Rob Osterman's Blog, page 14
May 4, 2012
Happy Star Wars Day
How do you know you're watching Star Wars with a group of Catholics?
When Obi Wan says "May the force be with you" half the audience calls back in unison:
"And also with you".
When Obi Wan says "May the force be with you" half the audience calls back in unison:
"And also with you".
May 3, 2012
Creating a "Real" subculture
For the Weekly Short Story Contest over on Goodreads I decided to take a stab at doing a story for the Queen's Fury universe in which my novel is going to take place. I want to keep developing the world and force myself to think about the various ways the races interact, as well as some back story on Mercy Lyons, how she interacts with others and what kinds of events would have landed her a place on the bridge of the HMS Diamondback where she finds herself thrust into the role of captain.
But rather than really focusing on Mercy I've been instead putting a lot of creative energy into the development of one of the races of the Royal Commonwealth of Worlds, the Hartishians.
Hartishi Prime is a jungle covered world and home to what are known in less polite slang as "space elves". They feature green skin, white hair and rows of sharp meat-rending teeth. Yes, these elves are strict carnivores. So much so, in fact that they cannot digest plant matter.
They are also intended to be a compliment to the Oresmen, dwarf-like men and women who have, for generations, populated the high gravity mining colonies. I admit that I like the play of elves and dwarves in fantasy and I don't see any reason to exclude them from science fiction. After all, isn't Spok really just Elrond in pants?
But where I'm getting stuck is coming up with a believable culture for the Hartishians.
When I wrote the first draft of chapter 1, Mercy's "Fren-emy" was named Cordea Morthi, a play on Cordelia for a first name and a mostly gibirishly inspired last name. Hartishians had no culture in my mind yet, and so I was just making up things that sounded good in order get things on the page.
But the more I worked on it, I wanted to give them something distinct, something I could draw on to build a realistic and more importantly relatable culture. I wanted people to recognize something in them, as well as have my own nods to some of my favorite writers.
Specifically, while I find it questionable that people would actually only speak Chinese for swearing in Firefly, it is a really fun twist and provides an easter egg for those willing to research (or happen to know) how to translate the expletives into plain English.
With this in mind, when I wrote the story I changed Morthi to Guillory, Crewman Winter (who does not appear in the short story but does in chapter 1) became Crewman Glase, and Leduc gets to swear in French. At one point she refers to another character as a "Le petit verre de pisse singe"which translates, roughly, to "little glass of monkey piss."
Then came a snag. Guillory is pronounced, I believe, as Gee Oh Ee. While I've nothing against this pronunciation, I chose the name because it translated to "strength". I wanted that to be a play on the fact that the character is smaller in stature and big on words. The only problem I foresaw was that as the book was talked about, I would say one thing to discuss the character and my non-French-speaking fans would expect me to say something else. I needed a more phonetic name.
And so Guillory became Leduc. According to a few websites it was used, historically, as a slander, a way to tease someone who was putting on airs. I like that name.
Only the more I've thought about it, I've hit a new snag:
Why do my elves speak French?
If this takes place in a "real" world, then how was it that the Hartishian worlds came to be so influenced by French (specifically French-Canadian) culture. It's one thing to have it be inspired, but I was more or less stealing things directly from history and throwing them into the mix. Part of this was intentional as I wanted to play a little bit to being part of a nation but not, similar to some of the struggles of the French-speaking colonies that came under British Crown rule at the end of the 18th century.
But if that were the case, then wouldn't my elves speak "Hartishian"? Why French?
In some ways I want to avoid inviting an alien language where I don't need to, and I want to minimize "nonsense" words and names.
One possible fix is this:
When the Human races made contact with the Space Elves, they were not yet a space faring culture. However they were warriors and poets, noble savages who had built themselves great monuments and great cities in the wilds. They were assimilated into the space faring races easily, but it was through the cults of French speaking missionaries that they found the most connect. Over a few generations, the French language became the primary "space" language that Hartishians learned, followed then by English. French allowed them to study higher ideas, while English gave them the opportunity to leave their planet.
Then, after a war between the Royal Commonwealth, and one of the space nations that would later join into the Union of Independent Planets, control of the Hartishian worlds (now plural as they integrated into space navies and sent out their own colony missions) was shifted to the Commonwealth as part of the peace settlement. It was an uneasy time, but the space elves made the best as they always have.
There's some work to be done on the timeline and the politics but it may work. And if it doesn't then it's time to start building a language.
But rather than really focusing on Mercy I've been instead putting a lot of creative energy into the development of one of the races of the Royal Commonwealth of Worlds, the Hartishians.
Hartishi Prime is a jungle covered world and home to what are known in less polite slang as "space elves". They feature green skin, white hair and rows of sharp meat-rending teeth. Yes, these elves are strict carnivores. So much so, in fact that they cannot digest plant matter.
They are also intended to be a compliment to the Oresmen, dwarf-like men and women who have, for generations, populated the high gravity mining colonies. I admit that I like the play of elves and dwarves in fantasy and I don't see any reason to exclude them from science fiction. After all, isn't Spok really just Elrond in pants?
But where I'm getting stuck is coming up with a believable culture for the Hartishians.
When I wrote the first draft of chapter 1, Mercy's "Fren-emy" was named Cordea Morthi, a play on Cordelia for a first name and a mostly gibirishly inspired last name. Hartishians had no culture in my mind yet, and so I was just making up things that sounded good in order get things on the page.
But the more I worked on it, I wanted to give them something distinct, something I could draw on to build a realistic and more importantly relatable culture. I wanted people to recognize something in them, as well as have my own nods to some of my favorite writers.
Specifically, while I find it questionable that people would actually only speak Chinese for swearing in Firefly, it is a really fun twist and provides an easter egg for those willing to research (or happen to know) how to translate the expletives into plain English.
With this in mind, when I wrote the story I changed Morthi to Guillory, Crewman Winter (who does not appear in the short story but does in chapter 1) became Crewman Glase, and Leduc gets to swear in French. At one point she refers to another character as a "Le petit verre de pisse singe"which translates, roughly, to "little glass of monkey piss."
