8. Identity Crisis

The book:  The Lost Girl
The author:  Sangu Mandanna
The rating:  4 stars

"Come on," I say, "let's go be star-crossed lovers and court disaster."

Premise, setting, characters.  These are the three things I loved about The Lost Girl, a book that is refreshingly unique in all three ways.  Mandanna's writing is very tongue-in-cheek, poking fun at the cliches of the genre (the phrase 'make like a tortured vampire' is used), while spinning a thoughtful, intriguing world.  Mandanna's Weavers, Loom, and echoes strongly reminded me of Joss Whedon's Dollhouse, and like that series, The Lost Girl is a fascinating exploration of what makes someone human and the meaning of identity.

A sense of adventure stirs in my chest.  I imagine sailing into open seas, seizing my fate in both hands.  I imagine swashbuckling battles, swords and cutlasses and battle scars.  I imagine desire, the raw passion of falling into bed after a long reckless day and kissing somebody.

The Lost Girl is split between two settings:  small-town England and big-city India.  For a reader like me, following Eva on her journey from a world on the opposite side of the Atlantic ocean, both of the settings are filled with a novelty and colour that most American-set novels of the genre lack.  I've never been to India (or England, for that matter), so I can't say how accurate The Lost Girl is in its depictions, but the same adventure was stirred in me as was stirred in Eva.  Tastes, sights, smells...  the description in The Lost Girl is glorious, creating a world that seems almost fantastical.

He can see what move I'm planning to make in chess and counters before I can do it.  He always knows who the killer is in a detective story.  I think he could make a career out of detecting, but he wants to write plays for theater.  Maybe he could be a Shakespeare instead of a Sherlock.  He could be anything.  Anything he wants to be.

That description pretty much sums up Sean, Eva's principal love interest.  Suffice to say, I was head over heels by chapter three.  Agency in novels is a balancing act, and their relationship had the perfect balance; neither was ever a puppet on a string, bowing meekly to the whims of the plot, despite the restraints and expectations of the lives they lead.  I think I've made my views on love triangles abundantly clear in the past, and The Lost Girl did not disappoint in that regard.  There is a second boy in the picture, Ray, but it's not what you'd think; he was Amarra's boyfriend, the girl that Eva was born to replace, and the choice he represents is not whether he is the one Eva loves more.  Rather, he is symbolic of identity, duty, free will... the central themes of the novel.  It is always clear that Sean is the one Eva loves, and this makes Ray's presence not tawdry, but poignant.

"I am not kind.  Handsome, certainly.  And undoubtedly brilliant.  But not kind."

A good novel needs good antagonists, and The Lost Girl has the Weavers.  Again, their presence sets the novel a cut above most stories you see in this genre.  Their evilness is ambiguous; the Loom seems dark and twisted, particular as we follow the story from Eva's perspective.  A sinister underground organization... corrupt people with the power over life and death.  But the Loom is more than your typical Evil Inc., and that depth kept me interested, what with the juxtaposition of Ophelia's loving viewpoint, Elsa's gentleness, the flashes of the green nursery...  With regards to the above quote in particular, Matthew very much reminded me of the BBC version of Sherlock Holmes.  Throughout the novel, I was constantly struck by the thought that the Weavers could be the antihero of another story (a la Dollhouse), and given that authors tend to force the reader into the myopic perspective of their hero or heroine, I found this presentation to be quite enjoyable.  Frankenstein is a constant motif, and its pertinence is relayed through the antagonists as well:  what makes a monster, and what makes a monster maker?

"I'll give in gracefully when the time's right.  But until then, I'm not going gently into any good night, thank you very much."

And finally, Eva.  Our protagonist.  In terms of characters, I would actually dub her the weak link.  She's your typical "doesn't-play-by-the-rules" protagonist, the one with the temper, the sharp tongue, and the tendency to start whining.  She's not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, making some really jarring blunders in service to the plot.  She's the type that sends her friends away at the climax to face the Big Bad alone so that she doesn't hurt the ones she loves, but ends up doing so anyway...  in a book that bucks cliches, she is a surprisingly textbook archetype.  I didn't exactly hate her, but I can't say I was particularly fond of the girl (other than her impeccable taste in poetry and prose).

Overall, I'd have to say The Lost Girl was a pretty solid book.  It was intriguing; it was thrilling; it made me think and it made me feel.  Still, it's not the kind of book that pulls you in and doesn't let you go until the last page has been flipped.  The Lost Girl is more of a reflective type of novel, the kind best suited for reading a chapter or two on a train or waiting at the dentist's office.  It also makes for a wonderful stand-alone story; I have the utmost respect for authors who can tell a tale from start to finish in one tome without the need to stretch it out over a trilogy or a saga.  Whenever Mandanna pens her next novel, I will without a doubt be eager to delve into whatever new world or new idea she has concocted.