![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
renay posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ladybusinessOne of my anticipated 2020 titles (before the pandemic sent me spiraling into a reading slump) was Bonds of Brass by Emily Skrutskie. The marketing hooked me: it's the original fiction version of Finn/Poe that we all deserved, but did not get. Evil empires, secrets, a simmering rebellion, and two people thrown together by circumstance? I was ALL IN.
This marketing worked on me because I'm still livid about how the Star Wars corporate decision makers took the excellent relationship between Finn and Poe and squandered it after the first film. Their relationship was so easy to empathize with and root for: two unlikely people thrown together and having to rely on each other. Poe gave Finn his name—which Finn kept. Whether you're reading this as friendship or romance (I'm on Team Romance), the characters had an excellent introduction to us and then to each other. That was all wasted by racism, heterosexism, and corporate cowardice. The bad guys won again!
Bonds of Brass being an original story with the Finn/Poe vibes we deserved but were cruelly denied was too good to resist. The cover was beautiful and the premise excellent. There were secret heirs! Attacks from within a safe haven! Unresolved sexual tension! Two characters thrown together by fate and bonded by mutual trust and the survival of people bent on using them for power and influence!
Unfortunately, that is not what this book delivered.
The marketing strategy that invokes Finn/Poe is a miss because it's a misrepresentation of what drew me (and I suspect many others) to Finn and Poe as individuals and as potential friends/partners. Obviously, visual media has an easier time with building relationships between characters due to actors interpreting a character, but it's not impossible to capture some of that energy in writing. I’m wary of saying, “this isn’t Finn/Poe with the serial numbers filed off and I don't like it!” as a critique of the book, but if you're going to invoke the ship in the marketing the core of the characterizations should overlap at least a little, and it doesn't. I saw in Finn and Poe a level of care and fondness that translates through the whole film. Finn’s secrets and reluctance to share his horrific past was never a wedge between him and Poe. It was never a tool to use to hurt Poe in order to gain power. And so the marketing for this book sets you up to expect one thing and what the book gives you is another: world-shaking secrets; a horrendous lack of communication; unexamined privilege; two characters selfishly working for their own ends instead of building coalitions; and a focus on the right of blood to rule and build empire that was never fully challenged. I assume it will be in the sequels—the series is called The Bloodright Trilogy—but it was very disconcerting to not get any sense from these characters that perhaps all the bloodright rule was suspect. Even the vaguely democratic systems of government we see from a distance are treated, narratively, with condescension.
Sexual attraction, a deep friendship that's cited more than shown, and a shared military training history isn't enough to fuel a story where both characters claim to care about each other but keep important personal information to themselves in life-threatening situations. I figured out what was going on halfway through the book (it isn't subtle, unfortunately) and spent most of my time frustrated by the lies of omission from the protagonist, Ettian. I felt no fondness toward Ettian or his best friend-maybe-love interest, Gal, as partners. I couldn’t figure out why they liked each other beyond being roommates and covering for each other in their classes/social endeavors. Side characters often had more chemistry with Ettian than he had with Gal. The most obvious example is Wen, a street-wise orphan who has run afoul of a notorious gang that robbed her of her bloodright. Ettian becomes fast friends with Wen and places his trust in her so quickly that when he fails, over and over, to trust Gal, it left me feeling weird and unhappy about him as a person. It didn't make me want to wave a "Ettian/Gal 4Ever" flag. The more I learned about Ettian, the more I disliked him. The more I reflect on this novel, the more I suspect that was the point. This is, after all, the first book in a trilogy. I'm not sure I want to read books where the protagonist has to be disliked in order to earn redemption through actions later on in the series (your mileage on this may vary if you like these types of characters). The reader still has to go through the journey, too, and my inability to connect with Ettian was a major disappointment.
