On Tavore Paran and her metacritical relevance to the Fantasy genre. [Take a shot every time I say "generally" or "structure" =D] Artz: Photo by Giorgio Encinas on Unsplash
Erikson here. One of the questions that haunted me (and perhaps still does) while writing the series is the notion of heroism. There are so many ways of approaching the concept, and I plumbed every one that occurred to me. For Tavore, whom I knew to be the spine of the series, I focused on the notion of acts witnessed versus acts unwitnessed, and was there an intrinsic difference between the two that distinguished the heroic from the non-heroic. To explore this I made that spine (personified by Tavore) unreachable until the very end, and even there, the windows that opened were small. Until they weren't (Tavore's words to her brother on the battlefield). Using her soldiers, I piled on as many characters as possible and placed them in orbit around an unknown. I selected Blistig as the voice of doubt leading to outright rejection (but with much authorial sympathy, since Blistig was giving voice to what I imagined to be that of many readers up to that point, namely, their dislike of Tavore), and Fiddler as his counterpart, a man who for personal reasons needed to believe in her. As an aside, Jennifer N's comment below filled my heart with warmth. Jennifer, Tavore was written precisely for you, for your take, and it was Fiddler who took your hand and begged you to hold on with him, despite that faith being endlessly tested, challenged, stressed. I still recall when I wrote Tavore's question ('Haven't you drunk enough?') and all the anguish I felt behind it, which I then knew no-one was likely to understand the first read through. Even thereafter, in successive reads, it would remain an ambiguous statement from her. Yes, it's asked of the gods, but it's also asked of her soldiers, at least those still following her, still on board, in the sense of the price she was paying for their loyalty, which she could not express. It's a lashing out from a wounded soul, but wounded in ways none of us can see, or understand, until her crucial line to her brother. It's also asked of the reader, but an imagined reader (the ones still hating Tavore for what she did to Felisin), and I felt this was justifiable coming from her (because I knew that throughout the series she was haunted by not knowing Felisin's fate). As for the series being a history, an after-the-fact narrative about the freeing of the Crippled God, my answer would be: yes. The metafictional aspect was keeping 'what is this history about?' a secret for as long as possible. The unseen spine. Tavore.
*phew* Erikson, I thought you would cringe at my Lord of the Rings analogy. Thanks for your comment, always filled with insights about the series. To be clear: this weekend I'm recording a video exclusively on Metafiction and Historicity in the context of the Malazan Book of the fallen. That should cover the basics of my interpretation of the series. Again, thanks for dropping a comment.
There are many scenes in the final book that have made me cry, but which scenes bring tears to my eyes changes with every read-through. The one exception to this is Tavore’s reunion with Ganoes. Without fail, her words make me cry every single time (and may or may not be causing me to tear up a bit as I write this). Much has been written about the importance of compassion as a theme in MBotF. For me, the greatest act of compassion in these books was yours when you made the choice to conceal from Tavore the truth about how Felisin died. I have always been grateful for this decision and I’m thrilled to now have the opportunity to share that gratitude with you.
@@QuickJen I really appreciate your take expressed in your comments here. Your main comment reframed my perspective on a few finer points. But this right here I felt to the core. It was supremely important to me that Tavore be spared knowledge of Felisin's fate and it's gratifying to see that sentiment publicly stated, particularly to the author himself!
