To the author who wrote the movie novelization I have been struggling to finish for a month: If there's a plot point in the movie that is a spoiler having to do with another character's non-human nature, it is not actually in fact subtle to have that character's POV keep musing on human nature and how humans react to things and aren't humans so very odd.
I mean, the movie had one spoiler. One! How hard is it to not spoil that one spoiler? This isn't foreshadowing, it's just being obtuse.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Pet Peeve: When Good Men Do Nothing
Trigger Warning: Sexism, Rape Culture, Violence
Here's the thing. You have this character. You want him to be a bad guy. Maybe not the Bad Guy, but a bad guy that most people wouldn't like in real life. Maybe you know someone like this guy in real life and you think, hey! I'll put that guy in my novel. That's fine. It's fair. There are some crappy people out there, after all. It's a decent characterization.
But when your bad guy is going around blatantly doing horrible sexist stuff, and your good guys never actually call him on it or indeed do much of anything besides sort of weakly and ineffectually protest, your good guys do not seem like Good Guys to me.
This does not mean that your good guys should punch the bad guy in the face in a fit of righteous rage over the bad guy's sexism. Feminists are not actually all about beating up men. What it does mean is that your good guys might actually seriously and effectively call your bad guy on his sexist stuff. Or they might stop hanging out with him entirely! And they might, just might, do things to effectually help the victims of his sexism! Because those women he is hurting? Are actually in fact people. So you might want to do something about that.
And if that doesn't seem "realistic" to you because in real life you never call your buddies on their sexist stuff despite there being real live victims in front of you being hurt, you might want to reevaluate how you are living your life.
Feminism Pro-tip: Being friends with sexist guys is not actually good ally behavior.
Writing Pro-tip: Good Guys have to actually be good, not simply better than the bad guys.
Here's the thing. You have this character. You want him to be a bad guy. Maybe not the Bad Guy, but a bad guy that most people wouldn't like in real life. Maybe you know someone like this guy in real life and you think, hey! I'll put that guy in my novel. That's fine. It's fair. There are some crappy people out there, after all. It's a decent characterization.
But when your bad guy is going around blatantly doing horrible sexist stuff, and your good guys never actually call him on it or indeed do much of anything besides sort of weakly and ineffectually protest, your good guys do not seem like Good Guys to me.
This does not mean that your good guys should punch the bad guy in the face in a fit of righteous rage over the bad guy's sexism. Feminists are not actually all about beating up men. What it does mean is that your good guys might actually seriously and effectively call your bad guy on his sexist stuff. Or they might stop hanging out with him entirely! And they might, just might, do things to effectually help the victims of his sexism! Because those women he is hurting? Are actually in fact people. So you might want to do something about that.
And if that doesn't seem "realistic" to you because in real life you never call your buddies on their sexist stuff despite there being real live victims in front of you being hurt, you might want to reevaluate how you are living your life.
Feminism Pro-tip: Being friends with sexist guys is not actually good ally behavior.
Writing Pro-tip: Good Guys have to actually be good, not simply better than the bad guys.
Pet Peeve: Breaking News To Mystery Noir Novelists
Trigger Warning: Sexist Language, Violence
(You're going to be getting a lot of these randomly. I apologize in advance for the snark.)
I know it was very disappointing that we had to drag ourselves out of the 40's where it was appropriate for a hardboiled detective to call random women "doll face" and "candy tits" and "sugar ass" and (for all I know, because this really isn't my usual genre) "caramel hips", and I understand that a few of you are very disappointed with this change and would like to bring it back into vogue. I get that.
And I do understand that those of you who are disappointed about this change have realized that women vote with their wallets and that most women found this kind of language to be contemptible and unworthy of their time and attention. But here's the thing. Here's what I'm trying to say. Reintroducing that kind of language and the sexist attitude behind it but then 'fixing' it by having women beat up the man every time? That does not actually make it better.
Feminism Pro-tip: Feminists are not actually all about beating men up.
Writing Pro-tip: Protagonists who are assholes are still assholes even if they are beaten up for it.
(You're going to be getting a lot of these randomly. I apologize in advance for the snark.)
I know it was very disappointing that we had to drag ourselves out of the 40's where it was appropriate for a hardboiled detective to call random women "doll face" and "candy tits" and "sugar ass" and (for all I know, because this really isn't my usual genre) "caramel hips", and I understand that a few of you are very disappointed with this change and would like to bring it back into vogue. I get that.
And I do understand that those of you who are disappointed about this change have realized that women vote with their wallets and that most women found this kind of language to be contemptible and unworthy of their time and attention. But here's the thing. Here's what I'm trying to say. Reintroducing that kind of language and the sexist attitude behind it but then 'fixing' it by having women beat up the man every time? That does not actually make it better.
Feminism Pro-tip: Feminists are not actually all about beating men up.
Writing Pro-tip: Protagonists who are assholes are still assholes even if they are beaten up for it.
Twilight: Existing to Serve White People
Trigger Warning: Racism, Cultural Appropriation
Twilight
Recap: Bella has arrived at the weekend beach get-away.
Twilight, Chapter 6: Scary Stories, pp. 75-76
So let's talk a little about cultural appropriation today. It's a difficult subject, and one on which there are a number of different opinions.
Wikipedia defines "cultural appropriation" as "the adoption of some specific elements of one culture by a different cultural group" but I'm not sure that definition is in any way complete or clear. To me, the term connotates something of a Privileged person picking and choosing elements of a more Marginalized culture and saying "MINE!" while denying (openly or by conspicuous silence) where these elements came from or the importance of the history behind them. But I'm far from convinced that last sentence is any more complete or clear than the Wikipedia link.
Cultural appropriation is something that matters to me, as a writer, because it is something I would like very much to avoid. I do not want to appropriate anyone's culture for my writing efforts. But my concern is that I'm afraid that Cultural Appropriation can possibly conflict with Allied Representation, and I want to navigate that path carefully and respectfully. I have four things that I strive for when I write fiction:
These goals are not always even remotely easy for someone like me, who is Privileged Like Whoa, to accomplish. Since I'm an outliner who tends to lay out plot first then characterization second,* I try to achieve these goals by mapping out my plots beforehand and then filling in races, religions, and sexual orientation after. Protagonist A shall be a Jewish atheist with a gay brother. Protagonist B shall be a white Protestant attending a Catholic school. Protagonist C shall be a Chinese-American Wiccan. Protagonist D shall be an African-American who is agnostic, adopted, and possibly a lesbian. And so on.
* Exceedingly over-simplifying for purposes of this post. It's a multi-layer process for me right now.
But once I've worked out that my novel will contain Jewish, atheist, gay, lesbian, Chinese-American, African-American, and agnostic voices, I have to face a very serious problem: I'm not any of those things. How can I write them without tripping carelessly over the Respectful line into Blithely Appropriating Someone Else's Culture? Where is the line between writing them in ways such that they are products of their culture, without being limited to being nothing more than an identity label?
It's a problem, but not one that is without solutions, I think. I can make an effort to read things written by people in those minority groups, and I can seriously try to immerse myself in the point of view of someone who has lived life in the environments that would have enveloped my fictional characters. I can talk to people who are willing to selflessly donate their time to educate me out of my privilege and into another person's worldview. I can reach out to beta readers who have experience with marginalized cultures and I can take seriously their feedback about my characters.
And I think that these things can work well, depending on the unique situation. Certainly I've read female characters, Wiccan characters, and disabled characters written by authors who weren't these things, but who still managed to capture a narrative that I identified with.
But it's not easy. And there's a fine line, I think, between treating a culture and its members with respect and treating them with... fetishization, for lack of a better term.
When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had multiplied. As we got closer we could see the shining, straight black hair and copper skin of the newcomers, teenagers from the reservation come to socialize.
And here we come to... a potential problem with the introduction of the Quileute people in Twilight.
I'm sure that S. Meyer meant this introduction to be nice and respectful. The characters are introduced as Other and different, but in an intentionally complimentary way. In a novel that has largely skimmed over what anyone other than Bella and Edward look like -- Jessica is... kind of short and has curly hair? Angela is... tall, maybe? Lauren is... blonde and therefore evil? Mike is... cute? Eric is... chess club-y? -- the text practically trips over itself to assure us just how lovely these "newcomers" are. They have shining straight black hair! They have copper skin! It's probably also burnished and bronzed and beautiful! Isn't that nice?
And... it's probably meant that way. But I can't help but immediately think of this line from the satirical Black People Love Us website:
Sally is always complimenting me on my skin tone. When she comes back from her tropical vacations she says to me, "Look! Look! I'm as dark as you are!" Then she holds out her arm against mine to compare. I just love how she wants to be like me!
And this is what I mean about there being a fine line between appropriation, exploitation, and representation. Is it automatically bad to describe minority bodies as beautiful? I think not. But it's also important, I think, to remember that there is a long and complicated history of describing minority bodies in ways that may seem complimentary but may instead (accidentally or intentionally) reinforce harmful stereotypes of how people of minority groups 'should' look, act, and behave.
Jumping ahead in the narrative slightly (we'll come back to the plot next week), we come to this description of Jacob:
A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob sauntered over to take her place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, a very pretty face.
Now let's contrast Jacob's description with Edward's:
The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students. [...]
And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes -- purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular. [...]
I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful - maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy.
On the surface, Jacob's description is very similar to Edward's. We get the general color and shape of the hair ("long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band" versus "untidy, bronze-colored hair"). Their skin colors are described in artistic ways ("silky and russet-colored" versus "chalky pale"). Their eyes are dark. With Jacob, we receive a glimpse of cheekbones; with Edward, we learn that his nose is straight. Where Jacob is childlike and "pretty" (a word often reserved for the feminine), Edward is boyish and lanky and angular.
The two descriptions are similar in content. And yet... the Jacob passage makes me uncomfortable in a way that the Edward passage does not. The description of Jacob, as flowery and pretty as it is, seems to boil down to saying "Here is a Native American." The description of Edward, for all its similarities, seems to boil down to saying "Here is a Vampire."
To me, this seems like a meaningful difference because one of these things is not like the other. Edward's descriptive passage contains a clue to his essential nature, a piece of foreshadowing. Edward is pale, he is sleepless, he is white, he is cold, he is pasty and chalky and marble-like. He is impossibly, indescribably beautiful. These things are clues to his nature. When the reader reads this passage knowing what to look for, there is a narrative arrow over Edward saying "This person is a Vampire". The qualities that make Edward noteworthy in the text are the qualities that would make him exceedingly unusual and abnormal in Real Life. There aren't, after all, actually vampires in America.
But Jacob is not a Vampire. He's a Native American. More specifically, he is a fictional member of the real world Quileute people. There are, in fact, actual Native Americans and actual Quileute people in America. As such, his physical description is not -- or should not -- be a clue to his essential nature in the same way that Edward's is. Certain common assumptions can be made about vampires in the Meyer-verse: they drink blood to survive, they eschew the sunlight, they cannot sleep. Knowing that someone is a vampire tells you something about them. But Native Americans are not a monolithic group like vampires. Know a vampire, and you know his diet: blood. Know a Native American, and you know nothing more than you would about him than any other person in Forks. Does Jacob have acid reflux? Celiac disease? Is he a vegetarian? Is he lactose intolerant? Jacob is an individual, and a fictional representation of real individuals in the real world, in a way that Edward simply cannot be.
