Arts & Letters

Genres and SF

2 Comments / Neal Stephenson / /

Neal Stephenson recently gave a talk called The Fork: Science Fiction versus Mundane Culture at Gresham College. It’s an interesting talk, and one of the things he talks about is how genres have evolved over time. Fifty years ago, there were a lot of fairly well delineated genres. He gives some examples like Romance, Westerns, and Crime. Westerns have basically disappeared. It’s still a genre, but anything produced in that genre happens in some exceptional way (I think the genre survives because it has a rich history; otherwise it would have disappeared completely). Romance has more or less merged with all the other genres. Sure, bookstores still have unabashed romance sections, but you don’t see much of those stories elsewhere in movies or television. Instead, you see romance merged in with just about every other genre. Most movies feature some romantic element these days. There are exceptions, of course, and there are sub-genres that are more romantic than not (i.e. romantic comedies), but for the most part romance on its own is pretty rare in movies. In a way, romance has become so ubiquitous that it ceases to be its own genre. Similarly, crime stories have become so commonplace that it’s barely retained itself as a grenre. This is especially the case in television, and I can guarantee that there are at least 3 or 4 separate episodes of Law & Order and/or CSI playing on television right now, as I write this entry. Stephenson goes into more detail for all of these genres, and it is quite interesting.

A while ago, I linked to an article that featured a bunch of SF authors attempting to define the science fiction genre. I didn’t talk much about my thoughts at the time, except to say that I favored a more broad definition than most of the authors, and part of the reason I did that was because of Neal Stephenson. He became famous for novels like Snow Crash and The Diamond Age, obvious and unabashed science fiction, but his later works have curiously moved into more of a historical fiction. Crytponomicon takes place partially during WWII (with the other plotline being in the present day) and The Baroque Cycle takes place entirely in the 17th and 18th centuries. Both stories feature a lot of science and/or math, but they aren’t your steriotypical SF. There’s nothing futuristic about them, they don’t take place in space, they don’t feature aliens (well, we don’t exactly know what Enoch Root is, so perhaps I’m wrong about that – then again, I don’t think I ever want his character to be explained). Basically, a lot of the more strict definitions of SF would exclude those books. As such, I’ve always been curious to see what Stephenson’s thoughts were, and perhaps unsprisingly, he seems to hold an extremely broad definition of what constitutes SF. He seems to embrace the notion of SF as meaning Science Fiction but also Speculative Fiction, which opens the doors to a lot of seemingly non science fictional things. For instance, he notes the way that science fiction and fantasy are often conflated, and he also seems to include anything influenced by comic books, video games or martial arts films as well. He also quotes Bruce Sterling’s hilarious definition of “thrillers” (which funnily enough, involves science fiction). Is his definition too broad? Perhaps, but I think it’s also a part of his larger point, which is that genres are kinda meshing together.

It’s an interesting talk, and Stephenson goes into a lot more than just genre talk here, including stuff about vegging out and geeking out (which is something he’s written about before) and the way most people seem to have become geeks in one way or another (geekhood no longer seems to be limited to computer enthusiasts).

Anathem Music Update

Arts & Letters, Neal Stephenson / /

Apparently the advanced reader copies of Neal Stephenson’s new novel Anathem are starting to arrive… along with an unexpected musical accompaniment in the form of a CD. According to Al Billings:

There is a note with it stating that “In order to conform to the practices of the avout, this disc contains music composed for and performed by voices alone.”

I’ve just listened to several of the songs on this CD and, frankly, this is some weird shit. I say this without reservation. The musical styles are all over the map except that they all only use human voices (and occasionally hands). Some of it is similar to Western, Christian, styles of chanting. Other tracks are more Classical vocal arrangements with singing. The rest of the tracks seem to be heavily influenced by Eastern, Buddhist, styles of chanting, especially Tibetan Buddhism with its use of harmonics and overlaying voices. It varies quite a bit from song to song. Additionally, when there are recognizable words, they are not in English (nor in any language that I recognize). “Celluar Automata” is the weirdest track of this sort with multiple voices weaving in and out, along with some clapping and exclamations in an unknown language. “Thousander Chant” would be at home on some of the collections of Tibetan chanting that I have and whoever is performing it is obviously trained in the throat chanting used by Tibetans and others in Asia.

