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shortnotsweet · 4 years ago

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The Allegory of the Tin Man, the Dictator, and the Knight: a Dissection of Ironqrow and a Character Arc of Failure

“There lived in the Land of Oz two queerly made men who were best of friends. They were so much happier when together that they were seldom apart.”

— L. Frank Baum

A brief Ironqrow meta and character analysis of James Ironwood, the ultimate screw up, in three parts.

I. Qrow and Ironwood’s Homoeroticism in Canon Source Material and its Translation

II. Ironwood’s Repressed Characterization and the Inherent Chivalry of the Dictatorship

III. Ironwood, Alone

Qrow and Ironwood’s Homoeroticism in Canon Source Material and its Translation

Within the Oz series, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow are layered within homoerotic subtext, even if it is included unintentionally. Tison Pugh’s analysis Queer Utopianism and Antisocial Eroticism in L. Frank Baum's Oz Series posits that the land of Oz as portrayed within the series is a largely asexual environment of suspended adolescence that involves the deviation of binary gender norms, and of performative heterosexuality. Pugh refers to it later as a “queer utopia”. Men are portrayed as a lesser military force to women, and heterosexuality is a flimsy presence at best; all signs of procreation within Oz are stifled. While this could be chalked down to Baum not wanting to get into the subject of sex and exploration in a children’s series, it does contribute to a particular tone with real-life critiques of capitalism and a particular deconstruction of gender norms. Ozma, who will become the ruler of Oz after the Wizard and the Scarecrow respectively, for example, is originally a boy named Tip (the name itself holds phallic implications) who is “transformed” into a girl. The strongest military force is one of all-women led by a rebellious female general. Pugh observes, “At the same time that Baum satirizes...women as leaders…he consistently depicts women as more successful soldiers than men, and female troops appear better capable of serving militarily than male troops…[the] male army comprises of twenty-six officers and one private, and they are all cowards…” and cites the Frogman’s declaration that “Girls are the fiercest soldiers of all...they are more brave than men, and they have better nerves”.

RWBY itself isn’t opposed to this kind of subversion, either in its characters or its relationships. There’s an obvious effort to include LGBTQ+ representation (albeit primarily in the background), strong female characters are prevalent and make up most of the main and supporting cast, a character’s gender is not strictly reliant on its source material, and BlackSun, while cute and a valid ship in its own right, is treated as a heterosexual red herring to Bumbleby. Additionally, there have been a lot of hints by the voice actors, writers, and creators on social media that Qrow himself is queer, the infamous Ironqrow embrace included.

Admittedly, if I wanted to write an essay about the likelihood of Qrow being LGBTQ+ or having some kind of queer identity, I would probably focus more on his relationship with Clover, which had a lot more overt and probably canonically intentional Gay Vibes, and despite having known Qrow nowhere near as long as Ironwood has, it has just as much, if not more, to extrapolate. Unfortunately, that’s not the main point of this essay, although it remains relevant. While I personally don’t doubt that Qrow has had sex with women or experiences valid sexual attraction to them, I get the feeling that it is, to a degree, a performative act and a masculine assertation of enjoyment intended as a coping mechanism. It plays into the trope of the handsome, tortured alcoholic (best exemplified, perhaps, in the MCU’s Tony Stark, Dean Winchester in Supernatural, and critiqued in the superhero episode of Rick and Morty) who sleeps around just to recall the feeling of intimacy, or because he associates sexual ‘degradation’ as a reflection of his worth. Real self-deprecating, slightly misogynistic stuff. Qrow’s recall of short skirts, as well as his brief exchange with the waitress in an earlier volume, reminds me of one specific interaction between the Scarecrow and his own love interest. Within the series, the Qrow’s source-material counterpart, the Scarecrow, has one canonical love interest, the Patchwork Girl:

“Forgive me for staring so rudely,” said the Scarecrow, “but you are the most beautiful sight my eyes have ever beheld.”

“That is a high compliment from one who is himself so beautiful,” murmured Scraps, casting down her suspender-button eyes by lowering her head.

Pugh points out that the two of them never develop this relationship further than flirtation, and heterosexuality is reduced to a “spectral presence” lacking the “erotic energy [driving] these queer narratives in their presence”. Specifically, Qrow never reveals a serious or long running heterosexual love interest - he is not the father! [of Ruby] (despite much speculation that he and Summer Rose were involved) and he and Winter never really moved past the stage of ‘hostility with just a hint of sexual tension’ - and there is no debunking of potential queerness. His interactions with Clover (deserving of an entire essay on its own) seem to support this interpretation, and is more or less a confirmation of some kind of queer inclination or identity. Again, the “queer utopia” of Oz comes at the cost of the expulsion of the sexual or the mere mention of reproduction - still, through this device, same-sex relationships gain a new kind of significance with the diminishing nature of heterosexuality. Speaking of queer narratives, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man have the most tender and prolonged relationship of perhaps all the characters in the series, exchanging a lifelong commitment:

“I shall return with my friend the Tin Woodman,” said the stuffed one seriously. “We have decided never to be parted in the future.”

Within the source material, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow voluntarily live together, and are life partners in nearly every sense of the word. The second book in the Oz series is The Tin Woodman of Oz. In summary, the Tin Woodman recalls that he had a fiancée before the events of the first book, forgot all about her, and now must search her out so that they can get married. Who does he ask to accompany him in this pursuit? None other than his no-homo life partner, the Scarecrow. Although this sounds like a stereotypical heteronormative storyline, “this utopian wonderland...rejects heterosexual procreation...First, the Tin Woodman does not desire...Nimmie Amee...” and even acknowledges that due to the ‘nature’ of the heart that the Wizard had given him, he is literally incapable of romantically or passionately loving or desiring Nimmie, and by extent, women in general - to me, that works perfectly as an allegory for a gay man who is literally incapable of experiencing legitimate heterosexual urges, but ‘soldiers on’ out of obligation and societally enforced chivalry. “The Tin Woodman excuses himself from the heteronormative imperative...Only his sense of masculine honor, rather than a heteronomratively masculine sex drive, impels the Tin Woodman on his quest to marry his long-lost fiancée.” Again, Ironwood’s character follows the lines of propriety within the sphere of the wealthy elite, and his persona as a high-ranking military man and politician, as well as the conservative values instilled within Atlas, prioritize duty and obligation. This kind of culture is stifling and in a lot of ways aloof, as the upper class deludes itself into believing that it is objectively better and more advanced than its neighboring territories. *ahem the myth of American exceptionalism ahem*

“There lived in the Land of Oz two queerly made men who were best of friends. They were so much happier when together that they were seldom apart.”

I think it’s funny that the characters that Ironwood and Qrow are based off of are canonically the closest of friends, who coexist almost as a unit. In contrast, the first introduction we get of Ironwood and Qrow is a hostile exchange where they’re at each other’s throats, never on the same page, and never in sync, not when it matters. Indeed, Qrow snaps at Ironwood for his lack of communication, which is a recurring issue between the two of them on notable occasions. If the source material is anything to go by, there should be a significant relationship between the two of them, or at least some kind of connection, even if it goes unspoken or unacknowledged. To be fair, in RWBY’s canon, I think there is.

I’ve seen this joke that while Qrow hates the Atlas military, the only people he really seems to flirt with is Atlas military personnel. “Ice Queen” is something I interpreted to be partially hostile, partially mocking, and partially flirtatious, in equal spades - the voice actors and creators have indicated that it was flirtatious, and there was a whole Chibi episode dedicated to the concept of Qrow and Winter’s extrapolated sexual tension, albeit in jest. I might argue that his use of abbreviates aren’t reserved for people he dislikes, but for people who bring out his playful side. “Brat”, “Pipsqueak”, “Firecracker”, and “Kiddos” are all drawn from a place of affection, however short or mocking it may seem, because that’s what crows do: they mock others.

Qrow has little nicknames for people; while it’s not exclusively a sign of affection, I do get the feeling that ‘Jimmy’ is an informality that irks Ironwood, but can also be interpreted as Qrow giving James what he needs, rather than what he wants.

Glynda is by no means a pushover, but in assuring him that while he does questionable things, he’s still a good person, she’s softening the blow and probably further enabling deeply rooted and pre-existing traits, many of which contribute to his problematic control complex. It is established early on that Qrow resents the military (as he should), and it is implied that he’s spent a fair amount of encounters harassing and provoking military personnel (Winter being the most evident example of this), and has insulted the military numerous times to Ironwood’s face. He lectures Ironwood about the way he conducts his operations, his inability to communicate, and basically what a complete, inconsiderate asshole he really is.

