Okay babes, let's do it, analysis post for Gideon the Ninth. For those who don't know, this post is part of my Sapphic Book Bingo series, and it's not so much about the book itself as it is about me figuring out what kind of inspiration I can take from the book when coming up with my own stories. A seperate post contains my (spoiler-free) review of the book, if that's what you're looking for. (GtN also managed to inspire an additional post from me reflecting on the strengths of speculative fiction.)
That said, the remainder of this post contains SPOILERS for Gideon the Ninth.
Romance?
Ordinarily I'd start off with what we can learn from the book in regards to romance, but... as I said in my review, I don't see GtN as a romance. But I guess I can go into a few more details on that.
If there is a romance, ostensibly it's between Gideon and Harrow. Again, I do think they have a "sisters-in-arms" relationship by the end of the book, and I do also think that part of a romance means working together with your partner to face life's challenges together. But there's an additional aspect of emotionality to romance that I don't think Gideon and Harrow have.
First off, Harrow's already spent her entire life up to that point enslaving, abusing, and all-in-all hating Gideon, so already I feel like a romance should be completely out of the picture for that reason alone. Granted, Harrow herself has lived a not-great life, and she comes to regret her actions, but if this were a relationship in real life that still wouldn't be enough for me to give my blessing for a romance.
But for the sake of argument, sure, let's be incredibly charitable and say Harrow can potentially turn over a new leaf in the span of a few weeks. In this case, what is the nature of her emotional connection to Gideon?
Harrow is not a sentimental person. From the start, her goal seems to be to pursue as much power as possible. We eventually learn that her motivations for this aren't just an internal craving for power, and more out of a sense of justifying her own guilt-ridden existence, plus also potentially not having any other options for survival in a shitty universe like this one. But this doesn't change the fact that power is still her main motivation, and she grows closer to Gideon only as a result of Gideon being willing to work together with her to help her achieve that power.
Does she have any personal connections to Gideon other than that? Well, they're the only two people of similar age on their home planet, due to the rest of that generation being wiped out for the sake of bringing Harrow into being. They both share that traumatic environment, and they both go through traumatic events together. I feel that Harrow's resulting hatred and abuse of Gideon, itself, becomes fuel for a kind of personal fascination with Gideon that eventually becomes construed as a kind of affection in itself--but again, this is a fundamentally toxic connection, and I cannot in good conscience call it a genuinely romantic connection.
So what about Gideon's feelings towards Harrow? Well, I think some of that same hatred-fueled fascination ties into it, but I don't think it's just that.
Although it seems like Gideon's primary motivation from day one is just to earn her own freedom, I think it's worth noting that we never really get to see what she would have done with that freedom, had she ever actually achieved it. However, towards the end of the book, I think there are more and more hints that all Gideon ever really wanted to do with herself was protect other people (and to do so through battle).
Although Gideon initially resents Harrow for preventing her from having the freedom to do this, I don't think this fact ever meant that Gideon didn't also want to protect Harrow, too. In some sense, I think Gideon resented Harrow for not trusting Gideon to protect her, and as that particular aspect of their relationship quickly changes in response to the challenges they face in the First House, Gideon feels a wave of gratitude towards Harrow for finally respecting Gideon's agency on some level and trusting her to do what's best for both of them with that agency. (Though the intensity of this change, remember, is because originally Harrow was not only refusing and withholding that level of trust, but rubbing it in Gideon's face that she didn't have it.)
There's also the fact that Gideon was always the only one in a position to really be able to protect and support Harrow, even though Harrow never accepted that help before now. If Gideon's main goal is to be a protector, Harrow is the most appropriate one for her to protect, and so of course Gideon would feel like they have a special emotional connection for that reason, never mind how Harrow actually feels about her or treats her.
But this connection isn't romantic in and of itself, either. It is simply a means of Gideon fulfilling her life's purpose as defined by her. Two lovers can protect each other, sure; but similarly, a parent can take charge of protecting a baby, and that can create a strong connection between the two of them, but that doesn't mean it's the same kind of relationship.
I think Harrow and Gideon have a strong connection to each other by the end, and in particular I think Gideon is grateful for Harrow allowing Gideon the chance to be who she always wanted to be before she ultimately died, and I think Harrow feels all sorts of strong but complicated feelings towards Gideon for this and for everything the two of them have already been through together. But due to everything else about the context of the relationship the two of them share, no, I don't think any of this is romantic.
...Still, it's worth acknowledging that others see it as a romance, and it's worth examining what elements the relationship shares with a romance. We've even talked about some of them before: They prioritize each other over other people, they're vulnerable with each other, and of course they protect each other. With so many core elements of a romance matching their relationship, what is the main thing missing for me?
Well, a big part of what's missing for me is that I really don't think Harrow actually cares about Gideon, or if she does, she has not yet figured out any proper ways to express it. She protects Gideon, yes, but again I think it's because she needs Gideon in order to gain power for herself. She even tends to imply as such, herself, when she provides her own explanations for it.
