Thoughts

The story of Black Silk has grown over a lifetime and as such has twisted, branched out and produced strange offshoots. Finally, I look at what can be called an introductory novel to a fantasy universe. However, one that does not have elves and trolls in it. I wanted to do something different, something that would not have to deal with the expectations raised by borrowing from European mythology. Leaving the familiar realms of fantasy behind, I felt free to concentrate on the story and the world of "Black Silk" with its different languages and cultures fell into place around it. This website offers a glimpse into that world beyond the book.

Back to the book. At one point, probably while I was studying English literature and listening to lectures on the British novel, I decided that what was needed was "realism" - in a fantasy novel? Yes, and no. Very many things that happen in the novel are not realistic in the sense that they cannot happen outside a fantasy setting, but I have tried to make these unrealistic things happen in a realistic way. Navigational problems on board an ocean going sailing vessel must be solved regardless, even if in a fantasy setting the solution might be different. And a good stew needs some onions! Or local equivalent.

Being a historian with an interest in social structures, I felt it necessary for there to be a realistic feel to the society I wrote about, too — mainly, I could not conceive of a traditional fantasy Thieves Guild where the members seem to follow a nightly curriculum of skills like "backstabbing" or "disarming traps", perhaps with masters teaching the students, and of course they can all climb up a building, know how to fight and can read. If they can do all that, why do they have to steal for a living? Hence the uneducated, filthy Rats of Lowtown, and with them the urban hell that was their natural environment. Drawing a lot of inspiration for the city of Naressina from actual 14th to 17th century European history, gender equality, human rights, indeed the idea of a fair society such as can be found in other fantasy works, crumpled pretty soon. In it’s place grew interesting challenges and plot points. I would like to mention that the ridiculous Special Law that applies to the non-human characters in "Black Silk" is lifted entirely from real life historical examples of such laws.

Real life history abounds with the atrocities human beings are capable of. Not only in the 20th century. The world of "Black Silk" has its own share of atrocities, and I suppose one could say that the aftermath of the past and its unresolved conflicts are at the heart of the novel. At one point, I came to feel that if I was to be honest in writing this story, it would need to look into those dark corners and take the reader into uncomfortable territory. Life is not all roses, as the saying goes, and I felt that these things - mainly injustice, violence, and prejudice - needed to be experienced by the reader for the book to be complete.
I am of the strong opinion that there must be no taboos in literature, but there always needs to be respect. And one of the greatest forms of disrespect, to my way of thinking, is silencing the victims. For example by pretending these things never happen, or if they do, then to somebody else, and that calamity can be easily avoided. I hope I have given the victims in "Black Silk" their own voice.

Further Reading:

My guest post on PJ Ballantine's blog “The Worlds of Phillippa Ballantine”: Exploring how the grit got into my writing.

The story could just as well have been written from the perspective of Erreth's master Kyashâr. His rise from nobody to nightmare would make a fascinating tale. But it could never be what is at the heart of “Jasmine & Crimson” - Kyashâr, whose personal power, knowledge and experience shape his view of the world, could never look at his surroundings the way his student does.
Nor could Harza Harzadi, whose life and thoughts are very much inseparable from his faith, and whose place in the world is shaped by the respect people show the god of warriors. Erreth has no faith to turn to, no power, no place in the world that is truly hers. She sees things that Harza never has, and that her master has long learned to overlook.

In the oppressive hierarchy of the Dragon Empire, Erreth comes from the very bottom: A slave, an illegitimate child, a zharrûsh. A peasant with little formal education. But a survivour: The child that stole food on the streets needed to be sharp. And a fast runner. When she came under the tutelage of the Maw, Erreth had already learned many hard lessons - and where others might scoff, Erreth is kind to those who are less fortunate than herself. As Kyashâr puts it, she has “a good heart”. And because Erreth is not a full-fledged blood drinker, as she sits at the cooking fire in the courtyard of the caravanserai, sipping her coffee, grateful for a moment's respite and the beauty of the stars above, she finds it much easier than Kyashâr to slip in among humans. Erreth walks the thin line between the world of the ordinary people and the shadows of the Maw, and between the powerful and the weak. Her view of the world is strictly her own, and it is much broader than that of a holy warrior or a powerful dark assassin. It is also much closer to the reader.

