Ace Book Review: "Belle Revolte" by Linsey Miller
Too often, stories set in other worlds go to great lengths to
create new countries, unique magic systems, and even entire languages, but the
people who populate these worlds are often bogged down by real world
limitations in defining gender, race, or sexuality. For as extraordinary as
everything else in the world is, therefore, the social dynamics tend to feel
very recognizable, and often not in a good way. Whenever anyone expresses hope
that these worlds can be used to explore new territory, realism is often cited.
Other times, it is deemed too difficult to express these concepts, because they
would not have been expressed in the historical settings many fantasy settings
are modeled on. But every now and then, a fantasy world will come along that
challenges those usual expectations. I am constantly in search of worlds that
will do this for aspec people, and if you are too, the 2020 novel Belle
Revolte by Linsey Miller may be a story for you.
Belle Revolte follows the parallel stories of Emilie
and Annette, two young magic-wielders living in Demeine, a fantasy realm with the
feeling of 18th century France. Magic in Demeine is separated into
two distinct branches – the noonday arts and the midnight arts, the former used
primarily for healing or fighting, the latter used to create illusions, scry,
or divine the future. It’s a unique magic system, at least in my experience,
because even those who can control it and are skilled in it can be worn down or
destroyed by it. As a result, the nobles of Demeine consider the noonday arts
too dangerous for noble women to study. However, Emilie des Marais, the first
of the novel’s two protagonists, longs only to use her inherent gift for the
noonday arts to become a physician, even as her mother forbids it. When the
book opens, in fact, we see Emilie is being forced to attend an academy for the
midnight arts. During the journey, desperate to escape the life that has been planned for her, she
hatches a plan when she meets a girl who resembles her. This girl is Annette Boucher, the novel’s second
protagonist. In contrast to the noble Emilie who longs to study the noonday
arts, Annette is a commoner gifted in the midnight arts who wishes she could
study her craft but is constantly pushed aside by her family. So when Emilie
offers her the chance to switch places with her, Annette accepts at once. She
takes Emilie’s place at the school for midnight arts, using her name, money,
and even clothes to try and fit in with the other girls there, while Emilie
flees, pretending to be a commoner so she can study at the medical school.
But beyond just the drama of the duo’s dangerous plan, there
is greater drama unfolding on a national scale, because the noble magic-wielders
of Demeine have a dark secret. Noble magical artists employ common magic-wielders
called hacks so that, by channeling their magic through another person, the
noble artist doesn’t suffer the corruption magic can bring. Rather, the hack
does, essentially meaning the lower class of magic-wielders are used until
magic breaks down their bodies and they die young, all while the nobility lives on.
When the novel opens, Demeine’s king is facing opposition from a mysterious group
known as Laurel, which endeavors to sow dissent against these practices and
encourages the lower class to rise up. Eventually, as things come to a head,
the government of Demeine decides to wage war on the neighboring country in an
attempt to rout out Laurel and crush all talk of rebellion for good. Through
circumstances and their own choices, both Emilie and Annette find themselves
thrown into the middle of this conflict as they try to stop the war before it can truly start.
Right off the bat, this novel is full of intriguing
worldbuilding and an overall engaging plot. Even from the first few pages, the story
reminded me of two of my favorite fantasy works – the film Howl’s Moving Castle
and the video games series Dragon Age – and the day/night schism used
for the world’s magic system appeals to me deeply. Additionally, the novel
itself is extremely diverse, featuring people of color, non-binary characters,
transgender characters, and many others. However, there is a lot going on in
this story, with both of the main characters having their own unique set of
friends, mentors, love interests, and antagonists, and their respective plots
are likewise full of their own distinct family drama, personal struggles and
triumphs, and tragedies. At times, the sheer amount of all that is happening both
to and around Emilie and Annette can be overwhelming.
Additionally, the fact that the novel has two protagonists
offers an interesting situation I haven’t experienced yet when reviewing ace
books for the blog – I found myself wondering which of these two young women
would be aspec. When I read these books, I tend to go in knowing nothing but
that these books have been recommended on the internet as books with aspec characters, but often the books feature only one main character, so I know
right away who it is. Not so here. However, even from the earliest parts of the
book, both Emilie and Annette’s struggles feel familiar from an aspec
perspective. Both girls discuss feeling like they are “wrong” for the world in
which they live; Emilie even uses the phrase “I feel broken,” telling
Annette, “the world tells me I should want these things, but I don’t.” Although
she is specifically referring to her noble birth and the promise of studying
the midnight arts, this theme of wanting things opposite from what the world
says you should want and feeling broken or wrong because of it is very familiar
from an aspec perspective. I love that the book allows aspec vibes to permeate things
in such a way that makes it seem plausible that both characters could be on the
asexual or aromantic spectrum. As the story unfolds, it becomes clear that – spoiler alert!
