#i know this is just joyce under the influence of magics but like ...

[marigoldbaker]

this really reads so easily as joyce's latent bigotry towards her queer daughter coming out in a way that the show will, of course, write off later.

[goodluckclove]

"literary junk food" reminder?

mm FUCK YOU'RE RIGHT.

Okay so like. I'm calmer now. I woke up, made a green tea, and had my daily Weekend Wife Look (That's when I look at my wife while they're still sleeping and think about how much I like my wife). But yes, I saw something on the internet that upset me yesterday and for some reason I've decided I need to talk about it.

Under the read more, though. I got. Rambly.

First off I should clarify a few things, as this is something I can see a certain type of person using as a way to dub me "anti-intellectual". I am not an anti-intellectual. I consider myself decently intelligent and above the norm in terms of the amount and variety of literature I've read. I won't call myself well-read because that's another label I do think is mostly bullshit. But I've read a lot of the "Smart Person" authors like Kafka and Vonnegut and Camus and Calvino. I tried reading James Joyce's Ulysses like three times and it sounds like something I'd love, but for some reason I can never get past the first 60 pages. I can enjoy shit like Naked Lunch and The Sound and the Fury fine but Joyce consistently exhausts me with his particular brand of Irish Incoherence.

What I mean to say is that I regularly enjoy the type of books - and culture as a whole, really - that on several occasions forced me into conversation with A Certain Type of Person. The kind of person who treats their tastes in art as a moral virtue. Who thinks the failings of society are at least partially due to the fact that not enough people have read and appreciated "The Classics". I actually was pushed towards dropping out of college by an interaction I had with a guy who was in the Master's program I was working towards. He saw I was reading J.D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey (I like it! I wish Salinger wrote more women) and took it as an opportunity to start raving about his opinions on Catcher in the Rye, a completely separate book I did not bring up at all.

People who do this make me unreasonably angry.

So the thing I saw was using "literary junk food" to talk about people who only read Young Adult fiction. I have so many issues with this that I don't know where to start. Because it plays into a bigger issue, I think. I see people on Youtube talk about the BookTok influencers who say they only read the dialogue in their books, or who complain about how a book has "so much text". They scoff at these people. Laugh at their inability to properly appreciate literature. These people are the problem.

And like. No? No. No, they're not. Some of them might be a reflection of a problem, sure. If a person of a certain age genuinely struggles with a dense book of a certain length, or if they only read books far below their age level, that could be an issue. But it's 100% not an issue with the reader. Much like how in the rising rates of younger people who struggle with fundamental reading skills, we shouldn't blame or make fun of the fucking kids, you weirdos. What? What are you doing? That's so weird. Stop it.

Most people aren't born with an innate love of reading. There are so many factors that can make developing that kind of passion incredibly difficult. Maybe they didn't grow up in a house with books and they weren't read to as kids. Maybe they're dyslexic or something and the fonts of most paperbacks are legitimately difficult to read. Maybe they were never exposed to the kinds of genres and authors they'd really enjoy. Maybe they saw some stupid fucking argument on the internet (Audiobooks aren't real reading! YA and comics aren't real reading! Mmm paperbacks are soo much better than e-readers I just want to shove them in my mouth yummy yummy I am so cool and smart) and decided they'd rather stay away from all of that entirely.

"Oh," the strawman I invent for this hypothetical exclaims, "but the internet exists! You can just look up more appropriate books to read! There's no excuse!"

Hey, Scarecrow I Reanimated Through the Dark Magic of my Rage? Do me a favor and try what you just suggested. I Googled "books for people moving past YA" and found a few lists on the subject, and the books were mainly:

modern novels I haven't read and might be fine

way-old classics that seem thrown in so people would think there was "variety"

some wack shit i'm very confused why people would suggest to those branching out from YA (Dune? The Martian? That's crazy, right? That's crazy to me.)

I was overwhelmed. I imagine if someone was only exposed to YA and saw a bunch of lists like these they'd could easily be discouraged. That is, if they weren't already discouraged by the dipshits online implying they're wronging themselves by enjoying the books they enjoy.

The thing that pisses me off is that Those People who say that aren't entirely incorrect. If someone only consumes one type of art, they are denying themselves a bunch of styles and stories and perspectives that might profoundly change the way they look at the world and at themselves. This applies to the person who only reads dystopian trilogies and romantasy epics, and it also applies to the person who only reads fucking Tolstoy or whatever. It applies to me, as a majority of the fiction I read up until like five years ago was written by men during like the 40s-90's (I don't know why but that ended up being my Era of Choice).

Variety in art is cool and good. If someone feels like they don't have the option to explore different stories, that belief is the issue. The person is not the one at fault, even if their reasoning for not branching out is incorrect. Yes, there are more adult-orientated writers who aren't old white straight men. There are adult-orientated writers that might be more engaging then the ones from the 19th and early 20th century. Not every adult-orientated book is Ripe With Ideas and Philosophical Concepts. There are fiction books written for adults in mind that make their prose as accessible as their dialogue. There are nonfiction books, even, that are written by intelligent authorities with a genuine love for their subject that makes their writing super enjoyable to read and not at all like a textbook.

But also it's not a bad thing if your main genre is young adult fiction. My main genre is probably post-modernism. The only difference between us is that post-modernism sounds esoteric enough that a lot of people won't question it, where as a ton of people feel super comfortable assuming a YA book is lesser. These are usually the same people who assume young adults are inherently unable to grasp complex ideas.

I don't read a ton of YA. At the same time, I will never go as far as to claim the entire genre has nothing to offer adults, because that's an absolutely insane take. That's nonsense. I've read fucking picture books as an adult that touched my heart (Has anyone read The Dot by Peter H. Reynolds? Oh god I teared up.). Cynthia Voigt's book Homecoming was an early step in me realizing my mom was abusive. I'm pretty sure Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events played a huge part in my want to become a writer.

"But you moved on," the Scarecrow breathes, voice weakening as the dark magic seeps out from the thin veil of hay and burlap, "adults are supposed to move on and read Grown-Up books."

Yeah man, maybe. There's a lot of shit that adults should be able to do, and people are so satisfied with those milestones of Adult Development that they sometimes forget that age is not the only factor in those things happening. If other reading options aren't presented in a way that seems welcoming and engaging, what are they supposed to do? Just walk to a library and grab the most boring looking book because that might be their only frame of reference for a "grown-up" book? Slog through it like they're in high school again? All to feel worthy in the eyes of someone who publicly condescends what might be the only type of literature they've enjoyed and connected to so far?

Why? Why would they want do that?

Anyways I'm getting hungry and the scarecrow I enchanted has lost its sentience, so I'll cut it short. There are a lot of intellectual pursuits - brilliant artists in a variety of mediums - that I am consistently bummed out that people feel like they can't get into. But I also understand, because a lot of people who like Adult Books or Abstract Art or Improvisational Jazz or Experimental Theater tend to not like the art itself as much as they really enjoy being perceived as a person who likes those kinds of things. And ultimately that's - fine.

That's a fine way to live, Scarecrow Corpse. You're allowed to base a majority of your identity out of truly understanding Infinite Jest or Koyaanisqatsi or Derek Jarman's Blue. But like don't expect that to change or improve the lack of culture you claim to hate so much.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Thursday, May 16- Friday May 17 Part 1

Joyce: So Buffy, what are your plans today? Buffy: Oh, actually, Giles and I are gonna go to the magic shop for supplies for my new and improved training sessions. Joyce: Oh, that's great. Buffy: Oh, yeah, I'm actually-- Joyce: --You can take Dawn shopping for back to school supplies!

~~Real Me~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Stay(s) (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by localclownliv

Career Goals (Buffy, PG-13) by veronyxk84

whence comes solace (Anya/Spike, M) by mymeraki

Two monsters walk into a bar... (Crossover with Marvel, G) by Sadcatcall911

Devil's Playground - Opposites Attract (Multiple crossings, T) by Nosferatini

Warmed Blankets (Buffy/Spike, G) by MadeInGold

Now I Knew I Lost Her (Angel, T) by Cornerofmadness

The Golden-Haired Lady (Darla, Spike, NR) by Lizzie_queen_of_meigas

The Desert (Crossover with Witchblade, NR) by rhodrymavelyne

Coma (Buffy, Faith, T) by MadeInGold

Was it Just a Game to You? (Giles/Jenny, T) by Galeifer_4_real

Soft and Cute (Xander/Spike, G) by forsaken2003

Forced to Stay Awake (Maggie Walsh, Spike, M) by MadeInGold

Ты нравишься мне, когда ты в постели, (Russian language, Buffy/Angel, T) by B_E_S

He Brought Flowers (Buffy/Spike, G) by all choseny

Fractured Moonlight (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by VeroNyxK84

The value of knowledge (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Desicat

Impressive Skeletal Structure (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by ClowniestLivEver

The Fire We Make (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by all choseny

[Chaptered Fiction]

Dawn, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Angel, T) by MeTheMermaid

If My Heart Could Beat, Chapter 3 (Spike, Angel, G) by missrosehaven

Friendly Warning, Chapter 1 (Multiple crossings, NR) by rhodrymavelyne

Stupid Things, Chapter 1 (Multiple crossings, NR) by rhodrymavelyne

lost in this, but it feels like home, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Angel, E) by evesock

Lie to Me, Chapter 27 (Buffy/Spike, AO) by In Mortal

Dusk Rising, Chapter 45 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by HappyWhenItRains

Reclaimed, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Holly

Lightning in a Bottle, Chapter 12 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by violettathepiratequeen

Maclay Down, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Soulburnt

Waiting for You, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17 by honeygirl51885

Early One Morning, Chapter 43 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by all choseny

Guitar Villain, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by RavenLove12

Kiss Me Twice, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Geliot99

Something Lingers, Chapter 17 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by goodbyetoyou

Hand in Flightless Hand, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by tragic

A Ripple in Time, Chapter 32 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by CheekyKitten

The Neighbor's Point of View, Chapter 105 (Buffy/Spike, PG) by the_big_bad

Green Eyed Monster, Chapter 8 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Melme1325

Fixer Uppers, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Melme1325

Angel Doesn't Know, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by fortes775

Under the Influence, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Hostile17-1996

Secret Obsession, Chapter 24 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Maxine Eden

Incarnate, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Sigyn

Exquisite Chaos: Part 1, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) chapter by ClowniestLivEver

Deja Vu, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Spikelover4ever

Blood and Dust, Chapter 11 (Buffy/Spike, 18+) by Blackoberst

The Kitten That Killed Slayers, Chapter 11 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Desicat

I Do!, Chapter 27 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Dusty

What the Drabble? Vol. 2, Chapter 25 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by veronyxk84

Love Lives Here, Chapter 63 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Passion4Spike

Scattered Echoes: Second Generation, Chapter 24 (Ensemble, M) by Myrabeth

[Images, Audio & Video]

Banner/Poster:Gambling with the Enemy by veronyxk84

Artwork:Oz by samgiddings

Artwork:Sunday by aa-arttss

Artwork:Don’t mind me, I’m back with a new obsession. by lystacre

Artwork: Getting My Fill by yarboyandy

Gifset:LOVERS WALK by detectivedawnsummers

Gifset:BUFFY SUMMERS IN BAND CANDY by detectivedawnsummers

Gifset:4x20 | “The Yoko Factor” by clarkgriffon

Gifset:I could have anything. Anyone. Even you, Spike. by spikedaily

Video: Buffy the Vampire Slayer Book Palette by Vampyre Cosmetics

Video: BUFFY + FAITH | TOO SWEET by xxLowkeyTrashxx

Video: Buffy Summers | I can do it with a broken heart by True Hunter

Video: Buffy, The Vampire Slayer - Before I Fall (My 200th Live-Action Fan Music Video Anniversary Special) by Boo Harder

Video: DIY Buffy the Vampire Slayer Jacket + Stencil Tutorial by Rattus Rattus

[Reviews & Recaps]

Rewatcher's diary: Season 2, episodes 11 to 14 by jonaskoelker

As You Were by breezybeej

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER S4E17 “SUPERSTAR” REACTION by hani namu reacts

Buffy The Vampire Slayer 5x08 Shadow Reaction | First Time Watching by Jules Reacts

Buffy The Vampire Slayer | 1x6 "The Pack" | REACTION by Andres El Rey

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER - S7 EP 5 SELFLESS (2002) REACTION VIDEO AND REVIEW! FIRST TIME WATCHING! by Reel Reviews With Jen!

Once more with feeling - 5x17 Forever (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) by Nerd Subculture Podcast

Podcast: 2.1 When She Was Bad by Once More: A Rewatch Podcast

Publication: 20 Years Later, Angel’s Scorched-Earth Series Finale Is Still the Perfect Ending via Paste

[wiinevelvet]

A really long thought about Vecna's curse

Hi there,

Since we don’t have a lot of news concerning season 4, I try to entertain myself by making theories or character’s studies, and as always, I like to share it here.

Just a little disclaimer concerning this post: I don’t play d&d and don’t really know how the game works nor did I read any of the leaks concerning season 4, so view this as pure entertainment. (also if someone has already said something similar to this, I’m sorry I didn’t know.)

-

Not so long ago, I rethought about the Vecna’s curse episode and the fact that Vecna was once considered as one of the most powerful wizard in the d&d lore.

And probably like a lot of people, I immediately thought about Will and how he could have something to do with Vecna’s curse. Therefore, I ended up making some research and writing about it.

In order to fully comprehend all the things that I’m going to say, I’ll set up a brief reminder of who Vecna is and what’s important to know about him in d&d.

As you may know, Vecna was described as a powerful human wizard who became lich in the World of Greyhawk. However, his right hand man Kas betrayed him, which lead Vecna to end up destroyed where only his left hand and eye remained.

Both hand and eye becoming two powerful artifacts that can so be used by players in the game.

Both artifacts are very important and central to this theory, yet we’ll talk about them later.

First thing first, it’s interesting to clearly know what a lich is in fantasy.

“The Lich is, in literature and fantasy games, an imaginary creature, a dead wizard who maintains himself in a state of living dead thanks to his magical powers.”

“A living deadis, in popular culture, a being who’s dead but continues to come to life, whether under the influence of his own will or not. There are two main categories of living dead, the reanimated corpses and the spirits of dead people who manifest.”

[sources come from Wikipedia → it’s originally in French, and I’ve translated it.]