Since it's a fictional story, it's easy for the reader to want the protagonist to Get The Girl, and it's easy to want to read things in such a way that it is assumed that the girl loves her back, even if said girl doesn't actually show it. But personally, that's not enough for me. If two people care about each other, I see no reason why they shouldn't openly show it, and if they care about each other, I think they should prioritize showing it so that there's no question or ambiguity about the nature of their relationship. So that they don't have to worry and wonder about each other's real motivations. So that they're not putting each other in a position to be manipulated.
It's fiction, so I don't blame people who see it as a romance. It's easy to just mentally shove all the problematic stuff into the background and project something new into it that isn't outright stated not to exist. But I want to use stories as a framework for how to build healthier relationships in real life, so I'm aiming for something different.
The role of environment in shaping values
Of course, it makes sense that someone like Harrow would be so obsessed with power, since she lives in a world where, if she doesn't care about power, she dies.
Harrow herself was born from a war crime, because her parents feared that their world would die out if they didn't commit one. The degree to which Harrow uses manipulation and hidden agendas to control Gideon creates an image for what it is Harrow has to do to survive, as what is effectively magic royalty, among other members of magic royalty.
Power in the Nine Houses is drawn from necromancy; in other words, their culture is fundamentally powered by misery and death. And those who are willing to make the most of this power become immortal, so competition is fierce and stakes are high.
In looking at this world and how it operates, I couldn't help but wonder how much of it was meant to parallel our own world, and how much those in power derive that power from the misery of others.
And because of our world's obsession with power, we get a lot of stories like this that are focused primarily on how characters garner and wield power for themselves. It can be fun to read about characters who are skilled in the usage of their power. It can feel empowering to read about characters making good and clever uses of their power. GtN definitely leans into that kind of appeal.
What bothers me about it is that including a focus on power is antithetical to including a focus on emotional connections or vulnerability. When characters focus on building their power over dealing with the complexities of supporting and caring for others, it might be fun and interesting, but it's often at the cost of becoming less sympathetic, at least in my experience.
I feel like GtN highlights one particularly notable kind of example when it comes to Gideon forming relationships with the other visitors to the Ninth House. Dulcinea is kind to Gideon, and Gideon is attracted to her, but due to all her experiences and what's generally expected of the universe she lives in, Gideon can't help but wonder if Dulcinea's kindness is just part of some manipulation tactic. (And it eventually turns out, chances are pretty high that it was!) That sucks. You can't really form a bond with someone, fictional or otherwise, as long as that fear is lingering in the back of your mind.
And when the environment is so focused on power, it suppresses acts of kindness that would otherwise exist. As I mentioned, I think Gideon's desire was perhaps always to fight to protect others, but because of the environment in which she was raised, she never really got an opportunity to act on that desire or even express it. So instead, we get a much more prominent image of Gideon as a rough, irreverant rule-breaker who's sarcastic and aloof to everyone she sees, since that's the only part of herself that she's able to do anything with.
But this is still a universe that focuses on power, and so this is a story that focuses on power, and so this is a story that leans into the idea that, in spite of its flaws, power is still ultimately a cool thing. It's cool when Gideon can let loose and start cracking skulls. It's cool when Harrow unleashes her full power and shows everything that necromancy can do. Bathing in the glow of this coolness is a brief reprieve from dealing with the misery that is caused by such exercises of power, and for me, that is the ultimate irony inherent to this very kind of story.
And the coolness itself isn't enough to make up for the misery, so like Gideon, the story has to find other ways to deal with it. Mainly by commenting on everything bad through the use of sarcasm and snark. This includes using sarcasm and snark to belittle the people who don't want to deal with this power-obsessed universe, like Ortus and his mother. And ultimately, once the First House starts falling apart under the weight of everything that it's created, that, too, feels like its own kind of reprieve... But I have to wonder, how much of that is because this particular locale of pain is ending, and how much of it is because the destruction itself is a spectacle of power?
I don't want to ignore the role that power plays in our universe, or in any fictional worlds that our limited human imaginations are capable of creating. But if I write about environments where power serves a prominent role, I'd rather my stories be about how the characters in those environments learn to escape those environments, or at least learn how to let themselves be genuine and vulnerable in spite of those environments. (In fact, a story where a protagonist first learns to thrive in this powerful environment, and then has to learn to be vulnerable instead... I think that could be a very interesting story.)
Mystery stuff
I'm still waiting for a book that really delves into mystery stuff in ways that actually engage and intrigue me throughout the story, so that I can take notes along the way and really learn from it. This book didn't really fulfill that for me, but I tried to pick up some scraps from it anyway.
- Part of what makes a mystery interesting is when the characters themselves discuss all the potential explanations for the weird stuff that's going on, and the answers are completely different from each other. Like, the reader is going to come up with possibilities themselves, but the characters can help justify and develop that train of thought.
