Category Archives: Criticism

Story of Myself – Deconstructing the Mary Sue

Story of Myself:

Deconstructing the Mary Sue

My sister was perusing a book discussion thread this morning and tittered over some moderator’s listed rules for writing fan fictions. This humoured me as well, as I didn’t realize that hobbyist fiction written with established characters and copyrights would maintain a strict set of rules given their work is regulated strictly to free entertainment. However, a discussion about Mary Sues developed and a curious poster asked what the term meant. My sister read me a curious response stating that a Mary Sue is a “Girl, either real or imaginary, inserted into a fan fiction.”

Found on the Internet. I don’t even know how you’d properly cite a meme.

This seemed a grossly over-generalized description especially since the term has become associated with a great deal of negatively. The suggestion that any female added to a fan fiction is an immediate Mary Sue is both misleading and curiously stifling for a form of writing which, by its nature, is fairly irrelevant. The emphasis on gender also seemed rather strange as well and this prompted a conversation between my sister and me over what it actually meant.

And at first, I believed I had a great grasp of the concept. A Mary Sue, to my understanding, was an idealized version of the author inserted into a work of fan fiction. They served as a vessel of blatant wish-fulfillment, representing all the best perceived qualities of the individual and becoming immediately celebrated and adored by an established cast of characters even if it was incongruous with the established personalities or the world itself. If they had any flaws, then these were either downplayed or used for humorous or endearing effect. As it turns out, my understanding was not too far from the original concept of creation.

The term itself arose from a satirical Star Trek short written in 1973 by Paula Smith. Titled “A Trekkie’s Tale,” the story was set to poke fun at apparently commonplace stories written about adolescent female antagonists and their grandiose adventures on the USS Enterprise. So prolific was this phenomena that the editors of what I can only assume is a Star Trek fan fiction magazine called Menagerie released this statement on the characters:

“Mary Sue stories—the adventures of the youngest and smartest ever person to graduate from the academy and ever get a commission at such a tender age. Usually characterized by unprecedented skill in everything from art to zoology, including karate and arm-wrestling. This character can also be found burrowing her way into the good graces/heart/mind of one of the Big Three [Kirk, Spock, and McCoy], if not all three at once. She saves the day by her wit and ability, and, if we are lucky, has the good grace to die at the end, being grieved by the entire ship.”

Now, I am hardly versed in the fan fiction world. I would lie if I didn’t know anything about it. When I was younger, many of my own stories were a certain kind of fan fiction. Typically, I would be inspired by the ideas or worlds of other entertainment and spend hours creating my own stories in these worlds. I mean, who hasn’t been so enthralled with a work that they didn’t imagine themselves experiencing it in a more direct manner? The power of fantasy is its ability to carry us to incredibly imaginative worlds and places that are both exciting and strange. I can easily find youtube videos of people acting out their own Star Wars lightsaber battles, so this is hardly an isolated experience.

For me, however, I more enjoyed the world itself. The characters were entities completely unassailable in my work. I hadn’t created them so I didn’t feel comfortable trying to write them. My words wouldn’t rival that of the original authors and, to me, these individuals would only come across as pale imitations of the individuals I loved. Besides, my wish fulfillment was to have the adventure myself. I didn’t want to share the limelight with the great heroes who would inevitably take centre stage and solve all the issues on their own.

So my stories always involved unique locations and new individuals with, perhaps, tangential comments or references to the source material. My earliest remembered fan fiction was a story set in Blizzard’s Diablo world where a party of adventurers explored a cove for treasure and become the playthings of some unspeakable demon who had taken refuge within. I also spent one summer working on my own Harry Potter work that took place not in England but in North America with its own schools, teachers and political intrigues.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with fan fictions as they are seemingly harmless in their adoration of an author’s stories. They’re just a reflection of the enjoyment readers get from the author’s work. I couldn’t get into them for the same reason I couldn’t write a proper one. While I enjoyed the original stories, it was the writing and characterization that I adored and no one but the original creators could truly do their stories justice.

That said, I have no interest in the Mary Sue character. I do prescribe to the traditional notion that characters should be well rounded, developed individuals complete with strengths and flaws. A character that is perfect at everything, is liked by everyone, can do no wrong and is always in the right is just boring to me. Most grievous is when these characters are clear author surrogates.

And it is the author surrogacy that may lead to the Mary Sue term’s most difficult characteristics. While this aspect is debated whether it’s necessary for a Mary Sue, it’s the one element I prescribe to the charge. I’m not sure why this specific self-indulgence makes the wish fulfillment even worse than an idealized character that’s not meant to represent the author but it’s something I find even more amateur than creating an unfaltering paragon. Course, by its nature, it’s hard to tell when a perfect character is acting as an avatar for the writer. A telltale sign is if they share some common characteristic, which may be exaggerated in the story even if it doesn’t truly deserve to be.

Originally, this photo was of the book cover for the Name of the Wind novel but has been removed to avoid copyright issues. It was put up for completely unrelated reasons anyway. So, instead, here’s some crappy medieval art by Antonio da Atri (Noli me tangere – 1410)

But I’m not sure why this surrogacy annoys me so much. Ultimately, the author is going to insert themselves into their own work. When you break down the characters in the story, they essentially are aspects of their creator. Our perceptions and experiences are highly personal and while we may recognize similarities in those communicated by others, we can never truly feel the exact same things as someone else. We can only infer based on our experiences. Thus, no matter what character we write, on some level we are ultimately writing about ourselves.

Take, for example, my D&D stories. The characters are unashamedly based on those I actually know. However, if you were to meet the inspirations for Derrek, Jeremiah or Kait, you would invariably find that they aren’t truly like their fictional counterparts. In a sense, I use the real people to craft a mould for my characters but I must fill that mould with my own thoughts and decisions. When Derrek decides not to inform his friends about a dangerous magical ritual being performed in disguise, it is a decision that I made. I can’t know what the real Derrek would have done in that situation and certainly he wouldn’t have done it exactly as I describe.

In essence, a story is a collection of aspects of the writer. Each character is just a faucet, be it major or minor, of his personality. They think and act and feel as the writer imagines they would. And in that imagining, the line between the writer and the character blurs. When a character grieves over the loss of a lover, perhaps we are truly reading the feelings of a writer reflecting on her own loss of a close pet or relative. The more provocative, real and powerful these emotions the more we’re likely reading the personality of the creator.

