy’s, and both of them are sensible and helpful fellows with meaty parts in all three books.

A brief explanation why I included the negative stereotypes of heterosexism and gay without agency. The werewolf world is apparently even less accepting of gays than the normal world, and apparently Warren had a hard time of it until he was finally welcomed by Adam. Well, a harder time of it, because some of Adam’s other werewolves still do not deal well with him. It’s great that Adam is not prejudiced, and it paints his characters nicely, but it’s frustrating to see a gay man requiring a popular straight man’s “approval” to be accepted by the rest of the group.

I don’t weight these factors heavily, however. Yeah, I would have preferred if gayness were no big deal in the werewolf world. But even so, Warren and Kyle are two great characters, and Briggs (through protagonist Mercy) clearly cares about them. Major kudos to Briggs for writing them into the story, making them such great characters, and giving them some substantive scenes.

Story-wise, a minor complaint: the story weakens near the end. In part to increase tension, and in part to conclude the novel’s central mystery, the plot becomes convoluted and twisted as it winds to a conclusion. It’s a little hard to follow, and it throws the novel’s pacing off. Still, the author manages to end the book with a bang, and how’s this for a recommendation: I finished the book and immediately went out and bought the next two.

Summary

Mélusine is a Paris-esque city, set in quasi-Medieval times. A magical creation, the Virtu’, helps protect the city and its central structure, the Mirador. But evil Malkar destroys the Virtu’ by using the power of one of the principal viewpoint characters, wizard Felix Harrowgate, against his will. Unfortunate, Malkar’s actions drive Felix Harrowgate insane; and no one believes that Felix didn’t willfully destroy the Virtu’ himself. Meanwhile, the second viewpoint character, Mildmay, a thief, lives among the poorer sections of the city, called the Lower City. Through Mildmay, the reader comes to better understand the culture and contradictions of Mélusine.

Clearly, “Mélusine” comprises the first act of a larger story. The novel traces one important storyline (Felix’s madness), but the central issues – Malkar, the destruction of the Virtu’, the ensuing chaos in Mélusine – await the next book(s) for resolution.

Quality

At its heart, “Mélusine” is a character study focusing on two divergent fellows with a secret connection: the wizard Felix Harrowgate and the thief Mildmay the Fox. Monette does an absolutely fantastic job of characterization. These characters breathe. Jasper Fforde has written a series of clever, tongue-in-cheek mystery novels which postulate that characters from books actually have a real existence in some kind of alternate dimension. Characters like Felix and Mildmay have enough breadth and depth I can imagine them in that vision, with lives outside the scope of this book.

The reader penetrates deeply into their histories and psyches; but the author doles out the information in a natural, organic fashion. It rarely feels that she’s “telling” about these guys as opposed to “showing.” Her lovely grasp of language benefits the character study: Felix and Mildmay, though they come from similar backgrounds originally, occupy different social strata at the time of the story. Monette paints that fact vividly, from the way they speak to the way they think. Felix and Mildmay are two of the most interesting fantasy characters I’ve met. I think it also says something that I enjoyed reading about Mildmay, the straight character, as much or more than Felix, the gay character. Usually it’s the other way around, because I tend to automatically identify more with the gay characters. Of course, that may have something to do with Felix being insane for most of the book; and Monette conveying the madness quite effectively.

Ah, but the beauty of her character study doesn’t stop there. The deep and well-presented characterizations provide a foundation for Monette to explore relationships in all their multitudinous forms. We encounter romances that sour, that end in tragedy, that go unrequited; rivalries exploited, intensified, resolved; attacks that are vicious, other times half-hearted, sometimes ignorant; aid rendered out of love, self-interest, or even revenge; familial relationships which bloom, twist, and fail. The most interesting, and unexpected, relationship exists between Felix and Mildmay.

Of course, the novel has its weaknesses. It’s truly dark fantasy as it not only incorporates dark themes but also portrays acute suffering at length. In fact, I had to take a break from reading the book after about 100 or 150 pages because the beginning is just so bleak. Poor Felix. But after I resumed reading, I realized the beginning is the worst as far as that goes.

I can’t say I’ve read too many novels where my favorite part was the middle third, but that’s the case with “Mélusine.” The beginning is important in introducing the characters and the conflict. But the middle really settles into some exciting and suspenseful action. The last third was tedious at points; much of that portion follows a journey across a country, and it gets repetitive and old. Monette’s meticulous attention to detail did not serve her so well here; she would have done better to edit this section so the action would have moved at a faster clip. The ending picks up, though, and I was satisfied with the conclusion. Although, as I’ve already indicated, not all the plot questions find resolution.

