Downsizing & Satire

Downsizing was a really great satire about the human condition. It was deflated humor, and no one was specifically the target of the jokes. It does talk about capitalism but it more so talks about how this specific situation affects the human condition. There is a still a working class in the small world, assuming that there always will be. This is shown through the Vietnamese woman who is shrunk against her will. Everything is very procedural to get to the small world as well, I found this funny. I also questioned, in a curious way, the logistics of the film. Like who makes all the little people stuff. Who will continue to make their stuff and stay big? And how does the food budget scale? What about the general finances and income?

Literary Speculation

This week we are attempting to distinguish between writing in genre and writing that may use elements of genre but that is essentially literary. Discuss this question in relation to the work(s) you read for this week. Do you think this is an important or necessary distinction, or not? Is your experience of the text affected by these questions? Remember to add a comment to another student's blog.

To be a little meta, I find the distinction between writing in genre and writing with elements of e genre perplexing. I've never been confronted with this subject. From my experience, I don't believe it's necessary to distinct but I can see why we would. But it feels like this is a distinction between literal and figurative writing styles, rather.

The Aquatic Uncle 

This was a fun read that had a loose but well-understood message in between the lines. I assumed it to be about a man that initially cannot accept where future society is (land people) vs. where he is (the sea.) He cannot see beyond his world.

"It just wasn't possible to make him accept a reality different from his own. And yet, his opinions continued to exert an authority over all of us; in the end we asked his advice about matters he didn't begin to understand, though we knew he could be dead wrong. Perhaps his authority stemmed from the fact that he was a leftover from the past."

This point is more so supported by Qfwfq falling in love with Lll, a partner who teaches him how to go beyond his boundaries, something his great-uncle cannot do. But then as Lll begins to humor the uncle and learn of his thoughts, she finds him self-assured in his own ways. I began to think perhaps this was a beneficial relationship, that Lll would enlighten the uncle. However, Qfwfq questions why Lll is always interested in his uncle, but he wants to please her. In this way, Qfwfq is less confident than his uncle, and this makes him less-desirable to Lll. Lll doesn't need him to always please her.

In the end, Lll jumps in the water with Qfwfq's uncle. The author writes some thoughts about adaptation but also staying the same. "...were prepared to change the bases of their existence so radically that the reasons why living was beautiful would be completely overwhelmed and forgotten." He says that despite the other animals adapting and evolving in front of Qfwfq, he was still him, and he wouldn't switch places with any of the other animals.

The Aquatic Uncle felt like a fable or a short story. It was a misty lesson, using a funny plot to talk about evolution and social issues. But I still wouldn't say this distinction, between speculative lit, is valuable.

All at One Point

I believe this was about gossip but that's all I got from it. I liked the simultaneous action going on with evolution and normal life, or at least that's what I got from the text. I also enjoyed it, though. It makes me want to read all of Cosmicomics by Calvino.

"because neither before nor after existed, nor any place to immigrate from, but there were those who insisted that the concept of "immigrant"could be understood in the abstract, outside of space and time."

Bloodchild and Afrofuturism

My initial reaction to Bloodchild is that it's pretty off-putting, frankly. I have fears about child birth and rearing and this hits me in a particular place. It's intimately disturbing, only in a way that a well-hidden family secret could be. Other aspects of the text, like the biological composition of the various species; Terran, Tlic, and N'Tlic, take a bit to process. However, once their purpose, the Terran, is established, to be used as vessels to birth parasitic Tlic, it was easier to understand the story and broader nature of the Preserve. 

The inter-species procreation implications that are suggested, however, are additionally very off-putting. To further this discomfort, it's implied that do to their biological benefits, Terran were once caged for their body heat. The Tlic would let the Terran consume their eggs in order to keep them in a drunken stupor, letting them take advantage of their body heat and bodies as vessels for procreation. This system later changed, though, in favor for the Terran to have more freedom and not be caged as breeding animals. But it's interesting to reflect that the Tlic are (implied) the main political decision-makers, so I believe that maybe they're making decisions that only make the Terran feel like they're have some semblance of equality. And this is what Gan may have realized towards the end when Gatoi cut open Lomas.   

Moreover, Bloodchild made me think about insects and parasitic relationships and how ignorance plays an important role in politics. As mentioned earlier, it seems as though there is a clearly defined parasitic exchange between the Terran and Tlic, however in recent history it is under more mutual terms, maybe. Gan makes a good point, he wishes that the Terran would be more educated so that they would no longer be ignorant of what implantation entails. If people are ignorant of the risks and nature of the process, then of course the Tlic can still abuse the Terran people due to their ignorance, even if not by their (Terran) own doing.

The ideas in Bloodchild would make for an interesting graphic novel. I desperately wanted supplementary visuals to clarify the odd descriptions of the species, however the descriptions weren't as limiting as a Samuel Delaney novel; I could move past their ambiguous nature. I can imagine the Preserve being an overgrown, natural but isolated area of land. Almost dystopian in nature, maybe a land from a Vandermeer novel; you know that type of landscape that is simply unexplainable and intangible. More so, the fluidity with which the characters move could be emphasized in a graphic novel, while simultaneously delivering the complex nature about procreation and politics. I think the story could be well expanded upon in this format if given enough material. 

