Two Very Different Female Faces

Here’s an image from the TV Show “Legend of the Seeker,” which is based off of Goodkind’s series. Although decidedly different from the series, the show also portrays Kahlan (left) and Cara (right) as self-empowered individuals.

So fun fact about me – one of my favorite authors of all time is Terry Goodkind. And, one of my favorite series of all time is his “Sword of Truth” series. It has 12 absolutely incredible novels in it, all of which can stand on their own as compelling narratives but that come together to create an enthralling world filled with realistic characters. I hate to sound like a paid advertisement, but there’s a reason why, to date, Wizard’s First Rule (the first book in the series) is still the highest paid fantasy book from a first-time author.
This summer, I decided that I missed my “Sword of Truth” obsession and that I needed to reread the series. I have just finished the fifth book, Soul of the Fire – I am soaking the books up like it’s my job, spotting things and making connections that I wasn’t able to the first time over. And reading the books all over again has led me to some thoughts about the characters Goodkind created, especially the female ones…

Unlike most fantasy novels, the “Sword of Truth” series really has two protagonists, one of which is female. Thus, Richard Cypher/Rahl shares the spotlight with the Mother Confessor herself, Kahlan Amnell. Interestingly, Kahlan really almost provides the series with two different characters. As an individual, Kahlan is an intellectual and sophisticated woman who has had a privileged but hard life. She understands her professional role but still yearns for a more normal life. This side of Kahlan more adheres to female stereotypes – despite her professional ‘success,’ Kahlan more than anything wishes she could have the ‘normal’ life of falling in love and having a family. However, this more feminine sentimentality is balanced out by Kahlan’s other side…As the Mother Confessor, Kahlan is the epitome of female empowerment. She is unfazed by anything or anyone and she is the pinnacle of power in her world. Literally, her decisions and her rule outweigh any king’s, queen’s, or council’s. However, this side of Kahlan too contains an inherent contradiction. In order to maintain her power and influence, Kahlan puts on her “Confessor face,” in which she basically shuts down all of her emotions – this gives Kahlan a robotic, almost de-feminized aspect. On the other hand, Kahlan as a Confessor has her power because her touch is feared by all. By her touch, Kahlan can wipe out a person’s personality and individuality and replace their selfhood with unwavering and obsessive love for her. These two things, touch and love, seem decidedly feminine in that they are associated with maternity and female sexuality. Not to mention the fact that Kahlan’s official title is MotherConfessor – she is the symbolic mother of everyone in the

Midlands. In this way, Kahlan represents the contradictions inherent within everyone, but especially a female protagonist in a fantasy novel. She continuously battles her individual desires for love and motherhood with her professional duties and responsibilities. She is not some lovesick butcher’s daughter or some emotionally impoverished prostitute. She is a successful and courageous woman who provides the fantasy genre with an important model of realistic female empowerment.

Kahlan and Richard as illustrated of the cover of “Stone of Tears” by Terry Goodkind.

In contrast to Kahlan Amnell, Cara is not exactly a well-rounded female figure. Tortured as a child as training to become a Mord Sith, Cara is introduced as someone whose femininity was used against them – Mord Sith are women who were chosen as children because they were the most pure and the most innocent. The implication here is that the purest and most innocent aspects of femininity can be turned into weapons of mass torture and domination – not exactly the most stellar recommendation for female virtue. However, Cara (and the other Mord Sith) do exhibit an unusual aspect of female power – that is, female physicalpower. Cara is trained in combat but, with her Agiel (which is just a leather rod imbued with magic to give both the holder and the victim pain), she does not even need convention weapons. Cara can and does overcome multiple burly men at the same time with just her body. And although you might think that the Agiel gives her an unfair advantage, you have to realize that the second Cara touches her Agiel, it gives her the same excruciating and debilitating pain that it inflicts upon others. So, Cara is able to defeat soldiers and mercenaries and wizards while feeling continuous pain that literally drives men to their knees. Talk about role reversals. However, despite her physical prowess, Cara is emotionally crippled. As Mord Sith, she has been trained to forsake all emotional displays – everything from fear to love to hatred to pleasure. Only after Richard inherits D’Haran rule are Cara and the other Mord Sith allowed to be human, never-mind ‘feminine.’ But even still, it takes personal and directed attention from Richard to get Cara to slowly become more than an effective torture machine. Richard’s influence, although not coddling or condescending, does take on an almost patriarchal quality. He feels responsible for these women and wants to enable them to lead more normal lives. Importantly, Cara does not allow this. She obeys Richard’s commands when she feels like it – ultimately, she decides when and how she wants to act. So, as Cara becomes more and more human and less and less robotic, she actually acquires more power. On top of her physical power, Cara also gains emotional and personal power in her ability to choose and make her own decisions. So, I won’t ruin the series for you guys, but suffice to say that as the series progresses, Cara specifically demonstrates the progression from torture machine to human and from limited power to overall self-empowerment.