What Ironwood needs is someone who operates outside of the pretense that he works, breathes, and lives under, and just tells it like it is. Jimmy isn’t all that - he’s a person, just like the rest of us, and he can flaunt all the titles that he wants, but James stripped down is still just Jimmy.

Qrow also is the kind of person who pries, who is insistent, and not particularly sensitive. For someone like Ironwood who has a lot of (physical and emotional) barriers, logically, in order for him to receive genuine understanding, Qrow fits the profile of someone who is invasive but not exploitive, who sees past the cracks in his armor and takes him for what he is. What is just important is that whoever Ironwood is with is someone who makes him want to try not only to be better, but to be real; thematically, General Ironwood seems to have a great respect for but a deep struggle with authenticity. He clearly resents the ignorance and frivolity of Atlas’s wealthy elite, as evidenced by his support for Weiss at the dinner party in announcing that “she’s one of the only people making any sense around here”, while struggling to project the facade that he’s carefully created.

See, we don’t have evidence that there is something going on between Ironqood and Qrow so much as we have enough evidence to inconclusively say that there’s not not something going on. I think there’s enough evidence to support the idea that something could be going on, or was going on.

When Qrow saves Ironwood at the Battle of Beacon, who is under the false impression that Qrow believes him to be the culprit of the attacks, his eyes follow Qrow and we get a closer shot of his awed expression; we the viewer can only imagine what he sees as Qrow arcs through the air and slices down a Grimm from behind his back. The focus on Ironwood’s expression portrays something like shock (so Qrow wasn’t trying to attack me after all, but then what the hell is he doing?), maybe wonder (I can’t take my eyes off of him, I can’t look away), maybe respect (I know he’s a good Hunter, but I’ve rarely seen him in action), but it is unfiltered nonetheless. In a show where fight scenes are vital to the progression of the story itself, the dynamics of these fights are at their best when they are character driven, whether it is revealing or reinforcing something about the characters and their relationships, or it is deciding their fates. There’s something to be said about characters being given moments together in battles, and what that says about the significance of their relationship. The best example of this might be the battle between Blake and Yang vs Adam; it served to give Adam what he deserved, help Blake and Yang reach closure in certain aspects of their own trauma, and solidify the bond between the girls. Similarly, Qrow and Ironwood’s moment is meant to reveal a theme that will later be revisited in volume 7; trust. Ironwood is startled but not shocked when he believes that Qrow distrusts him to the degree of attacking him, and is ready to attack or defend as needed.

Qrow tells him what he needs to hear, more or less: YOU’RE A DUMBASS. Ironwood is, indeed, a dumbass. While he does extend the olive branch of trust and good will to CRWBY and co. this trust is highly conditional and proves to be, while from a place of desperation and sincerity, at least partially performative.

When Ironwood snaps, he snaps hard.

Amber’s voice actress tweeted early on, joking that Qrow has two Atlas boyfriends, and Arryn has made comments, too. It’s one of the older ships, and the crew is certainly aware of it (“...extended chest bump...”).

Kerry has stated that he finds the Ironqrow relationship interesting, and wishes it had been explored more (additionally, allegedly lobbying that Ironwood’s arm in the Ironqrow hug scene be slightly lower). I’m not saying that they’re going to both make it out alive, or canon, or even that romantic subtext was intentionally woven into the script. All I’m saying is that I think their relationship is interesting too, especially when the subtext of their source material relationship is taken into context, and the way their characters are positioned is suggestive of some sort of compatibility, even if it is a hit or miss kind of opportunity, and I have the sinking suspicion that it was missed on both accounts.

The Tin Woodman of Oz concludes,

“All this having been happily arranged, the Tin Woodman returned to his tin castle, and his chosen comrade, the Scarecrow, accompanied him on the way. The two friends were sure to pass many pleasant hours together in talking over their recent adventures, for as they neither ate nor slept they found their greatest amusement in conversation.”

Ironwood’s Repressed Characterization and the Inherent Chivalry of the Dictatorship

“I don’t give a damn about Jacque Schnee...what about the other two? Do not return to this office until you have Qrow Branwen in custody.”

“And that’s not all we’ve lost...I had Qrow in my hands, and I didn’t do what needed to be done.”

Observe: Ironwood, at this point, does not care about politics. I doubt he’s ever wanted to, or ever liked it (if his tired outburst at the dinner party is any indication) but his Knightly qualities (we’ll get to that) have, up till this point, prompted him to adhere to them for both power and etiquette. James surrounds himself in a world that he understands and despises; more than anything, he’d like to be a general, a commander, and the Knight in Shining Armor archetype, because warfare is something he understands. It is a testament to his (superhuman) willpower that he forces himself to become fluent in the language of politics, and to live and breathe in it. To clarify, Ironwood sees himself as a man who does what needs to be done; if he wants to change and control Atlas, he will have to involve himself in its politics.

Likely, his resilience has contributed to the way he views himself and what he deserves, as someone long-suffering and almost martyr-like, a silent hero doing what needs to be done. But at the moment, he’s lost his goddamn mind coming undone. He’s murdered and jailed his political dissent (and might have considered executing prisoners), but at this point, that’s all that Jacque and Robyn are to him. First he dismisses Jacque, narrows it down to the two escaped prisoners, and finally reveals what’s really on the forefront of his mind: Qrow, free and out of his hands.

[ When recalling this dialogue, please do so while imagining a bad recorder cover of the Titanic music playing over the background. Here is a sample. ]

In the most recent episode, Ironwood seems to have gone off the rails even further. The fact that Winter, his most faithful lieutenant, is losing her unshakable faith in him, says a lot about how hard he’s fallen off the deep end. In Winter’s mind, I think that she sees him almost as a surrogate father figure, or at least a patriarch who can be positively compared to Jacques in every way. The previous volumes go to lengths to compare the two as adversaries and showing James in a favorable light; Winter is in her own personal horror right now, because she is beginning to understand that Ironwood is a man who may not be her father but is just as susceptible to corruption, and may have been that kind of person all along. Skipping over the...ah, genocidal tendencies, and the fact that he’s proposing to kidnap Penny’s friends to force her to obey him and likely is starting to realize that Winter is the perfect bait (let’s just say that “Ironwood is not good with kids” is the understatement of the year) Ironwood wants Qrow back (in captivity), I think that it’s significant that while Ironwood registers that Robyn is gone as well, his first priority is Qrow, probably for two reasons. On one hand, he still refers to Qrow by his first name, instead of the formal Branwen. Of course, that doesn’t have to mean anything at all. They’re colleagues within the same age range, both members of the same secret brotherhood and similiar skill sets.

On the other hand, it reminds me of the moment when Qrow and the kids first fly into Atlas, and they see the heightened security, and Qrow mutters, “James...what have you been doing,” under his breath, sounding concerned, apprehensive. He’s not addressing the kids, he’s talking to himself; he regards James much more seriously both as a potential threat and a friend than he’d rather the other know, and I think that James’ focus on Qrow at this point is similiar, only not only is this a sign of them knowing each other well, but of Ironwood’s slipping control. He offered Qrow his trust and camaraderie, his last attempt to keep a handle on his humanity (or, his heart). Qrow, in return, withheld vital information, got close with another operative instead, then allegedly killed him and and escaped ‘rightful’ imprisonment.

The Tin Man is offering Qrow his heart, at least proof of it, and the Scarecrow [and co.] steps back to observe the situation, and assesses that no, what you are going to do is wrong, and I cannot agree with it.

Ironwood is not an objective person, as much as he wants to be. He’s angry, desperate, scared, and humiliated. Worst of all, he’s rebuffed, and he’s taking Qrow’s escape personally. First, he understands that Qrow is a threat. He’s Ozpin’s best agent, he has years of field experience, and he knows too much, probably more than James knows. Second, they have history.

My personal interpretation of Ironwood is something this:

He’s a sad, sad, lonely bitch. What Ironwood longs for, just like his source material counterpart, is a heart. He will go to any lengths to achieve this, because he believes that he has self awareness and therefore is able to check and balance himself. He treats his subordinates well, is diplomatic, skilled in a variety of trades, fighting the good fight, and longs for the affirmation that yes, he is a good person, and yes, he’s had a heart all along. He just strays from the path, and loses his way.