And so it distresses me a little that in this first passage with Jacob, there is no unique identifying detail that I can pick out that would prevent his description from being picked up and reused in any generic "Here is a Native American" description. He has glossy black hair. He wears it straight and long in a pony tail. His skin has color. His eyes are dark. He is Native American, in the same way that Edward is Vampire, but these things are not and should not be conflated.
Twilight is not an extremely visual novel. Characters frequently have one and only one physical trait. Jessica has curly hair. Angela is tall. Lauren is silver-blonde. Bella is pale. Edward is paler. Maybe it is therefore fair that Jacob's defining description is, essentially, "looks like a Native American". Maybe it's too much to expect that we might have a glimpse of what he's wearing, of the way he carries himself, of the expression on his face, of the things in his hands or in his pockets, or anything that would set him apart as a person and not simply a member of a specific race. Maybe it's enough that when he opens his mouth, a relatively rich personality emerges. Maybe I'm being too picky, too easy to cast judgment. And yet, in a novel that disappears a state's entire Latin@ population in order to brag on the heroine's cooking skills, I think this is a discussion worth having.
In the Twilight Official Illustrated Guide, there is the following interview, which I have trimmed for space:
SH: So how much did you know about Jacob and his future when you were writing Twilight?
SM: Jacob was an afterthought. He wasn't supposed to exist in the original story. When I wrote the second half of Twilight first, there was no Jacob character. He started to exist about the point where I kind of hit a bit of a wall: I could not make Edward say the words I'm a vampire. There was no way that was ever coming out of his mouth -- he couldn't do it. And that goes back to what we were talking about with characters. You know, he had been keeping the truth about himself secret for so long, and it was something he was so… unhappy about, and devastated about. He would never have been able to tell her.
And so I thought: How is Bella ever going to figure this out? But I had picked Forks already as the story's location, and so then I thought: You know, these people have been around for a while, and they've been in this area before. Have they left tracks -- footprints -- somewhere, that she can discover an older story to give her insight?
Earlier I spoke about introducing minority voices by taking an established character and saying, "You know what? Bob is going to be an African-American, and I'm going to change Jenny to a lesbian because whoa but I have a lot of white, hetero-normative characters in this story." I don't know if this is a good way to introduce minority characters into a work, I really don't. But whether that is a solution to monochromatic casts and stereotyped minority characters or not, I'm fairly well convinced that introducing a minority character for the sake of solving a plot problem is almost certainly going to be problematic.
S. Meyer couldn't work out a way for Edward to say he was a vampire. She needed a way for Bella to do the research, a way for her to discover an older story to give her insight. This is a fair problem. It's the kind of problem that I think most authors face at one point or another. How do I shuffle Character X from Point A to Point B?
There are a lot of solutions to this problem. Bella is of a decidedly literary bent; she could stumble upon old news articles while dredging through the meager Forks library for something, anything worth reading. Heck, Bella -- She Who Loves Classic Literature -- could pick up on the We Are Vampires vibes after reading some choice gothic literature, the kinds of stuff that her Forksian peers can't be bothered to read on the weekends. We've been told that the Cullens have a dated way of speaking; Bella could take to the internet for some language research and catch Edward on his linguistic quirks. (A nice touch in a series that seems to imply that vampires are static and incapable of change. WHERE IS YOUR EVOLUTIONARY ADVANTAGE NOW, SPARKLEBOI?)
The best way to solve this problem, however, is almost certainly not to invent an Ancient Storytelling Society of Dark People that exist entirely to Tell Legends About White People and inform the pretty white protagonist all the legends (which she, being White And Smart, takes seriously in ways that the actual members of the society -- or at least Jacob -- do not). Especially not when the name you give to your Ancient Storytelling Society of Dark People matches the name of an actual tribe in actual real life who live in the actual area wherein your story is set. That seems kind of... rude.
That's when I discovered that there was a little reservation of Quileute Indians on the coastline. I was interested in them before I even knew I was going to work them into the story. I thought: Oh, that's interesting. There's a real dense and different kind of history there. I've always kind of been fascinated with Native American history, and this was a story I'd never heard before.
This is a very small tribe, and it's really not very well known, and their language is different from anyone else's. And they have these great legends -- even one that's similar to the Noah's Ark story; the Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees so they weren't swept away by the big flood -- that I thought were really interesting.
Please do not get me started on my Conservative Christian Upbringing where far too many Young Earthers explained to me in excruciating detail that Every Culture On Earth has a "Noah's Ark" story and that this 'fact' 'proves' that Noah's Ark actually happened, only of course, all the other cultures get every single major detail 'wrong' because they weren't The Chosen People, but that's totally Not Racist because they can be Saved at any time, just as soon as they completely abandon their cultural heritage and personal beliefs and chose to embrace ours and additionally admit that we were Right All Along about that whole worldwide flood thing.
And they have the wolf legend. The story goes that they descended from wolves -- a magician changed the first Quileute from a wolf into a man, that's how they began -- and when I was reading the legend I thought: You know, that's kind of funny. Because I know werewolf people and vampires don't get along at all. And how funny is it that there's that story, right here next to where I set my vampire story.
SH: That's so cool, that kind of serendipity that happens in storytelling.
SM: It felt like, Now it's on! Now I know how it has to be! What kismet to happen. And so Jacob was born -- as a device, really -- to tell Bella what she needed to know. And, yet, as soon as I gave him life, and gave him a chance to open his mouth, I just found him so endearing. He took on this personality that was just so funny and easy. And you love the characters you don't have to work for.
Jacob was born as a device to tell Bella what she needed to know.
I'm glad that Jacob opened his mouth and out flowed an endearing, interesting personality. I actually do consider him to be a bright spot in this novel, bringing more life and color in his one chapter than in all the rest of the chapters combined. He's funny and engaging and sweet and endearing and interesting. And... maybe that's a good thing. We need more people of minority groups registering in cultural consciousness as interesting, funny, varied, complex people. I'm in favor of that.
But. Jacob doesn't exist because S. Meyer thought to herself, "You know, I want an interesting, funny, varied, complex character in my novel, and I might as well make him a Quileute because they live in the area of Forks and it seems reasonable they would interact with Bella." No, Jacob exists because S. Meyer needed someone to tell Bella something. And she needed them to have inherent, automatic access to Ancient Mystical Secrets. And so the first place she looked, or at least the place she ended up at, wasn't the library or the internet or Mrs. Smith down the road who grew up in Forks and knows everyone and Remembers These Things. No, when Ancient Stories About White People were needed, we were given Jacob.
And Jacob was not an ounce of work. He just came to life and was exactly what I needed him to be, and I just enjoyed him as a person. But his appearance in chapter 6 was really it -- that was all he was in the story. And then my agent loved this Jacob, and she's never gotten over that. She was one hundred percent Team Jacob all the time.
[...]
SH: I have to go back to the point that Jacob exists because Edward couldn't say, "I am a vampire." So Edward is what created the necessity for Jacob. Just as Edward's existence, and nearness as a vampire, made Jacob into a werewolf. I just think it's interesting that those two characters, who are sometimes friends and sometimes…
SM: Not.
SH: … enemies, can't seem to live without each other. They completely are born from each other.
Jacob wouldn't exist if it weren't for Edward, and Edward wouldn't exist if it weren't for Jacob! It's so equilateral!
Except... it's not. Edward would still exist in story if Jacob didn't. Edward might not have gotten together with Bella, or he might have in the end (as if he really can't stay away from her, it's impossible for me to believe she wouldn't eventually notice that he doesn't eat, can't sleep, and sparkles in sunlight), but he would still exist. He'd be who he fundamentally is, even if he'd be alone and without Bella. Jacob doesn't affect Edward's existence at all, except in so much as he drops a crucial hint to Bella that enables Bella to confront Edward about his true nature. Jacob's existence may touch Edward in a ripple affect, but no less so than Tyler's existence, who enabled Edward to show off his super-human powers by virtue of Tyler losing control of his van.
But without Edward, Jacob would not exist. Jacob was literally called into existence in order to support Edward's happy ending. And Jacob is fundamentally affected in the text by the proximity of Edward: it is the presence of the white vampires that causes the dark Native Americans to experience the werewolf change. Edward's passive presence determines that Jacob will live his life as a shape changer and is indirectly responsible for the permanent scarring of Emily and the painful saga that is Leah's life story. Edward's existence is responsible for every imprinting that happens in Jacob's generation, and Edward's own sperm carries the potential for Jacob's life-long soul mate.
Jacob and Edward are not equal and opposite. They're not born from each other. Edward's existence controls aspects of Jacob's body, his life, his relatives, and his future soul-mate in ways that Jacob cannot avoid. Jacob does not have the chance or the choice to consent to these changes; Edward's very existence imposes them. In return, the only real effect that Jacob has on Edward's life is to provide information to a girl who Edward will not bring himself to be truthful to.
Jacob exists so that Edward doesn't have to make one difficult decision.
Edward exists so that Jacob cannot make any important decisions.
Edward doesn't intend to, I would guess. I'm not even sure he knows that his residence near the Quileutes causes these involuntary changes in them. (Does he?) But intent is not magic. Edward's existence, his presence, changes people's lives and strips them of their choice. And these people only exist, in the Twilight-verse, because S. Meyer couldn't find another way, a better way, for her star-crossed lovers to fall into each other's arms. And I find that really very upsetting.
SM: Jacob was born from Edward… also because of -- I guess you have to say it was a flaw -- Edward's inability to be honest about this essential fact of himself. Although it was an understandable flaw -- it was something that he was supposed to keep secret. You know, it wasn't something that you just say in everyday passing conversation: "By the way [laughs], I'm a vampire." It's just not a normal thing.
Jacob's character also became an answer to the deficiencies in Edward -- because Edward's not perfect. There were things about him that didn't make him the most perfect boyfriend in the whole world. I mean, some things about him make him an amazing boyfriend, but other things were lacking -- and Jacob sort of was the alternative. Here you have Edward, someone who overthinks everything -- whose every emotion is overwrought -- and just tortures himself. And there's so much angst, because he has never come to terms with what he is.
Then here you have Jacob, someone who never gives anything a passing thought and just is happy-go-lucky: If something's wrong, well, okay -- let's just get over it and move on. Here's someone who's able to take things in stride a little bit more, who doesn't overthink everything. Someone who's a little rash. He does seem foolish sometimes, just because he doesn't pause to think before he leaps, you know?
There's nothing wrong with a Logical Hero and a Carefree Hero. But when you're falling into Logical White Man and Passionate Dark Man territory, then I think it's time to rethink how you're going to approach these characters. How are you going to moderate these individuals so that harmful stereotypes aren't reinforced?
