Sunshine and Buffy
Feb. 21st, 2005 02:28 pmI don't remember who it was who recommended Robin McKinley's Sunshine to me. I'm reasonably confident it was someone on the Bujold list, though. As I recall, the book was described as "Buffy done right", or some such phrase. After reading the novel, I have to say that the description is a reasonable one.
Now, it's difficult to compare the two, really - to compare something written to something filmed, and to compare a long-running serial with multiple writers to a single, one-author novel. There are certainly similarities: a young woman is forced by circumstance to recognize that she is a significant player in a war between humans and vampires; she is reluctant to accept the task, and fears the possibility that she has her own dark side; and she is aided by (what appears to be) a "good" vampire. Beyond this, there are points in the novel which plainly riff off the series, sometimes affectionately, sometimes mockingly.
One of the weaknesses of Buffy was its rather incoherent mythos. Its wavering between Manichaean dualism and Lovecraftian horror; its muddled conception of the "soul", which would have been forgivable had it not been central to the story of Angel and, later, of Spike; the nasty and misogynistic origin eventually given for the Slayer in season seven; all of these hurt the story, and contributed to the failure, in particular, of the last season of the show. (During season six, I sketched an alternative mythos, which can be found here. I still prefer my mythos to the canonical one, not entirely - I hope - for selfish reasons, but, though it was reasonably consistent with the story through season six, it definitely does not fit season seven.)
Sunshine avoids this kind of incoherence, if only because the background is only roughly sketched; there isn't time for glaring inconsistencies to emerge. It also dodges some of the other flaws of the series. In particular, there is no nonsense about "one girl in all the world"; the opponents of the Other World are multiple, and some of them are distinctly ambiguous. The monsters in Sunshine are horrifying in a way that none of Buffy's foes ever were. (In fairness, the strength of Buffy rested in characterization more than anything else; the monsters were often campy, and the enemies who threatened Buffy the most effectively did so through ordinary human emotions. To the extent that this is true, though, Buffy failed as horror; Sunshine does not. The other major strength of Buffy lay in witty dialogue, but McKinley is as adept at turning a neat phrase as Joss Whedon.)
The novel closes with a number of loose ends, involving the vampire Constantine, Rae's family, and the members of the SOF. If McKinley plans a sequel, I'll certainly read it.
Now, it's difficult to compare the two, really - to compare something written to something filmed, and to compare a long-running serial with multiple writers to a single, one-author novel. There are certainly similarities: a young woman is forced by circumstance to recognize that she is a significant player in a war between humans and vampires; she is reluctant to accept the task, and fears the possibility that she has her own dark side; and she is aided by (what appears to be) a "good" vampire. Beyond this, there are points in the novel which plainly riff off the series, sometimes affectionately, sometimes mockingly.
One of the weaknesses of Buffy was its rather incoherent mythos. Its wavering between Manichaean dualism and Lovecraftian horror; its muddled conception of the "soul", which would have been forgivable had it not been central to the story of Angel and, later, of Spike; the nasty and misogynistic origin eventually given for the Slayer in season seven; all of these hurt the story, and contributed to the failure, in particular, of the last season of the show. (During season six, I sketched an alternative mythos, which can be found here. I still prefer my mythos to the canonical one, not entirely - I hope - for selfish reasons, but, though it was reasonably consistent with the story through season six, it definitely does not fit season seven.)
Sunshine avoids this kind of incoherence, if only because the background is only roughly sketched; there isn't time for glaring inconsistencies to emerge. It also dodges some of the other flaws of the series. In particular, there is no nonsense about "one girl in all the world"; the opponents of the Other World are multiple, and some of them are distinctly ambiguous. The monsters in Sunshine are horrifying in a way that none of Buffy's foes ever were. (In fairness, the strength of Buffy rested in characterization more than anything else; the monsters were often campy, and the enemies who threatened Buffy the most effectively did so through ordinary human emotions. To the extent that this is true, though, Buffy failed as horror; Sunshine does not. The other major strength of Buffy lay in witty dialogue, but McKinley is as adept at turning a neat phrase as Joss Whedon.)
The novel closes with a number of loose ends, involving the vampire Constantine, Rae's family, and the members of the SOF. If McKinley plans a sequel, I'll certainly read it.