missannethropist

Posts Tagged ‘politics’

Searchin’ every which a-way

In bookmark, fasc-ion, good vibrations, miss thropist, pcp news, screenshots, techno, tv kicks on April 8, 2012 at 10:00 am

Bee with magnifying glass

It’s time, once again, to delve into the mixed grab bag of what people have been tapping into google in order to end up here over the last fortnight.

Just in case you hadn’t realised: people scour the internet for some odd things. Have some Coasters to ease you into the randomness:

 

And now to the search terms! Read the rest of this entry »

The Middle Class Guide to Being Angry

In bookmark, fasc-ion, miss barista, screenshots on August 13, 2011 at 11:29 am

So, I think it’s pretty clear that I’m an Angry Individual. Bitter and twisted are two other words, but let’s stick with the anger for now.

I get outraged, indignant, astonished, and that low heavy weight in your stomach that feels a lot like pure evil. And I relish it.

I respect angry people. I love nothing more than watching or reading Charlie Brooker as he annihilates fairly mundane people by making hilarious comparisons (the genius is clearly in a good similie). I cackle with glee watching old recordings of Bill Hicks tearing down the imbeciles who tried to mock him and failed (the genius is clearly in the pure spirit of belief). And me, well, I quite enjoy tearing down and moaning, ranting and raving about ridiculously unimportant things, like coffee (the genius is clearly in the desperate and frequent use of the word ‘fuck’).

Therefore, in the wake of the London Riots, where the ‘Youth of Today’/ ‘Chavtastic cliches who cannot possibly actually define the ‘Youth of Today’’ are tearing stuff down left, right and Croydon, I thought I’d give you an expert’s guide on how to be angry- the middle class way.

1. Expletives

Read the rest of this entry »

Sound of the Street

In captain pants, good vibrations, tv kicks on August 9, 2011 at 1:17 pm

Sitting here watching the city go up in flames, and the media butcher the coverage has only made me want to create appropriate soundtrack for the London riots. So here’s the list so far, welcome to the wall of sound! (Without the irritating restrictions that Facebook puts on posting videos…)

Read the rest of this entry »

Get Your Rosaries Off My Ovaries

In miss thropist, screenshots, tv kicks on July 10, 2011 at 11:53 pm

I was at the Pro-Choice Demo in London on Saturday and, like many of the other attendees, I didn’t quite understand why I was there.

There was an overwhelming sense that this battle had already been fought and won. The fact that we’re having to have this argument baffles me, and it’s left me at a rather uncharacteristic loss for words.

So I thought that instead of trying to eloquently make the points that abortion is a right and a choice, and that restricting access to abortion doesn’t stop women seeking and having them- it just stops women from having safe abortions, I’d let a couple of films do the talking for me.

Both the 2007 Romanian film 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days and the British Vera Drake from 2004 address these issues: Read the rest of this entry »

Top 40

In bookmark, fasc-ion, good vibrations, ms elaine e. ouse, screenshots, tv kicks on March 8, 2011 at 4:04 pm

Happy Women’s Day!

It’s also the start of Lent, for which this year, having mostly quit smoking already, I am giving up misogyny.

If you would like to do this too, here are daily activities for the duration of Lent to keep us all focused.

Lent 2011 starts the day after Pancake Day, which is Wednesday 9th March. It continues for 46 days until Saturday 23rd April.

In Western Christianity Lent begins on Ash Wednesday and concludes on Holy Saturday. The six Sundays in Lent are not counted among the forty days of Lent because each Sunday represents a “mini-Easter”, a celebration of Jesus.

If you feel that you do need activities for each Sunday during feminist Lent you may meditate and practice your mantra ‘I must not be a misogynist, I must not be a misogynist’.

And of course, make the pledge: swear off Disney porn for the duration of Lent.

Read the rest of this entry »

Juicy explosions in the sky

In bookmark, miss penn on November 22, 2009 at 2:40 pm

On Aug. 17, 1988, a Hercules C130 – a sturdy, American-made military aircraft – unexpectedly crashed, killing then Pakistan dictator General Zia ul Haq, several of his top army generals and an American ambassador, effectively cutting short the dictator’s 11-year reign.

Mohammed Hanif’s debut novel A Case of Exploding Mangoes offers an inventive, wickedly anarchic explanation for the one of the subcontinent’s most enduring mysteries, provocatively blending fact and fiction, while mercilessly lampooning the military regime and constructing a lovingly caricatured late-1980s Pakistan, in all its manic contradictory glory – a country where mango farmers plot revolutions and the most powerful man in the land uses the Koran as if it were his daily horoscope.

As you’d expect from the pen of a BBC special correspondent and seasoned political journalist, A Case of Exploding Mangoes serves up biting political commentary and confidently tackles controversial subjects – military rule, Islamic law and homosexual romance – which are all the more devastating for the sardonic delivery.

Although the action takes place more than 20 years ago, the content is relevant and fresh, particularly in light of the recent international media attention to the country’s increasing problems – the seeds of which are highlighted in the novel, from the self-serving, falsely friendly alliance between the US and the Pakistan military, and the yawning ravine between those in power and the people’s needs, to indulgent religious fanaticism.

While the novel’s outcome is naturally plain from the outset, it opens on a snapshot just before the crash, as the dead men walking approach their flight to the underworld. Our narrator Junior Officer Ali Shigri points out his subtle presence in this image and implies his culpability in the historically notorious devastation that follows, before the narrative dips back several months into the past, treating the reader to a colorful twisting ride through General Zia’s final days and Ali’s murky path to contributing to his downfall, teasing with small revelations and tit-bits.

Hanif has an impeccable ear for voices, evoking the imperious, pick-and-mix English-accented tones of army officers and lazy drawls of blowsy Texan journalists with equal aplomb, and demonstrating a healthy contempt for all, particularly those in the upper echelons of the military.

Our narrator Ali is a proud, matter-of-fact young air force pilot with a knack for silent drill instruction, a soft spot for his fey roommate and a burning vendetta against whoever faked the suicide of his distant colonel father. His insolent narration (while talking to a superior he tries to “tread the elusive line between grovelling and spitting in his face”) perfectly shapes and frames the novel’s satirical narrative style and his own army-ingrained delusions (“I thought civilians loved our uniforms”) strengthens the tale’s anti-military stance.

Ali’s co-protagonist is the doomed General Zia, who is delightfully skewered and portrayed as a superstitious, paranoid and bumbling despot with a dancing, waxy moustache and gallons of self-importance. Yet, despite the high parody, Hanif also manages to summon up a measure of sympathy for the foolish dictator, such as when during an ill-advised disguised outing, an unwitting policeman humiliates and assaults him, while revealing that the general his victim claims to be is a national figure of fun.

The wide cast of supporting players is similarly richly constructed and idiosyncratic, each one with compelling inner voices. Ali’s devoted roommate Obaid, aka “Baby O”, one of the cleverest and most compassionate characters, has a brave passion for fake Poison perfume, heart-printed silk boxers and poetry. The dictator’s wife is an acerbic, disdainful First Lady, capable of reducing her bullying husband to tears, while Zia’s right-hand man, General Ahktar – “Pakistan’s second most powerful man” – is a former middleweight boxer” who could “wipe out a whole enemy unit by kissing their asses”.

The dynamic characterization particularly comes to the fore through the novel’s frequent power struggles, where little happens in terms of action, but much is fought in the characters’ internal worlds, from the marital one-upmanship between Zia and the First Lady (she cuts him down to size with withering glances, he constantly finds fault with her appearance); the erotically charged interactions between Ali and Baby O; the silent rivalry between Zia and Akhtar (“Theirs was a bond between two dogs on a glacier, each sizing up the other, trying to decide if he should wait for his comrade to die before eating him or do away with niceties and try to make a meal out of him immediately”); and lesser struggles such as the one between a diplomatic party guest and a hardened journalist (they “found each other equally dull”).

The exuberance of Hanif’s characterization and dialogue extends to rest of the novel, as he peppers the narrative with crafty turns of phrase, while also employing considerable restraint, never getting carried away with his own cleverness or losing a grip on his languorously twisting plot. And whether creating humor or pathos or both, Hanif’s words awaken all the senses

The generous helpings of dark humor are undercut with instances of intense pathos, such as unfair deaths and imprisonments; graphic torture methods and wounds; the weight of unspoken feelings between Obaid and Ali; and Ali’s paternal loss.

While Hanif’s first novel touches on many heavy subjects, it’s his attention to detail and lyrical way with the mundane (human relationships, the routine of military life) that really elevate the fruits of his labor to iconic status, both for Pakistan and on an international scale.

Both wildly fantastic and cunningly plausible, A Case of Exploding Mangoes is as tart as a lemon and as juicy as an overripe mango – 100 percent guaranteed to tantalize your literary taste buds and leave you wanting more. Let’s see what Hanif does next.

A Case of Exploding Mangoes
by Mohammed Hanif
Vintage, 304 pages

Facing facts, fiction and fruit

In bookmark, miss penn on November 22, 2009 at 2:40 pm

Mohammed Hanif has had a diverse career that many would envy: fighter pilot, political journalist, BBC correspondent, playwright, screenwriter and now bestselling author.

His 2008 debut novel A Case of Exploding Mangoes receives much critical acclaim, including being long-listed for the 2008 Man Booker prize and winning the 2009 Commonwealth Best First Book Prize.

However, when speaking at the Singapore Writers Festival earlier this month, the Pakistani novelist seemed unaffected by his accomplishments, describing his life as “pretty dull so far”, without a hint of false modesty, while simultaneously infusing his comments and recollections with the same wry, dark humor that makes his first novel such a delight to read.

“When I was a teenager, I boasted that I wanted to make a play or a movie in Punjabi and I want to write a novel in English… As it happens, that’s how life turned out to be. You read and read, and one day you get delusional and think, I also can actually do this,” he says.

Aside from these teenage dreams, his main priority was simply to get out of his hometown, a small Pakistani village where he says life “revolved around potato crops and weddings” and “one didn’t know anything about anything” unless guests from the city left a newspaper behind. So when at 16 years old, he saw in one of these rare newspapers that the air force was recruiting fighter pilots, he decided to apply.

“It seemed a very glamorous thing… but, as soon as I got in, I realized I had left one closed community for another, one with gates and guns,” he says.

Although the army proved to be an awkward fit – “I wasn’t very good at anything, especially the things officers are supposed to do” – he endured seven years, gaining a military education and finding solace in the surprisingly well-stocked army library, reading everything from Frederick Forsyth to Dostoevsky.

When he left, as he was “only good at reading and writing”, he found himself “drifting” toward journalism.

“I had a friend who was freelancing for various magazines, and I thought he wrote pretty badly, so I thought if he could do it, I could do it too,” he says.

Based in Karachi, Hanif made his name interviewing fashion models and writing entertainment reviews. He soon branched out, when struggling actor and director friends begged him to try his hand at writing plays and scripts.

He was also approached by a small, “fiercely democratic” political magazine run by women, where he worked for around seven years as the only male journalist, marrying a colleague (and “closet actress”), until 1997, when the BBC offered him a job in London as an special Urdu correspondent.

While in London he began to take his first steps toward literary greatness. Although he admits he tends to be one of those people who’d “pick up a book and say, *this is a creative writing product’, and then put it aside”, he became interested in studying a Master’s degree at the University of East Anglia (UEA), which boasts one of the UK’s most respected creative writing programs.

“One of the things that I’d lacked in my life was that I’d never been to a proper university. The only education I’d had was at the military academy, and military academies all over the world are not known for their intellectual rigor,” he says.

UEA was especially appealing as one of his favorite novelists, Patricia Duncker (Hallucinating Foucault), taught there.

“I spoke to her for five minutes and I thought it would be nice to occasionally talk to this person and the only way to do that was if you were in that department.”

Although he claims he was much older than his classmates (late 30s to their early-mid-20s), he says he thoroughly enjoyed the university experience, from the cheap beer in the student union to the mad sorts that eternally haunted the campus, as well as the fact of being surrounded by like-minded wannabe writers, which gave him the confidence to be more open about his novelist aspirations.

“I became quite shameless, telling people I’m writing a book, so what?” he says.

The subject of this book was one he had in his mind some time: the enduring mystery of the 1988 airplane crash that killed Pakistan’s then dictator, General Zia ul Haq, along with several other top army generals and an American ambassador.

“I grew up during his time, and he was one of those typical boring dictators whose face was always stuck on the TV, this constant drone that goes on in the background,” he says.

Hanif says he was intrigued that nobody in Pakistan ever seemed interested in finding out who might have done the deed, despite the obvious suspiciousness of the incident.

“More than the murder mystery, I think that kind of attitude, that sort of *he’s dead, good riddance, let’s get on with our lives’ – that attitude intrigued me more than the mystery itself.”

Writing the book was a 30-month process that involved much scribbling in cafes and pubs, wrestling with his “short-attention span” and a sticky Internet research incident on an American army website where he accidentally implied that he was planning a terrorist attack.

