Tag Archives: terry goodkind

My Love Hate Relationship With Dora the Explorer – Role Models For Girls

Dora the Explorer

Polgara the Sorceress

I hate Dora.

There’s the mind-numbing, repetitive songs – ‘I’m a map, I’m a map’ and ‘We did it, we did it’, for those who are blessed enough to not know. These things will drill their way into your mind like a bad advertising jingle and lodge there at 2am in the morning while you are desperately praying for sleep.

There’s the annoying fact that Dora keeps getting lost, even going to places she – should know, like her cousin’s house. I’m down with dragons and unicorns, but there’s, you know, a talking monkey, a blue bull, and the weird insectoid orchestra.

My husband and I are convinced she’s smuggling drugs across the border and sampling the wares, which would account for the way she roams around the countryside, her poor memory and the hallucinations.  

On the other hand, it was recently pointed out to me that once little girls outgrow Dora, they are stuck with role models like Miley Cyrus and Bratz. I have two little girls, and the thought mortifies me.
Dora, whatever else you say about her, is a good role model (provided, of course, that her drug-taking habits aren’t evident to the average child…). She’s bold, brave, curious, generous, independent, a leader, and a thinker. Everything many of us would like our little girls to be. On the other hand, the only values Miley Cyrus and Bratz appear to be advocating is a disturbing lack of clothes and an obsession with physical appearance.

Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor
Don’t get me wrong, I take pride in my appearance. But I value many other characteristics much more than my appearance, such as my brain and my independence, and those things have gotten me a lot further in life than the way I look.

This revelation got me thinking about who the female role models in my life were. I spent the vast majority of my childhood with my nose in a book, so my role models (apart from my mother)were almost certainly there as well. 

Here are the ones I think were probably most influential:

  • At age ten, Polgara the Sorceress from The Belgariad by David Eddings – almost the very definition of a poised, powerful and above all indomitable woman;
  • At age twelve, Lessa of Pern (from Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonflight), who was nothing if not strong, determined, and single-minded. What Lessa wanted, she generally got, and through her own efforts, not because someone handed it to her on a platter;
  • At age fourteen:
    • Kahlan Amnell, from Terry Goodkind’s Sword of Truth, a woman who would lead men into battle at risk of her own life for justice, who fought for the freedom of people who reviled her for what she was, who stood for the weak, and the voiceless, and who above all stood for truth and justice.
    • Nynaeve al’meara, Egwene al’Vere, Elayne Trakand, and Aviendha from Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time, all women who faced their fears and fought against terrible odds and dreadful evil at great personal expense to do what they thought was right.
Far more inspiring than the average fare available to young girls and teenagers these days. Some of these books I was considering giving away or donating. Now I think I should go and pack them away and hope that I can get my daughters to read them when they are a little older, because if there is one thing I hope for my girls right now, it’s strong female role models. 

What do you think of today’s role models, for girls and boys? Who were your role models? 

Aviendha, Elayne Trakand, and Min

Life Lessons in Fantasy



I’ve long believed reading fantasy books moulded who I am. I have no real basis for this belief except a bunch of things I don’t think I learned from my parents or anyone else, in particular a marked black and white set of ethics. That’s not to say I don’t recognise ‘grey’ areas, but not many, and for me this reflects the good-evil dichotomy of classic fantasy. I love the anti-hero, or the dark hero, but when I started reading fantasy in my formative years, he wasn’t yet in vogue. 

I thought more about this when I recently started reading Raising Girls, since I know find myself in possession of two of them – girls, I mean. The book contains two markedly different stories about young girls faced with their first sexual experience. One is heart-breakingly casual and unfulfilling, and the other never happens. The second girl tells her boyfriend she’s not ready, and he delivers the ultimatum ‘Have sex with me, or I’ll walk’. With uplifting bravery, she tells him to walk, and doesn’t look back, not even when he wants to get back together with her sometime later. 