Now you’re probably wondering why did I put the definition of living-dead in this.

I’ll answer that I decided to put it in my post to underline the “reanimated corpses” part, which I think can bound Will to Vecna and bring a tiny parallel between the two.

In season one, Will is believed dead by the majority of the people of Hawkins (except for Joyce and Mike, and afterward the whole Party). He even had a funeral, which really points out to the fact that: Will is dead.

Although, at the end of the season he was rescued and therefore “came back to life” for all the people know. (those who weren’t concerned by the recent events)

We can then considered Will like a lich, since his d&d character is a wizard. This fact is important to support what I’m saying.(Consequently, the nickname ZombieBoy makes even more sens if we have all of that in mind).

Still, I’m not saying that Will can be seen as Vecna.

I believe that Will is under Vecna’s curse. And that he was always meant to have a strong link with the Upside Down.

Now, if we focus primarily on the two artifacts that once belonged to Vecna, we can potentially expect Will to clearly have powers in Season 4.

Among the two artifacts which hold some of the remain of Vecna’s powers: there’s the Hand which increases to 19 the strength of the player who uses it and immunizes him against magic projectiles. Then there’s the Eye, which provides the power of “true sight” [all of the names are literally translated from their French counterpart, because I’m French and a bit lazy sorry]

Concerning Will, the Eye will be the artifact that I’ll mainly talk about.

The Eye of Vecna is a sort of blackish or reddish stone which, in order to be used, must be placed in an empty eye socket of a humanoid creature. Its powers can thereby be controlled if the player knows how to use them, but they’ll still "slyly influence the holder". We speak of “domination”.

I’ve mentioned the color of the stone because as we know, the Mind Flayer is very often illustrated with reddish and blackish colors. Also, being in the form of a shadow it can easily be sheltered by a body (it can be paralleled to a soul), as an eye can be sheltered by an eye socket.

In the “constant powers” (the powers which doesn’t need to be invoked to be used by the player) of the Eye there’s “true sight” and “foreboding” → and this is practically the same powers granted to Will when he’s being possessed by the Mind Flayer.

Now, we could almost imagined that the Mind Flayer represents the Eye of Vecna. Thus when he possesses Will, then Will becomes his "holder" and is therefore in the grip of Vecna’s Curse (using those artifacts curses the player). The Eye, here known as the Mind Flayer, grants Will the powers of “true sight” and “foreboding” → explaining the “now-memories” he shares with the monster. - However, he ends up dominated by it and becomes a spy leading him to be seen as a "threat" (→ the use of the Eye and Hand being considered threatening only for players who dare to use it) -

What's interesting then, is that once the Eye is in possession of a "holder", certain powers can manifest on their own when needed. And knowing that Will was still able to sense the Mind Flayer in Season 3, then it's as if he continues to be in the grip of Vecna's curse. This could mean that Will would have powers that manifest on their own in season 4, if he feels threatened (and considering what we saw on the teaser 004, we can expect that Will will be threatened at some point lmao).

/!\ I’m about to do a HUGE SPECULATION, mainly for entertaining purposes. Which bases itself on what I said prior. Yet, don’t take it too seriously please. /!\

Since I brought the possibility of Will being under Vecna’s curse and so having being possessed by what could be understood as the Eye of Vecna, I’d like to focus furthermore on the Hand.

“Each of its powers can now be used, which is much easier than for the Eye of Vecna. Indeed, the powers invoked of the Hand are important by movements and positions of certain fingers, and will be so even if these movements are carried out without the intention of using them. Each thoughtless movement, even natural, of the Hand can then become an instrument of death.” [sources come from a french forum about mmorpg] This artifact, in contrary to the Eye, is more offensive. It provides its "holder" with strength and power which can aim for fight. Generally, the "holder" cannot discard the artifact once used, yet it can be teared out of them. I'm saying all of that, because, what if Eleven could be in possession of the Hand while Will would be of the Eye? Obviously, El can use her powers without lifting up her hand every time. Still, they decided to show her using it this way. (Also what I’d like to remind is that El lost her powers when one of the Mind Flayer “part” left her leg. Therefore, it’s as if her powers had been teared out of her). Now, you have to know that both artifact can be used together. In the game when combined, the Hand and Eye grant: "Magic Detection/ Understanding of Languages/ Non-Detection/ Protection Against Good”. Obviously, I’m not saying that Will & El would be able to be in possession of these kinds of powers. Nonetheless, what if Will & El would be the keys to defeat once and for all everything that is linked to the Upside Down? Like what if, in order to stop all this, El had to definitely lost her powers and Will to completely get rid of his connection with the Upside Down and the Mind Flayer? (since to end Vecna’s curse, you have to make the holder of both artifacts get rid of it). I don’t really have an answer, nor do I honestly think that’s what would happen. I just wanted to bring up theses possibilities, because I thought it was interesting. I’m not even sure if this is accurate with whatsoever the leaks are about. I talk so f*cking much sorry lmao, this is literally an essay at this point. (i hope all of my sentences make sense) Hope you liked it anyway! Take care of yourselves and happy new year btw. clara 🦔

[readerbookclub]

Hello everyone! This month’s theme is the first of the “A Trip To...” series, a collection of book lists covering different cultures, nations, and regions from all over the world. These will make an appearance every once in a while.

Our first trip is to Ireland, suggested to me by @bowieziggyfan. There’s no particular reason that Ireland is our first destination, but I can promise that not all countries are going to be European or English-speaking. I’m going to make sure that these lists cover diverse cultures and communities. 

I’m now going to explain the rules I set myself for these “A Trip To...” book lists. Feel free to skip this part if you’re only interested in the books and not the process behind choosing them:

The author must have a connection to the country (either they have the nationality, are permanent residents there, or their family comes from there)

At least half of the book must take place in said country (for instance, although Oscar Wilde is Irish, The Picture of Dorian Gray is not on this list because it is not set in Ireland).

Alternatively, if the book is not set in that country but deals with issues of its identity especially in regards to emigration, it can be included (which is why Brooklyn is on this list).

If it’s possible to make a (good and varied) list for a specific country, then I won’t rope it in with other countries (ex: I have to do Japanese and Korean literature as separate lists and not under the umbrella of “East Asian”). However, if I’m unable to do that because there aren’t enough translated books, then I will group them.

As long as it meets the other requirements, the book can be of any genre. 

Okay, enough babbling. Let’s get to the books!

At Swim-Two Birds, by Flann O’brien:

A wildly comic send-up of Irish literature and culture, At Swim-Two-Birds is the story of a young, lazy, and frequently drunk Irish college student who lives with his curmudgeonly uncle in Dublin. When not in bed (where he seems to spend most of his time) or reading he is composing a mischief-filled novel about Dermot Trellis, a second-rate author whose characters ultimately rebel against him and seek vengeance. From drugging him as he sleeps to dropping the ceiling on his head, these figures of Irish myth make Trellis pay dearly for his bad writing.

Brooklyn, by Colm Toibin:

Eilis Lacey has come of age in small-town Ireland in the years following World War Two. Though skilled at bookkeeping, she cannot find a job in the miserable Irish economy. When an Irish priest from Brooklyn offers to sponsor Eilis in America--to live and work in a Brooklyn neighborhood "just like Ireland"--she decides she must go, leaving her fragile mother and her charismatic sister behind. Eilis finds work in a department store on Fulton Street, and when she least expects it, finds love. Tony, a blond Italian from a big family, slowly wins her over with patient charm. He takes Eilis to Coney Island and Ebbets Field, and home to dinner in the two-room apartment he shares with his brothers and parents. He talks of having children who are Dodgers fans. But just as Eilis begins to fall in love with Tony, devastating news from Ireland threatens the promise of her future.

Dubliners, by James Joyce:

Dubliners is a collection of fifteen short stories by James Joyce, first published in 1914. They form a naturalistic depiction of Irish middle class life in and around Dublin in the early years of the 20th century. The stories were written when Irish nationalism was at its peak, and a search for a national identity and purpose was raging; at a crossroads of history and culture, Ireland was jolted by various converging ideas and influences. They centre on Joyce's idea of an epiphany: a moment where a character experiences a life-changing self-understanding or illumination. 

Normal People, by Sally Rooney:

At school Connell and Marianne pretend not to know each other. He’s popular and well-adjusted, star of the school soccer team while she is lonely, proud, and intensely private. But when Connell comes to pick his mother up from her housekeeping job at Marianne’s house, a strange and indelible connection grows between the two teenagers - one they are determined to conceal. A year later, they’re both studying at Trinity College in Dublin. Marianne has found her feet in a new social world while Connell hangs at the sidelines, shy and uncertain. Throughout their years in college, Marianne and Connell circle one another, straying toward other people and possibilities but always magnetically, irresistibly drawn back together. Then, as she veers into self-destruction and he begins to search for meaning elsewhere, each must confront how far they are willing to go to save the other.

A Week in Winter, by Maeve Binchy:

Stoneybridge is a small town on the west coast of Ireland where all the families know one another. When Chicky Starr decides to take an old, decaying mansion set high on the cliffs overlooking the windswept Atlantic Ocean and turn it into a restful place for a holiday by the sea, everyone thinks she is crazy. Helped by Rigger (a bad boy turned good who is handy around the house) and Orla, her niece (a whiz at business), Chicky is finally ready to welcome the first guests to Stone House’s big warm kitchen, log fires, and understated elegant bedrooms. John, the American movie star, thinks he has arrived incognito; Winnie and Lillian are forced into taking a holiday together; Nicola and Henry, husband and wife, have been shaken by seeing too much death practicing medicine; Anders hates his father’s business, but has a real talent for music; Miss Nell Howe, a retired schoolteacher, criticizes everything and leaves a day early, much to everyone’s relief; the Walls are disappointed to have won this second-prize holiday in a contest where first prize was Paris; and Freda, the librarian, is afraid of her own psychic visions.

Vote for your favorite here!

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[musecharm-writes]

Bad Influence, Pt 2 (Steve Harrington X Reader)

Summary: Jonathan, Robin, Steve, and Nancy find out more about what happened at Melvald’s; you have your first shift at the general store.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

When Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Robin head to the Byers’ later that night, Joyce is there, making herself a sandwich and smoking a cigarette in the kitchen.

“Jonathan, sweetie? That you?”

“Yeah, Mom,” Jonathan replies. “Nancy, Steve, and Robin are here, too.”

Joyce appears around the corner, a look of surprise on her face. “Oh! Hey, guys! Sorry, if I had known you were coming I would’ve cooked dinner, or--or gotten take-out, or something. Will is over at Dustin’s tonight so I was expecting it to just be me and Jonathan--” She cuts herself off to take a pull from her cigarette.

“That’s okay, Ms Byers, me and Robin were gonna get pizza later,” Steve says politely. He’s always been good with parents, moms especially, and for whatever reason Joyce seems to like him. 

He assumes that Jonathan has never breathed a word to her about all the shit Steve used to put her son through, otherwise he’d probably be eating all his meals through a straw to this very day.

“Hey, Mom,” Jonathan begins, in a characteristically unsubtle fashion, “we were wondering if we could ask you about something.”

Joyce smiles, somewhat unsurely. “Okay,” she says, with a nervous little laugh, “ask away.”

Jonathan and Nancy share a look before Nancy says, “We were wondering if you knew anything about what happened at Melvald’s earlier today?”

Joyce’s eyebrows draw together, a furrow appearing like magic on a face that Steve privately thought looked too young for all the stress Joyce Byers carries with her. “How do you all know about that?”

“Steve and Robin saw it,” Jonathan says.

“Uh, technically only I saw it,” Steve corrected. “I’m still not quite sure what it was all about, though, we were too far away.”

Joyce nods slowly, her lips pursed thoughtfully. “Well… I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to tell you. Technically, I’m supposed to keep it kind of a secret.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Nancy says, and Steve can tell she’s trying her absolute best to look innocent and wide-eyed. “We’re very curious, is all. And, honestly, a little worried that something bad is happening again.”

Clever play, Nance. They weren’t worried there was another impending apocalypse -- not really. She’s just trying to appeal to Joyce’s instinct to comfort.

Sure enough, it works; that furrow in Joyce’s brow deepens as her conflicted expression melts into a look of concern. “Oh, honey, no. It’s nothing like that.” She bites her lip, mulling it over for a moment, before she says, “Okay, if I tell you, you all have to promise you’ll keep it quiet, okay?”

They all give various answers in the affirmative.

“Someone -- a teenager, around your age -- tried to steal a carton of cigarettes from Melvald’s. I spotted them right as they slipped it into their pocket and started to walk away. Powell and Callahan happened to be there, stopping by on their way to the station, so they took the kid in.”

“Seriously? They tried to steal cigarettes?” Nancy asks, her nose wrinkling with her distaste. “God, that’s so stupid. I’m glad you caught them.”

Joyce sighs. “I feel a little bad for getting them in trouble. It seems like it’s just a case of a good kid making bad choices. I mean, I remember myself at that age…” She shakes her head, taking another drag from her cigarette. She walks over to the coffee table and flicks ash into the ashtray.

“I mean, you did the right thing though, right? Just because they’re some mixed up kid doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have to learn from their mistakes just like anyone else,” Steve says.

Everyone, save for Joyce, turns to look at him.

“...Why are you all staring at me like that?”

Robin puts a hand on his shoulder. “Probably because that’s the most intelligent thing that’s ever come out of your mouth,” she says, giving his shoulder a little pat.

“Hey!” Steve exclaims, but everyone else is laughing, and he can’t help but smile.

Even though he knows it can’t possibly be true, because he says intelligent stuff all the time.

--

The morning of your first shift at Melvald’s begins with your alarm clock, which you set the night before to go off at five. Unfortunately, it never actually went off; unbeknownst to you, one of the breakers had tripped in the middle of the night, which reset your alarm clock.

You wake up from a blissful sleep and roll over to see the blinking red 12:00 . For a second, you don’t comprehend what you’re looking at, and then when it sinks in, you scramble out of bed so frantically that you go tumbling to the ground, tangled in the sheets, yelling, “SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!”

You get ready faster than you ever have in your life, skipping breakfast and brushing your teeth in the kitchen sink while tugging on your clothes. As soon as you’re ready, you’re flying out the door, grabbing your bike, and peeling down the road that will bring you to Downtown Hawkins. You count your lucky stars that the only drivers out this early are the people driving to work.

