Vale of the Vole, a book in the Xanth series by Piers Anthony, follows the adventure of Esk, a young man who is half human, a quarter ogre, and a quarter curse fiend, as he goes on a quest first to rid his personal hang-out hideaway of a troublesome demon, then to rid the Kiss-Me river area of demons who have straightened the river and are killing the landscape. Along the way, every character written by Anthony continue to be awkward, 13-year-old boys, regardless of what they are supposed to be.
I have continued to read Xanth books, but it’s always worth mentioning right up front in these reviews that there are serious gender problems in these books. Anthony does not write about women with sensitivity, to say the least, but it’s made worse by the fact that there is a rich world to explore in Xanth. You’ll be reading about the formation of an army, only to be suddenly in the midst of a discussion about how “only men should lead armies.” This moment is a rather good example of the kind of frustration I have with the books. A female winged centaur named Chex is debating who should lead an army, and she, being a creature of logic and rationality, puts forward Esk. Her reasoning consists of two facts. First she says that only men should lead armies, which I think is entirely stupid. Second, however, she says that armies should be led by the most acceptable, and they should lean on competent advisors. There is some truth to the political nature of these kind of positions, and it’s an interesting point to make, but it’s not exactly handled with grace or tact.
The female characters in Xanth continue to exist to find a (male) mate, and the male characters continue to be thick-witted, sexually awkward, and hormone-driven. Anthony, the author, has some unfortunate, deep-seated opinions on men and women, but especially on women. I’ve continued to be interested in Xanth, but my interest has taken something of a turn. I’m tired of reading about “female nature” and how men are so “easily managed,” but my attitude towards the narration of the book has changed. I have begun to approach Xanth as stories being told by, essentially, a sexist storyteller. It’s like listening to an interesting story about your family being told by your racist uncle – you want to hear the story, but you know how everyone from a different race or culture is going to be distorted by the uncle. It’s like that reading Anthony.
So, how does this book compare to the other Xanth books so far? It feels very puzzle-solvy. I am reminded of point-and-click adventure games when I read Vale of the Vole, as the characters work together to overcome obstacles that are set before them in the environment. That’s not exactly a compliment, but it serves the purpose of this book, which I’ll get to. The landscape is definitely one of the characters in this book, especially as the characters adventure into the Gourd, a surreal landscape of nightmares and mental constructs. I really liked reading about the Gourd, and about its magical denizens. Two of the characters of the book are from the Gourd, and as such are not alive nor have souls.
None of what happens in this book are strong character motivation, compelling narrative, masterful character development, or even good puns. I’ve been mulling over what, exactly, my attraction to these books are, because it’s certainly not because they’re good literature in any sense of the word. They are, however, oddly comforting. They serve as a rather frilly, light escapism into an idyllic landscape where the solutions to large problems often turn out to be rather simple. Pies and shoes grow on trees, travel through monster-infested landscapes can be rewarding, and if a solution sounds too stupid to be true, it will probably work.
I can’t exactly recommend these books to anyone, but I guess in a time in my life when it feels like there are no solutions and I have no power, Xanth has felt like a place I could spend some time in. Even if it’s a sexist dick telling me about it.
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