The nature of empire and the costs of colonialism are touched on, but largely as window dressing to the machinations of the main characters as they attempt to use whatever tools they have at hand—people’s lives included—to restore Gal to his throne. Ettian finds out that Gal is the heir to the empire that made Ettian an orphan and a refugee in one fell swoop, then requires about three seconds to conclude that Gal can be a “good” leader. Gal wrote some essays about how to be good at empire! He won’t behead people and beam it into the eyeballs of his subjects to quell any potential rebellion. He's good and also attractive! As if any of these things would excuse co-opting a rebellion in order to get all its people killed. Again: perhaps we're not supposed to like these protagonists very much so we can enjoy their redemption story later? Okay.
If you like reading about burgeoning rebellions and drama over who gets to order people around based on their bloodline, this may be a story you find compelling. If you like unreliable narrators, you may also like this story! Although I'm not sure it fits into that category in the traditional sense—Ettian is obviously lying to everyone around him, and the reasons why become obvious very quickly. I place it in this category because I felt tricked by following this character and coming out the other side of the story thinking he's not a good or honest person. I'm not really interested in whatever redemption he might embark on later, which is how I feel about most books with unreliable narrators.
Seriously: don't sell me Finn but give me Armitage Hux.
It’s not a particularly bad story; if you enjoy secrets, court intrigue, space road trips, lying, betrayal, or spicy girls with weaponized umbrellas, you'll have a good enough time. It's simply not a book to read if what you liked about Finn/Poe was that their relationship was built on mutual trust and they didn't stab each other in the back for Drama. Because it was that marketing that introduced me to the book, ultimately it does not live up to its claims. The relationship between Ettian and Gal was based on lies and misrepresentation; the mutual trust relationship for Ettian happens with a completely different character than Gal. Wen was wonderful, but this odd decision made me realize just how little I even wanted these men to be friends, much less ride a spaceship off into the nearest galaxy arm together. They brought out the worst instincts in one another and I couldn't root for them at all. This book was missing a heart—maybe because the main character does such a good job of pretending he doesn't have one.
This marketing worked on me because I'm still livid about how the Star Wars corporate decision makers took the excellent relationship between Finn and Poe and squandered it after the first film. Their relationship was so easy to empathize with and root for: two unlikely people thrown together and having to rely on each other. Poe gave Finn his name—which Finn kept. Whether you're reading this as friendship or romance (I'm on Team Romance), the characters had an excellent introduction to us and then to each other. That was all wasted by racism, heterosexism, and corporate cowardice. The bad guys won again!
Bonds of Brass being an original story with the Finn/Poe vibes we deserved but were cruelly denied was too good to resist. The cover was beautiful and the premise excellent. There were secret heirs! Attacks from within a safe haven! Unresolved sexual tension! Two characters thrown together by fate and bonded by mutual trust and the survival of people bent on using them for power and influence!
Unfortunately, that is not what this book delivered.
The marketing strategy that invokes Finn/Poe is a miss because it's a misrepresentation of what drew me (and I suspect many others) to Finn and Poe as individuals and as potential friends/partners. Obviously, visual media has an easier time with building relationships between characters due to actors interpreting a character, but it's not impossible to capture some of that energy in writing. I’m wary of saying, “this isn’t Finn/Poe with the serial numbers filed off and I don't like it!” as a critique of the book, but if you're going to invoke the ship in the marketing the core of the characterizations should overlap at least a little, and it doesn't. I saw in Finn and Poe a level of care and fondness that translates through the whole film. Finn’s secrets and reluctance to share his horrific past was never a wedge between him and Poe. It was never a tool to use to hurt Poe in order to gain power. And so the marketing for this book sets you up to expect one thing and what the book gives you is another: world-shaking secrets; a horrendous lack of communication; unexamined privilege; two characters selfishly working for their own ends instead of building coalitions; and a focus on the right of blood to rule and build empire that was never fully challenged. I assume it will be in the sequels—the series is called The Bloodright Trilogy—but it was very disconcerting to not get any sense from these characters that perhaps all the bloodright rule was suspect. Even the vaguely democratic systems of government we see from a distance are treated, narratively, with condescension.
