White Stag, by Kara
Barbieri (St. Martin’s)
I was done with
Western European pseudo-Celtic fantasy a long time ago, so I welcomed this
Norse-based setting. Instead of dangerous/intoxicating elves/fae/fairies, we
have goblins. These are not the hunched-over, hook-nosed second-class orcs from
Middle Earth or fairy tales; these guys are seriously bad news. Their outer
forms can be just as supernally beautiful as those of Lothlorien elves but the
goblins are as blood-thirsty and contentious as it comes, quickly transforming
into their SuperPredator forms. In short, they’re extremely not-nice
characters, they live in the Permafrost where time and physics operate
differently, and every once in a while, they slaughter their king, take off
after the white stag that is the king’s spiritual guide, kill it on the border
with the human world, and the whole murderous shebang cycles through again.
Enter human heroine Janneke,
raised in a village near the Permafrost border, trained from childhood as a
hunter and tracker (and preferring the masculine form of her name rather than
the feminine Janneka). Enslaved by the goblins who burned her village, she’s
been subjected to a century of brutality. When, finally, she’s discarded as an
insulting gift to her master’s nephew, she’s near death and not about to trust
any goblin. At all. Ever.
All of this is
prelude to a love story.
So how do you
recover from a century of near-fatal abuse? Volumes and volumes have been
written about recovery from sexual assault, but that is not the focus of this story.
It’s about opening your heart after a very long time of surviving the most
unspeakable and constant physical abuse in an environment where there is no
safety. Anywhere.
The core of that
journey is the shift from incredible-toughness-survival-at-all-costs to
recognizing the humanity in another person (even if that person isn’t, strictly
speaking, human). At first, Soren – Janneke’s new goblin-master – seems to her
no different from her former abuser or any of the other vicious denizens of the
Permafrost. Gradually, however, she begins to see him as an individual, with
his smirks and his oddnesses. From there comes the recognition that he is
capable of a range of emotions, not just rage. And that he consistently and
quietly takes actions to make her life more bearable.
Love, as opposed to
infatuation, grows by small steps. We all of us learn trust as we take tiny
risks that pay off in mutual respect. Intimacy follows the hundreds of daily
kindnesses that teach us we are not only cherished, we are safe with our partner. Even though White Stag is a fantasy, the lover is a goblin, and magic warps
every aspect of Janneke’s life, the same principles hold true. Barbieri hasn’t taken the easy way out with instant
falling into one another’s arms and all is rainbows and sunsets. The length of
the book gives time and scope for the slow unfolding of hearts, complete with
missteps and spats and unbeatable action.
Verdict: superior
world-building, difficult emotional issues presented with clarity and unflinching
courage, skillfully managed tension, and an emotionally resonant ending. Highly
recommended. Trigger warning for violence, rape, cruelty.
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