“Self-trust is the essence of heroism.” Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman

Every time I come across a well-deployed flat character arc, I think about Superman.

Before I started writing this post, I fell into a multi-hour spiral trying to track the many times and places I’ve talked about this. Like the lyrics to a song you can’t quite remember, I have this vague but deep impression of having said these words before.

I’m not a person who is very given to nostalgia, but this little exercise in trying to track my own history with the Man of Steel has been surprisingly emotional. Perhaps some of that is writing this while sitting in Nicole’s new house, turning to her occasionally, and using her as my reference point.

“I’ve talked about this before,” I keep saying. “You definitely have.”

Perhaps the rest of that emotion is in finding some of those places—a post on my now defunct personal blog, a YouTube video from almost four years ago, a podcast episode from three. It’s a little patchwork of my content creation over the years and a testament to how formative media shapes us.

I fell in love with Superman watching TNT reruns of Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. I haven’t seen the show in ages, and perhaps I never will again, but there remain lines that thread back to little Marines in her childhood bedroom with all of the freedom of a latch-key kid after school that have woven themselves into the fabric of my story-loving psyche.

I am, and always will be, a lover of good characters. (The era of the morally gray has been a challenge for me.) I love characters who have a well-defined sense of morality and justice. I love a well-deployed flat arc.

I admittedly didn’t have that language back in that childhood bedroom, but a couple of decades of media later, particularly through the era of the MCU and the DCEU, through watching superheroes get origin story after origin story, I understand now that a narrative journey where the protagonist's core beliefs remain steadfast can be just as rewarding as a steeper or more pronounced arc.

As much as I have proved to myself now that, yes, I have thought about or talked about my love of a flat arc before, I haven’t really tracked when I come across those stories well done. I’d like to.

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“All I've ever tried to do is the right thing. If that's so very different from how things have been done before, then what's done before was wrong.” - To Shape a Dragon’s Breath, Moniquill Blackgoose

At the beating heart of Blackgoose’s To Shape a Dragon’s Breath is Aneques, a pure delight of a round character in a flat character arc.

No person or character has to meet racism and bigotry with grace, but watching Aneques unapologetically stand on business was genuinely cathartic. This is not a story that shies away from colonial violence, and Aneques struggles plenty with an imperialistic system, but not in a way that ever erodes her sense of self. Many of the people around her ascribe characteristics to her based on her race and culture, but she doesn’t allow these external perceptions to define her identity. Blackgoose has created a world that tries to break her in ways both overtly violent and insidiously subtle, and Aneques remains unyieldingly herself.

She isn’t one-dimensional, either. She’s kind but still sharp. She can be curt and headstrong while also being warm and nurturing.

She not only has a beautiful community around her, but Aneques also creates a beautiful community around her. This is not really a cozy story—there is too much bigotry to consider this cozy—but it feels cozy. The world is fresh in many ways, but the setting still feels familiar. We’re in school again, going to classes, with teachers and adults on a whole spectrum of actually caring about their students.

This is a story that doesn’t shy away from its themes, but it explores them in a way that feels hopeful with characters who are finding each other.

To Shape a Dragon’s Breath is told deftly, with the kind of ease that helps it all go down smoothly, even when you are being propelled by the power of the characters rather than the plot. It is the kind of storytelling that made me want to lean in closer, not because there was a mystery or a twist or a cliffhanger coming, but because there was a character I wanted to keep spending time with.

This isn’t to say that Blackgoose forgets her world or lore. She skillfully weaves real-world touchstones into the fantastical. The idea of dragons being able to break things down, and the awful and useful power of that, was a smart background for Aneques’s mission and an excellent foil for the cutest baby dragon.

This is the first in a series I’m incredibly curious to follow. I don’t know how static Aneques will remain as she faces new challenges, but showing us her this way was perfect.

At least, perfect for me.

I love when stories let a character answer the question not of who they are, but what kind of hero they will be.

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Did you love this book?

I’d recommend:

Firekeeper’s Daughter by Angeline Boulley: Like Blackgoose's novel, Firekeeper's Daughter explores themes of identity, resilience, and the power of community in the face of adversity. It’s rich in its portrayal of Ojibwe culture and community, and I’d say Daunis has a flat arc.

Nettle & Bone by T. Kingfisher: This captures the same balance of high stakes, dark world, and cozy characters that I found in To Shape a Dragon's Breath. We’ve got a main character on a focused mission and building a community around them as they go.

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