USA

The About The Characters post series focuses on the minor characters in The Wall Of Night series, in large part because:

“I think it’s the presence of the smaller characters that “makes” a story, creating texture around the main points of view.”

~ from my Legend Award Finalist's Interview, 2013

Initially, the series focused exclusively on characters from The Heir of Night, but now I’m continuing on with minor characters from both The Gathering Of The Lost and Daughter of Blood — in alphabetical order, of course!

At present, we’re still very much in Daughter of Blood territory—but this is the very last entry for the marvellous letter “K.” 🙂

—

UK/AU/NZ

Kylin: an attendant to Lady Myrathis, a Daughter of the House of Blood and the bride pledged to marry the Earl of Night

“Completely unsuitable, of course.” A voice spoke from the adjoining dayroom, and Myr recognized the speaker as Kylin, another of her new attendants. A smothered laugh followed…

Kylin is like Kolthis, Myr thought: she may not actively intend me to hear, but she doesn’t care if I do.

~ from Daughter of Blood, The Wall Of Night Book Three – Chapter 20, Emissaries of Night

I wasn’t always a reader of detective novels and police procedurals, but was introduced to them by my sister, primarily through Henning Mankell’s Kurt Wallender novels. I’m still not a big reader in the genre, but there are some great characters and stories out there to be discovered. Plus when you’re (“one is” 😉 ) writing in one field, i.e. fantasy (but even more specifically at present, epic fantasy), reading a completely different kind of story can be really enjoyable, as well as relaxing.

So when a friend, who also just happens to be the local rep for Macmillan, offered an advance copy of The Darkest Evening, the latest and ninth novel in the Vera Stanhope series by Ann Cleeves, I was not going to say “no.” No indeed!

For those who may not know (whether from the books or television series), Vera Stanhope is an eccentric, middle-aged, Northern English, Detective Inspector. Both Ann Cleeves’ two major detective series, Vera Stanhope and Shetland, are in what I think of as the “Kurt Wallender” style of detective fiction. The main characters are police officers (as opposed to private detectives like Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brodie—recently discussed here—or Lee Childs’ Jack Reacher) but the focus of the story, and the series, is as much about the personality and private life of the officer, as well as their relationships with their colleagues, as it is about the crime and “whodunnit.”

Despite these similarities, if detective fiction is a continuum, then I believe Ann Cleeves’ novels sit closer to those of Kate Atkinson than they do to the works of Henning Mankell, or Lynda La Plante’s Prime Suspect. In the latter two cases, and despite the importance of the character interactions, the crime and the unravelling thereof remain front and centre of the storytelling.

In Ann Cleeves’ novels, and Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brodie series as well, the crime, its perpetrator, and the solving thereof, are far less important to the story (imho) than the internal life of the main character. In this case that’s Vera, her close colleagues (chiefly Joe Ashworth and Holly Jackman) and the people most closely associated with the crime, either through proximity to the scene or knowledge of the victim. Their lives, motivations, and secrets, are what the story is about, rather than the architecture of the crime and psychology of the killer. Although the latter elements do come into it, they’re just not as central to the story as they would be in some other types of crime fiction.

I think the character studies, which also include family and community dynamics, are what I really like about this style of fiction. In this particular story, the world is small: a country house, those most closely associated with it, and the nearby small town—to the extent the network of the crime extends there. Despite this restricted canvas, I’m not sure I would describe The Darkest Evening (or the Vera Stanhope series generally) as “cosy mysteries”: there’s a little too much realism to the character studies for that.

I realise that I’m not telling you much about the actual plot, instead focusing on what kind of story it is—which is what I believe is most important in this case. Being detective/police procedural fiction, it’s a given that there is a crime (in this case a murder), suspects, and an investigation. In The Darkest Evening, both the scene of the murder and some of those present are directly connected with Vera’s own past, which enables the series to develop alongside the specific story being told. Otherwise, if you like the sound of the character-driven storytelling, I can only encourage you to dive in and read. J

As you have probably gathered, I am reasonably confident that if you enjoy Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brodie novels and Henning Mankell’s Kurt Wallender series, as well as TV shows like Broad church—and of course the Vera Stanhope and Shetland television series—then you’ll enjoy The Darkest Evening.

