Two Sides To Every Coin: Grave Mercy by Robin LaFevers

While I'm glad I'm not the first post here, it makes it harder to follow.

     As I have focused my studies on the fantasy/supernatural elements in YA Literature, I have discovered quickly that this is a difficult area to judge in terms of literary value. Fantasy novels are generally defined by "imaginary worlds that differ from the modern world in ways that science can't explain, imaginary worlds of magical and supernatural beings and events" ("Fantasy"). In fact, fantasy can be thought of as the genre of the impossible. Fantasy novels are based on something other than the "real" world or are placed in a setting that offers magical or supernatural elements that allow a person to really escape into them. This is why it happens to be my personal favorite among genres. But taken in the context of YA Lit, it is harder to critique using the same aspects and characteristics looked for in adult fantasy. In a way, YA Lit has its own set of fundamental features that appeal to young readers (and in some cases, older readers as well). While I believe that the same themes and features of contemporary stories in YA lit are just as prevalent in fantasy, the manner in which they are presented is vastly different and thus more difficult to discern.

     I began my studies with a historical fantasy novel, Grave Mercy by Robin La Fevers, which I would give four to four and a half stars.The plot was well-paced, the style engaging, and the story itself full of a myriad of small gems. As I mentioned, it is harder to find literary value in such novels, as many are easier read as simply entertainment, but it is there. In this novel, it addresses the themes of choice and trust, both highly popular for this age group as they are forming their own identities of themselves and others.

     The story focuses on Ismae Reinne, a seventeen year old girl, born regardless of the abortive attempts made by her mother but scarred. From then on, she is treated harshly by all who know her as a devil "sired by Death". Rescued from a brutal arranged marriage at the age of fourteen and sent to a convent devoted to Saint Mortain, the patron god of Death, she is taught in the tools used by Death, including poisons, weapons, and "the womanly arts" of seduction. In short, she becomes a handmaiden of Death itself, a highly skilled assassin. She learns that she has also been given gifts by the god himself--immunity to poison, unnaturally quick healing, and the ability to look beyond the veil and communicate (in a way) with the souls of the recently dead. As a handmaiden of Death, she is also granted the ability to see marques: a black stain placed on the victims the god has deemed unworthy to remain in the world.
     Ismae's most important assignment takes her straight into the heart of the royal court of Brittony, posing as the mistress of the mysterious Gavriel Duval, a bastard son of the late Duke and half-sister to the young duchess, who has fallen under suspicion as a traitor to his country. While there, Ismae discovers she is woefully unprepared for the deadly games of intrigue and love, but also for the impossible choices she is faced with. As the dangers surrounding the young duchess grow thicker, the more Ismae is convinced that Duval is nothing more than what he seems: a kind, devoted and loyal supporter of the duchess and an honorable man. She begins to question the reliability of the convent's information and subsequent assignments, the deeper meaning of the marques, and her own part in this masquerade. As the novel progresses, she must decide where she stands in the schemes and plots around her and how to act on those decisions once made. Is it with Mortain, the god she has faithfully served for three years? The convent, who gave her the chance to live her life without the constraints of  society? Or herself, trusting Duval and aiding him in the fight to save the duchy from the machinations of France and interior betrayals?

     Though it sounds like nothing more than an adventure, this book was compelling when addressing these questions. Something I found especially interesting was the way the author separated  Ismae's duty to the god, Mortain, and the convent--the abbess, in particular--who dispense the assignments and speak for the god. One of Ismae's greatest struggles is reconciling her desire to serve Death yet questioning the instructions sent to her from the convent as entirely credible. "The nuns don't make mistakes" she repeats many times, but again and again she stays her hand or disobeys her orders in favor of her personal instinct and other more merciful options. This struggle based around her religion, which is exactly what the old gods represent, is highly relevant to today's youth, who are frequently unsure where they should declare their spiritual beliefs or if they should have any. More often than not, children inherit their parent's religious outlooks and later question or abandon them. The process involved in such decisions is complex, made up of events, other personal standards, or experience that leads them to rethink that part of their identity. In Ismae's case, she finds a way to reconcile her battling emotions by serving Death's merciful hand, rather than His wrathful justice.

     And, of course, there is the romance between Duval and Ismae. What YA novel is complete without some kind of love story? The soul-wrenching decision of trust is strongly tied directly back to this relationship. Although Ismae is constantly attempting to figure out who is on which side within the duchess's court, her relationship with Duval is a triple whammy: she is investigating his loyalties while trusting him as her only true ally in the court, and THEN she finds herself falling for him. Trust is another huge factor in a young adult's formative years, if not always represented in the literature. The fact that is is an intricate part of a romantic relationship is also one of the key concepts of the novel. While young adults are all obsessed with the idea of having a girlfriend/boyfriend, the nature of their relationships, I believe, are highly superficial. Trusting that person with not only your physical well-being, but your emotional baggage is something that is extremely hard to do. And it is a two-sided arrangement. Both Ismae and Duval have to overcome their own fears and doubts in order to come together as people and allies in a court that is dominated by betrayal, greed, and ambition. One of the hardest things for Ismae, in this arena, is the moment when she allows Duval to stitch a deep wound to her back. While it is not the most vulnerable moment in the story for her, I think it is one of the most crucial. She is still balancing on the edge provided by the three converging problems associated with Duval, unsure of any of them, yet she opens herself in the most trusting way she possibly can at this point, rather than later once she's ascertained one or more answers to her doubts.To do this, Duval would be exposed to her bare back, and more importantly, the scar left from the poison used in the womb. This scar represents years of hatred and fear from those who saw it and reviled her as evil and touched by Death. She has already come to care for Duval enough that it matters what he thinks and how he will react to this imperfection. His rejection, while working to remind her of her purpose, would also be terribly painful for her. Yet, she lets him, and he accepts it. "There is no shame in scars," he tells her. Yet the line refers not only to physical scars, but emotional ones, and the book explores and exploits them throughout the book.

     I could continue on this in more detail, but I'll just leave it to you to read the book if you so choose. It explores these concepts much better than I do, anyway.

Citation
"Fantasy." The Encyclopedia of Literary and Cultural Theory. Hoboken: Wiley, 2011. Credo Reference. Web. 18 January 2014.