A Princess of Mars was written by Edgar Rice Burroughs (of Tarzan fame) and was published in 1917. You can read it here via Project Gutenburg. I read this book because of the recommendation of my friend Carl. Apparently he read all the Mars books as a kid and adored them. I began reading the book with a pretty good idea of what to expect. I went on a huge Tarzan kick when I was in high school - I read at least six novels and really liked them. But then when I tried to re-read Tarzan of the Apes in college I barely made it halfway through because I found Burroughs' Victorian Era social values so offensive. As I put it to Carl, " I had to quit [reading] so that I wouldn't strain the muscles in my eyes from all the eye-rolling I was doing."
This was more of the same.
To give Burroughs his due, it is an extremely imaginative story. I applaud the creativity he shows in depicting the fictional cultures of Mars. Six-limbed green aliens? No one had ever done that before, to my knowledge. The first half, I admit, was a bit of a struggle (it's kind of rambling) but the second half of the novel was absolutely riveting. There is political intrigue. There are epic battles. There is mistaken identity and sudden reversal. All good elements to be found in any story.
All this said, on the whole I didn't enjoy it much, specifically because of the Victorian social mores that Burroughs holds in such high esteem. While the plot and the actual story are interesting and even fun, I really disliked the main characters, John Carter most of all. He spends the first half of the novel making it very clear to the reader how much he absolutely loathes and despises the green Martians. He doesn't have one good thing to say about their culture. He says that they are warlike and unkind to their animals and have no love for their children. Although we learn through the actions of the characters that these things are true, Carter's supremacist attitude makes me wish he'd keep his opinions to himself. I had to smile when he points out that among his people, prisoners of war are taken care of and rehabilitated. Ha. Carter is an ex-soldier on the Confederate side. Confederate POW camps were famous for being absolute hell-holes (See this Wikipedia article on the Andersonville camp). Carter needs to wear a big sign around his neck that says, "hypocrite."
But the thing I disliked the most about Carter was his disregard for sentient life. He has the ability to kill a man with a single blow of his fist, and consequently he does it a lot, and he doesn't ever show any compunction about it. In one instance, he kills four guys just because they were standing between him and the female love interest. He says something like, "No man has been born that wouldn't do the same for such as she." Then he unabashedly sends the green men to war against the group of people holding the girl captive, not caring how many may die in the attempt, or how many innocents they may slaughter. And he does this all in the name of love. That's not love, that is selfishness. He doesn't care how many die or who gets hurt, as long as he gets what he wants. Maybe some people think that's romantic, but I just can't get behind that kind of behavior. To me, Carter just isn't a sympathetic character.
Which brings me to Dejah Thoris, the consummate Damsel in Distress. She plays her part well. She exists solely to be rescued. John Carter is head-over-heels for her, and I can't really figure out why, because she completely devoid of anything that resembles a personality. The event that convinces John Carter of his love for her is the moment he touches her bare shoulder. May I direct you to this entry from dictionary.com entitled, "lust."
But the real gem is the following conversation had between Dejah Thoris and John Carter:
Finally she smiled, and, rising, said: "I shall have to believe even though I cannot understand. I can readily perceive that you are not of the Barsoom of today; you are like us, yet different—but why should I trouble my poor head with such a problem, when my heart tells me that I believe because I wish to believe!"
It was good logic, good, earthly, feminine logic, and if it satisfied her I certainly could pick no flaws in it.
There are so many problems with this passage, I don't know where to start. So I'll just say "oh, brother."
But there were two characters I really loved: Tars Tarkis and Sola. They didn't get nearly as much screen time as John Carter or Dejah Thoris, but they seemed a lot more real to me. Their characters had more complex histories and were more fraught with conflict. I was disappointed that their father-daughter reunion (darn, now I've spoiled it for you) got barely a mention. If Sola doesn't appear in the movie, I don't want to watch it. Sola is way more interesting than Dejah Thoris.
So, my verdict? I definitely wouldn't recommend this to my sons when they get to this reading level. I wouldn't want my 12-year-old coming away from this book with the idea that it's ok to do questionable things in the name of "love." This, it seems, is Burroughs' thesis and I cannot endorse it.
I don't disagree on any particular part, though I think you've missed part of the point. I'd much rather my daughters be a Tavia (from one of the later Barsoom novels) than a Dejah Thoris, too. However, the reason I like these books so much is that I don't go in with expectations like yours. Sure, I roll my eyes when Tarzan does what any "red blooded man would do" namely, kiss his woman. But . . . whatever. It's pulp fiction. I'm not reading it because it's great literature. I don't want to only read great literature! Sometimes I just want to read something fun!
ReplyDeleteTo me Dejah Thoris is a classic female MacGuffin, like Helen of Troy. You don't have to actually think that, in reality, there are women so beautiful that entire nations go to war over them, or that any girl can dance so sexily that kings will drop to their feet and offer them half the kingdom (or John the Baptist's head on a charger, whatever), to enjoy the plot of a book. You just have to accept that, for the purposes of this book Dejah, or Helen, or whoever, is just worth it. I don't roll my eyes at the Illiad just because I think it's absurd that they all go to war over Helen. Sure, we would all call it "lust" today. We run into the same problem with Romeo and Juliet's relationship, but I think that expecting Burroughs or Shakespeare to write out an entire courtship would unnecessarily burden their intended story. I try to expect what the story itself is trying to do, that way I don't let my cultural imperialism get the best of a good book.
And I actually do like John Carter. If HE had been running the Andersonville camp, it wouldn't have been that horrible! He never backstabs, treats prisoners and women honorably, wants a fair fight, etc. Now we can argue about whether or not he should have been fighting for the south at all, but he's an idealized Virginia gentleman. And there are worse things to idealize.
I suppose we just have different limits to our ability to suspend our disbelief. In order for me to enjoy a book, I have to care about the characters. I am well aware that Burroughs wasn't even trying to create good literature and I can appreciate that. But as much as I can pretend Mars is populated by tall green thoat-riding men who lay eggs, I can't pretend to love the protagonist or the title character. John Carter and Dejah Thoris just don't do it for me. They never do or say anything that make their problems my problems, their goals my goals. There is no pity, no fear, no catharsis. Except, maybe, for the very VERY end, when he wakes up in the cave in Arizona.
ReplyDeleteThe story Burroughs came up with was actually a pretty good one. I really liked the story -- just not the people in it.
Now, Tars Tarkis and Sola, on the other hand -- that is a story I can get behind. "Sola Tells Me Her Story" is the best chapter in the whole book.
I think the existence of the Trojan War is more a testament to Menelaus’s issues with his ego than to Helen's beauty. Achilles and Odysseus were happy to leave well enough alone (to the point of cross-dressing and pretending insanity, respectively). Just saying.
I disagree with you on the hypothetical nature of the Andersonville camp under John Carter. If he didn't mind burning the entire city of Zadonga to the ground, I hardly think he'd have more compassion on a bunch of Union soldiers.