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A review by ergative
Long Black Curl by Alex Bledsoe
3.75
Bledsoe is really superb at constructing a sense of place and community. The characters feel fully realised; the blend between small town Appalachian hick and otherworldly faerie Tufa is incredibly difficult to describe, and incredibly effective: I both believe that these people are the long-lived semi-immortal descendents of exiled fairies AND that they embody some of the oft-evoked stereotypes characteristics of deep rural Tennessee, which are portrayed unflinchingly, without disgust, sentimentality, or apology. I really respect this world that Bledsoe has created.
(I also respect the body count. One advantage of such a well-constructed world and community is that you've got a lot of characters to bump off whose deaths are meaningful and important, and who also don't overly shrink the cast because there are so many other people in play. I can't emphasize enough how the social world-building is really really well done!)
And yet, somehow, this particular book didn't really work for me, because overlaid on top of everything was a rather tedious reliance on sex as characterization. The bad woman comes to town, and she is sexually voracious--which is, to be sure, balanced by one of the people standing against her, who is also sexually voracious. So it's not shaming exactly--Bledsoe never shames anyone for anything in his books, even some of the pretty terrible things they do--but I did get rather annoyed at all the male gaze and all of the use of sex as power. And it's not even as simple as 'powerful women always employ sex as power', which would be a tedious stereotype, because one of the most powerful people is a twelve-year-old girl who has nothing to do with sex. Bledsoe scorns easy stereotypes. But still, the sex seemed unnecessary.
Also, gotta say that Nigel's storyline would have perhaps been less distressing if he were not the sole black guy in the book. I see what Bledsoe was doing, and in a way it's not any different from what he's doing with everyone else. He is not kind to his characters, and he's not cruel. He just is. And so Nigel's story is what Nigel's story was. But still. The only black guy. Not a great look.
(I also respect the body count. One advantage of such a well-constructed world and community is that you've got a lot of characters to bump off whose deaths are meaningful and important, and who also don't overly shrink the cast because there are so many other people in play. I can't emphasize enough how the social world-building is really really well done!)
And yet, somehow, this particular book didn't really work for me, because overlaid on top of everything was a rather tedious reliance on sex as characterization. The bad woman comes to town, and she is sexually voracious--which is, to be sure, balanced by one of the people standing against her, who is also sexually voracious. So it's not shaming exactly--Bledsoe never shames anyone for anything in his books, even some of the pretty terrible things they do--but I did get rather annoyed at all the male gaze and all of the use of sex as power. And it's not even as simple as 'powerful women always employ sex as power', which would be a tedious stereotype, because one of the most powerful people is a twelve-year-old girl who has nothing to do with sex. Bledsoe scorns easy stereotypes. But still, the sex seemed unnecessary.
Also, gotta say that Nigel's storyline would have perhaps been less distressing if he were not the sole black guy in the book. I see what Bledsoe was doing, and in a way it's not any different from what he's doing with everyone else. He is not kind to his characters, and he's not cruel. He just is. And so Nigel's story is what Nigel's story was. But still. The only black guy. Not a great look.