#but reality is wilder than fiction sometimes

[neddea]

I had to redraw That Panel™️ but make it yeehaw

The designs for my cowboy AU (?) are here

[myddle]

How Would Vampires Work In The Undertale Universe?

This is something I've wondered about ever since I saw Dalv in Undertale Yellow, although it's a question the fangame doesn't answer itself (which is fine, it wasn't trying to), so watch me just freeball on this question for a few paragraphs if you're interested.

Content Warning: Long Post, Opinions, Fictional Bigotry

Part 1: Biology

Now, as a mythical creature, the rules for vampires are pretty malleable, so we can pick and choose whatever best fits Undertale's setting and vibe, but generally vampires are monsters that hide among humans and parasitically feed on them, whether out of neccessity or for power, and can turn humans into vampires with a bite. Very different from your standard UT monster. In what scenario would a vampire deal with hiding when they can just steal a human SOUL for power?

Well, that depends on a few details regarding how this all works. Firstly: how manageable a monster with a Human SOUL actually is. Asriel's transformation implies it's fairly easy to spot, and while they are described as having unfathomable power, a village of humans brought Asriel to the brink of death (he wasn't fighting back, but whatever), so a vampire could get immedately ganked if they tried it. It's a thin tightrope though, as 7 SOULs apparently allows you to be invincible and control reality (unless Asriel was exaggerating, and Mr. Deletes-your-save-file-but-not-really definitely does that sometimes).

Second issue: would vampires even count as monsters with all these human-unique interactions? Answer: unclear, but probably. We can just drop the human-turning aspect in an UT implementation if we have to, and turning into dust on death is already something that vampires do, so they'd fit in just fine in that regard. The typical power level of vampires is a bit above most UT monsters other than Boss Monsters, but there is one variation that fits our purposes; vampires that only become powerful after feeding on humans, and are fairly weak otherwise. This helps them fit in with the rest of monsterkind while letting them keep their potential power, and also dodges the issue of vampires sealed under Mt. Ebott just starving to death immediately.

Part 2: Culture

Alrighty! With all that bullshit out of the way, we can get onto the baseless headcanons I actually care about; the question of how vampires would interact with Undertale's world, and it's themes of descrimination.

The big point I'm circling is this: Vampires are monsters that look like humans. A lot of UT monsters are at least somewhat humanoid, but a vampire is just a pale guy with fangs. The only other monster types that even come close are werewolves - only sometimes looking the part (and also notably absent from UT) - and skeletons - Sans & Papyrus are clearly human skeletons, but also clearly skeletons without any human on them, so that doesn't work. In contrast to most other monsters, vampires could feasibly hide in plain sight in human society, and therefore, could be outside the Underground when the Barrier was formed.

Just think about that for a moment. Monsters outside their prison, able to blend into the world of their jailors. What would they do with themselves? Would they simply play along, hiding among humans and living quiet lives? Would they take advantage, utilising the psychological powers vampires often have to gain wealth and status? Would they stay loyal to the Kingdom of Monsters, and form a resistance to try and break the Barrier from the outside? Would they walk away entirely, living out in the wilderness away from any civilisation? A mix of all of these and more, differing between each individual? The possibilities are colossal in scope.

Of course, not all Vampires would have this position. Some would undoubtably be caught in the initial war and imprisoned with the rest of monsterkind, or caught later on and simply pushed in (remember, anything can enter the Barrier, it only stops leaving). These vampires might just live the same as the rest of monsterkind - peacefully but struggling - but I have a darker yet darker thought. Hold on to something, this gets a bit heavy.

Part 3: Batthew the Vampire

Let me set the scene. The royal children have died. The humans have once again taken everything from monsterkind. King Asgore has declared war on Humanity to unify his people. Anti-Human sentiment is through the roof right now.

You have a vampire neighbor. Let's call him Batthew. You haven't seen him outside as much since the news dropped, and when you do, you see other monsters giving him dirty looks.

Monsters know what humans look like at this point in the timeline. Some of them probably met Chara. Their new source of hope, the war, has filled them with hatred for humanity, but they have no outlet for it. Batthew isn't a human. But he looks like one. And bigotry makes people do stupid things, because bigotry is inherently pretty stupid, lets be honest.

One day, Batthew's house has a broken window. A few days later, it has a "FOR SALE" sign out front. You don't know where Batthew went. Maybe he moved to some other corner of the caverns. You've heard rumors of the RUINS of the former Capital, maybe he found a way in there. Maybe he "fell down".

You no longer have a vampire neighbor.

[rhysintherain]

15 and 18 for Jaheira, Karlach, and Shadowheart :D

Jaheira

Favorite ship for this character: this is a wildly unpopular opinion, but I actually liked the BG2 PC romance plot for Jaheira. It's messy, it's complicated, but so are relationships and especially so is Jaheira. It makes sense in character, and it's really well written and I spent SO MUCH TIME walking in circles in the wilderness to trigger all the dialogues. Again, keep in mind that I pick fictional relationships mostly for the chaos they cause.

A canon relationship I admire: I mean, Jaheira and Khalid are and always will be relationship goals, and I'm still mad about how that ended (even though I know their story wouldn't be as impactful as it is if it hadn't). They were 'opposites attract' personified, and you can see a little of Jaheira in Khalid at Bridgefort and a little of Khalid in Jaheira in BG3.

I also like how her friendship with Minsc has evolved in BG3. They argue constantly but would fight gods for each other. He was a statue for a century and they just... picked up where they left off when he thawed out. After so many people have come and gone in Jaheira's life, it's nice that she has one friend who keeps coming back against impossible odds (even when she tells him to get lost. ESPECIALLY when she tells him to get lost).

Shadowheart

Favorite ship for this character: I like Shadowheart and Karlach. Shadowheart's starting banter with almost everyone is standoffish and secretive, but she immediately warms up to Karlach. Their conversations are always a little bit flirty, and I doubt Shadowheart's attempts to keep people at arm's length would last even a minute with Karlach.

A canon relationship I admire: look, if you'd asked me to make up some off-the-cuff fake facts for Shadowheart when Skye first met her in the nautaloid, "her parents call her Jen and her best friend has purple hair and goes by Nocturne" probably would have been it. And maybe "secretly listens to Mandy Moore".

That said, I really love their friendship. Nocturne is the only thing Shadowheart remembers if you give her the noblestalk. She's the only one who doesn't attack the party in the Sharran sanctuary. Shadowheart does a full religious 180 and ends up hunted by her own people, and Nocturne manages to stay in touch anyway, even though she's not willing to leave herself. That's a level of pragmatism and devotion I rarely saw from the people I grew up with.

Karlach

Favorite ship for this character: Shadowheart or Wyll. I think Shadowheart would be a stabilising influence and Karlach could have a real future to look forward to (for the first time ever). They'll eventually settle down on a farm in Rivington and adopt a million stray animals and they absolutely deserve it.

But you can't beat the drama of Wyll and Karlach: that first moment when they meet and reality snaps apart, because this is supposed to be your enemy, but you can see inside their head and it's a reflection of your own. Everything is temporary because you could die, you could be pulled back to hell, you could become something horrible and you can't even say which horrible thing will claim you first. You're both desperate to be the heroes from your parent's stories, but you can't be sure the person you love sees anything but a monster when they look at you. You're the same in infinite ways, and sometimes that's heartbreaking.

Canon relationship that I admire: hero worship is less a pedestal than a flight of stairs. The literally less-than-a-minute from "wait, you're Karlach! We saw you fight in Elturel, you were AMAZING!" To "I can't believe I get to meet THE Jaheira! She's a legend, Mum used to tell me stories about how she saved the city!"

The irony of this is completely lost on Karlach, and I love that. She manages to learn from her role models, encourage her fans, and never quite realise how far up that staircase she actually is.

[ugly-anastasia]

Thursday, November 16 – Character #Inspo: Find five existing fictional characters who remind you of your character (or who inspired your character). Post two pieces of inspiration from each character (A gif, a quote, a video clip, a screenshot) and write a little bit about how that character relates to your own.

someth wrong with her <3 an annie manifesto

(spoilers for Glass Onion, Such a Fun Age, Yellowjackets, Succession, and The White Lotus below)

It's no secret that I love unhinged women like this is barely scratching the surface of my favorite characters that inspire Annie but I tried to narrow it down for this.

Birdie Jay from Glass Onion

This is kind of a goofier one, but I loved this character in Glass Onion. I read something once about how Knives Out is about criticizing old money rich people and Glass Onion is about criticizing the new-money-hustle-culture-opportunist type of rich person. I think that's very true, and a lot of Glass Onion is about exposing the lie that these people have something very special and genius about them when in reality they are often employing a combination of luck, good looks, charisma, useful connections, and a willingness to screw people over at times.

Birdie is less sinister and more... kind of stupid. And while I do think Annie is very smart in her own way, she can be very ignorant about things that get her into a lot of trouble. I thought the "sweatshops" thing was hilarious and so Annie— a girlboss building an empire in the fashion space, but she doesn't even know what a sweatshop is. As for the header image, I thought that scene was very fitting as well! Like Annie, Birdie deals with criticism by telling herself this story that other people simply don't understand, that she's just misunderstood and someday they'll all see. I do think that Annie is misunderstood by her peers at times, but that doesn't excuse her behavior and it definitely doesn't make her a visionary lol.

2. Alix Chamberlain/Alex Murphy from Such a Fun Age

This is one of the characters who inspired Annie to begin with. (As a side note, I think it's wild that this book came out in 2019 and now in 2023 the influencer girlboss protagonist shares names with 2 Internet it girls of the 2020s lol). For those who haven't read it, the plot of this book is kind of complicated but it's basically about the misguided ways that white people often respond to racism and sometimes appropriate dialogues about race for their own ends which often undermines movements. It's also largely about hustle culture and liberal white feminism and so all of these things were percolating in my brain when I wrote Annie.

As you can see from the heading, the protagonist, Alix, who is the influencer girlboss in question, changes her name from Alex to Alix, and "Chamberlain" is her husband's last name when she gets married. This is part of what inspired me to have Annie go by Annie instead of Anastasia; Alix did this to try and seem more unique and sophisticated while Annie did it to try and sound more American.

I also wanted to address the quote I put in the header, which is more of a general thing about the character than a specific moment. Like Birdie, Alix is a character who tells herself a lot of stories to protect herself against criticism. In Alix's case, it's also about denying that she's harmed people, because even to herself she can't handle that guilt.

3. Misty Quigley from Yellowjackets

Misty <3 We're moving into real Unhinged Lady territory here. I actually got Jackie on that character quiz, which you would expect from a character who's kind of a queen bee, but I think what's important here is that Annie isn't a queen bee, she's just trying really hard to be. Misty is the prototypical nerd, but she fights her way into the spaces she wants to be in through sheer force of will. She doesn't play soccer, but she gets on the team by becoming the equipment manager. And in the wilderness, she makes herself indispensable through her medical knowledge.