This is symbolically represented by his partially mechanic exoskeleton; we have no idea how far the cyborg extremities extend, or how deep, but we do get the visual notion of humanity in conflict, or a man’s soul deconstructed and split between the cold efficiency of machinery and the very real warmth of a human body. Ironwood wants to appear human, and benevolent, and genuine, and in return, loved; he is human, and he could be all of these things. If my reliance on the source material holds any merit (although I highly doubt it), then there is also a potential struggle with sexuality, (Glynda herself even explicitly and exasperatedly references a testosterone battle between Ironwood and Qrow, suggesting a regular overassertation of masculinity) and a further incentive to achieve love and subsequent acceptance.

To clarify, I do believe that there were less-than-subtle allusions to Ironwood and Glynda having a vaguely flirtatious history, taking their shared scenes and background dancing into account, but this, again, does not “debunk” the presence of queerness within a narrative; it could be an assumption of heterosexuality, or performative itself, or just not an exclusive interest. Besides, Ironwitch isn’t what this essay is about. I’m not trying to persuade or dissuade someone of the notion that Jimmy is gay, or straight, or something else, only that the potential ambiguity exists. What I do think is most important is that James doesn’t openly ward people away, not when those people aren’t under his command and are technically outside of his jurisdiction. He’s friendly with Glynda, tries to extend trust to Qrow, is kind to people in the aftermath of battle, and overall clings to diplomacy as his first weapon. He wants to be accepted, to be liked, and to be welcomed. This is not an outrageous want, nor is it uncommon. Unfortunately, Ironwood’s understanding of love and acceptance is entangled within the concept of control, and he associates unquestioned compliance with this Want.

Ironwood’s introduction into the series shows him being openly cordial, and very considerate, especially his interactions with Glynda and Ozpin. He’s a gentleman, he’s apologetic, and, as Glynda assures him, he’s a “good man”. She doesn’t really elaborate on what a “good man” is, exactly, but we might presume that a “good man” is a person with good intentions, who strives to do what’s right, regardless of his options.

Here’s the thing - one similarity between Ironwood and the Tin Man is that they both have the capacity to love, but they fool themselves into thinking that they don’t; before the Wizard gives him a ‘heart’, the Tin Man suggests that he is only kind and considerate to everyone in Oz because he believes he needs to overcompensate for what he lacks, and is therefore doubly aware of how he treats others. However, the Wizard knows no real magic, only tricks and illusions, and what he gives the Tin Man is essentially a placebo that enables the Tin Man to act towards and feel about others the exact same as he always had, only with the validation that what he feels is authentic. Similarly, Ironwood has always had the option to be empathetic and not fucking crazy open to collaboration, which he’s very aware of, until his own paranoia cuts into his rationality and compels him to cut himself off from all allies and alternative perspectives. He then uses his difficult position and responsibilities to justify unjustifiable actions, to rationalize irrational urges, and to gaslight and brainwash his subordinates into compliance.

The Tin Woodman knew very well he had no heart, and therefore he took great care never to be cruel or unkind to anything.

“You people with hearts,” he said, “have something to guide you, and need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so I must be very careful. When Oz gives me a heart of course I needn’t mind so much.”

Qrow sees through this, however, and not only seems incapable of following orders himself, but disrupts the decorum that Ironwood is used to. In return, I think we see a little more of James that he’d like to reveal.

“If you were one of my men, I’d have you shot!”

“If I was one of your men, I’d shoot myself!”

In case this entire ass essay doesn’t make it obvious, I do really ship Ironqrow. I’m open to other pairings, definitely, but this one in particular is just more interesting to me. It feels more revealing, more subtle. I have more questions.

In hindsight, maybe the dialogue example above ^ didn’t age well, considering where they’re at, but I do like how their professional animosity is flavored with a kind of camaraderie, and understanding. This exchange isn’t exactly playful, but they’re taking each other seriously - and, like repressed schoolboys, taking the piss at each other in a childish way, and isn’t that part of the fun of banter, when they’re so focused on each other that they forget to act their age? In a lot of ways, this is a really fun dynamic to watch. They’re opposite-kind-of-people, which I like, at least on a superficial level, and I can easily imagine them tempering each other in ways that would make them ultimately happier people.

They even look well-coordinated, with similar color schemes that lean on the opposite sides of the shared spectrum (white, grays, reds and black); I think the decorative design on Qrow’s new sleeves are supposed to be more ornate simply to communicate that Qrow is committed, and willing to be sentimental, but some viewers have suggested that it resembles the pattern on James’ weapon, Due Process (the revolver is based off of the Tin Man’s pistol, although, curiously, in The Wizard of Oz, the Scarecrow was the only character to carry a pistol, and the commentaries suggest that the 2007 Tin Man miniseries was the “basis of the allusion”. Does that mean anything? I don’t know. Probably not.). Still, it raises the questions: who was in charge of designing the team’s new clothes and gear? How much input did Atlas get, and was this intentional? Personally, I think that the vine-like pattern on Qrow’s sleeves also bear a resemblance to Ozpin’s staff, a subtle reaffirmation and foreshadowing of his allegiance in contrast to Ironwood, but I digress.

They can also deliver that UST kind of banter that takes up their attention, and get up really close to each other, in each other’s faces, and just be pissed, which I think is very sexy of them, mhm. Enemies to Colleagues to Reluctant Friends to Lovers is a trope that I very much appreciate. Gaining some sort of common ground at the Battle of Beacon only to reunite, tired and battered, after the shit has already hit the fan? Slow burn kinda vibes.

That hug between them was something genuinely vulnerable and a sign of Ironwood letting his guard down because he is tired as fuck. It also was uh...kinda fruity.

Ironwood approaches closer, and Qrow scratches the back of his head, a characteristically nervous gesture that he’s made before; it’s a nervous twitch, manufactured nonchalance. He has no idea what Ironwood wants, but he does know that Ironwood wants something. James is the one to initiate the hug, and Qrow startles and even freezes up before relaxing into it. He seems suprised, but gives the bisexual eye roll of grudging fondness. This is out of character for James - Jimmy - but Qrow doesn’t think that Ironwood is a bad person. He leans into the hug, and the camera cuts out before they separate, suggesting that they probably end up standing there for a long ass time. You can also see from the side shots that it’s a close hug; their torsos are pressed up against each other, front to front, and there’s not a lot of wiggle room. James must be really goddamn depressed. It’s a long, manly, intensley heterosexual hug. Like I said, kinda fruity.

Other people have analyzed the hug shot for shot, so I won’t get too into it, but I think that it was intentionally left as a double red herring; some people thought that maybe he bugged Qrow, and after finding out that he didn’t, we were forced to conclude that this is a genuine olive branch. To find out that Ironwood is sincere but was still susceptible to corruption is that second subversion that I didn’t really expect. I hadn’t prepared myself for it, at least, and neither did Qrow. I wouldn’t go as far to say that Ironwood’s descent into fucking craziness paranoia is triggered by Qrow not ‘reciprocating’ or something, but I do think it’s interesting how the volume opens up with a signifigant interaction between Ironwood and Qrow, only for Qrow to spend the rest of the volume homosexually bonding with Clover, while Ironwood basically has no one as emotional support (again, his subordinates do not have the power or the place to be viewed as equals and the veil of formality is one of isolation). Qrow initiates nothing further, and nothing further happens.

Ironwood’s downfall, in a thematic sense, is that what he Needs is a heart, and when he gets that chance to demonstrate tolerance and empathy, James ultimately rejects his Need (a heart) and his arc reverts into one of villainy. To be specific, Ironwood is essentially a fascist dick, and that is not very sexy. (Speaking of dicks, the thought of Ironwood’s dick makes me laugh. I bet in the RWBY universe, people have made memes about that. I do not accept criticism because I am correct. Anyway,).

Dictators are charming, charismatic, and one of the pillars of their method is absorbing potential political opponents into their own administration to reduce the threat of rebellion, to appear openly tolerant to their supporters, and to further consolidate power. A good example of this would be Mean Girls, which runs on a comedic commentary of dictatorships as a political structure of power. I hate to compare James Ironwood to Regina George, but Regina’s posse includes Karen and Gretchen, two of the only girls who might take away from the authority she holds over the rest of their school, both in their wealth and attractiveness, and Cady’s interesting backstory and conventional attractiveness is the main reason Regina draws her into her own sphere - because she detects a potential threat. Much in the same way, while Ironwood likely has good intentions, his efforts to win over team RWBY and co. - including Qrow himself - is a logical way to consolidate resources. His willingness, at first, to cooperate with political opponents (ie Robyn) is because he’s not inherently evil, and he has nothing to lose. It’s when he is openly opposed and diplomatic gestures no longer hold the necessary weight that he snaps.