I encountered two more serious weaknesses, as well.

First, Felix and Mildmay get the lion’s share of the author’s attention and consideration. Secondary characters sometimes get the puppet treatment, i.e., they exist to serve the plot. As a result, they make sudden choices that do not make sense in terms of their history. For example, one of Felix’s romantic interests rejects him bitterly at a certain point; it’s an important plot development, but it doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t fit the romantic interest’s personality, or his relationship with Felix. Similarly, another character advocates for Felix, but then suddenly turns around and becomes an antagonist, and it doesn’t make any sense to me why. It’s just what the plot called for.

Second, a related complaint: the plotting itself is occasionally contrived. Again, the author really focuses on characters and relationships, with the plot taking second priority. Certain scenarios that arise hold a strong whiff of, “because that’s what needed to happen.” Even if it’s silly and/or out of place. The worst example comes towards the late middle section of the book, when the author needed to separate a group of characters from each other.

Gay Content

This book falls into a relatively new breed of genre fiction where major gay characters and content populate the novel without any indication of anti-gay sentiment. In other words, gay relationships are fully accepted components of the social milieu, with no adverse consequences to the characters who pursue them. Some novels in this category, like “Swordspoint” by Ellen Kushner, never even mention the word “gay.” “Mélusine” does distinguish between straight and “molly;” nevertheless, no one seems to care whether a person prefers opposite-sex or same-sex romantic partners.

I really enjoy that laid-back and easy-going approach to including gay characters, a far cry from the attitude that a story should only incorporate gay content if it’s somehow directly and explicitly relevant. That attitude, while sometimes understandable, inherently differentiates gay relationships from straight ones, which creates a slippery slope into value judgments about the relationships. At best, it creates a gay-as-issue-of-the-week situation. It’s also artificial; gay people don’t show up in real life only when expected or when “relevant.” We’re just a part of the social fabric of civilization, like it or not. It’s nice and refreshing to see that kind of portrayal in a fantasy novel; but it’s the fact that the author has apparently decided not to incorporate social and institutional homophobia into the representation that really makes a novel like “Mélusine” stand out in terms of gay positivity.

That helps compensate for the fact that the main gay character, Felix Harrowgate, has a really awful time during the novel. Ordinarily, a gay character being put through the ringer recalls one of the two fundamental stereotypes that play out with disproportionate frequency in media portrayals of gay people: if you’re gay, bad things are going to happen to you. But the way homosexuality fits into the framework of the world of “Mélusine,” it’s easy to recognize that the bad things that happen to Felix (and there are a lot of them) in no way relate to his being gay. That’s incidental; it’s just part of who he is. It’s also very important to note, lots of bad things happen to the other main character, who’s straight; so the author is not singling out the gay character for mistreatment.

I’m still including this novel in the category “The Victimized Gay.” Even though Felix is not victimized because he’s gay, it’s still another image of a disproportionately large pile that says, “Bad things happen to gay people; sucks to be gay!” But the way Monette handles homosexuality in the novel largely offsets this stereotype, so its impact on the Gay Positivity score is muted.

I can’t exactly call “Mélusine” a gay fantasy novel; and I really like that. It’s a mainstream, wide-release fantasy novel with major gay content that’s treated on parity with the heterosexual content. That alone is an innovation. Kudos to Sarah Monette and her publishers.

Overall

I definitely recommend this book. Despite its weaknesses, it’s a strong story with a fascinating array of characters. If you like dark fantasy, you’ll enjoy the book from the get-go. If not, steel yourself for a hardcore first 100 pages or so before the story really turns into an engaging action-adventure.

“Swordspoint” is one of my favorite gay romances, despite the fact that the emphasis falls on 17th-century-esque political plots rather than the romance. Richard St. Vier is a dashing and unparalleled swordsman, and Alec Campion is a sarcastic ex-university student who’s not quite what he seems. In some ways, their romance is hard to understand: they’re SO different. On the other hand, the author – who has an amazing grasp of detail – paints their relationship with a visceral sense of longing and belonging. One reviewer comments,

“Alec’s cold and cruel humor is just what Richard needs to get out of his emotionless funk and feel a little. Alec arouses his protective instincts, and Richard’s slow loss of control over his feelings is one of the things that make their relationship so compelling. Richard’s only anchor in his life is his swordsman codex – he will live and he will die by swordspoint – and following how Alec makes his simple black-and-white principles turn topsy-turvy is fun” (1).

