How is it possible? This book repeats the worst flaws of Tigana, adding Subtle Villains and Beloved Author’s Womanizers in the manner of The Fionavar Tapestry. It follows also some previous worldbuilding patterns, sometimes looking like a self-plagiarism. And yet I don’t like it less than Tigana; actually it doesn’t irritate me as much as some particular fragments of former GGK’s books did. And why? Maybe because here the flaws of Kay’s writings sometimes become just hilarious. Because, really, yet another Sensous BDSM Woman, an Evil King having oral sex during Plotting Against the Good Ones, an old lech having only two kids or a man who would turn out to be the main breeding boar of the novel, are just funny.
Interesting Basis, Background the Same
A Song for Arbonne is set in the realm clearly inspired by Aquitaine, or — as general — by the whole medieval Occitania. You can find troubadours and courtly love there, supposedly chivalric knights and beautiful ladies, you can find vineyards and olive groves. The medieval-like image of Arbonne complete fairs and jousting, influential counts and dukes, and brawling university students. There are even more references to typical Occitan traditions: vidans, certain types of songs, an influential female ruler based very loosely on Eleanor of Aquitaine. Even some names are taken from the southern France history — like Miraval or Rudel names. All these things are described vividly and convicingly, even if the architecture, the clothing and the cuisine might have been describbed in more details. However, this quasi-Aquitaine is a French Aquitaine, without — for example — specific southern spelling. You won’t find there nh instead of French gn, and lh instead of ll. Over the mountains, there is a realm called Gorhaut, based on the northern France. And, of course, their language and Arbonne’s are literally the same. It wasn’t so with southern France and northern France. Not to mention that Occitania isn’t separated from the northern parts of France by mountains. The boundaries were fluent, the regions weren’t really separated, and yet… Arbonne and Gorhaut seemed to be more united than medieval France. No langue d’oc and langue d’oil. It’s a pity that Kay didn’t followed the trope of lingual differences; it would only highlight other dinstinctions as well. Another interesting (and quite obvious, assuming the setting) and unused trope are the military orders and heresies. Knights in Arbonne universe pray to the god Corannos, but there are no military orders, which would be very useful for the main villain of the book. Knights don’t differ at all from all these medieval secular warriors. Medieval religious movements (Cathars, Waldensians and so) are another isue. They were often revolutionary in social questions, opposing classism and (as for their times) patriarchy. Their religious concepts might be also stern for modern people. The Arbonne people worship both Corannos and their moon Goddess. Their religion doesn’t cause any social or economic changes, maybe except for the chivalry ethos. Kay? In Provence or Aquitaine, it didn’t work so. The troubadours’ culture was mainly secular, often opposing stern religious trends. The true is that the Arbonne people and, let’s say, Cathars, have only one thing in common: they are/were persecuted religious minorities in the One True Religion-centered area. Arbonne’s religion with its white-clad priestessess and mysterious island resembles more The Mists of Avalon than anything else.
Another problem is that the background of Gorhaut and Arbonne — in the light of the next GGK’s books — is self-generic. You have city-states of Portezza resembling Italy. Tigana, anyone? You have Arimonda resembling Spain… And, yes, you’ve guessed! The next book (The Lions of Al-Rassan) will be set in another literary universe, in the realm of Esperaña, which is also based on Spain, but where people believe in Christian God-like Jad, not in Corannos. There will be Italy-like Batiara, too, and French-like Ferrieres (although this country won’t be significant for the books set in, let’s call it, Jadiverse), and similar references to Ancient Roman-like Ancients. And here is the problem which I’m going to discuss now, not by the way of the next books.
At first: GGK repeats his ideas and nobody cares. In three different universes he has three different Italies, two different Spains, and two different Frances, and two different German-like references on the background as well.
At second: why could not all his “historical” books be set in the same universe? Arbonne and Gorhaut might have been the regions of Ferrieres, Arimonda might have been Esperaña, and the Peninsula of the Palm and Portezza might have been Batiara, but in different periods. Then Tigana’s parallel of French and Holy German Empire invading Italy would be even more accurate! But not. GGK repeats the same or very similar setting, putting it into several universes. I don’t know myself if it is funny or only ridiculous.
