Yo-ho, yo-ho, a happy Lent for me. Does reading this count as penance?
Do you remember how I was like, “Hearne is not kind to the average man in these books?” In case you had any doubts it’s not like these books express a great view of women either, as Chapter 11 starts like this:
The tendency of modern American women to exclaim “Hiiiiiiiiiiii!” in soprano octaves and hug each other upon sight can be disconcerting to those unfamiliar with it. Laksha was definitely unfamiliar with it, judging by the widening of her eyes and the stiffness of her limbs when Granuaile assaulted her with effusive greetings.
This sounds like a Boomer comedian complaining about his wife.
LAUGH, DAMNIT!: 12
For the record, I neither know nor care if I got the correct number of ‘i’s in that ‘Hiiiiiii!’. Probably not. Moving on.
Reminder if you don’t remember, didn’t read the last sporking, or don’t care: Laksha is an Indian witch who previously made herself immortal by body jumping. She last lived in Granuaile’s head, where they mostly got along. She popped in at the end of the last book as someone who just so happened to be qualified to deal with the leader of the evil witches, and because Atticus hates women I mean witches he tells her to buzz off after she does her assigned Plot role. She agrees to pick a body in a coma that’s unlikely to recover to possess (and just so happens to be hawt), Atticus hands her thirty thousand dollars, and she’s gone.
Earlier in this book, Atticus called her in to deal with the Bacchants because they’re immune to iron weapons so his magic cut-anything-sword won’t be effective, and they have pheromones which can mess with people’s minds, so he’s not thrilled about facing them himself. Considering he’s super-strong, can control plants, earth, and winds, and can make potions like no one’s business, you’d think he’d come up with a creative solution, but Hearne Atticus isn’t that clever at dealing with problems other than ‘hit it.’
Granny apologizes when she sees how uncomfortable Laksha is, and explains that this is supposedly a thing American women do when they haven’t seen each other in a while. Laksha points out that they last saw each other last week. So Granny tries that she’s been so far away (North Carolina), and so Laksha suggests that “distance must be taken into account” when doing greetings, and Granny uncertainly agrees.
LAUGH, DAMNIT!: 13
…Laksha previously lived in Granny’s head. This kind of behavior shouldn’t be a surprise. The whole ‘This is how we Americans do it!’ thing shouldn’t be that big of a surprise.
Also! Might as well give it a
The Kids These Days: 7
Atticus greets her, and if you thought that we wouldn’t get a detailed description of a gorgeous young woman, then you clearly haven’t learned how these books work. She’s also excited that since no one was using the body, it apparently has no effect on her karma. The body is still wounded (hence the coma) but she explains that she can still use the body and possibly heal the injury with her magic over time.
Also her host body was married? Laksha explains that her husband has been given no notification that she was leaving. She thinks that will make him mad but she’s already planning to divorce him (after a week) because she’s already done a background check on him and found out he was cheating on her, because of course a man with a wife in a coma is unfaithful, that’s how Hearne thinks men are.
Man, you just hold everyone in contempt, don’t you Kevin?
And hey, it’s really convenient that you have a quick reason to write out a marriage that might make things difficult for our character down the line, isn’t it? That within a week there’s a legitimate reason to get Laksha out of this sticky situation so she has no reason not to appear in further installments?
Make It Easy!: 8
Also to bring up a thing that bugs me, not just about Iron Druid but about a lot of fiction (and so I’m not taking another ‘Make It Easy’ point): does Laksha’s host not have family or friends? Other than her husband? And from what I’ve seen of the Indian-American community, that’s pretty weird. It also appears that Granuaile, despite explicitly being shown to be pretty outgoing and consistently described as hawt has apparently no friends other than Atticus. I have more friends than Granny or Laksha’s host does, and I am not a particularly outgoing person.
Fictional characters, as a general rule, have remarkably small social circles. And I understand why, don’t get me wrong–it’s a lot easier to juggle a smaller set of characters than to have to write about dozens of someone’s friends and acquaintances all the time. For television examples it’s also a matter of limited screen time and not having to hire a bunch of actors for bit parts. So I get it but it still bugs me because even if Laksha dumps her host’s husband, there’s no reason to think that her host doesn’t have any other familial attachments or friends back in North Carolina that are also going to wonder what’s going on.
