#arthur being welsh was weirdly important to me

[theodoraflowerday]

in retrospective I think the only part from henry's pov I have beef with is the fact that arthur was from sheffield. like what do you mean arthur fox wasn't born and raised in cardiff. you're telling me arthur isn't welsh? fuck off

[tearlessrain]

I’m about to watch Arthur and Merlin, which is free on youtube and came up in my suggestions randomly. I have no idea what it is but I am hungry for the arthurian Content so Imma watch it and see how it goes

update: it was way better than I expected and accidentally SUPER gay. that merlin tv show everyone loved was amateur hour compared to how gay this was.

“there is magic in the air, and in the water, but it has been forgotten by many in these lands” wow why does that sound familiar I wonder

the funny thing is I watched fellowship of the ring literally yesterday so this will be hilarious

but there is hope [extremely unsubtle cut to a baby who is definitely important]

now I think... and I could be wrong... but guys I suspect this baby might be the chosen one.

oh god there was no father he was conceived by midichlorians

THE SKYWALKERS HAVE INFILTRATED THE CELTS

okay place your bets is it arthur or merlin

it’s Merlin. or Merddyn rather, in a surprise twist this movie was written by Fucking Nerds

so far mild cheese aside this is surprisingly watchable

“your crops fail and so you ask the king for help, but do not help yourselves! where are your alters?? starvation is punishment for your lack of faith!” THE RNC HAS INFILTRATED THE CELTS

okay so near as I can figure out the mark is from the old gods but there’s a druid who I guess speaks for the king or something who wants them to worship different old gods and now he’s demanding the villagers make a human sacrifice and it’s gonna be Smol Merddyn.

aw no they killed Celtic Shmi. Merddyn got away though and is now wandering the Forbidden Forest

I’m mad this is actually a solid movie so far. absolutely nothing unexpected has happened but I didn’t click on a movie called “Arthur and Merlin” to be surprised

oh wait that kid who freed him was Arthur

fifteen years later arthur is... a military leader who looks strangely like one of those romans played by obviously white actors in older movies

I honestly can’t pinpoint when this movie was made on aesthetics alone

ooo some Roving Misogynists™ are here to cause trouble and assault random women for being christian. by order of the druid no doubt.

“you mock us!” “I do.” okay I’m starting to like this arthur.

oh my god is that. he just fucking. tripped over excalibur while wading in like a two foot deep pond to get this woman’s cross back for her. best interpretation ever.

wait Olwen??? as in Ysbaddaden’s daughter Olwen?? once again I assumed they’d go with Guinevere or make someone up but I forgot, this movie was made by Fucking Nerds.

okay I know insisting everything is gay is a constant thing on this site but I want to point out that Arthur has showed nothing but very platonic friendship to Olwen but this is the face he makes when he sees Merddyn in a vision

and I mean to be fair to him this is what Merddyn looks like now

goddamn

oh no they’ve immediately made it very clear that he’s Romantically Involved With Olwen In Secret Look They’re Kissing Nobody Is Gay

so now I really want to know who wrote this movie because what I’m seeing here is people who intentionally chose to use the name merddyn, and know that olwen exists, but then decided to pair her romantically with... king arthur. and culhwch just doesn’t exist I guess. not that this is the most off the wall welsh mythology ship I’ve encountered but still it’s a weird one for this kind of media even if it’s an indie film

who are you people. how did this movie get made. I mean I like whatever it is but for real how and why did you do this.

I love how there’s just this trio of random dudes who don’t even have names who are arthur/olwen’s friends. and yet somehow they’re likable and I’m rooting for them. whoever they are.

so the only real problem with this movie that’s denting my enjoyment is that nobody has names and they all have the same haircut so I lose track of who’s doing what. see these are arthur’s friends:

and these are bad guys:

and Olwen is the only person in either screenshot who has a name

if any of them ever changes into a new outfit I’m screwed.

I’m gonna be real with y’all I love me a cursed forest

in an ironic twist, excalibur is now firmly stuck in a tree trunk and arthur cannot get it out

why is this movie GOOD what the heck. I mean the druid and king situation is blatantly ripped from wormtongue and theoden but I still like. care about the king. they’ve done it well.