I firmly believe in ‘if he really cares, he’ll wait’. I don’t believe in sex on a first date – not if the woman is looking for more than casual sex. Once you start having sex, it’s difficult, or impossible, to go back to filling in the emotional gaps, that ‘getting to know each other’ stage that takes place on the first dates. My informal polling of men (in my generation) generally indicates a lack of, or less, respect for women who don’t make them wait. I’ve posed to men the phrase ‘OK to bed, but not to wed’, and it’s met with general agreement. 

This isn’t something my parents taught me, and while I’ve refined all the above thoughts as an adult, I must have had some awareness of the concept as a teenager, because I sure did make him wait.

Then I thought of Richard and Kahlan from Terry Goodkind’s Sword of Truth series, which I’ve been reading since I was thirteen. In the first book, Wizard’s First Rule, Richard falls in love with Kahlan. She discourages his affections, and his own grandfather tells him to ‘choose another girl’. He later finds out that any kind of physical relationship with her is impossible – if they were to have sex, her magic would destroy him. 

What does Richard do? He certainly doesn’t run off and pick up the first girl he comes across. Despite the fact he understands his love is impossible, that it can never be, he persists. In the end, he solves the problem. Even having solved it, though, it’s four books before he actually has sex with Kahlan, and despite constant setbacks, he waits. 

It occurred to me there’s a lot of important messages in there for any teenager who might sit still long enough to read it. Here’s a few that I spotted without even needing to think hard:

  • If it’s worth having, it’s worth waiting for;
  • If at first you fail, try again;
  • Fidelity and devotion as virtues;
  • Anything is possible;
  • Follow your dreams;
  • Sex isn’t everything (although I grant it isimportant, and I think that message is probably conveyed by the diligence with which Richard and Kahlan pursue that goal).

Are there other messages in there that you can see? What life lessons or important messages have you seen in the fantasy books you’ve read? Did you learn something from fantasy? Do you hope your children learn something from fantasy?

I do. I’ll be off now to borrow Dad’s illustrated copy of The Hobbit, and my first introduction to fantasy.  



Worldbuilding: What Goes Wrong If You Don’t Get It Right

Worldbuilding Gone Wrong


In fantasy, we ask a lot of favours of our readers, the key one being suspension of disbelief. We take liberties with reality, and for this to work, the reader needs to accept those departures as fact. If they don’t, the entire plot will fall down. 

This is true across the whole gamut of fantasy sub-genres (and a lot of science-fiction too). If you’re writing an urban fantasy about an underground society of werewolves, or vampires living amongst us, you need a plausible reason why humans haven’t noticed. If they’re running around killing people indiscriminately and leaving a trail of bloody corpses, the reader isn’t going to accept no one’s noticed. 

This is why often these societies in urban fantasy have rules about not killing/feeding on humans, or have particular methods of doing so. Men in Black, while science fiction, has a similar problem – one solved by the neuralyser device. This is all worldbuilding – adding elements to the real world to explain and/or allow the reader to accept the departures from reality that we write about.

In high/epic fantasy, we take it a few steps further and build a world from the ground up. It’s often a completely different planet, with different people, different culture, different laws, ethics and societal values. You can do almost anything within the framework of a high fantasy world.

Provided it’s consistent with and explained by your world. 

You can’t, for example, set up a society in which women have no power or rights, and then have your female protagonist blatantly disregard the rules. In reality, she’d be arrested, stoned, killed, or punished in some other manner. If, in your book, she’s not, then that’s unbelievable (an early mistake of my own). 

You make the rules, but you have to play by the rules you invent. 

Another thing said about fantasy is that it’s even more important to ensure the characters behave true to our understanding of human behaviour than in other genres. The reason for this is because we are already asking the reader for so much suspension of disbelief in relation to the world of the story that the reader is more likely to notice when characters don’t behave true to form. 

Why is this relevant to worldbuilding? Because characters are a product of their world, their time, their culture and society, and their personal experiences.

Am I belabouring the point? Maybe, but I have a reason. 

You may have seen my review on The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty. I formed certain views about the sexual practices in that book amounting to the torture and debasement of humanity for no reason except sexual gratification – and I mean psychopathic torture, not consensual BDSM. A few people have remarked ‘but yes, it’s fantasy’ – and I’d like to make the point that it doesn’t matter. I’ve been reading fantasy for 22 years, and writing it nearly as long. ‘It’s fantasy’ isn’t an excuse for poor writing.  