And perhaps this is why I, personally, find the Mary Sue such an atrocious character. Their appearance almost universally degrades the personalities of all the supporting characters in the story. They stop being these small faucets breathed brief life by the care of their creator and instead become shallow cheerleaders whose sole purpose is to stand on the sidelines, cheering on one person. They are automatons created with the single purpose of making the author elevate themselves above all others. It is the dishonest murder of the self to feed the needs of the id and the desire for self-relevancy. Take the example from The Name of the Wind and how sycophantic all the minor characters are that surround Kvothe. They have little personality and their sole function is to praise Kvothe’s skills at whatever or to commiserate how awful the events of his life were. They have never suffered like Kvothe has suffered because they lack that bit of life to bring them alive. Had they been written with deeper backgrounds, I have to wonder if Kvothe would need such dramatic and over the top characteristics. By necessity, an author will have to break apart his own characteristics if he is to achieve individuality from his cast.

Course, Name of the Wind can’t have a Mary Sue because it’s an original work. But original works can certainly have the flaws inherent from Mary Sue-esque characters or situations.

Ultimately, I feel the existence of the Mary Sue is wholly unnecessary. By developing a cast of well rounded major and minor characters, the writer creates for themselves a scattered universe of their own personality. Each character, whether they be young or old, male or female, brave or cowardly are all small motes of their writer. There doesn’t need to be a single vessel for the author; they can find themselves in the hero, the hero’s parents, the rival, the mentor and everyone in between. The death of the Mary Sue is the birth of a richer, more diverse world ready to bud from the seeds of conflict of an author struggling against himself.

Pathetic Storm

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So I completely forgot today was Friday and when I began working on my post the maniacal weather that has been tormenting undecided to strike again. And while I love storms, I also have a long history of them returning my love by ruining my computers like a jealous lover. Thus, I am reduced to pounding out this entry on the BlackBerry, so I apologize for the rather lackluster entry today. But it was either this or frying my new computer in a darkened and stormy night. And at the end of the day I like my computer more than properly posting.

However, this does give me the opportunity to discuss writing and weather.

As I mentioned, I love storms. As a child, I would crawl out of bed to rest against the Window, watching the dark shadow of trees bend and twist in the heavy winds. I would cracked open the pane and listen to the sound of the rain patterning against the rooftops and enjoy the refreshing chill against my bare skin. I even recall one particular heavy storm when I stripped into my bathing suit and just lay upon the front porch with my eyes closed as I let the power and the fury of nature envelope me.

To me, there is just something awe inspiring about the way the world yields to the might of nature manifest. The birds and insects grow quiet and invisible and all creatures great and small flee before its arrival, seeking silent refuge to wait out its passing.

And then there’s the lightning.

Great bolts light the night sky, carving bright forks through the clouds and illuminating all in a pristine white glow. For but a moment the spell of night is broken and it’s as if nature had turned on its own, natural light to chase away the shadows. Then the flash is gone and the ground shakes beneath the thunder’s calling.

I always wait for those brief moments, when the sky is torn in great ribbons of uncontained electricity. The sheet lighting rolls unseen behind the thick clouds between the great strikes, creating a dark, almost pink glow that barely outlines the trees and clouds around. I take in as much of the scene as I can, savoring the new perspective of a world I’d grown bored of through sheer familiarity. But in the dark of the clouds, the landscape takes on a new form of silhouettes and outlines, contrasts between dark and light.

I love it if only for the mix of fear and reverence that it inspires.

Now, weather in writing is often a rather off handed affair. Generally it sees little use and is usually made most prominent during the most difficult portion of the hero’s tale or to serve as a manifestation of the characters emotional state. Most storms either come rolling in the final act, when last the hero must face his arch nemesis or when the hero is at the lowest point generally during a great loss or defeat. I’m sure many people can think of moments when the tide turned against the hero and a convenient storm just happened to come rolling through. Certainly horror as a genre has subsided on this trope for as long as time memorial.

This is considered the Pathetic Fallacy of weather and once you start seeing it in film or literature, you won’t stop. Which is a curious name for the trope since the pathetic fallacy was originally used to describe the attributing of emotion to elements of or description about of nature. You can see that in my description earlier. Nature doesn’t truly have any fury since wind and rain has no emotion.

So common is the pathetic fallacy, however, that I don’t think most people even realize when they use it. How many off the cuff stories began with some sort of wrongdoing or misdeeds on a “dark and stormy night?” For me, it only became obvious because of my fondness for storms. I try to use weather a little more than as a reflection of a character’s inner turmoil. To me there are far more components than the terrifying dark and intimidating thunder. There’s also a bare beauty of the raw power of nature. And, in the end, storms bring an element of renewal. The rain. Does more than scatter those caught in it to seek shelter. It helps feed plants, break hot spells and rejuvenate the land. There’s always a calming tranquility after a storm, as if the skies themselves went through their own catharsis in order to replenish themselves.

So, even though I am affected by my own cultural symbolism, I find that certain elements can take on my own, personal meaning beyond established tropes. Which I think is a good thing, as the natural evolution only occurs as we apply our own spin and use to old symbols, beliefs and tropes. So I may have dark and stormy nights but not all of them Are going to be a bad thing.

The Hero’s Guide to Saving Your Kingdom

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We are going a little younger in the audience of our book review today. The Hero’s Guide to Saving Your Kingdom by Christopher Healy is a children’s fantasy that is enjoyably good.

We start after the fairy tales have occurred: Prince Charming has already met and ‘saved’ his princess. They are engaged and the bards speak of bright futures for the couple. However, the bards never get things right; they cannot even remember the prince’s name!

Painted like simple, empty-headed girls obsessed with fashion, the princesses do not live up to their descriptions either. No, the bards have taken the elements of their respective fairy tales and twisted the facts out of recognition.

What we find instead in this eclectic land of kingdoms are four very different princes and four unique princesses. Each has their own distinct outlook on life and a well-developed personality. With that in play we now have a story worth reading. Like all great books it is the characters that sell the simple tale of stopping an evil witch and ‘rescuing’ the missing princess.

Images of the Princesses from the book. Ok, one of them is not a typical fairy tale princess. She is still alot of fun to read about though. – Images from book, but found online.