Cyberpunk in the 90s & Steampunk

I read a summation of cyperpunk and it was helpful to better categorize the subgenres of sci-fi. I found I agreed with the author on many points as I've had the same thoughts on older sci-fi. It also provided an unusual perspective about sci-fi and its origins. For example, the other claims 50s sci-fi had predictions of technology that were usually exciting but unsettling. This wouldn't be unexpected as the 50s was in an era fraught with the potential of nuclear technology and futurism. Despite the massive tools we had, we still didn't know enough and that simultaneously scared and excited us. Society wanted to know more about our future.

In opposition, the tech portrayed in 80s sci-fi was depressing and dreadful. At this point, we had knowledge of the things we didn't know. We had been to the moon, been through the Cold War, and survived the fall out of the Vietnam War. But I can imagine we were more broken  after the tune of the 70s era. Now we were less excited and more hesitant of our expectations of the future, as our depictions were more often filled with monsters and horrible dystopias. In 80s sci-fi, we stopped depicting the future as streamlined and desirable. Instead, the city was dirty and had contemporary, not future, problems like drugs, war, crime. Nothing felt solved in the future imagined by the 80s, so it wasn't something to be looked forward to.

In the 80s is when the word cyperpunk was established as it reflected the increase in computer utilization. It came from the word cyperspace. From here, we see artificial intelligence become a character we move along the decades. The author sums up cyperpunk by looking at Frankenstein through its lens:

"FRANKENSTEIN promotes the romantic dictum that there are Some Things Man Was Not Meant to Know. There are no mere physical mechanisms for this higher moral law -- its workings transcend mortal understanding, it is something akin to divine will. Hubris must meet nemesis; this is simply the nature of our universe. Dr. Frankenstein commits a spine-chilling transgression, an affront against the human soul, and with memorable poetic justice, he is direly punished by his own creation, the Monster. Now imagine a cyberpunk version of FRANKENSTEIN. In this imaginary work, the Monster would likely be the well-funded R&D team-project of some global corporation. The Monster might well wreak bloody havoc, most likely on random passers-by. But having done so, he would never have been allowed to wander to the North Pole, uttering Byronic profundities. The Monsters of cyberpunk never vanish so conveniently. They are already loose on the streets. They are next to us. Quite likely *WE* are them. The Monster would have been copyrighted through the new genetics laws, and manufactured worldwide in many thousands. Soon the Monsters would all have lousy night jobs mopping up at fast-food restaurants."

Through this train of thought, the author continues to suggest that cyperpunk is different from a lot of sci-fi is that society already knows what it's not supposed to know. Whereas before, sci-fi often predicted what we could know, and how it would affect us. It was the story of the unknown. Now that cyperpunk instead plays on an existing knowledge but on taboo and inhuman subjects, we can look to our future, or so the author claims. Cyperpunk is a very real reflection of our future, it reflects how we approach an ever-growing need to challenge the human condition.

Babel 17 & Psci-fi

I read Babel 17 and it was a hard read.

Delaney's writing was initially odd and I thought I'd get used to it. Despite the offbeat techniques, Delaney quickly established a dystopian, interplanetary society that has an abundance of poor, violent people due to a 20 year war involving the Invaders and the Alliance. Common technological features of this age involve a process called cosmetisurgery, or cosmetic surgery where people can get animal like enhancements or bio mechanical attachments on their body. There's even a thing called the Morgue where dead people can be revived, or people who wish to die go. Their consciousnesses can be revived. A whole new person can be made from a group's borrowed thoughts, forming a new person with new thoughts and ideas. It's odd. Even then, people seem to live a long time; there are characters upwards 150 years old. The Morgue sequence helped me understand how the world worked, but only a little bit. Here's an excerpt:

"Any suicide who discorpartes through regular Morgue channels can be called back. But a violent death where the Morgue just retrieves the body afterward, or the run-of-the-mill senile ending...then you're dead forever; although there, if you pass through regular channels, your brain pattern is recorded and your thinking ability can be tapped if anyone wants it, though your consciousness is gone wherever consciousness goes."

Additionally there's these beings calls discorporate souls, I still don't know their exact nature but they seem pretty intangible. Rydra Wong, the ship's captain, finds these souls after going to a certain part of town to recruit them as pilots. She refers to them as Nose, Ear, and Mouth (I believe). These discorporate pilots control the ship through "stasis shifts" and "neural networks." Then there's something called psyche-indices and all I could guess is that they're a psyche rating.   

