(Para)normalizing Rape Culture
Possession as Rape in
Young Adult Paranormal Romance
Annika Herb
a
Abstract: Contemporary Young Adult literature is a favored genre for exploring
sexual assault, yet rarely interrogates the social structures underpinning rape culture. In its representation of heterosexual relationships, Young Adult paranormal
romance offers insight into the processes and structures that uphold rape culture.
Genre tropes normalize abusive behavior and gender ideals, demonstrating the
explicit and implicit construction of rape culture, culminating in the depiction
of supernatural possession analogous to rape. Here, I reflect on power, control,
rape culture, and girlhood in a textual analysis of Nina Malkin’s Swoon, Becca
Fitzpatrick’s Hush, Hush, and Sarah Rees Brennan’s The Demon’s Covenant. A constructive reading reflects implicit cultural discourses presented to the girl reader,
who can apply this to her own negotiation of girlhood.
Keywords: adolescent reader, control, genre tropes, power, resistance, sexual
violence, supernatural hero
b
Introduction
From the popularization of the so-called problem novel in the 1970s and
1980s in which social problems are dramatized through their effects on the
protagonist, contemporary Young Adult (YA) literature has been acknowledged as a key vehicle for the exploration of personal and political issues
in a larger social context (Alsup 2003; Cart 1996; Trites 2000). Brittany
Adams contends that YA literature can create spaces of critical dialogue for
young readers, “enabling them to unpack the roles of power and privilege
in society and their own lives” (2020: 211). I extend Adams’s conception of
the role of YA literature and critical reading specifically to the girl reader:
YA literature can create a safe space in which girl readers can conceptualize
and navigate social and cultural structures that shape their lived experience of girlhood. The liminality between girlhood and womanhood—the
girl’s presence as a sexualized being/object, and the “rape spaces” (Altrows
Girlhood Studies 14, no. 1 (Spring 2021): 68-84
© The Author(s)
doi: 10.3167/ghs.2021.140107
ISSN: 1938-8209 (print) 1938-8322 (online)
(PARA)NORMALIZING RAPE CULTURE
2016: 50) she must navigate by her very existence in rape culture—highlights social conventions that shape girlhood. Aiyana Altrows notes that the
pathologizing of female characters in contemporary YA rape texts creates
“rape spaces” by positioning the female body “as the cause of rape, rather
than societal problems or rapists themselves” (50). Similarly, Angela Hubler
argues that “while the interests of adolescent readers could be served by narratives representing rape by helping readers to understand the social factors
that support rape and how they might be transformed, many of the bestknown examples fail to do so” (2017: 116). I argue that YA paranormal
romance uses genre tropes to engage with the implicit embedded nature of
rape culture and girlhood in offering innovative opportunities to highlight
and resist rape culture and interrogate the girl body as a rape space.
Under cover of paranormal romance, abusive behavior and unequal
gender dynamics are rationalized and idealized in an attempt to coach the
girl character and reader into submission or afford them the opportunity
to critique the structures of rape culture. A male supernatural love interest
introduces the female human protagonist to the paranormal world, where
she finds her life at risk, often at his hands. Their relationship is fraught
with issues of power and control as he stalks and pursues her in a physically
aggressive manner, coaching her into a submissive state. Negotiations of
power and control manifest as acts of supernatural possession during which
the supernatural male hero invades and controls the mortal heroine’s mind
and body against her will. This becomes a literal enactment of control, and
a form of rape as the culmination of tropes in the text contribute to an
embedded rape culture. The act is depicted as invasive and traumatic, and
simultaneously coded as romantic; for the girl reader, this provides insight
into the societal and cultural structures that embed and protect rape culture. I use Hush, Hush (2009) by Becca Fitzpatrick, Swoon (2009) by Nina
Malkin, and The Demon’s Covenant (2010) by Sarah Rees Brennan as case
studies for textual analysis, evaluate their engagement with this trend as a
way of highlighting and deconstructing rape culture, and examine possibilities for resistance by the girl reader.
