Catherynne M. Valente's "Deathless" [2 of 2] - Room for Error

This is the second part of the review. Please read the first part here.

But instead of punishing her, Koschei forsakes his realm and his own war, and comes after her, professing his love and saying he can not live without her. Now doubtful, Marya chains Koschei up in the basement of her old house, where she visits him daily, thus enslaving the Tsar of Life, and subjugating the power she ought to - by right - be subjugated to.

Terrible consequences follow. Starvation, brutality, death, until eventually, she can no longer take it, and runs away with Koschei to a small, quiet village where there seemingly can be no wrong. Here, they live in peace and prosperity alongside their neighbors who are (quite obviously) mirror-versions of Joseph Stalin, Trotsky, but also Rasputin and Tsar Nikolai II and his family. Marya falls pregnant, and brings into the world a beautiful girl child who is, of course, the hidden-away death of her father.

Readers familiar with Russian myth may recognize the setting already - for they are in the realm of Alknost, the Tsar(Ina) of Birds, whose song leads men to a life of plenty, and of wanting nothing. Their village can exist only inside one of Alkonost's eggs, and when Koschei dies, the egg hatches, and Marya is sent back once more to the world of men.

Here, she witnesses the death of Ivan, now gaunt and tormented, and ends up joining the Red Army. Years later, as a soldier, she arrives at a strange village that is the spitting image of her once-kingdom that Koschei ruled, except it is swallowed by misery and lacks color. Here, she encounters all the characters she'd known before, but it is only Baba Yaga, the Tsarina of Night, who seems to recognize Marya Morevna and remember the world before it was swallowed by the armies of death. She also encounters a woman named Yelena who tells her her husband is Koschei. The story ends with Marya Morevna resolving to try and find this Koschei, and see if he can remember, and perhaps rise again.

As with all folklore, the story itself is cyclical, meaning that for every time Koschei dies, he will rise once more, so it could be said to be a hopeful ending, though it certainly doesn't feel like it.

It's a reimagining of an old story, and as is popular, is told from the perspective of different characters than the original - which is Ivan's story, mainly - and what was old is now laced with new meanings.

It also makes this interesting, bold leap from the personal level to a mass one. As for every Yelena, there is a distraction, a road to perdition, a Ivan who spells doom, so is there a Marya for every Koschei, whose abandonment of the war against death spells doom for the whole world. It's the same story, one that ultimately seems to suggest,

There is no way for you to individually lose your way. Once the individual becomes distracted and abandons the war against death, the battle as a whole begins to be lost, already.

Of course, that is (probably) not the message of the original story, as several changes are made. For one thing, while most Koscheis in Russian folklore are villainous in some way, this one, albeit cruel and harsh, is a good guy. In the story, it is typically Ivan who eventually works out the mystery of Koschei's death - hidden inside an egg, inside a duck, inside a hare, inside a stone - and slays him, but here, it's more Marya herself who kills him. And what of Marya's original identity? While here, she is Ivan's mistress, some versions of the story portray her as his mother, the Queen, who is kidnapped by Koschei and who Ivan, the youngest of three, must rescue. Then, in others, and perhaps the most well-known version (and I believe the one that inspired Valente), she is his captor. Once she goes off to war, she leaves her husband Ivan in charge of the house, warning him not to look in a certain locked closet - a classic theme - which, of course, he does. Here, he discovers a weak, dying old man in chains who begs him for water, which Ivan naively provides, thus restoring Koschei's strength.

Once restored, Koschei (who is more of a sorcerer in this version of the story), breaks free of his chains and flies away, avowing to kidnap Marya, his once-captor, thus forcing Ivan to go rescue her. Which he does, by cheating his own death, passing the tests Baba Yaga imposes on him, and in the end somehow slaying Koschei.

It's the same story, in many ways, though Valente swaps the lives of Marya and Ivan (in her book, it's Marya's sisters who are wedded to strange birds, and who allow her to escape Koschei with Ivan; here, his sisters help restore Ivan after he cheats death), thus resulting in a markedly different tale.

It makes one wonder, can we really change stories so, and then, does any one story have just one universal meaning, or is it entirely reliant on perspective?

In the original version, we can interpret Koschei's actions as cowardly and foolish - as stories warn us, time and time again, it's only a fool who hides his vulnerability and life force in some external receptacle. The real "hero", Ivan, faces death voluntarily and rebuilds himself after he dies, thus growing strong and able to defeat even immortal villains. There is great strength in voluntarily facing and accepting your fate. In running, there may be only sorrow.

But that is not the story being told here. Where the original focuses much more on themes of courage and honor (as many fairytales do), Valente seems much more interested in the intricate relationship between life and death, and the deciding effect love and devotion have on the outcome of this battle. It's a story of temptation and straying from your path. If Marya would stay in her place in Buyan, then perhaps the forces of Life would win. The same can be said about Koschei himself. Ultimately, for me, it raises a fascinating question: once you recognize the place you are supposed to be, are you meant to stay, even when you no longer want to? Is it wiser to be faithful, than to go chasing sudden whims, and can you really escape these whims, these distractions, if they are written in your fate, already?

Is it love, more than life itself, that holds the line against the armies of Death?