Cloven Hooves | ||||||||
Megan Lindholm | ||||||||
Voyager Classics, 360 pages | ||||||||
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A review by Georges T. Dodds
First, Lindholm uses a first person narration throughout, so we are in on Evelyn's thoughts and motivations, her character's
development from a child to a grown woman. Not being a woman myself, I can't comment authoritatively on the verisimilitude of her
depiction, but it certainly had me very much convinced. The use of the first person also brings out the fact that there are a
number of similarities between Evelyn's fictional life and that of the author herself, though where this leaves off only Megan
Lindholm knows. In her The Reindeer People (and its sequel Wolf's Brother) a young healer woman is overly protective
of her son, while in Cloven Hooves a young woman loses her son in a farming accident -- did both these have parallels in
the author's life? I'm not in a position to say. However, the novel gave me the impression of writing that, besides being
semi-autobiographical, was cathartic, laying out a lot of personal pains and frustrations and seeking a meaning or purpose
to life. Perhaps part of the reason the author recast herself as Robin Hobb is that she had worked out her demons as
Megan Lindholm, and needed to move on. One way or the other, the author's passion for her character and apparent
self-investment makes Cloven Hooves a great read.
Megan Lindholm has a sense of the fey awesomeness of wild places and, in particular of the forest, and is very adept at
depicting it. This sense is something that one acquires, if one can, by exploring woods on one's own as a child, free of
adult and societal prejudices. Certainly part of the reason this novel really resonated with me is that when I want to really
unwind, re-energize, refocus myself, I go bushwhacking alone in the woods. To someone who doesn't "get it," I might try to describe
the primordial atmosphere, but there are always those to whom the sound of the wind in pine trees reminds them of the sound of
a distant expressway -- they haven't a clue. Authors like
Richard Jefferies (Wood Magic. A Fable),
Algernon Blackwood (e.g. "The Wendigo"), and
Opal Whiteley (The Singing Creek Where the Willows Grow) knew,
and were able to depict this awesomeness... Megan Lindholm is another.
Cloven Hooves thankfully doesn't suffer from political correctness. Evelyn, when she does begin breaking away from her husband's
stifling family, goes out and gets repeatedly fucked to crashing orgasms by her friend the satyr and isn't altogether that
remorseful. I do not use the word "fucked" unadvisedly -- rather than "made love" or "copulated" -- because it much better captures
the unbridled lustfulness of the coupling. If that weren't enough to outrage those of the straight and narrow persuasion, she lives
with her satyr-friend-lover in the wild, abandoning her husband, and ultimately bearing and breast feeding her satyr-lover's
child. The sex in Cloven Hooves is fairly graphic by fantasy standards, and probably not entirely appropriate for younger
readers. Given the amount of sex that occurs and its frank description, if I hadn't known better, I might have thought the author
European (though she is of Scandinavian descent), certainly not American. The sex is not gratuitous, but presented in context and
in a manner which resorts to a minimum of "dirty words" while still depicting quite clearly, but not pruriently what is going on.
Of course one can read a number of other things into Cloven Hooves, the dichotomy between the instinctual, primeval world
of the woods and the reasoned, structured world of life in a civilized society. Part of this dichotomy, is the sense that Evelyn
is always an outsider, even when she tries her best to fit in. She grows up to puberty ignored by her mother, who sees her as
largely self-sufficient, alienated from her siblings and schoolmates. She performs competently the tasks imposed upon her by
society, school and relationships, but it is always clear she is an outsider. Even when she runs with a bad crowd as a teenager,
she is never caught, always observing on the sidelines or melting into the crowd. When she is among her husband's family with
their romance novels, patriarchal supremacy and devotion to "the American Way," she can only play the part so long. Part of her
feyness and adaptation to a forest life and unfitness to "normal society" is depicted through her enhanced use of the more
"feral" senses of smell and taste, over hearing or seeing. What hearing she does do is of the sounds of the forest, but when
it comes to her husband's family there are several instances of her being unable to understand them or of simply tuning them
out altogether. Again, one can speculate that this well depicted sense of alienation and differentness was informed
by Lindholm's own life.
While Voyager Classics is to be commended for reprinting this fine title, giving it a tasteful and simple cover when a "sex sells"
cover might have chosen, my copy had rather unevenly dark and light portions in the printed text. On the other hand,
Cloven Hooves was free of the typos frequently encountered in another current series of fantasy classics reprints being
published in England. So if you're the sort of reader who sees fantasy lurking just outside everyday life, "knows" the forest,
enjoys well developed, engaging characters, and is vehemently opposed to cloning of fantasy novels, Cloven Hooves is for
you. Even if you are none of these, you owe it to yourself to expand your horizons to encompass the beauty and
eloquence of Cloven Hooves.
Georges Dodds is a research scientist in vegetable crop physiology, who for close to 25 years has read and collected close to 2000 titles of predominantly pre-1950 science-fiction and fantasy, both in English and French. He writes columns on early imaginative literature for WARP, the newsletter/fanzine of the Montreal Science Fiction and Fantasy Association and maintains a site reflecting his tastes in imaginative literature. |
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