#treasure editorial

[treasureloversclub]

TREASURE for ELLE JAPAN

[thenationaltreasuregazette]

I went to a flee market last week and I had one rule: no ceramics. (I'm in a pottery class and have no shortage of dubious ceramics.)

What did I just have to get? The Washington D.Tea. Cup.

So I can pretentiously sip the forbidden nectar of the revolution while thinking too hard about National Treasure.

[uwmspeccoll]

It’s Feral Friday!  

Today we’re highlighting another gem from our zine selection, Decolonizing Library Science by Archivist (and former, long-time UWM Special Collections Graduate Intern) Keahi Ka’iwalani Adolpho. Created on the eve of the 2016 edition of Milwaukee Zine Fest while they were a student in the Master of Library and Information Science (MLIS) graduate program at UW-Milwaukee, this zine offers up a compelling reflection on Adolpho’s personal experience as a “non-binary, queer, hapa (mixed Native Hawaiian)” academic and a glimpse into their early research and critiques concerning MLIS graduate education and the field of Library Science as a whole.  

Decolonizing Library Science underlines the importance of rigorous internal critique in the interest of creating truly inclusive institutions and serves as a great example of the power of unregulated, independently, and accessibly produced publications like zines to provide a platform for underrepresented voices and perspectives. And we love the shoutout to the treasures of the Little Free Libraries in the Riverwest neighborhood of Milwaukee at the end!

In addition to their work in Archives and Special Collections, Adolpho is currently a member of the Homosaurus editorial board and co-edited Trans and Gender Diverse Voices in Libraries, which was published by Library Juice Press in 2023. They also co-created the Diversity Residency Toolkit as part of the Association of College and Research Libraries (ACRL) Residency Interest Group. Their research interests include trans and gender diverse inclusion in libraries and archives, reparative and ethical metadata, and diversity residencies.  

--Ana, Special Collections Graduate Intern

[blessedtoaster666]

WITCH WEEKLY - Issue 94 - December 2006

Editor’s Note:

Gentlebeings of the Wizarding World,

Our cover feature this issue is the one, the only Draco Malfoy- a man who needs no introduction, but whose presence might require the briefest of explanations.

Lord Malfoy has had no shortage of press over the years… but since his release from Azkaban we have dutifully kept an eye on him, and for sore ones he is a sight. Every time we feature him, the owls pour in. Some carry missives with love potion-laced ink, in the hopes that we’ll pass them to the man in question (no judgement, we’ve tried to slip him a little something in the past) while others are Howlers bursting to scream about our hideous facilitation of lusting after a war criminal. How dare you drool over a terrorist! But drool we do, like a three-headed dog.

It’s one of our favorite things about Draco Malfoy: those who love him, would die for him… and those who hate him, would like to see him killed. We fall into the camp of the former- do you?

Read on for 10 of our other favorite things -

Venia Plumberton, Editor-in-Chief

BEST OF Draco Malfoy

We surveyed our editorial staff, as well as witches and wizards on the street (Horizont Alley, to be exact) to determine the 10 best features of the wizard we love to hate, but don’t hate to love. Caution… at least three witches went feral after editing this piece. You’ve been warned.

#1 - CHEST - We don’t know if it’s that he’s vaguely the color of honed marble, or that we had too many brushes with the fit statues at Hogwarts during our formative years… but oh, Mummy. We don’t get to see shirtless Draco often- perhaps he’s self-conscious of the scars? Are they from the whip of a lover… or perhaps the Dark Lord?

Our seven-page coverage of his trip to Bali last year, “Draco’s Treasure Chest” July 2005, contributed to our best selling issue. EVER. We are certain our journalistic prowess has not gotten that much better. When it comes to Draco, we’re delusional, not deluded.

#2 - EYES - Pureblood politics like to keep things in the family; but if inbreeding is wrong do we want to be right? Like pools of mercury, Draco’s eyes look terribly inviting but might just kill us if we take a dip. We have on record that his nickname in school was, “The Heir of Slytherin”. Basilisk, much? We’ve heard stranger. Speaking of basilisks… this magazine doesn’t stoop to such levels… but we know where your head’s at.*

*Right next to ours, in the gutter. But at least we’re looking at the stars… specifically, the Draco constellation.

#3 - HAIR - We here at WW celebrate a man who takes the time to learn grooming spells, and we dare say the Malfoy Scion created a few of his own to tame his mane just the way we like it. Tousled, pushed back, glittering platinum everywhere the light touches it. Oh, to run a hand through that hair. Maybe pull it, just a little. Ruin our life, Draco. We are at the ready.

#4 - SIZE - When the DM walks in the room, suddenly, we orbit around him. Is it because of his white golden hair (see above) or is it perhaps that he’s the size of a planet? The Muggles have really gotten into something called gravity, look into it friends - because Draco is our sun. 6’5”, the wing span of a bloody hippogriff and the legs (oh we’ll get started with those next) of a semi-giant.

#5 - THIGHS - We could be pressed to include the whole leg, look at those calves, but in the interest of being specific- Draco Malfoy’s thighs get us through our work day.

Thick as tree trunks, we’d surrender our wand to be a part of that forest.

We spoke to Madame Mirabelle, tailor to rich and infamous, and she assured us that while she hasn’t fit Draco in years, she knows for a fact he has a tailor on staff to “rightly pinch and pin” every set of trousers he wears. One must not assume that anything off-the-rack could surround such thighs, wrap that arse, cover that bulge and hug that waist without being magically pinched and pinned. We’re due for a sewing spell seminar, it would seem.

#6 - ABS - Speaking of waists… Well. We shan’t. We’ll just show a picture, it scores a V, for va va voom.

#7 - FOREARMS - Again, we feel remiss not mention the scrumptious biceps, the scandalously sexy shoulders… but let it be known, Draco’s forearm game is unmatched. Maybe it’s the veins; maybe it’s the sheer size of them. Maybe it’s the Dark Mark- you know we need to be reminded about the danger lurking underneath. Or maybe… we are ovulating? No matter. We’d let him cast any spell he wanted at us so long as he used those arms to hold his wand.

#8 - SNEER - A snide look, on the face of Draco Malfoy, is better than a smile on any other man… We’re sure should Draco ever smile our way, he’d be crowned ‘Most Charming Smile’ in an instant… but to that end, we’ve never seen it. We’re not sure he’s capable. So we covet the sneer.

Eyes narrowed, nose flared, lip curled? Check, checkity, check. Sign us up for the next war!

#9 - JAWLINE - We long to go to a taffy emporium with Draco and watch him sample the wares… such is our obsession with seeing him clench. For Merlin’s sake, someone get the man some gum! We deserve such visions, we’ve been so good.

#10 - HANDS - Hands tell the story of the man- and here’s what we know… Draco’s hands can palm a quaffle and are typically adorned with family heirloom rings. He likes a Muggle watch, and doesn’t always need a wand. An eyewitness told us she saw him stop a falling bottle at his bar, The Jobberknoll, with just a flick of his fingers, as he dined with friends. We love a wizard who takes matters into his own hands.

[emyluwinter]

What will happen to a teenager who finds himself in a completely strange world, without support, without knowledge, without elders or guardians, without friends or help? What happens if this kind heart gives resonance to the hungry other hearts around? Without the editorial office, I feel very exhausted, and the pain began to bother me again. Therefore, I allow myself to write imperfectly.

These are the little headcannons that came to my mind by accident.

For the first few weeks after Riddle's Overblot, Cater and Trey secretly took two more students outside their dorm under their invisible wings. After all, with their appearance there have been very big changes, certainly not in the most pleasant way. But it has moved for the better.

Ace and Deuce talked about their living conditions, and they themselves witnessed being in hidden horror at the very sight of this piece of territory in college. To put it mildly, Trey and Сater decided that let these two be often in front of their eyes, to look after their younger students. than breathing dust and mold, blown by all the draughts and winds in your dorm.

Ace mentioned several times that Grimm has an endless battery of energy, but their Prefect looks like an exhausted zombie in the morning. They just couldn't rest physically or mentally. The time for rest was ruthlessly devoured by studies, repairs, attempts at adaptation and rehabilitation. Add to this endless ridiculous and insane rumors, disrespectful or disdainful behavior on the part of other students. The list could be continued until the end of the shining of the stars in the sky. Or Yuu was tormented by insomnia, which was quite a logical consequence and reaction of their psyche and body to so much stress and frayed nerves Or they couldn't afford the luxury of a "good sleep"

Trey has noticed many times how Yuu takes a quiet, inconspicuous place in the garden or in the maze of corridors of their dorm just to sleep. A quiet, clean place, even without a bed, even sitting on the floor. One Seven knows how they sleep in such an uncomfortable place, but compared to their accommodation it was a five-star hotel.

