not a perfect metaphor

One of the simplest and purest pleasures in fiction is to ride along as an unhappy person becomes happier, and this at the heart is the charm of the self-pub coming-of-trans novel Our Simulated Selves.

On first glance the premise of this one could seem dire: depressed incel, told by dream girl that they would not date even if the incel was the "last man on Earth," uses advanced brain-scanning technology and giant quantum supercomputer to set up a simulation world where literally everybody else on Earth does disappear immediately after that argument, and see how long it takes sim self and dream girl to get together in this apocalypse scenario. (The reader, who has already seen our protagonist describe dysphoric brain fog and experience mysterious joy about playing a girl character in D&D, will at this point certainly have some ideas about the ways that this sad incel is working from some fundamentally incorrect principles.)

Most of the book is from the POV of sim protagonist with occasional outside-world interjections and responses from the simulation runner, which means you also get sort of a fun inside/outside view of an apocalypse-ish survival situation -- within the simulation, protagonist and dream girl are running around gathering up non-perishable food and trying to figure out how long the power grid is going to last; meanwhile, outside the simulation, Protagonist Zero Version is like 'shit, I didn't really think through that they'd be treating this like an apocalypse and I forgot to write any code for food spoilage!' But the main satisfaction of the book is in watching our protagonist go through the work of transformation to become a better and happier person -- with a little added weight, because at the same time we're also seeing the worst and cruelest and most unhappy version. Overall I found the reading experience really charming and sweet!

I never got around to writing up Anne McCaffrey's The Mark of Merlin when I read it last year, but I've been thinking about McCaffrey a lot recently due to blitzing through the Dragons Made Me Did It Pern podcast (highly recommended btw) and osprey_archer asked for a post on my last-year-end round-up so now seems as good a time as any.

The important thing to know about The Mark of Merlin is that -- unlike many of the things I've read recently! -- it is not, in any way, the least little bit, Arthuriana. They are not in Great Britain. There are no thematic Arthurian connections. There is absolutely zero hint of anything magical. So why Merlin? Well, Merlin is the name of the heroine's dog, and he's a very good boy, so that's all that really needs to be said about that.

Anyway, this is McCaffrey writing in classic romantic suspense mode a la Mary Stewart or Barbara Michaels, and honestly it's a pretty fun time! Our Heroine Carla's father Tragically Died in the War, so he asked his second-in-command to be her guardian and now she's en route to stay with Major Laird in his isolated house in Cape Cod. Tragically scarred and war-traumatized Major Laird has no Gothic-trope concerns about this because Carla's full name is Carlysle and her dad accidentally forgot to tell him that the child in question was a daughter and not a son; Carla is fully aware of the mixup and but has not chosen to enlighten him because she thinks it's extremely funny to pop out at Major Laird like "ha ha! You THOUGHT I was a hapless youth and wrote me a patronizing letter about it, but INSTEAD I am a beautiful and plucky young co-ed so joke's on you!"

There is an actual suspense plot; the suspense plot is that Someone is hunting Carla for reasons of secret information her dad passed on in his luggage before he died, and also his death was under Mysterious Circumstances, and so we have to figure out what's going on with all of that and eventually have a big confrontation in the remote Cape Cod house. But mostly the book is just Carla and the Major being snowed in, romantically bickering, huddling for warmth, cooking delicious meals over the old Cape Cod stove, etc. etc. Cozy in the classic sense, very little substance but excellent for reading in a vacation cottage while drinking tea and eating a cheese toastie.

As a sidenote, I did not know until I started listening to Dragons Made Me Do It that McCaffrey's Dragonflight preceded The Flame and the Flower, the book that's credited as being the first bodice-ripper romance novel and launching the genre of historical romance as we know it today, by a good four years. It's interesting to place this very classic romantic suspense novel -- which was published almost a decade after Dragonflight, but, at least according to this Harvard student newspaper article I turned up, at least partially written in 1950 -- against the full tropetastic dubcon-at-best dragonsex Pern situations, which clearly belong to a later moment. And speaking of later moments, it's also a bit of a mindfuck for me to think very hard about McCaffrey's place in genre history and realize how very early she is. I was reading McCaffrey in the nineties, against Lackey and Bujold. Reading her in conversation with Russ and LeGuin is a whole different experience.

But this is all a tangent and not very much to do with The Mark of Merlin, a perfectly fun perfectly fine book, very short on the wtf moments that have characterized most of my experiences with McCaffrey, and if anything comes late to its moment rather than early.