To confirm, I read an uncorrected proof copy (373 pp) of The Darkest Evening, supplied by the publisher’s representative.

USA

My last About The Characters post featured Koris, a marine escorting Lord Nimor, the Sea House’ envoy.

Posting about Koris recalled a conversation with a friend away-aways back, who was puzzled about why I called the Sea House soldiers “marines.” Her puzzlement chielfy arose because she thought marines were, by definition, specifically a US military corps.

My reply was that, in fact, “marines” is precisely the right term for troops trained to serve on land or sea, in the same way that “sailors” or “mariners” refers to those that sail in ships. So although I could make up a term, which I would then have to explain, it seemed far easier just to use the established term, exactly as I have with “sailors”, “mariners”, “guards”, “warriors”, “knights” et al, throughout the trilogy.

In The Wall Of Night series, Sea is the Derai House (think clan, or even nation) dedicated to ships, the sea, and keeping the Derai Alliance’s maritime trading routes open. In addition to the mariners that sail the ships, Sea also fields soldiers dedicated to fighting on those ships, but also capable of fighting on land.

Hence Koris, in Daughter of Blood, is one of the marines escorting the Sea House envoy, Lord Nimor, in a land-based journey.

UK/AU/NZ

Historically, marine corps go back as far as Roman times, with ship-based infantry being used to invade opposing ships. The Venetian maritime empire employed “Fanti de Mar” (i.e. sea infantry)  on its vessels, a practice adopted by both the Spanish and Portugese in the 1500 and 1600s—both the precursors of modern-day marine corps in those countries.

White it’s true that the US Marine Corps is probably the most famous such corps currently, the UK has also had Royal Marines as part of the Royal Navy for many centuries. The UK marines played a particularly prominent part in the Napoleonic wars, taking part in several significant land-based incursions as well as playing a major part in battles such as Trafalgar.

Their motto, Per Mare, Per Terram, translates as “by sea and by land.” The Royal Marines remain part of the Royal Navy, whereas the US Marine Corps are a distinct branch of the armed services, although still (as I understand it) part of the Department of the Navy.

At any rate, I hope this potted history is sufficient testament to “marine” as a common term for (originally) ship-based infantry uses in both sea battles and amphibious operations—exactly like the Sea House marines in The Wall of Night series. 🙂

It’s been quite a while since I’ve done a Gorgeous Words post, but I can think of absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t dip back in, and add to, an earlier post series — or more of a mini series in this case. 🙂

Especially when the words are as gorgeous as Laini Taylor’s in Strange The Dreamer (2017) — and her earlier series that started with Daughter of Smoke and Bone, to be honest.

I was hunting for books #2 and #3 of Kate Elliott’s Court of Fives series, having loved #1 and also in order to ensure no gaps when I discussed the world (Efea) in my worldbuilding series on Supernatural Underground — see The Many Worlds of Kate Elliott. (Just ICYMI 😉 ) In the process of snaffling them from the shelves of the awesome Tūranga, Christchurch’s new public library, I spotted Strange the Dreamer, so grabbed that, too.

A great decision, as it turned out, because I was pretty much hooked from the get-go. (I am still reading currently.) Part of that was definitely the language, which is always an important part of what speaks to my heart in both reading and writing. The language doesn’t have to be lush to be gorgeous — Ursula Le Guin’s spare, elegant prose also fits the bill, but there does have to be power in the language and the way the author puts the words together.

I believe Laini Taylor’s prose is lush, in the most positive sense of that word (e.g. luxuriant, abundant, sensory), with poetic rhythm, glorious imagery, and a real knack for evoking emotion and setting.

Here are just a few examples:

“On the second Sabbat of Twelfthmoon, in the city of Weep, a girl fell from the sky.

Her skin was blue, her blood was red.

She broke over an iron gate, crimping it on impact, and there she hung, impossibly arched, graceful as a temple dancer swooning on a lover’s arm. One slick finial anchored her in place. Its point, protruding through her sternum, glittered like a brooch. She fluttered briefly as her ghost shook loose, and torch-ginger buds rained out of her long hair.”

