Systems of Magic

Hello readers! It's Saturday, so I thought I would actually post something on time! Isn't it funny how that goes?

A few weeks ago, I had the chance to visit the lovely and wonderful and amazing Experience Music Project museum, which is located in the perpetually socked-in-and-raining haven of Seattle, Washington.

This insanity right here is a museum.

Though it does house some incredible exhibits about music - specifically Jimi Hendrix, Nirvana, and Women of Rock, which are all pretty awesome - it is also the home of exhibits on science fiction, horror, and fantasy. There is literally something for everyone to geek out about in this building, from the first models of electric guitar, Lady Gaga's first piano, and Nirvana's In Utero stage mannequins to Data's uniform, the Alien, original manuscript pages of Bram Stoker's Dracula, and the plot chart for the Lord of the Rings penned by J.R.R. Tolkien himself.

But, as the title of this post suggests, I'm here to talk about a specific part of the Fantasy exhibit: systems of magic. There was a portion of this  exhibit which was set up like a library. Unlike typical libraries, it housed a table, the surface of which was a touch screen. You can click on the "books" floating around on it and they open to reveal various things. One such book outlined the different classes of magic typically found in works of Fantasy. I have reproduced them below. Please understand that all material in quotes does not belong to me and I do not claim that it does. 

Capiche? Good. Read on.

Ten Types of Magic: Overview. "Many types of magic that appear in fantasy fiction [today] are rooted in older traditions, as well as some rituals that continue to be practiced today in religious settings. Some fantasy stories stay true to long-held beliefs about magic, while others run wild with new rules and techniques. Because magic can work for the forces of both good and evil, it is up to the practitioner to determine what kind of effect their actions will have."

1. Nature-Based Magic. "Nature-based magic is grounded on theprinciple that the universe it made up of four elements - earth, air, fire, and water - and that the universe can be controlled through magical manipulation of them. This system of magic is common in much of today's fantasy, including the animated series Avatar: The Last Airbender and A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin. Some stories, like the Final Fantasy video game series, integrate additional elements beyond the basic four such as ice and lightning."

2. Sympathy. "Sympathy magic creates a link between two like objects and allows the practitioner to control one object through another. The most famous example of this is the voodoo doll, which allows a practitioner to remotely affect a person by manipulating a doll. The Kingkiller Chronicle by Patrick Rothfuss, Among Others by Jo Walton, Enchanted by Orson Scott Card, and A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin all depict variations of sympathetic magic."

 The photo which accompanied this caption is of a "Haplit doll, coffin, and needles used in Filipino folk medicine".

3. Transmutation. "Transmutation is a form of magic that transforms one object into another object. The most common practice is alchemy - the pursuit of transforming common metals into gold. Transmutation sometimes requires the use of a magic circle, a sigil with an arrangement of symbols, which is meant to contain and concentrate the energy summoned by the magic user. This practice can be seen in the anime series Fullmetal Alchemist, The Magicians by Lev Grossman, and The Song of the Lioness by Tamora Pierce."

Alchemy is one of my favorite concepts, but more on that in another post…

4. Transfiguration. "Transfiguration relies on similar principles as transmutation, but involves the magical transformation of living things rather than inanimate objects. This practice was prominent in the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling, in which Professor Minerva McGonagall describes it as "some of the most complex and dangerous magic you [students] will learn at Hogwarts". Other examples of transfiguration appear in Neil Gaiman's novels American Gods, Stardust, and Anansi Boys, and in classical literature including Ovid's Metamorphoses and Homer's The Odyssey."

5. Divination. "Divination, or fortune telling, involves the use of objects, either natural or specifically designed, to predict the future. This can include reading tarot cards, star charts, tea leaves, and crystals. A prominent example from fantasy literature is Lyra's alethiometer in Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials series, which combines magical ritual with the interpretation of symbols. Psychic visions, such as those experienced by Fiver in Watership Down by Richard Adams and Tiresias in Oedipus Rex by Sophocles, are also divination experiences." 

6. Name Magic. "Name magic involves a process of learning the "true name" of a person or object in order to gain control over them. In the film Spirited Away, for example, the witch Yubaba steals the names of her workers in order to prevent them from leaving her realm. Other fantasy stories that show examples of name magic include The Kingkiller Chronicle by Patrick Rothfuss, The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley, and the comic series Fables by Bill Willingham."

7. Conjuring and Invocation. "Conjuring and invocation magic includes everything from invoking gods to conjuring demons, and these rituals can be simple or elaborate. Morgaine's invocation of the old gods in The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley and Aragorn's invocation of the power of his ancestors in The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien are both forms of this kinds of magic, though the latter is particularly subtle. This practice may require a pre-determined space, in the way that the invocation of an Endless in the Sandman comic by Neil Gaiman requires standing in a gallery and holding a special sigil." 

8. Concoctions. "Concoctions are magical potions created for specific purposes, often healing or transformation. The three witches in Shakespeare's Macbeth famously mix ingredients including eye of newt, toe of frog, wool of bat, and tongue of dog into their boiling cauldron. Magical concoctions also appear in The Odyssey by Homer, "The Little Mermaid" by Hans Christian Anderson, the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling, and the Broadway musical Wicked."

9. Object Magic. "Object magic involves the use of physical objects such as amulets, talismans, charms, and magical jewelry for certain goals. These objects can be magically charged for specific purposes, including healing, protection, or curses. An example of this is the spindle in the Brothers Grimm fairy tale "Briar Rose", which has been cursed by an evil fairy as a weapon against the princess. Other examples of object magic also appear in One Thousand and One Nights, The Lord of the Rings, the Harry Potter series, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

See also Brom's The Plucker.

10. Symbol Magic. "Symbol magic involves enacting change by drawing specific symbols. Symbols can also be evoked with energy, or drawn with specific objects. These symbols, the most famous examples including a five-pointed star or a circle, have esoteric meanings and each has specific properties. Symbol magic appears prominently in the Abhorsen series of fantasy novels by Garth Nix, in which a practitioner can create spells and bindings using special marks such as the Charter Mark."