“I’ve already told you, I am no longer a man.” “are you so sure???” see I know nothing will happen since this is a movie not a fanfic but that line is the quintessential hate-makeout segue

THIS IS VERY HETEROSEXUAL they’ve had most of the argument while approximately that distance from each other

oh god what the fuck arthur’s friends got sacrificed by the druid just to make a point to olwen. this is the opposite of a Sacrificial Girlfriend.

they do not need to be this close to each other to argue but they keep on doing it

they’ve been on screen together for less than five minutes y’all

arthur: maybe you’re right, you are no longer a man

merlin: [conjures an entire patch of flowers for him to make... some kind of point I guess?]

okay now they’re arguing again but there’s all this “I thought I knew you” talk (which, again, it’s been five minutes) and the actors have clearly decided that their dynamic is based entirely on constant, roiling sexual tension

why does every single thing they say scan like dialogue from a slow burn enemies to friends to lovers fanfic

“the girl in the village, did you love her once?” “I know little of love” “Surely a man who can control the growth of a flower must be able to make love blossom” JUST FUCK ALREADY

this is how they’re having this conversation by the way

there was only one shrub hollow

“to control nature is one thing, but only the most powerful sorcerer could control the mind of a man- OR WOMAN,” he said, heterosexually.

y’all I’m gonna be honest I thought I was just projecting at first but this is the gayest thing I’ve seen since the baseball song in high school musical 2. this is just absolute beleg and turin levels of probably unintended but utterly blatant homosexuality. I’m so glad I decided to watch this movie and youtube was right to recommend it to me.

this movie really speaks to me because on a spiritual level I too am a mystical but irritable and socially stunted forest hermit with sexy hair just waiting for a brash but pure-hearted warrior who looks like a roman statue to draw me out of my cave with homoerotic banter. 

oh it’s not excalibur it’s... nuadu. which I guess in this movie is not the king of the tuatha de danann but a sword forged by them? see my first impulse would be to assume that the way they’re mangling everything, the writers knew nothing about Celtic folklore, except that they’ve chosen such weirdly specific things to mangle. they know their shit, they’ve just deliberately chosen to go absolutely buckwild with it.

THEY’RE DOING IT AGAIN THEY ARE INCAPABLE OF ARGUING WHILE STANDING MORE THAN TWO FEET APART

for real though character-wise this might be one of my favorite interpretations of merlin/merddyn I’ve ever seen. I feel like everyone involved was genuinely super passionate about the subject matter they were working with. like all jokes aside he’s really honestly well acted and well written.

STOP IT NOW YOU HORNY SIMPLETONS

uh oh they’ve been captured by... bandits?

oh it’s olwen’s uncle

“TO GOOD WOMEN... WHY DO YOU NOT DRINK, MERDDYN”

it is a mystery, olwen’s uncle.

a mystery.

this motivational monologue could have been so cheesy but like. I’m here for it. I would follow arthur into battle.

aw come on. olwen’s uncle betrayed them. I kinda saw it coming but dammit.

again, the druid should be absolutely stupid but he’s kind of a cool villain.

yay olwen’s uncle unbetrayed them. probably so would I if I’d seen what merddyn just did to the druid’s guys.

so the druid is trying to sacrifice ten thousand souls to raise a god from the underworld and merddyn is on the fucking warpath. and olwen’s uncle is ON BOARD HELL YEAH.

THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS THE HOBBITS TO ISENGUARD TO ISENGUARD

arthur and merddyn have escalated to clutching each other’s clothes during their heated two-feet-apart discussions

olwen is a badass in her own right like she has her own whole thing going trying to save the king from basically his own literal dementia and the druid who’s taking advantage of it, which is somehow way more compelling than just magical mind control.

“I thought the cave taught you fairness” “well... you taught me fighting” JUST KISS.

okay let’s see how they pull off this dark god on the shoestring budget they definitely have, at this point I honestly believe in them.

by avoiding showing the god entirely apparently but they made it work even with that.

aw the king has named him his heir. which again we all knew would happen but it’s still so well done.

and we end on merddyn placing the crown on arthur’s head while lovingly quoting his own words back at him, while olwen looks on with the kind of approval that implies they’ve ended up with some kind of road to el dorado situation. solid.

so I was expecting this to be absolute garbage with bad actors and checked out writers just trying to make another mediocre coattail-riding medieval fantasy movie and what I got was some weirdly good actors and writers who are clearly obsessed with celtic folklore and desperately wanted to just run amok with it for an hour and 45 minutes. and they did. they poured every ounce of their hearts and souls and tiny, tiny budget into it. and it was beautiful. 10/10

[dailybestiary]

Knight & Megapon Ants

Knight ants are a special caste of ants dedicated to defending their colony’s home.  They grow particularly wide heads to protect their colonymates, who also benefit from the greater coordination signaled by the knight ants’ pheromones.  