I've always enjoyed the fact that the enigma Tavore represented to the characters in the books mirrored our own experience as the readers. Thinking about your comments on perspective, it occurs to me that the varying viewpoints we get from POV characters around Tavore are based on one of two things: preconceptions/misconceptions based on their relationship with Tavore (Paran/Blistig) or projections of what they want or need her to be (various soldiers, can't think of specific examples), rather than any insight into her character or motivation. Either way, their assessment of her always has more to do with that character than it does with Tavore. As I listened to your own experience with Tavore on the first read-through, I realized that this is also true of the reader's relationship with Tavore (on the first reading - subsequent readings are obviously a very different experience). You mention that no one could ever have expected Tavore to be so pivotal in the final book. Except that I did... and I don't for a second think it's because I had greater insight than you or any other reader. Of course I didn't. I had those same doubts about Tavore, but my experience differed from yours because we each brought our own set of expectations and projections to our interpretation of the character and I NEEDED her to be a hero. There were multiple reasons for this: 1) Stereotypes. Our first introduction to Tavore was not positive (and the second was even worse). But it was the descriptions of Tavore as a highly intelligent but unattractive woman with poor social skills that first set me on the path to root for her. She's brilliant and powerful but terrible at charming those around her. In our world, for a woman, those are practically unforgiveable sins. As a female reader, damn did I need her to defy expectations. 2) Coltaine. I saw a lot of parallels between Tavore and Coltaine. In fact, I'd venture that the primary difference between Coltaine and Tavore is gender. We never get a POV for either of them. Both are dogged in pursuit of their goal regardless of the cost, tight-lipped about their strategy and regularly questioned by those under their command. We DO know what Coltaine's goal is but we're never quite sure if it's worth the cost. The Chain of Dogs is one of my absolute favorite storylines and I love Coltaine, but let's be honest: Tavore saved the world. Coltaine saved a bunch of spoiled nobles. 3) The Bonehunters. By Book 7, my desire for Tavore to be the hero of this story became all-important; I was in love with the Bonehunters and I needed her to be worthy of them. If they were going to die (and I knew they were), then she'd better have a damn good reason for leading them to their deaths. The Bonehunters had put their faith and their fate in this woman, so I would too. By the time we got to the scene with Mael's gift, it never even occurred to me that Tavore's words could be interpreted to be about water instead of blood because I was so invested in the idea of Tavore as a (lower-case h) hero. Phew...that was a lot. Thank you again for this channel and for inspiring me to think more deeply about my own relationship with this character. I would love to hear your thoughts and am already looking forward to your next video! *Note: Please forgive me if I get some of the details wrong. It's been a while since my last re-read and I'm not able to download the books onto my current Kindle because I've maxed out the number of devices I can load it on. :)
I absolutely love this comment! That's my only hope in making these videos, to motivate this kind of discussion. First, yes, I can see how you could figure out Tavore being pivotal to the story. It's just that I don't recall anyone who did from those with whom I've discussed this issue. Second, you're totally right about the reader's expectation and her. That's the TRUE power of Erikson's approach to storytelling: it inevitably leads to the reader projecting themselves into the story, so they have skin in the game... and so the revision of our biases as readers become too evident. I would argue that I doubted Tavore precisely because the idea of her was too charming( for me, personally). She's smart, analytically minded, resilient, has a solid scholastic background and is a prodigy. These are all traits that make me like individuals. But then my personal bias is revealed by the books: I have an intrinsic, often irrational fear to the idea of those who I like and trust betraying me. So what I felt about Tavore was me speaking to myself( Also, Tavore has an overwhelming link in my mind to one of the friends I cherish the most in my life). This comment made me really happy, thank you =)
@@NiflrogsFolly Yes to all of this. I have the same tendency to doubt my impressions of characters, and not just when I know the author enjoys forcing me to reconsider my assumptions as I read, as you noted that Erikson does (masterfully). It makes me wonder if that lack of certainty/tolerance of ambiguity in our perception of others is a trait that predisposes us to connect with Tavore’s character.
In retrospect, you can feel Erikson walking the tightrope in every single scene with Tavore in the whole series; there is an invisible undercurrent to her character that always flickers just beneath the surface. You can feel minute glimmers of it in HoC, that while relatively hidden on the first read, just scream out on the second (which is a testament to Erikson's writing). I was personally very invested in Felisin, and so I naturally was very invested, or, rather, intrigued (which slowly became fascination, and then obsession) in Tavore since they are mirrored so nicely by the story. Speaking of mirrors, the same way that you said Nimander and Anomander complete another in TTH, I would doubly, no thricely (I'm channeling strong Kruppe energy with this sentence, I appologize) say so for Tavore and Felisin. Erikson's ability to breath such poetry in multiple key paralleled scenes is astounding. Vladamir Nobokov states in "On a book entitled Lolita" that novels have hidden pressure points of narrative and thematic significance; you can say everything the man writes fits under this, but I would argue it especially does concerning scenes with Tavore: The encounter of Tavore and Felisin at the end of HoC is a most apex example. Talk about the most dramatic way possible to set up your character. After Felisin's death, all you can do as an audience member, as you've said, is project your feelings onto Tavore, and what I was feeling was immense grief and sorrow for Felisin. The tone of the whole sequence drives these emotions and Lostara's POV, as she watches Tavore, seals the deal: Impassive, watching the sea rise, hand on the hilt of her sword. *Oh, why does looking at you break my heart?