The Bone Season

“I had to smile at that thought. It said a lot about the world when Jaxon Hall was the lesser of two evils.”

Shannon’s world is a place of relative vice and virtue. While Paige feels lucky to be in Jaxon’s employ, especially since other mime-lords are worse), she nonetheless admits that he is a “sycophantic, tight-fisted, coldhearted bastard” (28). The only way for Paige to reconcile this contradiction is to understand the world in which she lives, a world in which voyants like herself are forced to choose between a criminal existence and certain death. It’s not much of a choice, but for Paige, Jaxon Hall is the obvious one.

“There is also, I thought, a high risk that this is all in my head.”

Herded into a vast library in the supposedly quarantined city of Oxford, Paige listens in disbelief as Nashira describes a strange new reality, one existing in secret for 200 years. Paige’s reaction is the all-too-human one of denial, for she considers that she may be dreaming or hallucinating or that her senses are impaired rather than accept the bizarre new reality before her. Of course, Nashira, the Rephaim, the Emim, and the compound of Sheol are quite real, and Paige must ultimately adapt or die.

“Human trafficking. No, voyant trafficking. Scion had sent us into slavery.”

When Paige learns of Scion’s deal with the Rephaim—to funnel voyants to Sheol under the pretext of “protecting” society from criminals—she sees it for what it is: an elaborate scheme to keep Scion officials safe and to maintain their power while selling an undesired element (the voyants) into servitude. With no choice in the matter, voyants must use their abilities to protect the rest of society, a society that shuns them. It’s a no-win situation for “unnaturals,” but like any oppressed population, they serve at the whim of their oppressors.

“She had the delicate aura of a cartomancer. And the bruises of a prisoner.”

When Paige first encounters Liss, she is performing her contortionist act for the new recruits. The inherent contradiction in her appearance—delicate yet bruised—is a troubling sign. Indeed, the Rephaim spare no one their abuse, not even those—like Liss and Ivy—who are less able to endure it. Paige understands that, despite the striated class system in Sheol, all voyants—even those who are kept in gilded cages—are prisoners.

“They never let us forget they’re protecting us from the Buzzers, and that slavery is for our own good.”

The Rephaim employ psychological manipulation in order to keep their human subjects subservient, convincing them that their relationship is an equal partnership in which both sides have something to gain. They claim they are protecting the humans from the Emim, when in fact the red-jackets are merely cannon fodder to keep the ravenous beasts at bay. This tactic mirrors the real-world practices of those who historically enslaved other peoples to convince those they enslaved that bondage is a much better choice than being free to pursue one’s own devices.

“Scion did produce an injection for male contraception, but it made no sense to sterilize both sexes.”

In order to prevent uncontrolled procreation among the enslaved humans, female prisoners are dosed with a contraceptive, while male prisoners are not. By creating this convention, Shannon employs a not-so-subtle criticism at the inequity of birth control practices in modern society. In Shannon’s world, women, who must carry the fetus, are also expected to be responsible for preventing the pregnancy in the first place, while men bear no responsibility at all. Such allusions render Shannon’s world eerily similar to our own, and this is no accident. Thus, the ability of fantasy authors to utilize “make-believe” worlds to pass judgment on real-life practices and conventions is demonstrated here.

“He was already under their spell. Already a soldier, a killer in the making.”

When Carl earns his red-jacket status, he is primed for war and falls easily under the sway of Rephaite propaganda, enticed by the possibility of gaining a modicum of power in the midst of his powerless existence. With this relatively minor character, Shannon demonstrates the common psychological tactics used by military recruiters in any given era—creating an enemy, instilling fear and hate, and convincing its recruits of the nobility of killing that enemy.

“‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ Nashira said, ‘but in Rephaite eyes—the eyes that now preside over your country—the human and the beast exist on the same level. We do not provide doctors for beasts.’”

Nashira rationalizes her abuse of Seb—and all human prisoners for that matter—by equating humans with animals, a rationale that has historically been used to justify real-world occurrences of enslavement, colonialism, and even murder. Devaluing someone’s life renders them that much easier to kill, and this passage of Shannon’s demonstrates that to Nashira, humans are just as disposable as animals that are raised for the purposes of consumption.