An illustration of Cara that was used on the cover of “Temple of the Winds” by Terry Goodkind. Here’s a quote from her…”If you get yourself killed trying to rule the world, I will personally break every bone in your body.”

Through these two main characters, Goodkind provides the fantasy genre with rare female figures – both battle inherent contradictions, but neither is truly ruled by the men in their lives and in their worlds. By reverting feminine stereotypes of weakness and submissiveness, Kahlan and Cara challenge not only Richard, but the reader as well. We, as readers, are forced to look at their counterparts in the fantasy genre and are ultimately left dissatisfied. As a female reader and a female fantasy fan, I can personally account for this dissatisfaction. I can’t even tell you how many fantasy novels I have read with these weak, pathetic female ‘heroines’ that bring nothing to the table but a tepid romance subplot. Finally, I have found two main characters, who just happen to be female, that actually progress the fantasy genre rather than just continuing its potential character stagnation.

What do you guys think? Am I being too hard on the fantasy genre? And do you agree with my analysis of Kahlan and Cara’s characters? Or are they not as progressive as I see them?

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Religious Problematics – Hope Leslie as a Teenage God

Hope Leslie’s aunt, Mrs. Grafton, here shows the dual conception of femininity – she can be a fickle and shallow widow OR a powerful influence in social change.

In Hope Leslie, Catharine Maria Sedgwick presents to the readers multiple models of religion with varying levels of approval and advocacy. Aside from the clear disdain for Catholicism as embodied by Sir Phillip Gardiner, Sedgwick also confronts the faults in Puritanism, Anglicanism, Islam, and Native American Spiritualism. However, Sedgwick also includes a subtler version of religion in the form of Master Craddock, who literally worships at Hope Leslie’s feet. By including this version of unorganized and more physical version of religion, Sedgwick reveals the problematic nature of religion as a whole.

Throughout the narrative, Master Craddock is depicted as a senile old man whose greatest pride and pleasure is tied into Hope Leslie’s person: “Craddock was so absorbed in the extraordinary happiness of being selected as the confidential aid and companion of his favourite, that he would have followed her to the world’s end, without question […]” (321). Hope Leslie needs her tutor’s help in order to free Magawisca from prison and, after having been easily persuaded to join her in helping an unnamed friend, Craddock behaves more like a blind lapdog than he does like a tutor. He is consumed in blissful pleasure at the intimation that Hope desires his company and does not discern her unusual behavior in fleeing the house undetected. This happiness comes upon a passive Craddock, who revels in his having been “selected.” This language of selection is reminiscent of the Puritan conception of the Regenerate class, who are selected by God to be saved. Similarly, Craddock is described as an unquestioning follower, trusting in Hope and in his blind faith for her. Thus, Craddock is depicted as a zealous and devoted disciple and Hope as his prophet or even his God.

Moreover, Craddock proves to her that he would do anything for her, even when his actions go against his own moral code: “Such was Craddock’s habitual deference to his young mistress, that it was morally impossible for him to make any physical resistance to her movements […]” (328). Craddock’s following and trusting in Hope is so ingrained in him as a habit, that he is unable to stop himself from complying with her wishes, even when he knows they go against social propriety. This “habitual deference” echoes the regularity, consistency, and uniformity of religious prayer and behavior – Craddock’s immediate acceptance of Hope’s wishes is linguistically reflective of the Puritan’s recitation of scripture and strict adherence to manners.

Additionally, Craddock is physically powerless against Hope. As the dominant agent in their relationship, Hope is once again depicted as a God-like figure who has physical, behavioral, and perhaps even spiritual control over her follower: “[…] but neither his conscience nor his apprehensions for her, would permit him to be silent when he felt a conviction that she was doing, and he was suffering, an act that was a plain transgression of a holy law” (328). Despite his misgivings over her actions, Craddock is physically paralyzed and is thus unable to disobey Hope’s directives. However, Hope is unable to stop Craddock from voicing his misgivings, demonstrating his oral propensities and her limits as a God-like figure. Here, Sedgwick encourages the reader to pity Craddock and his powerlessness against Hope and, in doing so, paints Hope as almost tyrannical in her uncaring disregard for Craddock’s physical safety and emotional turmoil.