Defining Rape Culture
Rape culture can be defined as the social and environmental structures,
commonly stemming from patriarchal or misogynistic ideologies, that contribute to creating a culture of normalizing, trivializing, and enabling sex69
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ual assault. Marion Rana (2014), along with Erika Cleveland and E. Sybil
Durand (2014) identify rape myths (for example, rapists are predominantly
strangers, the victim is to blame, women make false accusations, and no
means yes) as contributors to rape culture. Rana argues that rape myths reinforce gender imbalances and perpetuate interpersonal violence (2014) in
order to “deny and justify male sexual aggression against women” (Lonsway
and Fitzgerald 1994:134). Emilie Buchwald et al. define rape culture as
the complex of beliefs that encourages male sexual aggression and supports violence against women. It is a society where violence is seen as sexy and sexuality as
violent. In a rape culture, women perceive a continuum of threatened violence that
ranges from sexual remarks to sexual touching to rape itself. A rape culture condones physical and emotional terrorism against women as the norm. (1995: vii)
The texts I examine depict an embedded rape culture in which each of the
points detailed by Buchwald et al. are presented and reinforced through
the heterosexual romance, the supernatural man/ordinary girl trope, the
restriction of female agency, and the socialization of acceptance by the community. The paranormal genre embeds rape culture implicitly in its genre
construction; the tropes it romanticizes are both a microcosm and a perpetuator of rape culture.
Paranormal Romance and the Girl Reader
Christine Seifert and Yvonne Clark argue that “because YA literature has
the power to shape, define, and challenge young readers’ conceptions of sex,
love, and romance, we need to be aware of the messages these narratives are
sending, both intentionally and not” (2013: 43), thus echoing ideological
concerns of the representation of romantic and sexual experiences in YA
literature (Kokkola 2013; Trites 2000). For the girl reader, this is crucial.
Mary Ann Harlan, in seeing girlhood as constructed by the representation
of girls in media, writes, “In a patriarchal culture . . . gender-based power
imbalances inform and contribute to narratives of girlhood” (2018: n.p.).
Socially valued perspectives of girlhood are reflected in literature; they encode these messages back to the girl reader. It is here that paranormal romance offers the most potential to interrogate societal norms that facilitate
rape culture in its use of the media-constructed representation of girlhood
to interrogate and reconsider the structures that uphold it. In doing so,
such books fulfil Hubler’s call for texts that “both represent [a] competing
understanding of rape and offer a systemic analysis of the social conditions
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that underlie gender-based oppression” (2017: 115). The texts of Fitzpatrick, Malkin, and Brennan could be read as intentional or unintentional in
their interrogation in their novels of the structural ideologies that underpin
rape culture, and its relationship to girlhood. Arguably, the former two
could be read as unintentionally problematizing the conventional dynamic;
Brennan’s text offers an alternative explicit approach in its subversion of
common tropes. There is power in reading these texts themselves as a product of rape culture in that they provide, however inadvertently, an insight
into the structures that support rape culture, if not an overt critique by the
authors themselves as their narrators justify abusive romantic relationships.
These three texts provide a response to Hubler’s call for YA texts that
move beyond narratives that limit the experience to the personal through
first-person narration, risking “depoliticiz[ing] and privatiz[ing] rape by emphasizing the trauma experienced by survivors without exposing the social
origins of sexual violence” (2017: 116). While using first-person narration,
paranormal romance re-politicizes rape by employing genre-specific tropes
to interrogate social structures that support rape culture, the construct of
the text serving to offer suggestions for these transformations. The narrative
intimacy evoked by first person narration casts the girl reader as complicit
and intimately entwined with the protagonist (Day 2013), thus emphasizing Harlan’s argument that “girls’ construction of their subjectivity while
they are interacting with stories requires them as readers to negotiate their
own understanding of the girlhood as represented in YA literature” (2018:
n.p.). The girl reader is afforded agency in navigating the protagonist’s experience thus assessing her own position in rape culture.