“I had registered myself as Mohammed, and said *Can someone tell me the preflight checks for the *Hercules C130, the plane General Zia died in*? I mean, I didn’t think of it at all… within 10 minutes there was so much abuse; I was sitting in my house, thinking what the hell have I done?… That cured me of any more research.”

Once it was completed, he says he managed to get it published in the UK by lying.

“I contacted *the agent* and said *I met you last year’. Which I hadn’t. But we were in the same building, so we could have, and if I’d had the guts, I could have gone up to her and said hello. So I said last year, we met, now I’ve finished my book, could you read it? So she said, yeah, send it.”

Evidently, she liked what she read, as she found him publishers in the UK, USA and Canada.

However, getting published in Pakistan was another story. Hanif says he sent it to four publishers without any luck, with most admitting the book’s subjects – foolish dictators, homosexual romance – were too controversial.

“The publishers were scared… and they were wrong. They are small businesses, why would I expect somebody to risk their livelihood for a trifling little novel? So that is understandable. But they all want to publish my second book!” he says, adding that the novel topped the bestseller lists in Pakistan for more than a year.

Hanif, who returned to Karachi last year with his wife and son, notes that the tense political situation in Pakistan was probably why his book failed to ignite much controversy, as the publishers had feared.

“By the time the book came out, Pakistan had such huge problems that nobody was going to worry about a book.”

While he dismisses the fact the international media often places Pakistan at the top of “most-dangerous countries” lists – “If you were going to make a list by popular consensus of the top 10 most dangerous countries then probably most people would include the USA” – he says his homeland is in a lot of trouble, facing similar problems to Indonesia, just “multiplied by 10″: too many years of military rule; a dynastic approach to democracy (thanks to the systematic martyrdom of the Bhuttos); and increasing Islam extremism, none of which he feels reflects popular attitudes.

“It’s always been a Muslim country, and there’s never been any real problems before… whether you wanted to go to the mosque or get smashed in the evening… it’s all your own business… the state and the society was open enough for both to exist side by side.”

He adds democracy in Pakistan has yet to have a chance to develop and flourish.

“In 62 years we’ve only had one parliament which completed its run… even that ended in tragedy.”

But while he’s a cynic by nature, he retains a basic optimism that things will improve, saying he would have no justification for remaining in the country if he didn’t.

In the meantime, he’s working on his second novel, a “civilian” love story set in Pakistan.

Although the focus is once again Pakistan, Hanif says he remains open to all genres, topics and settings.

“There’s always outer space!”

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.

I used to be a superhero, I would swoop down and save me from myself

In bookmark, comical, miss thropist, screenshots on September 10, 2008 at 9:24 pm

When I started typing this I’d just returned from watching The Dark Knight. There are two things I perpetually love about travelling around a big city by myself:

*Walking around in a pretty dress, high heels and sunglasses in the sunshine at whatever speed I want.
*Cruising around in a cab at night, watching the lights, both of the city and its reflection in the river. If the driver will put up with me murmuring along to The Long and Winding Road so much the better.

I would have preferred to watch the film a little earlier in the day, but it was worth waiting for (and I think it’s always nice to come out of watching something slightly creepy into darkness rather than jarring daytime). Obviously it’s a good film. Even I can’t really dispute that. It was (I’m sorry, I must say it) darker than I’ve grown to expect from Hollywood films. However I don’t think that it really lives up to its hype (although, really, what could?). At least for once I’m actually watching the world’s most popular movie close to its release date (it was released this week over here in fact). To give you a frame of reference I think I watched Titanic around five years after it was released, and only under extreme duress (i.e. our teacher threatened me with extreme punishment if I attempted to escape the room).

Watching this film made me feel that I really ought to have rewatched Batman Begins beforehand. I remember really liking it (although in part that may have had something to do with the fact that I was watching it stretched out in a deck chair under the stars on a beach on Ko Phi Phi Don with two of my favourite people), and have a vague recollection of finding Katie Holmes annoying. I thought that I had a relatively good memory of said film, but on reflection it appears that I have a crystal clear image of all of Cillian Murphy’s scenes- and very little else. So my first bone to pick with The Dark Knight is why the hell would you put Cillian Murphy in your film if you’re only going to tease me the audience with about 30 seconds worth of footage? Uncool.

I can’t actually work out what I find so appealing about Cillian Murphy, I don’t think that he’s actually conventionally attractive (aside from the bright eyes I guess). There’s something kind of ‘off’ about his appearance, and yet he’s somehow absofuckinglutely gorgeous. And I do honestly think he’s a good actor (…she protests, feebly). Is it possible I have an Irish kink? This would be somewhat surprising considering I seem to be the only person I know who doesn’t have a thing for the accent, but it could explain why I like certain people. (I’m already aware of my shyboy kink; Cillian Murphy and Jensen Ackles I’m staring looking at you, and your twitchery.)

This isn’t only an aesthetic gripe, I really don’t understand what the point of his cameo was. If he hadn’t appeared in the film at all I would have been a little peeved, but I would definitely have gotten over it because Heath Ledger as the film’s primary villain The Joker is, in a word, totallyfuckingawesome. I don’t quite understand when the (in my personal opinion, not particularly) pretty boy from 10 Things I Hate About You became an actual actor- a really good one no less. This is why I ought to watch more films, so I can actually pick up on transitions like this. I did think that he was pretty decent in Brokeback Mountain, but I suppose my experience of that was a bit tainted by the fact that whilst I don’t think that it’s a bad film, it is honestly one of the most over-rated films I’ve ever seen. I’m annoyed by the fact that I can’t find any of the stuff that Ted Casablanca wrote about it (damn stupid website), but I believe I can paraphrase: “Just because it’s a film with gay cowboys doesn’t make it good, and I’m not going to pretend to love it. Watch Transamerica instead.” I have an unabashed love for Ted Casablanca- he may write a gossip column and work for E!, but he’s an intelligent, witty man who manages to slip in some brilliant social and political commentary in the most unlikely places.

Heath Ledger gave an amazing performance, and the Joker was pretty much the only character that I really cared about during the film (the rest of them, including Batman, were fairly two-dimensional). I think I would have preferred a ‘Joker’ film, relegating Batman to a relatively minor role. I liked that we never got to actually understand his back story (although I think that there ought to be at least a third, unaborted, alternative), and I think that his character in this film was wonderfully well constructed. His appearance was great too, the pimpy purple suit was perfect, and the sloppily applied make-up added the impression of madness and eagerness (I also love that the make-up has already become an internet meme, even I’ve noticed it whilst avidly avoiding anything that looked like it could be a spoiler!). The fact that the Joker didn’t mind removing his trademark face paint when it suited him (to gain access to a target), not to mention donning a nurse’s outfit and wig, showcased his adaptability, and the fact that he’s completely unpredictable and chaotic. Ledger managed to pull off this character in this incredibly creepy and terrifying way, and maintained a real distance from any other portrayal of the character. I, of course, also adored the slight homoerotic tension between the Joker and (the) Batman that the film had going on.

I do think that the Joker was explicitly portrayed as a terrorist-style villain in this film, no more than he and other Batman-verse villains are in other incarnations to be sure- but I think that in today’s climate it resonates and I’m almost certain that Nolan was aware of what he was doing. His desire to create (if I can use the word in this sense) anarchic destruction I suppose could be interpreted almost as a form of jihad, but I personally saw it as more in line with something like Max Stirner’s anarchism. J pointed out that some of The Joker’s “terrorist” style activities really resonate with some of contemporary America’s worst fears, such as the ‘beheading’ style videos of hostages.

In general I really like the direction of the two newest Batmanfilms. Batman is one of my favourite “super”(anti?)heroes anyway (and that’s probably a large part of why I enjoy Angel). The fact that he doesn’t have any superpowers (thus calling into question his identity as a ’super’hero, the ‘hero’ part can be dealt with later) just makes him far more identifiable. He isn’t an alien; a mutant; the Chosen One- and whilst I think that those ideas and metaphors have been used brilliantly in some cases, Batman just offers an even simpler story-telling vehicle. (I’m almost certain that I’m misquoting someone with this (obvious) assertion, but I can’t figure out whom. I even checked out the transcripts from The O.C. but I’m happy to report that my favourite Zach quote is definitely about Superman instead. Perhaps I ought to be more ashamed of my love for the first couple of seasons of that show, but I’m not- Seth has a horse called Captain Oates for heaven’s sake! And I’m almost certain that at some point he made a play on the “I may be some time” line, although I can’t currently find any proof of it).

Of course he’s not exactly the Everyman either, perhaps his superpower is actually his wealth? I do sometimes get the urge to roll my eyes when Bruce/Batman is utilising all his expensive technology and tricks to fight crime. It isn’t exactly hard (or, therefore, impressive) to do what he does when you’ve got the money to do it (which reminds me of Spike’s response to being kidnapped by The Initiative, a government-run research outfit experimenting on demons, that he always wondered what would happen if that bitch Buffy got funding). Then again it would be pretty hard to rationalise the suit, vehicles, gadgets etc which are an inherent part of Batman’s identity without him being incredibly rich.

I like that these new Batman films have been considering the moral ambiguities embroiled in Batman’s vigilante status, he definitely isn’t a cut and dried hero (although I think that this point stood perfectly well without various characters ramming it down the audience’s collective throat). This is the kind of angle that I really enjoy. Bruce/Batman is heroic in his actions and his choices (and indeed his moral code), but he isn’t allowed to play the hero, least of all by himself. I’m not sure that he should be either, he displays a flagrant disrespect for the laws, both of Gotham City and of other countries which isn’t necessarily the best way to attempt to eradicate (or even control) crime. Allowing someone, anyone, to stand outside of the law is dangerous and questionable, even if he is acting “for good”. At what point are the lines drawn? Whose conception of good ought to be allowed precedence? Whose morals? I liked that these ideas were discussed within the film, and especially liked Dent’s reference to the Romans appointing someone to dictate in times of crises. Does the fact that people are willing to accept a dictator in times of trouble make this ‘right’? Despite the fact that Batman acts in the interest of Gotham City its residents turn on him, they are wary of his (extralegal) power, and I don’t think they’re necessarily wrong to feel like that. (Again I’m irritated by what an interesting film Hancock could, and should, have been.) By the end of the film his powers have been severely limited, he’s been designated the bad guy, and he’s purposely destroyed his sophisticated surveillance equipment. The status quo has, more or less, been restored- for better or for worse.

Of course when you think about it things don’t work out too badly for the guy. Alright it sucks that people can’t properly appreciate the good that he’s done, but I’m sure he’s soothed by the fact that he gets to enjoy himself in style as the playboy Bruce Wayne. I would have liked to see the slightly schizophrenic bent to Bruce’s construction of Batman’s identity explored more. He’s right that “the Batman” is an important symbol (and the use of that article is definitely relevant), but hearing someone almost talking about themselves in the third person, referring to a persona they’ve created (for whatever reason), is a little disturbing. In contrast the Joker seems almost sane (that may in fact be hyperbolic nonsense, but you know what I mean).

I don’t want any of this analysis to suggest that I don’t absolutely adore the campy 1960s Batman television show by the by. I’m sure that this point must have been made before, but I can’t recall ever reading or hearing it (please point me in the direction of anything that has, I’d be really intrigued), I feel that the DC and Marvel comic characters are pretty much the twentieth century equivalent of fairy tales. Of course there are actual twentieth century versions of fairy stories, but they play with already established conventions. Comics (and later their screen adaptations) fulfill the same kinds of functions as fairy tales, not just to entertain but to deal with important contemporary ideas in metaphorical and sometimes fantastical ways. The breadth of meaning in those comics is such that they can inspire something incredibly campy, yet also something dark and creepy. This is just like fairy tales, and I wouldn’t have such a problem with sanitised Disneyfied version of classic stories if it was equally easy to get a fix of ‘proper’ fairy tales full of brutality and horror.

I do feel as if a slight reference to the fact that Rachel was portrayed by a different actress in this film could have been made (even just a snide “wow you look so good these days!”) although I suppose it might have been a little too light-hearted for this film. I know that it couldn’t really be helped, but having a different actress to the one portraying her in Batman Begins was a little jarring (even if Katie Holmes did annoy me in the role). To be honest I don’t think that Maggie Gyllenhaal was excellent casting, she wasn’t bad or anything but I would have preferred someone with more presence and, crucially, someone who I think is beautiful. Then again I am an awfully shallow person.

