The Lobster Dance

In this edition of The Beyond Binaries Book Club, we attempt to read The Second Mango, a queer YA fantasy novel about a young queen and her knight on a quest to find the queen a girlfriend. Read on for dragons, food allergies, crime-solving, magic–and a narrative style that didn’t work for everyone. Spoilers ahead.

What’s the Beyond Binaries Book Club?

Long version here.

Our focus is on books (and media) about characters with sexualities, gender identities, or gender expressions that aren’t simply male/female or gay/straight. That is, characters who are bi/pansexual/queer-identified, or whose gender expression or identity is not strongly fixed to the gender binary (may include agender, transgender, gender-nonconforming, gendervariant, genderfluid, intersex [as identity], non-binary, genderqueer, et al.). We tend to read speculative fiction novels (as opposed to non-fiction, including autobiographies), but other genre fiction, graphic novels, comics, and short stories may be on our list.

The Second Mango

Queen Shulamit never expected to inherit the throne of the tropical land of Perach so young. At twenty, grief-stricken and fatherless, she’s also coping with being the only lesbian she knows after her sweetheart ran off for an unknown reason. Not to mention, she’s the victim of severe digestive problems that everybody think she’s faking. When she meets Rivka, an athletic and assertive warrior from the north who wears a mask and pretends to be a man, she finds the source of strength she needs so desperately.

LM: Rivka fits into the genre of women dressing as men to get sword shit done, but I really appreciate that she and the author acknowledge that trans men exist, though she doesn’t identify as one. Also, it was really nice to see a butch/gender-bending character who 1. Did not get the gay panic for getting hit on, 2. Had a partner who liked her just the way she is, and 3. Demonstrates that gender is a bit slippery.

I’m thinking back to that awful article about “My Daughter Isn’t Trans, She’s a Tomboy,” because even though it was transphobic as hell, the concept struck a chord with a lot of folks I know who are more or less cis-identified and straight-identified but whose gender expression doesn’t fit what straight people think is normal; thus, they got mistaken for being queer and/or trans as kids but don’t identify that way at all.

When I think about gender non-conforming AFAB characters from older media, like Oscar from The Rose of Versailles, this seems normal enough for me, but as a genderqueer person, I feel weird categorizing others, including Rivka.

Glassman discusses her decisions in writing Rivka in this blogpost:

But, as I said, [the cross-dressing trope of a cis woman dressing as a man] is still just heterosexual people being heterosexual–nothing new, and still not LGBTQ+ representation. It’s hinting at us just enough to pique the interest of the straight world that seems fascinated by us, but–nope, the couple can actually be together after all, because that person in pants is actually a woman! The woman can act as butch as she wants, but it’s okay, because she’s actually just doing it for her career!
Well, I wanted to turn all that on its ear. What would happen if one of those “I may act butch and pass for male, but I’m as straight as a plumb line!” women were to run into an actual, honest-to-god, lady-lovin’ lesbian for once? What would that look like? I was curious, and fiendishly tired of all that lesbian erasure, so I decided to write about it and find out….
I also chose to approach the trope of the crossdressing woman’s heterosexual romance looking like two gay men on the outside in a different way from any other way I’d seen it done before. The man knows from the beginning that she’s a woman, so there’s never any moment where he has to come to terms with his attraction to another man, only to — whew! — find out the object of his affections is female after all…. Rivka is never bothered by the fact that she’ll look like a gay man if she openly expresses her heterosexual impulses while passing for male. And, unlike Yentl, she never faces a reality in which the relationship is only possible if she chooses to return to her “proper” sphere of feminine dress and behavior.
All of this, by the way, doesn’t address the fact that the situational crossdressing plots often constitute not only trans erasure, but also transphobia. While a woman wearing men’s clothing is often accepted, a man in women’s clothing is often played for laughs and gross-outs, especially if he’s given a scene in which another man is coming on to him, thinking he’s a woman. They’re both, of course, straight — there it is again — and it reinforces the idea of the trans woman just being a man who’s trying to trick people into sleeping with “him” (scarequotes around the male pronoun) and the idea that trans women are disgusting. The misgendering of Lois Einhorn, the villain in Ace Ventura, is another example. I’d love to see an informed takedown of this vile and loathsome cliché, because it’s far more harmful than the ones centering on situational crossdressing in cis women.

That said, I really would have liked to see some more trans representation, though I’m told that there are trans characters in the other Mangoverse books.

Also: Aviva is confirmed bi by Glassman.

HG: Sadly, I couldn’t make it through this book. The diversity was great, but the writing style seemed very amateur with a lot of telling and hardly any showing, and the princess seemed like a little girl to me so I was starting to find her quest for the sexytimes borderline squicky. Somewhere around a third of the way through I hit the exposition about the neighboring kingdom and I just couldn’t do it anymore. BUT I did really like the way Rivka was subtly subverting the “dressed as a man” tropes and how they raise questions about the “line” where “odd” becomes “queer.” I’ve run across this a lot as a historian, where other historians can become very preoccupied with what a person “really” was. Seems like Rivka is a good example of a person just being who they are and letting the chips fall where they may, and I liked that.

AMR: I agree with HG, the writing wasn’t great, it felt more appropriate for a visual medium, not a novel, or a kids’ novel, which definitely made the sex scenes squicky when I was thinking it was maybe for 8 – 13 year olds. It really reminded me of early Xena the Warrior Princess or Hercules TV episodes – it seemed like either one full season if they had a couple of additional adventures or flashbacks along the way or a major character arc. The quick exposition and immediate trust between the two, along with the focus on dialogue rather than description and development made me think low-budget TV show. I might even like to see it in TV format, that could be fun!