- That said, if the characters don't actually have enough information to base their theories off of, the theories can end up feeling like aimless guessing rather than narrowing any possibilities.
- That said, it can help to develop characters by showing what kinds of conclusions they're inclined to jump to even when they don't have enough information. Furthermore, in a mystery where part of the mystery is not knowing who to trust, characters can further complicate the mystery by making it clear that they're working towards different ends than the other characters, adding extra variables and potential red herrings to the equation.
- One particular moment in the book that I liked: At one point, human ashes are discovered in an incinerator. Since there is only one character missing, the others conclude that the ashes must belong to that character--confirming that they are on the right track about understanding current circumstances. However, they soon realize that not only are the ashes months old, but they belong to two different people. I like this kind of turnaround--a new piece of evidence seems to confirm the most likely theory, but then learning more about that same evidence shows that the situation is completely different from what anyone assumed it could've been. (Where is the missing character, if not here? Who is this extra character, or two extra characters, when there isn't supposed to be anyone else here, and no deaths or missing people were recorded in the past few months?)
- One thing I thought would've been neat (though I didn't see much of it in the book itself) was if the characters encountered multiple weird things that didn't have any immediate explanations, which would lead the reader (if no one else) to try to find some kind of pattern between the different weird things that happened in order to try to find some kind of explanation for it (even though there still exists the possibility that some of them are red herrings, or at least result from two or more disconnected events).
- Though I love a good mystery, I also have a lot of appreciation for a character (and therefore, the story the character is in) that points out that there are some things that take priority over a mystery. (In this case, Gideon; there reaches a point where she doesn't care about solving puzzles or finding new info, she just wants to make sure everyone stays safe.)
Miscellaneous stuff
- When the setting of the First House is being described, it's described as "beautiful", but it's also described as "painful" to look at, due to its sheer ostentatiousness. I like the anti-wealth vibes of that. I also like the implications inherent in the fact that, though it was designed to be beautiful, it has aged and fallen apart all the same; big Ozymandias vibes.
- I'm really not a fan of action and fighting scenes, but I am a fan of creative personal expression, and I like how fighting is viewed as an art form from Gideon's perspective. Gideon knows fighting well enough that, when she's in melee with others, she can read facts of their personality and priorities in how they fight that she doesn't necessarily pick up on when observing them in other contexts. I like how this emphasizes that different people view the world through different lenses, as well, and are much more adept at picking up on contextual subtleties through anything that they're personally skilled at.
- I don't like that the characters and setting were 100% fucked up, but I do appreciate a fucked-up character all the same, and I like how gradually each character is revealed to be fucked-up--over time, in layers. (Harrow especially, though we get most of her essential fucked-up-ness out of the way relatively quickly, in the first few chapters.)
Also, there's a couple of quotes from Dulcinea--well, Cytherea--that I feel take on poignancy in a setting as miserable as this one:
Maybe it's that I find the idea comforting... that thousands of years after you're gone... is when you really live. That your echo is louder than your voice.
And:
Once somebody dies, their spirit's free forever, even if we snatch at it or try to stopper it or use the energy it creates. [...] Gideon, don't be sorry for the dead. I think death must be an absolute triumph.
For all that I don't like focusing on misery for misery's sake, I can't help but think that there are so many people in this world who never get a chance to do the things they want to do, and never get a chance to escape from the miserable circumstances that they live in. And I wonder what value life actually holds for them on their terms, if they can't manage to find any on their own, through no fault of their own.
I want to think their lives are meaningful anyway, even in the cases where they never get a chance to see it for themselves. I want to understand what can serve as a solace and comfort to them, if life itself isn't that, and will never be that for them.
Quotes like these sort of point towards that for me. I wonder if it's something Tamsyn Muir thinks about, too. After all, it's basically what Gideon's story ends up being about.
How I would've written it differently
Well, I feel like I went over a lot of these thoughts already in the section on how environment shapes values. If I were to write a story in a setting as focused on power as this one, I would want it to be how the characters in that setting learn how to be vulnerable and form connections with each other in spite of that focus on power.
If I wrote a piece of speculative fiction, with the focus on world-building over everything else, I'd make a world that's appealing to me, with lots of color and variety and cuteness and an emphasis on love. It wouldn't be this dreary world of gray and brown and black and death and skeletons. (Still plenty of lesbians to go around, though.)
If I had to write a story about going to the emperor's house to undergo trials to learn how to do death better, I would've done more to tap into the tension and anxiety of it all by focusing more on the mystery aspects. Really make the characters get nervous and question everything that's happening before any of them start obviously dying--and maybe make it unclear whether they're even dying, or just going missing.
But, you know. I can focus on any number of individual aspects that I would've done differently--and I already have--but ultimately, really, this is just another case of a story that I just wouldn't have done in the first place.
And, you know, respect. To someone whose creativity leads them in different directions from me. But it's time for me to move on.