Lauren E. Hemphill

May 11, 2018

The Importance of Platonic Love in a Society of Romantics:

An Analysis of Stormdancer by Jay Kristoff

The definition of love states the emotion as “a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person” as according to Dictionary.com. A secondary definition indicates that it is “a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.” It is when the third definition is reached, one proclaiming that love is “sexual passion or desire” that there is trouble to be had.

All throughout culture, love permeates every facet of media. It is displayed prominently during the month of February, with advertisements announcing the season of love and insisting on gifts being purchased for romantic partners. It is seen in movies, where romantic interests are put on screen to be pursued in tandem with an action-packed plot—or even the dedication of an entire genre to romance-finding storylines. It seeps into the way people see each other, as those without a relationship are single, living a sad life of want for something they do not have. This is evident by the cliché of single people eating alone, or buying themselves chocolate while they watch romantic comedies during the evening of Valentine’s Day. It seeps into how people see their own relationships, as mentioned in Eileen Zurbriggen’s study on relationships, objectification, and relationships satisfaction. In it, it is found that the more these people watched and consumed, and the more they objectified themselves and their partners, the less satisfied they were in their sexual and romantic relations with their partners. These notions of an ideal romance and an ideal partner are already making the relationships people are in toxic due to the negative effects found by Zurbriggen. These ideas are controlling of the society around most American peoples, despite the fact that this sort of desire is the third definition on a list. Of course, it is only third if it is assumed that sexual love is paired with romantic love, but if this is not the assumption, then romantic love does not even make it onto the list of definitions provided.

It is curious, then, as to why platonic love seems to be shown less—or worse, shown as already established in media while a romantic interest is new. What is perplexing is how important these relationships are to an individual’s mental health, as studied by Duncan Cramer in an essay titled “Psychological Health and Change in Closeness in Platonic and Romantic Relationships.” Cramer notes that when platonic relationships are decreasing in strength, males are most likely to feel negatively. These relationships take a clear toll on a person’s mind and mental fortitude, yet as CJ Chasin notes in an essay on asexuality, asexuals face a struggle with “people undervaluing their friendships…” While Chasin is specifically mentioning a group that would benefit from a broader range of non-romantic novels, this idea can be spread to many other people such as the males in Cramer’s study. The reality is that friendships are seen as less important to the world. And if the media does not deem platonic relationships worth pursuing, but romantic relationships are, how, then, does that reflect on how culture and society view each of these connections? If romantic love is the ideal form of attachment while platonic love, so often experienced and necessary for growth and support, is pushed to the sidelines, then what broader statement is being made about platonic relations as a whole? It is these questions within my mind that drew me to the novels Stormdancer by Jay Kristoff and Undertow by Michael Buckley. These two Young Adult novels both deal with platonic and romantic relationships, but each with a different central focus. These novels paint the picture of romance and friendship in different ways, with Stormdancer emphasizing the importance of a platonic one at its core between Yukiko and Buruu, while Undertow revolves around the growing romantic relationship between Lyric and Fathom. These two novels are the ones I wish to analyze for their portrayal of each kind of relationship, picked based off of personal enjoyment, writing strength, and writing style. I seek to discover the differences in how Undertow presents its couple, as opposed to how Stormdancer presents its, along with finding the similarities and discovering the strengths in each. The ultimate goal is to find what makes the relationship in Stormdancer powerful and impactful, and how this representation of platonic love can be extended to other areas of media. After analysis, the findings will be integrated into a creative piece demonstrating the key points of a strong platonic relationship.

In interest of clarity, both romantic and platonic relationships will be defined as clearly as possible (with acknowledgments made towards the difficulty of broadly defining feelings, but for the purposes of this essay, a line must be drawn). Platonic will hereby be referenced as a close relationship with another person or being (respects being made to the fact that Buruu, of the primary text Stormdancer, is not in fact human, but instead a mythological being), one that can be akin to the love for a family member or close friend. These platonic relationships are not desiring of a sexual or romantic nature, meaning interests in mating is nonexistent, and desires for usually romantic acts such as kissing or marriage (again, with acknowledgments made to the queerplatonic community—for the interests of drawing a hard line in the sand, I must state this within the essay as primarily romantic acts) are not involved within these platonic relationships.