Or at least from what I could gather because I've never read anything so incomprehensible and confusing in my life and I'm not exaggerating. Maybe because it was the 60s and nothing needed further explanation and you could just say "neural networks" and people would go "woah" but damn. The way imagery is described is confusing I don't know what I'm reading or what this world or it's inhabitants are composed of. The use of run-on sentences doesn't help the overall comprehension either. I found that what bothered me the most was that there was no connection between previous events; it's as if events do not matter or the character dialogue has nothing to do with anything. I felt like I picked up a novel from the middle of its series. There's no sense of tension, time, or suspense. No subject, person, place, or event is focused on enough so I'm just left with a cluster-fuck of a short novel with random-ass sci-fi words about language. There is no time spent on anything in this book. (Sorry Delaney)

I wanted to learn about so many of the ideas that Delaney was bringing to the table. Discorporate, tripling, the Morgue, Babel 17, language, etc but it was so confusing and hard to grasp onto anything in the story. The Baron sequence, sort of like the Collector, was the only mildly entertaining thing because more thought was put into describing how fat the Baroness is with her every movement instead of the details of world-building. Shameful.

It was later cleared up in class that Babel 17 was more about the nature of language and communication. There were some great points made about how more knowledge leads to how detailed one sees the world and how that affects their language. I can appreciate media that's less about the plot and more about the idea behind the plot, but Babel 17 was muddled and imperceivable that I couldn't find the point. I felt similar about Aye and Gomorrah.

Space Opera & The Martian

I read The Martian, AKA The Misadventures of Mark Watney in Space. It's pretty witty, quick, and comical. The ironic humor is supplemented by the abundance of scientific facts that then provide a vehicle to facilitate the gags. There are some great sequences on Mars where Weir uses the diary format of Watney's recording to extend the ironic elements of the story. e.x.

• Sol 34- “Things are finally going my way. In fact, they’re going great! I have a chance to lie after all!”
• Sol 37 (immediately after)- “I am fucked, and I’m gonna die!”

And my favorite; “A steady, obnoxious beeping that eventually roused me from a deep and profound desire to just docking die.” Other than jokes about his livelihood, Mark makes a lot of jabs at bureaucratic policies and processes. Too bad I felt these jokes got boggled down by Weir's favor of hard science.

Weir, at many points, neglects to properly describe anything to form any helpful imagery to assist readers with the harder science aspects of the novel. Here are some thoughts I had while ready:

• I'm halfway through the book and still don't know the configuration of the goddamn HAB because it was so quickly and poorly described.
• And how the fuck do the rovers really look? I know what a rover looks like, but this one in the story is hard to understand. Like how big is it? What are its dimensions so I can understand how Mark is trying to fit an oxygenator in it?
• And what is Pathfinder?
• It's hard to keep track of what's been jerry-rigged with what.

I often felt like I had to play catch-up because I was always confused with the visual aspects of Watney's technical creations. Although the language used is pretty colloquial, it's a hard read because there's a lot of technical jargon and attitudes. Weir is clearly making fun of bureaucratical processes but I found I could read 2-6 pages and not recall what I've read. I read the book relatively quickly but it still felt like I was fighting an uphill battle. The simultaneous events on earth and on Mars are more confusing rather than enlightening. It's disappointing too because any event that is mildly suspenseful or gripping, is drawn out with science talk that is untranslatable and makes it anticlimactic. I guess just don't like Weir's writing but I felt he really sucked all the air out of the retrieval of Mark Watney to the point I didn't even care, I just wanted to finish the book.

However if I understood hard science I can imagine these gags would be enhanced by the in depth scientific lens in which they're displayed. Overall, the book wasn't for me or my audience. Additionally, it did teach great lessons on procedural thinking instead of brute force to process a problem. And Mark Watney ran into a lot of problems.  

The Ocean at The End of The Lane & Adulthood

In The Ocean at The End of The Lane (shortened to The Lane from here on out), Gaiman commits to certain ideologies about relationships, mainly concerning those in adulthood, expressed through the lens of a child. There is a general mistrust of adults encouraged throughout The Lane, as they usually don't listen and are internally children themselves. Throughout, the main character (narrator) blankly establishes some poignant values to support this main ideology:

• He does not kill animals, assuming because animals are seen as honest, pure souls to be respected, in works of fiction. They are a part of nature and nature is to be valued; this is also a running theme but more subtle. Only adults disrespect nature; as seen with the opal miner's profession and attitude or conversely with the Hempstock's respect for their animals. 
• He enjoys myths, primarily Greek, because they're neither adult nor children stories, "they just are".
• He reads a lot, most likely this is to express his need to escape his current household; further explored with his adventures with Lettie.
• He mentions specifically that he mistrusts adults because they don't believe him, and that's why he would never tell about the dreams he's had.

However, the main character establishes early on that we all look like and thus will become our parents. It is an aspect of life that he struggles to reconcile with, as we all do. To further the feeling of detachment and social disconnect; there seems to be no interpersonal relationships held, at all. Everything is stated as a fact, either untrue or true. The extended flashback that is used to frame the story is from the perspective of a child, therefore everything is (cleverly) described in a matter-of-fact manner, making the retellings very straightforward. For example, the narrator, at age 7, could only relate his feelings about money relative to how many sweets he could get; "I went to bed that night happy and excited. I was rich. Buried treasure had been discovered. The world was a good place."

