Ace Book Review: "Fire Becomes Her" by Rosiee Thor

“You don’t have to fall in love in order to love. You don’t have to fall in love to be loved. Nowhere is it written in stone that you must love in only one way… love isn’t just one thing.”

I think we all have one thing we’re drawn to that is somewhat inexplicable to us. For me, that thing is my love of all things related to the 1920’s as an aesthetic and a vibe. Whether it’s music, clothes, or art deco style design, I get excited whenever I see things that make use of this very iconic period of history – which is actually somewhat amusing to me, since it’s not actually a time period of history I enjoy studying or know much about. It’s just that the aesthetic of this time period manages to have such a strong hold on my imagination that I love being immersed in it.

Last year, I reviewed a book by author Rosiee Thor called Tarnished Are the Stars, and during my reading and reviewing, I discovered the author has another novel called Fire Becomes Her. This novel is entrenched heavily in a 1920’s aesthetic combined with magic, so you know I absolutely jumped at the chance to read it. The story takes place in the magical world of Candesce, a country where magical power is channeled and strengthened through a substance known as flare. Flare can be used for everything from the essentials – heating one’s home, for instance – to the luxurious… and it can especially be turned to violence if abused. But above all, it’s hoarded as a method for gaining power, wealth, and influence.

The main character of the story is a girl named Ingrid Ellis, who doesn’t have any of these things. In fact, her father went to prison when she was a child precisely because he tried to steal flare to support his impoverished family. But things are different now, and when the novel opens, Ingrid is the soon-to-be fiancé of the young Linden Holt, son of a noted senator. If Ingrid can marry Linden, she will have all the things she ever dreamed of, but Senator Holt doesn’t approve of her, and it seems like he never will. So Ingrid offers to become part of Senator Holt’s upcoming presidential campaign as a spy, spying on his rival – the elegant singer-turned-presidential-hopeful Gwendolyn Meyers – by pretending to join her campaign.

Right off the bat, I do have a confession to make – admittedly and rather sadly, given how excited I was for the worldbuilding and aesthetic the story seemed to promise, the plot of this book wasn’t my cup of tea at all (too much politics, not enough jazz, in my humble opinion). Additionally, I wasn’t overly fond of the protagonist, and there were times where I found myself seriously questioning Ingrid’s decisions in a way that moved past “relatably flawed but still a great character” and into something that bordered on unenjoyably chaotic for me. However, I’m here to analyze the aspec representation in the book and that’s what I intend to do, because the aspec representation is actually quite interesting.

Even though I didn’t personally enjoy several elements of the story, I know there will be many aspec people who find Fire Becomes Her enjoyable and important. I too can appreciate that this book does something I often advocate – it introduces multiple aspec or aspec-adjacent characters, which allows us to see the variety of the spectrum. In my previous book review post for the novel Aces Wild, I discussed how having multiple characters on the asexual and/or aromantic spectrum is a great way to make sure blanket statements aren’t made about these spectrums, and that their diversity can be showcased. For instance, having a romantic aspec person alongside an aromantic aspec person can clearly demonstrate that romance may exist on this spectrum, but doesn’t have to. It’s a valuable way to show that asexuality and aromanticism are different, but both valid, and that they don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

Fire Becomes Her showcases multiple aspec characters of varying types and identities, meaning that their experiences are shown to not be universal catch-alls for the aspec experience, but rather just stories of people navigating life on the spectrum. Two of the main characters are aspec – including [spoilers!] Ingrid herself – and one of the side characters; other than Aces Wild, in which all five main characters were on various parts of the asexual and/or aromantic spectrums, this is easily the most aspec representation I’ve seen in any book I’ve reviewed for this blog. I myself related a great deal to Ingrid’s best friend Charlotte, someone who enjoys romance, but doesn’t want it for herself and instead wants to surround herself with platonic love without ever having a partnership.

Something else that I think the book really excels at is making Ingrid’s journey a difficult process for her. As I said earlier, Ingrid begins the book in a romantic relationship with Linden Holt, intending to marry him, and there are certainly times where she seems to feel genuine love for him; naturally, this makes her own realization of her identity all the more confusing. In this setting, Ingrid’s identity is not spelled out in so many words, nor is it really tied down to any one thing clearly. At one point, it is mentioned that whatever she would feel or not feel for someone would not be tied to gender, although she largely expresses no interest in romance even though she does sometimes feel something that might approach desire.

Because of this, I think Ingrid’s identity could be any number of things. Perhaps she’s an aromantic bisexual or pansexual, feeling sexual attraction but not romantic attraction; or, because the desire she feels is rare, perhaps she’s aromantic, but demisexual or grey-asexual. Maybe she’s still trying to come to terms with how she fits into a world that’s taught her to only expect things to be romantic and/or sexual, so the desire she feels is what she thinks she's supposed to feel; or maybe she really would experience real attraction as long as she could actually trust the person. I even considered if her aromanticism is a bit like mine – I’m aromantic, but almost all of the hypothetical crushes I’ve experienced in my life (such as on fictional characters or celebrities) have been heteroromantic in variety – so I wondered if perhaps Ingrid is aromantic in practice but bi/panromantic in theory.

