*** Spoilers ***
In a meeting on Transgender liberation the other day I made a point that one of the great successes of the LGBT+ movement in recent decades is that it has raised the visibility of LGBT+ people to heights that have never been possible before. While there are still many gains to be won, and equality is not yet a reality, this is a victory - one that the right are determined to roll back. The point I, perhaps clumsily, made in that meeting is that one of these examples is the visibility of LGBT+ characters and themes in fantasy works.
When I was a teenager, hooked on the fantasy of J.R.R. Tolkien and Terry Brooks and the like, there were no LGBT+ themes at all, in fact there were few women, despite the prominence of mythical creatures and unreal societies. Samantha Shannon's The Priory of the Orange Tree is an excellent example of this. It is, at first glance, very similar to many other 800+ paged SFF novels. It is set in a world not unlike our own, were magic is real, and there are talking dragons. It is also dominated by a number of confrontational nations, all of them feudal systems (though we don't learn much about the base of production here) but frequently led by powerful women. Most of the leading characters are women, and the men are in short supply.
The book centers on the threat posed by the rise of an evil threat that will destroy the world. Hundreds of years ago this was stopped temporarily, and since that battle the House of Berethnet and its Queens have been the force that supposedly held back the dark. But Queen Sabran is childless, and the monster is rising, and at the same time her enemies are sending assassin after assassin to kill her.
The Priory of the Orange Tree has been described as a feminist Game of Thrones. In some senses that is true - we follow various characters representing different factions and states as they vie for power and control. But that description is to underplay the world-building that Shannon has done, and most importantly, it ignores the radical edge to the work. Because Shannon is subtely critiquing those Tolkienesque knock-offs whose heroes, always white kings, rule justly and well because of their inate kindness. Sabran instead finds herself only useful as a baby making machine, to keep the line going. Her personal choices, over partners and life, are immaterial so long as she marries, forms alliances, and has a daughter. At the end Sabran makes the choice to end this cycle - its a touch unbelievable, as rulers rarely give up on wealth and power, without revolution. But it sends a signal that Shannon doesn't see the game of thrones as any sort of fantasy utopia.
There are some other great moments that ruminate on wealth, power, the nation state and colonial rule. There are also some great characters that I wanted to know more about - not least the Pirate Queen who needs a novel of her own. There is also a truly slippery "bad guy" whose betrayals and back stabbing are worthy of the best in the tradition. All in all, this is a fine read.
To return to my opening theme though. The fact that novels like this can exist, which place LGBT+ characters in a novel that is not just about LGBT+ themes is remarkably important. I wish that I had had the opportunity to read novels like this when I first began to read SF&F back in the 1980s. It is a small step forward, but an important one, for young LGBT+ people and their friends, and we must fight to defend and extend such victories.
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