Born in Spokane, Washington in 1931, David Eddings was an author most noted for his work in the fantasy genre.  The work he is perhaps most known for is an epic fantasy twelve books in length.  This epic is comprised of two five-book series, the Belgariad and Malloreon, and two prequels, Belgarath the Sorcerer and Polgara the Sorceress.  The two series detail a rather formulaic high fantasy arc wherein the primary protagonist and his unlikely companions undertake a quest to save the world from a fate worse than death.  There are princesses, nations at war, magic, peril, prophecies and intrigue.  In the end, the hero, against unspeakable odds, saves the world from the brink of destruction.

So what makes this any different from any other post-Tolkien fantasy tale? When Eddings first pitched the idea of the series to Ballantine Books in the early eighties, strong female characters in fantasy were almost non-existent.  They existed as accessories to the hero; pristine ivory tower beings who were decorations and trophies to be won. The other most common manifestation of females was that of the female Conan; a mightily muscled, bronze-bikini clad Amazonian terror as monosyllabic as her male counterpart and completely sexless.  As Eddings notes in a 1994 interview by Stan Nicholls for Interzone Magazine, “part of Tolkien’s heritage is a certain prudishness. With one or two possible exceptions there aren’t any female hobbits, and his heroines end at the neck; you have the beautiful hair and eyes but that’s about it.”

Eddings sought to change that.  His work is notable for a certain grittiness that is lacking in many earlier fantasy novels; characters have a need to eat, they get saddle sore and stink after a week on the road.   Likewise, Eddings worked to create memorable female characters who were integral to the plot.  In the interview with Stan Nicholls, he goes on:

I’m having a great deal of fun pushing against those boundaries of prissiness and inserting an erotic element into my work.

This ties in with recognizing the fact, and disliking the fact, that people in America are absolutely convinced the melody for Greensleeves is a Christmas hymn. It was composed in praise of a prostitute, of course. Come on, I’ve read Chaucer, I know there were prostitutes in the Middle Ages. And if I’m dealing realistically with the Middle Ages I’m going to have to have pickpockets, I’m going to have to have thieves, and I’m going to have to have prostitutes. I think the third character who appears in the Elenium is a prostitute, a little streetwalker being rained on. I introduced her to establish that it’s a real world, and to establish that, despite its preconceptions theologically, medieval society had probably at least as many prostitutes as it had knights whose strength was as the strength of ten because their hearts were pure.

While the Elenium is placed in a universe different from that of the Belgariad and Malloreon, Eddings’ desire to accent the reality of his fantasy settings holds true.  In the universe of the Belgariad, a number of strong female characters hold key positions in the development of the plot.  Notable among these are the protagonist’s Aunt Polgara, a sorceress who lives for thousands of years and who has a direct hand in his raising.  The protagonist’s wife figures no less prominently, maturing from a spoiled imperial princess into a fiery leader who successfully raises a vast army to battle the forces of evil.

However, while these female characters provide a strong female presence within the epic fantasy genre, the do it from purely within the bailiwick of feminine identity.  Polgara’s highest goal is to get married and have children, and likewise for Ce’Nedra, the protagonist’s wife.  Never, in the scope of twelve books, are Ce’Nedra or Polgara to be found in men’s clothing.  The only exception to this rule is when Polgara adopts the national female dress of the enemy when engaging in an act of subterfuge: close-fitting black leather pants, boots and vest, the garb of which is described as anything but mannish.  In adopting the national dress of the Nadraks, Polgara still conforms to the cultural norms of femininity by acting in a way which is in keeping with the dominant social expectations of how a woman should act and dress.