A friend recently recommended the novel Elantris, by Brandon Sanderson, and told me that it uses symbol magic.

This is all so fascinating to me not only because of my love of fantasy, but also its basis in folklore and in religion and spirituality. For example, from my little experience thus far, many pagan practices are based in nature magic, any may also involve the making of concoctions or potions, divination through use of a pendulum or otherwise (object magic), and the use of sigils. Sympathy magic makes me think of reading an article about witch bottles or witch jars. Name magic evokes the faery tale Rumpelstiltskin, or any faery tale, really.

Anyway, I hope that this is a good resource for those of you who are magic enthusiasts, fantasy enthusiasts, or just curious. I'm hoping to delve more into the traditions that are the basis of these systems; hopefully more of that material can appear soon.

Have a good rest of your weekend everybody, and happy magicking!

Meeting Neil Gaiman

So I have some catching up to do.

Several weeks ago, okay more like a month ago now, I had the extreme good fortune of being a ticketholder to what Neil Gaiman called his last US signing tour. It was in honor of the release of his novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, and was held in my personal favorite Portland venue, the Crystal Ballroom. Or at least, it's typically my favorite.

We aren't sure who ordered the sweltering heat, but it certainly wasn't us - the Crystal Ballroom has no air conditioning, the ballroom is on the top floor, and they typically don't even open the windows upstairs - and it certainly wasn't Neil, who was in his customary all-black and long sleeved ensemble. Oops, Neil said that he was going to keep it a secret that Portland had days like that; I guess the cat's out of the bag.

Either way, it was a delightful afternoon with approximately nine hundred people packed into one room, which Neil informed us was about the maximum comfortable number to sign for. Apparently the event the night before had gone from 8:00 PM until 2:00 in the morning (ouch). He read from chapter three of Ocean at the End of the Lane as well as an excerpt from his upcoming children's book Fortunately, the Milk (which I will shamelessly purchase without having a little one to give or read it to).

However, one of the best parts of the afternoon was the question and answer portion. Every guest had the opportunity to write a question on an index card which could then potentially be drawn at random and asked on stage. The best, or at least most memorable, question went something like: "Summarize your writing process in three words or less." He thought about that one for a long moment, and then responded, glaring, "Glare," and finished with a nod, "Drink tea." Which just about summed up the feelings of everyone in the room, including mine.

And then of course came the moment of truth. The room was divided into sections based on colored slips of paper in the copies of Ocean at the End of the Lane we were given as we arrived, and each  group was called up to cue for the signing table one at a time. I had looked forward to meeting Mr. Gaiman, even for a moment, since the second I realized that tickets for the event had gone on pre-sale. Everything of his that I've read I've enjoyed, but just as importantly, he is an incredibly encouraging person. Many of my closest friends are writers and artists of some capacity, and there have been many times that we call or message each other looking for support; insecurity seems to come with most creative territories. And then, one magical day, we found Neil Gaiman's tumblr. He spends a lot of time answering asks from fans, which has always struck me as generous, and many of those responses have to do with encouraging others not to give up on their passion because they are afraid or nervous or insecure about their work, their education, or basically anything else. So going up to that table, I wanted to thank him. Not only for the encouragement and confidence I had personally taken from his internet outreach, but for the fact that he seeks to support everyone he can. It is so easy to feel constricted or crushed by the concept that you are not good enough, or that art is not worth your time because it will not make you any money, or that nothing is ever original, and seeing an author who is so successful express so much support is not only refreshing, it's vital.

I had all these things in mind when I went up there. I was calm up until the moment it was my turn. I was good and remembered that he's a person, not the clout that his name carries. But then I was there, he was signing my books, I got my thank you out, and my mind went blank. He was a good sport about it, of course, and after I stammered something else I asked if it would be alright if I got a quick hug, and he waved me over. And I am so, so grateful for that.

Just in case, I'll try again: thank you so much, Neil Gaiman, for visiting my city, for making such a long trek around the country, for bearing the hand cramps and long hours, for sharing your newest work and your stories, for answering nosy questions, and for listening to all of us blunder our way to telling you how awesome we think you are. Please never change.

Cheers,
-Maddie

If you are interested, and you should be, go visit Neil's Tumblr at neil-gaiman.tumblr.com and get inspired!

Raven, by Dean Whitlock

I picked up this book at a used book store for maybe two dollars. It turns out it was a two dollars well spent indeed. Raven, by Dean Whitlock, is a fantasy romp through an industrial revolution-adjacent land where the rivers dictate power, the ruling class is composed of land-holding Barons, and magic is stronger the higher you climb into the reaches. Raven is a headstrong girl and a bird mage, hence her nickname, and she is one of the most unwitting heroes I've ever come across, which only adds to her charm, really.

It's worth mentioning that this novel is also one of those rare gems where two out of the three main protagonists identify as women and are noted to be women of color. To see that kind of representation in a stereotypically male and often whitewashed genre is refreshing, in a big way. Equally as important, the characters are really well written. Their slang and curses aren't quite as easily recommendable to everyday speech as Scott Westerfeld's "Barking spiders" and "clever-boots," courtesy of the Leviathan trilogy, but I wouldn't be surprised if I caught myself saying "blazing mages" a time or two.

Another aspect worth noting is that Raven is, technically speaking, the sequel to another of Whitlock's novels, Sky Carver. From what I can tell, Raven also appears in Sky Carver, though not as the main character, and Raven takes place four years after the events of its prequel. That I didn't realize this fact until after I began filling out an entry on Goodreads says a lot. This book stands on its own, which strikes me as both unusual and skillful on Whitlock's part.

If you're a fan of fantasy, mages, ravens, cranky anti-heroes, and steam boats, you should probably give this a read.

