*** this review has spoilers that will do irreversible damage to those who have not read the book, is long, and is, i'm afraid, rather academic in tone, because i just think that way. be warned. ***
Fledgling opens with a birth scene of sorts. a little girl (we don’t yet know that she’s a little girl, but find out soon enough) wakes up in a cave in tremendous physical pain. her body is badly injured, more, we gather from the description, than a human being would be able to survive. she’s covered head to toe in severe burn wounds. she can barely move. her skull is fractured in at least two places. she’s blind. she weaves in out of consciousness.
besides feeling in agonizing pain, the girl is hungry in a way that feels life-or-death to her. a large animal comes near her. she immediately kills it and eats it raw. a few days later she’s on her feet and well on her way to healing. she hunts down deer, kills them with her bare hands, devours them on the spot.
the birth symbols – the cave, the physical pain, the blindness, the total incapacitation, the starving need, the complete amnesia – seem to me to signify both sides of the birth couple. the girl is both baby and mother; she gives (re)birth to herself.
what the girl slowly discovers, through well plotted and well paced steps of knowledge and self-knowledge acquisition, is that she’s a vampire who used to live in an all-female community, and that this community was wiped out in its entirety by humans. soon she finds the male community formed her father, brothers and older relatives, but this community, too, is soon almost entirely wiped out by humans.
in the meantime shori’s instincts and deeply-rooted needs and desires have led her to discover (everything is a discovery for her, and the amnesia never resolves itself) the pleasure of drinking blood from humans.
the rapport between the vampires (or “Ina,” not just a different race but a different species entirely) and the humans they feed on is easily the most mesmerizing, enthralling, and, to me, frankly pleasurable aspect of the novel. in the narrative i can detect – feel? – butler’s easy (she’d been doing this for years, and her novels always tread on the dark edge of the forbidden, which is probably why she chose to write sci-fi or speculative fiction) dipping in her own unconscious, into a pool of profound woman/lesbian longing that is rarely represented in literature. the whole book seems to me an answer to freud’s famous question “what do women want?” it seems both the representation of deep-seated and (therefore) tabooed female desires and the luscious, unbridled fantasy of their fulfillment. butler needs to push the envelope of difference in the desiring subject as much as possible.
shori, the first person narrator, is unique both in the cast of characters who people the book and, perhaps more importantly, in the cast of characters who are likely to read the book, in a number of ways. as far as the former is concerned, she’s black (one of her brothers is also black but of a much lighter hue, and anyway he’s quickly dispatched by the assassins who are after shori’s family; a small number of humans are black as well, but their blackness is not a primary issue in the novel the way shori’s is), she’s alone (the Ina live in communities and return to communities: shori is alone and wants to stay that way, form her own family instead of joining an existing one), she’s small for her age, she’s remarkably poised, wise, and intelligent, and, above all, she’s an Ina-human hybrid. this last trait, alongside her blackness, is key in the novel, but since it raises interpretive issues other than the ones i have at heart here, i’ll set it aside. as far as the readers are concerned, she’s unique in being a sexually active, sexually promiscuous child who’s equally attracted to adult men and women.
this is the thing that interests me most so this is what i’ll talk about from now on. shori, who looks like a human 10-year-old and is a 53-year-old Ina, is and isn’t a child in both worlds. from a human point of view, she of course belies appearances because she has 53 years of life under her belt. at the same time, not only does she look very much like a little girl to the human eye, but, also, she’s just undergone a pretty thorough and literal rebirth, and her memory is wiped entirely clean. when she gently bites her first human, he, a man of 23, experiences intense sexual (never described as such, but clearly that’s what it is) pleasure, and so does she. soon, she tells him that he can have sex with her if he wants to, because of the bond they have created through her feeding. the man may or may not feel instinctive reluctance to have sex what a small 10-year-old, but does nonetheless. shori is apparently (the sex scenes are not very detailed) an experienced lover, and this makes wright, the young man, feel altogether better, so that they go on to being regular lovers for the rest of the novel.
this is of course intensely disturbing to the reader. what is an adult male doing having sex with a little abandoned kid he’s just rescued on the side of the road? vampires and their humans, though, have a unique relationship. first of all, vampires are incredibly powerful, not only physically (they live a long time, are always healthy, heal themselves from injuries, are superhumanly strong, etc.) but emotionally. the moment they bite someone, the person experiences a pleasure that makes him or her little more than putty in the vampire’s hands. what stands between this and exploitation is the profound love vampires have for their symbionst, and ethics. the vampires desire their humans just as much as their humans desire them. their bond is pretty much absolute. even though humans mate with each other and have children of their own (and vampires do the same), the bond between vampires and symbionts is stronger than any other – it is visceral, and necessary to the survival of both. since vampires live as long as four or five hundred years and human symbionts, to whom vampires communicate a lot of their physical gifts, to 150 to 200 years, vampires are doomed to losing their symbionts, and the experience is described in the novel as so devastating as to be barely endurable. whereas, though, vampires can replace their symbionts, symbionts will get sick and possibly die if they lose the vampire to whom they are bonded. other vampires can and will take over out of ethical obligation, but it doesn’t always work.
