"But love, my friends, does not need to be kind, or generous or peace-loving. Love does not exclude hate. Love can be cruel. Love can be manipulative. Love, to put it briefly, can be a weapon.""
2.5 rounded up to a 3. My thoughts on this one are very, very messy, so bear with me.
The first thing that I encountered with Loki was a common sentiment among a lot of other reviewers: that this book has too much 'cursing', or something similar. I scoffed at that because this is an adult book, and if you're afraid of encountering bad language, you might want to stick to YA. But having read Loki now, what I think those reviewers were trying to express was not the words themselves, but the context in which they're used, and namely, the frequency. Let me try and explain without going off on a complete tangent.
What always appealed to me about Norse mythology and Norse deities over those from other pantheons and cultures was that the Norse gods are, simply put, very crude. They don't demand to be put on some pedestal of gold, taking empathetic pity on us humans who they so adore; rather, they're warriors vikings, made immensely powerful. When you think about the context in which Norse myths were created, when you think about the time and culture which saw their rise, it was the age of the Viking: violence, rape, and general 'uncouth' behaviour, because these people were not high-class aristocrats, but people living off of the land. That translates directly to their belief system, of course, and that translated to Burgess's writing in Loki. What I mean to say is that, alongside describing how often the gods fart and rape and piss themselves, there is also an emphasis on shit in this book. For a good one-hundred pages in the middle of Loki, Burgess cannot go a single paragraph without Loki calling the reader Arse-born, or Shite-in-flight, or Rimmer, or recounting the fact (in graphic detail) that Loki and Odin made humanity from a literal piece of shit. Now, recounting this story (whether or not it has any truth in the Sagas, I don't know with certainty) is completely fine, and certainly lends itself to that crude nature of the vikings who created this mythos in the first place; this, however, is not what Burgess does.
It took me quite a while to distinguish what was so odd about this book, before I read Burgess's author bio, and realized that he authors mid-grade and YA books. Burgess is used to writing for a younger audience. A middle-school, young teen audience. An audience that, indeed, fucking adores toilet humour. And that is exactly what so much of Loki felt like: a preteen boy being given free reign to talk about shit and poop, who is allowed to use words like 'cunt' and 'cock' for the first time, and is running completely wild with them. Loki is the literary equivalent of Rick and Morty in entirely too many places for a book that is trying to retell the stories of Norse gods for an adult audience. So, when you see other reviewers talking about the overuse of bad language, it isn't a censorship or toleration thing - it's the fact that, for most of this book, if Burgess doesn't talk about shit at least once a page, he'll die.
But let's imagine for a brief, blessed moment that all of that was removed. That Burgess didn't have the impulses of a thirteen-year-old boy, and that we strike out every 'Arse-born' in Loki. In this scenario? Loki is a solid four-star book. The descriptions of scenery are lush and beautiful, the characters are all interesting and well-developed, and most importantly, I think that the concept behind Loki is ingenious: not only are you retelling myths for a modern audience, but re-telling them from a specific point of view is so fascinating. You get a sense of subjectivity, and not only do you gain a new perspective, but because our narrator is Loki, you also get to play with a little bit of an unreliable narrator. Do we trust what Loki is saying? Do we trust what we've always been told? Is it a little bit of both? There's so much to explore there that is just regrettably overshadowed by juvenile moments.
Now, that isn't to say I'm entirely against the way in which Loki is written. There are several moments where Burgess blends classical storytelling and modern dialogue or slang that is laugh-out-loud funny. Burgess has a quick wit, which is perfect for Loki's character, and an important thing in modern retellings is making the story resonate with the audience of the time. There are moments in Loki that, despite taking place in viking age-Valhalla, feel plucked out of our modern society, but blend seamlessly into the story. It's just unfortunate that those moments tend to air on the side of toilet humour instead.
My other big conundrum with Loki was its queerness. Now, I had been debating about getting this book, but when I saw that it was tagged 'queer' on Goodreads, I knew I had to buy it. Loki is one of the most prominent, unabashed, openly queer figures in any mythology, and I was looking forward to seeing how that played into his retelling of events. But of this 250 page book, 200 pages have absolutely nothing to do with Loki's queerness or his sexuality, and I was so certain that the only even brief reference to it would be the time that Loki tricked Thor into having sex with him, just so that Thor would be pissed off about it.
And then, when you hit the last 50 pages? It's nothing but 50 pages of queerness pulled out of an old gender studies textbook. As in, every single line, paragraph, page, and story is about Loki's queerness or Baldr's gender identity. This book was so incredibly unbalanced that it almost felt like the last 50 pages were tacked on as an afterthought. We get almost no hint of Loki's sexuality through this entire book, and then it's shoved into the final pages of Loki all at once, and with this strange, uneasy combination of too much depth and not nearly enough depth. Baldr's gender identity and transition is not handled with the grace that one would expect of a queer and genderfluid deity like Loki, and yet it is beaten into the ground by him that love is love, gender doesn't matter, everyone has fucked men/women/animals/siblings, etc. etc. It was like Burgess was trying to make sense of historical queerness in a modern mindset, which simply doesn't work. Queerness has been woven throughout every culture in every century in every place on earth, yes, but we can't ascribe our current notions of sexuality to the past, and that just felt like what Burgess was trying to do. I sort of wish a queer sensitivity reader had gone through and edited that portion, not because it was particularly inaccurate or offensive, but because it was so deeply, immensely awkward, clunky, and out-of-place with how the rest of Loki is told.
That being said, of course, I was delighted that queerness was openly explored in this book at all. Not only do you have discussions of same-sex relationships, bisexuality, and a pantheon of other sexualities, but there's so much gender exploration as well. It's important that in retellings of old stories, we keep the queerness in-tact, because it reminds us that there were bigender, transgender, and genderfluid in the viking age just as there are now. So I'm glad Burgess spent time exploring that, but the way in which it was done just wasn't right for this book.
There is so much about Loki to love, and if you read between the lines, there's a phenomenal book here. Unfortunately, if you're looking at what we got as a final product, there's just more bad than good woven into this book. If you're a fan of Norse mythology, I'd maybe give it a shot - but don't be surprised if you forget you're not reading a Diary of a Wimpy Kid book halfway through.