Dragaera

Issola, Dragon, J Whedon, and Chandler's The Long Goodbye

Wed Mar 17 03:26:19 PST 2004

a very long post, starting with a lengthy digression which can be skipped,
and a quite critical take on Issola, which can be skipped by deletion.

spoilers, obviously.









Those who like SKZB may well enjoy Raymond Chandler.  In fact, Vlad may
be an indirect descendant of Philip Marlowe, Chandler's competent, moral,
sensitive, snarky man in a crime-riddled landscape.

I recently reread _The Long Goodbye_, the last of the great Philip Marlowe
novels (_Playback_ was written on Chandler's deathbed and is a wild
exaggeration of the case I make below.)  The novel is a meditation on many
of Chandler's central concerns - honor, friendship, alcohol, beautiful
women, and violence.  These concerns, and Chandler's strengths as a
novelist (extraordinary prose style, vivid characters, control of tone -
everything except mastery of plot), turn what had been genre pulp into
literature.

But by the time of _TLG_, Chandler was losing his grasp.  The novel is
too long, too flabby, and there's too much of the author working out
his personal problems.  The effect is to give the reader (through
Marlowe, Chandler's fantasy-self) what he wants, not what he needs
(formulation stolen from Josh Whedon).  A smart, beautiful, rich woman
who Marlowe barely knows throws herself at him.  Later another smart,
beautiful, rich woman throws herself at him, leading to the first on-stage
sex scene in the novels.  Marlowe is tortured, and gets to beat up a guy
who humiliated him (another man later humiliates the guy more), and a main
character's torture is frequently referred to.  Another major character is
a talented writer of pulp novels struggling with alcohol - another macho
stand-in for Chandler.  The plot is arranged to force Marlowe into contact
with the above characters.  A strong novel, but...


Some of the above thoughts helped crystallize some objections I have to
_Issola_.  Let me hasten to add that I find it perhaps the most enjoyable
installment of the Vladiad since _Jhereg_, but perhaps that's a question
of want/need.

First, the initial scene between Vlad and Teldra.  Her arrival at night
seems contrived to me.  Perhaps no one could be found to reach Loiosh
(Cawwti comes to mind, of course) or Vlad (Sethra in concert with Daymar,
or Verra) directly, and I'm not clear how Teldra gets Morrolan's windows
to work for her - but she seems to arrive in the wee hours to give Vlad
an excuse to spoon with her under a fur rug.

Then there's a data dump from Sethra.  I don't think any of this
information turns out to be of use to Vlad, and the critical bits could
have been brought out more naturally in the course of the novel.  Later
we have a data dump on sorcery.

Then there's the mission from the J.  They give V a box to send him to
visit Verra - but no way to get back.  And no way to confirm he was
successful. And anyway, was he really supposed to be successful?  The
J's actions are so unfathomable, their inability to understand human
motivations so profound (except when it's convenient, such as being able
to predict Vlad would come to rescue Morrolan and Aliera), that they
become pure embodiments of plot.  Does Vlad have to spend time alone with
Teldra?  Fine, let M/A go and trap V/T together.  Does the trellanstone
have to be discovered?  Fine, it's in the one room, discoverable with
Vlad's special tool (which the J show no interest in).  Does Vlad need to
be one-armed for the finale?  No problem.

Then there's the set of (shipper?) events - V makes M/A blush, V leaves
Verra speechless, Verra disses Sethra then has to ask what her advice was,
Verra fights like a tag, the Necromancer has a heart-to-heart with V, V
has to tell Aliera to use Pathfinder, T has to tell M how to see the
trellanstone, T feeds V by hand, and (to some extent) T encourages V to
shamelessly flirt with her.

Then there are the persistent bits where I said, Huh?  Isn't ...

Then there's the battle scene, which to me feels phoned in.

To summarize, the novel purpose seems to be designed to advance the plot
of the Vladiad through data dumps, coincidences, and Jea ex machinas; to
hit certain emotional buttons; to give Teldra stage-time; and to get
Godslayer finished.  Now, these things are not necessarily bad in
isolation, but in concert I feel I've been want-not-needed.


Contrast this with _Dragon_, a novel I didn't much enjoy on first reading,
and still only admire.  It has a series of excellent, vivid vignettes -
the first meeting with Daymar, the trip to see the Serioli, the business
with StY. The main thread of the plot is interesting, educational, and
plausible. The entire book is economical and integrated and paced
perfectly - when V has his discussions with the Dragons in his troop,
one feels that this is a good time for a conversation - during the V/T
conversations in _Issola_ one feels Time to undergo more bonding.

At the end of _Dragon_, Vlad has learned and grown and placed parts of
his past into context, and so has the careful reader.

Most of the central books of the Vladiad are need, not want novels.
_Orca_ requires a lot of attention to detail, _Athyra_ starves us of Vlad
and Loiosh, _Teckla_ is painful.  In these novels, we see Vlad developing
in the face of new events - learning as he copes with life.  In _Issola_
I think we see development thrust upon him - he's Vlad/Teldra now, or
V/L/T instead of V/L; the reader goes along for the ride, fun stuff
happens, the plot moves forward.



To conclude, a quote from the end of _The Long Goodbye_, Marlowe saying
goodbye to a friend who was in effect dead before the novel started, a
talking-to that the older Vlad might have given his younger self:

I'm not sore at you.  You're just that kind of guy.  For a long time I
couldn't figure you at all.  You had nice ways and nice qualities, but
there was something wrong.  You had standards and you lived up to them,
but they were personal.  They had no relation to any kind of ethics or
scruples.  You were a nice guy because you had a nice nature.  But you
were just as happy with mugs or hoodlums as with honest men.  Provided
the hoodlums spoke fairly good English and had fairly acceptable table
manners.  You're a moral defeatist.  I think maybe the war did it and
again I think maybe you were born that way.