When examined from a broader perspective, this is a commentary on how children have simplified views of the world. Often it can benefit them by dismissing trauma. However, children can be hindered by their oversimplification due to the process producing more obstacles than are actually there. When the narrator happens upon the dead opal miner, we as the reader don't know if the narrator has registered what he's seen. Only a couple of pages later, through an analogy, does the narrator address it by saying "They could not look truly dead, because they did not ever look alive." Through the miner, we learn how the narrator processes information, particularly about death. The miner's apology for accidentally killing the narrator's cat is seen as a repayment; an exchange, there are no apologies given or received and the cat is merely replaced with another cat. More so, the miner's suicide is the catalyst to Ursula Monkton's arrival, a being that introduces a grey morality that the narrator is not familiar with.

Ursula Monkton gives the narrator strange feelings, she is reminiscent of The Sheep Man in A Wild Sheep Chase, but with destructive motivation. (Actually, the chase sequence through the field reminds me vaguely of Joyce Carol Oates' Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been, specifically her personification of the Devil and the feelings evoked because of that character.) Anyway, we know this character, Ursula, isn't quite right.
Ursula is a fierce opponent, originally presented to us as an absolute villain. The narrator says of Ursula, further expressing Gaiman's thoughts about adulthood: "She was also an adult, and when adults fight children, adults always win." But later we learn that Ursula only cares about giving people what they want. This is clearly not a good spirited motivation as it truly means giving people what they want; probably bad things, deep dark things that people desire. All of this; in order for her to be happier. But learning this fact helps us finally understand her nature and being, even spreading money about the town caused chaos or sleeping with the narrator's father--giving the father what he wants--it is her nature.

When Ursula was destroyed, the narrator said of her "...she was the adult world with all its power and its secrets and all its foolish casual cruelty."

When the dad drowns the narrator in the bathtub but he still insists that "my father did not hit me" it further plays with the reality that Gaiman builds.
And in this moment, when Ursula locks the narrator in the room, I realize this reminds me of Coraline. I read Coraline, another of Gaiman's books, in middle school. But the fear and "other-motherness" of Ursula is familiar and adult

Harry Potter & Morality

Reading harry potter for the first time was pretty nostalgic. I remember trying to open one of my brother's Harry Potter books, I believe it was The Goblet of Fire, when I was young and being overwhelmed with the size and content. Although I read a lot when I was young I still felt I couldn’t handle Harry Potter. I watched all the movies but reading it is a completely new, fresh experience that I like. And JK Rowling's writing doesn’t feel juvenile or rushed, unlike like Akata Witch. There’s a humor to Rowling's writing, it makes me wonder how her style developed and (most likely) matured with the audience as the series went on. I'm definitely interested in finishing the series as the magic I felt while watching the movies was reignited while reading The Sorcerer's Stone.

I expected the fact that I had seen the movies to ruin my imagination while reading the book, but it only enhanced it and made me enjoy it more. Sure, it would have been nice to visualize these characters and places without any outside imagery, but I really enjoying combining what I’d seen with what I read. I was around for the Harry Potter craze, while the books were coming out, and I was 4 when I watched the first film, so I'm aware I may be associating all of these warm feelings now, 17 years later, while reading The Sorcerer's Stone. But believe me, this is not all due to nostalgia, Rowling hid some good moral lessons in her writing.

When I was younger, I was a part of the PBS crowd that watched programs such as Reading Rainbow or Between the Lions (I liked Clifford a lot too), that placed emphasis on education, reading, and interpersonal values. It may have been something my mom just put on TV, or encouraged me to watch because of my learning disability at the time, but now I can reflect and thank her for that because I believe it's part of why I enjoyed reading as a teenager and still do.

Rowling raises some questions about morality and more so the concept of power. My view is limited as I've only read one book, but these themes are still prevalent in the movies. Simple, black and white conflicts are presented at first, such as how Harry, Ron, and Hermione navigate Malfoy's jealousy and rage are handled by them being more clever. The group also defends weaker characters, like Neville and Quirrell from stronger characters. Usually these opposing characters have some sort of power and are Slytherin. We also see how Harry reconciles with the loss of his family and having to deal with his terrible surrogate family. He finds familial friendships, that only grow as the series goes on, with Ron and Hermoine. Ron is uncomfortable because of his crowded and impoverished upbringing, but he is generous to Harry because of it. Other relationships are not so clear cut, like with Snape.

From the beginning of Sorcerer's Stone (book) to nearly the end, we as the audience mistrust Snape because Harry and his friends do. We all very much see Snape as the "bad guy" and Quirrell and others as the weaker, "good" guys. But when it is revealed that Snape is not the culprit behind the strange incidents at Hogwarts and that is is Quirrell, not only is it a twist but it presents a moral dilemma. Snape is still rude to Harry; due to his misplaced contempt for his father, but he worked to keep Harry safe as he learned of Quirrell and Voldemort's plan.

