**Due to recent misinterpretations of some one post
from this blog, a disclaimer is now apparently necessary. If this is your first visit to The
Scratched Camera, please read the introductory post and discover, for yourself, that every typed word that
follows is unabashedly my opinion and mine alone. In said introductory post, which,
shockingly, I did not simply type up for my own good health, I state that we
all read events and characters with our own baggage in mind; no one observes
with a perfectly clear lens—hence the
name The Scratched Camera.
Therefore, it is completely your will to disagree with any material that
follows, just as it is my will to agree and advocate for what is mine.** ~End, irritating obligatory disclaimer~
Annabeth Chase—She’s Nobody’s Sidekick…Well, Some of the
Time, Anyway
Much
like my frequent comparisons of her male protagonist to Harry Potter, there was
always a correlation in my mind between Granger and Chase. The similarities between them are
rather extensive, existing to the point where a compare and contrast article
between the two could very easily be completed. Both girls are very intelligent and are beyond proficient in
the skill set required to survive the strains put on their daily lives by their
enemies. They’ve both been
considered to be Exceptional Women—the girl who is infinitely better at their
chosen tasks than any surrounding characters, in the process often serving to
make their male counterparts appear foolish. However, despite this accusation, it takes some time for
both girls to break out of the shadow of their respective male protagonists and
truly live up to their declarations that they are more than just your typical
intelligent female sidekick.
Annabeth
shows the audience many times over just how excellent she is in combat. She’s been fighting since Luke and
Thalia found her at the age of seven, learning very early on that her status as
a demigod gave her two options—fight or die. Starting at such a young age has afforded Annabeth with a
particular proficiency in fighting that is rarely seen, even at Camp
Half-Blood. In The Lightening Thief alone, her male
companions would’ve died several times over, had it not been for her adept
fighting style and her mastery of mental warfare—Annabeth’s ability to
manipulate opponents who vastly outweigh her in strength and agility shows her
true roots as the daughter of the goddess of wisdom. From the very start of the quest this is visible; the
conquering of Medusa wouldn’t have been possible without Annabeth’s
cunning.
This
theme continues as she saves Percy twice in Sea
of Monsters. He’s attacked at
his new school at the very start of the novel and relies on Annabeth and Tyson
to get him out of the situation.
Jackson is taken hostage—albeit in the form of a guinea pig—by Circe,
the witch. Annabeth, who
eventually sees through Circe’s radically feminist game, saves not only him,
but an entire cage of previously mutated men.
Every
quest Percy embarks on, Annabeth is right by his side, ready to inform him how
to kill whatever monsters they may encounter. While she may not always be the one to do the killing, she
does serve to save Percy more times than he can count, based in the sheer value
of information she provides alone.
In
the Titan’s War in The Last Olympian,
Annabeth plays a crucial role in the fighting. She saves Percy yet again, as Ethan, son of Nemesis,
strikes to kill. He would’ve
succeeded in finding Jackson’s vulnerable spot, had not Annabeth been there at
just the proper moment. At the
climax of the battle, her mental warfare comes to play, as she attempts to
manipulate Luke into regaining his conscious hold over his body. She succeeds, as Luke feels a strong
enough wave of guilt at throwing her across the throne room to shake off
Kronos’s hold on his mind.
While I label this as a
manipulation, I don’t mean it to be defined by the negative connotations the
word typically is associated with.
Women are often accused of manipulating people into getting whatever it
is they want. While I will admit
that women—who are generally more perceptive—are occasionally able to use this
to curve a conversation into going their way, it is not always done with
malicious motivations, as seems to be the frequently implied intentions. When Annabeth manipulates the
persuasive techniques she employs towards Luke, she uses their shared past and
emotions in an attempt to shake Kronos’s hold on the friend she once held so
dear. Essentially, she’s using her
knowledge on him to bring his true character back to the surface in an effort
to end the war.
Her
fighting capability doesn’t cease in value at the close of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians
series. While she is barely in The Lost Hero or The Son of Neptune, she does return in a position of power in The Mark of Athena, as she most notably
overcomes her fear of spiders to defeat Arachne, both through physical combat
and her mental warfare’s ability to trick Arachne into spinning a web of her
own defeat.
Finally, without her strength,
companionship and invaluable information in House
of Hades, she and Percy never would’ve made it to the Doors of Death. Once again she manages to manipulate
Nyx into turning on her own, providing her and Jackson a chance to escape yet
another foe they never would’ve had the blunt strength to defeat. She alone knew they could drink from
the River Phlegethen to heal themselves and give them the temporary strength to
persevere. Her logical
inclinations are responsible for brainstorming that Riptide could, in all veracity,
be used as an actual pen—who
would’ve thought a genius intellect would’ve been required to think of that? She also is responsible for devising
the plan, which allows the two to unhinge the Doors of Death, while still guaranteeing
them enough time to escape Tartarus and return to the mortal world.
