#for those wondering i do like Elena's character when she's independent and true to what she loves most rather than men's whims and demands

[lovelyandproblematic]

The night that my parents died... I blew off family night so that I could go to some party. I ended up getting stranded, and they had to come pick me up. That's why we ended up in the car at Wickery Bridge. And that's why they died.

[otherworldlybooksgoddess]

Five Exceptional Fantasy Books Based in Non-European Myth

Photo by Josh Hild

Don’t misunderstand me: I love reading well-written fantasy with roots in the familiar Celtic and English folklore of my childhood, but with the vast majority of High Fantasy being set in worlds closely akin to Medieval Europe, and a large amount of of Mythic Fiction drawing on legends of similar origin, sometimes the ground begins to feel too well trodden.  There is, after all, an entire world of lore out there to draw from.  That’s why I’m always thrilled to find excellent works of what I call “the Realistic Sub-Genres of Fantasy” based in or inspired by myths from other cultures.  Such books not only support inclusiveness, but also expand readers’ experiences with lore and provide a wide range of new, exciting realities to explore. So, if you are looking for something different in the realm of Fantasy, the following novels will provide a breath of fresh air.

The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wrecker

In this beautifully written novel, Wrecker draws on both Middle-Eastern and Jewish mythology to tell the stories of two unwilling immigrants in Edwardian New York and the unlikely friendship that springs up between them.  Chava, an unusually lifelike golem created for peculiar purposes, has only days worth of memories and is practically childlike in her innocence.  Ahmad the Jinni has lived for centuries, but is trying to reclaim his forgotten past. The former is as steady and calm as the earth she’s made from while the latter is as volatile and free-spirited as the fire within him.  Both must learn to live in an unfamiliar new culture and find their places in a city too modern for myths even as they hide their true natures.  It’s a wonderful metaphor for the experiences of immigrants everywhere, who often find themselves feeling like outsiders—isolated and even overwhelmed— as they struggle to adapt to life in an alien society.  

Full of memorable characters, vivid descriptions, and interesting twists, The Golem and the Jinni takes readers on a journey that is driven as much by internal conflict as external action.  The setting of 1900’s Manhattan is well-researched and spectacular in its detail.  Wrecker blends two old-world mythologies into the relatively modern Edwardian world with a deft hand.  The result is not only fascinating, but also serves to illustrate the common early-twentieth-century experience of an immigrant past colliding with an American future.

The Tail of the Blue Bird by Nii Ayikwei Parkes

One part Detective Mystery and one part Magical Realism, this novel invites readers to experience modern-day Ghana in a way that is both authentic and profound.  When Kayo, a forensic pathologist just beginning his career, is pushed into investigating a suspected murder in the rural village of Sonokrom, the last thing he expects is to have a life-changing experience.  Soon, however, he gets the acute sense that the villagers may know more than they’re letting on. When all of the latest scientific and investigative techniques fail him, even as odd occurrences keep dogging his steps, Kayo is finally forced to accept that there is something stranger than he thought about this case.  Solving the crime will require more than intelligence and deduction; it will require setting his disbelief aside and taking the traditional tales and folklore of an old hunter seriously.  Because whatever is happening in Sonokrom, it isn’t entirely natural.  

This novel is brilliant not only because of its deep understanding of Ghanaian society and realistic setting, but also because of Parkes writing style.  The narrative is gorgeously lyrical and everything within it is described with a keen, insightful eye.  The dialogue is full of local color, and while some may find the pidgin English and native colloquialisms difficult to follow, I found that the context was usually enough to explain any unfamiliar terms. Sometimes the narrative feels a little dreamlike, but that is exactly the way great Magical Realism should be.  The Tail of the Blue Bird insistently tugs readers to a place where reality intertwines with myth and magic, all while providing an authentic taste of Ghanaian culture.

The Deer and the Cauldron by Jin Yong

During the reign of Manchu Emperor Kang Xi, China is in a state of barely-controlled sociopolitical unrest.  Many of the older generation remember the previous dynasty, and there still remain vestiges of a resistance movement hidden among the populace.  As his forces continue to hunt down the malefactors, called the Triad Societies, the boy-emperor turns to his unlikely friend and ally: a young rascal known only as Trinket.  This protagonist is a study in contrasts: lazy yet ambitious, cunning yet humorous, roguish yet likable, foul-mouthed yet persuasive. Born in a brothel, Trinket has made his way by his wits alone.  At age twelve, he accidentally sneaked into the Forbidden City—a bizarre occurrence in itself—afterward befriending Kang Xi.  Now, rising quickly through the ranks, he is on a mission to (ostensibly) find and weed out the Triad Societies, and he uses the opportunity to infiltrate various organizations, playing their leaders against one another for his own gain. With a dangerous conspiracy brewing in the Forbidden City itself, however, he is forced to choose sides and decide what is most important to him: friendship, fortune, or freedom.   Supernatural occurrences, daring escapades, and moments of deep introspection abound as Trinket struggles to navigate the perilous maze his life has become.