When you get to Melvald’s, you chain your bike up at the bike rack and blow through the door like a hurricane, your cheeks bright red with exertion and your blood rushing in your ears. The tinkling of the bell over the door is almost mocking in its gentleness.

The store is almost completely empty except for a single woman in a uniform vest who appears to be pricing items. She looks over at you; you recognise her as Joyce Byers, the woman who caught you stealing the cigarettes.

“Oh! Hey,” she says, sounding surprised to see you.

“I’m so-- so sorry,” you pant, walking forward a bit to lean on the counter. “My… My alarm... didn’t go off, and I--”

She waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. You’re actually early.”

You pause, your chest heaving, looking at her in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yep. By about…” She looks at a clock behind the counter. “Fifteen minutes, give or take.”

You let your head loll against your back. “So I skipped breakfast for nothing.”

Joyce smiled sympathetically. “‘Fraid so. Sorry. If it makes you feel better, Hop’ll definitely be happy about it.”

And, embarrassingly enough, it does make you feel a little better.

You’d like to say your first day on the job goes pretty well.

You’d like to say that, but if you did, it would be a lie.

It starts with the pricing gun, which miraculously stops working moments after Joyce leaves you to your task. She assures you that it’s just because the damn thing is so old and Gary refuses to replace it because of how expensive they are, which makes you feel a little better, but part of you still feels as though you broke it despite her reassurance.

Then, when Joyce offers you a break to go and grab lunch for the two of you from the diner, you almost lose the money she gives you thanks to a hole in your pocket that you hadn’t even realised was there. Thankfully, you’re able to make it with the cash still in hand, but the incident makes you so nervous that on the way back to the store you almost drop everything multiple times.

When you finally make it back, the store is unusually busy, so you’re forced to stow the paper take-out bags under the counter as Joyce attempts to teach you how to use the register. You frantically memorise as much as you can, and are somehow able to make it through the rush without missing a beat, but by the time it’s over and the two of you are able to take a load off, your lunch is stone cold.

“I’m sorry,” you say to Joyce, staring dejectedly at your cold fries. “I don’t know why I’m having such a shitty day today. I’m trying so hard but it feels like everything is going wrong.”

Joyce shakes her head. “Hey, no. It’s okay. Sometimes, you just have bad luck, no matter how hard you try. It’s not your fault.” She places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes.

You wonder why she’s being so nice to you, but you can’t work up the nerve to ask. Instead, you ask if there’s a microwave you can use to heat up the food.

Toward the end of your shift at around 12:30, Joyce calls you over from where you’ve been organising a window display and says, “Hey, would you mind going into the back and grabbing the boxes that have ‘ballpoint’ and ‘pencil - yellow’ written on them? I need to restock.”

“I’ll do it for you!” You blurt out. You can feel your cheeks flushing.

“Oh,” Joyce says, raising her eyebrows at you. “Okay. Uh, I’ll show you where they go and then that’ll be the last thing you have to do before I let you go for the day. Okay?”

You nod, too flustered to speak. You need Joyce to like you for reasons you aren’t totally sure of, and you hope with every part of you that you aren’t being too obvious.

Joyce walks you through restocking the shelves and then sends you on your way to retrieve the boxes from storage. They’re bigger than you thought they would be considering they’re just boxes of pens and pencils, but you guess it makes sense, since it’s not like the boxes are full of individual pencils and pens. There are three of them, standard sized cardboard boxes; you lift each one and find that you could probably carry two at a time, if you were careful. You stack the two boxes of pencils on top of each other on the ground, squat, and lift them up with a grunt of effort.

Now that you’re holding them, you realise it’s a little hard to see around the boxes. You have to angle your head awkwardly to peer around one side, which leaves you with a pretty big blind spot. You guess you’ll just have to trust that any customers nearby will be smart enough to stay out of the way.

You’ve made it almost all the way to the correct shelf before tragedy strikes again.

You glance down at the ground to make sure that there’s nothing you could trip over or slip on, and as you’re adjusting your grip on the bottom box, you hear a voice coming near you.

“--And stop nagging me! You’re not my mother, Buckley!”

Shortly following this is a shout of, “Steve! Watch where you’re--!”

You look up right in time to slam into someone.

The boxes fly right out of your hands. Boxes of yellow Ticonderoga pencils go flying, scattering across the floor. Some of the boxes even come open and pencils go rolling every which way. You end up flat on your ass in the middle of it all.

For a moment, you stare at the boxes of pencils all over the floor, gobsmacked. Once you’re able to tear your eyes away from the mess, you look up to find Steve Harrington looking down at you with his eyes as wide as dinner plates, but not one strand of hair out of place.

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment. Then, Harrington opens his mouth.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” he babbles, dropping to his knees and starting to pick up the stray boxes and escaped pencils. “That was an accident, uh-- shit, I swear I’m not usually this much of a klutz. I’m sorry, please, lemme help--”

“It’s okay,” you sigh, somewhat dejected. You’re probably going to have to stay after your shift ends to finish picking all this up and do what you promised Joyce. You glance at the clock and find your theory is confirmed, to your dismay. “I can handle it. It’s my job.”

“No, really, I…” He pauses after a moment, squinting at you. “Wait. Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

He has. The two of you went to school together for, like, your entire lives. That’s not what he means, though; he recognises you from yesterday, when he watched you get patted down and shoved in a cop car after making the dumbest mistake you’ve ever made in your life.

“We went to the same school for twelve years,” you say stiffly. Like hell are you gonna remind him if he actually forgot.

“...Oh,” he replies awkwardly. “Uh. Sorry. But, no, I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere else. Did you used to hang out at the mall? I used to work there. Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “Wait! I got it! You’re the one who got arrested yesterday, right?”

Before you can answer, a girl you vaguely recognise as being a high schooler a couple of years your junior appears at Harrington’s side, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him with surprising strength and an almost enraged expression.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She hisses at him, before turning to you with a sunny smile. “I’m so sorry about him, he’s chronically stupid. We’re going to go before he says another dumb thing, right , Steve?” She has him by the ear, now, and you have to admit it’s kind of funny; she’s a couple of inches shorter than him, so he has to bend down to keep her from tearing his ear off.

“OW! Yes , Robin, jesus! Let go of me, I’m leaving!”

As you watch them go, you can’t help but feel disappointed. You’d kind of wanted someone to help you pick up the pencils.

--

When Robin and Steve are outside of Melvald’s, Robin finally lets go of Steve’s ear, saying, “Steve, what have we talked about? About thinking before we speak?”

Steve scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m trying. It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “I know, dummy. I had to learn it, too.” She sticks her hands in her pockets and glances back into the general store through the front window. “So, what was your angle with that whole spiel back there?”

Steve blanches. “What?”

“I mean , you’re not just nice to people for no reason all the time, even if you did something to them. So why were you being such a hardcore nice guy?”

Steve opens his mouth to say something and realises he doesn’t have any clue how to respond. He crosses his arms and shrugs, flustered. “I dunno. Maybe I just felt like it. What’s it to you?”

He starts to walk away, tired of the conversation, and Robin comes trotting after him, still yapping right in his ear. (He pretends to be annoyed, but honestly, his heart feels full to the brim with love for Robin. Before her, nobody has ever chased after him before.)

“Uh, you’re my best friend, dumb-dumb! That’s what it is to me! My nose belongs stuck right in your business!” She catches up to him and runs around to plant herself in his path, grinning broadly. “So, tell me what it is that has you so riled up.”

Steve gapes at her for a moment before shrugging again. “...I don’t know.”

Robin arcs a brow at him. “Seriously? You’re still not gonna tell me?”

“Robin, c’mon, I’m telling you I have no idea ,” Steve insists. He sighs, and lowers his voice. “Look, I just felt this weird… Urge to stay and talk? And picking up the mess that I caused anyway seemed like a good excuse at the time. Until I stuck my foot in my mouth, that is,” he sighs.

Robin gasps. “Steven Janine Harrington--”

“Not my name.”

“--Do you have a CRUSH?”

Steve feels his entire body burst into flames. He looks around frantically, saying, “Will you keep your voice down?”

Robin’s face takes on an expression of pure glee. “So you do! Oh my god, I didn’t think you were capable. So, are you going to pursue anything? Or are you more the brood-from-afar type?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, will you shut up? You’re such an embarrassment. This is why I never take you anywhere,” Steve says, walking off in a huff.

Robin chases after him, laughing her ass off. He’s glad at least one of them thinks the situation is funny.

[ettadunham]

A Buffy rewatch 7x10 Bring on the Night

aka you’re not you when you’re tired

We did it, guys! We made it to the last season! Also, hello if you’re new, and stumbled upon this without context. As usual, these impromptu text posts are the product of my fevered mind as I rant about the episode I just watched for an hour (okay, sometimes perhaps two). Anything goes!

And the lesson of today’s episode is to take a nap. You gotta take care of yourself and sleep sometimes, you know.

I talked at length last time about the problems I find with season 7, all the while pointing out how I actually liked the episode in question. And pretty much all the same can be said for Bring on the Night.

The episode itself works. There are some nice interactions, I like the introduction of the Potentials, Buffy’s current state is emphasized, and she closes things out with an excellent speech. All good stuff.

The problem is that we’re only on episode 10. How do you up the stakes from here? How do you keep the tension? How many speeches can Buffy make in the season before it has to be lampshaded?

Structurally, this early introduction of the Big Bad reminds me of season 5 the most, especially the fact that it’s a seemingly unbeatable enemy at that. But there, we had a device that made sure Glory would only be able to be present intermittently throughout the season, and she and Buffy were locked in a weird stalemate up until the moment she found out the Key’s identity. This presented plenty of opportunities for the season to develop its themes and characters outside of the battle with the Big Bad.

But I don’t want my overall season impressions to take away from my enjoyment of Bring on the Night, so let’s talk about that.

There’s a lot to like here, starting with Anya’s reading glasses, and her and Dawn teaming up to try and wake Andrew after the last episode. Anya’s ramblings about how many demons she knew that claimed to have been the First Evil is also priceless.

ANYA:  “Please, how many times have I heard that line in my demon days? ‘I’m so rotten, they don’t even have a word for it. I’m bad. Baddy bad bad bad. Does it make you horny?’ *pause* Or terrified. Whatever.”

I love her so much.

Meanwhile Willow’s basic locator spell goes bad as the First temporarily hijacks her, attacking Anya and Buffy until Xander breaks the connection.

I pointed out in the last episode specifically how Willow gets almost immediately knocked out when the Bringers attack. It was interesting to me, because it brought my attention to just how overpowered Willow became, and how we need to come up with narrative contrivances to avoid using her powers.

What I realized with this episode though, is that it’s not just strictly this idea that Willow’s overpowered, but that her using her powers to defeat a baddie would mean that Buffy wouldn’t get to fight them. Which would mess with the whole power hierarchy of the group.

And what I love about the show is that rather than just keeping these machinations in the meta-narrative, the characters will point this out. But we’ll get to that when we get there.

For now, we’ve landed on a much better excuse for Willow to not want to use magic than getting knocked out, by having the First co-opt those powers to hurt her friends. That’s a solid fear to install in her, not gonna lie. I especially felt it by how frightened Willow seemed that it was still in her, and how she begged Buffy to not let it make her hurt anybody.

Which… If we interpret it as not just about her fears regarding the First but magic in general (hence the line about how she still felt like it was “in” her), that means that Willow’s fears are about something that’s a part of her.

So, if we follow the metaphor to its logical conclusion, the reason why Willow’s not using her powers is essentially internalized homophobia.

Also, notice how Xander immediately runs to check on Anya after the whole possession, and Buffy runs to comfort Willow?

*blows kisses in the direction of the nearest graveyard* For the Wuffy shippers.

Oh, and Willow’s face when she realizes that Kennedy’s inputs regarding the sleeping arrangement were all just an elaborate ploy for her to get to stay in the same room with her? Priceless.

KENNEDY:  *flirts* WILLOW:  ??????????????????????????

And then we’ve got Giles’ return, followed by the introduction of our first batch of Potential Slayers.

I’m not gonna lie, I enjoy the chaos of it all? The way those girls just march in, either questioning or mythicizing Buffy and her authority, putting all this extra pressure on her to be the leader.

Somehow though, it’s still Giles who ends up being the worst offender of that, endlessly repeating to Buffy how those girls rely on her, and how only she can protect them.

No wonder then that Buffy’s sleep-deprived mind conjures up her own mother, reminding her to take care of herself. At first, both Buffy and we’re led to believe that it’s the First, but then it’s revealed to be a dream.

We haven’t actually got a Slayer dream in a while now, haven’t we? And these ones don’t actually seem to be more than Buffy imagining a comforting presence in her tired state… right?

Because Slayer dreams have these prophetic, or at the very least, supernatural properties, I think we as the audience can read a lot into even these simple dreams, if we want to. We can imagine that this is actually Joyce talking to Buffy, or even some type of guardian spirit, trying to get her to take a goddamn nap. Or we can even assume that it’s actually the First, somehow permeating Buffy’s dreams.

The second dream in particular is interesting. Joyce points out to Buffy how her friends put too much pressure on her, that there are some things that she can’t control like the sun going down. And then this:

JOYCE:  “Buffy, no matter what your friends expect of you, evil is a part of us. All of us. It’s natural. And no one can stop that. No one can stop nature, not even-“

I think it’s tempting to use this line in particular as proof, that maybe it was the First talking to Buffy through Joyce here. She’s talking about the futility of fighting this enemy in the first place after all.

But I don’t think that’s what’s going on. These dreams are unequivocally trying to help Buffy, especially when imploring her to get some rest. Lack of sleep is essentially why Buffy loses against the Uruk-hai vampire after all.

(Yes, I know that it’s actually called Turok-han, or whatever, but I like my Lord of the Rings references, okay?)

So if the dreams are trying to help Buffy, pointing out that you can’t defeat something that’s a manifestation of all evil of the world takes on another meaning. If you look at the actual words being used, Joyce doesn’t really say that Buffy can’t fight this evil. It’s just that she can’t stop it.

Evil is already here, it’s always been and it will always be here. This isn’t a fight that can be won, not ultimately.

There’s no way for Buffy to kill the First and get the world rid of it and its influence once and for all.

To borrow from the show itself, “we can’t win and we never will, but that’s not why we fight. We fight because there’s something worth fighting for”.