The book is well suited to its audience. The bad guys are a little on the silly side so as not to be too scary. Even these secondary characters have been given personalities and well-defined goals. They are not just evil, they are purposely bad. The heroes do manage some heroic moments towards the end of the book but are otherwise written as people with strengths and some very obvious weaknesses. The princesses are the most surprising element. After all fairy tales generally revolve around the princess spending far less time developing the male counterpart. These women are even more diverse then their princes and the author has a few interesting twists as he reinterprets their distinctive outlooks on life. I think there is enough writing about both sexes along with a healthy dose of adventure and comedy to appeal to both genders.

Really, it is one of the best children’s books I have read in a long time (only partly because I haven’t read many children’s books in a long time).

My few complaints are … well silly. I find the book obviously childish and the plot simplistic. This is not because the author didn’t do a good job, he did. This is because the book is a children’s tale. I wonder what it would look like if it was directed at an older audience. My other quibble has to do with the narrator’s voice at the end – it didn’t jive with me. I would rather that the princes were not responsible for ‘writing’ the book. Personal preference; it just felt like the wording on the last page broke my emersion in the world.

Still, to be absolutely clear – The Hero’s Guide to Saving Your Kingdom is an excellent children’s fantasy. Also the illustrations are pretty funny too!

Book Review – Nameless

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Another Wednesday and another book review. This time I am delving into the young adult section – fantasy still.

Cover for the recent book review – Nameless

A general reminder that as I review the following work, I may give away details you would prefer to discover through actually reading the book. Be warned.

Today’s book review is on Nameless: A Tale of Beauty and Madness by Lili St Crow. This book wins for not having zombies. Also, following hard on the heels of several really unsuccessful reads I found the young adult fairy tale surprisingly good.

It is a successful merge of modern world building (cars, private schools, and high-security mansions) and magic. They come together in the town of New Heaven which is supposed to be part of a larger world. Though the town ends up feeling isolated in a world not that big, I didn’t find this a problem. Most fairy tales take place in isolated kingdoms, so the setting fit for me. That the story is clearly a retelling of Snow White was another positive. It was actually interesting the manner in which the author took elements of the classic fairy tale: the seven ‘dwarves’, the huntsman, the apple, mirrors and the beauty-obsessed queen with her hunger for hearts and twisted it into something fresh yet familiar.

Snow White comes across as a princess – not a spoiled brat, rather a young woman who is well protected. Her roles in life are small and lean towards the domestic – in the manner of smoothing relations between people, calming tempers and other ladylike things. I suppose her character arc is that of growing confidence, for she physically does very little in the narrative. Mostly she quakes in fear and watches the world around her through anxious eyes. A platoon of friends and family (adopted family) actively fight to protect her from the dangers (largely physical) that threaten the Snow White’s life. Yet, while I was reading about this princess character, I was not immediately struck by how men jump to protect women; particularly Snow White. I think this had to do with the supporting cast of strong female characters; including a fierce Red Riding Hood and determined Cinderella (how do you spell sequel?).

Being a fairy tale – granted one that incorporates the modern love of vampires and other supernatural beings – the story ends much as you would expect. The path is littered with a few unexpected interpretations to keep the reader (me) interested. The writing balances carefully between engaging narrative and teen angst which can often overwhelm and destroy a YA novel. While following the typical trials of teenagers (not the most exciting of material choices) the author creates a present day world of magical possibilities. Here magic is anchored in the world and used to accomplish much of what our technology does. I like that. Never does the supernatural feel overpowered.

So, for creating a teen book that doesn’t drag, whine, or become over the top angsty, for subtly incorporating current vampire and fey trends, and for creating an interesting retelling of a classic fairy tale, I would give Nameless a solid pass. It is a good young adult read.

Failed-Book Review

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I suppose I should start posting spoiler alerts at the start of my book reviews. For this one, an alert hardly seems necessary as I never actually finished any of the three following stories. All have been abandoned for bland tales, poor writing or some combination of the two.

In an attempt to branch out in my reading I went to the internets for a book suggestion. In multiple threads several book titles were continuously flaunted. Having unsuccessfully tried George RR Martin’s unfinished series some time ago, I skipped past that title. I have heard mixed reviews for the lengthy Wheel of Time saga so I ignored that recommendation too. However, one name kept returning to the lists, The Name of the Wind. So I ventured to my local library to delve into the rich fantasy created by Patrick Rothfuss.

Failed-Book Review 1 – The Name of the Wind

Book cover so you know to avoid this poorly written specimen.

Again, I state that this book came highly recommended. I also foolish thought – for a while at least, that this was a stand-alone story. As it turns out it is one in an unfinished trilogy.

It is difficult to know where to begin with a book like this. As my observant brother has already remarked, there are no well-developed characters, no meaningful females and an excessive amount of bottle-polishing in the all black inn. Truthfully, I didn’t even notice the bottle polishing or the authors overwhelming use of black descriptors.

I did, however, notice the incredibly bland nature of the story and the inept dialogue. The scene that sticks out the most for me occurs when the young hero’s teacher goes to speak with the young hero’s parents. Sitting seriously across from the two doting individuals the teacher breaks the startling news that his pupil is actually shockingly bright. Haven’t you ever noticed, he asks the parents, how your son just picks up everything so quickly and so perfectly? With his talents he could even … [drum roll please] … attend university!

Seriously? You have to tell the boy’s parents that he is obscenely gifted and then the best he can do with his oh-so-amazing abilities is attend university? Whoot. He might even me a merchant one day! OMG – this is beyond dumb. Ok, what is really impossibly stupid is that I continued to read this painfully inactive narrative for quite a bit longer. Past the point when his parents are meaninglessly slaughtered so the young hero can experience trauma in his formative years. Of course, the child of some 12 years or so acts in the most un-childlike and ridiculous manner – uhg!

One must particularly enjoy the stories told within the hero’s narrative of his own life’s tale – so glaringly important yet so obviously disconnected with the flow of the story it hurts to read. While the Name of the Wind may lack the glittering vampires and characterless female protagonist in the horrendously terrible Twilight series, it is clearly a Mary-Sue novel (for boys). I cannot understand the appeal. I cannot comprehend how people have not only read the entire 92 chapter book, its equally long sequel and actually await the third and thankfully final installment with anything resembling eagerness.

To all those internet people I have to ask: if you thought this was the height of amazingness, what do you think actually typifies bad writing?

Defeated by The Name of the Wind before I even reached the half-way point, I moved on to something a little different. Nights of Villjamur by Mark Charan Newton was an impulse buy from chapters. I was perusing the shelves looking for something new and exciting and this was in the bargain section – was that the first sign?

