Women in Refrigerators

Tropes are conventions that media crafters can use and be assured that an audience will identify them. Generally, they only become cliched when they are overused, which is ironic given that according TVtropes.com, there is a trope for everything. Literally, there is a combination of your exact personality floating on that website somewhere. Give yourself a few hours, you'll find it.  We have a tendency to view these tropes as cliched, simply because upon investigation we realize how prevalent they are. There isn't always a clear distinction between the two: The damsel in distress is probably more cliched than trope-like; women in refrigerators, depending on your view point, could be more trope-like than cliched. It really depends on how you look at it.

That brings me to my next point. A few days ago I spoke about feminism and media, pushed on by the recent hoo-haw Anita Sarkeesian managed to create through simply having an opinion (for shame!) This got me thinking about my own writing and how it has evolved over the years, adapting to my own growing feminist values. The explosion with Sarkeesian's work, and the stumbling across 'women in refrigerators' trope, got me thinking, and reevaluating, the work I have done.

For those of you who don't know, Women in Refrigerators refers to a concept labelled by Gail Simone in 1999 as an effort to show how female superheroes are more likely to suffer violent rape, assault, and often dismemberment, quite frequently as a method to expand their male superhero counterpart's own story line (because revenge stories are pretty sweet like that.)  Basically, what we have is one giant feminist time bomb plot device. Does it work? Sure. Is it more than a little alarming? Of course.

I'll be the first to admit that two of my favorite series find their beginnings with variations of the Women in Refrigerators trope. In Gregg Hurwitz's novel, The Kill Clause, the main character is driven by the death and dismemberment of his young daughter (on her birthday no less). Throughout the next three books, the death of Ginny is, obviously, haunting to the character of Tim Rackley. In John Connolly's Every Dead Thing, the main character of Charlie Parker comes home to find his wife and daughter have been killed, flayed, had their faces removed, and posed for Parker to find. The Travelling Man meets a brutal end as Parker spends the novel trying to piece together who he is, and why he continues to base his murders off of the Book of Enoch.

Both novels are amazing, and I list them as two of my favorite. The subsequent series are equally impressive (the second Tim Rackley novel, The Program, is excellent, and the Charlie Parker series is ongoing. I am currently rereading all of them in anticipation for the next one, which is released in North America in October I believe.)

There you have it. Two of my favorite series, driven by dead women and children. I am a big fan of revenge plots in media; it is a shame there isn't more pissed-off female driven stories (TV's Revenge; Tarantino's Kill Bill to name a few.)

Looking more into this trope, I began to consider my own writing. Since its inception, I have edited the story to match my own growth as a person. I went through the shock and awe phase and, upon reading Minutes to Burn by Hurwitz, I realized not only did I hate preying mantoids, but I also hated gratuitous violence in media. That was changed. The violence I projected in my story all served a purpose. No death was senseless, no death was outrageous. I acted as the executioner for my antagonist, and considered what he would want. He wouldn't want arterial spray everywhere (only in a few places.)  This trope, however, took me to another level.

A young woman dies in the novel, sister to the main character, and her death is meant to act as a catalyst to the girl. It is meant to push the girl to the edge and, ultimately, encourage her ascension to courageous and rebellious. But this trope, guys, this trope got me thinking. Bullshit. Killing the sister accomplish nothing accept makes the girl want more bloodshed, and at that point in the story, she isn't capable of bloodshed, nor is she capable of understanding the situation that she is involved in. Creating a scenario to encourage her to act batshit insane accomplishes nothing, except killing another woman (the gender kill count at that point is Women: 2 Men: 1) And if the character of Natalia can grow through other means, then the death of her sister is pointless.

I spent a solid two days reworking the plot, taking into account the changes that would have to me made over the course of 8 books now, with the prospect of Beth having survived her ordeal. I have prodded and reexamined and ultimately I realized that by allowing Beth to live, I create a secondary thread that stretches from book one to book eight. I can't say yet what Beth's ultimate fate will be. She may die yet. But the prospect of her living gives the character of Natalia a greater purpose. She becomes driven not only by a need for revenge, but a need for answers and solutions. The ambiguity of Beth's fate creates just that scenario, and better yet, it's one less woman who has to die in a senseless manner.