Showing posts with label The Heroes of Olympus series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Heroes of Olympus series. Show all posts

Friday, March 21, 2014

Jason Grace—He Seemed More Like a Legend Than a Person

**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~

Jason Grace—He Seemed More Like a Legend Than a Person

            Upon my first read through of The Lost Hero, I had gone in with the expectation that I would be regaled with the furthering adventures of Percy Jackson.  Therefore, when the reader was introduced to Jason Grace—a demigod of equal power, and yet so very different from the protagonist I had adored for the previous five books—I was not necessarily pleased.  His entire attitude was so startlingly dissimilar to Jackson’s that it took me a large portion of the first novel to stop myself from hating him on sheer principle of his failing comparisons to his predecessor.  It took me even longer to prevent myself from avidly searching for some way to blame Grace for Jackson’s mysterious disappearance. 

            My dislike of Jason was initiated by his contrast to Jackson, but it persisted through the entirety of his first novel for reasons that I couldn’t quite define.  There was something inexplicable about Jason that I just didn’t like.  By the start of The Son of Neptune, not only was I ecstatic at the return of one of my favorite male protagonists of all time, I was intrigued to use the reports of Grace’s friends to further explore possible explanations for my apparently inscrutable distrust of Jason.

            His acquaintances at Camp Jupiter spoke highly of him, but they rarely spoke much of characteristics.  When Percy would ask what the boy was like, he would receive a rather lengthy list of accomplishments, but no real evaluation on character.  The pictures Reyna and several others painted were of a hero who was extraordinarily skilled—the stuff of legend.  However, this legend failed to touch ground, depicting Jason as a mold of a character, sans of any real motivations, internal conflict, or, at his very core, a personality. 

            In House of Hades, I was elated to find that I was not the only person suffering to define the characteristics of the enigmatic Grace.  While on a journey to defeat Sciron and his ravenous turtle, Hazel contemplates what she has grown to know of the man who accompanies her.  She recalls hearing stories about the legendary Jason Grace immediately from her arrival at Camp Jupiter.  It had been a Cinderella story—a boy rising from the lowly Fifth Cohort to lead the camp to victory in the Second Titan War.  All of this success was made all the more mysterious by his sudden disappearance, which only caused chatter about him to increase exponentially. 

            However, in actually meeting him, Hazel struggled to connect this person with the character she had learned was so incredibly successful.  To her, he seemed almost as if he were a porcelain doll—an object meant to represent a great figure, but which seemed distinctly detached from his person.  She describes him as a bit cold, with icy blue eyes and a careful reserve, both of which made it quite difficult for her to connect with him, a problem she hadn’t suffered with in regards to any of the others involved in the Seven. 

Fundamentally, where Percy is very open and outgoing; Jason is very introverted and cautious.  For the first few novels, this causes the reader to feel something akin to the struggle Hazel describes in House of Hades. 

            This is not entirely Jason’s fault.  While he does tend to internalize and overlook his own insecurities and fears in the early novels of the second series, it becomes clear in The Lost Hero that this is due to the extremity he experienced in regards to Roman protocol on raising a hero.  Jason was taken away from his family at a very young age and trained with the wolf lady Lupa.  While this has made Jason an impeccably skilled fighter—which, of course, leads to that obscene list of accomplishments mentioned previously—it is also responsible for teaching him to repress his emotions from very early on. 

            Some fans could write this off as the general sense of strictness evident amongst the Roman way of thinking.  While I would agree that Frank and Hazel are a bit more reticent than their Greek counterparts, they still have distinct personalities that serve other functions than to merely bore me, as Jason does. 

            This indicates that Grace has a particular sense of seriousness about him that isn’t necessarily present in all Romans.  There are, of course, positives and negatives to this sort of disposition.  He has a very strong sense of justice, honor and loyalty to whatever the quest at hand may be; no one is as dedicated as him to seeing a quest through to the bitter end.  While his ability to sympathize develops as the series progresses, he retains a certain callous in deciding the best course of action regarding his friends.  He may hold a loyalty to those he cares for, but if a sacrifice is required in the name of the quest, he will, at the very least, consider the options presented to him.  For instance, in Mark of Athena, he was the one to suggest Nico be used as bait.  While Hazel can acknowledge that it may have been the best plan after the fact, it still causes her to wonder what Jason’s next action would be, if he were to learn that feeding her to the carnivorous turtle would rectify all troubles regarding the quest in House of Hades. 