Failed-Book Review 2 – Legends of the Red Sun: Nights of Villjamur

I still rather like this cover. I like the cold, hard landscape and the promice of epic sword battles it invokes.

Once more I thought I was selecting a stand-alone book. Once more I had picked the first in a series – clearly someone needs to do a better job of reading the book cover.

I will start by noting two things that I found interesting as I started my journey in this new fantasy realm. First, the world was set among an archipelago of islands rather than the typically large continent characteristic of most fantasy stories. Second, it was set in the far north where the threat of another ice age loomed in the not too distant future.

As for the negatives, well it is difficult to know where to begin. We are coarsely introduced to three separate characters in the prologue – each in the midst of uncompleted actions that loosely weave together. Their names, like those of the islands and cities are foreign and difficult to pronounce. So I found it very discordant when we are next introduced to them and two out of three bare different names than the prologue – rather confusing. More voices are introduced and more long and difficult names are bandied about without spending much time lingering on the characters before skipping to the next.

Similarly I struggled to make sense of the cities and their relationships to the each and the world at large. All told, I was not clear whether the city of Villjamur was at the centre of the empire or its edge. Was it the largest city and capital or did it actually belong to some outside force?

The mix of more modern cussing and coarse description interjected in to periods of detailed, historic-feeling description and world building did not sit well. But three things really pushed the slow-moving disjointed tale over the edge for me.

First, the mix of races found in the city: living (apparently) banshees that screamed with the deaths of others; garudas that are half-man and half-vulture (wings, beaks, and talons on a human form); and the rumel which seem to be a human crossed with a horse. Really, why? You have these bizarre combinations and one of the recurring characters worries that everyone else looks down on him because he is albino – well, he doesn’t have a tail or horse hide so I don’t see what the big deal is.

Second, zombies. Yes, they really do introduce dangerous, deadly hordes of clever undead stalking and killing the elite Night Guard (also magically or mechanically altered to be super humans – though I didn’t get far enough to learn which method was employed). This led me to the most obviously evil councilman who is not subtle in the least with his manipulations of the governing body. There was no ambiguity for his actions, not redeeming features. His little seen of bribery was so mustache twirling-evil as to be comical in other media.

Third, there was growing sense of despair that the author was going to directly connect his story with our reality setting it sometime in the future. Granted this was not explicitly stated. But there were worrying signs. It was in the nods to the Vikings with the descriptions of weapons, longboats and a direct mention of Valhalla. It was in the assertion that this was not the first ice age to sweep the lands and destroy earlier civilizations – including those that mentioned the walking dead in their records. It was in the allusions made when discussing magic as the use of ancient artifacts – magic/artifacts that caused large explosions very similar to grenades.

True these characters lacked the same obvious stupidity of those found in Name the Wind. They lacked Name the Wind’s perfect hero capable of doing everything without fault. They also lacked that hook to make them interesting; that snare to make me want to find out how they dealt with the growing problems swelling around them. Of course, because this is the first in the series, there seemed little emphasis on a clear, contained plot and more on introducing some large-picture, overwhelming problems.

One quarter into the book and I gave up. Part of me feels I should return to this tangled mess, after all, I actually paid money for it. On the other hand, I could weed my garden, wash a cat or watch some paint dry.

And so I am brought to review my third failed book. This book was actually the third in a series of undefined length. I had enjoyed book one and slogged through book two before giving up all hope on Black Powder War by Naomi Novik.

Failed-Book Review 3 – Temeraire (Book 3): Black Powder War

I actually perfer the cover of the first book in the series to this one.

The series started interestingly enough with the hatching of a dragon egg on an English navy ship during the Napoleonic war. The unfortunate Captain finds himself transferred from the respectable position of captaining a war vessel to captaining a Dragon. It is a wordy novel that you have to be in the correct mind-frame to read. Most of the action happens in the final quarter, though I did enjoy the growth of the baby Dragon and the development of both main characters that eventually lead to a fight.

While I appreciated the first book, it took time for me to start the second. It was even longer to pull myself through endless pages of sea-voyage as the Dragon and Captain travel from England to China. Again the story is crammed awkwardly into the finally half-dozen chapters. The rest of the book being detailed descriptions of the food eaten by the Dragon (not by the humans), the endless sailing (but never the supposed tensions that exist between ship crew and dragon crew) and the Captain’s lengthy worries that his Dragon would rather stay in China than return to England (he is a Chinese dragon after all).

There was little character development in the second novel. We were already acquainted with the main protagonists and the author didn’t feel the need of personalizing the dragon’s crew (each dragon is manned by an undetermined number of airmen). This lack of detail, beyond the occasional name and one line description (like: one of the cabin boys was actually a girl), meant we the reader didn’t care much when these characters were unceremoniously killed. Often during battles when they were stabbed, shot or cut free to fall to their deaths. Occasionally individuals were washed away during storms or eaten by sea monsters (not as exciting as you would think).

The long-winded style of writing, which I assume was intentionally done, does affect an aura of that time-period. However, since nothing really happens for most of the book, I feel you are better off reading the final quarter which seems to summarize everything you need to know and completely skip the first three quarters of writing.

So, it was with considerably less eagerness that I embarked on the third part of the series. Here they destroyed the ship in a most convenient (or for the characters – inconvenient) fire, thus forcing the Dragon and his crew to travel the over-land route: the dangerous silk road. Even here, most of the pages were dedicated to the number of camels the Dragon would need to eat. As the party, a few men lighter from storms and … honestly I don’t remember any more … were first exposed to the talking, hungry, feral dragons I finally gave up in defeat. I skipped to the end, skimmed the last couple of chapters and closed the book for good.

While I appreciate period pieces to be written with the flavour of the time, you do not need to be as boring. Sure the war wasn’t all excitement, but already you have drifted into fantasy land when you had a dragon egg hatching on your ship! Now, let’s inject some action and more interesting plot and for goodness sake develop your main crew. They are so bland and forgettable the dragon doesn’t care when they die – and these men are supposed to be the dragon’s horde!

I would not recommend any of the above. However, if you have mysteriously found yourself successfully reading these books, I have two questions for you: Exactly how did you get through them? How do they end (please, summarize in four sentences or less – after all, we have already established my short attention span)?

Food in Fantasy Land

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What would life be like to live in a world without breakfast cereal?