“Once you know something, you can’t get rid of it. You have to carry it. Always.”

As the seeds of rebellion begin to gestate, Paige, Julian, and Liss discuss the Rephaim and their potential vulnerabilities. They wonder what secrets they hold and the power of hoarding knowledge. Liss suggests that knowledge is a double-edged sword that confers power but also saddles the bearer of that knowledge with a heavy burden: what to do with difficult or unpleasant knowledge that destroys rather than uplifts.

“Why does anyone go to SciLo [Scion London]? Work. Money. We need to eat just as much as amaurotics.”

Liss, who grew up in a more rural area, explains why she migrated to London, which the presence of the Scion government arguably renders a more dangerous place, for not only is the central authority located there, but its elaborate security apparatus is also active. Voyants have little choice in such matters, she claims. The Vigilance Divisions and the Grand Inquisitor pose a constant threat, but the protection offered by mime-lords counters that threat in a way that outlying areas cannot provide. Her comment emphasizes that just like any marginalized group, voyants do not have the luxury of picking and choosing the ideal environment in which to live; they must often pick between one bad choice and another, with the desire to survive serving as their only rubric.

“Far from the Archon, small-town amaurotics grew nervous. Suspicions about unnaturalness pervaded those close-knit communities.”

As a girl, Paige longs for the sea and the wide-open spaces of rural life, but she doesn’t understand that, as a voyant, she is in just as much danger in a small village as in a big city. In the elucidation of this uncomfortable reality, Shannon makes a statement about the less-visible dangers represented by the distrust that small communities hold for perceived outsiders. While a rural community may not have Underguards patrolling the streets regularly, they do have suspicious neighbors whispering and speculating about peculiar newcomers, and they are always willing to notify the authorities if someone deviates from their narrow perception of the world.

“Scion didn’t allow that kind of fantastical literature. Nothing with monsters or ghosts. Nothing unnatural.”

Scion maintains control of its people’s access to literature by using a strategy that implies its kinship with the real-world censorship of the historical Dark Ages. By withholding knowledge, Scion attempts to suppress dissent, and this same strategy was employed by the Catholic Church in the centuries after the fall of Rome, among others. It is a mentality that encourages book banning and censorship of sensitive information and is also a testament to both the power of the written word and the fear that such subversive power engenders in the ruling elite.

“Rephs are something like the aether in flesh. Their blood is the aether liquefied.”

Through David’s commentary in the novel, Shannon provides a wealth of exposition about the motives of the Rephaim—Nashira’s in particular. Essentially, he serves a pragmatic purpose by dispelling some of the mystery around the enigmatic and brutal race, specifically with regard to their blood, a potent symbol in The Bone Season. The information that he provides also explains the Rephaite penchant for feeding on the aura of voyants to replenish their life force. However, this information ultimately serves to foreshadow the incipient rebellion, for any dependency that the Rephaim may have can also be exploited as a vulnerability, and thus David’s commentary hints at a possible strategy for defeating them.

“Something was emerging from inside me, pushing out into the world. In the end, the world was going to see it.”

In a flashback, Paige elaborates on her relationship with Nick. Seven years prior, Nick hinted at the reasons for Paige’s unsettling feelings. Now, when she is 16, he returns to explain further. Her power has grown more dangerous, and now is the time when she must learn to control it. Interestingly, her ability matures with the advent of puberty, suggesting that the physical changes raging within her body are somehow connected to her voyancy. As she develops the ability to procreate—to create life—she also develops the power to end it.

“We have always been there. Some of us are good; others are evil, if there is any such thing as evil—but whatever we are, we are not a disease.”

Jaxon explains the true nature of the aether and the propaganda that Scion has used to criminalize clairvoyance. For someone who has felt shunned and marginalized all of her life, his words come as a revelation to Paige. Jaxon can be petty and ruthless at times, but he displays an understanding and an empathy that is exactly what Paige needs at this time in her life—and by extension, he makes a plea for tolerance for all who are different and relegated to society’s fringes.