I was surprised at how surprised I was at the use of the Jewish religion as the major faith of the story (and how observant the main characters were). It wasn’t either Christianity, some made-up religion or (the worst) some made-up religion poorly masquerading as bad stereotypes of a real religion (Catholicism = gaudy church with lots of influence, church & state combinations that can be either Catholic or Anglican, anything where women are treated as chattel is Islam, etc.). I am not unfamiliar with Judaism but there were many things, particularly the use of Yiddish, that made me pause because they are not generally used by those I know or in media I consume.

Aside from the mismatch (in my opinion) between writing style and either intended age or medium, I liked how all the characters were generally real people. They all had aspects of their personality that were non-normative and were unapologetic. Some of the things were a bit too…convenient, which fed the “are you sure this isn’t for kids?” feeling, like how everything just fell into place at the end with no conflict, Rivka was still pining for Isaac years later and had never had even a moment of interest in anyone else, and the basin did in fact manage to coat everyone enough to break all of the curses for all.

I appreciate that they did start to consider the ideas of lineage in the monarchy and I would assume that’s the main topic in future books. Whether they fully buck tradition by naming an heir who is not biologically part of the monarchy or do something else will be interesting to see. I am especially interested as the Jewish faith historically follows the mother’s lineage, so I would think that it is more important for a female ruler to bear an heir than a male.

Overall, a fun book that actually does have a “just be yourself” aspect with a variety of characters who aren’t ashamed by their different ways of being in a world that is not welcoming to norm-defying gender roles (and strong gender norms for occupations and romance). Cute book and I like the world she’s built, I just wish it were carried out in a different medium or specifically for younger readers.

LM: I am going to check into the other books to see if there’s any change/improvement in the story-telling and get back to you all, because I really like the universe, but on re-reading it, I noticed some of the same things you mentioned. (I think I read it in two days on the train…) I don’t know how much of the telling-not-showing is intentional to set the “fairy tale” mood or just first-book blunders, so I’m interested to find out. Apparently Goodreads felt the same.

Parts I liked (part 2?):
-Shulamit sticking up for Aviva when the suit of armor that feeds on negative thoughts tries to goad her with biphobia (“Your slutty cook…likes men too–you had to have known you wouldn’t be able to keep her forever. Why would she stay with you when she could go off and have a real family with a husband to satisfy her properly?”) (Kindle: p 108, location 1865)

-Letting Shulamit be a bit girl-crazy but having others check her problematic posturing.

-Characters apologizing for queer erasure

-Aviva’s handle on language, which is at times endearing but also occasionally manic-pixie dream chef

Things I didn’t like:
-The tone of the book changes a lot from start to finish, and I feel more cohesive editing for tone (is this directed at JHS students? YA?) might have been better. This reminded me a bit of a much queerer and less white The Lioness Quartet. I would have liked a longer novel and more time to spend on the quests, character development, etc.

-Persistent low-key cissexist language

Fun fact: when I Googled “The Second Mango” to get the age rating, it autocorrected to “The Second Coming.”

CR: I don’t want to harp too much on the writing style, but I agree that it felt adolescent. There were occasions where the subject matter (specifically the sexual content) didn’t seem to match the grade level the language seemed appropriate for. By the end of the book, though, I found myself really appreciative that the depictions of sexual relationships were more positive than the vast majority of YA that, say, I read as a young person. It made me feel that maybe my discomfort with what I perceived to be a mismatch said more about early lessons I learned about sex and relationships than it does about this book.

I like how Shulamit and Aviva renegotiate their relationship and their trust in one another after the big conflicts of the book have been resolved. Aviva asks:

“What do you want?”
“I–”
“I want you to feel safe. I’m sorry about the way I did things before, and I want to make sure I do better.”

So often in fiction, when romance is almost thwarted by a large misunderstanding or a lie (in this case, Aviva gets mixed up in a scheme that gives her the funds to pay for life-saving medical treatment for her mother, but means that she has to leave her lover, Shulamit, with no explanation), once the two people involved finally figure out the truth, their reconciliation is immediate, they kiss, and presumably live happily ever after. I like that the characters acknowledge that this has been an extremely emotionally trying journey for both of them, and that building up feelings of trust and safety in the aftermath will take work and communication.

Having said that, the one character that was consistently difficult for me to deal with was Aviva. “Manic-pixie dream chef” doesn’t just apply to the way she speaks; she doesn’t get the chance to become a developed character, and even when she is at last rescued and recovered from her ordeal, she can’t wait to go back to “being useful.” It concerned me that the power/class difference between Aviva and Shulamit isn’t really addressed. On the one hand, I liked that the story doesn’t follow the Cinderella narrative; Aviva likes to clearly cares passionately about cooking, being supportive, and performing emotional labor in support of the people she cares about, and it’s nice to see that the people around her value that about her. On the other hand, it seems like this is still a society quite divided by class, and I find myself wondering how they both manage their relationships, with one another and with those around them, five or ten years down the line.

I really enjoyed reading about Riv. I liked how matter-of-fact she is about who she is, how she feels about gender, who she’s attracted to, and how those things are different than the assumptions that Shulamit makes when the first meet, but that she’s also able to explain who she is in a way that reserves space for other identities.

The thing that might actually stick with me, though, is Shulamit’s dietary restriction. I don’t think I’ve ever read a novel where this played such a huge role. I admit, I had a moment of incredulity where I thought, “What is this doing in a fantasy novel?” which honestly is precisely why it belonged. The fact that no one takes Shulamit’s experiences seriously in the way she needs for so long, the way that makes her doubt herself, and the trauma and insecurity she’s still dealing with throughout the book around her body, her health, and her autonomy are very real.

 

Thank you all for commenting and bearing with me during this busy time of year!