“I don’t really think he counts as a guy.” Queerness in the House of Night
Before we start, I want to preface this by establishing some out-of-text information about this series. House of Night is credited to two authors, P.C. Cast and Kristin Cast, a mother-daughter team. However, in several interviews and Q&As, they have stressed that they did not actually co-author the series. Instead, P.C. Cast wrote the books and Kristin Cast helped her first as a teen voice editor, and then later as a frontline editor. [Cast and Cast 2017: 277; Cast and Cast 2018: 332; Cast and Cast 2020: 358, 363; Rought 2020; Fricot 2019] It’s not clear exactly when this shift in roles occurred, nor is it ever clearly explained what a frontline editor does, but both women firmly state that Kristin Cast is not an author or co-author on the series. However, for the sake of simplicity and abiding official citations for the series, I will be referring to the authorship of this series as though it were a joint effort.
Also, for additional simplicity in citations, anytime I cite one of the books in the series from this point forward, I will be omitting the “Cast and Cast” portion of the in-text citation and simply including the year of publication and any relevant page numbers. Otherwise, in-text citations will get pretty hideous and tedious to read through.
Now, let’s get into it.
House of Night and its spinoff, House of Night: Other World, are Young Adult fantasy series about the titular boarding school for vampyres (the chosen spelling of the series), where students are taught magick and the main character, Zoey, battles forces of Darkness in the name of the goddess Nyx alongside her friends. The series boasts a diverse cast, with Zoey being Cherokee, her friend Shaunee being black, her friend Damien being gay, and several other major and minor characters being of various ethnicities and sexualities.
Queerness is presented through a number of lenses in the series, some clearly deliberate and others perhaps unintentional. These representations shift and change throughout the series’ very long run. However, there always seems to be a common thread, one of inherent difference or non-heterosexuality bringing with it a set of specific characteristics and personality traits. That’s not to say that these representations are negative. Readers are often specifically told how normal or okay it is for someone to be queer and, in contrast, how awful it is for someone to be homophobic. But these representations do imply a certain uniformity to queerness, which in turn works to dehumanize queer people by presenting them as monolithic identities — all homosexual men have set traits and interests, as do all lesbians, etc. Personhood through individuality is not allowed in this framework.
Male Homosexuality
Damien Maslin: The First Token Gay
The most prominent queer character in the series is Damien, a close friend of Zoey Redbird (the main character and sole narrator for the first five books). Damien is characterized as highly intelligent, frequently using vocabulary that other characters describe as impressive, and is often referred to as a scholar or compared to a professor. Aside from his intelligence, however, most of his personality, backstory, interests, and hobbies can all be tied to stereotypes of male homosexuality — sometimes explicitly so. Even more telling, however, is his introduction to the series. When Zoey first arrives at the House of Night, she meets her roommate Stevie Rae, who later introduces Zoey to her other friends: Damien, Shaunee, and Erin. Of Damien, Stevie Rae says, “And this is the token guy in our group, Damien Maslin. But he’s gay, so I don’t really think he counts as a guy.” [2007a: 70] This is presented as a perfectly reasonable statement to make, and Damien in fact argues that he should instead count for two guys because he can offer his friends “the male point of view” without them “[worrying] about [him] wanting to touch [their] boobies.” [2007a: 70].
For the first book and much of the second book, Damien is the only gay character in the entire cast, and much attention is paid to the fact that he is gay. During his first scene, readers are also shown that he is fashion savvy and, according to Shaunee and Erin (also known as the Twins), he is “really prudey […] especially for a gay boy.” [2007a: 79] This alludes to the stereotype that gay men are more promiscuous than straight men [Strudwick 2010; Binkley and Stossel 2006] — a viewpoint that feeds into fear and disgust toward homosexuality, and even informs policies like the former “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” military policy in the United States. (For those unfamiliar, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” forced gay people in the US military to keep their sexuality a secret, lest they be seen as predatory or threatening toward heterosexual service members.) [Strudwick 2010; The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica 2020]
Readers then learn that Damien has no roommate because his previous one was homophobic and there are few other gay male students at the House of Night. During his first circle casting in Marked, Zoey assigns him to the role of air because it opens the circle and he “[wishes he] could open people’s minds.” [2007a: 187] This is also when readers learn that he enjoys cross-stitching, which he is self-conscious of and comments on his homophobic father disliking. In the next book, Betrayed, we learn that Damien hates camping and sports and prefers art. Later in the same book, Damien reveals that he used to keep a disposable cell phone on hand in case his homophobic parents tried to ground him for life once he came out of the closet.