Power and Control
As Roberta Seelinger Trites writes, “Young Adult novels are about power”
(2000: 3). She identifies the unstable balance of power that exists between
the teenager and the adult in YA literature in the locus of teenage liminality
as the teenager stands to unseat holders of power or otherwise clash with
institutions that wield it. Drawing on a Foucauldian approach, Trites argues
that the struggle between teenager and adult can symbolize a larger negotiation of power between the individual and social construction. I extend this
assertion from power to control. Control quantifies the micro and macro
struggles of and for power, demonstrating the exertions necessary to maintain social norms regarding gender, sexuality, and behavior. Control in YA
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literature concerns the moderation of female conduct for the protagonist
and reader, encoding social norms that value conventional conceptions of
girlhood; female characters are rewarded for passivity and submission, they
cede control over the self to the male partner as guardian and protector, and
they are coached throughout the text into what are thought of as appropriate feminine actions. Control and power intermingle at the root of social
disruption, with conflicts arising as figures exert or resist modes of control.
YA literature can reflect and disrupt expected notions of power and
control for the teenage reader (Kokkola 2013; Trites 2000). In YA literature, girls struggle with control, be it self-control or the control exerted over
them meant to instruct and position them within the expected parameters
of gendered behavior. This is also exerted metafictionally, with texts serving
a didactic purpose for the reader (Trites 2000). Quoting Altrows (2016),
Ebony Daley-Carey highlights the power embedded in female agency and
sexuality in narratives of sexual assault. She writes,
Literature for adolescent readers typically conforms to a patriarchal metanarrative
in which female sexual agency is rejected and rape is ‘employed as a coming-ofage lesson directed at adolescent female readers, with the intent of curtailing their
claim to power through their sexuality.’ (2018: 481)
In YA literature, the negotiation of power is represented through the heterosexual romance, analogous to female navigation in a patriarchal world;
dominant patriarchal ideals are symbolized and instilled through the male
lover. It is also seen in the characters’ interactions with a larger society,
their relationships with friends and family, and common narrative tropes
and conventions that influence and demonstrate influence from social
ideals. Control is central to the construction of rape culture in the paranormal romance, reflecting theories of rape as an act of power and control (Brownmiller 1975). Male characters coach the female protagonist
towards socially acceptable gendered conduct that is overtly harmful to
her and limits her agency. He becomes her guardian, protecting her from
the paranormal world and her desires. Harlan argues that the heterosexual
girl in need of male support “furthers patriarchal definitions of girlhood
rooted in notions of male protection and, therefore, ownership” (2019:
5). This sense of ownership and control includes dictating the terms of
their physical relationship. This framework of power and control embeds
rape culture in paranormal romance, demonstrating the active process that
strips power and control from the girl protagonist; its depiction offers subversive potential for the girl reader to recognize and resist these processes
in her own life.
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Girlhood, Control, and Consent
Harlan addresses the patriarchal systems that shape girlhood in YA literature,
noting that they “control behavior through expectation (be a good girl) and
protection” (2019: 11) that highlights the male protector figure as a mode
of control. Common representations of girlhood dictate strict limitations of
behavior; meeting the “feminized ideals of woman in patriarchal systems”
(Harlan 2019: 10) or being what is regarded as the good girl. She is submissive, passive, and sexualized but not active in desire or agency over her own
body. Her submission to the control enacted over her body, mind, and ways
of being speaks to the exertion of control over girls in coaching them towards
an awareness of their bodies as rape spaces; as Altrows notes, “the positioning of female bodies as the cause of rape sanctions public and state control
of those bodies, removing a female’s subjective agency and right to manage
her own body” (2016: 50). In order to experience sexual pleasure or desire
and remain good under the paradigms of the text, control must be taken
from her: consent must be absent. This structure reinforces the dynamic of
the paranormal romance, placing the male love interest as the facilitator of
any sexual activity. It is only in this space that the protagonist can experience
desire and pleasure, yet this is critiqued by the representation of the entanglement of fear and desire. Each sexual experience is depicted with a male
aggressor and a female forced to submit to him. Consent as an acknowledgement of both power and respect is thereby removed from the narrative; in
order to remain good, conventions dictate that she cannot consent.