Interesting. I wonder if this is something that will come with the book once it is released… or if it’s just an added bonus for those lucky enough to be selected for an early reviewer book like Al. In any case, Cory Doctorow notes that the music was created by Dave Stutz, a retired Microsoft employee who apparently advocated open source software, but now owns a winery and makes strange music.

And so this Anathem thing gets more and more interesting. September 9 can’t get here fast enough! [Thanks to Tombstone for the links]

Link Dump

Link Dump, Neal Stephenson / /

Time is short, so just a few interesting links that I’ve run accross recently:

  • Wikihistory: So what would happen if time travel was invented a hundred years from now? Why, time travelers would start an internet forum… among other predictable things. Hilarious.
  • True Measure of Code Quality: Heh.
  • Agent to the Stars: John Scalzi’s first novel was originally published online, and it’s still there. I actually haven’t read it yet, but I think this might be the only Scalzi SF book that I haven’t read (and I’ve enjoyed all the others…)
  • I Love You, but You Love Meat: I was bored by this article until I saw this line:

    She and her daughter have “meat parties” when Mr. Benson goes out of town, she said.

    Heh.

  • The Sports Guy Glossary: I’m not a huge sports fan, but I have come to love Bill Simmons. Even when he’s writing about a sport I absolutely hate (i.e. Basketball, unless it’s Villanova basketball, in which case: Go ‘Nova!), I’ll read it. There are some times when it’s all sports, but most of the time he’s making so many pop-culture references that it’s entertaining. This page has lots of his classics, including sporty stuff like the Ewing Theory (to be renamed the Tiki Barber Theory) and stuff almost completely unrelated to sports, like the Guidelines for Underrated Movies.
  • CES 2008 panel on SF influence on technology: The panel features Neal Stephenson, Dean Kamen (inventor of the Segway and other neat stuff), Lucy Lawless (she’s a Cylon!), and Walt Mossberg (journalist). Interesting stuff…

That’s all for now…

Vigilantes

3 Comments / Arts & Letters, Culture, Movies, Politics / /

I recently finished watching both seasons of Dexter. The series has a fascinating premise: the titular hero, Dexter Morgan, is a forensic analyst (he’s a “blood spatter expert”) for the Miami police by day, but a serial killer by night. He operates by a “code,” only murdering other murderers (usually ones who’ve beaten the system). The most interesting thing about Dexter’s code is the implication that he does not follow the code out of some sort of dedication to morality or justice. He knows what he does is evil, but he follows his code because it’s the most constructive way to channel his aggression. Of course, the code is not perfect, and a big part of the series is how the code shapes him and how he, in turn, shapes it. To be honest, watching the series is a little odd and disturbing when you realize that you’re essentially rooting for a serial killer (an affable and charming one, to be sure, but that’s part of why it’s disturbing). I started to think about this a bit, and several other examples of similar characters came to mind. There’s a lot more to the series, but I don’t want to ruin it with a spoiler-laden discussion here. Instead, I want to talk about vigilantes.

Despite the lack of concern for justice (or perhaps because of that), Dexter is essentially a vigilante… someone who takes the law into his own hands. There is, of course, a long history of vigilantism, in both real life and art. Indeed, many classic instances happened long before the word vigilante was coined – for example, Robin Hood. He stole from the rich to give to the poor, and was immortalized as a folk hero whose tales are still told to this day. I think there is a certain cultural fascination with vigilantes, especially vigilantes in art.

Take superheroes, most of whom are technically vigilantes. Sure, many stand for all that is good in the world and often cite truth and justice as motivation, but the evolution of comic books shows something interesting. I haven’t read a whole lot of comic books (especially of the superhero kind), but the impression I get is that when the craze started in the 1930s, it was all about heroics and people serving the common good. There was also a darker edge to some of them, and that edge has grown as time progressed. Batman is probably the most relevant to this discussion, as he shares a complicated relationship with the police and a certain above-the-law attitude towards solving crimes. Interestingly, the Batman of the 1930s was probably a darker, more violent superhero than he was in the 1940s, when one editor issued a decree that the character could no longer kill or use a gun. As such, the postwar Batman became more of an upstanding citizen, and the stories took on a lighter tone (definitely an understandable direction, considering what the world had been through). I’m sure I’m butchering the Batman chronology here, but the next sigificant touchstone for Batman came in 1986, with the publication of Batman: The Dark Knight Returns. Written and drawn by Frank Miller, the series reintroduced Batman as a dark, brooding character with complex psychological issues. A huge success, this series ushered in a new era of “grim and gritty” superheros that still holds today.