I have recently been in a position to think deeply about the sorts of foods I eat on a regular basis. I find my tastes rather seasonal and generally very simple. I like salads and vegetables and barbequed meats during the hot summer months. During winter I tend to crave more traditional ‘comfort foods’ such as pasta – in nearly any form, roasted meats and potatoes, curries, cabbage rolls and even the occasional stew. These are usually the dinner or supper meal. Lunches are often similar as I generally consume leftovers, with the addition of a few more sandwiches. Breakfasts however, are regularly bowls of cold cereal and occasional eggs or pancakes.

However, if we were to enter Fantasy Land things would be different. According to the informative Tough Guide written by award winning author Diana Wynne Jones (she really did write excellent children’s fantasy books), my diet would consist largely of stew and waybread. This is the long way of bringing me to my point of interest; the appearance of food in books.

How many stories actually deal with eating; not just for the occasional banquet, but for the sustaining of the character’s life? How many fantasy books fall into the clutches of viscous, brown slop served with a flatbread?

This stew has more clearly identifiable meat than I would expect in Fantasy Land.

This stew has more clearly identifiable meat than I would expect from food in Fantasy Land.

There are a few stories that come to mind where the food stood out – not in a glaringly awkward way. Rather I noticed the food was something different, something regional. The first to come to mind is Zoe Marriot’s Daughter of Flames. I remember it had the main character eating chickpeas, which was different and weirdly interesting to read. Not that the author made a big deal of the food being consumed, just that when she described the meal as flavour for her world it didn’t include stew.

I suppose you could argue Harry Potter has a more realistic bend on the food issue too. Although many of the sweets are given cutesy names to fit with the fantastical world, the students often eat regular food: sausages, potatoes, eggs, toast and the like – I am sure there were vegetables in there somewhere too.

This stew has too many vegetables for Fantasy Land. Incidentally, I actually like to make and eat stew – good stew.

Just to clarify, I am not looking for vast detailed treaties on food and its preparations. Tolkien is famous for spending six pages discussing the preparation of rabbit – though was it a rabbit stew? I cannot remember. However, even this wordy narrator fell into the common trap of feeding his travellers a steady diet of waybread for much of the books. After all, the purpose of eating food is merely to remind the reader these are real people with real needs.

Interestingly, modern, urban fantasies and other adventure fiction falls victim to a similar problem of what to do with meals. I find that stew is not prevalent in these situations. Instead it has been replaced by coffee. Similar meal swaps are seen by many characters on TV. The first thing these individuals do in the morning is grab a cup of coffee – seemingly unable to function without the jolt of caffeine. When time is running short and the days long, don’t worry they don’t need to stop to eat – just drink another coffee or the occasional pop (soda for the Americans) and the character is good to save the world.

Realistic?

I hope not. Unless these individuals are also connected with nutrient giving IV drips, I don’t think they are going to have the strength to save the world – certainly not on a repetitive basis. I wonder does this also connect with or potential perpetuate eating disorders? We are in a time when the number of serious eating disorders (anorexia to obesity) is soaring and the characters in our popular media are showing serious lack of healthy eating habits.

Or perhaps I am more sensitive to the overabundance of caffeine in my stories as I don’t drink coffee, tea or pop. While not as bad as my brother, my morning requires a healthy bowl of cereal to start – substituted with the occasion egg or pancake. After all breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

Name of the Wind – The Trouble with Breasts

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Edit – I apologize for the lateness of this post. The site has been undergoing some minor revisions as we attempt to comply to Google’s new SEO formatting and I’m really slow in learning new things.

I have returned from my eastern travels a little more worldly if not a little extra sore. However, during the long hours on the road, my sister had graciously provided me a copy of a very special book. This delightful read, The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss to be precise, was a rather interesting experience if only for the reactions it produced from my family as I read it aloud.

True story, I searched for sexy wind in Google and got this. Granted, I have my safe search on so I wouldn’t recommend trying this at home.

Now, I have no intention to write a proper review of the novel mostly in part because I never finished it. Between my constant breaks as I tried to slog through its curious writing and the sudden expiration of the digital download’s loan period left me only about a quarter into the book. Suffice to say, I’m not the most knowledgeable to comment on its overall story and narrative since I don’t know how it finishes. And, as small as it might be, there is a possibility that halfway through the writing actually starts to be good.

No, instead I wish to discuss something that grates on the average person’s nerves even more. I wish to discuss feminism.

This may not surprise anyone, but I am not a woman. This startling revelation has often left me a little wary of feminist issues. I didn’t think I was truly prepared to really discuss its arguments either for or against having never had the experience that usually fueled the standard discourse. However, I have been reading quite a bit of its discussion in my online interactions and have slowly begun to educate myself on its core issues. Primarily, feminism is less about women’s rights as it is about equal rights.

Not really the most astounding revelation, especially for anyone familiar with the movement. But, after reading numerous opinions and perspectives, I began to worry if my writing was somehow anti-feminist. I am certainly a supporter of equality and as popular opinion grows more and more in its favour, the discussion of discrimination has shifted to the examination of more subtler channels. Often times, the things that are discussed as being discriminatory appear to be unintentional. They are more insidious methods of perpetuating classical views of female subordination and repression. Things like the ‘Male Gaze’ only complicate matters further for someone that has never felt discrimination based on gender. So ingrained, goes the argument, of patriarchal standards, that many people are not even aware of contributing to it either through neglecting deeper characterization of female characters or constantly reverting them to positions of powerlessness. I worried that I, like many others, had fallen into this trap. I mean, I don’t even have a D&D story from the only girl’s perspective!

However, after reading The Name of the Wind, I no longer have this worry.

Now, let me first state that I don’t believe Patrick Rothfuss is some disgusting bigot or anti-feminist. I think the arguments I’m about to level are better explained through a much more likely avenue – Rothfuss just isn’t a good writer. And there’s far more evidence tho suggest the latter over the former that I feel comfortable in this belief. Also, as I’ve confessed, I haven’t finished the novel so there does exist that miniscule possibility that squirreled somewhere in the later sections of the book is a damn good representation of a woman. I’m just never going to bother trying to find out.

And, as this is a semi-critical examination of a work, do expect there to be some spoilers.

The first moment when I began to sense this subtle sexism, however, came rather shortly into the story. For those who are lucky enough to have not cracked the spine, The Name of the Wind is the first in a three part series that follows some discredited hero called Kvothe who is so amazing and clever that when going into exile, his idea of the perfect disguise was to drop two letters from his name. Which might not be too bad, but given the constant description of his flame red hair being more red than red and undeniably unique, you’d think there might have been more consideration put into the guise.

However, I digress.

