a pretty good time! thinking about starting a goodreads shelf called "books where the fact that the protag isn't a lesbian should literally be a crime".
premise in short: Marie-Josephe is a young court lady. Her brother is the king's scientist, and captures a sea monster. Marie-Josephe can understand the sea monster and realizes that she's not an animal, but a full person. Spends the rest of the novel trying to save the sea monster by proving her humanity, while king wants to like, eat her because he thinks it'll make him immortal.
I was a little startled by this book; it feels like such a different beast from Dreamsnake, which I enjoyed very much for its rich world-building and soothingly sturdy, matter of fact, mature protag. I guess the setting of The Moon and the Sun (alt history 17th century France) belies the rich world-building component. The protag was a less of a power fantasy than the gender-equal future of Dreamsnake; Marie-Josephe's character is a gender neurotic in the classic period drama way. She's a deeply repressed 20 year old who doesn't realize like, sex isn't Sin and shit, and comes of age by a series of betrayals from her King and her Pope and her brother to realize that feeling good is okay, and patriotism isn't everything, and men are terrible, etc etc. I'm less comfortable in this setting, it feels like treading Known Ground. And I think reading Nebula novels this year has turned me into a bit of a utopian, so I found myself skimming the bits where her brother and the Pope like, yell at her for being a vain harlot and shit.
Marie-Josephe herself is great though. I think the move to pair her moral/social naiveté with a natural scientific curiosity was quite winning, though I can imagine someone else finding it a little Marie-Sue-y. i found it lovable that she was writing to Newton and trying idly between her court lady duties to define the fall of a leaf with a physics function. I think my standard is still "this coming of age novel doesn't make me want to scream", but hey, this coming of age novel didn't make me want to scream! McIntyre did a great job making her suffering and angst quite real, and her position - esp. as a woman facing down the King, her brother, predatory men of court, and the Pope - made her rebellion feel like true bravery. She's naive, but has bravery and constitution and a moral backbone beyond her years, and McIntyre is convincing in this depiction.
The ultimate love interest, Chretien, is also very good. He's truly devoted to the King, and I think McIntyre spooled the tension between picking morality and picking loyalty/love very well. It was a good character build. He is also a dwarf and suffers spinal pain for it, and I think that comes into play as part of his character, his discipline of self to be impenetrable to courtly laughter, or self-doubt. Glad McIntyre didn't have derision towards people with dwarfism be part of courtly drama. However, it does get weird because she draws a connection between how ppl with dwarfism were also derided as inhuman by the Church in this alt history and the sea monster's plight. In general, there's a lot of spooling out about humanity, and who gets to be human, that plays out in ways I did't totally jive with.
Take Haleed, who is just straight up Marie Josephe's slave. Marie-Josephe grew up in Martinique, and in France slavery has already been abolished, so there's at least a few conversations about that on the outset. Marie-Josephe considers Haleed her sister, and doesn't order her about or beat her, so she thinks its fine, which is relievedly obviously a blind spot on her part. Marie-Josephe spends half the book not freeing Haleed "for her protection" (since Haleed doesn't need to pay for anything I guess? doesn't have resources in France, etc.) There's a pretty satisfying confrontation where Haleed calls her out on how much bullshit that is, calling Marie-Josephe's attention to her privilege and how she's just been making excuses, etc. and Marie-Josephe frees her in response. It wasn't the best, but it definitely wasn't the worst. I think I'm not sure how to make of the slave subplot in parallel to the main plot being Marie Josephe trying to get the king to recognize the humanity of a fantasy species. An allegory between actual historical atrocity and fantasy doesn't sit super great for me, I think. Feels frivolous, making light, I suppose.
This is also very much a historical romance. Marie-Josephe goes through the normal track: starts out in love with Lorraine who turns out to be an abusive asshole, realizes the unlikely (dwarfism, serial monogamist, sworn to never marry, atheism) Count de Chretien is the one for her by the end. Didn't buy the romance too much. Count de Chretien is a little too much of a savior, a make-her-realize-her-worth-er - he even has like the whole bit where he tells Marie-Josephe she's the bravest ever and that sex is good and the Pope is a fraud, etc etc. The power imbalance (he the king's right hand man, her a lowly court lady) just made the whole thing a little flat. Lorraine was troublesome for me in that he plays sort of the, sadistic elegant gay, enjoying stirring up drama and flirting with women to torture his closeted male lover, etc etc etc.
Also, Marie Josephe very clearly should have ended up with the sea monster. There's a lot of female physicality in this book, to the point that I very much was convinced this was supposed to be a lesbian romance up until almost the very end. Marie Josephe spends a lot of her time touching and loving women - her sister-slave, the lady she waits on, and the sea monster. When she is bled by doctors, the sea monster literally tongues the wound to help heal it? I mean. Come on. This book is very much about womanhood, by the way. Marie-Josephe is constantly like, trying to be a proper woman, trying to navigate being a good woman vs a loud woman or a curious woman or a contrarian woman. it was written very well, but i didn't find anything too new about it. though I think McIntyre does excel in not nerfing her women too hard, which is just a good example to follow, as I discussed above.
i think the most compelling part of this book was the Scientific Question of the Humanity of the Sea Monster. It was a fun slice of like, the history of the philosophy of science. The Pope weighs in on the question. Scientists dissect a dead sea monster and its bone similarities to humans are called up. Marie-Josephe goes with appeal to emotion (she can translate the sea monster's songs, and communicates her very human memories of growing up, her family, being captured, etc. to the King, to no avail). Marie-Josephe's brother Yves is fascinating and a locus of this debate. He's a Jesuit and the king's philosopher, and devoted to both alike. He tries to consolidate his research as "revealing god's truth", but when neither the Pope nor the King believe the sea monster is sentient, and he knows she is, he's flying blind. The proof he needs is interesting, too -- Marie-Josephe keeps telling her brother stuff the sea monster tells her about her capture, to prove to him that the sea monster is capable of speech/thought. He keeps rebuffing her and making excuses for why Marie Josephe would know these facts without the sea monster's help, before finally realizing he's just been denying the truth for selfish reasons. 'physical/scientific' proof is part of it, but with that human element, that denial and twisting of the truth, that final emotional concession. Yves is pulled like four ways about scientific knowledge and scientific import: this nebulous emotional element, the religious way (Pope's word), the scientific method he was trained on, and pragmatism (the King's will; he lies to the King about the sea monster's humanity to gain further favor and position in court). It's an interesting problem.
anyway it's a fine time, it could be a little deeper and subtler, but it's very fun.