The constant emphasis on Damien’s sexuality defining his character is only made worse by the fact that he does not have a character arc, at least not for the first series. All of his personal conflicts are in the past and, again, tied directly to his homosexuality. He does not have his own subplot. His contributions to the main plot are always in the role of support — occupying a space in a ritual circle, doing research, offering advice, etc. This means that Damien experiences no growth; the only parts of his character that are properly established are his intelligence and his queerness and those things never change. His sexuality isn’t even a source of conflict or something he grows to accept or feel confident in because that conflict is in his past. By the time readers are introduced to him, he is completely out and proud of his identity, only showing self-consciousness or insecurity very rarely.
Jack Twist: The Disposable Accessory
Part way through Betrayed, the characters meet Jack Twist. He is immediately established as gay by his name, since newly Marked fledglings are allowed to choose a new name for themselves as part of their emancipation. For readers who are not familiar with the movie reference, Erin spells it out in dialogue: “Jack Twist is yummy Jake Gyllenhaal’s totally gay cowboy character from Brokeback Mountain.” [2007b: 111] As a character, Jack is established minimally. Readers learn nothing of his life before he was Marked — there’s no indication of what his home life was like, where he lived, what kinds of friends he had, how he spent his time, etc. As with Damien, his entire personality can be summed up in two core traits: He’s smart (this time specifically with technology) and he’s gay.
Jack, however, is presented somewhat differently from Damien. For all his flamboyance and heavy stereotyping, Damien has an air of maturity and competency. It is also explicitly stated on a few occasions that Damien is not “a swishy girly-guy” [2007a: 70] and doesn’t like the few other gay guys at the school because “they’re mostly too weird and girly for him.” [2007a: 81] Whether or not Damien truly lacks effeminate behaviour compared to other gay men is debatable and, for right now, not the point. Jack, by contrast, is nothing but effeminate. He is flourishing, wears a man purse, is artsy, and is incredibly emotional and sensitive. Jack is also very childish and cutesy, with dialogue that frequently resembles toddler speech:
“I like snow globes,” Jack said softly, looking like he was about to cry. “The snowy part makes me happy.” [2008a: 24]
And then Jack yawned. “Oopsie! Sorry. I’m not bored or anything.” [2008b: 216]
“Where do we potty?” [2009a: 55]
Jack took a deep breath and finished on a sob, “It’s just poop that I can’t go!” [2009a: 132]
These are just a few examples. Jack’s immature speech might seem irrelevant to the topic of MLM (men loving men) representation, but it matters because of how it is framed with regards to his relationship with Damien.
First, the main issue is that Jack even has a relationship with Damien. It’s already been established that Damien is not girly and does not like girly guys. So why does he date Jack? That question is never addressed. Indeed, it’s never even brought up. From the moment Jack is introduced and established as gay, he becomes Damien’s love interest. Readers barely see them interact or build to anything before they are canonically a couple. Aside from both being gay, little reason is given as to why they’re a good match. There is one, brief mention of them discussing the Harry Potter series in Betrayed, but readers see no part of that conversation and it is only brought up in passing. Anything else they have in common is a result of their queerness and the traits and interests this series assigns to homosexual men.
But if Jack was written in to be a love interest to Damien and there was never going to be any conflict or uncertainty about them getting together, why write Jack as being the exact type of gay guy that Damien isn’t interested in? This seems to stem from assumed relationship dynamics, or trying to fit a queer couple (in this case, specifically a MLM couple) within the confines of a heteronormative relationship. In other words, all relationships must have someone who fulfills the role of a “man” and someone who fulfills the role of a “woman”. [Cowan 2016; Birth 2019; Dowling 2010] Damien is effeminate — he has moments of sassiness, he is referred to as overly polite and extra sensitive because of his queerness, and he loves art while abhorring more conventionally masculine hobbies — but this is presented as a subdued sort of effeminacy, an inevitable aspect of his queerness. Thus, in order for him to have a relationship that fits heteronormative roles, he must find a love interest who is either more masculine than him or more feminine. The masculine counterpart is not an option within this series’ presentation of male homosexuality; Damien is masculine for a gay man. So his partner must be more effeminate and, since Damien’s queerness necessitates effeminacy, the feminine traits of his partner must be more exaggerated and extreme. Thus, Jack cries frequently, swoons, rarely if ever swears, and is cutesy. The latter two result in his childish way of speaking.