* I vividly remember this line stabbing me when I first read it, and it stayed on my mind every time from then on when I saw Tavore, and I became obsessed with getting Tavore's POV and feeling what she is clearly hiding. Felisin was such an emotionally intense and exposed character, so when all the emotional weight of this scene and all you are feeling gets placed onto Tavore, and she is so quite, you can so distinctly feel the invisible emotional weight of Felisin's death on her shoulders. And, again, as you said Nil, this is what I wanted to believe -as Jennifer N states below, NEEDED to believe. I couldn't go on otherwise. I needed catharsis for that tragedy that rang in muted silence. I love how you can feel this emotional pressure and tension building in her from that moment onwards; In TBH it becomes noticeable as we see her veil waver, and brief flashes of vulnerability peek through. By DoD it becomes obvious and in TCG it feels like the woman is going to explode; and yet there is still hardly a brake in her posture or face, an un-focusing of the eyes. The sense of weight and gravity that has amassed around the character by the final book, the final chapter, is beyond staggering and utterly spellbinding. I watched with held breath and bleeding heart nearly every scene with her during The Crippled God. In one of Erikson's blog posts: ( steven-erikson.org/screw-your-hero-what-does-the-sidekick-think/ ) he talks of a narrative technique in terms of crafting POV called psychic distance; and how one can control it; pulling it from far away to close. He then brings up a certain text for example, and has this to say: "Now, go online and pull up a copy of Hemingway’s The Short, Happy Life of Francis MacComber. Read the first five pages taking note on the naming convention for Mrs. MacComber. Note how it slowly pulls us in, and in, to match the emotional lens under which she’s reaching a crisis. The POV isn’t even from her: in fact, it actually jumps around a bit. But that psychic distance control, well, it’s breathtaking. Dumb luck? An accident? An indifferent author? Not a chance. That’s psychic distance in absolute, merciless control. And with intent. We come closer and closer leading up to the moment she’s about to cry. Holy crap. The genius of that still sends chills through me." The fact that Erikson essentially does this for Tavore across 10 whole books - and maintains that iron control (just as Tavore does) - and somehow keeps it in focus while balancing the (as I believe the academic term goes) metric fuck ton of other stuff going on is mind boggling and beyond rewarding. The scale of the series with its world may spiral outwards, but both the event of freeing the Crippled God and the character of Tavore spiral inward; feeling that vast narrative current pull you inexorably along till you reach that glorious moment is truly momentous in the emotional waves of cathartic release. The reunion of Tavore and Ganoes is, given my experience, the single most defining scene of the series. One of the most striking things about Tavore is just how normal she is. She isn't as special as any one of use. Her struggles are our everyday ones. That stranger across the street with the blank face? There's too. After Tavore throws up so many walls, draws so far from human connection, buries so deep her feelings, there is a profound strength and beauty beyond words in this moment of intimacy and vulnerability between her and her brother, putting aside all the hurt that has come with it, as the regulars take witness; a salvation in this connection to one's self and another, in exposing bare your heart and everything that resides there in, and taking someone else's into your own. Erikson pleads with us to strive for this in our own lives, and to have the courage to do it. THAT is heroism.
Beautifully said. Reading this, I recalled a discussion with my brother years ago, in which I tried to convince him that there was something of heroism in the lives of people who simply put down their heads and do what needs to be done. A nobility in the proletariat, if you will. I realize now that this conversation and the overwhelming emotion I felt toward the idea of quiet sacrifice was not simply a notion that had occurred to me in the moment, as I thought at the time. Instead, it was the direct result of having read these books. I just watched an interview in which Erikson wondered if it was possible for books to change the world. I don’t know the answer to that question, but I do know that these books have changed me. And that I’m not alone in that.
A bit late, just wanted to add that: 1- This was great to read 2- The man doesn't reread his books (generally)... he doesn't take notes in any consistent form... *how* did he keep track of everything while ALSO balancing to pull off Tavore? Geez, that's remarkable indeed.
Your central point about perspective is excellent. Even during my first read of The Malazan Book of the Fallen, I always felt that, among the many ways in which Steven Erikson upends or even breaks tropes, the most radically different thing he does -- and the one that has fascinated me the most -- is the way he treats perspective, and I believe it's also central to his themes of empathy and compassion. Also, your analysis of Tavore being the unrecognized "hero" of the story is very cool. Just one little thing: something seems to be wrong with the audio on this one. I had a hard time hearing you, and I had the volume cranked to max. As someone who has struggled with audio issues on my videos, I thought you might like to know. As always, I truly enjoyed your insights!
