SHADOWHUNTERS AND DOWNWORLDERS

The Blood Tie


Some might say that the theme of incest in the Mortal Instruments is a nonissue, since it is revealed that Jace and Clary are in fact not siblings but rather that Jace is the son of Stephen and Celine Herondale. But to this I say: Nay. For the better part of two novels—the ending of City of Bones, the entirety of City of Ashes, and a majority of City of Glass—the reader is led to believe that Jace and Clary share Valentine Morgenstern as a father, and this pseudo-incest becomes the main obstacle in their relationship. But is the relationship between Jace and Clary really pseudo-incest? Or is it incest-incest?

When it is discovered that Jace and Clary are in fact not siblings, the romantic in us sighs in relief. Finally! They can be together. But nearly at the same time, the reader is informed that Jace and Clary share the blood of the angel Ithuriel, injected into them undiluted by Valentine when they were still in the womb. With the idea of incest so fresh in mind, this revelation is enough to bring the taboo back to the forefront. One type of pseudo-incest is traded for another. “I gave my blood to Valentine Morgenstern, and he put it in his baby boy,” says the demoness Lilith in City of Fallen Angels, referring to Clary’s biological brother, Jonathan Morgenstern. “You might almost say that in a way, I am Jonathan’s mother.” By the same logic, the angel Ithuriel could claim paternity over Jace and Clary, and we’re back in the incest boat. This new claim asks us to look back over the course of the previous novels; it practically begs us to examine what the blood tie means and the ways it may have influenced Jace and Clary’s dynamic. “Blood calls to blood,” the Queen of the Seelie Court says in City of Fallen Angels. And indeed it does, within the Mortal Instruments series, and elsewhere.

The theory of genetic sexual attraction postulates that we are predisposed to find those individuals with similar genetic material particularly attractive, if this predisposition has not been suppressed by the Westermarck effect. It makes sense. The narcissist in all of us finds similarities attractive. We delight in common traits and preferences. So two siblings who don’t know they’re siblings may find themselves attracted to each other on a basic genetic level. Similar pheromones in an unknown sibling may trigger reactions in the brain, as can similar notes in a relation’s voice. Siblings who were separated at a young age and later reunited often report strong and almost instant feelings of attraction, even euphoric crushes so extreme that it seemed impossible not to act on their urges. This is no small phenomenon; according to an article in the Guardian, as many as 50 percent of these reunions result in strong or obsessive feelings. Couples who break the incest taboo and become intimate insist that the intensity of their relationship trumps every other, that it is heightened by their genetic similarities and can’t possibly exist outside of those similarities. Jace and Clary seem to have this level of affection and intensity. Could it be due to their shared angel blood?

From the moment Jace meets Clary, he is unable to stay away from her. It is he, not the other Shadowhunters, who identifies the Shadowhunter blood within her, almost as if he senses it. Throughout the books we (and the characters themselves) are made aware of certain similarities. Both are strong-willed and unlikely to do as they’re told. Though Clary has red hair, their appearances are both described as “golden” in various degrees. And not long after their first meeting, Clary makes note of Jace’s hands and that they are “slim and careful, like the hands of an artist.” Much like her own hands. She also notes a subconscious similarity to her mother in one of his facial expressions, which she calls “scary-calm.” This might not seem relevant, since Jace and Clary’s mother aren’t related, but it is often said that Clary strongly resembles her mother, making Jace’s resemblance actually a resemblance of herself.

Blood’s tendency to call to blood may have a lot to do with Jace and Clary’s fast connection. Within the theory of genetic sexual attraction is the idea that the bond is further strengthened by a subconscious need to form a connection to the genetically similar person in a way that might have been formed during a shared childhood. On a subconscious level, the longing for the intimacy missed with this person who is so linked to you asserts itself. This is more evident in Jace than in Clary, possibly because he had an abusive childhood with no real bonds. When Jace meets Clary, although initially aloof, he quickly breaks down and tells her things about his childhood and his father that would seem out of character for such an untouchable guy, were the connection with Clary not already there, in his subconscious and in his blood.

So what? you say. So Jace and Clary are siblings in the eyes of the Angel. Aren’t all Shadowhunters essentially one big inbred clan? It probably helps their case as a couple, rather than hurts it, because Shadowhunters don’t breed with mundanes. They’re purists, preserving the blood, and while that might seem a bit exclusive, it certainly seems to be in their best interest. Undiluted angel blood is strong. Jace and Clary are the only two Shadowhunters to have it straight from the source, and they’re the strongest Shadowhunters of their generation. There is no such thing as pseudo-angel blood incest. The idea doesn’t bring up strong feelings of aversion, and there are no immediate psychological roadblocks to Jace and Clary’s relationship. It should all be roses and ponies from here.

