Ace Book Review: "Belle Revolte" by Linsey Miller

"They're going to underestimate me, and I'm going to teach them not to do it again."


In a previous book review post, I mentioned that I have spent my whole life looking for myself in science fiction novels. As a lover of the genre, I find myself constantly pulled into fantastic worlds of futuristic technology or amazing otherworldly individuals, but also constantly disappointed at the narrow ways these worlds are defined. The same goes for my other favorite genre, fantasy. I have loved fantasy stories since my childhood, delighting in magic and magical creatures and stories of fantastic voyages. But the older I’ve gotten, and the further I’ve gotten in my own voyage (my aspec voyage), I find myself wondering how magic can exist in these fantasy realms, but not aromantic and/or asexual people.

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.

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