            However, his friends don’t always pay the price for his sense of sacrifice.  Grace restrains himself unnecessarily long on the Piper versus Reyna issue, as he feels it would be cruel to lead either one on if there is any residual feelings or obligation to be paid to the other.  Had he been in a relationship with Reyna prior to his removal to the Wilderness School, I think he would’ve resumed that course of action, if only for a brief period of time, solely out of duty to her. 

Grace even forces himself to suffer at the hands of his selflessness, as Piper is the only one allowed to acknowledge and appreciate his birthday in The Mark of Athena.  He refrains from telling the others, as he knows the weight of the quest is more pressing than celebratory actions over an insignificant birthday. 

This seriousness is responsible for producing the ever-present list of accomplishments associated with Jason, as well.  He started training younger than most Romans and is, therefore, a fighter that is an undeniable asset to have on a quest, equipped with a variety of fighting experience, all of which have ended in success.  The audience is told that he defeated Krios by his own hand during the Second Titan War—just, you know, the West Coast version.  In addition to this, he was one of several demigods who overturned Kronos’s throne and overthrew his reign resolutely—but, again, only on the West Coast. 

            We see his adept skill first hand throughout his role in the Heroes of Olympus series, which, in the process, occasionally pits him as nothing more than fulfilling the role as the muscle of the Seven.  He defeats the venti relatively easily, even managing to save both of his friends and Coach Hedge in the process.  In Mark of Athena, he holds his own in an involuntary battle against Percy, a feat the audience can appreciate as no small task.  Later in the novel, he helps Jackson and McLean defeat Otis and Ephialtes, the Mr. D equivalents of the giant world. 

            Grace retains a confident collectedness, even if the odds he faces are undeniably not in his favor.  While he feared, not only for his safety, but also for the well being of Piper and Leo, in the confrontation with Khione in The Lost Hero, he actively worked to appear impassive to her threats.  This composure serves him well throughout his time in the Heroes of Olympus series, particularly in House of Hades, as he works to keep the others tranquil, despite the absence of two of their friends. 

            Once again, Jason has Lupa to thank for this cool exterior.  While I can acknowledge that Hazel and Frank are more gathered externally than the forthright mindset of Piper and Leo, Jason still manages to take this to a new extreme not seen in most other Romans.  Often, when the odds are not in his favor, he will begin with an attempt to falsely pronounce himself as confident.  In The Lost Hero, he boldly declares to Porphyrion that he is the “child of Rome, consul to demigods, praetor to the First Legion,” as he daringly flashes his intimidating SPQR tattoo. 

            While, occasionally, he may actually be self-assured in his ability to come out victorious in a conflict, particularly in his role in the first of the series, things begin to change when we reunite with the character in The Mark of Athena.  His time spent at Camp Half-Blood fundamentally changed his Roman programming, resulting in a corresponding shift in allegiances.  By House of Hades, even Piper has begun to note a vital change in his disposition, as she observes, “his hardships hadn’t weakened him, but he’d been weathered and softened like leather—as if he were becoming a more comfortable version of himself.”  This version of Jason, still relatively on the dull side, is, at the very least, more relatable and understandable to the audience.  He has suffered an entire reboot of his sense of self and has come out on the other end, not sure which version he should remain true to. 

            Such internal confrontation leads to a very conflicted character—which, in turn, leads to a deeper, fuller personality that I can finally somewhat support.  This conflict comes to a resolution a bit later in House of Hades; as Grace attempts to persuade Auster to allow the Seven to pass through his territory, the god demands that Jason pick a side to commit himself to.  With this decision, he will resolve to stick with the strict sense of justice of the Romans or the laid-back acknowledgment of accomplishments present in the Greeks. 

            His decision to follow his Greek inclinations raises several very interesting questions.  Part of me can’t help but contemplate how much an effect his budding relationship with Piper had on the matter.  Furthermore, what changes would he have exhibited, had he resumed his Roman rank?  Would he have returned to the previous composition of his character—or lack thereof—in which he displayed a deep serenity and seriousness? 