Romantic relationships will hereby be defined as relationships that desire a physical closeness in manners of kissing and marriage, such as seen between Lyric and Fathom within the secondary text Undertow. These romantic relationships are sometimes, but not always, accompanied by sexual desire and feelings, which can lead to the want of physical closeness in forms of sex. These differ from platonic relationships in the manner of what is desired from the relationship. Ultimately, these sorts of attraction can only be categorized by those experiencing it, but within media, there are certain tell-tale signs as to what relationship is being portrayed. For example, in Stormdancer, on page 200, Buruu declares himself Yukiko’s brother. “I AM YOUR BROTHER NOW,” he says, comforting Yukiko as she ponders the loss of her human sibling. From then on, the two frequently call each other brother and sister, cementing their relationships as a kinship, one that a family member would feel for another. They are connected, but neither of them desire each other for anything other than companionship. Undertow, on the other hand, demonstrates a different sort of attraction. On page 194, after Lyric finds herself wondering what she truly feels for Fathom, even going so far as to have her inner voice say, on page 190, that “You are feeling that boy in every cell,” continues on to mention a sort of pull towards Fathom. As they hide in a closet from a shooter in their school, Lyric says this on page 193: “His body is boiling hot, a furnace. I can almost hear him crackle and pop. Or is that me? Because something is going on here, something that feels like a craving.”

This is different, of course, from the relationship that Yukiko feels with Buruu. The two are connected, deeply so that when they fight together against ancient creatures bent on killing them, they feel as if they are one being, not separate. But this oneness is based on a love that is not romantic, nor is it sexual. It is if they are siblings, brought together and bonded in a way no one else can quite understand. Yet, it seems, their platonic love is often seen as “just friendship” or lesser than a romantic one such as the one presented in Undertow. Media and society inflate romantic love to the point where all others are seemingly less important, such as the ever-present idea of a “friend-zone.” This zone construction therefore degrades the idea of friendship in general, suggesting it is somehow below that of a romantic one, and suggesting friendship is less desirable. Though romantic relationship may be what a certain individual desires, the relationship of a friend is not something that should lessened or put down because it is not what someone wants.

The lack of proper media portrayal of the importance of friendship and platonic relationships may be the cause of this uncomfortable comparison of attraction and connections between people. As is seen in most media—but let us narrow our view down to specifically literature—friendships are often established before the story even begins. Such is evident in Undertow, where in Chapter Two, Lyric’s best friend Bex arrives on the scene and wakes Lyric up for school. The friendship is already obtained, already a fact of Lyric’s life. We as readers do not see how this friendship was formed, nor do we see the struggles of securing it. A platonic relationship is not pursued. It is not worth chasing after. It is the romantic relationship with Fathom that shows up later on in the novel that is emphasized and actively sought out. As readers, we see their relationship from the beginning to the end (with, once again, another acknowledgment made to the fact this is book one in a series, and therefore their ending is not yet finished by the last page). We see Lyric pursue Fathom, and Fathom seek out Lyric, and the two grow ever closer the more they connect. It is in this, that Undertow seems to suggest, just like all other novels of its kind, that romantic relationships are the ones that are pursued. Platonic relationships are already there. Their origins matter little, and the fight for one is nonexistent.

A harm is done in suggesting this. If platonic relationships are not to be fought over, and are instead simply side-lined when compared to romantic interests, then what is this portraying to those consuming these books? It is possible to suggest that this oversaturation of the pursuit of romantic relationships has caused society to feel as if platonic relationships are less important, as there should not be a hunt for them. They should exist already and act as simply a side-plot for the main arc of a person’s life. It is the romantic relationship they should be striving after, and these are the relationships that are important enough to be seen time and time again to have a beginning, middle, and end. Not so for platonic relationships. Except for in Stormdancer, which reverses the roles of these relationships and places the platonic feelings of Yukiko and Buruu on the forefront, and the romantic one is pushed off to the side until it ends, abruptly and suddenly, at the hands of Yukiko.