This novel is like a gemstone: bright, alluring, and many faceted.  At times it may seem somewhat simple on the surface, but looking closer reveals new depths and multiple layers.  Full of intrigue, action, horror, and even laughs, The Deer and the Cauldron mirrors not only the complexities of its setting, but those of the China the author himself knew during the Communist revolution. By blending together history, fantasy, realism, humor, and subtle political commentary, Yong not only beautifully captures these social intricacies but also creates a narrative that is as thoroughly engaging as it is unapologetically unique.

Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel

Magical realism related to food has almost become a movement in itself, with novels like Aimee Bender’s The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, Joanne Harris’ Chocolat, and Sarah Addison Allen’s Garden Spells all finding their places in readers’ hearts.  Originally published in 1992, Like Water for Chocolate helped create this fascinating trend, and it has become something of a modern classic in the fantasy genre.  

The narrative centers around Tita de la Garza, a mid-twentieth century Mexican woman possessing deep sensitivity, a strong will, and a special talent for cooking.  Born prematurely, Tita arrived in her family’s kitchen, tears already in her eyes.  It is in that room where she spends most of her childhood, being nurtured and taught by the elderly cook, Nacha.  The relationship that flourishes between Tita and her caregiver is a special gift, as it provides the girl not only with the compassion and support her own mother denies, but also with a passion and skill for creating incredible, mouth-watering dishes.  At Nacha’s side, Tita learns the secrets of life and cookery, but she also learns one terrible fact: thanks to a family tradition, she is destined never to have love, marriage, or a child of her own.  Her fate, rather, is to care for her tyrannical widowed mother, Mama Elena, until the day the older woman dies.  With a vibrant, independent spirit, sixteen-year-old Tita flouts this rule, falling deeply in love with a man named Pedro who asks for, and is denied, her hand in marriage.  Undaunted, the young man agrees to wed one of Tita’s older sisters, Rosaura, instead, as he believes this to be the only way he can be close to the woman he loves.  Thus begins a life-long struggle between freedom and tradition, love and duty, which is peppered throughout with supernatural events and delicious cuisine.  So great is her skill in cooking that the meals Tita prepares take on magical qualities all their own, reflecting and amplifying her emotions upon everyone who enjoys them.  Controlled and confined for much of her existence, food becomes her outlet for all the things she cannot say or do.  The narrative itself echoes this, by turns as spicy, sweet, and bitter as the flavors Tita combines.  At its heart, this is as much a tale about how important the simple things, like a good meal, can be as it is a story about a woman determined to be her own person and choose her own fate.

Cuisine is fundamental to this novel, with recipes woven throughout the narrative, but that is only a part of its charm.  In the English translation, the language is beautiful in its simplicity.  The characters often reveal hidden depths, especially as Tita grows up and is able to better understand the people around her.  Heartfelt in its joys and sorrows, Like Water for Chocolate glows with cultural flavor and a sense of wonder.  It’s a feast for the spirit, and like an exquisite meal, it never fails to surprise those who enjoy it.

The City of Brass by S. A. Chakraborty

When I first read this novel, I found the early chapters enjoyable and engaging, but felt the story was no more than a typical, if especially well-written, work of mythic fiction.  The deeper I got into the narrative, however, the more wrong I was proven.  The City of Brass is anything but ordinary. While basing her work in Middle-Eastern lore and history, Chakraborty nonetheless manages to create a setting and story that are both wonderfully unique. Lush, detailed, and bursting with magic and intrigue, this book spans the lines between several sub-genres of fantasy without ever losing its balance.  

Beginning in eighteenth-century Egypt, the narrative follows a quick-witted antiheroine. Nahri doesn’t live by the rules of her society.  She doesn’t believe in magic or fate or even religion.  Orphaned for most of her life, survival has required her to become a con artist and a thief.  As a result, she is practical and pragmatic, a realist who has never even considered donning rose-colored glasses, and the last person who would ever expect anything supernatural to occur. Which, of course, means that it does, but the way in which it is handled is intricate and interesting enough not to feel trite. When Nahri’s latest con—a ceremony she is pretending to perform and doesn’t believe in even slightly—goes awry, and the cynical young woman finds herself face to face with a Daeva.  Magical beings, it transpires, are real after all, and this one is furious.  To both of their dismay, he’s also bound to Nahri, who soon realizes that he has an agenda of his own.  In return for rescuing her (and refraining from killing her himself) Dara, the Daeva warrior Nahri accidentally summoned, wants her to pull of the biggest con of her life: pretending to be the half-human heir to the throne of his people.  Worse still, she soon realizes that Dara, whose mentality sometimes seems a little less-than-stable, actually believes she may be exactly who he claims.  He has something planned, and his intentions may not be in her best interest.  Dragged unwillingly into a strange world of court intrigue, danger, social upheaval, and magic, Nahri quickly discovers that some things remain familiar.  People are ruled by prejudices, the strong prey on the weak, and she can’t fully trust anyone.  The stakes, however, are higher than ever, and Nahri will need all of her wits, cunning, and audacity if she wants to survive.