And yet I think it's more than that. Edward doesn't overthink things. Edward doesn't think at all. He runs off to Italy or wherever when there's a vampire with a jones on for killing Bella. He steals her car engine because he thinks that removing her agency is going to make her feel safe and loved and comfortable. He does super-human tricks in front of the entire school rather than let Bella die. I don't blame him for that last one, but let's not pretend that Edward is logical in any way shape or form.
And Jacob isn't particularly carefree. He spends most of the series brooding over Bella and, yes, 'overthinking' their relationship. His pack-mates complain about how much time he spends thinking about her, since they have to share his thoughts. He longs to imprint on Bella, and tries to force his own imprinting so that he'll at least have some kind of physical confirmation of his feelings.
So there comes a point where I hear Logical Edward and Passionate Jacob, and I agree that's probably what was being aimed for in text, but I think we widely missed the mark. So now we have a stereotype being poorly implemented and yet somehow even worse (in my mind) as a result.
That was sort of the opposite of Edward's character in a lot of ways. It gave a balance to the story and a choice for Bella, because I think she needed that. There was an option for her to choose a different life, with someone that she could have loved -- or someone who she does love. I always felt like that was really necessary to the story. Because when I write, I try to make the characters react to things the way I think real people would.
I think that, in reality, it's never one boy -- there's never this moment when you know. There's a choice there, and sometimes it's hard. Romance and relationships are a tangle, and this messy thing -- you never know what to expect, and people are so surprising.
People are surprising. But stereotypes aren't. Jacob will live his life subservient to his imprinted mate, absorbed into her white family as "whatever she needs [me] to be, whether that's a protector, or a lover, or a friend".
Jacob was born to serve Edward, and he will live his life serving Edward's daughter.
Twilight
Recap: Bella has arrived at the weekend beach get-away. Twilight, Chapter 6: Scary Stories, pp. 75-76
So let's talk a little about cultural appropriation today. It's a difficult subject, and one on which there are a number of different opinions.
Wikipedia defines "cultural appropriation" as "the adoption of some specific elements of one culture by a different cultural group" but I'm not sure that definition is in any way complete or clear. To me, the term connotates something of a Privileged person picking and choosing elements of a more Marginalized culture and saying "MINE!" while denying (openly or by conspicuous silence) where these elements came from or the importance of the history behind them. But I'm far from convinced that last sentence is any more complete or clear than the Wikipedia link.
Cultural appropriation is something that matters to me, as a writer, because it is something I would like very much to avoid. I do not want to appropriate anyone's culture for my writing efforts. But my concern is that I'm afraid that Cultural Appropriation can possibly conflict with Allied Representation, and I want to navigate that path carefully and respectfully. I have four things that I strive for when I write fiction:
- I want to include characters of minority groups, including characters of minority groups that I do not identify as. (Example: I have a character in my next novel who is a Chinese-American girl.)
- I want to include characters of minority groups in ways that may not fit the cultural stereotype of their minority group. (Example: My Chinese-American girl answers to 'Raven' and identifies as fat.)
- I want to include characters of minority groups in ways that do not erase or 'overwrite' the narrative of life as a member of that minority group. (Cultural Appropriation)
- I want to include characters of minority groups in ways such that they are characters with their own goals and not simply supporting cast for the more privileged characters. (Magic Minorities)
These goals are not always even remotely easy for someone like me, who is Privileged Like Whoa, to accomplish. Since I'm an outliner who tends to lay out plot first then characterization second,* I try to achieve these goals by mapping out my plots beforehand and then filling in races, religions, and sexual orientation after. Protagonist A shall be a Jewish atheist with a gay brother. Protagonist B shall be a white Protestant attending a Catholic school. Protagonist C shall be a Chinese-American Wiccan. Protagonist D shall be an African-American who is agnostic, adopted, and possibly a lesbian. And so on.
* Exceedingly over-simplifying for purposes of this post. It's a multi-layer process for me right now.
But once I've worked out that my novel will contain Jewish, atheist, gay, lesbian, Chinese-American, African-American, and agnostic voices, I have to face a very serious problem: I'm not any of those things. How can I write them without tripping carelessly over the Respectful line into Blithely Appropriating Someone Else's Culture? Where is the line between writing them in ways such that they are products of their culture, without being limited to being nothing more than an identity label?
It's a problem, but not one that is without solutions, I think. I can make an effort to read things written by people in those minority groups, and I can seriously try to immerse myself in the point of view of someone who has lived life in the environments that would have enveloped my fictional characters. I can talk to people who are willing to selflessly donate their time to educate me out of my privilege and into another person's worldview. I can reach out to beta readers who have experience with marginalized cultures and I can take seriously their feedback about my characters.
And I think that these things can work well, depending on the unique situation. Certainly I've read female characters, Wiccan characters, and disabled characters written by authors who weren't these things, but who still managed to capture a narrative that I identified with.
But it's not easy. And there's a fine line, I think, between treating a culture and its members with respect and treating them with... fetishization, for lack of a better term.
When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had multiplied. As we got closer we could see the shining, straight black hair and copper skin of the newcomers, teenagers from the reservation come to socialize.
And here we come to... a potential problem with the introduction of the Quileute people in Twilight.
I'm sure that S. Meyer meant this introduction to be nice and respectful. The characters are introduced as Other and different, but in an intentionally complimentary way. In a novel that has largely skimmed over what anyone other than Bella and Edward look like -- Jessica is... kind of short and has curly hair? Angela is... tall, maybe? Lauren is... blonde and therefore evil? Mike is... cute? Eric is... chess club-y? -- the text practically trips over itself to assure us just how lovely these "newcomers" are. They have shining straight black hair! They have copper skin! It's probably also burnished and bronzed and beautiful! Isn't that nice?
And... it's probably meant that way. But I can't help but immediately think of this line from the satirical Black People Love Us website:
Sally is always complimenting me on my skin tone. When she comes back from her tropical vacations she says to me, "Look! Look! I'm as dark as you are!" Then she holds out her arm against mine to compare. I just love how she wants to be like me!
And this is what I mean about there being a fine line between appropriation, exploitation, and representation. Is it automatically bad to describe minority bodies as beautiful? I think not. But it's also important, I think, to remember that there is a long and complicated history of describing minority bodies in ways that may seem complimentary but may instead (accidentally or intentionally) reinforce harmful stereotypes of how people of minority groups 'should' look, act, and behave.
Jumping ahead in the narrative slightly (we'll come back to the plot next week), we come to this description of Jacob:
A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob sauntered over to take her place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, a very pretty face.
Now let's contrast Jacob's description with Edward's:
The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students. [...]
And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes -- purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular. [...]
I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful - maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy.
On the surface, Jacob's description is very similar to Edward's. We get the general color and shape of the hair ("long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band" versus "untidy, bronze-colored hair"). Their skin colors are described in artistic ways ("silky and russet-colored" versus "chalky pale"). Their eyes are dark. With Jacob, we receive a glimpse of cheekbones; with Edward, we learn that his nose is straight. Where Jacob is childlike and "pretty" (a word often reserved for the feminine), Edward is boyish and lanky and angular.
The two descriptions are similar in content. And yet... the Jacob passage makes me uncomfortable in a way that the Edward passage does not. The description of Jacob, as flowery and pretty as it is, seems to boil down to saying "Here is a Native American." The description of Edward, for all its similarities, seems to boil down to saying "Here is a Vampire."
To me, this seems like a meaningful difference because one of these things is not like the other. Edward's descriptive passage contains a clue to his essential nature, a piece of foreshadowing. Edward is pale, he is sleepless, he is white, he is cold, he is pasty and chalky and marble-like. He is impossibly, indescribably beautiful. These things are clues to his nature. When the reader reads this passage knowing what to look for, there is a narrative arrow over Edward saying "This person is a Vampire". The qualities that make Edward noteworthy in the text are the qualities that would make him exceedingly unusual and abnormal in Real Life. There aren't, after all, actually vampires in America.
But Jacob is not a Vampire. He's a Native American. More specifically, he is a fictional member of the real world Quileute people. There are, in fact, actual Native Americans and actual Quileute people in America. As such, his physical description is not -- or should not -- be a clue to his essential nature in the same way that Edward's is. Certain common assumptions can be made about vampires in the Meyer-verse: they drink blood to survive, they eschew the sunlight, they cannot sleep. Knowing that someone is a vampire tells you something about them. But Native Americans are not a monolithic group like vampires. Know a vampire, and you know his diet: blood. Know a Native American, and you know nothing more than you would about him than any other person in Forks. Does Jacob have acid reflux? Celiac disease? Is he a vegetarian? Is he lactose intolerant? Jacob is an individual, and a fictional representation of real individuals in the real world, in a way that Edward simply cannot be.
And so it distresses me a little that in this first passage with Jacob, there is no unique identifying detail that I can pick out that would prevent his description from being picked up and reused in any generic "Here is a Native American" description. He has glossy black hair. He wears it straight and long in a pony tail. His skin has color. His eyes are dark. He is Native American, in the same way that Edward is Vampire, but these things are not and should not be conflated.
Twilight is not an extremely visual novel. Characters frequently have one and only one physical trait. Jessica has curly hair. Angela is tall. Lauren is silver-blonde. Bella is pale. Edward is paler. Maybe it is therefore fair that Jacob's defining description is, essentially, "looks like a Native American". Maybe it's too much to expect that we might have a glimpse of what he's wearing, of the way he carries himself, of the expression on his face, of the things in his hands or in his pockets, or anything that would set him apart as a person and not simply a member of a specific race. Maybe it's enough that when he opens his mouth, a relatively rich personality emerges. Maybe I'm being too picky, too easy to cast judgment. And yet, in a novel that disappears a state's entire Latin@ population in order to brag on the heroine's cooking skills, I think this is a discussion worth having.
In the Twilight Official Illustrated Guide, there is the following interview, which I have trimmed for space:
SH: So how much did you know about Jacob and his future when you were writing Twilight?
SM: Jacob was an afterthought. He wasn't supposed to exist in the original story. When I wrote the second half of Twilight first, there was no Jacob character. He started to exist about the point where I kind of hit a bit of a wall: I could not make Edward say the words I'm a vampire. There was no way that was ever coming out of his mouth -- he couldn't do it. And that goes back to what we were talking about with characters. You know, he had been keeping the truth about himself secret for so long, and it was something he was so… unhappy about, and devastated about. He would never have been able to tell her.
And so I thought: How is Bella ever going to figure this out? But I had picked Forks already as the story's location, and so then I thought: You know, these people have been around for a while, and they've been in this area before. Have they left tracks -- footprints -- somewhere, that she can discover an older story to give her insight?
Earlier I spoke about introducing minority voices by taking an established character and saying, "You know what? Bob is going to be an African-American, and I'm going to change Jenny to a lesbian because whoa but I have a lot of white, hetero-normative characters in this story." I don't know if this is a good way to introduce minority characters into a work, I really don't. But whether that is a solution to monochromatic casts and stereotyped minority characters or not, I'm fairly well convinced that introducing a minority character for the sake of solving a plot problem is almost certainly going to be problematic.