Dent’s storyline was also an interesting one (although I can’t really accept a Dent character whose first name isn’t Arthur, unless it’s something amusing like “Axi” or “Resi”), and his eventual transformation into Two-Face echoed the split-personality theme which was definitely an important one in this film. His obsessive coin tossing reminded me of The Dice Man, and although I know that the original Two-Face character was conceived long before ‘Luke Rhinehart’ was published I think that The Dice Man allows a much more in-depth and interesting perspective on allowing fate to control one’s life than this film possibly could. This is why I’m just not a film person! The idea of attempting to retain the ‘purity’ of Dent’s memory was interesting, although I didn’t like the undertone that a person can only be a ‘proper’ hero if they’re a blond with a Stan Smith-esque chiselled jaw. I might be shallow, but I don’t like films telling me that ugly people are baddies.

That’s part of the problem with allowing someone outside of the law all that power, he gets to decide what the official ‘truth’ will be. That’s not a responsibility that anyone ought to have, although of course in real life its shouldered by specific individuals all the time. It reminds me of an excellent play called Embedded which was about, amongst other things, the impact of Leo Strauss’ philosophy of multiple truths (and/or noble lies) on the decision-makers of Bush Jr’s administration. The noble lie is a consistently used device in the film, Rachel is certainly lying to at least one of the men she claims to love at any one time, and later Albert takes it upon himself to destroy Rachel’s letter to Bruce so that he may never learn the truth (if indeed it did contain her ‘true’ feelings, and not a noble lie…) about her emotions.

It’s still a little weird for me to watch Gary Oldman playing a good cop, even though every time I watch Leon I never seem to understand (or recall) the fact that he’s a crooked DEA agent and am befuddled for a while. He was a fairly likable character, and so I kept expecting him to turn (or be revealed to be) bad. Therefore I wasn’t expecting for him to be revealed to be secretly alive after his shooting. I loved his wife’s reaction to this, faking your own death to catch a criminal and not even informing your spouse is something that’s just likely to get you slapped. His son’s reaction I wasn’t expecting however, I thought he’d be more likely to freak out about the ‘ghost’ next to him. I think that the film would probably have been better (although obviously sadder) if the kid had actually died at the end, and at least it would have saved him the inevitable self-esteem issues. I doubt that his father can properly explain “Batman saved your life, and now we have to hunt him and treat him like a criminal. Nothing personal son” in a way that doesn’t sound insane. Personality issues of the future, here we come! Is another sequel being made yet?

Can I just point out that it sucks that Heath Ledger’s dead? I mean obviously for him, but now also for me too. So now I’m grouchy. I’ve discovered that he apparently (officially at least) didn’t commit suicide, my belief that he did is either due to the British press or only reading the very early reporting of the news which was later revised by claims that his death was accidental. Perhaps both. If he didn’t commit suicide and just died from a random, stupid unintended overdose it’s even more bloody annoying. The Joker would absolutely have had to have been in the next film, assuming that there was to be one- is it just me or is Christian Bale starting to look kind of prematurely old? I’m pretty sure that Two-Face isn’t dead (his story arc has only just begun) so he could be the major villain in the next film, and there’s also a whole host of other rouges to pick from of course.

I had a terrible feeling by the time The Dark Knight was ending. I was worried that I was going to have to face a worse truth about myself than the fact that I’m not a fourteen year old boy. Am I possibly actually a film person? Say it ain’t so! The reason I had to consider this for a moment was that whilst I enjoyed the tone and characters of this film, the plot wasn’t all that amazing. Pretty much every twist and turn just seemed painfully obvious (except Gordon not really being dead, and that was only because it was kind of stupid), as if the word ‘psych!’ was written on the screen in big glowing letters. I didn’t need to be told about Dent’s double-headed coin, that the Joker had purposely got himself caught, that the ’sick’ guy was going to blow up, that the Joker had switched the addresses at which Rachel and Dent were hidden, that the hostages were dressed as the Joker’s henchmen… and so forth. The only decent bit of misdirection was the Joker’s reveal at the beginning of the film where he impersonated one of his own men.

However, I’m not worried. J assures me that all of those things would have been glaringly blatant to anyone. My reputation remains intact. Therefore I put it to you that The Dark Knight had a relatively stupid plot. Strangely enough I still managed to enjoy it, which speaks to its other strengths. All in all I think that I’d feel happy to recommend this film to people, with the addendum that the plot is flawed (although somehow not all that important) and that, despite the rave reviews, this isn’t exactly the greatest film ever made.

As a responsible and mature person I have a new career in consideration: namely being a script doctor for the new Batmanmovie. I’ve clearly come up with the best plot ever.

Firstly, lots and lots of Scarecrow screen time is definitely required.

My plot idea though revolved around Gordon’s little blond son who didn’t get killed at the end of the movie. As I said before I reckon that he’d end up with innumerable issues due to the fact that a hero saved his life, quickly followed by said hero lying about what happened and consequently being set upon and hated by society as a whole. Not to mention his father colluding in perpetuating this deception, as well as leading the hunt for Batman. That little kid would clearly grow up fucked up. After some extensive research on the topic (i.e. idly chatting with Ringo about the film) I recalled that Barbara Gordon (i.e. Gordon’s little blonde daughter) becomes Batgirl, and yet in The Dark Knight there didn’t seem to be any Babs, Gordon just had two sons. Therefore I think that it would make perfect sense that Gordon’s son is going to develop some absolutely brilliant Daddy-issues, as well as become completely disillusioned with his world’s horrible macho-worship and chauvinism. Surely a series which created such a wonderful dark, creepy Joker could also produce a desperate, troubled transvestite Batgirl, right? Lee Pace could be a great Batgirl, although he is overly tall. Or maybe they could cast Cillian Murphy in the role, having him play two characters in homage to the awful, campy TV series.
I’ve somehow managed to convince other people that this is an excellent idea too. They may have had ulterior motives I suppose, for example I think J would have agreed to pretty much anything once I bought her a cocktail and let her use me as a pillow. But I’ll take what I can get!

At the end of August…

In bookmark, miss thropist, tv kicks on August 31, 2008 at 7:40 pm

Since another month is fading into that strange and distant land called the past, I declare it time for another book round-up post! Woo, and a mighty hoo.

I’ll start with The Screwtape Letters (although not really, as you’ll see). Let me preface this by pointing out two things: I absolutely adore The Chronicles of Narnia, and I have a deep and abiding distrust of religion. Add to that the fact that I actually rather enjoyed The Screwtape Letters and you have a situation which appears a little contradictory. I feel like a sort of Narnia apologist (in both senses of the word) sometimes, because whilst I can see (and indeed saw as a child too) the Christian symbolism and clear religious message which is both implicit and explicit in the series, it does little to dull my pleasure in reading the books again and again. I suppose it’s partly because Lewis’ portrayal of Aslan-as-Christ represents a very specific (and almost odd) version of ‘muscular’ Christianity which doesn’t necessarily call up all of the things which I normally associate with religion/Christianity, simply because its somewhat out of the ordinary. Mostly though I think that although Lewis obviously became a devout Christian in later life, he was influenced by his long period of, if not quite agnosticism, indifference. He treats Christian theology as he treats other mythologies (Greek and Mesopotamian, for example)- something full of beautiful ideas and images which are ripe for the plundering when creating a fantastic and fantastical world.

I have far more problem with the blatant racism and lack of religious tolerance in the books, especially The Horse and his Boy and The Last Battle. The sexism actually isn’t as rife as you’d expect (although a clear distinction is made between male and female roles especially in the earlier books), but something that does really irk me is the random unexplained dismissal of Susan in The Last Battle. It’s declared that she’s no longer a friend of Narnia because she likes nylons and lipstick, and whilst this snarkiness is kind of likable (especially when you’re a solemn six year old) it doesn’t really seem fair to her. Susan could be a slightly annoying character (and she’s been even more castrated in the screen adaptations) but she wasn’t by any means portrayed as a bad person. I think that if Lewis wanted to narrow the number of these ‘friends’ down to the magical number seven he could have at least had the decency to include a scene in which Susan rejected Narnia rather than just shoehorning the point in. Perhaps she also ought to have been given a chance to redeem herself too, after all Edmund and Eustace are both given that opportunity and their crimes seem worse than developing a taste for make-up (although that certainly would have made an interesting sub-plot).

All in all I do still really enjoy the series (The Magician’s Nephew and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader are special favourites), which is why I had an urge to investigate some of Lewis’ other writing. The Screwtape Letters, letters from a senior demon to a junior one giving advice on how to secure a man’s soul, seemed like a good place to start. It’s a fun, satirical read- and Lewis created a really interesting ‘Lowerarchy’ of Hell, as well as elucidating the existence of ‘The Enemy’ outside of linear time. There’s a lot of wonderful detail- I loved Screwtape detailing how the friction that exists between people who live together and end up grating on each other’s nerves constantly can be taken advantage of. I feel almost guilty for reading it “wrong” however, giggling delightedly at Screwtape’s tale of dragging a man in the British Library away from potential religious salvation by making him focus on his grumbling stomach. I also like that Lewis stuck to the idea of having demons (or often an individual demon) scrabbling for an individual’s soul, rather than giving in to some Apocalyptic vision of people en masse being corrupted incredibly simply (although Screwtape does suggest that this could be an achievable aim).

The book does contain some important points which I broadly agree with too. Firstly it mocks religious people who focus on the wrong things- on being disgusted by the irreligious nature of others, for example. That’s a point I can get behind. Secondly it points to the dangers of over-subscribing the Historical Point of View, and basically the consequences of trying to destroy the concept of morality. Thirdly, the really bitter tirade against the stupidity and problems of the world (most prominently contained in ‘Screwtape Proposes a Toast’ but also evident in the letters itself) is brilliant. Lewis eloquently rails against the way political ideology and religion are misused, and his rant about how the term ‘democracy’ is used incorrectly, and could in fact be abused to perhaps bring about the demise of human excellence, is truly fantastic. Screwtape’s parody, ‘If they were the right sort of chaps they’d be like me. They’ve no business being different. It’s undemocratic’ and the argument about intelligent pupils being fettered by the ‘democratic’ education system read like they could have come straight out of Atlas Shrugged. In fact since The Screwtape Letters is essentially a monologue advocating a viewpoint that I don’t wholeheartedly agree with makes me think that they might have more on common than the surface, and the mere fact that I enjoyed them both, suggests.

The next book I read, Wide Sargasso Sea (which I’m going to attempt to discuss without recourse to words with ‘post’ prefixes) was also a choice inspired by a book that I’d loved as a child. I now feel that I may need to re-read Jane Eyre because I want to closely look at the portrayal of Bertha (beyond ‘crazy’). I find that re-examining childhood favourites can be a bit of a double edged sword. On the one hand I’m always intrigued by whatever insights I can glean, but sometimes these can be uncomfortable. For example, I found the suggestion that Alice in Wonderland was filled with drug references delightful and fun, but the idea that it was inspired by a paedophilic obsession seemed somewhat less pleasant. So whilst I was eager to read Wide Sargasso Sea I was also really hoping that it didn’t trash the original work too much. I love Jane Eyre as a romantic tale (and of course I adore the tempestuous Mr Rochester), but I also love it as a story about a strong female character surviving against the odds, having the courage of her convictions and not allowing any of the men in her life to control her.

I’m glad that Wide Sargasso Sea doesn’t detract from that, in fact it doesn’t really deal with Jane at all. Although it paints Rochester in a somewhat negative light, the book isn’t unfair to him- the main point is the sorrow caused by a lack of understanding. What Wide Sargasso Sea does is turn ‘Bertha’ (i.e. Antoinette Cosway) into a sympathetic, but also deeply troubled, composite character instead of just a caricature. This isn’t done with a dislike of Jane Eyre or Charlotte Brontë in mind, it’s merely addressing a perennial problem- the presentation of a one-sided view. I don’t think that Wide Sargasso Sea ought to be seen as an outright prequel to Jane Eyre, as others have pointed out the timelines don’t actually accurately meet up but I don’t think that that’s particularly important. Personally I just don’t think that Rhys intended Wide Sargasso Sea as a straight-up prequel, it’s a reimagining of the life of ‘Bertha’, and as such it’s a the tragic tale of a woman. That woman could have been the deranged one in Mr Rochester’s attic, but I don’t think that’s the most interesting part of the story- in fact it’s probably the least important. I only really had one gripe with this book in the end, it was too short.

I said I was swearing off stories told in the first person, but I think I’m going to have to retract that because On The Road was awesome. I was feeling a bit wary about reading it after my disappointment with The Catcher in the Rye (they’re somehow tied together in my head), but I loved pretty much every second of it. Obviously the character of Dean Moriarty is a big draw, so brilliant that he achieved legendary status for Sal before they even met (thanks to his amusing letters). I was a little bit in love, along with Sal, with this hyperbolic, bullshitting, constantly sweaty maniac who apparently split his youth equally between the pool hall, prison and the library. The story wasn’t quite what I expected- yes they do spend quite a lot of time actually on the road, but not in the way that I envisaged. I thought that it really was a road book and that most of it would involve Dean and Sal’s roadtrip(s). Whilst that does become a large part of the story, these trips come in varied forms (the first consists of Sal hitchhiking solo) and form a chain of journeys which are interrupted by periods of semi-settling in various cities. I think I had misconceptions about the drug use in On The Road too. Yes, drugs are certainly there, but that’s just how they’re treated- as something which happened to exist, not as something to be glorified excessively.