I chose Misty's Citizen Detective moment because I thought it tied in with Annie's arc on the Squire, how both of them are nosy but it's mostly because they are lonely and want to be a part of something. I also wanted to highlight this moment because Annie can be quite aggressive and borderline violent sometimes lol and I think she gets a lot of joy out of "coaching" someone the way she sometimes gives Toby pep talks.

4. Siobhan "Shiv" Roy from Succession

Look you knew I was gonna talk about Shivvy didn't you? The scene I picked is from a really intense fight she's having with Tom, they're like literally on the verge of breaking up because due to complicated plot things Tom has betrayed Shiv and they just weren't talking about it but now they're finally airing all of it out there. And they get to the end and Shiv, who has been saying really horrible things to Tom, just breaks down and says, "Well, that's not a very nice thing to say, is it?" It's in response to Tom saying she wouldn't make a good mother.

And I think this moment is so Annie because she really does put on this tough girl energy, and once in a while she even fake cries to get what she wants, but deep down, she is just a sensitive, wounded person and if you hit her in the right place and at the right time she will break down. Which leads me also to point out episode 4.1 when she is scheduling breaks in her schedule to cry and insisting to her brothers that she is fine meanwhile her husband and father are conspiring against each other together to screw her over further if she goes through with divorcing Tom. Because she is that averse to show people her true feelings! And yet she cannot push them down forever!

5. Daphne Sullivan, The White Lotus

The thing I loved about the Sullivans is that when you meet them, you think they are just your typical vapid rich people, and then you realize they have an incredibly fucked-up relationship, and then you think maybe they're kind of onto something in a weird way (is that bad to say lol). Daphne continues this thread of the tough-girl-who's above-needing-love, and I think her weird little jealousy game with her husband is the perfect example of that.

But I also think, like the other examples, deep down under the surface of Daphne is a sad, romantic person who does want love, and I think in the iconic moment before she leads Will off to the cave where they ostensibly hook up, her heart does break to learn that her husband may have slept with Harper. Partially because Harper has betrayed her, but also partially because maybe she thought this time would be different. But she holds her tears in and gets her revenge, and that's kind of Annie's whole thing.

[rockislandadultreads]

Dystopian & Apocalyptic Fiction Picks 

Docile by K.M. Szpara

To be a Docile is to be kept, body and soul, for the uses of the owner of your contract. To be a Docile is to forget, to disappear, to hide inside your body from the horrors of your service. To be a Docile is to sell yourself to pay your parents' debts and buy your children's future.

Elisha Wilder’s family has been ruined by debt, handed down to them from previous generations. His mother never recovered from the Dociline she took during her term as a Docile, so when Elisha decides to try and erase the family’s debt himself, he swears he will never take the drug that took his mother from him. Too bad his contract has been purchased by Alexander Bishop III, whose ultra-rich family is the brains (and money) behind Dociline and the entire Office of Debt Resolution. When Elisha refuses Dociline, Alex refuses to believe that his family’s crowning achievement could have any negative side effects—and is determined to turn Elisha into the perfect Docile without it.

I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself by Marisa Crane

In a United States not so unlike our own, the Department of Balance has adopted a radical new form of law enforcement: rather than incarceration, wrongdoers are given a second (and sometimes, third, fourth, and fifth) shadow as a reminder of their crime—and a warning to those they encounter. Within the Department, corruption and prejudice run rampant, giving rise to an underclass of so-called Shadesters who are disenfranchised, publicly shamed, and deprived of civil rights protections.

Kris is a Shadester and a new mother to a baby born with a second shadow of her own. Grieving the loss of her wife and thoroughly unprepared for the reality of raising a child alone, Kris teeters on the edge of collapse, fumbling in a daze of alcohol, shame, and self-loathing. Yet as the kid grows, Kris finds her footing, raising a child whose irrepressible spark cannot be dampened by the harsh realities of the world.

Upright Women Wanted by Sarah Gailey

“That girl’s got more wrong notions than a barn owl’s got mean looks.”

Esther is a stowaway. She’s hidden herself away in the Librarian’s book wagon in an attempt to escape the marriage her father has arranged for her—a marriage to the man who was previously engaged to her best friend. Her best friend who she was in love with. Her best friend who was just executed for possession of resistance propaganda.

The future American Southwest is full of bandits, fascists, and queer librarian spies on horseback trying to do the right thing. They'll bring the fight to you.

In Upright Women Wanted, award-winning author Sarah Gailey reinvents the pulp Western with an explicitly antifascist, near-future story of queer identity.

The Book of Flora by Meg Elison

In the wake of the apocalypse, Flora has come of age in a highly gendered post-plague society where females have become a precious, coveted, hunted, and endangered commodity. But Flora does not participate in the economy that trades in bodies. An anathema in a world that prizes procreation above all else, she is an outsider everywhere she goes, including the thriving all-female city of Shy.

Now navigating a blighted landscape, Flora, her friends, and a sullen young slave she adopts as her own child leave their oppressive pasts behind to find their place in the world. They seek refuge aboard a ship where gender is fluid, where the dynamic is uneasy, and where rumors flow of a bold new reproductive strategy.

When the promise of a miraculous hope for humanity’s future tears Flora’s makeshift family asunder, she must choose: protect the safe haven she’s built or risk everything to defy oppression, whatever its provenance.

This is the third volume in “The Road to Nowhere” series. 

[meanypunches]

I was recently rewatching the Marc Smerling documentary series A Wilderness of Error, based on the book of the same name by the famous film director Errol Morris, about the Jeffrey MacDonald murder case. Up front I will say it is my opinion that the physical evidence in this case and inconsistencies in oral testimony from a variety of observers point ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’ to Jeffrey MacDonald as the guilty party. After multiple unsuccessful appeals including to the Supreme Court who refused to hear the case, it is also clear that the legal system views this decision to be correct. Still society wants to peer into the ‘unmarked space’ of the event itself. Society it could be said is unreasonable. Perhaps society likes to entertain unreasonable doubts. One could call the entertainment of such doubts the ‘unmarked space’ or the horror implicit in modern society. This is often expressed as folklore or the stories we tell ourselves about terrible events that include both the true crime tales as well as the urban legends (or other modern non-oral / non-traditional media forms such as horror films and documentaries). Such events as the MacDonald murders become like scars rippling over the surface of the unmarked space as far as society can observe, and they will never fully heal. Society likes to pick at its most sensational and lurid scars. Ultimately all we have is the physical evidence and the testimony of those involved or connected to this case. While such evidence may satisfy the legal system, this is simply not satisfying from the human perspective, from the perspective of ‘the folk’, forever outside of these social subsystems like the law. The court has made its decision but somehow for such cases of wild destruction of innocent life this is never enough. The folk are restless! We want to see what lies at the heart of these dark woods, the mysterious empty hole at the bottom of the dark well. Absent a full confession, we want to peer into Jeffrey MacDonald’s heart and see if he is really a monster or not…

Fiction (and horror) like Twin Peaks solves this problem of the monstrous heart concealed within the mundane world of ordinary life by making it supernatural. The unmarked space becomes a supernatural other and in many ways this is a more satisfying view of the unknown (unmarked) space than human efforts to accept this terrifying uncertainty. We want to see the reality of what is hidden by the dark woods of the human heart, what lies beyond the limits of human knowledge and society’s scribblings in the form of legal opinions.

The other connection I have to this case is more personal. As a law student circa 2012 while interning at the DOJ I did legal research and wrote a short memo for Brian Murtaugh, who is the famous Asst. US Attorney who has dogged this case from its beginning and who successfully has repelled the appeals by MacDonald. At the time, I was excited to work on such a famous case - I saw Fatal Vision as a kid and was obviously interested in the outcome of MacDonald’s appeal. My memo was on a somewhat obscure and not so important issue regarding the Jimmy Britt story - Britt’s story turned out to be a lie as detailed in the documentary I would note. I will admit I didn’t understand who Brian Murtaugh was when I worked for him, and I now regret that I was too ensconced in my own law school worries to really appreciate it. Having read more about Murtaugh now I wish I had been more aware. I recall I misspelled the name MacDonald as “McDonald” in my memo and only noticed it later after I’d already turned it in. It was only a minor error in a sense - this memo was not going to the judge after all, but still I wish I had been a more thoughtful student. Sometimes in our youth we misunderstand the opportunities given to us and only feel it full force much later. I am not now an active member of the State Bar (so if you need legal advice all I can say is “hire an attorney” haha) but this legal training and my experience in law school certainly inform my views on society and the unmarked space.

My review below of the documentary series about the MacDonald case:

“We are compelled by narratives, much more by narratives than by evidence. Evidence invariably takes second fiddle to narrative,” says Errol Morris, in the final episode of the documentary series Wilderness of Error. Besides the specific folkloric phrase ‘second fiddle’, is this all really about folklore (stories, rumor, gossip and innuendo even)? Earlier in the last episode Morris suggests that the more people get involved in a story the more it turns into a mess, which cuts against folkloric stories that have survived over thousands of years. To quote Morris exactly, he says, “This may prove a different kind of principle, that if you wait long enough and you involve enough people in telling any story, you’re gonna end up with a mess on your hands.” From the perspective of a legal matter, in the short term (of half a century!) perhaps this is true. It may be that over longer historical timeframes the stories tend to solidify in structure due to certain significant features (“motifs”) that are memorable or more recognizable. Morris is the emperor here no doubt, and he may have no clothes. I think the director here mostly treats Morris with kid gloves, to continue the metaphor. There is only one point (and not until the final episode) where there is a direct challenge to Morris’s narrative, and the famous director does admit he ‘doesn’t know’ the truth. There are many other pieces of evidence (such as the blue pajama top and the blood evidence) to which it would have been more challenging for Morris to respond, but these items are mentioned but delicately sidestepped in the way this is put together. If you look at the disconnected pieces of this documentary objectively, it is not inconclusive. I also would want to say the only reason that various critics call it ‘inconclusive' is that heaven forbid any shadow be cast upon the darling Errol Morris! This movie destroys Morris, but in a subtle way that allows for, shall we say, ‘plausible deniability'. At the end of this, after watching the video interviews with Helena Stoeckley, there is little denying that she was likely delusional, or at best easily suggestible at the hands of Prince Beasley or others interested in a meal ticket from the MacDonald case. All the other evidence marshaled in favor of MacDonald’s innocence is either outright fabrications (as in the Jimmy Britt tall tale) or else unsupported by any corroborating (physical) evidence. The follow-up interview with Errol Morris after the last bit with Stoeckley describing the alleged intrusion on the night of the murders is awkward to say the least. Her story fails to match MacDonald’s version of events and also does not conform to the physical evidence. Like many visionaries, Mr. Morris can't seem to admit he was wrong, but more importantly, he will never admit that the system he seems to abhor so much was actually right.

