Shadowhunters and Downworlders: A Mortal Instruments Reader(40)

The scene in City of Glass where Alec finally encounters Magnus again is very popular with fans. Magnus is ably fighting off Iblis demons but is imperiled. While Magnus is occupied with the demons that are within his line of sight, Alec kills the demon that’s about to attack him from behind.

“Did you just—did you just save my life?” Magnus asks.

Alec’s response is decidedly irrelevant to their immediate circumstances: “You never called me back. I called you so many times and you never called me back.”

It’s a wonderfully vulnerable moment, one that fits with Alec’s age and inexperience with relationships. But he’s not the only one who’s vulnerable. Magnus tells him, after calling him an idiot: “I’m tired of you only wanting me around when you need something. I’m tired of watching you be in love with someone else—someone, incidentally, who will never love you back. Not the way I do.”

Even with his eight centuries of experience, Magnus can’t see what’s obvious to Jace: Alec is in love with him—Magnus, not Jace.

Now that they’ve both revealed themselves, the reader might anticipate that it’s time for at least a kiss. But no, instead there are more demons—damn those supernatural threats and their interference with an epic romance! Alec does, however, make a vow: “We live through this, and I promise I’ll introduce you to my entire family.”

Google “Alec Magnus ‘You never called’” and you get over 80,000 results. As I said: It’s a popular scene. I suspect one reason why is because of the way it connects with queer readers’ own relationship experiences. Queer readers’ relationship struggles might include fewer instances of demon fighting, at least in the literal sense. But the idea of having to get through a tough situation before making a public declaration of a queer relationship is, unfortunately, one that still resonates.

(N.B.: Alec’s raw vulnerability in that scene is also present earlier in his and Magnus’ relationship. But if you’ve only encountered them within the pages of the Mortal Instruments, you’d have no way of knowing. There’s a scene that includes their first kiss, but Clare didn’t write it for the books. It exists solely as bonus content on her website, written as a reward for fans when she reached 30,000 Twitter followers. And it’s definitely rewarding: fanservice in the best sense of the word. Alec asks Magnus if he likes him likes him. Magnus responds, “Are we twelve now?” Somewhat later, there is kissing. If you’re a fan and you haven’t read the scene, go read it—Google “Kissed: Magnus and Alec’s First Kiss”—and come back. I’ll wait.)





Malec Is My OTP: Fan Engagement


Google further mentions of the couple—use “Alec + Magnus” or simply the affectionate fan designation “Malec”—and you’ll see tens of thousands of results. Ditto for “Malec OTP.” OTP, a term of art from fandom, stands for “one true pairing,” meaning that Magnus and Alec are many fans’ favorite couple from the series. Start browsing those results, and you’ll see readers responding in multiple ways to Alec and Magnus: highlighting significant quotes suitable for framing and/or using as a desktop background, creating fanfiction, fan art, fan videos and songs, and cosplaying.

Of course, you don’t have to be a marginalized reader to be a fan of Alec and Magnus or to engage in fannish activities related to their characters and relationship. Maybe you simply like relationships where one partner is more experienced or where the couple has very different senses of style and hijinx ensue, or you enjoy the way the couple teams up for maximally efficient demon dispatching.

But if you are queer, the fact that Alec and Magnus are part of a fictional universe as popular as Cassandra Clare’s—where, based on those depressing statistics about how few YA books have been published in the last decade with LGBT characters, you might not have expected to find any queer characters—is a significant one. Their presence alone, in a series that has been translated into multiple languages, may make you especially inspired to create your own responses to them. And communities form around these acts of creation and interpretation. Become part of one, and maybe that person who posts great photos under the effyeahmalec username will become a new friend, boyfriend, girlfriend, or other significant person in your life.

But wanting new friends and/or action isn’t the only reason to involve yourself with characters from a fictional universe. You can also use the details the author provides about the characters as a jumping-off point to learn more about—well, in Clare’s books, any number of things, from anime, to Muay Thai, to Northern Renaissance painting, to the poetry of Ted Hughes and William Butler Yeats. And when an author gives you characters with whom you identify, then removes them from the narrative for long stretches, their very absence can be, paradoxically, a way for you to connect with them even more closely.

I keep saying “you,” but here’s where I come clean, or out, as the case may be: I identify as queer, so I’m one of those marginalized readers I’ve been talking about. And when I read the Mortal Instruments series, it struck me that significant portions of Magnus and Alec’s relationship take place off the page. Which makes sense—after all, Magnus and Alec are part of an ensemble cast, with world-saving responsibilities that often preclude sexytimes. But I kept thinking about how little of their relationship the reader actually sees and how that, surprisingly, didn’t annoy me but instead made me wonder a lot about what was going on while they were offstage. (Not like that.Well, maybe a little like that.)