Commonfolk Unnoticed and Women not so Privileged
A Song for Arbonne, as numerous other fantasy books, notices many kinds of discrimination: sexism, persecuting religious minorities, xenophobia. And exactly like all these books, it omits classism. I know that there are several reasons for it: the Western world is more egalitarian than hundred years ago and so on, and generations have passed since serfdom or slavery. And so we tend to pretend that the classism is no longer an issue, and then we don’t need to write about it. No. It is still a problem. We need to write about it. Really, should I write you about all the inequal oportunities in education and employment? Should I write you about nineteenth-century workers working 16 hours per day? Should I write you about feudal times when peasants were considered worse, more stupid, more ugly than aristocracy? Should I tell you about how these superstitions persisted in our culture? Well, you’ve known probably my point already. Classism existed and still exists. GGK nor sees it in this book, neither he writes about that. This is not the story of peasants or petty craftsmen. Even if GGK skips from time to time to some commonfolk POV, it is stereotypical voice of a Loyal Chancellor (being secretly in love with his misstress, of course) or a superstitious soldier. The only significant voice is the one of troubadouress Lisette. Which is a daughter of a prominent merchant, of course. All other important characters are aristocrats: Signe de Barbentain, Arienne, Rosala, Bertran de Talair and Urte de Miraval, Lucianna Delonghi, and Blaise, of course. Blaise, an embittered mercenary from Gorhaut, matches even the trope of Rightful but Lost King. And even if in the later parts of the book, some war atrocities are described, it is made in a very contemporary way. It is not the trope of Tormented Commonfolk and Selfish Feudals, it is the trope of War is Terrible. More modern and more understandable for the readers nowadays, but not really adequate to medieval-like times.
In a nutshell: in this book, GGK doesn’t see feudalism at all, not to mention realizing that this system sucks. It doesn’t mean that his other books are like that. But A Song for Arbonne is not a realistic version of the medieval world, but an idealized and romantized one. You won’t learn there about so-called knights raping peasant women and hooking up serving maids. You won’t learn about the life of serfs, about offices and privileges based mainly on one’s class origin, not on one’s merits. You won’t learn about petty wars and revenges. Nooo. Here the knights have epic romances with the women of their class, and only the villains are rapists. Here commonfolk singers sleeping with the nobles are portrayed as social climbers gaining opportunities from sex. Here the harm of peasants is important only if an Dishonorable King caused it. Here the wars are already on the epic scale, between kingdoms, not between arguing noble houses.
Invisible Feudalism isn’t the only problem in this book. Invisible Patriarchy is troublesome as well. Or rather, it is visible only when the author wants to see it. And the portrayal of courtly love is strictly connected with that. Because, you see, from the long-term perspective, chivalry towards women didn’t liberated them. It created only new and equally harmful stereotypes, as that of a frail female requiring care and defence. It put the women on pedestal and deceived them at once, assuming that they are too precious and weak to deal with business, science, military things and so on. It gave well-born ladies some influence, but only them. Chivalry didn’t apply to low-born women. They could be raped and harassed as usual, and nobody cared. Of course, GGK doesn’t show it. But I’ve got an impression that when an author shows how brutal “The Olden Days” were, we don’t believe, we think that it must be an exaggeration.
However, one of the female characters, Arianne (which is quite subtle and unobtrusive in comparison to Alienor from Tigana, or to Lucianna “BDSM” Delonghi) points out that the courtly love creates a false exaltation of women, whose position in Arbonne is still not equal. She’s right. The women there can’t study, can’t inherit on equal share with men, can’t become soldiers, and even the female artists aren’t numerous. The only difference from the Terrible Patriarchy outside is the courtly love and supposedly lesser consent for domestic violence. However, Arianne doesn’t put it so. Her thoughts about more egalitarian world are again shown as a kind of a dream, an utopy. It is also interesting to notice her postulate about marriage, assuming that fidelity should be expected only in the free relationships based on love. Well, love could be as tricky as an arranged marriage. But Arianne, living with her gay husband (and this time we have a homosexual living in a love relationship with his peer instead of fucking random boys, let’s rejoice over it!) couldn’t know that.
And really, Arbonne isn’t matriarchal or women-ruled. They have only a Widow at Charge, that’s all, and some priestesses. The same could be said about Ancient Greece and Rome (they had priestesses, didn’t they?) and about numerous medieval countries and duchies ruled by widows at some particular times.
However, there is one and important plot in this “Patriarchy Issue” I couldn’t put down so easily. It is the evolution of Blaise’s attitude towards women. He begins as an embittered chauvinist talking like a frustrated incel, but then, thanks to Lisette, to Arianne and to his sister-in-law, he starts seeing women just as human beings who could contribute to the society as much as he could. He breaks with Madonna-Whore syndrome, with perceiving women as some alien and dangerous femmes fatales. It is all showed gradually and convicingly, and — at the end — makes Blaise one of the most believable and likeable characters. Because other characters are another and even more profound problem of this book.
Characters Beloved, Characters Hated
The problem with the positive/grey characters of A Song for Arbonne is not that they are unbelievable or extremaly predictable. The problem are cardboard villains and the author’s attitude towards certain dramatis personae.
