55 pages • 1 hour read
Richelle MeadA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Rose considers her long, dark hair to be an emblem of herself and her heritage, linking it back to her unknown Moroi father, whose looks she inherited, and to her understanding of herself as someone with romantic or sexual appeal. This latter understanding of her hair, as something that affords her beauty, plays into Rose’s complicated sense of self as viewed through the lenses of gender presentation and her future role as a guardian.
As Rose notes throughout the novel, female guardians are in short supply, and her status as a guardian is therefore a point of pride for her as well as a practical measure. Female dhampirs who do not become guardians are typically consigned to doing sex work for Moroi, a role that is socially denigrated. However, as Dimitri notes, such a life is not as bad as hearsay would have it appear, given that these communities are also tight-knit and supportive families. Because this latter role is intertwined with the way dhampir women are fetishized in vampire culture, Rose’s decision to portray herself as a comparatively sexless guardian allows her to earn social approval. However, this approach also cuts her off from a side of herself that experiences sexual and romantic desire and longs to be desired in return.
Rose’s concerns about this are not rooted in the present, for she habitually looks at other guardian women and frets about her future:
I saw how Alberta wore her hair in a short, pixie cut that showed her promise mark and her molnija marks. A lot of female guardians did this. It didn’t matter so much for me now, since my neck had no tattoos yet, but I didn’t want to ever cut my hair (34).
When she confesses this fear to Dimitri, later in the novel, he does not scold her for impracticability, which deepens their growing connection. Instead, he advises her to wear her hair up—a somewhat impractical suggestion that illustrates that he, too, hopes for a future in which Rose can have romantic partnership with him.
For the Moroi, sharing blood is a fraught concept. On one hand, they need blood to live and hold a specific moral code about treating human “feeders” as mere objects. However, feeders are not afforded equivalent status to vampires in their culture, either. As Rose notes, “Feeders were vampire-bite addicts. We accepted that as a part of life, but still looked down on them for it. For anyone else—especially a dhampir—letting a Moroi take blood from you was almost, well, dirty” (68). The fact that Rose and Lissa have shared blood, once it becomes known to St. Vladimir’s gossip mill, therefore shifts from a matter of pragmatism to one of debauchery.
This attitude toward blood-sharing reveals various prejudices in vampire culture, as presented in the novel. The ostensible “acceptance” of feeders, when paired with their low status in the community, indicates the vampires’ disdain for those who have an addiction, even when that addiction is vitally beneficial to vampires and has been created by the vampires themselves. Vampire culture has a taboo regarding the act of mixing the mutual physical pleasure of feeding with the pleasures of sex, suggesting that vampires feel a complicated sense of guilt about embodied pleasures. This taboo suggests the underlying belief that feeding should be for necessity, not enjoyment, and should be entirely separate from sexual activities.
By laying out these strict social parameters around the act of sharing blood, the novel shies away from the longstanding literary connection between vampires and sex without entirely being able to disavow this traditional connection. Part of this discomfort may originate in Rose’s final commentary about what gossip would ensue if it became known that she fed her blood to Lissa. She says that “of course” they never had sex, and she scoffs at the very idea. This attitude implies that part of her fear about being known as a blood-giver comes from the fear of being seen as a lesbian, further implying an anti-gay bias that is not explicit in the novel but is nevertheless underwritten by the text’s insistent focus upon portraying romantic relationships between men and women. There are no LGTBQ+ students at St. Vladimir’s Academy—or at least none that are present in the novel—but all the sexual and romantic encounters between men and women are either coerced or unsatisfying (or both), and many of them contain discussions of blood. Thus, the novel creates the overall impression that vampire society is resolutely sex-negative and anti-pleasure and contains an implicit anti-gay bias.
The psychic bond that Rose and Lissa share motivates both the plot and the development of their respective characters. In the beginning of the novel, both girls reject the bond, finding the instances when Rose “falls into” Lissa’s mind to be intrusive. However, as the novel progresses, Rose begins to enter Lissa’s mind intentionally, and the girls increasingly accept the bond and gain a deeper understanding of Rose’s role in Lissa’s powers. By the end of the novel, Rose realizes that the bond and her part in it provide anchors for Lissa so that she can use her spirit powers without risking her mental health. The bond thus becomes increasingly represented as something that goes both ways. Rose doesn’t only see Lissa’s thoughts; she is able to send her own strength via the bond.
The bond also serves as a formal plot device that allows Lissa to temporarily take over as a third-person narrator for scenes in which Rose (a first-person narrator) is not present. Although Rose’s narrative voice sometimes interjects in these scenes, her comments largely operate via a third-person limited point of view, with Lissa’s thoughts and feelings presented through this physic bond. This approach gives Richelle Mead the opportunity to create more in-depth portrayal of scenes in which Rose is not present.
By Richelle Mead