Stormdancer, in many ways, changes the narrative of society. Where so much emphasis is put on who will end up with who—with shows such as The Bachelor and The Bachelorette, along with an entire genre of media being titled “Romance” while no such genre exists for “Platonic”—Stormdancer suggests that platonic relationships are the ones that ultimately win out. These are the ones that last to the end of the novel, with the love between Yukiko and her father, along with that of Yukiko and Buruu being shown frequently. While the subject of this essay will refer to primarily the bond between Yukiko and Buruu, it is important to recognize that platonic relationships can extend to family members and other relations of the sort. Stormdancer does not shy away from this, highlighting the importance of these connections through Yukiko’s past relationship with her now-deceased brother, the relationship of her and her father, and the connection she shares with Buruu. It hints at another potentially platonic relationship in Kin and Yukiko’s association, though it is clear that Kin wishes for something romantic while Yukiko is not as interested in this. She, it seems, is much more focused on her bond with Buruu, so much so, that when presented with the option of being with a boy whom she has just had physical relations with, and Buruu being hurt, she chooses to end this boy’s life for the sake of her friend. And instead of reprimanding her over the choice to continue associating with this boy, Buruu meets her with understanding: “She felt Buruu at the back of her mind, no judgement or rebuke. He’d tried to warn her, told her Hiro was just another part of the control machine. She wished she’d listened” (Stormdancer, 281). Hiro, the boy she is interested in romantically and sexually, stands ready to expose Yukiko’s plan with Buruu to escape. He stands as an obstacle in Yukiko’s way without him realizing, and Yukiko cannot risk having her and Buruu discovered. So she decides to quietly stop seeing him.

This is not the only point in the novel where there is more strength in platonic relationships than romantic. All throughout the story, character growth within the bond is shown and placed in the forefront of the entire book. Yukiko sacrifices her potential date-mate, while Buruu sacrifices his ability to fly. Neither of them are without hardship, and neither of them wish to see the other harmed. They fight for one another, in the same manner most romantic novels show the partners fighting for each other. This is primarily seen in several moments throughout the book. First, when the two originally meet. Yukiko is awed by the existence of Buruu, who is a creature known as the arashitora. These creatures, akin in appearance to griffins, have been thought to be extinct for ages, and it is Yukiko and her father that are sent by the tyrant emperor to find one and return with it alive. Buruu appears in the sky and attacks their airship, intending to bring it down for defiling his skies. It is here that Yukiko sees him for the first time, and is struck by how gorgeous Buruu is. “‘Do you see it?’ she breathed. ‘Gods above, it’s beautiful’” (Stormdancer, 82). She even goes so far as to be sorrowful when she sees Buruu trapped, and more so when Buruu’s wings are clipped, keeping him from flying. She can do nothing to stop her father from maiming the creature, and is forced to watch the beautiful arashitora have the skies be stolen from his grasp.

Buruu, on the other hand, blames Yukiko and all the others on the ship for his maiming. He insists he will kill them all, insists he will be the source of their death. When Yukiko frees Buruu when their airship is going down, she clings to him for life as they plummet to the ground. But Buruu still sees her as a tormentor, and tries to shake her off. Yukiko tries to argue for her life, saying: “I just saved your life!” only for Buruu to reply with: “WOULD NOT NEED SAVING IF NOT FOR YOU. GET OFF ME NOW” (Stormdancer, 98). To say their relationship began on shaky ground would be an understatement. This idea of Buruu being unwilling to let people ride upon him, or fly with him, returns when they two of them come across Kin, a friend and potential ally, dying in the forest after the crash. As Kin wears a suit that protects him from the entirety of the outside world, he is much too heavy for Yukiko to carry. She begs for Buruu to help her, but Buruu reiterates his stance on the idea: “NO MAN RIDES ME” (Stormdancer, 138). Yet as their relationship continues, Buruu warms up to Yukiko. He considers her, as mentioned earlier, a sister at one point in the novel. And it is on two pages later, in which Buruu and Yukiko talk about the sky.

“At least nobody can hear you in all this. [Yukiko said.]

            A MIGHTY STORM.

He turned his eyes to the clouds, wings twitching at the sound of thunder.

Do you miss it? Being up there?