Reclaiming the Dead, by James Patrick Brotherton

You could say that this book is an adventure story, following the tried and true ‘unsuspecting, ordinary person gets invited to be an adventurer, goes for it, becomes a badass’ plot. You could say that this is a book about vampires and vampire hunters. But really, this is an awakening story, one about an ordinary man who is shaken out of his stagnant life into motion and, ultimately, to a kind of enlightenment. This is not only a valuable theme, it’s a theme particularly relevant to our time: when technology has placed everything just a click away, what could possibly be more important than relearning to appreciate the “feast” that is life? It just so happens that the vehicle that brings the protagonist, Merton Daniels, to his enlightenment is the existence of vampires.

My favorite part about this book is the dark, deadpan humor that exists throughout it. Merton and his best-friend-turned-sidekick, Coaler, are in sharp contrast to each other, and their interactions create a dynamic that brings in the sort of absurd situations everyday life has to offer. Because of this, the world of Reclaiming the Dead is convincing – maybe uncomfortably so. The humor which arises because of this absurdity also prompted me to begin thinking of it in terms of film – if Reclaiming the Dead ever hit the silver screen it could be Shawn of the Dead’s wittier, indie cousin.

Another intriguing part of this novel is how it handles the myth of the vampire. While I can’t think of a concrete example of this theory being put forth in vampire literature or film, the concept of Judas Iscariot being the first vampire is a familiar notion. However, wedding this concept to, in some instances, the blood-sack baseness of folkloric vampires, the powers of Dracula, and the ability to retain fragments of his human consciousness create a very new spin. Perhaps because the story is primarily about enlightenment and awakening to the world, this book takes the myth of the vampire and makes it less about monsters and more about philosophy, about the nature of life and the universe.

In short, this little book is more than it seems, and it’s worth a read. Go and send James Brotherton some love at his website, jamesbrotherton.com. Reclaiming the Dead is available at Amazon.com.

English 311: Afrofuturisms Reading List

For those of you who don't know what Afrofuturisms means, the simple version is African American science fiction. The more complete version includes such factors as reflections of slave narratives and discrimination, in either a bleak dystopian format or, conversely, through imagining a better future to make up for the loss of cultural history and identity through eutopia.

In other words: awesome wrapped up in intensity.

Here's our reading list:

Imperium in Imperio by Sutton E. Griggs, 1899

There were a lot of people in my class who contested the Sci-fi (SF) classification of this novel, but it's about what the title says it's about: an empire within an empire, a government within a government, and it's an imagined eutopia, as my teacher defended it. (My own opinions on SF and genre boundaries in general make me inclined to agree, but more on that later or never.) One of the drier texts, it's about two boys who both go on to become great orators, each championing the same cause, racial equality in the United States, in very different ways. The society itself doesn't feature much in the story until towards the end. Not highly recommended, but interesting. 

Of One Blood, by Pauline Hopkins, 1902-1905

Published serially in the Colored American's Magazine, one of the first publications written by and for the emergent black bourgeoisie in America, Of One Blood is a story which relies on the familiar, but appropriated, constructions of Romantic mysticism blended with the sciences and the explorer/colonization trope. Interesting, sometimes confusing, but first and foremost to put forward an important agenda for the time in which it was written: that the human race is, quite literally, all of one blood. More recommended than Imperium, but still not a must-read.

Black Empire, by George S. Schuyler, 1936-1938

Also published serially and actually consisting of two novels, The Black Internationale and Black Empire, Schuyler satirizes the ideas of how to achieve racial equality contemporary with his time, mostly through the use of a evil genius and lots and lots of money. A reimagined future, though I'm still not clear on whether it's supposed to be a dystopia or a eutopia. Pretty darn good, if taken with a touch of dark humor.

Nova, by Samuel R. Delany, 1968

Nova was, by far, my favorite thing we read. A space-opera set in the thirty-second century, it's a race to the edges of the then-known universe to find a dying star in order to plunge into it, with plenty of economic and societal commentary and intrigue on the side. An absolutely enjoyable trip.

Parable of the Sower, by Octavia Butler, 1993

Parable was my second-favorite read of the quarter, despite its being bleak, dark, and triggering. At first it felt a little like the only thing between life currently and the universe of Cormac McCarthy's The Road with a dash of P.D. James' Children of Men thrown in. Luckily it turns out slightly less bleak than the former, though not by much. Good, interesting read with a strong female lead.

Cheers, everybody.

Three-Movie Weekend

From the archive of unfinished posts:

The Wrath of the Titans, directed by Jonathon Liebesman and starring Sam Worthington, was, I think, actually better than its predecessor. Clash of the Titans was decent, in a b-movie kind of way, but it had one problem: it tried to tell the story of a classic myth and failed to do so. Wrath broke with every mythic convention I can name, and was better for it. Because it hardly acknowledged myth, it didn't really have expectations to fill. I'd watch it again.

The Raven was shockingly well done. When I first saw the trailer, all I could think about was how badly this movie wanted to be Sherlock Holmes, but it turned out to be more than that. Cusack played a shockingly convincing Poe, the circumstances/traps were appropriately squirm-worthy and awful, and the mystery was downright decent. I would be willing to own this movie.

The thing you've got to understand is that The Three Musketeers is ridiculous, hands down. The Musketeers are primarily in tight leather, one of them is practically a ninja, they uncover DaVinci plans for steampunk airships and build them, and Orlando Bloom has a pompadour. In summation? It's awesome. One for all and all for one!

Cheers!

Howdy!

It's been a while! In light of the fact, this might seem a bit more like a ramble than anything else. Or maybe a list. I'm not really sure.

Had the wonderful opportunity to see both The Santaland Diaries at Portland Center Stage and The Dimes at the Kennedy School. Both were fun, but The Dimes were phenomenal. If you haven't checked them out yet, shame on you. Go do so. However, the adventures for today were:

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

EXCELLENT. I was far more impressed with this film than I expected to be. Not to say that I had any doubt it'd be decent, only that I can't honestly say which film could be called "better," even with the first having the advantage of being, well, first. Jude Law and Robert Downey Jr. give a grand show as expected, and the addition of the lovely Noomi Rapace as Madam Simza and the excellent Stephen Fry as Mycroft worked wonders. However, Jared Harris as the supremely chilling Professor James Moriarty must, inevitably, take the cake.