[emblematik]

That original sin points to another of reality TV’s defining characteristics: its semi-fictionality. Across its varied subgenres and iterations from Candid Camera to Vanderpump Rules, reality television depends on the fusion of authenticity and contrivance. The setup is inherently manufactured, even in programs that feel more naturalistic (although many programs forgo naturalism to deliberately construct over-the-top scenarios such as strangers surviving naked in the wilderness with each other, prospective couples going on blind dates while wearing elaborate animal prosthetics, hot single moms dating each other’s sons, etc.).

And yet, under such conditions of contrivance, shows often produce off-kilter moments with a kinetic realness hard to find in other genres. This is what Mark Andrejevic calls “the lab-rat element of reality television: the promise that certain forms of artifice are necessary to get to something authentic and true.” I’d argue that this lab-rat element—the semi-fictionality baked into reality TV from its earliest iterations—not only sets the genre apart but also keeps audiences coming back. To my mind, reality TV hooks its audiences with both its outrageous antics and its invitation for viewers to dissect what is real and what is not—what is another feature of the genre and what seems to exceed it.

For Nussbaum, reality TV capitalizes on the idea that “if you could knock your subjects off balance, they’d reveal a moment so shocking and, sometimes, so tender or surprising, that it would shatter viewer skepticism.” This destabilizing moment, Nussbaum writes, creates “the quality that Allen Funt liked to describe as being ‘caught in the act of being yourself,’ the fuel that fed the reality engine, at both its loftiest moments and its lowest.” There’s something compulsively watchable about these shocking, tender, or surprising moments. There’s also something compulsively discussable. Moments when people are caught in the act of being themselves become, as Ashley Rattner identifies, moments in which “the audience toys with the power to judge the characters at hand while reflecting on the contours of acceptable social behavior.” We can’t help but talk about such moments; in doing so, we also talk—and learn—about ourselves and each other. Reality TV has always functioned, Nussbaum writes, as “a mirror of the people who watched [it]—and if that reflection was sometimes cruel, it was also funny, riveting, outrageous, and affecting, even if—maybe especially if—you found it disturbing.” As Nussbaum sees it, the reality format has produced such riveting and affecting moments by placing ordinary people in front of the camera and asking them to “be themselves.” I was particularly struck by Nussbaum’s attention to Lance Loud—American Family’s oldest son, one of the firstopenly gay people on US television, and, I would argue, the first true American reality star. To watch Loud’s interviews with Dick Cavett from the early 1970s is to see someone who feels so far ahead of their time that it’s almost disorienting—Nussbaum describes him as looking like “some time traveler from the 1980s.”

Nussbaum examines the way Loud has influenced the reality genre, in ways both subtle and more overt. Fenton Bailey, who co-founded the production company World of Wonder (best known for producing RuPaul’s Drag Race), was “fascinated” by Loud, “a gay man on television, but not used as comic relief or some dour cautionary tale about acceptance […] a beacon of authenticity, all the realer for his embrace of Warholian artifice.” Lance Loud, with his artifice-meets-authenticity approach, understood before almost anyone else that reality stars could work as collaborators on production, rather than simply subjects to be filmed, paving the way for a “default setting for reality stardom” in which cast members are “comfortable with the notion of themselves as co-creators of their series, preparing for a future as a reality celebrity.” Loud also paved the way for other “representational pioneers” like The Real World’s Pedro Zamora, another key figure in the history of reality TV whom Nussbaum highlights. Zamora used his time on television to “harness his warmth and charisma to personalize [HIV/AIDS] for MTV’s young viewers,” ultimately becoming “the first gay man, and the first person with AIDS” whom many viewers felt “that they’d known intimately.” Zamora and his fellow cast member and partner Sean Sasser also exchanged commitment vows on the show, marking the first time that US television broadcast a queer commitment ceremony. Zamora’s HIV/AIDS activism is credited with “humaniz[ing] the disease for a generation.” Nussbaum also draws a line from Lance Loud to Survivor’s first winner, Richard Hatch, a gay man whose “big belly and urge to exert power” gave him “some resemblance to the other inescapable antihero of that year, the charismatic mobster holding court on HBO’s The Sopranos.” Like Loud, Hatch “divided viewers, repulsive to some and inspiring to others”; as with Loud, millions tuned in to see what he would do next. Loud, Zamora, and Hatch illuminate a different side to reality television: its potential to function pedagogically in the realm of representational politics. To be fair, the genre’s educational and representational potential is something many reality cast members of color had ascertained from the beginning, and Nussbaum is careful throughout to underscore the role of race and racism in the genre’s invention. In her discussion of reality TV’s racial politics, Nussbaum draws from such cast members’ accounts of their own experiences, and her in-depth interviews with hundreds of sources pay off.

Consider, for example, The Real World pilot’s Janel Scarborough, a Black cast member who assumed from the jump that “they’d sought her out for diversity’s sake.” Or Survivor’s Gervase Peterson, who refused to carry a spear for a challenge and had to explain to a white cast member that “holding that weapon on camera would make him look like ‘a spear chucker from Africa’ to the CBS audience.” Or Will Mega of Big Brother (2000– ), who “had set out to try to repair the weak image of Black men on television with a ‘confident, intelligent and uncompromising model’ of masculinity, but instead, like Kevin on The Real World [he] spent a lot of his time debating racism with white strangers.” These early reality cast members of color knew from the beginning what they risked by choosing to “be themselves” on TV. In taking the leap anyway, they expanded the boundaries of visibility on US television, even as their agency within the contrivances of reality programming remained partial, and often curtailed.

When reality TV is written off as only cheap or trashy, we miss the ways that its contrivances and its semi-fictionality enable representations that are complex, complicated, and ambivalent, as scholars like Racquel J. Gates and Kristen J. Warner have demonstrated. Encounters with reality TV can also be encounters with difference. The potential for difference to facilitate narratives, relationships, and conflicts, both within reality TV’s diegetic scene and beyond it, is also baked into the genre; Loud, Zamora, and Hatch are just a few of many examples. For the networks, however, the promise of difference was largely financial. As Nussbaum puts it, the CBS executives who picked up Survivor and changed the TV landscape forever were “fascinated by its radical approach to TV demographics. CBS would be able to cast a contestant to represent every type of person—rural, urban, Black, white, rich, poor, young, old—pulling in youthful viewers without alienating the AARP crowd.” This analysis of Survivor’s approach to TV demographics—often replicated across other game-documentary programs—reflects reality television’s entanglement with industry practice and commercial, corporate logics. For every Pedro Zamora, producers often cast a Puck Rainey, a “crusty street punk” who “blew snot rockets and made fun of Pedro” and “undermined every diplomatic gesture the roommates made.” For every Richard Hatch, there’s often a Rudy Boesch, an “openly homophobic” Navy SEAL; as Nussbaum recounts, the entire Survivor production team was “excited by the prospect of a clash” between them. As I follow developments in reality TV production for my own work, I’ve noticed that these dynamics seem to be shifting, with initiatives such as CBS’s 2020 commitment to making the casts of its unscripted shows at least 50 percent people of color (as opposed to earlier tokenizing setups that cast only a few people of color per season). These shifts in industry practice are also producing shifts in programs’ politics, or at least what kind of politics it’s possible for them to depict. But these initiatives can’t erase the genre’s history, and shouldn’t obscure the queer people, people of color, and other marginalized people who, despite this history, carved out new space through reality TV. Despite incremental progress, reality TV hasn’t abandoned the commercial imperatives that underwrote its initial demographic approach. Because, of course, reality programs are dependent on commercial ad spots or subscriptions (whether streaming or cable) to keep themselves on the air. And, as Nussbaum explains, the reality format post-Survivor is “catnip to advertisers,” who can not only show off their products during commercial breaks but also enfold their products into the action of the show itself. This model has persisted, producing hilarious moments of blatant commercial sponsorship, both intentional (see Top Chef covering ingredients in Reynolds Wrap) and unintentional (see Survivor’s Liz Wilcox melting down over her love of Applebee’s). To me, this unapologetic commercialism is part of what defines reality TV, and, paradoxically, it can even amplify its sense of authenticity. As June Deery indicates, reality television’s commercial ethos points to how difficult it is in the contemporary moment to “distinguish the commercial from the noncommercial or to conceive of meaningful experiences that don’t have elements of both.” The internet has only intensified these ambiguities. Through its dependence upon real people being willing to offer up their lives to the cameras and to the audience, reality TV has collapsed seemingly distinct boundaries—between the commercial and pedagogical, the authentic and artificial—and helped produce the norms that govern contemporary popular culture in the process.

[dan6085]

The Ogre: More Than a Fairytale Monster

Ogres, often depicted as fearsome creatures in folklore and fairytales, have a rich and varied history that extends beyond their typical portrayal as monstrous villains. While these mythical beings have long been associated with menace and mischief, a closer examination reveals a nuanced and multifaceted understanding of ogres throughout literature and cultural traditions.

In many ancient cultures, ogres represented primal forces of nature, embodying the untamed and wild aspects of the natural world. They were often linked to the wilderness, symbolizing the unpredictability and sometimes harsh realities of the environment. In this context, ogres served as cautionary figures, urging individuals to respect the balance of nature and navigate its challenges with care.

In European folklore, ogres often played the role of antagonists in popular fairytales. The Brothers Grimm, for example, featured ogres in stories like "Hop-o'-My-Thumb" and "Puss in Boots," where they were portrayed as cunning and malevolent figures that posed threats to protagonists. These tales used ogres as metaphorical representations of societal fears and challenges, cautioning against deceit and the dangers of the unknown.

However, the most famous contemporary depiction of an ogre challenges the traditional narrative. Shrek, the lovable and green protagonist of the animated film franchise, has redefined the public perception of ogres. Shrek is a complex character, subverting the conventional image of ogres as purely monstrous. Through his humorous and heartwarming adventures, Shrek invites audiences to look beyond appearances and stereotypes, promoting themes of acceptance, self-discovery, and friendship.

The evolution of the ogre archetype showcases the dynamic nature of folklore and storytelling. From ancient representations of primal forces to cautionary figures in European fairytales and modern reinterpretations like Shrek, ogres have proven to be versatile symbols that adapt to cultural shifts and societal values.

Beyond folklore and fiction, the term "ogre" has even found its way into everyday language. colloquially used to describe someone intimidating or brutish. This linguistic appropriation demonstrates the enduring impact of ogre mythology on human expression and communication.

In conclusion, the ogre, despite its historical associations with menace and villainy, reveals itself as a multifaceted symbol with rich cultural implications. As folklore and storytelling continue to evolve, so too will our understanding of these mythical beings. Whether feared or embraced, ogres remain a compelling and enduring aspect of human imagination, reminding us of the intricate interplay between myth, culture, and the timeless narratives that shape our perceptions.

