kali

So, I think about fanfiction a lot, y'all may have noticed. And serial fiction. And the whole act of making fiction "real". What is it in a narrative that makes us think -- after the door is shut, after the windows are pushed down, after the covers are closed -- that the story goes on, before the first page, and after the last?

If you think of a single-author book as a window, or a doorway, you realize that even through you can only see a small portion of the world (i.e. what's framed by the aperture), there must be so much more just out of frame. If there isn't this sense, then the story is flat, two dimensional -- it doesn't encourage wandering. But in a good story, you don't think that the small, squared off picture is all that's real. Because if the thing is three-dimensional, it has solidity. You can pick it up and turn it around. It still exists when you look at it from another side.

Think about mythforms. Superheros. They all exist and the more people use them, carve another perspective onto them, the more solid they actually get.

From Henry James's preface to Portrait of a Lady (a little wordy; James never used one word where fifty would do) :

The house of fiction has in short not one window, but a million-- a number of possible windows not to be reckoned, rather; every one of which has been pierced, or is still pierceable, in its vast front, by the need of the individual vision and by the pressure of the individual will. These apertures, of dissimilar shape and size, hang so, all together, over the human scene that we might have expected of them a greater sameness of report than we find. They are but windows at the best, mere holes in a dead wall, disconnected, perched aloft; they are not hinged doors opening straight upon life. But they have this mark of their own that at each of them stands a figure with a pair of eyes, or at least with a field-glass, which forms, again and again, for observation, a unique instrument, insuring to the person making use of it an impression distinct from every other. He and his neighbours are watching the same show, but one seeing more where the other sees less, one seeing black where the other sees white, one seeing big where the other sees small, one seeing coarse where the other sees fine. And so on, and so on; there is fortunately no saying on what, for the particular pair of eyes, the window may NOT open; "fortunately" by reason, precisely, of this incalculability of range. The spreading field, the human scene, is the "choice of subject"; the pierced aperture, either broad or balconied or slit-like and low-browed, is the "literary form"; but they are, singly or together, as nothing without the posted presence of the watcher--without, in other words, the consciousness of the artist.

Now, apply this not just to fiction in general, but to a single story. Isn't this the act of fanfic? To make things real?

D. and I argue about this all the time. He thinks that contradictory/differing versions make things less real. I think they make them more so -- just like multiple eye witness accounts differ, if they're true. When they're identical -- that's when you begin to think people are lying.

What d'you think?

I wonder about this a lot.

On a not entirely unrelated note, remember the Paul Cornell thing? Here is my version, the lovely magnetgirl's version, the dulcet tones of rm's recap...and Paul Cornell's account of same.

Kind of funny, no? We loom so large in our own minds. For everyone else, we're all just sidekicks and extras. Sometimes we're the cool best friend, or the romantic interest. But protagonists? We're all our own. As it should be.

I almost called my thesis "Windows on the World" but then decided the WTC/9-11 allusion was not quite... what I was going for. Fucking terrorists.

First, there were the PUMAs. Have you guys heard about these folks? PUMA apparently stands for Party Unity My Ass, (??? Really?) and they seem to be American feminists women of a certain age who feel utterly betrayed by the election, and spend a lot of time totting up grievances about who has suffered more, people of color, or women? (And what about female people of color? They don't seem too bothered. The sisterhood, it seems, doesn't contain them; it doesn't even seem to occur to them that it ought to...?)

In all seriousness, they actually seem certifiably nuts.