Cater went the other way, gently woke up the "mouse dormouse" if it found them in the most unsuitable place to sleep, and carefully laid them somewhere on a sofa or in an armchair away from other people's eyes and faces. Covering them with a warm blanket so that they can finally get warm, give them a pillow and see with emotion how they hug her. It's like they're someone's protective shell and the pillow is their secret treasure. In truth, he was visited by the thought that this was dozing with this "exhausted" younger of his….Was it comforting?Was it soothing? It was as if he wanted to heal his wounds in his heart when he was not given a place for himself and his thoughts. As if he wanted to hide that little boy inside himself. A quiet sniffling at their side, the slow movement of their chest when breathing. A slight tugging of their eyelashes or fingertips. What are they dreaming about? Of course, it's not good to stare, but Cater caught itself thinking that for the first time in a long time, it also wants to just take a nap in silence. Without acting, roles, smiles, masks. A serene, quiet slumber.

Yes, that's what he suddenly wanted to do for himself for the first time in a long time. And not someone else chose for him. A little sleep was a really good solution. For some reason, Diamond felt much better. Maybe it was the fact that there was some trust in the lost child. Or maybe he really just wanted to sleep in the company. During these moments, he did not touch his phone, neither before nor after.

Riddle once caught the two of them having such a sleep session. And didn't dare to wake them up. After all that had happened, an unpleasant voice in his head kept saying that this was the least his dorm could offer to atone for all the guilt towards Yuu and Grimm.

[angel-gidget]

Gidge's Guide to Amethyst

I did one of these a while back, but with reeaallly low-quality images. These days, there’s more Amethyst stuff out there, and that’s worth an update in its own right.

Amy’s first appearance was technically in Legion of Super-Heroes #298 which featured a “pull-out preview comic” to entice people into picking up the maxi-series. I’ve yet to get my mitts on it to confirm if it’s just sample art from the maxi-series, or has dialogue/art never seen anywhere else. Regardless, your best starting point is probably gonna be…

I. 1980’s 12-issue Maxi-Series (+ follow-up Annual)

High jump-through-portal fantasy. Fantastic creatures, creepy villains, magical royalty, intricate world building that explains some things and lets your brain fill in the gaps for others, and consistently gorgeous art. Can’t recommend enough.

The annual shown takes place after the maxi-series and sets the stage for the ongoing series that follows.

Get it by Patron methods: Dc Universe Series Page DC’s Showcase via Amazon or Abe Books (Note: no color art for showcase, only black & white)

Get it by Peasant methods: Over here. 💎

II. 1980’s 16-issue Ongoing Series (+ follow-up Annual)

While there is a lot of fantastic stuff going on with the ongoing series, it is more of a mixed bag.

While I am forever in love with cover of issue #11, I remember turning to page 1 and wondering what the heck happened to the inside art. It’s not bad, really. It just doesn’t meet the high bar of the covers (or earlier interiors). Looking back, I realized the art was getting less detailed well before that, but my reading was all over the place as a kid bc I’d just read whatever issues I could find.

This here, at issue #12, is actually a good place to stop. By which I mean, the next 4 issues + special reek of grimdark edge-lord bs that doesn’t even make sense without reading Crisis on Infinite Earths. However, if you wish to proceed…

The final issue of the ongoing is technically a cliffhanger, and the Special grants the writers the extra pages they need to finish wrapping up their whole Lords of Order & Chaos/Dr. Fate tie-in.

After this, someone in DC editorial raised their pencil and went “Hey! What if we made the Gemworld the origin for one of our Legion of Super-Heroes villains?” And thus…

Get it by Patron methods: Dc Universe Series Page DC’s Showcase via Amazon or Abe Books (Note: no color art for showcase, only black & white) (Also note: Showcase contains both Maxi and Ongoing series)

Get it by Peasant methods: Over here. ⚔️

III. 1980’s 4-issue Mini-Series

This thing is all kinds of whack, but it is gorgeous. I get the impression that when Kieth Giffen and Mindy Newell were assigned this sucker, they just read a summary of the OG series and winged it.

Probably not, since they technically wrote those final issues of the ongoing, but that’s how it feels. Despite this, it’s grown on me like a fungus, and the mind-blowing art by Esteban Moroto is, like, 98% of the reason why.

Amethyst is always at her weirdest when Dc is trying to tie her in with the rest of the DCU. In this case, the mini is supposed to explain how a Legion of Super-Heroes villain has origins that go back to the Gemworld. Why? Idk. But if I remember correctly, it was even part of the advertising for this series.

Get it by Patron methods: … you can’t. There are no re-prints of any kind and it’s tough to track down. If ye crave this treasure, best ye look to piracy, matey.

Get it by Peasant methods: Over here. 🔮

IV. 2012’s DC Nation Amethyst Cartoon Shorts

In hindsight, these may have been made as the advent of the Sword of Sorcery series, but they really were a charming sip of water after two decades of nothin’. A cute lil’ standalone series that turns the Gemworld into a video game. Amy is then, of course, sucked into it.

Fun fact: the producer, @briannedrouhard is on tumblr, and often posts art and further ideas she had for the series.

Watch it: Full Series is officially free on Youtube. 👸🏼

IV. 2013’s Sword of Sorcery: Amethyst

This New 52 eight-issue (9 included the ‘0’ issue, oy) series got my hopes up after all those years, but I gotta admit I was a bit disappointed by the completely new supporting cast. Apart from Amy herself, none of the original characters made it into the series.

It feels likely a completely different fantasy series with an “Amethyst” label slapped on it. That said, Aaron Lopresti’s art is beautiful, and this version of Amy—Amaya—eventually joined the New 52’s Justice League Dark and picked up a bit of a cult appreciation over there.

That said, I’ve had some spoilers for her time on JLDark, and the storyline is just a bit… too… dark for my tastes. So I’m quite content to see her nu52 series retconed, even though I did nearly collect all 9 issues.

Get it by Patron methods: Dc Universe Series Page TPB via Amazon or B&N

Get it by Peasant methods: Over here. 💜

V. 2019’s Wonder Comics - Young Justice: Gemworld

Remember how I said Amethyst always gets weird when she collides with the greater DCU? Yeah, forget I said that. Never mind. Most brilliant combo idea since peanut butter and jelly.

No, I’m not biased not at all bc I’m a big Young Justice fan. Nope. Ok. Maybe a lil’ bit. While the continuity here is it’s own thing, there are a lot of nods to the original Gemworld in the world-building.

Does this series fully explore the potential of all the ideas in it? Frankly, no. YJ fans complained a lot about the lack of breathing space in this series for a reason. But I’m still happy with it and happily re-reading it for the fun ideas it slaps together.

If you are reading this for the Amethyst, however, there isn’t much point in reading past issue 6, aka volume 1 of the trade. After that point, Amy stops getting much spotlight, though she remains on the team’s roster until the series’ end.

Get it by Patron methods: Dc Universe Series Page TPB via Amazon or B&N

Get it by Peasant methods: Over here. ✨

VI. 2020’s Wonder Comics - Amethyst Miniseries

The fact that both this series and the YJ one appear under the “Wonder Comics” label is a bit misleading. They do not share any continuity at all. However, the opening splash page of the first issue references multiple events from original Amethyst continuity!

Later world-building details make it clear that this is a different version of Amy and the Gemworld, but Amy Reeder’s affection for the original series remains apparent.

Get it by Patron methods: Dc Universe Series Page TPB via Amazon or B&N

Get it by Peasant methods: Over here. 👑

VII. 2021’s Amethyst, Princess of Gemworld by Shannon & Dean Hale

This one is actually a kid-oriented graphic novel. Again, with its own continuity and world-building. I think the thing that stands out to me the most about this take is that the Hales give Amy a kid brother and make him quite relevant to the plot.

It’s pretty stand-alone and not really marketed as a comic book per se, but it is charming and the art is quite cute.

Get it by Patron methods: Graphic novel via Amazon or B&N Get it by Peasant methods: Over here.

🏰

In Summary:

“Original” Amethyst Continuity (by Dan Mishkin & Gary Cohn and later Kieth Giffen & Mindy Newell ) is contained in Volumes 1-3. This is made of up the Maxi-series, Ongoing, and Mini-series from the 80's.

New52 Sword of Sorcery Continuity (by Christy Marx) is completely separate and self-contained.

Wonder Comics: Young Justice continuity (by Brian Michael-Bendis) is separate and self-contained, but has many nods to original continuity in it.

Wonder Comics: Amethyst mini-series continuity (by Amy Reeder) is mostly separate and self-contained, but implies that it shares events with the Volume 1 maxi-series.

Kid-friendly properties like Brianne Drouhard’s DC Nation shorts or Shannon and Dean Hale’s graphic novel make for fun additions, though they were not marketed as though they might tie in with any comics.

[red-dia]

Twitter user @/inspirashamul dug up an old Ichikawa interview from 2015. I don't think there's anything earthshattering, but it's still pretty cool (and I think it's the only time she's directly acknowledged the 7 treasures ? unless i'm mistaken)

Transcription under the cut :

"Throughout history gems have decorated every aspect of our lives - and afterlives as well. Buddhist sutras describe the Land of Bliss as a realm of dazzling splendour covered in precious gems and metals.

