He was such an asshole, and I know, I know: which of my favorite characters aren't assholes? But he seemed so smug and self-centered in his cynicism
Oooh, yes. That was pretty much the reaction most of my friends had to the books on first read. So much so that by the end of the third book -- no, I'm not going to give details, I suppose that would be too spoiler-y of me. Let's just say that by the time the villain has the opportunity to do it, everyone I knew was only dying for him to beat Lymond to a bloody pulp, on the grounds that it was about time someone got to do it.
I hadn't read broadly enough at the time to diagnose it as I would now, but these days I'm inclined to think that the Lymond problem is that he's an angst-flavored Mary Sue. It's not just that he's prettier than everyone and smarter than everyone; it's that everyone he ever meets instantly becomes obsessed with him, and that the narrative suggests to us that we're supposed to love, admire, and envy him as blindly and obsessively as all the characters do. It's not terribly attractive, as attitudes go.
And yet, this would not stop me from saying that it might well be worth giving the next volume, or the one after that, a try. The books have a lot of strengths: Dunnett's gift for pure storytelling really comes out in the next book, her feel for politics is sophisticated and interesting -- she gives you the feeling that her people are grown-ups, and that the world is a big and complicated place, which many writers can't quite manage -- and while she's not really trying for historical accuracy in terms of people's worldviews and psychology, her precision about the material aspects of her period is a beautiful thing to behold. And God, can she write dialogue when she feels like it. And her set pieces -- things like a race over rooftops at night -- are glorious things to behold, Angst-King Mary Sue or no Angst-King Mary Sue.
Ah, this brings it all back, that first-time group trip through those books. None of us ever knew, moment to moment, whether we wanted to squee over them or hurl them across the room in utter disgust.
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branchandroot
Re: Lymond
Date: 2006-11-05 10:57 pm (UTC)Oooh, yes. That was pretty much the reaction most of my friends had to the books on first read. So much so that by the end of the third book -- no, I'm not going to give details, I suppose that would be too spoiler-y of me. Let's just say that by the time the villain has the opportunity to do it, everyone I knew was only dying for him to beat Lymond to a bloody pulp, on the grounds that it was about time someone got to do it.
I hadn't read broadly enough at the time to diagnose it as I would now, but these days I'm inclined to think that the Lymond problem is that he's an angst-flavored Mary Sue. It's not just that he's prettier than everyone and smarter than everyone; it's that everyone he ever meets instantly becomes obsessed with him, and that the narrative suggests to us that we're supposed to love, admire, and envy him as blindly and obsessively as all the characters do. It's not terribly attractive, as attitudes go.
And yet, this would not stop me from saying that it might well be worth giving the next volume, or the one after that, a try. The books have a lot of strengths: Dunnett's gift for pure storytelling really comes out in the next book, her feel for politics is sophisticated and interesting -- she gives you the feeling that her people are grown-ups, and that the world is a big and complicated place, which many writers can't quite manage -- and while she's not really trying for historical accuracy in terms of people's worldviews and psychology, her precision about the material aspects of her period is a beautiful thing to behold. And God, can she write dialogue when she feels like it. And her set pieces -- things like a race over rooftops at night -- are glorious things to behold, Angst-King Mary Sue or no Angst-King Mary Sue.
Ah, this brings it all back, that first-time group trip through those books. None of us ever knew, moment to moment, whether we wanted to squee over them or hurl them across the room in utter disgust.