Quirrell, under the control of Voldemort, comments to Harry, "There is no good or evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it…" Later, almost as a response to this, Dumbledore says that humans have an awful habit of choosing to do things that will make things worse for them. Rowling's conclusion from all of this is that power changes a person, regardless of intent. That people are not good or bad, but they do things with good or bad intentions, many times unable to see the consequences to their actions. The grey morality that Rowling presents becomes more muddled as the story progress. And in this way, Rowling's writing grows with her audience.

One note: The movie showed Harry killing Quirrell whereas in the book, Quirrell overtook Harry and he fainted. Dumbledore saves Harry moments later. However the decision to let Harry kill Quirrell; ultimately a more morally decided choice than the book, may have been something Rowling did not intend.

Lud-in-the-Mist & The (High) Fantasy Genre

So throughout my exploration into all kinds of literature I've tried to enjoy the fantasy genre and found that... I don't like it much, with few exceptions. Particularly high fantasy. It successfully makes me feel like I'm playing an in-depth RPG where I get lost in the skill trees, the intricate details, and the flowery language. All of it sets me up, but culminates to a subject with no real purpose. Therefore I chose to read Hope Mirrlees' Lud-in-the-Mist over The Hobbit as I've familiarized myself with Tolkien content over the years and feel I needed something fresh, even if it was high fantasy.

To my disappointed surprise, Lud-in-the-Mist is just as frustrating a read as any fantasy novel, only compounded by the miles of its mythological allusions and literary mazes. Mirrlees often goes into extended dry explanations and descriptions that made me wonder where the plot was going, as in where Nathaniel's allegiances lay and the nature of the town of Lud.

Upon wading through the thick explanations and flowing paragraphs, we may come to the conclusion that overall, the nature of the town of Lud is its fear of the unknown. The town is confident in its absolute averageness, it believes that this will maintain it's security. But this principle also encourages ignorance and isolation as the two countries, Fairyland and Dorimare have not communicated for centuries in any official capacity. The arrival of the fairy fruit, eaten by Nathaniel's son, further communicates this point. The people of Lud are anxious about it's arrival that even mention of it has become taboo, there are even laws set in place to ban it.

Funnily enough, the town of Lud's main economy comes from trading; an act based on communicating with other peoples and outside authorities. Lud's inability to change and refusal to accept any artistic culture in favor of the stringent rules or law and commerce only encourages the smuggling of fairy fruit. When the fruit is allowed back into Lud, it represents the healthy growth and creative change for the town of Lud.

Overall, Lud-in-the-Mist is an extended metaphor about how fear of the outside world, and the desire to remain isolated, only harbors intolerance and paranoia.

Akata Witch

I can appreciate that witches are the transition from horror to fantasy, however I've never connected with the witch genre very much but liked Akata Witch's more ethnic representation on it.

However I’m not impressed by the subject matter of Akata Witch but it's an easy read. In this youth novel there’s nothing of a broader nature really discussed either, other than embrace your imperfections and knowledge is power (and the intense hatred for cigarettes). However the Fast Facts for Free Agents “intermissions” are a nice break from the youth novel format. Granted, I probably would have enjoyed this more if I were 10 years younger.

The most remarkable thing about Akata Witch is the descriptive way that juju and the parallel, not alternate, dimension is described. The imagery is extremely vivid. The explanation of Sunny being initiated and her body coming back down to earth... I could feel that. I could feel Ekwensu arise from the earth; burrowing from the depths of an unknown Hell. However, her departure was anticlimactic and Sunny's triumph too heroic. Disappointingly, things resolved too quickly afterwards. It took the kids half an hour to get a car, half an hour to explain to the police about the missing children, and half an hour to explain to Sugar Cream...Convenient.

Although, I enjoyed some of the other worldbuilding elements, like the description of the Tungwas. These bags of flesh that serve as a random nuisance in the spirit world were interesting, and I wish this aspect of flora and fauna was explored more in the novel. Then came the description of the parallel dimension, it was playfully done. I appreciated this interaction, between the dimensions, where Leopard people can see animals/spirits within the human dimension. The scholars are probably the most fantastical element of the novel as their physical descriptions are often so exaggerated, they are surely beyond the human realm.

Something (else) that does bother me are the inconsistent rules of the other realm. Such as, not everyone is born with an imperfection or ability and the rules of Leopard people further become a little vague when we get to the Zuma festival and see an abundance of Leopard people. The festival raises questions like what is death in the leopard world? What does the afterlife consist of?

Anyhow, I really hate to have this thought about a book, but man this could absolutely be a movie. The arc, the characters' young adventures and challengers? Totally. The descriptive visuals could be brought to life for a Hunger Games-esque audience to enjoy while also promoting women with power. The emphasis placed on the community of women in Akata Witch is subtle, but important. Sunny hates her father, and it's clear that he his threatened by Sunny because of her knowledge and willingness to follow ChiChi, another girl who is unlike other young girls. Her father's disdain for her later increases as she gains knowledge from the books she’s reading, but her brothers continue to embrace her. It's also clear where her mother's loyalties lie, as she is said to only yell at the boys as Sunny's father only yells at her.