Furthermore, in Shariputra, the world know as the Land of Bliss, there are lotus ponds, all made of seven precious substances, namely, gold. silver, emerald, rockcrystal, red pearl, sapphire, and mother of pearl as the seventh. [...] The bottom of each pond is covered with golden sand. [...] These stairways are colourful, elegant, and made of four precious substances, namely, gold, silver, emerald, and rock crystal. "

Japanese manga author Haruko Ichikawa was inspired by this description to transform the gems into characters in her series, Houseki no Kuni (The Kingdom of Gems). In the distant future, Gem Warriors battle with the Moon People who mount raids from above to kidnap the living gems to use as for decorations.

Gem warriors look human but shatter upon impact. Their broken surfaces reflect light with a brilliant lustre. The moment of destruction is shockingly beautiful, yet they never truly die and can regain human form if their shards are put back together.

In the course of the story, we learn that the rival Gem Warriors and Moon People share the same origin-they were both once human. Bone became gemstone and the soul became the Moon People. The setup makes The Kingdom of Gems a story of humanity told through gems. Current Obsession conducted an e-mail interview with Haruko Ichikawa to find out what's behind the story and what she wants to say with her gem-laden allegory,

Background and Aesthetic

Many Japanese manga artists did not start as manga artists. Haruko Ichikawa is no exception. She was an editorial designer before she broke into manga.

'I enjoyed drawing when I was a little girl and that's why choose a high school that had an art course. Then, my interest moved from art to design, and in university, I majored in visual image design. After graduation, I worked as an editorial designer at a design company. I think the experience taught me how to design panels, how to make panels flow and how to balance black and white-basically, effective layouts that smoothly lead the eye of the reader. I'm also able to design my own books thanks to the techniques that I developed as an editorial designer.'

Usually design studios handle book design, but Ichikawa does it herself. Her brightly coloured covers glitter with lamé to suggest the world of gems waiting inside, while her minimalist two-dimensional style makes each panel stand as a pleasing piece of graphic design. The brilliance of the Gems stands out among the strong contrast of black and white pages. They look most beautiful when they shatter. The human-like appearance of the Gems makes this moment shocking, but also bewitching.

'I'm most attracted to the beauty within the horrific. Imagine the thrill of peeking at the secret hidden under a veil - an unexpected shock, or a macabre scene you can't turn away from. That's what I hope to recreate on the page.'

Her aesthetic is evident in the unique design of the characters. If the Gems are beautiful, then the bizarre Moon People are simply otherworldly. How did Ichikawa create these characters?

Character Design

There are two main groups of characters. While the colour and brilliance of gems are expressed as a Gem fighter's hair, Moon People are covered with ornate Buddhist decorations, such as multiple layers of delicate, heavenly garments and jewellery.

'When I design Gem Warriors, I try to get a specimen of the stone and base the design on its physical properties such as colour, hardness, strength, crystal shape and scarcity. On the other hand, I try to show Moon People as soft eerie beings with a hint of grace in order to make them look bizarre.'

Nearly every real world property is reflected in a Gem warrior's personality. Phosphophyllite (Phos), the main character with the "beautiful colour of shallow water on a western beach', lacks hardness and breaks as easily as actual phosphophyllite. Twin crystal amethyst is literally transformed into captivating twins, while the red-haired Cinnabar is knowledgeable, though cast as a lone wolf because her body is filled with a toxin. Real life cinnabar is known as the philosopher's stone and contains mercury. Alexandrite is usually a green-haired Moon People researcher, but she turns into a violent redhead in front actual Moon People, Her personality is in line with real alexandrite that changes colour depending on the type of light it reflects.

These properties come out as comical conversations between gems. For example, Morganite references the Mohs hardness scale when Phos grabs her. 'Hey! That was close! If you touch us directly, you're the one who's gonna shatter, three-and-a-half! Phos responds 'I am well aware, my dear seven.'

When speaking with Ichikawa it becomes apparent that her rich knowledge of stones and scientific viewpoint comes from her passion as a collector.

'My biggest pleasure is the surprise of discovery. Recently I'm most interested in how good intentions can lead to misfortune. This phenomenon happens quite often in science, which is why I like the field. I have around 300 stones in my collection. I've beest interested in stones since I was a little girl, so I've forgotten how I started to collect them: I' attracted to their simple chemical formula, near infiniteness, uniqueness, as well as the wonderful colour, texture and shape. I think every stone has its own appeal, be it a pebble on the beach or the most beautiful gem.'

Her choice of gems in the manga backs up the statement.

The Gem Warriors include valuable precious stones, such as diamond, as well as semi precious stones that are usually acknowledged as inforiors to gems. In her story, Gems vary in terms of fighting ability but are essentially treated as equals.

Inspiration

In The Kingdom of Gems, gems walk, talk and feel emotions just like us. How did Ichikawa come up with a unique idea of turning a gem into a human-shaped character?

'I had the idea that maybe minerals lived on a different time axis as ours - we just didn't realize it.'

And how did a passage from a Buddhist sutra, "the land of the Perfect Bliss is made of gems', contribute to the story?

'In the sutra gems are an accessible way to describe the beauty and majesty of the Land of Bliss. They are native to the Land of Bliss, not stolen from elsewhere. When I first read the sutra it occurred to me that Buddhism didn't consider these ornamental gems as eligible for salvation. It's not that the sutra made me feel disappointed in Buddhism or want to liberate gems myself. The sutra provides a simple message for the masses by comparing objects of unparalleled beauty to gems. It made me realize that there's a limit to our shared imagination. There's a line somewhere. So where does that put inorganic compounds? They can't speak for themselves. It's pretty convenient to ignore this and assume them to be subservient. It's hard to put my feelings into words, but I felt a very human danger - and attraction - in the vivid examples that assigned gems value and the matter-of-fact manner that passes over these same objects for salvation.

People emphasize with objects that appear human. So I followed this lite of thought - how would we react to a being that was totally unlike a human except in its appearance? Would we want to help them, or feel guilt for persecuting them? What would cause us to feel compassion? This is my experiment find out. It boils down to having empathy for others, be they organic or otherwise.

I'm also interested in what part of our nature is human, and what is animal - both the good and bad. Just as we struggle with the unknowable animal nature within us, life forms in the future will struggle with the untamed nature leftover from humans. At least, that's my hypothesis for what I write.'

This kind of humanity is strongly depicted in the conversation between Phos and Ventricosus, the ruler of the sea.

Ventricosus understands that the Moon People mean to reclaim their flesh and bones to return to their human form, but since they divided from humans so long ago there is no way back. Knowing that the character is not human makes the following dialogue all the more impressive.

'The Moon People, despite lacking natural enemies, love war and are never satisfied. I get the feeling that this undirected anxiety is leftover from when they were human.'

Unique Use of Ornamentation

All sorts of decorations will catch your eye as you read through the pages. For instance, the Moon People are defined by their lavish outfits. From their opulent fabrics to elegans curved ornamentation it's hard to imagine they are capable of such aggression.

The highly decorative quality of the Moon People and the way they steal gems to decorate their homeland makes ornamentation an allegory for earthly desires. However, Ichikawa's statement from the previous wection reveals her unique attitude to wards ornamentation. She uses gems, a typical decoration, to show how the reader feels toward the materials we use for decotation. Yet she has a positive view of the subject. For example, the Gem Warriors fashion reveals clothing lined with flower patterns and special costumes worn during hibernation. Ichikawa obviously enjoys drawing these scenes. Her pages overflow with fun.

'I appreciate sophisticated adornment, Bizarre, extravagant adornment is also atractive. I'm rather interested in the reason behind such decoration. People must have reasons to (or not to) decorate For example, some people decorate them selves to feel confident or be popular, while others don't because they have different priorities.

It's interesting to see what people place importance on.

As for the Gem Warrior outfits, materials are scarce in their world so I try to make the most of simplicity. I also wanted to show how the Gems take pleasure from fashion.

People will decorate. Some for personal reasons, and some out of a desire to get close to something greater than themselves. It is a very human behaviour we should love and be proud of.

I like decorations, I like jewellery. Even more so I like people who decorate themselves and our nature that drives us to. I'm sure many readers understand this sentiment.

However, like all human practices, the act and desire to decorate hides our vulnerabilities.'

Haruko Ichikawa points this out through characters that are living decorations themselves. She does not view this negatively. For in her world, everything is beautiful, even our weaknesses.

[javiddenkins]

Javid Denkins is not interested in answering questions. 

It's 9:30 in the morning and I'm sitting across from Denkins in a conference room at the AMC Studios offices. Denkins declined to meet anywhere more personal than this beige and glass room, impersonal Muzak buzzing through the speakers, windows overlooking an empty studio lot. There are posters on the wall but none, strangely, for Blow the Man Down, the runaway hit Denkins conceived, writes, and now showruns. 

Blow the Man Down, or BTMD as it's frequently referred to by fans and journalists alike, is a workplace comedy set in the Golden Age of Piracy. This unusual premise would be interesting enough even without the top-tier leads brought on by AMC to play opposing pirate captains Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur—Oscar Issac and John Boyega light up the screen and bring surprising comedy chops to the pirate-filled stage they share with such talents as Michelle Yeoh ("Zheng Yi Sao") and Sam Neill ("Captain Benjamin Hornigold"). 