S. Meyer couldn't work out a way for Edward to say he was a vampire. She needed a way for Bella to do the research, a way for her to discover an older story to give her insight. This is a fair problem. It's the kind of problem that I think most authors face at one point or another. How do I shuffle Character X from Point A to Point B?
There are a lot of solutions to this problem. Bella is of a decidedly literary bent; she could stumble upon old news articles while dredging through the meager Forks library for something, anything worth reading. Heck, Bella -- She Who Loves Classic Literature -- could pick up on the We Are Vampires vibes after reading some choice gothic literature, the kinds of stuff that her Forksian peers can't be bothered to read on the weekends. We've been told that the Cullens have a dated way of speaking; Bella could take to the internet for some language research and catch Edward on his linguistic quirks. (A nice touch in a series that seems to imply that vampires are static and incapable of change. WHERE IS YOUR EVOLUTIONARY ADVANTAGE NOW, SPARKLEBOI?)
The best way to solve this problem, however, is almost certainly not to invent an Ancient Storytelling Society of Dark People that exist entirely to Tell Legends About White People and inform the pretty white protagonist all the legends (which she, being White And Smart, takes seriously in ways that the actual members of the society -- or at least Jacob -- do not). Especially not when the name you give to your Ancient Storytelling Society of Dark People matches the name of an actual tribe in actual real life who live in the actual area wherein your story is set. That seems kind of... rude.
That's when I discovered that there was a little reservation of Quileute Indians on the coastline. I was interested in them before I even knew I was going to work them into the story. I thought: Oh, that's interesting. There's a real dense and different kind of history there. I've always kind of been fascinated with Native American history, and this was a story I'd never heard before.
This is a very small tribe, and it's really not very well known, and their language is different from anyone else's. And they have these great legends -- even one that's similar to the Noah's Ark story; the Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees so they weren't swept away by the big flood -- that I thought were really interesting.
Please do not get me started on my Conservative Christian Upbringing where far too many Young Earthers explained to me in excruciating detail that Every Culture On Earth has a "Noah's Ark" story and that this 'fact' 'proves' that Noah's Ark actually happened, only of course, all the other cultures get every single major detail 'wrong' because they weren't The Chosen People, but that's totally Not Racist because they can be Saved at any time, just as soon as they completely abandon their cultural heritage and personal beliefs and chose to embrace ours and additionally admit that we were Right All Along about that whole worldwide flood thing.
And they have the wolf legend. The story goes that they descended from wolves -- a magician changed the first Quileute from a wolf into a man, that's how they began -- and when I was reading the legend I thought: You know, that's kind of funny. Because I know werewolf people and vampires don't get along at all. And how funny is it that there's that story, right here next to where I set my vampire story.
SH: That's so cool, that kind of serendipity that happens in storytelling.
SM: It felt like, Now it's on! Now I know how it has to be! What kismet to happen. And so Jacob was born -- as a device, really -- to tell Bella what she needed to know. And, yet, as soon as I gave him life, and gave him a chance to open his mouth, I just found him so endearing. He took on this personality that was just so funny and easy. And you love the characters you don't have to work for.
Jacob was born as a device to tell Bella what she needed to know.
I'm glad that Jacob opened his mouth and out flowed an endearing, interesting personality. I actually do consider him to be a bright spot in this novel, bringing more life and color in his one chapter than in all the rest of the chapters combined. He's funny and engaging and sweet and endearing and interesting. And... maybe that's a good thing. We need more people of minority groups registering in cultural consciousness as interesting, funny, varied, complex people. I'm in favor of that.
But. Jacob doesn't exist because S. Meyer thought to herself, "You know, I want an interesting, funny, varied, complex character in my novel, and I might as well make him a Quileute because they live in the area of Forks and it seems reasonable they would interact with Bella." No, Jacob exists because S. Meyer needed someone to tell Bella something. And she needed them to have inherent, automatic access to Ancient Mystical Secrets. And so the first place she looked, or at least the place she ended up at, wasn't the library or the internet or Mrs. Smith down the road who grew up in Forks and knows everyone and Remembers These Things. No, when Ancient Stories About White People were needed, we were given Jacob.
And Jacob was not an ounce of work. He just came to life and was exactly what I needed him to be, and I just enjoyed him as a person. But his appearance in chapter 6 was really it -- that was all he was in the story. And then my agent loved this Jacob, and she's never gotten over that. She was one hundred percent Team Jacob all the time.
[...]
SH: I have to go back to the point that Jacob exists because Edward couldn't say, "I am a vampire." So Edward is what created the necessity for Jacob. Just as Edward's existence, and nearness as a vampire, made Jacob into a werewolf. I just think it's interesting that those two characters, who are sometimes friends and sometimes…
SM: Not.
SH: … enemies, can't seem to live without each other. They completely are born from each other.
Jacob wouldn't exist if it weren't for Edward, and Edward wouldn't exist if it weren't for Jacob! It's so equilateral!
Except... it's not. Edward would still exist in story if Jacob didn't. Edward might not have gotten together with Bella, or he might have in the end (as if he really can't stay away from her, it's impossible for me to believe she wouldn't eventually notice that he doesn't eat, can't sleep, and sparkles in sunlight), but he would still exist. He'd be who he fundamentally is, even if he'd be alone and without Bella. Jacob doesn't affect Edward's existence at all, except in so much as he drops a crucial hint to Bella that enables Bella to confront Edward about his true nature. Jacob's existence may touch Edward in a ripple affect, but no less so than Tyler's existence, who enabled Edward to show off his super-human powers by virtue of Tyler losing control of his van.
But without Edward, Jacob would not exist. Jacob was literally called into existence in order to support Edward's happy ending. And Jacob is fundamentally affected in the text by the proximity of Edward: it is the presence of the white vampires that causes the dark Native Americans to experience the werewolf change. Edward's passive presence determines that Jacob will live his life as a shape changer and is indirectly responsible for the permanent scarring of Emily and the painful saga that is Leah's life story. Edward's existence is responsible for every imprinting that happens in Jacob's generation, and Edward's own sperm carries the potential for Jacob's life-long soul mate.
Jacob and Edward are not equal and opposite. They're not born from each other. Edward's existence controls aspects of Jacob's body, his life, his relatives, and his future soul-mate in ways that Jacob cannot avoid. Jacob does not have the chance or the choice to consent to these changes; Edward's very existence imposes them. In return, the only real effect that Jacob has on Edward's life is to provide information to a girl who Edward will not bring himself to be truthful to.
Jacob exists so that Edward doesn't have to make one difficult decision.
Edward exists so that Jacob cannot make any important decisions.
Edward doesn't intend to, I would guess. I'm not even sure he knows that his residence near the Quileutes causes these involuntary changes in them. (Does he?) But intent is not magic. Edward's existence, his presence, changes people's lives and strips them of their choice. And these people only exist, in the Twilight-verse, because S. Meyer couldn't find another way, a better way, for her star-crossed lovers to fall into each other's arms. And I find that really very upsetting.
SM: Jacob was born from Edward… also because of -- I guess you have to say it was a flaw -- Edward's inability to be honest about this essential fact of himself. Although it was an understandable flaw -- it was something that he was supposed to keep secret. You know, it wasn't something that you just say in everyday passing conversation: "By the way [laughs], I'm a vampire." It's just not a normal thing.
Jacob's character also became an answer to the deficiencies in Edward -- because Edward's not perfect. There were things about him that didn't make him the most perfect boyfriend in the whole world. I mean, some things about him make him an amazing boyfriend, but other things were lacking -- and Jacob sort of was the alternative. Here you have Edward, someone who overthinks everything -- whose every emotion is overwrought -- and just tortures himself. And there's so much angst, because he has never come to terms with what he is.
Then here you have Jacob, someone who never gives anything a passing thought and just is happy-go-lucky: If something's wrong, well, okay -- let's just get over it and move on. Here's someone who's able to take things in stride a little bit more, who doesn't overthink everything. Someone who's a little rash. He does seem foolish sometimes, just because he doesn't pause to think before he leaps, you know?
There's nothing wrong with a Logical Hero and a Carefree Hero. But when you're falling into Logical White Man and Passionate Dark Man territory, then I think it's time to rethink how you're going to approach these characters. How are you going to moderate these individuals so that harmful stereotypes aren't reinforced?
And yet I think it's more than that. Edward doesn't overthink things. Edward doesn't think at all. He runs off to Italy or wherever when there's a vampire with a jones on for killing Bella. He steals her car engine because he thinks that removing her agency is going to make her feel safe and loved and comfortable. He does super-human tricks in front of the entire school rather than let Bella die. I don't blame him for that last one, but let's not pretend that Edward is logical in any way shape or form.
And Jacob isn't particularly carefree. He spends most of the series brooding over Bella and, yes, 'overthinking' their relationship. His pack-mates complain about how much time he spends thinking about her, since they have to share his thoughts. He longs to imprint on Bella, and tries to force his own imprinting so that he'll at least have some kind of physical confirmation of his feelings.
So there comes a point where I hear Logical Edward and Passionate Jacob, and I agree that's probably what was being aimed for in text, but I think we widely missed the mark. So now we have a stereotype being poorly implemented and yet somehow even worse (in my mind) as a result.
That was sort of the opposite of Edward's character in a lot of ways. It gave a balance to the story and a choice for Bella, because I think she needed that. There was an option for her to choose a different life, with someone that she could have loved -- or someone who she does love. I always felt like that was really necessary to the story. Because when I write, I try to make the characters react to things the way I think real people would.
I think that, in reality, it's never one boy -- there's never this moment when you know. There's a choice there, and sometimes it's hard. Romance and relationships are a tangle, and this messy thing -- you never know what to expect, and people are so surprising.
People are surprising. But stereotypes aren't. Jacob will live his life subservient to his imprinted mate, absorbed into her white family as "whatever she needs [me] to be, whether that's a protector, or a lover, or a friend".
Jacob was born to serve Edward, and he will live his life serving Edward's daughter.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Open Thread: Completely Open
I've never had a totally open thread before. Have I? I don't think I have. Anyway! Here is a nice blank space to scrawl on. GO!
OPEN THREAD BELOW!
OPEN THREAD BELOW!
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Deconstruction: How Do We Deal With Triggering Language in Writing?
Trigger Warning: Racist Language (including the N-word), Ableist Langauge (including the R-word), Sexist Language (including the C-word)
I've been thinking a lot about triggering language and how it plays out in books. We've talked before about how a lot of things can be triggers, even things the author might not necessarily know about, and as a writer, I think about it a lot. Because... I don't like being triggered. And I don't like triggering people. So this is sort of an opinion piece thinking some stuff out.
Old Books
I don't really like Huckleberry Finn.
I don't. I feel bad admitting that; I'm embarrassed about it. I know it's a classic, but I just didn't enjoy it when I read it. I liked it when Huck said that he'd go to hell, that was a good bit. But when I came to Huckleberry Finn I was an English major in college and I had just about had it up to here with books by dead white guys who wrote almost entirely about men and none of the women in the books were women I could identify with or seemed to have depth or dreams or desires that I could really personally identify with. I was in a place where I needed "The Yellow Wall-paper" and "The Gilded Six-bits" (those came later) and instead I was being fed another book about men and boys doing manly and boyish things. I wasn't in the right place, I guess.