            Regardless, while I’m still not necessarily affectionate towards Jason, I do prefer the little bit of personality his Greek influences have allowed to peak through and am, therefore, glad that he chose this path.  His actions to follow in House of Hades only confirmed the decision was a good one for his character, as the relinquishing of his various power and positions of authority only persuades me to approve of him further.  Finally, the character knows what he wants and isn’t fearful to embrace it, even if that means conceding some of the accomplishments he had worked so hard to achieve in his past. 

From Gary King to Nicholas Angel:  Is Jason a good role model?  On the surface, he would appear to be a better role model than Percy.  He’s upstanding, with a resolute sense of righteousness and what it means to ‘do the right thing.’  Grace sticks to his principles, only compromising when he thinks through the action at length and has ruled it to be the right thing to do.  He may have achieved quite a few things in his past, but it did not come easy to him; he has a resounding sense of what it means to complete hard work and reap the benefits.  However, the mechanical way he processes his decisions leads to some choices that can come off as cold and calculating.  While following the demands of the quest to a tee may be the right thing to do on the surface, his suggestions to heed any hurdle the quest provokes at all costs presents a conflicted moral center that pales in comparison to the sense of loyalty evident in most other protagonists—either male or female—in young adult literature.  While specific lines of the prophecy force him to toy with the concept of definitive self-sacrifice, he fails to exhibit the strict adherence marked by Percy and many other protagonists in the genre.  Furthermore, the false sense of confidence he occasionally exudes throughout the series sends the message that emotions are burdens meant to be neglected; this thinking, while not necessarily the worst example to set, could lead to a myriad of negative influences.  Finally, his repeated role in the Seven is to be deployed as raw muscle, whenever required.  At his very core, he is merely a good fighter, nothing more, nothing less.  This seems to say that amassing a bulk of strength, influence and power is the way to prosper and be recognized—a misrepresentation that disregards the versatility that is truly required to succeed in this world.  
Role Model Rating:  5/10

From Peter Parker to Spider-Man:  Is Jason relatable?  The Jason evident in The Lost Hero is far more difficult for the audience to relate to than the character we grow to know later in the series.  Jason is an exception at everything—always not only succeeding, but exceeding expectations at every turn.  However, as we learn of the complexities and insecurities evident in his character in House of Hades, the character is brought down to earth a bit more.  The reader sees that he struggles with the Roman way of doing things—he is troubled by the very training that has equipped him to be the impeccable fighter he has become, adding a level of irony to the situation that naturally appeals to the reader.  He also proclaims to have an admiration for characters that have risen from humble beginnings to rule, such as his idolization of Diocletian shows us.  He has employed this Cinderella method himself, as he rose from the lowest of Cohorts to reach the role of praetor.  However, his parentage residing within the head of the Big Three hinders the impressiveness of this climb up the ladder, as the reader can’t necessarily be surprised that a son of Jupiter was eventually viewed as an authority.  Finally, despite the progress the character makes in the most recent novel in the series, he still always seems to play the role of a legend, not that of an actual character and, therefore, remains illusive to the audience on a fundamental level. 

Relatability Rating:  3/10

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Percy Jackson—He’d Do Anything to Save a Friend, Even if They’re Part Barnyard Animal

**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~

Percy Jackson—He’d Do Anything to Save a Friend, Even if They’re Part Barnyard Animal

            Percy Jackson’s reaction to the earth-shattering news that he is part god and part man is startlingly ordinary.  While he understands, as Uncle Ben so adamantly informs us, that with great power comes great responsibility, he can’t help but marvel and mischievously comment as the chaos unfolds around him, his smirk in place and his cheeky remark always ready to be dropped at the first sign that the morale is in need of a boost. 

            Percy Jackson was the character to solve my natural inclination to dislike protagonists.  He starkly contrasted Harry Potter, the character I frequently compared him to in my teens, as they were the first two series that truly convinced me that reading wasn’t such a horrible thing after all.  The two seemed like night and day to me; Percy with his laid-back demeanor and ability to keep a cool head even in moments of crisis, Harry with his incessant angst—angst that I have since grown to fully understand, but which served to annoy me to no end through my original read-through of the series. 