It helps that their relationship is the only genuine one in the book; every other relationship turns around money, power, and self-interest. Their romance also enjoys a certain equitability that I really liked. Richard saves and helps Alex, constantly protecting him and at one point avenging his honor: “[a professional killer] who brutally mutilates the man who [violently mistreats] Alec before running home to make tormented love to Alec (all the while covered with blood) – how can this not be sexy?” (2). And in return, Alec saves and helps Richard when the tables are turned, and Richard finds himself facing the gallows in a world of nobles and politics that the poor swordsman doesn’t know how to navigate.

Richard makes for an engaging romantic hero. He’s a trained killer: he does something we would, in real life, find distasteful; yet he practices his craft under a fairly rigid moral code that fits acceptably into the social milieu in which he lives. In fact, he values his honor and reputation above his craft, tending to turn away potential jobs if they don’t fit his moral system. Besides, who wouldn’t want to have a lover who, after someone abuses us, goes out and “gets” them? Well, okay, that’d be kind of psycho in the real world; but in an escapist fairy tale? The entire romance novel industry turns on that very ideal!

Yet even the appeal and strength of the romantic relationship wouldn’t be enough to make this one of my favorite novels if Kushner didn’t have the writing goods to back it up: an intricate and compelling plot, deep but subtle characterization, and a fantastic attention to detail saturated with a wonderful command of the English language. I should emphasize, though, the romance takes second place to the main plot: the machinations of a certain noble aiming at (what else?) self-aggrandizement at the expense of his rivals. It’s wonderful fun watching the convoluted plot unfold step-by-step, and then watching it unravel through counter-machinations by other parties. Until the very end, the reader is never quite sure how things are going to turn. Add in the atmosphere and colorful characters, and we have a winner!

One caveat, though: most of the book details Machiavellian plotting, interspersed with exciting but relatively brief fight sequences. The result is a book that may not appeal to fantasy fans who prefer more adventuring and more action.

Regarding the positivity score, I see this book as an early forerunner of a relatively new breed of gay-interest genre fiction in which gay content figures largely (though perhaps not centrally) but is treated as completely morally neutral. The word “gay” or “homosexual” never even occurs in this book; neither does anti-gay attitude figure in anywhere. There seems to be an understanding, especially among the nobility, that one must still marry even if one’s desires lie with the same sex in order to beget children. But otherwise, no one makes an issue of same-sex interest at all, one way or the other. It’s just there.

At the same time, the book manages to avoid falling into stereotypical traps. It’s not that bad things don’t happen to the gay characters, but they’re offset by (1) it’s obvious the bad things don’t happen because the characters are gay (which is a necessary but not sufficient condition for a high gay positivity score), and (2) the bad things tend to be tempered. For example, if the book didn’t have the ending it does, I wouldn’t score it as being nearly so positive, because it would just be another book reinforcing a stereotype. Instead, the bad things fit in perfectly with the scope and nature of the book’s plot, helping to flesh out the characters and build tension, suspense, and excitement.

The 2003 edition includes three short stories involving Alec and Richard. “The Swordsman Whose Name Was Not Death” makes a very nice epilogue to the novel. “Red-Cloak” is quirky: very brief, a sort of swordsman’s ghost story. “The Death of the Duke” is odd and sad, and the weakest of the three stories.

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(1). Anonymous. “Swordspoint by Ellen Kusher,” (no date provided), http://www.mrsgiggles.com/books/kushner_swordspoint.html (accessed 29 July 2007).
(2) Ibid.

Summary

Set about ten years after “Magic’s Promise,” Vanyel is stretched thin as one of the few remaining Herald-Mages. The King’s failing health has also required Vanyel to serve as a stand-in for the monarch. However, a temporary solution to the King’s chronic pain is found in a young Bard trainee named Stefen, who has the peculiar magical talent of relieving pain with his music.

Stefen falls for Vanyel almost immediately and sets about trying to seduce the older man. Vanyel, although attracted to Stefen, resists the Bard’s advances, fearing that anyone with whom he’s close is at risk from his enemies.