Had
these successes been the only statistics to report in regards to the various
battles Annabeth finds herself in throughout her duration as a character for
Riordan’s nine novels in her two series, she could’ve very easily been labeled
an Exceptional Woman. Repeatedly,
she not only saves Grover and Percy, she manages to make them look like idiots
as she does so. This is, at its
very core, the definition of the Exceptional Woman. She is designed to offset the conception that men are better
than women at everything. Often,
in the process, she becomes the embodiment of the extreme opposite problem,
wherein she becomes impossible for the average reader to relate to.
However,
as Annabeth is in need of assistance in combat on occasion, she manages to
escape a true evaluation of this exceptional entitlement. In The
Lightening Thief, she is not the first to awaken from the Lotus Casino
entrapping; she relies on Percy to shake her from the spell. Jackson follows her into the ocean to
physically restrain her against the pull of the Sirens in Sea of Monsters; without him there to hinder her chosen
destination, she would’ve been lost to the monsters forever.
Chase
spends the bulk of The Titan’s Curse captured,
a fact which always peeves my internal feminist beast, until I force myself
to recall that she later literally takes the weight of the sky on her shoulders
and, in the process, vindicates herself, a fate which would never befall
upon the extraordinary head of the truly Exceptional Woman. While she does manage to save Percy
from Ethan’s nearly fatal attack in The
Last Olympian, she pays dearly for it as she is very badly injured in the
process. Finally, even in arguably
her greatest triumph of the duration of both series—her defeat of Arachne—she
still lacks the perfection required for the title often placed upon her; yes,
she manages to trick the creature into her victory, but she still falls short,
as one little spider web grips tight and pulls her towards the depths of
Tartarus, resulting in a clinging Percy who simply refuses to let her fall on
her own.
Their
shared status in the experience of Tartarus is a breaking of a very old mold. Prior to The Mark of Athena, it often feels as if Annabeth is perpetually
saddled in the standing of Jackson’s sidekick, despite her repeated insistence
that she refuses to submissively stand by in that stage. In a sense, this drives a lot of
Chase’s internal conflict—she pushes and boasts to demand the respect she
deserves, often attempting to put Percy in his place with the resulting brutal
verbal lashings evident in the early novels of the series. Regardless of her trials to be
recognized as an authority figure, she still retains the label as his second in
command throughout the bulk of the quests in the first series.
She’s
very clearly his second in the adventure to retrieve Zeus’s bolt in The Lightening Thief. In Sea
of Monsters, when Percy is denied the opportunity to serve on the quest to
retrieve the Golden Fleece, he decides to embark on his own, leaving with
Annabeth and Tyson to do so. While
she may have encouraged the idea, she still technically waits until Percy
decides it is time to go to move on the idea. Once released from Dr. Thorn in Titan’s Curse, she continues to serve as Jackson’s support as they
make their way through the Garden of Hesperides. Once they arrive, she once more fails to take the
initiative, as she defensively relieves him of his burden holding the sky, as
opposed to his offensive actions to take the responsibility in the first
place.
However,
in The Battle of the Labryinth, she
is finally afforded the position she has eagerly awaited since her arrival to
Camp Half-Blood at the age of seven.
She is finally given the position of Quest Leader. The audience sees a new sense of
insecurity in Annabeth, something somewhat foreign to the previous conception
of a confident and cocky character.
Regardless of her continued reliance on reassurance from her fellow
travelers, she does retain the position of leader, in the process setting the groundwork
for the incredible opportunity she is presented with in The Mark of Athena.
By
the third novel of her second series, Annabeth has grown more assured in her
capabilities as a leader; while the separation from Percy has been undeniably
hard for her to cope with, it has forced her to become more assertive. Therefore, she confidently guides the
Seven to their destination and manages to usurp Percy as the driving force
behind the plot for the first time in seven novels. When they reach their destination, she weathers the tangle
of the maze and resulting challenges below the surface streets of Rome entirely
on her own. Her final victory,
regardless of how short-lived it may be, is a sweet one that has been a long
time coming.
Where
Mark of Athena revolutionizes what
Annabeth can be in terms of a leader, House
of Hades redefines what it means for Chase and Jackson to be a team. Son
of Neptune and Mark of Athena
showed the audience what these two characters are capable of when removed from
their comfort zones and forced to separate from their support systems. MoA
confirmed what Annabeth has been telling us for years—she’s just as capable
as Percy when it comes to achieving success on a quest.