Although Dean is this wonderful, vibrant character he’s also a bit of a cunt. You can completely appreciate why he is, but I think that in many ways Sal is actually a much more interesting character- he’s not merely passionate but compassionate too. The narrative style is excellent, switching between relatively straightforward descriptions (which somehow manage to sound frantic most of the time even when they’re about the most banal things) and reality filtered through beautiful, poetic language which casually tosses in literary and philosophical references. Maybe it’s because of Sal’s compassionate nature that he becomes so obsessed with Dean, there’s this brilliant moment in the book when he realises that he’s let slip something terrible: that he thinks about him. Dean fascinates him; fills his thoughts. It’s not a one-sided thing, they have a real friendship and often it’s Dean who makes plans for them or turns up on Sal’s door step (indeed he’s really shocked when the tables are finally turned and Sal appears at his door in the middle of the night). However, Dean is filled with a burning passion for just about everything, and although Sal shares this to an extent (or perhaps he just attempts to?) he is somehow more grounded.

I don’t think that I need to point out the barely submerged homoerotic subtext of this book. What makes the book even more interesting for me however is that it is loosely autobiographical. I don’t think that Kerouac fell into the trap of just writing his own life (possibly since he was rebelling so hard against that idea), and this isn’t just a series of amusing anecdotes. It’s a full-fledged, compelling novel. It just so happens that he created a narrator with a voice not unlike his own (and really, who doesn’t?) and, like everyone else, he wrote what he knew. In this case that was mostly Neal Cassady (but also Allen Ginsberg, William S Burroughs and so on). It’s the kind of thing that makes me never want to attempt to publish fiction, because like Brennan in Bones or Jack in Desolation Angels (detailing Cassady’s unexpected visit on the day that the advance copies of On The Road arrived) you’d eventually have to face those people you used as your inspiration, and just have to hope that you could look them in the eye.

My copy included possibly the best and most useful introduction I’ve ever read (although I didn’t read it until after finishing the main text of course). It included excerpts from some of Cassady’s letters, and you can understand why Kerouac was so delighted with him. He had this fresh (and incredibly funny) writing style, which Kerouac either shared or emulated to an extent. I can completely understand why Kerouac shifted from trying to invent characters and situations to mould his idea of a ‘road book’ around, here was a wonderful character complete with plenty of hilarious happenings ripe for the plucking. On The Road definitely encapsulates something very different to (the also enjoyable) The Great Gatsby. Fitzgerald’s writing belongs to a completely different world and time, and whilst The Great Gatsby is full of jazz and liquor it seems really stilted compared to the novels of the Beat generation. I can understand why Kerouac was rather dismissive of writers like ‘Fitz’ and Hemingway.

I’ve always liked the word ‘beat’, it’s one of those wonderful words that conjures up a whole host of associations. It can mean: literally to hit or strike, to completely batter (or beat up), to punish, to defeat, to have been defeated, the rhythm of music, to tap out that rhythm, the flapping of wings, to be better than, to throb, a moment of time, someone’s usual section, to retreat… etc. One word which I never directly associated with the word ‘beat’ however, was beatific. Kerouac imbued his idea of Beat with this joyous, religious concept. This is why one should probably beware of religious types (and can we please all take a minute to enjoy the fact that the Great American Novel was written by not only a Catholic but the child of French-Canadian immigrants whose first language wasn’t English?), they’ll sneak God in whenever they find an opening. Here, with Dean as the holy man and later holy ‘goof’, it does work well however.

Some commentators have complained about the racial sentimentality expressed in the book, but it actually didn’t annoy me that much. I took it as a depiction of Sal (and Dean’s) loneliness, and longing to belong to something larger. I felt that most of the time this sentimentalism was a little tongue in cheek. What I did have a problem with was the fact that the novel was a little too comprehensible. I know that that sounds like an insane criticism, but it’s just that the book often seemed to be threatening to go off onto completely mad tangents, but then never quite achieved it. I think that if Kerouac had been allowed to publish the book that he really wanted to (i.e. madder, with the characters displaying their proper real life names and the sexual relationship between ‘Carlo’ (Allen Ginsberg) and ‘Dean’ (Neal Cassady) being explicit) it could have been even more brilliant.

I hear that there’s to be a film adaptation (although I think that this is once more in the safe “one day” way, rather than “to be released in 2009!”), and I have to say I’m very dubious. Whilst a screen version could perhaps capture the characters and their interaction as well as the energy of the book, much of what I truly loved was Sal’s introspection which I really doubt that a movie could properly show. Instead of a straight adaptation I think that most fans of the book can honestly enjoy something which was in part inspired by it and self-consciously borrows from it (occasionallyeven with the sexual tension between the ‘brother’ characters). Yes I am talking about Supernatural. Alright the characters’ respective ages are reversed, but there’s still Dean being beautiful, sex-obsessed and constantly hungry- followed by his descent into self-destruction. There’s still Sam hero-worshiping Dean, occasionally being a pissy bitch but mostly just radiating love and compassion. There’s still a gorgeous car which is basically the third character (certainly in the beginning of the show), although there’s a few moments of hitchhiking or Sam renting weird ugly cars too. I wouldn’t be too surprised if someone out there has done the maths, but I’d bet that an analysis of the show would find that minus time spent in motels, the Impala or engaged in fights the Winchester brothers actually split their time pretty equally between playing pool in bars, being intimidated by (or impersonating) officers of the law/prisoners/prison guards and researching (mostly in libraries).

Even though On The Road left me with a desire to immerse myself in Supernatural I plowed on with reading instead (after all lugging my laptop to work is too much effort, and anyway I’m worried that if I re-watch season one it’ll start feeling dirtybadwrong to be perving on baby Jared Padalecki).

The next book which I read (and enjoyed) was Camus’ The Stranger (I’d still rather listen to The Lovecats than Killing an Arab though). I have a vague recollection of reading… something or other by Camus for one of those interminable theory courses, but I’d never read any of his fiction. The Stranger (or The Outsider) is a short but interesting book, following the narrator, Mersault, from the point of his mother’s death. I found Mersault to be a fairly likable character, he doesn’t quite know how to properly interact with people yet he’s honest and pleasant. He’s not emotionless about the death of his mother, he just isn’t a wailing mess either. However his honesty and stoicism are later used against him when he’s in court after killing a man ‘because of the sun’. Instead of being tried for the murder, he’s basically punished for the crime of being terrible enough to place his mother in a home (where he seems to have genuinely thought she’d be happier) and for not showing appropriate sadness at her funeral. The judge and others are also appalled by Mersault’s lack of remorse for the murder, and for shooting the body after death, but as he points out, do these apparently terrible things actually matter? They don’t have an effect on the main outcome: Mersault killed the man.

My copy is a more recent ‘American’ translation of the French novella. I understand what Ward means when he says that Camus was influenced by the American style (especially Hemingway’s), and that short, stacatto sentences suit said story (as alliteration always applies à Anne apparently). I can also see that, especially for an opening sentence, ‘Maman died today’ and ‘Mother died today’ have slightly different resonances (although I do think that replacing ‘Maman’ with something like ‘Momma’ would be an acceptable alternative). However I really do think that the point can be stretched too far, although slightly different translations of the same sentence or paragraph can create subtly different meanings in the end (as long as they are translated reasonably well) they will convey the same idea. I certainly wouldn’t argue against the point that American and British English are different (as are other regional variations) since I seem to spend half my time translating back and forth between the two, so of course translations done by a Brit and an American would end up being somewhat different. So too would translations done by people of different ages though, or those from disparate regions within the same country. If you want an incredibly precise understanding of what the author intended to say there’s really no alternative to reading the work in the original language, especially as there are bound to be concepts which have no direct translation.

I do believe that I mentioned Hemingway somewhere in that. How fortuitous. The Old Man and the Sea was the first Hemingway I’ve ever read, and I have to say that I wasn’t overly impressed. Maybe it’s partly because the title reminded me of a brilliant short story by Daphne du Maurier called ‘The Old Man’ which I’d have preferred to re-read instead. I don’t think that The Old Man and the Sea is a bad book, and it does actually have flashes of entertaining brilliance, it’s just that if I’m in the mood to read a detailed account of fishing I’d much rather read Coming Up For Air. I also found the random Spanish interjections to be incredibly annoying. I don’t need it to be pointed out to me that a Cuban fisherman thinks in Spanish, that he thinks of ‘the sea’ as ‘la mer’ and ‘bone’ as ‘hueso’ rather than as their English names. Either write the whole thing in Spanish or shut up. To be fair I did find the distinction between thinking of the sea as la mer and el mer vaguely interesting, and it gives a neat little example of concepts which can’t be translated well into English. I didn’t particularly dislike Hemingway’s style the way that a lot of people (including Jack Kerouac) have, neither was I particularly enamored with it though. I’m willing to give him another try and am quite interested in reading For Whom The Bell Tolls because I have a special place in my heart for anthing pertaining to the Spanish Civil War. If it’s dull I’m going to be very unimpressed however.

I was honestly surprised by how much I enjoyed The Jane Austen Book Club since I wasn’t all that impressed with the film. Most of the book was written in the first person plural which was a little jarring to start with especially since the narrator wasn’t identified. Somehow it did work though, and gives the reader a sense of being intimately placed at the meetings along with all these characters. The characters in the book are much better than in the movie- they’re more interesting, older and (wonderfully!) much more realistic. Instead of just being annoying, they’re annoyed by each other all the time- aware of, and mostly forgiving, each other’s faults and quirks the way that real friends do. The character whom I found most irritating in the film, Bernadette, got on the other characters’ nerves all the time, yet she did have some honestly shining moments. I really liked the fact that everyone was more likable (and Grigg was instantly more acceptable) when everyone was slightly fuzzy and drunk, I think it’s a fairly realistic portrayal of much social interaction!

There was certainly more in-depth analysis of Austen’s work in the book than the screen adaptation, although I could always go for more. The parallels between Fowler’s and Austen’s characters weren’t drawn so explicitly (or perhaps not so crudely), and when they were it was often pointed out self-consciously by the characters, but not in a way that beat the reader over the head with the point. There were some truly wonderful observations that just wouldn’t have translated well on film, such as the tiny paranoia that Bernadette could be an alien in the wake of the Northanger Abbey discussion. That being said I do think that the film did include a couple of good scenes that weren’t in the book- such as pushing Prudie’s almost-affair with her (gorgeous) student, especially because her blurring of reality and fantasy echoed her mother’s lies to her, and Grigg’s gothic decorations for the Northanger Abbey discussion.

It is clearly a ‘pomo’ novel, but not in a way that’s jarring or unpleasant (it takes care not to upset the sensibilities of its characters as much as anyone else). It’s kind of hard to understand how a novel which is mostly about six other (relatively similar) novels works, and I doubt that it would be all that interesting to someone who doesn’t already love Austen. It’s hard to explain what’s so good about Austen’s writing, especially if people already have preconceived notions that she mostly wrote about dancing and houses. Certainly she did write great romances, but I think what I really appreciate about her is her creation of strong, interesting characters who tend to play breathtaking verbal tennis, as well as her creation of ridiculous, bumbling characters who fail to understand what’s happening around them and get satirised so completely but often so subtly that it can easily be missed. Austen’s wry style is wonderful, and can really leave you guessing as to her actual meaning. Mansfield Park is an odd one too, I really enjoy it but it’s hard to put my finger on why. On the surface it’s a fairly stuffy, moralising tale about a Puritanical heroine winning out against the rest, but truly it is so much more. Maybe I just love it for the ridiculous characterisation of the aunts and Mary Crawford’s sarcasm.

I wasn’t aware that Karen Jay Fowler was also a science-fiction writer, but it does certainly make sense. I need to read more sci-fi written by women, I think I’m going to end up re-reading some Ursula le Guin stuff… Fowler included a list of questions from the perspective of the six main characters at the end of the book, some of which are a little dull but some of which are truly brilliant, for example Allegra “asks”,

“In The Jane Austen Book Club, I take two falls and visit two hospitals. Did you stop to wonder how a woman who supports herself making jewelery affords health insurance? Do you think we will ever have universal health coverage in this country?”

Not only does this raise an interesting point (setting aside the irritating use of the phrase ‘this country’) it points to how ready we are to suspend our belief for the sake of the plot. Being alerted to this oversight doesn’t make me like the book any less, but it does make me like the author more. She also included the responses of various people (including Austen’s family) to the novels, many of these were interesting but often, frustratingly, included only a glib phrase or amusing comment about a small point rather than a real commentary. At least it’s provided me with a long, long list if I feel like reading more on Jane (and indeed her Janes).

