The Shadow of the Bear: A Review of Regina Doman's Fairy Tale Novel for Teens

On Friday afternoon, I received The Shadow of the Bear by Regina Doman.  On Friday, before going to bed, I finished The Shadow of the Bear by Regina Doman.  I had already read Ch. 1 online, which you can find here.  At 221 pages, the book is a quick and engaging read.  I have been interested in Doman's novels for a while, having seen them reviewed by Sarah Reinhard, and mentioned elsewhere, and having an interest (professional and otherwise) in fairy tale retellings (the course I'm teaching this semester focuses on retellings/revisions, and includes quite a few fairy tales).  Beyond that, however, I wanted to see what a Catholic adolescent novel looked like, and whether it could be done well.

That last sentence reveals me as the skeptic I am.  I have read contemporary Christian fiction for teens before, of the Protestant variety, as a pre- to early-teen, and found the "troubled-teen-finding-Christ-and-a-boyfriend" motif, well, boring.  Far-fetched.  Trite.  But then, I was one of those (along with Neil Gaiman) who felt rather betrayed when she realized that the Chronicles of Narnia were really about Christianity, and not just good stories.  I got over it.  Fairy tales, Narnia, and Christian fiction notwithstanding, I have an interest in children's literature that is both professional and personal.  Fantasy is my preference, but I am interested in what makes quality children's literature--a term that is both disputed and controversial.  This is my disclaimer of sorts, a prelude to the review.

I enjoyed the book very much.  I found it compelling to the point that I realized that in order to get anything else done over the weekend, I would have to read it on Friday--hence, the rush.  It was a quick read, and elements of suspense propelled it along.  The first chapter raised enough questions to entice the reader, though the necessary exposition in chapters two and three slows things down a bit.  In these chapters, I experienced certain doubts about the book.  It seemed too self-consciously what it was, namely--a Catholic novel for literary-minded high school students, from the reference to "sheltering the stranger and tending the sick" in Ch. 1, to the overt Frost reference in Ch. 2, and the brief discourse on art, beauty, and truth in Ch. 3 with its allusion to Keats.  The last reference in particular made me groan a little, especially since it was a follow-up to a discussion of form, content, and Truth in the previous chapter that peaked my curiosity, but which was not truly developed and instead evolved into the idea that sacred objects should be treated appropriately and added to  the characterization of the "good guy" and the "bad guy."  My literary sensibilities cringe a little for similar reasons when the character Bear takes to calling Blanche "Snow White."

The novel has an interesting typographical feature, in which a white or shaded rose at the beginning of the paragraph designates whose consciousness is narrated in that section--that of Blanche or her sister Rose.  I discovered this device when a narrative ambiguity led me to question which sister's "voice" was represented in a passage.  It was in one of the "Blanche" sections, at the end of Ch. 4, that I detected a shift from the background material and discovered how evocative  a writer Dolman could be.  The passage describes a subway ride that is full of uncertainty because the character's trust in the mysterious "Bear" is not complete.  There is a tension between the reticence of one sister and the excitement of the other, and the shadows and reflections in the subway car enhance the tensions and doubt that colors the scene.  I was significantly impressed.

One of the novel's great strengths is characterization.  I was immediately drawn to the hesitant, doubting, outcast Blanche.  For me, she is like a Catholic version of MTV's Daria.  Her sister Rose, while likable, was not as accessible to me, though I am uncertain whether this is because of my own personality or narrative bias.  Bear, while vague, contradictory, and inaccessible, is immensely attractive, and Fish, while not really fleshed out, reminds me of Christian Slater's role as Robin Hood's brother in the Kevin Costner "Prince of Thieves" film--sarcastic and likable.  Doman evokes character depth without working too hard on the psychological portrait.  In so doing, she strikes a balance between a flat fairy tale character and the round characters we expect from contemporary novels.  The supporting characters are a bit less satisfying, falling too easily into types.  I was rather disappointed in the villain, as having a murderous atheist aesthete sketched with broadly homosexual overtones as the evil character in a Catholic novel was kind of facile--stacking the decks a bit.  And his association with post-Vatican II habit-less, possibly lesbian nuns was another moment in the early chapters that seemed a bit overdone.

The greatest surprise for me was the novel's treatment of chastity.  Beyond one more of those early exposition moments, which left me singing, "Come out Virginia, don't let me wait. You Catholic girls start much too late. . . .", I was impressed by the handling of the theme.  The most striking thing is that the novel assumes the moral standard.  It is not a matter for negotiation within the action of the novel.  The reader does not enter into a tormented discourse on the pressures of teen sexual urges.  Rather, you enter into the worldview of the characters, which holds chastity as an acknowledged good.  Though Blanche and Rose are not necessarily in line with their peers when it comes to their high regard for sexual morality and unwillingness to compromise, this fact does not cause the sisters any mental anguish--just the usual cruelty inflicted by teenagers on their classmates. In some circles this might be regarded as naive.  Decades ago Judy Blume set the standard by presupposing compromised morality as a natural feature of adolescent and pre-adolescent hormones and social scenes.  This novel is not so prescriptive.  The effect is not to deny that adolescents are confused about this topic.  But this is fiction, and as fiction, it takes as its prerogative the ability to select the worldview it represents.  So if the tormented adolescent enters a novel in which the characters are not confused about chastity, and uphold this value, perhaps s/he will emerge with a new consideration of why chastity might be a value to uphold.  On the other hand, if a self-assured adolescent enters the novel, s/he will not be subjected to the kind of moral relativism that generally accompanies portrayals of adolescent sexuality.


In reading The Shadow of the Bear, I asked myself if I would feel comfortable giving it to my 13-year-old son.  It is a challenge to find books written for a teen or pre-teen audience, especially for a child who reads above his/her grade/age level, that do not address overly-mature themes.  It is a challenge to find fiction for this same age range that assumes that boys will be an interested audience!  Speculating on reading habits of boys vs. girls, I believe that this execution of the fairy-tale novel, cast as it is within the school-story genre with a Nancy Drew twist, is more likely to interest female readers, in part because of the female protagonist(s).  Thinking about situations that arise in the book, there is one that I consider too mature for my 13-year-old, involving as it does an incredibly awkward, potentially exploitative situation at an after-prom party.  The situation was very realistic and believable, and tastefully executed, but it centers around a senior prom, an experienced teen boy, alcohol, and unchaperoned movie-watching.  I would not feel betrayed if he was given the book by a kindly librarian and read the scene, but as a parent, I'm not sure he's ready for an introduction to that kind of situation.  But I know my son, and this is not a general rule for every 13-year-old.  The odd thing is, I didn't have the same reservations about the casual "snogging" in Harry Potter, but there was never the suggestion in HP, as there was here, that the "snogging" might end in sex--consensual or non-consensual.


The Shadow of the Bear interested me, entertained me, and finally, impressed me, and I am eager to read more in the series to see how Doman has developed as a writer across multiple books, and how she has developed her characters.