And I also kind of thought the book was racist.
Not because of the N-word, actually. Because of the final chapters. And I guess I wasn't the only one who didn't like the final chapters because Ernest Hemingway, despite loving the book more than sliced bread, apparently felt like the whole end of the book should have been lopped off:
You see that bold bit up there? It's actually sort of incomplete, in my opinion. Tom Sawyer leads Huck Finn and Jim The Slave through elaborate, ineffectual, and grotesque machinations to 'rescue' Jim, even though Tom has the power to set Jim free at any time by revealing Miss Watson's will to everyone, and when Jim finds out that Tom has been endangering his life all this time for a game, Jim is humbly and abjectly grateful to Tom. For reals, or at least... it seemed that way to me as a reader. I didn't feel like Jim was faking it for socially-required reasons. And that bothered me -- a lot, really -- because that wasn't how I felt that adults thought. It wasn't how I felt Jim would have thought. Well, I didn't think so, anyway.
And when we talk about the scene, and everything that is wrong with the scene, I get a little frustrated that we still talk about how Tom misled Huck. Not Jim. Even though he did mislead Jim. But Jim isn't even in the story at that point as far as the quote up there is concerned. And... in a way... he's not. Jim sort of devolves at that point from a deep, conscientious man to, well, a "minstrel-show" caricature. And, personally, I saw that as... racist. Changing a black character's established dignity at the end like that in order to make a scene work just seemed... wrong. Ruined the whole book for me, and it wasn't like I was sweet on it to begin with.
But, to each their own, you know? It's an American Classic and has influenced a lot of American Writers, and it should probably be studied in schools, I guess. Or not. Whatever makes you happy, really. Up to the school district and the parents and the students, and I'm not any of those things. So what do they think?
Some school districts seem to think that it's a good idea to replace the N-word in the novel with "slave".
And you know what? I'm... kind of okay with that.
No, really. I'm okay with someone making an N-word-free version of the book and schools picking it for study if they think that's what their students need and the parents are on-board and it's all very open and clearly explained to everyone what's been changed. And if I cared about reading the book again at all, I'd probably get that version.
But one thing that confuses me about the controversy is that the argument that I've always heard for why Huckleberry Finn is not racist (at least the one that revolves around the N-word because I've yet to see anyone online call the book racist for the final chapters and Jim's abject gratitude to Tom Sawyer for being a jerk so bad that it would make Edward Cullen jealous, so fixed that for you, Internet, I guess) is that the N-word back then didn't need to be racist, that Twain and Huck were using it because it was colloquially correct, and that we should approach the book as thought the term was a neutral one.
And that we shouldn't dwell on the term during classroom time because that's how people were back then and getting bogged down in the language would distract from the literary merits of the book and the relationship between Huck and Jim which were, after all, the whole point of studying the book in the first place and why it definitely shouldn't be removed from the reading list just because of the N-word. In that defense, the N-word was something that wasn't part of the lesson plan, it was something that we were expected to sort of... get around in order to get to the 'important' stuff.
But now that someone is saying -- best I can tell -- okay, if it's really just a colloquially neutral term, let's replace it with a modernly neutral term now because it's upsetting some of the kids, now the argument seems to be that the repeated uses of the N-word must be retained because otherwise how can the schools have a conversation about the racist history of the term? Which strikes me as so very odd, because we weren't having that conversation anyway, at least not in my class, because anytime a student said, dude, this book is racist, the Official Response was that no, that was the term of the time, and it was totally neutral and you had to approach the book as such.
And... the other weird thing is that if we need to retain the word to have the conversation about racism and language, why do we need to use Huckleberry Finn? I can think of a lot of better ways to introduce language marginalization than through the back door via Twain. Like, for instance, reading more African American voices. So... I guess I find that argument confusing.
But then there's all these trigger issues on top of the whole thing. If you have a common trigger word used 200+ times in a mandatory school book that covers days or weeks or months of a lesson plan and if the teachers and parents and students really don't feel like that level of excess is necessary for a talk about language marginalization, then... then I feel like there's room for a compromise balancing the needs of education and the needs of the students to not be triggered while they're trying to get their education.
I know that schools are not, and never will be, truly safe spaces. But the flip side, of course, is that will be cold comfort for anyone who finds the N-word triggering and is required to read Huckleberry Finn unaltered in school. If my high school had felt the need to include an American Classic that had, say, 200 instances of the word "cunt" in it, or 200 instances of the word "retard" in it, I would have had serious problems with, well, everything. Reading the book. Writing about it. Discussing it in class. Hearing the other students use those words. Writing about it right now distresses me.
So if a teacher -- or several teachers -- have floated the idea that, we really want to teach this American Classic, but the language of the time period is triggering our students so what if we search-and-replace a single word, and if the parents are happy and the students are happy and the educators are happy, then I'm personally kind of inclined to clap the educators on the back for a clever solution to a thorny problem. And I wonder if the discussion, and the fact that a community actually took seriously the concept of "triggering", wouldn't be way more educational from a language marginalization standpoint than Mark Twain would be.
New Books
Which kind of brings me in a round-about way to new books.
I wrote a book this year. The setting is sort-of-not-quite Italy in the vaguely-probably-kind-of 1400s. There are characters in the novel who, for various reasons, are assumed by other characters to be mentally ill. I use the term "mad" once, "madness" once, and "insane" twice, and I used them as carefully as I could. I do not use the term "crazy". I mostly use the alternative terms "mentally ill" or "sick" or "needs help". This is not historically accurate. The concept that mentally ill people should be referred to with a minimum of linguistic respect is, if I understand correctly, pretty new. (The historically accurate version would probably be for the characters to assume the other people are possessed by demons, which I find very triggering indeed.)
In my book, I used historically inaccurate language on purpose, because I feel like 'not triggering my readers' is more important than historical realism. I mean, my book is not historically realistic, anyway. My book is about magic and fairies and talking beasts and curses and magical fruits and roses. None of that is historically accurate, so it seemed kind of arbitrary to say, but yea verily I wilt use yonder damaging term.
Which isn't to say my book doesn't have trigger topics. It does! I have a whole section that a reader can skip to before reading just to see what all the triggers in the book are. "Discussion of mental illness, including ableist terminology," is one of them. But you'll know in advance what you're getting yourself into, and knowing is half the battle!
And maybe I can kind of explain my Huckleberry Finn thoughts above a little better by saying this: My book isn't going to be an American Classic. It won't influence generations of writers and, as such, it won't be mandatory reading in schools for children who need to be influenced in the same way. But... if one of my books ever did reach that level of fame and it turns out that a word I used 200+ times in my 60,000 word novel turns out to run the real risk of triggering a large number of the school children and I wasn't around to be asked about it... I'd be really okay with everyone erring on the side of caution and figuring that I would prefer young kids not be triggered by my writing while they were being exposed to my influential thoughts and writing style.
Or, I guess, if it was that important to save my words exactly a certain way, I'd be okay with people not teaching me in mandatory classes. Electives would be fine.
Future Books
And that's kind of the biggest problem with triggers: even if you're really careful, it's impossible to get all of them.
Not too long ago, I was moderated at Shakesville for using ableist language. I used the term "idiot" and the moderators had to replace it with "fool". I felt really... foolish, because I didn't know "idiot" was considered an ableist term in that space. (And it was in the moderation policy faq, so it was really my own fault. I should have read more closely before posting on someone's board, but I failed to.) But I especially felt bad because if you'd grabbed me and said Ana! Quick! Which one of these terms is ableist?, I would have guessed "fool" over "idiot".
And the more I thought about that, the more I got it in my head that probably someone, somewhere, is more triggered by "fool" than by "idiot". In a world this big, I have to think there's at least one. What does that person do?
I know these kinds of conversations usually evoke a little fear, like, what if we let the bullies take all the words? And... I really do understand that. That's why this site doesn't currently have a "list" of safe and un-safe words. I ask everyone to use discretion and be polite and I think/hope that the politeness softens the trigger as much as possible. That's the direction I took with my book, as well: I used a few of what I hope are the mildest trigger words for something, posted a Trigger Warning page, and... I'll hope for the best. It's not a magical shield for the people who will be triggered, but I do try to be open and upfront with it so that they can chose not to read my writing rather than read and get hit without warning. I hope that helps.
But would it be possible, someday, for there to be a way to avoid being triggered entirely via intelligent search-and-replace routines? For the person who finds "fool" triggering, but not "idiot", to configure their web browser to always display the one and not the other? It'd be a tricky thing, since a lot of words like "mad" pull double meanings, and of course it would only cover words and not concepts but... it's not inconceivable for me.
I think... I would like that. I'm reading a book right now for book club -- World War Z -- and it's a book I picked, but I'm utterly distracted by how often the word "crazy" is used when really the author means "silly" or "dumb" or "ridiculous", but he's writing in the vernacular and "crazy" is a huge part of American vernacular. And... I'm really tired of reading that word. I find it distracting at this point. I would kind of like a really really really intelligent algorithm to go through my book and replace that word with silly/dumb/ridiculous as appropriate. It wouldn't change the meaning, and I'd be able to better reach the message if I wasn't being blocked by the medium.
But... I realize that this stance is not 100% controversy-free. Maybe the answer isn't "trigger-free accessible algorithms", but rather "trigger warning algorithms" where before I start the book the software can tell me how many time a word appears. Maybe the author's right to express themselves without alteration is more important than my desire to read their message without being blocked by their word choice. But... maybe that answer means that people with lots of triggers will be blocked from enjoying works that they would otherwise enjoy but can't currently access.
I don't know the answer to this. I really don't. But... I will say that when I publish my book in the coming weeks ahead, I will welcome any and all feedback on how I can improve the trigger warning system I've implemented and what, if any, words you would like to not see in any future books. I plan to keep writing, but I'd like to not keep triggering.
I've been thinking a lot about triggering language and how it plays out in books. We've talked before about how a lot of things can be triggers, even things the author might not necessarily know about, and as a writer, I think about it a lot. Because... I don't like being triggered. And I don't like triggering people. So this is sort of an opinion piece thinking some stuff out.
Old Books
I don't really like Huckleberry Finn.
I don't. I feel bad admitting that; I'm embarrassed about it. I know it's a classic, but I just didn't enjoy it when I read it. I liked it when Huck said that he'd go to hell, that was a good bit. But when I came to Huckleberry Finn I was an English major in college and I had just about had it up to here with books by dead white guys who wrote almost entirely about men and none of the women in the books were women I could identify with or seemed to have depth or dreams or desires that I could really personally identify with. I was in a place where I needed "The Yellow Wall-paper" and "The Gilded Six-bits" (those came later) and instead I was being fed another book about men and boys doing manly and boyish things. I wasn't in the right place, I guess.
And I also kind of thought the book was racist.