The next book that I read, Dune, was rather different to the previous six, although there is of course room for a tenuous segue since Fowler is indeed a writer of science-fiction too. What united these first six books I read post-Atlas Shrugged was that they were all very easy to read, my eyes were gleefully skipping along the page as I devoured the material. Most of them I read very quickly, the last three in a day each (squished in around working and living). Dune wasn’t really the same, it’s not the kind of book that you can absorb quickly all at once. It’s a wonderfully crafted story and certainly a brilliant work of science fiction (even I, who has never seen a Star Wars movie can see where Lucas stole some of his ideas), but to me it has that slightly draining association that most sci-fi has for me. If I close my eyes and think of Dune or The Day of the Triffids I see drab, rusty colours, whereas if I think of fantasy I either see something bright and vibrant or glowing hints amidst darkness.

Dune seems that it might falls into that annoying trap of science-fiction right from the beginning, creating an interesting world but not providing enough explanation to avoid confusing all but the most alert and avid reader. This could easily be worsened by the fact that at the beginning of the novel the Atreides and their retinue are in the process of leaving their home world of Caladan for the mysterious planet Arrakis. However Herbert somehow gives suficient detail to give an understandable explanation of these circumstances (and much more), whilst maintaining a sense of mystery as well as dropping some subtle hints and clues of what’s to come along the way. I was gratified to find that when I read through the appendices and glossary I actually had a good understanding of everything. I have to admit that I was cheating a little since I have already seen the original film. It’s a wonderful, confusing mess though and doesn’t necessarily provide the clearest path to understanding the novel of the same name.

The book provides some very interesting ideas about politics and ecology, as well as incorporating elements from various religious and mythological sources to construct its own unique belief system. The idea of the Bene Gesserit breeding program is chilling but enthralling, as is their use of the Missionaria Protectiva to manipulate people’s religious beliefs to fit their purpose whenever it may be useful. I do find the idea that the majority of people are too stupid to, for example, even posit a connection between the spice and the worms a little ridiculous I have to say. Some of Paul’s (and Jessica’s) apparently “amazing” knowledge and insight is shown to be a careful construction. Paul and Jessica constantly take advantage of their knowledge and abilities to almost ‘dupe’ people, including their friends and allies.

Due to their training and experiences Jessica, Paul and Alia (as well as other characters to greater and lesser extents) tend to not show or explore their emotions. I don’t consider this to be a flaw since it makes sense within the context, however it can make them difficult to identify with and care about all that much. So whilst it is certainly a very interesting, inventive story it doesn’t necessarily have the resonance that it could have. I’m interested to read the next book in the series, and if I enjoy that I’ll aim to carry on.

I don’t have an extremely big problem with the depiction of women in this book and Jessica, Chani, Harra and Alia are all certainly portrayed positively (and Irulan is to an extent too). Even Paul is considered to be so powerful because he embraces his feminine side in a way that other men cannot. The use of Bene Gesserit women as brood mares of the state isn’t treated as an acceptable or desirable thing (Paul is repulsed by it), it’s an illustration of the tactics that these high-powered groups are prepared to use. However I could have happily done without the dull gender norms; men take and women give and blah blah blah. Also if there’s going to be a cliché evil Baron with a taste for pretty young boys (including Paul who is, unbeknownst to him, actually his grandson- because what’s sci-fi without some wacky space incest?), I think there ought to some positive representation/s of homosexuality too. If I’m going to insist on reading books written by men between the 1920s and 1960s I probably shouldn’t complain too much though.

The book that I’m currently reading, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, is shockingly modern in contrast having been written in 1982 and published two years later. It’s the first book by Milan Kundera I’ve read because I’m terribly behind the times and I hardly ever read best sellers/’modern classics’ (that aren’t by authors that I already adore anyway) unless the book happens to be pressed into my hand, or comes highly recommended. I’ve also got the excuse that it was actually published two years before my birth in this case, so I can’t really have been expected to have been paying attention.

I have to say that I almost gave up on this book after the first page (which is something I very rarely do, in fact I don’t think that I’ve ever actually done it, I almost always pursue a book to the end unless it happens to be Adam Bede). The first thing that bothered me was the Nietzsche reference in the very first sentence. I don’t have a problem with Nietzsche, but university has equipped me with a healthy distrust of people who are overly-fond of quoting him, and starting a novel with the idea of eternal return seemed beyond pretentious. The second thing that irritated me was the ambigous tone in the statement,

“We need take no more note of it than of a war between two African kindgdoms in the fourteenth century, a war that altered nothing in the destiny of the world, even if a hundred thousand blacks perished in excrutiating torment.”

I’m glad that I stuck with the book though because I’ve actually been really enjoying it, and although I’ve been eyeing it suspiciously I haven’t seen any evidence of racism. Not only does it tell an interesting story in an inventive way (jumping around in terms of point of view and the timeline) it uses some techniques which I really adore. The use of dream sequences is powerful, and the breaking of the fourth wall (if the phrase can appropriately be applied to novels?) is playful but also allows some serious topics to be discussed. I find Kundera’s asides about language interesting, particularly his comparison of ‘compassion’ in Romance languages (and English) with the subtly different meaning that it has in Slavic and Germanic tongues. I also like the frank, and yet somehow sweet, examination of the sex lives of his characters.

Although I am enjoying it, I do sometimes find it to be a little patronising and know-it-all. I often get irritated with books that purport to tell me philosophical ‘facts’. Kundera also uses techniques that I find common in DH Lawrence, but they’re somehow more irritating here- perhaps it’s because Lawrence has a more whimsical style? For example, it’s fairly common for Lawrence to make a statement such as ‘He loved the grass’ (although probably somewhat more eloquently) in a way that suggests that the character loved the grass in general and always. This will then be followed by a lengthy explanation of how the character loved the grass in that moment fully and extremely, and is fairly likely to be contradicted a few chapters later when said character realises that he actually hates the grass for convoluted reasons that relate to his mother. I don’t usually mind the way that Lawrence presents contradictory statements in the form of absolutes because he makes clear that the characters feel these things to honestly be absolutes at that time, and may not even be aware of the existence of any contradiction. I think that that’s an accurate portrayal of something that real people do. However when Kundera does a similar thing it doesn’t quite work, perhaps because he does seem to be dealing with philosophical absolutes, and also because he mocks his characters a little too much.

I am certainly enjoying the book very much, and am quite certain that this bowler hat thang is a reference to Magritte. And a sign that I need one.

Com, Com my lady

In bookmark, comical, miss thropist, tv kicks on August 5, 2008 at 9:29 pm

I am an avid Whedon fan, I could totally write a lengthy essay about Buffy (oh wait I already did). So don’t be surprised if this goes over the word limit. Just pat me on the head and steadfastly ignore my ramblings if you wish.

I’m a little blown away by how much I’m loving the Buffy comics, and so glad that I gave them a try. I’m now completely up to date (finished episode 16 the other day) and whilst I would obviously prefer to be watching the stories play out in a TV show I think that the comics are an excellent substitute. The tone and dialogue of the show translate better than I could have expected, and the comic medium also has some important advantages- there’s no issues with casting and there’s no budgetary constraints which frees the story possibilities up considerably.

I like the artwork, especially the brilliant covers. The artists haven’t aimed for photorealism but nonetheless they’ve managed to make the comic book versions of the characters look an awful lot like their live action counterparts. I think that comic-Buffy resembles SMG less than (most of) the other characters look like their respective actors, but then again I think she has a relatively difficult face to draw. The women’s bodies are great, I hadn’t really thought of it until I read someone’s praise on one of the letters pages, but it certainly would have annoyed me if they were drawn as unrealistic giant-breasted caricatures. I like that they made Buffy a little bustier though (back to the old days!), although canonically she hasn’t been stuffing herself on pasta in Italy as many people assumed (reviving a storyline more than 5 years later is a cruel way to Joss fanon). The only character whose representations I’d consistently quibble with are Faith’s, I just don’t think that she’s been drawn that well, although by no means awfully. Having said that, some of the Faith-centric cover art is amazing, I especially loved the Buffy Faith the Vampire Slayer cover for episode 6 (even though she didn’t really look like Eliza Dushku there), and the cover for episode 9 was simply gorgeous.

It also means that Xander’s lost weight, and he looks hot! (I loved that they had him make a reference to getting fat as well.) Him and Renee were incredibly cute together too. Xander is one of those characters who I think ought to get a bit more love, and so I really liked the way that Renee became all geeky when she was crushing on him (although I think that developing an interest in drywalling was taking it a little too far). This exchange was especially cute and I could completely imagine it being uttered on the show:

Renee: You could take me out.
Xander: You want me to assassinate you?

I like that Xander gets to be (relatively) cool now. I also always love it when language is played with (something that Buffy has always done well). There’s an especially brilliant visual pun at one point, involving Buffy literally getting attacked by the church!

The “Great Muppety Odin, I miss the sex” line made me laugh, and I’m sure that I’ll be quoting it far too much in the future. Although I can understand why some people felt that it sounded like more of a Xander (or possibly even Andrew or Anya?) line than something that Buffy would say, I didn’t think it was incredibly out of character, especially for someone equally comfortable making references to Molly Ringwald and Samuel Beckett. I suppose it was also conceived as a potential hint towards a Buffy/Xander relationship (especially with Buffy’s Xander-centric dreamscene) but if so, boy, was than an excellent piece of misdirection! I have always liked the fact that Buffy is such an incredibly human and relatable (super)hero, yes she has all these epic battles and massive issues to deal with- but she’s also dealing with her loneliness, and the simple pain of a lack of human (not only sexual) contact.

I feel a little weird about Warren being back. Of course it’s nice to have references to (and appearances from) various old characters and plots from the show to keep the continuity alive, and as I said there’s no worries about whether an actor is available or concerns about how to depict a skinless villain convincingly. Willow’s season six storyline involving her addiction to magic and eventual spiralling into evil triggered by Tara’s death at the hands of Warren (just after their reconciliation) was unpopular with some fans but I liked it (in the sense that it makes me sniffley). Many people (including Amber Benson) took issue with the idea of killing off Tara, and felt that it was perhaps a “punishment” (or at least could be interpreted as one) for their lesbian relationship. I think that an examination of Buffy, and indeed basically any of Whedon’s work, shows that he likes his characters as miserable as possible most of the time- they’re hardly ever allowed to be happy for long. I don’t believe that the Buffy writers intended for Tara’s death to be read as a punishment in any way, and yes the character was sacrificed for the sake of the story and that is difficult for people who are big fans of the character, but that doesn’t make the writers bad people. The character of Tara was treated just the same as any other character on the show essentially, and I don’t see why that ought to be a cause for outcry. (I really liked a letter written along these lines that was published in the ‘Slaying the Critics’ section, which cheekily referred to Tara as ‘whatsherface’.)

Having Warren come back seems to cheapen Willow’s journey, and gives her an easy redemption. It doesn’t undo all the suffering she underwent and the fact that she attempted to take a human life, but it makes her not really a killer. (Whedon has attempted to backtrack with this issue for a different reason, in season seven The First can take on the appearance of anyone who has died, and appears in the guise of Warren. In response to this being pointed out Whedon has said that Warren was technically dead for a moment before Amy revived him. Even if this story is stuck to, and it’s one that has only been invented to fill a plot hole which accompanies several other similar ones involving The First who could/couldn’t/could touch people and things, it still makes Willow’s murder seem attempted rather than actual. Since within the Buffy universe it’s relatively easy for people to come back from the dead if the storyline demands it I would have preferred it if Warren had been killed by Willow as he had seemed to be on the show, and come back in some other nefarious way (with or without Amy’s help).

Also I think that the idea of vengeance is an important one. Obviously the way in which Willow attempted to exact justice was wrong, it was still emotionally satisfying for the viewer to see her flay Warren alive; he attempted to shoot Buffy (and indeed almost killed her) and did kill Tara. In Carnivale there was a moment when Dora May’s killer was spared being shot by Samson (due to mere luck), and Samson (and Jonesy) argue against betraying their code and killing this man outright since according to their traditions he has to be given a chance. One can understand both this viewpoint and that expressed coldly by Dora May’s mother, she just wants to watch this man die. When Samson goes to the bar and chats relatively pleasantly with this man (although mostly just pumping him for information) I didn’t feel shock or sympathy for the guy when Samson pulled out his gun and shot him point blank. Sometimes you just feel like a character deserves to die.

I don’t support the death penalty, but within a work of fiction something like that is a satisfying resolution. There’s a wonderful moment in a West Wing episode called’ Take This Sabbath Day’ in which the President is trying to decide whether or not to commute the sentence of a man who has been sentenced to death in slightly questionable circumstances, where he doesn’t really have any grounds on which to commute other than the fact that he doesn’t like the death penalty. There’s this brilliant exchange between President Bartlet and Charlie which I just love- Bartlet asks him what he’d want to happen if and when the guy who shot Charlie’s mother (leaving him to raise his little sister alone) is caught, since she was a police officer , and killing a police officer is a capital crime. Charlie calmly starts by saying “I wouldn’t want to see him executed Mr President-”, and Bartlet nods, seemingly accepting that this is the “normal” response of someone with their lefty politics to the situation, and then Charlie continues “I’d wanna do it myself”. Bartlet just gives him this look and quietly agrees, because hell yes it doesn’t matter what your political or philosophical bent is, if someone killed somebody you love, you wouldn’t shrink from the opportunity to, for example, flay them alive.