While diehard Conan Doyle fans will take issue with some of the choices, I think they are inevitably justified by the structure of the Holmes Adventures in the first place: they are only episodes. Yes, we are told that Sherlock goes away to become a beekeeper somewhere for his retirement, but that doesn't mean we are privy to every case - each story is open ended. That isn't to say that anything goes, necessarily, but this film has many nice touches, including the preservation of that openness which characterizes the serialized adventures. So, diehard or not, please go see this film. It's absolutely lovely.

Check it out on IMBd.

And

The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword

THIS GAME. IS SO GOOD.
It is the reason I am currently unable to sleep.
In retrospect, I have no idea why I didn't think of blogging a Skyward Sword diary. It would have been so much fun! And caused me to be even more sleep deprived than I already am, but whatever. In interest of not spoiling it for anyone, watch out for warnings.

First of all, the controls are great. Yes, the wiimote doesn't always respond correctly, but that's to be expected, really, especially when you're swinging it wildly, shouting "NO, HORIZONTAL SLASH, YOU--" etc. etc. Other than this slight (but predictable) setback, the only control issue is that the wiimote/nunchuck combination required drains batteries extremely quickly. Get thee some rechargables or Zelda fans will destroy the environment all by themselves!!

Gameplay is great. Everything about it that I was reluctant about - stamina gauge and upgrades, mostly - have been incorporated smoothly. Even the upgrade system (which normally makes me shudder under the brunt of never-ending RPG that usually goes with said function) is fantastic. The only mechanic which could have been improved was the controls for the musical instrument. There are no Ocarina-style command patterns needed, the game just identifies which song you've learned that goes with the location you're in and, essentially, plays it for you. A slight setback, in light of the rest of the game, but a bit of a let-down, nonetheless.

The story is great. After all, it is a prequel to the ENTIRE series, so I expected they'd have to come up with something good. There are plenty of little things (and big things!) to make long-time Zelda fans drop their jaws or throw up their hands in combined frustration and elation. This is coupled with a non-stereotypical Zelda main villain with a flair for the theatrical: the diamond theme was a nice touch in light of that. (SPOILER: A villain who, I hear through the grapevine, doesn't turn into a raging psychopath at the end, like Zant did.)

But the best is possibly the ART. This game is gorgeous and I can't even do it justice. So here. Have some concept paintings. (WARNING: snarky captions might be considered spoilers by some parties.)

Epona?! What happened to you?

I swear, if you tongue my ear one more time...

All in all? This game is completely addictive. Not recommended for young children or pregnant women.

Also, for those of you who have played/are working on it: the trials. Isn't it appropriate that the things you have to find in the Silent Realms are called "tears"? After all, when you're playing those parts you're CRYING THE WHOLE TIME.

But, massive time-challenge stress aside, this is a great game. If you want to check out official stuff, take a look at the website.

That's all for now, folks - I've got to get back to saving the world.

Rant and a Half

A preface: this quarter, I'm taking English 313, Theory and Criticism. Not only is the class sufficiently oblique and vague for the nature of its title, there are some interesting participants.

Today, we were discussing Plato's Ion and, more relevantly, Arthur C. Danto's Dangerous Art, published in Demetrio Paparoni's volume Eretica: The Transcendent and the Profane in Contemporary Art (173-201).

Danto's essay, or at least what I was able to grok from it, had to do with art, censorship, politics, and how they're all tied up together. What I found most interesting was his assertion of a rather curious conundrum: whether or not censorship is in place, art is assaulted, and if the state of censorship changes, art is assaulted again.

His best example on the side of change was a passage about Rock Music in the Soviet Union in light of Glasnost. Rock, he tells us, was dangerous and underground due to censorship and was therefore powerful. When Glasnost was put into place, that necessity, therefore the danger, and therefore the power of Rock n' Roll evaporated. "To legitimize rock is therefore to rob it of its form and hence its meaning:" he writes, "an officially condoned rock is precisely rock that the state has conquered" (176). So art under censorship is powerful and the transition to transparency destroyed that meaning, that function. The same, I am sure, could be argued for a change in the opposite direction.

Likewise, his example of art under censorship was in context of the Soviet Union, but before glasnost. Focusing on Literature, his main argument was that, since everything was considered a potential threat, both author and audience had to examine what wasn't said, rather than what was said: that the skill of reading between the lines, or "deep reading," as Danto terms it, was the only way to get a message across.

He then goes on to analyze what I will term, in reference to him, 'free' art. His assertion - which he drives home over and over again - is that to put art on a pedestal is actually to put it in a prison: that in a country where expression is free, the label "art" derives the work of all its danger, significance, function and power. The idea is that no matter how offensive or controversial a piece or its content is, it can immediately be waved away with the phrase, "Oh, it's art." He credits this to Plato himself, who originated the idea that anything material at all is only a copy of an idea, therefore imperfect, therefore not real. And since art is a copy of life and therefore a copy of a copy, it is doubly un-real. And naturally, anything unreal can't do real damage. So what is its significance? For Danto, the state of 'free' art means art which is not free at all: art which has been stripped of its meaning entirely.

In light of all this, the class was discussing what could have contributed to this phenomenon of powerless art. Guy#1 speculated that the availability of materials through the internet could have contributed, especially where music is involved. He brought up how anything can be cut, sampled, mixed, and posted without need of a studio, rights, regulations, any of it. Our professor reacted by asking if we thought this process had taken the political nature out of music. Guy#2 jumped on that question, talking up and down about how music wasn't worth it any more, that it had been drained of meaning by the internet, that it no longer had a message.

If my brain was't full of snot due to my Bronchitis I just might have sworn.