On Oppression:

In a fantasy tale, everything is possible. So, it would theoretically have been possible to write a setting in which women are not oppressed. In which there would be no discrimination based on species. And certainly no double discrimination based on species and gender. Yet, Erreth knows both. Even triple discrimination, if we take into consideration that she was also born into poverty. No doubt, Erreth is one oppressed character. So is everybody else, to a greater or lesser degree, with perhaps the exception of the emperor known as the Almighty.

The oppression of women is part of the oppressive nature of Dragon Empire society as a whole. At its heart is a might-makes-right attitude, a law of strength that sorts people into a hierarchy according to their personal ability to do others harm - by any means, not just physical violence. Being rich and influential counts, too.
At the very bottom of the ladder are those who have the least power to do others harm — and it isn't women, or slaves, it is children. Especially children who lack powerful protection. Children such as Rumar, who is hungry enough to eat the left-overs of a zharrûsh's dinner, and who but for his father would endure terrible abuse. Erreth was such a child once. As was Kyashâr, who once lost everything.
At the very top of the power-ladder is the single person who commands dragons. Nobody with anything left to lose opposes someone who can order an entire city levelled to the ground at his whim — because everybody who wants a piece of that power-cake, and a lot of people do, will do whatever is necessary to keep that power-cake as little divided as possible. Everybody who has a piece of that cake will usually viciously defend it, and by defending their personal small piece of the power structure, defend the whole.
This is called “upholding custom and tradition”, and it is what Erreth and others like her sin against. That a female would just go and put on men's clothes, and thus steal a piece of male power by being peceived as male, threatens the very fabric of society. So does Rumar's decision to make tea for Erreth, but at eight years old he is probably blissfully unaware of the political nature of his actions. His father, on the other hand, is very much aware of what he should do, and very much aware of where doing as he should do has got him. Or his youngest two children, to be precise, who were sold into slavery during his absence, to pay for the family taxes. Another man, not a father who has lost his children to custom and tradition, might not have made that deal with Kyashâr, a crippled sword-for-hire and a zharrûsh, for gods' sake! A desert nomad, too.

There are many, many ways in which people who lack any real power, can nevertheless feel powerful — and as everywhere in the real world, the people of the Dragon Empire are very good at turning the differences that set them apart into demarcation lines between those who have the power, and those who don't. If we band together, we can have something them over there don't. And that is the root of oppression, and the demarcation line of gender is one of many.
For anyone interested in how oppression is established, and then maintained by those who live under it, I highly recommend historian Timothy Snyder's essay “On Tyranny”, along with his brilliant analysis of the Holocaust in “Black Earth”. Both are available from a bookshop near you!
Back to the Dragon Empire. I will very tentatively put forth the suggestion that dragonfire, and the question who controls it, probably has a lot to do with the tyranny under which Erreth and the other characters live.

Speaking of dragonfire and magic, those born with the gift, the “Startouched”, are as ostracised as zharrûsh. They are treated with more respect, though, a lot more respect, since zharrûsh generally do not turn people to ashes with a snap of their fingers. Zharrûsh have claws and fangs, though. Which means they do get more respect than someone without, but their claws and fangs can also be taken. Nothing, though, can take away the gift of magic. But because there are much fewer magically gifted people than there are clawed and fanged ones, the former can be controlled much easier — only in the capital is there a place where magic is taught, and where the startouched can receive the help they need. Elsewhere — let us just say, elsewhere people might not understand why a child can make his toy talk, but they do understand that these children are the spawn of fiends. And people have ways to deal with that fiendish get.
Now, if the startouched, who hold considerable personal power that cannot be taken away from them, suddenly decide that the good of the people — all people, even slaves — should come before upholding the power structure… that is when you get a rebellion. And that is when the Almighty at the top, who is the first to fall when the pyramid of power starts rocking, will stop at nothing to put that rebellion down. Dragons are sent. And because sometimes what needs to be done to preserve tyranny needs to be done in the dark, because some people have such a thing as a conscience, the Almighty calls upon the services of the Maw.

Writing a piece about personal choice in times of tyranny could have been done from the perspective of the “good guys”. From the perspective of the oppressed, or from the perspective of those who rise up from the start to challenge a morally corrupt authority. I thought the picture would be more complete if the story started with those who serve the tyranny without knowing, and I hope that readers will share my joy in discovering how the little pieces all fit together.