I would not wish this fate on my worst enemy.
Oh, yeah. I can use this .gif again.
So. Where were we?
Right. Asher is screaming in agony.
Belle Morte is draining Asher of his life. Luckily Micah is there to break her hold over Asher. Unfortunately, Micah kisses Belle, and we are plunged into the universe of Arduer.
(Not incidentally: I have discovered AWOLNation. VNV Nation now has something like competition.)
(Also: I am intoxicated. It seemed appropriate.)
JC jumps to Asher's defense.
I'm going to address something that has bugged me from the start of this series. If you are white, and you live in the states, the initials JC are indicitive of something very specific. Specificially, you are invoking Jesus imagry in your novel. And I must state here and forever, Jean Claude makes for a piss-poor Jesus.
Anyhoo, Anita realizes that JC has no life to sacrifice to save Asher's life, and she realizes that she must do something to save Asher for JC's sake.
Yep. Anita Blake is officially a stand-in for Jesus Christ. We really are at that point, boys and girls. We have reached that level of Mary Sue.
Speaking of which, I am really sad that I have consumed all my beer. This means all I have left is my 40 dollar bottle of St. Germaine and I am not consuming that tonight, thank you very much.
Oh yeah, and this is the point where Anita's cross flares to life. Just in case you think I'm exaggerating on the blatant Christian imagry.
Angelito takes the cross away from Anita, thus exposing her mind to Belle Morte. Now, if I were writing this novel, this would be the point where the main character would start screaming "May I have a crusifix level with my eyes?" and when that fails, would start meditating on the meaning of the cross, and would do other things that would basically mean "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BRAIN YOU RAPIST FEMALE MONSTER."
What does Anita do?
She basically buries herself in sexual arousal. Because, you know, all this is an excuse for a prude to have sex, and not, you know, actual consensual sexing.
Also, this happens.
I felt movement and rolled my eyes back to see Richard. Belle saw him, too, “Interfere, and I will raise the ardeur in you again, wolf. You brought no women with you. Did you think that would save you? It won’t. The ardeur only wants to be fed, wolf, it doesn’t care how.”
Or to clean it up for you, we're threatening a rape victim with yet more rape.
...I'm now willing to research sealant methods. So we can put this part inside the toilet bowl.
So Anita's mind is consumed by the thought of Asher, and of course it's Richard that comes to her rescue.
You know, a major plot point in Exiles is that the Main Character, Casey, cannot get over her ex. I'm doing that on purpose. Because not being able to tell an abusive ex to get fucked is textbook codependancy, and Casey isn't ready to admit this, yet. (In short: DO NOT TREAT MY MAIN CHARACTERS AS YOUR ROLE MODELS, THEY ARE NOT HEALTHY AND I KNOW THIS)
Richard, on the other hand, should be ready to let his rapist ex fall flat on her face. OH, RIGHT, THE NARRATIVE FOCUSES ON ANITA.
Falling flat on your face to manipulate your abused lover into rescuing you is par for the course when you are an abusive waste of skin. Continue on.
(I will buy Anita as a good character when she starts working some form of 12 step program. From Jail. Because she is a rapist).
(PS. Anybody who thinks women can't be rapists needs to google Sandra Cantu. Not Melissa Hucklebee, because she's the rapist piece of shit that killed an eight year old. Sandra Cantu. Google it, my lovelies.)
Oh, and the wereheyenas are here, somehow. And they start shooting into the crowd. Because...uh. Yeah. I've got nothing. Bobby Lee orders everybody to put their guns down. Then this happens:
I finally could think enough to remember that Jean-Claude might be fighting for his life.
NO. REALLY. YOU THINK?
Seriously? Let him die. He's about as bad as you are. Let's let Richard take everything over. At least he wouldn't make Rape his first recourse in a power play.
\
Yeah. JC is fine, BTW.
So...uh...things...happen? (...maybe four beers were too many) until Belle finally cries "Enough" and everybody backs down. Jean Claude is now apparently the source of his own blood line now, which means Belle and her people need to get the fuck out of St. Louie.
The chapter ends with the declaration that Asher is dying.
I need another beer.
Somehow I doubt this chapter would have been any more coherent even with less beer. *sigh*
ReplyDeleteCredit where credit is due, LKH took several loose threads (Tropes, memes, themes, call them what you will) and wove them together into the new genre of urban fantasy. And when she puts the effort into it she really can write. The problem for her is that there have been a lot of new entries into the field of urban fantasy, with several excellent authors handling the genre better than LKH ever did. And in a lot of cases they deal with the material in far less rapey and grossly sexist ways than LKH can. If she wants to match them then she needs to up her game.
I think part of the issue is, she's systematically jettisoned anybody with the power and/or spine to tell her "this might be a bad idea". She's created an opinion pocket around herself where all the opinions are "LKH is awesome" and any naysayers are immediately put down by the other members of the pocket.
Delete(which, BTW, is why I'm tolerating the shitstorm on the other page. I want to avoid growing a pocket.)
Basically, LKH is the Urban Fantasy world's George Lucas. He was at his best when he had an entire team of people telling him what wouldn't work. When he got rid of those people, we got Jar Jar Binks. When Anita got rid of her team, we wound up with Micah.
This comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteYeah, that's a good way of looking at it. LKH has built herself a little echo chamber where things like 'noncon = true love' and 'Dear Negative Reader' make sense.
Delete(And avoiding that is a good idea, so I'll try to be less snarly towards Various Anonymous Types in the future.)
Well, now I have the image stuck in my head of Jar Jar Binks with ankle-length hair and a gigantic dick. Thanks ever so for that.
(Edited to fix dumb grammer mistake.)