Nightshade

Yet another plug about my frustration with romantic trends in YA literature.

I'm currently reading a YA paranormal (what can I say, I'm a masochist with a library card) called Nightshade. I read an unfavorable review for it, but I still decided to give it a spin. It's got a lovely cover, so that really was the tipping point, I regret to admit. Anyhow, it really began interestingly enough, and there is certainly nothing wrong with Andrea Cremer's actual writing. The little problem here, halfway through, is a little thing called Shay. Or, more appropriately, Calla and Shay. Calla is the protagonist and leader of this wolf pack they call the Guardians. I was actually really interested in the specifics of their Guardian-Keeper-Master-Search world of magic and wolf-changing. It was compelling, even when the characters weren't.

Except I'm not really here to talk about the book itself, but about the relationship between Calla and Shay and Calla and Ren. So, Ren is the alpha male to Calla's alpha female. They're basically betrothed and he's a bit of a ladies man. But he's getting his act together as their union approaches and he tries to make her transition into their new life as easy as possible. He's kind to her, wants to protect to her and, for the most part, treats her as an equal. So of course she spends the book thus far calling him controlling and resisting his attempts to get to know her better. She still plans to go through with the marriage and is even attracted to him, but along comes the human boy Shay who she should not be with. To be with him would mean discarding Ren's kindness, abandoning her new pack (which includes her best friend, brother and other friends), her possible death and the endangerment of her entire world. So she really likes him, of course. Any sane person would run the other way.

And some would argue that love is love, and you should do what you can to keep it. But she and Shay don't love each other. At. All. It's the Romeo and Juliet, Edward and Bella business. Shay and Calla met when he was dying (of course she saved him, so don't worry your quickening fangirl hearts). He is the obvious, instantaneous love interest that is, well, instantaneous. And, in the midst of dying, oh so beautiful. She was drawn to Shay right away, his touch was electric. And he wasn’t even an eel. So, I just kept thinking, I don’t want this to happen. Yeah, Shay is handsome. But if he were injured or dying, his face ought to contort in the same way a normal person’s does. It would be painful and probably not incite much wonder about his beauty. He might be ugly or, in the very least, no one would care about the sheen of his eyes of hair. But she does, oh she does.

I think there should be, like normal couples, the tinging where he touches her arm or when she leans on his shoulder. But I like it where love is a warm, companionable thing and, yes, sometimes exciting. But at the same time I want characters to be able to function independently, without being intoxicated by the mere presence of one another. Perhaps some people (who?!) really have that, but what most characters need is something that isn't so wholly expressed in the tingle of their skin or the gold flecks in his handsome eyes. To rely on each other for strength, but rarely to spout their love in a dramatic confession. Something very simple, but, to me, very powerful. More powerful than the electric touch of the skin. They have trust, friendship and each others’ back. At least, if I were the alpha female to a pack of magical wolves, that's what I would want.

Which is not to say that I don't think characters shouldn't have physical feelings for one another. I mean, they should want to kiss each other and be mutually attracted,  without that being all they are. I want more for them. I do. So, I've told you about Shay and Ren. If Calla and Shay really, truly loved each other, then I could handle her risking not just her life, but the life of every person she knows. Because that would at least be feasible. But Shay looks nice and she is memorized by his electric touch and he isn't something she can have. WHY MUST YOU DO THIS. And I already know where this is going. I read it in Firelight just two months ago. She'll battle this way and that about how she wants him, can't have him, stay away - your'e dangerous! But eventually she'll let him lay ruin to her life and the lives of those around her. It happened to Jacinda and Will in Firelight, but at least Calla is a little smarter. But not for much longer, I fear.

This is more of a 'WHY DO YOU NOT LISTEN TO ME, YOU FOOLISH GIRL?!' blog. Because it's like watching a train wreck over and over again. You know what's going to happen but you can't look away.

I need to stop doing this to myself.

Toodle Pip.

Mortification Is

Let us recap the almost-finished first week of school. I like to call it, Mortification Is:

So, let's play!

Mortification is somehow managing, though I left my room at an on-schedule time, to be late to every first class. Except for Ecology, but only because Monte had the schedule a little mixed up. So, that doesn't even count.

Mortification is getting into LR less than a minute before class starts and realizing that I forgot the paper that had the classroom number on it. So walking aimlessly and staring into the classroom windows looking for familiar faces, that is, except for the one in the far corner that I forgot about... then doing the same on the second floor. Then scurrying to the library to log onto WebAdvisor (after having to boot up a computer and sign in). Then getting the classroom number -- 103, I believe -- and realizing that it was that corner room I forgot about. How precious.

Mortification is hitting your head on the bottom bunkbed while Ruth watches on.

Mortification is putting on my princess backpack, new Nalgene in the pocket and flinging it from the pocket across the room... at the person you don't know but who the professor has, coincidentally, paired with you as your presentation partner. Then trying to joke and saying, "Sorry I missed," but he only stares at you and walks off. Then thinking about the assured awkwardness to come. Precious.

Mortification is randomly sitting next to someone in Philosophy thinking they aren't going to talk creepily to themselves periodically through the next hour. And then realizing I assumed wrong. And then vowing to get there early next time in order to find a different seat.

Mortification is throwing my arms open to hug someone whom I see from a distance, assuming it's a friend, and then, upon closer inspection, finding out that she's a stranger.

Mortification is asking at the dorm meeting if we can, like fish, have snails in little aquariums. Everyone assumes it's a joke to the No Pet Policy, when I really just wanted a snail.

Mortification is going into your chorale audition, having the first part be totally chill, and then having to show your teacher whom you had for a good solid four hours a week (both semesters) that I'm still abysmal at sight reading. But then he tries and tries to get you to succeed at it and you still don't and he just gives you a look that says, Enough, enough. Dear God.

Mortification is putting ranch dressing on my plate for french fries and, while it looks like I put the ladle properly back into the bowl, it actually falls out and splatters ranch down the leg of an unsuspecting Redding resident and it squishes (with an ever-so-lovely sound) into her sandals.

Mortification is getting a, like, sixty page syllabus.

Mortification is realizing that there is probably more I forgot, much more, and it's only the first week of school.

Oh, dear.

Toodle Pip.