Then came a snag. Guillory is pronounced, I believe, as Gee Oh Ee. While I've nothing against this pronunciation, I chose the name because it translated to "strength". I wanted that to be a play on the fact that the character is smaller in stature and big on words. The only problem I foresaw was that as the book was talked about, I would say one thing to discuss the character and my non-French-speaking fans would expect me to say something else. I needed a more phonetic name.
And so Guillory became Leduc. According to a few websites it was used, historically, as a slander, a way to tease someone who was putting on airs. I like that name.
Only the more I've thought about it, I've hit a new snag:
Why do my elves speak French?
If this takes place in a "real" world, then how was it that the Hartishian worlds came to be so influenced by French (specifically French-Canadian) culture. It's one thing to have it be inspired, but I was more or less stealing things directly from history and throwing them into the mix. Part of this was intentional as I wanted to play a little bit to being part of a nation but not, similar to some of the struggles of the French-speaking colonies that came under British Crown rule at the end of the 18th century.
But if that were the case, then wouldn't my elves speak "Hartishian"? Why French?
In some ways I want to avoid inviting an alien language where I don't need to, and I want to minimize "nonsense" words and names.
One possible fix is this:
When the Human races made contact with the Space Elves, they were not yet a space faring culture. However they were warriors and poets, noble savages who had built themselves great monuments and great cities in the wilds. They were assimilated into the space faring races easily, but it was through the cults of French speaking missionaries that they found the most connect. Over a few generations, the French language became the primary "space" language that Hartishians learned, followed then by English. French allowed them to study higher ideas, while English gave them the opportunity to leave their planet.
Then, after a war between the Royal Commonwealth, and one of the space nations that would later join into the Union of Independent Planets, control of the Hartishian worlds (now plural as they integrated into space navies and sent out their own colony missions) was shifted to the Commonwealth as part of the peace settlement. It was an uneasy time, but the space elves made the best as they always have.
There's some work to be done on the timeline and the politics but it may work. And if it doesn't then it's time to start building a language.
April 30, 2012
You Lack Focus
That's what my beloved wife told me, in specific reference to a quandery I've had regarding how to self-promote Fantasti*Con.
As I've often said, self-publishing is dirt easy. You write a book, you upload the PDF, you spend a day or two tweeking the format and you're self published. It's the self promoting that's a pain in the rear.
And one of my biggest challenges has been this: What category do I put the book in?When publishing a book you need to assign it a category code. That generally decides what portion of the fiction section it gets filled in. I really chewed on this a while trying to find just the right one and still feel like I struggle.
On the one hand, it is a humorous book. I take time, through Allison and her friends to poke at all kinds of conventions. I'm not sure it's funny enough, though, to be considered a Humor or Satire, though as really it's light-hearted fun as geeks mock geeks. So Humor's out.
There's the overarching story line of Allison's Stalker. Definite thriller material. But as my wife loves to point out, while it's freaky, it never quite rises to the typical "Thriller" level of "Mortal Peril." I could call it a Thriller but then I'm putting it in company of books that leave you afraid to sleep with the lights off. Probably not really well suited to that crowd.
There is a romantic lead. Allison does hope to find some happiness over the weekend. Ah HA! It's a Romance Novel. Only, it really doesn't have the usual trappings of a romance novel and really having bare chested men on the cover would just look out of place for how the story unfolds.
I'm left wondering if I should re-define it simply as "Chick Lit". I've never been overly comfortable with that designation as it feels like a cop out "Here's a book that's got a 20-30 female lead that doesn't fit into any other category."
Though, perhaps I should accept that what I have is a fun book that has a 20 something female lead that doesn't fit into any other category....
As I've often said, self-publishing is dirt easy. You write a book, you upload the PDF, you spend a day or two tweeking the format and you're self published. It's the self promoting that's a pain in the rear.
And one of my biggest challenges has been this: What category do I put the book in?When publishing a book you need to assign it a category code. That generally decides what portion of the fiction section it gets filled in. I really chewed on this a while trying to find just the right one and still feel like I struggle.
On the one hand, it is a humorous book. I take time, through Allison and her friends to poke at all kinds of conventions. I'm not sure it's funny enough, though, to be considered a Humor or Satire, though as really it's light-hearted fun as geeks mock geeks. So Humor's out.
There's the overarching story line of Allison's Stalker. Definite thriller material. But as my wife loves to point out, while it's freaky, it never quite rises to the typical "Thriller" level of "Mortal Peril." I could call it a Thriller but then I'm putting it in company of books that leave you afraid to sleep with the lights off. Probably not really well suited to that crowd.
There is a romantic lead. Allison does hope to find some happiness over the weekend. Ah HA! It's a Romance Novel. Only, it really doesn't have the usual trappings of a romance novel and really having bare chested men on the cover would just look out of place for how the story unfolds.
I'm left wondering if I should re-define it simply as "Chick Lit". I've never been overly comfortable with that designation as it feels like a cop out "Here's a book that's got a 20-30 female lead that doesn't fit into any other category."
Though, perhaps I should accept that what I have is a fun book that has a 20 something female lead that doesn't fit into any other category....
April 27, 2012
Get off my lawn! Wait? Your Lawn?
One thing that I find challenging about targeting audiences is to really get my head around who understands what when it comes to technology and modern trends.
Talking to students the today I realized that ten years ago a Palm Pilot was cutting edge technology. On mine I could read websites, provided I plugged the pilot into a computer and downloaded a snapshot of the pages I wanted with the day's news. The news was right there in my hand to read at my leisure, provided I didn't want news any more current than the last time I did a manual sync. In that time not only is color a standard feature (you paid a lot more for a color pilot), but, well... there really is no comparison.
Of course this didn't post didn't come to mind at that moment but last week when I was talking to a fellow teacher, who I will call Mike.
I was telling him about my story Missed Connections that I wrote for a small weekly contest over on Good Reads (it tied for first place for the week). As an aside I've been so busy since I haven't been keeping up and have missed chances to write on the topics "Cadaver" and "Deja Vu".
I started off by saying that I was particularly proud of how this story had come together. "It starts off with a post on Craigslist where this guy is trying to get this attention of this girl".
Mike stared at me a moment and then returned to the copy machine. "I have no idea what that means."