I don’t think that the show quite manages to explore these themes this season, but I like how the inclusion of this dream with Joyce sets it up nonetheless. It’s just great to see Joyce in general too, especially as a calming presence in the middle of all the chaos and pressure Buffy’s under.

To be fair, Willow tells Buffy too that she knows that she needs help. She just feels unable to help herself.

I guess the theme of a neverending fight against an unknowable enemy is also somewhat undercut by Buffy’s speech though? Here, take a look at what I mean.

BUFFY:  “From now on we won’t just face our worst fears, we will seek them out. We will find them, and cut out their hearts one by one, until The First shows itself for what it really is. And I’ll kill it myself.”

Can she kill the First if it really is the manifestation of all evil in the world? Not really, but maybe Buffy knows that too. And maybe this speech has more of a performative aspect to it than we think, particularly towards the Potentials.

It would certainly be in line with another upcoming episode…

[fictional-redheads]

Tropes of Toxic Masculinity in the Male “Heroes” of Buffy the Vampire Slayer

“It's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true. The bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day.” Rupert Giles says this faciously to his charge, Buffy Summers, at her request for him to lie to her about how easy her life as a slayer will one day come to be, in the seventh episode of the second season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fittingly titled “Lie to Me.” The term “guys” in this context, by the time the episode was written and premiered in 1997, was meant and understood to be gender neutral, but put into the larger context of the series as a whole could easily be limited to “guys” in the traditional, masculine sense. In Buffy, it is men’s actions that are most often morally ambiguous, with few exceptions. Even more, it is the men who fight beside Buffy in the battle against evil whose actions hurt her the worst, Giles included. Each of the male “heroes” in Buffy the Vampire Slayer illustrate the different shades and extremes of toxic masculinity by exemplifying an inherently flawed trope. Each of them, in accordance with their corresponding trope, take choices away from Buffy and cause lasting psychological damage with ranging degrees of acknowledgement from both her and/or the narrative. In this paper, I am going to scrutinize the three who were introduced early on and stayed through to fight the final battle alongside Buffy: Giles, Spike, and Xander.

Let’s start with the character that has been previously mentioned, Rupert Giles, typically referred to by both characters and fans alike simply as “Giles.” Giles is introduced in the pilot episode, titled “Welcome to the Hellmouth,” as a “Watcher” for Buffy (see figure 1). He has been assigned to her by the Watcher’s Council, an age-old organization dedicated to the elimination of vampires and demons from the Earth, to prepare and assist her in the fight against evil-essentially being the brains to her brawn. As the series goes on, however, Giles’ role in Buffy’s life transitions from that of detached supervisor and is built up to fulfill that of the Father Figure trope. Buffy’s own father is divorced from her mother and is never seen again in a non-dream sequence after his second-time appearance in the premiere episode of the second season. The creator of the series, Joss Whedon, admitted in an interview with the New York Times that this phase out had a relevant purpose: “It’s true that Buffy’s father started out as just a divorced dad and then turned into this sort of "evil pariah" figure of not even bothering to show up, and that was simply because we had a father figure in Giles…”

Giles’ attachment to Buffy as a surrogate child rather than simply as his trainee arguably first gets shown to the viewer in the season 1 finale entitled “Prophecy Girl.” Giles has come across a prophecy that predicts her death at the hands of the current Big Bad, the Master, and Buffy overhears him telling her love interest Angel about it so that they may form a plan without her. “Read me the signs! Tell me my fortune!” she yells, throwing his books at him (see figure 2). Buffy’s knowledge of her destiny since the pilot has been filtered through Giles, who struggles to serve his dual roles of both Watcher and father figure. In his role as the latter, he withholds information from her that he learned in his service to her as the former, and acts on his own instead in order to protect her. This will be the crux of their relationship throughout the series, and feminist scholar Gwyneth Bodger feels it is emblematic of a larger issue,

Indeed, he acts as a substitute father for Buffy, and it is here I would argue that the series departs from a feminist ideology. As a powerful figure in the series, Buffy has the potential to become the figure of the unruly or disorderly woman. In order to prevent this, she must be "owned"; her power must be channeled and controlled by a man, in this case, a father figure..

Fast forward to season three, and Giles’ role as father figure becomes explicitly textual in two episodes in particular: episode six, “Band Candy,” and episode twelve, “Helpless.” In “Band Candy”, Buffy returns home from visiting Angel to find Giles and her mother, Joyce, angry that she lied to them both that she would be with the other, rather than Angel. The mise-en-scené clearly indicates that Giles and Joyce are a united front in the way any functioning pair of parents would be (see figure 3). Later, in the same episode, having been placed under the influence of magical chocolate bars that revert them back to their teenage personalities, the two sleep together. In doing so, Giles-if only temporarily; this is the only time that he and Joyce sleep together-officially takes over all “fatherly” duties in the Summers household. Buffy is disgusted when she finds out they had sex, but only to the extent any teenager would be to discover their parents’ sex life.

In “Helpless,” just as Buffy’s birth father betrays her by missing her birthday, Giles betrays her by removing her powers for a Watcher’s Council ordered test that has historically been conducted if a slayer reaches her eighteenth birthday. Even more devastatingly, he does so right after Buffy asks him if he would like to take her father’s place in their now broken birthday tradition. He soon comes to his senses when Buffy is nearly killed by the vampire who escaped the Council’s control, but it’s far from enough to immediately salvage their relationship. “You poisoned me!” she cries, wrenching her arm from his pleading grasp, “I don’t even know you.” It is only when he arrives to help Buffy save her mother from the same vampire as earlier, and the head Watcher points out what makes Buffy and Giles’ relationship unique - “Your affection for your charge has rendered you incapable of clear and impartial judgment. You have a father's love for the child, and that is useless to the cause.” - that fences are mended, symbolically shown by Buffy allowing Giles to help clean her wounds (see figure 4). His role as father figure has been reinstated, as well as reinforced. In the same swoop, Giles is kicked out of the patriarchal Watcher’s Council, which as Buffy scholar Ian Martin puts forth in his video guide for the episode, “is symbolic of him no longer being a contributing member of the patriarchy. He disobeyed a direct order. He broke with tradition.” However, it is Martin’s next words that are haunting: “While they have appeared to have reconciled by the end of the episode, Giles’ betrayal represents a sobering loss of innocence here for Buffy, tied to her actual father ditching her at the beginning of the episode.”

The next two seasons primarily serves to build their relationship further, but are not without their caveats. In the ninth episode of season four, while Buffy is under a spell that compels her to be engaged with her tenuous ally Spike, she asks Giles if he would walk her down the aisle. Initially Giles is touched by her request, but after a moment snaps back into the reality of the situation and dismisses it, hurting Buffy in the process. In the sixteenth episode of season five, when Joyce dies from an aneurysm, it’s Giles that Buffy leans on for support. In the eighteenth episode, Buffy tells Giles “I love you,” for the first time. However, by the next episode, Giles becomes concerned that Buffy is coming to depend on him too much, to her own detriment, and begins to withdraw. Yet, if Giles were to listen to and respect what Buffy was saying, he would realize that’s not what she needed. Joyce’s passing heaped even more responsibility on her shoulders-raising her little sister Dawn and maintaining a house-so what she needed was someone to share the responsibility she was drowning under with someone she trusted and looked up to. Someone like a father figure.

This dilemma would be picked up mid-season six, after Buffy’s friends had wrenched her out of heaven and back to a “loud and violent” life. In an episode filled with stylistic exhibitionism, “Once More with Feeling,” Giles sings a song that betrays his feelings on the matter: “I wish I could say the right words to lead you through this land, Wish I could play the father and take you by the hand, Wish I could stay, But now I understand, I'm standing in the way.” At the end of the following episode, he departs to England for the rest of the season, leaving Buffy to fight her growing depression and duties alone.

Giles returns at the end of season six and mostly remains for the rest of the series, but enacts one last, glaring betrayal. In the seventeenth episode of season seven, appropriately entitled “Lies My Parents Told Me,” he distracts Buffy while elsewhere one of their new allies attempts to kill Spike, who since “Something Blue” Buffy has grown to trust and have complicated feelings for. It’s the equivalent of a shotgun-toting father facing off against their daughter’s new boyfriend, only Giles would have gone through with it. Giles also has a rather misogynistic outlook on Buffy’s motivations, believing that Buffy’s protection of Spike must be driven by her emotions despite her logical insistence that after her Spike is the best warrior they have on their side. Buffy realizes what Giles is doing, the assassination attempt fails, and Buffy literally shuts the door on Giles in her life as a father figure as she says, “I think you’ve taught me everything I need to know” (see figure 5). Buffy no longer wants or needs Giles to lie to her, regardless of the place of fatherly love those lies stem from.

Spike, of course, is far from innocent either. For the sake of brevity-Spike has more academia written about him than any other character in the series minus Buffy herself- I will be focusing on Spike’s place in the fifth and sixth seasons in which he fulfills the trope of “The Suitor.” The fifth season is when Spike really becomes a part of Buffy’s team and starts to get close enough to her that he can hurt her emotionally, when previously all they were presented as feeling for each other was animosity. He realizes that he’s in love with her at the end of the fourth episode of that season, and so his role as The Suitor begins.

Spike, formerly known to human society as William Pratt, was turned into a vampire in Victorian England in 1880 at 27 years old. The ways in which Spike goes about trying to earn Buffy’s affections throughout season five parallel a twisted version of the courtly love sensibilities that would have been popular when he was turned, even if the term itself had not yet been coined. In her scholarly article, “‘Ain’t Love Grand?’ Spike and Courtly Love,” Victoria Spah outlines and describes exactly what this means:

The term "Courtly Love" is used to describe a certain kind of relationship common in romantic medieval literature. The knight/lover finds himself desperately and piteously enamored of a divinely beautiful but unobtainable [sic] woman. After a period of distressed introspection, he offers himself as her faithful servant and goes forth to perform brave deeds in her honor. His desire to impress her and to be found worthy of her gradually transforms and ennobles him; his sufferings—inner turmoil, doubts as to the lady's care of him, as well as physical travails—ultimately lends him wisdom, patience, and virtue and his acts themselves worldly renown… Like any intricate allusion, references to the various pertinent aspects of the mythos (which itself has no definitive version) are woven subtly throughout without heavy-handed complete correspondence. Spike and Buffy are after all modern characters and as such must retain the psychological depth lacking in medieval stock characters, and thus their story is not informed solely by the Courtly Love tradition. The correspondence, ironic and teasing at times, straight-forward at others, is however quite fascinating and worth further examination.

The first stage of courtly love is, “Attraction to the lady, usually via eyes/glance.” The actor who played Spike, James Marsters, has stated in multiple interviews over the years that, “As an actor, I right away played an attraction to Buffy.” In his first episode, “School Hard,” Spike stalks Buffy, watching her dance at the Bronze and then having her fights secretly videotaped so that he can study her moves (see figure 6). Even these early scenes have, as Marsters himself admits, “a heavy sexual undercurrent.” The watching of the videotapes in particular is inherently voyeuristic, and presents a modern take on how “glance” and gaze has changed since the middle ages.

Getting back to the focus on season five, the second stage is, “Worship of the lady from afar.” After Spike realizes he’s in love with Buffy, it quickly turns into an obsession. He lingers outside Buffy’s house, chain smoking cigarettes and watching at her bedroom window. He sniffs her sweaters when she isn't home. He rehearses conversations with her on a look-a-like mannequin that rapidly turn violent when he anticipates her rejections. He even has a “Buffy shrine” dedicated to her, filled with pictures and sketches of her, her sweater that he stole after he sniffed it, a bloody gauze that was used to bandage a severe stab wound she recently got, and multiple of her stakes. Buffy is disgusted and horrified by this when she comes across it in the episode “Crush.” Her keen sense of violation is made clear when she punches Spike across the room and into the shrine, destroying it (see figure 7). It’s a beat that summarizes the worst of their relationship in these two seasons in a single snapshot: Spike sees Buffy as an object of worship that with enough prodding he can bring down to his level, but Buffy destroys that dream every time.

The episode “Crush” is a major one for their relationship, as it is when Spike reveals his feelings to her for the first time in accordance with the third stage, “Declaration of passionate devotion,” as well as the fourth stage, “Virtuous rejection by the lady.” Spike makes these declarations twice in this episode, but after Buffy rejects him the first time he makes the second one bigger, grander. He chains her up while she’s unconscious and makes an oath to either stake his sire/ex to prove his love for her, or let his ex kill her if she doesn’t admit to feeling something in return. He’s performing, putting on a show in anticipation of completion of the fourth stage. Even he knows that doing this is not the way to get Buffy to change her mind from her previous refusal. He’s taken it upon himself to move her from passive object of desire to active participant in the courtly ritual. It’s another example of him violating her agency and sense of self.

After this episode, Spike takes a turn for the better for the rest of the season. He does one last disgusting, literally objectifying thing-having a likeness of Buffy made in the form of a sex robot-but before the end of that same episode is willing to be tortured and killed before he would give up information that would lead to Dawn’s death. Spike proves with word and action multiple times before the season ends that he would be willing to die for Buffy, thus completing the fifth stage, “Renewed wooing with oaths of virtue and eternal featy.” For his trouble, Spike earns the knightly favor of exactly one kiss from Buffy before she dies in the season finale, arguably completing the sixth stage, “Heroic deeds of valor which win the lady’s heart.” However, it is worth noting that with that kiss, Spike’s redemption, or lack thereof, officially becomes yet another of Buffy’s responsibilities.

Spike’s role as “The Suitor” shifts in season six, after Buffy comes back from the dead. Courtly love has been completed, but not to any great satisfaction for him: Buffy still doesn’t love him. Per her depression, she doesn’t feel like she can love anyone, let alone a vampire without a soul regardless of his recent good deeds. Every sexual advancement that occurs between them stems from Buffy’s pain-of being torn out of heaven, of depression, of Giles leaving. Their sexual relationship for her is a form of self-harm. On Spike’s side, the first time they have sex is after they realize that Spike can hit her again, despite the government chip in his head that prevents him from hurting people. Courtly love is inherently aspirational, about being devoted to a woman who is unquestionably above you. When Spike’s ability to hit Buffy returns, Spike sees them returned to the equal playing field they had before he fell in love with her, and so turns into an abusive boyfriend kind of suitor rather than the virtuous knight he strived to be previously. Not only does he abuse her physically, but he also equips the classic abuse tactic of attempting to separate the victim from their loved ones, telling her that she belongs in the dark with him instead of dancing in the light with her friends (see figure 8). This all culminates in the nineteenth episode of season six, “Seeing Red,” in which Spike attempts the ultimate betrayal and taking away of a woman’s choice: trying to rape Buffy.