In general, our superheroes have become much more conflicted. Many (like Batman) tackle the vigilante aspect head on, and if you look at something like Watchmen (or The Incredibles, if you want a lighter version), you can see a shift in the way such stories are told. I’m sure there are literally hundreds of other examples in the comic book world, but I want to shift gears for a moment and examine another cultural icon that Dexter reminded me of: Dirty Harry.

Inspector Harry Callahan is an incredibly popular character, but apparently not with critics:

Critics have rarely cracked the whip harder than on the Dirty Harry film series, which follows the exploits of a trigger-happy San Francisco cop named Harry Callahan and his junior partners, usually not long for this world. On its release in 1971, Dirty Harry was trounced as ‘fascist medievalism’ by the potentate of the haut monde critic set, Pauline Kael, as well as aspiring Kaels like young Roger Ebert. Especially irksome to the criterati was a key moment in the film when Inspector Callahan, on the trail of an elusive serial sniper, is reprimanded by his superiors for not taking into account the suspect’s Miranda rights. Callahan replies, through clenched teeth, “Well, I’m all broken up about that man’s rights.” Take that, Miranda.

I should say that critics often give the film (at least, the first one) generally good overall marks, praising its “suspense craftsmanship” or calling it “a very good example of the cops-and-killers genre.” But I’m fascinated by all the talk of fascism. Despite working within the system, Dirty Harry indeed does take the law into his own hands, and in doing so he ignores many of our treasured Constitutional freedoms. And yet we all cheer him on, just as we cheer Batman and Dexter.

Why are these characters so popular? Why do we cheer such characters on even when we know what they’re doing is ultimately wrong? I think it comes down to desire. We all desire justice. We want to see wrongs being made right, yet every day we can turn on the TV and watch non-stop failures of our system, whether it be rampant crime or a criminal going free or any other number of indignities. Now, I’m not an expert, but I don’t think our society today is much worse off than it was, say, a hundred years ago (In fact, I think we’re significantly better off, but that’s another discussion). The big difference is that information is disseminated more widely and quickly, and dramatic failures of the system are attention grabbing, so that’s what we get. What’s more, these stories tend to focus on the most dramatic, most obscene examples. It’s natural for people to feel helpless in the face of such news, and I think that’s why everyone tends to embrace vigilante stories (note that people don’t generally embrace actual real-life vigilantes – that’s important, and we’ll get to that later). Such stories serve many purposes. They allow us to cope with life’s tragedies, internalize them and in some way comfort us, but as a deeper message, they also emphasize that the world is not perfect, and that we’ll probably never solve the problem of crime. In some ways, they act as a critique of our system, pointing out it’s imperfections and thereby making sure we don’t become complacent in the ever-changing fight against crime.

Of course, there is a danger to this way of thinking, which is why critics like Pauline Kael get all huffy when they watch something like Dirty Harry. We don’t want to live in a police state, and to be honest, a real cop who acted like Dirty Harry would probably be an awful cop. Films like that deal in extremes because they’re trying to make a point, and it’s easy to misinterpret such films. I doubt people would really accept a cop like Dirty Harry. Sure, some folks might applaud his handling of the Scorpio case that the film documents (audiences certainly did!), but police officers don’t handle a single case in the course of their career, and most cases aren’t that black and white either. Dirty Harry would probably be fired out here in the real world. Ultimately, while we revel in such entertainment, we don’t actually want real life to imitate art in this case. However, that doesn’t mean we enjoy hearing about a vicious drug dealer going free because the rules of evidence were not followed to the letter. I think deep down, people understand that concepts like the rules of evidence are important, but they can also be extremely frustrating. This is why we have conflicting emotions when we watch the last scene in Dirty Harry, in which he takes off his police badge and throws it into the river.