"Well," I explained, "it's a website where people put up personal ad's. There's a section called Missed Connections that's meant for people to say 'hey, I missed you, if you see this call me'."
Mike did not turn around. "Yeah, I'm afraid I'm just too old to get that."
Now, Mike and I talk a lot about education. We talk a lot about current events. We used to talk a lot about politics though we've really started to avoid that because, well, we don't agree and like most adults you either punch someone you don't agree with or you just avoid the topic. So we avoid it. It's best that way. I'm digressing.
So I tried, anyways, to summarize the plot figuring that knowing the ins and outs of internet dating wouldn't be critical to appreciating the genius that the story is. I get through the twist and the conclusion just as Mike is gathering up his papers. "Yeah, I'm sorry but I think I'm just too old to appreciate that story."
Hurmph.
How did I manage to write a story that was too modern for my friends to get it? How did the technology curve turn so sharply that a peer of mine, professionally, has fallen behind me on it? Is something like internet dating that weird?
I feel like the old fart around my kids. I see dramas unfold in real time in the classroom as phones sneak out under desks, and then students have a sudden need to "go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW", phone still in shaking hand. I think "wow, I'm old compared to these guys". Yet, apparently, I'm young enough to still tap the current changes and trends. FanastiCon is selling better as an eBook than it is in paperback, though thanks to family the paperbacks are still doing fairly well. I get ePublishing. Heck I have hard time understanding why we still need a post office given the ease and ubiquity of email.
Yet... I'm still, somehow, ahead of others. I don't Tweet, I do Facebook. I don't tumblr, I don't Instagram and I don't FourSquare. But, I do ... blog?
Blogging's not cool anymore is it? I mean if everyone's blogging it can't be that much of a rage.
Still, the real point of this some what erratic stream of conscious is this: Do I need to consider adding author's notes to explain the cutting edge technology that is around us every day that not every potential reader might realize? Or, is it ultimately better to leave the in-jokes, and know that my audience will respect me for expecting them to come with some prior knowledge?
At any rate, if you, dear reader, have not moseyed over to my Short Story Page, I encourage you to do so and give Missed Connections a read. If nothing else I could use the page views. ~grin~
Talking to students the today I realized that ten years ago a Palm Pilot was cutting edge technology. On mine I could read websites, provided I plugged the pilot into a computer and downloaded a snapshot of the pages I wanted with the day's news. The news was right there in my hand to read at my leisure, provided I didn't want news any more current than the last time I did a manual sync. In that time not only is color a standard feature (you paid a lot more for a color pilot), but, well... there really is no comparison.
Of course this didn't post didn't come to mind at that moment but last week when I was talking to a fellow teacher, who I will call Mike.
I was telling him about my story Missed Connections that I wrote for a small weekly contest over on Good Reads (it tied for first place for the week). As an aside I've been so busy since I haven't been keeping up and have missed chances to write on the topics "Cadaver" and "Deja Vu".
I started off by saying that I was particularly proud of how this story had come together. "It starts off with a post on Craigslist where this guy is trying to get this attention of this girl".
Mike stared at me a moment and then returned to the copy machine. "I have no idea what that means."
"Well," I explained, "it's a website where people put up personal ad's. There's a section called Missed Connections that's meant for people to say 'hey, I missed you, if you see this call me'."
Mike did not turn around. "Yeah, I'm afraid I'm just too old to get that."
Now, Mike and I talk a lot about education. We talk a lot about current events. We used to talk a lot about politics though we've really started to avoid that because, well, we don't agree and like most adults you either punch someone you don't agree with or you just avoid the topic. So we avoid it. It's best that way. I'm digressing.
So I tried, anyways, to summarize the plot figuring that knowing the ins and outs of internet dating wouldn't be critical to appreciating the genius that the story is. I get through the twist and the conclusion just as Mike is gathering up his papers. "Yeah, I'm sorry but I think I'm just too old to appreciate that story."
Hurmph.
How did I manage to write a story that was too modern for my friends to get it? How did the technology curve turn so sharply that a peer of mine, professionally, has fallen behind me on it? Is something like internet dating that weird?
I feel like the old fart around my kids. I see dramas unfold in real time in the classroom as phones sneak out under desks, and then students have a sudden need to "go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW", phone still in shaking hand. I think "wow, I'm old compared to these guys". Yet, apparently, I'm young enough to still tap the current changes and trends. FanastiCon is selling better as an eBook than it is in paperback, though thanks to family the paperbacks are still doing fairly well. I get ePublishing. Heck I have hard time understanding why we still need a post office given the ease and ubiquity of email.
Yet... I'm still, somehow, ahead of others. I don't Tweet, I do Facebook. I don't tumblr, I don't Instagram and I don't FourSquare. But, I do ... blog?
Blogging's not cool anymore is it? I mean if everyone's blogging it can't be that much of a rage.
Still, the real point of this some what erratic stream of conscious is this: Do I need to consider adding author's notes to explain the cutting edge technology that is around us every day that not every potential reader might realize? Or, is it ultimately better to leave the in-jokes, and know that my audience will respect me for expecting them to come with some prior knowledge?
At any rate, if you, dear reader, have not moseyed over to my Short Story Page, I encourage you to do so and give Missed Connections a read. If nothing else I could use the page views. ~grin~
April 23, 2012
Why I didn't cry: More Hunger Games Commentary
The following post contains profound spoilers for The Hunger Games as well as mature content. I'm putting the entire post under the cut so anyone who doesn't want to see any of that can be spared. I will be spoiling the movie the Hunger Games and more than likely the book as well.
You have been warned....
For those who don't want to/ can't click through let me give you the short short form. A lovely little innocent girl is on holiday in Downtown London when she goes and stands next to a truck that just happens to have a terrorist chemical bomb in it. We see her dance, play and then BOOM, nothing but sick rolling smoke coming towards the camcorder from where the truck and the girl used to be.
It's a ham-handed effort to instill a profound sense of righteous fury at the group responsible for this terror attack.
And it does so by way of using an innocent little girl as a prop in the process.
So now let's shift to The Hunger Games.