I felt the juxtaposition of the poetic with the brutality of the scene made it more powerful, while also evoking regret and a sense of the ephemeral—at the same time establishing the mystery associated with blue skin and falling from the sky.

I also liked:

“The Angelus rang, its bronze voice pouring through the sheepfold and over the orchard walls in slow, rich waves.”

Again, very evocative.

“The black trees danced. His breath-ghost scudded away on a gust, only to be replaced by another. His shadow splayed out huge before him, and his mind gleamed with ancient wars and winged beings, a mountain of melted demon bones and the city on the far side of it—a city that had vanished in the mists of time.”

It may not work for you, but I feel as if I’m there with the protagonist, Lazlo, living his dream of conflict and glory.

Anyway, if gorgeous words are your thing and you haven’t yet read Laini Taylor, it may be time to give her writing a go. By way of further recommendation, I note that Strange the Dreamer is a Printz Honor Book and the Daughter of Smoke and Bone series were New York Times bestselling works.

—

The prior posts in the Gorgeous Words mini-series are:

• Mary Stewart and Madam, Will You Talk
• Mary Renault and The Praise Singer
• Guy Gavriel Kay and Tigana
• Barbara Hambly and The Ladies of Mandrigyn
• Patricia McKillip and The Riddle-Master Of Hed

w00t! Tis 1 October time and you know what that means!

Yup, you got it: it’s time for my next Supernatural Underground post on Worldbuilding in Fantasy.

This month it’s lucky post #9 and I’m featuring another master worldbuilder, the impressive Kate Elliott. Not least because I’m honing in on not just one world, but many…

To find out more, click on:

Year of Worldbuilding in Fantasy #9 — The Many Worlds Of Kate Elliott

Tis that time of year again: just as the Northern Hemisphere (NH) year is “closing in” to autumn, with all its colour, followed by winter (yes, indeed-y, “winter is coming” for NH folk) we are starting the swing into spring.

Although last Wednesday, rather than any business of future arrival, the temperature gauge suggested summer was well and truly here!

Since then, the weather has generally reverted to vernal, while remaining mild where I live, but everywhere I look we’re well into spring, especially on the blossom front. And my daffodils have been and gone…

The cherry blossom walk, in Christchurch’s Hagley Park

For today, I’m sharing a few pics of cherry blossom in Hagley Park, but also of kowhai, which is a NZ native tree, and also endemic to this country. In addition, I have a recent photo of a rhododendron, in a misty shot of Christchurch’s residential red zone (i.e. deliberately de-populated post the 2010-2011 earthquakes.) Plus some end of winter / early spring flowers from the garden.

Kowhai, which is a forest fringe plant

Just as a change from writing and/or reading books, genre in literature, television, or film, and—of course, though I’d much rather not—Covid 19. 🙁

Kowhai flower detail

Speaking of the dread Covid, it’s great to be back in Level 1 here in Christchurch.

Rhododendron in the mist…

Although given some of the continuing mysteries, but also the latest resolves, around the recent Auckland-based outbreak, I think the observation of Devi Sridhar, Professor of Global Public Health at Edinburgh University, that “If an indoor setting is poorly ventilated, crowded, and no one is wearing face coverings it’s best to avoid it”, is wise advice. Including for us, here in NZ, in order to minimise future outbreaks, as well as the UK.

Flower power

Assuming one can, of course. :-/ By which I mean, “avoid individually”, although it could equally well refer to minimising societally. 🙁

And on that cheery note, whether you are experiencing spring or autumn, or in more equatorial regions where the changes are less marked, enjoy your week.

UK/AU/NZ

The About The Characters post series focuses on the minor characters in The Wall Of Night series, in large part because:

“I think it’s the presence of the smaller characters that “makes” a story, creating texture around the main points of view.”

~ from my Legend Award Finalist's Interview, 2013

Initially, the series focused exclusively on characters from The Heir of Night, but now I’m continuing on with minor characters from both The Gathering Of The Lost and Daughter of Blood — in alphabetical order, of course!