So let’s look at worldbuilding using that book as a case study. 

The reason the book didn’t work for me isn’t because of the sexual practices depicted, but because of the worldbuilding – or lack thereof. 

So here are a few of the questions I asked that should have been answered by the worldbuilding and weren’t:

  • Why were Princes and Princesses offered up by their parents to this kingdom knowing the physical and sexual abuse and humiliation and degradation their children would be subjected to? I’m a parent, and I can attest to the fact that the maternal instinct to protect is very powerful. Even the notion of someone treating my daughter this way stirs a primal, even feral, violence. It’s very difficult to accept a parent would tolerate this treatment. I assume the reason they do is twofold – one, they underwent the same experiences, and are essentially broken i.e. they were mistreated to the point their will broke and they will now do anything to please their tormentors. A kind of Helsinki syndrome. Two – the threat of political retribution, war, total annihilation and destruction of their kingdom. Unfortunately, neither of these reasons are spelled out – I’m making assumptions;
  • Assuming my assumptions are correct, why should I notbe enraged that these people have been essentially tortured to the point their will is broken? No good reason for my acceptance of this act as anything other than vile torture is offered. Also, in all the hundreds of years this has been going on, I’d think one father would have snapped and marched to war rather than see his daughter or son mistreated, but if so, no mention is made of it.
  • Why does an entire society (not just a few sociopathic individuals) think this behaviour is OK? I got pulled up by an editor because a scene in which a tavern full of men accepted, condoned or participated in a rape was unrealistic. How much more so then a whole society? Terry Goodkind does a good job of this in his Sword of Truth series, offering religious and political ideologies fed down from the Emperor, and condoned and encouraged at his order by soldiers and priests, as the reason an entire culture behaves in a given way (albeit some of this compliance is procured solely by fear and there are still a few non-conformists, as in any society). No explanation is offered by Anne Rice, and we see none of the members of this society fighting against or protesting it’s cruel practices. Historically we have examples of cultures that were fairly brutal, but these are cultures in which essentially ‘might makes right’, and women are treated hardly any better than animals. How do we explain the apparently cultured and educated mistreatment of captives in Sleeping Beauty by a culture where women seem to have relative equality? I can’t.
  • Even if there was a good reason, my god, wouldn’t you get bored? I was bored just reading about all the spankings. Submersion in even the vilest kind of debauchery eventually gets boring. This is why serial killers escalate in violence – they need to engage in more extreme behaviour to get the same high. And I’m expected to believe this culture has existed for hundreds of years without varying the boring old spanking routine? Puh-lease.

See what you get if you don’t build your world properly? A reader asking very hard to answer questions. If a reader develops this kind of attitude to your book, they won’t be coming back for more. 

Please, build your world properly. Make sure it explains and moulds the behaviour of your characters. Make sure your characters aren’t flagrantly breaking the rules of the world with no consequences. Make sure there are rules, because in the absence of a compelling framework for this new world, we’ll default back to our own.

Getting your worldbuilding wrong can make getting anything else right very difficult.  ‘It’s fantasy’ is not an excuse. 



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The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty: A Review

The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty



The book is described as retelling of the Sleeping Beauty fairytale. ‘Retelling’ is a loose description, since the events of the story in fact take place after Sleeping Beauty has been awoken.

My use of the word ‘story’ is also necessarily loose. Does the book have a story? I can’t say I actually noticed one in amongst the gratuitous sex, violence and depravity, and I was, in fact, looking very hard! The main character has no goal I could discern, unless it is to please her new masters, and that is not an especially hard goal to achieve. A goal of escaping would be readily understood and easy to relate, but the thought does not even cross the idiotic girl’s mind. There is no real conflict. 

The story, such as it is, is that Sleeping Beauty is awakened not by a kiss, but by rape. I’ll say it, although the book avoids use of the word until page 84 or something like, but I call a spade a spade, and it’s rape. The Prince who awakens her comes from a kingdom that appears to be feared, for the newly awakened parents of Sleeping Beauty readily accede to the Prince taking away their only daughter – after he parades her naked and gropes her in front of them. I have difficulty conceiving the father who would have tolerated this in front of his very eyes, no matter how much he felt he owed the man who’d broken his enchantment. 

