Tag: animorphs

scrawlers:

Book #17 The Underground is usually remembered as just “the oatmeal book,” and it’s not hard to see why. It would be difficult, I think, to write a book where instant maple and ginger oatmeal (specifically instant, and specifically maple and ginger) is used as an agent of chemical warfare and not have it remembered for that. But while book #17 is important and memorable for the ethical and moral questions it forces our protagonists to raise (as noted in this rather excellent meta here), I feel that it’s also important and worth remembering because of Rachel’s characterization, and the depth of understanding that it adds to her character.

Because of the way the books are written, each character’s focus book is of course going to show us more to them than we see in the other books. It’s the gift of first-person perspective that we see far more from each character in their respective books than we see in the others. Of course Marco just comes across as a goofball (and, at times, a weasel) in books that aren’t from his point of view, and of course Rachel comes across as Xena in books that aren’t hers. Each character, whether intentionally or otherwise, puts up a front even among those they trust the most. If we’re viewing a scene from one character’s eyes, we’re only going to see aspects of the other characters that they want us (or rather, the POV character) to see. That makes sense—it’s good writing.

But it’s because of this that it can be easy to forget sometimes that Rachel is just as scared as the others—that, despite what they think, she isn’t fearless. This isn’t the first or only time this comes up; in numerous books, particularly early on, Rachel comments on the fact that the others see her as fearless, but that their perception of her as being fearless is not true at all:

That’s from book #12, The Reaction. She’s not wrong about their perception of her; as early as book #4, The Message, Cassie comments on the fact that she thinks Rachel is happy about the war:

Cassie isn’t the only one who feels this way. Each of them, save perhaps Ax, comments on how they think Rachel is happy or excited about the war. They do this as early as their first books (well, since Jake had the very first one, it might have taken him until book #6). Each of the other Animorphs thinks that Rachel is happy about the war, that she enjoys it, that she’s fearless and craves battle and bloodshed.

But the thing about Rachel is … that isn’t true, and I feel that’s really hammered home all throughout book #17.

This isn’t to say that Rachel doesn’t like fighting, because of course she does. On some level, she does. The thing about Rachel is that, prior to the war, she wasn’t challenged in any area of her life outside of gymnastics, and the challenge that gymnastics offered her was because it wasn’t a proper outlet for her energy or her passion. Gymnastics is very much about precision; Rachel, I think, would have benefited from something more akin to a martial art, something faster and more active that would let her use her strength in a more productive way. But the point is that Rachel had a lot of pent up energy prior to the war, and because of the war that pent up energy started to be corrupted and damaged due to her PTSD. These two things combined made it so that, particularly as the years went on and the war drew to a close, Rachel came to crave the fight because it was the only outlet she had to a.) channel horrible thoughts, feelings, and energy that she didn’t know otherwise what to do with, and b.) use those horrible thoughts, feelings, and energy for something she thought was a good cause. Throughout the series, it’s always important to Rachel that she’s at least fighting for the right reasons, that she’s fighting on the right side. By the end, she’s not sure she considers herself a good person, and she knows that the others don’t see her as one. (She knows this as early as book #22, in fact, at least with regards to Jake.) But it’s important to her that, at the very least, she’s on the right side, that she’s among good people even if she herself isn’t one.

So I’m not saying that Rachel doesn’t like fighting, because particularly as the series wears on, she does. But I think one thing that can be easy to forget is that—especially in the beginning, and hell, I’d argue even in the end at times (such as in book #48, when she challenges Cassie challenging her)—she actually wasn’t happy about the war, she didn’t enjoy it any more than the others did. There’s a difference, I think, between enjoying the adrenaline rush of a battle (and/or the power and control you feel you have when you have something as mighty as a grizzly lending you strength) and being, you know, happy about a war. There’s also a difference in acting fearless and gung-ho and actually being it, and that’s what book #17 shows us with regards to Rachel.

In book #17, Rachel repeatedly points out the fact that she’s terrified. She’s claustrophobic, she’s scared of spiders, she doesn’t actually want to go to the yeerk pool. Yet she puts on a show of bravado time and time again, even as she berates herself for it in her own narration (and feels envious over Marco’s ability to admit that he’s afraid). This culminates in Rachel saying that “it’s hard to get out of a role once you’ve started playing the part,” which I feel is a nod toward what she becomes by the end of the series. By the end of the series, Rachel has “become the mask,” so to speak; she has been playing the role of Xena for three years, for the sake of the war, for the sake of her friends, and to an extent even for her own sake. As a result, she can’t really turn it off anymore. She becomes that, because she (intentionally or otherwise) makes herself become it to continue pushing through the war, and pushing the human race toward victory with everything she has. But before that happens, way back in book #17, we see clearly—and repeatedly—that Rachel’s gung-ho behavior is … well, not so much an intentional front like what we see Marco put up in book #15, but a reflexive one, like a defense mechanism. Like a bird puffing up to make itself appear bigger when it feels threatened, Rachel taunts others and volunteers for dangerous or risky things even when she’s terrified because she cannot bring herself to admit to vulnerability. And again, this isn’t exactly a new thing—we’ve seen this from her in her other books, such as the aforementioned #12—but it’s highlighted again and again in #17 in a way that makes it stand out. And because it’s brought up time and again in book #17, this exchange in book #18 takes on a whole new light:

If you read book #18 in a vaccuum, then you see what Marco sees: Rachel is volunteering for battle because she really likes fighting, bloodshed, and war. But if you read this book immediately after #17, and if you pay special attention to the fact that her first “I feel better already” was said with such heavy sarcasm that Ax picked up on it, then you can put the pieces together and infer that even though Rachel was adamant about fighting the yeerks on this mission (and I do think that she genuinely wanted to deal a blow to them if possible), it was less because she wanted to get her hands dirty with battle and bloodshed, and more because she a.) knows this is expected of her, and b.) cannot admit to being afraid, which in my opinion she pretty clearly is (especially since she makes it a point to point out that they’re “a bazillion miles from home” first thing). 

Book #17 is often dismissed as “the oatmeal book,” and apparently is hated by some, which saddens me because I’ve always really enjoyed it. But I think that, apart from being important for how fantastically Applegate handled the morality of engaging in chemical warfare against the enemy (and how she allowed the protagonists to voice all sides of the issue without ever once condemning one of them even though they disagreed), book #17 is also important for the insight it gave us into Rachel, and the reminder (after reminder, after reminder) that she, too, is just a human kid caught up in this war, and that despite what her friends think as early as the books that are still in the single digits, it really isn’t something that she was happy about or glad to see happen.