Nettle & Bone

“It was the dogs she wanted. Perhaps she might have built a man out of bones, but she had no love of men any longer. Dogs, though…dogs were always true.”

This quotation draws on the use of bones as a symbol. Kingfisher argues that we carry our nature in our bones. This passage also foreshadows Marra’s conflict with Vorling, as he is the man who causes her to turn away from men.

“Besides, when the great hero Mordecai slew the poisoned worm, did he complain about his fingers hurting? No, of course not. At least, not where anyone could hear him and write it down.”

Marra repeatedly draws on the stories she knows about heroes for courage. Kingfisher argues that these stories encourage Marra to act in the face of grave personal danger. This passage also shows Marra’s reliance on humor to manage despair.

“Monster? And then she looked down and realized that her assailant had been talking about the skeleton of the dog. Oh. Right. I suppose…yes. She scowled. He was a good dog. He had excellent bones and even if she had used too much wire and gotten it a bit muddled around the toes and one of the bones of the tail, she’d think that a decent person would stop and admire the craftsmanship before they screamed and ran away.”

In this quote, Marra faces the absurdity of her actions in the face of the concrete realism of the farmer. She acknowledges the audacity of Bonedog, but she sees past the strange to what is true and of value in it. The unique nature of her perspective ties into The Power of Storytelling, as Marra is by nature someone who recognizes—and is therefore able to see through—storytelling when it’s at work.

“There was no call to nurture intellectual curiosity among princesses. She did not even quite know what to call it. It felt like a light shining in her chest and she could see just a little way ahead, and that was enough to keep her going forward. There was no one to tell her what she wanted to know or whether the information even existed. She had no one to share her excitement with, but she did not mind, because it did not occur to her that anyone else might care.”

Marra and the women of the novel are bound by their gender. Marra begins to break from her role as a princess in the convent; she embraces labor and learning, breaking with gender norms and finding joy in that freedom. The Subversion of Expectations, as captured by Marra’s experience, underscores Kingfisher’s critique of these assigned roles.

“It was safer than being a princess. She was outside the hierarchy and so she had been assigned a story that made sense of her position.”

Kingfisher argues throughout the novel for The Power of Storytelling. Marra falls outside of the typical constructs for identity, and those around her construct their own stories to explain her existence. Marra realizes that she can contribute to and write her own story; in this writing, she makes herself the hero.

“Listen! If I die, don’t let mother marry you off to the prince. Run away. Ruin yourself. Whatever it takes. Don’t let her drag you into this hell along with us.”

Kania warns Marra to escape their mother’s plans by any means necessary; she hopes to save Marra from her and Damia’s fate. This passage shows Kania’s protective nature and the queen’s calculating use of her daughters.

“Then again, peasants and princesses all shit the same and have their courses the same, so I suppose it’s no surprise that the babies all come out the same way, too. Having thus accidentally anticipated a few centuries’ worth of revolutionary political thought, Marra got down to the business of boiling water and making tea.”

This quotation demonstrates the universal struggle of women against societal inequity under patriarchy. Women endure pain and suffering to bring forth new life, which highlights the theme of resistance and resilience. The Importance of Grit applies, perhaps in particular, to women.

“The entire point of queens and princesses was to act as broodmares for royalty, but if there were ways to prevent it.”

Kingfisher critiques women’s traditional role in society and their treatment by men and kingdoms. She advocates for reproductive freedom, showing the power that comes from bodily autonomy. Marra does not submit to her role as a broodmare but searches for a way to resist that outcome for herself and her sister.

“If I were a man, I would fight him.

If she were a man, no one would force Kania to try to bear child after child. If I were a man, I would not be the next in line to be married if he kills her. If we were men…She stared at her fingers curled into the dirt. It did not matter. They were not and the history of the world was written in women’s wombs and women’s blood and she would never be allowed to change it. Rage shivered through her, a rage that seemed like it could topple the halls of heaven, then vanished under the knowledge of her own helplessness. Rage was only useful if you were allowed to do anything with it.”