All of this is once again made worse by Jack’s lack of a character arc, subplot, or any real role in the main plot. Jack, in fact, contributes even less than Damien. He does not fill a spot in ritual circles, he does not do research, and he does not give advice. There are a few rituals during which he sets up the sound system to play music during the introduction, and he once set up a nanny cam for Zoey. Otherwise, Jack is largely forgotten — often literally, in terms of his narrative presence. There are multiple instances where Jack vanishes from dialogue and character interactions despite never actually leaving the scene. He is also frequently left behind while characters deal with major plot events until, in Tempted, it is suddenly revealed that Jack has an affinity (or Goddess-given gift) for modern technology and thus is allowed to join the other characters on a trip to see the High Council (the highest level of government in vampyre society). This affinity ultimately serves no purpose to the plot, nor does Jack actually do anything during this meeting.
In fact, the most significant impact Jack contributes to the story is dying. He is brutally murdered by the main villain and former House of Night High Priestess, Neferet, who uses him as a sacrifice to Darkness to pay for extreme power she had used previously in the series. In addition to serving as fodder for the antagonist, Jack’s death is also the catalyst for Zoey finally returning to the House of Night after spending time on the Isle of Skye in Scotland, and his funeral is the site of several character-altering moments.
This falls under what is known as the Bury Your Gays trope. It has a long history in media and its execution has shifted somewhat throughout history, but the point is this: Queer characters are killed off in media disproportionately more frequently compared to straight characters, “often in the name of propping up and/or advancing a heterosexual leading character’s storyline.” [Snarker 2016] Compared to their straight counterparts, queer characters are typically seen as more expendable (a symptom of that fact that queer characters are often token or minor characters), and thus can be killed off for drama and motivation without creating complicated snags in the plot. [Adrian-Jackson 2019] Moreover, these deaths are often random and arbitrary, not part of a broader character arc for the queer character or a consequence of their actions. [Snarker 2016]
This is certainly the case with Jack’s death — he never has a character arc or personal journey, nor does he ever have much agency in the plot. Neferet chooses him as her perfect sacrifice to Darkness because he is “innocent” and “untainted” (whatever that means). There’s no reason why Jack specifically has to be sacrificed for her to meet these criteria; he’s just the least complicated character to kill off. And the death scene itself is pretty egregious. Jack is frozen in place by Darkness for several minutes until he is hurled off a ladder onto a sword that he had stuck into the ground, point up, for the sake of modeling origami decorations after it. And the whole time he is frozen in place waiting to die, he sings show tunes — specifically Defying Gravity from Wicked — rather than screaming for help or trying to do anything to prevent his own death. He is such a non-entity and so devoid of agency that he has no fear, no anger, and seemingly no desire to prevent his own completely avoidable death.
Allergic to Masculinity
As already mentioned, this series essentially assumes that any man who is gay must be effeminate, at least to some degree. One way in which this is conveyed is through referring to the gay characters by female titles. For example, the Twins and Aphrodite frequently refer to Damien as Queen Damien [2007b: 36; 2008a: 57, 69; 2009a: 32, 262; 2011: 138; 2012: 192, 203; 2013: 130; 2017: 170]. Other titles include Miss Priss [2007a: 108], Miss Nosy [2009b: 108], Miss Perfect Schoolgirl [2010a: 83], and Miss Congeniality [2012: 123]. Jack also receives this treatment when he is referred to as Miss Jack [2010b: 30] and Aphrodite calls him Damien’s “girl/boyfriend”. [2009b: 108]
By comparison, heterosexual male characters have their masculinity heavily emphasized. There are scattered instances throughout the book of certain activities or interests being designated as specifically “guys stuff” or “boy stuff”. This includes free weights, dartboards, and pool tables [2009a: 171], violence and fighting [2010a: 79], knives and weaponry [2010a: 94; 2013: 113], electricity and construction [2010a: 212], and sports [2017: 237]. Masculinity is especially emphasized in scenes where male characters’ heterosexuality is on display, such as scenes where Zoey’s various boyfriends are fighting over her. Usually this is accomplished through reference to testosterone, but also through comparisons to cavemen and Zoey’s expectation of violence.
