dirty review of acotar
A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR) by Sarah J. Maas is a novel enamored by fantasy but not terribly interested in it. Protagonist Feyre is a nineteen-year old scavenger for her family of two whiny sisters and a pathetic father, living in what we are told is the most run-down of run-down shacks. Once fabulously wealthy alongside her siblings, Feyre now spends her days hunting scraps for a household that never shows her an inch of gratitude, until she kills a wolf thatās actually a faerie. Another faerie named Tamlin finds out, gets pissed, and finds Feyre to inform her that as punishment she has a choice: she can perish here and now, or she can leave her current miserable existence for a new life in a palace in the fae kingdom where a legion of hot men who all have cut jawlines and rippling biceps spend their time hunting and brooding while all the women wait on Feyre hand and foot. Feyre, after trying to convince Tamlin that sheād rather die than escape this life that sheās spent the first few chapters complaining about, reluctantly chooses to go to the castle. Feyre hates Tamlin for making her choose between a bad thing and a good thing, Tamlin hates Feyre because the faerie she killed was his friend (kind of), and the story is about how the two of them fall hopelessly head over heels for each other.
I want to focus on how the fae of this story are fae in name only. There is a scene halfway through the book in which Tamlin and Lucien (Tamlinās mischievous pal) confirm that the stuff we believe we know about faeries is all bunk. Faeries can lie as much or as little as theyād like, metal has no real effect on them, and their magic powers are essentially āplot-based omnipotenceā ā that is to say, they are as powerful as the story needs them to be. I want to be clear here: when considering any sort of adaptation, be it of a historical work of fiction or a mythological character in some sort of canon, change is never inherently a sin. Alteration is revealing of the authorās values of the story, both in their retelling as well as the original, and can often provide rich interplay and commentary between the two texts. But the only thing Sarah J. Maas seems to value is a pressure washer; while she described taking inspiration from fables such as Beauty and the Beast, Tam Lin, and East of the Sun and West of the Moon, each and every unnerving component of these tales have been completely excised, from the Jesus-like pregnancy of Tam Lin to the genuine bestial and grotesque appearance and nature of Beauty and the Beast. There are certainly several references to these stories, such as the trial of washing tallows out of something (a shirt in the original fable, a chimney in ACOTAR) from East of the Sun and West of the Moon, or a wicked faerie queen from Tam Lin. But these references are just things that occur to make our protagonist unhappy ā none of it feels like a demonstration of Ferye as an amalgamated protagonist of these three fables. Ferye is not particularly clever, or wise, or patient ā too often her problems are resolved by either a faerie magicking them away, or the audience being told afterward that what Maas presented as unimpressive to us was secretly incredibly talented on Feyreās part.
The changes to the fantastical exist for a common purpose ā to flatten. Whether that flattening be into trope, conventional beauty standards, or to just make fantasy lessāweirdā, it flattens all the same. At times Emily J. Maas seems to feel ashamed of the possibility of finding these creatures attractive for their non-human qualities, like the ending of Disneyās āBeauty and the Beastā couldnāt happen soon enough. Itās telling how Feyre is at first terrified when she is brought into the fae realm and thus continues to remark on the inhuman aspects of the fae: their fused masks, their claws, Lucienās strange eye, their animal alters. As she becomes more acclimated, however, her change in perspective is reinforced by her remarking on the human-like qualities of Tamlin more often: his green eyes, his muscular arms, his chiseled jaw, his powerful stride. Thus, our characters are having their cake and eating it too ā immortal good looks + magic money and wealth, alongside a human physicality that is, again, hilariously firm and masculine. Feyre often ponders what Tamlinās visage would be under his mask. When you do encounter an illicit scene (really the illicit scene, thereās only like one), Tamlin being a faerie only matters in terms of his endless stamina and strength. Whatās more, Tamlin and Feyre making up is absurdly āblink and youāll miss it,ā in the middle of the book, and in tandem with the ggarnish that is the fantasy elements the book loses a sense of place in its sex; I find myself having to do the backfilling in terms of the stakes and setting rather than enjoying the sensuality that Maas has awkwardly written for me. The novel has the sensuality of a costume from Spirit Halloween.