At present, we’re still very much in Daughter of Blood territory, and yes, still hanging in there with “K.” Today’s minor character, Koris, is one of those currently returning in WALL #4 (working title: The Chaos Gate) — just btw. 😉

—

USA

Koris: a marine in the escort of Lord Nimor, Sea House envoy to the Houses of Blood and Night

The plain remained a blank, even the near-distance opaque with haze. The hounds were alert, although Kalan still retained doubts over their reliability. They’ve brought me this far, he thought—and turned at the first ring of hooves against stone to find Tehan and two of her fellow marines, Koris and Tymar, accompanying Aarion. “By Lord Nimor’s order,” Tehan said.

~ from © Daughter of Blood, The Wall of Night Book Three: Chapter 42 — The Empty Plain

Faith Lehane: last week’s rogue, mostly lovable… 😉

So-o, last week I logged my thirteenth(!) Having Fun With Epic Fantasy post (sixteen if I count the [first] three posted on the late, great SF Signal — woo-hoo!)

If you checked in last week, you’ll know that post #13 featured that great archetype the “lovable rogue.” One interesting realization (among many, I hope 😉 ) was that while male lovable rogues are numerous, female lovable rogues are much harder to find, both in Fantasy storytelling, but also among the myth and legends, folklore and fairytales that are the genre’s bedrock.

They’re also comparatively rare in the mainstream, underlining my reflection that this archetypal gap “…may reflect on the extremely narrow place occupied by women in traditional societies — a narrow scope reflected in storytelling and with no “halfway” houses, such as the “lovable rogue”, between “good” and “bad.””

On Twitter, Elizabeth Knox responded that “maybe” there were more examples to be found in Children’s storytelling, such as Pippi Longstocking and Little My (in Tove Jannson’s Moomin books.) I’m inclined to agree with this, as in the children’s ‘verse the “lovable rogue” overlaps the “urchin”/”larrikin”, which is a territory occupied by both male and female characters.

Lyra Belacqua

Think Huck Finn and Jo March, for example, as well as more contemporary, and younger, examples such as Lyra Belacqua in the Golden Compass series and Peri (in Patrica McKillip’s The Changeling Sea.)

Commenting directly on the post, Andrew mentioned The Robber Girl, a 1980s short story from the DAW anthology Amazons II. I’ve since read the story and agree with Andrew: the titular robber girl is indeed a lovable rogue.  She’s also a “what happens after” reimagining of Hans Christian Andersen’s Little Robber Girl from The Snow Queen. (Another children’s story…)

Reflecting further myself, I did realise that the folk/fairy-tale character of Baba Yaga has trickster qualities, although she is more fearsome than lovable. I also realised that I had missed a character that I believe may count as Fantasy’s preeminent female lovable rogue, but also heroine: Katniss Everdeen of The Hunger Games fame.

I know, how could I have overlooked Katniss? My only excuse is that Katniss’s heroic qualities obscured that she is, in fact (or so I maintain and averr), a “rogue” character — and also a very lovable one. An obvious folklore comparison would be Robin Hood…

Katniss Everdeen

Looking beyond Fantasy, Markus Zusak’s Liesel, in The Book Thief, is also a lovable rogue — but when I cast my mind back twenty more years, I recalled what I consider the quintessential female “lovable rogue” of recent times: Susan, in the film, Desperately Seeking Susan — a role made memorable by Madonna in her rise to fame.

Susan, imho, ticks all the “lovable rogue” boxes: like Han Solo, she’s “cynical and mercenary and out for…[herself]…until the chips are down, at which point…[she]…comes through for…[her friends.] Again like Han Solo, Susan “also has considerable charm” while being very much a trickster, albeit at the mischievous and light-fingered end of the spectrum.

Susan: an iconic ‘lovable rogue’

I had to rewatch the film, just to confirm that I was right in my view—and found it stands up to the test of time, and is still a lighthearted but also subversive—and very appealing—romp. According to Wikipedia (so it must be true 😉 ) “The film captures the feel of the underground Bohemian/new wave scene of the early to mid-1980s New York City…” Either way, if you’ve never seen it, I’d recommend checking it out.

Capturing the era…

And that, for now, concludes my dealings with lovable rogues, at least on this blog. 😀

It’s been a year for putting the shutters up…

In this time of Covid, I’ve frequently joked that the writing life is “naturally self-isolating”—and although speaking in humour, it’s also true, by and large, since one of the key ingredients for writing (for most writers, although I’m sure there are exceptions) is uninterrupted writing time.