I knew the moment we saw Rue come onto the screen what her fate would be. She sits down like all the other tributes for an interview with the game's commentator all dressed up like a little sprite. And unlike other interviews, he emphasizes her youth by asking leading questions, by coaching her through very basic answers and all but saying "look I've been interviewing young adults ready for to-the-death combat, but this here's a little kid who's gonna die and she's gonna die quick."
Only I knew that wouldn't be the case. She was being presented to us in a way that made us fall in love with every aspect of her. She was the embodiment of innocence, and by corollary the senseless cruelty of the games themselves. Each time I saw her I found myself thinking more and more not about her character, nor about her fate about how the writers were using her as a plot device, a tool to beat us over the head with just how "bad" this world was, just how "cruel" President Snow and his lackeys were.
And by the time the scene came I had moved beyond this to a point where I simply wanted it done so the story could continue.
Please, dear reader, do not think me a heartless bastard. I did care greatly for nearly all of the characters. I wished so much to be wrong, for some miracle to occur and for her to escape the games, or be disqualified for some technicality or maybe even injured in training and thus sent off to some other unknown fate. The other tributes, unlucky souls sent to their deaths through no action of their own, received my sympathy. In some ways I even pitied the tributes from Districts 1 and 2, having had their childhood stripped so that they could train for this competition, one that was not even a sure victory. I could not begin to imagine how to live life not just praying to be passed over in the lottery but knowing I was one of a few destined to fight to the death. At least Katniss, Peeta and Rue had a chance not to be selected.
And then I thought about where Rue had come from. If Katniss had been able to volunteer to take her sister's place, how had ~NO ONE~ from District 11 volunteered to spare this child her execution? How had none of those girls recognized that she had no chance to live and instead intervened to protect her? In fact, how had none of the adults from District 11 figured out what a farce it was to send a 12 year old pixie of a girl off to die in a ritual execution and instead invested in training their own children to volunteer if need be to guarantee that every tribute sent to the games had, indeed, a fighting chance?
When I talk about The Hunger Games, I will use that word too: Execution. There is little need to candy coat this. When a 12 year old child is sent into lethal ritual combat against a 17 year old man or woman, there is no doubt as to the outcome. To call it a "game" is nothing but spin, and an affront to the horror that the Hunger Games are meant to represent. Tributes are just that, life offerings sent off to die to remind the Districts who is in charge, and that the state is so powerful as to seize their children and murder them on live television.
Perhaps in the book telling of the story we see Rue as a cunning woman-child, a crafty wily creature who sees a chance to live a little longer by aiding Katniss for a time while she waits for the right moment to slit her throat and claim victory. Or perhaps in the book she is framed more as a girl on par with the other tributes, one who stood a chance. Finally, perhaps, she came in knowing her fate, that her time near Katniss made it clear that she had said her goodbyes, and faced her death with an open heart. She had wept her tears for her own death and had made her peace.
But in the movie, that was not the case. They lavished her with the idea she might live when all knew it would not happen. They gave her a hope that we, the audience, could see as wickedly false. Watching it unfold I slowly lost my empathy for the character. I could feel that her presence was just a tool to beat me over the head with the themes of unfairness and injustice. And frankly there was no need. Katniss's plight was plenty to establish that for me. Peeta's situation, a baker turned assassin? He was just as pitiable. In short, the same emotional reactions could have been formed without resorting to going that extra step.
And it took it's toll. While there were no walk outs of the screening I attended, one of my students reported that nearly a dozen families left the theater after Rue's death. Seeing it on the big screen proved to be a bridge too far for their children. Just as parents had been forced to take their dino-loving kids out of Jurassic park, here too parents had made a poor assessment of their kids' readiness for death. And death of a peer.
I have been called out more than once for the fact that The Hunger Games is intended to be a young adult novel and thus stars young adults. Rue, at the age of 12, is a member of the target audience and therefore is a perfect character to help drive home the personal nature of the games. I have multiple problems with that, but let me focus on one. The initial target audience for the books has little impact on the audience for the movie. And as an adult seeing a movie that was not marketed as "kids only", I feel quite comfortable reacting (or in this case not reacting) as an adult.
In fact, the version we saw in the states was ruled to be 15+ in the United Kingdom:
So changes were made so the movie could get that 12A rating that would pretty much open it up to anyone who wanted to see it.
I knew I was supposed to cry for Rue. That was made clear every time we saw her. And I think the fact that it was made so abundantly clear to me that I was supposed to cry was the core reason I did not.
You have been warned....
For those who don't want to/ can't click through let me give you the short short form. A lovely little innocent girl is on holiday in Downtown London when she goes and stands next to a truck that just happens to have a terrorist chemical bomb in it. We see her dance, play and then BOOM, nothing but sick rolling smoke coming towards the camcorder from where the truck and the girl used to be.
It's a ham-handed effort to instill a profound sense of righteous fury at the group responsible for this terror attack.
And it does so by way of using an innocent little girl as a prop in the process.
So now let's shift to The Hunger Games.
I knew the moment we saw Rue come onto the screen what her fate would be. She sits down like all the other tributes for an interview with the game's commentator all dressed up like a little sprite. And unlike other interviews, he emphasizes her youth by asking leading questions, by coaching her through very basic answers and all but saying "look I've been interviewing young adults ready for to-the-death combat, but this here's a little kid who's gonna die and she's gonna die quick."
Only I knew that wouldn't be the case. She was being presented to us in a way that made us fall in love with every aspect of her. She was the embodiment of innocence, and by corollary the senseless cruelty of the games themselves. Each time I saw her I found myself thinking more and more not about her character, nor about her fate about how the writers were using her as a plot device, a tool to beat us over the head with just how "bad" this world was, just how "cruel" President Snow and his lackeys were.
And by the time the scene came I had moved beyond this to a point where I simply wanted it done so the story could continue.
Please, dear reader, do not think me a heartless bastard. I did care greatly for nearly all of the characters. I wished so much to be wrong, for some miracle to occur and for her to escape the games, or be disqualified for some technicality or maybe even injured in training and thus sent off to some other unknown fate. The other tributes, unlucky souls sent to their deaths through no action of their own, received my sympathy. In some ways I even pitied the tributes from Districts 1 and 2, having had their childhood stripped so that they could train for this competition, one that was not even a sure victory. I could not begin to imagine how to live life not just praying to be passed over in the lottery but knowing I was one of a few destined to fight to the death. At least Katniss, Peeta and Rue had a chance not to be selected.
