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Posts Tagged ‘Neil Gaiman’

If I promise to go to church on Sunday, will you go with me on Friday night?

In art attack, bookmark, fasc-ion, good vibrations, miss thropist, pcp news, screenshots, tv kicks on August 14, 2011 at 9:49 am

♪ if you live with me, I’ll die for you, and that’s a compromise ♪

Eh, I’ve just about had enough of serious questions, and the resultant discussions, this week. So let’s bring on the levity instead!

Round here that means that it’s time for another Search Term Sunday- looking at, and mocking, the things people have googled that brought them here this week.

promiscuous harlot

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Adapt to survive

In bookmark, miss thropist, screenshots on January 2, 2011 at 4:12 pm

I recently watched the new film version of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader in Hong Kong. The book is one of my favourite of CS Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, along with The Magician’s Nephew, and indeed I’d go as far as to say that it’s one of my favourite novels of all time.

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it, I thought it did a really good job of bringing the story to life. I found myself filled with the same sense of joyous adventure as I did when I first read about the Pevensie children and their cousin Eustace suddenly finding themselves on Prince Caspian’s voyage in Narnia.

The plummy Englishness wasn’t awful, having watched the horrific BBC version of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe as a child I find the new Walden Media Narnia series wonderfully refreshing. (Or at least I did until the generic foreign accents and general questionableness of Prince Caspian). The actors aren’t irritating, I particularly like Skandar Keynes as Edmund, and Anna Popplewell and Georgie Henley are great casting as sisters Susan and Lucy. It was also really fun to see Will Poulter (from Son of Rambow) as Eustace.

I’m not entirely sure what all the green mist was about, but hey.

It got me thinking about book to film adaptations more generally, and what makes a good one. There are so many examples of it not working well, and they’re liable to send me into a tailspin of rage, that I thought it might be better to focus on some of my favourites instead:

Fight Club (1999)


I’m far more of a book person than a movie one, so it’s rather anomalous that I enjoy the David Fincher film more than Chad Palahunik’s book Fight Club. It just seems to come together really well- the sharp writing, acting and score. The physicality of the fights and the manifestation of a split personality work very well on screen of course too. I like the ending of the film better than the book- it seems much more powerful and affecting- but then again maybe I just met this movie at a very strange time in my life and it’s stuck with me ever since.

Matilda (1996)

I wouldn’t say that this adaptation of this Roald Dahl story is better than the book, but it is a very fun version. The cast is great, especially the adorable Mara Wilson as the titular character who seemed to be the go-to child actress for cutsie roles around that time (Mrs Doubtfire; Miracle on 34th Street). I always quite liked the idea of Dahl’s books being turned into films- perhaps because I never much cared for Quentin Blake’s illustrations- but the 1990 film of The Witches made me wary when it completely changed the ending. Although there are of course small differences between the British 1980s novel and the American 1990s film versions, broadly speaking the plot of Matilda remains the same which kept me happy.

The Wizard of Oz (1939)


I think the majority of people have come across this film before/rather than L. Frank Baum’s book, it’s become a classic in its own right. Rather than being a straight up adaptation the film it takes the essence of the story and created an elaborate fairy tale out of it which is captivating and memorable- and as the dedication after the film’s opening credits puts it, ‘Time has been powerless to put its kindly philosophy out of fashion’. It’s also spawned various sequels and reimaginings like Return to Oz, Tin Man and Wicked which may play with the world created in the book series but that I very much doubt would exist without the film.

Pride and Prejudice (1995)

Although this was originally aired on the BBC as a mini-series it was released on video without the episodic structure and  on re-watch seems like a seamless, if long, film. It’s an incredibly faithful adaptation, which it can afford to be given that it’s five hours long, and it feels incredibly luxurious. Of course everyone remembers the gorgeous, and dripping wet, Colin Firth as Mr Darcy but I really don’t think there was a single casting misstep in the entire production. Alison Steadman as Mrs Bennet, David Bamber as Mr Collins and Barbara Leigh-Hunt as Lady Catherine de Bourgh especially do a brilliant job of bringing Jane Austen’s biting wit to life. I think it’s quite difficult to really badly screw up a period drama style adaptation- as long as you’re relatively faithful to the original story (I have a particular bone to pick with the various versions  of Wuthering Heights that miss out the entire second half of the novel)- but this version of Pride and Prejudice does more than just bring the story to life. It’s really become the definitive version and I don’t think other adaptations of it can compare- not the 1940 version nor the 2005 one. Even postmodern takes on the original plot make references to this version- like the wet Darcy in Lost in Austen.

Clueless (1995)

Clueless isn’t a faithful adaptation at all, but takes the elements of  another Jane Austen novel, Emma, and updates them for a modern audience. Not that the 1996 film of Emma isn’t enjoyable, in fact it’s one of my favourite of Gwyneth Paltrow’s roles, but I think Clueless does something very clever with the concept. There seemed to be a swathe of updated remakes like this in the 90s, from Cruel Intentions to 10 Things I Hate About You, but Clueless was one of the first. It still feels incredibly fresh, even if the outfits seem dated, and does a wonderful job of showcasing just how funny Jane Austen’s stories are.

Green Mile (1999)

Stephen King’s novel was originally published in a serialised form- and as a result was a bit rushed and uneven. The film- at 188 minutes- has a very different feel. The majority of the story is narrated as recollections of the protagonist and this comes across a lot better as visual flashbacks than as somewhat rambling chapters. In general it’s a very visually interesting film, that’s almost fairy tale-esque in some ways, that I prefer to the novel.

And one cheat from the other side of the fence:

Neverwhere (1996)

This isn’t a book to film one, but it is one of my favourite adaptations. Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman is one of my favourite books. It’s set in London Below- a magical underground world replete with mysterious versions of tube station locales. Gaiman actually originally wrote it as a BBC television series, and later adapted it into a novel.

The series is an interesting curiosity but budgetary constraints mean that it’s nowhere near as fantastical and fascinating as the written story.

Do you have a favourite adaptation?

A not-so grave coming of age

In bookmark, miss penn on January 3, 2010 at 4:02 pm

The Graveyard Book, Neil Gaiman’s tale about a boy who is raised by ghosts in a graveyard, will delight and spook readers of all ages.

Liberally sprinkled with the master storyteller’s inimitable blend of humor and horror, this coming of age story with a twist will stay with you long after the final page has turned.

One night, a sinister figure murders a family, with the exception of the fourth and final member, a baby boy. The child manages to elude his would-be killer, and is unusually granted refuge in the nearby graveyard. His ghostly adoptive parents dub him Nobody Owens, Bod for short, an inconspicuous name they hope will keep him safe from the man who still wishes him dead. While the murderer lurks in the background, waiting to finish his ghastly task, Bod attends to the serious business of growing up, encountering adventures and friends along the way.

A child raised in a strange environment is a concept we have encountered many times – Gaiman confirms his debt to Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book in the acknowledgements. Yet he makes this rendition all his own, subverting traditional elements with extraordinary details, and including the trademarks fans have come to expect: an unassuming protagonist; a quirky but truly threatening villain; a weird world that borders reality; and lashings of mystery, horror, fantasy and comedy.

Gaiman’s prose is typically poetic yet precise, with even the fancier words comprehensible through context. His distinctive voice compels the reader to flip each page. Although the novel’s opening is a master class in horror – “There was a hand in the darkness and it held a knife” – nothing is graphically described, but the absence of specifics allows the imagination to run wild. The text is littered with insights (the feeling of making a new friend, losing a father) that ground the supernatural tale in reality, making the fantastic feel familiar.

The graveyard, an overgrown historical site that is now a nature reserve, is at once Bod’s home, playground, school and sanctuary. Gaiman fully exploits the setting’s potential, filling the imaginary space to the brim with admirable invention and memorable inhabitants. Bod learns his alphabet from tombs and headstones, and history firsthand from graveyard residents that span the centuries. There, the lad witnesses marvelous sights, such as the mysterious danse macabre and the stately Lady on the Grey. This land of death is sometimes very scary, but most of the time, it feels safer than the unknown world beyond its gates, which contains menaces both mundane and mystical.

Bod is a winning creation, simultaneously likable and creepy. He’s kind, curious and brave, and never hesitates to set right what he sees as wrong – a friend without a headstone, bullies who extort pocket money from smaller children – but his methods are sometimes ruthless. Thanks to his graveyard lessons, he can instill fear into his foes’ hearts and direct their dreams into nightmares. His development throughout the book is palpable, and when the tale ends, it feels there’s more ahead for our hero.

The motley, mostly dead, folk who populate the graveyard ring with a cacophony of unique voices. With rhythmic dialogue and neat turns of phrase, Gaiman breathes life into an array of characters, from an 11th century witch (“Never stole nuffink, not even a handkerchief”) to a gruff Eastern European historian (“A nickname. I do not approve. I will call you “boy’”).

Mr. and Mrs. Owens, dead for 300 years, are warm and firm parents, despite their insubstantial forms. Bod’s beloved guardian Silas, who is neither dead nor alive (it’s never stated explicitly, but you should be able to guess exactly what he is), is enigmatic and fearsome, and destined to become a literary favorite. Scarlett, Bod’s only living friend, is as bright, confident and as vivacious as her name would suggest.

The villains include the murderer, Jack; a mercenary pawn shop owner; monkey-like ghouls, with strangely grand names – the 33rd President of the United States, the Bishop of Bath and Wells – and adolescent bullies. These grim characters both tickle the funny bones and incite shivers, in varying doses, to excellent effect. In the best tradition of children’s storytelling, Gaiman never shies away from the horrible, understanding that young minds can handle being scared, and often thrill in it. He knows that the real world is much more intimidating than anything even the finest writer can conjure between the pages of a book – and his judicious use of reality successfully increases the scares.

Aside from the obvious tribute to Kipling, Gaiman’s tale is rich with pastiche and allusion, revealing surprises upon each reread. Robinson Crusoe and Dr. Seuss’ Cat in the Hat appear as Bod’s reading material, to name a few literary cameos. A sequence in which several characters seek to protect Bod would not be out of place in a comic book, as does Bod’s dream-walking excursions, calling attention to Gaiman’s graphic novel roots, without distracting.

As an added bonus, the Harper Collins edition of the text is illustrated by Gaiman’s longtime collaborator Dave McKean. His watery black-and-white etchings echo Gaiman’s descriptions, clarifying the images you are likely to have already conjured.

Dark, wonderful and astute, The Graveyard Book definitely wins a place on the shelves next to the great classics of children’s literature. It’s the kind of story that your children will read again when they’re older and want to share with their own children.

The Graveyard Book
by Neil Gaiman
Bloomsbury/Harper Collins, 320 pp.

The Prince of Stories

In bookmark, miss penn on January 3, 2010 at 4:02 am

He’s transformed Death into a likable young woman and conjured a happy childhood for an orphan raised by ghosts in a graveyard. Unsurprisingly, Neil Gaiman is unafraid of dying.

“If my plane goes down tomorrow, I’m in great shape, I’m not going to go down going, god, wouldn’t it have been good if I’d just had cool kids, or written a good children’s book, or made a movie or something like that, because I’ve done all that stuff… I’ve had this amazing life.”

The 49-year-old British author was at the last Singapore Writers’ Festival, along with American rock star girlfriend Amanda Palmer, of Dresden Dolls’ fame, where he treated more than 1,000 fans to three Q&As and two mammoth signing sessions, and spoke with The Jakarta Post about his creative collaborations, including the project with Palmer that resulted in their romance.

With his dishevelled hair and all-black clothing, Gaiman resembles The Sandman, the graphic novel character that brought him to public consciousness, setting the stage for a career writing about myths and magic across several media: comics, novels, short stories, poems, film, music and theatre.

He also sounds like his stories, which include Coraline, The Graveyard Book and Stardust. Not horrific and creepy, as they can be, but like the tone in which he conveys such horrors and creeps – his voice is melodic and friendly.

These soft, trans-Atlantic tones – a blend of his southern England upbringing and decades of living in America – can transform convincingly into those who feature in his anecdotes, from the nasal American accent of David Lynch (Blue Velvet) to Alan Moore’s (Watchmen) gruff Midlands brogue.

As befitting a man who has made his fortune “making things up and writing them down”, he pulls stories from thin air, like one about his Singaporean hosts’ possibly insidious motives for feeding him so well.

“There is a Singapore snack called Stuffed Author… it is produced by taking a visiting author and feeding them good things until they can eat no more, and then cutting them up into delicious slices and serving them to the people of Singapore.”

Since his first book, a 1984 Duran Duran biography, Gaiman has been prolific, winning countless literary awards.

Several of these award-winning projects have involved collaboration, his knack for creative teamwork honed during his Sandman days, with artists like Dave McKean.

“The great thing about collaborations is that they are always accidental and they’re always organic if they’re going to work,” he says, singling out Terry Pratchett (with whom he wrote Good Omens, his first fiction novel) and Palmer as his favorites.

Who Killed Amanda Palmer consists of images of Palmer in a range of death poses, taken by photographer Kyle Cassidy, accompanied by “very short stories, at the end of which there’s always a dead Amanda Palmer”, written by Gaiman.

“Nobody had ever written to me before and said, I have lots of photos of myself dead, and in some cases naked, and would like you to write some stories to accompany them,” he says, explaining why he agreed to work with a person he had only so far met by email, through a mutual friend, musician Jason Webley.

“I thought, this is one of those projects that you do that’s definitely never going to have an impact on the rest of your life… a tiny little goofy thing that I’ll do for a few days and will be funny and fun… so I said yes,” he says smiling at the woman he describes as the “world’s coolest girlfriend”.

The couple reteamed for Gaiman’s directorial debut, Statuesque, a short, silent film about human statues – Palmer was a former human statue – that stars Bill Nighy and screened on British television in December.

Not all of his collaborations have turned out well, he notes, recounting his attempt to work with hero Lynch on a film, who wished to end their mystery film on the moon.

“And that was the moment. I said, this is not going to work… I can’t start a detective story and then end it with *we are on the moon, end of story’.”

Adaptation is also integral to Gaiman’s work. Coraline and Stardust were made into films, and he wrote the English version of Princess Mononoke and Beowulf screenplay.

The key to adaptation, he says, is to “*translate’ and not *transliterate’”. For his own work, he either selects a director he admires, as he did with Neil Jordan (The Crying Game), who will film The Graveyard Book, or allow a filmmaker to “get on with it”, as he did with Henry Selick, who made Coraline.

Despite his stratospheric success, Gaiman remains accessible for his millions of fans via the Internet, which he considers “the best communication tool that humanity has ever come up with”.

On www.neilgaiman.com, he offers insight into his daily activities and answers readers’ questions, and regularly Twitters (@neilhimself). He also used the web to promote The Graveyard Book, which he read in nine parts in as many American cities.

He recommends aspiring fantasy writers put their work on the web, as “you’re an email away from any agent in the world” and will “learn, when you see it printed… how people react to it”.

Fantasy is just one genre Gaiman has been associated with; he has also been tarred with “sci-fi” or “horror” brushes, reflecting his indefinability. He discounts the stigma others might see in genre fiction, pointing out that graphic novels with which he started have only lately become “hip and cool”.

His genre-crossing writing, noted for its unpredictability, reflects how he sees the world.

For example, short story “Snow Glass Apples” came about when he read a version of Snow White, and was struck by the peculiarity of a prince falling in love with a dead girl in a coffin, especially one with “skin as white as snow, and lips as red as blood, and hair as black as coal”.

“So suddenly I have this version of Snow White in my head in which she’s a vampire and he’s a necrophile and I think right, I’ll just tell it from the point of view of the wicked queen, and I’ll demonstrate that the big problem with history and folk tales is that they’re written by the winners, and the problem with the wicked queen was not that she was wicked, it was that she didn’t go far enough. Obviously, trying to cut out Snow White’s heart was a very sensible thing to do.”

His current project is based on Monkey: Journey to West, and will be his first nonfiction book since 1988′s Don’t Panic: The Official Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Companion.

Monkey has fascinated Gaiman since childhood. His father bought a “beautiful, hardback, illustrated edition” before he was born, but could not locate it when he was ready to present it to the seven-year-old Gaiman, leading it to seem like “this glorious magical book with everything in it”.

He pitched the project to his publisher following a trip to China in 2007, after being surprised by many facets of Chinese culture, and because Monkey came up in every conversation he would have with people about China and literature.

“It’s historical, its mythic, it’s about stories, it’s got demons in it, and it also has me, doing a wonderfully inept journey to the West, and running into interesting problems, and having strange things happen to me.”