As Toby says, several seasons later in ‘Game On’, albeit about a different situation:

“Yes you’d want to see him put to death. You’d want to be cruel and unusual, which is why it’s probably a good idea fathers of murder victims don’t have legal rights in these situations.”

(I do personally think that ‘Take This Sabbath Day’ isn’t the most amazing episode, and it gets rather farcical when Father Cavanaugh points out that Bartlet had a priest, a rabbi and a Quaker sent to him, but I love that little exchange between Charlie and the President. And also any part of the episode which has Stockard Channing in.)

I believe that I may have been talking about Buffy at some point before that little digression? Let me try to get back on track…

Although it’s a bit silly, I loved that Dawn became a giant. It’s assumed that it’s because she had sex with her college boyfriend who is a thricewise(Great Muppety Odin, what is that?), but it eventually transpires that he’s cursed her for cheating on him with his roommate. I liked the fact that Dawn losing her virginity was this teenage-y, melodramtic big deal, but without the truly melodramtic saga of something like Buffy losing her virginity to Angel. I think a nice balance is struck between the fact that Dawn’s just a normal teenage girl and has to deal with typical problems, but that she also has a totally weird existence and these problems don’t necessarily manifest in the expected way. She’s currently actually a centaur, which I thought was also awesome (although I’m not sure that she would be craving hay, I suppose it depends on where the internal organs are exactly). Poor Dawn probably has an excessive amount of problems, but I couldn’t help laughing at Willow’s (good-natured) mocking of her small breasts.

I feel a little bit weird about the extent of the still very existent Buffy/Dawn issues. I don’t expect them to get on perfectly and have a trouble-free relationship, but I felt that they had been dealt with to some extent in the season six finale and in season seven. I know that Dawn couldn’t help but feel abandoned when Buffy was focusing much more on the potential slayers (and I’m sure that would have continued with Buffy’s focus on the new slayers), but I think that Dawn did understand the situation, and now that she’s off at university I would think that it would be less of an issue. Dawn did have an excellent relationship with Willow (and Tara) in the past, but I think it’s a little far for her to tell Buffy that she thinks of Willow as more of a mother to her than Buffy. Buffy certainly wasn’t a perfect guardian, but she was dealing with extreme mitigating circumstances (being yanked out of heaven by her well-intentioned friends, for one) and Willow certainly wasn’t the best surrogate mother- she endangered Dawn’s life due to her addiction to magic, and Buffy had to actually order Willow to stay away from Dawn at one point.

I just didn’t think that the issues between Buffy and Dawn would have remained quite so prominent. Neither did I think that the issues that Buffy and Faith have about each other were so entirely unresolved. Buffy is quick to assume that Faith has gone evil again, and Faith is so consumed by jealously towards Buffy that she’s driven to violence. I suppose that I partly expect all these problems to be resolved because they kind of felt that they were, the show finished airing five years ago so I’m used to the idea that everything is done and dusted. It’s a little weird to climb back in, and see them in action again. I suppose essentially what I’m saying is that these characters and their stories could have been left alone, I’m glad that they weren’t and there’s definitely still more to be done with them, but it isn’t like with Firefly being cancelled, the story isn’t half-told. It already did come to a satisfactory conclusion. Also I suppose that I expect them to have moved on with their issues at least five years, whereas for the characters less time may have passed (although I expect not much less since Dawn is a university student, then again Joss is notoriously bad at maths). I can understand Buffy and Faith being suspicious of each other, but I do feel that the comic pushed that a little far, after their easy camaraderie in season seven, but I suppose it is plausible given that they haven’t necessarily spent much time together since then, Faith’s probably been getting very bitter in Cleveland and they had to put their differences aside and attempt to get on during season seven for the sake of the world.

I’m really glad that there was a Faith-centric mini-arc, she’s one of my favourite Buffy characters, even when not portrayed by the luscious Eliza Dushku. The interaction between Faith and Giles was brilliant, I’m eager for more! Giles asking Faith to kill a rogue Slayer, given his knowledge of her troubled history, was incredibly cold. However, I think that it was definitely in character, and I’m glad that he was honest with her about his own dark past, and the fact that he’s killed a human (or humans?) before. Faith having to do an English accent was priceless, even though I was only reading it. That’s something that I would have loved to have seen (and more importantly heard) on screen, maybe Eliza doing an English accent isn’t out of the realm of possibility on Dollhouse? She will be basically playing a new character every week after all! I loved Faith’s initial confusion over the phrase ‘bum a fag’ especially because I spend a lot of time translating my British English into understandable words for Americans and Canadians. (In a surprise move the representatives of North America have declared that their favourite Bringlish slang is in fact ‘get proper fucked’ not ‘bum a fag’. I’m shocked and intrigued.) All of the Anglicisms and references to British pop culture were delightful, I liked the mentions of Amy Winehouse and The Clash especially.

I also liked the way that Genevieve felt that she’d developed a friendship with Faith based on a short conversation and the gifting of a cigarette, it’s so typical of drunken British girls in reality. I certainly don’t buy that Faith would like either The Stone Roses or The Arctic Monkeys (cos, ew), but I can console myself with the fact that she was acting. There were so many adorable little moments within this storyline in fact, I loved Faith’s (probably intentional) momentary misunderstanding of ‘cunning’ and Giles’ Yellow Submarine jumper, for example. I also liked the fact that Faith chose ‘Hope’ as her pseudonym, it seemed like a subtle reference to ‘Faith, Hope & Trick’, the episode which introduced her.

Genevieve was a fucking insane and terrifying villain. Her obsession with Buffy was disturbing (and a little reminiscent of Spike’s). She definitely seems like the kind of girl who might be obsessed with a Tampax model. Just sayin’. I loved the way that she petulantly screeched about the fact that she let Faith share her tub (as if this was the worst part about Faith’s ‘betrayal’), and it just sounded dirty (as well as reminded me of Sugar Rush). I’m glad that Buffy was angry at Giles for pulling this crap with Faith without telling her what was going on, although Buffy shutting Giles out does feel like a rehashing of their old issues I think in this case (as opposed to her problems with Dawn and Faith) it completely makes sense. Buffy would find it hard to trust Giles anyway, and using Faith without telling her would definitely make these flare up (especially because of the competitive nature of Buffy and Faith’s relationship). Nonetheless I can also understand Giles’ wish to not let Buffy know about all of this, he hasn’t lost his desire to protect her.

It was during episode 9 (in which the Faith mini-arc reached it’s conclusion) and episode 10 that I started screeching “AWESOME!” at the screen. Although I had been enjoying it before it was at this point, for me, that everything really came together. I couldn’t stop hitting the ‘next’ button until the end of episode 16 from then on out, even though I really should have been going to sleep! Episode 10 began brilliantly, it had this awesome Daniel Craig fake out, which turned out to be part of a game of ‘anywhere but here’, a great reference to season two. It was even better when it turned out that Buffy was playing in an attempt to distract her from flying magically with Willow. I liked that the fantasies continued to crop out throughout the episode too.

As I’ve said, I did really like Tara as a character and thought that her death was sad. I don’t subscribe to the view that that ruined Buffy however. That being said, I am glad that there was at least a little animosity between Buffy and Kennedy, and that Willow felt awkward discussing the Kennedy situation with Buffy. I didn’t hate Kennedy and do think that Willow ought to be happy, however I did think that Kennedy could be incredibly annoying at times and was definitely a little young for Willow. I don’t think that their relationship ought to be painted as perfect.

There’s been some awesome character development for Willow so far already. The way that she breaks down and admits that she feels that she betrayed Tara by ‘choosing’ Buffy over Tara was incredibly sad. It’s one of those illogical things that you can really empathise with- because Willow pushed for the option of bringing Buffy back from the dead (believing Buffy to be in a hell dimension when in actuality she was at peace) inadvertently started a chain of events in which Warren attempted to shoot Buffy but instead ended up killing Tara. Willow didn’t consciously choose Buffy over Tara of course, but you can understand her thinking, and it isn’t inconceivable to think that she was in part being punished for bringing Buffy back when she shouldn’t have.

I loved that Buffy is now an international jewel thief! It was hilarious, but in a way that’s actually a little disturbing when you actually think about it (like the ease with which Dagny kills towards the end of Atlas Shrugged). I really liked Willow’s little summation that the government has gotten angry at the Slayers for going after their possessions, it was insightful. The image of Communist Buffy isn’t a new one, there’s a brilliant shot of her equipped with a hammer and sickle leading a worker’s revolt in ‘Anne’, but it remains a fun one.

Willow trying to explain to Buffy that Slayers aren’t above the law is eerily similar to a lecture that Buffy once gave Faith. I like that the comic is dabbling with moral ambiguity, and the (moral) implications of creating a load of preternaturally strong women (the idea of the Slayer support group was brilliant and pricelessly funny). It’s nice to see the character development of Buffy, she’s had to become a lot harder and stronger- she’s retained a lot of her General characteristics, and doesn’t seem to have too many qualms about the loss of human life anymore (just like how she said that if she had to do it again, she would sacrifice Dawn to save the world). It’s sad, but believable, that she would have lost her idealism. Some of the other Slayers go obviously too far, utilising their power for personal gain- and the fact that they’re using guns is a nice call back to Andrew’s earlier lecture about Slayers never using guns (and definitely fits with the entirety of the show).

Reading the letters for the competition to be immortalised in the comics were alternately heartwarming and heartbreaking. The winning letter was written by a woman called Robin’s husband, he wrote about her battle with schizophrenia and how Buffy had provided something solid and allowed her to grasp onto reality for a long time. Instead of just creating a minor character, the plot of the comic was directly influenced by the idea of schizophrenia and a wonderful, composite character was created. The idea of being in a position to do that kind of blows my mind, to be so touched by somebody’s life and be able to do something so wonderful and so unique for them. It was strange for me to read some of those letters, to hear about people who have a so much more tangible connection with the series that I adore than I do.

Some of the other letters have also seemed deeply significant to me, I especially loved one which argued that in Buffy heroism was mostly about choice, as this was part of the thrust of an essay I wrote last year. Theorising isn’t restricted to the letters section, Buffy herself makes some excellent points. She argues that saving the world amounts to saving the status quo, and that apocalypses (if that is indeed the correct plural form) are an attempt at change. What she did, to empower hundreds of women by unlocking their Slayer potentiality, was a sort of synthesis, a way for the world to change and move forward. I think that’s a brilliant description of the conclusion of the show.

I loved the sneaky little ‘jokes’ about both Buffy and Xander being gay, although I’m still deeply annoyed by the “gay me up” scene in ‘First Date’ which I felt was in incredibly poor taste. Buffy’s little speech about the fact that Satsu’s in love with her was great, and I especially loved, “The fact that knowing that someone you know, someone really cool, feels that way about me, it makes me less…a little bit less lonely”. Satsu, Renee and Aiko are all great characters, the Slayers in the comics are all much, much more likable than the potentials in the TV series (and Vi is certainly less annoying now), it’s helped that I don’t have to hear any appalling attempts at accents. I like that they tend to geek out about Buffy though, she is legend after all. I thought that the relationship between Satsu and Buffy was really sweet and a little sad, and then suddenly there was sex! And that was too awesome! Buffy has sex with another woman, in cannon. How is it possible that I missed this until now? Although apparently Sarah Michelle Gellar also missed the memo… I enjoyed it even more when I remembered everyone freaking out about the apparent Buffy/Xander turn the comics seemed to be taking. This is also a way better twist than The Immortal storyline! I don’t feel that this was a marketing ploy at all, it’s just an excellent story.

The relationship between Dracula and Xander however, although it had some excellent subtext, was a bit too ridiculous for me. Apparently it references another Dracula-centric comic also penned by Drew Goddard (by the by I probably could have been convinced to go see Cloverfield if I’d known that he was invovled) so perhaps I’d appreciate it more if I’d actually read that. Season eight is actually making me consider purchasing the Buffy Omnibus, so perhaps I will. The idea that Xander and Dracula were penpals is hilarious, but I also felt that it was a bit too unbelievable. I adored Andrew’s recap of the situation however, but then again I adore pretty much anything Andrew does. Primo examples here include taking dramamine before letting Willow fly him, and letting slip that in his fantasies he’d be called ‘Miss’.