Paranormal Romance: Hush, Hush (2009) and Swoon (2009)
Revitalized by the Twilight series in 2005, the paranormal romance features
a human female protagonist introduced to paranormal forces through a
supernatural love interest. The narrative focuses on the supernatural forces
threatening the characters and the development of the heterosexual relationship. Like contemporary realism, the paranormal romance examines social
issues, albeit through a metaphorical representation. Seifert and Clark note
that paranormal romance may appear “cleaner” than contemporary realism
“given that sexual content is far less graphic . . . but it actually promotes far
more negative messages about women’s sexuality” (2013: 45).
Under the lens of paranormal romance, abuse and unequal gender
dynamics are rationalized and romanticized. The male love interest is su73
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pernatural, powerful, and immortal; his strength, knowledge, and age far
outstrip that of the female mortal protagonist. This, and his interest in the
protagonist validates the power imbalance inherent in their relationship
dynamic (Franiuk and Scherr 2013), as he adopts the role of protector and
guardian over the protagonist’s body and soul. The guardianship over her
extends to her sexual desires, which, because of her human vulnerability,
could cause her death. Quoting Martha McCaughey (1997), Renae Franiuk and Samantha Scherr argue that, in paranormal fiction,
‘men have bodies that will prevail, that are strong and impenetrable’ and women
have ‘breakable, takeable bodies.’ Therefore, the image of the woman who is vulnerable to a man’s violence not only titillates its audience but has long provided
justification for putting men into the protector role. (2013: 17)
The love interest is abusive or controlling in his behavior, actions, and outlook; he is drawn to kill the protagonist as readily as to be with her (Franiuk
and Scherr 2013). He stalks her, monitors her, and reprimands her when
she demonstrates what he deems risky conduct. These scholars note that
paranormal fiction, drawing on the Gothic tradition, “typically eroticizes violence and promotes a relationship violence narrative” (16). Julianne
Guillard argues that the male romantic hero in the Gothic tradition is cast
as “both forbidding and appealing” because of the “element of danger enveloping the characters” and the “love-hate relationship, between the male
and female characters” (2011: 51). The romantic hero’s behavior escalates
to acts of violence and coercive control before he ultimately exerts complete
control over the heroine through supernatural possession, making literal
Andrea Dworkin’s ironic recognition that “[t]he good woman must be possessed” (1974: 48).
Hush, Hush (2009) follows 16-year-old protagonist Nora Grey, drawn
to Patch Cipriano but growing wary as he stalks her. A fallen angel, Patch
initially intends to kill Nora, and torments her throughout the novel before
falling in love with her and taking on a protector role. Patch evokes the
trope of the romantic interest in paranormal romance— mysterious and
dangerous, supernatural, drawn to kill and simultaneously protect the heroine, significantly older than her at 700, and the dominant figure in their
physical and sexual interactions. He pursues Nora relentlessly against her
will, manipulating her and those in her life supernaturally and emotionally
to achieve his means. Patch is verbally aggressive to Nora from their first encounter, making sexually lewd remarks, and posing invasive questions that
cause her distress. He asks, “Do you sleep naked?” (14). He reveals that he
has been stalking her and states that his ideal woman is “vulnerable” (34).
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Patch’s supernatural abilities include strength, immortality, and an ability
to possess or invade humans’ minds to cause vivid illusions. His interest in
Nora is a major threat to her safety, with other threats instigated by their relationship as his antagonists attempt to hurt Patch through harming Nora.
Swoon (2009) follows Dice, a teenage girl with psychic abilities, as she
moves to Swoon, the eponymous town. Dice awakens vengeful ghost Sin
after he possesses her cousin, Pen, and later gives him corporeal form as a
golem. Sin similarly reflects the conventions of the male romantic interest
in paranormal romance. Over 300 years old, he can possess others and uses
his supernatural influence to incite self-destructive acts of sexual behavior
and violence. His powers are centred around control over, and manipulation of Dice and Pen. Like Patch, Sin reflects traits of the hero and antagonist and is determined to ruin Swoon in revenge for the death of his partner. The text opens with Dice saying, “By the time I laid eyes on Sinclair
Youngblood Powers—in the flesh, that is—I was already in love with him.