The corollary of this, of course, is that storytelling and literature spring from observation, interaction, and the hurly-burly of life. So although writing may need blocks of uninterrupted time, it also needs human interaction, from coffee and catch-ups with friends, to spending some time in market-places and crowds. Imho, anyway—all of which I’ve canvassed previously, most specifically in the May 28 post titled “Naturally Self-Isolating.” 😉

Mmmm, delicious…

One of the reasons why I always wanted to live a writing life, is not only because I love storytelling, and books, and the magic of language and words, both written and spoken, but also because I love engaging with others about the wonder and glory of storytelling, books, and the language of both. If I can slip in some home-baked goodies, a cup of coffee, or a glass of wine with that, then all the better. 🙂

Consequently, there are not many things I like better than the opportunity to catch up with friends who love doing the same, many of whom are fellow writers, and all of whom are keen readers and ‘viewers.’ Not infrequently the good talk about books spills over into TV shows and films and games, focusing on what we *heart* and what doesn’t spin our wheels quite so much. And quite often with plenty of laughter to go around.

There is nothing–absolutely nothing–half so much worth doing as putting one’s feet up with a book… 😉

It doesn’t happen nearly as often as I would like, because we all have our own commitments, writing and otherwise—but when it does happen, it’s definitely one of the “ups” of the writing life. Especially when everyone votes to stay “just a little longer”, or as once happened, the first arrival declares that all through a very busy morning at work, she has been looking forward to an afternoon where she can “really be herself.”

So although I love the AS Byatt quote, “that the writer wrote alone, and the reader read alone, and they were alone with each other”; and although the writer may of necessity write alone, getting together and having some fun is also an important part of fueling the life creative.

People, books, fun — it makes the writing world go around 🙂

—
Previous Inside The Writing Life Posts:

• A Little About The Writing Itself
• About Those Muses, Then…
• Naturally Self-Isolating
• Writing Novels, Posting Blogs
• Another Milestone Ticked Off
• A Game Of Two Halves
• Further Reflection on Writing Transitions

Han Solo the quintessential “lovable rogue”

Long before fantasy-dom began adopting anti-heroes as main characters (in my mind, Michael Moorcock was an early adaptor, with the Elric novels), the “lovable rogue” was an established, some would say essential part of the canon.

Very often, the lovable rogue overlaps with the sidekick, characters that (as discussed in Post #12) sometimes morph into central, point-of-view (pov) protagonists in their own right. The single best example I can think of when it comes to both archetypal lovable rogues and assuming greater importance within the story, is Han Solo in Star Wars.

In the best lovable rogue tradition, he’s cynical and mercenary and out for himself—until the chips are down, at which point he comes through for his ‘band of brothers.’ He also has considerable charm and a similar “broth of a boy” mojo to Shakespeare’s Mercutio, although not quite so manic. (While duly noting that Mercutio is not in the fantasy genre.) Most importantly, viewers love him — also in keeping with the lovable rogue tradition — an enthusiasm that gave Han Solo a prominent place in the initial film trilogy and the Stars Wars canon.

Loki, from Marvel’s “Thor”

So why do we love the lovable rogue characters, pretty much wherever they appear? I believe it stems from the strong overlap to both the ‘sidekick’ and ‘band of brothers‘ traditions, although the rogue can, of course, also be the main character. (They may also end being heroes, but it’s not the way they primarily present.)

Their appeal is also  strongly grounded in the trickster archetype, which is ancient, and based on a pantheon of gods, heroes, and folklore characters. Loki is one of the most famous, along with the North American Coyote, and Polynesian Maui. Puck features in English folklore (and Shakespeare), while in Greco-Roman myth we have both the god, Hermes/Mercury, and that wily seafarer, Odysseus/Ulysses. Just to name a very few examples!

Maui, in Disney’s “Moana”

The trickster pantheon can be capricious and cruel, and they’re frequently up to no good, from mischief to outright wrongdoing, but when the chips are down they also come up with cunning plans to either aid the hero(es) or outright save the day. In my view, the trickster celebrates the attributes of cleverness, wiliness, and cunning that are a significant part of humanity’s competitive advantage in the universe. Much as we admire strength and courage, sincerity and idealism, we recognize that guile and invention are equally, if not more, significant if a ‘band of brothers’ is to carry the field and the day.