Sugar Cream's character, and the other high-level Leopard women, are also good examples to Sunny of strong women. But they're not written that way, they're written like normal characters, that have skills and power. Another lesson taught is that financial gain, or greed, is not the way of a Leopard person. Then the novel ends with Sunny reading the letter from her grandmother; a woman massacred by a man enraged with finding power through unholy means.

Borne & The New Weird

On Borne 

Oh boy... What to say about Vandermeer's Borne? It often filled me with such an intense, visceral, fear where all I could do was look away from the words I was reading. It was surely beyond weird. Music is an important factor in my life; it accompanies me in whatever I do so I chose to listen to Bjork's discography while reading Borne, and she's been pretty weird for a while now.

Vandermeer’s fluid descriptions of Borne's apocalyptic landscape is expansive and at times, confusing, but in all the right ways. Mord’s description can be understood, and the gore associated with his existence is violent and acceptable--I'll get to this later. However, Borne’s description is a bit harder to comprehend but I initially visualized it as a purple sea cucumber with an undulating body. But Rachel notes that Borne may have appeared differently to anyone else, an interesting statement that I felt I had no choice but to believe.
I say that Mord's destruction is "acceptable" for the following reasons. When Rachel describes her first time seeing Mord, it made me realize something about Borne’s worldbuilding. It raises so many questions; the universe of Borne, but I don’t feel I need the answers. I don’t feel confused to the point of being lost, I don’t even desire to know the origins of Mord or the motivations behind the Company. I just want to keep reading; to continue having this odd, Daliesque world described to me so I can have the purest mental image of it. To imagine an unimaginable universe. It is as if Vandermeer doesn’t make any attempt to explain the political details, he just assumes you will agree with the universe’s basic conditions and characters then move on. That is my take on it anyway, and why Mord, a gigantic biological abomination; was generally easy for me to accept in this novel.

Rachel's character is revealed to have a complicated past at the end of the novel. And I can say that it didn't make a difference to how I viewed her as a character. Rachel felt like a vessel to deliver Borne's story, however that is to say that Rachel, and Wick, were not boring. Rachel clearly has a mother-like attachment to Borne that Wick refuses to recognize. Their relationship is oddly loving, especially with the end reveal, and it is complicated. But what else would they have in this hellish landscape if not each other? More so, Rachel delivered descriptions about the outside world aptly, and her descriptions assisted with the general atmosphere, the thick tension, of the novel.

Though vaguely described, Rachel’s assault from the bio-tech children was painful to read because of Vandermeer’s descriptive words and imagery. In this instance, Vandermeer chooses to describe feelings rather than images to evoke feelings, at least I think. After this, Rachel references “the city” as one entity, trying to kill her if it could. It's as if every being in the city operates by the city’s wishes; one singular entity made to destroy Rachel and Wick. This is a really disturbing, but fitting, attitude that is summed up in the following quote: "The city had visited me, to remind me that I meant less than nothing to it, that even the Balcony Cliffs wasn’t safe. That every wire in my head connected to our defenses could be snapped, just like that."
And then Rachel completely dissociates in the third arc of the novel and begins referring to herself as "the ghost" and the reader cannot help but to feel a heavy dread for her fate.

So let's talk about Borne, in Borne. To set the stage, I'd like to admit that I read every line of Borne's dialogue in the voice of HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey. This, in no way, helped the mental stress I experience reading this novel and I have no idea why I did it. Therefore everything Borne said was already creepy, but in my head, it was met with a robotic (but child-like) cadence that I couldn't shake. Borne's acquisition of language was distantly "similar" to Frankenstein's monster, however the process in which Borne absorbs knowledge is more barbaric. This aspect of Borne, his unrelenting intelligence, was his most alarming characteristic. It's fitting that in the end, he was reduced to a house plant that could not speak.
We almost begin to trust Borne as he grows into a "teenager", but then his true nature is revealed when he is caught mimicking Rachel’s appearance. (This revelation gave me chills and I had to look away from the book.) This incident then called back to when Borne said he talks to Wick, he may really mean he speaks with Wick as Rachel. And when Wick speaks with Rachel, is it always really Wick? This distrust is not only felt by Rachel, but also by the reader. Borne later wrestles with his existence (vaguely like Frankenstein's monster) and what he's meant to do. He doesn't want to abandon Rachel and disappoint her. But later, in the field, before he fights Mord, he admits that this is his existence. It's kind of an odd commentary, really. 
   
Overall, Borne has some things to say about humanity, specifically the death aspect, but I don't believe it's the novel's main focus. Rachel says, "To him, on some level I’d never understand...in the end we stood on opposite sides of a vast gulf of incomprehension. Because what was a human being without death?" Borne says this about a dream he had, I feel this is where he began to achieve full sentience, "Because I am dead, I do not know what is on the other side of the door." 