This quote embodies the gender inequality of the novel and Kingfisher’s proposed solution. Marra’s heroic qualities of resistance and resilience are displayed here. She feels the indignity of impotence, but she realizes that her anger must be turned into some action.

“She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped forward to meet her destiny and win the tools to kill a prince.”

Marra travels the length of the Southern Kingdom to answer the call to adventure. The moment she goes into the dust-wife’s garden, resolved to save her sister by any means necessary, is when she accepts her role as hero and begins her hero’s journey as outlined by Campbell.

“She did it in the end, of course. She had the same bitter feeling as when she shoveled the stable—I will do this. You will not stop me. She tried a half-dozen different ways to cover her hands, only to find the fabric to clumsy to work with or too thin to offer any protection. Finally she stared at the mass of smoke and thought, I am doing a heroic task and heroic tasks are not done by half measures. It’s only pain. Kania’s pain is so much worse than mine. And she plunged her hand into the mass of smoke and nettles and began to spin.”

Marra and Kania’s resilience saves their kingdom from destruction. Marra knows that if Kania can endure her husband’s repeated abuses and humiliations, she can endure the physical pain of her impossible task. Marra tells herself a story about her pain to complete the task, emphasizing The Power of Storytelling.

“A shape was coming upstream. The moon was just high enough to throw cold, glittery light over it. At first Marra thought of beavers, otters, swimming creatures, but no otter had ever been so large, nor had a face like that.The dead boy swam upstream, quick as a fish, and rose to his feet. Water streamed from his mouth and his empty eye sockets. His skin had swollen and split his clothes, a pale bloated thing with flesh puffing out between strands of waterweed.”

Kingfisher uses imagery throughout the novel to ground the reader in a fantastical world. The detailed description of the drowned boy allows the reader to see him clearly, though his existence is impossible. The disgusting and repulsive details also illustrate the danger of the world Marra prepares to enter.

“It looked like a market, but such a market as Marra had never seen. There were jeweled pavilions crowded next to mud huts and hide tents and things that looked like upside-down bird nests. The aisles between were crowded, but the people within them did not move like a crowd. They moved like dancers, some light, some heavy, some in circling solitary waltzes. They reminded Marra far more of the courtiers in the prince’s palace than of the town on market day.”

The goblin market marks Marra’s crossing of the threshold on her hero’s journey. The setting shows the shift from the known to the unknown and uncanny. Marra feels immediate discomfort but also awe and wonder, illustrating her curiosity and grit.

“The Toothdancer looked like a stork or a heron, with a long hard bill and a curved, mobile neck. He wore a tattered black suit, with feathers sticking out of the holes, and his hands were very human. When he turned his head, Marra saw half a man’s face below the beak, as if it were a mask, and yet his eyes were clearly a heron’s, the color of new-minted coins, and set back from the beak like a bird’s.”

Kingfisher uses imagery to help the reader imagine the impossible Toothdancer. The detailed description of this uncanny creature enables the reader to empathize with Marra’s terror as the creature prepares to harvest her tooth.

“It’s because you’re too much alike. What did the abbess used to say? That our own flaws infuriate us in other people?”

Marra empathizes with the others deeply, allowing her to risk her safety to stop the suffering of others. This trait, which facilitates her heroism, also causes her frustration when she empathizes with other’s faults and shortcomings, especially when they mirror her own. Marra’s well-roundedness as a character comes from Kingfisher’s development of her as a relatable and flawed person.

“I am giving up my power in order to be decent. If warriors are allowed to stop killing people and bang their swords into plowshares, I ought to be allowed to keep chickens and give children good health and not curse them.”

Agnes denies her full magical potential because she refuses to cause suffering for others. This self-sacrifice underscores Kingfisher’s argument for resilience and resistance in the face of evil. In her own story, Agnes prioritizes herself as a good person over being a powerful godmother.

“The godmother was ruthless. She chopped off the bottom of the weaving and held it out to Marra. Her hands shook and the stray threads, unraveling from the top, swayed back and forth. Marra was suddenly reminded of the silk threads of the cocoon in the goblin market, the moth that had taken says of her life away, and what would this strange, violent gift take away from her?”