In part because they are so tricksy (which as Loki’s relationship with his Asgard peers illustrates, can be annoying at best) the rogue must also have lovable qualities: like their wiliness and wit, it’s a survival trait. So they are not infrequently charming and quixotic in their loyalties (such as they are), as well as useful in a tight corner. Sufficiently so to ensure their companions put up with their less endearing qualities and keep them around.

Enfants terribles

Another element that I believe makes the ‘lovable rogue’ character both enduring and endearing is that they reflect our humanity, i.e. they’re so clearly not perfect. We see this with Merry, and particularly Pippin in The Lord of the Rings.

They are the closest to lovable rogues among the fellowship, although they’re more in the nature of enfant terribles: more mercurial and irresponsible sidekicks than steadfast Sam, but far more human and relatable than the noble but overburdened Frodo.

Even enfants terribles must grow up

Merry and Pippin also supply another appealing aspect of the lovable rogue — the redemption arc. Both, but particularly Pippin, have to give up their careless ways and come through for the fellowship and their friends, just as Han Solo comes through at the end of the first-made Stars Wars film.

The lovable rogue provides audiences, whether readers, viewers, or listeners, with the reassurance that redemption is possible, while at the same time epitomizing all we may frequently long for in terms of being footloose and without a care (or, not infrequently, terribly many moral scruples) in the world — in itself epitomized by Spike, in Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

Spike arrives in Sunnydale…

But maybe, as audience, we also quite like that feeling of moral superiority the lovable rogue affords, whereas with the heroes we may admire and aspire, but feel that such a high level of courage and integrity is beyond our everyday grasp.

So, having talked Han Solo and Spike, along with Merry and Pippin, some of the lovable rogues that populate the pages of fantasy literature include:

• Anansi: Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman
• Crowley: Good Omens by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman
• Diarmuid: the Fionavar Tapestry by Guy Gavriel Kay;
• Eugenides: The Queen’s Thief/Attolia series by Megan Whalen Turner
• Fred and George Weasley:  Harry Potter by JK Rowling;
• George Cooper (literally “the Rogue”): in the Alanna series and Tortall world, by Tamora Pierce;
• Ghislain Zarene:  Mortal Fire by Elizabeth Knox
• Jimmy the Hand: in Raymond E Feist’s Midkemia novels (Jimmy is also an example of a sidekick that graduated to POV character in the prequel novel co-authored with SM Stirling);
• Jobber: the Queen’s Quarter/Oran quartet by Midori Snyder
• Lila Bard: A Darker Shade of Magic by VE Schwab
• Livak: Thief’s Gamble by Juliet McKenna
• Locke Lamora: the Gentlemen Bastard series by Scott Lynch’s;
• Luke:  Eight Days of Luke by Diana Wynne Jones (Spoiler: Luke is really Loki, so the lovable rogue part goes without saying);
• Matt: the The Wheel Of Time series by Robert Jordan;
• Master Shoka: The Paladin by  CJ Cherryh
• Nahri: The City Of Brass by SA Chakraborty
• Nicholas Valiarde: Song of the Necromancer by Martha Wells’ (nope, it’s nothing to do with Murderbot, sorry — but if you like Moriarty vs Sherlock Holmes…)
• Shallan: the Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson
• Tyrion Lannister has elements of the lovable rogue in A Game Of Thrones by George RR Martin;
• Vlad Taltos: in the series of the same name by Steven Brust;
• Westley, the Dread Pirate Roberts: The Princess Bride by William Goldman

The Dread Pirate Roberts

That’s just an off-the-top-of-my-head list, although it’s still just a sampling: I’m sure you can think of many more to add. 🙂

Faith, also a vampire slayer — & a rogue

But Where Are The Women?

In doing so, I hope you will have a few more women’s names to add to my list. Currently there are only 5 out of 21 in the running and no pics — although I’m about to remedy that! In case you’re wondering, they’re Shallan, who certainly has a rogue alter ego; Jobber; Lila Bard, Livak, and Nahri.

