The Locked Tomb: Lyctors & Gender Dysphoria II

Male & female, body & mind, heart & soul, bone & cartilage

Catching Up

This is a direct continuation of my previous post (and may reference my first Locked Tomb post about God and Earth), so be sure to give that a read if you haven't already! As with last time, heavy spoilers ahead.

I left off after discussing Harrowhark; exploring her mysterious relationship with the 200 sacrificed children's souls and nodding to her own warped Lyctorhood. That last doesn't have as much to do with gender, so I'll save it for when I dive into the maelstrom that is Harrow & Gideon Nav.

Harrow viewing a painting of Ianthe, Alecto, John Gaius and Kiriona Gaia, by Noctilia

Bodies & Minds continued: Pyrrha Dve

Now we get to the heart of Nona the Ninth's portrayal and exploration of trans experiences – including my own, as I relate in different ways to both (all three?) of the characters ahead.

I've alluded a few times to how enigmatic this series can be, to the extent that my first and second reading of these books were radically different experiences. The Saint of Duty (Gideon the First/Pyrrha Dve) feels like a strong model for this principle given how much mystery author Tamsyn Muir shrouded them with.

Friends of John Gaius prior to the Resurrection (I won't go into too much detail here but it's fascinating to learn this history in Nona), Gideon and Pyrrha were the third of the seven original lyctors; necromancer Gideon eternally feeding off of Pyrrha's soul, his eyes replaced by hers. But by Pyrrha's own words: "we were children—playing with the reflections of stars in a pool of water…thinking it was space." Somehow, uniquely and unknown to him, Gideon compartmentalized Pyrrha's mind within his own, in such a way as to allow her occasional control.

This is the source of major confusion (for readers and characters alike) when the violent Saint of Duty acts completely differently scene-to-scene in Harrow the Ninth – not to mention that he is renamed Ortus for most of that book, another detail for the Harrow discussion. When Gideon dies in the liminal plane of the River at the end of Harrow, Pyrrha takes full control of his body (which still heals as a lyctor's, but Pyrrha doesn't inherit Gideon's necromancy).

Pyrrha Dve pre- and post-Lyctorhood with Gideon the First, by deirdresart

To quote eloquent author Tamsyn Muir: "Pyrrha is a ten thousand year old James Bond MILF with attachment issues." Yet Nona depicts Pyrrha dealing with the everyday realities of gender dysphoria while living with her strange new family of Nona, Camilla and Palamedes.

Nona, fascinated, watched the brown column of her throat move as she swallowed. There was already a fine dark rust of stubble beneath her chin, amid the dust and the dirt, and when Pyrrha caught her looking, she felt there with her hand and said, laughing, “I know, I know … Gideon always had a five o’clock shadow at three o’clock. Sextus, can’t you fix it?" - Tamsyn Muir, Nona the Ninth

She must shave (twice?) daily and even after ten thousand years of co-inhabiting this body is still frustrated by her appearance. Even now that she has total control, her body's innate healing puts her beyond the reach of any gender-affirming procedure (medical or magical) except, perhaps, if performed by another lyctor.

"pyrrha 'never could help giving the girls what they wanted' dve", by ofthesewntongue

But Pyrrha isn't one to overlook situational advantages, as Muir points out when discussing lyctors:

Lyctorhood from first blush has been a huge genderfuck as I understood it, and of course I got to understand it intimately from the get-go because I made it. Pyrrha uses gender like a nightstick. (Pyrrha uses most things like a nightstick.)

While Pyrrha visibly struggles with the disconnect between her body and mind at home, she accepts a masculine role as a construction worker within the chaotic, war-torn refugee crisis that is their society for most of Nona. It even seems be implied that Pyrrha is more confident in her skin than Gideon the First ever was, from her practiced imitation of him.

Aside from John's brief historical account of her pre-Resurrection self, we never got to see Pyrrha in her own body. Yet even existing in the Saint of Duty's and experiencing all the dysphoria that comes with it, her force of personality jumps off the page like few other characters. And I think that can be an important message, whether for gender dysphoria or general dysmorphia; owning your body and being yourself is truly powerful.

