Dragonflight

“She was used to waiting. Perversity, endurance, and guile were her other weapons, loaded with the inexhaustible patience of vengeful dedication.” 

Part 1 introduces Lessa and some of her core personality traits, though she initially appears in a distinctly negative light. The events of the novel transform these vices—more or less—into virtues. Endurance, for example, remains highly relevant to her life in the Weyr, given the ascetic lifestyle of the dragonriders.

“There was a reason, an explanation, a purpose, F’lar felt, for every one of the Weyr Laws from First Impression to the Fire-Stones, from the grass-free heights to the ridge-running gutters.”

Early on, McCaffrey establishes that F’lar alone believes fully in the myths of old. He sees them not just as valuable relics from the past, but as blueprints for Pern’s future. Nevertheless, he can’t justify this belief rationally; although the laws themselves may (and in fact do) serve logical purposes, F’lar must simply take their necessity as a “felt” truth. This tension speaks to the complex relationship between science and faith—which both seek to explain, but in very different ways—throughout the novel.

“[Fax] scoffs openly at tales of the Threads. He taunts the harpers for the stupid nonsense of the old ballads and has banned from their repertoire all dragonlore. The new generation will grow up totally ignorant of duty, tradition, and precaution.” 

In contrast to F’lar, Fax disdains tradition. Notably, his negligence will not just harm himself: Future generations will be unprepared for battle because they haven’t learned the Teaching Ballads and dragonlore. Since these traditions take the form of art—song and story in particular—there is an additional, metatextual critique of those who believe that raw power can substitute for, or exist independently of, culture.

“F’lar threw his head back with a shout of laughter. For all her scheming, [Lessa] had been outdone by Truth.” 

Ironically, while Lessa hedged all her bets on a lie—that Gemma’s son by Fax was male and lived—the lie ended up being true. This truth is impossible to get around; Lessa is no longer first in the line of succession for Ruatha and must step aside for Fax and Gemma’s infant son Jaxom. This outcome ultimately benefits Pern. If Lessa had stayed in Ruatha, she would have never taken on her role as Weyrwoman and saved the world.

“The unusual sensation of softness against her bare skin made her wriggle with voluptuous pleasure. The skirt, no longer a ragged hem of tatters, swirled heavily around her ankles, making her smile in sheer feminine delight.” 

Like a fairy-tale heroine, Lessa enjoys her transformation from lowly Cinderella to lovely princess. While Dragonflight often derides women for enjoying their femininity, it allows Lessa a moment of joy here.

“A feeling of joy suffused Lessa; a feeling of warmth, tenderness, unalloyed affection, and instant respect and admiration flooded mind and heart and soul. Never again would Lessa lack an advocate, a defender, an intimate, aware instantly of the temper of her mind and heart, of her desires.” 

Dragonflight portrays the bond between dragon and rider as quasi-spiritual and deeply personal. Ramoth is Lessa’s favorite being and her primary confidant—even her love for F’lar does not come close to her affection for Ramoth. The relationship takes on additional significance in light of Lessa’s backstory; Ramoth is the closest thing Lessa has had to a family member in years, and the dragon’s sheer power goes some way towards mitigating the helplessness Lessa felt as a kitchen drudge.

“Lessa was Ramoth’s and Ramoth was hers, mind and heart, irrevocably attuned. Only death could dissolve that incredible bond.” 

Occasionally, death does dissolve the bonds between dragon and rider, as it did to the pitiable Lytol. The loss of a dragon inflicts serious psychic damage on his or her companion. This makes sense, given that the dragons in some sense symbolize part of the human psyche (specifically, the more animal or instinctive part). 

“Some instinct in Lessa made her bitterly aware that she would never be on easy or intimate terms with any of the women in the Weyr.”

Modern feminist critics sometimes cite Lessa’s inability to form friendships with other women as a serious flaw in Dragonflight. While the novel technically passes the Bechdel Test with this conversation between Lessa and Manora, few female characters receive substantial narrative attention. What’s more, the novel unfavorably compares these more conventionally feminine characters to the more “masculine” Lessa, arguably implying that women are worthy or heroic only when they exhibit the virtues traditionally associated with men. 

“‘Families used to take pride in daughters with dragonfolk sons.’ [Manora’s] face settled into sad lines. ‘The world turns and times change.’” 

Lessa responds to Manora’s lament here with a firm guarantee that times will change—for the better. She and F’lar are both determined to restore the Weyr to its former standing in Pern.

“Dragon instinct was limited to here-and-now, with no ability to control or anticipate. Mankind existed in partnership with them to supply wisdom and order.” 

Dragonflight’s dragons can be interpreted as representations of mankind’s more animalistic nature. When a self-disciplined rider directs the dragon’s raw power, both can reach new heights of success, in the same way that a powerfully emotional but restrained person can achieve greatness in life.

“‘That’s enough,’ F’lar said in a hard voice. ‘We are dragonmen! Remember that, and remember also—never forget it—this fellowship is sworn to protect.’” 

Unlike Lessa, F’lar refuses to give into the temptation for petty vengeance against the Lords. He does everything in his power to prevent conflict among the human factions on Pern, knowing their true enemy is the Threads. 