Such things include exploring a disused Monkey amusement park, which contained a Buddhist hell of people being “ripped apart and crushed”, chatting to the last of several generations of Monkey actors, and a man trying to sell him a human elbow outside a ruined temple.

Writing the book, he expects, will take up most of 2010, and it “will probably be published extremely shortly after it is finished”.

While he’s satisfied with his achievements to date, he preferred writing when he was younger, because it was as if he got to “invent the wheel every time”.

“Even when I start something that I think I’ve never done before, I can perceive echoes of previous ways that I’ve done things… it’s harder for me to go this is the first time.”

Still, he’s unlikely to quit writing anytime soon.

“There are so many stories I have to tell, set all over the place, it’s just a matter of how many I can fit in, before I forget to look both ways crossing the street, or get turned into snacks by Singaporeans.”

Singapore Writers’ Festival 2009

In bookmark, miss penn on November 8, 2009 at 3:22 am
Last weekend, Nanzo and I attended the final weekend of the 13th biennial Singapore Writers’ Festival, where I got to ineptly interview a few wonderful writers and Nanzo got to pimp out her faux pro-photography skills.
The event was so well organized, it was scary, particularly after Jakarta’s insanity, of which I am becoming increasingly tolerant… We got excellent treatment from the public relations team, with front row seats at all the events we attended and even scabbed a couple of meals.
Let me share a few of the highlights, via Nanzo’s photos…

This is John Ajvide Lindqvist, a Swedish novelist who wrote Let the Right One In, which is about a boy who falls in love with his vampire next-door neighbour (and absolutely nothing like Twilight).
He used to be a stand-up comedian and a magician, which was quite apparent in his charisma and confidence.
I really enjoyed talking to him, even though I was so unbelievably tired(too much writing and attempts to keep up with gymming) and kept forgetting what I wanted to say (not looking forward to listening to the recording!!)… I may have also given him the inspiration for his next novel… watch this space…

The next person I got to interview was Chart Korbjitti, one of Thailand’s most respected and well-known authors… it was especially cool because I got to study two of his novels (No Way Out and The Judgment) during my BA, and I feel like actually getting to interview him is great continuity between my academic studies and current journalistic aspirations.
He had an interpreter so our conversation wasn’t quite as organic as with the others, but he seemed like a lovely person, very laidback yet forthright.
I got a bit annoyed during his “Meet with the author” sesh tho because several of the attendants kept asking him what he thought of expat writing and about him trying to challenge expat writers’ portrayal of Thailand as this tawdry place of sex and drugs… he answered he didn’t think much about it, but they just kept at it, like dogs with a bone.
I also got to meet Mohammed Hanif, Pakistani BBC journalist and writer of the Man Booker-prize longlisted A Case of Exploding Mangoes.
I was quite worried because I didn’t manage to finish his novel (after a Saturday of 12 hours of interviews, seminars, discussion etc I felt all booked-out!) and I know nothing about Pakistani politics (whereas with Lindqist and Korbjitti I could rely a little on my horror/vampires/SEA trivia)… but our chat was fun anyway, he was very frank and seemed genuinely interested in both me and Nanzo as people… then again he is a journalist too!
I didn’t get to interview NEIL GAIMAN (pictured here with girlfriend Amanda Palmer) individually, instead got to attend a mini press session, which to be honest, I was quite alright with, as its so hard to know what to ask someone that’s been asked so many things… he really is a literary rock star, and pretty much dominated the event.
I am really glad I got to see him in person… and I don’t think everything I’ve read by him (which is a mere smidgen of his ma-hu-sive body of work) is that brilliant, but there a few of his stories I’ve really taken to heart, especially those in the Smoke & Mirrors collection.
In person, he is a constant storyteller, full of anecdotes and a warm view on life… I think I’m going to be quoting him for weeks to come because he just said so much that was interesting! (And I listened to him for about 3 hrs in total!)
This is just a small amount of the people lining up for his final signing last Sunday… there were at least 900, but I suspect could have even been more than 1000.
He was very kind and patient to submit himself to that signing… from experience I know not all authors would (yes YOU Salman Rushdie)… and more than that, remain cheerful and attentive to each individual fan throughout, ensuring each got their Moment.
Which is, after all, what signings are all about – the brief one-on-one between artist and fan. That’s what you really treasure, why you’re willing to line up for so long – the signed memento is just a receipt.

I needed some photos to illustrate the SWF write up so we accosted a costumed Gaiman fan in the queue, she was meant to be Dream/Sandgirl from the Sandman comics (which I haven’t read). The Gaiman fans were dressed cooler (or simply weirder) the day before, which was fittingly also Halloween.
The beautiful Arts House at night – really, the ideal venue. It used to be Singapore’s parliament house, which added a sense of history to the whole event.
All in all, a very full-on, but inspiring weekend – and for me, a tantalizing sample of what it would be like to be a full time freelance journalist, getting to fly into places for a few days and to interrogate loads of fascinating people. Getting to talk to writers also made me more determined to focus more on fiction. This is definitely the kind of work I want to do.

Under some dirty words on a dirty wall

In bookmark, comical, miss thropist, tv kicks on November 3, 2008 at 2:41 pm

Although I know that it’s a little late, I’m pulling my finger out to make mah monthly monograph meander. Alright, I’ll acknowledge an alliteration addiction… ahem. Less of the monographs more of the novels, comics, essays and non-fiction books. Wonderful words, in others.

I enjoyed Howl’s Moving Castle more than I thought I would.

I know that when I was younger I was always eager to get my hands on any books I could, especially those that came from genres I knew that I liked such as fantasy, and this led to me becoming a sort of garbage disposal bin for the written word. Several relatives and family friends thought they could fling any books at me and I’d enjoy them, even if they really didn’t appeal to me or were very, very bad. My aunt used to do it too, since she’s a school librarian by trade she used to like using me as a booky guinea pig. Sometimes this had positive effects, I never would have read the first Harry Potter, at least not so early, if it hadn’t been foisted on me. The cover art was so ugly and I was so bored of books about troubled boys who became wizards that I stuck it right at the bottom of my to-read pile, and even did my fractions homework inside (in pencil at least). At other times it just annoyed me though, I think I have my aunt to thank for the fact that I can’t quite stand Michael Morpurgo or Phillip Pullman (maybe I just don’t like alliteration as much as I think I do), but I’m not quite sure I can blame her for DWJ too. Maybe I just mentally listed her with the other semi-insipid fantasy writers who just produced something standard that wasn’t overly-appealing after reading a dull introduction or something.

I think part of why I was suspicious of DWJ was that I was aware that she was one of those authors who included the mundane real world in her fantasy novels. I was never much of a fan of that kind of style when I was younger, I was captivated by fantastic worlds full of magic and mythical creatures. When reality was part of such a story it tended to encroach- to ruin the magic somewhat. Sure, there were some stories where it worked well- when the everyman (or more likely the everychild) character was plucked from reality and/or obscurity and set on a challenging yet rewarding path involving destiny, magical artifacts and terrible beasties most likely. However the majority of stories like that just didn’t overly appeal, maybe it’s just the examples that I happened upon tended to have been a little dated and often written for a primarily male readership. Whatever the reason I’d generally have preferred to read about dragons, elves, witches et al safely ensconced in their own world.

I have less of a problem with it now though. Maybe Harry Potter changed my mind, and maybe watching shows like Buffy and Supernatural played their part too. Perhaps I’m starting to like my heroes and quests a little more accessible, or at least a little more obviously allegorical. Approaching stories from a slightly academic perspective can be a little problematic. It’s difficult to purely indulge in escapism, or to just enjoy things in and of themselves. Something relatively simple holds its own charm.

So too do fairly simple explanations. To whit: I don’t think I would have understood that Howell was a Welsh rugby player. I found that twist almost charming when I read the book, but I think it would have gone over my head and therefore annoyed me if I’d read the book as a kid.

Either way I feel a little bad about it, as I definitely enjoyed the book. It seems to gently mock the conventions of the fantasy genre it belongs to, while not violently breaking away from it either. The sibling switcheroo amused me too, since it reminded me of Alanna and Thom doing so at the beginning of The Song of the Lioness quartet (three years earlier, might I add).

I preferred the book to the film, while the film version was enjoyable it had a slightly incomprehensible quality to it- as if there was more to the myth of it which I just didn’t have access to. For example the whole thing with the scarecrow and Prince Justin was fleshed out far more in the book, as was Sophie’s family situation. There were quite a few times in the film where things were simply stated without explanation which worked alright since it had a surreal style to it anyway, but that just were more satisfying when resolved properly. This is why I should always read the book first! The book is simpler because it’s more straight forward, and thus the characters are more understandable and likeable. I think this is a simply fun fantasy novel  but ultimately it won’t become a solid favourite.
Next I read Equality in Action: A Way Forward with Persona Dolls which was fabulouso, obviously, since I got an acknowledgement. If for some inexplicable reason you require more information than that, read on. My grandmother’s book (for that is what it is) is essentially a study of how Persona Dolls are and can be used as a part of children’s education that is truly inclusive and utilises anti-discriminatory practice. This topic is in no way related to my academic focus, and I have a very limited understanding of it. Nonetheless the book is written in a clear, concise and, above all, accessible manner which made it perfectly comprehensible to me.

It starts off with a wonderful MLK Junior quote, which almost didn’t make the cut because it was impossible to find the source for the damn thing (turned out to be Remaining Awake Through a Great Revolution, FYI).

Cowardice asks the question, ‘Is it safe?’ Expediency asks the question, ‘Is it politic?’ Vanity asks the question, ‘Is it popular?’ But conscience asks the question, ‘Is it right?’ And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but one must take it because one’s conscience tells one that it is right.

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.

[I feel like I ought to include a blanket 'sic' for the nonsense American punctuation.]

Sadly there is nothing in this world which provides an instant antidote to all the bollocks (see why I prefer the unsullied fantasy genre?), and the dolls aren’t capable of making everything automatically better. But the message is clear, as part of truly inclusive education they work; they help; they’re a useful tool. The world’s moved on too, but paying lip service to ideals of equality, fairness, multiculturalism etc aren’t enough. Educators actually have to be proactive, and to try to avoid pitfalls such as ‘celebrating diversity’ by perpetuating stereotypes. Certainly the (British) education system could do with being poked, prodded and generally (wo)man-handled, it’s riddled with contradictions and stupidity. All the multi-lingual ‘Welcome!’ posters in the world aren’t particularly useful if they’re not backed up by educator’s practice, and “community” languages are consistently devalued.

The way to make it better, in my opinion, is through questioning and encouraging others to do so too. The results of the study were quite shocking in some ways, basically many educators are running scared. They’re over stretched and often working without adequate training or resources. There were many cases of people who’d been on PD training, but who didn’t have the confidence to use the dolls in the classroom, and also many who only felt able to use the dolls to discuss fairly neutral issues rather than tackle issues of discrimination. I don’t think that I’d ever want to teach young children, it just feels like far too much responsibility. The idea of shaping somebody’s world view that much is daunting. But that’s what teachers do, and it’s why they have to step up and do it well; tackling whatever bullshit they come up against.

And maybe it’s just because I enjoy being an annoying little birdy who does this but I do think that teachers ought to be tackling exactly what is meant by slick and easy terms like “Black” (and “White”); “race”; “ethnicity”; “disabled”; “ethnic minority”; “gender”, and so on. Words do have importance and power, and this type are constantly abused; I find myself wanting to scream “that word doesn’t mean what you think it means” a little too frequently. (Point in case, I swear to you that none of these words mean the same thing: Korean, Asian, East Asian, Mongol. Also ‘foreigner’ doesn’t actually mean “everyone who isn’t Korean”.) I was driving my grandmother a little mad when she was writing her definitions of the terms Black and White, but as political categories they’re simply not straight forward. Sociologists often write about a (I want to say monochromatic but I think that might suggest something a bit more greyscale-y than what I mean) black-and-white world far removed from reality- this is not the kind of fantasy story I like, you can tell because of the absence of dragons. At the very least I expect footnotes explaining what is meant by ‘black’ and ‘white’, and/or an explanation as to why these were the only “ethnicities” included in yon study, research or rant. Furthermore these things aren’t static, Eastern Europeans and Latin Americans, for example, may be considered more or less ‘White’ on random whims. The whole idea of ethnicity is a dodgy one, but especially when you get those inane forms to fill in, in which apparently only non-white people have an ethnicity. I’ve taken to just ticking the ‘S’ box for other instead of writing ‘YOUR CATEGORIES MAKE SO LITTLE SENSE THAT I AM LAUGHING’ because I’m lazy. The use of the term ‘ethnic minorities’ tickles me a lot too, when it’s not applied to a specific situation or location. I’m going to argue that everyone who isn’t ethnically Chinese or Indian belongs to an ethnic minority, and then argue that the concept of ethnicity is fuzzy at best, and then smirk a lot. Possibly with booze.

I do enjoy being annoying, I’ll admit it. I don’t think I’ve ever met an argument I didn’t like, although sometimes I can’t be bothered to have the same one fifty times over. There’s pretty much no argument that I’m not prepared to see the other side of either, so I’ll play devil’s advocate and take up the opposition. Tiptoe and I once drove one of Pimpette’s friends round the bend by refuting everything he said about blink-182 and punk just for the hell of it, graduating to ‘racism is wrong, prove it’ until he was purplish with frustration. He did get arrested for eating his own shit on a bus though. My point, however, is that I will poke and prod at any statement, because although certain terms and words are used as a sort of shorthand that’s not good enough. Say what you mean, mean what you say, believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast. When I was writing my dissertation we had weekly workshops where the eight or so of us would discuss things in a fairly useless manner. I was constantly ragging on the girl who was looking at something to do with race in the UK (I forget the details, I’m very self involved and anyway Japanese porn is actually interesting) along the lines of “what do you mean by white people?” and “if you mean WASPs, you should say WASPs”.

I was annoying my grandma permanently too, of course. There was a bit about those who attended training being asked to share their own stories about encountering discrimination, and there was something about the likelihood of white men having an example being relatively small. I went off on one about how the phrase “white men” was being used to imply “normal”, and didn’t give any indication as to class, sexuality, religion, (dis)abilities etc. I know that it’s a small detail, and you know what? I don’t care. Because the small details fucking matter. The fact that a lot of women couldn’t think of anything without prompting was a little odd, and it makes me sad to see that gender discrimination is so entrenched and accepted. (Even if I’m blatantly a sexist misandrist about half of the time, and a misogynist most of the rest of the time.)

Some of the stories are really touching. They almost make me not want to throttle children all the time, and maybe even hope a little too. I’m an idealist I guess, I believe in pretty ideas and dreams, and I admire passionate people even when I don’t agree with them. Sometimes the stories were sad, like Glenda MacNaughton’s story “Kim’s blushes” and the starkly different responses from White and Black commentators to it. Sometimes though they were laugh out loud funny, like an educator asking a child who’d been teased because of her skin colour if she’d ever been called a bad name, and feeling all proud of herself when she got an affirmation, only to be very confused when the child launched into a complaint about the name her parents had given her. And I know that there’s no easy answer none to blame or forgive, but the most important thing is for educators to be supported. They need greater access to resources and training, no question, but they also need to be proactive. They need to admit what they do not know and what they do not feel comfortable tackling, and then they need to do something about it and improve- and then hopefully encourage others to do the same. The lack of access and confidence that educators face was probably the study’s most important findings, and positive changes were implemented as a result. Which just illustrates one of my favourite admonishments, that you cannot know what the outcome of any research will be, I’m usually talking about scientific research but it definitely holds here. There’s no way to judge what investigations will produce useful results, if we knew what results we’d get there’d be no point doing anything. I hate it when people pay lip service to this idea, and then say “…but I really think that research into sludge shouldn’t be government funded”. Supercolliders FTW, in essence.

After that dose of realism I indulged in the nice thick American Gods which is, absolutely and without question, made entirely of awesome. I’m still flailing a little bit. I seem to have really hit my stride with this burgeoning Gaiman obsession, and now I’m a little scared. He’s not living in my head is he? It’s just a little weird to have an author hit so many of my literary kinks. I adored Neverwhere because it encapsulated so much of what I love about my London, and then in American Gods Gaiman’s clearly so enamoured with small town America and that’s what I’ve been mildly obsessing about for the last couple of years. I want pie. And tequila. I really want to go roadtripping. Fuck it, I might actually have to learn to drive. And Kripke has apparently even said that he was inspired by American Gods in creating Supernatural (and in fact there’s apparently been some speculation about Good Omens too), and since I’m pretty sure that Gaiman is a Buffy fan I’d love to see what he thinks of Supernatural. Certainly that connection was very clear with Hinzelmann and his yearly sacrifices of youths in Lakeside, which was built up really well and the idea that Shadow was considering this explanation seeped in and joyously didn’t make me want to smack him upside the head. I can definitely see how the episode ‘Scarecrow’ took inspiration from this, but it still did it in its own way and I don’t think it was a rip-off or anything. Plus it had Dean screaming “I hope your freaking apple pie is worth it!”, which just fills me with love. And also a desire for pie, dammit.