            This isn’t to say that both protagonists didn’t have a fair share of traits in common.  Collectively, there is a driving desire to sacrifice themselves for the safety of the world or their loved ones—a duty they are called on to perform regularly and which their companions often draw attention to.  Annabeth acknowledges very early on that Percy’s Fatal Flaw is his willingness to sacrifice the world or himself for his friends and family.  Shockingly, Annabeth explains that this flaw isn’t always necessarily a good thing.

            As a demigod, Percy is naturally rather short-tempered and impulsive; he finds it very difficult to sit still and, as a result, whenever he discovers he can do anything to resolve Camp Half-Blood’s current issues, he is quick to jump at the opportunity, even if it may cost him his life.  Early on, he has a difficulty understanding that the fate of the world is an even higher priority than the fate of his friends and family.  In The Lightening Thief, Percy almost risks destroying the world in light of saving his mother.  In The Titan’s Curse, Jackson refuses to obey orders to sit at camp and wait for the others to rescue Annabeth; he seeks to join them on his own. 

            However, by Titan’s Curse, he has a better grasp on what it means to be a hero.  He immediately offers to be the one to take down the metal guardian who resides over the junkyard of the gods, despite holding no responsibility for its spring into action.  Jackson literally carries the weight of the world on his shoulders for several minutes, as Artemis works to trick Atlas into resuming what should’ve always been his burden.  In The Battle of the Labryinth, he insists Annabeth flee, to leave him to handle the monsters as Mount St. Helens works towards an eruption.  Chase fights him, of course, but even Percy can occasionally be too stubborn for her to trump. 

            In The Last Olympian, Percy risks his own life as he takes one dangerous swim across the River Styx.  Doing so could’ve very easily killed him, and, therefore, severely impaired Camp Half-Bloods prospects of defeating Kronos, had he not had the will—not to mention, the tenaciousness of an imaginary Annabeth—to lead him through it.  However, he knew it was what needed to be done; it was their best chance of winning the war against Kronos and preventing the destruction of Mount Olympus. 

            In the Heroes of Olympus series, Percy gets an opportunity for a bit of a reboot, as the audience discovers in Son of Neptune that he has very few of his memories still intact; all he has is his name, Annabeth’s, and an adorable Panda Pillow Pet—told you this kid was the stuff of legend.  Despite this potential for a personality reboot, Percy persists in his bravery and courage, particularly in terms of those he cares for.  He makes some friends at Camp Jupiter and, therefore, feels there’s no other option than to step in and help them in their assigned quest; the decision is an easy one for him.  Finally reunited with his old friends in Mark of Athena, he very easily could’ve heeded Annabeth’s advice and simply let her fall to Tartarus; logically, he could’ve been of more use on the other side of the Doors of Death.  Instead, knowing he can’t let her suffer alone, he refuses to let go and follows her journey down to the depths of Tartarus. 

            This dedication to his friends and family comes with both positive and negative consequences.  Throughout the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series, Kronos frequently attempts to exploit this well-known flaw of Jackson’s, in the hopes that one of the numerous times he places himself on the line to save his friends, he will die in the process.  Kronos’s plans fall short, however, as Percy never fails to come through. 

            Despite his enemies attempting to use this trait to their advantage, more often than not, Percy comes out on top in duels.  This success can be attributed to his persistent practice and corresponding success over the years—through which he has acquired quite a few presents:  the Minotaur horn, Medusa’s head and the Nemean Lion pelt, to name just a few.  This training, combined with his dedication to his friends, and his natural inclination to take on the role of leader creates a stubborn and brilliant swordsman.  It motivates him to fight to his very last breath, should the situation call for it, and frequently in situations where he wasn’t called upon to fight to begin with.  At the age of twelve, he eagerly stepped in to fight Ares so as to prevent the god from causing any harm to Grover and Annabeth.  Impressively, pre-teen Jackson was triumphant, despite the insurmountable odds that come with facing off against a god to begin with.