Item one: How do you possibly think that free access and distribution of music could have the capacity to hinder meaning? Distribution has nothing to do with content at all. Some of the best music in my library (The Dimes, to name one) is readily available on the internet and that doesn't affect their content in the slightest. Hell, most of their early music was written and recorded separately through use of digital microphones on their personal computers and they sound fantastic, both on CD and in real life. Musicians out there have plenty to say, regardless of whether they're as popular as can be or in your back yard (Decemberists, Abney Park, Lady GaGa, Jessie J, Green Day, Airborne Toxic Event, Rebecca Drysdale, just to name a few.) And guess what? That long list can all be got through the internet.

Item two: Now that we've established that music can still have meaning, what kind of logic do you have to use to think the internet is detrimental to that meaning? There is a lovely interview - that's right, available right here on YouTube - by Neil Gaiman discussing the benefit of advertising through the internet. While it's a little off topic, the point is the same. Your work reaches more people in less time through use of the internet. Over the internet, any message aimed at any audience is bound to reach hundreds if not thousands more people than would ever encounter it if it weren't on the web. Hell, we can jack that number up to millions provided the item goes viral. If that isn't sufficient evidence, the Oregonian ran an article last year about an author who, after being repeatedly rejected by publishing companies, decided to cut out the middleman and self-publish for, you guessed it, the e-book market. Her readership (as well as her bank account) jumped up immediately. Through clever web marketing, she's now significantly contributing to her family's expenses with her art.

Item three: Nothing exists in a vacuum. Early on in Dangerous Art, Danto proposes as a thesis that "our art and our political reality are made for one another; that each, one might say, is the same set of symbolic forms differently embodied" (175-6). In that light, how could it be possible that music isn't political? Just because we don't have an heir to Zack de la Roca's approach of up close and personal confrontation of what I might even dare to call "the system" doesn't mean that music inherently has no political meaning.

Item four: Perhaps most importantly, art as a whole, including music, is what you as an audience make of it. This is reached by what I now regard as fact: that artist's intent in inherently less important than audience interpretation. There is such a thing as interpretation without grounds, however, once someone makes something and puts it into the world, they are no longer there to mollycoddle it or justify it. It's on its own, becomes its own entity. If you as a viewer or listener assume that music is dead and has no meaning, you'll be proven right every time by grace of the stale interpretations of your perfectly closed mind. This is a two-way street, of course, and you can find sunshine and rainbows in pretty much anything if you look hard enough.

The point is, please be discerning, and perhaps give music as a whole another listen.

Double Whammy

Two books in two days, BAM!
And did I mention I finished Sherlock Holmes? No? Oh. Well then.

Sherlock is awesome. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is awesome. Look into it.

Book no. 1: The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman.


Suffice it to say that my initial response to The Graveyard Book was:
"The Graveyard Book is over and done -
one of the best I've ever read -
and now that day is long past gone
I'm ready to sleep like the dead."

Reading fiction, especially children's-to-young-adult fiction, doesn't usually inspire me to write poetry, let alone rhyming lines, let alone at three o'clock in the morning.

Get thee to a bookstore. NOW.

Especially if you have a love of ghost stories. Gaiman is a wizard, I swear.

However, the volume that currently consumes my thoughts is none other than

Book no. 2, Brom's latest work: The Child Thief.


Do you, dear reader, recall how the 2003 film version of Peter Pan, starring Jeremy Sumpter (Peter) and Jason Isaacs (Hook), sought to re-inject some of the darkness of faery back into the tale which had been inevitably candy-coated through mediums like Disney? Brom's retelling of J.M. Barrie's classic novel gives that film a cold, back-handed, lip-splitting slap to the face.

This overhaul begins in modern New York, in Brooklyn, steeped in its drugs, thug violence, and urban brutality and desperation. Cue Peter, the Child Thief, ready to tempt his newly-found runaways into the Mist and out of this world, into one which is different in every way and yet equally cruel. Welcome to Avalon.

Like Brom's other works, The Child Thief is impossibly dark. In a way, rightfully so. Brom invites his audience to re-examine J.M. Barrie's own Peter, the first Peter, the true Peter. Brom quotes Barrie's novel, “The boys on the island vary, of course, in numbers, according as they get killed and so on; and when they seem to be growing up, which is against the rules, Peter thins them out; but at this time there were six of them, counting the twins as two.” And if that was't enough, he found another gem: ""I forget them after I kill them," he (Peter) replied carelessly.”

Personally, I had forgotten those lines. In light of them, the world of The Child Thief seems a logical, even a natural, inference to make. And while Brom's Peter occasionally shows the flippancy and the childishness that might excuse his predecessor - for surely a child would not understand death, not really, not the way an adult would - he has no excuses. He asks for none. He kills and has been killing all his long, ageless life.

Which brings me to a word of caution: this book is graphic. Terribly graphic. The kind of graphic that should never be translated into visual representations of any kind. If you can't take the thought of glistening entrails being anywhere other than inside one's body, close the book, put it back on the shelf, this one's not for you. (For the record, the language is also vulgar as hell.) Furthermore, whether or not your are opposed to the language, the portrayal, the violence, anything, this is the kind of book that once you're hooked, you're sunk, it's over, goodnight. The novel is 480 pages long. I read more than half of it today and forgot to eat. That hasn't happened to me before.

And yet, as much as it - as he - is terrifying, Brom's words and Peter's winning nature are enchanting. I found myself hoping, wishing for a reason for all the brutality, for the battles and the senselessness, and at first I thought there was. But Brom has a way of bringing out the painfully human in things which are portrayed as superhuman: of tearing away all artifice and illusion, of standing the most charismatic leader beside the most corrupt tyrant and stripping them both down to nothing more than greed, and lust, and grit, and pain. Identical. And, for some reason, it's impossible not to watch.