Bodies & Minds continued: Paul

I can't help but wonder whether Tamsyn Muir intended all along for Camilla & Palamedes to become such major characters in the series, or whether immense adoration on behalf of fans had any influence – there's a comparable amount of fan art of them as of Gideon Nav & Harrow, despite being minor players in the first book and nearly absent from the second.

Oh, and Palamedes got exploded to tiny bits at the end of Gideon. (Though Gideon Nav – not Pyrrha's – died too, so it evens out.) By the time they return in Nona, the scientifically minded pair have worked out how to keep Palamedes' spirit attached to Camilla and how to take turns inhabiting her body.

Camilla Hect and (skull fragment) Palamedes Sextus, by ancientannoyance

Muir says of their independent genders at the start of Nona:

Camilla-and-Palamedes both have a very strong sense of self and gender as Camilla, as Palamedes, while at the same time Camilla-and-Palamedes is a clusterfuck. Gender is kind of a weird buffet in the Locked Tomb universe as it is.

Our observant point-of-view character Nona helpfully lets the reader know whenever the swap occurs, switching pronouns and names to refer to the person currently inhabiting Camilla's body despite no change in appearance (though a major tell is that Palamedes will put on and/or fiddle with his glasses).

I think this is a beautiful example of gender and pronouns being used and accepted completely independent of physical presentation, similar but distinct to Pyrrha's relationship with her body and people's perception of it. Perhaps it also relies a bit on Palamedes being extremely cerebral and a little aloof (and in great danger of being destroyed if the wrong person discovered his existence) for him to apparently be so comfortable in Camilla's body, but in a small way it also foreshadows what is to come.

I'm thinking of writing a dedicated post on Muir's enigmatic, foreshadowing style, so for now I'll just skip ahead to everyone's favourite geniuses Camilla and Palamedes developing a new kind of Lyctorhood for themselves – perhaps surpassing even John and Alecto. They cast polymerization!

Saint Paul, by bugcowboyart

The two have become one, more completely than with any other lyctor pair, forging a single new identity as (Saint) Paul. This occurs late in the third book and Nona uses they/them pronouns for Paul in the few frantic scenes we got with them, but that could easily change come Alecto the Ninth. I weep alongside the fandom for stalwartly loyal Camilla and audaciously clever Palamedes, and join them in feeling the name choice is a little jarring, but am beyond excited to see Paul in action.

Whether Muir intended this (I assume she did) or not, I deeply relate to the idea of they/them pronouns representing a symbiosis between male and female senses of self – both as a middle ground and potentially reflecting multiple selves.

My reading is that Nona initially referred to Paul as they because she was still thinking of Palamades-and-Camilla and then stuck with it because she didn't know their gender identity. I love it and hope it sticks, but I'm sure Alecto will knock me on my ass regardless.

Aim/Angel & Beyond

The final part of Muir's quote about gender in The Locked Tomb reads:

Pronouns often exist independent of gender identities—there’s one character in particular who lives with bestowed pronouns and who is violently proud of them while at the same time quite likes experiencing what other pronouns mean. Titles are important for different people for different reasons. The choices people have made—or haven’t made—as to what their names are, what they’re called, are meant to be significant.

The main person she's referring to is 'the Angel' or 'Aim', a figure of great importance to the revolutionary Blood of Eden who want to put an end to John and all necromancy. Nona and her friends refer to the Angel with female pronouns, which Muir seems to imply stems from their role as teacher, doctor and nurturer.

Yet Blood of Eden uses they/them for Aim and those pronouns feel essential to their role as Messenger within the organization (some theorize that they carry the memories of past Messengers, like Dune's Bene Gesserit or A Memory Called Empire's imago machines). I raised this idea of gender/pronouns-as-social function in my post on neopronouns if you're interested! (It will also certainly come up when I write about the fascinating Terra Ignota series I'm currently listening to.)

I really appreciate the way Muir is playing with and exploring gender in these novels, and I'm sure there will be more of it in Alecto and her future lesbian-western-cyberpunk series!

Until next time <3