            …MORE THAN ANYTHING.

(…) I’m sorry, Buruu.

            His growl ended almost before it had begun.

NOT YOUR HAND. NOT YOUR FAULT” (Stormdancer, 140).

It is here that we see their connection truly solidifying. Buruu no longer sees Yukiko as responsible for taking his feathers, and therefore taking his ability to be in the sky alongside the storms he loves. And it is later, in which Buruu asks Yukiko to climb upon his back into battle, that the two are forever connected.

These moments of trust are clearly portrayed within the narrative, and it is hard not to recognize the growth specifically Buruu has undergone. His distrust of the humans who, according to him, have defiled the land, hunted him down, and clipped his wings does not fully fade, but to Yukiko, he begins to feel those walls go down. He goes so far as to offer security upon his back as they battle together, and recognizes that his hatred for her was originally unfounded. This theme of growth within a relationship is often spoken about when two people enter a romantic relationship, saying that their partner has helped them grow. But in Stormdancer, it is based solely on the platonic. Within these moments, Kristoff uses his strength in the craft to portray a strong and healthy platonic relationship in ways that is only often seen in romantic lenses. Within Stormdancer, emphasis is placed on what is important to each character throughout the entire narrative. For Yukiko, it is her family, and her love for those that are dear to her. The mad emperor has taken everything from her—her mother, and her unborn sibling. Her father to an extent, too, as her father is forced to work for the emperor as the emperor threatened to kill Yukiko if her father refused. Yukiko herself is in constant threat of death, possessing a power that is seen as unholy. She could be killed should her gift be discovered, and must live constantly at war with herself, denying part of who she is. Yet she loves her gift, loves her father, and wishes for the two of them to be free from the emperor’s clutches.

For Buruu, it is his ability to fly and his pride as a great arashitora. He believes himself to be above humans, and thinks of himself as the child of thunder and lightning and the storms above. His wings are his greatest treasure, and his ability to soar in the skies above fills him with great freedom and joy. These character traits are positioned in the narrative early on, allowing for the reader to become familiar with each person and each person’s personal loves in life. The reader gets to know each character on their own, and is then able to see how important it is when Buruu and Yukiko give up parts of themselves for the other. For Yukiko, it is the potential life with Hiro, the boy she has a crush on. On page 280, he confronts her about sneaking out past him and his guards, and using sex as a distraction. She goes to visit Buruu, and speak with him about their plant to escape, even when she had been directly ordered not to do this. Hiro discovers her, and, as mentioned before, Yukiko realizes that she cannot have Hiro tell the emperor about this. She cannot have Hiro watching for her or searching for her, for fear of her plans to escape being found out. And so she decides to leave him behind, sacrificing her chance at romantic love so she can be with Buruu, and remain focused on what is most important to her. As it says on page 281, “She kissed him like it was the last time. Somewhere deep inside, she knew it would be” (Stormdancer). It is later in the novel that the narrative takes a curious turn. Where the trope of the jealous best friend generally pervades most novels and has the platonic friend betray the main character in some way during the course of the story (which is a cliché that usually taints Young Adult genres), Stormdancer flips this on its head. Hiro betrays Yukiko and Buruu to the emperor, exposing their plan to escape and causing them to be ambushed. It is the romantic interest, the one who believed himself to be in love with Yukiko, that is the betrayer, while Kin, a boy who was interested in Yukiko romantically but was instead in a platonic relationship with her, stayed loyal to her through the end. In choosing this as part of the narrative, Kristoff paints a picture as to what was more important to Yukiko: her freedom alongside Buruu. She holds her platonic relationship higher than a potential romantic one. This is an unheard of in most literature. Seldom is the platonic relationship set on such a high pedestal when there is a potential for a romantic pursuit. Kristoff then emphasizes the importance of these bonds by doing this, and instead of falling to the usual tactic of having the friendship be established immediately by the time the book begins, he shows the growing relationship between the two characters.