On Under the Skin & Weird Media

We watched Under the Skin, a film I have seen before and feel it is a great example of an unnerving alien-like horror. The visuals it presents are still and voyeuristic, undoubtedly contributing to the overall subtle terror felt while watching it. (I mean... she peels her skin off at the end of the film to reveal a black body before she is burned alive, terrifying.) The main character is detached in any scene where she does not interact with humans, she appears to be observing humanity as she preys on men. Often, she seems interrupted in thought when her prey don't act how she may predict, like a computer she resets and continues.

The imagery presented when the woman has "sex" with her prey is unrelentingly creepy, and leaves the viewer questioning what the moment is meant to truly represent. It feels as though she's gathering something, data or otherwise, and this imagery is used to suggest an alternate space where she absorbs her prey and takes them away from their present universe. This may be further supported by how she responds to the swimmer trying to save the husband and wife, she merely observes. This woman is not meant to function on humanity's rules, and that in itself is unnerving but understandable because she is an alien. She is not expected to follow humanity's expectations or motivations.

Overall, though, the film's preference of style over a supplementary cohesive story left me feeling lost after I watched it. Another film I suggest watching is Enemy in 2013 by Dennis Villenueve which uses dopplegangers to discusses themes of sexuality and psychology torture. It is very uncanny and I feel it covers some of where "weird media" could be heading. Another weird film is Mother! by Darren Aronofsky in 2017. Really, it's just a retelling of some bible stories using heavy allegories and intense horrific imagery. But beyond the plot, the actors and cinematography feels "off" and disturbed.

I think overall, media is moving towards using more unsettling, psychological themes to discuss issues of voyeurism, religion, and racism to focus on making audiences uncomfortable in their current state of existence, which is one of acceptance. We're currently in the process of just accepting that it's okay to be watched 24/7, that it's okay that racism is still happy and alive, etcetera. Black Mirror is a great collection of media that points this out without villainizing all technology and blaming certain generations. I think we're juggling what kind of future we want to have; one where we have freedom but some inconveniences (I'm in this camp) or one where everything is convenient and we're told what to do.

A Wild Sheep Chase: Temporal Themes

I like to listen to Japanese albums while I read, during Haruki Murakami's A Wild Sheep Chase I listened primarily to the 70's Jazz albums from Ryo Fukui and this album from 1978, how fitting. Murakami uses unsettling, descriptive imagery; like cells being replaced or thoughts being momentary, to drive his core temporal themes. For example, the main character's wife was preoccupied with the concept of cell turnover to explain that the person you were a week ago is technically not the same person you are now and thus you should only focus on people in the now. People you remember have already gone because they are in your memories. More so, no one has a name but they do have titles or attributes that become their "names" such as the woman with the ears or the Sheep Professor or The Chauffeur or the Secretary. Everyone is essentially objectified and I wonder if this is meant to suggest that no one exists. Not to say this story is taking place in a dream or anything, but that the theme of existence vs. not is also represented in the lack of naming characters. There's a commitment when people have names and this surreal theme is supported when Murakami chose not to assign names to characters.

In Japanese media, there are common themes about good vs. evil, or rather lack thereof. Forces with roots in folklore are simply accepted by the general public: benign. Murakami raises some questions about this moral confusion in A Wild Sheep Chase. Through the Secretary, he chooses to put people into two categories: the mediocre realists and the mediocre dreamers. It is here where we may imply the sheep's motivations to inhabit the boss and other like-minded people; people who are not mediocre. 
Murakami supports this theme by describing seemingly mundane aspects of life in a stream-of-conscious way through the main character, but with purpose. When the main character drinks or shaves, he tells the reader, as if he's just recording his thoughts in a logbook. But slowly, these mundane aspects of the main character's life become unusual; such as his courtship with the ear woman or his life on the mountain. In each sequence, we become aware that something is not-quite-right through Murakami's alarming, subtle description of the main character's descent into "madness" within these mundane details. Mundanity is supposed to be safe; benign, but Murakami clearly finds something disconcerting to pull from our mundane experiences, and this is why it terrifies us so (or me.) 

To contribute to this benign terror, we, the audience, are always bounced around to the middle of a story or going-ons. We are provided with just enough information, like the dialogue with the main character and his ex wife in the kitchen. Most information is gained from dialogue between characters. There is just enough information given to us to gather who these people are and how they came to be. In other words, the audience is not given enough information to be omniscient, and it bothers readers.

The Junitaki-cho mountain sequence was a series of chapters that disturbed me the most. The anxiety began on the train ride through the historical retelling that the main character read. However, most of this sequence was facilitated by the character of The Sheep Man; I found I was anxious throughout the last half of the novel because of this character. I felt something was deeply wrong. Either The Sheep Man did not exist or this whole chase was in fact, a setup. Then it is revealed, through the mirror, that he is some sort of a hallucination or ghost. Absolutely terrifying. Again, it was terrifying because The Sheep Man was truly benign. Did he ever harm the main character? No. He just spoke and walked funny. He never gave the audience a reason to feel threatened. He just showed up one day at the estate's door, but my god was his existence disturbing and his transition into the Rat even more so.