Testosterone was practically visible in the air between them. Jeesh, they were acting totally guy-like. Especially Erik. I swear I wouldn’t have been surprised if he knocked me over the head and started dragging me around by my hair. [2008a: 53]
I spoke quickly into the testosterone-filled air before they started banging on their chests. [2009a: 93]
“You know, you two are ridiculous with your puffing up and your testosterone and crap.” [2009a: 99]
The strict emphasis on masculinity, especially in relation to heterosexual relationships, when juxtaposed with the depictions of gay men as inherently effeminate serves to define sexuality based on starkly drawn lines between femininity and masculinity, and the associated hobbies and interests. If a man likes football and knows how to throw a punch, he must be straight. If a man cares about his hair and practices art, he must be gay. There is no leeway allowed between these dichotomies, which has the effect of communicating to the audience that middle ground does not exist. Masculinity and male homosexuality are being treated as antonyms.
This, in its own way, contributes to a culture of toxic masculinity as it pertains to asserting sexuality. Men cannot be weak or express interest in anything not conventionally masculine or their sexuality will be questioned. Given the ongoing stigma and shame associated with male homosexuality (which is not aided by the series’ comments that gay men aren’t really men), perpetuating this ideology regarding masculinity and sexuality could result in the ostracization or bullying of men who don’t fit conventional standards of masculinity. [McLean 2018]
But this is not just speculation. Within the series, there are a few male characters who are neither gay nor the embodiment of masculinity. One is a fledgling named Elliott who sleeps through class, is chubby, and doesn’t appear to particularly excel at anything. Early in the series, he is called out by the English Literature professor, Penthesilea, for falling asleep during class, which leads into the following rant:
“Elliott, you are, of course, failing Lit. But what’s more important, you’re failing life. Vampyre males are strong, honorable, and unique. They have been our warriors and protectors for countless generations. How do you expect to make the Change into a being who is more warrior than man if you do not practice the discipline it takes even to stay awake in class?” [2007a: 102]
With this speech, Professor Penthesilea demonstrates the strong connection between worth and masculinity for a man. Elliott failing his classes and failing to stay awake is also a failure of his masculinity, which in turn means his life is falling apart. Men are identified as explicitly warriors and no alternative is permitted. Someone like Elliott must choose to either change dramatically as a person to embody the ideals of a warrior, or accept his fate as an utter failure and disgrace. The message that is communicated to Elliott is also being communicated to readers, informing them that heterosexual men must fit a very specific ideal. Only gay men and women are exempt from these expectations.
The most egregious example of treating gay men as synonymous with women, however, appears in Betrayed. In this series, most magick is accomplished through circle casting, where five people assemble in a circle — four in the position of the cardinal directions with one in the center — and invoke the five elements: air, fire, water, earth, and spirit. Just before casting an important circle, Zoey’s closest friends (who are also her circle casting team) learn that they all have elemental affinities. Damien is the only male in the circle and it is established that affinities are influenced by gender. Men tend to have affinities pertaining to physical abilities such as speed, strength, or skill with a specific weapon (once again because of their expected role as warriors), whereas women are often gifted with intuitive abilities and elemental powers. The element air in particular is characterized as being especially feminine. When Damien discovers that he has an affinity for air, he cries tears of joy and Zoey narrates that “he realized Nyx found him worthy even though his parents didn’t, and even though much of his life people had made fun of him because he liked guys.” [2007b: 164]. Gender is being conflated with sexuality by gifting Damien with a female affinity and indicating that this is a sign that Nyx accepts his homosexuality. This is also another example of Damien’s character and story being solely focused on his sexuality, and it shows that even his relationship with this world’s deity is tied directly to that sexuality.