Meanwhile, the threats against Valdemar are growing – to the south, in Karse, a Prophet-King has staged a coup and raised an army of anti-magic fanatics. And a mysterious threat from the north emerges in a serious assassination attempt against Vanyel’s parents – to which Vanyel falls prey.

Then this mysterious threat begins targeting the last remaining Herald-Mages.

Narrative

In some ways, this is the best book of the trilogy. In others, it’s the most disappointing.

I have stated in my reviews of “Magic’s Pawn” and “Magic’s Promise” that this trilogy is far more character-driven than plot-driven as a study into the life of Vanyel Ashekevron, the last Herald-Mage of Valdemar. That remains true in this novel as well.

Although it’s a fast-paced, action-filled adventure, the plot is relatively bare, linear, and undeveloped. It’s rather like a garden that hasn’t grown to maturity yet; there’s definitely plant life, but it lacks the verdant overgrowth of a garden cultivated over the years.

Concurrent with the bare plot comes a moral system that’s a little too pat. In this sense, the story is almost cartoonish. There’s very little moral ambiguity in the novel. We find interpersonal tensions over things like, will Vanyel’s parents accept him as a gay man, or will Vanyel take Stefen as a lover despite his concerns?

But the central conflicts are not only undercooked but overly simplified, and the confrontations between the good guys and bad guys are pretty much just that. A bad guy shows up, there’s a confrontation with the good guy, and then there’s the aftermath (as a rule in Lackey’s books, the good guys win, but usually at terrible personal cost).

Characters

I found Vanyel to be less likeable in this book than previous volumes. He was more arrogant, though not in an obvious “look at me, I’m so powerful” way. Rather, devotion to duty can grow into its own form of arrogance: “look, I’m needed to do all this good. I can’t think about you, or even my own needs, because I’m all about service to country and doing good in the world. See? Look at all the good I’m doing.” My belief is that everyone has his or her place in the scheme of things; and because we cannot predict the future, it is useless to second-guess the present. I grew weary of Vanyel’s moral superiority, soft-edged though it was, and of the assumption of a world that is clearly divided into unambiguous good and evil.

It’s dark fantasy, but without the plot or moral depth and breadth of a fantasy work like George R.R. Martin or Melanie Rawn. And then at the end, his character changes quite a bit – it’s quite ugly as he becomes obsessed with vengeance for the deaths of his fellow Herald-Mages, to the extent that he treats both Yfandes and Stefen with disregard and sometimes outright contempt.

Does it make sense within the context of the story that he might fall into that personality pattern. Absolutely! Should he have pursued Leareth, who has proven himself a terrible threat to the protectors of Valdemar, with all his resources? A resounding yes! In fact, it could have been a fascinating story thread. I’ve said repeatedly that this trilogy is more character study than action-adventure, and I would have enjoyed follow Vanyel’s mental and emotional healing from this obsessive, angry, raging, unhealthy mental state. It’s the why that matters – and why does matter in a moral universe. This thread could have turned into a powerful thematic subplot. But that’s not what happens. Vanyel does goes through a healing process wherein his obsession changes from lust for vengeance to pursuit of justice. Or so we’re told. This plot thread happens so quickly at the end of the book, it’s never really explored. It could have very interesting, but ultimately it was just disappointing.

It doesn’t help that Vanyel never has a good antagonist. He comes closest in this book because the reader senses Leareth’s presence in the story long before we ever meet him. But Leareth is still just a caricature. Because I’ve read more of Lackey’s books, I know there’s more to this character than meets the eye – he’s part of a story thread that spans virtually all her books – so there’s definitely the potential that more could have been made of him. As it is, he doesn’t even really need a name. She could have just called him Bad Guy. It should be noted that her description of him is fully and completely stereotypical for a fantasy villain. Nothing surprises or intrigues. Disappointing.

Stefen, by contrast, is one character where the simplicity worked in Lackey’s favor. She made a smart move with him, though: she gave him a backstory and then major page-time.

Overall

I recommend this book on the strength of its engaging characters and entertaining love story. Although it contains disappointing elements and retains many of the weaknesses of the previous two books – such as linear and undeveloped storylines, boring villains, etc – it also capitalizes on the strengths Lackey brings to the table, primarily fantastic characterization. It appears including a love story also makes a difference. That’s what “Magic’s Promise” lacked, and it’s definitely the least impressive of the three volumes, while Stefen’s and Vanyel’s burgeoning relationship was definitely the highlight of “Magic’s Price.”