[literaturoved]

Caroline Helstone was just eighteen years old, and at eighteen the true narrative of life is yet to be commenced. Before that time we sit listening to a tale, a marvellous fiction, delightful sometimes, and sad sometimes, almost always unreal. Before that time our world is heroic, its inhabitants half-divine or semi-demon; its scenes are dream-scenes; darker woods and stranger hills, brighter skies, more dangerous waters, sweeter flowers, more tempting fruits, wider plains, drearier deserts, sunnier fields than are found in nature, overspread our enchanted globe. What a moon we gaze on before that time! How the trembling of our hearts at her aspect bears witness to its unutterable beauty! As to our sun, it is a burning heaven - the world of gods. At that time, at eighteen, drawing near the confines of illusive, void dreams, Elf-land lies behind us, the shores of Reality rise in front. These shores are yet distant; they look so blue, soft, gentle, we long to reach them. In sunshine we see a greenness beneath the azure, as of spring meadows; we catch glimpses of silver lines, and imagine the roll of living waters. Could we but reach this land, we think to hunger and thirst no more; whereas many a wilderness, and often the flood of death, or some stream of sorrow as cold and almost as black as death, is to be crossed ere true bliss can be tasted. Every joy that life gives must be earned ere it is secured; and how hardly earned, those only know who have wrestled for great prizes. The heart's blood must gem with red beads the brow of the combatant, before the wreath of victory rustles over it. At eighteen we are not aware of this. Hope, when she smiles on us, and promises happiness tomorrow, is implicitly believed; Love, when he comes wandering like a lost angel to our door, is at once admitted, welcomed, embraced. His quiver is not seen; if his arrows penetrate, their wound is like a thrill of new life. There are no fears of poison, none of the barb which no leech's hand can extract. That perilous passion — an agony ever in some of its phases; with many, an agony throughout — is Copyrighted materia believed to be an unqualified good. In short, at eighteen the school of experience is to be entered, and her humbling, crushing, grinding, but yet purifying and invigorating lessons are yet to be learned. Alas, Experience! No other mentor has so wasted and frozen a face as yours, none wears a robe so black, none bears a rod so heavy, none with hand so inexorable draws the novice so sternly to his task, and forces him with authority so resistless to its acquirement. It is by your instructions alone that man or woman can ever find a safe track through life's wilds; without it, how they stumble, how they stray! On what forbidden grounds do they intrude, down what dread declivities are they hurled!

Shirley. Charlotte Brontë

[bookishdiplodocus]

Writing humor

George of the Jungle: A case study

I’m analysing several forms of humor in the 1997 movie George of the Jungle, and I would like to share it with you. Remember, this is a family movie, the humor is not that finetuned and often targeted towards children. Even if a movie is not your style, you can learn from it. If you want to do your own analysis, I would advise you to pick a movie with a form of humor that’s relevant in your writing. (This seems obvious, but I personally enjoy more forms of humor than I can use in my writing style and genre.)

How do I go about it, analysing jokes?

George of the Jungle is a very joke-dense movie, it averages about 2 jokes per minute, often using different humor layers within the same joke. It’s a lot, considering it also introduces all the characters and set up the storyline in between the jokes!

Every time a joke is made, I write it down word for word and try to see why exactly it is funny. Try to be as specific as possible. This is the difficult part, obviously. I included some examples to make it clear for you. Often the answer is “Contrast” or “Subverting expectations”. Obviously not all the jokes are laugh out loud funny, and they don’t need to be. Some jokes just lighten up the scene without even making you smile, or without making casual watchers notice it is in fact humor.

Bonus points if you can tell certain forms of humor are tied to certain characters. (In this case: slapstick for George when he swings into a tree again, contrast between what is said and reality for mean guy Lyle etc.)

Some examples from the case study

But first, some warnings:

Obviously there will be spoilers for this movie in this post. It’s hard to show you how a joke works without giving you the joke.

Analysing jokes makes them less funny, in the same way that analysing plot lines or storytelling techniques can make books lose their glamour.

Alright, here we go. Because this will be a longish post, I’ll put the other examples under the Read More.

Example 1:

Lyle: “I am the richest, handsomest, smartest guy here, so I get to go first!”

[Established mean guy Lyle passes by everyone, almost shoving them out of the way. He promptly trips over a tree root and lands face first in a huge pile of steaming elephant dung.]

Lyle: [lifting his head up] “There’s an elephant around here.”

Carrier: [looking right into the camera] “Bad guy falls into poop. Classical element of physical comedy. Now comes the element where we throw our heads back and laugh. Ready?

Other carriers: [also looking right into the camera] “Ready!”

[They throw their heads back and laugh.]

[Nearby monkey also laughs and points at Lyle.]

[Off-screen, more animals start laughing at Lyle.]

Lyle: [Spits out some elephant poop] “Those are nowhere near properly digested.”

[Carriers still laughing off-screen]

Lyle: “In case anyone is wondering, I’m okay.”

Technical analysis:

Lyle might be the richest, but definitely not the handsomest and smartest guy: contrast between what he says and reality. (As I told you, this is a recurring technique for him, perfect to show his personality.)

Lyle faceplanting into a pile of elephant dung: poop humor, slapstick (physical humor), the feeling that he gets what he deserves.

“There’s an elephant...”: stating the obvious. And, he says it in a deadpan kind of way.

“Bad guy falls into poop. Classical element of physical comedy”: breaking the fourth wall big time, looking right into the lens, refering to genre conventions, explaining the joke to us. Breaking the fourth wall is a meta humor in which the characters are aware of genre conventions of a fictional story (in this case, the presence of the camera/audience) and sometimes, like in this case, of the fact that they are characters in a fictional story.

“Now comes the element where we throw our heads back and laugh”: refering to a trope, genre conventions, while still breaking the fourth wall by looking straight in the camera.

Repetition: first the carriers announce what they will do in detail and right after they execute it exactly like that. It’s similar to the jokes where the narrator uses a certain phrase and right after a character uses exactly the same phrase. (See example no. 5.)

Monkeys and off-screen animals: hyperbole. Basicly, an exaggeration, in this case, built-up in steps: first his companions, then one non-human, then what seems to be the entire wilderness.

“Nowhere near properly digested”: dirty/poop humor (eww he had poop in his mouth), characterisation (Lyle is the kind of guy who will complain about everything), subversing our expectations (that’s not the first thing you and I would say when we face plant into a pile of poop).

“In case anyone is wondering”: By now, we know what kind of a man Lyle is. This, and the fact that the carriers are still laughing, implies that no-one is wondering if Lyle is okay. Again, contrast between reality and what he says

Example 2:

Narrator: “When they finally beheld the mighty Ape Mountain...” [They see a mountain shaped like a gorilla head] “...they reacted with awe.”

All: “Aww.”

Narrator: “I said “awe”! A-W-E.”

All: “Ooh!”

Narrator: “That’s better.”

Technical analysis:

Ape Mountain is shaped like a gorilla head: visual humor, subverting expectations about geographical naming conventions, breaking the conventions of a fictional movie (the shape of the mountain is obviously a joke for the watchers, not for the sake of the inhabitants in this world, or a concidence), subverting the expectations of our geological knowledge (what are the odds of a mountain actually being shaped like a gorilla head? In the real world, we sometimes see animals or other figures in mountain shapes, but not as detailed as this.)

Aww / awe: It’s a play on words, because “awe” and “aww” sound the same.

The narrator interacts with the characters and the characters are aware of the nattaror: meta humor: breaking the fourth wall.

Example 3:

[Mean guy Lyle jumps on the rope bridge, making everybody swing dangerously. An indigenous carrier falls dramatically into the deep chasm.]

Narrator: “Don’t worry, nobody dies in this story. They just get really big boo-boos.”

Lyle: “You know, they shouldn’t let unexperienced carriers like that on these tracks.”

Technical analysis:

Meta humor: breaking the fourth wall: the narrator is aware of the genre conventions + he is aware of our presence.

“Big boo-boos”: Language, contrast between the children’s word and the tough men in the harsh wilderness.

Subverting expectations: when you fall into a deep chasm, you don’t expect to get away with just some boo-boos. A boo-boo is the kind of thing you fix with a band-aid and a kiss.

Lyle’s remark: he is the reason the carrier fell. Contrast between what happened and what Lyle says.

Bonus: characterisation. Remarks like these, and especially the contrast between what happened and how Lyle sees/portrays it, show how self-centered he is.

Example 4:

Lyle: [takes a polaroid picture of the carrier.] “Do you like it? Magic picture. Yet another gift from America. Here you go. You’re welcome.”

[Carrier answers something in Swahili, not translated.]

[All the native Africans laugh out loud.]

Carrier: “[Swahili] ... 35 mm.” [Takes a fancy camera out of his own backpack and takes a picture of Lyle.]

[All the native Africans laugh.]

Lyle: [not amused] “Translation, please.”

Guide: “He says he likes your magic pictures, but he prefers the resolution of the Leica 35 mm transparencies.” [Everybody except Lyle laughs.] “He also says your lens is dirty, but he has the equipment to clean it for you.” [More laughter.]

Technical analysis:

This joke consists of 3 parts.

The set-up: Lyle is the arrogant dck who’s come from America to show the indiginous people what cultural civilisation is. We think we know where this is going...

Subverting our expectations: The carrier is not impressed, he knows Polaroid and has a camera of his own. He’s Lyle’s equal, not subversive. The way the carrier takes a picture of Lyle is a mirrored action of Lyle taking a picture of him. The similarities between these actions accentuate the differences.

Further subverting our expectations: the carrier has a lot of knowledge (implied: more than Lyle), he’s probably culturally more civilised than Lyle, beating Lyle at his own game.

Bonus: He shows his superiority in a polite way, showing he’s a better man than Lyle.

Example 5:

Narrator: “Meanwhile, at a very big and expensive waterfall set, Ursula was amazed that she was lost in the wilderness with a jungle man.”

Ursula: “And here I am, lost in the wilderness with a jungle man.”

Technical analysis:

“At a very big and expensive waterfall set”: breaking the fourth wall, referencing the fact that this is a movie with a set and a budget.

“lost in the wilderness with a jungle man”: literal repetition immediately afterwards. If Ursula can hear the narrator, it’s like he’s telling her what to say (meta). If she can’t hear the narrator, the joke lies in the “coincidence” of her saying exactly the same words he used about her, moments before.

Example 6:

Narrator: “... the carriers came dangerously close...”

Narrator: “... that is, dangerously close to shove a coconut up in Lyle’s...”

Narrator: “... (pause) sleeping bag.”

Technical analysis:

Playing with expectations: The first sentence implies they are close to a dangerous situation. The second sentence implies they are so irritated with Lyle they want to shove a coconut where the sun doesn’t shine. The third sentence doesn’t take away the second implication, but just makes it more family friendly, but it’s still a turn on our expectations of how the sentence will/can end.

Young children will find the turn between the second and third sentence hilarious, especially the implied “dirty humor”.

Example 7:

[Love interest Ursula has taken George home to Los Angeles. Her best friend shows up and starts to question Ursula.]

Ursula: “He’s in the shower.”

Friend: [Distracted by something behind Ursula] “Not anymore...”