As harsh as I am toward Brom's Peterbird, I have to admit, he did a marvelous job in crafting him. The only spoiler I will give is a phrase used throughout the book: "...because Peter's smile is a most contagious thing." Sociopath or not, kidnapper or not, Peter is charismatic as hell. I fought with the concept of his faults all through the novel, wanting to make him into the simple hero minds like Disney's made him into, to make him into a person who was good, and only good. It wasn't possible. And that's okay. If I'd been a runaway, I'd only have had one answer, and it was the same, beginning of the novel to its end:

"I go willingly."

So if you have a mind, and a strong stomach, and perhaps even a touch of dark humor about you, pick up The Child Thief. But beware: it's not like you remember it.

Inkdeath

Just to clear the air, Inkdeath, the conclusion of Cornelia Funke's Inkworld trilogy, made book two, which I looked at as a literary difficulty, all better. It may have even made it worthwhile. Maybe.

Perseverance. :P

Inkspell, by Cornelia Funke

I regret to announce loud and clear that this book will never live up to its predecessor. Even though I can hardly remember the details of where this story began in Inkheart, what I can say for absolute certainty is that I never had mixed feelings about its quality. Regrettably, I can't say the same for Inkspell.

There is one thing I will take the time to say in praise of Ms. Funke, however: that she knows how to write characters. In fact, I think that she knows how to write them so well that it becomes unnerving in there somewhere. And, like how her own Fenoglio always laments that he can only write sad or cruel characters, the ones that Funke writes the best are the ones you wish you could reach through the pages to strangle yourself, being too impatient to wait for the other characters to do it for you. In considering the possibility, it could be that I am only so angry about this story at the moment because of these characters and their sheer abundance: yes, a few of the cruel ones have gotten their comeuppance, but what of the ones who are left? I don't want to use names for fear of spoilers, but what of those who are not cruel and simple, but the ones who are proud, obstinate, who seem to willfully fill themselves with ignorance?

And that exactly is what I'm talking about. Funke is a truly effective writer because normally characters don't make me half so angry.

As I stated before, Inkspell struggles to hold its own against Inkheart - and frankly, how could it not, with sheer nostalgia on the side of the latter? But there are other things as well. It took me longer to be drawn in to Inkspell - it took me two summers to force my way through it, which is uncommonly odd. The plot doesn't start picking up and getting really exciting until the middle of the book at least, and it leaves off in the least conclusive place a book can.

Naturally, this is to guarantee that fools such as I will go out and buy Inkdeath. Which of course I will, probably tomorrow.

So, business as usual, Cornelia Funke is fabulous, though I sincerely hope that Inkdeath holds more promise than this last chapter in the tale of the Inkworld, for the sake of not only my love of her work, but also to spare you another angry post.

Goodnight, all, and for those of you who observe, Happy Almost-Fourth of July.

Sherlock

in his newest incarnation, from the British Broadcasting Corporation!

It's basically excellent. Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman are my heroes.

I have done far too much writing tonight: go see for yourself on Netflix instant watch or any other preferred medium.

Sherlock on IMDb!

Sherlock's Interactive Blog, The Science of Deduction!
Watson's Interactive and Eponymously titled Blog!

Boy with Flowers by Ely Shipley

Boy with Flowers is the 2007 winner of the Barrow Street Press' book prize and Ely Shipley's first published book of poetry.

Like the other collections of poetry I've read this year, Boy with Flowers is a vivid glimpse into another world. It may look familiar around the edges, but it's made up of change, strife and acceptance, and, especially, self-creation.

Like Southern Comfort, Boy with Flowers is very important for the Trans community: Ely Shipley himself is a Transperson, which he openly examines in his work. I can only hope that it helps to spread awareness and legitimacy for the community.

I admire this collection for many reasons, first and foremost for how unapologetic it is. It flows its course, regardless of what could be seen as taboo subjects, references, topics, musings, and it is beautiful in doing so. In this respect I am reminded of Elizabeth Colen, when she visited us, and the discussion we had about her use of the word "cunt" (a word I don't particularly like; she said that she divorces it from its offensive associations and prefers the sound of it over the sound of its synonyms). The universe which Shipley shows his audience in his work is full of violence, sex, memories, angels, rain, reflections, cities and dimes, and it has a kind of grit in its detail.

I would absolutely recommend this work. It's a wild ride, certainly, but well worth it, and liberating in its execution.

Here, take a look.

Postscript!
For anyone who is interested, below is a list of essays we read throughout the quarter. Some of them are simple, some of them are mind-staggeringly difficult, most are more than slightly outdated. However, they all have merit after their own fashion and I would recommend the majority of them to pretty much anybody.

Thinking Sex: Notes for a Radical Theory of the Politics of Sexuality, by Gayle S. Rubin
Epistemology of the Closet, by Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick
Chicano Men: A Cartography of Homosexual Identity and Behavior, by Tomás Almaguer
Imitation and Gender Insubordination, by Judith Butler
The Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power, by Audre Lorde
Looking for Trouble, by Kobena Mercer
Capitalism and Gay Identity, by John D'Emilio
All of these, and many, many more such essays may be found in The Lesbian and Gay Studies Reader, published by Routledge.

Money for Sunsets, by Elizabeth J. Colen

2009 winner of the Steel Toe Books Prize in Poetry, Money for Sunsets is the first published work of Bellingham native Elizabeth J. Colen. What's really exciting is that, through my infamous English class, I was able to both hear her read her work and meet her - twice.

What I find very impressive is that Colen manages to work in what I have always regarded as a rather touchy, even volatile, medium, the elusive prose-poem. It's formatted like prose, which can have the accompanying effect of leaving a page looking empty, especially with short pieces. However, her poems more than stand up for themselves. Nearly every one carries with it that enigmatic quality that makes one want to read it over again as soon as it's done. That said, her imagery is vivid, sometimes in a dangerous or even chilling way. It's a very good thing.