13208853-windy-storm-cloud-mascot-with-menacing-blowing-blowing-wind-cartoon-vector-image

Obviously I don’t own any of these windy cloud clip arts.

Elusive Kvothe has started – by his own description – an unsuccessful inn smack in the middle of nowhere Medieval England. This inn, in small town Mudville, still manages to pull a constant crowd of six young bachelors who constantly fill the shack’s gloomy hall. This setting is where the majority of the action occurs, as news and gossip is shared amongst the men while Kvothe listens attentively (but not too much to appear interest) while compulsively polishing his massive collection of bottles in the corner.

Now, I knew beginning the novel that it had a rather curious format. The story was meant to be a narration of the protagonist detailing the story of his life over three years to a scribe. What I didn’t realize, was that it has a substantial beginning that covers rather trite events leading up to the actual crux of the narrative. However, curiously, during this lead up I made a rather strange observation.

There were no women.

There wasn’t a female bar wench which is so prominent in fantasy fiction. While I would normally consider a breath of fresh air, the lack of a female presence (let alone voice) drew more and more prominent. Kvothe has some annoying assistant/student who often makes talk of distracting young maidens disrupting his studies as if they were some wild beast trampling past for attention. Yet, none of these virtuous unicorns ever graces the inn. When one of Kvothe’s seemingly single patrons arrives with a gruesome present from the countryside, only a male priest is informed of the discovery. When Kvothe ventures into the town village for errands, he only ever acts with men. The only time I recall there being a female mentioned in the first hundred pages is when two unnamed and undescribed women come bustling into Kvothe’s inn in a most uncharacteristic moment of business. They enter with a group of travelers and merchants of various detail and trades and I suspect the poor ladies were only ever known because the only thing that made them remarkable in that crowd was probably their breasts.

And, of course, none of them have lines.

This struck me as incredibly peculiar. There was no discernible reason for there to be such a lack of female representation, even incredibly cursory, in this world. It wasn’t like this inn had been established as one of many in the small village that only held particular appeal to young, confirmed bachelor men who displayed an uncommon lack of interest in the opposite sex. Their absence on the streets during the day or in shops is even stranger and I am left assuming that in Rothfuss’ world women are meant to be kept like horses: safe and warm in their private quarters with a pile of hay to bed with a salt lick stashed in the corner.

In fact, it takes until Kvothe is sitting down with the Chronicler before we even get a speaking female character. And, unfortunately, what we’re presented with is a shallowly sad one-dimensional individual whose sole role appears to be double duty of providing Kvothe with a sickly sweet doting mother and sexual object for his father.

Seriously, the number of times his parents are mentioned as wandering off for sex is astounding for a story that has been surprisingly chaste up to that point. So important is Kvothe’s mother as a tool for sexual gratification that the last moments of her life are supposedly spent in bed with her father.

Now, sexual liberation isn’t a bad thing. But given that the only other female in child Kvothe’s band of merry travelers is mostly discussed right before she takes Kvothe’s mentor aside for some farewell coitus, it starts seeming like the sole role for females in Rothfuss’ narrative are for gratification. In fact, one of the few times we see Kvothe’s mother interacting individually with her child is after she catches him singing a lewdly suggestive nursery rhyme to himself which I will be very surprised if it didn’t turn out to be a song about her. The only other moment I recall that we get some interaction between the parent and child that is devoid of any semblance of sexuality is when she tries to teach Kvothe courtly manners, thus fulfilling the kindly teacher trope of maternal parenting.

If we were to examine The Name of the Wind with the Bechdel Test, Rothfuss would fail with flying colours.

The Bechdel Test is a rather interesting metric for analyzing gender bias in fiction. The test is simple: does a work have two female characters, does it have them talk to each other and do they discuss something other than a man? It’s not particularly robust. Meeting its requirements does not by any means suggest that a work is free of bias. In fact, it’s establishing a really, really low base-line which so many pieces fail that highlights the inherent bias in modern fiction. In the nearly two hundred pages that I read, certainly there would be a moment that could qualify. However, Rothfuss didn’t even manage to reach two women with moments of dialogue. He barely scrapes by having two women in the first place!

Course, this isn’t suggesting that every work must feature two women chatting or even include women altogether. Setting and story can certainly impact female representation in a work. Which brings me to the second point I want to discuss.

Just because a work is based on medieval fantasy does not mean it has to be inherently sexist. There appears to be a common perception that prior to the the turn of the 20th century, women were a quiet and demur species that constantly bowed their heads to their kindly male keepers and kept themselves and their genders from prominence. Which is, to say, that there exists an argument that you can’t have strong women in fantasy because it’ll break the reader’s suspension of disbelief.

First, the very nature of fantasy makes such assertions ludicrous. Here we have a genre which often features flying, talking and fire-breathing lizards of monstrous proportions with men able to bend the very fabric of space and reality with a simple flick of a wrist and some poorly researched Latin. I have a hard time thinking that swords which glow when some species of monster that is birthed from mud pits is nearby is going to disconnect its audience because a women dares to speak her mind, pick up a weapon or, heavens, just appear with a name and some rudimentary dialogue.

Second, this idea that all women were quietly sitting on the sidelines while letting men do everything is a gross fallacy. Throughout history, there are stories of women performing remarkable services and duties. Some examples are incredibly mainstream that they’re so easy to remember when mentioned. Queen Elizabeth I and Joan of Arc are two women that fall in fantasy’s generic timeline and completely crush this false ideology. And that’s ignoring many, many other examples.

So credit goes to the creators who made these images. Bless your anonymous hearts, wherever you are.

The one mention I would like to give is Geoffrey Chaucer’s depiction of the Wife of Bath in his Canterbury Tales. Now, I know the literary discourse over the work and the debate centred on whether this was a negative satire of certain women and their beliefs or not. However, the Wife of Bath’s Tale is an interesting examination of antifeminism thought. In the Wife’s Prologue, the Wife discusses her many divorces and remarriages and the power women can wield in marriage as well as pointing out inherent contradictions and discrimination put on women by the Bible. So, while she exemplifies antifeminism thought by portraying women as manipulative and coercive, she also attacks these beliefs by pointing out that these traditions and restrictions were set by men in the first place. So even if Chaucer’s goals were to ultimately criticize these thoughts and behaviours, by discussing them he’s demonstrating that they existed at that time.

