TBeloved

• MLP: FiM
• Romance
• Drama

On the day before starting her apprenticeship in Ponyville, Sugar Belle is confronted by a mare from her past.

• Other
• Sugar Belle

Bicyclette · 2.4k words  ·  51  9 · 1.3k views

Description

On the day before starting her apprenticeship in Ponyville, Sugar Belle is confronted by a mare from her past.

Initial Thoughts

If I recall correctly, this is one of four stories that Bicyclette released all on the same day, many of which seemed to center around themes of love, lost-love, and personal, conflicting dramas. That tells me a bit of what to expect, though far from anything specific. 

The mare from Sugar Belle’s past, I presume, is the mare in the cover art, whose name I unfortunately cannot recall. Doubtless that, or a personal headcanon variant, will be revealed in the story. 

I must also note the information below the description about the story’s first draft being a response to a speedwrite. I anticipate that this version is the second draft, so hopefully whatever constraints were set upon the first, were rectified and done away with in the second.

Onto the story, and as always, spoilers ahead. 

Summary

One day, Rosemary, a mare from Sugar Belle’s past (presumably from back when she lived in Starlight’s Village), enters her shop. The two have a tense conversation about their relationship, Sugar Belle’s current relationship, and the worries they have for the future. No one leaves happy.

Plot

Fundamentally, this is a story about a conversation. But according to certain lines in the story, it’s the same, tired-old conversation Sugar Belle’s been having for quite some time. It’s the job of the story to reveal those familiar contents with as much detail as is possible while still acknowledging that it’s a close rehash of what’s already been said. This, I believe, the story manages to do fairly well.

The heart of this conversation between Sugar Belle and Rosemary really is about Sugar Belle’s previous and present relationship. It is also a bit of a deconstruction of the Big Mac x Sugar Belle dynamic, which was not something I had expected. Bicyclette makes sure to pull no punches in this latter regard—hyperlinks to various Big Mac antics, both pre-dating and post-dating Sugar Belle, detail how much of a deconstruction that particular relationship will get. And, perhaps to no surprise, it’s Rosemary who ends up as the speaker for that argument.

In essence, Rosemary hopes to pit, for lack of a better term, Sugar Belle’s dating life today, against the dating life she had way back when—presumably when the two were a couple. It’s an interesting dilemma, presented on several levels. The first is perhaps to be expected: a queer relationship ends, and a “straight” relationship begins; how is the first partner to respond? Was what they had any less valid than what is seen now? If a woman dates a woman, then, after breaking up, dates a man, what does that mean to the first partner, the other woman?

Taken through the lens of queer theory (if we want to use such a stringent term), this particular portion of the argument appears as a somewhat subtle but also fascinating discursion about the complexity of relationships. 

Now, I must speak honestly: I identify as bisexual. This makes the identify politics of queer presence in fiction have some extra weight. And, the question of “validity,” which has often been posed against bisexuals in the past and in the present (are you really bi if you date a member of the opposite sex? That’s a common “concern”) is something I have to contend with on the regular. To what degree does a “category” of relationship dictate how “queer” you are, or how “non-queer?” 

Seeing it essentially flipped on its head here was a very enthralling experience. Of course there is no easy answer, and I rather like it, if I am to be totally honest, when fiction presents that question but provides no answer, either— for, there are no easy answers when it comes to personal identity. This part of the conflict, which questions whose sexuality was more “real,” and perhaps at what “time,” too, captivated me, and I appreciated the fact that Bicyclette did not totally weigh in and say, “Sugar Belle is the valid one,” or that “Rosemary is the valid on.” Both are valid, and complicated by that same notion. 

Yet, though that part of the argument, which is, in essence, the entire plot of the story, came across the strongest, the other part leaves me feeling ambivalent. That is the second level of the argument that I must speak to: this interrogation of the “straight” relationship, not because it’s straight, but because of other signs and behaviors, as observed by a third party. 

On that note, it’s harder to determine where exactly the author may lie. While the comments do show a proclivity towards disliking the Big Max x Sugar Belle relationship, and while Rosemary does emerge as the direct “speaker” for that argument, there are instances where the story itself seems unsure as to whether that “side” is correct. Much of Rosemary’s inability to understand comes not from a queer perspective, but from Sugar Belle recognizing that there’s a certain ethos that this relationship she has with Big Mac evokes, which the previous one she had with Rosemary did not. Even as Sugar Belle acknowledges within the text the warning signs that Rosemary says exist, she also presents arguments as to why those warning signs may not be warning signs at all. I would not call it an outright dismissal of Rosemary’s argument; rather, I would call it a secondary consideration. 

It’s hard to tell who makes that secondary consideration—if it’s members who would support this ship, or something that the author has wrestled with previously and would still like to put out in the open, despite personal belief. 

Is this blindness, or at least, this tendency towards ambivalence, indicative of an unfocused plot? On one hand, yes, perhaps it is. For, as neither side “wins,” no actual “resolution” to the plot actually occurs. Once all the shouting is done, one is left feeling tired and perhaps a bit annoyed that one cannot side fully with either. 

(I’ll speak more as to why this happens in the Characterization second, as I believe this “spectator stance” is a direct result of how Bicyclette has written these two characters.) 

On the other hand, I am reminded of Chandler and Chekhov, two of the greatest drama realists of their times, who spoke to the necessity of minimally presenting the facts of a scenario, and refusing to “take a side.” If this story is meant to be read only as a brief excursion into a complicated issue, and if its meant to provide readers with a bare minimum of “argument” in order to demonstrate the “facts” of the matter, then that ambivalence is perhaps warranted. I am further reminded of Borges’ writings, especially those that blended essay with short story, and those that were fuelled by a meta-textual argument he might have been making around the same time. For how wondrous his writing was, few “made a point.” The majority simply presented what they saw, and let everything else be up for interpretation. 