Megapon ants, meanwhile, have the rare distinction of being (in the editions I own, anyway) the only Bestiary species I’ve seen to not merit a description. (Heck, I can’t even Google a good definition for megapon.)  But at CR 6, they’re nothing to sneeze at; they can carry prodigious amounts of weight; and their Strength-sapping poison suggests the sting of a fire ant or some aggressive, prehistoric lineage.

A clan of dwarves uses alchemical scents to tame and coax behaviors out of their ant livestock.  A local war calls most of the clan elders away from the hold, and when they return they discover that the artificial scents have spoiled.  Their knight ant guards now bar the way to the lower levels, no longer recognizing the dwarves as friends.

A martial arts master with some training as a druid believes in basing his forms and stances off of those in nature.  In order to learn his specialized skills (in game terms, teamwork feats), adventurers must study knight ants in the tunnels of their hill—without killing a single one.

Adventurers are racing through the canopy of the great god’s-home trees, fleeing cannibals hot on their trail.  They come across a column of megapon ants using their bodies to create a bridge for themselves and their giant aphid thralls.  If the adventurers can find a way to sneak across the ant bridge, they will easily lose their pursuers.  Otherwise they might have to fight the enormous ants and the kuru-maddened cannibals at the same time.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 5 27

I recently relistened to the audiobook version of Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, read by the outstanding Simon Prebble.  I first listened to it during a massive, speeding ticket-filled, two-day road trip from San Francisco to Portland via Crater Lake several years ago.  I’m happy to say I loved it then—so much so that in my hunger for more I discovered Naomi Novik’s Temeraire series and Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey–Maturin books—and I loved it now—so much so that I accrued $28 in overdue fines because I had other books checked out and didn’t want to give any of them back.  (If you throw in the speeding tickets, that’s compelling evidence that good books make me make bad choices, apparently.)

JS&MN truly is an extraordinary book—all the more so because it’s a first novel.  (Neil Gaiman’s quote about a fragment from one of Clarke’s early drafts—“It was like watching someone sit down to play the piano for the first time and she plays a sonata”—still holds up.)  The true-to-the-1800s language, the sense of place, and the treatment of academic arguments as being as important as a battle are nearly perfect.  I love the characters; I love the world; I love the faerie lore; I love almost everything.

Because I love it so much, certain things still drive me nuts.  Most of these little things are insufficiently answered (to my mind, at least) questions or breakdowns in verisimilitude: How can Mr Norrell justify obstructing the progress of all other magicians if he publicly claims to want to restore English magic…why does Childermass remain with Mr Norrell for so long even after the meanness of his master’s character is revealed…why do Lady Pole and Stephen Strange’s maladies go so long undiagnosed, even with a faerie glamour to blame…things like that.  In reality, the book may be better for not answering these questions, but they still leave me fidgety with agitation.

A second listen did also confirm a major beef I had the first time I listened to it, though: It is a figure eight of a work, its whole shape constantly circling around two black holes of noninformation.  

The first is that the actual working of magic is barely shown and never explained.  Clarke has said that she “really like[s] magicians,” but weirdly she seems willing to gloss over the magic they do almost entirely. (Early in the book this is amusing—even the characters are impatient to see magic done—but by 2/3s of the way in it’s infuriatingly coy.)  We almost never get a sense of how it feels for the magicians to do magic, or why these two men have succeeded where almost no one else has.  (That they were prophesied doesn’t cut it.)  It’s a staggeringly strange omission, especially to a fantasy fan audience used to reading about how it feels to come into one’s power, whatever that power may be.  Strange in particular stumbles into magic and then the narrative curtain closes; when it reopens he is already a thaumaturgical Mozart.  That is, as the South Park kids would say, some total BS right there.