as shori chooses and makes hers human after human, the reader’s pleasure deepens. the first human, wright, has little to no choice. both he and shori have no knowledge of what is going on between them, but, whatever it is, it’s irresistible to both of them. because she can’t feed on one human alone, shori then creeps into a woman’s bed at night and feeds on her. the woman is immediately, profoundly in love, and so is shori. technically they don’t have sex but they might as well have. these are the only two humans shori chooses. the other three she acquires in the book are, two of them, left-behind adult female symbionts of her father’s and brother’s, and, one, an adult male child of another symbiont who falls in love with shori and wants to be with her, and to whom shori is incredibly drawn. in other words, she has a profound attraction to three of her symbionts and only grows to love the other two. (two of her symbionts, the young man and the young woman she inherits from her brother, are also black).
the desire/fantasy this book portrays so effectively is that of total control over the love object, if not, possibly, over love itself. i submit that this is the desire/fantasy of those whose sexuality is chronically disempowered – queer people, women, who else? vampires cannot help reciprocating their humans’ love, but making this love authentic rather than exploitative is entirely a matter of ethical upbringing and ethical choices. shori, for instance, has to do violence to herself, at first, to allow herself to learn from her symbionts, some of whom have been living in vampire families for a long time and know way more about her people than she does. her willingness to treat her symbionts as equal is depicted as an act of great respect and humility on her part.
much as the symbionts long for her, shori has complete control over whom she feeds on, whom she has sex with, whom she chooses to love. they don’t. she, also, is clearly the head of the family. she decides what gets done when; the symbionts only suggest. moreover, she’s responsible for making the symbionts get along with each other. this last trait is of course reminiscent of motherhood. in fact, the whole feeding-as-a-sexual-act thing is very much a symbol of mother love, even though, in this case, it is the mother(-child) who feeds on the (adult) children. this role reversal is profound on many levels. because it gestures toward the breaking of a primal taboo, it shocks and pleasures at the same time. the smallness of shori’s body is always on the front of the page. she climbs into her symbionts’ laps, is enfolded in their arms, and, when they have traditional intercourse, which happens only with the men, always needs to position herself, and have her symbiont position himself, carefully.
interestingly, while butler describes with great intensity the pleasure shori derives from licking her symbionts’ blood (she doesn’t always feed on them; sometimes she just tastes them because it gives them both tremendous pleasure), she does not describe the pleasure she derives from having sex.
on the matter of sex: while shori is allowed to have sex with her symbionts, she is not yet allowed to have sex with other vampires, even though there is tremendous attraction between young male vampires and herself. i think she’d probably be around 16 in vampire age, and she’s too young to mate. for one, she couldn’t reproduce, for two, she’s just too young. the rules of proper-age mating hold just fine in the intra-vampire world.
which, problematically, sort of dehumanizes the humans. as i was reading the book, i kept slipping into a dissociative mode in which i perceived my dog as a symbiont. she is profoundly bonded to me, and loves me without any capacity for rejection. she obeys me even when it deprives her of pleasure (as when i ask her to go to her bed instead of staying on mine with me). i am bonded to her too, and i am as fiercely protective of her as vampires are of their symbionts. with all probability, she will die sooner than i and her death will devastate me. if i die before she does, someone will take her over out of ethical obligation to me.
if we want to eschew the suggestion that butler dehumanizes her humans, we can say that, at least, she infantilizes them. i cannot imagine reading this book if i had kids. i can stand seeing my dog the way vampires in the book see humans, but it would disturb me way too much to see my kids that way.
at the same time, seeing myself as a very powerful kid vampire who can control and attract so many adults (significantly, no one, vampire or not, is younger than shori in the book), and has such wise command of her emotions and her body, was tremendously thrilling to me.
i don’t know if the thrill i derived from this book is a consequence of my history and some damaged part of my emotional makeup, but i doubt all of those who liked it (and felt disturbed by it) have my same wounds. as i said, i think this book appeals to those – women, queer people, maybe disabled people, etc. – who are at a social disadvantage in the domain of sex and love. i admire tremendously what butler did here – the courage it took to write this on-the-surface reprehensible and distasteful book, her artistic integrity, her vulnerability.