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From the (Library e-)Bookshelf: Iron Widow
When I saw a feature on Anime News Network about an English-language young adult novel “inspired by the anime Darling in the Franxx,” I have to admit to the instant return of a familiar disquiet. Glancing into the piece, it wasn’t long until I’d seen the point made Xiran Jay Zhao’s Iron Widow had found indignant inspiration in the anime.
Darling in the Franxx is far from the first work of light entertainment I’m quite conscious I wasn’t offended by the way a good many other people keep making a point of. In this specific case, at least, it might have been just a matter of “since recent mecha anime provoking generally positive reactions are in short supply, I’ll still try to look on the good side here myself.” At the same time, though, “a new work inspired by something” does seem a better and more constructive response to me than “another putdown in passing,” “another screed,” or even “another fanfic that tries to fix everything just the way its author wants.” I went so far as to look for the novel in my city library’s ebook lending application; after looking up its title again, I found it. Less than a year after reading Django Wexler’s Hard Reboot and not quite ten years after reading Brett Patton’s Mecha Corps, which had quoted Gundam Seed (one more work of light entertainment falling in that unfortunate category I’ve already mentioned), I thought I could take a chance on another work of fiction in a similar vein.
In any case, once I’d started reading Iron Widow I could tell Xiran Jay Zhao was taking on more than just an anime series accused of “enforcing heteronormativity” and “too many plot twists.” The female members of the mixed-gender pairs inside “Chrysalis” mecha are in much less objectifying and dehumanizing postures than the girls in the Franxx. On the other hand, they run a far higher risk of having their vital force sapped to the point of death as their male counterparts go on to another “concubine-pilot.” Wu Zetian’s elder sister had volunteered anyway, drawn on as ever by the vanishingly rare chance of pairing so well with a male pilot as to be sure of survival, but died in more suspicious circumstances than battle against Hundun mecha-aliens from beyond the Great Wall. Zetian follows her sister into service to get a chance at killing the pilot who was part of those circumstances. Before she can resort to her concealed weapon, though, she’s dragged into battle, but as it turns out things work out the opposite way than they usually do. That much had been stated in the ebook’s blurb; I’d thought “ah, drawing a certain inspiration from Zero Two, but writing from a female perspective rather than setting up a certain figure of male fantasy.” However, there was a more involved explanation for Zetian managing what she did than “because.” By this point in the book I was readier to take things as themselves rather than a specific commentary, and that with certain references I was sure were to a certain bit of imagery in Darling in the Franxx, a certain number and character in Dragon Ball (although I understand that character is himself a reference to something far older), and a certain concept in Fullmetal Alchemist.
The Chinese culture woven through the book is much more significant than even several “anime references” and makes its story distinct, although one part of it is that Zetian’s feet have been bound. That is, bones in them have been broken and the flesh folded under to make them appealingly small and leave her in constant pain. With that I can understand her being no saint. The book isn’t quite a matter of “all men are scum,” though (much less that certain kind of anime where some people start fixating on slashing the female characters with each other). I did wonder a bit about just a few of the male characters Zetian winds up with being “too good to be true,” but when things got to the point of “a triangle where no point has to be left out” I was amused (and recalled the “fannish” term “OT3,” although I had to remind myself things weren’t quite like the wish-fulfilment fanfics where “one guy gets all the girls.”)
The writing in the book pulled me along through action inside and outside giant robots regardless of how dark the story could get, and the conclusion was extravagant in its own way. At the same time, it did follow up on a few hints I’d picked up on before to an obvious hook for continuation. I don’t know what’ll happen next or when I’ll have the chance to find out, but it was a change from dwelling on “when I do read prose fiction, how much of it is lightweight series in quick translation?” Of course, no matter how much I can push up my prose reading level at any moment there always seems further heights above me.
Darling in the Franxx is far from the first work of light entertainment I’m quite conscious I wasn’t offended by the way a good many other people keep making a point of. In this specific case, at least, it might have been just a matter of “since recent mecha anime provoking generally positive reactions are in short supply, I’ll still try to look on the good side here myself.” At the same time, though, “a new work inspired by something” does seem a better and more constructive response to me than “another putdown in passing,” “another screed,” or even “another fanfic that tries to fix everything just the way its author wants.” I went so far as to look for the novel in my city library’s ebook lending application; after looking up its title again, I found it. Less than a year after reading Django Wexler’s Hard Reboot and not quite ten years after reading Brett Patton’s Mecha Corps, which had quoted Gundam Seed (one more work of light entertainment falling in that unfortunate category I’ve already mentioned), I thought I could take a chance on another work of fiction in a similar vein.
In any case, once I’d started reading Iron Widow I could tell Xiran Jay Zhao was taking on more than just an anime series accused of “enforcing heteronormativity” and “too many plot twists.” The female members of the mixed-gender pairs inside “Chrysalis” mecha are in much less objectifying and dehumanizing postures than the girls in the Franxx. On the other hand, they run a far higher risk of having their vital force sapped to the point of death as their male counterparts go on to another “concubine-pilot.” Wu Zetian’s elder sister had volunteered anyway, drawn on as ever by the vanishingly rare chance of pairing so well with a male pilot as to be sure of survival, but died in more suspicious circumstances than battle against Hundun mecha-aliens from beyond the Great Wall. Zetian follows her sister into service to get a chance at killing the pilot who was part of those circumstances. Before she can resort to her concealed weapon, though, she’s dragged into battle, but as it turns out things work out the opposite way than they usually do. That much had been stated in the ebook’s blurb; I’d thought “ah, drawing a certain inspiration from Zero Two, but writing from a female perspective rather than setting up a certain figure of male fantasy.” However, there was a more involved explanation for Zetian managing what she did than “because.” By this point in the book I was readier to take things as themselves rather than a specific commentary, and that with certain references I was sure were to a certain bit of imagery in Darling in the Franxx, a certain number and character in Dragon Ball (although I understand that character is himself a reference to something far older), and a certain concept in Fullmetal Alchemist.
The Chinese culture woven through the book is much more significant than even several “anime references” and makes its story distinct, although one part of it is that Zetian’s feet have been bound. That is, bones in them have been broken and the flesh folded under to make them appealingly small and leave her in constant pain. With that I can understand her being no saint. The book isn’t quite a matter of “all men are scum,” though (much less that certain kind of anime where some people start fixating on slashing the female characters with each other). I did wonder a bit about just a few of the male characters Zetian winds up with being “too good to be true,” but when things got to the point of “a triangle where no point has to be left out” I was amused (and recalled the “fannish” term “OT3,” although I had to remind myself things weren’t quite like the wish-fulfilment fanfics where “one guy gets all the girls.”)
The writing in the book pulled me along through action inside and outside giant robots regardless of how dark the story could get, and the conclusion was extravagant in its own way. At the same time, it did follow up on a few hints I’d picked up on before to an obvious hook for continuation. I don’t know what’ll happen next or when I’ll have the chance to find out, but it was a change from dwelling on “when I do read prose fiction, how much of it is lightweight series in quick translation?” Of course, no matter how much I can push up my prose reading level at any moment there always seems further heights above me.