            In Sea of Monsters, he fights Luke, who is acknowledged to be one of, if not the best demigod with a sword in camp.  Not only does the underdog win the fight, he manages to trick Luke into revealing his responsibility for destroying Thalia’s tree in the process.  He once again places himself in this position in Last Olympian, this time even under steeper circumstances, as Luke has now been possessed by Kronos.  The fight nearly kills him, but he still can’t help but give it his best attempt.

            In House of Hades, Percy feels horrible leaving Bob behind to clean up their mess in Tartarus.  The giant has remained loyal to him throughout his entire journey through Riordan’s version of hell; but, regardless, Percy was still forced to leave him behind, ann action which feels incredibly cowardly and treacherous to him. 

            Despite his various displays of success, Chiron and Mr. D both attempt to keep Percy out of the quests issued in Sea of Monsters and Titan’s Curse.  In both situations, he would’ve perhaps listened, had it not been his friends on the line.  In Sea of Monsters, he seeks to save Grover, believing he is uniquely qualified to do so, due to the empathetic link the two share.  In Titan’s Curse, he refuses to allow Annabeth to remain in peril while he simply sits and waits for her safe return.  Eventually, in both of these situations, the other demigods involved come to realize that Jackson is an unrivaled asset to be held on a quest and submit to allow him to tag along. 

However, simply being permitted to join the quest isn’t easy for him.  Percy will always struggle when he is not assigned as the leader of the quest; taking orders isn’t something he necessarily handles very well.  In his youth, he was expelled from every school his mother attempted to send him to.  Therefore, Percy was not only the unending new kid, he was also always labeled the troublemaker—the rebellious outcast with a perpetual smirk, painted regularly as an underdog.  As a result, he would often gravitate towards other self-labeled misfits.  In his time at Yancy Academy in Lightening Thief, he frequently saves Grover from bullies.  Once he arrives at Camp Half-Blood and joins yet another community with its own idiosyncrasies, he is temporarily labeled as the jock in comparison to his previous nerd status; he is, after all, the controversial heir of one of the big three.

            When Tyson arrives in Sea of Monsters, Percy is ashamed of his brother.  He looks at the Cyclops and sees nothing but another opportunity to be ridiculed.  He no longer feels like the cool kid who saved the day in The Lightening Thief; now he’s the kid who’s dad slept with some strange sea creature to produce a Cyclops.  With Tyson’s disappearance and apparent death later in the novel, however, Jackson comes to his senses.  The loss of a brother he hadn’t even realized he had started to rely on hits him hard.  As such, his cold distancing from Tyson at the start of the novel will really be his last callous display of teenage angst in his pursuit of popularity.  From here on out, not only will Percy naturally gravitate towards outcasts, he will regularly seek them out and provide the friendship they need, receiving an equally fervent loyalty in return. 

            This leads to some unique and strong friendships throughout the course of both series.  Despite his brief amount of time spent on her island, Percy feels very distressed that he cannot stay and give Calypso the company she obviously desperately craves.  Quirky artist and activist Rachel Elizabeth Dare doesn’t scare Percy, despite her radical tendencies and strong personality.  In Son of Neptune, he’s immediately drawn to the least popular Cohort.  He takes this one step further, as he bonds with Frank and Hazel—two extreme outcasts in an already existing island of misfits. 

            However, for those who serve as the majority or expected leaders of a society, this rebellious tendency to favor underdogs can be quite chaffing.  Frequently, Percy’s acquaintance with people such as this gets off to, at the very least, a rocky start, resulting in a turbulence that typically prevails.  Clarisse, Reyna, Zoe and Piper, while eventually growing to respect Percy for his ability to succeed, still always seem distrustful of him or perplexed by those who seem so intrigued or fascinated by him.  To them, he is a capable fighter and person, but not necessarily worthy of the recurrent hero-status he receives. 

Even when he and Annabeth first become acquainted, there was a distinct dislike between the pair.  However, with time, Annabeth began to see his mischievousness and accompanying smirk, not necessarily as dissention in the ranks, but as a healthy ability to question authority and seek to find the best possible solution for all involved.  Thankfully, for both their sakes, they were able to rise above their original disagreements and develop one of the healthiest bonds in young adult literature.  They rely on each other, without requiring the other to “complete” them.  Had either one of them fallen to Tartarus alone, they never would’ve survived; Annabeth may work to keep Percy grounded and logical, but Percy reassures her that anything and everything is possible, if only they can work together to live another day. 