Nothing could change that” (2009: 1, emphasis added). Malkin establishes a
preliminary reader connection to Sin as the love interest, excusing him for
his subsequent actions, including sexual assault and murder, and casts the
reader as complicit through focalization.
The Romanticization of Abuse
Both texts use the conventions of the genre to normalize rape culture while
providing critical insight into the social structures enabling it in the genre
and in reality. As supernatural forces threaten the protagonist, she cedes
agency to her love interest, who protects her; this need for protection validates his aggressive and controlling conduct that emerges in stalking along
with verbal, emotional, and physical abuse.
Hush, Hush (2009) is a unique text for its active demonstration of the
subtle but enduring processes, framework, and dialogue that exist to silence victims and normalize rape culture. Establishing Nora as distressed
by Patch’s behavior, the text works on a metafictional and narrative level to
actively indoctrinate Nora—and thus, the reader—into a submissive state
within rape culture. This is enacted by reinforcing genre conventions labelled problematic (Franiuk and Scherr 2013) and, within the narrative
space, the consensus from Nora’s community that Patch’s demeanor towards her is romantic. Nora speaks out to her teachers, friends, mother,
and other authority figures about her discomfort with Patch’s aggressive
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behavior. At each interaction she is silenced and told that Patch’s actions
indicate romantic interest. Nora’s best friend, Vee, refers to Patch’s behavior
as stalking, coding it as desirable and dismissing Nora’s agitation. She says,
“I bet he is following you. I bet he has a history of it too. I bet he has restraining orders” (2009: 47–48). Vee jokes about wanting to be “ravished,”
and correlates sexiness to stalking, joking that Patch is reading “How to Be
a Stalker . . . it’s either that or How to Radiate Sexy Without Trying” (46).
After several similar interactions, Nora ignores her instincts in favor of Vee’s
opinion, reassessing Patch’s conduct as both “incredibly alluring . . . and incredibly creepy” (49). Later, she asks her mother if it is normal to be afraid
of a romantic partner.
Nora approaches a teacher on three occasions to ask not to be Patch’s
lab partner. She tells him that she is “uncomfortable,” citing the school code
of conduct and student rights. She says, “By law, no student should feel
threatened on student property” (39). In response, her teacher dismisses her
as overreacting, and forces her to spend time alone with Patch by assigning her to be his tutor. Nora is dismissed and labelled irrational by other
characters, and subsequently begins to doubt herself. In rape culture male
sexual aggression is encouraged; Nora’s experience in seeking support and
failing to get it from her community reveals that “rape culture condones
physical and emotional terrorism against women as the norm” (Buchwald
et al. 1993: vii).
While Hush, Hush (2009) depicts control by showing a girl being
coached into submission, Swoon (2009) shows a girl already there as the
novel begins. Dice is embedded in rape culture, actively contributing to
the silencing of others and upholding the structures that support it. Swoon
extends the trope of the dangerous supernatural lover, with Sin responsible
for many deaths and sexual assaults. Dice vacillates between dismissing Sin’s
actions and not acknowledging them. As narrative focalizer, she holds the
power to shape the reader’s perception of events (Day 2013); her narration
tacitly condones his behavior. Like Hush, Hush (2009) there is an opportunity here to apply a critical subtextual reading to her narration; the reader
can recognize Dice’s views as having been shaped by the larger sociocultural
context thus affording the text value for active analysis outside of a didactic
space. That these texts are framed through first person narration, enabling
what Sara Day refers to as “narrative intimacy” (2013: 3), adds an additional layer to the encoding of social values and norms since this facilitates a
close connection between the assumed girl protagonist and girl reader; she
sees the narrator as a friend (Day 2013), or a vicarious version of herself,
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with the latter encouraged to imagine herself as the first-person narrator.
In this way, the reader is privy to the steady acculturating processes each
character experiences, and their internal navigation of these, with implicit
processes made explicit.