But it won’t be.

The entirety of the Jace/Clary dynamic has been rooted in the incest theme. Their blood is what called them and bonded them together; the taboo is what forced them apart. Now that the taboo is gone, count on the other blood issues between them to contribute to significant problems.

At the conclusion of City of Fallen Angels, the blood of Jace and Jonathan Morgenstern mixed, and Jonathan speaks inside Jace’s mind. They are one, become more truly brothers. And Jonathan was the only one to truly violate the incest taboo, when he kissed Clary in City of Glass, posing as Sebastian Verlac but knowing full well that she was his sister. Even after his identity is revealed, many interactions between them are peppered with instances of him standing creepily close or finding excuses to touch her. Within the pages of City of Lost Souls he goes even further, to the point of sexual assault. For the purposes of this essay, the assault isn’t the issue. Rape is about power, about victimizing someone, not about forming a connection. And before he committed the assault, Jonathan Morgenstern wanted a connection. He wanted to see similarities between him and Clary, for her to be his true sister. He says: “When I first met you, in Idris, I had hopes—I had thought you would be like me. And when you were nothing like me, I hated you. And then, when I was brought back, and Jace told me [that you killed our father and didn’t care], I realized that I had been wrong. You are like me.”

It’s this sibling similarity that leads him to believe that Clary can be brought into the fold. It makes him believe that she’s worthy to be part of his cause.

The incest taboo between Jonathan and Clary doesn’t function in the same way as the taboo between Jace and Clary does. The reader is meant to be repulsed. But that is due more to the fact that Jonathan is a vile villain than it is to his desire to connect physically with Clary despite their shared parentage.

Blood, whether the blood of the angel that makes a Shadowhunter a Shadowhunter or the blood that ties you to your family, is important in the Mortal Instruments series. Jace and Clary’s blood has brought them together, united them, and then threatened to separate them forever. It has twisted them, turned them, and defined who they are. But now we know the truth of it, and we know where they stand. Or do we?

If you’ve been reading the Mortal Instruments for any length of time, you know that only two things are certain: Dead doesn’t necessarily mean dead, and you never know whose blood is going to wind up running through your veins.



Kendare Blake grew up in the small city of Cambridge, Minnesota. She studied finance at Ithaca College and Creative Writing at Middlesex University in London. Now she inhabits Washington State, along with her husband, Dylan, and two catsons: Tybalt and Mojo Jojo. There’s also a horsedaughter, but she’s all grown up now and lives on her own, obviously too busy to ever call or write. Kendare is the author of Sleepwalk Society, Anna Dressed in Blood, Girl of Nightmares, and the upcoming Antigoddess trilogy.





GWENDA BOND

Friends: Where would we be without them? We’d be chasing people who are terrible for us, making unfortunate fashion choices, and watching terrible movies alone. We’d be standing at the edge of a decision, wondering what the hell we should do. We’d forget to laugh. Gwenda Bond expresses a sentiment we don’t hear often enough—that friendship is its own kind of love story.


ASKING FOR A FRIEND

So much of life as a teenager is spent trying to find that special person. Maybe you know the one I mean.

The person who always seems to get you, the one you can call at any time day or night for reassurance or bail money, the one you talk to for hours sharing your darkest secrets without ever worrying they’ll tell, the one who always, always has your back no matter what idiot thing you just did. The one you have inside jokes with, and ice cream binges, and bad movie marathons. The one whose betrayal would break your heart and smash your soul into teeny-tiny pieces with the pure shock of it.

Who doesn’t remember this yearning? And if you think I’m talking about love, well, you’d be wrong—at least in part. Sure, we all want to meet a gorgeous being who longs to make out with us and whom we long to make out with in return. But when I think back to my teen years, to the people I dated, it’s usually with half-affectionate, half-mortified laughter. We were so young, so inept and ill-suited for each other. We were actively bad at making out. The dissection of everything that happened on a date afterward with friends was usually way more fun than the date itself.

So, no, the relationship nostalgia I’m talking about is a different kind entirely, and I’d bet I’m not alone. And this need sticks with you into adulthood, perhaps evolving, but still there (and if you’re lucky, met). It’s something that can be just as important as romantic love but is rarely treated that way in stories: friendship.

But the Mortal Instruments series is an exception. The phenomenon of undervaluing friendships—or at the very least taking them for granted—can sometimes be a side effect of the understandable focus many readers have on the series’ great epic loves—Clary and Jace, Alec and Magnus, Isabelle and Simon (a girl can hope). But Cassandra Clare never forgets how important friendships are in her characters’ lives. The novels never give short shrift to the other epic love stories being told too, the ones that involve old friends, new friends, and, most important of all, best friends.