Clamshell Boat, Riding the Current from Kathryn Pollnac on Vimeo.
It's starting to look as though my shadow is destined to get a lot more screen time than I ever will. Which is probably for the best. If you listen, you can hear the foghorn at Pt. Judith, almost five miles southeast of Moonstone Beach.
I'm still mulling over the whole silly "Mary Sue" thing. And yes, I still find it a painfully silly and generally useless concept. Though, I think there's something more insidious here. The idea that characters must be mundane to be believable, and a sort of elevation of the ordinary, that I find undeniably repugnant. Great literature is most often about extraordinary people, even when it purports to concern itself primarily with the "common man" (consider Tom Joad in Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath, for example). The whole idea of this sort of character police, it makes my skin crawl. We are good writers, or we are not, whether we are professional or amateur, whether we write fantasy or sf or genre mysteries or what so many mistakenly refer to as "literary" fiction (a grand redundancy). There is no place for dismissive categories like "Mary Sue." I see why it's happened. I even see why it's being applied beyond fanfic. Sure, I can understand the appeal of dismissing Stephanie Meyer or Laurell K. Hailton's distasteful and absurd heroines by simply labeling them "Mary Sues." They are undoubtedly idealized avatars in the service of the authors. But if we do that, given the inherent subjectivity of the concept, we must, wholesale, also dismiss thousands of other characters who have the same relationship to their authors. People are trying to invent a very simple solution for a problem that has no simple solution. And it's just dumb. I keep coming back to that, and I can't fathom why I'm wasting so much energy on such a completely reprobate idea. That which irks me gets my attention, more than it usually deserves. And, for the record, I do not, necessarily, have any problem with fanfic. But I've said that lots of times before.
Anyway...
I'm currently obsessed with NIN's "La Mer," from The Fragile (1999). Here are the original French Creole lyrics, which are spoken on the album by Denise Milfort:
Et il est un jour arrivé
Marteler le ciel
Et marteler la mer
Et la mer avait embrassé moi
Et la délivré moi de ma cellule
Rien ne peut m'arrêter maintenant
Which may be translated into English as:
And when the day arrives
I'll become the sky
And I'll become the sea
And the sea will come to kiss me
For I am going
Home
Nothing can stop me now
Or, somewhat more literally:
And the day has arrived
To thresh the sky
And to thresh the sea
And the sea has embraced me
And it has dispensed me from my cage
Nothing can stop me now
- Current Location:Olympus Mons
- Current Mood:
lazily contemplative
- Current Music:Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, "The Hammer Song"
Comments
That's a good title for something.
The idea that characters must be mundane to be believable, and a sort of elevation of the ordinary, that I find undeniably repugnant.
And that there is something laughably self-indulgent about identifying with a character out of the ordinary.
I'm currently obsessed with NIN's "La Mer," from The Fragile (1999).
I love that song.
And that there is something laughably self-indulgent about identifying with a character out of the ordinary.
Yep.
It's some weird sliver of social conditioning, or some neurosis. I still trying to figure it out. People who so resent those who may be more talented than them, or anyone in anyway exceptional, that they turn talent and ability and beauty into default negatives.
Edited at 2009-06-18 04:36 am (UTC)
(from Coming to Terms)
I’m done apologizing for that.
And well you should be. I got that crap growing up.
But, overall, splendidly stated.
I herewith give voice to my hope that, Hitchcock-like, you will make a cameo appearance in your book video promo thingee.
Hmmmm. Too bad we'll have no crowd shots.
The excellence of your writing does stand alone ... but there is a mystique thing to CRK. I say exploit it. This is perfectly justified given the stalker shit you put up with.
Somehow, this is the nicest thing anyone's said to me in days.
May I ask what software you are using for the book trailer? I had a long discussion today with a friend over his efforts to find a software program that works.
May I ask what software you are using for the book trailer?
iMovie HD 6. It seems adequate to the task, and I have it.
Thank you - don't think that's one he's tried.
Thank you - don't think that's one he's tried.
It came preloaded on my iMac back in 2007. Apple's moved in to iMovie 8, but it's a piece of crap. I think it's still possible to download iMovie HD 6 somewhere online, but I could be wrong.
Setting aside the legitimacy of the term, or lack thereof, the discussion interests me because it gets to deeper issues about what we want from fictional characters and what function they serve for their creators. Sometimes the two agendas, for want of a better word, dovetail nicely; other times, the writer might go a step too far and the reader gets that 'Oh, gimme a break' feeling. But to what extent does a writer go against idealization to the point where it becomes almost inverted idealization, i.e., this character is the worst, stupidest, most flawed character ever to appear in print? Like, how far can we go with this fucked-up character and still get you to care about what happens to her? Or, how far can we idealize her and still get you to identify? Is identification necessary to begin with? And so on.