Possibly Andrew’s best line was “My giant-sized teammate is fighting a mechanized version of herself on the streets of Downtown Tokyo…I’ve been preparing for this moment my whole life!”. The Giant-Dawn-as-Godzilla parody was done really well, I found it funny and I’ve never even seen a Godzilla movie. It was pretty much impossible not to laugh. (As was the earlier moment involving Dawn sleeping in a barn. Swift isn’t the only one who can make giants funny.) I loved the deadpan reaction to Giant Dawn battling the Giant Dawn Robot too, “Well, there’s something you don’t see every day.”

The comics also make explicit visual references to Dark Phoenix with Willow, just as the show did.

Aiko’s death was sad, and Buffy having to remain calm and demand that someone help her to cut down Aiko’s body was reminiscent of the last hanged girl she had to cut down. Buffy’s not exactly had an easy life. Way more emotional though was Renee’s death. I cannot belive that Joss would do that! (Although I so can of course.) I feel so bad for Xander, he’s had to deal with Anya dying already, and now this? Dracula being supportive was nice, but also rather weird. I can accept that Dracula might grant Xander (and perhaps even all the Scoobies amnesty) but I think that whole storyline was a little jarring.

But back to the sexin’. I simply adored Buffy’s slightly lame girl crushes on Judi Dench and Eleanor Roosevelt. However, I didn’t really like the slight awkwardness between Buffy and Willow (especially Willow demanding details from Satsu, she claims that she’s always wanted to know what Buffy was like in bed). It would be one thing if the awkwardness was one sided, perhaps like when Willow first came out to Buffy, but they’re both being weird. The worst thing is that Willow doesn’t seem to acknowledge that she’s being weird, she seems to think that it’s normal to be overly bright and assume that Buffy would now want to try it on with Willow. Buffy never made any such assumption about Willow. It’s not as if Buffy has simply declared “I think I’m kind of gay” and looked expectantly at Willow, she’s had an experience with Satsu, it doesn’t have anything much to do with Willow.

Willow is in fact rather disparaging, calling it Buffy’s “little experiment”. Willow was very annoyed with Tara’s similar suggestion, and with good reason. Fair enough at the point that Tara was saying such a thing they were in a much more serious relationship, but still I consider it to be incredibly rude. Even if Buffy was merely ‘experimenting’ with her sexuality there’s no need to be snide about it, there’s nothing wrong with an individual enjoying casual sex with whoever they want. I also don’t understand why Kennedy would make a similar suggestion, telling Buffy to back off of Willow. I could understand it if she was getting a little worried about it (and there’s been plenty of reasonable jealousy in Buffy: Cordelia telling Willow to back off of Xander for example, or Angel and Spike’s jealousy directed at each other), but she seems to think that it’s normal and acceptable to assume that now that Buffy’s expressed an interest in women she’s going to jump on anyone within reach. There’s no basis for this assumption, unless we’re about to find out that Willow’s actually been in love with Buffy all this time (but just really good at hiding it) which I really hope isn’t about to happen.

I liked the fact that it doesn’t seem as if Buffy and Satsu are going to have a long term relationship (and I idly wonder if Spuffy shippers are finding solace in the B/S initials?). I think that Buffy deserves to have a positive experience like that, normally she has sex with someone and the world unravels a little. She didn’t even actually get to have that with The Immortal, although one of her decoys probably did. Buffy deserves some fun! (At least she gets to enjoy New York, I liked that.)

Episode 16 began an arc which involves a crossover with Fray, a comic series penned by Whedon which is set in a futuristic world following the adventures of the eponymous Slayer. I haven’t read Fray, although thinking about it maybe I ought to now, but I didn’t have any problems with understanding the plot thus far. I liked that she speaks in a type of futuristic English, I suppose it’s a fairly commonly used device, but it had me happily thinking of both Firefly and Cloud Atlas. I’m intruiged to find out who Buffy was getting all dressed up for… is it too much to hope for some Angel and/or Spike drama?

So. Wow that was incredibly long and rambly, quelle surprise. Since I’m on the topic of Monsieur Whedon I might as well allow this snowball effect to continue a little further. I finally watched the unaired pilot for the Animated Buffy series. It was fun enough in its own way but I can understand why it didn’t go into production, it wasn’t particularly brilliant (I prefer the comics so much to it), and it seems a little redundant to go back to season one-style storylines, especially in the face of the brilliant comics. All in all I think I would have enjoyed it if it had been made (despite having a different voice actress for Buffy, and the fact that she’s randomly gone a bit goth) but I’m not particularly irritated that it wasn’t successful, and am glad that the creative energy was instead poured into season eight.

I loved this great article which presents ‘an oral history of Dr Horrible‘, it gives a lot of background information, and the anthropologist in me can’t help being delighted with a title like that. Then there was this wonderful Dollhouse interview which has totally inflamed my voicecrushes on Joss (just close your eyes and imagine him as someone who doesn’t have a ginger beard) and Eliza. She sings! I didn’t know that she could sing. There needs to be singing and English accents in Dollhouse, for the love of all things un/holy (delete as appropriate). On the subject of Dr Horrible and Whedon-related voicecrushes, I adored this little Nathan Fillion interview (the man has a wonderful voice) where he pontificates on Captain Hammer’s abilities.

I kind of love the internet. This thing that we now accept as such a big part of our lives is actually mind-boggling. Someone googled Ayn Rand and Aaron Sorkin and found my waffling! The idea of an unknowable audience is both terrifying and fabulous. Mostly terrifiying, with a side of fabulous. Personally YouTube isn’t something that I’m overly-obsessed with (although I do link to it a fair bit), but I absolutely loved this Digital Ethnography lecture about YouTube. It’s about an hour long, but if you have some time I’d definitely recommend it as it’s really fascinating (although some of the most popular videos make me despair for humanity a bit). I’d be really interested in taking a Digital Ethnography-style course, I think that the anthropology of the internet is an incredibly thought-provoking field. My interest would primarily be in areas such as fanfiction, but it’s so hard to maintain tight boundaries when looking at such topics and with anthropology it’s always hard to demarcate what is and isn’t relevant. I really must look into masters courses when I return, preferably finding something which allows me to write long essays on things which I’m already happy to write about.

Atlast!

In bookmark, miss thropist, tv kicks on July 30, 2008 at 9:51 pm

Atlas Shrugged is over a thousand pages. I don’t have a problem with it being long, but I wish it wasn’t so bloody big, it takes up most of my handbag all by itself!

First off, I like it. More than I thought I would, if I’m honest. Mostly I think that it’s well-written (although there’s the odd sentence that makes me roll my eyes and wish it had been better edited…and the mere fact of the book’s length makes me think that an editor could definitely have been useful) and very thoughtful. It consists of well constructed arguments, and it demands that you think out your objections and counter-arguments carefully rather than going with an vague, intuitive feeling about something. I don’t think that I necessarily agree with Rand’s arguments, but that doesn’t matter. It’s nice to just read and consider well argued theory. I do feel a little weird about the fact that I’m reading fiction (that isn’t simply an allegory or a satire) that seems to have been explicitly created, at least in part, to promote an ideology but I also know that if that doctrine sat further to the left I’d probably find it a little easier to swallow, so I probably shouldn’t complain about it.

I certainly feel that it’s often less of a defence of selfishness than it thinks it is. Maybe that’s just my personal interpretation because I think that ‘selfishness’ still has a negative gloss to it, in the way that a defence of egotism or self-interest probably wouldn’t to me. Even so, I don’t really buy the idea that these characters are necessarily all that selfish. They’re well rounded composite characters rather than caricatures, which is definitely a good thing, but they’re also just incredibly noble most of the time. They demonstrate time and time again that they subscribe to a higher morality, to certain ideas of what is inherently right- and it doesn’t just happen as a by-product of their selfishness at all.

I’m glad that the novel doesn’t hide from just how American it is, although I would like it to at least acknowledge that this ‘selfishness’ that it lauds is a value (if indeed it is one) which applies uniquely to a very specific context. I think the idea that Capitalism arose in the States as a rejection of the idea of slavery is an interesting one (mentioned as a throwaway comment, but I’d love to see it expanded on), but I’d also like the book to maybe at least touch on America’s history of genocide and slavery.

There at least was a reference to Manhattan being sold by the indigenous people for a small sum in glass beads. I could have done without the ‘stupid savages’ implication. (And anyway, it’s not as if that story is supported by any actual facts).

I think it paints a very skewed version of American history, not only in largely omitting these very obvious points, but also comitting the common sin of completely ignoring the importance of collectivist ideas, and yes even socialist ones, on the early history of the USA.

It does definitely strike a chord with me. It has these beautiful ideals, which I can appreciate even if I don’t necessarily agree with. I started off rolling my eyes a little at the ideas it was presenting. I was thinking “sure, I’d love to go and live in a wood cabin (with wireless) and ignore everyone”, but I didn’t think that the book was going to actually create this awesome enclave (hidden by some hilarious comic book style technology) where the ‘deserters’ could live happily apart from the rest of the world. The plot is doing nothing less than embodying everything wonderful about anarchism, and crucially it isn’t only the (primarily American) individualist strand (embodied by Thoreau) but definitely also contains ideas that resonate with Proudhon’s, Tolstoy’s and even the good parts of syndicalism.

The abject hatred towards Marxism (and indeed the word ‘contradiction’!) expressed in the book makes me a little sad. I don’t think that Rand’s vibrant support of the free market is necessarily entirely at odds with socialism, especially that of a strongly anarchist bent- like Benjamin Tucker’s theories for example. Obviously I can understand Rand’s outrage and disgust at the way she saw ‘Communism’ being implemented in her life time, but I don’t think that that should lead to an outright dismissal of Marx. I think that their theories have some common ground, he too wanted the best of the best! In fact I can imagine Karl Marx as actually fitting in quite well with a lot of her characters (although I don’t think she would have liked Engels very much)…

I definitely have some problems with the way that she writes about women. Dagny is a very strong and likable female character (who clearly looks an awful lot like Felicity Huffman in the Sports Night days, she even dresses like her) but I really hate a lot of her romantic and sexual relationships. Although Rand creates an eloquent defence of pleasure seeking, arguing against allowing sex to be tainted by guilt, I can’t stand the way Dagny is constantly submitting and giving herself to be ‘used’ by her lovers. Sometimes the male characters seem to be submitting too, but it is to passion, rather than to a woman. I find it to be incredibly grating. Also, the most ‘evil’ character book appears to be Dagny’s opposite, Hank’s wife Lilian (I’m not entirely convinced that the ‘Lil-’ name is unintentional either). She’s definitely a despicable person, but I’m not sure that she deserves to be painted as the absolute worst character in the book simply because she’s “not-Dagny”.
Earlier I felt that part of the novel was basically a love story between Francisco and Hank, now it feels more like one between Francisco and John. I held out hope that the free love angle would get pursued, and that there’d be a better orgy than in the Perfume movie (the one in the book was just dandy) in the offing. I also desperately needed some respite from the fact that so many of the main characters were in love with Dagny. I don’t know if this is a brand of Mary Sue-ism, but it’s certainly irritating.

Possibly the most irksome thing about Atlas Shrugged is that it’s based on a very bad analogy, Atlas held up the sky, not the world. It’s just such a glaring error.
Dagny Taggart is an awful, awful name. Who would call their child that? It’s so ugly! Tinky Holloway, however, is an excellent name. Also I think it is possible for a book’s characters to overuse the phrase “I know it”, especially if they insist on constantly doing it grimly.

I like the fact that Dagny sometimes gets to dress up and revel in her femininity, and have that not be separate from her identity as an executive. However, I think that this is slightly tainted by the fact that most of the time she’s wearing a nice dress she ends up in some protracted romantic situation. On the subject of Dagny’s clothing, I absolutely could not take John’s confession of love (andstalking watching over her) seriously, because telling her that he spent the past twelve years watching her from the tunnels below and could sculpt her legs from memory made it sound a lot like he had a fetish for upskirt peeping. That sort of thing can get you fired here you know.

Something that I find kind of jarring (and certainly not just in this book) is that the characters are more wordy than season 7′s speech-happy General Buffy. They often give speeches, and I don’t have a problem with that if they’re supposed to be. A fair bit of the time though, they aren’t. I don’t think it’s reasonable for there to be quite so many multi-page monologues. It’s a common literary device, but I tend to find it incredibly annoying. That, combined with the fact that they all seem to have an amazing ability to recall pretty much anything that anyone has ever said to them and quote it verbatim and the fact that several of the characters have definite Marty-Lou characteristics and are just too perfect kind of encapsulates what worries me about reading a novel which has a politico-philosophical agenda. The characters are sometimes sacrificed to the author’s greater plan and it means that they don’t always ring true.

I don’t want to give the impression that I’m pissing all over the book though. I’m not, at all. I’m still definitely enjoying it. I wouldn’t bother to consider all of this if I wasn’t. I like the way that it lightly picks at the flaws of what it criticises, I especially liked this:

There, he thought, was the final abortion of the creed of collective interdependence, the creed of non-identity, non-property, non-fact: the belief that the moral stature of one is at the mercy of the action of another.