Sexual attraction, a deep friendship that's cited more than shown, and a shared military training history isn't enough to fuel a story where both characters claim to care about each other but keep important personal information to themselves in life-threatening situations. I figured out what was going on halfway through the book (it isn't subtle, unfortunately) and spent most of my time frustrated by the lies of omission from the protagonist, Ettian. I felt no fondness toward Ettian or his best friend-maybe-love interest, Gal, as partners. I couldn’t figure out why they liked each other beyond being roommates and covering for each other in their classes/social endeavors. Side characters often had more chemistry with Ettian than he had with Gal. The most obvious example is Wen, a street-wise orphan who has run afoul of a notorious gang that robbed her of her bloodright. Ettian becomes fast friends with Wen and places his trust in her so quickly that when he fails, over and over, to trust Gal, it left me feeling weird and unhappy about him as a person. It didn't make me want to wave a "Ettian/Gal 4Ever" flag. The more I learned about Ettian, the more I disliked him. The more I reflect on this novel, the more I suspect that was the point. This is, after all, the first book in a trilogy. I'm not sure I want to read books where the protagonist has to be disliked in order to earn redemption through actions later on in the series (your mileage on this may vary if you like these types of characters). The reader still has to go through the journey, too, and my inability to connect with Ettian was a major disappointment.
The nature of empire and the costs of colonialism are touched on, but largely as window dressing to the machinations of the main characters as they attempt to use whatever tools they have at hand—people’s lives included—to restore Gal to his throne. Ettian finds out that Gal is the heir to the empire that made Ettian an orphan and a refugee in one fell swoop, then requires about three seconds to conclude that Gal can be a “good” leader. Gal wrote some essays about how to be good at empire! He won’t behead people and beam it into the eyeballs of his subjects to quell any potential rebellion. He's good and also attractive! As if any of these things would excuse co-opting a rebellion in order to get all its people killed. Again: perhaps we're not supposed to like these protagonists very much so we can enjoy their redemption story later? Okay.
If you like reading about burgeoning rebellions and drama over who gets to order people around based on their bloodline, this may be a story you find compelling. If you like unreliable narrators, you may also like this story! Although I'm not sure it fits into that category in the traditional sense—Ettian is obviously lying to everyone around him, and the reasons why become obvious very quickly. I place it in this category because I felt tricked by following this character and coming out the other side of the story thinking he's not a good or honest person. I'm not really interested in whatever redemption he might embark on later, which is how I feel about most books with unreliable narrators.
Seriously: don't sell me Finn but give me Armitage Hux.
It’s not a particularly bad story; if you enjoy secrets, court intrigue, space road trips, lying, betrayal, or spicy girls with weaponized umbrellas, you'll have a good enough time. It's simply not a book to read if what you liked about Finn/Poe was that their relationship was built on mutual trust and they didn't stab each other in the back for Drama. Because it was that marketing that introduced me to the book, ultimately it does not live up to its claims. The relationship between Ettian and Gal was based on lies and misrepresentation; the mutual trust relationship for Ettian happens with a completely different character than Gal. Wen was wonderful, but this odd decision made me realize just how little I even wanted these men to be friends, much less ride a spaceship off into the nearest galaxy arm together. They brought out the worst instincts in one another and I couldn't root for them at all. This book was missing a heart—maybe because the main character does such a good job of pretending he doesn't have one.
no subject
Date: 2021-04-05 03:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-04-05 04:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-04-07 02:22 am (UTC)[*] I think I haven't been this annoyed by the end of a book since I read the Dorian Hawkmoon series by Michael Moorcock in which he decided to be "clever" and subvert genre expectations by killing off one half of the romantic pair at the very end. Fuck you, Moorcock you hack, that isn't clever, it just makes the book suck.
no subject
Date: 2021-04-05 06:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-04-05 11:42 am (UTC)Yes, that; alas.
no subject
Date: 2021-04-05 06:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-04-08 02:01 am (UTC)