“It was a novel way of looking at clairvoyance, which had never previously been categorized—but the ‘lower’ orders hadn’t reacted well to it.”

Jaxon’s extensive research into clairvoyance produces his groundbreaking pamphlet, On the Merits of Unnaturalness. However, by classifying and categorizing various levels of voyants, he unwittingly creates a class system within an already marginalized group. Some voyants—seers and soothsayers, for example—are considered less valuable than others. His pamphlet thus becomes an insightful comment on the human tendency to label individuals, to place them in boxes, some of which are more important than others.

“SCION OUT! SCION DOWN! SCION OUT OF DUBLIN TOWN!”

When Finn brings Paige to an anti-Scion rally, he is so caught up in the fervor of the moment that he cannot see the danger to which he is exposing his young cousin. As the protest escalates toward violence, six-year-old Paige is terrified, but the experience also plants the seed of activism in her and further fuels her future rebellion against the oppression of the Rephaim.

“And what would they put on my gravestone? Would they carve in PAIGE MAHONEY, or would it just be XX-59-40?”

As Paige contemplates rebellion, she also ponders her own mortality. She wonders if history will remember her by name or by the impersonal designation given to her as a prisoner. Part of the Rephaite strategy to control its subjects is to erase their identity, to devalue them by using a simple number to refer to each person. Paige struggles to maintain her identity in the face of this institutionalized anonymity, which is why Warden’s deliberate use of her given name serves as such a powerful hint to his trustworthiness and status as a covert ally.

“You want me to treat you as Thubin and the others treat their humans, because then you would feel that you had every right to hate the Rephaim.”

In this quote, Paige rails against the brutality of Nashira, venting her anger at Warden and by extension, against all Rephaim. She asks him to, “palm me off on someone else” (253), and instead of becoming angry, Warden offers an astute psychological critique of her rage—that by inviting abuse, she gives herself the emotional space to justify her own hate. While that coping mechanism may ease her conscience, it prevents her from seeing the reality of what stands in front of her—an ally, not an enemy.

“‘Some things are better off dead,’ she said. ‘Don’t you agree?’”

When Paige notices a dead flower in Nashira’s chamber, the blood-sovereign explains that in some cases, death is perfectly justified. The dead flower is the ideal metaphor for Nashira’s disregard for all forms of life that she considers unworthy. A flower in bloom represents life itself, spring, and regeneration, but Nashira’s reign ushers in a long winter of death.

“Even at 8 years old I could sense the strange looks people gave me when I pronounced something too oddly for their liking.”

When Zeke asks Paige to sing an Irish song, she hesitates, remembering her childhood fear of sounding different due to her Irish accent. Scion London has banned all things Irish, including music, for fear of its ability to encourage rebellion. The need to hide one’s identity by conforming to a dominant dialect is a tension felt by many marginalized groups and can often result in “code switching,” the act of adapting one’s language and dialect to meet the expectations of a dominant culture.

“I was mollisher of I-4. I had a name.”

In this quote, Paige struggles to justify her loyalty to the Citadel and to Jaxon Hall. Carl argues that London is no better than Oxford, that they’re both prisons, but Paige feels an obligation to the Seven Seals as the family she never had. At least under Jaxon’s wing, her identity has not been stripped from her. Both places may carry the threat of death, but at least in London, she has more control over her circumstances. To a certain degree, her ability, her autonomy, and her name are her own in this particular environment, imperfect though it may be.

“I could race like blood through the mesh of streets and alleys. I was full to the brim, bursting with life. Out here, if nowhere elseI was free.”

Paige recalls her early years in London under Nick’s tutelage. Although London is a far cry from the lush hills of Ireland, she has adapted, finding freedom within its urban chaos thanks in no small measure to Nick’s friendship and devotion. The memory is bittersweet, for mixed with the exuberance of flying over London’s rooftops is the heartache of Nick’s rejection. Once again, Shannon employs the metaphor of blood to symbolize life rather than death.