This novel was thoroughly enjoyable, and in fact prompted me to buy the following books in the trilogy as they became available. Chakraborty’s style is lyrical, her world building is superb, her plot is intricate, and her characters are well-developed.  She not only frames unfamiliar words and ideas is easily-comprehensible contexts, but weaves those explanations smoothly into the narrative. The culture, mythology, and history surrounding her tale are all carefully researched, but the tale itself is nonetheless unique. What begins feeling like a fairly ordinary mythic fiction novel will pleasantly exceed readers’ expectations.

So, while we, as fantasy readers, love the works of authors like J. R. R. Tolkien, Marion Zimmer Bradley, and Charles de Lint, there is also a plethora of other enchanting books to enjoy.  Exploring magical realism and mythic fiction based in cultures and folklore from all around the globe ensures that our to-read lists will always hold something unexpected and exciting to surprise us.  So, if you’re starting to feel like you’re in a bit of a reading rut, or if you’re simply looking to expand your horizons, open up new realms of imagination by opening up one of the novels above.  Who knows see where it will lead you?  You may just discover a new favorite to add to your bookshelf.  Happy reading!

[vroenis]

Uncharted 4: An Era’s End

It’s recently come to light that game developer Naughty Dog has been subjecting its employees to crunch; the practice of overworking and underpaying staff in order to meet deadlines. This is not unique to Naughty Dog, nor to their current project pending release later this year, The Last Of US 2. Reports suggest that crunch has been endemic in the working culture of Naughty Dog for some time and this is now no surprise to us as such reports continue to surface about studio after studio, most in the corporately structured, premium funded and managed space we call “triple A” or AAA, but many smaller studios and independent spaces also. Several senior and long-tenured creatives have left Naughty Dog quite recently, and some may have been leaving earlier than those that have been reported during what’s turning out to be a turbulent development cycle for The Last Of Us 2.

Each month, as part of the paid subscription to the Playstation Plus online service, Sony offers a small selection of games. For April, one of them was Naughty Dog’s Uncharted 4: A Thief’s End, from which I derived my title. Not only am I here to suggest the studio’s troubles may have begun during the development of this game, first released back in 2016, but the title may have been one of the first significant indications that the book was closing on AAA development as we know it. I appreciate there have been many good voices shouting from the rooftops about the how unsustainable it’s been from before then, but the Naughty Dog for a long time seemed like a light in the dark, signalling that a big studio could still produce good product under strong leadership.

I feel that Uncharted 4 rather than The Last Of Us 2 is the real light, and instead of a light-house, it turned out to be a signal-fire warning that even then the composure of Naughty Dog was an illusion.

This piece is going to contain significant spoilers for Uncharted 4. It’s also not investigative - I just played it for the first time, completed it and I have some thoughts about it; these are my thoughts.

I didn’t like the third game at all. I took nothing away from it. I’ll never play it again as there’s nothing I want to relive from it, so I’d better look up the wiki on what happened in it... well that didn’t help at all as I don’t remember playing any of that, it was so unmemorable. I remember the wandering around in the desert bit and then some shooting in the desert which was all pointless. There were also some puzzles with shadow puppets that were almost good but so short and pointless, those two things sum up my feelings about the third game entirely.

What a way to start.

I’ve replayed the first and second games once each, so I’ve played those each twice thru and have decided that the first game is overlong and poorly paced, and the second game is the best and probably two-thirds good. Honestly, Elena should drop the Drakes in the ocean, run-off with Chloe and keep in touch with Sully because those are the only three characters with any depth and meaning. Let’s roll-back a bit.

I get that Nathan’s supposed to be a charming, happy-go-lucky character and for the most part, it works. Maybe I’m just getting too old for it or it’s wearing too thin. I really think the third game was completely unnecessary. When I review my notes on the fourth game, I think about the emotional quandary it attempts to set up i.e., ultimately that Nathan should be more honest with Elena - spoiler; he isn’t, but don’t worry it all works out *SPIT* - this was already a problem I was ready to face at the end of the second game. Given my feelings on the third game, I’d have much preferred a simple trilogy and conclusion that faced that emotional brunt to wrap things up. Naturally of-course, that’s not how money-spinners work.

If Uncharted 4 doesn’t spend time on Elena, who does it spend time on? Nathan has a brother! To be fair, I love Troy Baker as a voice actor and if there’s one thing that is consistent in Naughty Dog games, it’s excellent voice acting. I don’t know if I’m now biased after seeing so much of Nolan North and Troy Baker on YouTube outside of their VO talent work, but they’re wonderful people and their professional work is always great. The supporting cast is always great, too - so too the villains even if the narrative arcs are always completely absurd. I know these are always a bit of a lark, you can’t take them too seriously so I can’t hold Uncharted up to Kentucky Route Zero (got my mention in) and shake them comparatively, that’s not fair. It’s OK to have an excuse for a romp even if it does wear on a bit over time.