In one really interesting meta about Ironqrow’s archetypes (that I reread occasionally just because I really love it), @onewomancitadel posits that Ironwood is framed within the archetype of the Knight in Shining Armor, which should inform us of the moral consistency of his character. The meta was written around the beginning of volume 7, I think, and obviously we have a lot more character development and information to go off of now, but I think she makes a really interesting point about the nature of parallels and how that might help drive Ironwood as a character. I love her analysis of the visual of Ironwood stepping out of an airship wreckage, onto the street, the smoke billowing around him to reveal his cyborg prosthetics, and of the intentional framing. Once his uniform is stripped back, we see a man who is literally half-armor, which could be indicative of a lot of things. He’s emotionally guarded, he’s used as a human weapon, and he wants to be a line of defense. In her words, “The symbolism is really obviously put into perspective of his actions in trying to do the right thing: in the flesh (his true physical self) he is literally a knight in shining armour. From the ground up. Even if it's unseen or distorted by his uniform, his nature is still true.”

While Ironwood clearly has gone down a darker path in the most recent volume, I think this analysis holds true in a crucial way. “Ironwood is working with different information, and he’s doing exactly what he knows: stick to his knightly virtues, even disgraced.” Disgraced, indeed. Ironwood is holding onto his knightly values, and doing what he believes is right. If not right, he believes that it is necessary. The problem is that these values are manifested within Atlas’s sociopolitical-military culture in an inherently toxic way - his response is, at this point, neither rational nor empathetic, but it can be explained partially due to his cultural (flawed) understanding of justice, and because of the extenuating circumstances. The harsher the conditions become, the more difficult it is for anyone to project a facade that is not sincere at its core. If James is to uphold his Knightly virtues, he needs to be a protector, a leader, and a servant all at once while operating under limited intel with dwindling trust. All he has left are the few key players still in his grasp, and the control of the people he is responsible for.

To digress: generally, knights take an oath. It could be to a King, or Lord, or some noble, but Knights are supposed to operate on a code of honor, and chivalry, and to uphold these values throughout the land as an extension of whoever they have pledged themselves to. The story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is a really good example of the way that, back in the day, chivalry and honor was supposed to place knights on a moral high ground compared to the common people.

In the middle of a celebration in Camelot, an obligatory tradition that has since lost real value but is rehearsed because Camelot fears that failure to uphold traditions that once had meaning is disrespectful, a Green Knight interrupts the celebrations and offers a strange challenge that boils down to a fight to the death. Gawain volunteers because accepting this challenge is what is expected of him, and Arthur would be humiliated if his knights, supposedly the best in the world, would not rise to the challenge. Gawain - and to a certain extent, the rest of Arthur’s knights - are fickle, in a sense, because their adherence to this code is performative, and it allows them to delude themselves into moral superiority and lie both to the commoners and amongst themselves; their identity as knights is based on a falsehood. Gawain is offered the first blow, and after beheading the Green newcomer, is horrified to see him become reanimated and immune to mortal blows. He invites Gawain to receive his own - likely fatal - blow, and gives him a time in which to meet, before promptly leaving.

Throughout the story, Gawain is tested in a variety of ways - in his final test, he fails, and allows his greed for self preservation and the fear of death to lead him to lie to his hosts and proceed to his meeting with the Green Knight under dishonest pretenses. While he is spared at the last second and becomes a better person (after it is revealed that Morgan le Fay orchestrated the ordeal to spook Queen Guinevere) - and by extent, a truer Knight, by the end of the story, the superficial and hypocritical nature of Arthur’s court is still in question, and still unanswered.

See, the entirety of Gawain’s trials was a test, not necessarily for him, but for Arthur and his court as a whole. Morgan wanted to prove the fickle nature of Arthur’s knights. The Knights of the Round Table were considered the best in the land, and to discredit one was to discredit all. What use is tradition if the meaning is empty, what use is chivalry if it is performed for reward instead of merit, and what use is loyalty if it is blind and unearned? Returning to Oz, the Tin Woodman, or Tin Man, grew to be made of tin because his axe became enchanted by the Wicked Witch of the East to sever his own body parts instead of the lumber he tried to cut down. A nearby tinsmith replaced each amputated limb with one of metal, until his entire body became tin and his meat body had been entirely discarded. Something to note is that Nick Chopper’s, (General Ironwood’s) wounds are technically self-inflicted. Each time he swung his axe, he made the decision to continue, knowing of the end result each time. In losing his bodily functions, the Tin Man believed that he had lost his humanity and ability to love.

The tragedy of his origin story draws a pointed correlation to Ironwood’s current dilemma; his unwillingness to stop, his self-imposed isolation, playing into the hands of the witch, and finally, the decision to let go of his ability to love remain consistent throughout both stories.

Watts even refers to Ironwood as a “Tin Solider”; a reference to the Tin (Woods)Man, no doubt, but could also evoke a soldier clanking around in metal armor. Ironwood is a Knight in Shining Armor, through and through. He wants to save the world, but at the terrible cost of civilian autonomy and possibly life. The problem is that he’s pledged himself to a discriminatory and hypocritical system, and his code is something that can easily be misconstrued by fear ( @disregardcanon ), much as Gawain’s own values. The Tin Man is, after all, still a man, and if we’ve learned anything from real fairytales, it is that men are fallible, whether or not they are made of metal.

Ironwood, Alone

he’s a lonely bitch

I know I f- up, I'm just a loser

Shouldn't be with ya, guess I'm a quitter

While you're out there drinkin', I'm just here thinkin'

'Bout where I should've been

I've been lonely, mm, ah, yeah

— Benee, Supalonely (2019)

You do get the sense that Ironwood is riddled with self-loathing conflicting with pride, with self-doubt clashing with competence, and that he is the kind of person who longs for things without verbalizing. Maybe his dad never paid enough attention to him as a kid. Maybe he suffered some terrible physical and emotional trauma, which might as well be assumed, given the extensive nature of his cybernetic limbs. Maybe (probably) he’d be more well-adjusted and would’ve made better decisions if the people around him trusted him and were a little more open. To be fair, though, he is the one at the wheel, and he is making the calls; no one else is to blame for his mistakes, and to pretend otherwise is to deny him accountability. I think we do enough of that in everyday life, in excusing powerful men of their responsibilities. To his credit, I do think he wants to help people. I think James also wants to project the personality of a leader who is stoic, controlled, and measured. He is charming when he wants to be, sympathetic when it suits him, and influential in just the right areas. He is not a sociopath, but he is a politician, and in a lot of ways, those are the same thing. We see in his brief flashes of temper, often prompted by Qrow, or most notably by Oscar, that this is not a calm, stable person. This is someone is on the verge of exploding, who is so fucking angry that he is not in control that it’s killing him, and so he is going to lash out and kill the things that are not within his grip. If the people beneath him will not reciprocate the heart that he offers, then he has no real use of it. James Ironwood does not begin this story as a bad person. This is a tragedy, in however many parts it takes.

I read, in one very smart and very put-together analysis that I cannot find and properly credit at the moment, that part of Ironwood’s (many) failures can be seen in Winter, and how, like Ozpin, he has appointed a woman as his talented, no-nonsense, second chain in command at his right hand. In this way, Winter is an intentional parallel to Glynda, who is, without question, a bad bitch. In theory, surrounding yourself with strong individuals is a demonstration of self restraint, in implementing your own checks and balances. James wants to project that he is powerful, yes, but he is reasonable.

I take this to mean that, to some degree, even if it’s unintentional or subconscious, Winter serves to boost Ironwood’s ego.

The issue with this is that within the inherently hierarchical structure of the military, Winter cannot question, undermine, or challenge Ironwood in a way that is particularly meaningful and their relationship is one of commander and subordinate before colleagues or equals (link to a fantastic post about Winter’s role as the Good, Conscientious Soldier by @fishyfod). Whereas Glynda is free to argue with, converse, and be as combative as she needs to be with Ozpin (although their power dynamic is arguably one of commander and subordinate albeit informally), Winter cannot temper Ironwood effectively, and through the illusion of equality, Ironwood is further isolated.

His head and arms and legs were jointed upon his body, but he stood perfectly motionless, as if he could not stir at all.

Dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow, while Toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which hurt his teeth.

“Did you groan?” asked Dorothy.

“Yes,” answered the tin man, “I did. I’ve been groaning for more than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me.”