Spike goes to Buffy’s house after she’s put an end to their sexual relationship to try to get her back, while Buffy has been put through an ordeal that significantly weakens her. He forces himself on her despite her protests in the hopes of “getting her to feel it [love for him],” and then snaps out of it, disgusted with himself, when she manages to kick him off. As Buffy scholar Lani Diane Rich puts it in her video about the episode, “Spike is horrified by his own behavior and that’s good, he should be, but it doesn’t do anything to mitigate Buffy’s experience here...the shock and horror of that experience is something you carry with you always.”

Spike’s self-disgust leads him to a cave in Africa, where he endures a series of trials to earn, the viewer is led to believe, his greatest wish: the chip out of his head. In a moment of narrative spectacle in the season finale, however, the viewer is shocked to learn that it’s not the ability to hunt humans again that is Spike’s greatest wish (see figure 9). It’s getting his soul back, so he can, as he puts it, “give Buffy what she deserves.” In the established mythology of the series, the souled and unsouled versions of an individual are in many ways separate entities, with individual desires. Spike fighting for and earning his soul is akin to committing suicide so that a better version of him, a version more genuinely selfless and caring of Buffy’s needs, may rise from the ashes. The Suitor, both knightlike and abusive, is dead.

There’s a male character left in Buffy’s life who doesn’t face the consequences of his toxic actions the way Giles and Spike do: Xander Harris, the Best Friend. To be more specific, the “friendzoned” best friend, particularly in the first two seasons. When the viewer is introduced to Xander in the first episode in the series, it is immediately made apparent that he has a crush on Buffy, and equally made apparent she doesn’t reciprocate through her budding attraction to Angel. Yet, Xander continues to go forward with his feelings anyway. In S. Renee Dechert’s essay, “‘My Boyfriend’s in the Band!’ Buffy and the Rhetoric of Music,” Dechert describes a fantasy Xander has in the fourth episode,

As Xander dusts a troublesome vamp at the Bronze, an enraptured Buffy watches. After the fight, she exclaims, “You hurt your hand! Will you still be able to…?” “Finish my solo, and kiss you like you’ve never been kissed before?”... Then he jumps onstage and whips out a Hendrixesque guitar solo while an awed Buffy looks up at him. (The camera angle further empowers Xander here, shooting up at him as he stands above the crowd, the light outlining his phallic guitar and empowered-and fashionably dressed-body.) (see figure 10)

To Xander, the perfect fantasy is him being the empowered in their relationship in all masculine senses of the word-most relevantly, being the only man in Buffy’s eyes.

In the sixth episode, when he is possessed by the spirit of a hyena, his feelings are twisted into an animalistic form that prompts him to sexually assault Buffy. After the spirit has been removed from him, he pretends that he doesn’t remember his experiences while he was possessed, and Buffy never finds out he’s lying. In the first season finale, when he works up the courage to finally ask her out and she gently rebuffs him, he lashes out, “I guess a guy’s gotta be undead to make time with you,” but the narrative makes clear we are supposed to empathize and pity him for it, not resent him. In season two, in the episode “Surprise,” Xander details a whole revenge fantasy in which Buffy gets her heart broken by Angel, only to be saved by Xander. Again, it’s played off as a joke. Three episodes later, Xander uses magic to make his ex infatuated with him so he can reject and humiliate her, but it backfires by having all the women of Sunnydale, including Buffy, be infatuated with him instead. The narrative actually has Buffy earnestly thank Xander for having the “strength” and “self-control” not to rape her. Finally, in the season two finale, Xander is sent by the rest of the Scoobies to tell Buffy on her way to fight a now soulless Angel that Willow has discovered a way to restore Angel’s soul. Yet, he takes it upon himself to instead tell Buffy to “kick his ass,” giving Buffy no hope of any alternative to killing the man she loved. In the scholarly article, “‘Jimmy Olsen jokes are pretty much lost on you’: The Importance of Xander in Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” the author presents a perspective I’ve never before considered, “Xander doesn’t deliver the message in favor of disseminating more violence… Angelus was very powerful, but Xander decided that Angel’s death was more important than Buffy’s safety.” It’s the peak of male entitlement-the death of the competitor is more important than the physical and emotional wellbeing of the woman sworn to be the beloved.

Willow does restore Angel’s soul, just a moment too late, and Buffy is traumatized by having to kill the man she loves while he is the man she loves. If Xander had told her the truth, that information could have spared her from that. His role in Buffy’s trauma only gets brought up one time, five seasons later, and even then goes barely acknowledged (see figure 11). So why does Xander get to go scot-free from consequences? Cast and fans alike have posited that it’s because he’s a self insert for Joss Whedon himself.

For years, Buffy creator Joss Whedon was hailed by nerd culture as one of the leading male feminists in Hollywood. Then it was confirmed that he seemed to fire one of the actresses on the Buffy spinoff, Angel, for getting pregnant. Then Avengers: Age of Ultron got released, which featured an unfortunate scene in which Black Widow refers to herself as a “monster” because she is infertile. Then his misogynistic, stereotypical Wonder Woman script got leaked. Then his ex-wife published a letter condemning his years of infidelity and emotional abuse. And then, and then, and then. Just like Buffy experienced, oftentimes it is those who fight besides us, the ones who we feel we can trust, that hurt us the most. Perhaps our believing this time would be different was just our desire to be lied to.

@andieb4650

[alexsfictionaddiction]

Alex Recommends: October Books

With the news getting seemingly bleaker every day, I’ve been diving into my books even more regularly than usual. I’m sure you have been too. I’ve actually just reached my Goodreads goal of 150 books this year with two months still to go, which is crazy but I feel really good for it!

I’ve been very busy with work this month, which I know that the Alex of the first half of 2020 would have been so incredibly happy about. Don’t get me wrong, I am extremely grateful for everyone who has paid me to write something for them but it has meant that I’ve been suffering from a little burnout recently. I’ve also had a client who has been a bit of a nightmare and I hate confrontation, so that hasn’t been fun to deal with. However, this life is all about learning lessons, right?

I hope you’ve all been having a wonderful, cosy spooky season. These final months of the year are my absolute favourite and although, we are now heading into a second lockdown in the UK, I don’t feel too bad on the whole. Slightly stressed and concerned about what Christmas will look like this year but I’m ok. I’m content.

October saw me beginning to read Christmas releases for this year, which felt a little strange before Halloween had even got under way. However, there are some truly lovely festive books coming your way this year and I can’t wait to review them for you. It’s time to wrap up warm, place a pile of feel-good reads by your bed and take each day as it comes because we can’t possibly plan ahead right now. Have a great month! -Love, Alex x

SHOULD HAVE READ IT YEARS AGO: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

When an unnamed young woman falls in love with the dashing widower Maxim DeWinter, she knows that her life is about to change. She is now mistress of the beautiful country estate that is Manderley but she can’t seem to shake the presence of her predecessor -the striking, popular socialite Rebecca. I can’t believe that I hadn’t read this integral work of the Gothic movement before now but I was completely enthralled by it. Du Maurier’s writing is sublime and boy, does she know how to create a cold, haunting atmosphere! I honestly think this story will live rent free in my mind forever because I was still reeling from the whole affair days after I finished it.

FICTION: The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman

Elizabeth, Joyce, Ron and Ibrahim may be almost 80 years old but that doesn’t mean that they don’t still love a good mystery. They meet every Thursday in the Jigsaw Room of Coopers Chase Retirement Village to discuss an unsolved murder case from the past but then someone ends up being killed on their turf. Can they catch the killer? I adore stories that celebrate eccentrics and this one certainly does that. Funny, charming and full of love, The Thursday Murder Club is the tonic that every cosy crime lover needs right now.

MIDDLE-GRADE: The Miracle on Ebenezer Street by Catherine Doyle

Since the death of his mother three years ago, George’s life has been completely devoid of joy. As Christmas approaches again, his dad is busy with work and insistent that the family will not be celebrating. Then Marley’s Curiosity Shop shows up in town and in it, George finds a strange snow globe depicting what looks like his own family’s last happy Christmas. Little does he know that a crazy, magical, life-changing adventure is about to begin. I was completely swept away to a different place with this whimsical retelling of A Christmas Carol and I had such an amazing time. Full of hope and wonder, it’s the perfect festive treat this year.

NON-FICTION: I Am Not Your Baby Mother by Candice Brathwaite

When Candice fell pregnant, the glossy world of mummy bloggers and influencers revealed itself to her but she couldn’t get away from the glaringly obvious truth -where were all the black mothers? This memoir and manifesto is written with both plenty of humour and heart, as she describes the hurdles that she has had to overcome as a black woman raising black children including micro-aggressions, abuse and learning to take up space. Eye-opening, inspirational and incredibly addictive, I Am Not Your Baby Mother is a battle cry to always be unapologetically yourself. 

HORROR: Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

In 1950s Mexico, city debutante Noemí Taboada receives a letter from her recently married cousin Catalina, begging for someone to save her from the oddities of the Gothic mansion belonging to her English husband’s family. High Place is dripping in tragedy, murder and madness and the longer she spends there, the more Noemí feels its deadly pull. Although this book has been doing its rounds amongst the book community for a while, I actually didn’t really know what to expect but I was completely shook by the story. Haunting, visceral and highly disturbing, this unique horror is full of very real darkness.

[marigoldbaker]

imperfections (52/?)

read it on ao3!

more gingerbread shenanigans!!

The school day began with a faculty meeting, and the faculty meeting began with Snyder making a speech. This wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence. The man loved the sound of his own voice, and would take any opportunity to make his staff listen to him rant about gum under the auditorium seats or disrespectful youth these days. This speech, however, was specific enough to make Jenny and Rupert exchange a worried look, and the smug look on Snyder’s face only made them more apprehensive.

“Am I imagining things,” Rupert began, holding the door for Jenny as they exited the teachers’ lounge, “or was he insinuating—”

“—locker searches?” Jenny finished. “Yeah, that’s…seriously not good. Usually the school board shuts him down and he rants about it for a few weeks.”

“It seems a bit odd that we didn’t get prior notice,” said Rupert, a small frown on his face.

“Almost as odd as, oh, I don’t know, Sunnydale moms out for my blood?” said Jenny casually.

“Jenny, now really isn’t the time for your fringe theories—what on earth?” Rupert stopped in his tracks, staring.

Jenny peered over his shoulder, and her mouth fell open: two police officers were carrying her computer out of the computer lab. After taking a moment to register what this might mean, she directed a very pointed look at her boyfriend, then said, “What were you saying?”

“That you’re right about everything and I should really listen to you more often,” said Rupert weakly.

“Yep.” Jenny patted his shoulder, then stepped towards the officers. To her surprise, Rupert gripped her elbow, pulling her back. “What?”

“I did say you were right about everything,” said Rupert tensely, “and it seems particularly odd that police officers are going after one of our most upstanding faculty members on the basis of what she researches in her spare time. All you keep on your computer are blessings and lessons for Willow, yes? Nothing harmful?”

“No black magic,” Jenny confirmed. “Not even a dab of gray.”

Rupert gave her a skeptical look.

“Okay, some gray, but it’s for research purposes!”

“Which proves my point exactly,” said Rupert. “Anyone with half a brain would know you well enough to know that you’d sooner die than hurt a child, and I count Joyce Summers in that majority. Police officers carting away your computer based on rumors she may have spread strikes me as extremelyodd, even for Sunnydale.”

“So we’re thinking some kind of paranoia demon?” Jenny suggested. “Maybe feeding off the deaths of those kids?”

“It’s a fairly solid concept,” Rupert agreed pensively. His hand tightened on Jenny’s elbow. “Which means that anyone who so much as glanced at a spellbook is likely in danger.”

Something about that sentence struck a terrifying chord in Jenny. She replayed it in her head, then— “Willow,” she gasped. “Willow has stuff in her locker!”

Rupert’s face paled. “Go make sure she’s all right,” he said. “I’ll—”

“Get any supernatural research books out of the library,” said Jenny sharply.

“How?”

“You were Eyghon’s devotee in your early twenties, Rupert, you’re telling me you can’t manage a simple transportation spell?”

“There’s no room for all those books at home—”

“Figure something out!” snapped Jenny. “I don’t want you burned at the stake!”

Rupert’s expression softened. He reached out, squeezing her hands. “No one’s getting burned at the stake, all right?” he said.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” said Jenny stubbornly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Rupert gently, then let go of her hands, hurrying towards the library. Jenny watched him for a moment, remembered the situation with Willow, and sprinted in the direction of the student lounge.

A cluster of students had already gathered by the lockers. “Willow?” Jenny called, pushing through the crowd. “Willow—”

Buffy turned, eyes wide with relief. “You can fix this, right?” she said almost desperately. “You’re a teacher—”

“Where’s Willow?”

“Snyder’s office, I think,” said Faith worriedly. “They found magic stuff in her locker and I think she’s about to get chewed out for it.”

“Then that’s where I’m headed,” said Jenny.

“Um, how about not doing that?” piped up Cordelia, genuine worry in her eyes. “I heard a couple of teachers talking, Ms. Calendar, and it sounds like they’re out for you too.”

“Rupert and I are starting to think there’s some kind of paranoia demon at play,” said Jenny tensely. “If I’m in danger, Willow definitely is.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Buffy nervously. “It is. Snyder’s just gonna call her mom, and…her mom’s kinda ditzy, but she’d never hurt Willow, okay? She’ll keep Willow safe. That’s what moms do.”

A sharp resentment rose in Jenny at the reminder of Willow’s obliviously neglectful mother, and it made her consider that she might not be able to look at the situation objectively. Buffy knew Willow’s mom. Buffy was probably right. “Okay,” she said. “Yeah. Faith, Xander, we’re going to the library to make sure Rupert’s okay, and then we’re going to go home. Buffy, I strongly suggest you go home—”

“I’m coming with you,” said Buffy firmly.

“Two Slayers,” Faith agreed. “Double the protection.”

Jenny decided not to waste time arguing. “Fine,” she said. “Just hurry.”