Not So Gay All Along
While the original series ran for 12 books and reached its end in 2014, a secondary continuation of the series started in 2017, called House of Night: Other World. In the first book of this continuation, Loved, Damien finally gets his own character arc about struggling with mental illness — which is immediately connected back to his love life. Specifically, his inability to move on after Jack’s death and, when an alternate version of Jack appears from the Other World, learning to love Other Jack while his humanity is slipping and he isn’t himself. While this is better than having no character arc or subplot at all, it still means that Damien’s story revolves around his sexuality. It is also made worse by a conversation Damien has with Zoey’s grandmother, Grandma Redbird, about the situation.
“Isn’t he, in any form, eternally your Jack? Would you not love him in any body — male or female?”
“I would.” Damien felt a rush of emotional shock as he realized his automatic response was actually the truth. I would love Jack no matter what body he returned to me in — male, female — it just wouldn’t matter. He would still be my true love.
“And couldn’t you understand his spirit — the essence that is truly Jack — might be the same, even though the body it houses, the personality that goes with it, could be somewhat different because of different life experiences?”
Damien nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, Grandma, I think I could.”
“So you believe you could learn to love Jack again, even if he’d been reborn into a totally different body. Perhaps a lovely Asian man who has never known a vampyre or even a fledgling? Or a woman whose only experience with the gay community is her homophobic family railing against what they call sinners?” [2017: 146–7]
In essence, what they determine here is that Damien would love Jack even if he had a completely different body, life experiences, and personality, so long as he retained the same spirit. There is a lot wrong with this.
For one, it contradicts a similar conflict Zoey had in the original series. As the reincarnation of a Cherokee maiden made from clay named A-ya, her soul was drawn to Kalona, the fallen angelic immortal A-ya was created to lure underground so he could be sealed away. Zoey struggles with this connection and Kalona’s insistence that they are destined to be together because of it, but is reminded time and time again that she has free will and her path is not determined by her past life. She does not have to love Kalona just because she is the reincarnation of a woman who did. By insisting that Damien would love Jack because of his spirit, regardless of literally everything else about him, the narrative indicates that Damien is not granted the same free will as Zoey.
It is also a very strange argument to make given how heavily emphasized Damien’s sexuality has been throughout the series, in all of its iterations. Damien is not only being denied his free will by this insistence that he would love Jack in any form, but also his sexuality. If Jack appeared to him as a woman, he would still have to love Jack. This could be seen as a nod toward pansexuality, but no further discussion is made of it. Indeed, polysexual identities have little to no explicit presence in the series. Therefore, one of Damien’s only defining traits throughout the series — his homosexuality — is revoked from him in Loved by first establishing that he has been unable to love another man after losing Jack, and then determining that he would love Jack in any form, including that of a woman, so long as that person had Jack’s spirit.
This perspective also potentially disregards Damien’s safety and well-being through the example of Jack appearing to him as a woman who specifically has only known homophobia. The implication is that, even if Jack rejected him and hurled abuse or hatred at him, Damien would still love them. Damien would love this homophobic, female version of Jack despite everything, simultaneously losing the sexuality his entire character has been constructed around and putting himself at serious risk because of that sexuality. To turn back to the Zoey/A-ya and Kalona parallel, part of what makes Zoey resist the connection she feels to Kalona is his history of cruelty and abuse. She has a right to refuse him and deny the fact that they are, quite literally, soulmates because she has free will. Damien is afforded none of this freedom nor safety.
Female Queerness
Long before any WLW (women loving women) relationships appear in the series, readers are given a clear indication of how such people should be viewed. In Marked, there is an offhand reference to lesbians early on, but they’re described as cliquish and cultish, being “way into the religious aspect of Goddess worship and spend[ing] most of their time in Nyx’s Temple.” [2007a: 81] This conversation also brings up “moronic party girls who think it’s cool to make out with each other” for male attention. These are the only types of WLW interactions brought up in the series for quite some time.