Bertran de Talair is the most profound example of that. He is a crucial character, whose love towards the princess Aelis, Signe’s daughter and de Miraval’s wife, has led to political divisions in Arbonne. SPOILERS Aelis died at childbirth, following her baby son. However, her second child, (rescued by Arianne) a girl, survived. She was brought up among priestesses and married Blaise when he became the Rightful King of Gorhaut at the end of the book. SPOILERS Our precious Bertran was so desperate because of losing her that he began fucking half the universe, remaining the most charming and chivalric knight-troubadour of Arbonne at once. We can also learn that the sex with him must be apparently a magic experience, since the women bedded by him become happy, radiant and elegant (as in the case of Soressina, a bored wife of a baron, whose name is again taken after a place, not after a human name). And SPOILERS he abandons his raking to become the husband of Brave Rosala, Blaise’s sister-in-law, who escaped from Gorhaut because of her Menacing Father-in-Law and King Rapist, and in Arbonne, she gave birth to a son, Cadar. Which is actually Blaise’s son. And, oh wait, Blaise will probably have more Secret Sons, as we may learn from Lisette’s vidan.SPOILERS
Oh, Bertran! I don’t know which vibes are stronger here: Florentino Ariza and his thousands of lovers ’cause Fermina married another guy, or General-Deflorator-Once A Social Butterfly. Since GGK admits The Love in the Times of Cholera is one of his beloved books, then why couldn’t he be inspired by The General in His Labyrinth, too? Really, the associations with Marquez’s Bolivar are a bit disturbing here: similar age and class background, brown hair, middle height, political abilities… And, of course there is a thing which GGK hasn’t learned from Marquez. Because, you see, there is the great difference between the womanizers of these two author: at Marquez, we aren’t supposes to like them because of their womanising. Sometimes, we aren’t even supposed to like them at all. In The General in His Labyrinth, we have a severely ill guy, a suffering and lost man, and this is why we should feel sorry for him, or like him. In The Love in the Times of Cholera… Well, I always thought that Florentino Ariza wasn’t written to be a likeable character. He was more some kind of a Strange Emo Eccentric and he was doing some outrageous things, and for the reader, the only wholly admirable thing in his life would be his eternal hope for Fermina’s love. And guess what? GGK, of course, doesn’t write his characters like that. He loves some of them because they are Beautiful/Handsome and Sought After, sometimes adding a Love Tragedy to their CV. Bertran de Talair is literally an elder Diarmuid from The Fionavar Tapestry, he is the author’s favorite, and I’m wicked enough to not like him even for this.
It is also funny to notice that Bertran, after years of sleeping around, has no illegitimate children. Kay? It doesn’t work so, really. Just look at the kids of Edward IV York or Charles II Stuart. I want desperately to write a fanfiction about Bertran raising not only Cadar, but, let’s say, his own child with Greedy Social Climber Elisse, too.
The villains of this book are even more irritaiting, being cardboard and predictable. It is as worse as in The Fionavar Tapestry, but it is at least the last GGK’s book with so obvious antagonists, too.
The most hilarious is Ademar, of course, the guy having sex in the front of his courtiers while plotting against Arbonne at once. If it isn’t evil enough, he calls our Noble and Old Signe a whore additionally, and he wants to seduce Pregnant and Helpless Rosala. What is more, raping and burning people alive gaves him pleasure, so even Galbert, our second Evil One, finds it disgusting.
There is also Lucianna Delonghi who loves BDSM and whose husbands had died in Suspicious Circumstances. SPOILERS Blaise was infatuated with her for long time. At the end it cames out that she is Evil Arbonne-against Plotter living in an incestous relationship with her father. SPOILERS Maybe I am a strange person, but I feel pity for the incest’s (and possibly paedophilia) victims. But it’s only me.
Actually Galbert, Blaise’s father and a religious leader, is a complex and dubious character in comparison to Ademar and to Lucianna. He wants power, and his beliefs are only a pretext, which, knowing all the cliches, doesn’t surprise me at all. However, he remains a stereotypical Evil Fanatic figure threatening to our Progressive/Peaceful/Sexually Liberal characters. And here is my main problem with A Song for Arbonne, and with so many relatively progressive books like, let’s say, The Mists of Avalon.
They didn’t overthrow the old conservative (and often harmful) divisions of Good and Evil presented widely in the Western culture since establishing of Christianity. The simple groups of The Good Ones and The Evil Ones remained. They’ve been only reversed, making the conservatives or religious fanatics the Bad Ones, and the more progressive or liberal characters the Good Ones. It doesn’t differ from Evil Pagans or Evil Atheists tropes, it is only based on a different set of values. Of course, you can explain it by the domination of relatively conservative opinions and tropes for centuries, but… Really, especially the progressive ones should know how complex and dubious the life could be. They should rather describe it in the categories freed from simple “Good” and “Evil”, in the categories of mutual economic and social connections and human motivations. Some authors, like Ursula K. Le Guin, or George R. R. Martin, managed to do it. But Guy Gavriel Kay, at least in his first books, fails on this matter.
It doesn’t mean that A Song for Arbonne is a bad book. It’s still better and more believable than most of fantasy and YA fantasy books. And, what is important, here the specific style of GGK is finally established. It’s less pathetic than in The Fionavar Tapestry and in Tigana, but as lyrical and as evocative, and more deliberate. Sometimes I appreciate this way of writing, sometimes I am tired of it, but I must admit one thing: it’s original. It’s GGK’s own. Exactly like his a bit naive but enchanting vision of medieval Occitania.
Left Hand of Fiction 