The problems I have with Uncharted 4 specifically are things like the level and environmental design. I’ve never gotten lost in this franchise up until now when it happened in almost every level... several times. I simply didn’t know where to go. There would be absolutely no clear indication of where to go and no assists, no subtle environmental guide and no camera nudges to help. There is a timer that eventually tells the player where to go and at times, this is tied to deaths so at one point I just threw Nathan off cliffs repeatedly to respawn until the hint appeared. This is unquestionably stupid design. I began to wonder if this was due to criticism that previous games had too much hand-holding, but when the UI assist was finally given and I made my way to the next check-point, I would *never* have found it under normal exploratory gameplay.

This remained true during several moments of scripted action sequences, some including during combat which brings up something else I now remember about the third game. I still couldn’t tell you when it was other than I didn’t know where to go and it was stupid, so there you have it. Maybe the third game was the real signal fire in my metaphor, who knows. In any case, constantly reverting to check-points and having to repeat, not understanding why you’re failing when the game isn’t telegraphing what you need for a success state in a scripted sequence is an exercise in frustration I’m not willing to ever repeat. While I’m not a souls-like player, I completely appreciate the admiration and respect for those games because they have rules that are clear to parse. Video games are *all about* providing feedback to the player. I’m not saying it’s easy, it is an incredibly difficult thing to achieve but it is literally the job you set out to do, it is the only vehicle you have to convey the lofty emotions you want to communicate to your audience.

And then there’s the driving. Naughty Dog. Do not put driving in your games. This is something you’re not able to do.

I don’t want to bash the driving so hard because at this point I feel like it may have been bolted on without time to make it stick correctly. This is the first game in the title where the hot-zones for interactions weren’t quite right. Where I bugged out of animations and had check-points or re-spawns instanced or loaded. Where I glitched out and fell off things, where I had to walk back and forth in-front of things to make buttons appear. The edges of that Naughty Dog polish were fraying. I’d attempt to do a thing and it just wouldn’t work, I’d fall to my death. I’d attempt to do the same thing the same way and it would work. Again this is dredging up more nondescript memories of the third game so I’m beginning to have my suspicions about the working environment there and when in the timeline things started getting bad - but cameras and jumping distances got really difficult to judge. One gap at one time would be fine to jump, then another would have you plunge to your death, and they’d be inconsistent to read or judge. These were not frequent, as with the third game, almost as if the artists and level designers were given time to adjust lighting and camera geometry tracking and control mapping as much as possible but just couldn’t get to them all. But throughout the games, it creeps in more and more.

I’d talk about combat - it’s functional, but it’s not interesting. These games don’t add anything interesting to the genre or video games in general. I play the games on easy because I don’t need to prolong the experience, I don’t actually have the physical time - if I could play the games without combat, I would. There are other games to play if I want dexterity challenges which I do engage in, Uncharted isn’t one of them. Even in 2016 I’m not entirely sure this would have turned heads. I realise I’m playing this a full four years later, but it’s hard to think of the sum-total of this game’s parts and see it as relevant...

But you know what? Uncharted 4 visually looks immaculate. Outside of the voice-acting and sound design, without question, the highest priority has been given to the visual fidelity of this game inclusive of the animations. So much has been invested in how the tech works, to the abandonment of everything else, I’d say the for example, the driving suffered the most, level design next, then interaction scripting. The attention to detail in the environments is stupendous...

...yet it’s all hollow. You know what? I don’t care about pirates and adventures anymore. Whatever. By the fourth game, I don’t care. I totally get that the game’s not for me but I played it and I’m writing how I feel about it. You’re telling me a story about a guy who met the person of his dreams and marries, then his brother turns up and he can’t be honest to his wife? Meow meow meow it’s all for the sake of drama so we skip over all the details but the contrivance is too much. You want me to accept these things on face value, then on face value, I say Nathan and his brother can go get fucked.

I took particular issue with the comically brief relationship discussion Elena and Nathan have after she saves him and they set off together in which she concludes she’s with him “for better or for worse”, which from memory the game chapter is titled after. Now either the character genuinely believes she owes him under the sanctity of nuptial obligation or she’s using it as a justification of such. This is a wholly unsatisfying discussion for me was when I finally checked out of this game - sure I should have done so hours before but this was the last straw and the indication that I am definitely too old for this shit - but this is a horrifying and stupid message to be spouting. Elena don’t owe anyone shit. Married or not, she’s free to save Nathan if she wants to, for any reason, but she’s certainly not obliged to. I despise this massive chunk of traditionalist patriarchy smashed into her character and the narrative, even if it is “well it’s just about her character” yea great, so that just re-enforces her as a loyal dog-trophy for the main character in the on-going male power-fantasy shenanigans shit-train. Nathan’s behaviour isn’t exactly selfish but it’s certainly not adult or considerate. He behaves like a child not taking on an appropriate level of responsibility. Others around him, being Elena and Sully, continuously bail him out - literally saving his life while endangering their own, and he continues to behave like a manchild that neither acknowledges their physical and emotional labour nor does he grow and evolve as an individual. What a fucker. Does he ever sort his shit out, ask Elena what she wants to do for a career and support whatever the fuck she wants to do with her life? Of-course the fuck he doesn’t. Know why? Because he’s a literal man-baby. And his brother is too. But that’s OK cos  he’s a fucken jock-hero and a funny guy so as long as we can all laugh about it and the narrative says-so and it all works out in the end and he gets the girl and she ends-up supporting his career anyway, it’s aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall fine.