Dice is both victim and guardian of rape culture. In one scene, Sin supernaturally incites a bacchanalia at a school dance. This is interrupted by a student, Anderly, screaming in distress, her dress “ripped from her spindly frame
. . . white bra and cotton briefs exposed . . . her nose . . . bleeding . . . what
she was screaming, over and over, was “Rape!” (2009:180). The sobering
moment is quickly dismissed by Dice as she expresses doubt over the validity
of Anderly’s claims, thus enforcing the myth of women lying about rape. Although she acknowledges Sin’s culpability, saying, “Whatever had happened
to Anderly Addams, Sin was the catalyst” (182), in an offhand comment,
she reveals that Anderly has been rendered catatonic by the trauma and institutionalized. In spite of this, Dice lies to her parents and the authorities in
order to protect Sin. She reports, “I recited the company line. ‘I was having
a good time. I had no idea what was going on with that poor girl.’” (183).
Violence is Sexy / Sex is Violent
Both Swoon (2009) and Hush, Hush (2009) include scenes of sexual assault as
well as the representation of metaphorical rape through possession. Neither
protagonist recognizes these incidents as such, despite being clearly non-consensual and causing trauma to themselves as victim. This representation treads
a careful balancing act of interpretation for the readers’ subjectivity—they
may read these scenes as clear acts of assault through the subtext, or follow
the framing of them as titillating, reinforcing the modes of victim-blaming.
Both authors construct inextricable connections between sex and violence.
Within these boundaries, girls do not experience sexual desire in consensual,
safe spaces; their experience is linked to fear and the loss of control.
Both narratives build on this pattern of behavior until the characters
have been conditioned to accept abusive or aggressive actions as romantic
and natural. The romanticization of rape culture culminates in a scene of
assault in Hush, Hush, and rape in Swoon that, under these structures, are
presented as titillating. Evoking the acknowledgement by Buchwald et al.,
that in rape culture, “violence is seen as sexy and sexuality as violent” (1993:
vii) and Franiuk and Scherr’s concern that “the repeated pairing of violence during erotic scenes may cultivate a reality where violence is viewed
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as sexy” (2013: 22), when Nora’s and Dice’s physical safety is threatened,
they are depicted as aroused and fearful, implying a correlation between the
two. In one scene, Sin forcibly spanks Dice in front of a cheering crowd;
Dice admits to feeling humiliated, fearful, and aroused. She claims, “I loved
and hated it all, the gasping and gulping and struggling, the laughter and
even—especially—the fear” (2009: 211). Malkin depicts Sin as physically
and emotionally abusive to Dice and other sexual partners. We read, “Sin
took me by the wrist, with control, barely a hint of stockpiled aggression.
His other arm encircled, and that hand found my hair, fingers tightening to
ensure my full attention” (375).
In Hush, Hush, Patch manipulates Nora into staying alone with him in
a motel, selected because when she screams, no one will aid her. He tells her,
“It isn’t going to cause a stir in this place. It’s more of a whorehouse than
a motel” (298). The conditioning Nora has experienced throughout the
novel causes her to rationalize the experience, despite serious reservations.
For her, “It wasn’t the smartest or safest arrangement . . . What choice did
I have, right?” (284). It then emerges that Patch’s intention has been to kill
Nora, and he attacks her. The scene carries significant linguistic connotations of attempted rape. Nora recounts, “He wrestled me into the bed in an
instant. He pinned my arms above my head . . . There was controlled anger
in his face, dark and simmering” (297). Nora’s responses, including fighting
back, crying, hyperventilating, and shouting repeatedly for Patch to get off
her depict an explicit lack of consent. However, Fitzpatrick includes allusions to pleasure interwoven with fear: as Nora fights back tears, she reveals,
“My whole body thrummed with an emotion so foreign I couldn’t name
it” (298), and “little shivers of panic and pleasure shot through me” (300).
Contextually, this emotion could be read as intense fear and/or arousal since
the two have been consistently linked in the interactions between Nora and
Patch, thus reflecting Franiuk and Scherr’s assertion that “repeatedly pairing
violence with sex may lead individuals to automatically pair violence with
sexual arousal” (2013: 23). Swoon (2009) also features numerous scenes of
sexual assault and rape, yet they are never acknowledged as such, so pervasive is the perspective that frames a clear lack of consent as titillating.
Possession as Rape
The genre conventions of the paranormal romance that facilitate the embedded elements of rape culture culminate in the act of supernatural possession.