From Gary King to Nicholas Angel:  Is Percy a good role model?  Percy’s sense of humor allows him to display an excellent ability to toe a particularly difficult line; he’s able to show worry and concern for his friends while simultaneously embracing that there is only so much he can do to force a situation.  Where Annabeth has a tendency to overanalyze, Percy impulsively sets to a plan and follows it through.  As an impulsively concocted plan, it may not always be the best option, but he, at the very least, gets the operation in order.  While he may regularly find his way on quests that weren’t his to begin with, he isn’t afraid to place credit where credit is due.  In Sea of Monsters, he gives Clarisse the fleece, knowing that her ability to fly—by which I of course mean by plane, not that she has some latent ability to sprout wings and take to the air—is the quickest resolution to the border problem at camp.  This concession shows an ability to acknowledge that he doesn’t always need to be the hero that is certainly commendable.  He’s bold and brash—a trait which isn’t always an exceptional model to set; however, Percy doesn’t necessarily directly disobey, so much as he forges his own path and solution.  This rebelliousness and bravery often earns him respect, most notably in the eyes of gods that aren’t necessarily easy to please—for instance, Hades (who hates humans), Artemis (who dislikes men), and Mr. D (who hates heroes)—serving to show young readers that standing out can only be beneficial.  Finally, he shows a willingness to risk his well being for those he cares for and for the sake of a bigger purpose.  His selflessness is a commendable characteristic that all young readers—either male or female—could use to see more of.  Bella Swan sacrifices her livelihood—and, if you were to ask Edward, her soul—in the name of something as superficial as romantic infatuation.  Percy persistently places himself on the line to make a better world for his friends and family.  If there’s a better example to set, I’m not sure what it is. 
Role Model Rating:  10/10

From Peter Parker to Spider-Man:  Is Percy relatable?  Jackson is an exceptional fighter, which could’ve potentially caused him to be less relatable to the audience.  However, despite his prowess with a sword, he frequently relies on his friends to save him—Annabeth, as is most often the case.  While he is skilled, he is not god-like and retains an ability to slip-up in his dueling.  Along with the human side of his DNA, he does have several noted fears.  It is acknowledged that he is claustrophobic, although it never really impedes his ability to win a fight.  After the conflict in Alaska in Son of Neptune, he also acquires a fear of suffocation, which plagues him off and on throughout the Heroes of Olympus series.  Both of these fears serve to humanize his character in ways his amazing skills with a sword might have previously impeded.  In addition to his fears, he, like all other demigods, suffers from ADHD—which is his body’s natural battle instinct pushing to be address—and dyslexia, which results from his brain’s original familiarity with Greek.  Due to my disposition of disdain, both in general and in regards to school, as a child and my previous disregard towards reading, I could certainly relate to Percy’s ongoing battle with expulsion and external conflict with teachers such as Mrs. Dodds.  In my time as a teacher, my suspicions that other students would relate to Percy for these very same reasons were confirmed; I found that a majority of the high schoolers who proudly proclaimed they hated to read, would also declare that they had read all of the Percy Jackson novels to date and simply couldn’t wait for the release of the next one.  Finally, Percy, in his temper-driven and capricious courses of action, often makes mistakes that he can pay for very dearly.  On a superficial level, early on in the series he struggles with society’s expectations for him to be popular, resulting in his isolation of Tyson.  Eventually, he is able to overcome this mindset and grows to even embrace his status as a rebel.  However, the best instance of paying for his previous actions is, by far, the circumstance in which he is forced to suffer the fates he has inflicted on his various enemies from his past in House of Hades.  While he had previously viewed his past prowess with nothing short of confidence and pride, the experience sought to humble him greatly as he realized just how much pain he had inflicted over the years.  I love that, with this realization, Riordan tones down any chance for arrogance on Percy’s part, and allows the character to realize he may not have always been the good guy, a fact he had previously been quite settled in. 
Relatability Rating:  10/10

Friday, July 19, 2013

Chase or Dare? Annabeth Chase versus Rachel Elizabeth Dare


            If you’re looking to debate who is a better partner in crime—in both quests and romance—for Percy Jackson, this is not the post for you.  If you hold any doubt on that front, I would honestly be surprised.  I have never doubted from page one who Percy was fated to be with.

