“What’s the point in having a mind if you don’t use it to make judgments?”
“What’s the point in having a heart if you don’t use it to spare others from the harsh judgements of your mind?” (Pg. 231)
SPOILERS
All these nuances that make up a single person, and Chaol and Dorian still see the world as a place marked by absolutes. They’re not attuned to the beauty of ambiguity. In fact, experience has taught them that people aren’t multilayered or anything more than what is portrayed. The world is composed of criminals and nobility. There is no crossover, much less an in-between. Criminals aren’t clever, beautiful, or caring. They lack control, which makes them unworthy of agency or human decency. The misfortune they endure is not the creation of an oppressive force, but rather a brutality they bring upon themselves. And for failing to surrender the liberties that are theirs to protect, for refusing to extend gratitude for what was stolen, they are branded assassins, rebel princesses, and monsters. The nobility, in contrast, believe they deserve everything they desire – without question or resistance. They dictate their own lives, make their own rules, and when they’re not obeyed, violence is always the appropriate response. As makers of the system, they don’t have to play by the code they enforce, but those who would oppose…they certainly do. These malevolent hypocrites are called kings, lords, and ladies.
There’s a certain irony in the overwhelming similarity between an Assassin, a Prince, and his Royal Guard that inevitably forges them together. Chaol is self-righteous, Celaena is recalcitrant, and Dorian is imperious. Proud personalities are at play, and no one deigns to concede to the other. The men are quick to dispense their baseless judgments, the female heroine doesn’t hesitate to bestow her feminine wisdom, yet all three of them struggle to think with their hearts. Celaena is a willful teenager who longs for a world free of hate, that is self-ruled, yet views love as a hindrance to peace, not the solution. Experience has made her avoidant (like Dorian) and cynical (like Chaol), but it has also opened her eyes to the lines that serve no purpose except upheaval. That’s not arrogance, it’s wisdom, knowing titles and rank don’t define a person’s character or worth. Chaol, of course, would beg to differ. He’s icy, narrow-minded, and law-abiding. And when he meets his opposite – a non-conformist with a rebel’s heart, Chaol sees her irreverence, that refusal to be invisible or hated without reason, as a threat that must be leashed. It’s reprehensible to live the life of a “radical” who champions autonomy, but an honor to defend the atrocities committed by a tyrannical king? Chaol is a soldier who does what he’s told without question. A quality he believes makes him morally superior to Celaena. As if blind obedience isn’t dangerous or outright evil during oppression. He doesn’t feel it’s his place to have moral objections, but he soon learns it’s not only his place, but his duty as a human being. Celaena ultimately teaches Chaol that the ability to separate what we feel from what we’ve been told is power. A truth even Dorian has yet to accept. As the Prince, he fails to display even a modicum of authority when it counts. Instead, he dumps all of his problems on Chaol or Caleana – a soulless murderer – who merits condescension and reproach, but is fit to clean up his messes. Is a passive princeling with a fully functioning heart and brain really any better? Sure, he’s impertinent and gets mouthy on occasion, but Dorian never actually does anything.
The nuances attributed to each character challenges the lazy prejudices that judge people as either this or that. But it also stresses how thinking this way is not only manufactured, it’s disastrously naive. Calaena is as stealthy and cunning as a fox, but she is genuine. She’s not a monster, but a girl, a survivor, who wants to feel at home somewhere, who wants to believe there’s someone out there who truly has her back. She’s accustomed to the spoils of notoriety and attention, revels in it (like Dorian), but still wishes for people to look beyond her reputation while also recognizing the power she wields. Dorian, though snooty and prim, is just a boy who cowers to his father, a father he wishes shared his compassion and open-mindedness. Chaol has all the makings of a decent leader, more so than Dorian, yet he deigns to be the babysitter, parental figure, and pragmatist. He doesn’t get to be reckless or conceited, but he yearns to be loved and admired. They all bear their own shields, but behind the obstinance and sarcasm is a person who feels very deeply. Celaena destroys for a living, yet she longs to create, and music is the only space where she is free to express herself. Dorian, the son of an insatiable tyrant, prefers puppies and books to war. He’s sensitive, and in a world fraught with men who choose violence over wisdom without blinking, it’s an endearing quality, but perhaps also negligent. Dorian has the self-awareness to recognize his shortcomings, to know his father is not god and dead wrong about people like Celaena. He’s not used to being challenged, but he welcomes insight, is capable of being taught, and truly wants to learn. Understanding how ignorance thrives, and making strides to overcome it is wonderful. Being the kind of man who can admit when he’s wrong and accept his losses – also wonderful. But with all that brain and heart, he puts none of it into action when he’s in a position of power to do so. Even Chaol, whose primary role is to be subservient, has the heart of a rebel that he fails to deny. Reprimanding and rigid, yet kind and reassuring when he senses Celaena’s fear and despair. For someone who can be QUITE sensible, yet struggles with moral discernment, Chaol ultimately yields to the instincts that aren’t deceived by the guise of fairness.
During oppression, what appears as generous and merciful proves to be nothing more than an enticing, mitigated trap. The puppeteer takes far more than they ever give, and their magnanimity always demands a price that is never paid. When the two come face to face, the puppet always fails to realize that they have the power to unplug the illusion. Though presented with the easier choice…it isn’t the only choice. One foot in the other direction, one word uttered in opposition, and it can undo it all. Celaena may take the bait, but she has the keen sense to know she’s trading rusty shackles for golden ones. A fact that becomes muddied the more time she spends with Dorian and Chaol in her glass prison of finery and romance. Celaena’s willful ignorance and decision to trust the promises of a duplicitous king is an abdication, not credulity. Living in denial is easier than challenging the despotism that passes as nobility. Even when the puppet honors their side of the bargain, the puppeteer will always find provocation to demand more and dishonor their word. The moment Celaena learns that freedom is unattainable when someone else holds the key, maybe then she’ll see the logic and possibility in cutting the strings. And it’s funny that Celaena would ultimately end her relationship with Dorian for engaging in the same passive acceptance. During the competition, Dorian knows Celaena was sabotaged, knows the only way the duel ends is with a wrongful death. Yet he fails to see the sense in putting a stop to the heinous spectacle because he’s scared and would rather put his mindless faith in a “fair” outcome as a cop-out. He’s more worried about her being unfairly disqualified for intervening – he should’ve been far more concerned about how his inaction almost got her unfairly assassinated for beating the king at his own game. There is no such thing as fair when a man like that has claimed all power for himself. Where’s the sense in having the power to stop injustice and not harnessing it? In the end, the person you least expect sees the injustice for what it is, not the illusion, overcoming the instinct to idly obey, and surrendering to the impulse to trust one’s conscience. Chaol’s act of rebellion says – Don’t let the enemy convince you that defiance is wrong when your heart says otherwise. More than that, and this ties back to the quote above, if love without sense is reckless, a brain without a conscience to follow is just as deadly.
Rating 2 out of 5 – Slowww burn. There were moments I found myself distracted and not entirely engaged. But to TOG’s credit, Sarah J’s witty banter always makes me smile.
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