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These are framed in clear allusions to acts of rape as an invasion of the mind
and body that causes significant distress—the epitome of exerting control.
Patch and antagonist Jules, another fallen angel, can possess Nora’s
mind and body; both use it to torment her. Jules intends to kill Nora to
hurt Patch in retribution for Patch’s possessing him. Jules highlights the
agony of being possessed when he says, “‘No choice, no freedom . . . I’m
still there, a prisoner inside my own body, living every minute of it . . . Do
you know what that feels like? Do you?” (2009: 361, emphasis in original).
Possession is described in terms that invoke sexual assault, an act of
forcible, unwanted penetration. Nora says,
Without warning, a rush of power coursed into me. The foreign force expanded
to fill me. My body was completely vulnerable to Patch, all my strength and freedom forfeited as he took possession of me. Before I had time to realize just how
much this loss of control terrified me . . . (373)
Nora demonstrates significant fear and does not consent. She is not prepared for the invasion, and her vulnerability and loss of freedom is emphasized. In dialogue that evokes rape myths of victim-blaming, Jules mocks
Nora’s weakness, making her complicit in her own loss of control. Jules asks
her, “Do you want to know the best part? You could have blocked me out.
I couldn’t have touched your mind without your permission. I reached in,
and you never resisted. You were weak. You were easy” (363).
Swoon also depicts possession as connotative of rape in Sin’s invasive
possession of Pen, which has enduring effects on Pen’s character and personality. Malkin aligns possession with sex and pleasure through Sin’s possessing women and stimulating them to orgasm against their will. The experience of the victim is sexualized to avoid condemning the romantic hero
or acknowledge the lack of consent. Sin attempts to bring about the puritanical townsfolk’s destruction by supernaturally forcing them to engage
in sexual acts. He orchestrates much of this through his possession of Pen,
making the virginal teenager perform explicit sex acts. Her lack of consent
is never addressed in the text; instead, Dice is jealous. Sin rapes Pen mentally and physically throughout the novel. While possessing her, he forces
the terrified girl to walk across a rooftop, almost killing her. This motivates
Dice to exorcize Sin—unintentionally giving him corporeal form—and he
continues to control, assault, and influence both girls. When corporeal, he
has sex with Pen. While the act is depicted as consensual, the contextual
construction reveals layers of coercion. Still under his control, Pen must
perform for him. She says,
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He’d make the smallest gesture, and I’d have to interpret it . . . It was a game.
I would try something—a nibble, a squeeze—and then check for his smile, his
nod, to know it was what he wanted . . . All I wanted was to be good, because if
I was good, very good, he might reward me.” (161)
Envious, Dice does not challenge this, reinforcing it as normal and even desirable behavior. Her jealousy frames Pen as a romantic competitor for Sin’s
attentions, rather than his victim. This is challenged in a moment of critique when Pen, realizing Sin has been controlling and using her, addresses
Dice’s complicity for the first time. We read, “But Pen didn’t scream at me.
She did something worse. She looked at me. ‘You knew,’ she said quietly.
‘All along, you knew.’ Then she turned away and walked up the stairs to her
room” (299).
The Demon’s Covenant
This novel, by Sarah Rees Brennan, demonstrates an alternative approach
to the discussion of rape culture through the explicit acknowledgement of
possession as rape. Brennan counters tropes by interrogating the supernatural male love interest and challenging conventions of the genre. Nick is the
quintessential bad boy: he is brooding, mysterious, and taciturn. However,
Brennan inverts the dynamic, first by presenting the opening novel in the
trilogy from Nick’s perspective, affording insight into his character and motivations throughout the series. Second, his characterisation is revealed to
stem from being a demon. Like the other male love interests, Nick is supernatural, immortal, and powerful. He struggles with emotion, but Brennan
grounds his conflict primarily in familial love rather than romantic, with
his taciturn nature a result of demonic influence, emphasized in the text as
an inhuman trait rather than something to be romanticized. The narrative
focalizer of the second novel, The Demon’s Covenant, Mae, is depicted as a
self-determined teenage girl who demonstrates agency throughout the series, executing plans as the leader of an army. She experiences sexual desire
and pleasure without shame or regulation, rejecting a need to exert self-control, or be controlled by the love interest.