            When Rachel Elizabeth Dare was introduced in The Titan’s Curse, I won’t deny that I was intrigued.  As the books proceed, these two characters, arguably the two most important (teenage) females in Percy’s life, are compared and contrasted increasingly more often.  When I originally read the series a few years ago, I hadn’t paid much attention to this.  The second time around I couldn’t help but be intrigued by the questions Riordan was raising:  not just who’s better for Percy, but who is the better girl?

            When I first heard Rachel’s name mentioned on my second read through, all I could remember from years previous was that I liked her, and that I was excited for her to come into play.  The instant we met a girl with crazy red hair, I was ecstatic.  And then I kept reading. 

As time went on, I feared Rachel was doomed to follow in the footsteps of so many redheads gone by.  Much like Amy Pond, Rachel has a tendency to fall in to the cliché of the Fronting Feisty Female (FFF for short).  The FFF is a character who talks a good act—very brave, very forceful, indefinitely right—but when forced to walk this talk, they struggle.  They are often in peril and very rarely manage to get themselves out of these situations.  The FFF instead relies on their typically male protagonist to save them.  There were several instances in which I thought Rachel may be going down this path.  For instance, in The Last Olympian, Rachel’s in a crashing helicopter and Annabeth, being the amazingly generous demigod that she is, goes to her rescue.  But, upon reflection after finishing The Last Olympian, I realized I was being a bit biased towards Rachel.  For goodness sakes, she was in a crashing helicopter!  I kept yelling at the book for her to get up and do something about it.  But, thinking a little more logically, I tried to take a step back and realize how terrifying that situation must’ve been.

            It was then that I had a realization about Annabeth.  She’s such an excellent warrior and fighter that, in the narrative of the series, you can’t help but think all women should be that marvelous.  And most of them are—Clarisse, Katie, even Silena are all very strong, all worthy of their own posts.  Rachel, as excellent as she is for a mortal, she is, in fact, just that—a mortal.  She’s very straightforward, very helpful and resourceful, brave and demanding.  All of these are good things, especially when it means she can successfully throw a hairbrush at Kronos and manage to incapacitate him in some form.

            Unfortunately for Rachel, Annabeth is just a little bit better, at just about everything.  I recently read an article about the Exceptional Woman, which was fascinating.  But, at the same time, it shattered the illusion surrounding a lot of my favorite female characters.  Annabeth is one such example.  While there are several other girls at Camp Half-Blood, for a majority of the early books you get the sense that it is Annabeth alone, playing at the boys game of being a hero.  She waits and waits for her first quest, something she doesn’t truly receive until The Battle of the Labyrinth, might I add.  In the meantime, she works to keep Percy and Grover alive, all the while doing things far better than either of those two can put together. While I don’t think Annabeth is solely an Exceptional Woman, she certainly has some aspects of the trope. 

            Annabeth’s saving grace from fully receiving the Exceptional Woman title is that she mourns, she cries, she isn’t perfect 100% of the time.  She lingers far too long on the Luke issue, which makes her far more human than the Exceptional Woman is allowed to be.  She feels genuine betrayal and guilt over what has happened to Luke.  While this is the biggest struggle the character goes through, it’s what I like best about her.  Not all girls fall for a demigod who turns evil and is, therefore, forbidden territory; girls do, however, fall for boys who turn out to be meaner than they were originally thought to be.  It’s very realistic and it’s written to be very believable.  It humanizes her.

            Contrastingly, while Rachel appears to feel pain over her father and her confusion towards her feelings for Percy, she suffers in a far less believable way.  We see her suffer about her father, but this story doesn’t have the closure the Annabeth/Luke saga does.  This takes weight off of her suffering and makes it seem shallow in some way.  She proves that she is willing to go to the end of the world for Percy and his cause, but she takes little effort to get to know the others at camp, (at least in the first series, that is) making her motivations appear to be nothing but feelings for a boy, or ambitions to be anything but mortal part of the “in crowd” that is the demigods. 