And then I thought about where Rue had come from. If Katniss had been able to volunteer to take her sister's place, how had ~NO ONE~ from District 11 volunteered to spare this child her execution? How had none of those girls recognized that she had no chance to live and instead intervened to protect her? In fact, how had none of the adults from District 11 figured out what a farce it was to send a 12 year old pixie of a girl off to die in a ritual execution and instead invested in training their own children to volunteer if need be to guarantee that every tribute sent to the games had, indeed, a fighting chance?
When I talk about The Hunger Games, I will use that word too: Execution. There is little need to candy coat this. When a 12 year old child is sent into lethal ritual combat against a 17 year old man or woman, there is no doubt as to the outcome. To call it a "game" is nothing but spin, and an affront to the horror that the Hunger Games are meant to represent. Tributes are just that, life offerings sent off to die to remind the Districts who is in charge, and that the state is so powerful as to seize their children and murder them on live television.
Perhaps in the book telling of the story we see Rue as a cunning woman-child, a crafty wily creature who sees a chance to live a little longer by aiding Katniss for a time while she waits for the right moment to slit her throat and claim victory. Or perhaps in the book she is framed more as a girl on par with the other tributes, one who stood a chance. Finally, perhaps, she came in knowing her fate, that her time near Katniss made it clear that she had said her goodbyes, and faced her death with an open heart. She had wept her tears for her own death and had made her peace.
But in the movie, that was not the case. They lavished her with the idea she might live when all knew it would not happen. They gave her a hope that we, the audience, could see as wickedly false. Watching it unfold I slowly lost my empathy for the character. I could feel that her presence was just a tool to beat me over the head with the themes of unfairness and injustice. And frankly there was no need. Katniss's plight was plenty to establish that for me. Peeta's situation, a baker turned assassin? He was just as pitiable. In short, the same emotional reactions could have been formed without resorting to going that extra step.
And it took it's toll. While there were no walk outs of the screening I attended, one of my students reported that nearly a dozen families left the theater after Rue's death. Seeing it on the big screen proved to be a bridge too far for their children. Just as parents had been forced to take their dino-loving kids out of Jurassic park, here too parents had made a poor assessment of their kids' readiness for death. And death of a peer.
I have been called out more than once for the fact that The Hunger Games is intended to be a young adult novel and thus stars young adults. Rue, at the age of 12, is a member of the target audience and therefore is a perfect character to help drive home the personal nature of the games. I have multiple problems with that, but let me focus on one. The initial target audience for the books has little impact on the audience for the movie. And as an adult seeing a movie that was not marketed as "kids only", I feel quite comfortable reacting (or in this case not reacting) as an adult.
In fact, the version we saw in the states was ruled to be 15+ in the United Kingdom:
"An uncut '15' classification was available. These cuts were made in addition to reductions already made following an earlier 'advice' viewing of an incomplete version.”
The fact that only minor cuts were required means that the violent adaptation of Suzanne Collins' novel should still have enough blood and gore to satisfy the fans eager to see the film.
In the US, The Hunger Games was rated PG-13 for "intense violent thematic material and disturbing images - all involving teens".
So changes were made so the movie could get that 12A rating that would pretty much open it up to anyone who wanted to see it.
I knew I was supposed to cry for Rue. That was made clear every time we saw her. And I think the fact that it was made so abundantly clear to me that I was supposed to cry was the core reason I did not.
April 19, 2012
Fear of Success
I know this sounds like an odd fear to have. Who wouldn't want to make a mint on their creations? Why would I be at all concerned that anything I write, from the Queen's Fury to Fantasti*Con go on to the level of achievement known by The Hunger Games or Twilight?
It's a fear of the road to get there, that road being the amorphic label "Young Adult".
Especially as I'm not writing with the target audience of "12 year olds".
And Mercy's former life becomes part of our story. We see what happened to her before her rescue and we explore her thoughts on that world and culture as she explores and discovers more of the country she now knows and serves.
In short it's not really for kids.
But I also know my writing style enough to know that I don't write at the level of high literature. The language I use is fairly forward and while I do have a certain Dickensian style to my sentence structure, I don't believe that my writing is out of reach for most readers. From what I've discovered it seems that if you shy away from explicit sex, and you don't use too many big words, you can easily get labeled as Young Adult
And this is a good thing for most writers. The Young Adult market is massive and targets people who have a lot of extra time and money to engage in reading. It seems to me that getting labeled as YA is a gateway to riches. Adults aren't ashamed of reading "kids books" (and haven't been since Harry Potter), and kids eat them up. Plus, if you can get on a few reading lists, you have the added bonus of parents buying copies to pre-read at home. It's win after win after win.
But while I am writing Mercy to be a strong heroine in her own ways, I'm not sure I want to feel that pressure to write her as a role model for girls under the age of 13. I want the freedom to do things like make the reader question the complex issues of interstellar politics and cultural norms and even the issue of slavery, but not do it in a way where I've got hate mail from moms because they're angry about what their little girls are reading. I want to write her as real to her times, real to herself, and yes, imperfect.
Granted, it's a burden that comes with the comforts of success. I'll feel dirty but I'll be rich while I feel dirty.
So maybe I'm not so afraid....
It's a fear of the road to get there, that road being the amorphic label "Young Adult".
Especially as I'm not writing with the target audience of "12 year olds".
And Mercy's former life becomes part of our story. We see what happened to her before her rescue and we explore her thoughts on that world and culture as she explores and discovers more of the country she now knows and serves.
In short it's not really for kids.
But I also know my writing style enough to know that I don't write at the level of high literature. The language I use is fairly forward and while I do have a certain Dickensian style to my sentence structure, I don't believe that my writing is out of reach for most readers. From what I've discovered it seems that if you shy away from explicit sex, and you don't use too many big words, you can easily get labeled as Young Adult
And this is a good thing for most writers. The Young Adult market is massive and targets people who have a lot of extra time and money to engage in reading. It seems to me that getting labeled as YA is a gateway to riches. Adults aren't ashamed of reading "kids books" (and haven't been since Harry Potter), and kids eat them up. Plus, if you can get on a few reading lists, you have the added bonus of parents buying copies to pre-read at home. It's win after win after win.