During Hunted, the fifth book in the series, a complicated set of circumstances lead to Aphrodite and Stevie Rae forming an Imprint, or a powerful bond formed between a vampyre and human, vampyre and fledgling, or two vampyres as a result of feeding. Up to this point, Imprints had been consistently emphasized as sexual. A big deal is made by both girls (but especially Aphrodite) about how this Imprint is not sexual and neither of them is interested in women, and the situation is treated as hilarious by Shaunee and Erin, who burst into laughter every time the Imprint is brought up. Their Imprint continues to be a sore spot for Aphrodite in later books, even after it’s broken, and she acts offended or disgusted anytime there is an implication that she and Stevie Rae had a sexual bond.
Even Stevie Rae, who is typically a much sweeter and less belligerent character, has some strong reactions to the thought or implication that her Imprint with Aphrodite might mean she isn’t straight. One example is in Burned when she’s thinking about how strongly she is affected by her new Imprint with Rephaim, especially in comparison to her Imprint with Aphrodite. This upsets her enough that she says — out loud, to herself — “Well, I’m not gay!” [2010a: 181] Despite being alone and therefore having no one imply that her Imprint with Aphrodite might not have been platonic, Stevie Rae strongly feels the need to deny the possibility. In fact, she is comparatively less freaked out and upset by the idea of having a romantic/sexual link to Rephaim through their Imprint, even though Rephaim is a Raven Mocker: a half-bird, half-human hybrid. So a romantic/sexual relationship with a literal monster is more palatable to her than one with another woman.
Another, more subtle point of interest is the casual derogatory language used by some of the characters. Aphrodite began the series in an extremely antagonistic relationship with Zoey and the rest of her friends, and she and the Twins continue to butt heads late into the series. The Twins, as a result, take to calling her all manner of insulting nicknames. In Hunted, a new nickname is introduced: Aphrodikey, which is very reminiscent of the slur “dyke”. It’s notable that this insult isn’t used until after Aphrodite forms her Imprint with Stevie Rae.
But none of these examples involve representation of an actual WLW couple. When we are finally introduced to such a relationship, it’s pretty late into the series. The involved characters are Shaylin and Nicole. Nicole first appears in Tempted, the sixth book in the original series, and Shaylin is first introduced in Destined, the ninth book in the original series, but they don’t talk to each other until Hidden, the tenth book. Even then, their first conversation is fairly indirect, as they’re part of a larger group discussion. Their first one-on-one conversation is in Revealed, the eleventh book in the series — and that conversation doesn’t happen until 200 pages into the book. They have very little interaction in between, even as part of a group, so it comes as quite the surprise when their first one-on-one conversation culminates in a kiss.
And yet their relationship is quickly established as serious and subject to all variety of offensive comments. When she finds out about Shaylin and Nicole’s new relationship, within minutes Aphrodite refers to Shaylin as being “scared […] gay” by Zoey [2014: 110] and identifies Nicole as “the guy” of the relationship when she puts an arm around Shaylin and acts possessive of her around Erik, who had previously tried to date Shaylin. [2014: 112] As touched on earlier, this type of commentary stems from the assumption that all couples — including WLW and MLM — need to have someone who occupies the traditional roles of a woman and someone who occupies the traditional roles of a man. [Cowan 2016; Birth 2019; Dowling 2010]
The spin-off Other World series sees its share of offensive portrayals as well, though Shaylin and Nicole occupy very small roles in the narrative. The most egregious is when the characters are discussing ideas for designing a key ritual and Shaylin shares a story about a happiness spell that went awry at her House of Night in San Francisco. The symbol she focused on to represent happiness was her love for Nicole, which resulted in “every girl at the event suddenly [having] the hots for girls. […] Especially the girls who weren’t gay.” [2017: 74] Not only is this treating a non-consensual woman-on-woman orgy as humorous, but it leans into hypersexualized and fetishizing ideas about WLW — which is exacerbated by Erik saying he wishes he had been there to watch.
There is also a character who is retconned as a WLW, but only so she can be insulted. In Lost, Other Shaunee and Other Erin make catty comments toward Other Aphrodite, who uses her position as a respected prophetess to level huge threats against them. She closes her tirade by telling them to “come out as big ol’ lesbians already.” [2018: 210] Upon seeing Erin become flustered at such an accusation, Aphrodite says, “Never mind. Looks like only one of you would be down with that. Or should I say, only one of you would go down with that.” [2018: 210] She laughs at them before strutting away, and readers are clearly supposed to see her as a justified victor in the exchange, having outed and shamed the women who tried to embarrass her. Nothing else ever comes of the revelation that Erin is attracted to Shaunee — Erin, in fact, only has one other brief appearance in the series — so establishing that she’s queer seems only to occur so that she can be mocked for it.