Not because of the N-word, actually. Because of the final chapters. And I guess I wasn't the only one who didn't like the final chapters because Ernest Hemingway, despite loving the book more than sliced bread, apparently felt like the whole end of the book should have been lopped off:
So what's the problem? Only this: Twain's acknowledged masterpiece, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, inspires almost universal ambivalence among its biggest fans. "It's the best book we've had," pronounced Ernest Hemingway in 1932. "All American writing comes from that. There was nothing before. There has been nothing as good since." Oh, but one more thing, counseled Papa: "If you must read it you must stop where...Jim is stolen from the boys [and imprisoned by a slave catcher]. That is the real end. The rest is just cheating."
As Powers puts it, "Huckleberry Finn endures as a consensus masterpiece despite these final chapters" in which Tom Sawyer leads Huck through elaborate, ineffectual, and grotesque machinations to rescue the runaway slave from Tom's Uncle Silas (even worse, we eventually learn that Jim has in fact been free the whole time). Most critics feel that once Tom Sawyer shows up, Huckleberry Finn devolves into little more than minstrel-show satire and broad comedy that cheapens the deep, transgressive bond that has evolved between Huck and Jim.
You see that bold bit up there? It's actually sort of incomplete, in my opinion. Tom Sawyer leads Huck Finn and Jim The Slave through elaborate, ineffectual, and grotesque machinations to 'rescue' Jim, even though Tom has the power to set Jim free at any time by revealing Miss Watson's will to everyone, and when Jim finds out that Tom has been endangering his life all this time for a game, Jim is humbly and abjectly grateful to Tom. For reals, or at least... it seemed that way to me as a reader. I didn't feel like Jim was faking it for socially-required reasons. And that bothered me -- a lot, really -- because that wasn't how I felt that adults thought. It wasn't how I felt Jim would have thought. Well, I didn't think so, anyway.
And when we talk about the scene, and everything that is wrong with the scene, I get a little frustrated that we still talk about how Tom misled Huck. Not Jim. Even though he did mislead Jim. But Jim isn't even in the story at that point as far as the quote up there is concerned. And... in a way... he's not. Jim sort of devolves at that point from a deep, conscientious man to, well, a "minstrel-show" caricature. And, personally, I saw that as... racist. Changing a black character's established dignity at the end like that in order to make a scene work just seemed... wrong. Ruined the whole book for me, and it wasn't like I was sweet on it to begin with.
But, to each their own, you know? It's an American Classic and has influenced a lot of American Writers, and it should probably be studied in schools, I guess. Or not. Whatever makes you happy, really. Up to the school district and the parents and the students, and I'm not any of those things. So what do they think?
Some school districts seem to think that it's a good idea to replace the N-word in the novel with "slave".
And you know what? I'm... kind of okay with that.
No, really. I'm okay with someone making an N-word-free version of the book and schools picking it for study if they think that's what their students need and the parents are on-board and it's all very open and clearly explained to everyone what's been changed. And if I cared about reading the book again at all, I'd probably get that version.
But one thing that confuses me about the controversy is that the argument that I've always heard for why Huckleberry Finn is not racist (at least the one that revolves around the N-word because I've yet to see anyone online call the book racist for the final chapters and Jim's abject gratitude to Tom Sawyer for being a jerk so bad that it would make Edward Cullen jealous, so fixed that for you, Internet, I guess) is that the N-word back then didn't need to be racist, that Twain and Huck were using it because it was colloquially correct, and that we should approach the book as thought the term was a neutral one.
And that we shouldn't dwell on the term during classroom time because that's how people were back then and getting bogged down in the language would distract from the literary merits of the book and the relationship between Huck and Jim which were, after all, the whole point of studying the book in the first place and why it definitely shouldn't be removed from the reading list just because of the N-word. In that defense, the N-word was something that wasn't part of the lesson plan, it was something that we were expected to sort of... get around in order to get to the 'important' stuff.
But now that someone is saying -- best I can tell -- okay, if it's really just a colloquially neutral term, let's replace it with a modernly neutral term now because it's upsetting some of the kids, now the argument seems to be that the repeated uses of the N-word must be retained because otherwise how can the schools have a conversation about the racist history of the term? Which strikes me as so very odd, because we weren't having that conversation anyway, at least not in my class, because anytime a student said, dude, this book is racist, the Official Response was that no, that was the term of the time, and it was totally neutral and you had to approach the book as such.
And... the other weird thing is that if we need to retain the word to have the conversation about racism and language, why do we need to use Huckleberry Finn? I can think of a lot of better ways to introduce language marginalization than through the back door via Twain. Like, for instance, reading more African American voices. So... I guess I find that argument confusing.
But then there's all these trigger issues on top of the whole thing. If you have a common trigger word used 200+ times in a mandatory school book that covers days or weeks or months of a lesson plan and if the teachers and parents and students really don't feel like that level of excess is necessary for a talk about language marginalization, then... then I feel like there's room for a compromise balancing the needs of education and the needs of the students to not be triggered while they're trying to get their education.
I know that schools are not, and never will be, truly safe spaces. But the flip side, of course, is that will be cold comfort for anyone who finds the N-word triggering and is required to read Huckleberry Finn unaltered in school. If my high school had felt the need to include an American Classic that had, say, 200 instances of the word "cunt" in it, or 200 instances of the word "retard" in it, I would have had serious problems with, well, everything. Reading the book. Writing about it. Discussing it in class. Hearing the other students use those words. Writing about it right now distresses me.
So if a teacher -- or several teachers -- have floated the idea that, we really want to teach this American Classic, but the language of the time period is triggering our students so what if we search-and-replace a single word, and if the parents are happy and the students are happy and the educators are happy, then I'm personally kind of inclined to clap the educators on the back for a clever solution to a thorny problem. And I wonder if the discussion, and the fact that a community actually took seriously the concept of "triggering", wouldn't be way more educational from a language marginalization standpoint than Mark Twain would be.
New Books
Which kind of brings me in a round-about way to new books.
I wrote a book this year. The setting is sort-of-not-quite Italy in the vaguely-probably-kind-of 1400s. There are characters in the novel who, for various reasons, are assumed by other characters to be mentally ill. I use the term "mad" once, "madness" once, and "insane" twice, and I used them as carefully as I could. I do not use the term "crazy". I mostly use the alternative terms "mentally ill" or "sick" or "needs help". This is not historically accurate. The concept that mentally ill people should be referred to with a minimum of linguistic respect is, if I understand correctly, pretty new. (The historically accurate version would probably be for the characters to assume the other people are possessed by demons, which I find very triggering indeed.)
In my book, I used historically inaccurate language on purpose, because I feel like 'not triggering my readers' is more important than historical realism. I mean, my book is not historically realistic, anyway. My book is about magic and fairies and talking beasts and curses and magical fruits and roses. None of that is historically accurate, so it seemed kind of arbitrary to say, but yea verily I wilt use yonder damaging term.
Which isn't to say my book doesn't have trigger topics. It does! I have a whole section that a reader can skip to before reading just to see what all the triggers in the book are. "Discussion of mental illness, including ableist terminology," is one of them. But you'll know in advance what you're getting yourself into, and knowing is half the battle!
And maybe I can kind of explain my Huckleberry Finn thoughts above a little better by saying this: My book isn't going to be an American Classic. It won't influence generations of writers and, as such, it won't be mandatory reading in schools for children who need to be influenced in the same way. But... if one of my books ever did reach that level of fame and it turns out that a word I used 200+ times in my 60,000 word novel turns out to run the real risk of triggering a large number of the school children and I wasn't around to be asked about it... I'd be really okay with everyone erring on the side of caution and figuring that I would prefer young kids not be triggered by my writing while they were being exposed to my influential thoughts and writing style.
Or, I guess, if it was that important to save my words exactly a certain way, I'd be okay with people not teaching me in mandatory classes. Electives would be fine.
Future Books
And that's kind of the biggest problem with triggers: even if you're really careful, it's impossible to get all of them.
Not too long ago, I was moderated at Shakesville for using ableist language. I used the term "idiot" and the moderators had to replace it with "fool". I felt really... foolish, because I didn't know "idiot" was considered an ableist term in that space. (And it was in the moderation policy faq, so it was really my own fault. I should have read more closely before posting on someone's board, but I failed to.) But I especially felt bad because if you'd grabbed me and said Ana! Quick! Which one of these terms is ableist?, I would have guessed "fool" over "idiot".
And the more I thought about that, the more I got it in my head that probably someone, somewhere, is more triggered by "fool" than by "idiot". In a world this big, I have to think there's at least one. What does that person do?
I know these kinds of conversations usually evoke a little fear, like, what if we let the bullies take all the words? And... I really do understand that. That's why this site doesn't currently have a "list" of safe and un-safe words. I ask everyone to use discretion and be polite and I think/hope that the politeness softens the trigger as much as possible. That's the direction I took with my book, as well: I used a few of what I hope are the mildest trigger words for something, posted a Trigger Warning page, and... I'll hope for the best. It's not a magical shield for the people who will be triggered, but I do try to be open and upfront with it so that they can chose not to read my writing rather than read and get hit without warning. I hope that helps.
But would it be possible, someday, for there to be a way to avoid being triggered entirely via intelligent search-and-replace routines? For the person who finds "fool" triggering, but not "idiot", to configure their web browser to always display the one and not the other? It'd be a tricky thing, since a lot of words like "mad" pull double meanings, and of course it would only cover words and not concepts but... it's not inconceivable for me.
I think... I would like that. I'm reading a book right now for book club -- World War Z -- and it's a book I picked, but I'm utterly distracted by how often the word "crazy" is used when really the author means "silly" or "dumb" or "ridiculous", but he's writing in the vernacular and "crazy" is a huge part of American vernacular. And... I'm really tired of reading that word. I find it distracting at this point. I would kind of like a really really really intelligent algorithm to go through my book and replace that word with silly/dumb/ridiculous as appropriate. It wouldn't change the meaning, and I'd be able to better reach the message if I wasn't being blocked by the medium.
But... I realize that this stance is not 100% controversy-free. Maybe the answer isn't "trigger-free accessible algorithms", but rather "trigger warning algorithms" where before I start the book the software can tell me how many time a word appears. Maybe the author's right to express themselves without alteration is more important than my desire to read their message without being blocked by their word choice. But... maybe that answer means that people with lots of triggers will be blocked from enjoying works that they would otherwise enjoy but can't currently access.
I don't know the answer to this. I really don't. But... I will say that when I publish my book in the coming weeks ahead, I will welcome any and all feedback on how I can improve the trigger warning system I've implemented and what, if any, words you would like to not see in any future books. I plan to keep writing, but I'd like to not keep triggering.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Open Thread: Google Privacy
Supposedly this is the last night to use this process to stop Google from storing your search history. I don't know that this method will actually work, but I went through the steps and the screenshots look right.
Metapost: Still Here
I would like to announce that I am definitely still alive and I do apologize for not participating in the threads more, but -- on a truly selfish note -- I am LOVING all your wonderful comments as they are delivered directly to my phone. I cannot count the number of times I've whipped out my phone whilst riding in the car with Husband this week and snickered mischievously, laughed uproariously, or fist-pumped approvingly. You are all so beyond awesome and well into plupleniawesome. Thank you.