This tactic in and of itself is important to note. Allowing the reader to understand how different the two characters are, and what they are and are not willing to give up, keeps them curious as to how the characters’ dynamic will play out. In the beginning, Buruu is hostile to Yukiko, only helping her as a begrudging thanks for freeing him from his cage on the crashing ship. And Yukiko only remains with him because her survival depends on his keen senses, and she wishes to find where her father is—and if he is alive. As their time together wanes on, we are able to see the budding friendship between the two in small instances, such as when Buruu grows jealous of Yukiko talking to Kin instead of him:

“I DO NOT LIKE HIM.

Yukiko smiled to herself.

Are you jealous?

HE TALKS TOO MUCH. SCREECHING HURTS MY EARS. HIS VOICE SOUNDS LIKE RUTTING MONKEYS. AND HE IS THIN. PASTY.

You are jealous!” (Stormdancer, 132)

It is in moments like these that the realness of their relationship shines through. The banter is lighthearted, almost casual in nature. Yukiko responds with little more than six words while Buruu rants on about Kin. Specifically, the humor brought through into the conversation by Yukiko’s smile and the emphasized word “are” when she insists that Buruu is indeed jealous brings life to their friendship and shows a growing and strengthening bond between the two that was not there before.

Human beings often feel jealous for not being the focus of someone’s full affection or attention, and it is frequently related to that of a romantic relationship. ‘The Jealous Ex’ is a title that is frequently heard in culture, a desire for attention grown to the extreme. It is usually seen in a poor light, but here, in Stormdancer, it is shown to be more endearing than undesirable. Buruu has become fond of Yukiko, despite him vehemently denying it, and this is evident in their interaction on page 132.

Yet perhaps the most telling about their trust in each other is how frequently Buruu begins to speak about the two of them taking to the skies and flying away from the place the emperor rules. Buruu reiterates this several times after allowing Yukiko to climb onto his back and fight with him, and, juxtaposed with how strongly he once hated the idea of a human riding him, it is clear to see how much Yukiko means to him. As he says on page 206, “WHEN IT IS DONE, WE WILL FLY FAR FROM HERE. FAR FROM THIS SCAB AND ITS POISONED SKY. WE WILL DANCE IN THE STORMS, YOU AND I.” Buruu loves Yukiko. And that is why when he gives it all up so she could live, it is incredibly impactful.

“The future stretched out before him, days without end, life in a rusty cage beneath this choking sky. Slave of this princeling and his madness, gawped at by insects and denied the freedom of his skies…Yet it was nothing. Nothing compared to the thought of losing her. Of watching her spilled open in front of him, bleeding out on the floor as he ended them all…” (Stormdancer, 253)

It is here, where Buruu and Yukiko are caught due to Hiro’s traitorous ways, that Buruu is faced with a decision. Either he extends his wings, the possibility of them being hacked off and his freedom of the skies stolen forever from him, or he allows Yukiko to die so that he may be free at last. In this passage, it is clear what he will do. He cannot lose Yukiko. Their strong platonic bond is everything to him, even more so than the skies. The repetition of the word “nothing” in particular stands out as important, especially when both words are set up right next to each other. This future he sees is full, unending, and torturous, but compared to losing Yukiko it is nothing, nothing. Like a spiral of days, the rhythm here emphasizes the hopelessness Buruu feels. It is as if the words themselves are digging a chasm inside him, the beat of a shovel against his ribs, emptying him out at the mere thought of Yukiko’s death. His last words of that chapter, moments after having his wings clipped and his skies stolen once more from him, presses a finer point to the idea of their relationship as a whole: “WE WILL ENDURE” (Stormdancer, 255). It is no longer a single “I.” They are not separate beings any longer. They are a collective “we,” and together, they will not let anything destroy them.

This immense strength in a single body, in a single relationship, is often seen in romantic partnerships. As shown in Undertow, this is portrayed in the words specifically used on page 254:

“I didn’t even know I could be kissed like this, dragged off my feet into his undertow, bounced and thrown around in a swell of want. This scares me, not because he is wrapped around me but because I am kissing him just as hard. We stumble around, pressing even tighter together, each of us trying to merge into the other’s body.”