As a side note, Atticus himself starts the story with an astonishingly large social circle for a fictional character–there’s his lawyers who he hangs out with from time to time, their entire wolfpack who he mostly gets along with, his elderly neighbor he helps in the lawn sometimes, Perry the Goth, he hits on the bartender in his favorite bar… I mean, yeah, he and his supporting cast are far from well-written, but they’re there and I’m kind of impressed that Hearne managed to get that many characters into the story. Points for that.
Anyhow they go to a restaurant called Los Olivos (which is a real place, by the way) and after chillaxing for a bit Laksha asks what it is that Atticus wants, and he replies that he wants “the Bacchants out of town.” Laksha is surprised that he wants to do “the humanitarian option” (instead of just killing them) and asks if he thinks she has the kind of power to make them go away.
“I hoped you would at least consider it seriously instead of laughing at it.”
“Mr. Chamkanni said much the same thing in bed the first night home from the hospital!”
Granuaile nearly spat out what she was chewing and slapped the table repeatedly as she struggled to control her mirth. I steepled my fingers over my plate, elbows on the table, and waited patiently for them to wind down.
I mean, that is precisely the kind of humor that Hearne/Atticus goes for so I don’t get why he’s put in the role of ‘mature adult’ in this bit of dialogue. But okay.
LAUGH, DAMNIT!: 14
After calming down Laksha explains that she’s not a witch who specializes in mind control, she’s much better at killing people. And Atticus admits that’s why he brought her here, and I’m wondering why he even mentioned the possibility of not killing them. Granny, however, acts very surprised at the idea that Atticus wants to kill the Bacchants, and strongly disapproves, calling it murder. Laksha adds that it would be very bad karma. Atticus has a brief aside to the audience claiming that he still sticks to his Iron Age Celtic cultural values, and I’m sorry this is all horses***.
Look, we know that Atticus doesn’t stick to ancient Iron Age values or ideals. He’s constantly talking and acting like a modern frat boy. So this idea that he’s got the mindset of a man from a much earlier era? I don’t buy it. I don’t see how anyone who has read the story up until this point could believe it. It’s nonsense. I think it’s a way to handwave whenever Atticus decides to do something dickish.
Furthermore–Granny has seen Atticus kill before. The resolution of the last book involved Atticus, his werewolf buddies, and Laksha killing a bunch of witches! They were a lot more human than the Bacchants he’s about to face in this book. Atticus even beheads Emilya and plans to send it to Malina as a warning. Why would Granny be wound up about this situation but not that one which she was a witness to?
This discussion also explains a bit more about how Bacchants work. Atticus says they’re not really human anymore, that they’re “more like walking disease vectors, spreading madness” and that they don’t have any way to go back to normal. Granny argues that makes them victims, but Atticus says there’s no way to cure them, and they’re nearly unstoppable, and goes on to compare them to zombies from the movies–either take them out, or the contagion spreads.
Granny points out that they’re not zombies, so there should be a better way to contain them. And Atticus’s says they can’t be put in prison, because police wouldn’t be able to resist the frenzy they spread. When asked if his own magic can do anything, Atticus explains that his magic is based on the Earth, and the Bacchants tend to stay in artificial environments, that he himself is susceptible to the spell Bacchants spread, and that he doesn’t have a way of curing them.
The final question Granny asks is why can’t Atticus talk to Bacchus, or Bacchus’s boss Jupiter, as he talks to Irish gods all the time.
“Bacchus is the Roman god of the vine, and the Romans hated Druids like no one else. They and the Christians killed us all, actually, yours truly excepted, and they would have gotten me too if it weren’t for the Morrigan….So I think Bacchus would roast me on a spit before he’d have three words’ conference with me. And if he thought I even existed, much less got myself involved in killing his Bacchants tonight, he might decide to show up personally.”
Some points:
ONE: Again, historically speaking, there’s not really any evidence that there was a Christian campaign to kill all the druids, despite what this book and the “Wrath of the Druids” expansion of Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla would tell you. But yes, actually, the Romans very much hated the druids of the Celtic lands they conquered and did their best to wipe them out. The reason being that they were the learned class, and the ones in charge, so they naturally were the ones who organized resistance to Roman conquest and rule. Of course the Romans saw them as a threat and had them eliminated.