The second problem is that this is a work of alternate history that refuses to share its alternate history.  True, the novel purports to be written by someone from Strange’s acquaintance only a generation or so later, so much of this knowledge is assumed to be held by the reader.  But despite all its many, many, many footnotes, the book barely gives us a coherent alternate timeline, and so much of how the novel’s history diverges from our own is unclear.  (For comparison, Philip K. Dick is a downright clumsy author compared to Clarke, but I can tell you more about the history of Man in the High Castle, and it’s a mere pamphlet next to the Bible-fat JS&MN.)  I don't need much more detail, but I do need more.

Worse yet, not only has Clarke created a fictional northern England with a fictional Raven King that we don't know enough about, but she also seems to have fallen a little in love with him. (Strong evidence of this is that the characters positively won’t shut up about him; he even gives his name to the novel’s third act.)  It is dangerous to fall in love with fictional people or settings, and doing so is a surefire way to undermine the story.  (Notice, for instance, how Tolkien burns the Shire, and how J. K. Rowling—whose writerly smarts are often underrated—is careful to get her characters out of Hogwarts after the love letter to it that is The Order of the Phoenix.  Now compare that to, say, The Name of the Wind, which struck me as loving its central character just a bit too much, or the insufferable anime Clamp School Detectives, whose love for its own impossible setting is a veritable fountain of onanism (see what I did there?) that eventually feels like a taunt to the viewer who will never attend there. You can’t love your fictional children too hard, and Clarke loves John Uskglass.

So as I said, a great novel, but a figure eight thanks to these two crucial holes.  Do not under *any* circumstances let these prevent you from reading it though!

Unfortunately, a new qualm came up as I was listening this time: the novel’s hagiography of Englishness. In a 2005 interview with Locus, Susanna Clarke practically quoted Tolkien word for word in her lament that England did not have a myth of its own. (Sidebar: English culture is odd in that its most famous legend, Beowulf, takes place in Denmark, a divorce of a people from its mythic geography that seems to really bother certain writers.  In fact, this lack is responsible for both The Silmarillion and JS&MN.  King Arthur doesn’t work for them for some reason; he’s either too British rather than English—a distinction too arcane for my American mind, but there it is—or too Welsh, and his legend has definitely become too French.  Robin Hood doesn’t work either, for some reason, despite his being safely nestled in the East Midlands.  The tl;dr of all this is that there is no understanding the English mythic imagination when you’re a fat Yank git.)  So Clarke fills JS&MN with her love for England—its people, its cities, and its countryside, especially the North, where she revels in its preindustrial wildness.  And Englishness as a laudatory attribute fills nearly every page.  (More on this can be found over on Wikipedia, but don’t go there until you’ve read/listened to the book, because it’s spoiler central.)

The thing is though, Clarke is smart enough to know that glorifying England, Englishness, Englishmen (emphasis on the “men” there), and king/queen and country has caused a lot of pain for other folks in the world.  So she works very hard to undercut this worship of Englishness, giving strong roles to women, nonwhite, and poor characters, and amplifying their voicelessness in the society of that time through the narrative.  It’s all a genius balancing act, and it all serves to intentionally undercut and deflate the project of England worship that the novel is busily engaged in…

…And yet, Englishness, in the end, wins out.  England remains the hero.  The English countryside itself is instrumental in turning the tide in the final encounter.  Lovely, lush, green, hilly, moor-covered England is still the hero.

Which should be all well and good, but…  Well, I’m just not on board with cheering for England right now. 

I’m a Top Gear fan.  And I watched Jeremy Clarkson’s no-one-is-better-than-us casual racism—as an American I’m spared the overt racism of his other appearances—wax stronger with every season, slowly curdling my affection.  And I watched Brexit throw my expatriate scientist friends’ careers into a tumult and imperil their research.  It was also, more to the point, a triumph of Englishness over the needs of Britishness.  

And here on this side of the pond, I’ve watched a similar dynamic play out, as many Americans have taken to celebrating America—or at least, their mean, small-minded, and resentful notion of it—to the point that pride of place and race have become more important than the principals that make America work.

So I still love JS&MN.  And I think you should read and even love JS&MN.  And zero of what I’ve said in the previous two paragraphs is Susanna Clarke’s fault.  But in JS&MN, a country is a character—the protagonist even. And right now, in 2017, loving a place more than people doesn’t feel that good.

So I’m going to return JS&MN back to the library for another 7 years or so, or maybe for longer.  And the next time I get it out, I hope I’ve fallen back in love with England and America.

Because that is the magic I most want to see.