Don’t Read If You Don’t Like Medieval History (Or Feminists)

One of the principle criticisms I’ve received about The Demon of Darkling Reach is that there’s too much middle ages and not enough everything else.  As in, less descriptions of cheese-making and more sex, already!  If that’s your bag, then I highly suggest you read the forthcoming The Prince’s Slave trilogy.  Which is excerpted here.  Expect a longer excerpt soon.  In the meantime, don’t buy a book about the middle ages and then be depressed that it’s about the middle ages!

The Demon of Darkling Reach is set in an historically accurate reimagining of England’s high middle ages.  If that floats your boat, then you’ll like this book.  But if you’re looking for princesses in turret hats and unicorns then no, Isla’s struggles will completely turn you off.  She’s not a damsel in distress and there are no white knights.  There’s sex, but the primary purpose of this book isn’t to be jerk off material but to tell a good story.  A feminist-positive story about an empowered woman who, through her own choices rather than the intervention of some man, takes control of her own destiny.

Another issue that some people have is with the fact that this is a trilogy.  As in, the story isn’t complete in book one.  Well no.  It says right there on the cover, book one.  The story arc doesn’t conclude until book three.  As in, you won’t find out what happens, ultimately, to all of the characters until book three.  And yes, a lot happens that doesn’t involve romance.  Or sex.  Isla isn’t some Mary Jane, waiting around for a man to sweep in and give her life purpose.  Her life has purpose when she meets Tristan; she’s running a manor by herself.  In this, one of the things I hoped to illustrate is how the plight of women hasn’t really changed.  Many women are still holding down the fort, today, as the overworked and under-appreciated heads of single parent households.  The parts of Isla’s life that don’t have to do with Tristan are relevant because, well, her life doesn’t revolve around Tristan.  Or any man.

We, as women, need to start expecting a little more of ourselves, and our literary heroines, than singing “some day my prince will come.”