[George enters the living room, still all wet, obviously naked (barely SFW), and for the first time his sexiness is accentuated, ironic for a man who wore a loin cloth for most of the movie.]

George: “Bad waterfall. First, water get hot -” [A saxophone starts playing off-screen.] then George slip on this strange yellow rock.” [George shows a bar of soap and drops it.]

[The perspective changes, shows the 2 friends from between George’s legs. They are obviously checking out his naked crotch.]

[Ursula sighs happily.]

George: [sees Ursula’s friend now] “Hi! George of Jungle.”

Friend: [eager] “Charmed, I’m sure.”

[Ursula strategically hands George a large book to cover his crotch. The camera zooms out now and we see George also from below the waist, still wet and tan and muscular. The friend is staring.]

Friend: [mumbles to herself, appreciatively] “Now I see why they made him king of the jungle.”

Technical analysis:

First, this is a gender reversal of a trope commonly used on female characters. I saw it described as “Born sexy yesterday”. A (usually female) character is new to this life/society/body/... and doesn’t realise that being naked has a certain effect on the other gender. In the 1990s, this was very common to happen to female characters, and not common at all for male characters.

Friend, distracted: the friend has a dirty mind.

Bonus: characterisation: Friend serves here as a contrast for Ursula, who hasn’t objectified or ogled George at all. In fact, this is the first time George is shown as sexy, so we see his sexiness through the perspective of the friend. This tells us something about the friend, but also about Ursula: he likes George for who he is, not how (incredibly sexy) he looks.

The saxophone: the movie is playing with genre expectations (off-screen saxophone means sexy time) as a hyperbole. The movie makers are pulling out all the registers in this scene to show off George’s sexiness.

“this strange yellow rock”: word choice, mental distance from an everyday object, contrast.

“I see why they made him king of the jungle”: this could be a continuity thing, but no-one has used the words “King of the jungle” up till now. So either a line was cut in which they use this phrase to refer to George, or the friend is aware of genre conventions, refering to Tarzan.

These are just some of the many, many jokes in this movie. I tried to make a small yet diverse selection.

I hope this was helpful. Don’t hesitate to ask me any questions, and happy writing!

Follow me for more writing advice, or check out my other writing tips here. New topics to write advice about are also always appreciated.

Tag list below. If you like to be added to or removed from the list, let me know.

@therska​ @writingwordsanddrawingpictures​ @the-words-we-never-said​ @writingwhithotchocolate @i-rove-rock-n-roll​ @maskedlady​ @no-time-like-write-now​ @timefire25​ @black-lakritz-dragon​ @nzmayart @fandomrandomness-stuff @dangertoozmanykids101​ @anaestheticdisaster​ @storytellingofravens​ @purpleshadows1989​ @mathematicpony​ @i-don-t-know-words​ @notquitenovelist​ @coffeescribles​ @reffaces-old​@livingthelovelylife @katsglabella @lokitty-is-my-spirit-animal @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @watchmewritedumb @sting-the-scribe​ @kais-writing-shit​ @dameschnee123​

[ryanmeft]

Movie Review: Nomadland

Frances McDormand is unafraid to do things with her face and body that terrify most aging actors. She does not mind that her face is creased, she doesn’t mind that her legs are those of a 63-year-old woman, and she doesn’t mind if, under the tuck of her shirt, you can occasionally see that she has an ordinary stomach. McDormand’s comfort with her own body on camera is essential to the look and feel of Chloe Zhao’s Nomadland. Fern is living rough after the death of her husband and their manufacturing town, and McDormand’s looks reflect life lived not in Hollywood, but in heart of the American west.

In the past few years, there’s een a quiet Civil War going on in America. In the eyes of many, there are only two kinds of people now: those who believe it is a place for many people, and those who believe it is a place only for people who look and think like them. Part of this perspective is that you have no choice to sit this fight out---either you’ve picked a side or, by dearth of a choice, a side has picked you.

Nomadland takes places in 2011, before this stark division exploded into full-on combat, but in many ways it depicts the kind of people who don’t get seen much in these times. It is inspired by a non-fiction book by Jessica Bruder which tells of older Americans hitting the road permanently after the Great Recession. Of course, their world had been ending for a long time. Fern’s specific story begins when the US Gypsum plant in Empire, Nevada closes and takes Empire with it; the introduction informs us the town’s zip code vanished with the factory. We don’t see this happen. We pick up with Fern after she has already hit the road in an RV, working seasonal jobs to make ends meet, going to the bathroom in a bucket, and avoiding getting to know anyone. After all, they’re all gonna be gone eventually.

Unlike the people who sit around and moan about liberals and globalism over beers at the local watering hole, Fern seems to know what world she lives in, and what it means, and exactly how much power she has to change it---that is, none at all. Now let’s talk a little more about Frances McDormand’s face. There is a brief shot in which said face is framed in profile, contrasted with the mountains in the background, and the lines on her face almost seem placed to match those in the distant hills. Her close-cropped hair is a practical necessity that reflects the bare, rocky earth on which her moving home spends most of its time. She is a part of this environment, and she does not hope in vain for the return of a past that is gone. On those occasions when she stops in a place resembling civilization, she doesn’t seem to belong there anymore.

Contrast that with her friend and potential lover David (David Strathairn), who speaks sage wisdom but, unlike Fern, is in a van in the wilderness because he is running from something. His world has not closed behind him, and therefore whatever chance he and Fern might find late-life love seems remote. Fern has experienced something to which few can relate. Cities like Detroit, St. Louis or Youngstown, where American devastation is also a daily story, may not be what they once were, but they’re not going to disappear in our lifetimes. To see not just your personal house but the town you call home dry up and blow away leaves you with scars that relocation can’t fix. David behaves as if this is a minor inconvenience which can be forgotten with his attentions.

Chloe Zhao’s first film, Songs My Brothers Taught Me, perhaps tried a tad hard to replicate the Malick formula, but her second, The Rider, staked her identity as an outsider able to see the reality of the American dream in the 21st century better than most Americans can. Nomadland confirms it. It has just enough touches from the Malick school---patient camera shots that linger, characters whose lives are communicated not through monologues but through body language and surroundings---with a willingness to operate in a real world Malick often refutes. She has also further established her own trademark of casting non-professional actors in roles that are fictionalized versions of their own lives. McDormand and Strathairn have enjoyed long careers, but several of the roles are played by actual nomads. Are they telling their own stories, with Zhao merely turning the camera on them, or stories written for their screen avatars? I cannot say, but they feel authentic.

An underlying question of the film might be: can you simply check out of society? Is that even possible in a modern world long removed from the days of pioneers and treasure hunters? Fern works for Amazon on a seasonal basis, and when she shuffles listlessly through the doors for her shift I thought of so many Bruce Springsteen songs I couldn’t name them all; the omnipresence of that gigantic yellow sign is like the announcement of a king, saying “You can run, but we still own you.” Yet even when she works smaller jobs, such as dishing up fair food at a stall, she is still dependent on society. Her van, her refuge, must be fueled up, she must have food to eat, and she must have clothes to wear. Her divide from us is made most stark when she visits a relative who chose the more settled life, and she listens to real estate brokers talk disparagingly about people who bought houses they couldn’t afford. The comments rile her up---as if those brokers didn’t encourage and fool people into taking such deals, to fuel their own extravagant houses in upscale neighborhoods. It is the most starkly political moment in the film, these predators blaming the prey for getting caught. If that’s what we call society, we can see why Fern wanted no part in it. Verdict: Must-See

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts. 

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

You can follow me on Twitter here, if you want more posts about film and video games and sometimes about hamburgers:

https://twitter.com/RyanmEft All images are property of the people what own the movie.

[nuttyrabbit]

Oliver the Barn Owl Bio

So a few weeks ago I made a post where I said I’d start focusing on my OCs more and that, combined with the recent redesign I got for Oliver, finally prompted me into writing something that’s been long, long overdue: an actual bio for the boy.

Before I get into it, I have to give a couple of shout-outs.

First of all, shout outs to @shinkumancer​ for doing this excellent redesign of Oliver. She’s come so far as an artist and character designer since his first design almost 4 years ago, and in general is just a great artist all around. Check out her stuff and buy a commission, I promise you won’t be disappointed!

The other shout out is to my absolute best friend @pidgeonspen​ who not only helped me put together this bio, but was instrumental in helping me figure out Oliver’s new direction and a lot of the details for the worldbuilding surrounding him. There’s so much we’ve worked on in relation to his character (as well as certain others I have yet to share) and I’m so excited to start actually sharing it and doing stuff with it, but I’m getting ahead of myself

If you got any questions, comments, feedback, criticism, whatever, feel free to shoot me an ask or DM.  

With that out of the way, here it is: Oliver’s bio. As usual, everything’s under the readmore.

Name: Oliver the Barn Owl

Age: 20

Height: 3'4"

Occupation: Aspiring  historian/mage. Currently wandering around Eastern Eurish/West Yurashia

Sexuality: Bi

Personality:  Kind, curious, socially awkward, overly eager, gullible and naïve; Oliver really wants to do right by the people around him and help out when he can, all while striving to learn more about the world around him and find the answers he seeks.

Oliver dislikes needless violence, but is not entirely opposed to the notion of self defense. That being said, he will try to settle most situations through nonviolent means if possible, whether by taking a diplomatic approach or using his magical illusions to trick them. When he is forced to engage in combat, Oliver never aims to kill, instead seeking to subdue or render his enemies unconscious; the only exception is when he is faced with a life or death situation, and there are no other viable options left.

His naivete shines through in his quirky habits and lack of fundamental social skills, such as voice modulation, wherein he has trouble gauging the volume at which he speaks, switching from being jarringly loud to incredibly quiet. He also rambles on about what interests him, sometimes speaking so fast others may not be able to follow. He's self aware, but unsure how to fix these problems. Because of these factors, he doesn't pick up cues when he's being flirted with, as such advances can go over his head, and he's rather uneasy in crowds, at worst finding himself panicking and fleeing to a more secluded, private location.

His naivete is the root of much of his sweet, seemingly positive traits: due to his isolated upbringing, he isn't a worldly individual and, combined with his compulsion to help others and overtly optimistic outlook, has lead to him being used and manipulated, as well as giving second chances to those who clearly do not deserve it.

Skills: First and foremost, Oliver is skilled in the use of magic, mainly what is known as "dark" magic i.e, magic that invokes the powers of a demonic entity.  Using his tome as a conduit, Oliver is able to cast a wide variety of spells, though his preferences  usually lie in non-offensive magic such as that of illusions and healing.  The former in particular is something Oliver is quite skilled in, being able to invoke something as simple as an auditory illusion and something as complex as creating mirror images of himself, though that is something that cannot be done for too long.  In regards to healing, while Oliver cannot completely heal life-threatening wounds, he is able to patch up relatively minor wounds and cure basic ailments. He is also starting to get the hang of more outright defensive spells, such as barriers and even reflectors, though, like his illusions, these cannot be maintained for too long, and he is not as adept with these as he is with his other spells.  Finally, Oliver is capable of using offensive magic in the form of basic blasts of dark magic, but given his pacifistic nature, he uses these as an absolute last resort and even then, does not aim to kill with them.