This vividness, in my mind, is what holds the manuscript as a whole together. It is not a linear work, like most poetry collections, and a little light was shed on the subject by the author herself. When she visited our class she said she revised many of the pieces to make it easier for her audience to interpret the "I" voice as the same person all the way through. This made me narrow my eyes, and for good reason; she went on to explain that in her own personal interpretation the "I" voice is seldom meant to be the same character. The beauty of poetry - and art as a whole - is that once the work leaves the nest, so to speak, it is subject to a number of interpretations limited only by the number of people it reaches.

There are many things which are represented in Money for Sunsets, and I honestly think that, with an open mind, there can be something for everyone found in its world.

Pay Steel Toe Books a visit at their website!
And go buy Money for Sunsets!

Also, keep a weather eye on the horizon - she's going to be coming out with another manuscript soon! The working title as she told it to us is What Weaponry. Also, if the two characters represented in it end up reminding you of the ones in her poem 50 Miles of Shoulder you may well be on to something.

Happy Reading!

Fun Home, by Alison Bechdel

I'm not even sure I can form fully coherent sentences at this point. This Tragicomic (as it calls itself) is a shocking, poignant masterwork.

Alison Bechdel is perhaps best recognized for her long-standing comic strip, Dykes to Watch Out For, but her memoir graphic novel Fun Home is what has made her name "household." Having been published now in multiple languages, Fun Home sat atop the New York Times' hardcover nonfiction bestseller list for two weeks and was reviewed positively by a slew of publications including but by no means limited to The New York Times, Seattle Times, and London’s The Times. It has also received a slew of awards, such as the GLAAD Media Award for Outstanding Comic Book, the Publishing Triangle-Judy Grahn Nonfiction Award, the Stonewall Book Award for non-fiction, and the Lambda Literary Award for "Lesbian Memoir and Biography".

One of the many parts of this comic and/or graphic novel I enjoyed the most was that the narrative is decidedly nonlinear. I have come, in retrospect, to perceive this work as occurring in concentric circles on the face of recollection, like ripples perhaps, all stemming from the singular event which spawned them. (No spoilers this time: I can't bring myself to. If you're curious you'll just have to go and read it.) However, I think the aspect which I enjoyed most was the manner in which the story was told as it pertains to other literary works. Although Bechdel's use of literary reference in Fun Home has been criticized, I think it is wildly significant. It highlights one of the few qualities that link her and the other central character, her father, intrinsically, and it puts special emphasis on the manner of her own self-creation. In addition it demonstrates an exceptional attention to detail, and a rather profound understanding of stories which are far from simplistic [like Ulysses].

In all, Alison Bechdel's Fun Home is more than worth it. Looking back on it now, I can't wait to read it again.

Here's a link to Alison Bechdel's Website
Looking for a copy? Try Amazon!

Crush, by Richard Siken

And so, dear readers, I once again arrive at the place in my life wherein I can review things which I read for school!

I read Richard Siken's Crush for my English 227 class, which focuses on GLBT literary works. We started off the quarter with theory, reading essays by Gayle S. Rubin, Audre Lorde, Kobena Mercer, and Judith Butler. Crush was a breath of fresh air.

Although it was refreshing, it was by no means an easy read. And to say it is not an easy read does not mean it is not a quick read: indeed, I could hardly put it down. But I've begun in the middle. Let's go back to the beginning.

Crush has won multiple awards, including the Lambda Literary Award for Gay Men's Poetry in 2005. However, perhaps most notably, Crush was selected as the 2004 winner of the Yale Series of Younger Poets prize, which speaks volumes in more than one way. Firstly, the contestant cannot have been published previously, and the contestant must also be under the age of 40. Secondly, the winners of this award are usually what my Professor dubbed "conservative" in their work - read structured, straightforward, classical, metered - and Crush is the antithesis of all that word stands for in our language today. It speaks for the strength of the manuscript in and of itself, a strength I cannot and will never doubt. Siken's work is compared to Silvia Plath's - Crush to Ariel - and I can believe it.

In the foreword of the book, Louise Glück (one of the judges of the aforementioned contest, I believe) asserts "This is a book about panic." I think this much is true, but I think it is also so much more than that. Siken's masterful use of imagery and surrealism immersed me as a reader in the universe of Crush and in it I saw much more than panic: grief, loss, denial, resignation, anger, desperation, desire, lust, and hopelessness. Some of these may be synonymous and I might be responding with vague and nebulous ramblings (as I am wont to produce) that are snatching at the coattails of insight, but really I can have little other response. Crush captured me. Not only in its brilliant use of imagery but in blurring the lines between literal and figurative and its use of the surreal and the sudden. It whisked me along and even though I tried to take it slow to see what I could see, it will take many, many more readings to formulate a more coherent response to it than the one you, reader, just slogged through.

For the slogging, I apologize.

I hope, however, that you find a copy of Crush to read, and read it carefully. Honestly I think that anyone who considers themselves a poet, ever dreamed of being a poet, or likes to profess that they are a poet should be required to read this book. It is infinitely powerful and I know it has changed how I look at poetry. I think it could open a lot of doors.

And even if you do not consider yourself a poet, I would recommend this to you. There is something so simply, so intrinsically human within each and every piece that each is a gem, and yet one cannot be plucked out from amongst all the rest. They are one and whole and heartbreaking.

Thanks for reading, and enjoy.

Just a Thought

You know, I’ve always considered Brom’s The Plucker to be a sort of Toy-Story-Gone-Wrong, but, after watching Toy Story and Toy Story 2 in marathon (gearing up for seeing the new one tomorrow), I can’t help but think that if Woody and Buzz ever met this they’d be scared shitless. I mean really – a Jack in the Box who is infused with the essence of Banshee and armed with a sword and poisoned pin? Seriously. And Jack’s the GOOD guy.

Just sayin’.

Dante's Inferno

Animatrix-style.

So there's this videogame of Dante's Inferno being released. You know the one. So they made a promotional movie out of the plot of the game, Animatrix-style.

Now when I say that, I mean that it's animated and switches styles at various times, lending a wide range of aesthetics and feelings to the piece as a whole. Oh, did I mention it's fabulous?

