This is the first time I've read this book as an adult—mostly because I love, love, love The Blue Sword and this book kind of goes out of its way to undermine expectations set by that book for Damar's past. I didn't remember much of this book—mostly just a vague sense of this not being my expected Damar, really (because my memory really sucks, not because the book isn't memorable).So I was gratified that the book holds up so well. Better, really, because I came away from it not only renewing my love for Aerin, but also feeling better about her fate than my previous vague unease. McKinley goes way out of her way to play against expectations raised by The Blue Sword, even starting out with a warning up front that even the climate is different than you might expect it to be. Aerin's Damar is courtly and well settled with a traditional structure of royalty and fealty that is very different than in Harry and Corlath's day. Even more surprisingly, Aerin is a social outcast. Daughter of the king, true, but the offspring of a suspect, foreign, mother and held in polite aversion when not actively hated. Knowing that she will become the symbol of her people’s strength and universally loved only intensifies my sympathy with her as she goes through the suspicion and open mistrust that even her loving father has to sometimes accommodate. I have a hard time with this part of the novel, though the disconnect between my expectations and the story is only part of the reason why. In addition, Aerin is kind of passive for this first part. She has no aspiration, is withdrawn, and spends as much of her time alone as she possibly can—even avoiding those who love her and wish to help if only they could think of how.And the pacing is slow to start, almost pastoral, really. This isn't helped by the narrative taking a really large time jump so early in the novel. We see Aerin steeling herself to request to accompany her father on his campaign against a rebel baron and then take a jump back three (or was it six?) years. We don't get back to that request for most of the rest of that section (I didn't count, but it was a goodly chunk—60 pages? 1/8th of the book? Sizeable at any rate). I'm not sure what McKinley wanted to accomplish with such a large interval, but I don't think it really worked—at least not for me.Anyway, Once Aerin starts taking charge of her own destiny, the book really picks up. I already liked her for her quiet good sense and determination. As she begins forging her own path, she clinches my sympathy and desire for her to succeed. It's here that we begin to see that there is more to her than we have suspected. What in the later part of the book is flagged as her dual nature (both of-Damar and not-of-Damar) becomes more visible even as her solitude becomes more pronounced (solitude despite Tor's obvious desire to be more a part of her life).And here's where the spoilers begin. I'll still flag it, though, because even though practically everybody I know has read the book, it's just plain courtesy to do so.(view spoiler)[ Having such a poor memory means that I was surprised afresh by Aerin falling in love with Luthe. This is McKinley's biggest play against expectation because anybody who read The Blue Sword knows that she is destined to marry Tor—who we already have seen loves her dearly (and suspect that she loves him back). The romantic in me lapped up this relationship as it built during Aerin's convalescence and culminated after defeating Agsded—even as my heart broke knowing it to be a temporary idyll.This is also where McKinley's careful groundwork paid off because it is even possible for the reader to allow Aerin to love both Luthe and Tor, more or less simultaneously. That's extremely tough to pull off without alienating the reader's affection and/or respect for her or one or the other of her loves (i.e. can you really respect King Arthur without hating Lancelot? and what kind of inconstant bitch is Guinevere, anyway?). That I only just now realized there might be an Arthurian parallel is tribute to how adroitly McKinley pulls this off (though I expect treading so very lightly over Luthe's emotions as they part was something of a cheat). In the end, I can be happy for her time with Tor (and, by extension, her time dedicated to Damar’s needs), even as I anticipate her eventual reunion with Luthe. (hide spoiler)]
I cannot be impartial.There are many reasons why I love this book, not least among them being the fact that it was actually the first Robin McKinley book I ever read, back in the days when I browsed library shelves at random and begged my parents into buying books for me, before I knew much about what I was really doing, and I count myself eternally lucky to have stumbled upon this book because it is, it really is, writing as art. It is not writing for money, as some books targeted at my age group are these days; nor is it writing for thrills, or for fame. It is not even a particularly engrossing story but for the fact that it is beautiful, both in content and in style. Reading this story evokes that wide-eyed feeling of being a child and listening to some adult who possessed the magical power of turning books into words, back before you could do it yourself, and it combines that feeling with one of sitting around a camp fire in the long-ago past and listening to an old man or woman recite legends in the oral tradition, sing-song things they memorized to share.Aerin is so painfully isolated that any quiet child, I think, will see themselves in her, although magnified a hundredfold. She is the epitome of loneliness, to the point that it is self-reinforcing, and no doubt many an adult reading this book finds it difficult to relate. I personally have no such problem, because I was young and shy and awkward just a few years ago, and so I sympathize with Aerin and wish fervently for her success. Succeed she does, of course, because she's the Hero of the title, but it takes a lot of hard work and pain and suffering for her to get that far. I love it when heroes have to actually sweat and bleed and weep before they achieve their goals. I love seeing them suffer as ordinary human beings would, because then they become celebrations of the strength of real people, instead of caricatures of all the good qualities of humanity in quantities which are wholly unrealistic.The best and worst part of this book, for me, is how well it illuminates the richness of Damar. I fell in love with this land and its people the first time I read it, which is what led me to The Blue Sword, and I still consider it a tragedy that only those two books and a short story in the Water: Tales of Elemental Spirits collection are set in it. It is a place of wild beauty and one that I wish it was possible to explore further, because clearly there are more stories here to tell. Ms. McKinley, if you ever read this, please write another Damar book - about anything at all. (Though if you're taking suggestions, maybe something about Luthe's backstory?)As this was published after The Blue Sword, it is easy to imagine that these legends of Aerin are the ones Corlath told Harry over and over and over again, and it's hard to fault her for wanting to hear them so many times.