In the end, we must examine this as a drama and as a romance. And we might address it as a deconstruction of both genres. Though it really is just a conversation, I believe that Bicyclette manages to illuminate both perspectives and more through it. There is a certain rough beauty to the ugliness of uncertainty, and though it’s not something I myself would fully accept, as presented here, it is quite profound. 

Score - 8 / 10

Characterization

There are, perhaps, no likeable characters in this story. 

Rosemary comes across as manipulative from the very beginning, and while there are moments of “softness” here and there, she doesn’t strike me as being “emotionally healthy” for Sugar Belle. Furthermore, based on several implications throughout the text, I can assume that her relationship with Sugar Belle also wasn’t the healthiest. In a way, she emerges as our presumed antagonist, whom we would want Sugar Belle to overcome.

Yet, Sugar Belle herself isn’t safe from criticism. Though she’s our protagonist, as more details about her relationship with Big Mac get revealed, it becomes harder and harder to sympathize with her. Is it true love or ignorance that keeps her going? Are we meant to root for her defense of her relationship with Big Mac, knowing what Rosemary reveals to us over and over again? 

(Furthermore, we are led to believe that these “reveals” are nothing new; that Rosemary has made the same points in previous discussions. Is her insistence on making them the sign of a good friend or partner, or is it a sign of gaslighting and emotional manipulation? What are we to make of Sugar Belle’s tacit response?) 

(And further, furthermore… Big Mac doesn’t really get a chance to defend himself here. While we are given reason to doubt his commitment, we must acknowledge that this is told from limited perspectives—those already no doubt clouded with bias. As much as it is important in analysis and argument to detail the interpretation of facts and how they lead to a conclusion, in this metaphorical “trial,” we seem to have forgotten the importance of hearing the other, final side.) 

We often think of protagonists and antagonists as things on opposite sides of a “likeability” scale, but in a lot of writing, that isn’t always the case. However, it is useful, because adding a degree of “endearment” to a character makes their ability to inhabit the writing easier. It also makes making their stakes seem meaningful easier.

This lack of a “likeability” makes achieving a connection to this text harder. Especially when, part of its overall argument, is dependent on previous connections and deconstructing them. Case in point: the deconstruction of Sugar Belle’s relationship with Big Mac relies heavily on the presumption that the reader, like Sugar Belle, is apparently unaware (according to Rosemary, anyway) of all the warning signs. However, we aren’t given much of a reason to “refute” this argument on the part of Sugar Belle, because it’s made readily apparent that she is apparently unaware. And without some kind of contrasting behavior or action that would have either justified or demonstrated this awareness—making those stakes “real”—it’s hard to like her and support her, when, in part, it feels like the story wants us to try to. 

At the risk of fallacious reasoning, I’d say that this might be intentional. The grittiness of this moment lies not in edgy dialogue or over-the-top dramatics; it lies in the barefaced realism of what it presents. In most of life, there are no likeable protagonists to speak of, for everyone shifts gears and changes ways and all that. Most things are grey. Most things are hard to support as a blind outsider thrown into the thick of drama, because most things are beyond our full understanding. Consider the “thesis” of a Borges short story, “The Ethnographer”: it is hard, if not impossible, to adequately explain and understand the lives of other people.” 

Similarly, it is hard, if not impossible, to adequately explain and understand the lives of Sugar Belle, Big Mac, and Rosemary. It is hard, if not impossible, to do the same for their relationship, and for evaluating whose is the best one for any of them. 

But even that justification feels wanting. For it suggests a certain “distance” from the characters that seems to cut against the author’s grain, and the story’s frame, too. Can such an intimate story, or a story about such deep, concerning intimacies, survive, if it is written with such cold distance from its subject? Can I “co-inhabit” this story with the characters as they are? 

In essence, I do not know if enough has been done to make these characters feel fleshed out. Hints of complexity are found where there are buckets of it found in the plot, but to say that these characters reach that critical “personality” which the story seems to want for itself is a bit inaccurate, in my view. There is strength, I suppose, in this simplicity made complex; yet I am left desiring more. 

Score - 6.5 / 10

Syntax

There weren’t any errors to speak of. Though I do want to make a small point; this was probably the most constrained story, in terms of syntax, that I’ve read of Bicyclette’s. In contrast to some of the more poetic sounding stories, this was a phenomenal change of pace. While I myself prefer something much more languid and exotic, the simplicity of the sentences found here seems especially appropriate given much of its content. 

Score - 10 / 10

Final Score - ( 8 + 6.5 + 10 ) / 3 = 8.17 / 10

Final Thoughts

Bicyclette once again skirts the line between what is moral and what is manipulative, leaving me feeling uncomfortable… but in a good way. Much like how there is something “literary significant” about stories that seek to disturb us, so too does this story’s significance stem from that which is meant to make us feel gross, psychologically speaking. 

Yet some gaps were found, primarily in characterization. I also must wonder if the story relied too much on “argument” as opposed to narrative, and if certain characters toed the line a bit too thinly between personality and soapbox. 

This is, I would say, not a feel-good-narrative. And I must also admit that some of the points made during the argument were… contentious. However, that does not mean it is not a solid, complicated, and thought-provoking story. It asks the reader to question things, to think a little differently. Some discomfort, I suppose is to be expected.

<For archive purposes: 8.17/10>