Nathan should have died and Elena shouldn’t have given a fuck.

I know I know, it’s not that serious. Look I’ve been thru some shit, alright? I can see it both ways. Sometimes you don’t think about stupid shit that deep and sometimes you do. Most of the time, I do, and most of the time, I take it to the nth degree, so yea, shit like that gets to me. I call it bad writing, so no, I don’t like the story. At all. Nathan’s supposed to be flawed but nothing ever costs him. When people make mistakes in life, those mistakes cost. The unfortunately thing is the cost is most often paid by the others around them, and sometimes they themselves never realise it. I don’t like stories where there’s a fuckhead at the centre but everyone still stays happy. Nathan seems to have been given a lesson, but I don’t think he earned it. This is why y’all watch Game of Thrones and are surprised when characters die because you keep consuming narratives with no stakes, and GoT is *still* only middling stuff.

Anyway.

How could Elena’s character have been given more attention? Uncharted 4 isn’t all bad. The most valuable thing Naughty Dog achieved was the recreation of real domestic spaces; the Drake households. Twice, we’re given time and space and encouraged to explore them without being funnelled by level design, events, NPC shepherding or audio cues. Rooms and the objects that fill them are meticulously and beautifully created, and they're given life and purpose in a way that has meaning far beyond all the pirate nonsense that while almost as equally beautiful, is completely vacuous.

Putting on Elena’s vinyl record as her daughter Cassie was the only time I enjoyed the music in the game, and it was a great call-back to Nathan having done the same thing in their house much earlier. Sure, there’s the Drake theme that repeats ad nauseam throughout the series but otherwise the soundtrack is bland and unremarkable adventuring fare. It contributes more to the feeling of this game being out of touch, contrasted to something like Control which certainly has a completely different setting, sure - but that’s part of it, so that affords the creative team room for more modular synths and drones and to have a distinct sound.

Walking thru those houses, first as Nathan but really as the player repositioning themselves from adventurer to ordinary life-living person in a domestic setting, and then as Cassie - daughter of these two amazing characters in an equalling urbane setting yet filled with wonderful objects, made up the most fascinating and enjoyable moments of the game for me. The mess of each room gave the houses the perfect lived-in feel to a degree that most other games struggle to achieve, probably due to how much effort it takes to get that much geometry mapped in - Giant Sparrow’s What Became of Edith Finch is probably one of the few games that has come close. The difference between the tropical islands, decaying pirate mansions and the domestic Drake residences is that the houses felt like everything in there felt like it meant something and was in there for a reason, like it had been part of something. I don’t mean that just for the objects that were intrinsically tied to implicit narrative beats like collectables or even items from countries where Uncharted 4 or prior games are set, but also things like towels, washing baskets, plates and dishes, books and picture frames, shampoo bottles, food - the detail in the fridges! That you can feed Cassie’s dog, Vicky is the most meaningful interaction of the game - by the way, the second most meaningful set of interactions is buying an apple in the market in Madagascar then playing with lemur and letting it take the apple.

Back to the houses, I’m disappointed we never got to walk through one of them as Elena. Now that the core of the franchise is wrapped, I’m left with the impression that she’s the most important character in the series and she’s left woefully under-served. This is a very me thing, and unsurprising. I doubt anyone else cares enough about writing and character to have thoughts like this. They’re into Uncharted for the adventuring and the shooting, but as soon as you present me the opportunity for character drama and you want to have a red-hot go at it, I’m here to set aside the rest of that guff and go for it. The running and jumping and shooting never changes, and I’m here to say that the puzzling could have stepped up orders of magnitude that Naughty Dog never committed to - Crystal Dynamics did far better with Rise Of The Romb Raider, and while the puzzling was never really difficult, the way I described it to a friend was to liken the puzzles to desk toys; not intended to be too challenging, but more satisfying in their tactile nature. I feel Fireproof’s The Room series for iOS and Android are great examples of providing similar sensations.

I don’t mind a game mostly about shenanigans, I just don’t want it centred around a character that won’t learn, or who gets off cheaply. Elena is infinitely more interesting to me - her concerns, her desires - Chloe too, for that matter, and I absolutely am not above making the joke about shipping them as I’m sure thousands have before me (no I won’t write a fanfic about them, I’m sure there are plenty around).