Taken from her home, Beauty is introduced to a society where many Princes and Princesses are sent as ‘tribute’. These Princes and Princesses are kept naked, abused, humiliated, and mistreated in the grossest way imaginable. 

The book is touted as BDSM, but I call foul – this is a grossly misleading statement. BDSM is a consensual sexual activity between adults, at least one of whom is usually submissive and takes pleasure in being so, and at least one who is usually dominant and takes pleasure in being so. True BDSM relationships are characterised by a surprising amount of power resting in the hands of the submissive, who possesses the power to stop proceedings by use of the ‘safety’ word. 

What occurs in the Court of the Prince is not consensual, and we have another word for activities that would have been BDSM if only they were consensual, and that word is torture. The activities are imposed by the will of the captors on the helpless captives, and comprise torture of the most humiliating and debilitating kind, designed to break the spirit and turn a human being into some kind of malleable dough that can be reshaped as the torturer desires, into a willing slave, desperate to please, with no thought or concern for themselves. If you were to transpose any member of the Court of this Kingdom into the TV show, Criminal Minds, they would be the most despicable kind of psychopath, kidnapping women and torturing them into compliance – most definitely the unsub!

I’ve read Kushiel’s Dart, which I thoroughly enjoyed, but The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty only infuriated and sickened me. I distinguish the two books on this basis – Phedre, the protagonist of Kushiel’s Dart, is touched by the gods, and derives genuine pleasure from her own pain, and enters into liaisons consensually of her own free will and possesses the ability to cease proceedings by use of her signalle. The activities embodied in Kushiel’s Dart are in fact BDSM. On the odd occasion that Phedre endured actual torture, rather than consensual BDSM, and despised her body’s own response, it was a sacrifice she voluntarily made for the lives of others. 


The perverted relationship between Mord-Sith and ‘pet’
of which this book reminds me
By contrast, the slaves of the Court do not consent to proceedings, have no power to stop the abuse by use of a safety word, and do not naturally derive pleasure from their pain – rather, they are conditioned to never feel pleasure without pain, thus forcing the brain to form associations between the two (much the same way Valerian House in Kushiel’s Dart trains its initiatives, except Valerian does not humiliate and break its adepts). Eventually the pain-pleasure sensations become so closely entwined, the captives experience a sexual response to the infliction of pain. 

It is difficult for me to say where the story goes after Beauty is brought to Court – it doesn’t really go anywhere. The book becomes nothing but a long progression of physical and sexual abuse, rape, and deliberately degrading and humiliating activities. Beauty is kept naked, raped, forced to unclothe her master and perform other tasks with her teeth, to perform sexual acts on her master and other people, kept on hands and knees, spanked and physically abused in other ways, tied up as an adornment, and driven like a horse. Although a multitude of ways are invented to punish her, they vary little in substance, and most consisted of some kind of spanking. I am now heartily bored of spanking, to the point where the production of another paddle produced an eye roll and a stifled yawn. 

I didn’t relate to, or like, any of the characters in the book. So far as Beauty goes, I have no idea what her character was before her enslavement by the Prince, and she breaks to his will so quickly I almost despise her weakness. She scurries to obey after only being paraded naked and spanked a few times, and never once does the thought of escape cross her mind. I concede escape may not have been feasible, nor an attempt wise, but she doesn’t even think about the matter enough to draw any such conclusions! She says only nothing can save her, even though she’s not tried to save herself. 

Other characters describe Beauty as rebellious, or graceful and dignified under pressure, yet all I see is a frightened girl desperate for approval, scurrying to escape a spanking with tears down her face. There is nothing of dignity about the character that I can discern, and certainly nothing rebellious! Whatever it is these other characters see, it has not been adequately communicated to us, as indeed the case with many of Beauty’s emotions – she says she feels certain things, but I am not feeling them with her. This may be due to significant use of passive language and ‘telling’ instead of ‘showing’. 