This scene emphasizes the desire to make two into one. This desire is often seen in romantic portrayals, as it seems to stem from an overly sexualized idea of relationships, potentially rooting from the common notion of two becoming one in physical intimacy. This scene also hints at the continual belief of love being a force that sweeps a person of their feet and renders the victims incapable of action. A conception that is heavily emphasized in the words used in society such as “falling in love” (falling being the claim to lack of control), being “swept off my feet” (again, no agency by the victim), and “struck by Cupid’s arrow” (once more, the victim has no say in the matter). This seems to be a common theme in all romantic storylines, and Undertow is no exception. Coupled with a desire to become one, there is also this emphasis on the lack of control, a concept that is foreign in Stromdancer. Not only that, Stormdancer lacks a specific heated desire that Undertow steeps itself in, evident by the previous quote.

The two do, however, overlap in many areas. The desire for them to become one being, to be connected is carried through in both narratives. The desire to be with one another is seen in both novels. It strikes me that perhaps if Undertow changed a few of its words and omitted the kiss scene, that it, too, could be read as platonic.

From my observations, it appears to me that the strength between these two relationships both rely on a honed-in, focused view of the characters involved. However, the platonic bond in Stormdancer does not strike me as less important than the one in Undertow. Both portray a growth in the characters, and both stories rely heavily on the connection between two peoples. Once again, I must ask, why have platonic bonds therefore been seen as lesser as a whole by media, specifically literature? Why are these feelings placed on a pedestal, when platonic bonds are set at a lower rank, when clearly, as shown by Stormdancer, platonic bonds can be just as strong—if not stronger—than those of a romantic nature. In a world so run by a concept of love and the desire to spread it (and the desire to insist that love can solve all problems), it is perplexing that a form of it should be seen as better or worse than another. It is my assumption that literature has its hand in causing this strange phenomenon. With friendships being side-lined, and indeed, those with siblings or parents, or the like, being largely ignored in favor of a pursuit for romantic love, that perhaps has influenced how people perceive these relationships in real life. With minimal books focused solely on a platonic relationship, it is no wonder that readers find that romantic relationships must be pursued, must be fought for, and are the prize for a happy life. But what if the narratives changed? What if platonic feelings were highlighted more, celebrated more, and seen more widely within literature? Would the perception of these relationships as something undesirable, or “less than” be changed? Would more people see their strengths, and conversely, be more happy or satisfied in life without a romantic partner? Regrettably, I have no answers for these questions, though I cannot help but feel that a change in literature could result in a change in culture.

As mentioned before, I wished to take everything learned from this analysis of Stormdancer in comparison with Undertow and place it into a written piece. The items learned from representing strong platonic relationships are as follows: a set-up to what is important to each character and how this could draw them together or tear them apart; the desire to be close without a overwhelming, passionate heat connected to this desire; a willingness to give up a certain security or prized possession for the sake of the other; a slow build with trust being earned over time; and ultimately, endurance. While Stormdancer has the luxury of being a long-form novel, and I do not, I sought to implement some, if not all, of these into the following piece, such as an emphasis on what is important (being able relax and get some sleep), a slow and unfinished build towards trust with skepticism remaining (the slow trust of Em and being honest with her), and a constant desire to be close.

Works Cited

Buckley, Michael. Undertow. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2015.

Chasin, CJ Deluzio. “Making Sense in and of the Asexual Community: Navigating Relationships

and Identities in a Context of Resistance.” Journal of Community & Applied Social Psychology, vol. 25. 2015, pp. 167-180, doi: 10.1002.

Cramer, Duncan, and Marie Donachie. “Psychological Health and Change in Closeness in

Platonic and Romantic Relationships.” The Journal of Social Psychology, vol. 139, no. 6, 3 Apr. 2010, pp. 762–767, doi:10.1080/00224549909598255.

Kristoff, Jay. Lotus War. Stormdancer. Thomas Dunne Books, 2012.

Schilling, LaChelle. “Queering Asexuality: Boundaries of Desire, Intimacy, and the Sacred.”

Claremont Graduate University, 2014. ProQuest.

Zurbriggen, Eileen L. “Self- and Partner-objectification in Romantic Relationships: Associations

with Media Consumption and Relationship Satisfaction.” Sex Roles, vol 64. 2011, pp. 449-462, doi: 10.1007.