Given both his isolated upbringing and nomadic lifestyle,  Oliver  is quite skilled when it comes to  wilderness survival. He's able to forage for food, build rudimentary shelters and fires, and navigate all with relative ease.  That being said however, when it comes to navigating urban environments, Oliver is completely out of his element and will quickly become lost and overwhelmed.

Hobbies: Oliver's hobbies revolve around his interests in magic and history; naturally, he loves reading and exploring. He often seeks out the libraries and bookstores of the towns he passes through, and will even investigate abandoned ruins and castles to satiate his curiosity, often taking barely legible notes in his tome. He can often be seen with his beak in a book, often forming a small collection of titles he's found or purchased with his spare earnings, though he tends to take on more than he can carry and so having to leave them behind is a bit of a sour point for him. He vows to one day get a library of his own so he can actually *keep* all of the books he finds on his travels.

Likes: History, magic, books (Mainly ones that pertain to the aforementioned topics), helping people, snack foods (Pretty much anything he can eat on the go, whether it be granola bars, pretzels, berries, etc.  He's got a sweet tooth so anything that's super sweet is right up his alley), libraries,  sharing his knowledge/findings with others, the cold (Grew up in it, so he's super comfortable in it as well).

Dislikes: Selfishness, cruelty, ignorance, crowds, excessively bitter food/drink (Not big on coffee), technology (Doesn't actually dislike it, he just has trouble actually using it), being lied to/manipulated (It's something he beats himself up over but continually falls prey to)

Backstory:  Born in the remote, frigid forests of Sibral in Northeastern Yurashia, Oliver grew up in almost complete isolation, living in a simple wooden cabin with nobody else but his parents around.

Growing up, Oliver's parents attempted to give the boy the best life they could despite their circumstances, showering him with constant love and attention. They also attempted to provide Oliver  with an education, with his mother teaching him the basics of wilderness survival including how to find food and basic first aid, and his father teaching him how to read and fostering his love for history.  However, the foremost priority in terms of Oliver's education was in the art of magic, and it is here where Oliver received the most thorough teachings, with his mother teaching him everything she knew healing and defensive spells, and his father helping him  to develop his signature illusions as well as some basic curses.

When Oliver wasn't receiving an education, he was spending most of his time either wandering around the woods by his home or reading the varied, yet also limited selection of books from his father's library. Not only did the stories within these books intensify Oliver's love of reading and interest in history,  but they also gave him something far more profound: his beliefs. Whether set in fiction or reality, the novels all encompassed similar themes of good people making the world a better place simply by doing the right thing, even if they had to do so alone; the notion that no matter how bad things get or how bleak things look, the innate kindness and good in people will prevail even during the darkest hour - these are things Oliver took to heart and would carry with him for the rest of his life.

Things continued in this manner for most of Oliver's childhood and adolescence; his time split between education, reading, and strolling through the icy woods he called his home. In general, life was rather peaceful. However, the older he got, the more certain things began to bother him and gnaw at the edge of his mind.   To start, his parents always seemed to dance around the big questions: "Why do we live out here all alone?", "How did you learn magic?", "Why are you so concerned about me running into 'demons'?" The demons question in particular was a sticking point for Oliver, as while his parents went to great lengths to warn him about "demons", they seemed to not know too much about them to begin with, or at the very least, weren't telling him everything. Then again, it seemed that they weren't telling him everything in regards to a lot of things.  

Even outside of that however, there was something else that seemed to bother him: this growing desire to get out there. As much as he liked his home and his parents, he began to yearn to see the various places and people so vividly detailed in his books. He wanted to see what else was out there, what new things he could learn, what people he could meet and what experiences he could revel in.  These sentiments of wanderlust  only grew as time went on, and by the time he reached adulthood, it was becoming almost unbearable.

Which is why it came as a welcome surprise to Oliver that the moment he turned 18, his parents seemed eager to see him out of the house, helping him pack for what was surely to be a long journey, his father even giving him his favorite magical tome and cape, and his mother giving him a brand new outfit meant to show off her "handsome little boy". With a kiss goodbye and some words of encouragement, Oliver was soon off on his journey, thrust out unto the world with no real direction, yet still excited to see what lay beyond the confines of his isolated abode.

However, once Oliver got out into the world, he found that reality didn't quite match what he saw in his books. While many people he's met have been kind and compassionate like he expected , just as many have been  callous, ignorant, or even outright cruel, attempting to either harm or take advantage of the owl's kindness and naivete. To make matters worse, while some have appreciated his magical talents, what he wasn't prepared for was the amount of people who treat  his magic  with fear, disdain, disbelief, and on rare occasion,  violence. His parents had warned him that such things could happen, but he didn't imagine it could get as bad as it did.  

While he has had many pleasant experiences thus far, and has even gotten to explore some of the locales described in his books, these unfortunate experiences have left their mark on the owl, and even though he still maintains his compassionate nature and optimistic beliefs, there is still a part of him that is hurt by what he's been through.  

With all the unanswered questions hanging over his head - a list that only seemed to grow with each passing day - Oliver began to question things, such as why his parents had seemed to be in such a hurry to get him out of the house when he came of age.

Adding to the mystery, strange dreams have begun to plague his slumber - a voice belonging to someone (or something?), urging him to go to specific locations, searching for something important.

Now more confused than ever before, Oliver has one burning question taking precedence over all else:

Just what the heck is the "Jeweled Scepter", and why is it so important that he seek it out?                                                                                            

[trophywifejimgordon]

the ghostbusters + books

if print is dead, fiction doesn’t even EXIST anymore in egon’s world. even when he was a kid, he never read novels, as he couldn’t fathom why someone would want to spend time reading about something that wasn’t real. as an adult, most of his reading is made up of online transcripts of current academic journals, though he’s definitely not too immersed in tech to be above spending hours in the dusty library archives. 

if he absolutely had to pick a fiction genre, it’d be speculative fiction, but only theoretically–in practice, he can’t stand the hand waved or otherwise entirely made up “scientific” methods employed in these novels.

the one exception he will make is for mary shelley’s frankenstein–the skipping over of the actual technique victor used to raise the dead irritates him, but he appreciates its place as a classical ode to human achievement past the realm of the morally sound, and besides, it played a heavy role in his decision to run a… not dissimilar experiment at NYU.

his parents, who discouraged all pleasure reading, punished him severely for the copy of the book he sneaked back to his room, and would later blame shelley for leading egon down the path that eventually took him to ghostbusting.

peter reads whatever’s popular–fiction and nonfiction bestsellers line his bookcase. he claims it’s because he’s more interested in knowing what draws the american public to the books than in the books themselves, and likes to concoct elaborate and negative conclusions to this effect… but maybe deep down, he just likes things that are popular. outside of that, peter also reads all the major psychology journals (when no one is around–he can’t let anyone know he takes this shit seriously) and, more gleefully, a wide array of harlequin romances.

between the job, night school, and, well, everything else, winston doesn’t have a lot of time to do fiction reading these days, but when he does get some downtime, he really enjoys a good mystery. this particularly extends to political thrillers and spy novels–he’s got a shelf of beat up favorites that he comes back to when he really needs to unwind.

as i see it, he doesn’t really have a favorite book so much as he has favorite authors; clive cussler is coming to mind.

ray actually feels the same way as egon does re: speculative fiction, but unlike egon, he’s more than alright with other genres. in particular, ray loves fantasy, the wilder the better–when he sits down to read a novel, he wants something completely detached from reality… not that it stops him from wanting to make real life that much more fantastic when it’s through.

the one exception to his aversion to scifi is star wars, which he loves implicitly (justifiable since it’s hardly scifi, anyway). he’s read every book in he extended universe, and has very concrete opinions on mara jade.

you know those bodice rippers i mentioned peter enjoying? those are janine’s favorites. shes unironically dreamed of herself as one of the heroines in the trashiest of her books since high school, and there’s nothing she longs for more than a muscular hunk to sweep her off her feet and into the sunset.

outside of that, janine is the most well-read of any of them in the fiction department–when she gets home at night, she enjoys curling up with a nice paperback from any genre and reading until her eyes droop closed.

i’ve talked about this before in a separate post, but i love the idea of janine and winston having a book club where they support each other through through dry, jargon-heavy tomes on parapsychology in an effort to play “catch up” and have a snowball’s chance in hell at understanding what the other three are talking about all the damn time. 

when winston finally gets his PhD, janine pretends to be mad at him for “betraying their club,” but really, she was the one who often stuck around the firehouse with him, brewing coffee and reading her paperbacks while he poured over dense law textbooks, and she couldn’t be more proud.

i feel like, when he was a kid, books were a big coping mechanism for venkman. he spent a lot of time at the library just because it was free to be there and it wasn’t home, but with time this sparked a genuine love for reading that became his main form of escapism up through high school. even as an adult, he’ll sometimes lock himself in his apartment and fly through his to-read pile when he really needs to withdraw from himself.

back when they were in college, venkman had a running joke where he would describe the plot of a bad scifi novel to spengler as if it were the contents of a recent academic paper he read, just to get a good laugh out of his reaction. this escalated to the point of venkman actually fabricating a few of these so-called academic papers and spengler going so far as to write scathing responses with full intent to publish before ray finally stepped in and told him what was going on. peter had to hide out for a week to escape spengs’s wrath after that.

when he was a child, people who didn’t know egon (distant relatives, school peers forced by their parents to be nice to him despite a mutual distaste for one another, etc) would usually give him children’s books for birthdays or other special occasions, mistaking his academic disposition for bookishness. he never made an attempt to hide his displeasure with these gifts, and often used the pages as a part of some new science experiment.

think “paper mache baking soda volcano on crack,” and that’s what happened to a copy of charlie and the chocolate factory gifted to him by a well meaning great aunt.

the first job ray ever really saw for himself was becoming an author, a path that always sort of lingered at the back of his mind. opening ray’s occult was definitely tied to his lifelong fondness for books, but the real kicker came years later, when he published a successful young adult series drawing on his parapsychological knowledge after retiring from ghostbusters.

if you asked him, peter would list freud’s the interpretation of dreams as his favorite book. in reality, it’s jane eyre–don’t ask.

when janine was in high school, she spent many nights kicked back in the backseat of a friend’s car, reading a trashy paperback bought at a gas station while the others in her group got into more delinquent activities. even when they were skipping school or going road tripping, she always had a book for the ride. (looking back, she considers these nights some of the best of her life.)

winston has a great voice for reading out loud. some of his fondest memories of growing up were his mother tucking him into bed and reading him whatever she felt like: kid’s books, adult books, passages from her devotionals and from the bible. this became a tradition he passed on to his younger siblings, and looks forward to sharing with his own kids.

cliched though it might be, ray’s favorite book series is lord of the rings. (he was always especially interested in frodo and sam’s relationship… for no reason in particular, of course.) he amends this by clarifying that while there are fantasy series he likes more, he feels that lotr built the house the later authors were just living in, and he has to pay his dues.

of all the ghostbusters, though peter has been threatening to do it nearly constantly since world of the psychic got greenlit, janine is the one who ends up publishing a memoir about her time with the company. they all read it, and everyone is honestly blown away by how talented she is at writing, a skill they never really knew she possessed. janine takes this all in stride, but secretly, hearing their compliments means even more to her than the acclaim she’s receiving for the work :’)

[womenintranslation]

Women in Amerindian Literature: an essay by Elisa Taber

(Image: armadillo carving, a handicraft of the Mbya Guaraní, the indigenous community the poet Alba Eiragi Duarte belongs to.)