All of which led me to search a little more widely on the internets, where the cited lovable rogues, like their templates in myth, legend, and folklore, are overwhelming male. Initially, I struggled to think of a TV show or film contender in the Fantasy genre, but then, fortunately, I remembered Faith from Buffy. And although Faith is also a superhero, she also fits the “(mostly) lovable rogue” mould.

It did make me think, though, because the lovable rogue isn’t a prominent female archetype: traditionally (ie in fairytale and myth, folklore and legend) women rogues are either outright villains, or debased by their roguery. And when women feature on the positive side of the storytelling ledger, there doesn’t appear to be a lot of scope for roguery, however lovable. I suspect this may reflect on the extremely narrow place occupied by women in traditional societies — a narrow scope reflected in storytelling and with no “halfway” houses, such as the “lovable rogue”, between “good” and “bad.”

Inara: a  ‘companion’ with a heart of gold…

The female archetype that comes closest to the “lovable rogue” is the “whore with the heart of gold”, with contenders such as Gaie Sebold’s Babylon Steel, along with Elizabeth Bear’s Karen Memory, who is definitely a whore, and something of a rogue, and I think her heart’s in the right place, so I feel *probably* fits the archetype.

Spring Rain, in Guy Gavriel Kay’s Under Heaven, however, is a courtesan and has a good heart, but is not a rogue—which is pretty much true of Inara in Firefly, as well.

So as you can see, there’s plenty of scope to come up with more examples in the comments, both of female “lovable rogues”, and “whores with hearts of gold.” If I’ve considered them but feel they don’t fit, we may even have a conversation. 😉

And As For My Own Books…

In this Having Fun post series, I always end with a quick look at my own books, so I won’t break tradition. 🙂

Although there are no prominent lovable rogues in Thornspell, Sigismund’s acquaintance-cum-friend, Ban, skirts this territory among the secondary characters. So, too, do the horse-copers, Fulk and Rafe.

The minstrel, Haimyr, presents as an archetypal lovable rogue in The Heir of Night, and several sidekick characters in The Gathering of the Lost also overlap the lovable rogue, chiefly Raher and —of course!— the hedge knight, Raven.

I did, briefly, consider Malian herself, because of her Shadow Band training and facility for illusion and disguise, but although she can be both “dark and light”, Malian is far too steadfast in her duty to ever qualify as a rogue, lovable or otherwise.

The guard, Dab, may have some of the lovable, enfant terrible characteristics in Daughter of Blood, but he’s definitely not a rogue. And although he’s a broth-of-a-boy, Mercutio style, neither is Tirael of Stars. The only character I believe really qualifies as “lovable rogue” in Daughter is the Sword warrior, Kelyr. Unless, of course, I count the warhorse, Madder—but “lovable and/or faithful animal companion” is another archetype and therefore another post. 😀

Conclusion:

For today, I’ll leave you with a recap of my thoughts on Master Shoka, from CJ Cherryh’s The Paladin:

“The character of Shoka … is a patchwork  of experience and disillusion, self interest, guile, and reluctant integrity, that is perhaps best ‘caught’ by a companion’s summation toward the end of the book: “It was him, in all that glitter. Same eyes, same mouth. Same conniving scoundrel.” “

—

Previous Entries In The ‘Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes” Series:

Introduction: Having Fun With Epic Fantasy—Meet the Tropes

Instalment 1: Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes: A Farm Boy/Gal Goes On A Journey…

Instalment  2: A Prince/Princess Finds A Destiny

Instalment 3: Dreams and Portents, Prophecy and Destiny

Instalment 4: “Apocalypse Now”

Instalment 5: Meet The Big Bad

Instalment 6: The Sweep Of Time & Its Twin, War Without End

Instalment 7: Fortunately There was A Portal

Instalment 8: We’re All Going On A MacGuffin Hunt

Instalment 9: Artefacts of Power—And Doom—And Where To Find Them

Instalment 10: The Alchemy Of Numbers

Instalment 11: The Mentor

Instalment 4: The Sidekick

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On SF Signal: The “Having Fun With Epic Fantasy” Series

1. “Making the Grand Tour” (aka the Road Journey);

2. .”The “Band of Brothers”; and the

3. . “Soul-Sucking Sword.”

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© Helen Lowe