“Admiration for this indomitable personality replaced the last of F’lar’s anger. He smiled as he closed the distance between them.” 

While Lessa’s impetuous spirit often annoys F’lar, her strong spirit is also what attracts him to her. Their opposing personalities are in fact what make them successful not only as romantic partners, but also as partners in leadership; they compensate for one another’s flaws, allowing them to plan and act more effectively.

“I was the cause of my family’s massacre. Not Fax! If I had not acted the captious fool today, I would not have been there with Ramoth and the watch-wher would—” 

This is an example of Lessa regretting her poor behavior. While she tends to fly off the handle, once she recognizes her wrongdoing, she is equally quick to cool off and rethink her actions.

“Believe with me, Lessa, until you have cause not to. I respect your doubts. There’s nothing wrong in doubting. It sometimes leads to greater faith.”

This is perhaps the most overtly “religious” statement in the book. Like any good spiritual leader, F’lar does not try to quash Lessa’s doubts. He knows if she can overcome them, it will only strengthen her faith. This suggests another angle to the novel’s depiction of reason and belief; just as one must sometimes have “faith” in science or rationality, one can also arrive at belief through logic.

“‘[…] ARRHENIUS? EUREKA! MYCORRHIZA….’ ‘Of course, that part doesn’t make any sense at all,’ Lessa snorted. ‘It isn’t even Pernese—just babbling, those last three words.’” 

The devastation caused by the Threads reduced Pern to a pseudo-medieval state, but it was not always so. The old colonists had access to the modern scientific knowledge of our own day. The fact that this knowledge does not even strike Lessa as language—much less as meaningful or important—introduces a cautionary and somewhat culturally relativistic note. Since the passage of time can influence the way we frame knowledge (i.e. as science or myth), we should not be too quick to dismiss even apparent “babbling.”

“‘And, for another thing’—his chuckle rolled out as he went on deliberately, grinning mischievously—‘if the greens could reproduce, considering their amorousness and the numbers we have of them, we’d be up to our ears in dragons in next to no time.’” 

This passage contains another veiled example of misogyny in Pern. Beautiful women and amorous green dragons are often the butt of men's jokes—even kinder men like F’lar.

“Less than mindless, [the Threads] had been ejected from their barren planet towards Pern, a hideous rain that sought organic matter to nourish it into growth […] The true parasites of Pern were Threads.”

Anne McCaffrey makes clear that Pern’s foe, the Threads, are completely alien: They have no purpose or grand intent other than mindless destruction. This is part of what distinguishes the novel as science fiction rather than fantasy. Antagonists in the latter tend to have more human motivations, whereas the Threads are a natural phenomenon difficult to describe in the moral terms of “good" or “evil.”

“No matter how badly injured he might be, every rider tended his beast first.” 

Dragonriders are extremely attentive to their mounts throughout the book; they always prioritize the dragon’s needs over their own. This reflects not only the depth of the bond between dragon and rider, but also the self-denial expected of the latter. 

“But [F’lar] did have an infuriating habit of guessing correctly. Lessa corrected herself again. He didn’t guess. He studied. He planned. He thought and then used common good sense.” 

F’lar’s predictions, which at first seemed to stem from faith, reveal themselves to pertain to objective reality. As more and more of F’lar’s predictions come true, belief in his cause requires less of a leap of faith. 

“‘Too toothless old to flame and too slow to get between,’ C’gan mumbled, rolling his head from side to side. ‘Too old. But “Dragonmen must fly / when Threads are in the sky….”’ His voice trailed off into a sigh. His eyes closed.” 

Dragonflight often relies on elderly characters who are eager to do their part despite being past their prime to provide pathos. Like the noble old watch-wher in Part 1, C’gan’s sad but heroic death pulls the reader’s heartstrings.

“Living was struggling to do something impossible—to succeed, or die, knowing you had tried!” 

This statement from Lessa sums up her attitude towards life—and the broader ethos of many in the Weyr. Given that the Weyrs exist for the express purpose of fighting the Threads for the benefit of all Pern, it isn’t surprising that dragonrider culture would prioritize courage and self-denial so strongly.

“‘But their riders…all the weyrfolk…we’re shadows, half alive, like dragonless men, part of us gone forever. Except Kylara.’ [F’nor’s] face contorted with intense dislike. ‘All she wants to do is go back and watch herself. The woman’s egomania will destroy us all, I’m afraid.’” 

There are very real side effects to reckless time travel in Pern, as F’nor explains here. He also takes the opportunity to condemn Kylara for her feminine vanity—a recurring theme in Dragonflight.

“By the Egg, it’s die slow, doing nothing, or die quick, trying. I’ve had a surfeit of the quiet life we dragonmen must lead after the Red Star passes till we go between in old age. I confess I’m almost sorry to see the Red Star dwindle […] I say, grab the risk with both hands and shake it till it’s gone. We’re dragonmen, aren’t we, bred to fight the Threads? Let’s go hunting…four hundred Turns ahead!” 

Accompanying Lessa to the future was never a real question for the dragonmen of the past. This statement summarizes the attitude F’lar has been trying to instill in the Weyr of the present—one of battle-readiness and valor.