The Tin Man needs oil to lubricate his joints; without it, he cannot move, and he is rendered helpless and inanimate. When Dorothy and the group find him, he is entirely isolated with no one in sight, and he has been there for such a long time that he has begun to rust. Similarly, Ironwood needs valued voices of dissent to keep him in check. His colleagues were able to serve that purpose in the beginning, and out of them, Qrow is the best example of someone who doesn't take his shit, openly questions him, and looks down on the performative decorum of the military culture that Ironwood is surrounded by. What Ironwood needs is to be flexible and adaptable; his Semblance, Mettle (heh, metal, very nice pun, RoosterTeeth), is a double edged sword in that it gives him supernatural focus and willpower - enough, perhaps, to flay/chop off your own limbs - but it blindsides him, and is only further prolonging his pain.

There is a lot of sympathy to Ironwood’s character, as much as I’ve ragged on him for being an authoritarian, kind of a dick, and bad with kids. There are moments, such as the previously mentioned dinner party, where he shows his colors a bit, and when he assures the students at the Vytal Festival that there’s no shame in leaving before the battle begins, and in giving Yang a prosthetic arm before her father even has to ask. As far as Generals go, it seems that he’s seen soldiers come and go and understands, at least in his best moments, that not everyone is the same, and not everyone has power of unflinching determination to rely on. Ironwood performs his best when he tempers himself because he understands himself, and others. It’s when he fails to self-reflect that his hypocrisy shows through. Glynda points it out, too, as does Qrow; Ironwood advocates for trust but often fails to give it himself, going behind Ozpin’s back, being absolutely shit at field communication, and now the whole fascist, borderline-genocidal keruffle he’s gotten himself into.

I think that Ironwood reaching out to Qrow was his ethical last stand, his last chance and conscious effort to choose the right path. Qrow is unequivocally an equal, not like how Ozpin is the Big Boss, the authority that James becomes disillusioned with and tries to overthrow. He wants someone to trust, desperately so, and Qrow wants that too, but narrative subversion has hands. The Scarecrow and the Tin Man have no brain and heart respectively, and are in need of them. As it turns out, Qrow is actually a pragmatic guy with solid principles angled against authoritarianism, and Ironwood is a dick who would rather enforce martial law than to empathize and tame his military-shaped boner for one second.

I might conclude that someone like Qrow might be best for Ironwood, but that does not mean that someone like Ironwood would be the best for Qrow. Qrow has a brain after all, but Ironwood does not choose his heart when it matters, case in point. Even the intro of the current season features Salem and Ironwood on a chessboard; his white pieces are disappearing, dissolving into dust, as hers transform into Grimm. Ironwood is isolating himself by depleting himself of allies. As this post by @hadesisqueer points out, Ironwood isn’t even positioned as King, the supposed commander, but the Queen, the most versatile player on the board that is so far underused, since he hasn’t moved from his spot. Ironwood’s refusal to unify against Salem is his failure to strategically utilize the best resources that were available to him; soon, the pieces will be swallowed by the dark.

James is guilty of something that a lot of us are guilty of: doing a Bad Thing for what we have convinced ourselves is a Good Reason, when in reality, it is actually a lot of Very Bad Reasons. James Ironwood is a Knight archetype, through and through, and he is charging forward to do the right thing. He is afraid, he is lying to himself, and he will never surrender.

“All the same,” said the Scarecrow, “I shall ask for brains instead of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a heart if he had one.”

“I shall take the heart,” returned the Tin Woodman; “for brains do not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing in the world.”

Dorothy did not say anything, for she was puzzled to know which of her two friends was right, and she decided if she could only get back to Kansas and Aunt Em, it did not matter so much whether the Woodman had no brains and the Scarecrow no heart, or each got what he wanted.

The lesson of James Ironwood is a lesson of failure, and of the way that we succumb to fear, because that is Salem’s agenda, really, in the end: fear. It’s the negative emotions, fear being first and foremost, that draw in and empower the Grimm, and it’s fear and uncertainty that causes chaos. It is when Dorothy’s friends give into their fear that they are truly defeated. FDR’s assertion that “The only thing to fear is fear itself” holds true here; it’s not so much that these characters are afraid of losing their lives, their loved ones, and of the dark, but that they do not have the love or the resources to be brave for themselves or for others.

Qrow as a character is introduced as one who is already defeated, in a sense. Half of his team is gone, dead or estranged, he’s forced into the shadows of espionage to protect a world he knows is darker than it should be, and he’s fighting a losing battle with alcoholism. As charismatic as he’s written, he’s referred to as a “dusty old crow”, a hunter of renowned skill but past the prime of his life.

Dorothy’s three titular companions are defined by what they lack; in the same vein of the Disney I Want song (a main character’s main monologue song in which their wants and desires that motivate them throughout the rest of the film is laid out in song; ie Part of Your World, Reflections, How Far I’ll Go), the Lion, Tin Man, and the Scarecrow want bravery, a heart, and a brain respectively. RWBY relies on flipping the script of its characters based on what the audience might expect from the source material; Ruby is not just a helpless little girl - her introduction is a badass with a scythe. The Scarecrow is a chronic alchoholic. Cinderella is a victim of abuse, and is also a villain who wants to set the world aflame. Subversion, subversion, subversion.

There are obviously parallels between the characters in RWBY and in their own fairytales to keep them in character, and part of the fun is spotting those clues and occasionally connecting the dots to anticipate the direction of the narrative and certain connections between characters and the significance of their arcs. While I’m not aware of Dorothy Gale’s RWBY counterpart, if she has already been established or is yet to be introduced, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that Ruby has adopted a Dorothy-eque persona and can act as a surrogate in a way. She begins as a sweet, naive child eager to join a world of color and excitement, who initially believes that she has “normal knees” and is thrust into a political scheme full of powerful and older players. She even has a small dog as a companion, Toto Zwei, who seems like an odd addition, since he’s usually sidelined and basically forgotten about except in a few spare moments, unless he’s there to draw further comparisons to Dorothy. She may not be from Kansas, but she is first helped by Glynda (the Good Witch), and later expects assistance from Ozpin, Qrow, and the later Ozian counterparts. I find it a peculiar detail that for Ruby to be Little Red Riding Hood alone, she is surrounded specifically by Dorothy’s companions. This, of course, only increases the importance of the relevance of the Oz series in particular and the characters that are borrowed.

In the case of Ozpin’s inner circle, Dorothy’s closest comrades (sans Toto) differ in crucial ways to their source material. (After finishing this essay, I found a much better, condensed explanation by @neopoliitan )

Disillusioned by the Ozpin, the Wizard (who has been projecting an illusion of a failsafe) and overwhelmed by the rise of the Wicked Witch of the West, Lionhart (the Lion), gives into his cowardice and ultimately forgoes the arc and redemption of his character from the source material; as such, he is by all definitions, a failure and a premonition, as Ironwood eventually follows. If RWBY is a dark take on classic fairytales, then it is only fitting that these characters are charred husks of their fairytale selves - these are people, and some people are selfish, scared, and cowardly, and they do not overcome these traits.

This is all opinion based, pure speculation. I have no idea what will happen in the next episode, and whatever goes down will be...shit will hit the fan. I’m under no delusions that Ironqrow is going to be canon in a healthy, tender, endgame sense. They’re both kind of losing their minds, and Ironwood is shitting absolute bricks. No, they’re going to try to kill each other, and I personally cannot wait for Qrow to cleave this man in two. (Not sexually, just, literally. Like, with a scythe.)

On that note, I think that the RWBY writers are good at callbacks, at drawing attention to their own connections, and if Ironwood and Qrow’s inevitable confrontation is scheduled, then it will include visual callbacks to Qrow saving James at Beacon, maybe shot for shot. Their visuals have only gotten better as time goes on, and I imagine Ironwood’s eyes widening as Qrow leaps through the air, scythe drawn, in recal of a moment so long ago when they weren’t on the same page, but they were at least on the same side. When Qrow brings the blade down, there will be no enemy behind him. Only Jimmy James. The difference between the two of them will be that Qrow isn’t fighting out of fear, but out of love, for what happened to Clover, and to what could happen to his girls.

Qrow’s reliance on alcohol, as well as his (mostly) feigned nonchalance is meant to fit with the motif that the Scarecrow has no brain, and, had he a mind to desire anything, would desire it most of all. His role is, also, notably, gathering intelligence for Ozpin (his character is also based on Munnin from Norse mythology). There is so much about Qrow that is an act and so much that is not, and I think that this act is born both from this motif and from his own cynicism, and the alcohol contributes to this act. However, he eventually gets sober after Ruby expresses legitimate frustration, and he understands that he’s putting their lives at risk. While one could say that he gave up drinking for the kids, I would argue that the kids - Ruby in particular - made him want to give up drinking for himself, to better himself.