It had this brilliant darkly comic tone, and a likable lead character in the reticent Shadow, and there was no way I wasn’t going to be sucked in by something which had such a focus on mythology. I love stories and legends and gods, I’m especially such a geek for Egyptian, Norse and Pagan mythologies but really I’ll take anything. This book made me seriously tingly. I was snorting the moment that Wednesday introduced himself because to me that word just means ‘Odin’ (too much looking at the glossy pictures in my 25p set of encyclopaedias), but mostly these introductions were done so subtly and so well that I didn’t want to mock and/or abuse Shadow for not getting what was going on- which is pretty rare for me. Undoubtedly there were literary and mythological references which went skimming right over my head (and I’m still kind of ashamed that I didn’t pick up on the Low Key thing straight away), but I still think that the book was breathtakingly well constructed. The idea of gods’ power and very existence dwindling and growing as belief in them waxed or waned just makes so much sense to me, and did even before reading the Discworld books. Maybe it’s because historians often use such language to describe religious trends? Likewise the suggestion that Shadow caused Laura’s undead status through his strong desire to see her rings true, in a rather maudlin way. I’m not a religious person at all, but theism captivates me definitely. Joss Whedon’s said a similar thing about Christianity, I think that atheists see these kind of beliefs as wonderful shiny toys they want to play with. I think that the ideas that are present in Pratchett and Gaiman’s writing really encapsulate the way that I like to think of religion and the afterlife too- the pluralism of anachronistic and contradictory belief systems which manage to co-exist; the benign force of Death that doesn’t kill but merely collects and people getting what they think they deserve in the afterlife. If anything I come pretty close to actively believing in Dead Like Me‘s reapers, and South Park‘s superfriends. Is that weird?

But that so isn’t even all. The reason I liked Supernatural to begin with was Eric Kripke’s insistence on the fact that America does have its own mythology. (This was also kind of the point of Interstate 60 which Naomi made me watch, which was sort of selectively brilliant although it made me want to smack James Marsden and ask him why he only has two facial expressions. Seriously.) If you buy into the whole ‘boiling pot’ notion, and set aside all the weird power implications of reality for a moment, there’s this great mix of beasties, gods and tricksters. I’m really glad that Gaiman did actually include a lot about Native Americans too, because to start with it seemed as if he wouldn’t, and that would have pissed me off. (Although not as much as when we had to read some politics article sixth form which talked about the white population of the US as ‘indigenous’ and I was the only one who went “bzuh?”. Seriously.)

Maybe the fact that I’m attracted to the idea of all these different theologies (relatively) happily co-existing is the fault of postmodern theories, but I think that it goes deeper than that. Gaiman explicitly characterises most of these religious icons as pre-modern and almost inscrutable. With the American setting he certainly emphasises the fact that these different beliefs aren’t and weren’t demarcated, that they interacted and bled all over each other- I especially liked the reference to the people who might have thought of themselves as Christian but spent far more energy on believing in creatures belonging to an entirely different belief system. Also the idea that this interaction was a new one was countered again and again- sometimes the explanations of how people brought their beliefs to American rang a little ridiculous and seemed to have been played for humour, but I’ll buy the idea that the Americas have been “discovered” far more times than people seem willing to believe. I like anything that challenges the current belief that we live in this extremely globalised age in contrast to previous epochs. Am I arguing against the idea of a markedly different postmodern, hyper-globalised era? Probably not, although to be fair I’m happy to take up either side of that argument when necessary. I just don’t think that an abrupt break’s ever been made, I think that what’s so “different” about the world today is most of the time just a new spin on old ideas. The world was never neat and tidy, people were always flitting around the place threatening boundaries, it’s just that they don’t necessarily fit into the image that people wanted to create of their world and their stories get subsumed.

So I guess that’s why I also found the idea of the new gods, of the Internet and credit cards and so on, so appealing. The idea that these things have been raised to the level of religious icons is interesting, and it brings up all sorts of questions about what constitutes religious belief which are very difficult to answer satisfactorily. I would have liked it if perhaps there was more detail about these gods, and if they were more specifically identified. Nonetheless, it was definitely an interesting idea. And then the nice twist that this wasn’t just a straight up battle of old vs. new was great, and I really wasn’t expecting it. I think that the book still would have worked perfectly well if it had just been about a conflict between the old gods and the new, but the way that it was flipped on its head was delicious. Instead of being their saviour Odin was being a complete and utter bastard, conning them into fighting a battle so that he could utilise the power from their deaths (kind of like Adam in season four of Buffy, but with less demonic cyborgs). It was really clever, but it’s more than that- it (hell the popularity of the book too) emphasises that people’s desires to believe in stories endures. People might have their cruel ‘new gods’ too, but we’ll never stop being what Terry Pratchett called pan narrans, the storytelling chimps. And also reading this (as well as some random J2 AU con fic) made me want to be a hustler. I could do that on my roadtrip with the tequila and the pie and the chauffeur(s), I just need to get good at pool (impossible) and poker (slightly less impossible). C’mon. Unless I can start hustling choh da di somehow… I just need to go somewhere where it’s actually popular and I reckon I could actually be great at that particular con.

I do feel that the characterisation of (ex-)prisoners and the prison setting itself sometimes felt a little forced. I don’t know, maybe it’s just a personal bias because I know that Neil Gaiman’s actually a good middle class English boy (and Jewish! I don’t think I knew that…), but somehow it didn’t quite sit right. Also Laura calling Shadow ‘hon’ all the time started grating on my nerves very quickly. In general I was impressed by the fact that the book did ring true as American, and I think that the difference from Neverwhere and Stardust is noticeable, so it’s not just me going “Haha, I know you’re English!”. There was also another departure, in the sense that American Gods had a lot more sex than his previous books. Now obviously I’m not opposed to sex (as long as it’s well written) even if it’s completely gratuitous, but the sex in American Gods was wonderfully plotty. It was sometimes ridiculous and comic, sometimes tragic, and sometimes steamy but most of all it was entirely pointy. (If largely free from bad puns.) Which is nice, really, because I kind of balk at the idea of writing sex scenes and I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s just the idea of people reading them, rather than an actual inability. I think I write to spec better than under my own volition sometimes, someone challenge me to write porn.(Preferably with characters belonging to one of my favourite fandoms because I’m too lazy to invent characters.)

I caved and bought The Physics of the Buffyverse. It wasn’t inaccessible but actually I was surprised by it and felt that it was actually a little less easy to get to grips with than I’d thought it would be. I really did have to put my thinky science cap on, it wasn’t quite as easy to read as Jennifer Ouellette’s blog (which I do think is great, by the way). Sadly I really don’t think that the book flowed all that well from the beginning, and it would have benefited from having the idea of the structure laid out properly. There was actually a tight inherent logic, but to begin with it seemed that Ouellette was just dancing all over the place from topic to topic in ways that only arbitrarily related to each other. Similarly pointing out that the physics of Buffy’s world was identical to ours in terms of electronic equipment etc was often unnecessary and pointlessly trite.

Mostly I felt that the use of language was very good. It was clear and concise, using appropriate scientific terms but parsing jargon into understandable phrases. Now obviously I don’t have a problem with Buffyisms, I use them all the time (in fact I think a few might have slipped in here), and in stream of conscious-y (eep, does that even count as one?) prose I don’t mind them, but there were a few occasions when Ouellette slipped them in and I just found them jarring. I hope that they aren’t always irritating, because if they are I’m probably royally screwed. Then again I am 22, and not writing about science all that much so maybe I can get away with it. On the other hand it may be that many people who’d pick up this book are Buffy fans who are less interested in science than I am and who, therefore, might appreciate those little references.

So while I think that the first couple of chapters seemed to be Ouellette finding her ground (with a few unnecessary observations perhaps), I think that she really hit her stride after a while and certainly had my interest piqued. All the stuff about the relativism of time, quantum mechanics, alternative realities, multiple universes and string theory was honestly captivating. The material definitely meshed with these topics way more than with discussions of electromagnetism or the laws of thermodynamics. I think that Buffy honestly has a lot to offer when discussing those (far more interesting) areas of physics, not only in terms of providing interesting analogies which is definitely useful in terms of the dissemination of scientific knowledge (Ouellette actually recently discussed the way that television treats science on her blog), but also in showing how those ideas have been taken on and applied outside of the physics community. Angel actually explicitly tackled string theory in ‘Supersymmetry’ for example and Buffy name checked quantum mechanics in ‘Out of Mind, Out of Sight’ with the invisible girl. Ideas of distorted time have been covered from a scientific view point in episodes like ‘Life Serial’ and ‘Happy Anniversary’ as well as a mystical one in ‘I Will Remember You’, for example. Alternative realities and dimensions permeate the Buffyverse too, and I think that Ouellette could probably have written a perfectly satisfying book which focussed on this topic.

I totally became super smart for a coupla days after reading this book, and had this deep understanding of theoretical physics which was great. It wasn’t great for everyone else of course, because every time anyone asked me for advice (or just a simple question) I found a way to bring it back to the theory of relativity or quantum mechanics. Alcohol definitely didn’t lessen this tendency. This knowledge (and my awesome feeling of being at one with the universe) has faded a lot since, which everyone else is probably a lot less upset about. I still understand the implications of Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, and I think that Schrödinger was actually pretty stupid. I also definitely think that the importance of scientific theories in shaping thoughts outside of their realm shouldn’t be overlooked, not just in terms of the zeitgeist and pop culture but also in terms of the way that scientific ideas leaked into the humanities and social science- and gave all those crazy postmodernists ideas. However, while I ultimately did enjoy this book I have to say that the first Science of the Discworld book was way more captivating. That filled me with a desire to go and study physics, The Physics of the Buffyverse mostly just made me want to engage in another great rewatch.
Speaking of the Discworld books, I decided to read The Wee Free Men, cos frankly there should be more Pratchett love. It was relatively standard fare, but entertaining all the same. I think that I just felt compelled to read this, being such a big Pratchett fan and having an obsessive completist streak, rather than being all that drawn to the book in and of itself. Tiffany Aching may have had a stupid name but she was a great character, I just think that I would have appreciated her (and the book) more if I’d read it as a young kid. It didn’t stop it being enjoyable, and I like plenty of children’s books, I just could definitely tell that this was aimed at younger readers in way that I couldn’t with Maurice. I liked the character of Tiffany’s grandmother too, Pratchett always writes great no-nonsense witches. The ideas about the type of witch produced depending on the ground they’re from (and the different ideas about different types of grounds) was interesting and inventive. Certainly it was a nice setting for an adventure, and that idea of magic seeping in worked well. I thought the Queen was well constructed, and I’ve always liked Pratchett’s conception of elves in the Discworld series. This quote from Lords and Ladies might actually be one of my favourite:

Elves are wonderful. They provoke wonder.
Elves are marvellous. They cause marvels.
Elves are fantastic. They create fantasies.
Elves are glamorous. They project glamour.
Elves are enchanting. They weave enchantment.
Elves are terrific. They beget terror.
The thing about words is that meanings can twist just like a snake, and if you want to find snakes look for them behind words that have changed their meaning.
Nobody said elves were nice.

And once again the idea of multiple realities was definitely important, that’s something that’s always been relevant in the Discworld books. It’s certainly something which I find interesting- and I like the way that Tiffany found her way into Fairyland.

I think that the recurrent themes of knowledge and learning were well handled. Intelligent young heroines are generally pretty easy to like when they’re not too annoying, and Tiffany’s affection for (properly spelt) words was endearing. I do like the Nac Mac Feegle too, I find them amusing, I’m just not head over heels for them. They’re kind of gimmicky, and once the few jokes about them have been played out they’re kind of redundant. The storylines about Tiffany becoming a witch and venturing into elf country were far more interesting as far as I’m concerned, although that doesn’t mean that I think that the Feegle were pointless or that they didn’t add anything to those plot lines. Granny Weatherwax’s cameo was fantastic of course, she’s definitely one of my favourite Pratchett characters. Overall I don’t have any major complaints, but I don’t think I’d bother buying the sequels. I wouldn’t mind reading them, but then again I’ve got that whole completist thang going. I imagine they’d be amusing enough, especially as they’d focus more on Tiffany becoming a witch and growing up a bit- and possibly even have more Granny Weatherwax. Maybe I’ll grab them out of a library one day.

Next I read a collection of essays entitled Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Philosophy: Fear and Trembling in Sunnydale. It was certainly interesting and enjoyable, but I think that ultimately it wasn’t all that satisfying. See I love Buffy, and I love Joss Whedon (and not just for Buffy, I’m all about Firefly and SerenityAngelDr Horrible, the comics, Toy Story and so forth), and maybe I’m just a little territorial about people muscling in on my obsessions but… Joss Whedon is not God. Buffy is not the be all and end all. Stating that isn’t blasphemous, at least I’m pretty sure. Buffy was a great show and I’d happily take up residence in Joss’s brain, but Buffy (at least in the earlier seasons) was great because it was something that was so fun and playful, something so campy and yet emotionally engaging, something that was capable of being layered. What it was not was some kind of manifesto, or something consciously imbued with deeper philosophical meaning. Me saying that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t tinged by strains of that, or that the show doesn’t provide good advice or even a good template for how people lead their lives. Just, some perspective please people.

Also the show provided a relatively black and white morality early on, and although it was shaken up far more in later seasons and especially in Angel (and now even more so in After the Fall, oh wow) the complexities weren’t always there. I dislike it when writers and academics project these things backwards. The grey areas emerged gradually and were largely consistent with the show’s ideas (and ultimately its flexibility) but they weren’t always that evident. Some ideas were never fully resolved either, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but the ambiguousness of vampires would probably never have been developed if characters like Spike and vampire!Willow hadn’t proved such fan favourites. The show’s mythology and plotlines can be used as useful analogies when discussing philosophy, certainly. Some philosophical ideas are pertinent to a broad discussion of Buffy, like with Oz’s thoughts in ‘Earshot’ (and certainly this is relevant to Firefly too, as Joss Whedon explicitly references Sartre’s theories in the commentary for ‘Objects in Space’). However it can definitely be taken too far, and has been by some of the authors of this collection. No matter how you slice it Buffy was never an exposition or discussion of Platonian, Nietzschean or Kantian ideas.

I think that I definitely preferred What’s At StakeFear and Trembling did benefit from being written later, and therefore being able to take more of the show’s development into consideration. The problem is, I suppose, that the canon is still expanding with the comics- and things are changing in remarkable ways what with Warren being alive, Angel being re-humanised, Gunn being vamped and so on. I do think that future texts on the show take into account the comics because they are official new seasons, sanctioned by the creator, which represent the way that the shows’ characters’ futures might have played out.

Certainly there was definitely some good stuff in this book, I don’t want to gripe too much. I liked the fact that the first section focussed on Faith (in relation to Buffy and Feminism) since she’s one of my favourite characters. Using characters such as Faith or Buffy to illustrate a philosophical point works well, trying to graft a theoretical argument onto a television show does not. Repeatedly I could see something that had some very good points, but that tried to pull together into an argument that didn’t really hold. I really liked most of the section on knowledge because a lot of it focussed on Buffy‘s treatment of science- something which I was definitely feeling especially interested in after reading The Physics of the Buffyverse. James South’s essay on human irrationality was also very interesting, although I can’t help thinking that it would have made perfect sense if he’d deleted all the references to Willow and replaced them with another fictional character. It wasn’t at all specific to Buffy, and I suppose that it doesn’t have to be, but if these arguments aren’t then what’s the point of the book?