– the explicitly ace character is Annette, a fact which did not surprise me. In
fact, Annette’s entire journey feels perfectly reflective of that fact.
In my previous post, which was all about writing relatable aspec characters, I briefly touched on the ways to write aspec characters even in
stories set in different worlds. This book provides excellent examples of that,
both in terms of the aspec moments, and the moments of visibility for the other
groups/character I mentioned earlier. In Annette’s case, although it takes over
230 pages to get to her asexuality being explored in depth, the build-up is
well done and multi-faceted, especially because the story is told in first
person. Right from the start, one of Annette’s early lines hit me, when she
states, “magic was the only thing that wanted me,” reflecting on her life going
unseen and unnoticed by everyone, even her own family. In an early chapter, she
likewise states that she never finds people attractive per se, but is able to
appreciate their beauty as though looking at a painting.
Although those two early moments are some of the clearest we
get for a long while, there are plenty of other moments throughout the novel
where Annette feels like she doesn’t belong in the world or is too different
from everyone and everything else around her. Even the mere fact that she and
Emilie switch places, thus putting her somewhere she is unprepared to be, has
interesting layers when analyzed through an aspec lens. Additionally, something
the book manages to do well is create a world that feels safe for aspec readers
while nevertheless showing the struggles faced by aspec people within the world,
and indeed all the characters in general. We are shown very clearly that there
are numerous instances where Demeine pushes aside the people it doesn’t need or
want – for instance, one of the girls at Annette’s school is deaf in one ear
and mentions the challenges of learning to live in a world that isn’t designed
for her. Through both Annette and Emilie, we see that the world is unaccepting
of their true wants and personalities, and that it is incumbent on them to make
their own destiny. But for Annette in particular, we see this even more clearly.
[Spoiler alert for Annette’s romance] When Annette finally
begins discussing her asexuality with her love interest Yvonne, the
conversation marks her very clearly as a biromantic asexual without ever using
those terms, but nevertheless communicates the concepts extremely well. She
first tells Yvonne that she doesn’t react the way most people do to things that
are beautiful, and in her own personal narration she notes the way people
unnecessarily conflate sex and romance. In this same chapter, when talking to
one of her friends, she discusses specifically that she does not feel sexual
attraction. Despite not having terms like “aspec,” “asexual,” or “asexual
spectrum” to use, she is nevertheless able to communicate not just her
asexuality, but the friction it has caused with people in her life and how she
views herself and the world because of it. This is accomplished through a
metaphor I found really effective: she mentions that she feels as though one
day she missed a lesson and arrived back in class to find everyone else knows
something she doesn’t. She specifically clarifies that it’s not like a part of
her is missing, just that she doesn’t understand things the way everyone else
does. In general, she describes what it feels like to want things, but not in
the same way other people want things, a description which I find incredibly relatable.
A few chapters later, she goes into more detail and comes out
to Yvonne more clearly. While the scene does feel a tad rushed, it also manages
to feel very natural. I like that Annette makes it clear she cannot move
forward in a relationship unless her partner knows this very important element
of her personality, especially because there are many instances in her life
where her asexuality has been ignored and disrespected. She mentions past
circumstances in which she wanted romance, but encountered the reality that many
people didn’t mean the same things she did when it came to the concept (as
mentioned before) – specifically, a previous romance where a boy she was
interested in treated romance as just a prelude to sex and said she owed him
sex because of their romantic interactions. She also reflects on the ways in
which her mother was not supportive of her asexuality and tried to convince her
that she will learn to like sex eventually, all of which contributed to the
earlier alienation Annette felt with her own family.
By contrast, Yvonne is extremely accepting, and she assures
Annette that they can define the parameters of their relationship without
having sex be a part of the equation at all. “We are our own and we will define
what our love is,” she promises; although we don’t get to see much of their
relationship, we are left to feel like she means it and that their relationship
develops accordingly. Thus, although Annette’s asexuality is not a main focus
of the novel and her romance plot is only one slice of the overall events, it
is nevertheless important to her character and her journey. I think anyone who
wants to write an aspec character but is doing so in a setting where they might
not be able to use terminology could very easily draw inspiration from Annette’s
characterization, as it allows for visibility and allows her to be who she is
even amid the backdrop of a more sweeping plot.
In that vein, however, I do want to talk about the ending of
the book briefly, so if you don’t want the ending spoiled for you, jump down to
the bottom of this post to read the last few paragraphs of my review, which include
some content warnings and final thoughts.
SPOILER ALERT!
To be quite honest, I’m not sure how I feel about the end of this book, and I’m sort of processing it through in real time. Although Emilie, Annette, and their allies are instrumental in helping overthrow Demeine’s corrupt king and halt the war, both girls sacrifice so much of themselves and their own power that they lose their magical abilities entirely. I am so divided about this because, while part of me loves the idea of it as a powerful expression of loss and self-sacrifice, part of me feels a little disquieted at the notion of the two protagonists losing such an inherent part of themselves. Indeed, that is how they themselves describe it in their respective epilogues. Thinking of these two young women who felt accepted only by their magic now facing a life without it gives me chills. However, I think that’s the point.