I didn’t play the first The Last of Us. There was a horrifically jarring moment when the game felt it was over-playing its sense of cinema to me, then had a sudden camera zoom transition onto I think the first combat gameplay and I checked out. The tone of that game is trying to telegraph TAKE ME SERIOUSLY and I feel all I’m going to do is read tonally similar things to what I have here but far worse. Also post-apocalypse is easy pickings for bad writing, especially by video games narrative writers, I just don’t have the patience. I’m pleased that there’s lesbian representation in the second game but I’m not sure it’ll be handled with sensitivity. While I’m in no way invested in the game as a product, I continue to be concerned for the welfare of the employees at Naughty Dog, and all game developers everywhere, as always. It is a hugely unregulated industry that is in the process of slow collapse, and now more than ever do we need reform and cultural change.

And in the midst of that, one day we’ll get a decent game that’s about domestic partnerships and wonderful emotional relationships with stunning visual fidelity; maybe it’ll have running and jumping and shooting and maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll end sadly and maybe it’ll end happily but hopefully it’ll be well-written. 

Here’s to Elena.

[how2to18]

WE KNOW HOW those who practice, publish, and promote literary translation think of ourselves: some incredibly tiny fraction of books published in the United States are literary translations (surely far, far less than the “three percent” statistic we often cite), and they are mostly done by small indies whose resources are dwarfed by what a major commercial publisher would spend on any mid-list American author. In spite of that, we persist, because translation is a life-enriching opportunity to enter a community of peers and realize a true literary vocation. As we never get tired of saying, translation is the closest form of reading, and it gives you all the thrills of creativity without the terror of the blank page. Not only that, but we in the translation scene are at the vanguard of those who are rejuvenating the English language and the American imagination, and our work will serve poets and politicians alike for years and years to come.

That’s a largely generalized but probably not overly cartoonish summary of prevailing sentiments in the translation community — but what does the rest of the American literary field think of translation? What do those authors who do not have any strong interest in, affinity for, or history with translation think about it as a practice, and (dare I say) an art form?

Answers of a sort are provided in Crossing Borders, a collection of essays on literary translation as well as short stories that prominently feature the practice. Let’s deal with the fiction first. Its authors range from celebrated, like Joyce Carol Oates and Lydia Davis, to the lesser known. (Notably, just one of the creative writers here is a foreigner that has been translated into English.) Although a few of these writers have translated, most of the fiction contributors have no real experience with the practice.

What emerges in the fictional contributions to Crossing Borders is a vision of the English-language translator as an individual who engages with a foreignness that is largely defined by places over which the US psyche experiences guilt. That is, by places in which we’ve fought hot wars or have damaged in our cultural battles, mostly in Eastern Europe and Southeast Asia. A number of these stories revolve around an interpreter who makes communication possible either with inhabitants of some vague Eastern European locations or with traumatized immigrants from these regions to the United States. Other fictional translators broker relationships between the Anglosphere and Southeast Asian nations like Cambodia that have been the field of battle in the United States’s postcolonial wars. In the stories, the translator/interpreter figures are generally of two kinds: they either facilitate communications for governmental interests abroad or they’re American loners, self-employed or finding a home of sorts in the academy.

This is all to say that the composite picture of the field that emerges in Crossing Borders is not one that I think many in literary translation would find accurate. While it is of course true that our nation’s foreign policy, past and present, often impinges on which regions of the world Americans find literarily fascinating, that dynamic is changing. Many other factors now come into play. Chief among them are the subsidies provided by foreign governments in an ever-expanding game of cultural imperialism. International literary festivals and prizes have become so powerful as to have rocketed a nation like South Korea to the center of the translation world in under a decade — with the help of the more quotidian practice of government bureaucrats arranging editor tours and doling out funds. And as the immense success of authors like the Finnish Sofi Oksanen, Norwegian Karl Ove Knausgaard, and Italian Elena Ferrante demonstrate, the forces of international media, conglomerated publishing, and national bookselling now have very much to say about what foreign people and places occupy the interest of American readers.

Nor are the book’s fictional depictions of literary translators especially flattering. The protagonists come off as sad, occasionally weird individuals without much going on, the kind of people who are incapable of understanding why they’re so socially maladroit. While it’s definitely true that translation tends to be done by those with an eccentric and independent bent to their personalities, the translators I know have a diverse array of interests and large and active social communities. They have lots of friends and professional peers, are often raising families, and would be at home among virtually any group of young professionals. I don’t see them as the awkward, isolated misfits that predominate in Crossing Borders — they’re fun-loving, charismatic, sophisticated, and plain cool. Perhaps the people we see in Crossing Borders are more typical of the translation community as it existed 30 to 40 years ago.

What of the literary textures of these stories, the way they bring to life exotic locales and languages? Tellingly, the only piece of fiction that seemed to make deep and integrated use of the particular history behind its setting was Svetlana Velmar-Janković’s “Sima Street,” which is also the only story in this collection that is translated from a foreign language into English. Joyce Carol Oates’s “The Translation” is also strong; there is a degree of emotional depth to its lead characters, and something real is at stake. But for the most part the stories here felt quite domestic — recognizably American people and arcs transplanted to a foreign location, with a little local color but not much more to set them apart.

