It’s no secret that I
friggin’ love Animorphs. Besides mentioning it on this blog once or
twice, I’ve gone on record in real life saying that it’s better than hot dogs
(and I am a man who enjoys his occasional hot dog). Well, that and the whole “the series is the
reason I want to be a writer” and “it’s such an inspiring series” and “Cinnamon
buns, oh yeah!” thing.
I could gush all day
and night about the things that make it great.
Cool, deep characters with differing opinions and clashing ideals. A blend of action, comedy, and drama that’s
tastier than any strawberry shake.
Enemies and odds that pose a serious threat; on that note, the David
story arc is probably one of the series’ high points, keeping in mind that this
is a series that consistently strokes the stratosphere. I suppose that, once again, I have to give
credit to K.A. Applegate. Even though
the series is ostensibly for children, it’s still a satisfying read for young
adults/man-children. Conversely, it’s
shocking to see all the complexities that she presented to children…even if
they didn’t catch all the subtleties back when they were nine.
An emblem of capitalist greed.
But as I go through my
collection, reading and salivating and remembering a time when I used to get
issues of Nintendo Power every month,
I started to realize something.
Obviously, there are a lot of complex themes at play -- war and its
effects, idealism versus cynicism, etc. -- but one thing in particular started
to appear more blatantly than anything else.
(Blatantly, in the sense that it might be the main idea behind the
series; not so much as OH HEY GUYS LOOK AT THIS COMPLEXITY IS I A GOOD WRITER
YET DERP DE DOO.) It’s all about “roles
vs. reality.”
Let’s be real: when we
have characters in a story -- which is kind of often, as you’ve noticed -- we
anticipate them to fulfill certain expectations and traits. We expect the brave knight to slash some
dragons and save the princess. We expect
the nerdy loser to beat the bullies in the end (and maybe save the universe). Or maybe the weary soldier will do his final
duty and bow out. Whatever the case,
every character has a role to play. Animorphs is no exception, and probably
not the first or last to play with its roles.
Regardless, it not only plays with readers’ expectations, but with the
characters’ as well -- namely, in how well (or poorly) they manage to live up
to their roles.
If you’re not familiar
with the story -- for shame -- or just need a refresher course, here’s the gist
of it. Five normal junior-high schoolers
on their way back from the mall have a run-in with an alien who gives them the
power to morph into any animal they touch.
Why? To go head-to-head against
the Yeerks, body-snatching slugs that are using the kids’ town as a platform
for their invasion. It’s up to them to
hold off their assault until reinforcements can arrive. And thus, the battle for earth begins. Also throw in androids, a race of
millimeter-sized aliens, an indirect clash between two cosmic beings, and a
dimension of absolute nothingness for good measure.
At any rate, we have
our six heroes. Jake (the best one of
the six, IMO) is the leader. His cousin
Rachel is the pretty one, but also the gung-ho fighter. Marco’s the sarcastic joker. Cassie’s the nice one and the animal lover. Tobias is…well, I’ll get back to him
eventually. And once he joins the group,
the alien Ax is the loyalist. They all
have a job to do in the context of slowing down the Yeerk invasion. They all contribute their parts when it’s
time for action. And every last one of
them -- heck, even some of the side characters -- ends up taking issue with
their roles at one point or another.
But enough of this
preamble. Let’s get right to it, yeah? Hit the jump for more.