But while I am writing Mercy to be a strong heroine in her own ways, I'm not sure I want to feel that pressure to write her as a role model for girls under the age of 13. I want the freedom to do things like make the reader question the complex issues of interstellar politics and cultural norms and even the issue of slavery, but not do it in a way where I've got hate mail from moms because they're angry about what their little girls are reading. I want to write her as real to her times, real to herself, and yes, imperfect.
Granted, it's a burden that comes with the comforts of success. I'll feel dirty but I'll be rich while I feel dirty.
So maybe I'm not so afraid....
April 16, 2012
At Least They're Reading
I will make no secret of a sad fact with the Hunger Games. I am not a fan.
My dislike for the franchise is based entirely on my reaction to the movie and I've been told time and time again that I'll change my tune as soon as I read the book. Maybe. But I doubt that will change my general dislike for the premise, or the major plot points. As I understand the same characters (for the most part) live and die in both the movie and the book and those facts are part of my general concern.
Now for the three of you still reading, let me really drill down on my concern: what I really dislike is the general attitude of many people in relation to whether or not kids should be reading the book in the first place. It's the same attitude that came up when Twilight was all rage among teens and tweens. It seems that every so often something else comes out and I, rapidly approaching the age where I sit on my front porch so I can yell at the kids to get off my lawn, find myself a fairly lone voice in saying "You're letting children read ~that~?"
To which the answer comes:
"Well at least they're reading."
Let's take that statement to it's logical extreme. As long as a child, and I'm confining myself strictly to the discussion of children under the age of 16 here, is reading, so the phrase implies, then it is a good thing. The very ~what~ of what they read is irrelevant as long as they are engaging in the print media. Now far be it for me to besmirch books; as an aspiring novelist it does me no good to point out that books are hardly the only form of quality story telling out there.
However, it also implies that The Story of O, or Fifty Shades of Grey are just as good reading for a 12 year old girl as would be Black Beauty or any of the Babysitters Club. I mean, as long as she's reading, why should we care what she's reading? Why not sit her down with a nice copy of World War Z? If I find that Xander is slow to want to read, maybe I need to offer him a gateway first. Since the actual content doesn't matter I'm sure I can find something that will make an nice CPS officer want to take him away. But that's okay because I can always just say "Well, at least he's reading."
What I've grown to hate is that the phrase removes any room for discussion about what is or is not appropriate. If I say "I don't think that book has themes that she can handle", that objection is nullified by the fact that the act of reading is inherently better than not reading. And I can't agree with that.
There are things that children aren't able to evaluate clearly. They lack the life experiences to evaluate an action as good or bad. They lack the cognitive ability, often, to see cause and effect the way that an adult in their 20's does. They haven't had a chance to experience enough of the bad to appreciate the good. And all too often they lack the general maturity of thought to discuss these issues rationally.
Perhaps my experiences are anomalous, but when I've talked to teens about Twilight, I've found it rare that they are able to really analyze the nature of the Bella/Edward relationship. I'm not, myself, opposed to any choices adults make in their relationships. I do think that for adults there is a certain glamor to the Alpha Hero that Edward is intended to represent. "Do what I say because I love you and I know what you need." That's a fairly popular trope in adult romance.
But as a father I am concerned with my daughter growing up to believe that such is the only kind of relationship. Or worse I'm concerned that she may encounter a young man along the way who not only applies that logic, but does so in ways she doesn't want. Down that road can lie abuse, at the least.
I don't mean to beat up on Twilight at large. I know for many of my women friends it is a fantastic guilty pleasure. I know for many of my women friends it's not even a guilty pleasure; they love it and they're proud to love it.
I think that when I say "I don't like to see my students reading X because I think it teaches them Y which they're not ready for", I'd much prefer to hear back "that's not your call" or "their parents think otherwise," or even "meh, you don't know what book X teaches".
But can we please dispense with "At least they're reading"? We all know that's not true.
Right?
My dislike for the franchise is based entirely on my reaction to the movie and I've been told time and time again that I'll change my tune as soon as I read the book. Maybe. But I doubt that will change my general dislike for the premise, or the major plot points. As I understand the same characters (for the most part) live and die in both the movie and the book and those facts are part of my general concern.
Now for the three of you still reading, let me really drill down on my concern: what I really dislike is the general attitude of many people in relation to whether or not kids should be reading the book in the first place. It's the same attitude that came up when Twilight was all rage among teens and tweens. It seems that every so often something else comes out and I, rapidly approaching the age where I sit on my front porch so I can yell at the kids to get off my lawn, find myself a fairly lone voice in saying "You're letting children read ~that~?"
To which the answer comes:
"Well at least they're reading."
Let's take that statement to it's logical extreme. As long as a child, and I'm confining myself strictly to the discussion of children under the age of 16 here, is reading, so the phrase implies, then it is a good thing. The very ~what~ of what they read is irrelevant as long as they are engaging in the print media. Now far be it for me to besmirch books; as an aspiring novelist it does me no good to point out that books are hardly the only form of quality story telling out there.
However, it also implies that The Story of O, or Fifty Shades of Grey are just as good reading for a 12 year old girl as would be Black Beauty or any of the Babysitters Club. I mean, as long as she's reading, why should we care what she's reading? Why not sit her down with a nice copy of World War Z? If I find that Xander is slow to want to read, maybe I need to offer him a gateway first. Since the actual content doesn't matter I'm sure I can find something that will make an nice CPS officer want to take him away. But that's okay because I can always just say "Well, at least he's reading."
What I've grown to hate is that the phrase removes any room for discussion about what is or is not appropriate. If I say "I don't think that book has themes that she can handle", that objection is nullified by the fact that the act of reading is inherently better than not reading. And I can't agree with that.
There are things that children aren't able to evaluate clearly. They lack the life experiences to evaluate an action as good or bad. They lack the cognitive ability, often, to see cause and effect the way that an adult in their 20's does. They haven't had a chance to experience enough of the bad to appreciate the good. And all too often they lack the general maturity of thought to discuss these issues rationally.