House
of Hades, on the other hand, shows the reader the incredible strength they
are capable of when they work together.
Assuredly, neither one is incomplete without the other—the very
implication of such an idea would surely be enough to make Annabeth gag. But the individual strength of either
one wouldn’t have been sufficient to survive the hell that is Tartarus. While I have no doubt that Chase is
more than competently armed to handle most challenges on her own, their joint
journey shows the audience that a reliance on some people isn’t necessarily a
bad thing. After all, had Annabeth
insisted he let her go, refused his offer to stay together through the darkness
that is Tartarus, she never would’ve survived long enough to find him on the
other side of the Doors and return his sentiments of “as long as we’re
together.”
From Bella to Katniss:
Is Annabeth a good role model?
When Percy first meets Annabeth, he describes her as what a typical
southern California blonde would look like—blonde, tall, tan, athletic,
etc. Chase’s initial
characterization of bravado suggests that this may not be the first time people
tend to assume she is blonde and, therefore, stupid or superficial. It is almost as if her forceful
attitude is a defense mechanism designed to immediately shatter any illusions
her peers may have that she will be a predictable girl. With this, Annabeth displays a similar
strength and stubbornness seen in the likes of Buffy Summers—a blonde who is
finally intelligent and able to take care of herself, while still maintaining a
believable sense of vulnerability.
For me personally, this is a refreshing sight, as blondes in media are
typically shown to have three settings—hot, stupid or both. Annabeth laughs in the face of this
stereotype and works to actively defy it on every page her presence is
felt. She’s intelligent and more
than able to handle herself in almost every situation. She cares very little for her
appearance—in spite of the fact that several have proclaimed that she may or
may not be attractive—as she knows she can rely on her brains to get her where
she wants to be in life. Finally,
when Percy—and, therefore, the audience—gets a glimpse of Annabeth’s ideal
reality via the hallucination provided by the Sirens, we learn that, while
Chase does have a strong desire to have a close family relationship—which
includes the boy she views solely as a brother,
nothing more—she also shows an aspiration towards high personal goals. In this image, she sees a redesigned
Manhattan skyline, one that was customized by her own creativity. All romantic intentions are stripped
from the scene with her confession to Luke in The Last Olympian, implying that this girl focuses on goals, not boys. Therefore, the scene really reflects a
deep-seated ambition that is nothing short of an excellent model to set.
Role Model Rating:
8/10
From Lorelai to Wonder Woman: Is Annabeth relatable?
Annabeth does an impeccable job of lingering in the middle of the scale
between the Exceptional Woman and the Fronting Feisty Female Factor—the former of which, as I
indicated earlier, is a woman who is better than everyone else and gladly
informs them as such; the latter of which is a woman who will gladly put down
those who surround her as failures, but who fails to succeed on her own without
the help of those she so recently criticized. Chase is exceptional enough to serve as a very solid role
model for female young adult readers.
However, she does not always succeed on her own, as almost every novel
preaches that a team effort is required to be victorious. She stumbles, she fails, and she’s
injured and battered by the end of almost every novel. The battlefield is also not the only
place she suffers; there’s an exquisite emotional component to her character as
well. While she may not cry quite
as often as Granger--while I would never go so far as to call Hermione a
cry-baby, there have been critics who have done so—she does feel a keen
sense of failure in regards to Luke’s betrayal. In The Last Olympian,
she and Hermes get into a conflict; the messenger god believes Chase could’ve
done something to save his son from turning on the gods. (Funny though, isn’t it? The god of messages failing to receive
his own message that perhaps he
should’ve done something before it was too late. It is, after all, him
that Luke blames, not Annabeth, but I digress.) Regardless of the validity of Hermes’s claims, there is no
denying that Chase feels partially responsible for her friend’s misguided goals
in life. It is for this very
reason that she is able to succeed in the climax of the novel; had she not
genuinely felt remorse she wouldn’t have been able to prompt him to reciprocate
the sentiments. Her guilt towards
Luke isn’t her only evidence of the human part of her DNA. She can be subtly—and, occasionally,
not so subtly—jealous of any other girl who shows signs of liking Percy,
despite the fact that he rarely, if ever, shows any acknowledgment or interest
in returning their feelings. Envy
is a very natural emotion that, while it is one we all hate, is woven into our
very core and is, therefore, unavoidable, even to those as collected as
Chase. Finally, although she is
described as distinctly attractive, she neither falls victim to a love triangle
nor chooses to preen over her appearance.
She may have the ability to
look like a celebrity, however, much like the everyday reader, she fails to
have the time or the motivation to attempt to do so and, therefore, relates to
ordinary people on a very basic level.
Relatability Rating:
7/10
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