Aunt Maria: Witches in Power

Diana Wynne Jones’ Aunt Maria uses the witch archetype for many reasons. One reason was to establish this dystopian world with a great rift between sexes; a rift that is unnatural and should not be accepted as a decent way to live. This is almost revealed explicitly when the revived Antony Green speaks of the way life is at Cranbury. “They divided into men’s ways and women’s ways then, and they’ve been thinking up more and more rules ever since to make the difference seem even bigger. Women allowed men the strong, out-of-doors things – provided the men put the virtue of their thoughts and ambitions into this box, so that it couldn’t get loose and run wild – while the men gave over all the secret, indoors things to the women – on condition the main power was kept safe by just a few strong women who would work by the rules.” This book pushes for gender equality and is aimed at a young audience, which I think is important. The female characters range from evil to pure, sane to insane, strong-willed to naive. The male characters range from mild-tempered to hot-headed or soft-spoken to loudmouthed. And progress is only made when they all work together, regardless of sex or age. Jones is implying that in order for a community to function properly, there needs to be mutual respect.

I thought it was interesting, then, how we are immediately made to dislike Aunt Maria and the secretive power she yields. Even though at first she seems relatively harmless, it could be argued that the reader should assume there is an unbalance due to the matriarchal structure of the Laker family. Of course it slowly is revealed that Maria is a true threat because she acts selfishly to hold onto her power. Mig, on the other hand, is a young girl who sees the truth because she considers her and her brothers to be equal. I found it interesting when she said “I’ve been letting Chris do all the real active thinking. Perhaps it’s because Chris is a year older than me. But I am not usually like this. I think it is the way everyone here takes for granted that having ideas is not women’s work and not nice somehow. In future, I swear to do better.” That is the moment when she is reintroduced to the fact that women need to be as active as men and men need to be allowed to express their emotions. After she finds that balance, she is a stronger lady who helps save the day.

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Vampire Academy

I’ll be the first to admit I’ve been biased against the vampire genre ever since seeing Twilight. I tried to keep an open mind when starting Vampire Academy and while I still found the characters predictable and the drama a little tiresome, the book’s vampire lore actually had me hooked. I found the complex social structure of the vampire world interesting. Not only was there conflict between living vampires and dead vampires, there was conflict between full vampires and half vampires and royals and lower class families. I can see why a high school was a successful setting to fully expose the society’s social inequalities and the personal insecurities linked. For instance, I thought the blood whore concept was very interesting. Throughout the novel- as well as the entire genre- it’s generally agreed that having your blood sucked by a vampire is practically orgasmic. But there is a stigma around morois drinking from a dhampir during sex. In the book it’s suggested that often moroi men search for female dhampir blood, which would probably just enhance the sexual experience, but for some reason it’s taboo. In my opinion, this speaks to “slut-shaming” in our own society. If a woman chooses to embrace her sexuality, she becomes a slut. Meanwhile it’s generally accepted that men can have as much free sex as they want with no labels or blame. While this might not have been Richelle Mead’s intention, I understood the blood whore concept to sort of exploit that.

This also brings me to the relationship between Rose and Lissa which is one I enjoyed seeing in a young adult novel. Their friendship throughout the entire book takes precedence over romantic interests and endured the obstacles thrown their way. Rose dedicated her life to protect her friend, and Lissa loved Rose so much she chipped away at her own spirit in order to bring Rose back from the dead. The concept of wielding the spirit element was another intriguing point for me. To heal others meant to damage herself, and I think that would feel relatable to many people, especially young adults. I think the way Mead handled self-harm was important. Rose wanted to comply with Lissa’s wish of secrecy, but there comes a time when that’s no longer acceptable. The loved ones of someone who self-harms needs to step in and help them regain self-control.

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Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things

Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things lives up to the title. These legends and tales are often so strange that they feel as if they’ve been cut short. Very rarely is there any explanation for what exactly took place, the reader must interpret their own understanding. A few of these stories, such as Of a Mirror and a Bell and Diplomacy end abruptly, which is a technique not very common among western storytelling. In western narrative the reader is typically spoonfed a conclusion. These short stories begin and end with the sole purpose of the tale: a focus on strange encounters.

One common element among most of the stories lies in religious connection. In many of these stories a priest plays a significant role, usually as a guide to resolve. The religious figure usually provides answers or is immune to evil. In one story, Rokuro-Kubi, a goblin even says: “and we cannot touch him so long as he is praying”. To me, it appears there is a common moral that values the importance of religious spirituality over selfish desire. In Jikininki, there is the quote: “I repeated the service and performed the rites only as a matter of business;━ I thought only of the food and the clothes that my sacred profession enabled me to gain. And because of this selfish impiety I was reborn… into the state of a jikininki.” This seems to be a clear message to listeners or readers that in order to avoid consequence one must act selflessly, and act to benefit others without personal gain. This is interesting when compared to our previous topics of the gothic and vampires. Both, in a way, seduce readers with the opposite technique. Gothic horror wraps the reader into the realm of darkness and embraces the unnatural. Vampire fiction- especially modern variation- literally seduces the reader into sympathizing with the monster, exploiting personal gain (such as draining the blood of others for nourishment) as something better than sex, a state of ecstasy. This speaks to a western audience, who seem to crave an explanation of the inexplicable. Western literature tends to expose the unnatural and twist it into something romantic, while these Japanese stories seem to expose the unnatural for the purpose of spiritual guidance.

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Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

Mary Shelley’s 1831 Frankenstein is all about the unnatural seduction of the grotesque and the meaning of natural life, which are distinctive qualities of gothic literature. In classic gothic fashion, Victor Frankenstein is pulled into a dark “fate” as his obsession with abandoned sciences grows. The reader is also pulled into the moral complexity of Shelley’s universe because the monster’s character actually starts off as a more compelling and sympathizable character than Victor. Where in Victor’s childhood he was given everything to live a happy life, Frankenstein’s monster was given absolutely nothing. Typically, people root for the underdog who has to earn their place in the world, and that’s how I initially felt about the monster. This also ties into Shelley’s exploration of nature v. nurture. With Victor’s father-like role towards the monster, Victor’s lack of responsibility shows clear consequences. Throughout the narration, Victor blames fate and destiny for his own self-destruction, but eventually blames himself for the monster he’s created. It can be argued that Shelley is implying experiencing life has a greater influence on personality than genetics. This makes Victor’s character even more unlikeable because he becomes the cause and victim of his own horrific creation. As he explores the moral complexity of achieving godliness, the reader explores the moral complexity of trying to sympathize with an irresponsible scientist and his neglected experiment.

       Another theme I found interesting, though, was beauty and society’s view of it. At first Shelley appears to equate beauty with goodness, such as in the case of Elizabeth whom is a character we are constantly reminded is angelic and attractive. This is also true for other characters and when we initially meet Frankenstein’s creation, he’s marked hideous and considered a monster. The theme becomes less black and white when we realize the monster had good intentions at the start of his life. Only through being told by others that he is hideous does he truly become a monster. This makes me consider that Shelley may be implying outer beauty does influence inner beauty due to society’s superficiality. This could be considered a gothic theme if we were then to say Shelley considers all of society to be part of this realm of darkness.   

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