I know that a lot of Marx’s writing that has what I would characterise as a more individualist bent, and focuses more on ideas of freedom might not have surfaced (or if it had then might not have been widely known) when Atlas Shrugged was written (it was first published in 1957). I also found this Popper quote to be appropriate:

Marx tried, and although he erred in his main doctrines, he did not try in vain. He opened and sharpened our eyes in many ways. A return to pre-Marxian social science is inconceivable. All modern writers are indebted to Marx, even if they do not know it. This is especially true of those who disagree with his doctrines.

Now some mere idle curiosity. Firstly, I’m just intrigued as to whether Midas Mulligan ever explains why the Atlantis valley wasn’t on any maps? Did I miss something?

Secondly, does “Piss” Harry King in the Discworld books remind anyone of Hank Rearden a little? Or am I just reaching… He is listed on the television trope page for the self made man (which is interesting because I don’t think that he’s ever been portrayed on television) but I’ll take it as evidence that I’m right.

I’m glad that I read the book in conjunction with (slowly, slowly) watching Carnivale. They’re set to similar backdrops so it was nice to have them both captivating my imagination at the same time. There was an awesome quote from Dolan, which for some reason I can’t find, about him wanting to help Iris to find her brother so that he can gain a larger audience and get richer. It sounded like something that could have come straight out of Atlas Shrugged.

I still haven’t worked out who Francisco reminded me of, and it’s bugging the hell out of me. It was especially strong earlier in the novel when he was in the position of a tempter, luring people to go on strike. Knowing me it’ll probably turn out to be a Whedon or Sorkin character, and the cogs of my brain will probably finally find the answer for me to scream out at an utterly inappropriate moment. C’est la vie. I remember that after watching Dune (which I also still haven’t read) I had an incredibly strong sense that the Fremen’s blue eyes reminded me of… something which I just couldn’t quite grasp. I drove our poor lecturer somewhere round the bend as she listed off lots of possibilities, most of which were obscure references to science fiction films or television shows that I have no knowledge of. When I finally worked out that it was Groo (a fairly minor character from Angel), I don’t think she considered it to have been worth all of that effort.

John’s radio broadcast (apparently around three hours long, which I can well believe- but I didn’t mind the length here since it was conceived of as a speech, and so didn’t feel false) slightly reminded me of a much shorter speech. Wes Mendell’s in the Studio 60 pilot. The first couple of episodes of Studio 60 had me bubbling with excitement, I’m still kind of annoyed at the way it ended up. Here is a link to the clip from the pilot which culminates with said speech (and I’d completely forgotten that Felicity Huffman had a guest spot in the pilot, please she so is Dagny, enough with this Angelina nonsense). I’ll also include this link to the cold open from, uh, ‘The Cold Open’ for no reason other than it makes me laugh.

On the subject of Francisco, which I’m sure that I was discussing at some point, I was immediately convinced that Frank Adams was him as soon as I read the name ‘Frank’. I didn’t have to wait long for that reveal, but Hank’s surprise at something that was so obvious was typical of a lot of the book. Again and again the reader becomes aware of something that a character desperately wants to know or should know, the identity of Eddie Willer’s confidante for example. This had the effect of making me a bit exasperated with Hank, Dagny and Eddie time and time again for being so dense (and for their inevitable gasping when they discover the truth) even when, based on the knowledge available to them, they weren’t actually being intensely stupid. It reminded me of Harry Potter a little, although I don’t think anyone could be quite as dim witted as Harry (or gasp as much as Hermione). Luckily I love the word phrase hyphenate ‘self-immolation’ (and I’d like to point out that I’m the one who came up with the ‘molating Marx thing, and probably plenty of the others even if I can’t remember them… firing Foucault possibly?) otherwise I’d definitely be complaining loudly about its overuse.

I very much loved, in a pretty much unqualified way, Rand’s attacks on Cartesian duality; the split between mind and body.

Personally I feel that there’s never been a proper free-market Capitalism experiment, just as there’s never been a proper Communist one. Maybe it’s because they only really exist as ideal types, and life is a lot more messy, but its certainly (also?) because they haven’t been allowed. Dagny (and the others) look towards an idealised past (where Nat Taggart roamed around) of perfect laissez-faire capitalism. I’m pretty sure that that didn’t exist. The free market has never truly been free, I’ll come back to Benjamin Tucker for example: he argued that the four main monopolies (money, land, tariffs and patents) would need to be broken down first before a truly free market could be set up. We see examples of it all the time, the US government cries that the market ought to be free! Except for pharmaceuticals. Importing cheap Canadian drugs would hurt American producers, and that would be wrong. Repeat ad infinitum with whatever it is this week.

I’m sorry, but I’m coming back to Marx again. I just feel that Rand (and she’s certainly not alone) misinterprets his views on Capitalism. He didn’t hate it. He didn’t want to destroy it. He thought that it was excellent, in a limited way. It unleashed enormous productive power, and allowed for innovation in a way that previous epochs had not. He didn’t provide a moral criticism of Capitalism in his work, and he in fact explicitly argues against trying to bring about the untimely end of Capitalism. He simply believed that Capitalism was beset by inherent contradictions (just like the previous socio-economic systems), and as a result would eventually collapse and give way to a new social system.

Needless to say, he wasn’t exactly right about how it played out. I’d definitely be interested in finding out if Rand ever explicitly discussed her attitude to Marx’s writing. In Atlas Shrugged she doesn’t, but I feel (perhaps wrongly) that some of her criticisms are directed that-a-way. There’s a lot of stuff in Marx’s writing that I think Rand must have agreed with, not least his emphasis on rationality and of course that famous sentence from Theses on Feuerbach, “ The philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways; the point is to change it”.

Of course I suppose that her criticisms were actually directed more at the Russian governement then at their (claimed) ideological underpinnings. It’s hard to work out when the novel’s supposed to be set, since it’s futuristic in some senses but also rapidly retreating into the past. Combined with that is the fact that the characters are often looking to an idealised industrial past, which often permeates their world and time, especially as the setting of the railroad (and to a lesser extent the mines) has a distinctly nineteenth century quality to it. In my head I kind of split the difference and seem to be imagining something vaguely 1930s-esque (I suppose I can partly blame this on Carnivale too). I get the impression that Rand was explicitly critiquing Roosevelt’s policies, and I can understand why her ideas would clash with his “make work” philosophy. However, at the same time I can see similarities between his New Deal and the great minds of Atlas Shrugged trying to rebuild the world after its destruction… (Of course it also makes me think of Toby’s revulsion at the idea of including “the era of big government is over” in the speech in the West Wing ep ’He Shall From Time to Time’ in which I don’t think the name “Roosevelt” is ever spoken, but I swear that you can actually see what Toby’s thinking. I love Richard Schiff a little too much.)

Well maybe the real problem with a university education is it creates the desire to identify fleeting similarities and synthesise ideas?

I also felt that the arguments against the ‘mystics of muscle’ seemed to be more of an argument against the Functionalist school of thought than anything else (especially with the organic analogy). I suppose Rand wouldn’t particularly like them, but it felt a little weird in a rant that seemed mostly against altruism and collectivism. I also wondered if the fact that both John and Ragnar raise the issue of income tax as important was construed as an explicit reference to Thoreau. I’m glad that there was a reference to the fact that paper money is assumed to be worth the same as gold, I think people should pay more attention to the fact that the world’s economy is basically held together by a mass delusion. No one’s on the gold standard anymore, and there might very well come a time when you don’t really care how many flimsy pieces of paper you’re holding or how many zeroes are at the the end of the number on the computer screen. Hopefully by then I’ll be back in London with my pumpkin patch and fruit trees though, so I won’t really care.

I would have liked to see religion addressed more. Rand dismisses religion (and I personally don’t have a problem with that), but it wasn’t really dealt with much within the novel, there weren’t really any religious characters. After reading the introduction I’m a tad annoyed that the Father Amadeus character was cut, but I might have had to spend some time trying to work out where his name fits on the awful/awesome axis if he hadn’t been.

Rand belittles the sociological/interpretivist-style criticisms of science. I will freely admit that sometimes these criticisms can be take way too far. I love Bruno Latour, he has an immense and respectful appreciation of science and he acknowledges that there are such things as objective facts. However, he points out that science in the process of occurring isn’t a series of objective facts, and argues that stating this isn’t a rejection of science. I’d also like to add that Rand actually endorses one of those criticisms of science without acknowledging it, she’s disgusted by the idea of state funded science, and that’s something which many of the sociological criticisms of science have highlighted, as well as investigating other ways in which the production of scientific knowledge is effected by other (subtler) factors.

The book definitely contained far too much of an Orientalist attitude, an extreme overuse of the word ‘savage’ and an apparent damning of everything ‘non-American’. I don’t have a problem with the novel’s pro-American sentiment (nor do I have a problem with it in anything penned by Aaron Sorkin), even if I don’t endorse it. I do appreciate passionate feeling like that, and basically anyone who subscribes to the Granny Weatherwax school of philosophy:

“…well, you wouldn’t catch me sayin’ things like “There are two sides to every question,” and “We must respect other people’s beliefs.” You wouldn’t find me just being gen’rally nice in the hope that it’d all turn out right in the end, not if that flame was burning in me like an unforgivin’ sword.”

I know that Rand’s views on race and gender (and other things too of course) are a product of her time. I expect some things to crop up that I dislike but can understand as a result of this. I think it’s just a bit too much though. I have to contend that in some areas she was just a bit of an idiot, and I’d be interested in reading Feminist Interpretations of Ayn Rand, especially Brownmiller’s ‘Ayn Rand: A Traitor to her Own Sex’. I assume that that title is there for shock value, at least to some extent, and that there is some appreciation of Dagny’s character (and indeed Cherryl’s, although it would have been nice to see her develop a bit more before her death). I assume that there’s plenty of criticism of the (relatively?) sexually submissive role that Dagny randomly gets cast in, which I’d definitely be interested to read.

I’ve never understood why someone would think that I would want my cake if I wasn’t going to eat it too. Claiming that one can’t eat one’s cake and have it too at least makes sense.

It’s a good thing that John was the one who started the movement, if people were wandering about asking who Francisco D’Anconia or Ragnar Danneskjold were all the time the book might have been a lot shorter. Certainly it might have taken the government a lot less time to track John down at the end if he didn’t have such a common name. I felt worried that things were going to take a tragic turn when Dagny led them to John, and I’m glad that instead there was a happy, hopeful ending. (And that Dagny wasn’t punished for being a silly, emotional woman.) I felt kind of sad for poor Eddie though. I liked the idea of the torture machine- it was really gruesome (and the idiots torturing Galt almost to the point of death because they were adamant that he had to help them were captivating), the machine itself kind of reminded me of the torture device in The Princess Bride. The idea of trying to torture someone with the sound of their own heartbeat was effective, and it reminded me of the horror that one of Doc Benton’s victims in the Supernatural episode ‘Time is on my Side’ who has a heart rate monitor still attached to him from when he was jogging suffered.

The idea that it’s impossible for the nasty bad guy politicians to step aside at the right time idly made me think of F.W. de Clerk.

I know that it’s silly, but I think I would have liked a bit more science. I know that Ayn Rand wasn’t a scientist. Partly it’s just because the refractor rays made me roll my eyes and laugh out loud. It felt like an episode of Johnny Quest, especially with the whole Shambhala feel to Galt’s Gulch. I would have loved some science geekery (even if it was complete and utter nonsense) to provide a bit more of an explanation to Galt’s super awesome motor, rather than the constant solemn assurance that it was something amazing that would have made the world better, without details to flesh it out and make it sound more realistic.

I think I’ve come round to the idea of Rand the novelist more. When I first started reading I thought that I was reading a novel designed as propaganda of, or at least promotion of, a specific view point. On completion I can say that it does (mostly) feel like a novel. I’ve also become convinced that she wasn’t engaging with philosophical or political theory (other than her own anyway) as much as I thought she would.

Sadly there was no orgy finale. There was a mention of orgies towards the end, but they’re discussed in a very disparaging way. I can at least console myself with the not stated (but clearly implicit assumption) that Hank and Francisco were walking off into the world together. Obviously.

I didn’t clock that Ayn Rand was Russian until I read the biographical information in the reader’s guide. I guess that explains some of her anger a little bit. It makes sense that Rand wasn’t her real name, I think it would be too much of a coincidence if her surname actually was a currency!.I’d kind of had her pegged as a Catholic what with all the emphasis on guilt. I should have paid more attention to The First Wives Club where Brenda explains that she’s half-Catholic, but that its the Jews that really own guilt. Unless that was actually in another book, which is possible.

My brain is addled. Maybe that’s why I think that there should be a cartoon of Atlas’ shrug (as in the item of clothing). That logically seems like one of those things that only sleep-deprivation makes funny.

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