Or at least, if you're in the mood for dark, gory, terrifying animation that occasionally looks ridiculous and occasionally looks about ready to come out of the screen and eat you alive (cue demon babies and succubi, please). It recalls the style of every (good) dark vampire or goth-drama manga or anime I can think of, especially Hellsing.

I do have a quip or two with this piece, however. The first of these is Beatrice. She is, clearly, a devout and good soul in context of the story. That's the entire point, that she is a soul meant for Heaven. If this is the case, then why, for goodness' sake, does it make sense for her to strike a deal with the devil for her soul? And over Dante's faithfulness, no less? Also, doesn't just that simple act - a wager with Satan - taint her soul in the first place? It's a wholly counterintuitive plotbunny. I suppose the reason it bothers me so much is that it's so blatantly a plotbunny. There was no effort to mask the thought process of "So we need to get him to go into Hell to save Beatrice. Why is she there? She....struck a deal with the devil! That's it!" [insert sarcasm and eye-roll here]

On another note, overall I love the animation. There is only one style I have to unavoidably question. Everything about it was great, except for the title character. His face was entirely incongruous with the rest of his body. He was animated to be hugely buff, but he had giant anime eyes. I was immediately reminded of the quite unique style of Saint Seiya: Knights of the Zodiac, except on steroids. I mean really. Who thought that one up? Other than that the character design was almost flawless. My personal favorite will always be the one which reminded me of Hellsing the most: a thin but clearly monstrously strong Dante with long hair. That segment was full of my approval. I was remarkably sad to see it go.

And finally, the finale. In other words, the ending. There wasn't one. It would have been different if one of four things happened: i) Dante was unable to escape hell, ii) Dante went to heaven, iii) Dante directly stated he was condemned to a kind of outside-of-hell purgatory, or iv) if Dante bid farewell to Beatrice. None of these happened. There was no closure of any kind and while I am all for open-ended conclusions to stories for the sake of feeding the imagination of the viewer, they have to be well executed. This, really, was the thing that annoyed me the most. All of the options I listed left room for a second game/movie/story arc just fine if that was the angle the writers were going for. The difference is that mine aren't drowning in obscurity.

All the same, the animation for the creatures and fights is spectacular. It's gut-wrenching, it's visually appealing, and it certainly makes me pine desperately for an Xbox. So if you're a videogame or Hellsing fan, check this out. It's a jolly good romp through the circles of hell.

Here's a trailer, to appease the curious. Enjoy, and seriously, watch out for those demon babies.

V for Vendetta, by Alan Moore and David Lloyd

I have at last viewed that most vivacious and virulent work brought to our eyes by Vertigo,V for Vendetta! And I must say, buckle your seatbelts, folks: it's a doozy.

I will admit to the horrendous truth: I saw the movie before I read the comic. Apologies, V. I'm terribly sorry. Not to say the movie is not a wonderful piece of work in and of itself, it is simply lesser than that which spawned it. However, in the end the film shaped some of my impressions of the book and for that I am very disappointed. This is the kind of thing one needs to come to with a severely open mind to understand, I think. I devoured it and my head is still reeling. It leaves me with the solid impression that I will have to read it again - more than once - in order to really understand it, even in a small way.

That said, it's a book that cannot really be described thematically, nor can it be reduced to a single simple plot. The things I can tell you are that the writing is stunning, the art is magnificent (occasionally looking like stencil and spray paint work, which strikes me as both innovative and refreshing), and it is dark, but not without a kind of hope.

Read on, ladies and gentlemen. I recommend this especially to word-nerds, action fans, and caustically sarcastic cynics.

England Prevails.

The Call of Cthulhu: Horror Roleplaying in the Worlds of HP Lovecraft

Rather than cap off the quarter with another novel, my teacher chose instead to subject us to the horror of Cthulhu: oh was I was grateful for it.

The Call of Cthulhu: Horror Roleplaying in the Worlds of HP Lovecraft is unlike most tabletop RPGs, or so it's reputed to be (I haven't played many). It's based entirely around intellectual games - gathering evidence and getting closer and closer to solving a mystery rather than monsterwhacking. Not to say there's a total lack of monsterwhacking, it's just that in this game you typically run your ass off upon such an encounter rather than standing to fight. Take our game for example. There is no way under the deep blue heavens we would have been able to fight Yig and live. In fact, a great deal of emphasis is placed on the fact that in this game, an investigator (player) cannot "win." Instead, you have three options. One is to get out while you have the chance until forces beyond the stars come to confront you another day. Another is to go irrevocably insane and be institutionalized. The last is to die.

On that note, I think the most intriguing innovation of Call of Cthulhu is the concept of sanity points. Upon encountering disturbing things, if the Keeper (dungeon master) calls a sanity check and you fail, you start losing sanity points. If you lose enough of these suckers within a certain amount of time - or collectively - you end up doing things like going into catatonia, logorrhea, displaying "strange eating compulsions" (cannibalism, dirt, slime, whathave you), or displaying "strange sexual impulses" (exhibitionism, nymphomania/satyriasis, etc) just to name a few. For those of you who have played tabletop RPGs, there's a table for this. If there's no logical choice (or just for the sake of it) the keeper can have you roll a D10 for it. It's painful.

On an entirely different note, as of yet I think one of the most pleasant parts of tabletop roleplaying is character creation: you get to decide on so many aspects of your character - there's so much room for creativity! From home town to occupation to income to possessions, it's all there. After a little influence from the dice, the rest is up to the creator. Actually sending said character out into their little world can be problematic, because at that point it's out of your hands entirely and in those of the Keeper. A good Keeper is absolutely essential. I haven't yet tried to be a Keeper, but I can see it's a lot of work. For those of you out there who are, I salute you.

My first game experience with Call of Cthulhu was rough at best. However, there is hope: I'll be playing another game with a couple of friends soon, and hopefully it will be a little easier to move in. Until then, venture on, ladies and gentlemen.