But at least Mord-Sith
acknowledge what they do is torture…
The Prince, his mother the Queen, and the Court are cruel and cold-hearted. They describe the slavery as ‘providing perspective’ and ‘understanding’ to the slaves, and yet none of them are subjected to such treatment, or would even consider it necessary, and the hypocrisy revolts me. This is not an improvement process, but a justification for deriving their own pleasure. 

Twice the book put me in mind of Terry Goodkind’s Sword of Truthseries, and not in a good way. The Court’s philosophies on slaves remind me of Jagang’s theories within the Old Kingdom – people should have no personal pride, and should serve the good of the people with no sense of self, a principle which of course did not apply to Jagang and similarly does not apply to the people of the Court. This was a revolting philosophy in that book, but no one pretended otherwise – the quest was to destroy Jagang and his way of life. Here it is accepted, lauded, embraced by all members of the kingdom, right down to the common people. Everyone seems to be depraved, and I have yet to meet a character who had much in the way of common decency, because even the slaves are recruited into degrading and mistreating each other.   

The second instance is that the members of the Court remind me of the Mord-Sith, pushing, and poking, and prodding, humiliating, and degrading, and hurting their slaves until they break, and once broken, become malleable and compliant. The Mord-Sith at least have the excuse of having been taken and tortured and trained as girls in exactly the same way they now train their pets. The members of the Court have no excuse, and commit the same gross injustices in nothing but the name of their own pleasure and amusement.   

My main issue with the book is that it appears to be nothing but a recounting of the grossest forms of abuse against humanity for gratuitous purposes, and the book attempts to pass this off as legitimate BDSM when it is anything but, and an exploration of the human psychology of seduction and desire, when I’m not seeing a lot of seduction, only a lot of cruelty. I support the consensual ideology of BDSM, but when you take away a person’s free will, subjugate them, abuse them, and rape them, it’s nothing but torture.

Other nitpicks with the book included:

  • Excessive use of telling and passive language;
  • Cliches – the spilling of blood on the taking of virginity is such a cliché. It in fact only happens in less than half of all cases. What I wouldn’t give for a book where having sex with a virgin produces no blood!
  • Inaccuracies – early in the book the Prince causes Beauty to ejaculate. I have difficulty accepting this. Female ejaculation is little understood even in this modern age, but it’s generally accepted it requires a comfortable, relaxed woman for the process to take place. Rape and abuse are hardly conducive to creating that outcome. I also struggle to believe so many tasks can be performed with only the teeth. Ever tried to carry a boot any distance in your teeth?
  • Internal thoughts are written identically to dialogue, sometimes creating confusion as to whether something is spoken aloud or only thought;
  • Infodumping – one character, Prince Alexi, tells his tale of abuse and humiliation over what seemed liked three long chapters. Yawn. Also, I suspect any man who was forcibly sodomised so many times by so many men and so many improvised implements in such a short period of time would almost certainly have sustained internal injuries resulting in death!

In short, the book sickened me, made me furiously angry, and otherwise largely bored me. The erotic scenes were repetitive and lacking in imagination, and the books lacks relateable characters, conflict, tension, or basically anything interesting beyond the abuse of fellow humans.

It ended with Beauty about to be shipped off to some even worse torture than had already been inflicted upon her (this time at her own instigation) and I honestly can’t say I’m inclined to read the sequel. 

No, wait – there is one scenario in which I would read the sequel. If every member of the Court (and possibly the castle) was stripped naked, covered in honey, and staked out over an anthill! Failing that, maybe if Richard Rahl came along and lopped off all their heads. 

Yeah, Richard, off with all their heads!


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Review of The First Confessor by Terry Goodkind



In this self-published ebook, Terry Goodkind returns us to the New World, land of Richard Rahl and Kahlan Amnell, but many centuries in the past. The book is set in the time of the first war with the Old World, a time glimpsed in the journals of Kolo, found dead guarding the sliph, and painstakingly translated from High D’haran by Richard and Berdine; the time of the creation of monsters from men, when sliphs, and dream walkers and Confessors were newly birthed.