A lot of the stuff on ethics bored me a little. There are interesting arguments to be made about the Feminist and/or small-scale version of ethics that Buffy provides, but I really don’t think that the show’s a how-to guide. Milavec and Kaye’s chapter on Aristotle’s love paradox and Stroud’s Kantian analysis of moral judgement in the show had a slightly different bent though, even if the former was a bit too Bangel. The penultimate chapter on religion and politics in the Buffyverse was probably the most interesting for me, and while Pasley’s article on the revolutionary and/or subversive nature of superheroes rang true for me I think that Neal King’s might have been my favourite. It takes a relatively tongue in cheek look at the show and proclaims that Buffy’s a fascist. Now I think that some of the conclusions drawn might be a little farfetched (I really don’t think that Buffy’s anti-Semitic, not with that nose and a Jewish best friend) but it was one of the few articles to really probe the problems with the show. The vampires of Buffy were explicitly caused by the mixing of two ‘species’ (a term commonly interchanged with ‘races’), and the morality of Buffy’s violence is ambiguous at best. Rather than lauding the show and Joss Whedon constantly it’s interesting to see a well constructed argument that problematises the show by looking at it from another angle.

I think that Whedon writes strong female characters exceptionally well, and he’s actually capable of writing more than one of them which Aaron Sorkin is arguably not. I think that Buffy provided wonderful examples of this, not just with Buffy but with Willow and others too. It also gave us one of the first decent portrayals of a lesbian relationship on mainstream television, and that’s awesome too. That doesn’t equal a carte blanche (or maybe it does and that’s the problem, heh) when it comes to the treatment of race in the show. Has anyone ever managed to get this addressed by the writing team? There were shockingly few non-White characters in the show- until season four I can only think of the counsellor who got killed in the only episode he appeared in, Mr Trick who was evil, the vampire preacher who was evil and Kendra. Kendra was a sort of ridiculous stereotype with a generic (and terrible) accent, and while she was a sympathetic character her behaviour (and death) mostly existed to be contrasted with Buffy’s. Later on we got Forrest who was annoying and then an evil zombie, Olivia who was great but swiftly disappeared and then some of the potential slayers including Rhona (played by Indigo who I love) and Robin Wood, not forgetting the rather essentialist First Slayer and Shadow Men. This was something of an improvement but not by much, and where were the Hispanic characters? (There’s an argument to be made that characters like Kennedy and Cordelia were also non-White given the mixed ancestry of the actors portraying them, but since references weren’t made to that as far as I know it’s suspect. And kind of like claiming that Neo isn’t white in The Matrix. Which I totally will do if it suits my argument obviously, but still.) The treatment of indigenous American peoples in episodes like ‘Inca Mummy Girl’ (in which the gang assume that Ampata can translate the seal) or ‘Pangs’ is often uncomfortable to watch because it’s just so cheesy and bad. Combine the racially “other” nature of the demons and vampires that Buffy routinely kills (unless they’re extra special, natch) with a largely homogenous white population and main cast and you’ve got something quite disturbing. A mostly white cast wasn’t unusual for 90s America certainly, but I do think that it’s something that ought to have been thought about more carefully and addressed at some point- beyond Mr Trick’s comment on the whiteness of the town and Rhona’s observation that the black chick always gets it first I mean. At least the comics allow some scope for that, as did the Angel spin-off- although not unproblematically. Firefly certainly seemed a lot better on that front given that it was set in a futuristic world characterised by cultural fusion and two (count ‘em, two!) of the main cast were black. That still didn’t really negate the problematic nature of the Reavers as the Injuns, and the fact that in a world where everyone spoke Mandarin and many people had Asian surnames I don’t think there were any Asian characters, but baby steps I guess.

The last section of the book contained an interesting essay on metaphor by Tracy Little which I really liked despite the fact that it referenced Baudrillard and used the word ‘simulacrum’ (trust me, this is high praise indeed coming from me). I was frustrated by the last one in the collection, and really wish that the book had finished with something else (preferably Neal King’s thought provoking chapter on brownskirts, but really anything would have been preferable). Levine and Schneider started by ripping into various academics for over-emphasising the importance of Buffy, something which I can kinda get behind. They claimed that the success of the show is based in Buffy’s “girl next door” persona, and had the makings of an interesting theory. Instead of pursuing it they wandered off down a Freudian argument about the psychical nature of debasement, love and lust. It was maddening because this line of argument made me completely lose respect for them, and their self-important tone and rudeness about other academics wasn’t doing them any favours either. So in conclusion while I enjoy reading or watching pretty much anything on the topic of my favourite things, especially Buffy (the Paley 08 interview is pretty good if you haven’t seen it yet, FYI), and while this book definitely had some good moments, it could definitely have been a lot better. I feel as if quite a few of those chapters were written by people who thought “ah, twisting my argument to being about Buffy, that sounds like a good idea” rather than people who felt they had anything important to say about the show or its characters. I really wish that people weren’t afraid to say negative things about the show either. It is flawed, and it’s ok to say that- in fact doing so produces honestly interesting and thoughtful arguments that I’d much rather read than a badly constructed argument about a Platonian interpretation of Faith’s behaviour.

A-a-and, I feel that I could have segued from that rant into talking about Barrack Obama’s first book, Dreams from my Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance, somewhat better. Um. Anyway, first off you should know that I’ve turned into a reasonably enthusiastic Obama supporter. He’s going to win, right? I watched season seven of The West Wing, I know how it’s supposed to go. And I do know that nobody’s perfect and that there’s no way that he’s going to be able to actually deliver on everything he promises. But. It’s just so nice to have a presidential candidate (President, please) who it’s worth getting excited about, someone who I can actually believe has ideals and workable plans, who has passion and vision, someone who is passionate about oratory and about meaningful ideas. A real statesman, in other words. I’m not even an American and I’m excited (although fair enough, I have watched far too much West Wing to be objective), and if Obama doesn’t win I am seriously going to beat up every American I know here who was too lazy to vote. People who don’t vote offend me, as a woman and as someone loosely affiliated with South Africans (including my mother and her family), and just as a person. Maybe it doesn’t change anything (at least a lot of the time) but if you want it to change something then you damn well vote and then do a hell of a lot more. Otherwise suck it up and shut up, and stand still while I smack you upside the head. I quite enjoyed this advert on the point too.

Ok, so the book was sometimes unbelievably sentimental and schmaltzy and it is clearly written by someone with aspirations in the public arena and therefore a little guarded and prim (although there’s some relatively frank stuff about booze and drugs), but it ain’t bad. I honestly think that it’s pretty well written, and some slack does have to be cut, as he himself points out in the preface to the 2004 edition- but that doesn’t make it less true, when you consider that he was pretty young when he wrote it. I mean that might sound ironic coming from a 22 year old, but it’s not. I just think that while whatever of someone’s writing ends up in the public sphere (and this is makes me understand the whole paranoia about writing anything online, especially if it can be traced back to your ‘real life’ persona) helps to inform their public persona there has to be some flexibility. People change and learn and grow with time. Or you hope that they do anyway. I definitely think that this book was fun to read too, it clocks in at 457 pages but I just sat there and read it for a couple of days without getting tired of it, and my eyes were once again just gleefully dancing along the page. It’s like a lite-snack. I even got sniffly occasionally, but that’s probably just me- I do that kind of a lot. It’s been suggested to me that getting emotional about fiction and other people’s lives is the sign of a deep underlying pathology and an inability to connect with people in my own life. I actually don’t think that’s true though. Probably.

And anyway slightly weird racial sentimentalism didn’t make me dislike Kerouac so I’m not exactly going to start running off in the opposite direction. I think that Obama was pretty careful to paint everyone in the book as realistic- not perfect. His maternal grandfather might have seen himself as a forward thinking liberal, but doubt can certainly be cast on this image. And Obama doesn’t do so unkindly, it’s just that people tend to portray themselves in their best light and project their ideas back into the past- but that’s not reality. People are flawed, and that’s ok. The important thing is to know that, and to strive to make things better. Maybe I’m just being sappy because I’m half way around the world but oh I do love people thinking that family is important. (Aw crap Roses just came on, I might have to go email my grandmother about ceiling wax and fluff in a minute.) And I do feel like a bad feminist and a little sexist, but really that image of a gaggle of his female relatives in Kenya fraffling about together cooking and feeding everyone just… well first of all it makes me feel like a solemn three year old again eating avocado sandwiches in the park, but also I do just love women. It might just be social conditioning, but it ain’t all bad. Women, in the right environment, just like each other so easily and so much. And you don’t even need a common language or all that many common experiences. You just need a cooking pot, and that’s kind of nice.

I liked that he admitted in the intro that although this book is of an autobiographical bent (without exactly being an autobiography) that it is to an extent fictionalised. He talks about the way that he created some characters out of composites of real people, and how he sometimes fudged the true chronology of events. This book isn’t presented as some great truth (with a voice of god-esque narration) this is some interpretations of one person’s interpretation of life, or at least some aspects of it. Sometimes real life is a lot like fiction, but when you chose to begin a memoir with the phonecall from a ‘stranger’ informing you of your father’s death while you deal with the burning breakfast you’re choosing to write about Reality in a highly stylised way. The distinction between reality and fiction is as blurred as any, and I think that this writing style was consciously chosen. It allows Obama to tackle important issues, but also to tell a story. And it’s honest in a way that an attempt at writing the bare facts can’t be. It makes for a more interesting read too, and I think allows readers to connect with him more.

I think it’s quite nice to read about the progression of the idea of the book within the book. What I mean by that is that you can clearly see the strands which made him want to write about race issues in the US. He could have written a perfectly reasonable and engaging book without reference to his family or his own life (or with very few), but he didn’t. This isn’t just a political or theoretical book, it’s a memoir. It’s about one man looking at problems that faced him and those he knew, and trying to theorise about it, and then trying to work out how to make things better. And if that’s not inspiring then, seriously, point me at something that is. [Sidebar: just using your pain and writing an angry diatribe? So not the same. I am still pissed as hell at the Annika character in the 'Coke Dick & First Kick' ep of Californication for apparently writing a mean review of Hank's book because she was having man troubles. It's this kind of shitty characterisation of women, nay feminists, nay again actually, women that pisses me the fuck off, and I'm pretty sure that the writer of that episode was a woman. I am not making a happy face.]

Obama’s life history; the mere fact that he’s biracial; the fact that he grew up in a multi-ethnic and somewhat non-typical (of the US at that time) setting just by being in Hawaii; that he spent some of his childhood on a whole different continent (in Indonesia); the fact that he lived and worked in inner-city Chicago… it’s all just, well exactly what the world wants I guess. Polling data has apparently shown that if the world population got to vote in the US presidential election Obama would win with an overwhelming majority, and apparently some American voters are taking this into account. (Although can you really trust polling data? Short answer: no. And anyway I’m getting this from The Korea Herald which might not be the most reputable source in the world ever, who knows.). I think that’s cos we (and yes I do feel equipped to speak for the entire non-American population of the world, thanks for asking) are so desperate for America to have a leader who is eager to tackle the problems that America faces effectively (all of them, not just the ones that garner votes) but also to actually acknowledges the rest of the world- to understand that it exists and understands that the American president (the person, not the movie since I still haven’t seen it) has to interact with that. As far as I understand it it’s generally only the people from the states around the edges who actually get that, which I guess makes someone who grew up off of the mainland a prime candidate (hey, a senator from Rhode Island would have been fine with me too). Actually spending a meaningful amount of time outside the US is golden too, especially in a developing country because one hopes (and from the book it seems) that this would nurture an awareness of global issues. Facts and figures are one thing, but the experience of living somewhere, of having ties with a place and people, I think really does bring a place (and its struggles) alive far more. Obama also tied his experiences in Indonesia explicitly to poverty and problems in other places- inner-city Chicago and Kenya for examples- and that contains the promise of action and change- making those connections, and saying this isn’t how it should be, and attempting to bring about change.

And yeah, identity matters. It’s nice to have a goddamn presidential candidate care about identity, and about political ideals (and theory!). I might be geeking out but fuckit, he actually seems to care about academic pursuits and scientific research. Is it weird that that makes me develop a bit of a brain crush on him? Should I even ask, that’s weird, right? And in terms of real life, yeah identity fucking matters. I’m just, I’m gobsmacked, how the hell is Barrack Obama only the third black senator (in modern times)? I don’t think that the UK is that much better, but I’m just looking at the numbers and according to the 2006 census ‘black and African American’ people make up more than 13% of the population, whereas the 2001 census puts the black population of Britain at under 2%. It’s difficult to work an adequate analogy for the parliamentary houses of the two countries, but I’m pretty sure that there’re more than three black members in both UK houses of parliament at this moment, not just since 1967. The second wave feminism of the 1960s and 70s noted that there was sexual equality in law but not in reality, and where’s the second wave Civil Rights movement in the face of this ridiculous lack of actual racial equality? I mean anyone who thinks that there’s actual sexual equality in real terms in the world can shut up and suck my dick, but the obscene racism that pervades American mainstream society and culture is disturbing. And I’m not just talking about the crazies [and ok, apparently that guy wasn't quite as insane as I first thought, but seriously not the poster boy for sanity].

And yeah, Barack Obama cannot claim to speak for all black or all “Black” people in America or the world. But, um, who the hell can? Maybe he can actually speak for a large portion of the somewhat disenfranchised, and I guess that was kind of the point of that 30 minute ad (I don’t know, I went to sleep about 30 seconds in- what? I was fricking tired!), and isn’t that the model for the new world order anyway? That maybe everyone who’s affected by the fact that this world is run kind of shittily, and the people who benefit from it but think that it’s a farce, band together as tightly or loosely as they feel and create change. It’s not necessarily, or rather not uniquely, about race: the point is that a large population of the US (and the world) is frustrated and economically struggling and/or freaked and angry.

And yeah, he has a different heritage to many black Americans, but so? Do you think he wore a badge (“button”, oh fuck off) proclaiming that fact? People treat you based on the impressions they make of you, and that impression isn’t necessarily formed by responses to actual questions. And anyway, this is why the term ‘African American’ kind of pisses me off (ooh yes, white British girl does feel entitled to rant about it), although I actually feel kind of bad for Jesse Jackson. Again maybe this is just something that doesn’t quite translate well to Bringlish, but I feel like if people started knocking around the term ‘African Brit’ they’d get some incredulous looks and then hopefully get smacked on the back of their head. I mean if people want to identify as ‘African American’ then that’s fair enough I guess, I’m not either of those things (unless you count that loose affiliation with the South Africans which I a) don’t and b) apparently keep forgetting about) and don’t really have a leg to stand on- it’s just that I really don’t get what’s wrong with the term ‘black American’, or just ‘black’ if it comes to that. You can even capitalise, I don’t care. Most people labelled as ‘African American’ have far less of a tangible connection to Africa than Barrack Obama, and if you think that people are going to forget a legacy of kidnapping, abuse and slavery if the ‘African’ modifier is lost then… Well then I don’t really know what to say. I mean I guess you could be right seeing as how people are pretty fucking stupid, but I find it hard to believe that they’re quite that dumb. (Naw see what having a decent presidential candidate has done? I’m, like, all hopeful ad shit.)

And, I’m not particularly comfortable with the “n” word (despite the fact that Elvis Costello and John Lennon managed to get away with it) which Obama used with some frequency. However, I actually finally got around to listening to Nas’ new, very untitled, album and I think that I might actually be changing my mind. It might have been the “no matter what colo[u]r you are” bit, I don’t know it’s just such an intelligent and well thought out album. Go and listen to it now, and not just cos Fried Chicken actually made me laugh out loud. Thing is I’m all about allowing for the fact that words change their meaning and that language isn’t static, it’s just that I get really fucking hypocritical about ‘gay’ and ‘nigger’ (and conflicted about ‘cunt’). And the former got kind of appropriated in a mean way, whereas the latter’s arguably been/being reclaimed. And, oh, I don’t know. This totally ended up in a different place than it started, and I feel like I’ve written an awful lot of stuff that had nothing whatsoever to do with the book. But, hey, the album also has a song on it called Black President which samples that line from I Wonder If Heaven Got A Ghetto (which actually kind of made me ecstatically happy because it made me feel like I wasn’t the only person who started humming it every time someone said the words “black president”) which is almost cringeworthily cheesy, but is redeemed by the fact that I’m a sappy Sorkin fan, and anyway it’s somehow still pretty good:

I think Obama provides hope, and challenges minds
Of all races and colors to erase the hate
And try to love one another; so many political snakes
We in need of a break, I’m thinkin I can trust this brother
… but will he keep it way real?
Every innocent nigger in jail, gets out on appeal
When he wins, will he really care still?

So I guess just consider this my wholehearted endoresement instead of anything approaching a book review. Better late than never, right?