While Lionhart and Ironwood betray the people depending on them, Qrow’s love for his nieces (and for the kids) allows him to deviate from this pattern. The answer to fear is perhaps not merely bravery - Qrow’s triumph is love.

Ironwood knows triumph in the context of a military state, but he’s backed himself into a corner. Soon he will find himself alone and friendless. Hopefully, his last stand will not be in vain.

#ironqrow #james ironwood #qrow branwen #rwby #rwby8 spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby meta #ok this is all just based on my opinion ok #like i ship ironqrow but ironwood is a dicktator if u know what i mean #he is probably gonna die but anyway #ironqrow meta #winter schnee #snowbird #also includes links and credit to other posts and metas #I just had to get this off of my chest ok

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lefeusacre-editions · 5 years ago

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BOOKHOUSE GIRL #60 | Chloé SAFFY, romancière

(Crédit photo : Patrick Cockpit )

On était venu vers elle avec un projet autour de Bret Easton Ellis, pour notre collection des Feux Follets. On pensait à un éloge de Lunar Park ou Moins que zéro, plutôt qu’au trop brutalement évident American Psycho. Et puis la voilà qui contrait nos propositions avec un désir de livre sur Donna Tartt. Non seulement Chloé Saffy, sorte de bluesgirl en rollers ou de Miss Orange dans un remake féministe de Reservoir Dogs, c’est selon les jours, était la première femme à pousser les portes du Feu Sacré pour y signer un essai (on est fin 2017 quand on commence à en parler), mais ça ne suffisait pas, elle faisait avec raison entrer avec elle une femme parmi les écrivains louangés par les Feux Follets. Ce sera là sa première incursion dans l’univers de l’essai littéraire. Après qu’elle a épanoui plusieurs de ses livres via le monde vénéneux du roman, Subspace permet enfin à Chloé Saffy de nous dire qui elle est. La romancière éprise de narrations polaroïdes, sombres et sexuées, parle comme elle écrit et vice versa. Et à l’envers de ses thrillers précédents, se raconte à Je perdu dans cette farandole méthodique où pas un pied ne dépasse : on l’entend écrire, Chloé Saffy, lente et affirmée, de son timbre mesuré, elle qui dit croire en la supériorité du tank sur tout autre moyen de transport. Ecrire sur cet amour de jeunesse qu’est le Maître des illusions, livre de Donna Tartt que Saffy a découvert comme on s’initie à la passion charnelle ; écrire sur les effets de ce qui s’apparente moins ici à une aventure au fil du temps et des relectures qu’à une liaison ; écrire sur l’exercice d’admiration que réclame l’ambition de se faire écrivaine à son tour ; sur l’alliage complexe de lâcher-prise absolu et d’autodiscipline martiale suscité par ce désir de littérature, entré en écho avec l’épreuve de l’amitié, du sexe et du travail ; sur la compréhension de toute vie en société comme d’un monde caché, celui des fantasmes des autres ; sur cet équilibre entre défiance et abandon face au mentorat que suppose tout maître, tout modèle ; sur la déception et la trahison comme baptêmes nécessaires pour apprendre à être quelqu’un, à défaut de devenir soi ; écrire sur le recours au sexe ritualisé comme véhicule destiné à conduire ceux qui s’y adonnent vers les niveaux supérieurs du jeu mental, au sein de dispositifs ludiques autant que politiques où tout s’apparente à une scène de meurtre, afin de mieux circonscrire l’objet de notre quête : pourquoi écris-tu ceci, toi que je lis ? Embryons d’une piste avec les réponses de Chloé S. au questionnaire des Bookhouse Girls and Boys.

| Que trouve-t-on comme nouvelles acquisitions dans ta bibliothèque ?

Beaucoup de romans récents en fait. Et des français ou francophones ! Journal de L. de Christophe Tison (Lolita vu du point de vue de Lolita), Protocole Gouvernante de Guillaume Lavenant (un mix entre L'Insurrection qui vient et Fight Club, le film, plus que le livre), ou Querelle de Kevin Lambert (une grève dans une scierie au Québec, menée par un personnage en forme de fantasme homo-érotique à fond la caisse). Le Royaume enchanté de James Walsh, suite au visionnage d’un vlog consacré à Taram et le chaudron magique, qui raconte les coulisses de Disney dans les années 80, mais pas encore commencé. Et le Mister Miracle qui vient de sortir, en vue d’une étude sur le personnage de Big Barda. Et le White de Bret Easton Ellis en dépit de sa traduction désastreuse : sérieusement, c’est honteux que Robert Laffont l’ait laissée en l’état. J’espère qu’ils la reverront pour la version poche.

| Quels livres marquants as-tu découvert à l'adolescence et que tu possèdes toujours ?

La BD Silence de Comès, peut-être le premier livre qui m’a fait pleurer à grosses larmes. Maus de Art Spiegelman : c’est le livre qui a permis à toute une génération de découvrir le génocide juif sous un prisme plus intime, plus impactant que des dizaines de docs et d’essais. Le Transperceneige aussi, parce que la dimension post-apocalyptique sans issue, la fascination du désert de glaces. Ça fait beaucoup de BD en fait, plus que de romans ! Je lisais beaucoup de romans déjà ado, mais au final j’en ai gardé très peu de cette époque. J’ai tenu un journal de mes lectures, mais faudrait que je remette la main dessus…

| Sans égard pour sa qualité, lequel de tes livres possède la plus grande valeur sentimentale, et pourquoi ?

Daddy’s girl de Janet Inglis. C’est un livre qui a une histoire particulière dans ma vie, parce que je crois que d’une part, c’est le premier que j’ai acheté sur recommandation de la presse (et encore, c’était un encart minuscule dans VSD), que j’avais 15 ans (l’âge de l’héroïne), et aussi parce que celui-ci ne provenait ni du prêt d’un proche, ni d’une bibliothèque. Ensuite, parce qu’il s’agit d’un des premiers livres érotiques aussi troublants, crûs et amoraux que j’ai pu lire. Encore maintenant. Et je pense qu’il serait assez difficile à publier aujourd’hui, que ça soit en anglais ou en français : peut-être que la jeune génération le trouverait dégoûtant ou détestable… Il existe d’ailleurs une suite, que j’ai dû lire en anglais, car Le Seuil n’en a pas acquis les droits. Qui va encore plus loin que le premier livre. Ce que je peux dire, c’est que ce livre a déterminé beaucoup de choses dans mon rapport à la fiction en général, à la fiction qui utilise le sexe comme l’un des arcs narratifs les plus importants d’une histoire en particulier. Avec le recul je réalise que ce qui m’a plu, c’est aussi que le livre a été vendu non comme un roman érotique, mais simplement un roman contenant du sexe explicite. On a désormais l’impression qu’il s’agit d’une chasse gardée de l’autofiction. Ici, on parle d’une fiction pur jus, avec intrigue, personnages très caractérisés, etc. Avec de plus un message moral assez dérangeant. Si ce livre a une résonance encore particulière, c’est aussi qu’il est sorti en 1996. J’étais lycéenne et identifiée comme la sulfureuse de la bande, parce que je lisais déjà de la fiction érotique et je regardais des films connotés (si tant est que Lunes de fiel et Showgirls rentrent encore dans cette catégorie !). Du coup, quand j’ai commencé à faire circuler ce livre parmi mes copines, il y avait encore un parfum d’interdit dessus, à la fois parce que j’étais le prêteur et aussi pour le sujet quand même hardcore : une héroïne de 15 ans, séduite par son inquiétant beau-père photographe au nez et à la barbe de sa mère... Ma meilleure amie me disait encore que ce qui avait bien fonctionné à l’époque, c’est aussi le fait qu’elles l’ont toutes lu un peu en cachette, en planquant le bouquin et en essayant d’être sûres que les parents ne tomberaient jamais dessus… Je l’ai racheté trois fois depuis, tellement il a été prêté et abîmé. Et je l’ai beaucoup offert !

| Lequel de tes livres prêterais-tu à quelqu'un qui te plaît ?

