Cleopatra Brimstone, the 2001 novella by
Elizabeth Hand, is a bizarre tale of butterflies and perverted aggression. It is the story of Janie Kendall, an only
child who is raised in sheltered circumstances in middle America and grows into
a university student with a great knowledge of entomology, butterflies in
particular. Raped after leaving campus
one day, her life is never the same.
Retreating to her parents’ home—the only place she feels safe, it isn’t
until a friend of the family arranges for her to house sit in London that she
finally attempts to come to terms with the attack. Handled in a fashion no one could predict,
what results is a story that has been told before, but nothing even close to Hand’s
terms.
Cleopatra Brimstone is the name of a
variety of butterfly that Jane comes across while volunteering at the Royal
London Zoo. The name indirectly
inspirational, her quiet American life comes to an end, and a counter-culture
girl is born. Doc Martens, black vinyl
raincoat, and a shaved head just the beginning of the changes, how she moves
forward with life will have the reader in shock and smiling.
Deserving
to be pushed a little longer, Cleopatra
Brimstone moves in fits and starts—most often effectively. Hand suprising the reader by escalating the
story one step at a time further from realism, there remain, however, elements
which don’t quite fit, particularly one secondary character who plays a strong
role in the climax, but whose motivations lack similarity to the detailed
reasons behind Jane’s behavior. In fact,
it is a simplicity which does not belie the layered story constructed prior. Rarely described directly if at all, Hand most
often allows action to dictate character rather than exposition or inner
monologue. Jane’s emotional response to
the rape and her personality thereafter are presented as a scientist does a
specimen. This is not to critique the
approach, rather to point out that the fits and starts require the reader to
contextualize the underlying reason, rather than depending on Hand to spoon
feed—a compliment, in fact.
In the
end, Cleopatra Brimstone is a tale where
insects are transposed, a butterfly replacing a black widow. The writing focussed and smooth, once Jane
arrives in London the narrative becomes an absorbing tale of a young woman free
for the first time. There nevertheless
remains a slight throw-away feel to the story, particularly given the
ending. What might have been a strong
feminist statement becomes semi-muddled when examined for theme. The superficial tale more than enough to turn
the page, however, it’s possible to overlook the last few paragraphs and simply
enjoy the imagery and plot. Not Hand’s
best, but far from her or the genre’s worst.
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