It is further telling that a man, writing nearly six hundred years ago and in a half developed language is capable of creating a far more compelling and developed character than Rothfuss is with all this medium’s development and with Chaucer’s own work readily available for study. Now, I want to draw specific attention to my use of character in that previous statement. As I mentioned at the start, I don’t think this is inherently an indication that Rothfuss hates women or that he believes they have no value. For that, I would need indication that Rothfuss was capable of actually writing compelling and developed characters. After 200 pages I had yet to see one. His main character is as insufferable as he is a grossly exaggerated ubermensch. The rest of the supporting characters seem to only existto further develop just how awesome Kvothe is at everything compared to everyone else.

This unintentional sexism can really be fixed by one thing and that is simply improving the quality of the writing. For, I think, by improving and developing their skill, good writers begin to realize that their perspective and thoughts can’t dominate that of the people they pen. By exploring other individuals and their experiences, authors begin to delve into deeper and greater stories that will naturally drift away from discriminatory presentation.

Course, this isn’t to say there aren’t bigots out there writing stories. But for most of us who aren’t assholes, the natural development of our skills should steer use clear of these pitfalls. It took reading The Name of the Wind to realize that I’m not unintentionally hurting woman and for that, those insufferable pages of unending bottle polishing and monochromatic interior decorating were well worth the pain and misery they provided.

The book is still Twilight for boys, however.

Bronze Gods Review

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Yes, this yet another book review. I confess to reading more than writing of late – so this is all I have to contribute. At least it is a short read.

Bronze Gods is classed under steampunk – bet you never saw that one coming – and is blessed by its complete lack of zombies! However, steampunk naturally pairs with magic/paranormal in some fashion or another (this could be due to my habit of perusing the SciFi section in book stores) and this is no exception. In this case the husband and wife writing team of A.A. Aguirre selected the fey. I have read a few good things and a few really terrible things involving the fey. This one ranks on the good side.

As I sit here organizing my thoughts I am suddenly struck by how blasé I am regarding the book. It was good. It was enjoyable. Yet, I am not filled with passion. I didn’t love it. I was not consumed by the world depicted in the pages. Why?

The world was good. It was different, a setting that was not London or some version of. In fact, it seemed that they were setting the story in a world completely original – that was until they made a few references to the vikings. Suddenly Hy Breasil is another dimension connected to our world and reality. I found such a small detail strangely disappointing.

While Hy Breasil was filled with clockwork creations it felt largely modern in design and function – well, near recent. There were a few things, the description of clothing and the structure of society that maintained a link to more historic periods. Over all, the development of technologies and their implementations in the world gave it a more current feel.

The characters, the two lead detectives were interesting and fun – and yet. Mikani and Ritsuko had been partners for three years prior to our introduction to them. In all that time they seemed to have communicated almost nothing about themselves to their partner. It was strange the way they worked well together, yet felt as though this was their first case as a team. In three years, Ritsuko never asked Mikani about his family? It is not until the reader joins this duo that they commence discussions about their personal lives. No doubt many will rave about the chemistry between the two characters – and most days I would too. Except it seems conveniently sudden and largely unprofessional. As stated, they have been working together for three years already.

However, the biggest reason I would say this book is good but not great relates to the ending. Yes they catch the bad guy (and yes, I called it well before the end), but the last page clearly states this was only a minor boss. The big boss has not yet been revelled – please level up before proceeding to the next dungeon. Sigh. Why could this not be a single, self-contained plot? One of a series of cases that are not directly related to each other? Or at the very least don’t appear connected to begin with.

There are a few things I am still uncertain about in the story itself. Can you call them plot holes when the main characters point out that inconsistances implicate a different master mind? One occurs when the suspicious man demands the list from a mob boss – how did he know about the list of names? Second, how did no one notice the old House family did not die off as otherwise believed?

I fear any sequels will drift to the magical and illogical. I foresee this series rapidly entering the circus of stupid. Either I am correct in identifying Miss Wright’s father as the master manipulator and everything is blindinly obvious. Or the authors will attempt to suprise and astound us with cunning misdirection that ultimately ruins the flow of the story.

In summary, a good first book – not a great one – and beware of the sequel. It is apt to be dumb.

A Bannon and Clare Case Review

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I have been searching for a good Steampunk novel to read and I have been failing to find one. There are novels filled with predictable atomatons, clockwork marvels and all too often zombies. I hate zombies. There are a few other Steampunk works that I have been exploring. The author of one such series is Lilith Saintcrow (aka St Crow).

The second of the Bannon and Clare Case Files.

She has started a series revolving around Emma Bannon and Archibald Clare. The first novel is titled The Iron Wyrm Affair, which I read late last summer. The second, most recent book is The Red Plague Affair. Both books are set in a Victorian-like world filled with amazing mechanicals, magical sorcerers, and mentaths (super geniuses). Bannon and Clare are clearly set up to resemble Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson – where doctor becomes sorcerous of great importance.

There are many things about these books that I enjoy. First, the author sets a good tone with her use of language. One of my great irritations occurs when authors write a period piece but use modern dialogue and vocabulary. It ruins the ambiance often more than the ludicrous plot they have slapped together.

I am also grateful the author changed the names of places and historical figures. Though generally extremely similar to their real-life counter parts, these small changes allow me to imagine a different world not completely dependent on our history. Cause the presence of magic clearly means this is not taking place in our reality.

But several things have left me feeling a little baffled. The mentaths are a weakness in the stories. The author has created a small number of super-geniuses, whose brains run on pure logic and whose minds wither to soup if not constantly stimulated with interesting things. Unfortunately the author spends most of her time telling us mentaths are super-geniuses rather than showing us. Also, her description of their methods and abilities often sounds more magical in nature than the sorcerous casting spells. She tried so hard to set up magic and mentaths as polar opposites, but in the end their extremes making them sound nearly identical.

Another aspect I struggled with while reading the Red Plague Affair was the author’s lack of introduction to her characters. On one hand it is tedious to read a sequel which summarizes all the events of the previous book(s). Yet, some introduction is necessary for those of us with poor memories. Whether it was tied to this point or just a trick of the author’s, I was not found of the way she dangled the origins of one secondary character while never actually dealing with it – even obtusely. She has left large neon signs to indicate Mikal has a dark and mysterious past which is significant without ever telling the reader how it is significant. I find this lack of information, remarked upon by other main characters, irritating.