Here are some Life Updates for people who are interested:
And, I guess... One more announcement. Several weeks ago I wrote a post and scheduled it for this Thursday's deconstruction. I've nearly deleted it three times now, because I'm not even sure I agree with what I wrote -- it's a subject on which I have... a lot of mixed feelings and ambivalence. (If surprises make you uncomfortable, the post is about removing triggering language from public domain mandatory school books and/or for personal consumption.)
But! The site wouldn't be called "ramblings" if I only posted things I was sure I agreed with and not just random thoughts that cross my mind while I'm in the shower and then subsequently refuse to leave my head until I share them with the internets. So what I'm trying to say is that I'm hoping in advance that I don't offend anyone tomorrow, I don't expect anyone to agree with me (I'm not sure I agree with myself), and if I don't respond immediately to comments it's not because I don't sincerely care -- it's because I'm chained to my bluetooth headset talking non-stop to realtors, lenders, mortgage people, roofers, A/C technicians, and insurance adjusters.
OPEN THREAD BELOW! (And people may spoil the white text above for comments.)
Here are some Life Updates for people who are interested:
- I have had a bluetooth headset permanently stuck to my ear all week long.
- House is in the process of being repaired by roofers and A/C people. All of whom are awesome.
- We spent all last weekend looking at apartments and houses and found a house we loved...
- ...but it went to another buyer after we bid, which broke my heart. That made me sad.
- We're spending all this weekend looking at houses. We really like the pictures of one in particular.
- My boss is being very awesome about all this moving and medical stuff. Yay for nice bosses.
- ABNA judging starts tomorrow. *revs internal engine*
- I haven't written it yet, but I'm pretty sure this weekend's Twilight is going to rock. Why? Jacob.
- This is to announce that there will be a special announcement this Sunday evening.
- (If surprises make you uncomfortable, #9 is a reference to my novel.)
And, I guess... One more announcement. Several weeks ago I wrote a post and scheduled it for this Thursday's deconstruction. I've nearly deleted it three times now, because I'm not even sure I agree with what I wrote -- it's a subject on which I have... a lot of mixed feelings and ambivalence. (If surprises make you uncomfortable, the post is about removing triggering language from public domain mandatory school books and/or for personal consumption.)
But! The site wouldn't be called "ramblings" if I only posted things I was sure I agreed with and not just random thoughts that cross my mind while I'm in the shower and then subsequently refuse to leave my head until I share them with the internets. So what I'm trying to say is that I'm hoping in advance that I don't offend anyone tomorrow, I don't expect anyone to agree with me (I'm not sure I agree with myself), and if I don't respond immediately to comments it's not because I don't sincerely care -- it's because I'm chained to my bluetooth headset talking non-stop to realtors, lenders, mortgage people, roofers, A/C technicians, and insurance adjusters.
OPEN THREAD BELOW! (And people may spoil the white text above for comments.)
Author Interview: Robert Collin on "Lisa's Way"
Robert: Teenager Lisa Herbert lives in the small town of Mountain View on the planet Fairfield. The “Savage Rain” decades earlier shut down the hyperspace gate and isolated her world. A casual remark from her sister gets Lisa to ask a simple question: “If life was better before the ‘Savage Rain,’ why couldn’t it be better again?”
That question starts Lisa on a journey. She reactivates Fairfield’s H-gate and travels to three worlds. Each planet offers her a chance to improve life by hard work, by trade, or by making friends. She relies on her brains, her compassion, and a little sneakiness to solve the problems she faces.
Ana: What themes does your novel explore and what do you hope the reader will take away from the experience? Is there a particular feeling or experience that you hope to evoke in the reader? Essentially, what do you hope your novel will mean to a reader?
Robert: The theme is that one person can make a difference. Another idea is that you don't have to fight to solve problems. That might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I think it makes Lisa's story different from what else is out there.
I'm not striving for any experience other than to tell the reader a good story. If I tell a good story, then I can move on from there. In the case of LISA'S WAY, I do hope readers will like Lisa enough to want see where her journey takes her. If I can entertain, and give readers something to think about, I should be okay.
Ana: What prompted you to write this novel and did you have a specific inspiration in mind? Were you influenced by a certain author or work that inspired you to add your voice to this genre? Besides the boatloads of money and rockstar fame, what motivated you to write this book?
Robert: The idea began in high school when a friend and I wanted to write a post-apocalyptic story with us and our other friends as characters. After high school I fictionalized the characters. One, Lisa Herbert, eventually stood out from the rest. She was the one who would try to rebuild society. The question was, how to go about it?
In the early 90's I published a series of travel booklets. As part of my research I learned about the Santa Fe Trail. It wasn't a trail for emigrants, but a commerce route. That's when it hit me. Trade would be the method that Lisa could use to travel and rebuild society. The first book finally came together when I set the story on colony planets instead of on Earth.
There's one more reason why I wrote this novel. I like Lisa. I spent 15 years trying to get this book right. I like her enough that I want to keep telling her story, and do it right.
Ana: If you could compare your novel to any other existing works, which ones would it be and why? If the one thing you could say to a prospective reader was, "If you like X, you'll love my book!", which work would be invoked so that a reader could judge whether or not your novel is their cup of tea?
Robert: First off, I'd say that if you like heroines that are smart, you'll like this book. If you liked the "low-tech" approach to science fiction like Firefly, you'll like this book. If you're tired of post-apocalyptic fiction that's bleak and hopeless, you'll like this book.
Ana: Is this your first or only published work, or have you published other novels? If you have published other novels, how do they compare to this one? Do you have any more novels planned, either as a follow-up to this one, or as a completely different novel or genre?
Robert: As to Lisa's story, I do have other books planned. I have some short stories that make up one book, one novel written, and I've started on another.
As to other fiction, I've had two other novels published, and I self-published another. The newest is a coming-of-age story. One is about superheroes, morality, and changing history. My first published novel was a spoof of revolution stories. I thought it would be a stand-alone novel, but I've been inspired to write more with the main character.
In addition, I write nonfiction about Kansas history. I've had several books about railroad history published. I've two biographies of early Kansas leaders published. Last year I released a book about the important events that happened in 1874 in Kansas. My plans are to release a few more history books, then see if I want to continue or just stick with fiction.
Ana: Where can readers obtain a copy of your novel for them to enjoy? How can they contact you with any thoughts or questions? And do you have a means by which they can "sign up" to be notified when your next novel comes available?
Robert: The price for Lisa's Way is $2.99 for the ebook or $10 for the print book. You can find it at Amazon, Smashwords, or B&N. You can also follow me on my blog or on Facebook.
Ana: Thank you, Robert. I understand you have the first chapter of your novel available as an excerpt for interested readers? And is there anything else you wish to add for our readers?
Robert: Readers can find the first 3 chapters of Lisa's Way at Wattpad.
Thanks for your time!
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Claymore: Thankless Roles
Trigger Warning: Violence
Claymore
Recap: Clare has joined the Claymore campaign in the north against the army of Awakened Beings. The Claymore have been divided into teams of 4 for the battle.
Claymore, Episode 19: The Carnage in the North, Part 2
When we last left the Claymore, Team Jean and Team Flora were having a bit of trouble finishing off their assigned Awakened Being. The back-up teams -- Team Undine and Team Veronica -- leap in to help the two struggling teams.
The Team Flora opponent has Galatea's unique ability to control a warrior's yoma and therefore her movements. When Team Undine rushes in to help, Undine leaps forward and tries to take the Awakened Being on in one-on-one battle. The other team members protest -- they're supposed to attack as a unit -- and the opponent attunes himself to Undine's yoma and takes control of her body. He poises her to self-decapitate and it's only by brute force that she manages to change the direction of the blow to slice her face instead of her neck.
Clare and Deneve move in to help Undine. Clare distracts the Being while Deneve kicks Undine clear of his control radius. When Clare and Deneve draw on their yoma power, both the Being and the Team leaders are certain that both women have gone too far past their limit. Flora cries out, "No! They've gone too far!" and the Being gloats: "Trust me, there's no going back."
The Awakened Being is wrong, of course. It's entirely possible to come back after passing one's yoma limit. We've seen it done multiple times in the series, and the biggest barrier to managing it has largely been one of will. How much does the Claymore want to come back? Clare managed to come back when Raki held her in the cathedral at Rabona. Miria managed to come back because she didn't want to give Ophelia the satisfaction of witnessing the depth of her pain. Deneve managed to come back because her strongest motivation is to live. Jean managed to come back because she believed Clare when she said it was possible. We've seen half a dozen Claymore come back from Awakening, in some cases without realizing they had even done so, chalking the experience up to luck or good fortune.
The Awakened Beings hold as a matter of faith that they can't go back to what they were. Maybe in some of their cases it's true. But it's hard not to get the impression from these Beings that they enjoy being monstrous. They enjoy hurting and killing their opponents. Whether they enjoy it for the killing itself, or for the challenge, or as an act of vengeance against the Organization, the end result is the same: these Awakened Beings don't want there to be any going back. So we have to wonder: are they really unable to go back, or do they choose not to realize that they can because they don't want to?
When the smoke clears and Clare and Deneve are still in their human forms, the Being protests, "You can't turn back after awakening!" His protest is genuine, but his voice has the tone of someone complaining about a broken rule. He'd been anticipating the joy of seeing two more Claymore fall to the side of the Awakened Beings, and now they've cheated and retained their human form. No fair! Deneve calmly responds, "Either you're mistaken, or you've been imagining things."
It's a wonderful retort. The obvious meaning, the one that Deneve most likely intends her comrades to take, is that everyone on the field has misjudged Clare's and Deneve's limits. They've been imagining that Clare and Deneve have gone over their limits, when really they haven't. But the meaning the viewer knows to take is that the Being really is mistaken in believing that crossing one's limit is an event that can't be undone. Clare has crossed her own limit two or three times now and come back every time, as has Deneve.
How long has this Awakened Being been mistaken about the inevitability of his form and of his actions? He's a male Awakened Being, which means he was a male Claymore, and the Organization stopped making male Claymores so far in the past that only a few Claymore know about that history now. Has this Being never in that time questioned how much control he has over his destiny? Has he been using what he "knows" -- that he is 'stuck' as a monster, that he can't 'help' being a murderer of innocents -- in order to excuse actions that he simply wanted to do?
We cut to Team Jean where they are managing, with the help of Team Veronica, to defeat their Awakened Being. Jean uses her power attack to tear the monster apart from within while Helen uses her arm-bending abilities to take his limbs in one swipe. Veronica and Cynthia take the monster's head, while issuing one of the funniest exchanges in this series, which I will reproduce here:
Cynthia: "Miss Veronica, we [defenders] have such a thankless role, don't we? We risk our lives, drawing the opponent's attention to ourselves, sustaining injuries from head to toe."
Veronica: "I agree, Cynthia. But as defenders, it's the job we're best suited for. It can't be helped."