Unfortunately, the thing I love most about Rachel is what makes her less relatable as a character—she’s beautifully straightforward, going so far as to essentially ask Percy what a girl has to do to get him to kiss her.  While I love this about her and I wish more women were like this, I fear they aren’t, even after exiting the dreadful teenage years.  It takes a lot of courage to lay things out on the line like that, and it’s an attribute not many people actually have. 

            Annabeth, while not as straightforward as Rachel, has a different and distinct sort of directness about her.  Instead of asking Percy what it takes to get him to kiss her, she just decides to kiss him herself.  That clearly takes even more courage than Rachel’s question and answer process.  However, the factor of a life and death situation in Mt. St. Helen’s should be considered as well.  The cause of Annabeth’s directness is what is possibly even more crucial than the honesty itself.  Annabeth is, of course, very wise.  She knows the weight of words; once something is said, it can never be taken back.  Part of the reason I think she waits so long to give an answer to Percy’s questions about Luke is that she is still processing.  That being said, once Annabeth is done processing and has come to an answer, you can rely on that answer to be the sole truth, without any hesitation.  I don’t know if it makes her more relatable, but it certainly makes her more reliable. 

From Bella to Katniss:  Are Annabeth and Rachel good role models?  Let’s start with Annabeth.  Annabeth is perhaps the best young adult role model to come along since Hermione Granger.  She’s intelligent.  She may or may not be pretty—she doesn’t really care, but she knows that she’s got her brains and that she can use those to do whatever she wants, whether it be defeating monsters or building the new Olympus.  She struggles with love, but she doesn’t let it run her life.  How could she?  She’s got monsters to beat and a world to save.  The only hindrance I can see with Annabeth is, despite the fact that she claims to never be anybody’s sidekick, she really is almost always second in command to Percy.  It isn’t until the Heroes of Olympus series that this becomes less true.  When Percy is gone, all the campers immediately turn to Annabeth as their authority.  That says a lot about her character. 
Role Model Rating:  8/10

Rachel certainly has some redeeming role model characteristics.  She’s brave and loyal.  She’s artistic and fights for the causes she believes in with all her heart.  Honesty is high on her list of priorities; if she has a thought in her head, it’s coming out of mouth—not necessarily in a rude manner, she’s actually really rather nice.  This is possibly her best quality, the quality that almost makes her a better role model than Annabeth.  But I just can’t quite bring myself to rate her higher, as there’s some ambiguous quality to Miss Dare that leaves her just automatically ranking below Annabeth in my book.
Role Model Rating:  6/10

From Lorelai to Wonder Woman:  Are Annabeth and Rachel relatable?  Once again, we’ll start with Annabeth.  Annabeth’s immense struggle with what has happened to Luke makes her a very relatable character.  Notice, I did not say her struggle with what has happened to Luke and what that means in terms of her potential feelings for Percy.  For me, the truth she reveals to Luke at the end of The Last Olympian implies that those things were never truly connected to her.  She didn’t have lingering feelings for Luke that were preventing her from liking Percy; she had lingering guilt over what she could’ve done to help Luke that prevented her from pursuing anything romantic until she could sort him out.  This takes Percy out of the equation entirely, which actually makes her struggle with Luke far more authentic.  It’s driven by her own guilt, not her feelings for some outside party that didn’t really know the Luke she knew.  Add the fact that she feels personally responsible, and you’ve got a heap load of relatable factors.  On the other hand, she’s so brilliant at, well, everything that she can sometimes be difficult to connect with. 
Relatability Rating:  7/10

Unfortunately for Rachel, the quality that makes her almost the better role model of the two hits her harder when it comes to being relatable.  While I adore her straightforward attitude, it is something seen very infrequently in the real world.  She does, however, stand by her convictions and her causes.  There is also the added factor that she is the only Mortal to do several things—enter Camp Half-Blood, ascend to a position of power in their world and fight in the battle, amongst other things.  This has the audience rooting for her, as she gives us mere mortals an opportunity to join the world as well. 
Relatability Rating:  6/10