I spent a good portion of today rubbernecking the traincrash reading palinpumawatch and clicking on through to associated links. Whoa. If you don't want it filtered, go straight to Reclusive Leftist and look around. I think the mod, Violet Socks, or whatever is a deranged fruit-bat, but the real gold (or tragedy, depending on how you look at it) is in the comments, and the community being fostered. Here is a pre-election sample. At first I was mesmerized (and enraged!) but then -- I began to see the heartbreak of it. Because, from my reading, these seem to be women who have sad, sad lives. They talk about marital discord. They talk about giving up everything for their families (occasionally in really bad poetry.) They are among the casualties of the system, right? And their lives are ordinary, and seemingly filled with a host of claustrophobic, petty disappointments. And so this neo-con cult of aggressive mediocrity (Exhibit A: Not!Joe the War Correspondent¹) is going to be terribly appealing to them. Something that makes a virtue out of victimhood, that places all the blame for everything terrible that has happened to them squarely on the shoulders of someone else -- much like Sarah Palin, and her post-election, 2012 prep interviews that accuse everyone of being so unfair. At least the bizarrely named NiceDeb who actually compared Obama to Hitler (!!!) is the most offensively wingnut of conservatives; these other ladies seem to be left-leaning? Or believe that they are left leaning? But I don't think the word means what they think it means. Much like their beloved Hillary being named "secretary" of state? Because some of them don't seem to like the idea. Why? Not just too little, too late, but ...the idea of being a man's secretary? ...kinda sticks in the craw, doesn't it???

Um. No.

And yet, there's legitimacy in their quarrel with the world, right? Hasn't socialism/communism failed women in a stunning myriad of ways? Of course it has, just like capitalism, and well, basically every system in the world. It's a sexist world, no question.

And then I started thinking about feminism. Third wave? Radical? Sex positive? Post-feminist? What is the place of feminism in my philosophy?

I mean, not the PUMA way, obviously. Voting the other way for McCain and his "women's health" and Palin, who is NOT a feminist, saying that abortion wouldn't be necessary if young girls weren't "sluts" (yeah, these PUMAs are really pretty weird), dissing on Michelle Obama, who is just pretty awesome, even if she's got the most thankless (if prestigious) unpaid job in the world, AND voting against the man who not only supports a woman's right to choose, and you know, equal pay for equal work, and incidentally, say what you will, is closing down Gitmo, and trying to make government transparent, and is shutting down the secret CIA prisons round the world [And that's just the first three days in office!] cannot be considered left or feminist, in my opinion.

But what can? How do we appropriately deal with a climate of institutionalized and internalized sexism?

Unrelatedly -- but to close with a taste of awesome, via rm, author Cathrynne M. Valente makes this post of sheer poetry about our new world.

¹ I don't even like Rick Sanchez, but I must admit to enjoying that clip. But this begs another question. I love participatory culture. I think the ability of the internet to give ordinary people a voice, and an impact on affairs is staggering, and awesome (in the old, non-valley sense of the word). And yet, (oh god, am i agreeing with Sarah Palin?) -- we shouldn't be getting our news from blogs! Because there's a difference between reading people's opinions (the Op-Ed page, the Editorials) and the actual news! Is it wrong to want journalists to be, you know, trained? I don't think I've got any right to go to Gaza and be a war correspondent...! And I'd like my president to be smarter than me. I mean, the problem with majority rule is that the majority of people kinda suck, don't they? But if we agree that the Great Man theory of history is wrong...? ...Although ever seen a movement succeed without some stellar spear-heading? I just go back and forth on it all the time. But this just leads me back to one of my central problems -- how does one unite a desire for excellence with an allegiance to the interests of the common person? And the old problem of communism - what is it that binds the intelligentsia and the workers together? But this is another post, for another day...

So... [via faris_nallaneen], it looks like Apple is doing good things for the end of DRM. How does this fit in with the fiasco over youtube, and song fingerprinting? I think it's ridiculous, personally. Aside from the vidding as fair use thing, how many times have I fallen in love with a song from a vid and then trotted over to itunes to purchase it?

When do you think business models are finally going to understand how to deal with "new" technology?

What is going on with the internets?

Hi guys!

Speak to me of Chicago; I've not been since I was about six or so, and I imagine both it and I have changed sufficiently since then to require some new information regarding happy fun times there. I, and the lovely, effervescently delightful magnetgirl will be there starting Thursday evening, and leaving Sunday afternoon. This means, among other things, that Halloween'll be spent far from home. Recommendations for things to do, places to spend Halloween, bars, restaurants, sights, etc, would be much appreciated.