Hey, did you, like, notice that, like, every second book for a while there was Buffy-centric? That’s right, this an awful segue to more of the same. In this case, Fray. Which I enjoyed, obviously, but I can’t help feeling that it was a little expensive. Graphic novels and comics (which apparently I’m suddenly way into, I’ve got Joss’s stretch at Astonishing X-Men all ready to go when I finish this entry of doom) are generally a little pricey, and I understand why. Thing is I’m kind of a cheapskate and don’t really want to cough up the dough, cos I read them super quickly and I’m not that likely to want to re-read them. Or so I think now. It probably also helps that they’re pretty easy to access without buying (at least the ones that I’m after), and that reading them on the screen doesn’t kill my eyes the way that reading novels probably would. (Although to be fair, the amount of fic I read I’m surprised that my retinas haven’t completely burnt away. I think very little of digging into a 119,000 word fic now apparently. This is disturbing, yes/yes?) I’m really liking Buffy‘s season eight, as well as both of the After the Fall titles (which comprise a sort of sixth season for Angel), but to be honest if I couldn’t easily read them online/download them I’m not sure that I’d bother with them. They’re just so costly, and I’d have hassles with getting hold of them here anyway I reckon. I was totally itching to get at the new Angel and Spike issues (the latter also being the last of the spin-off) for a while, but finally got my fix today and am now in a fabulous mood. I know, I’m way too easily pleased.

So Fray‘s enjoyable, definitely. It’s not the most amazing or original thing in the world though, as Joss himself pointed out in the intro, and I’d probably have enjoyed it more if I’d read it when it first came out rather than after hearing so much praise heaped onto it. I’ve got to learn to jump onto pop culture as it happens properly. I liked the character Fray- her being a naughty little thief was fun and kind of explored the lighter side of characters like Faith who have no real regard for the rules. The idea that she’s not quite a “proper” slayer because her twin brother got some of her power is quite interesting, although I’m not sure what the gendered implications are.

The futuristic world was captivating too, and the comic medium really brought it to life brilliantly. It’s almost dystopic though, and hardly in the same spirit as the triumphant tone of the last episode of Buffy (which has continued in the comics, even if it’s been tempered). Interestingly Fray was written pre-’Chosen’, and contains references to a much earlier Slayer who got rid of all the magic. This may or may not be a (mangled) reference to Buffy’s actions, I kind of like the idea that it isn’t and that a future Slayer got rid of all the magic and that’s what caused the world to be all fucked up. Anyway it’s always possible that a future story set in the Frayverse would have Fray saving everyone, and probably using her trusty scythe. However I somehow don’t see it happening. I feel that Joss kind of moved away from stories about Big Damn Heroes like Buffy. Buffy ended on the triumphant band of buggered, and on a close up of the hero’s blazing smile- and while the season eight comics are more fraught with problems than that moment (well obviously, there needs to be some, like, plot) it’s still definitely about a ragged bunch of hero(in)es who clearly win against the evil government or whoever they’re facing. They have to win reasonably unambiguously, even if they can’t quite eradicate evil entirely from the world. That’s Buffy’s story, and that’s why SMG and ultimately Joss had problems with season six (as you can see from that fabby Paley 08 interview). Buffy can be put through the wringer, but she does have to pull herself together and be the big hero. And while I actually quite liked the emotional turmoil of season six (and the Buffy/Spike interaction), I agree that there can’t be too much wallowing, Buffy does have to find her inner strength and heroism.

Fray is definitely a different kind of story, more like that of Angel or Firefly. It’s about a few loners (or even just one), just trying to get by. Not having that core knowledge that they’re doing the right thing, but scrabbling for it and struggling, and maybe getting dragged into doing good about as often as they actively try to. Buffy’s story is compelling and epic and writ large. These other stories aren’t any less interesting though, and maybe they’re actually more mature and compelling when it gets down to it. I think that the Firefly mindset of Joss’s can definitely be seen in Fray, not just in terms of this kind of angle and the futuristic setting- even the language of Fray is often quite similar to Firefly‘s.

The supporting characters were pretty decent, I could see some appeal in Loo but I’m not quite sure why everyone was going goo goo over her. At least her death led to an interesting twist which I really liked. Personally I can understand better why people were obsessing over George the fishy demon from Brian Lynch’s Spike comics. Oh, I’m loving Brian Lynch so hard right now, you don’t even know. Reading Fray has helped me understand the crossover in Buffy season eight a leetle more, although I still don’t really know what the hell is going on with Dark Willow. I do hope that it’s wrapped up satisfactorily. Basically, I think that Joss done good. He seems to be genuinely so happy to have finally got a chance to create an uber-cool female comic character. That’s all fine and dandy, but again I don’t think that that makes him king of the world.

I’ve definitely gotten into comics more recently, and have been racing through the Whedon “canon”. As I said I’m loving Brian Lynch quite a lot- for both of the Spike titles (Asylum and Shadow Puppets) and now After the Fall, I think he’s done great work- and created some awesome new characters- although I do think that he’s maybe over-emphasised the fact that Spike’ll do anything for a pretty face. After the Fall has definitely taken some interesting twists, its tone is predictably darker and randomer than Buffy season eight. As much as I grew to appreciate (and perhaps even love) the cliffhanger ending of ‘Not Fade Away’ I’m happy to have more Angel, it really does tie up a lot of loose threads and it’s clear that there’s so much to explore in this world (or hell dimension in this case). The comic format plus the general craziness of Angel means that everyone (and I mean everyone- dead Wes, the dragon, Gwen, Cordy, vamped Gunn, Fred sometimes…etc) can pop up again, and it doesn’t seem all that unbelievable either. There’s a wealth of interesting new characters dotted around too, plus that psychic fish demon. Which is just… neat. It definitely raises further interesting questions about what this means in terms of Angel’s representations of vampires, humans, demons, morality, gender, race and so on, and I’m eager to see where it heads.

As for the other comics, I enjoyed Tales of the Slayers and Tales of the Vampires, although to be honest some of the stories were a bit meh-worthy and I think that I would be a bit annoyed if I’d spent actual money on it. I think my favourite tales were Whedon’s ’Stacy’ and Espenson’s ‘Presumption’ (I could totally guess the author from the Austen-ish setting, it really reminded me of the Firefly episode ‘Shindig’) and ‘Spot the Vampire’ because they were honestly well written and had fun twists. I did like the character of Edna Fairweather, and the nice little reference to Giles. I liked the connection of the two ‘Broken Bottle of Djinn’ stories, they weren’t particularly deep but it was done nicely- and it really emphasised how well the different styles suited the different tales (a lot, by the way). The ‘Sonenblume’ story might have been a little trite, but it was nicely done and had a good message. Goddard’s ‘Antique’ story gave a bit more of a backstory to the interaction between Xander and Dracula in Buffy season eight, although I still think it’s a bit over the top and silly. In general I think that there were just too many stories all emphasising the moral ambiguities of vampires, one or two would have been fine but this was just overwhelming. It’s already problematic enough within the confines of Buffy, and this just served to problematise it further. Are we supposed to empathise with them or with Buffy? We can’t be pulled in two directions endlessly, it’s kind of messy. Considering that the ‘Prologue’ made me roll my eyes at an even more detailed emphasis of how the First Slayer and vampires were created by the naughty mixing it’s quite nice to have these sympathetic vampire characters (and to have their symmetry with the ‘good’ slayers emphasised), but still it’s all rather tricky.

It was definitely nice to see Fray again in ‘Tales’, and to see where the idea of the scythe started off, but I still wonder why Joss decided to shove it in at the end of Buffy’s season seven. It also still seems way deus ex machin-y, and I’d quite like to see a comic which dealt with who the hell these female guardians were and what the hell they were doing hiding out with the scythe. I can understand what season seven was trying to do, and I’ll acknowledge that they didn’t necessarily have the requisite time/space to cover everything. But, hey, I’m totally on board with the idea that comics can tie up loose ends neatly now.

Interestingly Joss has said that he wouldn’t mind throwing over comic canon if he got a chance to make a Buffy movie (or whatevs) with all those lovely people again. (This is from that Paley DVD again.) I don’t see that ever happening, which is probably a good thing- and I think that maybe he was saying it because it was what he was supposed to say rather than because he thought there was any likelihood of it happening. I’m actually more invested in seeing a Serenity sequel anyway, but maybe that’s because both of the Firefly verse comics were fun enough, but I want to see something set post-Serenity (although of course information about Shepherd Book’s backstory will be great too). I want to see pregnant Zoe (which is totally canon, yes?) and awkward MalnInara and sane-ish River. Of course it is nice to see the classic version of the crew too, especially since that includes live versions of Wash and Book.

And, oh, I so want to read the Sandman graphic novels now. That’s not at all related, and should probably have gone up there with the stuff about American Gods if anything, but I just thought I’d throw it out there. I really think that I’d feel fleeced if I bought them all though, I wonder if I can find an English library hiding somewhere? Or…maybe I’ll just wait til I’m back in the UK. Hmm.

Anyway the next book I read was Brave New World. I really don’t know why I ever make claims about anything. I said that I’d had my fill of books written in the first person, and suddenly I discovered that I seriously love some. Then I bitched and moaned about the majority of sci-fi, and of course now I’m salivating over good SF. And don’t even get me started on what happens when I say I’m not going to drink (much).

Brave New World is really very good! I know that this doesn’t come as a shock to anyone, but I’m just going to throw it out there. It’s a pretty short book, but it actually took me a while to read it. I was consciously trying to savour it cos it was just so nummy. Plus I’ve started doing the crosswords in The Korea Herald to try and feel like an intelligent person again. Sadly it takes me ages to complete them.

It isn’t what I was expecting at all. This is because I maintain some really quite odd preconceptions about books. It’s not that I actually judge them by their covers, in fact Brave New World, had a pretty awesome cover, it’s just that I seem to store up these weird assumptions gleaned from insane places apparently. For example that idea that I didn’t like DWJ. In Brave New World‘s case I had somehow decided that it was a completely different book. I thought it was of more of a straight up sci-fi persuasion, like a Dune style thang involving people wandering off to live on another planet. And I figured that there’d be, oh I don’t know, lasers or lightsabers or something along those lines. Instead it’s set mostly in a futuristic London. Which is, you know, awesome. And it’s just so insidious andwonderful, looking at the terrible potential for governments to control citizens- in this case via decanting, eroticism and hypnopaedia. I think that Huxley really sells it, partly just because of the confident command of scientific knowledge and the clever use of language, but also because it’s such a shocking world but it’s spoken about so matter-of-factly. I really liked the fact that the book launches straight into this world without prior explanation- the device of having students shown around might not be unique but I think it worked very, very well. Some really great techniques were used, I absolutely adored the overlapping conversations that ought to have been confusing but really weren’t; in fact they were very easy to picture.

I loved the idea that words like ‘mother’ and ‘born’ became unbearably smutty. It reminds me of being eleven and giggling in science lessons. Ah, sweet memories. It’s kind of ironic that critics found Huxley’s stark descriptions of erotic play almost obscene. The idea that not even Helmholtz would be able to take Shakespeare seriously when there was ‘smut’ or crazy ideas about love and fidelity was great. I (wo)manfully do not laugh at ‘lovemaking’ in Austen novels. Much. I’m not that much of a Shakespeare buff but I could appreciate and understand what Huxley was doing. I’ve not actually read The Tempest in full (gasp!) although I found it in my loft once, along with absolutely everything in the known universe. It’s probably not there anymore, maybe hidden in the piano or something. My mother is a total insaniac. But since it’s my father’s favourite Shakespeare play I’ve dutifully watched the marionette adaptation a couple of times, plus (and way better) when I was in Jo’burg I got invited to see this absolutely amazing thing called Forbidden Planet, loosely based on the film of the same name. It was indescribable. There was a robotic Ariel zipping around on rollerblades, and quite a lot of Elvis songs. I cannot possibly do it justice, but it was fabulous.

I was reminded a little of Dune, although the idea of hypnopaedia isn’t quite the same I guess it’s just that focus on control of the mind. Also I thought a little of V for Vendetta, just in terms of the control of culture and literature. I guess that kind of idea is ultimately terrifying for authors. I definitely liked the idea that Mustapha Mond had access to those kind of productions, and had a good knowledge of Shakespeare etc. That idea of the dictators standing outside of the social order they insist on is powerful. I liked this book better than 1984, I think it’s more powerful and less dated and, actually, has a scarier image of a dystopic society. I think that the ending of 1984 might have been better though, it’s not that I disliked Brave New World’s ending, it’s just that it was easy to see it coming. I rarely like book’s endings that much though, although it’s hard for anything to fail as much as the ending of Deathly Hallows (even if I have a soft spot for Albus Severus’ name…aww). I really loved the seriousness of Huxley’s letter to Orwell that it was included in my edition too, it was all “your book is very nice, but I think I’ve come up with a more sensible theory”. Dude had a point though. And, goshdarnit, I loved the emphasis on Ford, and to a lesser extent on Freud, and the fact that crucifixes were chopped and turned into ‘T’s. Ford’s mass-production techniques are sometimes cited as the starting point for our new epoch, it was definitely a canny choice.

You know, Huxley’s a damn good name. All names should have ‘h’s and ‘x’s in I think. I’m totally going to go and name a character Huxley now. The names in Brave New World were well done also, by the by. The characters too I think, they were somewhat sympathetic but managed to balance that line and be kind of foul as well. The Savage, John, might have a little overblown but I’m very glad that he wasn’t actually a Pueblo Indian because that would have definitely been taking the whole dichotomy way too far and into ridiculousness. I’m totally taking the line that John’s birth was one of Mustapha’s naughty little experiments. It would also explain why Linda was so confused by it. And I quite liked the fact that John’s moniker was capitalised, calling him the ‘Savage’ as if it was just his role in this society not particularly pejoratively (like Bill Ferguson’s explanation of ‘Foreigner’ in Japan). Also any mention of (the) Zuni makes me feel like I’m hearing some special anthropologists’s shout out. Cee and I might have squealed a bit at Transamerica for that reason. I also liked the idea that Jesus existed merely as part of John’s pantheon, even if Huxley was taking a bit of a religious angle it wasn’t a specifically Judeo-Christian one- he was merely encouraging spirituality, and I can appreciate that.

And, ah, I do rather like the word ‘soma’, even though it appears to get everywhere and kind of reminds me of reading Bourdieu and scrunching up my nose in confusion. I’m ok with it now, I think. But, hey, since I’m on the topic: I don’t think that Huxley was at all advocating an abandonment of the social. He was arguing against totalitarianism and for individuality, certainly, but it was a brand of individuality tempered by embedded social interaction. Maybe he would have got on with Charles Taylor et al. (I seriously have very little idea as to why that thought just popped into my head, but ok).

For all the apparent uniformity of this future world there was still the capacity for mistakes, as shown by Bernard’s physique, and constant worries about deconditioning. Maybe that’s a little heartening? And then there was also the ever present problem of the alpha pluses, who might attempt to fight their constraints. In fact that reporter who hid in the bushes watching John for three days was surprisingly resourceful all things considered, and perhaps was an alpha. The fact that there were still Savage reserves and random islands (which, Mustapha was right, would totally be the best place to go hang out…well unless you happen to be Rincewind) also hinted that the control was not as total as it seemed. Maybe that’s relevant too, just consider how pervasive we consider things like Internet use- but then look at actual rates of Internet access, for example.

Thing is, now, I really want to read Brave New World: Revisited, and The Island. I think I’ve got The Doors of Perception/Heaven and Hell, back on my shelf of books to read back in London that is. Dammit. And I really want to read We. And some HG Wells. And…argh. Actually all things considered what I probably need to start with is Utopia. Why are there so many things that I want to read and watch and do? Le sigh. I might be a bit of an idealist, but I enjoy a good book about a dystopic future and I don’t think I actually believe in any type of utopia (yeah, I’m gonna stick with Proudhon), but dammit if that French quote at the beginning of Brave New World basically just saying that didn’t take far too long for me to translate properly. I really need to learn French properly. Which might be easier if I was in a Francophone country. And, preferably, not trying to do a billion other things at the same time.

Wake me up when September ends

In bookmark, miss thropist on October 1, 2008 at 3:11 pm

Book post time again!
Firstly: episode 18 of Buffy‘s season eight, though technically a comic not a book.

I do think that I need to be more immersed in the comics of the Buffyverse. That’d probably heighten my appreciation of the ‘Time of Your Life ‘storyline because, as Buffy herself pointed out, seeing the future-verse that’s depicted here kind of presents a lot of spoilers for Fray. Buffy’s “Wow, spoiler alert” comment was actually about just getting to see the future, but it totally applies. I also liked her disbelief that the term ‘spaz’ had stood the test of time, whereas almost all the rest of her lexicon seemed to have disappeared from everyday use. I thought it was a nice touch, since it was a reasonably oft-used word in early Buffy which I find a little jarring when I watch it, although in part because it’s a much more offensive term in the British context.