TWO: This is actually the best I can remember there being any explanation as to how Atticus survived the genocide of Druids–the Morrigan helped him. Guess it’s handy when the goddess of war has a crush on you. But again I ask HOW the Romans and Christians managed to wipe out an order of magic users who have as many powers as Druids do in this universe. I suppose that it takes a while to train new Druids, given what Atticus has explained to Granny, but they’re apparently warriors, can heal themselves, good at potions, can control earth and plants, and can make alliances with nature spirits. It’s implied Atticus is a better Druid than most, but they should still all be formidable opponents. We have heard of no Roman or Christian magical equivalent that could match them.
THREE: …why would Bacchus care? The reason the Romans killed the druids was because they led resistance to the Romans. Essentially, they’re holding out against imperialism. Why the fudge would Bacchus care? The expansion of Roman power was not really his wheelhouse. He was the god of parties and revelry. As we see in this book his followers are more interested in spreading a massive unstoppable party than anything else. He wasn’t really a Roman military god who would have reason to kill Druids. And even if he was it’s not like the Roman military is trying to conquer the world right now. I suppose it’s possible that there’s a rule Jupiter laid down and Bacchus would have to follow it because them’s The Rules, but it seems kind of weak.
FOUR: What do Atticus mean “if he thought I even existed”? We established at the beginning of this book that the gods all know where he lives. It doesn’t say that the Roman gods do, but the Greeks do, as do several other pantheons who send representatives and messages to his house. Chapter 1 explains that his killing of Bres and Aenghus Og has been front-page news in the divine community. All evidence points to the idea that the Roman gods either already know or have the means to know that Atticus is alive and kicking.
Granny seems very surprised that they’re even suggesting killing someone for payment, and I’m reminded of this bit from the American Gods show:
Wednesday: What are you so pissed off about?
Shadow: You just cut off your friend’s head! And now you’re getting a suit made like you’re the goddamn Godfather?!
Nancy: Who the fuck did you think he was?!
Did she not realize the kind of business she was getting into? Again, she was involved in the end of the last book and saw the kinds of things Atticus did to his enemies. This should not be news to her. Atticus insists again that killing Bacchants is basically the same as killing zombies.
“But zombies are already dead and they want to eat your brains. Bacchants are living people and they just want to have drunk sex on the dance floor. That’s a significant difference. Make love not war, you know?”
It’s also very frustrating, because he could easily use a simple argument by pointing out what happened to Orpheus. Instead (in a paragraph summarizes his talking instead of dialogue) he gives Malina’s explanation about the chaos they will cause, as well as “the Druidic belief that the soul never dies” and so by killing them, he is actually freeing their souls from slaver! So it’s fine, right? Granny isn’t happy with this, but it does shut her up.
BTW, the “killing them is actually good for their souls” sounds an awful lot like what you’d see coming out of the mouth of a fanatical religious fundamentalist character.
Anyhow Laksha brings the conversation around to payment, and specifies that she doesn’t want money, she wants something else in return. Particularly, she wants some of the golden apples of Idunn. Which would, of course, require a trip to Asgard.
[For those not in the know, in Norse mythology the gods aren’t actually ageless, but with the apples of the goddess Idunn, they are able to stay young.]
Atticus is, quite reasonably, against this. He explains to Granny that the reason Laksha needs Atticus to do this is because “Druids can walk the planes”—jot that down as another superpower he has, I guess–and also insists with Laksha that Granny is not a part of this deal, which Laksha agrees to. He points out that this isn’t a fair deal either–Laksha can kill the Bacchants without making too many enemies, as Bacchus apparently won’t care too much. But if Atticus breaks into Asgard to steal the golden apples, then he makes an enemy of all the Aesir, including Thor.
Laksha smiled conspiratorially and leaned forward. “You know what Baba Yaga calls Thor?”
I leaned forward. “I don’t care. You’re missing the point.”
“Granuaile leaned forward. “You’ve met Baba Yaga?”