Sequences and characters; such as the boss' mansion or The Sheep Man, are eerie because they are benign. Sure, there are veiled threats from the Secretary, "It is still the same. For you and for me, there is only whether you find the sheep or not. There are no in-betweens. I am sorry to have to put it this way, but as I have already said, we are taking you up on your proposition. You hold the ball, you had better run for the goal. Even if there turns out not to have been any goal," and that entire discussion became increasingly unsettling and left me hypnotized. But I believe for that reason, because the Secretary is right: there is no goal, but the implication of that was very disconcerting. Characters' motivations are never really known, it's beyond mystery, it's a maze of psychological manipulation that makes this experience terrifying. Everyone, except the audience, runs on this creepy intuition about the main character's actions. Seemingly harmless and meaningless conversations later compound into deeper concepts. The story plays in the landscape of the reader's mind. 

Vampires, Humanity, & Homoeroticism

There were two themes of note in Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire; it's questions about morality as an immortal being, and the intense homoeroticism throughout. Louis' frustration with his existence as a vampire is palpable, almost like Frankenstein's monster but replace the rage with melancholy. Louis feels the deepest sadness and confusion when trying to explain his existence. And it is just that, he bothers Lestat in an attempt to justify his existence. He later learns that maybe his confusion was misdirected because Lestat, too, knew nothing of being a vampire. The most fascinating thing about Louis' exploration with Claudia is that he's so passive. It's as though he's being pulled along by a string. He desires answers, but he doesn't really want to actively get them. It's less of a heroic exploration; to find other vampires, and more of an "escort mission" by Claudia. Remember, Claudia is in the form of a 5 year-old. She's put up with Louis lamenting about humanity for 70 years.

Louis wanted to leave Lestat but couldn't, he was the reason Claudia was turned into a vampire and why Lestat was "killed" by Claudia. Again, Louis has proved to be extremely passive. Claudia was forced into this miserable existence under such odd circumstances it almost plays as satire. Now, Claudia's morality is also in question. We know that Louis cannot let go of his humanity: he feels for humans and chooses to feed off of animals and wants to know what to do now that he's a vampire. (Looking back, this is certainly an odd answer to search for. What can you possibly do once you've been turned into a vampire? What answers are there really?) Claudia seems to come to a conclusion about her being sooner than Louis. She tells Louis, "Let the flesh instruct the mind," when talking about finding their vampire brethren and encouraging him to lean into his vampiric ways.

It is subtle, but I believe Claudia grew to loathe Louis. But she relied on him because she was trapped in this helpless body. Still, even 70 years after Louis has been turned, he gets in an argument with Santiago about being a vampire. Louis is disappointed. The group of vampires in France have not given him the answers he seeks, there is no closure. I think when he meets these vampires, he finally realizes that life will continue to go on as usual, and this is not sufficient. Santiago is irritated that Louis is even asking these questions, such as if vampires are children of God or the Devil. At the core, Louis yearns to know if he is evil or not, he is drowning in guilt. He feels guilty for how he treated his brother, he feels guilty for feeding on humans, he feels guilty for making Claudia the way she is. Louis just wants someone to tell him that all is good and he has a purpose. (Armand may be that person for him, and that's why it was so easy for Armand to manipulate Louis.)

However, Louis is instead leaving with more questions and recognizes why Lestat knew nothing. Louis says, "There was nothing to know." And again, we see a theme of the very concept of existing being confusing for all beings. We seek out justifications for it, but there are none. A little nihilistic, sure. In the foreground of this beautiful backdrop of discussions about humanity and morality, lies the intense sexuality of the vampire. And I believe the eroticism in Interview with the Vampire is detailed because of the longing emotions that are produced from all of the misery of being an immortal beast. In modern media, it's assumed that anything to do with vampires will have some innate sexuality to it. But looking into Rice's writing, I feel it goes beyond "let's make vampires sexy, just because." Believe it or not, Louis is lonely. He initially feels intensely for Lestat. Their physical relationship, although brief, is intimately described when Lestat sucks Louis dry on the steps of the plantation. Louis describes Lestat in a loving way, and Alors, the boy interviewing Louis, acknowledges this.

Later, Louis shares similar but more intense feelings of Armand. He gazes upon Armand with such appreciation that there is no doubt Louis is in love with Armand. Their discussion on the tower is an example of this. Even after Armand admits to "glamouring" (thanks, True Blood) Louis into turning Madeleine into a vampire, Louis forgives him. They even believe each other to be "kindred" spirits (read as: lovers), and they agree to run away so that they can grow together. I believe this is because Louis is so forlorn and the very nature of being a vampire requires that one be open to relationships, because guess what? It gets lonely being immortal. Is this not the most homoerotic thing you've ever heard? Rice excellently skates the line when describing their love, however.

Lastly, these feelings are emphasized right before Louis leaves Armand. He sees Lestat and Lestat happily greets him. We get the sense of familiarity bridging relationships no matter what has happened in the past, due to these extenuating circumstances. It is because of the nature of being a vampire, kind of like in Frankenstein. There is a longing, out of necessity, an eternal melancholy accompanied with being a beast. Out of this loneliness, I believe we get the sexualization of vampires and the like.