The exchange is a much needed piece of comic relief after a battle that has been emotionally fraught, but as with all things Claymore, I see a deeper meaning here. The Claymore themselves, as a group, do have a thankless role in this world. They start as marginalized orphans and castaway girls. They gain ultimate power, but... for what? There are no accolades outside of the competitive ranking, no rewards or acts of appreciation. The humans shun and fear them; the Organization issues orders without tenderness or love. They live as outcasts, and they die in battle. The luckiest among them get their revenge and die a good, clean death. (Truly, Teresa was the luckiest of them all, for she found love and a sense of peace before her head was taken off in a surprise attack.) And even now the Claymore are risking their lives drawing the attention of the Awakened Being army onto them, buying the Organization time to put together a strategy.
It's not fair. It's not right. But as the only people in the world capable of mounting a defense against the monsters, it is the job that only they are suited for. It can't be helped.
When the battle wraps up, the Claymore turn to counting the wounded and getting them under cover and into shelter. Undine verbally lashes out at Miria and asks why she deliberately placed weak and inexperienced warriors on each team. She contends that bloodshed could have been avoided if the weaker warriors had been placed in reserve and the stronger warriors allowed to handle the job properly. "The weak ones only hold us back," Undine says angrily.
Flora intervenes to point out Miria's strategy: Some of the Claymore were wounded, but none of them died and all of the wounded should recover quickly. As a trade-off, as it were, now every Claymore on the field has first-hand battle experience with an Awakened Being. They've all learned something, and they all have a little bit more confidence than they had before. They've faced, fought, and survived one of the hardest battles a Claymore can expect to endure.
Undine belatedly recognizes the value of Miria's strategy, but scoffs nonetheless that she's "prefer not to die for a training exercise."
When they are out of hearing, Clare questions Miria. Won't someone notice that they have no real chance for survival in this war? Miria shrugs off the question: "Where you get down to it, we have no way out of this." Once again, an ironic echo of before. It can't be helped. The Claymore aren't stupid or stubborn in their failure to acknowledge their fate; they're simply resolute about their utter lack of options.
In a ghost town not far from the Claymore, Raki wanders desolately. A grave has been erected with Claymore swords marking where they have fallen. He is relieved to see that none of them bear Clare's insignia. When he sees a crumbling wall about to strike and kill a young girl, he yells and pushes her out of the way. The girl gazes at him in astonishment, tells him that he "smells good", and then nuzzles her face into his shoulder adoringly. The girl's name is Priscilla.
A man approaches and gently explains to Raki that if Raki is from the south, then Priscilla must be smelling the scent of the south, the scent of her home and her family, on him. The man -- Isley -- asks Raki if he would like to travel with them. Raki hesitates. He asks about the town they are in: was it decimated by monsters?
Isley smiles. "I wouldn't worry much about it. You're the closest thing to a monster we've seen since we arrived."
He's being ironic, of course. Isley and Priscilla are Awakened Beings. They feed on the flesh and blood of humans they have murdered. It is because of them and others like them that the town they walk through now is a ghost town devoid of life. They are infinitely more dangerous than any single human, let alone a human like sweet, caring Raki.
And yet I wonder if he's not serious in his own way. Every Awakened Being that has ever existed has existed as a direct result of the actions of the Organization. They choose to take a dangerous being -- the yoma -- and use that being to create a weapon, a half-human half-yoma hybrid. Their intentions were perhaps good, to fight fire with fire, but in the end they created a greater evil than anything they had faced before. A single yoma kills dozens, maybe hundreds; an Awakened Beings easily kills hundreds, if not thousands. In the world of Claymore, who is the real monster? The yoma creatures who kill in order to survive, or the humans who carelessly create beings of massive destruction in response?
Claymore
Recap: Clare has joined the Claymore campaign in the north against the army of Awakened Beings. The Claymore have been divided into teams of 4 for the battle. Claymore, Episode 19: The Carnage in the North, Part 2
When we last left the Claymore, Team Jean and Team Flora were having a bit of trouble finishing off their assigned Awakened Being. The back-up teams -- Team Undine and Team Veronica -- leap in to help the two struggling teams.
The Team Flora opponent has Galatea's unique ability to control a warrior's yoma and therefore her movements. When Team Undine rushes in to help, Undine leaps forward and tries to take the Awakened Being on in one-on-one battle. The other team members protest -- they're supposed to attack as a unit -- and the opponent attunes himself to Undine's yoma and takes control of her body. He poises her to self-decapitate and it's only by brute force that she manages to change the direction of the blow to slice her face instead of her neck.
Clare and Deneve move in to help Undine. Clare distracts the Being while Deneve kicks Undine clear of his control radius. When Clare and Deneve draw on their yoma power, both the Being and the Team leaders are certain that both women have gone too far past their limit. Flora cries out, "No! They've gone too far!" and the Being gloats: "Trust me, there's no going back."
The Awakened Being is wrong, of course. It's entirely possible to come back after passing one's yoma limit. We've seen it done multiple times in the series, and the biggest barrier to managing it has largely been one of will. How much does the Claymore want to come back? Clare managed to come back when Raki held her in the cathedral at Rabona. Miria managed to come back because she didn't want to give Ophelia the satisfaction of witnessing the depth of her pain. Deneve managed to come back because her strongest motivation is to live. Jean managed to come back because she believed Clare when she said it was possible. We've seen half a dozen Claymore come back from Awakening, in some cases without realizing they had even done so, chalking the experience up to luck or good fortune.
The Awakened Beings hold as a matter of faith that they can't go back to what they were. Maybe in some of their cases it's true. But it's hard not to get the impression from these Beings that they enjoy being monstrous. They enjoy hurting and killing their opponents. Whether they enjoy it for the killing itself, or for the challenge, or as an act of vengeance against the Organization, the end result is the same: these Awakened Beings don't want there to be any going back. So we have to wonder: are they really unable to go back, or do they choose not to realize that they can because they don't want to?
When the smoke clears and Clare and Deneve are still in their human forms, the Being protests, "You can't turn back after awakening!" His protest is genuine, but his voice has the tone of someone complaining about a broken rule. He'd been anticipating the joy of seeing two more Claymore fall to the side of the Awakened Beings, and now they've cheated and retained their human form. No fair! Deneve calmly responds, "Either you're mistaken, or you've been imagining things."
It's a wonderful retort. The obvious meaning, the one that Deneve most likely intends her comrades to take, is that everyone on the field has misjudged Clare's and Deneve's limits. They've been imagining that Clare and Deneve have gone over their limits, when really they haven't. But the meaning the viewer knows to take is that the Being really is mistaken in believing that crossing one's limit is an event that can't be undone. Clare has crossed her own limit two or three times now and come back every time, as has Deneve.
How long has this Awakened Being been mistaken about the inevitability of his form and of his actions? He's a male Awakened Being, which means he was a male Claymore, and the Organization stopped making male Claymores so far in the past that only a few Claymore know about that history now. Has this Being never in that time questioned how much control he has over his destiny? Has he been using what he "knows" -- that he is 'stuck' as a monster, that he can't 'help' being a murderer of innocents -- in order to excuse actions that he simply wanted to do?
We cut to Team Jean where they are managing, with the help of Team Veronica, to defeat their Awakened Being. Jean uses her power attack to tear the monster apart from within while Helen uses her arm-bending abilities to take his limbs in one swipe. Veronica and Cynthia take the monster's head, while issuing one of the funniest exchanges in this series, which I will reproduce here:
Cynthia: "Miss Veronica, we [defenders] have such a thankless role, don't we? We risk our lives, drawing the opponent's attention to ourselves, sustaining injuries from head to toe."
Veronica: "I agree, Cynthia. But as defenders, it's the job we're best suited for. It can't be helped."
The exchange is a much needed piece of comic relief after a battle that has been emotionally fraught, but as with all things Claymore, I see a deeper meaning here. The Claymore themselves, as a group, do have a thankless role in this world. They start as marginalized orphans and castaway girls. They gain ultimate power, but... for what? There are no accolades outside of the competitive ranking, no rewards or acts of appreciation. The humans shun and fear them; the Organization issues orders without tenderness or love. They live as outcasts, and they die in battle. The luckiest among them get their revenge and die a good, clean death. (Truly, Teresa was the luckiest of them all, for she found love and a sense of peace before her head was taken off in a surprise attack.) And even now the Claymore are risking their lives drawing the attention of the Awakened Being army onto them, buying the Organization time to put together a strategy.
It's not fair. It's not right. But as the only people in the world capable of mounting a defense against the monsters, it is the job that only they are suited for. It can't be helped.
When the battle wraps up, the Claymore turn to counting the wounded and getting them under cover and into shelter. Undine verbally lashes out at Miria and asks why she deliberately placed weak and inexperienced warriors on each team. She contends that bloodshed could have been avoided if the weaker warriors had been placed in reserve and the stronger warriors allowed to handle the job properly. "The weak ones only hold us back," Undine says angrily.
Flora intervenes to point out Miria's strategy: Some of the Claymore were wounded, but none of them died and all of the wounded should recover quickly. As a trade-off, as it were, now every Claymore on the field has first-hand battle experience with an Awakened Being. They've all learned something, and they all have a little bit more confidence than they had before. They've faced, fought, and survived one of the hardest battles a Claymore can expect to endure.
Undine belatedly recognizes the value of Miria's strategy, but scoffs nonetheless that she's "prefer not to die for a training exercise."
When they are out of hearing, Clare questions Miria. Won't someone notice that they have no real chance for survival in this war? Miria shrugs off the question: "Where you get down to it, we have no way out of this." Once again, an ironic echo of before. It can't be helped. The Claymore aren't stupid or stubborn in their failure to acknowledge their fate; they're simply resolute about their utter lack of options.
In a ghost town not far from the Claymore, Raki wanders desolately. A grave has been erected with Claymore swords marking where they have fallen. He is relieved to see that none of them bear Clare's insignia. When he sees a crumbling wall about to strike and kill a young girl, he yells and pushes her out of the way. The girl gazes at him in astonishment, tells him that he "smells good", and then nuzzles her face into his shoulder adoringly. The girl's name is Priscilla.
A man approaches and gently explains to Raki that if Raki is from the south, then Priscilla must be smelling the scent of the south, the scent of her home and her family, on him. The man -- Isley -- asks Raki if he would like to travel with them. Raki hesitates. He asks about the town they are in: was it decimated by monsters?
Isley smiles. "I wouldn't worry much about it. You're the closest thing to a monster we've seen since we arrived."
He's being ironic, of course. Isley and Priscilla are Awakened Beings. They feed on the flesh and blood of humans they have murdered. It is because of them and others like them that the town they walk through now is a ghost town devoid of life. They are infinitely more dangerous than any single human, let alone a human like sweet, caring Raki.
And yet I wonder if he's not serious in his own way. Every Awakened Being that has ever existed has existed as a direct result of the actions of the Organization. They choose to take a dangerous being -- the yoma -- and use that being to create a weapon, a half-human half-yoma hybrid. Their intentions were perhaps good, to fight fire with fire, but in the end they created a greater evil than anything they had faced before. A single yoma kills dozens, maybe hundreds; an Awakened Beings easily kills hundreds, if not thousands. In the world of Claymore, who is the real monster? The yoma creatures who kill in order to survive, or the humans who carelessly create beings of massive destruction in response?
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