“She calls him that muscle-cocked goat-fucker!” Laksha slapped the table, leaned back, and laughed heartily while we stared at her bemusedly.
…another one.
LAUGH, DAMNIT!: 15
Also Granny is apparently struggling with learning that Baba Yaga is a real person in this setting, and I don’t know why considering what we know of the mythological world. How is this harder than, say, Thor or the Morrigan? Atticus also takes this comment as Baba Yaga being “familiar with Thor’s intimate life” but that’s not what’s being said here? It’s just an insult. I don’t think anyone’s actually suggesting that this version of Thor likes his goats that much. At least I hope not.
Maybe I should have started a count for every time someone talks smack about Thor.
Atticus asks her why she wants the golden apples anyway. Because while she doesn’t want to go on changing bodies every few decades to survive, there are other ways to achieve immortality or eternal youth. He suggests the brew of Goibhniu for immortality, as getting a favor from the Irish gods would be much easier. But Laksha refuses because it’s something that she would have to keep taking over time. With the apples, she’s hoping to take the seeds and grow her own trees, and therefore not have to worry about relying on someone else for immortality. Atticus warns her that the soil chemistry is different on Asgard or something? So they won’t grow on Earth? I guess? Laksha dismisses this concern and says she’s willing to give it a try anyway.
The temptation to get up and walk away nearly overwhelmed me: This wasn’t my fight. It was Malina’s. And if her coven couldn’t hack it, then Leif could tear them apart, or Magnusson would sic his boys on them once they screwed enough of his clients. I hadn’t lived for 2,100 years by volunteering to take point in every magical scrap in my neighborhood.
I’m going to give this a
You Keep Using That Word: 10
Because yes, Atticus, this is definitely your fight. And he does eventually admit it, but not for actually good reasons.
Hostile magical beings with a chaotic effect on the people around them are going to move into his neighborhood and he’s seriously trying to tell the audience that this isn’t his problem. To be fair, he does suggest leaving town, but he points out that there’s that land around Tony’s Cabin that got blighted by Aenghus Og at the end of the last book, and he still has to take care of that. You know, what he says is his sacred duty as a Druid? And he still hasn’t gotten around to it yet? Yeah that, he hasn’t gotten to it. He says “Its very existence nagged at me; I felt it through the tattoos binding me to the earth. It was like a necrotic wound on the back of one’s hand” yadda yadda, which is an interesting idea, but this is the first we’re hearing of it. If he’d been bothered by it the entire book so far, I’d think it more interesting here, but it’s right the fudge out of nowhere. And if it actually physically bothers him so much, you’d think he’d have gotten right to it instead of buying a poodle harem for his dog.
If he really was paranoid, he would have taken care of the blighted land as soon as it became a problem and have already made a plan to deal with the Bacchants. Instead, he’d prefer to continue about his day and jack off, I guess.
Also given that someone else will apparently handle the Bacchants, regardless:
Make It Easy!: 9
Yeah, really making me feel the urgency of this Plot, Hearne.
This lengthy introspection also has a couple of acknowledgements that Atticus has refused to make until this point: one, that Malina and her coven don’t wish him harm, and so they’re a better alternative than the evil witches targeting both of them, and two, that since killing Aenghus Og apparently a large part of the supernatural community knows where he lives. Enough that the priest and rabbi from the last chapter know who he is and where he works. If the supernatural players decide to come for him, better to stay where he’s built some power. At least, that’s his reasoning.
Atticus asks Laksha if his vampire lawyer put her up to this, to give him another reason to go after Thor, because he really, really hates Thor, but Laksha says no, and points out that everyone in the supernatural world hates Thor in this setting.
So he tries to bargain for stealing a single apple, as to try to not get the least attention from the Aesir as possible. Idunn carries the apples in a basket, so getting one is hard enough. More than one? It’s going to be noticed. And if she wants to grow a tree, wouldn’t a seed be enough? But nope, Laksha, having more forethought than most characters in this book, says she wants several apples and seeds, in case it takes more than one try to grow a tree.
The deal is eventually struck, Laksha agrees to kill twelve Bacchants that very night in exchange for the golden apples of immortality before New Year’s.