J’ai de plus en plus de mal à prêter les livres : faut tenir un journal de bord avec à qui tu as prêté quoi et à quel moment... En plus, prêter un livre, ça veut aussi dire revenir à la charge pour savoir s’il a bien été lu etc. Mieux vaut les offrir, quand on le peut. Au moins la personne peut s’y plonger quand elle en a vraiment envie ou qu’elle a la disponibilité mentale pour. Après, ça dépend à qui je prête. Un ou une amie ? Quelqu’un avec qui je veux coucher ? Une personne que je souhaite impressionner ? Un collègue ? Prêter un bouquin au final, c’est à la fois y mettre de soi, mais aussi penser à la personne qui le reçoit : essayer de trouver quelque chose qui lui est propre, et qui vous a fait penser à elle quand vous lisez. Que ça soit par le style, l’histoire, les personnages, les enjeux. C’est tenter de créer un lien. C’est comme écrire une lettre : l’espace d’un moment, vous êtes en tête-à-tête avec la personne, vous ne pensez qu’à elle. Choisir un livre, que ça soit pour offrir ou pour le prêter, c’est essayer de savoir ce qui va vous connecter à elle. Avec plus ou moins de réussite.

| Que trouve-t-on comme livres honteux dans tes rayonnages ?

Ah, la fameuse notion de honte sur ce qu’on lit ! Difficile à dire, car ce que j’ai pu lire de honteux, je ne le conserve pas. Allez, peut-être le bouquin que Jacques Charrier a écrit suite au premier tome des mémoires de son ex-femme Brigitte Bardot ? Je l’ai acquis à une période où j’étais fascinée par elle, du moins la carrière d’actrice et de chanteuse. J’ai acheté pas mal de recueils de photos, des disques, vu des films… Lire son ex-mari, c’est découvrir le versant noir du personnage, et de la fabrication d’une star et de sa légende. Dans la même veine, mais pour moi, il n’est pas du tout honteux, c’est le livre que Maria Riva a consacré à Marlene Dietrich. Au-delà de l’intimité de la star vue par sa fille, c’est tout un pan de l’histoire du cinéma allemand et hollywoodien des années 20 aux années 50 qui se déploie. Ça se lit comme un roman. Tout comme l’autobiographie de Schwarzy ! Celle-ci, c’est carrément une épopée sur un mec bigger than life. Est-ce que c’est honteux ?

| Quels livres as-tu hérité de tes proches ?

Les albums de Crépax, comme Histoire d’O et Emmanuelle. Un recueil consacré à l’histoire de la torture au fil des siècles, richement illustré et très bien documenté. Les fiches bricolages du Professeur Choron. Ils proviennent tous de mon père : quand il est décédé, ma sœur et mon frère ont estimé presque sans discuter que j’avais la priorité pour les choisir. Chez ma mère, j’ai piqué des BD avant tout : le premier tome de Sambre de Yslaire (la scène d’amour au tombeau qui a je pense traumatisé des générations d’adolescentes à tendance gothique… on rêvait toutes d’être Julie débauchant Bernard, le jeune bourgeois ombrageux !), Eva de Comes pour son esthétique très République de Weimar et son histoire perverse et très efficace sur le plan narratif. C’est à peu près tout. Ensuite, j’ai acheté tous mes livres seules ou on m’en a offert.

| Le livre que tu as le plus lu et relu ?

Peut-être L’Adversaire d’Emmanuel Carrère. Il a donné lieu à une quantité scandaleuse d’imitations, et en général, elles sont assez ratées. Lui a réussi à trouver un équilibre délicat entre la fascination et le dégoût que cette histoire déclenche en lui, il réussit à parler de ce tueur sans jamais le glorifier et de fait, permet en creux à ses victimes d’exister. C’est aussi un beau livre sur le métier d’écrivain, sur le deuil, l’effroi. C’est avec celui-ci que son écriture a trouvé sa forme la plus bouleversante : fluide, précise, épurée, juste. Carrère, c’est l’auteur qui t’attrape en deux pages avec un style en apparence très simple. Mais quand tu le décortiques, tu vois combien c’est travaillé : rien ne dépasse, tout a un sens. Dernièrement, celui chez qui j’ai retrouvé cette épure, c’est Sylvain Prudhomme avec Par les routes. C’est le premier roman que j’ai lu de cet auteur, ; il a une écriture précise, délicate, c’est quasi de la littérature japonaise : quelques détails distillés en douceur, une justesse poignante, une manière de te mettre face à toi-même.

| Le livre qui suscite en toi des envies symboliques d'autodafé ?

Ouhla. Je ne peux pas souscrire à ça, étant écrivain moi-même. Ça me bouleverserait de savoir que quelqu’un veut brûler mes livres, même symboliquement ! Par contre, napalmer les bureaux de certains éditeurs qui ne font pas leur boulot, ça oui. Ne pas faire son boulot, ça veut dire prendre des manuscrits sans faire travailler leurs auteurs dessus : y a une quantité de bouquins publiés où il est évident que l’éditeur n’a rien branlé. Etre capable de dire quand il faut couper ou reprendre, approfondir ou au contraire rendre elliptique. Peut-être que ça éviterait à beaucoup les envies non pas d’autodafés, mais du moins l’envie de balancer le bouquin derrière l’épaule à la Jean-Edern Hallier !

| On te propose de vivre éternellement dans un roman de ton choix, oui, mais lequel ?

Très dur à dire… allez deux me viennent. Alcool de Poppy Z. Brite, pour vivre à la Nouvelle Orléans, bien bouffer, gérer un restau improbable, être entourée d’une bande de potes géniaux et vivre dans un corps masculin et dans un couple gay. Et dans La Conspiration des ténèbres de Theodore Roszak. Parce que c’est l’un des seuls romans qui parle aussi bien de cinéma, et te fait toucher du doigt la puissance de la pulsion scopique, sa dimension fantasmatique, dangereuse et à même de générer un trouble durable. Et parce que Max Castle semble être un personnage hautement recommandable.

| Quel est l'incunable que tu rêves de posséder, ton Saint Graal bibliophilique ?

Tous les livres imaginaires qu’on trouve dans les films ou les romans. Je suis fascinée par les « faux livres » dans le cinéma, notamment les objets, pour lesquels on crée une fausse couverture, un faux titre, un background. Tout comme les faux journaux intimes des personnages qui sont toujours richement illustrés, détaillés… Celui de Melissa P. dans le film du même nom de Luca Guadagnino, ça serait mon rêve de le récupérer. Et il y a bien sûr les « faux romans dans les romans » qui concernent des personnages d’écrivain : en général, les livres qu’écrivent ces personnages sont réduits à des extraits. Qu’est-ce qu’ils donneraient ces livres, s’ils existaient vraiment ? Note d’ailleurs que pour les faux journaux intimes issus d’une œuvre télévisuelle, celui que Jennifer Lynch a écrit en tant que Laura Palmer est très réussi. Aussi glauque, étrange et transgressif que la série.

| Au bout d'une vie de lecture, et s'il n'en restait qu'un ?

Déjà, j’ai même pas quarante ans, donc comment avoir un avis tranché sur la question ? Disons, que s’il n’en reste qu’un, ça sera le livre qui aura résisté à tous les déménagements, celui qui aura été offert, prêté, transmis, racheté un nombre incalculable de fois, parce qu’il devient trop abîmé à force d’avoir été lu. Maintenant te dire lequel dès maintenant…

#chloésaffy #adore #dahlia #subspace #topspace #breteastonellis #donnatartt #jaymcinerney #lemaitredesillusions #aurelienlemant #bookhouseboys #twinpeaks #bookhousegirl #janetinglis #emmanuelcarrere #thesecrethistory #feuxfollets

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qqueenofhades · 2 years ago

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Well, uh, aside from the fact that I am a professional academic historian with a PhD in the subject, who has published peer-reviewed journal articles and book chapters on medieval queer history and therefore am NOT actually just talking out of my ass here, here's a reading list if you want to check my homework and/or learn more:

Adams, Marilyn McCord. ‘Trinitarian Friendship: Same-Gender Models of Godly Love in Richard of St. Victor and Aelred of Rievaulx’, Theology and Sexuality: Classic and Contemporary Readings (2002), 322–40.

Boyd, David L. 'Disrupting the Norm: Sodomy, Culture, and the Male Body in Peter Damian's Liber Gomorrhianus', Essays in Medieval Studies 11 (1994), 63-73.

Cadden, Joan. ‘It Takes All Kinds: Sexuality and Gender Differences in Hildegard of Bingen's Book of Compound Medicine’, Traditio 40 (1984), 149–74.

Campbell, Emma. Medieval Saints' Lives: The Gift, Kinship and Community in Old French Hagiography (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2008)

Cottier, Jean-François. ‘“Vitium contra naturam”: sexualité et exclusion dans le Liber Gomorrhianus de Pierre Damien’, Cahiers du Centre d'histoire médiévale 4 (2007) 127–43.