But beyond that, BTMD seems to be that rare thing in mainstream media: a slow romance between two middle-aged men finding love for the first time. The first—and so far, only—season ends on a cliffhanger, our heroes separated by an ocean but determined to reach one another, and their love story—if it is one—stays unresolved. 

Usually an interview like this—between seasons, after renewal and filming but before advertising—would be the perfect opportunity to delve into the mind behind the magic and attempt to tease out hints about what's to come. 

But Denkins seems determined to ignore Hollywood's traditional playbook. 

Whether this is the standard conference room used for interviewing reluctant showrunners, or if Denkins picked it especially for the purpose, I'll never find out. I've already been waiting half an hour, uncertain if Denkins intends to join me at all. When he does finally arrive, he makes his position clear. 

"I'm only doing this because you agreed to my terms," he says. 

I'd describe what he looked like, if he had a coffee or a snack or a smoker's twitching nerves, if he sounded tired or amused or angry—but I can't. If you see a description here, it's because Denkins decided, for whatever reason, to approve it. Otherwise, sharing my impression of Denkins is off the table, one of many terms and conditions my editorial team and I had to agree to before Denkins would accept this meeting. 

Denkins doesn't want to make my job easy. Photos of him do exist from the few red carpets he's attended; enthusiastic interviews with the cast, writers, and production team of BTMD definitely paint a picture that belies Denkins's apparent efforts to avoid perception. But here and now, in the oppressive air conditioning of the AMC offices, I am contractually obligated to interview a cipher.

If he can be all business, though, then so can I. I hit a button on my phone's recording app, set it down between us, and ask what made him decide to tell the story of an obscure pair of pirates like Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur.

He shrugs. "Why does anyone write anything? This is my job." 

It's not the kind of answer I was expecting. Something must show on my face, because he follows with, "That's unsatisfying, isn't it. No definitive answer."

"It's not what I expected," I hedge.

"What did you want to hear?"

I try to gather my thoughts, but I'm definitely stalling, uncertain that this is what Denkins intends. "I did a little research," I say. "Not as much as I imagine you did, but I found some of Bellamy and Levasseur's history together and, later, apart. Bellamy's ship is the only fully authenticated Golden Age shipwreck in the world, so it makes sense that the wrecking of the Whydah is an important turning point in season one. Levasseur, on the other hand, is best known for the mystery of his encoded treasure map, flung into the crowd at his hanging and only ever partially solved, which you seem to have used as a foundation for the coding and decoding motifs throughout. But for a show that seems determined to discuss the consequences of fame and reputation, it's fascinating that you've chosen two men most casual viewers have never heard of."

"Outside the narrative they built for themselves," Denkins corrects. "Is there a question in there?"

I remember again that Denkins isn't here to make this easy for me. "Why not choose one of the more well-known pirates of the era? Henry Morgan, Captain Kidd, and Blackbeard are all arguably more famous both now and when they were alive. What made you choose Bellamy and Levasseur for this story?"

"I think," Denkins says, "I just answered that. There's a difference between how you perceive yourself, and how the world perceives you. Those famous pirates retained their notoriety even after death. Sam and Ollie did have reputations when they were alive, but if people today know them at all, it's typically for reasons completely unrelated to whatever little fame they achieved in life."

"And that fascinates you?"

Denkins looks irritated. "It doesn't matter what fascinates me. That's the story, that's—look, I don't know how to write a puff piece like this," Denkins says. "I don't know if it would really sound like this, if anyone would bother caring enough about what I want to get this far."

"Excuse me?" I say.

"Do you honestly think," Denkins says, "there's a single journalist out there that would actually agree to these interview conditions? This is a fantasy, a what-if, and it still doesn't work."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," says Denkins, "I didn't even give you a name."

And that's true, I realize. I don't have a name. 

"Right," says Denkins, as if hearing my thoughts—and I suppose, in a way, he does. "And you don't know how you got here, and you don't know where you'll go after. I made you up. I made all this up."

I look at my recorder, which isn't a recorder. I look at the room, which isn't a room. 

"Okay," I say. "So what did you want to happen?"

Denkins taps my phone's screen to stop the recording. Denkins imagines me noticing that he taps the screen, and so this must have meaning. There is no room for junk words and actions in prose, and even less in television. Whatever's on the page has to have meaning, or it's wasted space, wasted time, a moment that could have been useful now gone and never coming back.

Denkins shoves my phone back to the center of the table and says, "I wanted to see if I could just talk about the story without making it about me."

"But you're part of it," I point out. "You have to be. It came from you. It was something you thought was important, and then you put the effort in to create it. The story exists because of you, in relation to you. That's why people, why fans, want to know more about you. They love the story, and you made it, so they want to love you, too."

"I don't like that," says Denkins. "Rephrase it."

"They love the story," I say, parroting back at my creator, "and you made it. They want to know about you so they can know more about what the story means."

Denkins's chair creaks as he pushes it back, puts his head in his hands. I wonder if he's doing that in the real world, too, in the place where he's imagining this interview that will never exist. 

(Except I'm not the one wondering. He is. He's wondering what an interviewer would think of him if he allowed himself to show this weakness. Rephrase. Show this ache. Rephrase. Show this.)

"I'm not a story," Denkins says, face still hidden. The Muzak piped into the room seems too loud, too discordant now. Maybe that's what the world sounds like to him. "I'm not imaginary. I'm not a specimen to study under a microscope until every part of me is uncovered and connected one by one to every part of the show." He drags his hands back down and I think I can say that he looks very, very tired. 

"Yes, maybe I put some of myself in Blow the Man Down," he continues. "Maybe I did in season two as well. Maybe I put something in The Gang, and maybe I'll put something into whatever else I make for the next fifty years. And what I put there is—will be—has to be—my choice. All things I chose to share. But this?" He waves a hand at the nonexistent conference room, at nonexistent me. "This isn't a choice. It's a demand. I'm being held hostage for answers, as if me keeping my boundaries somehow ruins the show, ruins the story."

"Because you're not a story," I repeat back, watching for confirmation. "Because what you choose to reveal is the only story the audience should need."

"Yes," says Denkins. "That's it."

That's not it, though. I know this, because I'm him, talking to himself. Thinking all this through. 

"So you cut yourself off," I say. "No one can know anything about you, because they're already clawing for what you're not willing to share—so how much worse would it get if you gave them a chance to come closer, right?" 

"To take, and get it wrong anyway," he says. "Or get it right, but not like it. Not like me. How I'm perceived might change how the story is perceived. And even skipping over the whole art of it all—this is a business. How the story is perceived affects dozens, if not hundreds of people and careers. And all of it can get destroyed in an instant if there's some aspect of me that the audience decides is wrong."

Denkins pushes back from the table, stands up as if to leave. I'm not done yet, though. He's not done yet.

"Sounds lonely," I say.

"Sounds like something a fan would say," he shoots back, and I shrug.

"Blame yourself for thinking it and making me say it, then. It sounds lonely. It is lonely. It's lonely to think there's no way that you could open yourself up, talk about who you are and what your art means to you, without feeling like someone, everyone, will take advantage of that vulnerability."

I pause, and in that pause I find something to latch onto. "You've imagined me," I say. "You've imagined this scenario, where you stay cut off and oblique and hidden." I pick up my phone from where it's placed between us, and I shut it down completely—not because it exists, but because it's a symbol he understands. "What would happen if you imagined being part of the story?" I ask. Rephrase. "What would happen if you imagined being free?"

We look at each other. The tinny music of this artificial space comes to a sudden halt.

Denkins leaves the room. 

I am—

Denkins comes back. He sits down. He looks at me.

Time doesn't exist in the beige and glass room. But behind him, now, there is a poster of Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur, a drilled coin on a cord stretched taut between them. And the Muzak hasn't restarted.

Denkins looks different. Or maybe he just feels different. Those things are functionally the same, here.

"You know the old movie trailers?" Denkins starts, not really a question. "The ones that start with 'in a world…'"

I nod. 

He smiles a little. "Okay. In a world where Blow the Man Down doesn't exist. Let's say there's something else instead. Let's say it's called Our Flag Means Death. It's a workplace comedy, it's the Golden Age of Piracy, the works. They even manage to kiss in the first season, though the cliffhanger is worse. And in that world, there's a different guy who runs it, a guy named David Jenkins, who seems nicer and more outgoing and shares a lot more of himself than I do. And I think it goes mostly okay for him, except he has to scrub his social media, delete most of his Instagram, and never gets to name his wife anywhere in case a fan might notice and start following her around."

"Sounds grim," I say.

He shrugs. "It's another way of handling it. David, in that world, has made a choice to draw the enemy fire toward himself, instead of hiding away and letting it scatter at random. It seems to work okay for him, and maybe it would for me too, but, you know. Maybe that's a little of myself I gave Ollie. Because I also like the idea of testing something first, all the way to destruction."

A little of myself. This—this is personal information. Something that, in the negotiations that never happened, he said he'd never give me.