Perhaps my experiences are anomalous, but when I've talked to teens about Twilight, I've found it rare that they are able to really analyze the nature of the Bella/Edward relationship. I'm not, myself, opposed to any choices adults make in their relationships. I do think that for adults there is a certain glamor to the Alpha Hero that Edward is intended to represent. "Do what I say because I love you and I know what you need." That's a fairly popular trope in adult romance.
But as a father I am concerned with my daughter growing up to believe that such is the only kind of relationship. Or worse I'm concerned that she may encounter a young man along the way who not only applies that logic, but does so in ways she doesn't want. Down that road can lie abuse, at the least.
I don't mean to beat up on Twilight at large. I know for many of my women friends it is a fantastic guilty pleasure. I know for many of my women friends it's not even a guilty pleasure; they love it and they're proud to love it.
I think that when I say "I don't like to see my students reading X because I think it teaches them Y which they're not ready for", I'd much prefer to hear back "that's not your call" or "their parents think otherwise," or even "meh, you don't know what book X teaches".
But can we please dispense with "At least they're reading"? We all know that's not true.
Right?
April 12, 2012
Romantic Robots
Over on Goodreads a rather engaging question was posed: Can a robot have romantic feelings without violating the three "Laws of Robotics"?
For those unfamiliar, the Three Laws of Robotics were created by Issac Asimov as proposed fundamental rules that we should have to instill in all robots. First, a robot cannot cause harm to a human, nor can it allow, through its inaction, a robot to come to harm. A robot, must, by this law, come to a human's aid. Second, a robot must obey all orders given to it by a human, unless doing so would violate the first law. The Third law requires a robot to protect itself, unless doing so would violate the other two laws. A robot would get out of the way of a speeding train, but it would still rush into the train's path to save a life of a human. A robot would also destroy itself if ordered to do so, since obedience trumps self-preservation.
These three laws were more a vehicle for Asimov to explore the Law of Unintended consequences than they were, I think, actual laws we would need to imprint on robots. Throughout his short stories, attempts to adhere to these laws create a variety of odd and unforeseen behaviors, sending his protagonists off to explain how a robot can be following these rules at the same time. The stories are one part high science fiction and one part logical debate.
Which brings us around, finally, to the issue of "Can a robot be romantic while still following the three laws?"
Further down into the conversation, it was pointed out that most of us had taken what sounded like a bleak view of romance. One commenter quips:
I don't find it weird at all, in fact I think that seeing the eventual pain in romance and pursuing it despite that is what makes romance so very Human.
Here is my response:
Read more of the discussion on Goodreads.
For those unfamiliar, the Three Laws of Robotics were created by Issac Asimov as proposed fundamental rules that we should have to instill in all robots. First, a robot cannot cause harm to a human, nor can it allow, through its inaction, a robot to come to harm. A robot, must, by this law, come to a human's aid. Second, a robot must obey all orders given to it by a human, unless doing so would violate the first law. The Third law requires a robot to protect itself, unless doing so would violate the other two laws. A robot would get out of the way of a speeding train, but it would still rush into the train's path to save a life of a human. A robot would also destroy itself if ordered to do so, since obedience trumps self-preservation.
These three laws were more a vehicle for Asimov to explore the Law of Unintended consequences than they were, I think, actual laws we would need to imprint on robots. Throughout his short stories, attempts to adhere to these laws create a variety of odd and unforeseen behaviors, sending his protagonists off to explain how a robot can be following these rules at the same time. The stories are one part high science fiction and one part logical debate.
Which brings us around, finally, to the issue of "Can a robot be romantic while still following the three laws?"
Further down into the conversation, it was pointed out that most of us had taken what sounded like a bleak view of romance. One commenter quips:
Isn't it weird that after 7 replies that I am the first one to mention that having romantic feelings is not supposed to hurt? It's really the more opposite of that.
I don't find it weird at all, in fact I think that seeing the eventual pain in romance and pursuing it despite that is what makes romance so very Human.
Here is my response:
Thing is, it ~will~ hurt and most people know that. Relationships end at some point, even if it's a temporary suspension because you believe in a rejoining in the afterlife. But either someone dies, or the couple breaks up. That means there will be pain on some level. The 1st Law of Robotics forbids the creating of pain, or through inaction allowing pain to occur. It does not, however, allow for "greater net pleasure than pain"And that's what separates us from them. I love my wife dearly. I cherish every moment we spend together. I have an indescribable contentment when I hold her at night. All of these things add up to some kind of positive factor, call it P.
However, eventually she'll leave me, through death, divorce, etc. This will cause pain. There are also the moments of pain that come in every relationship, when there's a horrific fight, a massive misunderstanding, when I disappoint her. These all add up to some negative factor. Call it S.
On the margin, P - S > 0. Thus, we're happy to engage in relationships because for the most part we know we get out more than it will cost, emotionally. Of course there are other cases where someone is able to convince themselves that S = 0, either because they see no suffering, or because they believe it will never happen. Usually at the beginning of a relationship we tend to do that as well.
A robot, at least a 3-laws safe robot, cannot do that. The first law says that if S =/= 0 then the robot cannot act. It does not allow for the robot to attempt a calculation of net benefit but rather binds the robot to a single action.
Of course there are ways that an advanced AI might slip around this by doing a mass calculation. Whether or not you liked the movie adaptation of I, Robot, there surely were some casualties brought on the decision to save humanity from itself.
I like the concept of the 3 Laws but for a truly advanced AI you almost need to default them down to be more like Guidelines than actual rules.
Read more of the discussion on Goodreads.
April 9, 2012
Movie Review: Mirror Mirror
Once again, Hollywood has affirmed that there isn't a single original idea among them. It's bad enough that we're re-imagining stories into odd twists (see the novel Cinder, or the recent movie adaptations of Little Red Riding Hood), but we're also going to take a story we know and tell it mostly like we know it.
But, the kids were at "school", I was on break, Jenni had the day off, and we had two free tickets, two free popcorns and two free beverages to burn. By the time we decided to see a movie, there was only one playing within the next hour: Mirror Mirror.
Overall, it was an entertaining couple of hours. As we all know the story of Snow White there were precious few plot twists that surprised us. Any suspense in the plot was rooted more in a sense of "Ah, so that's how they're going to handle it this time."