Davis, Stephen J. ‘Crossed Texts, Crossed Sex: Intertextuality and Gender in Early Christian Legends of Holy Women Disguised as Men’, Journal of Early Christian Studies 10 (2001), 1-36.

Diem, Albrecht. ‘Teaching Sodomy in a Carolingian Monastery: A Study of Walahfrid Strabo’s and Heito’s Visio Wettini’, German History 34 (2016), 385-401.

Easton, Martha. ‘“Why Can’t a Woman Be More Like a Man?” Transforming and Transcending Gender in the Lives of Female Saints’, in The Four Modes of Seeing: Approaches to Medieval Imagery in Honor of Madeline Harrison Caviness, ed. by Evelyn Staudinger Lane, Elizabeth Carson Pastan and Ellen M. Shortell (Farnham: Ashgate, 2009), pp. 333–47.

Elliot, Dyan. The Corrupter of Boys: Sodomy, Scandal, and the Medieval Clergy (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2020).

Holsinger, Bruce. ‘The Flesh of the Voice: Embodiment and the Homoerotics of Devotion in the Music of Hildegard of Bingen (1098–1179)’, Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 19 (1993)

Jones, Christopher A. ‘Monastic Identity and Sodomitic Danger in the Occupatio of Odo of Cluny”, Speculum 82 (2007), 1–53.

Lochrie, Karma. ‘Mystical Acts, Queer Tendencies’, in Constructing Medieval Sexuality, ed. Karma Lochrie, Peggy McCracken, and James A. Schultz (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1997)

Masson, Cynthea. ‘Queer Copulation and the Pursuit of Divine Conjunction in Two Middle English Alchemical Poems’, in Intersections of Sexuality and the Divine in Medieval Culture: The Word Made Flesh, ed. Susannah Mary Chewning (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), pp. 37-48.

Matter, E. Ann. ‘My Sister, My Spouse: Woman-Identified Women in Medieval Christianity’, in Weaving the Visions, ed. Judith Plaskow and Carol P. Christ (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1989), pp. 51–62.

McGuire, Brian Patrick. ‘Love, Friendship, and Sex in the Eleventh Century: The Experience of Anselm’, Studia Theologica 28 (1974), 111–52.

McGuire, Brian Patrick. Brother and Lover: Aelred of Rievaulx (New York: Crossroad, 1994)

Mills, Robert. 'Gender, Sodomy, Friendship, and the Medieval Anchorhold,' Journal of Medieval Religious Cultures 36 (2010), 1-27.

Morris, Stephen. 'Where Brothers Dwell in Unity': Byzantine Christianity and Homosexuality (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2016)

Olsen, Glenn W. Of Sodomites, Effeminates, Hermaphrodytes, and Androgynes: Sodomy in the Age of Peter Damian (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies Press, 2011)

Pugh, Tison. ‘Personae, Same-Sex Desire, and Salvation in the Poetry of Marbod of Rennes, Baudri of Bourgueil, and Hildebert of Lavardin’, Comitatus 31 (2000) 57-86.

Roden, Frederick S. ‘Aelred of Rievaulx, Same-Sex Desire and the Victorian Monastery’, in Bradstock, A., Gill, S., Hogan, A., Morgan, S., eds., Masculinity and Spirituality in Victorian Culture (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2000), pp. 85–99.

Scanlon, Larry. ‘Unmanned Men and Eunuchs of God: Peter Damian’s Liber Gomorrhianus and the Sexual Politics of Papal Reform,’ in New Medieval Literatures, vol. 2, ed. Rita Copeland, David Lawton, and Wendy Scase (Oxford, 1998), 38–64.

Schibanoff, Susan. ‘Hildegard of Bingen and Richardis of Stade: The Discourse of Desire’, in Same Sex: Love and Desire Among Women in the Middle Ages., ed. Francesca Canadé Sautman and Pamela Sheingorn (New York: Palgrave, 2001), pp. 49-83.

Spencer-Hall, Alicia, and Blake Gutt, eds. Trans and Genderqueer Saints in Medieval Hagiography (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020)

Znorovszky, Andrea-Bianka, ‘“Ave Mari(n)a!” Representing a Cross-Dressed Saint in Fourteenth- To Sixteenth-Century Italy/Venice: Influences, Models, and Patterns of Female Sanctity’, Medium Aevum Quotidianum, 69 (2014), 45-62.

granny hilary, tell us about gay porn in monasteries

Oh, I KNEW that someone was going to ask for this as soon as I reblogged that post with those tags (from you, even!). So yes, Kristen, the pervert tumblr hordes thank you for your service.

As was the case in most medieval single-sex environments, the precise balance of gender politics/constant suspicion of possible queerness was a major concern for monasteries. I've written about this before in the context of military chivalry/knighthood, and how medieval society both encouraged knights to love each other more than anything (battlefield brotherhood etc etc) and worried about whether they would love each other SO much that they would then have, y'know, actual sex. This was also a prominent worry in monasteries, which shut a bunch of often-young men up together and told them to be holy and focus on prayers and not the OTHER things that young men like to think about. My esteemed colleague @oldshrewsburyian has previously written about lesbian nuns, who often formed intense emotional/romantic bonds with other nuns. Hildegard of Bingen herself is a famous example of this, and she wrote many love letters to and about another nun, Richardis von Stade, who is often described as her "intimate friend." Regardless of whether this relationship was physical or not, Hildegard also wrote about "ecstasies" experienced in spiritual union with the Virgin Mary, and other medieval female mystics did the same.

In regard to gay monks, The Name of the Rose by famed medievalist Umberto Eco presents a fictionalized version of this, where one of the monks is something of a local monastery gay playboy and has several other monk lovers who are all presumed to be jealous of each other and possibly willing to commit murder on his behalf. This was also because a large number of monks, especially at wealthier abbeys, weren't there because they had a specific or personal religious calling. It was a common career path for younger sons, getting them out of the way of their elder brother's inheritance of their father's lands and titles, and plenty of career churchmen were relatively secular and interested in worldly pleasure, no matter how hard the Cluniacs and similar reform movements tried to outlaw clergy marriage, concubinage, and other sexual sins. Clergymen were, as is also the case today, often suspected of committing sodomy on the sly or otherwise hypocritically engaging in gay sex, and monastic authors such as Peter Damian, Odo of Cluny, and others wrote endless polemical tracts insisting that priests and monks refrain from having sex with each other, and otherwise bewailing the so-called dismal state of moral relations in the church. Of course, the bulk of concern was over male monks committing sexual sins with women, but the worry over clerical sodomy was never insignificant either. The 12th-century Cistercian monk Aelred of Rievaulx also produced various writings that have been read as homosocial, homoerotic, or otherwise exalting religious same-sex male love.

We also see this gender tension a lot in terms of the accounts of women dressing up as men to enter all-male monasteries and have a male-coded religious experience. Some of them get accused of impregnating local women, which is obviously biologically impossible but may hint at an intimate relationship with said woman, and other monks often note their "attractiveness" or other physical qualities which is then used as proof in discovering their "real gender." This likewise reflects the concern that monks were finding each other attractive even when they WEREN'T secretly women (and the scholarly literature also argues over whether we should consider these women as wearing "male disguise" or as proto-transgender individuals adopting clothing and life experiences that matched their identified gender rather than their gender assigned at birth). As noted above re: Hildegard, intensely "queer" mystical religious experiences involving physical and passionate adoration of the body of Jesus Christ were also common to both genders. Men were encouraged to visualize themselves as the "bride of Christ," transcending the ordinary limits of gender and joining in mystical (and possibly sexual) union with Jesus, and women did the same thing with both Jesus and the Virgin Mary. So yes, the medieval church was a LOT more queer than all the stereotypes would have it. In many ways.

The 14th-century Lollards in England also positioned themselves as reacting against clerical/monastic sodomy and sexual sins, and the Dissolution of the Monasteries by Henry VIII also used the argument that those degenerate monks were all just in there screwing each other at all times, which was obviously rhetorical, but reflected a deeper real-world anxiety that this was in fact actually the case. So in other words: gay monks, like gay knights, absolutely did exist and deeply shaped the social rules, cultural environments, canon law, and everyday experience of their surroundings, even despite the wild unsexiness that is the tonsure haircut. Diversity win.

#history #medieval history #queer history #so you see #there are indeed many sources for this!#these were just the ones i could grab in ~15 minutes or so from my existing bibliography/list #you're welcome!

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