The Gay

(** Major spoiler warning – The following section explains the gay positivity of the book, but necessarily contains information about the ending of the book. **)

Although the situation continues to improve over time, the preponderance of media images of gay folks continue to suggest if you’re gay then (1) you are bad, and/or (2) bad things will happen to you. The most serious forms of these clichés are the gay villain and the gay dies. I would add in the victimized gay as a close subset of the gay dies. All three of these serious negative images occur in this book.

The Victimized Gay

This gets much, much worse toward the end of the novel. In fact, what Vanyel suffers in the final portion of the book is just needlessly over the top. Particularly the sequence after Vanyel is kidnapped by brigands: I don’t understand why that was even included.

“The victimized gay” is the most serious and derogatory issue in this book. “The gay dies” and “the gay villain” are both there (and discussed below), but the book also contains elements which help to offset the negative impact of those cliches. Not so much with “the victimized gay.” From “Magic’s Pawn” until the last page of “Magic’s Price,” Vanyel has led a hard life filled with frustration, tragedy, and pain. And he’s put to the screws in an unparalleled way in “Magic’s Price.” Yes, it fits the context and nature of the story, but (1) did she have to go to such terrible lengths, and (2) the subliminal message is “gay life is bad; if you’re gay, bad things will happen to you.” If the fantasy genre produced more works where the gay characters led successful, productive, happy lives (it’d probably have to be in high fantasy or light fantasy sub-genres; no one leads successful, productive, happy lives in dark fantasy novels), I would not be so quick to point an accusing finger at books like these. But as it is, I find myself increasing exasperated at the cliché of the unhappy gay.

The Gay Dies

Vanyel sacrifices himself through a magical technique called Final Strike; he’s able to defeat the evil Leareth and Leareth’s army, but the assault takes his own life. This after a hard and unhappy life. Sure, this fits the context of the story and Lackey’s writing (she’s not kind to any of her heroes, and plenty of of the straight folks die tragically). It also makes for a great tear-jerker ending, and highlights the sheer heroism and self-sacrifice to which Vanyel has dedicated himself. This is a noble death, saving his country from otherwise certain doom. Plus, Vanyel returns as a ghost to continue guarding Valdemar; he wins a sort of eternal life. But “the gay dies” is still a stereotype, and it communicates on a visceral level that gay life does not end well. This kind of portrayal lacks balance (particularly in the fantasy genre); we find far more unhappy endings for gay folks than happily-ever-afters. And that’s really the crux of it. If we just look at the trilogy alone, it fits, and Lackey is not singling out the gay folks, which is notable and important. But I’m also considering Lackey’s works in relation to the canon of fantasy literature, and overall there’s a balance in the portrayals of straight folks lacking for gay characters. Recall that Tylendel also died, and at the very end of the book, Stefen joins Vanyel. By that point, Stefen is an old man, having lived a long life, and his death is relatively peaceful and easy. Nevertheless, every major gay character in her book thus dies.

The Gay Villain

It is never clearly established that Learest is gay, only intimated by his manner and approach toward Vanyel. He seems to want to seduce Vanyel to rule the world at his side, as if Darth Vader weren’t the Emperor’s protege but his lover. “The gay villain” is the most pernicious stereotype that occurs in the media because it contains the message “gay is bad.” Once again, it wouldn’t be as much of an issue if there were more balance in the portrayals, if we found as many good guys as bad guys. And again, just looking at The Last Herald-Mage Trilogy, the goodness of Vanyel more than offsets the badness of Leareth. But stepping back and considering a bigger picture, it becomes just one more image in an already mountainous pile of gay = bad.

The Gay Positive

Now, having said all that, I want to talk about the good stuff. I don’t want to paint of a picture of a book that’s so homophobic you might as well not bother. In fact, I wouldn’t call it homophobic at all but simply stereotypical and cliched in certain respects. The treatment is extremely sympathetic, and it’s important to note (as I did above) that everything that happens to and around Vanyel and Stefen fits the story’s context and Lackey’s style. That means she’s not singling out her gay characters for the bad stuff, and she’s done a wonderful thing simply by writing a mainstream, wide-release story that centers around a fantastic gay man.