All of this brings me to my current quandary: Do I actually like these books? Truthfully, I don’t know. I have never read something that has left me feeling so confused about my own preferences before. As mentioned the books have some good characteristics and some frustrating aspects. What I would really like is to discuss these books with another individual who has read them. Perhaps at that time I will finally decide if they are good and enjoyable or utter rubbish.

In Defence of Bias

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So, over the weekend my faithful companion has finally wheezed its last breath. As I prepare the final rites and visitations for my trusty laptop, I have had little time to actually prepare a proper blog entry for today. Which is to say while I’m in this transitional state I haven’t been able to edit up the next section of my story.

This is how it went down, essentially. I even had Japanese conference attendees standing around confused. At least I had the presence of mind to not buy a Dell.

So, instead you get to read one of my delightful rants.

This one is going to touch upon a sentiment I’ve already expressed in one of my reviews. Particularly, I want to address the defence “It’s only a game/movie” in regards to narrative criticisms. By my own admission, I am a writer and I enjoy stories. I pay far more attention to the elements of storytelling in my entertainment than to other components. Character development and plot coherency are usually the first things I’ll criticize in fiction because I have a natural interest in them. I know many people have a greater focus on special effects and spectacle. My mother, for one, is someone who doesn’t care much for what’s coming out of the mouths of the characters so long as the overall product is fun and entertaining.

So, I recognize that my major motivation for media consumption is on the story. There are other elements that I just don’t care about. An audiophile will have far more to say about music composition and scoring than I ever will. I often won’t even notice the soundtrack to a movie unless someone points it out to me. Likewise, I don’t get much from camera angles and cinematography. I enjoy them as much as anyone else and can usually appreciate the differences in skill between the extremely well executed and the horribly botched. But strange camera angles won’t particularly ruin an experience for me.

However, nothing takes me faster out of a work than gaping plot holes and inconsistent or illogical characters. It’s what bothered me the most about the new Star Trek: Into Darkness. It’s why I’m sometimes baffled when the problems of a work seem overwhelming to the piece that it sours the entire experience for me but when I talk with others about it they actually enjoyed it. Course, it’s not because these problems don’t exist – only that these people either didn’t notice or care. It’s like those little pet peeves everyone has. Some people can’t stand how movies always portray hacking as a hokey little game. I, personally, can’t stand when vehicles are constantly exploding in every crash and my sister bemoans the absolute butchering of even the most common scientific concepts and principles.

Everyone can recognize these issues. They know that they’re ultimately detrimental to the overall quality. It’s why very few will actually argue against these criticisms. Instead, they try to dismiss them. And it’s true that not every flaw is equal. A consistency error between shots where a glass is half empty one moment and full the next isn’t going to make a great movie complete rubbish. Some small flubs are to be expected, especially from such complex productions like film and video games. Nothing is perfect.

But I feel the defence that “It’s just a movie/game” is a lazy attempt to dismiss honest criticism. It rests on a presupposition that, because the work isn’t a novel, writing and story-telling aren’t important. And I feel that this couldn’t be further from the truth. I truly believe that at the heart of every creative expression is the desire to tell a story and to treat those elements so offhandedly is to perform the gravest artistic sin.

A bold claim but bear with me.

I think that story telling is not just the oldest form of entertainment but a key aspect of the human condition. Since recorded history, man has been sharing tales with one another. Prehistoric sites around the world are famous for their enigmatic symbols and designs and scholars spend careers trying to unravel their hidden meaning. Ancient cave paintings are typically frozen scenes of terrific hunts. Some of our oldest written records are sweeping epics about mythical heroes and their adventures. In a thousands tribes over every inhabitable continent have sprouted complex societies with rich traditions in oral and written story telling. We have transferred morals, histories and our very understanding of the world and universe through generations by crafting compelling and entertaining stories.

And every creative process that has developed has revolved around new and interesting ways to tell our stories. Theatre is story telling shared between an ensemble and acted out before an audience. Cinema is the current distillation of theatre with our technology being able to bring to life lands and events that were once the sole domain of our imaginations. But even more esoteric disciplines still strive to convey a story to its audience. Tapestries were designed with the major scenes of ancient tales. Sculptures are frozen monuments of famous figures – their smoothed expressions and carefully considered poses and gestures conveying so much with so little. Even music is scored with stories in mind. And I’m not even thinking of those blaring from car stereos about unlikeable teenagers and their three hour romances. Operas and symphonies are composed within the framework of a traditional narrative structure. You have to start looking at some pretty extreme cases to find examples of story empty works of art.

This structuring of events into a coherent narrative isn’t just based on thousands of years of tradition, however. I believe that we are hardwired to understand and organize information into structures not unlike a story. There is lots of research involved on how our brains organize and process information. Broca’s area, primarily famous for its role in language production, has been implicated in some action recognition and production. A recent study found that hand shadows representing different animals activated the frontal language area. Language is a highly rule dependent and structured phenomenon so it’s not surprising to see it linked with gesture recognition which can replicate the same functions of language. And what are stories, if distilled to their extreme elements, but the communication of actions in their order of occurrence? It seems reasonable that the areas primarily dealing with structure are tied to both action recognition and communication of those actions.

There are some famous psychological phenomenon that demonstrate this structuring of random observations into something more meaningful. Take pareidolia which is the recorded illusion of seeing significant images in unrelated stimuli. The most popular of these are facial recognition in such things as moon craters or crab shells.

And this could possibly explain Jesus showing up in toast though that may just be evidence of the divine really liking breakfast.

Our natural tendency for order combined with our love of stories leads me to think that criticism of narratives and plot aren’t just the ramblings of a lone mad man. I feel that the prime motive for creative expression is the desire to communicate complex thoughts, feelings and beliefs to others. When we become lazy in our telling then we lose the strength of our expression. Our work becomes diluted and empty and it starts to degrade all the accompanying parts of its production. All the acting in the world won’t save an insipid script. Magnificent computer graphics and thrilling action beats can only bamboozle audiences from flat characters and soulless dialogue for so long. By accepting terrible writing we are really depriving ourselves of really emotional and moving art. And I think this shows when you discuss the most memorable characters, movies and stories. Take a wide enough survey and I’m sure we’ll find that people remember and cherish the works that are done well over those that are done ‘well enough.’ And as a creator myself, it is of utmost importance that I constantly strive to improve and hone my craft in order to create the best work I can. You can’t please everyone but nor should you let obvious flaws pass under the misguided belief that just because people will accept it that makes it alright.

So, no, it’s not ‘just a movie or game.’ It ultimately is a creative tale and should try to tell the best damn story it can.