Women writing in indigenous languages in Latin America are working to both decolonize hegemonic feminism and to counter systematic linguistic censorship. Their poetic discourse posits that women’s rights do not need to be individualistic but communal and that national identity needs to be multicultural. It is not why but how they write, and the range of languages they use, that makes their writings impossible to group together under the label “indigenous literature.” The Mixe writer and linguist Yasnaya Elena Aguilar Gil has rejected the standard binary imposed on literary production in indigenous languages in Mexico, “I have yet to find a common trait that justifies that a literature written in such distinct languages and that belongs to eleven disparate linguistic families shares any grammatical features or poetic devices that, together, can be contrasted to Spanish.” (“(Is There) An Indigenous Literature?”) The distinctiveness of each indigenous language and culture must be respected and the conception of a ‘minority’ literary category that homogenizes them must be questioned.

Those eager to discover linguistic, cosmological, and poetic diversity should read the work of the following contemporary women writers: Natalia Toledo and Irma Pineda, Zapotec poets; Ruperta Bautista Vázquez and Marga Beatriz Aguilar Montejo, Maya Tsotsil and Maya Yucatec poets, respectively; Liliana Ancalao and Faumelisa Manquepillán, Mapuche poets; Lucila Lema Otavalo and Eugenia Carlos Ríos, Quechua poets; Alba Eiragi Duarte and Susy Delgado, Mbya Guaraní and Jopara poets, respectively.

The community of Latin American writers and academics studying Amerindian poetry–especially Violeta Percia and Juan G. Sánchez Martínez–have generously shared with me the work of these contemporary women writers. I encourage readers to visit Sánchez Martínez’s multilingual digital collaborative anthology platform, Siwar Mayu. The digital nature of this anthology shows that, as Walter Ong posits, it is electronic, rather than print, media that makes visible the transgressions writing inflects on transcribed orality. The auditory and visual performance components of oral literature are rendered through multimedia; i.e. the translated text is accompanied by recordings and illustrations. A lyrical, fictional, or non-fictional piece is published in the original indigenous language as well as in Spanish and English, together with an illustration by an indigenous artist and an essay by an indigenous academic reflecting on the work’s literary value. The result, which is not simply the transcription but the multi-sequential and multisensory translation of oral literature, calls forth a secondary orality.

The poetry of these Zapotec, Maya, Mapuche, Quechua, and Guaraní poets present distinct modes of production, lyrical devices, and linguistic features that are jointly defiant of their Western counterparts. Their collections live between Spanish and an endangered indigenous language. They are crafted and distributed orally; transcription is a secondary and sometimes unnecessary step. Many are self-published in print or online, via social media. Language loses its weight this way; it becomes ephemeral, alterable, it ceases to belong to one person. However, the content is firmly rooted in the soil, sometimes focused on the quotidian–specifically, the act of boiling a potato–and other times on the metaphysical– specifically, the distance between life and death bridged by another conception of corporeality within time and space. I believe this poetry is excluded from the national canon of each country these poets belong to precisely because there is so much complexity encrypted in its apparent simplicity.

In this post I will introduce the poetry of the Paraguayan poet, Alba Eiragi Duarte, who writes in Mbya Guaraní (which is distinct from Jopara, a variant of Spanish-inflected Guaraní) and will discuss how her work is excluded by a definition of national literature so narrow that it has no place for indigenous poetries. Eiragi Duarte has introduced, illustrated, and self-published her collection Ñe'ẽ yvoty, ñe'e poty (Our Earth and Our Mother), writing bilingually in Spanish and Mbya Guaraní. The first section consists of sixteen of her own poems. The language and content are simple. The poems address ontological subjects: what it takes to survive, to cook, sleep, and work. Or what it means to be alive: the passing of the seasons, the transition from dawn to dusk, the birth and death of loved ones. The lines are short but read as sentences, almost like instructions. The language is formal and distant until speech erupts, In “Pore’ỹ” (The Absence), the third person narration shifts to the first with the lines

Che kérape rohecha,

che páype rohechase

che membymi porãite

I see you in my dreams and

when I wake, I wish to see you,

my daughter, my life.

Emotion is unmediated yet counters nostalgia with a sense of what is real now: her daughter is deceased and the narrator, alive. There is nothing mythical about these poems, if myth is defined as the attribution of human intentionality to the inexplicable or meaningless.

In her last poem, “Che Rata” (My Fire), day dawns, the narrator lights a fire and sets a sweet potato, a mandioca, and a kettle atop it. The poem ends with the lines, “che rata ikatupyry, / ombojy ha’uva’erã” (fire is vital, / it cooks food). Life appears to be as simple as waking. Regaining this clarity is a task that is as complex for the reader as it is for the author. The poet refuses to be distracted by the superfluous and encourages the reader to do the same. Alba Eiragi Duarte is, above all, an ethical poet. There is a circularity in each text that is intrinsic to the author’s conception of life and poetry: what is simple is complex and what is complex is simple. She has no need to resort to complex metafictional device to underscore this paradox.

In the second section, titled “Mombe’u añeteguaite Avá Ruguái rehegua” (The True Story of Avá Ruguái), Eiragi Duarte retells a religious myth. (In Guaraní Avá means man and ruguái, armadillo.) Avá Ruguái is like a man, but is more solitary, agile, and cruel. When men hunting in the jungle enter too deep to return before nightfall, he puts them to sleep and kills, quarters, and skins them. The poet recounts the story of the man who kills Avá Ruguái because Ruguái has killed his brother. In one scene, the narrator squats in the scrubland, watching Avá Ruguái lift his sleeping brother by the nape of his neck. There is something cinematic about the specificity with which corporeality in space is described. Time is ambiguous but the events that are recounted seem to occur in the span of one night.

The wilderness—its flora and fauna—is heightened by the descriptions and accompanying illustrations. It is as though the quebracho and palm trees witness the events as the readers do. Behind a low stand of thorn bushes, a man lies stiffly on the ground. The tips of his feet point right. He wears a dark shirt and light pants. His silhouette is delineated by the darkest line in the drawing. His eyes and mouth are lightly sketched, they fade into the white paper. He grips his hand over his abdomen. He seems dead, not asleep. Another man stands over him with a bow in his hands and a sack full of arrows on his back. Palm trees lean left and right in the background. The rigidity and lack of expression of the human figures is in stark contrast to the ornamentation and movement of the bushes and trees. The book’s illustrations underscore people’s inflexibility towards the elements of nature, which in turn adapt to them. The narrative shows the retribution of nature, embodied by Avá Ruguái, to the transgressions of humans.

Eiragi Duarte recites these poems and stories, transcribed on illustrated placards, to children in rural schools across Paraguay. This educational program counters the loss of knowledge of the Mbya Guaraní language and of sacred narratives. She comes from an oral or mnemonic tradition in which authorship is not individual but communal. The poet compensates for the transgressions writing inflects on transcribed orality by combining her poetry with stories that have been passed down to her and by illustrating both on the placards.

She aspires to create a national Paraguayan literature that is multilingual and multicultural. Yet her poetry is intrinsically untranslatable unless the conception of literature broadens to include her manifesto of social ecology. In the introduction to the book she not only posits an equality between genders but also between human beings and nature. By conceiving of human rights and authorship in a communal sense, and at the same time blurring the distinction between the social and ecological, she forces readers to regard the parts of a whole as distinct yet interconnected in new ways. Behind the apparent simplicity of these poems and stories lies a true reconception of reality and how it is rendered in fiction and poetry.

The term literature must be challenged because it reduces these verbally organized materials to a variant further developed by literate cultures. With respect to sacred narratives, the term authorship must shift from an individual to a communal definition. The narratives do not belong to the ones reciting them—they only author a version—but rather to the millenary indigenous cultures the reciters belong to. The history of the transcription and translation into Spanish of poetry from indigenous languages since the conquest has three stages. The first was carried out by missionaries; the second, by social scientists, specifically linguists and anthropologists; and the third, by writers.

I have featured the work of Alba Eiragi Duarte in this post because it speaks to the literary properties of the text, rather than exclusively to its cultural or linguistic aspects. She shows that the culture or language is not so much in danger of extinction as it is at risk of voluntarily subjugating itself through national aspirations to westernization. She also proposes that her translations are parallel versions of the original. It is only by challenging the terms “literature and authorship” that the national as well as the continental canon will be broadened to include indigenous poetry. Failing that, its lyrics will continue to circulate orally as common knowledge, but without validation as artistic works in their own right, not folkloric artifacts.

—Elisa Taber

Works Cited

Aguilar Gil, Yasnaya Elena. “(Is There) an Indigenous Literature?” Translated by Gloria E. Chacón. Diálogo, vol. 19, no. 1, Spring 2016, pp. 157-159. (Original article in Spanish published in March 2015 in Letras libres (https://www.letraslibres.com/mexico-espana/libros/literatura-indigena).

[prairiedust]

Red or Green? The literary and folk themes of Oroborous

Red or green is the official state question of New Mexico as ratified by the legislature in 1996. Order anything at any restaurant, even a burger in some places, and you’ll likely be asked “Red or green?” Do you want red chile sauce on your entree, or do you prefer green chile? The “state question” can sometimes reveal geographical origins-- red sauce is supposedly favored in the northern half of the state, while green is more popular in the south (I lived in the south, and you could easily get either one anywhere so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .) The best green chiles are grown in the south, so maybe that has something to do with it-- like wine grapes, chiles from different parts of the state have different flavor profiles. Green chiles from the Hatch area are world famous.

But it’s important to remember that the sauces are made from the exact same fruit. The difference is all in the timing. Green chiles are harvested early, unripe, then roasted and chopped up and canned or put in the freezer, whereas red sauce is made from chiles that have been allowed to ripen fully and are then (typically) dried.

It’s all about timing. Let your chiles stay on the plant too long, and you miss your chance at the magical elixir that is green chile sauce.

Timing.

The sister stories of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty are, to a great extent, about timing. They are about waiting, about vigils, and about being at the right place at the right time-- or the exact wrong time.