Excellent analysis. I really enjoy and appreciate your views. One thing that lends additional weight to your argument is the definition of 'story' in narratology. Story are the events of narrative rearranged into chronological order and then reanalysed retrospectively to ascertain meaning. So, in MBotF, you cannot construct story until the end of The Crppled God as the ten novels recount the events that culminate in and are necessary to give context and meaning to the freeing of the Crippled God. As such, it is clear that not only is this a 'history' (as you point out) but it is also a history that rejects the conceit of the 'Great Man'. So while this retrospective reordering of the narrative into story emphasises Tavore's central role, or primacy, it rejects her as 'hero', and that gives support to the narrative justification to focus on other characters and illustrate their impact, influence, and importance to the narrative events. At least, those would be my two cents on this. I really love these videos. Thank you for doing them.
Thanks AP! I hope you understand how informative these comments of yours are. I didn't even know Narratology was an academic discipline! It's always great to see my opinions are interesting. Again, thanks!
I am appreciating this perspective on literature so much! Makes me question every story I’ve read... 🤯👍🏼💙 I’m excited to ponder this with eyes on the Cosmere!
Tavore was, on my first read-through, definitely in my top ten characters by the end. However, by my second read-through, she was quickly my favorite. I love the many little hints and insights we get into her and her plan. The card she gets in Fiddler's reading to start Dust of Dreams is one. Deadsmell's window into her heart and mind when he heals her. "Haven't you drunk enough?" ... of mortal blood (suffering, worship, sacrifice) and of Kaminsod's power. When Brys tells her they will build a statue of her, and she asks if the likeness will be pretty. Her speech to the regulars where she reveals that she has been watching very closely and witnessing them faithfully. There are so many scenes that show us the truth of Tavore, while she herself says nothing to defend or justify herself to us. It is brilliant writing. I find myself contrasting her 'hero's journey' with the harsh critique that Udinaas levels at the typical heroic fantasy in Reaper's Gale. I think Erikson outright tells us to look for the unheralded hero, the one who takes action not for glory but because it is the right thing to do.
Loved this! Tavore being the actual hero of the story was a great surprise when i first read the series, i really didn't see it coming. Also i love it when a narrator turns out to be not completely reliable.
If Shadowthrone is Gandalf, is Kruppe... Bombadil? At the very least I feel confident he’d enjoy visiting his house, the fresh butter, pastries, and tendency towards third-person self-address.
@@NiflrogsFolly I've thought about that same thing with myself haha (with Felisin as well.) I'm pretty sure I've commented on every single HoC thread to throw some respect on it's name lol. It's funny you bring that up, because I know we've had conversations about them both in the past; It's always a relief to see you fighting the good fight!
Okay, I need to get this off my chest; it's not a problem specific to you, but watching this is when it boiled over, so I apologize for the over-generality of it: You don't need to shit on Tolkien in order to make points about fantasy tropes. Tolkien isn't representative of fantasy. He started it, but he didn't really define it. There are other "hero" characters in the genre that fit the archetype much better than Frodo ever did: Rand Al'thor and Drizzt Do'Urden, to name two off the top of my head. Conan, to use one of Erikson's own direct motivations. People who reference LotR on MalazanTube mostly sound like they got a Cliff's Notes copy of the movies and never dug further; it makes them sound ignorant and superficial, as if Malazan was the only fantasy series they've ever read. (Which is okay, but don't, y'know, compare MBotF to other fantasy if you haven't read other fantasy.) And that's really disappointing on a video that's precisely about how a character can be viewed without being able to see beyond the bookcover she is perceived by in the world. I agree, by the way, that Tavore is a really interesting and, sure, transcendental character. Withholding her perspective from the reader is a fascinating authorial decision (and I've written elsewhere about how Erikson will step down how much time he spends in a character's shoes when they grow more powerful, which I'd love to see someone examine more closely than I have), and a decision he captured as early as Deadhouse Gates when Duiker is asked about how to cope with history. Anyways. You weren't... quite as bad as I'm making it sound, but I'm frustrated by this tendency and I needed to vent in a way that hopefully encourages people to at least do it less.
I understand your frustration. However, Tolkien is the easiest common denominator. It's also a legendarium I love. My username is inspired by Tolkien. The "-rog" is from Balrog. I've been using it since I was a teenager that had just finished The Silmarillion. I didn't intend any of this to come off as me "shitting" on Tolkien. I reject the notion that tropes are objectively negative. Tropes become such because they prove their effectiveness as narrative devices over and over again. I think using tropes in a sloppy way is lazy writing, but I'd never accuse JRR of anything of the sort.
The only official disclaimer The Niflrog has to make is this: he does not make dreadlocks on his hair... that's his natural hair. The only thing he does is washing it and brushing it. :P (had not heard that band, gotta check it!)
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