Therefore, through Craddock’s worshiping of an oppressive Hope, Sedgwick demonstrates that blind faith in religion is harmful and even dangerous to the physical and moral safety of its followers and perhaps that not all religions are able to provide the eternal guidance and deliverance expected of them.

Now, I wonder whether Sedgwick included this microcosmic religion as a warning or as a beacon – is it a warning against the dangers in blind faith and zealotry? Or is a beacon for feminist potential in her contemporary place in a world beginning to consider women’s rights?

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Fifty Shades of Feminist Debate?

So after about four days, one of which involved 6 hours on a plane from NY to LA, I have finally finished all three of EL James’s BDSM/erotic novels, aka the Fifty Shades trilogy. Sitting on a small, cramped economy class seat on American Airlines while reading all about Ana’s sexual exploits with Christian Grey was something that I can’t say I’ve ever experienced before…and not something I would say I didn’t enjoy. Let’s be honest though, if you get into it, I can’t imagine many places in which you wouldn’t enjoy these vicarious experiences. However, even while reading the books, I have to admit that I did notice some facets of the relationship (and even the characters themselves) that came with a hint of anti-feminism.
Firstly, did anyone else notice that practically every single woman in the novel is described as absolutely gorgeous? Everyone from Ana and Katie to the mothers are just stunning! Granted, Ana doesn’t think she’s very gorgeous, but Christian makes it very clear that he does and, ultimately, his opinion is the one that really matters. Even this inherent self-doubt (along with the whole Ana is a virgin who must be educated by her more experiences and “superior” boyfriend spiel) seems to be an anti-feminist trope — only through the man’s most affectionate attentions can the girl realize her true worth. I mean really? But this mindset doesn’t just end with the relationship between Ana and Christian, even Katie gets wrapped up into it! Even though she starts out as a strong female character (she’s gorgeous, she knows it, she knows how to use it, she knows to be proud of it, and she knows that there’s more to her that her appearances), once Katie meets Christian’s brother Elliot she turns into mush! Honestly, there is nothing in the plot that necessitates Katie to relinquish her strength as a feminine character in order to get the man of her dreams.
And secondly, Ana as a professional sends the reader mixed signals. After landing her job at Seattle Independent Publishing (SIP), Ana fights to keep her work life separate from her admittedly all-consuming…hrm…personal life. In this, Ana actually upholds feminist ideals – she wants to be able to maintain her own financial independence and to achieve her professional goals through her own effort and merit, not through Christian’s obese piggy bank. However, despite Ana’s frequent and usually emphatic complaints and refusals, Christian still goes behind her back and buys SIP! In fact, he not only does it, but gets away with it with not much more than a sulk from Ana — now what is that saying about Ana’s effectual power in the relations? Well…it basically demonstrates that her power is ineffectual at best. Time and time again, Christian wants to do something (i.e. buy a publishing company, give Ana a car, etc.) and Ana refuses, but Christian inevitably wins. Every. Single. Time. Sure, Ana may get some little “triumphs,” but let’s be honest here, they are really consolation prizes in comparison with Christian’s wins. For example, despite all of her initial protestations, by the end of the novels it is implied that Ana accepts Christian’s purchase of SIP and the power that gives her as an “employee.” So here, the Fifty Shades trilogy ultimately demonstrates that Ana’s professional success is contingent upon her relationship with Christian and his money!
Alright, now to take a step back — despite these two setbacks, I don’t agree with some critics who say that the BDSM sex aspect of the novel is anti-feminist. Such critics assert that the BDSM only strengthens the stereotype that women should be submissive, pliant, subordinate, and obedient. I think that these critics might be missing the point — what’s so anti-feminist about a woman exploring her sexuality? In fact, it might be even more oppressive to not allow women the option to explore BDSM! Limiting women’s sexual options is akin to limiting their professional and even health options. Ultimately, isn’t feminism about allowing women to have the ability to choose, whether it pertains to their work, their families, or their sex lives?
I can clearly see some of the drawbacks of the novels, which definitely do need to be discussed. However, just because there are some contradictory and maybe even backward messages inherent within the novels’ relationships, I don’t think that we should write off the trilogy. There are some very empowering aspects to the novels as well, from Ana’s professional aspirations to her ability to protect herself and her friends with a gun to her growth into a self-confident female force. And even being able to see the novels’ limitations can be beneficial — increasing recognition of assumed anti-feminist tropes can be used to decrease the prevalence of these assumptions. As a whole, I think that the trilogy sends a strong and important message of female sexual freedom and fulfillment.

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