I do want to engage, however, with the sincere eroticism that can emerge from a $20 costume purchased on Amazon. There is something incredible sexy about anyone willing to be goofy, to lean into the bit, to have clearly put in effort to look a little foolish for the sake of having a good time. Part of why there are just an ungodly amount of hot people at conventions is that so many people are dressing up to have a good time, and the sense of humor and confidence that comes out of that really shines through. And as I trudged through ACOTAR and pondered the wish fulfillment at play I imagined not the fantasy of having a hot fantasy daddy boyfriend, but the fantasy of having a hot boyfriend willing to cosplay as a fantasy daddy. You can show him a romance book that youāre reading that you find cute but a little silly and he can drop his voice real low and put on an impression of the love interest to make you laugh. You can chuckle and say āokay but wouldnāt it be ridiculous if you were to like dress up as this guyā and two days later heāll put on the wings and the mask, heāll learn how to do makeup, heāll kneel at your feet to kiss your hand. And if heās all dressed up alreadyā¦ I mean you might as well do it, you know? He looks so sincere, so serious, like heād do absolutely anything for you. Heād carry you to your room, toss you onto the bed, rumble in your ear about how you may be the lady of this house but tonight you belong to him, his nails digging into your arms as he starts to lazily fuck you into the mattress. Heās so warm and heavy and he feels so fucking good, and your hands clench at the sheets while you let a long moan escape your lips, and he responds in kind with a very bestial growl-
But the instant you start to feel insecure, to feel like maybe youāre doing something thatās a little bizarre or concerning or shameful, he can take off the wig and cape immediately and scoop you into his arms and you can both ironically chuckle about how strange that whole thing was. And maybe some other night you take out the costume and try again, and maybe it just sits in your closet forgotten, but you never have to have a conversation about why you get so nervous about liking this. You never have to go and see if maybe this isnāt a new phenomenon, that maybe people have been writing about getting laid in all manners of cottages and kingdoms, that maybe thereās something out there that would truly and deeply resonate with you. The fantasy always stops when you want it to. This embarrassment you feel is not an obstacle to overcoming, is not an opportunity to learn more about the world or history around you. You can stop thinking. You can settle for ACOTAR. The shame is a gilded cage.
addendum
This novel is the first of several romantasy books I plan on reading to āget to knowā the big trend in book publishing over the past few years. While I donāt plan on writing anything about those books, I do want to be clear that most of this boom is nothing new. Women have always loved stories about hot men coming to save them, and men have always loved any excuse to mock, ridicule, shame, and humiliate women for enjoying anything at all. In six years it will be something else. In twelve years it will be something else.
The roots of these books, however, in fanfiction culture and AO3 tagging and endlessly grasping at the books we read in high schoolā¦ those do feel new. Years ago there was a massive wave of adults getting into young adult literature, and this feels like the crows coming home to roost from that: a desire for something more adult, more mature, but still cozy and warm. Most of contemporary nerd culture was originally created by manchildren who wanted to remain fifteen forever. It makes sense that eventually the eyes of pop fiction would settle here.
But through my grouching and moaning about anything related to fandom, there is a weird type of sexual positivity that is in the air now that feels exciting, if aimed in the wrong direction. I had an unprompted conversation with someone at work about CNC in the break room that felt genuine and exciting. People I vaguely know openly talk about the smut theyāre reading, and they use the word smut! Maybe there is pressure that can build in the gilded cage ACOTAR constructs. And so, to anyone somehow still reading who is a fan of ACOTAR, while I canāt recommend any novels on account of not reading as much as Iād like (though Iām working on it), Iād like to recommend some movies that I think you have a strong chance of enjoying.
May December (2024) ā Todd Haynes
The Princess Bride (1987) ā Rob Reiner
Y Tu MamĆ” TambiĆ©n (2001) ā Alfonso CuarĆ³n
The Idea of You (2024) ā Micheal Showalter
Howlās Moving Castle (2004) ā Hayao Miyazaki
Priscilla (2023) ā Sofia Coppola