While it’s a bit difficult to pin down exactly how Ingrid might identify – and therefore it might not be an ideal way to introduce these concepts to someone unfamiliar with the spectrums – I nevertheless think it’s valuable. Identity can be a hard thing to pin down in general, even for the person experiencing it, so I like that this is portrayed. In Ingrid’s case, it’s even more difficult for her to parse out her identity because she’s spent so long thinking love and power and influence are all bound together, and that they are all essential for her to be able to find peace. Therefore, she has to unlearn the idea of what love actually is for her, and part of that includes realizing it may not actually be romantic.

To that end, I really like and appreciate the relationship that does eventually unfold for her. During her time with the Meyers’ campaign, Ingrid works closely with campaign manager Alex, whom she at first believes might be of romantic interest to her, until she realizes what she feels for him doesn’t quite fit that template. More than that, she realizes what she feels only feels romantic because that’s what the world expects and how it tries to quantify these emotions, but it doesn’t have to be that way. This is further highlighted by the fact that [spoilers!] Alex is also on the asexual spectrum (definitely asexual, possibly aromantic/on the aromantic spectrum as well).

I enjoy the fact that, while this relationship ends in a platonic place, it takes Ingrid a little while to realize that’s okay. As the story goes on, she begins to parse out her feelings about love and relationships in a way that – while a bit confusing and wordy at times – is nevertheless very genuine. I love that she comes to realize that love doesn't have to just feel one specific way or be one specific thing. With Alex’s help, she comes to understand that you don’t only have to love someone in one way and that “love is love.” I especially enjoy the use of this phrase, because often I see this to refer specifically to romance, so to see it used here to encompass all the varieties of love is really quite refreshing. This paradigm shift helps her recontextualize her relationships and what she wants from them in ways that are spectacular. For instance, consider this description of her feelings for Alex, which can be found later in the novel:

“Whatever it was, it felt immersive, but not consuming; captivating, but not captivity. It was simple and sturdy, but significant, like the silhouette of something bigger and grander that she couldn’t see. It was not to be compared to whatever she had with Linden – it wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t twisted by power and magic; it was respect, it was mentorship, it was friendship.”

I absolutely love this description because I think it gets to the beauty of this platonic relationship – as well as its indefinable quality – and shows the value this bond has in Ingrid’s life. I’ve often longed for these types of relationships to be treated with the same reverence we seem to assign to romance, and often struggle to find that level of dedication, so to see it here is actually quite special. At one point, the narrative even notes that whatever Ingrid has with Alex is different than what she has with Linden, but that doesn’t make it “less than.”

I especially like that we get to go on this journey with Ingrid. Something I discuss many times on the blog is the fact that society often makes platonic relationships or friendship seem like poor substitutes for romance, or that only romance matters. Ingrid herself is trying to get out from underneath that system of thought and at first mistakes her feelings for Alex as something romantic before realizing they don’t have to be. It’s not often we get to see how much of a strange struggle that can be, so I’m glad it’s allowed to happen here.

Additionally, I like that during this tough and confusing process, Ingrid is allowed to feel upset when other people try to box this relationship into these terms. There’s a scene where she gets understandably upset at her and Alex being referred to as “lovebirds,” and although this moment might not seem like a big deal to some, it’s a big deal to her, and I can certainly understand why. I especially like when she says the notion of moving from one romance to the other is an unappealing one, and makes her feel like she wouldn’t actually be moving forward. I’m almost never a fan of love triangles, and I’m glad that this story doesn’t fall into that pattern, but rather breaks it down.

Speaking of which, I also like the complex nature of Ingrid’s relationship with Linden – of the feeling of loving him even though she’s aromantic, the complicated nature of that, and how it lingers with her still even if it’s not a feeling she really likes. However, something I don’t like about the relationship is that I feel Linden could be an interesting and multi-dimensional character, but it never feels like the narrative lets him be one. This is usually the same problem I have with conventional love triangles, wherein one person in the triangle is made a bad or just boring person so they’re not appealing to the audience, and while what happens in this book is not a conventional love triangle, I think Linden’s treatment is too similar to what I see in most love triangles for me to be satisfied.

All in all, even though this particular novel leans too heavily into politics for my liking and I don’t love some of the choices, I think Fire Becomes Her gives me a lot of hope that we can have novels with multiple aspec characters and unique aspec relationships. I would love to see more writers take inspiration from these relationships and expand even more upon the concepts expressed in things such as Ingrid’s own journey and the way she finds peace with Alex and her friends. At her core, Ingrid is a character who wants to belong, which I’ve always thought is a perfect thing to use in aspec stories for aspec characters, and which I think works very well here.

So, while this book is not exactly what I was hoping for when it comes to Jazz Age aspec vibes, I’m still glad I read it. The more representation there is, the more likely it is that an aspec person who feels unseen will find themselves seen at last through a story, a character, or a world. In fact, in the novel itself, that is perhaps the most wonderful thing that characters like Ingrid, Alex, and others find – the right to feel accepted and seen, and to feel like their voices are heard. These things are very relevant to the lives of many aspec people, myself included, and so I think this is a valuable lesson to be included in this book.

I hope stories like this one serve as stepping stones on the journey to even more aspec representation, and that these tales remind us how much work there is still to do. There are aspec people out there right now who might feel confused about their identities and themselves like Ingrid, and who might find peace and happiness just like she does. But much like her, they need to break out of the labels other people have put on them and the expectations they feel they must meet, and reading stories like these could be a great first step.