While the series’ primary female characters reflect normative cultural values, some of the supporting characters reveal insight into a world which is more complex than the monogamous beliefs prorogated by the main storyline.  One such character is Bethra, a beautiful and accomplished courtesan.  She appears three times in the series for less than a dozen pages total.  In sheer numerical significance, such a character is hardly worth mentioning when the series itself spans over three thousand pages. However, the very inclusion of a sex worker who operates openly at the highest levels of society – and includes among her clients the Imperial Emperor of Tolnedra, the country in which she resides – suggests a culture in which casual sexual relations may be more acceptable than the primary female characters of Polgara and Ce’Nedra may first indicate.  Bethra’s secondary profession as a broker of information and sometime spy further reinforces this; while she is, by her own admittance in Guardians of the West, “[m]ost definitely not a lady,” (187) she is nevertheless a woman of great complexity who operates with grace outside the boundaries of normative feminine roles.

Another such character is that of Liselle, a young lady whose primary occupation is espionage.  She makes her appearance in the second series, the Malloreon, and becomes a member of the protagonist’s party on his quest to save the world.  Her previous sexual exploits are never explicitly mentioned, but it can be inferred that she has engaged in premarital sex as she successfully seduces another member of the party – an inveterate bachelor – and ultimately weds him.  Liselle, as one of the questers out to avert evil, shows perhaps the greatest breadth of non-normative behavior without ever having her femininity called into question or become irrelevant. Through the course of the Malloreon, Liselle is crucified, traverses sewers, kills several men and works as her country’s most secret covert operative, never sacrificing the ability to look stunning in a dress of lavender satin.

It is worth noting that the one documented occasion when she puts on pants is in the direst of circumstances.  On the morning of the confrontation between good and evil, Liselle is described in The Seeress of Kell: she “had shocked them all when she entered the cabin a half hour earlier. She wore tight-fitting leather clothing…. it was peculiarly masculine garb and bleakly businesslike” (246).  It is noted in the text that her dress is similar to female Nadrak costume.  However, when Nadrak women or costume is mentioned, it is always with a qualifier that such clothing serves to emphasize a woman’s physical attributes.  In this case, Liselle’s clothing is specifically noted to be both masculine and businesslike, implying function over form.  It is only in preparation for the final battle that Liselle’s identity as a woman is superseded by her avocation as assassin.  The only time where Liselle’s femininity ceases to be a factor is on the day the world might end, in which case such identifiers become largely superfluous.

When considered in the context of the fantasy genre as it was in the early eighties, Eddings’ work in the world of the Belgariad did a great deal to lay the framework for a wider breadth of female characters.  However, when considered against contemporaries such as Marion Zimmer Bradley and Guy Gavriel Kay, Eddings could have gone a great deal further without sacrificing the story.  Where Marion Zimmer Bradley was exploring the politics of feminist identity and same-sex love in a patriarchal feudal fantasy setting, David Eddings never once acknowledged the possibility of anything other than heterosexual love, however tacitly.  Guy Gavriel Kay’s books brim with complex characters, including feminine-expressing men who are portrayed as intelligent and powerful.  In the world of the Belgariad, feminine-expressing men only manifest as eunuchs, and are considered to be grotesque, scheming, and petty.  In Eddings’ work, any man who gives up his masculine privilege is quite literally emasculated.  Thus emasculated, such a person becomes a parody of femininity, no longer worthy of trust and only earning our pity and scorn.

While Eddings did, to some degree, move away from Tolkien’s legacy of prudishness, he did not escape it altogether, nor as thoroughly as he may have hoped. The world of the Belgariad is one with very strong ideas about gender appropriate ideas and expressions.  Women always act in accordance with the social expectations of their gender to a greater or lesser degree. Similarly, men perform likewise, and those who do not become creatures of derision to the world at large.  Ultimately, the world of the Belgariad is a binary one which falls short of Eddings’ goal.  His female characters may not end “at the neck” but they do not, for the most part go more than skin deep.

 

Bibliography

Eddings, David. Guardians of the West. New York: Random House, 1987. Print.

—. The Seeress of Kell. New York: Random House, 1991. Print.

Nicholls, Stan. “Prime U.S. Beef: An Interview with David Eddings.” Interzone. Interzone Magazine, July 1994. Web. 06 August 2011.

 

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This paper was originally written for Intro to Queer Studies, taught by Mike Randolph at Marylhurst University, Fall Term 2011.

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