Upon entering the library, they were met with a beautiful sight: Rupert had indeed vanished all the books, and Snyder was having a fit. “Where are they?” he demanded furiously. “Where are the books? We were given jurisdiction to confiscate all of them—”

“I took the liberty of weeding all the inappropriate material for you,” said Rupert, directing a very big smile at Jenny and the children over Snyder’s head. “Anything to help protect our youth.”

“Wonderful to see you, Principal Snyder,” Buffy chirped, beaming at Rupert as she crossed the room to stand next to him. “How’s your little crusade going?”

Realizing that his failure now had an audience, Snyder all but growled. “I know they’re here somewhere!” he snarled. “You can’t hide them forever!” He stormed up to a shelf, rattling it; it almost fell on top of him.

“Good to see that your work has had such an impact,” said Jenny helpfully.

This was a mistake. Snyder’s eyes locked on her, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Ms. Calendar,” he said, then stopped. “Oh, wait. I think I want to savor this moment.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow.

“You’re fired,” said Snyder with relish.

Rupert took a step forward. Buffy grabbed him, towing him back.

“Cool,” said Jenny, largely unbothered. Too many weird things had happened today for her to take Snyder seriously. “I’m still the girlfriend of a staff member, though, so I’ll just stay on campus and help him with the, uh, card catalogue?” She glanced over at Rupert for verification; he nodded, still looking very ready to knock Snyder sprawling. “Card catalogue,” Jenny confirmed. “Because that’s what they use in libraries.”

Snyder’s gleeful expression began to fade. “You’re fired,” he said again, as though she might not have heard him.

“Gotcha!” Jenny gave him a thumbs-up. “Rupert, do you still have instant coffee in your office?”

“I’ll make you a pot,” said Rupert coolly.

Snyder was seething. “This—you—fired,” he sputtered.

Ignoring him, Jenny followed Rupert into his office, the children close behind, and shut the door once they were all inside. “Okay,” she said to Rupert. “Spill.”

“It’s an illusory glamour mixed with an incantation to create a pocket dimension,” said Rupert proudly. “Technically, the books are there, but no one can see them or get to them unless I include them in the spell.”

“You mixed your magic?” said Jenny, biting her lip and smiling slowly at him.

“As it happens,” said Rupert, giving her a flirtatious grin, “I’ve been well schooled in the merits of experimentation.”

“Someone please stop them before we find out what he means,” said Buffy loudly.

Jenny took the hint. “Research time?” she asked Rupert.

“As soon as Snyder clears out,” Rupert agreed.

Faith peered through the window of the office, then said, “Looks like he’s stomping away. Time to hit the books?”

“I think I should check up on my mom,” said Buffy darkly. “Whatever this is, it sure feels like she’s involved.”

“Ah, Buffy,” said Rupert suddenly, “please do keep in mind that it’s likely some sort of demon causing her to act this way. Whatever she says, you, you shouldn’t take it too personally.”

“And that absolutely extends to that lecture she gave Sunnydale last night,” Jenny added.

Something in Buffy’s face relaxed. “Thanks, guys,” she said. “It’s not exactly the greatest to know my mom’s all demony-influenced, but…it’s better than that being her, you know?”

With some worry, Jenny thought back to Willow. Whatever she was going through couldn’t be pleasant.

So Willow and her mom had a fight, kind of. Willow wasn’t entirely sure how to categorize whatever had gone down between her and her mom, but seeing as it had ended with her grounded and her mom making that Mildly Annoyed Face she always seemed to be making whenever Willow talked for longer than thirty seconds, “fight” had the kind of negative connotations she needed at the moment. Especially since she’d just stormed out of her mom’s house without looking back, taken the car, and driven down to Sunnydale High, hoping against hope that Giles and Ms. Calendar might be researching late.

The light was on in the library, which made Willow feel at least a little better through the awful. Whatever was going on, at least someone might be there for her to talk to. She opened the door, stepping inside.

Faith jumped. “Fuck, Red, you startled me!” she said, a light laugh in her voice. “Jen’s gonna be glad to see you—she’s been worried sick. Tryin’ not to show it, but you know Jen, she’s all protective mama bear and shit. Oh, damn, are you okay?”

Faith’s expression had changed, and Willow suddenly realized that it was because she’d started crying. Mortified, she stumbled back, knocking neatly into Giles. “Willow, what on earth,” he began, stopped, and pulled her into a semi-awkward bear hug. That was new too. Willow thought she should maybe thank Faith and Ms. Calendar for turning Giles into some kind of soft working dad.

“Oh no,” she heard Ms. Calendar saying, in that gentle mom-voice Willow could have really used from, you know, her mom. “Oh, Willow, what happened?”

Willow kind of just started crying harder. “I’m gonna be in so much trouble!” she wailed.

“No, no, Willow, it’s a paranoia demon,” said Giles, evidently thinking that this was somehow comforting to her.

“Let me take this one, honey,” said Ms. Calendar with some amusement. She stepped in, hugging Willow too. “You okay?”

It would have been different, Willow thought, if she wasn’t so used to Giles and Ms. Calendar fussing over her good grades and exclaiming when she did something right and telling her they were proud of her. After her mom had grounded her without listening to her at all, she might have just gone quietly up to her room with an achy feeling in her chest. She didn’t really know how to express that thought, but then it didn’t really matter, because nobody was letting go of her and nobody was telling her she was acting out. Without a word, she burrowed further into the hug.

“God, I wish I had a camera,” she heard Faith saying to someone, a note of genuine appreciation in her voice. “This shit is ridiculously cute.”

Willow pulled away, just a little, and let Giles dab at her face with a handkerchief. “Do crying teenagers usually throw themselves at you?” she tried to quip, but it sounded more morose than playful.

“Just one of Sunnydale’s many hazards,” said Giles, giving Willow’s cheek a last affectionate pat.

Ms. Calendar was, in fact, looking at Willow with large, worried eyes. Suddenly, all that jealousy Willow had felt for Faith felt really ridiculous. “Hey there, champ,” said Ms. Calendar, stepping up and tucking Willow’s hair behind her ear. “Who do I have to punch?”

That made Willow laugh. “No one,” she said, and was surprised to find herself meaning it. “It’s okay.”

[sevendeadlyseans]

10 (or 11) Movies Released Last Year That I Really Liked, 2016 Edition

Before I get to my “official” Top 10, one title has been excluded for consideration due to conflict of interest, but would otherwise top my list.  

Darling

Mickey Keating’s 3rd feature (produced by the fabulous Jenn Wexler, a.k.a. my girlfriend) is, of course, my favorite film of the year. I’ve seen it three times in theaters—twice in 2015 on the festival circuit, and again last April on opening night—and still keep finding new, subtle things about it to love.

The story: a young woman is paid to housesit a glorious old building while its eccentric owner is away. Is the house haunted? Is she unhinged? Maybe both? Star Lauren Ashley Carter—rightly recognized as “the Audrey Hepburn of indie horror” by The Austin Chronicle, is in almost every frame of the film and is never short of mesmerizing, whether answering the telephone, putting on make-up or getting her hands dirty by...well, let’s not give away the fun. 

The black and white cinematography is gorgeous, the score crawls under your skin and the editing is legit terrifying. Watch with the lights out.

And now back to our official, less personally biased top 10, in order...

Moonlight

Without question, the most accomplished, most moving film of 2016. 

James Joyce once noted, “In the particular is the universal.” Moonlight is atop my list in no small part because it’s so breathtaking in its particular intimacies. 

Moonlight is like Boyhood on a budget: it drops us into three important periods in the life of a boy who becomes a teen who becomes a man—at first bullied and confused, increasingly neglected by his crack-addicted mother and influenced by a kind-hearted, drug-dealing surrogate father. We see him harden, over time, under the pressure of a world with no use for softness, and then, perhaps, reconnecting with a lost bit of himself, at long last.  

Writing that synopsis, it strikes me how easily such a story could have tipped into cliché and melodrama. Perhaps because writer/director Barry Jenkins and playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney are both from the Liberty City projects themselves. their knowledge—coupled with a great cast, an impeccable soundtrack, a deft use of color and Jenkins’ masterful control of tone—l gives Moonlight specificity, and that makes it universal.

Jackie

Tone is a theme for the first three films on my 2016 list—four if you count Darling, and you most definitely should. Pablo Larrain’s Jackie puts us inside the experience of First Lady Jackie Kennedy in the aftermath of JFK’s assassination, in a way I never thought I could experience:

Your husband was just murdered; his blood is on your dress. Your life is cracked, and even if you put the pieces back together, nothing will ever be the same. Oh, and he’s the president—was the president—so your country is broken, too. History has its eye on you, so while the crushing weight of grief bears down, try to look good for the cameras. It’s only his legacy at stake.

It seems ludicrous to say that Oscar-nominated Natalie Portman is underrated, but somehow she is—and I adored her in Black Swan. In Jackie, she’s working at another level. Open and wounded when no one but us can see, calculating and brittle and angry before an eager reporter. I am excited to see Portman does next.

Special mention to Mica Levi’s score, her second feature after 2013′s Under the Skin. Can’t wait to hear what she does next, too. 

The Witch

Someone had the terrible idea to market The Witch as “the year’s scariest movie.” It’s not, nor is it trying to be. It is, however, among the most unsettling films of this year or any other. (Again: tone.)  

The story: it’s 17th century New England. William, his wife Katherine, and their five children have been kicked out of the settlement being too religious (it seems, or perhaps just too self-righteous) and must find a way to survive on their own on the fringes of the deep, dark wood. 

Before you have time to wonder if the titular witch might be metaphoric, she shows up and does something unspeakable to William and Katherine’s newborn son. Things go downhill from there, exacerbated by both outside, malevolent forces and unacknowledged tensions within the family unit.

The Witch looks gorgeous, as well it should. First-time director Robert Eggers made his bones as a production and costume designer, and reportedly built an actual, mostly working 17th century farm for the film. Even the dialogue itself was built out of scraps of things people wrote and said back then. You can feel the authenticity, which makes the family’s isolation feel that much more acute and dangerous. 

O.J.: Made in America

Bob Dylan never asked “How many minutes does a film have to be, before we can call it TV?” but the answer, my friend, is probably not much more than the 467 minute runtime of Ezra Edelman’s O.J.: Made in America. (For comparison, that’s almost 3 hours longer than a full season of HBO’s Veep.)

It doesn’t help that it was produced by ESPN, or that it aired on that cable network less than a month after it’s Oscar-qualifying theatrical run. And yet...it was my favorite documentary in a year of many great docs (more on that later), so if wants to call itself a movie, I’ll roll with it.

2014 marked the 20th anniversary of the murders. The revived attention around the so-called “trial of the century” led to two great works of art, Edelman’s doc and FX’s American Crime Story: The People vs. O.J. Simpson. (One can only wonder how our present political moment will be filtered through the culture of 2018).

Rather than produce O.J. overload, the two projects complement one another—the dramatic series taking us inside the lives and hearts of key figures on both legal teams, while the doc simultaneously expands the scope and deepens the focus—showing us more about who O.J. was before, during and after, and what America was and still is, especially but not only in Los Angeles, but also in Ferguson, on Staten Island, everywhere. If it takes Edelman 8 hours to set up all details to knock us down with his larger point, well, that’s 8 hours well spent. 

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HrB3rOcrJxg&list

The Lobster

Yorgos Lanthimos’ Dogtooth was one of my favorite movies of 2010. He’s back on the list with a film that’s just as strange but far more accessible. 

I love absurdism, deadpan humor, magical realism and dystopian fantasy, but I can’t recall a film that manages the trick of juggling all three at once as The Lobster does—with an honest-to-goodness love story right there in the middle.

I’ll skip the premise—if you don’t know it, watch the trailer. 

The cast is great, and Colin Farrell is a revelation, topping my previous Farrell favorite, the criminally under seen In Bruges. Lanthimos packs the film with small details that make the surreal world of The Lobster believable. The first shot packs an entire story of love, betrayal and murder (which is never revisited) into a single, long take. And its final, wrenching moments will stay with me forever. 

Film critic Britt Hayes got to the heart of the filmmaker’s uncanny alchemy when she noted “Lanthimos doesn’t heighten reality to an absurd degree; he heightens the absurdity of our existing reality.” Or put another way, he doesn’t add absurdity, he just turns the heat up on reality and our own absurdity bubbles to the surface.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTNZmOJxuAc

Hail, Caesar!

There’s this other movie that’s sort of a throwback to old Hollywood, with some singing and dancing in it. That movie’s fine, but don’t hold your breath, it didn’t make my list. For my money, the real love letter to Hollywood—and why the movie industry matters—came from the Coen Brothers. 

Now, it wouldn’t be a Coens movie if that tender heart weren’t covered under many layers of arch cynicism, stylized reference bordering on “acting” “in” “quotation” “marks” and the occasional silliness. But you don’t have to peel much of it away to see the real love they have for not just the magic of movies but also the joy in so many abandoned film genres that once ruled the box office—be they Gene Kelly musicals, Gene Autry oaters or C.B. DeMille bible epics, to name but a few recreated here. 

For me, Hail, Caesar! sits perfectly between the sour cynicism of the Hollywood in Woody Allen’s misanthropic Cafe Society and the false romanticism of the ambition-for-ambition’s sake “dreamers" of La La Land who prize the warmth of the spotlight over any real human affection. 

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1NYpz_j3e38

13th

Ava DuVernay’s 13th is a civics lesson for a country in dire need of one. With a controlled but searing ferocity, the documentary lays out the case that the 13th amendment allowed the continuation of a system of oppression and control not all that from slavery: the criminal justice system. If you haven’t read your Constitution lately, here’s a refresher on the 13th, the amendment that ostensibly ended slavery:

“Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.”

This one, terrible clause not just perpetuated slavery under another name but incentivized an expansion of the definition of criminality, in order to profit from the subjugation of mostly brown and black bodies, which has led to an explosion in America’s incarcerated population. In effect, through laws designed to maintain segregation, blackness itself has been criminalized.

With Jim Crow, redlining, lynching (terrorism by another name) and the like, the 13th has led to a more unequal society—and, indirectly, to leaders who lie and stoke racial, as well as religions and ethnic, divisions in order to maintain the ever-growing class divide from which they profit. 