Asides from Buffy’s fandom-y comments I also really enjoyed the complete and utter rubbishness of the monsters that Dawn and Xander encountered in the forest. They were so obviously unimpressed by said creatures’ cliché behaviour and I thought it was a nice touch. It showed that even these thoroughly “not special” Scoobies are battle-hardened and experienced enough to laugh in the face of danger (and not even need to hide until it goes away these days), and it was a nice moment that gently mocked Buffy‘s own genre- especially considering the move to the comic format.

The interaction between Willow and Saga Vasuki was interesting and compelling. It’s kind of gratifying to see Willow keeping these big secrets from Kennedy, although the character of Saga Vasuki her-/it-self seemed to have been portrayed as a sort of New Age well of Lesbian Power, but I’ll reserve judgement for now. Also although I generally love Willow, I have to roll my eyes at people who say ‘frak’. I know, I know, I ought to check out the revamped Battlestar Galactica one day. One day, indeed.

Also it transpired that the evil woman in the future truly is Dark Willow, and not Drusilla. Oops. Hey, anyone could have made that mistake! Obviously I can see why Saga Vasuki told Willow why she mustn’t “look” at where Buffy is, since she’d probably feel awfully angry, guilty and confused. Since I haven’t read Fray I’m kind of confused though, is it cannon that Willow’s going to go irretrievably evil at some point? Is this the “proper” Frayverse or an alternative one? Are there two (or more) Willows in this world/future? I’m hoping that these questions will be answered in the fourth and final part (the release of which I believe has been pushed back to November). If it isn’t I’m definitely going to need to pick up Fray to answer these burning questions, and even if they are sufficiently answered I think that this storyline has piqued my interest enough to make me want to do so anyway.

So now onto the proper literature, which simultaneously might make me sound vaguely more intelligent and somehow less geeky. Here’s hoping.

How could I not love Catch-22? It’s been recommended to me endlessly by various people, and it’s also constantly appearing on lists of the best books ever. However I’ll admit that I was a little dubious, firstly just because sometimes these so-called classics aren’t all that wonderful in my eyes (see The Catcher In The Rye and definitely Lord of the Flies for example) and secondly war books don’t particularly appeal to me. That’s not to say that I necessarily dislike everything in that genre, it just isn’t a favourite of mine and thus I was almost a little wary of the Catch-22. All for naught though. Come on, it starts with a soldier waking up in a hospital and feeling vast amount of love for his chaplain, “It was love at first sight. The first time Yossarian saw the chaplain he fell madly in love with him”. After hitting a whole load of my literary kinks it all went, amazingly, uphill from there. It’s just an absurdist romp, and I didn’t feel that the plot, with all of its twists and turns, was any less entertaining because I was already au fait with a lot of it. It’s written so wonderfully, and I think I was actually disturbing nearby lessons with my sudden giggles and snorts emitting from the staff room where I was snuggled up on the sofa furiously reading onwards.

I just loved the way that it was written and the dialogue- especially the circular (and circling) nature of the narrative, the back-and-forth of the ironic conversations and the sublimely ridiculous surrealism of much of the plot. Because that’s war, it’s patriotism, it’s capitalism, it’s sanity itself, and in a larger way that’s life. Things don’t make sense, and yet surely they should; surely there should be a higher authority somewhere to appeal to. I loved the fact that you had to pay attention to the book because it unravelled its secrets slowly and in a non-linear way. Specifically the use of déjà vu (and associated feelings like presque vu) really served to keep me interested. There were several events that it came back to time and again, from different people’s perspectives, or from the same people but with a different focus which meant that more and more information was gleaned. This meant that my understanding was slowly added to layer by layer, and my attention was really grabbed.

But it wasn’t only in this way that the technique was used. Although I really adore reading sometimes I rather dislike starting to read a book, if it doesn’t capture me within the first couple of paragraphs then I have to get over a small hump before I’m drawn in. I know that fighting through the first chapter or so will almost definitely pay off (unless it’s really the most awful chick-lit, or Adam Bede again) but nonetheless it can make me kind of resentful. Not only did Catch-22 draw me in straight away (literally from the very first line) and maintain my interest, it made me hyper-aware of details even if I didn’t realise that I was. For example, Yossarian meets the chaplain in the first chapter and uses his name when he vandalised the letters he was supposed to be censoring. However, the chaplain didn’t seem particularly important, but when he strikes up a friendship with Yossarian later I discovered that I’d catalogued every detail about him, apparently in case of such an eventuality. Returning again and again to the scene of Snowden’s death was certainly a useful technique, and when it was fully explained it proved to be a truly disturbing story. I could see why Yossarian wouldn’t ever want to wear a uniform after that. I think that it illustrated perfectly the way that such an experience would pervade someone’s consciousness, whilst also straightforwardly pointing to the atrocities of war- making them realistic and personal.

Good God I hated Aarfy! Appleby too, but I just wanted to hit Aarfy. I could really empathise with Yossarian so much during those scenes in the plane in which he was basically being terrorised by Aarfy but couldn’t explain himself to this lummox. Heller captured that frustration and resignation wonderfully. I simply adored Orr. And Major Major. And Nately! Almost without any reservations. Milo was a great character too, although I didn’t love him unabashedly because he was such an amoral bastard. It was so surreal, but somehow fitting, to discover that he was actually a mayor; a vice-shah; a caliph. His whole trade was exhilarating and maddening in approximately equal measures (especially his ability to make a profit with those eggs), and managed to raise a deep philosophical question: what’s more important, life jackets or ice cream soda?

At the beginning of the book Pianosa almost seemed like a safe haven, providing as much of one as somewhere can amidst the realities of death and war. The characters mostly seemed to exist so languorously, and threw themselves into their missions without much concern, albeit some grumbling. It felt as if they had existed in this stasis for all of time, and could carry on in much of the same way. However by the end this had been disrupted, and almost all of them were dead or gone. It makes you look back at this apparent safety, especially since by the end you’re informed by many more of the experiences that Yossarian and the others had gone through before the book’s opening, and question it. It seems as if that wasn’t really an appearance of safety, but the reality of tension and imminent destruction tempered by camaraderie and desperation.

The thing about Yossarian being “Assyrian” didn’t mean that much to me until Closing Time. It was an obvious marker of his Otherness, without Heller resorting to modelling him too much on himself and making him (particularly) Jewish. However I’m apparently embarrassingly ignorant about vast periods of history, and couldn’t have told you when Assyria stopped being an official nation unless I’d just googled it (around 612BC apparently, so I think a little before Catch-22‘s scope). In this case little Sammy Singer was a lot more intelligent than me. Anyway I suppose the point is simply that names are significant, Yossarian was able to get away with a lot because he had access to this mystical national identity, that he’d basically created himself.

There was one thing which I found annoying about Yossarian and the book, although I’ll admit that it isn’t the fault of either. Basically I got the Clotaire K song Ya Saryan stuck in my head practically every time I read the name ‘Yossarian’. It’s definitely a good song, but having anything going on a loop inside my head (especially if it features a lot of Arabic chanting) gets on my nerves quickly. I am amused that Streetlight Manifesto came on when I started writing about Catch-22 though.

My mother posted Nanzo’s leaving present to me which I’d had to dump from my obese suitcase along with plenty of other books and DVDs, Hokkaido Highway Blues. The book’s sort of a travelogue, detailing Will Ferguson’s experiences road tripping across Japan questing after the cherry blossoms. I was certainly in the mood to read both about road trips (thanks to recently reading On The Road, plus all my excitement about Supernatural coming back) and the experiences of a Westerner emigrating to an East Asian country.

To begin with I was starting to get convinced that I ought to up sticks and head to Japan, if not now then at some point. I’m not insanely enamoured with Japan; I think saying that I know what otaku means but that nobody would ever think of applying it to me sums it up pretty well. When we had to choose a regional specialisation in the second year of the Social Anthropology BA I picked Japan. This was mostly because we hardly ever studied anything to do with Japan or East Asia in our more theory-based courses so I figured that it’d make a nice change, plus I thought that a favourite teacher of mine would be the lecturer (as it turned out she wasn’t, but I got her for a third year course so it was all good). The only other region that I’d considered was Southern Africa, and not only was that only a half unit I was pretty sure that there’d be far too much dry stuff about kinship and not nearly enough anime. I went on to write my dissertation on Japanese pornography, mostly because that’s a sentence I like saying. I did consider applying for the JET programme and got as far as getting references. However I changed my mind about it because they have a policy barring you from re-applying for a few years if they reject you, and I knew that my application wasn’t put together particularly well, and it was just before the deadline. I figured that it would be better to wait until I could hobble together a better one, and instead ended up targeting much less selective hagwons in Korea a year later. So it’s not that I think that I really ought to be in Japan, it’s just that I have more interest in Japan (both from an academic and pop cultural point of view) than in Korea. I’m going to try not to point that out to nationalistic Koreans though. Plus Ferguson kept going on about eating squid there, and I love squid. He should have stopped whinging about Japanese delicacies so much. I get plenty of seafood here to be fair, and trying to find something that I won’t eat has become some people’s favourite game. It works out pretty well for me, hopefully I’ll get to try dog in the next few weeks.

Anyway the fact that I can’t speak Korean soon reminded me that I can’t speak Japanese either. I’m kind of useless. At least I did understand the whole carrot/person confusion and I’m prrretty sure that Ferguson either purposefully mixed them up again in the book, or my Japanese is just even worse than I thought. Even if I was in Japan, I don’t think that I would go hitchhiking alone. Sometimes being a woman can be a bit rubbish, still I’m sure that I was telling the truth when I responded to a student that yes if I get to choose in my next life I’d like to come back as a chick again. (I didn’t have an opinion on skin colour, as long as it’s at least a tad darker than my current transparent state, and I couldn’t decide on a nationality but I definitely had a preference for being brought up in a polyglot or diglossic setting and eventually figured that I’d probably plump for somewhere in South America.) I don’t know if I should blame an ethereal fear like Susan Brownmiller or something else, but I don’t think that I would feel comfortable hitching by myself. One thing, though, that certainly was interesting to me about the book is that I often recognised things that Ferguson was describing from Korea which I think illustrates that a lot of the Japanese myths about uniqueness and inscrutableness can certainly be ignored.

He certainly had a very enjoyable writing style, so it was fun to read about Ferguson’s experiences but I think that I may already have turned into one of those tiresome Kerouac fans. There just is a Dean Moriarty shaped spectre harassing anyone who writes about road trips, and it wasn’t possible for Ferguson to meet it (even if he is Canadian). The book also frustrated me a little, it contained so many truly arresting thoughts and moments of analysis and yet I’d feel that I was wandering down a really interesting path only to discover that the author had broken off (in a drunken stupor more often than not) and the next chapter would begin with a new dawn, a new day and completely unrelated musings. I really feel that several chapters in and of themselves could have been plundered and expanded into academic articles. Obviously it is supposed to be a good little earner for Ferguson, he pretty much admitted that he aimed to write something that would sell. That’s fine, but I just feel like I’ve been cheated out of something more. Also compared to the light-hearted, jocular tone of most of Hokkaido I felt that the ending was rather stark and feel that it would have been nice to have that tone developed more rather than just cutting off as things were really starting to get interesting.

Ferguson trying to explain to people that he was Canadian not American did resonate for me. I suppose it must be more difficult for Canadians to get the point across because their accent generally sounds fairly American. In Korea there are a lot of Canucks so they don’t have much of a problem, I often get asked “So are you American or Canadian?”. That whole sequence with the elderly father who’d been a POW in America and learnt English as a result was so painful to read and so well rendered. I’d imagine that the experiences of WW2 (not particularly Yossarian’s, but hey it’s a nice way to relate everything) that still seem to pervade and almost haunt Japan, at least according to Ferguson, must present a stumbling block for Westerners in Japan- especially if they’re North American, older and male. Well I’m none of those things, and while I do have the added bonus of being Jewish I’m unlikely to develop an understanding of nuclear physics or a desire to bomb Japan specifically. So that’s alright then.

One thing that did kind of bug me about the book was all of Ferguson’s waffling about the desire of men in general, and him in particular to ‘save’ women and his somewhat smug feeling that he was making an original point. I just wanted to pluck him out of the book and tell him, “darling, there’s already been reams and reams written on this subject I promise, so save yourself the ink”. Aside from that there wasn’t anything that really got on my nerves. It was certainly a very enjoyable read, but I kind of wished that I had had it with me to read on the plane as a light-hearted travel book when my brain wasn’t engaged much. Since I didn’t I think that I was plumbing its depths for something more than was actually included and finding minor foibles that I could have otherwise ignored.

Thanks to HarperCollins making Neverwhere available online for free I finally got around to reading it. The main character, Richard Mayhew, seemed to be a bit of a Neil Gaiman stand-in, with a rumpled, just woken up look and a mop of messy hair that’s strangely attractive to women. (I too know this pain, seriously.) It was delightful to read something set in London, especially one so close to “my” London not only in terms of being a contemporary one (as opposed to a Dickensian one) but just in terms of the resonance that the description had for me:

“filled with colour… It was a city of red brick and white stone, red buses and large black taxis, bright red mailboxes and green grassy parks and cemeteries. It was a city in which the very old and the awkwardly new jostled each other, not uncomfortably, but without respect; a city of shops and offices and restaurants and home, of parks and churches, of ignored monuments and remarkably unpalatial palaces, a city of hundreds of districts with strange names…and oddly distinct identities; a noisy, dirty, cheerful, troubled city which fed on tourists, needed them as it despised them, in which the average speed of transportation through the city had not increased in three hundred years… a city inhabited by and teeming with people of every colour and manner and kind”

I liked this book for the same reason that I liked the television series that preceded it, and maybe it is because I’m a Londoner, it takes the London Underground- something that on the surface seems like a proud symbol of the triumph of technology- and turns it into something wonderfully whimsical. Even the commonplace capitalisation of the word Underground makes it look some surreal alterna-world full of mystical creatures, rather like the world of Holly Short et al in the Artemis Fowl series. Plus it’s a word that starts and ends with the same three letters, and everyone knows that repetition features a lot in the casting of spells. Furthermore while the Tube is a symbol of something ultra-modern it has retained an inextricable link with the early nineteenth century railways of London, perhaps in part due to the fact that the service hasn’t noticeably improved. The “handy fiction” of the Tube map hasn’t altered its design all that much since 1933 either. (Harry Beck was from Finchley, you know.) There’s also the allure of the closed stations, such as the British Museum station, York Road, “The Bull and Bush” station (North End), Down Street etc, which bring with them the connotation of hidden and secret locales. I think it’s a large part of most Londoner’s repertoire of trivia about their city, as well as the way that some stations have changed their names- sometimes because the area’s name has changed too. There’s a suggestion of mystique, and I think a feeling that these stations somehow hold the key to London’s not quite tangibly accessible past.

I suppose this is particularly pertinent to me, since I hail from a teeny little area of the ‘burbs called Mill Hill East. Not only does it have a ridiculously small local “Underground” over ground with a single platform that looks like it could have come straight out of a village postcard, there are tracks leading away from it that abruptly stop. They were part of a plan to connect MHE tube to stations other than Finchley Central, which actually would have been helpful to my life, but even when you know the explanation tracks that lead to nowhere just seem somewhat mysterious. There is this slight sensation that they really ought to lead to somewhere, and perhaps would if only one knew how to make them. It really always did seem like something straight out of a fantasy novel to me, and perhaps one day it will be. So I’ll shut up about it now.

I think that this romanticism towards trains might be a uniquely British thing. Ian Hislop has apparently been going on about trains and hating on Richard Beeching, as he should. I know that railways played a crucial role in the histories of many other countries, and their importance for American expansion was emphasised in Atlas Shrugs. Although there was a lot of focus on the role of railroads in the book, and certainly they aroused passion in some of the characters, it was with a sort of calculated, organised ideal in mind if not in practice. The reality of rail building in Britain was completely slap-dash in contrast. The image of steam train pulling into a village station seems quintessentially British, and unquestionably storybook-esque. There’s a reason that Beckonscot model village is filled with working model trains and has a miniature version of Enid Blyton’s house, and there’s a reason that I love the place. I think I’m too tired to articulate that reason very well, but basically: whee, trains! Guv’nor. Cheers. Cheerio. Innit.

