A Wild, Wild Western

 As someone who once did 19^th century historical re-enacting, including both Civil War re-enacting and vintage social dance of that period, I’ve heard of steampunk a lot, but I’ve never really understood it. That was my initial motivation for reading Karen Memory by Elizabeth Bear:  it’s billed as a steampunk novel, and I thought reading it would give me insight into that genre.

Having finished the book, I can’t say I feel a lot more enlightened about steampunk per se. Featuring a U.S. Marshal from the Indian Territory in hot pursuit a serial killer, the novel feels much more like a cross between Criminal Minds and an episode of The Wild Wild West, the TV show from 1960’s starring Robert Conrad (not the 1999 Will Smith feature film) than anything more au currant in the way of steampunk. Like a kind of alternative history, the universe of Karen Memory is populated with familiar names from the late 19^th century, including U.S. President Rutherford B. Hayes and French writer Jules Verne. The action of the novel is preceded by recognizable historical events, such as the Civil War and Emancipation. There are elements of Karen Memory that are unusual, such as the steam-powered gadgets that play a role in the story: a souped-up sewing machine, a mind-control device, and an octopus-like submarine.

 

Other than these fantasy elements, it’s a straightforward adventure.  For instance, there’s a hero engaged in a contest with a villain while said hero also pursues the leading lady.  However, this isn’t your typical hero in a Western.  For starters, she’s a heroine:  Karen Memery.  And, no, that’s not a typo; the novel’s title notwithstanding, that’s how Karen spells her last name.  Karen is a “soiled dove” (to use the 19^th century term for sex worker) who is a lesbian.  Karen’s love interest crosses racial lines since she’s enamored with Priya, a young Asian Indian woman.  And that U.S. Marshal I mentioned earlier? He’s Bass Reeves, an illiterate former slave whose Tonto-like posseman is Tomoatooah, a Cherokee brave.  Other colorful characters of color include Madame Damnable, Karen’s employer at the high-class brothel where Karen works, the Hôtel Mon Cherie.  Like a number of real people of color in racist 19^th century America, Madame is “passing for white.” 

 

But for me, the most intriguing character is Miss Francina. She has a major part in the book, and she’s a transwoman. While she never uses 21^st century terms like “transgender” or “t-girl” to describe Miss Francina, to her great credit, Karen, who narrates the book (or to be more precise, the novelist, Ms. Bear) pulls no punches in identifying Miss Francina. She writes, “Miss Francina has a pecker under her dress. But that ain’t nothing but God’s rude joke. She’s one of us girls, every way that matters …” To give you a sense of Francina’s critical role, Karen makes use of Francina’s genderfluid nature in a scheme Karen and the Marshal concoct against the bad guy, and a linchpin of their plan involves Francina’s disguising herself as a man.

 

Obviously, I was thrilled to encounter a transgendered person presented in a leading role in such a positive light. But, again, to Bear’s credit, all her characters cast against type come across as strong, heroic, and admirable. So, while I may still be puzzled about steampunk, at least I can add, with a great deal of satisfaction, another title to my growing list of trans-positive novels, such as Shadow Scale by Rachel Hartman, which I reviewed earlier.