My phone, with its blackened screen, is right there. I keep my hands still, folded together, decidedly not reaching for the phone. Denkins watches, sees. His shoulders loosen; neither of us, I think, realized how tense he'd been.

"In that world," he says, "there's a second season coming that no one knows anything about and there's a fandom going feral. Echo chambers that feed off their own theories because there's nothing new to add to the pot. Just like our world, right? In the absence of good data, overwrought ideology works just as well.

"And in the middle of this, to provide a distraction, maybe, or to draw that enemy fire like he so often does, David Jenkins says he'll get a Tumblr—you know, one of those not-really-social-media internet places. And maybe he does. He doesn't tell anyone his username, so it's a mystery whether he really did it or not. But someone opens an account. And someone says they're definitely not David Jenkins."

Javid Denkins is holding a cup of coffee. So am I, now. We take sips, mirrors of each other. The coffee tastes like it has seven sugars in it.

Denkins swirls his cup gently, not looking up at me. "When you're trying to figure out something that's terrifying," he says, slow and careful, "and enraging, and so big and so much that it feels like you'll collapse under the weight of it…sometimes you need to find a way to conceptualize it more abstractly. Make it manageable. Put it in bite-sized chunks. 

"So instead of me, dealing with all this fame, and these expectations, and these pulls to turn me from a person into a plot point…maybe there's this other guy. In this other universe, with this other pirate show. Another writer, who says he's definitely not David Jenkins. But—he could be. He could be. And either way, there's enough uncertainty that the fandom can't tell right away."

"Schrödinger's showrunner," I say. 

Denkins tips his mug at me. "Yeah, that gets pointed out, too. Because either it's really him and the fandom will eat at him—death by a thousand needy bites of demand, and something that feels like connection but by its nature can't be—or it's not him, just a fan pretending to be him, attention-seeking, scamming, stealing unearned laurels to crown a meaningless triumph: successfully mimicking the concept of David Jenkins."

"Pretty binary."

Denkins shrugs. "You saw the first season. I'm a sucker for duality." 

He hums and looks out the conference room's window. The AMC lot is gone. More accurately, it was never there. Outside the window is an ocean. The water is green-screen perfect, and there are two tall-masted ships in the distance: Bellamy's Whydah Gally and Levasseur's La Louise. They float angled toward one another, counterpart to their captains on the poster behind Jenkins, missing only the drilled coin between them.

"Except," says Denkins, slow and musing as he watches the distant ships, "in the vast multiverse of imaginable possible outcomes, it turns out that there is the very slimmest possible chance of a third thing happening."

There is another ship floating now between the Whydah and La Louise. It's freshly painted, poorly rigged, and its figurehead is a unicorn. Instead of one flag, it has half a dozen. And I know, because Denkins knows, that instead of gunpowder in its hold, it carries jars and jars of harmless marmalade.

"So," I say, "David Jenkins—"

"Oh, definitely not David Jenkins," says Javid Denkins, amusement lighting up his face. He keeps his eyes on that third ship.

"So the person who is definitely not David Jenkins," I say. "He comes and starts a social media account. He answers questions."

"Sort of. Nothing specific, really. Just…narrative likelihoods. Enough to dangle hope. But the fandom wants more. There's a Richard Siken line he sees, that if he'd chosen to stay anonymous maybe he could've actually posted: 'but monsters are always hungry, darling.' It's like that. So he backs up a little, and considers how to hold off the inevitable. The season two hints are vague? Make them vaguer. Add some smoke and mirrors to hide how little substance they have. There are only so many general pirate tropes around? Stretch out how long it takes to get the ones he has. Add steps. Add puzzles. Make the fandom work for it, and maybe they won't notice how little there is to find. Give them an interesting enough box to open, and they'll ignore the fact that there isn't an answer on the inside, just another, smaller box." He tilts his head and looks at me. The light outside is now luminous pink and yellow, flashing off the water and highlighting his face like a duotone painting. "Then he…" Denkins sighs. Puts down his mug. "Then I sit back and see what happens. I see if it's as bad as I think it would be if I did it here, in the real world."

"And is it?"

Denkins reaches out with one hand, tugging my phone over to his side of the table. He starts fiddling with the buttons, attention on it instead of me. "To start with? Yes. And no. It didn't matter that the one thing I promised was that I wasn't David Jenkins. They—the fandom—found me anyway. They assumed I was him. And I was right, of course I was right, they asked me questions. Hundreds of them. Like that was the only reason I existed, like I couldn't just be a regular person like the rest of them, just on Tumblr to read about the Carpathia and get taken out by the color of the sky."

"For better or for worse, you're a public person," I say. "They think they know what it means when a public person breaks down the barrier between themselves and the fans. Even well-meaning people make assumptions."

The recorder is no longer a phone and app; it's an old cassette player with thick plastic buttons like I, or more accurately Denkins, had as a child. It matches the ones his elementary school classrooms had, which in turn looked like the device Mr. Spock carried at his hip to record and interpret data from strange new worlds. 

Denkins, in the here and now, half-presses the play and record buttons, which would trigger the record function if pushed down completely. He holds back. Riding the edge of commitment. Over and over. 

"Yeah," he says. "Yes. That's true. And I could've been completely anonymous if I wanted to be left alone entirely. I suppose I wanted to prove that everything I believe—everything I'm afraid of—is true, and that I'm justified in hiding away, refusing to be 'known' by anyone I haven't specifically agreed to. Hence the thought exercise. And when I was done, and I had my proof," he says, leaving off the recorder buttons to raise a pointed finger at me, "I wouldn't have to see you again either."

We look at each other. "But here you are," I say.

He laughs. It's rusty, but sure. "Here I am," he agrees.

"So what happened?"

"Turns out," he says, "that in that infinite universe of possibilities a writer can dream up, there's a world where, yes, all my worst fears are confirmed…but that's not all that happens."

He stops, and we are both silent for a long, long moment. His fingertips brush over the recorder buttons, repetitive and soothing, like he's calming something feral and unused to human touch.

"Would you believe," he says at last, hushed and small in this glass and beige room floating on a digital sea, "that there is a world where fans—people—don't ask for more than I want to give? Who see the box I'm in, and instead of ripping it open to grasp for whatever good thing they think they can find inside…they give something back. 

"I played it all out, you see." He waves his hand over the recorder. Now there are two of them, sitting side by side, each with a row of thick black plastic buttons along the edge: one to play, one to rewind, one to record, and one to pop open its lid so that the cassette can be changed. One of the recorders is a little bigger than the other. "If I can imagine it," he says, "it has to be possible."

He looks at the two recorders; he's quiet now, talking to himself rather than me. I don't think I'm as necessary as I was before. I think maybe this is just him. Just Denkins in this lonely little room. He moves the smaller recorder so that it's lined up with the larger one, like he's lining up Matryoshka dolls as he reveals them.

"It started small," he says. "There were people who saw my puzzles, and made puzzles back for me, just to play along. People who saw my puzzles, and shared what they knew about them, just to help others play too. Small things. Little things. Possible things. I liked it. I didn't expect it. I…wanted to give back, too. Not just in the story, I mean. It was me who wanted it. Wanted to add to a world, to a community, where that sort of giving could happen. So I went further. I didn't just try to hint at common story beats this other show might hit—I started listening, following, asking what would be most welcome, and then gave that instead. And it grew. It grew until it wasn't really just an experiment anymore. It stopped being an adversarial proof. It started being…something else."

Denkins reaches out, and now there are three recorders on the table. The newest one is the smallest. He lines it up with the others.

"I'd already made David Jenkins," he says, "and in turn he'd made his own Javid Denkins. So why not do it again? This other Javid Denkins, this me who's me but not me, goes deeper. He uses the tools at his disposal. Our Flag Means Death has pirates named Edward Teach and Stede Bonnet. OFMD has a fandom like BTMD does, where people write stories about the characters, for themselves and—for others. Fan fiction. A thing that can be a gift, if you want it to be. So I started to write one."

One by one, Denkins hits the 'play' button on each of the recorders. The cassettes whir, a steady background hum. Each starts playing a part of some orchestral piece. Not the individual instruments, but something stranger. It's as if each cassette contains the whole work, but with fragments missing that the others complete. There are still some gaps in the playback.

Denkins waves his hand over the collection again, and a fourth recorder, smallest of all, appears. He presses play on it too, and the music fills in. It's a pretty little melody. Simple, if you know how to hear it.

Denkins hums a little of it before looking up, seeing me again. "That was it, really. That's what finally made all this small enough for me to understand. Made it small enough, far enough away from my actual world that I could finally let myself feel it. In this story that I'm telling, here is Edward Teach." Denkins touches the smallest recorder very, very gently. "Teach lives in a world where he's not the main character; he's just a fan of a gay pirate romcom called Blow the Man Down. He's tired, and he's angry, and he doesn't know how to deal with the world the way it is, with the fandom as he perceives it. He makes a Twitter account, anonymously, to prove that what he fears is real."