Queer Characters’ Place in the Overall Narrative
Ultimately, by the final book in the second series, the queer characters have very little to offer to the plot. Damien continues to fulfill his role of calling air to the circle and being the Smart Guy of Zoey’s friend group, but he has very little agency on the plot, nor does he have any personal motives or stakes. As I touched on briefly, the closest thing we get to an independent subplot for him (and Other Jack) is in Loved, when Other Jack crosses over into their world and we learn of Damien’s struggle with grief and lifelong depression. This subplot is resolved pretty quickly and bears little consequence, however, and neither he nor Jack have any other character arcs in the next three books.
Jack also takes an increasingly more backseat role in the books as the Other World series progresses, until by the final book he only appears for a handful of pages. He barely even has any dialogue. He shows up a couple times and does nothing of importance during those scenes, and the series ends without him ever really accomplishing or contributing anything — even when there were multiple opportunities for him to do so. As mentioned previously, Jack is established as being adept at using electronics and, in the original series, even has an affinity for technology There were several instances in the Other World series where the characters needed something technical done with a computer, camera, or other technology, but they always bring the problem to a group of unnamed IT geeks. It’s never even suggested that Jack could help.
Shaylin and Nicole have nothing to offer in the Other World series, either, appearing only for the first book. Shaylin fills a role in Zoey’s circle and Nicole is just kind of there — neither have their own arcs or significant contributions to the plot. In Found, the final book, Shaylin is mentioned several times because Zoey needs to assemble her circle, but she ultimately is written out of the book to deal with local incels and her spot in the circle is replaced by a completely new character named Kacie. So the only WLW characters in the series earn no send off, no personal arcs, no character growth; they’re just written out for the sake of adding in a new love interest for someone else.
This means the major queer characters in the series are inconsequential and, for the most part, not even present for the finale. But that’s not to say that no queer characters make an impact on the plot! There is one — a Warrior named Odin. He advances the plot significantly — by dying. The original Neferet sacrifices him for two purposes, both of which are major strides forward in her plan to overtake both her own world and the Other World. Odin has no dialogue and is only alive for a few pages. The only reason readers even know he’s queer is because of a conversation between Zoey and Darius about the grief of his partner, Stephen. This marks the second instance in the series of a queer character only contributing to the plot by dying. In neither case is the death part of any kind of character arc or a consequence of that character’s actions and choices. They die because it is convenient to the narrative.
Ultimately, the queer characters in this series function like window dressing, fulfilling a quota of diversity and support the more important heterosexual characters without ever being allowed depth, complexity, or their own stories.
References:
Adrian-Jackson, Amber. 2019. “It’s Time to Move Past the ‘Bury Your Gays’ Trope.” The Sheaf. Retrieved November 23, 2020 (https://thesheaf.com/2019/01/25/its-time-to-move-past-the-bury-your-gays-trope/).
Binkley, Gena, and John Stossel. 2006. “Gay Stereotypes: Are They True?” ABC News. Retrieved November 19, 2020 (https://abcnews.go.com/2020/story?id=2449185&page=1).
Birth, Brendan. 2019. “Lesbian Stereotypes.” Blind Injustice. Retrieved November 19, 2020 (https://blindinjusticeblog.com/2019/06/11/lesbian-stereotypes/).
Cast, P.C., and Kristin Cast. 2007a. Marked. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press.
Cast, P.C., and Kristin Cast. 2007b. Betrayed. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press.
Cast, P.C., and Kristin Cast. 2008a. Chosen. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press.
Cast, P.C., and Kristin Cast. 2008b. Untamed. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press.
Cast, P.C., and Kristin Cast. 2009a. Hunted. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press.
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Cast, P.C., and Kristin Cast. 2010a. Burned. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press.
Cast, P.C., and Kristin Cast. 2010b. Awakened. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press.
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Cast, P.C., and Kristin Cast. 2013. Revealed. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press.
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