I suspect that you're rejecting Mary Sue as a valid criticism on some level because you don't want to be thinking about it the next time you sit down to create a character; you don't want it, unbidden, anywhere on your radar, and you certainly don't want any possibility of some potential fanboy/fangirl snark to influence you one way or the other. So, okay: Mary Sue is a pretty weak criticism much of the time. The funny thing is, none of your characters have ever struck me as being remotely Mary Sue-ish, so why dignify it at all? It's not something that has anything to do with what you do. What would Harlan say? Probably 'What the fuck is a Mary Sue and why are you even thinking about it?' Interspersed with 'kiddo' and various uses of 'fuck.'
But to what extent does a writer go against idealization to the point where it becomes almost inverted idealization, i.e., this character is the worst, stupidest, most flawed character ever to appear in print? Like, how far can we go with this fucked-up character and still get you to care about what happens to her? Or, how far can we idealize her and still get you to identify? Is identification necessary to begin with? And so on.
Honestly, when I'm writing, these are not even questions I pause to consider. I do not believe the are valid, from the POV of the author.
I suspect that you're rejecting Mary Sue as a valid criticism on some level because you don't want to be thinking about it the next time you sit down to create a character; you don't want it, unbidden, anywhere on your radar, and you certainly don't want any possibility of some potential fanboy/fangirl snark to influence you one way or the other.
See above.
he funny thing is, none of your characters have ever struck me as being remotely Mary Sue-ish, so why dignify it at all? It's not something that has anything to do with what you do.
I don't know. Echo aside, I can see this fallacious "criticism" being leveled at a lot of my earlier characters, especially in Silk and Tales of Pain and Wonder. And it is true, they were all parts of me, and here and there, there's wish fulfillment (when did that get to be a bad thing?). These things irk me. Just knowing that there are people in the world who buy into this crap irks me.
What would Harlan say? Probably 'What the fuck is a Mary Sue and why are you even thinking about it?' Interspersed with 'kiddo' and various uses of 'fuck.'
Yeah, and "toots." He likes to call me toots.
And why is that a strike against the author, anyway? Does anyone call up John le Carré and tell him George Smiley and Alec Leamas are invalid characters because he wrote them out of his experiences of working for MI5 and MI6? I know this is not worth ranting about, but people have some very weird ideas about art.
I know this is not worth ranting about, but people have some very weird ideas about art.
Weird and horrendously wrongheaded.
It's obvious that — like any author who's actually been published — you haven't spent much time looking at dumb 'How to Create Characters We Care About' articles in Writer's Digest. I have to wonder if that rag has actually helped any aspiring writer.
Yeah, and "toots." He likes to call me toots.
*snerk* And yet you let him live.
*snerk* And yet you let him live.
Well, he's Harlan. And it's oddly sweet.
Rem acu tetigisti. I think it comes out when the reader feels that what they are getting out of reading the book is notably and obviously less than the what the author got out of writing it. It also seems independent of any actual ratio of benefit derived, and probably comes down to good writing; which in turn is probably why Caitlín hasn't had many such criticism, despite the open fact that her work is often (at some level) very personal.
so I'll just say fuck it.
I say it a hundred times a day.
I'm not sure whether the test applies to the character as introduced or as the character ends up, or if
No. Full stop. Not wasting any more time on this. I suspect that the most common denominator of Suedom is "characters which irritate me," and that's as far as it gets for most people.
No. Full stop. Not wasting any more time on this. I suspect that the most common denominator of Suedom is "characters which irritate me," and that's as far as it gets for most people.
Exactly. Keep in mind, many have cited Bella and Anita Blake as "mainstream" Mary Sues. And yet. These are characters who are wildly popular, who have made fortunes for their authors. Clearly, those who loathe them are in the majority. And we end up back at the issue of subjectivity and the uselessness of this term. Teaching people not to write "Mary Sues" could easily be equated with teaching them not to write characters who will be wildly popular. Yes, absurdist terminology spawns absurdist arguments. And vice versa.
I may never read anything from the Twilight series, but the graphic design of those dust covers is first-rate.
Very reluctantly, I do agree. And it's far too late for me to get started on the marketing tirade...
But dammit, now I can say it IN FRENCH.
On a related note, I'm always jarred by authors who refer to stories or novels as "fics." As in, "Stephen King wrote this great fic about a rabid St. Bernard."