Denkins covers the recorder with both hands, only muffling the music a little. "Here's Edward Teach, made up of all my fears and saying them out loud."

He raises his hands, and now there are two little recorders, the same size, both playing the same parts together. He touches the new recorder with his fingertip, as if it's a bubble that could too easily break. "Here's Stede Bonnet," he says, "made up of all my fears coming true. And then having to live through it anyway." He stares down at this new recorder; the same as the Edward Teach one, but evidently special in some way to Denkins. He says, to me, to it, to the room: "It's a hell of a thing, to need to go so far away just to see what you've been carrying on your back the whole time."

After a moment, he looks back up at me. "In my story," he says, "Stede survives the disaster. My disaster. He survives it, because he has Ed—a love interest, yes, but not just that. He's someone he opened up to. And more than that, I saw—because I could imagine it, and so it must be possible, it has to actually be possible—I saw the fandom become…people."

With both hands, Denkins presses a button on each of these two small recorders.

Their lids pop open.

And from the walls, from the ceiling, from the glass windows and the limitless sea, there comes a multiverse of music.

"These people," says Denkins, tilting his head to listen as the swells of unseen instruments add to the gentle overture of his pocket worlds and turn the piece into something greater than the sum of its parts. "They're not some nameless collective made up of their worst impulses. They're just people. People are complicated. You can never know them completely; they can never know you. All you really get is what they—we—choose to do. 

"And I saw people try to help Stede. People, strangers, who didn't know who he was, not really. And they felt compassion anyway."

After a long moment, just taking in the music, Denkins sighs and carefully closes the lids on the two small recorders. The singing universe becomes just a recorded orchestral piece once again—though no less beautiful for it. He gently pushes the two recorders together until they're touching, side by side, and covers them with his hand. He says, "Ed got to see this. He got to know that even if his worst fear happens, he'll be okay on the other side of it. And he won't be alone." 

He lifts his hand; the two are now one, still playing its little melody.

Denkins picks up this amalgamated recorder and sets it on top of the next largest. He puts his hand over the stack he's just made. "Move it up a level," Denkins says. "David Jenkins, or someone who is definitely not David Jenkins, runs a Tumblr with games and puzzles and digital tools that stretch the boundaries of the narrative. He sees the reactions to his story. Sees fans who know it isn't real, who know that Stede and Ed are characters in a narrative—and nevertheless, these fans, these people, see that these characters are hurting. They try to help. They don't know who's behind the masks labeled 'Stede' and 'Ed,' not really. But they feel compassion anyway."

He lifts his hand. The little recorder atop the larger is gone. The music is different. Not lessened, but changed. It's come closer. 

Once more, Denkins moves the smaller combined recorder onto the last one—or, I suppose, the first of all of them. "So move it up one more time," he says. The music isn't audible in the room now; but I hear it anyway. It's in me. Us. The last little notes coming from the final recorders just a reminder of what the world could sound like.

He covers the top recorder with both hands. His touch is aching and very, very soft. "Here's me. Javid Denkins. I don't know if there's a world where I could open myself up and not have everything burn down in flames. I don't know if it could ever be possible for me to leave this room, open my laptop, and start something, somewhere, called 'definitely not Javid Denkins,' and have it be as beautiful and awe-inspiring as it was in my thought experiment.

"But God," he says, "I want it."

He lifts his hands, and all that's left is the final recorder, the one that was my phone to begin with. The music dissipates completely. But the feeling of it remains. Denkins rests his hands on either side of this solitary recorder. He says, "I don't know if all of that—all of them, my fans, my friends, all of what we made together…I don't know if it already exists for me in the real world. Just waiting for me to be brave enough to look. I don't know. But I think I have to believe that it does. That they do. I have to believe that it's possible not just to imagine that kind of grace, but to live it." 

Denkins brushes his thumb over the last recorder's play button. "I think that's what it means to be human," he says. "To try anyway. To unlock yourself despite your fears, and find hope there waiting for you."

He closes his eyes. I close my eyes. We take a deep breath together.

We open our eyes.

After a moment, I smile at Denkins, a little crooked. I've got one last question to ask, and it's one he might even answer. 

"Who are you, really?" I ask. 

It's something we all have to answer about ourselves eventually, and it seems particularly relevant now.

Denkins shrugs, and his smile mirrors mine. "Does it matter?"

"It feels like it does."

"How about this," he says. "Who are you, really?"

And knowing what I know now…if I'm anyone at all, then I suppose I'm Javid Denkins. An aspect. A reflection. A dream.

And so, in these universes he's imagined, is everyone.

"So," Denkins says. "You think I can start over?"

I smile wider. It feels good. "I'd love that."

He pushes the recorder back to me, and in my heart I hear his laughing request for one last rephrase—

Javid Denkins has been waiting for me.

It's 9:30 in the morning and I'm sitting across the table from a cheerful enigma. Denkins was already in the room when I arrived, a hot coffee by my seat and a box filled with fresh breakfast pastries and marmalade open and ready to be enjoyed. An advertising standup emblazoned with the unreleased (at time of writing) air date for season two of Denkins's Blow the Man Down takes pride of place at the head of the table. Through the windows opposite, bright sunlight bounces off the buzzing AMC studio lot, and I think I hear a certain pirate romcom's theme music playing quietly over the room's speakers.

Denkins grins at me, and it's easy to see why his actors and writers speak so highly of the experience of working with him. Because I can tell already: this is going to be fun. 

It starts when he leans forward, eyes bright, and presses the record button on my phone for me.

"Let's play," he says, and—we do.

[meret118]

The Wizard of Oz series is centered around powerful girls and women, something unfortunately still unusual today. It was even more so when it was published in 1900. Matilda Joslyn Gage, was a huge influence on her son-in-law Frank Baum, and instrumental in the book being published.

The article below calls her a radical feminist, but they do NOT mean a terf.

They mean the same thing I thought the term meant when I first heard it - a fierce believer in feminism.

AFAIK there's no record of her ever mentioning trans people, but given her activism against organized religion as a source of prejudice, and for multiple oppressed groups of people, I definitely think she would have supported queer rights.

The Wizard of Oz film, and the novels that inspired it, were deeply influenced by the ideology of radical feminist Matilda Joslyn Gage. Gage may be best known as the mother-in-law of Oz novelist L. Frank Baum, but more importantly, she was an activist, who would be considered as radical in our day as she was in hers. “[Gage was] the woman who was ahead of the women who were ahead of their time,” Gloria Steinem said in Ms. Amongst her many accomplishments, Gage wrote the first three volumes of The History of Women’s Suffrage, alongside with her contemporaries, Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Unlike these women, who both opposed the 15th Amendment, Gage sheltered runaway slaves in her childhood and married homes. In her final years, Gage became a treasured ally to local native American tribes, who adopted her as one of their own.

Mrs. Gage railed against religious leaders and politicians for a living and was so controversial and so scary to some that she was deemed ‘an infidel,’ her activities called ‘satanic.” That Gage is not better known to modern Americans is the result of deliberate actions taken by Anthony to distance the movement from Gage’s radical ideas, namely that the church’s hierarchies were inherently oppressive to women. As historian Sara Egge wrote, “Anthony in particular recognized that claiming her as central to the woman suffrage narrative was too dangerous.” Gage’s radicalism evidently rubbed off on her son-in-law. According to Schwartz, Baum became the outspoken secretary of his local Equal Suffrage Club, writing in a newspaper editorial, “We must do away with sex prejudice and render equal distinction and reward to brains and ability, no matter whether found in man or woman.”

Baum took inspiration from Gage’s politics, and in turn, she encouraged him to write down the spellbinding stories he told her grandchildren. In one instance, as Schwartz noted, Gage sent her son-in-law a newspaper ad for a story contest, writing on the enclosure, “Now you are a good writer and I advise you to try. Of course, you have but a little time, but ideas may flow.” In time, Baum would write The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, but in 1893, seven years before his book, Gage published Women, Church and State, a 500-page treatise which detailed why the church’s hierarchies were inherently oppressive to women. In a lengthy chapter titled “Witchcraft,” Gage argued the church affixed the label “witch” to any “wise, or learned woman,” a practice she traced from the middle ages to puritan Massachusetts.

Source. The bolding is mine.

I think Gage would have loved Elphaba! :)

ETA: I now love the name Gage for someone regardless of gender. :)

[alliluyevas]

What do you think is the funniest fact about Joseph Stalin or Joseph Smith (or just mormon leaders in general)? And do you have a favourite photo of Nadezhda Alliluyeva?

Going to start off with Stalin and Nadya and then do Mormon leaders in a reblog! Sergo Beria's memoir is an absolute treasure trove of stories about Stalin acting absolutely bizarre, as is Nikita Khrushchev's. (You have to take a lot of Sergo's editorialization about his father with a hefty grain of salt, but I do think a lot of what he says about Stalin is likely quite accurate.)

Anyway, Sergo has a great story about Stalin going into his house when he was a kid, asking his (Sergo's) mom to make him a snack, and then wandering around in the house and acting pissy that they didn't have a photo of him on display and then Sergo's mom had to like. show him a bunch of art that then-elementary-school-aged Sergo had drawn of him (Stalin) to placate him. Which is kind of horrifying but I do honestly crack up when I think about this because quite frankly it is the behavior of a barnyard animal.