I'm giving my paper Saturday morning (at 9am, manifestly unfair, I think) and will be visiting the Newberry Library at some point to look at their children's books exhibit. Other than that - I've not the faintest. Help!

Time Warp Wives.

What do you lot think of this? I am at a loss. I never know what to make of these people. On the one hand, I admire their dedication to detail. For another, I am really into vanished worlds as well. (Hello, cosplay! Dressing up is awesome. Recreating lost worlds, equally so.) In addition, it's nice to live in a time, where people can be this weird, and not get, y'know, stoned to death or whatever. I support people's constructed, fictional lives, no matter what fashion, as long as they're not hurting anyone, - and it's great that they've been able to find people of like mind to live with etc.

BUT. They are crazy. tin. hats. Like, I get the desire, but not the 24/7 of it all, you know. Obsession can be taken too far.

Here's the other thing. It's like the male-dom thing in bdsm. Like, I've been known to find it really hot. BUT. in sex! Not in real life, right? Politically I find it to be repugnant and stupid. (Femme-dom too, for that matter, but you know what I mean.) For me, the great thing about recreation of these vanished times, means that we can keep the things we like for play, and lose the things we don't. Also I like running water, the internet, eyeglasses & contact lenses, etc etc.

I just don't know.

Thoughts?

Let me start by saying that I have finally found the answer to who I identify with in Torchwood, and the answer is I'm not actually ever there.

This is both sad and awesome.

Awesome because (among other reasons) I was actually really worried that I was going to have to cosplay the pterodactyl.

...

No, really.

It is very strange to have a certain exterior, and feel totally different on the inside. I wish so hard that my physical body reflected the interior landscape. It does not, so I constantly feel incongruous. It's not that I have self loathing (although, well, yes.); but more, it just doesn't feel right. It doesn't line up with my brain.

Sometimes this makes me feel crazy.

In other news, tonight I had drinks & dinner with rm, and we have plotted like whoa. Yay!

Have you ever had the following experience? You are reading a book, and you think, "I really should like this!" Suppose your favorite thing in the whole world is tea, followed closely by magical adventures, and then you discover, Lo & Behold, someone has written a book about Enchanted Lapsang Souchong, and it even has an interlude in a cabbage patch, and cabbage just happens to be your favorite vegetable. In addition, it features a feisty heroine, and a stuttering hero (and you hate to admit it, but stutters make shivers crawl up and down your spine) - and you like to think of yourself as fairly fiesty, and admiring of fiesty-ness, so that should be all right....

...and then you sit down to read, and for some reason... it's just not doing it! But...you want it to work! You ought to like it. You are rooting for the author, in fact you are the exact opposite of the traditional hostile and suspicious audience. They had you at Enchanted Tea, for God's sake!

You keep reading as hard as you can, till the taste of ashes filles your mouth, and you can no longer battle the despair.

What does this? Why does it happen? Sometimes all the ingredients are right, but the dish just didn't fly. This feeling is even worse when you can tell that the book is well written. It's a bit like having really bad insomnia - wanting to rest so very badly, feeling the tiredness wash over you, but unable to break through the glass window that's separating you and sleep. You can see sleep from there. You just can't get to it.

What throws you out of books? Thoughts?

Skimming through the New York Times at this ungodly hour of the morning, and I find myself inquiring, does "love conquer literary taste" for you? I think ladypeculiar mentioned this article somewhat earlier in the day as well.

It certainly doesn't for me. In fact, I think conversely, I am unable to truly like people who don't share, in some measure at least, my literary tastes. What would we ever talk about? Writing it down baldly like that makes me feel sort of...shallow. But in many ways, it has to be said, I fall in love with people's bookshelves. first, and the people themselves, second.

I think I fell for D. in part because he wanted to be all the fictional characters I had crushes on when I was a little girl. It was a match made in mass market paperbacks.