Mercedes Lackey published Magic’s Pawn in 1989 and it immediately became attained semi-legendary status within the history of what used to be called gay fiction but is now the genre of LGBTQ fiction. A homosexual hero in the fantasy genre—a genre notorious for sexualizing and objectifying female characters—was a major leap step forward and the novel’s status in the alteration of that particular literary genre has long since been recognized. But the realty is that even despite all the advances forward and the strides taken since it first appeared, the truly revolutionary accomplishment remains not fully appreciated by many and, in fact, the key element of that accomplishment still remains a point of contention and criticism among many,
It is not unusual to come across a critique of the novel written in the age of blogs and social media which takes to task Vanyel’s stereotypically “gay” qualities. His own aunt says he “doesn’t appear to be much more than a clotheshorse.” He is more interested in aesthetics than warfare with a special affinity for music. His looks and behavior are all ended with both overt description and implicit hints toward an effeminacy that is standard operating procedure for homosexuals in fiction. Even before Vanyel himself even discovers that homosexual exists, he has already been situated as so in the eye of the reader. This is true to the point that if this were not a novel that is intent on being a positive portrayal of homosexuality, one would be sure that the author is setting Vanyel up for something. Either the standard gay tragedy of the death of the homosexual protagonist or the successful “straightening” him out on his way to becoming a powerful hero. And therein lies the truly revolutionary aspect of the trilogy.
Lackey is not just intent on breaking the conventions of patriarchal heterosexuality that forms the backbone of fantasy fiction, she takes the wildest gamble on the craziest longshot possible. She is not only going to show that homosexual character can be the hero in sword-and-sorcery land, but that a flaming homosexual with all the necessary attributes engendered by and expected by homophobia is going to be that hero. Consider that the author could well have taken the easy way out by “masking the gay” of her hero through the somewhat deceptive practice of endowing an otherwise typical male with same-sex libidinous desires. This is a tact often taken by writers who want to do something revolutionary but without taking the real risk. Vanyel could have been presented as a homosexual only in terms of who he actually has sex with and with no other external attributes “coding” him as gay.
The author steadfastly refuses to do that. Beginning with the codification of Vanyel as a slightly built, effeminate music-loving boy who indulges his fashion in Magic’s Pawn, the character will over the course of the trilogy become more accepting of himself and in doing so will be established more overtly in stereotypically gay behavior. He will eventually even reach the point where he has to start batting down expectations of not just promiscuity but for having taste for underage lovers that even extends to members of his own family. In every respect, Vanyel is a character that is completely out of place in the legacy of heroic fantasy figures. In fact, his behavior would make him the clear suspect in a murder mystery and the object of a posse in a western. Everything about his screams that he cannot possibly be the hero of a novel written in 1989, but especially not a fantasy novel. And that is why what is still contested about the merits of this generally well-received work—the hero as a stereotype rather than a fully round character—is not just the object of criticism, but the very thing that makes it truly a legendary work of LGBTQ fiction.