This poor summation doesn’t do justice to the full weight of the case DuVernay and her experts make, or how well they make it. 13th should be required viewing by everyone, but most of all by those who hold the power to make and enforce the law.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V66F3WU2CKk

The Love Witch

Let’s start with the obvious: Anna Biller’s The Love Witch is a gorgeous film. Turn the sound off, re-order the scenes at random and you still can’t take your eyes off what looks like a lost Technicolor American Giallo from 1972. Biller not only wrote, edited and directed the film but also handled production design, art direction, set decoration and costuming, almost single-handedly crafting one of the best looking films of 2016. 

Beneath that dazzling frosting is a rich, feminist layer cake. Elaine is a witch specializing in sex magic, who believes her path to happiness lies in finding the right man, seducing him and pleasing him in every way. On paper, she’s a patriarchy’s dream come true. But when these lustful men inevitably fall short—as they all must, as patriarchy itself is built on a lie—she gets rid of them, permanently. Poor, unfulfilled Elaine. 

The Love Witch is Biller’s own magic trick, casting its spell over us with its color, its throwback ‘70s sexploitation vibe and its razor-sharp message we don’t notice until the blade has slid, quietly, between our ribs and stabbed us in the heart. Metaphorically.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXjDEDYlu7c

I, Daniel Blake

Daniel Blake has spent a lifetime working with his hands, supporting a modest but pleasant life for himself and his late wife. After a heart attack, his doctors tell him he’s not fit to return to work—yet with a simple questionnaire (and absent any input from his doctors), the government’s welfare bureau deems him too fit to qualify for disability. 

He can apply for unemployment benefits, but only if he’s actively seeking work—work which, according to his doctors, he can’t accept. Caught in a catch-22, he must appeal to an unreachable “decision-maker” for relief—provided he can find a way, without income or assistance, to get by while he waits. Then Daniel meets a single mother in stuck in a similar situation and does his best to help her struggling family, even as his own situation grows worse.

Ken Loach’s drama won the Palm D’Or at Cannes but has received not much notice since then, at least outside the UK, perhaps because of the specific criticism of the British welfare bureaucracy at the heart of the story. But you don’t need much imagination to see how things can be as bad or worse for the many Daniel Blakes of this country.

Loach has been making socially conscious films about the struggles of the working and lower classes for longer than I’ve been alive. As with Jenkins and Moonlight, it’s clear Loach knows this world, these people and their struggles, and knows how to tell their particular stories in a simple yet powerful, moving and universal way.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4KbJLpu7yo

The Handmaiden

Apologies if you’re getting whiplash. I went from a highly stylized Love Witch to a pared-down I, Daniel Blake. Now I’m going to swing back the other way with Park Chan-Wook’s sensual, sensuous The Handmaiden. 

As has been the case in years prior, the 10th (really, 11th) and final spot on my list could have gone to a number of worthy films, and almost did—I began writing up another film here before realizing there’s no way I could round out 2016 without giving The Handmaiden its due.  (Sorry, Elle!)

The story of The Handmaiden is...too complex to go into here, frankly. There’s a con man and his female accomplice. There’s a rich heiress and her controlling uncle. Some of them are Japanese occupiers; others native Koreans. Oh, ands there’s a library of dirty, dirty books. 

Cons are conned, crosses are doubled, no one is quite who they pretend to be and everyone is up to something. In the end, something real is found and, through it, freedom is won.

The Handmaiden is a thriller as elegant as it is perverse. Every change in perspective brings new meaning to all that’s come before. Every twist revealed is a delight. Park Chan-Wook is at the top of his game.

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4Z5jfjxdvQ

Honorable Mentions & More 

Wait, don’t get up. There’s more! 

First, let’s start with honorable mentions that you already know are great: 

Paul Verhoeven’s psychological thriller Elle, which features Isabelle Huppert in one of my favorite performances of the year, or maybe ever.

Denis Villeneuve’s Arrival, which goes on my list of essential smart science fiction, along with Gattaca, Ex Machina, Primer and Under the Skin, to name a few.

Sing Street, one of the most joyful films of the year. A misfit ‘80s Irish teen starts a band so he can cast the girl he likes in their highly creative music videos. From John Carney, the filmmaker behind the equally charming Once.

Nicolas Winding Refn’s mad look at fashion, envy and unchecked ambition (kind of the anti-La La Land?), The Neon Demon.  

Next, films that might have been off your radar but are well worth seeking out:

Benjamin Dickinson’s Creative Control, a very-near-future sci-fi film about augmented reality, and the augmented lives we all want to pretend we’re living (at least on Instagram). A must-see for all my friends in media, marketing or technology. 

Elizabeth Wood’s directorial debut, White Girl, in which a New York City undergrad moves to Queens, dates her local corner drug dealer and learns first hand the limits of her privilege in both their lives.

Taika Waititi’s The Hunt for the Wilderpeople, a reluctant buddy comedy/coming-of-age film that’s way more fun than it has any right to be.

Todd Solondz’s Weiner-Dog, a dark, dark comedy stringing together four tales of unhappy people, all of whom at one point own the same sad canine. Or, for you hard-core cineastes: Au Hasard Dachshund.

American Honey, Andrea Arnold’s sprawling tale of wayward youth living for the moment across a vast swath of America, high and low.

The animated documentaries Tower, which looks back on America’s first campus mass shooting in a surprisingly moving way, and Nuts!, which is the rare doc with an unreliable narrator, which fits the unreliable (Trump-like) conman at the center of its story. 

Julian Rosefeldt’s Manifesto, which I was fortunate enough to experience as a multi-screen installation at the Park Avenue Armory but has been adapted (rather successfully, it seems) as a traditional film. Either way, Cate Blanchett takes on a dozen different guises in a sequence of stunning short films, the text of each comprised of bits of famous manifestos, from Karl Marx’s Communist Manifesto to Jim Jarmusch’s Golden Rules of Filmmaking. 

And last, because the horror genre in near and dear to my heart, here’s #4-#10 on my year’s best horror list. (The top 3 being Darling, The Witch and The Love Witch.)

The Invitation

Green Room

Demon

Under the Shadow

Train to Busan

10 Cloverfield Lane

Southbound

Honorable mention: the “Happy Father’s Day” segment of Holidays

Past years: 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008

[claeriekavanaugh]

Give a rowdy welcome to adventure author, Guy Worthey!

Intro: What’s your name, what do you write, where can readers find you on social media? And just for fun, if you could be any mythological being, what or who would you be?

Hello! My name is Guy Worthey. I’ve been writing a novella series about Ace Carroway and her adventures in a world that bears an uncanny resemblance to 1920s earth. I’m @guyworthey on Twitter and @guywortheyauthor on Facebook and I blog at guyworthey.net.

Mythological being! I tell Greek myths a lot, and what I notice is that none of them have happy endings. What’s the use of having awesome snake-hair if some hero comes along and chops your head off? But the myth that comes closest to a happy ending is the story of Perseus and Andromeda. They have adventures, but end up together for a long time and they have lots of kids. And the kids, for once, don’t kill the parents. So I’d like to be Perseus or Andromeda. I’m not picky about which.

1. At your day job, you are an astrophysicist. What got you interested in writing? 

I’ve always been a reader and writer, and from time to time in my youth, I would send a short story off to “Analog: Science Fiction, Science Fact.” None got accepted, for good reasons, I’m sure, but the experience of selling a story never happened. In my day job, I have to write technical papers, and the opposite happened: all my journal articles were accepted. Now, I’m back at fiction writing, this time armed with more confidence.

How does your knowledge of spectroscopy influence your writing?

 Pardon me while I resemble a deer caught in the headlights for a few minutes! All right, I’m recovered, now. I’m going to broaden “spectroscopy” to just science nerdism in general. If one happens to be steeped in technical jargon and esoteric lore, firstly, there are more puns available. (Did you hear oxygen went on a date with potassium? It went OK.) Secondly, the bar is raised high on the science aspects of one’s writing, and in my case Ace Carroway deals with plenty. Thirdly, I think this generalizes to basic plot and character integrity. Plots need to be logical and so do character reactions, and I’d like to believe that I can engineer a working machine, metaphorically.

What inspired your current project?

In hindsight, a couple of things. One is a deep and abiding nostalgia for pulp fiction, especially the more fantastic stories such as Edgar Rice Burroughs, or the Tom Swift and Doc Savage stories that were written by ghost writers. The other thing was feminism. It’s just time for some smart, strong heroines. At the time of writing, of course, neither of those things was consciously present in my head. I just wanted to spin a fun yarn.

What is it about?

It’s about dastardly villains, narrow escapes, humorous banter, and outrageous plots. It’s basically 1920s earth, but with undiscovered lands and a few touches of steampunk advanced technology. 

What are the characters like?

Our hero is Cecilia “Ace” Carroway. She’s strong and smart, and trained throughout childhood to get that way. She leads a totes-adorbs collection of five male associates of different shapes and sizes, abilities, and dispositions. Mostly, she gets them out of trouble, not vice-versa. 

What have you done in the past year that has influenced your writing journey the most?

The last 12 months have been a freaking Nike commercial. I went from giddy and naïve first drafts (that I thought were Newberry award winners at the time) to publishing the first two novella lean, clean, and tight. I sincerely hope (but also rather expect) that I will still agree with that judgment five years from now! I worked my writing/critiquing groups hard, I learned about the publishing landscape, I learned to hate my own propensity for passive voice, and I learned how to hunt down adverbs and slay them.

Favorite quote from your own work?

Ace pushed open the door.

Wing Commander Joyce Harcourt glanced up and commented drily in Oxford accents, “I thought it might be you. Market shares in breath mints rose sharply today.”

“There’s a career in vaudeville waiting for you after the war, Commander.”

Traditional or Self-publishing? Why?

Self.

Agents had a hard time categorizing Ace Carroway. I didn’t know why, at first. Now, I do. If you browse the teen section at a bookstore, you find zombies, vampires, and dystopian fiction. Full stop. Ace is adventure, and that category doesn’t exist these days. I’m positive Ace will gain fans, but she’ll do it by being so awesome people will just fall in love.

If you could only write in one genre for the rest of your life what would it be and why?

 Nuuuuuuu!!!!! I’ve got a high fantasy and a hard sci fi in the works!

But if I were to die tomorrow, I’d be happy I put Ace Carroway first. Somehow, I feel like the world needs her right now. What category is that, you ask? Well, it’s adventure. With dashes of sci fi, steampunk, noir, and pulp.

Name one book that affected the way you write?

I have a vast array of influences, but Ace Carroway is informed by pulp fiction most of all. So I grasp wildly at the zillion titles buzzing around my cranial cavity and nab the first one that resolves: Doc Savage and the Polar Treasure.

Okay, that’s not a bad choice. I think it’s by Lester Dent. It’s short, action-packed, and a bit bizarre. The characters are sharply drawn. It gives the reader the feeling that they are in the hands of a good storyteller, but the reader cannot guess how the tangled threads will connect at the end. That’s the sort of thing I strive for.

Three authors you recommend and why?

  G. Wodehouse builds a better world than this one to live in, then convinces you it’s real.

G. Wells melded mind-blowing concepts with timeless human truths. He’s still eminently readable, now, 120 years after publication.

William Gibson wrote Neuromancer and I don’t think the seismic ripples from that have died down any.

If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?

I’m pretty sure it’s greed. We need to tone that down. With less greed, I think we’d be feeding the starving, curbing population growth and climate change, and building starships.

What do you believe is your main purpose/motivation as a writer?

This question splits me into two halves. One half says, “Pshaw, it’s all for fun.” The other half says, “If it’s all for fun, why do you subliminally model alternative social structures such as various visions of true gender equality?” To which the first half replies, “Shaddap.”

What’s your favorite writing-related memory?

Perhaps it is when I discovered the word “beezer.” That means “nose.” Of all the 1920s slang I have learned, I mourn the loss of the word beezer in modern parlance the most. Why can’t we use that word anymore? It’s a pure bolt of utter delight.

I can’t speak it (and be understood), but I can write it, and so I have. Of course, I can’t overuse it, so I’ve only written it once so far.

What’s a favorite moment you’ve had with a fan/someone who’s read your work?

The first time a perfect stranger wrote a review …

My writer’s craft escapes me. I can’t adequately describe how that felt. But it felt as if I had arrived at a milepost. It felt awfully nice.

One fun fact most people don’t know about you? 

I’ve been in most of the bars in the state of Montana. One summer when I was a lad, my garage band somehow landed an agent, and he booked us into all these bars. I think I might’ve been under the drinking age at the time. I definitely remember reeking of cigarette smoke. Then, as now, I don’t drink or smoke. The smell was entirely secondhand. 

One piece of advice you would give to new writers?

Patience. Hey, look, one piece of advice, summarized in one word! To amplify, even if your writing is truly terrific, it takes a long while for that word-of-mouth to spread. A corollary of that theorem is to make sure your writing is terrific.

Thank you, Guy! What thoughtful and spunky answers. If you like adventure, follow Guy @guyworthey on Twitter and @guywortheyauthor on Facebook and his blog at guyworthey.net.

If you liked this post, please scroll to the top of the page and type in your email to follow my blog and get an update every time I post new content. I have authors of all genres coming on my blog to interview in the coming weeks! Don’t miss it!

As always, keep making magic, word weavers!

Author Interview: Guy Worthey @guyworthey Give a rowdy welcome to adventure author, Guy Worthey! Intro: What’s your name, what do you write, where can readers find you on social media?

[thefifthdayjournal]

 i like your tights, sarah: atrocity boy meets austin collings

photography by steve hunt

Austin Collings is an author who narrates the stifling ambivalence of Northern life; Atrocity Boy documents debauchery usually relating to the Mancunian label Sways. The following encounter was first published in a chapbook sold at The White Hotel in Salford – here it appears in digital form for the first time.

- - - 

It all starts rather ominously, late one Friday afternoon in August. Right now, the people of this city should rightly be spilling out of offices and schools into sun-drenched beer gardens and parks; but this is Manchester, England, and the place has lapsed into unseasonal self-parody, sulking under a pall of grey skies and heavy rain. The tram network has ground to a halt. Commuters stare up at the departure boards, muttering of suicide.

I’m on my way to meet Austin Collings, the author best known for co-writing Mark E. Smith’s gleefully acerbic memoir, Renegade. Austin is also a friend and I’m not entirely sure what to expect from tonight. He initially greeted the idea of an interview with customary enthusiasm. ‘Brilliant!’ he said, when I put it to him. ‘It’ll be like when Ted Bundy represented himself in court!’ While getting one-liners out of him won’t be a problem, my worry is that I should be aiming to reveal the real Austin Collings: the man behind the James Joyce specs. In interviews you’re supposed to dig beneath the surface of your subject. But Austin is deeply uncomfortable with conversations that are in any way coloured by human emotion, his stock response being to wrinkle his brow and shake his head, ‘We’re not on The Jeremy Kyle Show, pal.’

