A book review for 'Cruel Beauty'

Cruel Beauty by Rosamund Hodge

I picked up Cruel Beauty as light reading for my breaks at work, not expecting very much from it. It was being marketed as YA fantasy, a genre more known for its two-dimensional heroines and clichéd writing than anything else, but some people who tend to share my taste in books had reviewed it very positively, and my brain needed some easy reading to give it a rest, so I decided I’d try it. And was I ever pleasantly surprised! Around a third of the way through the book, I suddenly realised that the writing was good, the plot was (relatively) unpredictable and that I actually cared about the characters. Then I stayed up until 2 a.m. to finish it. C’est la vie.

Something old and something new

The basic premise of the book is that it’s a retelling of the fairytale, Beauty and the Beast, and the broad details are more or less the same. The heroine, Nyx, must leave her family to marry a dangerous and despicable creature, but soon finds herself questioning whether her husband is quite as evil as he appears. But there are some essential differences: for one thing, the setting, traditionally rural France, has morphed to Arcadia, an alternate version of Ancient Greece. For another, Hodge’s version of the beast is a demon lord ruling ruthlessly over an entire country rather than a lonely pseudo-werewolf rambling around a castle.

However, the greatest – and in my opinion – most effective change of all was in terms of characterisation. The classic Beauty character is a kind, generous paragon of virtue, and frankly just a little hard for me to relate to. Nyx, on the other hand, is a revelation of a character. A bargain made by her father destined her to marry the demon tyrant of her country before she was even born, and understandably, she’s now a little messed up. Equal parts furious with the world and desperate to be loved, she’s simultaneously more deeply flawed and more profoundly human than your average fairy-tale heroine. The male lead, Ignifex, was also far beyond what I had expected. YA romance heroes tend to be sarcastic jerks with predictable hidden hearts of gold, and he did fit that mould to a certain extent. But he also had a genuine humour and pathos about him that made the development of the romantic relationship between him and Nyx touching and believable.

Beyond romance

Moving as it is, the romantic subplot is not the entire focus of the story: the fate of Nyx’s country hangs in the balance, as she struggles between the vow she’s made to kill Ignifex and free Arcadia from his tyranny, and her growing feelings for him. In this dilemma, Hodge not only creates a strong sense of emotional tension, but also poses serious questions concerning the choice between individual desires and the greater good. In a genre where romantic love is commonly presented as an end in itself, it’s interesting to see a romantic plotline used as a framing device to actually explore and encourage the reader to reflect on human nature. It’s hard to discuss the philosophical side of the book without spoiling the twists and turns of the plot, but suffice to say she ultimately demonstrates that romantic love is an empty shell unless it is built upon unflinching honesty about our own weaknesses and willing, whole-hearted self-sacrifice.

It’s unsurprising that the book reflects such a strongly Catholic ethos, as Rosamund Hodge is a devout Catholic herself and a Lay Dominican to boot. However, it should be noted that Cruel Beauty is not an overtly religious book, and I don’t think you could use it for spiritual reading. In fact, it contains enough references to sex and violence that I would not recommend it for younger readers (although it’s never explicit). On the other hand, more mature readers will recognise that Hodge discusses these things precisely because they are part of the fallen, wounded aspect of our humanity, and that she believes that they require healing through salvific love. And, while reading books that provide direct spiritual instruction is of course a necessary part of daily Christian life, I believe that there is also much to be learned from reading novels that hint at deeper truths rather than explicitly discussing them. Sometimes it easier for us to digest an implicit message.

Reflecting on it now, I’m actually very glad that I went into this book with no expectations and no knowledge of the author’s intentions. It made it all the more exciting when I realised that she was weaving a wide set of myths and stories together to create some very clever parallels, and exemplify truths relating to original sin, the brutality of justice without mercy and the necessarily sacrificial nature of salvation.