The positive gay elements include:

• The Gay Hero. And I mean this literally: not only is Vanyel the protagonist, he’s also a heroic character, repeatedly working selflessly literally to save thousands of lives. I hesitate just shy of calling him a positive role model for gay readers because so much badness happens to and around him, but he is a character to look up to. (Full disclosure: when I first read these books as an adolescent, I totally wanted Vanyel to be my boyfriend.)
• The Powerful Gay. A common negative stereotype portrays gay men as weak, vulnerable, mincing little girly-men who easily fall prey to stronger characters. Not so with Vanyel. Not only is he an accomplished warrior and powerful Herald-Mage, he is the single most powerful Herald-Mage. His exploits are literally the stuff of legends. Bad guys beware!
• The Wise and/or Beneficial Gay. Vanyel helps people, even at great personal cost. In other words, not only is he not a villain, he’s not even indifferent or self-absorbed. Although he’s teased throughout all three books for being vain (based on his initial behavior in “Magic’s Pawn“), he is a very grounded character of substantial depth and selflessness. He’s the kind of friend you’d like to have in your life, always willing to lend his considerable powers and influence to help. And in fact, Vanyel’s not the only gay character who brings wisdom and helpfulness to the books. Moondance and Starwind, shamanistic mages from a Native American-esque society, offer great insight and helpfulness. They are powerful healers and teachers. Moondance, in particular, by recanting his personal tragedy when his family and village discovered he was gay, suggests that the tribulations gay people face also give them an opportunity to grow in compassion and wisdom. It’s like taking a negative and turning it into a positive, and it acknowledges that gay experience has the potential to benefit the world, even if the experience is tainted by negativity.
• Gay Pride / Self-Acceptance. Vanyel has made peace with himself by this book, and Stefen has no problem at all. He’s shaych and doesn’t care what anyone thinks. He’s going to sleep with, and form relationships with, whomever he damn pleases. Good for them!
• Gay Triumphs Over Anti-Gay. The major anti-gay force in the novels are Vanyel’s parents, who never quite accept him as a gay man. Even considering Vanyel’s power and heroism, they still, amazingly, feel shame about him. But Moondance helps them to see both the foolishness of that perspective as well as they pain they have caused Vanyel. Narratively, I think this subplot is a little too pat and easily resolved (after a lifetime of shame, his dad says, “Okay, I’m still not entirely uncomfortable with it, but I recognize that I have cause to be proud of you” and Vanyel is suddenly healed of all the negative emotion? Whatever). But thematically, it’s well-placed.
• Innovative Portrayal. It might sound strange for me to praise Lackey for writing an innovative portrayal after complaining at such length about the stereotypes she included. Nevertheless, I have to recognize that she wrote these books as a mainstream author at a time when homosexuality was virtually invisible in the fantasy genre, especially among wide-release works. I give her many kudos for writing these books to begin with.
• Gay Inclusive/Gay Friendly. On a related note to the “innovative portrayal,” the single most positive factor in the trilogy is the fact that it exists at all. I do not want to under-emphasize this. By this point (year 2007), simply including gay content is not sufficient to code it as positive. Hence all my criticisms about the gay content. Homosexuality is visible enough nowadays that simply including gay content isn’t an advance and doesn’t count as a positive. But Lackey didn’t write these books in 2007; she wrote them nearly 20 years ago, at a point in time when gay people were much more commonly defamed invisibility in the media. That is, ignoring gay people, pretending they don’t exist, or under-representing them, contributes to prejudice and negative stereotypes, and that was the case with the fantasy genre as a whole. Lackey broke through that curtain with a vengeance. Not only did she include gay characters, she made them the centerpiece of this trilogy! And further, she did not shy away from their relationships or identities as gay men. Wow. For all my criticisms, a big thank you to Mercedes Lackey!
• Gay Normative. Yes, yes, we find a lot of negative stereotypes and cliches in this book. A lot. And if she had written this book today, I’d be calling foul without belaboring the positive points. But as I mentioned above, she wrote this during a very different period. Lackey – a major fantasy author – initiated an important conversation by introducing a previously verboeten topic into the mainstream fantasy genre. The simple inclusion, and sympathetic treatment, introduced new readers to gay content and said, “Look, we all go through the same ups and downs. Is it really worth the prejudice?” Yeah, she contributed more negative images to the pile, which just feeds the visceral fire of prejudice and derogatory stereotypes, and that’s what I take issue with. But she also initiated the very conversation that might upend those stereotypes and preconceived ideas, and I commend her for that!

