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AISHWARYA  SUBRAMANIAN
LEFT OF COOL

Left of Cool abandons the respectable and the popular, and turns its gaze to the odd and wonderful.

Work that weds dragons with musings of the classic Victorian text

ive siblings gather at their father's deathbed. As the oldest son, a parson, deals with the last rites and some alarming revelations about their father's past, the youngest son and son-in-law wrangle over the will. The two youngest daughters must resign themselves to the fact that they can no longer live in the ancestral home. They must also cope with smaller dowries than they had hoped for, coupled with the added social stigma of a father whose fortune was made in (and whose title paid for by) Trade. The world which these characters inhabit is an elegant, civilised one, but it's also one in which those around you are quite willing to eat you alive. Because Jo Walton's Tooth and Claw differs from most works that invoke the 19th Century in one rather important particular. All of her characters are dragons.

Fans of the author's previous work will be familiar with Walton's propensity to play with the mixing of genres. In Farthing she fused a traditional country house murder mystery with an alternate-historical universe in which Britain had continued its policy of appeasement. Tooth and Claw draws heavily on the concerns of the Victorian novel, but because it is fantasy, it is able to do something more; it literalises these concerns, and makes them far more concrete.

The book's title comes from Tennyson's In Memoriam, where he describes nature as "red in tooth and claw". The inherent savagery of nature is an idea that is easy to associate with the Victorians (this is after all the age of Darwin, and the survival of the fittest in the animal world). But there's also the savagery of Victorian society — in putting ruthless, cold-blooded creatures into this extremely civilised setting, it's hard to miss the underlying idea that Victorian society was an equally bloodthirsty place.

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Jo Walton’s “Tooth and Claw” differs from most works that invoke the nineteenth century in one rather important particular — all of her characters are dragons.

or fans of the Victorians (and of Austen, who is not Victorian but forms a part of this story's influences) the greatest pleasure afforded by Tooth and Claw is the manner in which tropes of nineteenth century fiction translate to Walton's fantasy universe. The legal quibbles would fit well into something like Dickens' Bleak House (although unlike Bleak House, and with far greater excuse, Tooth and Claw contains no incidents of spontaneous combustion). The role of women in this dragon-centric world also has some striking parallels to nineteenth-century fiction. Rules of etiquette around proper conduct are transmuted into social mores around flying, hunting and (in the absence of elaborate dresses) hats. There's the issue of female virtue; a primary preoccupation of novels where too much perceived proximity to a man, however unwanted on the woman's side, might lead to social ruin (see the plot of nearly every Regency period romance ever written). Walton is able to invent dragon biology and so creates a situation in which fallen virtue is made concrete and visible. In this universe, female dragons begin life with golden scales. It is only after they have their first romantic or sexual encounter that they "blush" and begin to turn to the shade of red or pink that they will sport for the rest of their adult lives. Selendra, a young female dragon, is pursued by the local parson (a sleazier Mr Collins) and by blushing over a dragon she refuses to marry, faces the prospect of ruin. Her brother has as his mistress another fallen woman, the scion of a great family who is — another trope of Victorian fiction, the orphan returned to her rightful position — triumphant at the end. This is perhaps the one unconvincing subplot; society's willingness to forget her dubious past simply doesn't work as well when her scales are visibly pink. A book in which everything implied is made literal may find it hard to adequately depict hypocrisy.

Given the preponderance in recent years for literary mash-ups that bring together classic literature and all manner of supernatural creature, it's surprising that there haven't been any dragon-centric attempts. If Walton has shown us anything, it's that dragons make most things better.

 
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