There's also a vignette from Khrushchev's memoirs about him and Mikoyan walking somewhere with Stalin and Stalin suddenly said "I think I might actually be a bad person" or some such comment and him and Mikoyan were just completely silent because they could not figure out how to respond to that and then eventually Stalin just went back to talking about whatever he was talking about. Again dark humor but I absolutely HOWL picturing what their faces must have looked like.

I guess these are more stories than facts, but hopefully that works.

These are my favorite photos of Nadya! In part because of the stories behind them. There actually aren't really a ton of photos of her sadly. the photo on the left is really rare, I've never seen it published online. I saw it for the first time when I went to the Alliluyev apartment museum in St. Petersburg which is where Nadya and her family were living in 1917 when the October Revolution happened and is preserved as a small "house" (or in this case apartment) museum with original furniture. They also have a photo album you can look at which has a ton of not-widely-available family photos and when I opened it up and saw this one I was honestly so moved by it I teared up. I like that she's looking right at the viewer and I think her expression looks very sweet. Of the available photos of her, I think in a lot of them she looks pretty stiff or formal and I think this one comes off as a little bit more relaxed.

The photo on the right has a really interesting backstory and I used it for the opening hook to my undergraduate biographical thesis. She's posing as Tatiana from Eugene Onegin, and there was a matching photo where Nadya's sister Anna was playing the role of Tatiana's sister Olga (side note: I think it's very interesting that the Alliluyev girls "cast" Nadya as Tatiana, because in the poem Tatiana is the older sister and irl Anna was older than Nadya. I do think that personality-wise they got the better fit, though.) It was also really powerful for me to see this photo because it was taken in the aforementioned Alliluyev apartment and they still have that piano.

[treasureloversclub]

TREASURE for GQ Korea (part 2)

[digitaldoeslmk]

woe, idle hcs be upon you:

Mei has hyperpigmentation/melasma, and due to her rough and tumble disposition, she's covered in pockmarks from bruises, scrapes and the occasional acne;

Mei also has little budding horns on her head, she just covers them with her pigtails so they don't snag or catch into stuff;

she has several social media accts, her largest ones are her speedrunning stream channel and her bike racing and modding blog;

she finds dragon tattoos funny cus "lmao that looks like my great-cousin before he hit his growth spurt bahahaha!";

MK is nonbinary masc trans; he got blockers prior to his teens, but he stopped T only a year before the events of the series;

He has a small cloud handpoke tattoo on his ankle, he did it himself on a whim and its shaky and wonky but he treasures it a lot;

He has several piercing scars on his ears and nose, and on his eyebrows. He tried to make them last, but the moment he loses piercings like you wouldn't believe. He eventually stopped when one got torn during martial arts practice;

Hai'er isn't too bothered by pronouns, but he prefers masc adjectives;

He often wears traditional clothes, but he prioritizes practicality overall, especially qhen he's at his workshop;

He's incredibly strict when it comes to safety gear and measures. If you won't respect his labs and workshops for the SAW traps that they are, then be gone;

Pigsy used to ride bikes, he was big on wheels until he sold his pride and joy to get the remaining money he needed to open the noodle shop;

Pigsy and Sandy met on the bike "gang" scene, though it was less a gang and more several younger folk who enjoyed riding and causing the occasional trouble, but not real gang-related crimes;

And the two met Tang when he walked in on them doing a small fundraiser for the shop;

he became a regular on Pigsy's food stand and even rambled about his food to his colleagues;

Tang and Pigsy are in a steady relationship together, and they are both legal guardians of MK;

The monkeys at FFM call MK either "little sage" or "prince", much to his bashfulness. it's cute when the cubs do it though;

after MK had a proper introduction to the folks of the mountain, he's constantly invited to take part in their life. festivals, holidays, birthday parties, he always get invited to come over and join them for it;

before the novelty of the Monkie Kid went away, Pigsy had to install some safety measures on the noodles delivery app, cus people kept ordering noodles only to see MK and ask for signatures and such;

Mei is a restaurant's worst nightmare because she's So Picky when it comes to seafood;

'Mei' and 'MK' are nicknames they both got in the martial arts academy, their names are still Long Xiaojiao and Qi Xiaotian;

Sandy used to do boat transportation, but he retired to do engineering work instead. he got a degree thanks to Tang's encouragement and support;

Mei is on prep school for electrical engineering college; her parents wanted something more law-oriented but this was their compromise, since Mei didn't want to do college At All;

Tang is an academics jack-of-all-trades; he messed up his tenure so now he does academic book revisions, translations and editorials. Hes also affiliated with a number of libraries, and manages read-alongs, study groups and other events. On occasion he gets advisory jobs on documentaries and such, and he's even been asked on a few interviews;

He gets supremely insufferable about his curriculum if you get him talking about it;

He's got a near flawless memory of every book he's read, able to quote exact lines and identify the chapter and pages from them;

Tang speaks a number of languages, and sometimes takes students from fellow teachers who might need some private lessons to catch up;

His tenure was put on pause so he could help Pigsy with raising baby MK, and he doesn't regret his choice one moment;

[greatwesternway]

Favorite non-engine exhibit at the IRM?

I'mma give you a runner-up too because I'm not sure most people know about it.

Inside some of the cars in Display Yard 5, there is the Railroad China Collection and other assorted ephemera.

There's a number of things in there actually, but they've got a large collection of servingware used on various trains and the first time we were there, we were given a very personalized tour from a guy named Ken. Ken was quite opinionated (and correct) about how train stuff should be displayed and explained to normal people. Suffice to say, he understands the value of the story. We're hoping to see Ken again sometime.

Obviously I'm very about the fluting on the Zephyr servingware (you know we love a cohesive theme), but the Santa Fe dishes are also quite cool and have a great design history to go along with them.

My favorite non-engine exhibit though is the Winton 201 prototype engine.

This is tucked in the back of Barn 9 and is particularly interesting because this is the prototype engine for the one used in the Pioneer Zephyr. Indeed, this one could have been placed in Pioneer if the guys at Winton didn't have the good sense to say no.

This engine (along with a matching twin) was displayed at the Century of Progress in 1933, where Ralph Budd saw them and promptly asked the Winton guys to sell them to him right out of the display.

They declined, for two reasons. 1. These two engines were currently prototypes and being stress tested at that very moment in their display. And 2., the display they were being tested on was powering the General Motors building. So they kinda needed to keep them around for the moment.

Budd settled for waiting for the non-prototype version and a year later, the Pioneer Zephyr and his new Winton engine joined these guys at the Century of Progress for the 1934 season.

So this is a very important piece of Zephyr history.

But the thing that really makes it my favorite non-engine exhibit at the IRM is that it's probably the best example of them getting a little... editorial with their signage.

HOW DID THIS PROTOTYPE END UP AT THE IRM?

Late in 1987, IRM got a call from the GM Warehouse manager in Willow Run, Michigan. This facility stored all of GM's experimental, prototype, and test models. The person at GM indicated he was planning to retire, and his superiors asked him to find appropriate homes for some of GM's stored treasures before he left. Somehow, he had heard of the IRM and wanted to know if we were interested in a steam car? IRM was intrigued and ask for a picture. It turned out to be a 1969 Pontiac with an experimental steam generator under its big hood. IRM said thanks, but it didn't meet our Museum's mission, which embraces steam, electric and diesel railroad equipment. The man never heard past "electric", and he offered us an electric car. Thinking this might be something more aligned with what we do, we asked for a picture. This one turned out to be another late 60's auto with batteries packed under the hood - their first electric hybrid. Again, IRM politely declined, and reiterated the actual scope of our collection. This time he heard "diesel", and offered us an old engine they had sitting around. We said, "YES, we'd love to have it." It was shipped shortly thereafter and arrived in early 1988. It was promptly put on display on the skid it arrived on.

This was truly the diesel that started it all for EMD. That it exists at all, is astounding, and a significant historical treasure hidden in plain view. (the second prototype has never turned up and is apparently lost to history.)

Very "per my last email".

[justforbooks]

Stranger than Fiction: Lives of the Twentieth-Century Novel review

Edwin Frank’s finely judged survey of modern fiction from Dostoevsky to Sebald will have you reaching for novels you hadn’t thought about in years

Edwin Frank vows in his introduction to this book to try to do for the fiction of the last century what the critic Alex Ross’s landmark book The Rest Is Noise did for its music. He is as good as his word. This is the most engaging imagining of the progress of the 20th-century novel you will read. Frank brings serious erudition to the task – in his day job he is editorial director of New York Review Books and has for 25 years edited its eclectic classics series which breathes new life into half-forgotten or out-of-print treasures. Though he has a fine critical judgment, Frank writes as an enthusiast at least as much as an academic, trusting his taste, always alive to the stories he is telling and the arguments he makes.

