Stephen Donaldson’s Gap Sequence – How far is too far?

Anyone who knows or speaks to me for more than a little while will learn that I am a reader of probably the least coolest fiction there is - sci-fi & fantasy. Although, and it's important to make these distinctions; not exclusively sci-fi & fantasy, and not shit sci-fi & fantasy - David Gemmell, I'm looking at you. When not shit, this type of storytelling can be extremely complex, and layered with multiple strands holding a distorted mirror to our own social and psychological issues. Try reading Iain M. Banks, Robert Jordan, Frank Herbert or (obviously) Tolkien, and then you'll see what I mean.

Sometimes, a series I read tends to be cleverer than I am (not, granted, a particularly difficult achievement), and I have trouble following all the nuances. A writer that often does this to me is Stephen Donaldson. I've recently finished Donaldson's Gap Sequence, which has troubled me somewhat. Donaldson is best known for his Thomas Covenant series, which caused me similar problems, although to a lesser degree than the Gap Sequence.

It's not that he's a bad writer - on the contrary, he's particularly impressive, which is why I can finish his novels despite my reaction. He tends to make his heroes a little more difficult to root for than your average. Which again, is usually not a problem, but I wonder if Donaldson takes it too far. Take Thomas Covenant for example, the hero in the Thomas Covenant series. In the first book Covenant is introduced as a recluse suffering from leprosy. He used to be a successful writer, but his wife and son have left him and he's looked at by most people with not a small amount of disgust. Donaldson's medical background (or possibly his father's - I can't remember at the moment and I don't have one of his books to hand) helps to give the character plenty of depth. Due to the standard magic/nonsense/event thing, Covenant finds himself in a fantasy land where his leprosy heals and upon retrieving the feeling in his nerves, one of his first acts is to rape a girl aged about 16 who was helping him. Now, there are two justifications for this in Covenant's own head - it's his first erection in years as well as the first time in years he's been able to touch or feel. In addition to this, his refusal to accept the place he's found himself in as real absolves him (in his own head) of responsibility. Clearly, this does not excuse him in the eyes of the reader, and over the course of a series of books, Covenant's unbelief crumbles and the consequences of the act are far-reaching and desperately tragic. He is not a man it's easy to come to like. This appears to be Donaldson's particular skill, or at least a recurring theme of his - no person or act is beyond redemption. As Covenant suffers under the consequences of his act, and as he attempts to undo the damage he caused, as the reader you do, slowly, come to empathise with him and accept him - even to like him. This is no small achievement of Donaldson's.

With the Gap Sequence I wonder if he went too far in the suffering he inflicted upon one of the main characters, if he made it too much of a stretch in his attempt to redeem one of the inflicters. The Gap Sequence is Donaldson's retelling of Wagner's Ring Cycle. Only the opera is retold in the form of a series of science fiction books. I told you some of these writers were clever. The character, Morn Hyland suffers more than any other character I could name - probably more than was really necessary. After the emergence of a previously unknown and uncontrollable condition causes the death of her father, Morn is captured by a truly reprehensible character and is repeatedly degraded, beaten and raped, sometimes in unpleasant detail. 'Detail' in this case doesn't mean so much the physical acts themselves, although that is sometimes there, but the emotional and psychological torment inflicted upon her. I think sometimes Donaldson loses sight of the point that fiction, particularly fantastical fiction, is supposed to entertain at least as much as it disturbs, and I very nearly decided to stop reading on a number of occasions. Upon engineering her own escape, Morn is abandoned by the very organisation she serves, and given as payment to a different, but equally horrid (possibly worse) character who continues the physical and mental abuse to the point where anyone would have lost their sanity. Indeed, Morn does, a least a little - for it to be otherwise would have been unrealistic. (Yes, I do note the irony of using the word 'unrealistic' when describing a science fiction story, but setting and characterisation are two very different things.) After these prolonged events, she is then, in her fragile state, expected to save her race and be a hero in the way these stories go. As talented a writer as Donaldson undoubtedly is, I questioned the need to put Morn through quite such an extended episode of horror. So damaged is she, that the happiest ending Donaldson can conceive for her is *SPOILER* to leave her weeping hysterically in a room by herself, struggling to gather the courage to face the world outside. Realistic, yes, but necessary? Both of the men involved have back stories and through them the reasons why they are the way they are become clear. As with Thomas Covenant, only ten-fold more, this does not excuse their actions. However, Donaldson continues his theme of redemption and one of the characters becomes a hero of sorts, someone to root for. After almost putting the series down so many times during the first two books, this was difficult to swallow, and made me not a little uncomfortable.

So why did Donaldson go so far with Morn? I don't think it's anything to do with him not understanding the trauma rape victims undergo, as the consequences and emotional states of those involved are realised in a way that clearly shows Donaldson understood the magnitude of what he was putting his characters through. I don't really know, but I can tell you that despite my best efforts, I kind of was rooting for this guy a little before the end. So maybe it comes down to Donaldson's continuing theme of redemption - anyone can be saved.

Or maybe I should shut up and think about something more useful.