Emilie and Annette have both survived a war, and, although this loss of their magical skill is not as visible as losing a limb might be, I think it essentially serves the same function. It is hard to reconcile, however, when so much of the things that gave me aspec vibes (apart from the actual clear indications of Annette’s asexuality, of course) were things related to their magic. This is especially true for Emilie. Although the narrative never claims Emilie is aspec and she does eventually end up in a relationship with another character, there are several moments in the book that nevertheless make me feel like she could be somewhere on the spectrum (demisexual and/or demiromantic, perhaps, or something close to it). Most of these moments are also bound up with moments related to her magic. For instance, there is a scene when Emilie is confronted by her mother and her narration very powerfully notes “she did not understand me. She did not need to.”
I too have had to reconcile the fact that there are
some people who will probably never truly understand me and have had to learn the
same lesson that they do not need to understand me, so I feel myself relating to
this sentiment wholly. In Emilie’s case, this moment is not about her magic
exclusively – it is also about her motivations, her personality, her actions,
etc. – but her magic is a big part of it, since having her magic
overlooked and her desires pushed aside is used as a strong metaphor throughout
the novel (think back to early on when Emilie says she feels broken in a world
that expects her to do and want other things). In general, one of the main
themes of the novel is being underestimated by people, and becoming more than
this disregard. Both Annette and Emilie go through similar struggles throughout
the book, affirming their worth and rising above the ways their society limits
them. In fact, their magical talents match these desires – Emilie wants to prove
herself, and her work with the healing branch of the noonday arts matches that,
while Annette’s desire to be seen pairs interestingly with her skill in the
midnight arts, a branch of magic used for observing the world.
Obviously magic is not the only thing that makes the girls
who they are. Their pasts, their personalities, the circumstances of their
lives, etc. are all extremely important parts of making them good and
interesting characters. For instance, Emilie’s struggles with feeling alienated
are largely about magic, but also about feeling stifled and misunderstood in other
ways as well, and Annette’s discontent with her family stems as much from her
asexuality and other things in her past as it does her resentment in having her
skills ignored and dismissed. But it's magic that makes them feel known. I suppose in a
way, all the relationships both girls form in the novel – with their love
interests, with their mentors/friends, and with each other – mean they are no
longer alone with just their magic to understand them. They have now found
understanding and acceptance from others too. And the final line of the novel,
in which they both affirm they are enough, implies they have found self-acceptance
as well. They are both even able to continue the things they wanted or were
good at previously, with Emilie continuing to study surgery and Annette taking
up accounting. But they both feel the ache of no longer having magic as a part
of their lives.
As I said, I am still processing this ending in real time
even now. I look at Emilie and Annette’s magic and see it as a stand-in for the
ways non-sexual and non-romantic people can feel alienated in a world that
doesn’t accept them. But perhaps I should be looking at their loss of magic as
being indicative of that struggle too. Rather than equate the magic with aspec identities
and feel uncomfortable at the idea of this magic vanishing, perhaps I should look at
the ways they have to cope with this loss as being indicative of the ways aspec
people have to cope with how their lives change when they embrace their identity.
Either way, whatever the interpretation, it is an interesting look at the cost
of war and what our two protagonists sacrificed to create a better world. And
it encourages us to think about how we can adapt and survive even when we lose
people, things, and sometimes parts of ourselves – all of which can be very
valuable lessons.
END OF SPOILERS
At the end of the day, I enjoyed this book. It has a lot of
layers and a lot going on, which can sometimes bog it down a little, but its
exploration of relationships of all kinds and how people fit into the world
make it a worthwhile read for aspec people and for anyone. I do advise a bit of
caution, however. The magic used in this book is brutal, often leading to a
great deal of blood and injury to wielder and bystander alike. There are more
than a few character deaths, and other gory or unpleasant descriptions of injuries.
I myself am incredibly squeamish, but was able to make it through the majority
of these scenes all right nevertheless; even so, keep these elements in mind if
blood, body horror, gore, death, etc. are major squicks for you.
Overall, Belle Revolte is an action-packed novel that
encourages you to keep reading, and serves as great proof that you can have aspec
characters – and indeed characters of varied genders, races, and sexualities –
even within a fantasy setting. It demonstrates how a character’s identity can
be woven into the fabric of who they are and what they do, even if the main
focus of the story is something that goes beyond just that, and how even
non-aspec characters can contribute to a world that is overall aspec positive. And
perhaps most key of all, it is a story that explores love, loss, power, and
fighting for what’s right that carries a very clear and affirming message, from
the author’s dedication to the last line: you are enough.
Comments
Post a Comment