His method is broadly chronological, offering the reader a “long” 20th century, beginning with Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground (1864) and concluding with WG Sebald’s Austerlitz (2001). The choice of those two particular bookends to his study of 30-odd examples of the modern novel gives some idea of the emphasis of the project and the interests of the author. He is drawn to books that challenge the form itself in different ways, those that self-consciously or otherwise disrupt the more stately certainties of the great 19th-century novels. “The writers of the 20th century are ambushed by history,” Frank writes. “They exist in a world where the dynamic balance between self and society that the 19th-century novel sought to maintain can no longer be maintained, even as fiction.”

If Dostoevsky’s “unclassifiable” book – the structure of which resembles “nothing so much as a swept-up heap of broken glass” – set the pattern of that new relationship, Frank’s subsequent inquiries celebrate how the novel form became the place where changing ideas of fictional consciousness were tried out for size – from Gertrude Stein’s adventures with character as language in Three Lives to VS Naipaul’s restless examinations of post-colonial identity in The Enigma of Arrival.

Frank sometimes uses unlikely pairs of books to illustrate the ways very different writers responded to similar contemporary pressures – placing distinct confessionals such as Colette’s Claudine at School and Rudyard Kipling’s Kim alongside each other, for example, or finding the parallels between discrete experiments like Italo Svevo’s Confessions of Zeno and Jean Rhys’s Good Morning, Midnight. In other chapters, he focuses on individual novels: Mrs Dalloway – Virginia Woolf’s riposte to the “vulgarities” of Ulysses – or Gabriel García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude, the magic of whose realism, he suggests, in part lay in the fact that it was living proof of “the triumphant march of the 20th-century novel across the whole world”.

Frank follows the threads of that literary colonisation which advanced as empires themselves were retreating. His attention ranges far and wide, to Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, and Anna Banti’s Artemisia (there are only four American writers who make headline acts: Gertrude Stein, Ernest Hemingway, Vladimir Nabokov and Ralph Ellison). As a critic, he is not seduced by labels – isms get short shrift. He champions the 20th-century novel as the ultimate hybrid “misbegotten” form, existing somewhere between memoir and history and myth and gives a thumbs up to poet Randall Jarrell’s catch-all description: “A novel is a prose narrative of a certain length with something wrong with it.”

If the writers share a fatal flaw, he suggests, it is a belief that the novel “matters immensely” and is undone by that fact. “To read them,” he writes, “is to catch them in the act of thinking about the novel in the midst of writing a novel… they write both as novelist and as critic writing over the novelist’s shoulder.” That schism, he argues, was rendered by the Great War and its effect on the European imagination, a fact articulated in the triumvirate of novels – Ulysses, In Search of Lost Time, and The Magic Mountain – that were conceived or begun before 1914 and entirely altered by what followed.

Frank’s great gift lies in vividly bringing to life the books themselves and the specific time and place of the individuals who created them. There can be no better proof of his engagement than that it had me, chapter by chapter, tracking down books that I hadn’t looked at for years – Hemingway’s In Our Time stories, for example, or HG Wells’s The Island of Doctor Moreau – and rereading them through his eyes, before rejoining him on his quest.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[tarnishedinquirer]

Location: Gatefront Ruins

((Sorry, potato quality images continue. I'll figure it out eventually))

After the cave, continued down the road to find an immense gate. Soldiers were using some nearby ruins as a base, which the voice helpfully told me were the "Gatefront Ruins." Ever astute, that voice in my head.

Before tackling this, I decided to camp for the night, and got an unexpected visitor. Turns out the maiden with the scarred hands is named Melina. I think she's some kind of spirit, able to appear when she wants and then vanish again. I'll talk more when I profile her, but we reached a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Wasn't long after that I got a visit from another mysterious maiden, this one calling herself Renna. Feeling real popular lately.

Note: Profile Melina and Renna

Strengthened by Melina, I was able to make short work of the soldiers camped in the ruins. Only one guy gave me any trouble. Bigger, better-equipped, clearly some sort of knight in whatever feudal hierarchy survives here. Still got enough of his wits about him to catch me sneaking up, too. That was a bit of a shock.

Still, he can only face one direction, and between my magic and my new wolf friends (courtesy of the witch Renna), I was able to get in enough back shots to end him and have my run of the place.

Now, I don't think there's anything to really solve here. It was probably just a checkpoint in its heyday, though like everything here, that day is long past.

There were two of these enormous carts, carved out of rock-hard ebony wood, stuck here so long that the dirt had started to swallow their wheels. I couldn't find any way inside of them, so no clue what they were for, but I got the feeling they should've passed through that gate ages ago.

Even though I couldn't get inside, they both had a treasure chest in the back. Had the air of an offering. Funeral carriages, perhaps?

There was a morningstar in one, but the the other had something a bit more interesting, if only for what the voice said about it. A blackened and worn greatsword, "....kept in serviceable condition, despite the fact the soldiers had long since lost their minds."

Interesting editorializing, voice. I suspected as much, but I'm not gonna leap to conclusions about all the unalive soldiers. There's a method to their madness, even if it's just repeating things on rote.

I've wasted too much time thinking about what has probably never been more than a layover between other places.

Aside from the carriages, there were two interesting treasures here.

The first was a map stele. I made a quick copy and took it with me. Knowledge is power, after all.

Second was a strange knife-shaped whetstone, and an ash that the voice told me could be used with the whetblade to imbue a weapon with a skill. Specifically, a skill of the storm that once belonged to Stormveil to the north.

Though it doesn't fit my fighting style, this seems to be the most significant treasure here.

Unfortunately, I'm going to have to find another way. Godrick is clearly expecting me.

questions:

What are the large black carriages?

Why was a skill of Stormveil locked in a basement chest?

[ravensvirginity]

Under that panel about Dick having dreams about Raven, there was this comment trying to explain the context:

"Raven had her empathy powers going wild. So she thought she was in love with Dick. And was projecting herself in his dreams, without him knowing it was real. Basically trying to trick him into thinking he was in love with her, because she couldn't tell where her feelings ended and the feelings of those around her began"

Is this true? Raven actually consciously tried to invade Dick's dreams and trick him into thinking he was in love with her? I know the first kiss was completely unintentional, but the dreams were intentional even though she knew Dickkory was still together? That's basically cheater/homewrecker behavior. I would understand if she had the dreams herself, and then (again) accidentally gave him those dreams through empathy going haywire, basically she couldn't control it.

But then I find it strange that she didn't actually make any moves towards him in real life. Dick could only tell because of the dreams, and Kory only saw it through the look in her eyes, not through any specific interactions. And the talk with Kory later didn't mention anything about the dreams, too. Was Raven even aware that Dick was having those dreams? I have a feeling they were only talking about the kiss which Raven mistook for Dick's love for her.

What was Marv even thinking during that arc anyway? Was it an editorial suggestion or did he just have to create the drama? And it's so weird too. Raven had always been very wise and understanding in everything, even regarding things beyond the wisdom of peers her age like the misguided revenge for Terra, and then suddenly she became a selfish clueless teenage girl when it came to loving Dick?

That arc was iconic, indeed, but for all the wrong reasons to me. Raven and Kory could still have had the bonding without Dick's entanglement in it. And Dick and Raven didn't even have the chance to have a real healthy talk about it later. It's like sweeping the dust under the carpet. I prefer it if Dick himself broke the news to Raven, and himself explained his feelings for her but still assured her that he treasured her as a friend, a sister, or anything really. The forgiveness should have been from him directly, not through a third party. Raven needs to learn that, learn romantic feeling rejection the right way, not by being convinced that she only loved him as a brother. Who wants to kiss their brother like that?

The way I always read it is the dreams were unintentional and it was just her powers going a little haywire.

(NTT vol 2 #39)

I think the reason Raven is so immature in this arc is she literally has never been in love before. She's got the same amount of experience here as a 12 year old girl who has her first crush because of how long she was emotionally repressed. Less, even, because she's never really had friends before this either. The way this arc goes is definitely one of the more dramatic ways it could've gone but I think no matter what she'd be immature about it and probably make a fool of herself.

Raven being unable to distinguish platonic and romantic love makes an incredible amount of sense for her when you consider her situation. She wasn't allowed to love anyone for the first two decades of her life. She carefully repressed all of her emotions and didn't allow herself to feel anything towards anyone. Of course now that she can feel all the love that she denied herself of she's going to get confused! She has no frame of reference for the difference between how you love a family member or a friend or a lover because she's never truly had the opportunity to love anyone before.

I do think that it makes sense that the conclusion of the arc was that Raven only loves Dick like a brother. Like I said earlier, this is her first foray into letting herself feel emotions. It makes sense that she'd confuse platonic and romantic love. And also, just getting into semantics, I feel like saying you love someone like a sibling isn't saying "I literally see this person as a sibling", it's just shorthand for "I have a deep platonic love for this person". Obviously Dick isn't actually Raven's brother and the conclusion to that arc has never felt weird to me.

TL;DR: Even though Raven is an incredibly intelligent and compassionate person, she actually has very little emotional intelligence because of spending the majority of her life incredibly emotionally repressed.