Control in a physical relationship is addressed through a unique approach as The Demon’s Covenant highlights the flaws inherent in romanticizing possession. During the text, Mae decides to have Nick mark her for
possession in order to protect her. The nature of possession in the text means
that the possessed wishes to please and be near her possessor. Mae abstains
from a sexual or romantic relationship with Nick while he has the power to
control her since she can no longer differentiate between his desires and hers.
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Her mark wanted her to do what Nick wanted, whatever that was, to be close to
him. This was the way demons possessed you. They made you want to give in. If
there had ever been a possibility of her being with Nick . . . it was gone now. She
could never be sure if she wanted to be with him or if the mark was drawing her
to him. She could never let herself be controlled like that. (2010: 326)
Uniquely, Mae chooses to be marked for possession, saying “I chose to do
it. That makes a difference” (2010: 306). Mae’s exertion of self-control in
a physical relationship is entirely her own, made not to conform to chaste
perceptions of appropriate femininity, but to protect her agency and emotional welfare. Here, control is a signifier of consent and agency.
Brennan constructs possession as consuming and dangerous, acknowledging the loss of control and power. When Nick marks Mae for possession, the act is violent and painful, strongly reminiscent of the acts of rape
seen in the other texts discussed. It also bears similarities to earlier moments
of sexual tension in this text in its depiction. Despite the situation being
consensual, by emphasizing Mae’s fear and pain Brennan asserts possession
and the loss of agency as an inherently violent and controlling act.
Nick dealt her a clean, swift blow, shoved her right off the bed and into the wall.
He held her there with his arm hard against her throat, cutting off half her air
supply. She was trapped between the wall and his body; he’d moved after her
without giving her a second’s chance to escape, and she struggled suddenly, wild
and hopeless . . .
The pain was blinding . . . And it wasn’t all pain. It wasn’t all fear. And she was
helpless against that, too. (304–305)
Mae experiences fear, panic, and pain—as well as implied arousal. Brennan
challenges the sexual attraction commonly linked to possession in the emphasis placed on her protagonist’s rejection of the fear-as-desire narrative,
and the act of possession. It is notable that Mae is never actually possessed
by Nick, and when he does force her to do something, it nearly destroys
their relationship. Brennan allows Mae space for agency and resistance in
choosing to be marked, and in actively working to maintain her own sense
of control.
Conclusion: Opportunities for Resistance
By depicting the social conditioning and control that contribute to the
construction of rape culture, Brennan, Fitzpatrick, and Malkin effectively
interrogate the social structures that uphold it and suggest opportunities
for transformation for the girl reader who, in viewing the deliberate accul81
ANNIKA HERB
turation process, and deromanticizing genre tropes of abuse and control,
becomes active in processing the structures of rape culture. She may interrogate the construction of girlhood on the page, applying an understanding
of the underlying processes that coach submission in her interactions with
her own experience of girlhood. Through the alignment with the girl reader
through narrative intimacy and recognition of problematic tropes, she may
dismantle the eroticized violence of possession, bearing witness to the victim’s trauma and resisting narratives of romanticization and normalization.
In reading Malkin’s and Fitzpatrick’s texts as both product and perpetuation of rape culture, powerful implicit cultural discourses are unearthed,
doubling as covert critiques of social ideals and behavior in the recognition
of an unconscious normalization. In an alternative approach, Brennan explicitly highlights the flaws inherent in paranormal possession and paranormal romance tropes through her subversive depiction. Active or constructive readings of these texts afford opportunities of resistance for the
girl reader in realizing the structures that support rape culture and enforce
control, which she may apply in navigating her own girlhood.
a
Annika Herb (ORCID: 0000-0003-0638-9531) is an early career researcher at the University of Newcastle, Australia. Her research focuses
on gender and representations of female sexuality and identity in YA literature, and on queer literature, children’s literature, and the fairy tale.
Email: annika.herb@newcastle.edu.au
b
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