Summary

Twelve years after the first book, Vanyel has become not only a full Herald-Mage but also the single most powerful one. The story opens after he’s spent an inordinate amount of time along Valdemar’s border fighting off evil mages and demon creatures; he returns to capital city Haven exhausted and depleted. And he needs a rest.

So he heads home to Forst Reach. Yes, relations with his parents are still strained – they haven’t yet accepted Vanyel’s homosexuality – but Forst Reach is isolated enough he can take some time to rest without worrying about being conscripted into a new project.

Naturally, his “restful” trip home turns out to be much more than he expected. A small neighboring kingdom verges on war, and a mysterious massacre only worsens the situation. Vanyel must solve the mystery of who or what killed all those poor people before an evil mage takes the throne and threatens Valdemar.

Characters & Narrative

The Last Herald-Mage Trilogy isn’t a single, epic story that covers three volumes, nor is “Magic’s Promise” a direct sequel that leads into the period following the end of Book One, wherein Vanyel trains as a Herald-Mage. As I mentioned in my review Of “Magic’s Pawn,” these books are more character study than plot-driven works. They explore the life of the last Herald-Mage, Vanyel Ashekevron.

Lackey emphasizes plot a bit more in this novel than in the last. About halfway in, the story takes on a distinct mystery flavor. It would appear that young Treven – citizen of the small neighboring kingdom mentioned above – has a powerful magical gift of which he lost control, resulting in the massacre. But is it that simple? Vanyel must explore and sift through clues to piece the scenario together.

I enjoyed the mystery aspect, in part because it forces Lackey to pay closer attention to the plot as Vanyel puts the clues together, one by one. However, like the first book, Lackey focused much more on character (and specifically, Vanyel).

In fact, the antagonists in this book are poorly developed. Lackey relies mostly on the mystery and interpersonal, interfamilial tensions to provide drama. There’s relatively little action and no Big Baddie, and even the little baddies are minor, uninteresting, and under-developed.

She included some nice side stories, like the resolution between Vanyel and his former Arms teacher Jervis. I like the theme that you can’t ever assume anything, and we often hold on to the stories that cause us to be angry even when they’re untrue. So I like when a story forces a character to confront the truth or untruth of his personal stories.

The Gay

In brief, like the first book, we find both positive and negative representations in this volume. Vanyel is a powerful, moral, and heroic gay man; and the author treats his sexuality sympathetically. In other words, the author is at least gay friendly in tone.

I would also add that it’s an innovative portrayal, since Lackey has created a series of fantasy books centering around a powerful, heroic gay man at a time when the mainstream fantasy genre barely even acknowledged gay people exist.

But the book definitely contains negative elements. The major issues in this volume are:

1. Vanyel is celibate, as if a gay man is only acceptable to the reading public if he’s gay in theory only, not actively gay;
2. gay men are all pedophiles; specifically, two adolescents offer themselves sexually to Vanyel, who resoundly rejects the advances, but multiple people assume he’d gladly take advantage of them. The actual stereotype of the gay sexual predator is not played out in the novel, but the prejudice is present. So, as with the first book, the negative themes have a second side, in this case, that this theme is present; but it’s offset by the character and storyline;
3. it’s just a phase, as one very minor subplot shows Vanyel occasionally questioning whether he’s truly shaych (i.e., “gay” in the Valdemaran universe). I imagine Lackey was full of good intentions with this subplot, the idea something along the lines of “Van questions whether he’s truly shaych, and comes to realize he is, because one just is; it’s not a choice. Unfortunately, the fact that the question was even raised undermines the argument; and
4. a continued difficult coming out, reflected in his strained and difficult relationship with his parents, who continue to feel shame that their son, despite his heroism and fame, is one of “those.”
5. I also get the sense of Vanyel having to compensate for his gayness. That is, if he wasn’t the most powerful Herald-Mage, if he didn’t have the highest ethical standards, if he were just average, he’d be looked upon, and consider himself, to be less than other people because he’s shaych. That’s a little bothersome.

For a continued analysis of the gay content of this trilogy, please see my reviews of “Magic’s Pawn” and “Magic’s Price” (forthcoming).

Overall

“Magic’s promise” is easily the weakest novel of the trilogy. The mystery is an interesting diversion; and the introductory parts showing how Vanyel has grown and mastered his powers is important to the conclusion of the trilogy. But Lackey could have easily reworked this and the last book into a single, comprehensive volume.