I really don’t feel that the novel was at all ruined by the fact that I knew what was coming almost continuously from first watching the show, which is a testament to how well it’s written and how magnificently it maintains the tension running through it. I think that the novel was obviously able to be a lot richer and more detailed than the show could be, and it won’t age as badly or as obviously as the show already has. There was also a lot more freedom in terms of locations and how they were decked out. I think the idea of the markets in Harrods and the HMS Belfast was a brilliant one. I also really like the names in Neverwhere, the names of Door’s family delighted me and I especially loved the Marquis de Carabas because I’ve always loved Puss in Boots.

I could understand why Richard felt that he ought to go back home towards the end of the book, but I was so glad when he did decide to return to London Below. I suppose I needed a taste of that after the bleak ending of Hokkaido Highway Blues, I think I simultaneously believe that people are altered by their adventures and remain in the realm in which they happened and that this in no way applies to me. I’m sneaky like that. I’m also really glad that he didn’t end up with Door, especially because I think I’d reached the point at which I’d happily pay someone money if they could hand me something good in which the two leads don’t either end up together or being tragically separate from each other and being filled with yearning, longing and quiet desperation. So thank you Neil Gaiman.

Considering that I devoured Neverwhere over only two days at odd intervals that I could snatch when I could get a glance at a decent computer screen, I read surprisingly few books this month. Mostly I’m going to blame that on Closing Time, the sequel to Catch-22, because it took me a long time to get into and therefore to complete. I think the clue as to why that was the case is in the description, I’m still not sure exactly why Heller decided to write a sequel to the absurdly popular and wonderful Catch-22, and after completing it it’s still hard for me to work out how I feel about it. While it was nice to revisit characters such as Yossarian and the Chaplain, it was really jarring to see these favourites as old men. If it was weird for me who only read Catch-22 a couple of weeks before embarking on Closing Time it must have been more shocking and disorienting for older fans of the book and its characters.

Maybe in part that was what Heller was commenting on though. It was certainly weird to read about Yossarian as a somewhat successful businessman with understandable worries about his children, in a way that it wasn’t strange to think of the Chapman as an old man or Milo with an heir. Yossarian was this amazing anti-hero of a character, who was compelling because he was splendid and strong. Obviously it’s realistic that if he wasn’t killed then he might well have become the man that he did in Closing Time, but that doesn’t mean that it’s something that I want to read about. It feels as if Yossarian ought to have been left as a symbol unsullied by life during peacetime, let alone by the ravages of old age.

I don’t particularly want to read about beloved characters getting old and dying. Heller forces the audience to face that, largely in part because he was an old man by the time he wrote this sequel. Maybe if I ever get old I’ll appreciate this book more, but for now I just found it more depressing than anything. The whole storyline with George C. Tilyou et al “living” on under the Earth was incredibly random. It certainly had the potential to be a captivating sub-plot but I feel that it was never properly explored. Catch-22 didn’t really dabble in the mystical or fantastical, and yet its sequel appeared to matter of factly include the possibilities of eternal life, as well as Hell. Mr Gaffney’s connection to this place was never investigated satisfactorily, and certainly Yossarian’s wasn’t either. Maybe Heller just wanted to write a bit about Hell so that lame people like me would make crappy jokes about his name. Well I shan’t give him the satisfaction, so there.

I found the stories of both Lew and Sammy to be fairly interesting, although initially it was difficult for me to work ought why I ought to care about them. At least Sammy was well tied in because it transpired that he’d been the kid in the plane fainting when Snowden had died. I liked that that pivotal scene remained important in the sequel, and that it had never lost its significance for Yossarian or Sam Singer; that it had stuck with them as something which made the war “real” to them. Sam’s resonance and importance slowly interested me in Lew, and Michael Yossarian and M2 were somewhat intriguing simply because of their paternity. The Chaplain was isolated from everyone else for almost the entire novel because he’d been producing heavy water accidentally. It was a ridiculous storyline, of course, but it played out entertainingly I guess. I quite liked the character of Mr Gaffney, his behaviour certainly amused me as did the other PIs and the utterly bizarre nature of the society wedding being held in the bus terminal.
A couple of minor characters who you might recognise where inserted too, Joey Heller and Kurt Vonnegut, which struck me as a little odd. I have a feeling that Heller was trying to create a much more Jewish-tinged version of Catch-22, doing this with the inclusion of Lew and Sammy, and with minor characters like Joey Heller. Also Yossarian mentioned that he was of possibly Semitic descent. If Heller wanted to write about his Coney Island youth he ought to have done that, if he wanted to write about old age he ought to have done that, if he wanted to write satirically but a little too bluntly about stupid politicians he ought to have done that but I feel that he didn’t need to drag Yossarian and the others into it. There were a few self-referential comments from some of characters too about both the actual Catch-22 itself and about the film of Catch-22. I can see what Heller was trying to do with such references, but I don’t think that it quite worked. If the entirety of Closing Time was mostly a send up of Catch-22 it could have succeeded, but it was this sprawling mass that was just trying to be far too many things at once for it to really be anything at all.

Here, it’s almost like we’re blessed

In bookmark, miss thropist, tv kicks on September 15, 2008 at 8:02 am

I’ve been totally captured by the heady concept of pronoia. Do you ever feel like the world is conspiring to make you feel happy? Cos that’s how I’ve been feeling.

From a new mp3 player to a lack of people on the subway, everything seems to be going well.

The latest thing (asides from the distinct lack of crowds on the subway) which had me beaming with pronoic joy was Supernatural. I was a little bored (and had finished my book) when I wandered downstairs and found that everyone was up from their nap too. What came on television to entertain me? That’s right, a subtitled (not dubbed!) episode of Supernatural, in fact the very one I’d wanted to watch after seeing the finale of Carnivale- ‘Scarecrow’. Season one of Supernatural was apparently even cheesier than I remembered, but it was also chock full of man pain. Nicki Aycock as Meg was way more of a sex kitten than I remembered too (which is odd, because I certainly recalled that she was pretty darn coquettish). The (classic) brotherly moments were brilliant too:

Dean: So what made you change your mind?
Sam: I didn’t. I still want to find Dad. And you’re still a pain in the ass. But, Jess and Mom- they’re both gone. Dad is God knows where. You and me. We’re all that’s left. So, if we’re gonna see this through, we’re gonna do it together.
Dean: (pause) Hold me, Sam That was beautiful.
Sam: You should be kissing my ass! You were dead meat, dude.

And Jesus Christ, I always forget but Jensen has a ridiculously deep voice. I suppose it isn’t really Jensen’s voice since it hisn’t his “natural” accent, but is the pitch put on as well? Has someone got some comparative data from his other roles and interviews? Fandom has just about everything, so I wouldn’t be surprised. Here have a link to an essay about trauma andPTSD in Supernatural to prove my point. I didn’t feel too bad aboutperving on baby-Jared, since he didn’t look as young as I feared. I’ll cleanse my palette with very recent pictures from the charity soapbox derby, in which Jared is clearly the hotter of the two. I don’t quite know what’s going on. (Actually wandering off into another fandom- if it really can be classed as that- proves that it really does have everything. Someone wrote fanfic about Neil Gaiman’s webelf. Did I mention that I love the internet?)

I seriously can’t wait til I get around to rewatching Supernatural (although I have no idea when), it’s going to be so fun and you just know I’ll have far too much to say about it (although never as well or as succinctly as kroki_refur’s ten expressions). I’m sure that after watching all of The X-Files I’ll find a lot of new little things to be amused by, since Supernatural has filched quite a few of The X-Files‘ cast and crew over the last couple of years. In ‘Scarecrow’ I realised that the supposedly nice professor was clearly a bad guy straight away this time- because he was played by the Cigarette Smoking Man. There was also a brilliant rainy-umbrella-Vancouver moment. Significant for reals.

How do I feel? What do I say? In the end it all goes away! (Sugar!)

In bookmark, miss thropist on August 22, 2008 at 8:12 pm

It’s a funny old world.


Instead of dealing with said world, how about a dram of escapism? I love the fact that I didn’t come across this until I’d actually read Atlas Shrugsif famous authors wrote fanfiction. It features Anne Rice’s take on LOTR, Nicholas Sparks on Star Wars (although it could easily be Mitch Albom instead!), David Sedaris on Harry Potter and, best of all, Ayn Rand on Buffy. Can you imagine anything more perfect? It doesn’t contain any spoilers beyond the most basic premises (so if you didn’t want to know that there’s vampires in Buffy…well oops, it’s too late now). On the subject of fanfiction, I discovered Neil Gaiman’s explanation of slash which was great, especially this part “It’s normally written by extremely nice ladies. I have several very sane, respected, and respectable friends who write slash fiction, and do not try to make me read it”. I’ve also been feeling quite a lot of love for his song I Google You. I recommend reading through the interesting comments on that post, and not only because NG popped by to post the lyrics. I now really want to read The Physics of the Buffyverse, yes a book about the science of Buffy has been published. Ask me again why I love fandom. It sounds like such an interesting book, as does Ouellette‘s other book Black Bodies and Quantum Cats. I love science, especially biology and physics, and was semi-seriously considering dropping out of SOAS in my second year to go and study physics somewhere (not that I’d be able to with no appropriate A levels). I think that was probably fuelled by reading The Science of the Discworld, which is a wonderfully eloquent (and passionate) book. The fact that Ouellette was actually an English major who accidentally ended up doing science writing makes it all the more interesting and appealing to me.

On the subject of awesome bloggers I simply have to pimp the Saved By The Bell Quote of the Day blog, could there be a better idea for an online journal ever? Then, mixing my segues like others blend metaphorical cocktails, I’m going to wax poetical about a couple more lists. I always love those lists of the sexiest wo/men because they combine some of my favourite things: hotties, listing and the opportunity to get annoyed by something irrelevant. Often these lists include some really great irreverent commentary (I assume because I’m the only one who actually reads it they can get away with some brilliant randomness). The UGO.com (who, and also what?) 50 hottest women on TV list managed to throw in what I’d have to literally call bon mots, for example on the subject of America Ferrera:

“Yes, this sure is a big, funny world, isn’t it? Throw some braces, bushy eyebrows and bad outfits on a beautiful young woman, and by Hollywood standards, you’ve got someone “ugly”. Of course, we all know that Hollywood is the perfect arbiter of female body images. After all, they’ve done a bang up job in the past, so why should now be any different? … it’s about time the rest of the industry picked up on just how sexy those curves are.”

Their choice for number 1 also made me very happy (a rare occurrence indeed when it comes to these lists). Mary-Louise Parker is indeed a buff ting, and Weeds is awesome. ‘Nuff said.

The letters page of Buffy season 8, ep 17 introduced excellent concept to me- pronoia. It’s the opposite of paranoia, and apparently is the sneaking suspicion that the whole world is conspiring to shower you with blessings. Honestly that is sometimes how I feel when I get to feed my obsessions, yay there are shiny, pretty things! I did get around to reading Sugarshock! the other day too. It’s up on myspace but I don’t think the transitions are made very clear, so if you want to check it out here’s part onetwo and three. It’s not the deepest thing in the world, but it’s a really fun comic and you don’t have to get too invested in it. I’d definitely recommend it and can see why it won awards.

It’s getting so exciting…

In bookmark, miss thropist, screenshots, tv kicks on August 18, 2008 at 8:26 pm

The Bonnie Tyler cover of Getting So Exciting never fails to make me giggle. Maybe it’s because I spent most of my childhood dancing on my parents’ bed to the original.

Fandom, and in fact just the world, is making me excited about various upcoming happenings. Amongst them:

1) The Coraline movie. I’d heard that it was being made but I thought that that was probably meant in the vague way that films of books I like are often being made, but no- this is actually happening! It looks pretty good- how can an animated stop-motion version directed by Henry Selick go too wrong? I do like The Nightmare Before Christmas (which he directed), although not as much as some people. Probably I’m hampered by not watching it at the correct stage in my life, I never saw it as a child so I first watched it in my first year of university. Admittedly I can kind of understand why people rolled their eyes at my main gripe (that it’s lodged in a very specific American and Christian worldview, as evidenced by the other holiday tree/portals that exist), but it doesn’t mean that it’s completely devoid of validity. Apparently Coraline makes use of the new 3D technology too, which I’ve heard mostly encouraging things about, perhaps it’s going to bring back the importance of the cinema if people actually have a reason to not just download/wait for the DVD?

There are five promos (of sorts) up if your curiosity is piqued. Gosh darn it, it’s making me want to re-read Coraline now since I read it so long ago, I think it may have been the first of Neil Gaiman’s work that I ever encountered (unless that honour in fact goes to Good Omens). It’s wonderfully whimsical but also manages to be deliciously creepy too, and in a much better way than something like The Spiderwick Chronicles for example (although to be fair I only saw the film, and that wasn’t bad, especially since it had Mary-Louise Parker in it). I quite like the look of the casting and think that Teri Hatcher is a good choice, and Dakota Fanning doesn’t seem as excessively annoying as I thought she would be. It does seem a bit weird to hear Coraline speaking with an American accent, but not excessively horrible. I just love the way that Neil Gaiman speaks during interviews, he sounds like a deliberating maniac who might just offer you some tea.

2) Dollhouse. Obviously I was hella excited the moment I heard about a new Joss Whedon/Eliza Dushku project for various reasons, but the more I discover the better it sounds. It has a very interesting premise, people who can be imprinted with any persona (and associated skills, memories, languages etc) which are then wiped clean when their task is completed. The main character, Echo (played by Dushku), basically starts to become self-aware. I think it’s an idea which allows the writers to explore a lot of really interesting material, as this interview discussing the nature/nurture debate makes clear, as well as create some great stand-alone scenarios for a series that by it’s very nature doesn’t need to be overly self-referential. I think it’ll be great to see Eliza (or rather Eliza-as-Echo) playing all these different characters, and in some fabulous outfits I imagine! Also Tahmoh Penikett seems insanely adorable, and apparently Amy Acker has a recurring role too.

3) The Internet finally surpassing Hollywood/the movie industry. Apparently it’s going to happen any moment now, for real this time. Alright, probably not at exactly this moment, but the media promises me that it’s coming! It’s obvious that people’s viewing habits have been irrevocably changed by Web 2.0, and eventually film and television executives are going to have to take these trends into account far more than they have been doing. In their absence, it’s the writers and producers who are starting to take note instead. Why wouldn’t they, in a world that no longer has an expanding television industry and instead a weird trigger-happy response to most shows? It’s not just Firefly and Wonderfalls, myriad good shows are constantly being cancelled prematurely, in fact getting a second season practically makes a show sound like a break-out success these days. Even shows with decent ratings like Supernatural are threatened, especially by executives like Dawn Ostroff who’s precariously playing around with the fate of the entire CW network. There are a lot of interesting articles on the topic of digital media at the moment which are talking about the success of Dr Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, I especially liked this one and was intrigued to see it discussed from a more business-oriented perspective onone of the Harvard Business blogs.

4) New seasons of pretty much everything in the next few months: Bones, SupernaturalHousePushing DaisiesGossip GirlCalifornication… If I manage to get stuck into (and assuming I enjoy) How I Met Your Mother and Dexter by then I’ll need to add them to the mix too! My life really needs more hours. I need to finish watching Carnivale before I get started on either of those two, plus I really do want to finally watch Life on Mars (which is sitting on my computer pouting for attention) soon too. Of all the shows the one that I’m most excited about is definitely Supernatural, and so I rather enjoyed this essay on ‘A Very Supernatural Christmas‘ (despite not feeling appropriately festive currently). I’m also fervently hoping for the (re-)return of the Ghostfacers to Supernatural, because they’re adorable and awesome. Actually AJ Buckley and Travis Wester are wonderful in and of themselves, but especially when they, in-character, messed with Jared and Jensen’s panel at Comic-Con. Here‘s a link to a video of said brilliance.
5) Not just Dollhouse, but pretty much anything Joss Whedon’s involved in. Basically I’ve realised that I really need to check out more of the comics, I’m sure that I’m going to get drawn into the new Angel ones eventually, as well as Fray and the old Buffy (and probably Angel) ones too. In addition to that there’s the Serenity ones, which I’m even more interested in now with the news that they’re going to finally explain Shepherd Book’s back story. Outside of the Jossverses that already have my love there’s also the lure of his run on Astonishing X-Men (which will probably swiftly lead to what comes after), and I’ve heard good things about Runaways (not just his stint) and Sugarshock!. Sadly the blog which I was using to read comics scans is down (but will hopefully be resurrected in a new form soon) so I’m unlikely to get on with any of that at the moment, although Sugarshock! is available on myspace so I really have no excuse. With all the books/films/comics/television shows I’m trying to imbibe at the moment I’m quite glad that Monsieur Whedon doesn’t have a load of films coming out right now, but this list of five movies that he should direct was fun, and actually pretty convincing. The article evilly made me want to read King Dork, and a load of books about the Civil War. I really want to be able to clone myself so I can comfortably keep up with all my obsessions.