(If you have not already read this rundown of Snow White in season 14, I suggest at least reading a few of the translations of the original folktales here or here. And cw the Sleeping Beauty story called Sun Moon and Talia is dark. I’ll be discussing the difference between the original material and the Disneyfied stories somewhat. Usual disclaimer that this is lit crit and not spec, why you ask, because I am a hundred years old is why.)

I want to say first that Steve Yockey in Ouroboros did a truly wonderful job allegorizing the story of Snow White, which has been teased for a while now. In the Grimms’ Snow White, as in other tales of that type, Snow White has been 1. run into the wilderness by her stepmother, B. taken in by a group of dwarfs, Three: then poisoned by that stepmother and fourthly laid to rest in a glass coffin. While the story has been poked at over the course of several episodes, Yockey sums it all up again in this one.

Dean-- along with the rest of TFW 2.0-- has been traipsing around New Mexico looking for a peculiar monster. Trope one. From the screen shot it looks like they’ve possibly been through Clovis, Roswell, Albuquerque, and finally made it up to Raton. As far as wildernesses and in-between places go, New Mexico is the most liminal state in the union-- many people in the country think it’s part of Mexico and if you think that’s a joke when I was a senior looking at colleges I had two well respected schools send me their foreign student applications. Roswell. AAAAaaaaahhhh Roswell. Roswell is the city that straddles reality and science fiction. They fry ice cream in New Mexico, they eat both ripe and unripe chiles there, and they have old mountain forests and arid white sand deserts within fifty miles of one another.

Another nod to the Snow White story is the Ma’lek Box that Dean mentions again-- B-- it can be seen as an allusion to Snow White’s glass coffin (in other versions, it is merely ornate or sometimes bedecked in rare gems but it is definitely something that she alone can not get out of… being dead and all...)

Finally, when the Gorgon knocks him out and Michael escapes, Sam tends Dean’s wounds while he is unconscious, which fulfills the traditional Snow White requirement for someone other than the king/prince to affect a physical change in the heroine’s state-- cutting off an enchanted dress or jostling the coffin so that the bite of poisoned apple can be coughed out-- in order to bring her back to life. Walt Disney and his studio added the “first love’s kiss” into the Snow White matrix in 1938, not even a century ago, but it quickly took over the narrative-- Disney also brings the story into a more accessible reality for modern viewers, he introduces the prince into the actual storyline earlier than in the folk tale, and then has him awaken her with The Kiss. Which do we, as an audience, prefer? The rabbit-hole of darker, more psychological Snow White tale types, or Disney’s recent and overwhelmingly iconic romantic reimagining?

Red or green?

Yockey gave us green, the version that has not ripened into what most people know as Snow White through the Disney cinematic behemoth.

The other duality in this episode is that we have Sleeping Beauty being referenced simultaneously with Snow White’s allegory.

Sleeping Beauty is Cas’ story and elements from that tale type can be seen in how the Gorgon stalks and overcomes his prey. The Gorgon uses sex to snare a human for consumption-- he says he’s an opportunist but that women have begun to be more cautious now that they are “waking up” from a long period of oppression. Sleeping Beauty’s deep sleep comes as the result of a symbolic sexual awakening-- in the more recent stories that awakening comes from the machinations of an enemy, so it is more a violation than a sudden innocent awareness. Where am I going with this? I don’t even know, this seems like it belongs in a different essay. What I’m trying to say is that the Gorgon uses sex to put people into a state of paralysis, and the evil fairy (known in the Disney movie as Maleficent) used a sexual metaphor to lure Briar Rose to her doom before she was ready for that kind of encounter. We are asked to contemplate the symbolic aspect of the Gorgon’s predation because he also uses a symbolic act-- eating eyeballs-- to see into the future and thus subvert the natural order of time.

In Sleeping Beauty, the evil crone/Maleficent also subverts the timeline by jumping place in line. She was not invited to the party in honor of the infant princess, but after nearly all of the other wise women have given Briar Rose their blessings, she breaks in to curse the baby. There is always one fairy left who, while not powerful enough to nullify the curse, can modify it to a deep sleep instead of death. In Ouroboros, TFW2 exploits the fact that Cas and Jack exist outside of the workings of Fate to defeat the Gorgon, but not without great cost.

Which brings us to The Wrong Kiss. I didn’t even want to meta the Sleeping Beauty stuff because of the kiss, seriously. So. What happens to Briar Rose is tragic, but in the three most famous versions of the story she comes out of her enchantment because a prince falls in love with her. Jack, here, as a result of Cas’ deal with the Empty, is no longer in the Sleeping Beauty story, he is not a Prince but a Giant-Killer once more, and the antidote he administers to counteract the Gorgon’s venom will not work. Once he activates his giant-killing powers, he can heal Castiel. (In the reciprocal, Cas is an agent of the SB story and the antidote works on the dude the Gorgon was about to eat because Cas administers it. It’s a very meta way of treating the folklore theme by both subverting it and keeping certain characters strictly within the parameters.)

Jack finally lives up to his name as a Giant-Killer when he takes out Michael. In Appalachian and English Jack Tales, Jack is always clever, sometimes to the point of unscrupulousness, but in the story Jack and the Beanstalk he is a naive picaro who betters his circumstances through reliance on his simple nature as much as his wits. Often “Jack” does not change as a result of his adventures, as most fairytale heroes do, but like many other mythological tricksters he operates outside the bounds of normal morality. Jack Kline has managed to hold onto his innocence despite initiation into the Winchester clan. Now that Jack has, presumably, burned off some large portion of his soul, it will be interesting to see how his picaresque nature might actually change. Because the story of Jack the Giant-Killer? Not the same story as Jack and the Beanstalk. The Giant-Killer is the story of a deadly clever young man who defeats several giants as well as Lucifer using mainly his wits and is afterward given a place on King Arthur’s Round Table. The story in its entirety borrows from Cornish, Welsh, and Briton mythology, echoing other simple folktales as well as hearkening to high heroes of the Mabinogi. Jack has become larger than life. (AN I started this before Peace of Mind, I’ll get to that one by the end of the season maybe :P )

In a less meta sense of course, this episode is one huge mythological allusion-- Cas refers to Dean’s imprisonment of Michael as a “herculean” feat, the MOTW is a Gorgon (and traditionally gorgons were a trio of cursed sisters in Greek legends,) and Dean enthusiastically references the 1981 Clash of the Titans film twice. In a /more/ meta vein, Andrew Dabb quotes the more recent Titans movie in a tweet on this ep’s airdate. I find that exciting because the story of Perseus in CotT features a descent into the underworld, and again while I flirt with speculation here I would REALLY like to see these nerds freaking raid the Empty.

As for Snow White and Sleeping Beauty now? Red or green?

It feels as though the Snow White story has possibly been tied up and tucked away now, solving the riddle of the “red or green” sister stories. Michael, Dean’s evil rival, is dead. Pretty sure. Whether his grace is contaminated and will have an adverse effect on Jack remains to be seen. See drsilverfish’s lovely analysis of the oroborous symbolism in the last two episodes for more discussion about what it means for Jack to have consumed Michael’s grace. But. Unless there is a Ghost of AU!Michael coming up, he’s gone.

We are left, however, with Cas’ deal with the Empty-- he gets to operate under normal parameters as long as he does not exceed the minimum threshold of happiness (and I want it to be an accidental or unexpected moment, unlike a lot of meta writers, but then that isn’t spec it’s just what I hope for.) And what does that mean for destiel subtext? I don’t know. Honestly, this is a little too intense for me, I am not “canon positive” or “endgame positive” and this episode freaked me out. Analytically, though, it places the subtext at a really interesting place. It means the princess who gets rescued from an enchanted doom is still on the loose, still avoiding Fate, and the prince is still out there having Adventures in the Woods. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[thedigitalpen]

5 minute anime review: “Golden Kamuy”

What it’s about? Set around 1904, a soldier returns from the Russo-Japanese war and tries to keep the promise he made to his childhood friend - to help said friend's wife financially, especially with her health problems, and send her to America for eye surgery. In order to do that however, he needs money. While panning for gold in Hokkaido, he hears a story about a cache of gold that was hidden somewhere and is yet to be found. After confirming that the story is real, he sets off to try and find the gold with the help of a local Ainu girl. Ainu are indigenous people of Japan and Russia, residing in Hokkaido. Of course, crazy adventures ensue because it's never as simple as it seems. Our MC isn't the only one after the gold and he has to contend with a myriad of strange and interesting characters who are also plotting to find and use the gold for their own purposes.

What I liked? This is a true seinen type anime and that's already earns it a point in my book. The greatest appeal comes from the characters themselves though because there are quite a few but they're so distinctive and are all given enough screen time for them to be memorable and interesting in their own, sometimes very unique and quirky, ways. The storyline is also amazing because it's got some mystery, which is slowly revealed as you watch, and remains engaging and dynamic throughout. It almost never follows the predictable path and steers clear of all the usual anime plotline/scene cliches, going off on it's own tangent and keeping it super entertaining. The combination of humour, tension and action is well-balanced and highlights the various aspects of the characters (especially when they interact with each other) whilst lending itself to the fantastic storytelling here. The comedy is hilarious and although it can be odd/whack at times, it works so well! And the tribute to food and eating would please any foodie. In terms of historical accuracy, sure there are some liberties taken here and there, but they nail the cultural details here, especially with regard to the Ainu. You can tell that the creator really did his homework with this and kept it as accurate as possible, consulting with experts in the field. It really comes through because Ainu characters speak the traditional language and it's a great depiction of what their lives were like, complete with explanations of how they survive in the wilderness and the lore/myths/beliefs of their people. And and I also liked that the OVA actually covers a story that happens in the main series and ties into that rather than being a standalone episode.

What I liked a little less? Something that can't be controlled really, but if you do start watching this, do not let the fact that there are 2 seasons fool you because the story is not complete. So you will either have to wait very patiently for another season or 2 or go read/devour the manga to complete the story. The other personal preference element here will be the use of CG for the bears that are featured in the anime. While the rest of the scenes/animals etc. are animated in the traditional way, the bears are completely CG and this is something that you're either okay with or it'll be a detractor - it just depends on how you feel about it. Speaking of wildlife, while I had no issue with it, the other thing to keep in mind is that if you're someone who loves animals and hates to watch them die/be killed (even in animation), you'd better prepare yourself because part of surviving in the wild involves a lot of killing and eating of the animals they hunt. Apart from that, the levels of gore/creepiness is manageable (given the things that happen) so no complaints about that.

Could, should or wouldn’t watch? I give this a solid "should watch" because it's an excellent piece of storytelling that blends historical realities with a fictional plot, making for a very entertaining watch. It gets you invested in the events that happen as well as the character interactions but never remains so serious that you feel drained after watching it. I made short work of the two seasons, finishing it in a couple of days and now I want more. So if you're looking for a good, historical action-adventure story in the seinen genre, then this is one you should definitely be watching! It truly is a golden find!