The protagonist is Magda Searus, and the book is almost entirely set in the Wizard’s Keep in Aydindril, with a few scenes taking place in the city or just outside the city. If you’ve read all the other books, you already know she is the first Confessor, so there’s hardly any suspense in it (as if the title hadn’t already given it away). Lack of suspense is a common problem in a prequel, where enough of the story is known to the reader it becomes difficult to create hooks to keep teasing the reader along. In this case, I think the book has sufficient hooks, although I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a compelling page-turner. 

Although we know the general outcome of this part of history (Magda Searus becomes the first Confessor), we don’t know the details, as the information known to us from Kolo’s journal is often vague on some points. So the book contains some suspense in the sense that we know Magda must be transformed, but we don’t know how, or what might happen to her along the way. In fact, one of the key plot points is that Magda is vehemently opposed to the transformation of people into something other than they were born by use of magic, and we travel with her for the evolution of her understanding.

There are a few other key characters – Prosecutor Lothain, who we already know from the Sword of Truth series is a terrible bad guy, although the reason why (to gain access to the Temple of the Winds, he must walk the Path of the Betrayer, thus betraying his loyalty to the New World) isn’t touched on in this book, and remains something we only know from The Temple of the Winds. Possibly this is because the only person who knows these details at this particular point in time is Baraccus, First Wizard – and he’s dead. 


The other key character is Merritt, whose name I instantly recognised, but couldn’t immediately place, although eventually I remembered he was the first Confessor’s wizard. Lothain is suitably detestable, and Merritt perhaps the most likeable of all the characters, although he arguably channels too much ‘Richard’. 

I won’t say I didn’t enjoy the book, because I did, but there were definite points that bogged the story down, sections I skipped or skimmed, and that’s not really like me at all. Magda consults with a spiritist, a sorceress who works with spirits, and the spiritist recounts her story to Magda – in laborious detail, spanning multiple chapters of not much besides dialogue. While it turns out the tale was critically important, I didn’t know that while reading it, and found it tedious to endure. I’m sure there would have been a more effective way to tell the story – perhaps even using the spiritist as a viewpoint character to tell parts of the tale as it happened. 

Goodkind is also known for being ‘preachy’. This has never overly bothered me, but in this book (and also The Omen Machine) I felt it became a bit laboured. We’ve heard it before. We know all the principles Goodkind espouses. I’m beginning to feel a bit beaten over the head by them. Granted, they may remain relevant to the story; so touch on them, and move on. Instead, I got pages and pages of characters spouting their ‘beliefs’ in a way that really began to feel like the author is just using the characters as his mouthpiece. I. Get. It. I’m not that stupid. Now can we please move on to something more interesting?

If anything, I would say The First Confessor is even worse in this sense than The Omen Machine. Perhaps this is because it is self-published – while Goodkind’s editor clearly didn’t do a fantastic job of reining in the author’s impulses in The Omen Machine, The First Confessor may be an example of what we get when there is no one reining them in at all!

Other issues were more minor nitpicks. The response to Alric Rahl’s solution of the devotion to protect against the dream walkers wasn’t entirely what I’d understood it to be from previous Sword of Truth books, but this can arguably be explained away by saying the histories weren’t clear. Also, a bunch of mysterious murders take place in the Keep, and I feel the potential for conflict and suspense inherent in these murders was not utilised to its full capacity. 

The story winds up by explaining some of the mysteries we were aware of from Richard’s studies into the histories and Kolo’s journals, and to this extent I was satisfied. I am a little unclear on the treatment of the Sword of Truth, as it doesn’t match my recollection of the nature of the Sword in the Sword of Truth series, but possibly that is my faulty memory. I would need to re-read the series again to double-check, I think.


Worth a read, but hardly Goodkind’s finest example. Still miles better than Soul of the Fire and The Pillars of Creation, the two Sword of Truthbooks I personally detest. 

Also, don’t forget to come participate in my new book club, Club Fantasci! Our first meeting is at 7:00pm CST on 31 August 2012. You can view our discussion on our website and tweet me and the other co-hosts for discussion. Find out more about our first Google+ Hangout here




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