One other exception here is Lydia Davis’s contribution, which is characteristically hybrid in its form (one could easily argue for its inclusion as an essay). Posed as a lesson in the French language, it elegantly inculcates in the reader an intense desire to know what happened to “le fermier” — we suspect it may have something to do with the text’s final words, “le meutre” (also its title). In its coy whimsicality and its subversive deployment of linguistic principles, it becomes — in just over six pages — a text that can easily support many readings and ideas. I don’t know exactly where it takes place, but it could be France (there’s something undeniably French to it), or maybe a Calvinoesque invisible France of Davis’s imagination. Similarly, Norman Lavers’s contribution — focusing on a Southeast Asian translator who is essentially rewriting Hamlet and transforming its genre in order to make it comprehensible to her culture — while perhaps not entirely successful as a story, has the benefit of entwining translation more deeply with its protagonist’s psychology and locale, while also thinking about the practice in more interesting ways.

If the fiction in Crossing Borders strikes this reader as a somewhat inaccurate representation of the discipline, the essays are pleasingly different. All written by veteran translators who are greatly esteemed in their field, they present a broad range of translation’s possibilities. The contribution of the late Chana Bloch explores the immense joys and challenges that come with rendering biblical writing, which is among the most formally difficult — and highly scrutinized — translation work available. Primo Levi’s short piece offers poetic commonplaces about the practice; although they won’t break new ground for those who know the field, they are eloquent and rousing. The essay from late Oulipian Harry Mathews strikes a defiant note by inviting translators to drag the art away from ideas of fidelity toward which a translator like Bloch strives; Mathews instead offers a vision of translation as a creative practice that hews closer to what one might call “equivalences” — something like the “translation” that happens when a book becomes a movie. And Michael Scammell’s chronicle of working with the legendarily irascible Vladimir Nabokov as a young man is a beautifully written, thickly descriptive look at the real life of a translator.

That said, there is something dated about the essays too. One can’t help but wonder what Crossing Borders might have looked like with younger, more international names gracing its table of contents. The most interesting people in translation are often young, and they aren’t all American. In recent years, many people under 40 — some even under 30 — have been directly responsible for translating, publishing, and championing authors who have taken the world’s most prestigious literary prizes. And with many of the world’s great writers now regularly touring, and living in, the United States — to say nothing of the translators who regularly spend years abroad — the world literary community is more tightly knit than ever. Any book that aspires to take stock of what is happening in translation right now should reflect these realities in its pages. A much more broadly based and up-to-date version of this collection could make a wonderful contribution to the field of literary translation. I’d love to see Crossing Borders 2.0.

¤

Veronica Scott Esposito is the author of four books, including The Doubles and The Surrender. Her writing has appeared in publications including The New York Times, the Times Literary Supplement, The White Review, and Music & Literature. She is a contributing editor with BOMB magazine, a senior editor at Two Lines Press, and edits The Quarterly Conversation, a journal of book reviews and essays.

The post All the Thrills Without the Terror: On “Crossing Borders: Stories and Essays about Translation” appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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[spryfilm]

“Wonder Woman” (2017)

Thriller/Action

Running Time: 141 minutes

Written by: Allan Heinberg

Directed by: Patty Jenkins,

Featuring: Gal Gadot, Chris Pine, Robin Wright, Danny Huston, David Thewlis, Connie Nielsen and Elena Anaya

Diana Prince: “The gods made the Amazons to restore peace to the world, and it’s what I’m going to do.”

Possibly one of the most anticipated super hero movies in recent history has arrived in the form of the Patty Jenkins directed, Gal Gadot starring “Wonder Woman” (2017), about an Amazonian warrior who after years of training as well as shunning the world of ‘man’ is drawn into World War I by her sometime beau Steve Trevor. If you have been following Wonder Woman’s journey to the big screen you will know that she first appeared in the terrible Zack Snyder directed “Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice” (2016) where she stole the show with her kick ass attitude as well as the fact she didn’t defer or wait for the boys – she got on with showing off almost all of her tools, the shield, the sword, the lasso, those bracelet’s and of course her battle hardiness. Now as every good super hero as well as possible new franchise needs is an origin story, not just any story but a great one – something Warner Bros./DC has finally learnt from Marvel. As with any good origin story this one is built around a solid character, with some moral unrest as well as a few friends to help out where needed. What also helps is a director that can handle a huge budget as well as the expectations from the studio and audience alike. What we get is a very mixed bag with a film that starts strong then plot contrivances combined a with a very weak as well as confusing third act lets this film down but is still a great ride.

Before she was Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot), she was Diana, princess of the Amazons, trained to be an unconquerable warrior. Raised on a sheltered island paradise, Diana meets an American pilot (Chris Pine) who tells her about the massive conflict that’s raging in the outside world. Convinced that she can stop the threat, Diana leaves her home for the first time. Fighting alongside men in a war to end all wars, she finally discovers her full powers and true destiny.