Also, please note this is a grim book. The first book was also filled with violence, but the darkness was offset by the innocence and naïveté of young Vanyel plus the abiding love of his relationships with Tylendel and Savil. So, it struck me more as high fantasy than dark fantasy. This book clearly falls into the latter category, however.

Summary

Adolescent Vanyel Ashekevron doesn’t fit his father’s notions of what a son should be. In fact, his father, Lord Withen, feels desperate to instill some manly discipline in Vanyel, and decides to send his to Haven, where Withen’s stern sister is a high-ranking Herald-Mage.

Feeling utterly alone, Vanyel resigns himself to a cold and isolated life. But in Haven he meets another young man, Herald-trainee Tylendel, who arouses powerful and unexpected feelings in Vanyel. They fall in love, but family drama leads Tylendel to a terrible act of desperation, which threatens to destroy them both.

Characters & Narrative

Vanyel is simply one of my favorite characters in literature. The Last Herald-Mage Trilogy covers his lifespan from adolescence to death, so the reader gets to grow up with him. He is a sympathetic and engaging character with both strengths and flaws, deeply textured, unique, interesting, and well-written. He’s also gay. Reading this series for the first time as an adolescent myself, I was able to identify strongly with Vanyel and live vicariously through him in a fantasy world.

Narratively, “Magic’s Pawn” is a fast-paced, relatively quick read. It covers a lot of ground in just a few hundred pages: from Vanyel’s unhappy home life to his misguided but understandable attempt to protect himself at Haven to his burgeoning relationship with Tylendel to Tylendel’s disastrous choices to the aftermath and its effect on Vanyel to Vanyel’s training with the Tayledras Moondance and Starwind. Whew!

The novel finds its greatest strength in focusing on Vanyel’s internal life and on his relationship with Tylendel. Lackey has written a character study first, a gay romance second, and fantasy action-adventure third.

The plot tends to be a little disjointed and rushed. On one hand, Lackey clearly does not suffer from the writing disease common to many fantasy author: over-writing. On the other, while she has mastered the art of characterization, the story itself falters. It’s the characters who drive this book: the reader keeps reading because s/he comes to care about these people. And that’s great, and given a competent story, it’s enough.

Still, it could have been an exemplar work of fantasy writing if Lackey had developed the story a little more. Or at least slowed down and given each component of the story a little more depth and exploration. But this is personal peccadilloes: many readers prefer precisely this type of structure (emphasis on character, fast-paced storyline, not much plot detail or depth), so this factor didn’t influence the Overall Quality score very much.

Although “Magic’s Pawn” comprises the first third of a trilogy, it easily stands on its own. The story hints at overarching plot threads that wind through all three books, but that’s pretty much it. As I said, these books are more character study than anything else.

The Gay

And now we come to the meat of my review and analysis. On the whole, this is not a gay positive work. But! It IS a seminal work in the canon of gay-themed fantasy/sci-fi literature, written during a time when homosexuality was largely absent in genre fiction.

As mentioned, I first read these books as a young gay man hungry to see myself represented in the kinds of books I liked to read (fantasy and science fiction). When I discovered a series where not only a major character but the actual HERO was gay, I ate it up! I read the first two books on a cruise ship, but I didn’t have the third with me. I frantically scoured our Alaskan ports of call to locate it. I was starved for this kind of representation.

But reading the books didn’t make me feel good about myself as a gay man. Rather, I felt despondent. Love doesn’t work out for gay men, like it doesn’t work out for Vanyel. Society rejects us, like it did Tylendel and Vanyel. We have to hide our love, and our lives tend to be miserable, like Tylendel’s, and lonely, like Vanyel’s. It never ends well for us. This book communicated to me the worst homophobia that society had already force-fed me: I was doomed to solitary life of misery, and then I would die suffering.

Of course there are positive aspects to her portrayal; and I do not mean to accuse the author of blatant homophobia. She’s done the gay community a service by writing this book and series. In fact, I greatly appreciate the positive aspects – sympathetic treatment of a hero who’s deeply characterized, well-written, and gay. And intended for a mass audience.

Still, I must emphasize, the books incorporate an astounding number of negative gay stereotypes and clichés of the worst sort.

Overall Quality

Just as a fantasy novel, this book has a lot going for it: really great characters in a fast-paced, tightly written story. I was disappointed in the relatively linear and undeveloped story, but the plot and narrative were still more than competent – Lackey knows her stuff. Definitely recommended.