6) The future of DC Comics superhero movies. I’m excited about the potential of a new Batman film (even though they probably won’t let me ghost write), the next Superman film (cos wow did Superman Returns suck) and Wonder Woman (even though Joss is no longer involved). There’s a brilliant article here which I really wish the appropriate people would take note of. I suppose that I do grudgingly support the idea of giving Bryan Singer another chance with Superman since I did really like the first two X-Men films, but I’m still pissed off at just how meh Superman Returns was. Also Supermax sounds brilliant, and there really do need to be some more superhero films launching (or re-launching) the story in a way that isn’t just (or isn’t at all) an origin tale. I’m going to end up reading the script for The Plastic Man now, aren’t I? I really do seem to have a DC bias, I must be the only person in the world who is yet to see any of the Spiderman films, as well as Iron Man. I’ll get round to it. Eventually.

7) More and more analysis of the Buffy season 8 comics. There’s a really thoughtful and thought-provoking article about discussing the possible end of (lesbian) identity politics on AfterEllen.comwhich provides some great commentary. Beware it does contain spoilers for (and images from) the comics.

8 ) My possible descent into the heady world of RPF, although I’m not sure that that will actually happen. I’ve discovered real person fanfiction on my livejournal flist occasionally, using actors from the WeedsAngel and West Wing fandoms, but I’ve never actually been able to get stuck into it and give up quickly. Somehow it just doesn’t really appeal to me. However, I will read basically anything regardless of how ridiculous or potentially squicky it sounds, I know that basically anything can be turned into a good, and crucially, believable story in the hands of a great writer. I think the reason that the J2 fandom is so sizable is that Supernatural presents two (and only two, especially in the earlier seasons) ridiculously good looking characters with obvious chemistry. However, they’re brothers. Obviously not everyone considers fraternal incest to be wackily hilarious, and so a lot of people would prefer to write (and/or read) about the attraction between their real life counterparts instead. Also when people write about (W)incest it tends to be dark and heart wrenching rather than light and fluffy for some reason, so the fictional tangled love lives of two actors become light relief by contrast. What I’m bowled over by is the fact that J2 + Sandy AU fic actually exists. It’s not particularly well-written (in fact I can summarise it succinctly: “cock. arse. tits.”) but I’m just enjoying the fact that it was created at all.

Also I’ve never really understood why fics like that are described as ‘genderfuck’ (or ‘genderswap’) since the characters genders don’t change at all, it’s merely their physical sex which has been altered. I suppose describing something as ‘sexfuck’ could be a little confusing however.

Here, have a video of Nathan Fillion and Alan Tudyk being amusing just because.

Pardon my overly revealing linking behaviour, and Young Americans misquoting.

Um, I gotta book

In bookmark, miss thropist, screenshots, tv kicks on July 27, 2008 at 10:15 pm

That’s one Buffy line that I’ve never actually been too sure of… either she means that she has to go sort out her library issues (which is plausible) or it’s valley girl for ‘go’. According to Stephen Fry ‘book’ has become textspeak for ‘cool’, since the young folk are too lazy to deal with the errors of predictive texting.

‘Book’ was also the name of one of my favourite Firefly characters. Maybe I should just say that he was one of the characters, since I can’t really think of anyone on Firefly who wasn’t one of my favourites, including theSpJew.

Anyway, I felt like doing a round-up post about what I’ve been reading in the last month or so.

I’ll start with the book I was reading up to my flight out, Scenes of Clerical Life by George Eliot. I’d actually read it before, but years ago and I couldn’t really remember much of it. My ailing memory is a bit of a problem! There’s quite a lot of classics that I feel that way about, plus I don’t think that I fully appreciated what was going on when I read them as a tween, like with Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I added a few books like this that I thought were in need of a re-read to my ‘to read’ shelf, and I’d just happened to have got up to Scenes by the time I was leaving. I had intended to bring the next few with me, which I think included Gone With the Wind, but due to my incredibly overweight bag I had to leave them behind.

Scenes of Clerical Life is basically a collection of three, very slightly related, short stories. I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with short stories. I think that in the right hands (such as the paws of Daphne duMaurier, Roald Dahl, Philip K Dick or Andrew Davies, and if I can include novellas like St Mawr and The Virgin and the Gypsy in my definition of ‘a short story’ then I’d like to add DH Lawrence to that list) they can be excellent, and provide satisfying ‘bite size’ fiction. However, I’ve experienced quite a lot of fairly rubbish short stories that just make me feel as if I’m wasting my time. I think it can be quite hard for something so short to draw you in and actually make you interested in what’s happening. I definitely prefer reading a load of short stories by one author together rather than a collection of tales from different writers (even if they are on a similar theme) because you at least become acclimatised to the author’s rhythm and style. Also sometimes you get those nice links between the stories which just gives you a little something extra and makes it feel as if the stories are more than just these ‘shorts’. I like that kind of thing anyway, the subtle nod to the careful reader- like in Sharon Creech’s teenage fiction for example, all her books have a different female protagonist, but they’re all somehow linked together even if they don’t know it, and there’s a small mention of one of them in each book (perhaps the heroine’s aunt mentions a girl she might get on with, for example).

As far as short stories go I found Scenes to be a good collection. I suppose it helped that they weren’t particularly short either, they felt meaty enough. The first two stories, ‘The Sad Fortunes of the Reverend Amos Barton’ and Mr Gilful’s Love Story’ were both fairly enjoyable and showcased Eliot’s wit and storytelling ability. Whilst they were often funny, they did both have sad (and kind of abrupt) endings. The third and final part, ‘Janet’s Repentance’ is much, much darker, being about an alcoholic, abused wife. It isn’t really a subject matter that lends itself to humour, but then again Juno was an excellent comedy about teenage pregnancy. I certainly thought that ‘Janet’s Repentance’ was well written and touching, but I found certain parts of it a bit hard to swallow- namely the emphasis on how to be (and how one should be) a dutiful wife. Overall I didn’t feel that this book was necessarily a masterpiece, but nor did I expect it to be- I think that it’s an especially accessible ‘in’ to Eliot’s work and I’m glad that I took the time to re-read it. I certainly want to re-read The Mill on the Floss (I couldn’t find my copy at home anyway but I’m sure I can buy one out here) and maybe eventually actually get around to reading Adam Bede.

I don’t think I need to say too much about my experience of reading Everything is Illuminated for the second time.. Suffice to say that I obviously enjoyed it immensely again, and it still managed to make me sob like a small child. I came away from it with the sense that maybe it wasn’t the slice of perfection I had thought when I first read it though, and that sometimes the ever-so-postmodern literary techniques were a little bit forced. I’d quite like to get around to reading The Time Traveller’s Wife as well to compare how that feels the second time around, as it (like Everything is Illuminated) is a book that I read fairly recently and was just utterly in love with.

The next book I got around to reading was Stardust, my going away present from Naomi. I’d already watched the film, which is a bad, bad way to go around doing things and I heartily disapprove of myself for it. I preferred the book to the film, although I still think that the film is definitely enjoyable and actually rather different from the book (I rewatched it on Sunday in a DVD-bang while scoffing down tasty ice cream, and it was an excellent hangover cure). Neil Gaiman is an author that I’ve always known I’d adore and yet I haven’t read all that much by him; I read Coraline several years ago which was enjoyable enough and had some excellent one-liners, but it is a book aimed at a younger audience and I adore Good Omens which he co-wrote with my beloved Terry Pratchett. I’ve also watched the entirety of Neverwhere which is excellent and comes highly recommended from me (and it’s alright to watch that before reading it, which I will get around to one day, since it was a television show first so ha) even though it does of course look incredibly dated. I’m really glad that I read (and watched) Stardust, and hopefully it will encourage me to read more Gaiman stuff. It was just a really fun and whimsical book, and I’m very glad that it wasn’t just a cut and dry fairy tale with a happy ending, and even though it isn’t a major detail I really liked that Tristan’s mother wasn’t particularly motherly and was instead kind of harsh, proud and cunning.

After that I got into my first batch of book binges (from the seven storey Tesco’s bookshop), starting with The Picture of Dorian Gray. I enjoyed it and I’m glad that I’ve finally read it, it was certainly fun to find so many Wilde-isms in their original habitat. I feel a little weird that so many of his characters’ sayings get attributed to him as a person, obviously they originate from him and often they may very well express his feelings entirely (possibly proven by the fact that he recycled them and put them in the mouths of other characters), I just feel that when people are quoting his characters they ought to at least parenthetically point that out. Reading Dorian Gray was a little uncomfortable for me because although Lord Henry is the obvious avatar of Wilde, I think there was also a lot of him in Basil, and it’s so sad to read about Basil’s obsession with Dorian, and feel how eerily it foreshadows Wilde’s own devastating love for Bosie. I could not help myself from imagining Dorian as looking an awful lot like Jude Law playing Bosie in Wilde as a result. The actual story of Dorian Gray is fairly simplistic (and I wasn’t aware of just how common it was at the time) but it’s a very well-written and well-executed book. I liked the insights provided by the introduction in my copy (although I really think that these analytical introductions ought to be shunted to the end of the book because I never read them first since I don’t want to be spoiled), although I think that counting the amount of times the word “wild” was used and trying to use that as evidence of Wilde’s egotism was stretching things a little far.

My copy also included some very well-written short stories, in fact I think I’d be happy to add Oscar Wilde to my list of favourite short-story authors. ‘The Happy Prince’ was a sweet tale (although I felt a slight objection the almost jarring religious twist at the end), ‘The Birthday of the Infanta’ was enjoyable with a good twist, and ‘Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime’ was brilliant and darkly hilarious. I’d definitely recommend checking out some of his lesser known shorter works like these to anyone who likes short stories and/or his better known stuff, and I would certainly like to read more of his fairy tales.

Next I (finally) read The Catcher in the Rye. I guess it’s one of those books that everyone feels that they ought to read, but I’ve never acted on that impulse (probably because I never found a copy of it in the house). I kind of wish that I had done, because I feel that if I’d read it at the right time in my life I might have enjoyed it a lot more, as it was I could see its merits but it just didn’t do much for me. I can’t personally really understand why people rave about it. It isn’t a bad book at all and it did have some amusing observations but it just wasn’t saying anything particularly earth shattering. It does an excellent job of capturing an annoyed teenager’s voice, but that isn’t enough to make it amazing, and quite frankly it isn’t the most interesting point of view in the world (unless we’re talking about Gossip Girl, natch). I think that I have a bit of bias against fiction written in the first person as well, which probably doesn’t help. The fact that I was a little underwhelmed by The Catcher in the Rye has led me to accept a difficult truth about myself that I’m finding a little hard to cope with: I am not a fourteen year old boy. It’s pretty sad.

Although The Great Gatsby was also written in the first person, I enjoyed it a lot more than The Catcher in the Rye. I’ve always had a complete misconception about The Great Gatsby, I think it’s because I read a (much longer) book as a kid called ‘The Great…’ something, maybe it was ‘The Great Grey’? I’m fairly certain that it was alliterative. So they’ve sort of been vaguely connected in my psyche, giving me the impression that The Great Gatsby had something to do with chases, and possibly mystical creatures of some kind. Those impressions have now been properly debunked and I’m happy to announce that I think it’s a great, and tragic, book. It’s a very touching story, and Nick makes an excellent dry, detached narrator. My interest in J2 AU fic began at about the same time as I was reading this, and it was kind of weird that I was reading this at the same time (please be warned that there’s an awful lot of gay sex, drugs, meanness and prostitution if you click on that link), which although completely different from The Great Gatsby had one very similar element: the idea of a person being completely besotted with someone, and holding on to that for so long instead of moving on. I often find that when I become interested in something, such as a book, I find similarities with it everywhere though, and I’m sure that that happens to other people too.

My trio of first person novels was completed by The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, and I definitely feel that it’s a form that I could do without reading for a little while. Like The Catcher in the Rye, I feel that this book is a little overrated. It is an interesting view point and I think that mostly Mark Haddon writes well, but (again like The Catcher in the Rye) it feels a little ‘light’ and fluffy, it kind of reminded me of Tuesdays with Morrie as well. I think that it’s lazy writing to just create a scenario where your audience is going to feel sympathy for your character/s, I want something more, I don’t know how to define what exactly it is but it makes a book resonate ‘deeply’. I also felt a bit weird about Haddon’s choice to write from the point of view of an autistic boy (especially as it isn’t actually explained in the book that he is autistic, unless you count the blurb), whilst I suppose that it is awareness raising I felt as if he was somewhat exploiting his first hand experience of working with autistic people. I’d really love to force my parents to read this book and get their impressions of it, since they both have experience of working with autistic children (my mother mostly with very young children and my father more with teens). I also felt that the ending wasn’t very satisfying. Overall I thought that it was an interesting and ambitious idea for a book, but it just wasn’t something amazing and not really my type of book, though I can appreciate what other people find likable about it without completely judging them.

I did however feel rather let down when I read Dead Poets Society. Being as I’m not much of a film person it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise that I’ve never actually seen the film, so when I saw the book I figured that it would be a great idea to read it. Too late I discovered that the film isn’t based on the book, but the other way around- the book is inspired by the film. When I realised that I didn’t expect it to be particularly great, even so I wasn’t expecting it to be so bad. It’s especially irritating because it could be good, yet doesn’t deliver. I’d still be interested in watching the film because I can imagine a lot of the ideas that don’t quite work in the book being realised successfully on screen, and it’s a little annoying that if and when I do watch it I’m already going to know exactly what’s going to happen. I’m kind of pissed at this book for not being good enough to like, since it does have elements which I really could enjoy- I like passion for writing, and I really like Walt Whitman. It probably doesn’t help that I’m not the biggest fan of poetry though. I certainly think that if this book were fleshed out more and didn’t feel quite so rushed it might be more enjoyable, and I’d definitely veto idiotic teenage boys claiming they’re in love with a girl after meeting her for about 30 seconds, along with idiotic teenage boys running around a cave whooping ‘like savages’ if I’d been in charge. I suppose I really must come to the conclusion that I’m definitely not a teenage boy, and just stick to reading smutty school boy fic.

I’ve also been entertaining myself with comics. I’m not all that much of a comic fan, although I really adore X-Men for example, I’m much more au fait with the cartoon than the actual comics (and also the first two films which were great, and check out this fantastic review for some of the reasons I hated the third one). Even though I obviously utterly adore all things Whedonesque, I’ve never actually read any of the BuffyAngel or Firefly comics, or even Astonishing X-Men. Even when I found out that Joss himself was taking them helm for a Buffy season 8 in comic form I debated whether I wanted to get invested. Silly, silly me.

I was also giggling at the woobie trope post. I especially loved that for both Buffy and Supernatural a blanket statement was needed to explain how much trauma pretty much all the characters face. I really don’t understand how Mulder didn’t make the cut though, there’s a boy who seems like he could really use a hug.

A fairly tenuous leap (which might make a smidge more sense in a sec) brings me to something that I’ve been pondering: is there a term for a love of Jews? Cos if there isn’t, can I please suggest that the word Semiphilia needs to come into effect, like now? Especially so I can describe Kristin Chenowith as a Semiphiliac. This picspam goes a way to proving it, if her love of Aaron Sorkin wasn’t enough to do that anyway. (Did you know that they’re back together? Maybe his overly-revealing, highly disturbing analysis of their relationship and subsequent break up as portrayed by Matt and Harriet in Studio 60 somehow won her back, or maybe she agreed to give him another chance if he swore to never, ever do something like that again. Who knows.) The picspam mentions a lot of the reasons why I adore Kristin Chenowith, but I figure that they can handle being restated a few times: she was Glinda (and that’s just awesome), she’s great in Pushing Daisies, she somehow wasn’t annoying in The West Wing even though she should have been, it is almost impossible to believe that her and Allison Janney are the same species and, yes, her breasts. Since David Duchovny somehow managed to make his way into said picspam (for reasons that I don’t entirely understand), I’m prompted to ask if there’s such a thing as Demisemiphilia? Can I be in charge of all the words now please world?

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