For me the first question that had to be answered was all to do with the director, that is, the hiring of a relative newcomer to direct what is potentially the blockbuster of the year as well the re-launching after a much publicized failure (thanks Zack Snyder) in 2016. I am happy to say that Patty Jenkins has done an outstanding job given all the inherent limitations as well as having a huge studio hovering in the background. It has been pretty obvious in the press as well as the marketing that Jenkins and star Gal Gadot have been on the same page right from the jump. Seeing a hero that is based in Greek mythology brought to life in three dimensions as well as it being done so competently is a real gift for audiences, one I hope they embrace with open arms. This film was always going to be directed by a woman, Warner Bros. had to beat Marvel at something and if they are unable to do so with the product or success, they at least could be first at something – having the first female led superhero movie as well as having a woman direct what is probably one of the largest budgeted superhero movie’s is a start. I think it is unfortunate that we do live in an age where this is seen as a step forward but women have been systemically cut out of this process.

The next step to get right was the casting and when Gal Gadot was cast as Wonder Woman for her debut many people had no clue who she was. However with a super strong marketing campaign as well as a few “Fast and Furious” films under her belt the public quickly became aware who was playing the Amazonian Princess – in fact this is a role if handled correctly could be the answer for Warner Bros. to have a face for the DC Universe that is 100% unique as well as being one of the three pillars of the DC Universe – giving those tired old warhorses Batman and Superman a well deserved break – is it me or are those two so last century. Gadot has embraced this character so well that she shines onscreen and even though the story may seem a little rehearsed, overblown and at times just like any other superhero origin, particularly a DC one – how can they still not get their endings right? Have you seen “Guardian’s of the Galaxy: Volume 2” (2017)? She seems above it all and able to handle anything.

The other two standouts for me are Chris Pine (Steve Trevor) and Lucy Davis (Etta Candy) – I was not sure how I would feel about seeing these two characters brought to life but like all great actors Pine and Davis are fully invested. I was invigorated to see Chris Pine take this role, as was it a sidekick role that has the job of showing Diana the ropes, so to speak. But Pine with his own franchise and after his own turn in last years excellent “Hell or High Water” (2016) it is obvious that this role required something special and real, so Pine is your man. After years of playing characters such as Dawn in the original “The Office” (2001 – 2003), Dianne in “Shaun of the Dead” (2004) and Emily in “Maron” (2015 – 2016) it is deserving she play Wonder Woman’s number 2 in the amazing Etta Candy – straight from the comics, she plays her wonderfully and threatens to steal the movie.

It was with some relief when I found the story shifting from Paradise Island to the ‘modern’ world that this was going to be set during World War I. The relief came from the fact that we were not going to be subjected to World War II and all the tropes that go along with it. In my mind it always seems to be a lazy way to move the plot as well as establishing a narrative as almost any fantasy or comic book film will use the Nazis as the ‘bad guys’ thereby negating the need to build three dimensional antagonists. With “Wonder Woman” however there was a need to establish a villain, the standout being Elena Anaya as Dr. Poison who I found to be extremely compelling and original, for a comic book villain that is. Unfortuabltey the same cannot be said of Danny Hustons whose idea of seeming evil is ywllng, a lot, as well as having no clue about what his motivations are, expet he is bad and just has to kill everyone else – really? That’s a villain in 2017, all he was missing was a moustache to twirl. However and no spoilers give it was about to get worse.

Once again we see with these high priced and still overblown superhero movies a massive reliance on CGI, which of course is the case with “Wonder Woman”, the difference with the better films is that this use of special effects is combined with great characters as well as interesting action moments that serve as one scene or moment. It could be with Jenkins background in independent movies, she directed Charlize Theron to a best actress Oscar for her only previous movie the serial killer biography “Monster” (2003), that she is able to take character first building around that to give a complete moment. Of course there are still third act issues with the big showdown that we have come to expect, but it is saved by the Gadot doing what she does best in with the character that is to stand up and not look back.

Unfortunately it has to be said the entire movie is ultimately let down by the ending as well as a final battle which I thought had ended with something akin to previous Marvel film. I also thought it was going to be a smarter ending which was hinted at in regard to the war, our place as humans in conflict and the fact that there is no easy answer. Boy was I ever wrong, it the film took a left turn, and suddenly I felt I was back at the end of “Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice” – what a nightmare, please get me out. It was such a shame to see a film let me down this much.

I will not go into any real plot details as this movie is better left as a surprise even though the trailers have given away a few of the key points which is par for the course these days but this is a movie definitely worth seeing on the big screen and for my mind without a second watch is still in the top 15 comic book films produced to date. It is a true relasation of a property (again with a painful third act) that has gone through some turmoil over the past ten years with issues from medium, to directors, to writers to who would play the main part. But “Wonder Woman” is a fantastic watch for all ages and both genders, you should go and see. We should be thankful to have a Wonder Woman finally come to life.

“Wonder Woman” is out now only in cinemas.

Film review: “Wonder Woman” (2017) “Wonder Woman” (2017) Thriller/Action Running Time: 141 minutes Written by: Allan Heinberg Directed by: Patty Jenkins,