The Outlaws of Sherwood Book

Full disclosure: I like this book a lot, and I think its best points more than outweigh its flaws.

To those disappointed by Robin Hood's sidelining, I want to point out that McKinley's title--The Outlaws of Sherwood--should warn you what she's up to. Robin Hood himself is not her main focus, though he is the key and the center of the plot, and the nucleus of all the relationships of the outlaw band. Traditional interpretations of heroism and heroes don't interest her, and mythic grandeur only when contrasted with reality: otherwise, why bother to reimagine folk or fairy tales at all; they're grand enough in original form? Myth-making, in McKinley's view, is a vital part of human nature. Fleshing out myth with realistic characterization is what makes her stories vibrant and relatable, and all it takes is about the second page or so ("[Robin:] did not hate the fact that he was a second-rate archer…") for Robin Hood to snap from godlike Mary Sue to complex, layered, interesting person.

She's explored this tension before and will again--the idealization of storybook heroes contrasted with what would be the gritty reality of practical deed-doing. The Hero and the Crown showed us dragon-killing as grim, thankless vermin disposal, a clear inversion of the most typically heroic deed in Western myth; in The Blue Sword, Harry is consciously molded into a hero as a symbol she feels she can't live up to. All of McKinley's heroes are reluctant, uncertain, forced to step up to the plate by circumstance and character rather than high-minded inclination--they perform heroic deeds because there is no other option, not because they're bold, noble, pure, or powerful. Like Ursula LeGuin's Sparrowhawk, they spend their lives learning to decide to do what they must do.

She's never before been so explicit about what she's doing, either. There's practically not a character in the book who doesn't overtly refer to the act of myth creation and its contrast with the facts of their narrative. Friar Tuck tells us "tales are as much the necessary fabric of our lives as our bodies are." Marian consciously constructs a legend of superhuman archer Robin Hood; the common folk of Nottingham have their own tales and stories of a fairy 'Old One' Robin Hood, savior of the Saxons; the outlaws themselves add some gloss to their versions when drinking with town girlfriends; and robbed nobles exaggerate the shocking deeds of the outlaws, or are implied to be doing so. Finally, in the afterword, if you somehow missed it, she lays it out in her own voice and tells us how and why she manipulated the Robin Hood legend the way she did. This is a story about stories, a story about the impact of stories. The next time you read it, dig for quotes about stories, tales, myths, and you'll find them everywhere.

McKinley's skill lies in burying this theme in a great story that stays interesting, in part because the third-person narrative POV jumps around and you don't spend too much time in any one character's head. Plot and character-wise, she fleshes out most generally agreed-upon elements of the Robin Hood myth--longbow archery, Sherwood Forest, robbing the rich to give to the poor, the quarterstaff meeting with Little John, the ragtag fugitives' motley characters (seriously, didn't we all wonder what a minstrel was doing in a forest?)--all are given plausibility, grounding, wit, motivation, and real character. I suspect that a lot of us double-X-chromosome folks are drawn to this book because she added some women to the traditional Robin Hood sausagefest, and realistic women at that. It's difficult to tell how anachronistic they might be, since there aren't a lot of records of women's inner monologues in the 12th century, but at least they aren't glaringly modern (Anne Perry, your Charlotte Pitt is a huge offender.)