It’s late autumn now, in the book, I think? So that’s not actually that long.
And we end with this:
We shook hands on it while Granuaile shook her head in wonder. “I’ve listened in on some pretty weird conversations while tending bar,” she said, “but I think this is the weirdest shit I’ve ever heard.”
There is no way that’s the case. That’s not the weirdest conversation Granny has been a part of in this series, and it’s only a third of the way into the second book. I would have thought finding out there’s a witch’s ghost living in her head would have been weirder, and the conversations with Atticus about Druidry would be stranger still. Remember that bit where she signed up to get tattoos through thorns?
Join us next time, as we actually deal with the Bacchants, and then move on from this little sidequest.
Better Than You: 5
Did Not Do Homework: 10
The Kids These Days: 7
You Keep Using That Word: 10
Make It Easy!: 9
LAUGH, DAMNIT!: 15
Aikaterini on 31 March 2022, 17:07 said:
I’m guessing that Atticus hasn’t met that many American women. Because, yes, some do that, but not all of them. Especially not ones who are introverted and shy or who have low voices. Also, I doubt that this generalization includes elderly American women, who don’t talk like valley girls. Or do they not count under ‘modern’ American women?
So, why did the woman in a coma need to be married to begin with? Why couldn’t she be single, so that there was no need for this convoluted justification?
Well, that’s really convenient for Atticus. He doesn’t have to bother with any moral qualms about killing people or trying to reason with them, he can just mow them down like enemy soldiers in a video game.
Honestly, I think that this is just an excuse for Atticus to not try to talk with someone rather than resort to violence. There’s no need to bring up the history between the Druids and the Romans: just Atticus going after the Bacchants, who are the followers of Bacchus, would be enough to tick him off. If Bacchus has been conveniently rendered unreasonable by his convenient anti-Druid bigotry, then Atticus doesn’t have to bother talking with him.
As well as King Pentheus. And it frustrates me, because that could be a valid explanation for why the Bacchants are meant to be a threat! Instead of making dumb jokes about how the whole country will become Las Vegas, Hearne could’ve made Malina tell Atticus, “Remember what happened to Orpheus and Pentheus? Now imagine an entire population behaving like the Bacchae of old.” Instead, it’s just vague ‘chaos’ that they will cause.
Wait, so Bacchus doesn’t care about what happens to the Bacchants? So, the only reason why Atticus can’t enlist his help is just because Bacchus is randomly an anti-Druid bigot who’s still mad at Druids, even though Druids have been basically wiped out and the Romans have already won and had their final say over their conflict, which happened centuries ago? What?
You know, it’s interesting that when Laksha makes dumb jokes, it annoys Atticus because he just wants to get to the point and feels that she’s wasting his time. But when Malina (or anyone, really) comes to Atticus with important news, he has no problem making dumb jokes and wasting her time. Pot, meet kettle.
Is there a reason why the narrative doesn’t like Thor?
How heroic.
But apparently, it wasn’t too risky for him to ride along with Genghis Khan’s hordes back in the day. Apparently, that wasn’t too much of a scrap for him.
The Smith of Lies on 1 April 2022, 10:34 said:
[Strikes with a gavel.] Motion granted.
It does. It also plays further into Atticus being so different compared to the modern crown (implied: and therefore better than them).
And we all know they don’t really even need those to deal with Atticus. Show him some nipple, maybe half a buttock and he will completely lose the track of whatever was happening, what he was supposed to be doing and why is he even there.
Oooh! He could make some of that impotence potion and use it on himself to counteract the pheromones! And if there happens to be no antidote… I could live with that.
Some points here.
Why even give her a reason to divorce him? The only reason Laksha as a character needs to split is the fact that it was not her who married the man. Ethics of possessing the body and taking over someone’s life aside, she as the demonic possessor needs no excuse to make new life for herself in the taken over body.
Also, depending on circumstances, the moral culpability of the husband for having relationships outside marriage might be disputable here. If there is a reasonable expectation that the wife will never wake-up and she is pretty much kept in terminal care and depending on how long she was lying there in the coma, I could see myself siding with the husband.