As I search for things to critique nothing really stands out as a negative. All of the cast, from Roberts to Lane to Collins (who is the daughter of Phil Collins did you know?) turned in solid performances for a fantasy romance story. I don't see any Oscars in the near future but there weren't any moments where I sat and thought "Wow, that sucked." Let's be clear, there's a point in the movie where our leading man is told to "act like a puppy." Yes, it's corny. Yes, it's cheesy. But it was mildly entertaining.
The script was serviceable enough, again, with no glaring flaws or wretched lines. The dwarves (now named after their jobs rather than personality traits) indeed had some fine comedic moments. There are some deviations from the core story, which I'll leave unsaid so as not to spoil anyone.
I do have to agree with the complaints that the movie lacked a serious sense of space. The outdoor scenes almost entirely take place in a handful of sound stages, using high mounted cameras to show hide that the snow covered hills disappear just a few feet out of the shot. While on-location shooting is expensive, for a movie with such epic vistas in the panoramic shots, using small confined spaces for the action was jarring. In that regard it was bland to watch and if not for the solid (if uninspired) performances the movie would have been a flop.
However, if you look past the small sets, the "known" story, and the relatively basic format, the movie's worth seeing as an easy date night. It won't give you a lot to talk about over dinner or drinks afterwards, other than "Lilly Collins, was she in something else?" Is it a must see, however? No, not really. It neither offends nor inspires.
But, the kids were at "school", I was on break, Jenni had the day off, and we had two free tickets, two free popcorns and two free beverages to burn. By the time we decided to see a movie, there was only one playing within the next hour: Mirror Mirror.
Overall, it was an entertaining couple of hours. As we all know the story of Snow White there were precious few plot twists that surprised us. Any suspense in the plot was rooted more in a sense of "Ah, so that's how they're going to handle it this time."
As I search for things to critique nothing really stands out as a negative. All of the cast, from Roberts to Lane to Collins (who is the daughter of Phil Collins did you know?) turned in solid performances for a fantasy romance story. I don't see any Oscars in the near future but there weren't any moments where I sat and thought "Wow, that sucked." Let's be clear, there's a point in the movie where our leading man is told to "act like a puppy." Yes, it's corny. Yes, it's cheesy. But it was mildly entertaining.
The script was serviceable enough, again, with no glaring flaws or wretched lines. The dwarves (now named after their jobs rather than personality traits) indeed had some fine comedic moments. There are some deviations from the core story, which I'll leave unsaid so as not to spoil anyone.
I do have to agree with the complaints that the movie lacked a serious sense of space. The outdoor scenes almost entirely take place in a handful of sound stages, using high mounted cameras to show hide that the snow covered hills disappear just a few feet out of the shot. While on-location shooting is expensive, for a movie with such epic vistas in the panoramic shots, using small confined spaces for the action was jarring. In that regard it was bland to watch and if not for the solid (if uninspired) performances the movie would have been a flop.
However, if you look past the small sets, the "known" story, and the relatively basic format, the movie's worth seeing as an easy date night. It won't give you a lot to talk about over dinner or drinks afterwards, other than "Lilly Collins, was she in something else?" Is it a must see, however? No, not really. It neither offends nor inspires.
April 6, 2012
Still at least the seats get sold...
Over on Goodreads we've been discussing how to respond to bad reviews as writers, specifically as self published writers. This lead us, of course, to some classic examples of writers refusing to accept that someone else might not find their writing as brilliant as they and their friends do.
And these reactions are not limited to just self published authors. One of the criticisms of Amazon's rating system has been that it is easy for a publishing house to use agents, friends, and other industry connections to pump up reviews, or vote down negative reviews. By using the like buttons, bad reviews can fall down and off the main page, leaving only the glowing reviews provided by "professional" reviewers. It is an inherent problem with user rankings: how do you know which users are real users and which are sock puppets?
The conversation turned, naturally enough, to the potential value of bad press. Really, more to the fundamental question: Is there such a thing as bad press? Or is any publicity good publicity?
Viral marketing is based strictly on the idea that someone talks about your work to someone else. A positive review is a good thing, naturally, as we like to be liked. However, even a bad review to a friend might still motivate that friend to investigate the "train wreck" and see for themselves. As a case in point, Friday by Rebecca Black has 27 million views on YouTube. Of those, she has nearly 600,000 dislikes to roughly 200,000 likes. Now, is it likely she can ride all of that negative attention to another song? I'm not sure. For one, people have talked about her. If a new single comes out "by Rebecca Black" there's already name recognition so which is more likely?
"There's a new song by Rebecca Black"
"That hack? What was it?"
Or...
"There's a new song by Rebecca Black"
"Rebecca Who?"
Consider then our cases of Authors Behaving Badly. A writer goes to Twitter and makes a pile of noise about how angry they are about a bad review. Their agent tweets back not to worry, and soon the entire Innerwebs are aflame with shouts and cries of conspiracy and the like. But as long as that storm rages, people are talking. People are visiting. The pages are getting hits, reviews are getting liked and disliked, and there is that most important of hallmarks of a successful ad campaign: Engagement.
Do I believe that some of these outbursts are carefully planned efforts to stir the pot and get someone into the blog-o-sphere news cycle? Absolutely. Do I believe all of them are? Not for a moment. But we are suckers for drama. We like to gossip. And when we talk about a product or a personality, that keeps that person and personality relevant. Why do think Rush Limbaugh felt confident in calling a college student a whore on national radio? Because his model for success is to create as much drama as in nessecary to keep people listening. Even those who don't agree with him tune in just to hear what kind of crazy story he'll spin next.
Most reasonable people would say "Well, maybe they'll listen to it, but I certainly won't." And that's well and good. We want to think that we'd be above slowing down to look at the car wreck. But for good or ill, this seems to be a model that our information age encourages and even rewards. I'm not advocating it. I have no intentions of creating drama where it does not need to be simply because I don't think I need to nor can I conceive a place where I would.
I was taught to be honest and respectful. Maybe I would get more if I wasn't so much, but I would find such a victory a hollow one. It may be true that "Dignity and an empty sack is worth the sack," but I've never felt that the Rules of Acquisition were the rules I wanted to live by.