Do You like book The Hero And The Crown (1987)?
The first several times I read THE HERO AND THE CROWN, I really had barely any idea what happened in the whole post-Luthe tower fight (I said deliberately vaguely, on the off chance somebody hasn’t read the book and doesn’t want to be spoiled).The truth is, I find that a dozen re-reads later, and with full adulthood under my belt, I *still* think that whole section is like a bad acid trip. And I think it’s supposed to be, but honestly I’m *still* not *absolutely* sure what (or perhaps more accurately, *when* it) happens. I feel like I understand it a little better every time I read it, but the last couple times I’ve read it (admittedly years apart) I’ve been trying really hard to pay attention and understand, and still…yah, no, I don’t totally get it. I’m not sure if that’s a failing in me or the book.(Also, my God, Robin McKinley has an unholy love of semi-colons. I noticed it reading CHALICE, and upon re-reading HERO, it’s clear it’s not a new affliction. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love me some semi-colons, but wow, it’s like she was one of our group of online roleplayers from the early 90s and she never got over the impulse to punctuate with semi-colons. Wow.)Those things aside, though…well, I still love this book. Not as much as THE BLUE SWORD, which doesn’t have the bad acid trip problem, but Aerin is…well, she’s a broken hero from the start, in a much more significant way, I think, than Harry. Aerin seems more fragile, and her journey that much greater. I rather think that this book plays up the lie of McKinley’s theory that we all have only one story to tell, as there’s certainly no Beast for Beauty to tame in this story (even Aerin’s own demons can’t be argued as the Beast, and she tames nothing save Talat, who does not play the role of Beast :)).Does anybody know, BTW, if the Tommy and Leo or the black-haired girl who are referenced in HERO are explained further anywhere? I have the vague idea there’s a book of Damarian short stories, but I don’t know which collection it is, if I’m even right about it existing. I know she doesn’t as a rule write sequels, but man, I could do with a lot more stories of Damar. Of Aerin, in particular, of course–about her life after (I said cryptically, but you who’ve read it know what I mean)–but Damar in general, because it really does remain one of my favorite fantasy settings ever.I noticed with CHALICE and now with re-reading HERO, that McKinley’s storytelling style has an emphasis on telling, but she does it beautifully, and in a way that still brings the emotional impact of the telling to life. She writes, I think, in the way that stories would be presented by an actual storyteller, as if sitting in the darkened cave listening to the tale by flickering firelight. There’s a rhythm to it that seems to me like the cadence of out-loud storytelling, and I think that’s one of the things I particularly love about her books.Plus this time I noticed the ANNE OF GREEN GABLES homage in HERO, which is awesome. (Oh. Except Ms McKinley, via Twitter, says it was unintentional. Oh well. :))
—C.E. Murphy
I got a copy of this in 6th or 7th grade. I've read it so many times that it is being held together by a rubber band. I enjoyed it because it was the first real fantasy book I read where the hero is a young woman. She's not just the sidekick, but the hero. She's also flawed and not supergirl or ravishing beautiful. It's a wonderful book because of that. In many ways, it is the perfect book for any quiet girl simply because a loner, an outcast proves herself needed. Perhaps the success of the book among girls is tied to that facet of the story.
—Chris
A reader might well leave this Damar prequel feeling dazed and uncertain of what to make of the jumble of rises and falls and meandering sidestories and climaxes, but a vigorous shake of the head will allow the book to be seen as two distinct halves: Part 1) The fantastic set-up. Part 2) The frustratingly sloppy, nonsensical, disappointing end/end? Until the story's first climax, McKinley gives us everything: a relatable, charismatic, admirable heroine who's so scrappy and determined we can't help but root for her all the way; a mystery; adversity; a worthy love interest; looming doom; etc. And then she throws it all away and in our faces. Our heroine trades scrappy for serene, mystery and adversity find their basis in random coincidence and are explained away as "it's magic!", the love interest is forsaken in favor of some Mary Sue new guy who we're supposed accept suddenly as her soul mate, and there's a thrown-together magical solution for every evil force for which there was utterly no planning or foreshadowing. It's so disappointing! The messages I left with were 1) Gee it's nice that the heroine was so gung-ho and hard-working even though she was just a vessel for Fate and the Force of Good and 2) The nice thing about being immortal is you can wait for your mortal husband to die and then go enjoy your immortal one. I was not swept off my feet by this one.
—H.