Also, I remind you, that the one he was cheating on was not Laksha. Hell, if she decided to stay in marriage and ended up sleeping with the man, not only would that count as cheating, it’d be rape (due to the deceit on Laksha’s part making the husband mistaken about the identity of his partner).
This is not even necessary from the narrative reason. Say there is no divorce. Marriage is not slavery, Laksha could just pack up and leave while nominally and legally being married. It is a solution to a non-issue, just for the sake of having it.
You are making an assumption that any of the characters would care. I am semi-convinced that the divorce subplot is that Hearne can dunk on a character flaw of infidelity (which given Atticus promiscuous nature gives me House of the Night flashbacks).
And once again, breaking those bonds is even easier to do than marriage, as long as your are callous enough. Hell, it is not even that weird from Masquerade standpoint, since none of the characters seems to take any effort to maintain it and it is quite probable that any suspicion would fall under “she changed due to whatever neurological damage coma caused”.
You know? I’d have given joke the pass. I have soft spot for juvenile and association based humour and it was executed well enough that one corner of my mouth moved slightly upwards. But then the reaction description completely sucked all amusement out of it.
Also, Atticus as a man who said, not once but multiple times, that “demons stank like ass” has completely no standing when it comes to juvenile jokes. Hell, he is a juvenile joke.
You know, in a better written book it might have been an interesting element of characterization. For example a character who considers killing more honest than manipulation or is appalled by the very notion of messing with other’s minds and considers it even more harmful act that murder.
I am sure Hearne gave it consideration and fleshing out it deserves.
Ballistas. And Onagers. With sustained artillery shelling even druid will fall!
But honestly, this is an interesting question. So far we have seen no evidence of any other types of practitioners besides druids and witches, so Romans presumably had no magic support of their own. Christians could technically have miracles on their side, we have seen Mary provide blessings against inimical supernatural creature, so there is a precedent.
But that line of reasoning would suggest that the whole Universe does not turn around the Atticus. So of course Jupiter would care if he knew. He is probably too busy to pay attention. Playing golf or something.
I am surprised Laksha is so against killing them. She admitted herself that killing is her speciality. You don’t get to be specialist in something if you are not willing to get your hands dirty. Sure, I can see her not wanting to kill without reason, but Hearne went out of his way to establish Bacchants as a menace, even if they are not zombies. So, they are a menace and Atticus is willing to pay for extermination. Given what little we know of her, Laksha’s objections seem slightly forced.
Cool, can we have Urza gank Atticus then?
This is also another one for unofficial count of “everyone hates Thor for no reason”.
Hah! Great minds think alike.
I will be back later for a comment about the rest of the sporking, this is what I had time for right now.
Juracan on 1 April 2022, 19:02 said:
Uh… so Hearne can dunk on someone, I guess?
Hearne planned to have a fight scene of some sort in here, and he’ll be darned if he doesn’t get to do it!
That is the reason given, yes.
And yes, it is dumb.
Because once again, Hearne planned a boss fight (for the next book) and so he wants to make sure the reader doesn’t feel bad about it. By making Thor the one guy who everyone in the world hates.
Folks, you ever feel so paranoid that you willingly join a foreign army trying to take over the world?
Yeaaaaaah. It’s not as if it takes MUCH to mess with Atticus. The guy is pretty easily distracted by sex, so it doesn’t take magic to get him off of his game.
Yeah, it’s not just the joke, it’s that it’s presented with Atticus’s reaction, which is weird and hypocritical. We’re meant to believe he’s the mature one here, when we’ve seen over and over and over again that he’s just as ridiculous. And this keeps happening when he interacts with other characters.
The only thing I can think of is, like you said, the miracles and blessings. It still seems like a big stretch, and so far there’s been no in-text explanation as to what exactly they did. I suppose it’s possible that the Romans had some magic users like witches, but again, it’s never explicit. So we don’t know. And we’re told over and over again that Druids have the BEST magic—this book explains they can walk planes too, so I don’t see why even if they couldn’t fight back, why the Druids didn’t just… you know, skip this reality.
I’m sorry if I didn’t make it clear in the sporking, but Laksha isn’t the one making these objections—it’s Granny. Laksha is A-okay with killing the Bacchants.
Look, at this point I’m all for anyone ganking Atticus.