The godmother destroys her weaving work, which Marra views as a great sacrifice. Kingfisher draws a parallel between the cut tapestry and the cocoon of the moth in the market, causing the reader to think of time off of the end of one’s life, foreshadowing the godmother’s death.

“And what is fair? Marra snarled at herself. How is it fair that you grew up and ate every meal and were never expected to shovel a stable because your mother married a king? How is it fair that Vorling cannot be brought to justice? How is it fair that some women wear themselves out in bearing children and others cannot have a child? How is it fair that Fenris can never go home again because he killed a terrible man? How is it fair that the gods punish starving people in the blistered land?

Nothing is fair. Nothing is right.”

Marra despairs as she reaches the capital city of the Northern Kingdom, overwhelmed by the enormity of the task she has yet to complete. Kingfisher shows the reader Marra’s humanity and the inevitable inequity of life, arguing that heroes act despite the odds. It is at these moments, when we are at our weakest, that The Importance of Grit is most evident.

“‘You cannot help people who do not want help,’ rumbled Fenris. ‘You can’t force someone to do what you think is best for them.’ He paused, then added, somewhat reluctantly, ‘Well, you can. But they don’t appreciate it and most of the time it turns out that you were wrong.’

‘But—’

‘We can only save people who want to be saved,’ said the dust-wife. ‘If it’s still bothering you, we’ll come back afterward, assuming any of us are alive to do so.’”

As the company leaves the boarding house, they attempt to save Miss Margaret from the cursed puppet and fail. Marra desperately wants to save the woman, but her party members remind Marra that only those who choose to be saved can be saved. Kingfisher points out that a hero can only go so far and cannot take away someone’s choice, even if they believe it is for their own good.

“Light flared. The dust-wife was lying half-sprawled across the sarcophagus, her hair wild around her shoulders. She pushed herself up, looking annoyed. The brown hen stood on the death mask, which had split in two, looking as serene as only a chicken can look. As Marra watched, the hen lifted her tail, voided her bowels on the king’s broken face, and then strolled to the dust-wife’s shoulder with a satisfied cluck.”

Kingfisher’s use of imagery shows the uncanny, but it also shows humor. The detailed description of the chicken after the description of the fatigued dust-wife is an example of paraprosdokian. The humor of the chicken pooping on the death mask increases because the king’s banishment happens right before.

“‘She’s at peace now,’ said Fenris.

Agnes gave him an ironic glance. ‘She’s been at peace for centuries, I think. I still get to cry about it.’”

Agnes experiences grief at the godmother’s passing. In trying to comfort her, Fenris tells her she should not mourn the woman’s passing. Agnes retorts that she can feel however she wants to. This small interaction highlights Kingfisher’s greater point about women’s ownership and right to feel and act as they please.

“‘Where is the godmother?’ said Vorling, turning toward her. He did not sound lost any longer. He sounded angry. ‘Was she behind you? Why am I being made a fool of in my own palace?’

Kania’s hand crept to Marra’s and squeezed in sudden fear.

Marra lifted her chin and met Vorling’s eyes. You are not so big. You are only a living king. I saw an old woman defeat a dead one. You cannot hurt me any worse than spinning thread of nettle wool, and you cannot confuse me any more than the palace of dust. Even your cruelty is small compared to the blistered land.

Perhaps he saw some of that defiance in her. Men like him always had a sense for it, did they not? He took a step forward and his hands clenched at his sides.”

Marra stands at the precipice of achieving her impossible quest’s goal without fear. As mapped by Campbell, her transformation nears its completion; she stands fully aware and possesses her power as a hero.

“She did not look like a tiny, fluttery woman who lived with chickens and a garden that had gotten out of control. She looked like a creature of magic and terror, the dark mirror of a saint, more at home in the goblin market than the throne room.”

Kingfisher uses a simile to compare the two aspects of Agnes. In the transformation into the evil godmother, the use of simile keeps Agnes removed from the product. Agnes looks “like” a creature of terror, but she is not one. The author’s word choice shows the separation Agnes has from her power.