This post is going to have spoilers:
In Too Like the Lightning, Bridger, the miracle-working child whom protagonist Mycroft Canner has been caring for, reads Les Miserables, one of my favorite books. I couldn’t quite understand why the book was referenced at the time, but in Seven Surrenders, Mycroft describes his love for Bridger as:
“…not as others before me have loved a son, a brother, a savior, a master, but whom I–strange creature that I am –love in all these ways at once, all rolled together into a new kind of love, abject and irrevocable, that has as yet no name.”
This immediately recalled to me the following passage from Hugo’s book:
“Poor old Jean Valjean, of course, loved Cosette only as a father; but, as we noted earlier, into this fatherly love his lonely single status in life had introduced every other kind of love; he loved Cosette as his daughter, and he loved her as his mother, and he loved her as his sister; and, as he had never had either a lover or a wife, as nature is a creditor that does not accept nonpayment, that particular feeling, too, the most indestructible of all, had thrown itself in with the rest…”
And this passage from Hugo’s Ninety-Three:
“All the power of loving in Cimourdain had, so to speak, fallen on this child; the sweet, innocent being had become a sort of prey to this heart condemned to solitude. He loved him with all the tenderness at once of father, brother, friend and creator.”
And with those verbal/emotional echoes, it was easy to see a plot echo from Les Miserables–the convict who saves and adopts an innocent child, who becomes everything to him (Mycroft has, unlike Hugo’s protagonists, other loves–Saladin, Apollo Mojave, J.E.D.D. Mason–and other loyalties, but Bridger’s powers make him impossibly important). In the end, Palmer is an even crueler God of her created universe than Hugo is–Jean Valjean sees Cosette grown and married, and even reunites with her on his deathbed, and Cimourdain kills himself the instant his order to kill his beloved pupil is carried out.
Mycroft Canner, however, survives the suicide of his foster-son Bridger. The last words of the final chapter, excluding the epilogue, are as follows:
“….our limits in civilian life, the point at which we are too tired, too distraught, too weak to go on, are not really our limits. I rose and saluted.”
The warlike imagery is appropriate: the next book in the series is called The Will to Battle. Though Mycroft’s fictional “record” ends here, I hope we will continue to see his story in the next book, and that we will learn more about him, as there are still mysteries–though the motives for his crimes are revealed, he refers to himself near the end as a “parricide”, which leaves the possibility of still more skeletons in the closet. But I’m also interested in how this loss will affect him–his affections are, as I said, more widely spread than those of Hugo’s characters, but it must affect his character going forward. I can’t wait for The Will to Battle.
3 thoughts on “Seven Surrenders – Ada Palmer”
After the revelation at the end, that Bridger might have fundamentally altered Mycroft’s personality, I have to wonder how much of his narrative about his crimes earlier in the book is reliable, and how much is a self-serving reconstruction. Was he really motivated by wanting to stop a war? Did he love Apollo and grieve him at the time, or did that come later? Maybe the truth was closer to his original confession: that he was a psychopath who wanted to be a “liberated man” but couldn’t quite do evil for the sake of it. He still had the “cause” of showing the world it was possible.
I can’t tell for sure, and that’s fascinating to me. Whether the next book tells us more or not, I’m looking forward to it.
I think he must have loved Apollo at the time, because Apollo’s death is so close to Ibis Mardi’s in its nature, and that was specifically because Ibis had loved Mycroft and was therefore a rival to Saladin. I think the specifics of Apollo’s death indicate that he, too, was a rival–not because he loved Mycroft, but because Mycroft loved him.
[…] (and this extends the comparison with Hugo I made in my review of Seven Surrenders), her characters, while all in conflict with one another, are mostly of an elevated, well, […]