The Mercutio Problem, by Carol Anne Douglas (Hermione Books)
I picked up The Mercutio Problem unaware that it was
a sequel to Merlin’s Shakespeare. One
of the challenges of writing a stand-alone book within a series, or linked to
other series, is the balance between giving the new reader all the necessary
background, developing the characters well enough, and yet not boring readers
who are already familiar with the cast and setting. Sometimes I can’t tell if a
book is a sequel or a stand-alone with a rich and brilliantly handled back story.
In this case, it became obvious almost immediately, although to her credit, the
author gave me all the information I needed to understand and enjoy the present
story.
So the back story from the first book is that
Merlin (from the legends of King Arthur) enlists the help of Beth Owens, high
school theater student, to convince William Shakespeare to write a play about
King Arthur. In the course of this adventure, she meets many characters from
Shakespeare’s plays, including flirtatious, charismatic Mercutio (from Romeo
and Juliet) and the ultimate villain, Richard III.
At the beginning of
the present book, Mercutio is dead, slain not by Tybalt but by Richard. Here
comes Merlin again, only this time the problem is that Richard wants to change
the ending of Shakespeare’s plays (especially his own) and is going about enlisting
various other characters and the ghost of Christopher Marlowe in order to
pressure Shakespeare. Not only that, but Merlin offers an added inducement to
Beth, that she will take the form of Mercutio within Shakespeare’s plays and if
she dies in that form, he will live again. Got all that?
Then comes the fun
part, visiting the plays and interacting with the characters, many of whom
wander into other plays, too. The dialog is often brilliant, reflecting not
only Shakespearean language but the particularities of the specific character
(for example, Julius Caesar always talks about himself in the third person and
rambles on about honor and fate). Bottom has gone missing, so Midsummerland is
perpetually rainy (and Bottomless). Lady MacBeth, who knows a thing or two
about tyranny and regret, plays a pivotal role in organizing the resistance
against Richard, and King Lear, consumed with guilt, goes rampaging through the
other plays to slay anyone who wants to keep the plays as they were originally
written.
For me, though, the
most interesting parts of the book were the subtle examinations of gender and
sexual orientation. Beth encounters the world of the plays primarily in
Mercutio’s male (heterosexual) body – although for some reason her genitalia
remain female. This anatomical omission strikes her with a sense of relief, which
that bothered me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until I had a chat with
a trans man friend, who spoke about longing about the flat chest he’d had as a
child. It seems to me a cheat to give Beth an emasculated, sexless version of
Mercutio, instead of the experience of being truly male. Being in Mercutio’s
body and behaving as Mercutio offers so many openings for challenging Beth’s
notions of gender and orientation, it seems a shame to chicken out of the hard
parts (excuse the pun).
A number of times Beth
finds herself puzzled but not put off by her/Mercutio’s attraction to women,
and wonders what this means for her own, hitherto straight, sexuality. She
wrestles with jealousy when her best friend, Sita, comes out as lesbian and
gets a girlfriend. Unfortunately, these issues were only suggested and not
fully played out. Beth becomes temporarily disenchanted with Mercurio’s flirting
but she never comes to a resolution about her own orientation. It would have
been marvelous to see her explore non-cis-gendered sexuality, to see her
insights and empathy play out in her relationships, and to have her accept
being different in more ways than being able to travel to the world of Shakespeare’s
plays. While The Mercutio Problem is
labeled Young Adult, I don’t think these issues are beyond teens; in fact, I
see today’s sophisticated teens as hungry for honest, deep explorations of
gender and sexuality.
The book’s prose
itself was uneven, from awkward sentence structure and jolting shifts of place
and thought progression to nicely described settings from the plays,
characterizations, and occasionally brilliantly insightful lines. My favorite
was spoken by Ms. Portia Desdemona Capulet, the drama teacher: “But remember
that loving great people from the past must always be a one-way love.”
All in all, though,
this book was an enjoyable read and a delight to anyone familiar with the many
worlds of Shakespeare’s plays. I look forward to reading more of Beth’s
adventures, especially her journey of gender and sexual self-discovery.
The usual
disclaimer: I received a review copy of this book, but no one bribed me to say
anything in particular, one way or the other, about it.
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