As the replacement bus dawdles down Oxford Road I get twitchy. I picture him sitting in the pub on his own, supping his pint lugubriously: an image which in fact perfectly encapsulates his latest collection of stories, The Myth of Brilliant Summers, and their pervasive sense of disappointment, solitude and dole queue gloom. Like Austin right now, it’s a collection that’s longing for company.

The interview eventually takes place in a city centre flat in a room lined with foreign paperbacks and art objects. Girls congregate in the kitchen, dressed in black and drinking gin. Austin sits down on the lingerie pink chaise longue and picks up a copy of Vincent Van Gogh’s Letters from the coffee table.

‘The sadness will last forever,’ he quotes. I nod my head, getting the reference. ‘A bit like soy sauce stains.’ I furrow my brow. ‘That’s why I bought Helen this.’ He waves the book in my direction. ‘Because of the soy sauce. I put soy sauce on her bed.’ The operative word here being put.

Throughout the interview Austin laughs regularly and with gusto. The darker the subject, the louder the laugh. His conversation oscillates between brutal sincerity and sincere self-mockery, keen to get his points across but never wanting to seem overly self-important. His face is pure pantomime, schoolboy-like and cartoonish. As we talk, our host’s tiny black and white kitten, Dante, climbs over us, biting our arms and leaping from person to person: a social butterfly not at all in keeping with his Catholic namesake.

I begin by asking Austin if he can remember how he got the original idea for the collection.

Austin Collings: The first story was written when I was doing a book with George Shaw, the artist, back in 2011. He was up for the Turner Prize at the time. So I’ve had the title, at least, for a while. The idea was to write about people from underprivileged backgrounds but without wallowing in it. You try and elevate the situation, document it seriously. There’s a more personal side to it as well. I see it as an exorcism of feelings and places … Maybe at the end of all this I’ll turn green and start vomiting!

Atrocity Boy: Again … The location of the stories is something I wanted to ask you about actually. You don’t really know where or when most of them are set. The landscape seems to be northern and generally bleak, but there’s a sense that the things you’re writing about could happen anytime, anywhere.

Austin Collings: I think I’ve nicked that from Blue Velvet. That film was released in 1986 but it could be 1956 or 1976. There are all these different timeframes … And I guess if you absorb all these films and books and cultural references, you’re never really sure what time it is anyway … Especially when you drink heavily.

[Sips rum and coke.]

Hopefully, it has the feeling of a particularly jarring hangover.

Atrocity Boy: It’s interesting that you make that film reference. The book will obviously be categorised as a collection of stories but they’re not really stories in a way. They’re more like episodes, fragments.

Austin Collings: The idea was to make it feel like the opening of a film, over and over again. I don’t see what the problem is with that. It’s always the best bit, isn’t it?

Atrocity Boy: What about music? Do you see any parallels between music and your writing?

Austin Collings: Not really. I find it very interesting that nowadays bands and writers continually talk about how they were influenced by great writers and great bands. Obviously, in talking about them, they want to suggest that they themselves are of that quality. But for me, it’s not about that. It’s not even about the songs. Music is about the characters. Smith is fascinating, like a sci-fi character. It’s like he’s just been beamed down from Mars! The music is terrific. The Fall are probably my favourite band. But only since the book have they become that. I just like the way that certain people did things … I liked Oasis! I thought they were funny. It’s theatre, isn’t it?

Atrocity Boy: I guess you probably want to steer clear of talking about literary influences, then, but the subject matter of these stories reminds me of early Ian McEwan, especially First Love, Last Rites, with all these deprived English towns and vulnerable children … And the way the writing puts you on edge.

Austin Collings: There was a lot of paedophilia where I grew up. They’ve knocked down the houses now so it’s all hushed up, like they knock down serial killers’ houses. But you’d always see a car pull up … There’d be about five or six Datsuns or Fiats or Escorts outside and you’d see some bloke with his arm around Belinda. What annoyed me was that these were the girls who I wanted to get off with! But these older blokes were getting off with them. And the parents didn’t really mind. They didn’t bat an eyelid. I’d say it was rampant … There was Mr Davenport who was the Design and Technology teacher. He said, ‘I’ll help you put your apron on.’ And he’d just come over and put his arm round the girls. Obviously, you’re looking, and you can see the bra through the see-through cotton shirt, and at the time I really fancied them, or some of them — some of them were hideous … You’ve not seen my school photo have you?

Atrocity Boy: I don’t think so.

Austin Collings: I used to dress like a bit of a dandy. I’d wear Chelsea boots and if you look at this school photo you’ll see me at the end. I’m looking in completely the opposite direction, thinking not only do I need to get out of this school, I need to get out of this photograph … I liked films like Billy Liar. In my mind, I’ve been doing this interview for years. I’d always think about the interviews I was going to do in the years to come and the films I was going to make and who was going to be in them, so when I hit it really big I’m going to go for it! I’m going to buy a massive mansion in LA with a cock-shaped swimming pool!

Atrocity Boy: So, fame and fortune, is that why you write?

Austin Collings: Of course! I’d love this book to sell loads, like Fifty Shades of Austin Collings! I’d be very satisfied if there were women walking down the street doing what they do to Mötley Crüe, lifting up their shirts, having a grope. Letting me have a grope … Obviously I’m joking, but I was brought up without any money in a particularly chaotic background and a very dark place. And writers rarely talk about things like poverty, needing to make a living … Not that this is a nostalgic thing.

Atrocity Boy: Does nostalgia comes into it?

Austin Collings: I don’t mind nostalgia.

Atrocity Boy: Neither do I. Some forms of emotion have got a bad name: nostalgia, sentimentality, shock … Writing is always derided when it’s seen to be done just for shock. That’s the cliché. But I like being shocked. It’s hard to do these days. I don’t see why it’s become the lowest common denominator. It’s one of the things I value about art.

Austin Collings: I think that’s what early McEwan was getting at. The thing about shock is that it’s memorable.

Atrocity Boy: So is nostalgia. They’re both playing on memory in a powerful way.

Austin Collings: This interview is starting to feel more and more like a particularly turgid episode of The Culture Show.

Atrocity Boy: But I’m still trying to understand where your writing comes from. You once told me that Mark E. Smith said he wrote ‘out of spite’. What do you write out of?

Austin Collings: It was my friend John’s birthday the other day. He came back to mine and I nearly killed him by taking him up the hill. He was sweating heavily. I had to make him two cups of tea with four sugars in each. That was his birthday! He said, ‘It doesn’t matter what you read, out of anything that you do’ — and I’ve never really thought about this — ‘there’s always a sense of wonder, no matter how dark it is.’ I like that description of it. And I don’t really want to explore it any further. It’s the only magic I’ve got. Everything else I can fathom out. I’d rather leave it mysterious to myself.

Atrocity Boy: For someone whose last book was published by Penguin, it seems like a brave choice to go with an unknown publisher, Pariah Press, for this one. The Myth of Brilliant Summers will be their first book. Can you explain the thinking behind that decision?

Austin Collings: I love it. I think it’s a naturally awkward or contrarian part of me. I like the underdog. I like the idea of being outside the mainstream.

Atrocity Boy: Isn’t there a part of you that wanted to go with a bigger publisher?

Austin Collings: They wouldn’t have touched it! It’s very hard to market. The stories aren’t particularly satisfying, in certain ways. As my former agent said about an unfinished novel I was working on for a while called Windows, it’s ‘unashamedly literary’.

Atrocity Boy: Was your decision also connected to the fact that Pariah is based in Manchester rather than London? Did that make you feel more at home?

Austin Collings: No, no, it’s not that clinical. I used to live in London and I like parts of it, but some of the people … They use the phrase ‘dumbing down’ but it isn’t dumbing down, it’s being educated wrong.

[The girls walk past, ready to hit the town.]

Are you all learning from this?

[Silence.]

Atrocity Boy: I like your tights, Sarah.

Sarah: Thanks.

[Exeunt the girls.]

Austin Collings: They’ve been educated, they’re aware of postmodern editing techniques. I’ve been amongst people like this and they know how to construct a programme like Big Brother. It’s brightly inhuman! I don’t think they believe in themselves and nor do they believe in other people. A lot of people have gone through the British education system but there’s been no great experience for a long time. I think the last great test for most of us was school. And that’s why you’ve got this huge swathe of mindless TV programmes. It reminds of that Larkin line. They said to him: ‘How does it feel to be out of the centre?’ And he says: ‘The centre of what?’ You’re not in any centre are you? You’re being told that you are but it doesn’t matter to me. I could be in Middlesbrough.

Atrocity Boy: But that’s Larkin’s point. It was a deliberate thing, living in Hull. He wanted to write from that outsider position.

Austin Collings: He saw Ted Hughes as the opposite, didn’t he? The line was: ‘Never trust a poet in a leather jacket!’

Atrocity Boy: Apparently he had a photo of Ted Hughes in his toilet.

Austin Collings: [Laughs.] I think it’s about instinct. Writing is about instinct, publishing is about instinct, music is about instinct, a feel: you know when you meet someone and there’s something amiss … I’ve always trusted my instincts. I knew when to get out of college, for example. I’d read Bukowski as a teenager and I knew that I’d enjoy myself more working on a fish market and earning eighteen quid. I liked not being in college when I should’ve been. I was at the shopping centre and I’d be in Waterstones, hanging around, having a cig … I think that’s why the footage of Jamie Bulger resonated so much. When you see that footage of them kids … It was the first time we’d seen CCTV properly, on the news and in the papers. I’d like the book to have the power that that footage of Bulger had. I know that sounds disturbing — or it might to some people — but with crime scenes you only get snippets of the stories.

Atrocity Boy: Why did you lead into that from saying that you liked hanging out at Waterstones?

Austin Collings: Because it reminded me of being at college, when I was in the shopping centre. I always think of that footage of Bulger … I’d like to write stories that are fiction but which have the quality of hard fact.

Atrocity Boy: But to do that wouldn’t you have to change your writing style? Because at the moment it is ‘unashamedly literary’.

Austin Collings: Documentary is quite stylised though. In the same way that Ulysses tries to capture a day, I’d like to capture a second … I’ve always had this sense of great injustice too. Maybe that’s part of it. I went to see In the Name of the Father at The Cornerhouse when I was thirteen. I’d always really feel the pain of the IRA … My Dad is called Michael Collings, by the way.

Atrocity Boy: Really?

Austin Collings: His mother is one of thirteen. She was left on a doorstep. It might come from that.

Atrocity Boy: Is the collection autobiographical, then?

Austin Collings: Well, yes, of course, to a degree. You’ve got the whole school period … But it’s not totally autobiographical. I admire B.S. Johnson. I like the way he wanted to write something incredibly modernist but he was incapable of it and ends up being heartfelt and emotional, almost in spite of himself. A lot of people see modernism as austere and cold but even with Beckett, I find it very emotional … I’d like it to be a generous book. I’d like it to be a mate to people.

   VORTEX

A Story by Austin Collings

 -

 He seemed to live daily in the shadow of disaster. He couldn’t shake the darkness. The rolling waste of days. Knuckles on the door that made his nerves scream.

He looked for messages in the street, in children’s speak:

‘We’re not allowed to spit in our garden,’ the boy said.

‘She’s got blood on her laces,’ the girl said.

‘You know a boy called Angel?’

‘Yeah. That's what his Mum called him.’

They walked beneath the green gloom of trees dressed in yellow and black school uniforms. He saw them as bee children with airborne auras. They made him smile. He wished them all the best, but never said this to them. He knew the dangers.

He saw truth in the dirty alleys of the human pysche, saw its sun circles and thunder and felt its force. God is the storm, he’d say to himself, silently, tragically traipsing through the glow of Aldi or Tesco, irritated by barcode bleeps, fascinated by faces.  

Each day he searched eagerly for offers, for stickers plastered across cut-price meat. This sight excited him. There were times when he’d happily steal. He felt the solitude of crime. Make sure nobody is looking. Seize the moment (there’s always one in a day). The gold cup, the stolen steak. Second prize, wine. Together, victory for the night. Exit without paying. Grip the food and feel the sensation of success as you flee into the tunnel that leads to the quiet of the old people’s home.

Recently he’d become obsessed with the forecast. Tomorrow’s weather. He longed for strong sun. It made him feel powerful. Holes had started appearing in the roads. Sink-holes. The online news blamed the heavy storms. And then there’d been a sound ‘like a UFO’ in the skies above the town, ‘a loud pulsating, bass noise’ that ‘seemed to move’.

The world is turning.

In digital music he heard people’s panic and angry desperation. He yearned to disappear. Only ghosts can live between two fires. The pub was the centre of his circle. He hid in alcoves. Something out of childhood whistles through these spaces. The special anguish of youth.

He stood for the invisible, for personal courage, for bygone traits — or this is what he told himself — though he wasn’t so sure people ever thought like this, even in the truly hard times, when they were forced to eat grenades and watch bullets enter their own and other people’s bodies.

Still and all: bravery in a rotten climate is hurriedly buried, he thought, and so I must balance this while I’m part of this earth.

 He entered The Railway. Betty behind the bar was diminishing. The taps were taller than she was.

‘What can I get you?’ she said.

Those words. Healed again.  

He found his alcove, placed his food and pint on the gold textured table. Four men in front of him sat listening to another man read carefully from a newspaper. In-between speaking this man would pluck and eat from a huge bag of Quavers with his huge fingers.  

‘Two ethereal shapes appearing in the clouds ...’

Wiping Quaver dust from his lips, he continued:

‘... possibly beginning of transporter/transport invasion.’

Things from another planet.

And then a big and fat silence transformed the pub. All the men stopped talking.

He took a small sip of his pint and put it down quick, like touching a flame. Were they now looking at him? Were they now asking his name? He was worried now — deeply worried. He could tell them him his name. He would tell them his name. He knew that. I’m ______. The voice was the problem — which voice to use?

     All photography © Steve Hunt 2016 

Aesthetics © Cléon Thétéll  

The Myth of Brilliant Summers is available to buy for £9.99 from all good and bad bookshops and direct from the Pariah Press store at pariahpress.com.