Shadowhunters and Downworlders

Valentine reignites a race war. He starts an actual war. But his motivation is a high-minded one: He’s trying to change things for what he believes is the better. He’s trying to preserve—and then improve upon—tradition. Shadowhunters were originally given their powers by the Angel in order to protect humanity from the demons and the Downworlders. Valentine just wants to make them purer. Stronger. He wants to make them better. And in that, Valentine’s evil is the most human one of all: evil done in the service of the same ideals that are supposed to inspire us to strive for good.

This is part of why I love Valentine so much as a villain. Take away the supernatural elements, the behavioral disorders, and his “unique” views on parenting, and he’s the kind of villain we see every day. He’s the smooth-talking politician filling up news networks. He’s the charismatic leader of an oppressive regime who has the undying loyalty of his followers. He’s the parent who just can’t accept that his children are not carbon copies of himself and cannot accept that they may hold different beliefs. His behavior is chilling not because we can’t imagine it but because we all too easily can.





Valentine’s Legacy


Valentine’s ultimate fate is particularly poignant because of how his plan is unraveled. When Clary creates the Alliance rune at the end of City of Glass, she turns what Valentine holds up as the flaw in the Angel’s plan—that Downworlders have gifts that the Nephilim don’t—into an asset. And she does it from a place of compassion and heart. From humanity. Valentine is literally brought down by the antithesis of all he holds dear: Shadowhunters working with Downworlders, as equals, both bringing something unique and important to the table.

It’s not just how Valentine is defeated that is important, it’s who defeats him: his children, who are strong enough to do so only because of what he has made them. They have every reason to become like him—Clary through blood, Jace through upbringing—but they reject him instead. (Even the name Clary gives her new rune, Alliance, shows how far she is from her father.)

It’s the humanity in Valentine that makes him so fascinating. And in the end, it is his own humanity—his need to leave a legacy, through his children—that leads to his demise.



Scott Tracey was born and raised near Cleveland, Ohio. His debut novel, Witch Eyes, is a 2012 ALA Popular Paperback pick and one of the top ten LGBT Kindle books of 2011 at Amazon.com. His lifelong love of villains (and a serious aversion to apples) started with the Evil Queen in Snow White. You can find him on Twitter at @scott_tracey, and on his website at http://www.Scott-Tracey.com.





KELLY LINK AND HOLLY BLACK

In Kelly Link and Holly Black’s charming essay-slash-dialogue, they deconstruct the idea of immortality in the Mortal Instruments books (the series does have the word “mortal” in the title, after all). Is it a blessing or a curse to live forever? And how are various characters changed not just by living forever, but by knowing someone who will? There are occasional interjections by me, but on the whole I tried to stay out of it and let the discussion unfold!


IMMORTALITY AND ITS

DISCONTENTS

IN WHICH HOLLY BLACK AND KELLY LINK DISCUSS CASSANDRA CLARE’S MORTAL INSTRUMENTS

HOLLY: When we sat down to talk about this essay, it happened to be in a room where Cassandra Clare was hard at work on her next book. We thought we would just have the conversation in front of her and see if she wanted to pitch in.

KELLY: It seemed appropriate, since this is often the way that the three of us work: Everyone doing their own writing, and stopping when necessary to discuss a plot point or read what someone else is working on and make suggestions.

So. Why do young adults (and for young adults, let’s go ahead and make it all readers) like books, like Cassandra Clare’s, about immortal beings like vampires and faeries?

HOLLY: Well, I remember as a teenager being constantly told that I was going to change. That every time I dyed my hair blue or declared my love for a particular band or book or thing, someone (usually my mother) would say that I would regret it once I was older. And I remember thinking that it seemed to me that the way people talked about getting older, it seemed a lot like getting possessed. Immortality is stasis, but stasis doesn’t always seem like a bad thing, especially if the alternative is losing some essential part of one’s identity.

KELLY: So immortality is change, and it’s also stasis. The best of both worlds! I guess it offers the chance to continue to be yourself, even as the world around you changes. And that seems exciting—as if you’re the thing that the world revolves around. And of course, as everyone will say, young adult fiction offers the opportunity, without risk, to explore different kinds of lives and adulthood and choices. Like science fiction, it’s a literature of what-if. And the biggest what-if of all is, What if we didn’t have to die? One of the very first stories is the story of Gilgamesh, which is all about trying to defeat death. Every culture’s first stories are about their gods, who live forever.

HOLLY: Well, living forever seems pretty sweet. As Raphael says to Simon in City of Glass, “You will never get sick, never die, and be strong and young forever. You will never age. What have you got to complain about?” Is there anything to complain about?