I think this is a large part of why vigilante stories have evolved. Comic book heroes like Batman have become more conflicted, and newer comic books often deal with the repercussions of vigilatism. The Dirty Harry sequel, Magnum Force, was apparently made as a direct answer to the critics of Dirty Harry who thought that film was openly advocating law-sanctioned vigilantism. In Magnum Force, the villains are vigilante cops. Then you have modern day vigilantes like Dexter, which pumps audiences full of conflicting emotions. I like this guy, but he’s a serial killer. He’s stopping other killers, but he’s doing so in such a disturbing way.

Are vigilante stories fascist fantasies? Perhaps, but fantasies aren’t real. They’re used to illustrate something, and in the case of vigilante fantasies, they illustrate a desire for justice. The existence of a show like Dexter will repulse some people and that’s certainly an understandable reaction. In fact, I think that’s exactly what the show’s creators want to do. They’re walking the line between satisfying the desire for justice while continually noting that Dexter is not a good person. Ironically, what would repulse me more would be the complete absence of stories like Dexter, because the only way such a thing could happen would be if everyone thought our society was perfect. Perhaps someday concepts like justice and crime will be irrelevant, but that day ain’t coming soon, and until it does, we’ll need such stories, if only to remind us that we don’t live in a perfect world.

Subterranean Stephenson

Neal Stephenson / /

Interesting article about geeky dads who worry that their kids won’t become geeks, too, and how they try to instill a sort of geeky work ethic in their kids.

Science fiction author Neal Stephenson once told me something memorable as we were hanging out in his back yard. He pointed to an unfinished kayak under a tarp. He said he was slowly working on it, in part to mentor his kids, even though they did no work on the boat, nor express the least bit of interest in this project. None-the-less he continued puttering on the undertaking while they were home. Stephenson said when he was a kid, his dad was constantly tinkering on some garage project or another, and despite Neal’s complete indifference for any of his dad’s enthusiasms at the time, he was influenced by this embedded tinkering. It was part of the family scene, part of his household, like mealtime style, or the pattern of interactions between siblings. Later on when Neal did attempt to make stuff on his own, the pattern was right at hand. It felt comfortable, easy. Without having to try very hard, he knew how to be a nerd.

Interesting stuff. And speaking of Stephenson, Warren Ellis apparently finished the Baroque Cycle lately:

I have just finished reading The Baroque Cycle of Neal Stephenson, and feel like giving up writing entirely.

I guess he liked it? Further thoughts on his blog:

I finally got to finish reading the last of Neal Stephenson’s Baroque Cycle. I’d never normally recommend you read a 3000-page work, but the Cycle is just a towering piece of work, and I think you should read it before you die. A hundred pages from the end, I got that terrible longing sadness, the one that comes when you realise you’re near the end of something and you’ĺl never have the joy of reading this in the same way again.

I’ve had that feeling before. I definitely had it while reading the Baroque Cycle, but that was more just because I’d been reading the thing for 2 years. And it had one of Stephenson’s better endings, I think. I had the same feeling while reading Cryptonomicon, except I had it more like three or four hundred pages from the end. Heh. [Warren Ellis links via No Mod Required]

Update: Shamus joins in the discussion Alex and I had about Cryptonomicion.

Anathem

5 Comments / Neal Stephenson / /

Holy crap! I just found out that Neal Stephenson’s new novel is to be titled Anathem, and according to Amazon, it’s set to be released on September 9, 2008. Also, it’s 928 pages. I don’t know how I missed this, but apparently, some details about the novel leaked last September, in this LJ entry:

He’s writing a science fiction novel unrelated to Cryptonomicon and the Baroque Cycle. It’s set on another planet and has aliens and so on. It’s really about Platonic mathematics, but he needed the aliens and space opera-ish elements to spice it up a little bit, just like the pirates kept people engaged in the Baroque books. He’s nearly finished writing it, and if he doesn’t finish by the end of the calendar year he’ll have to give some money back. If everything proceeds according to schedule, it should be available in stores in about a year.

Damn! Looks like my US Civil War era prediction was a bit off, though I do think my prediction is still in place for the next Cryptonomicon/Baroque Cycle style novel will feature at least one portion set in the US Civil War Era. Or something. In any case, I’m psyched. (via this wikio page I found in my referrers)

Update 3.31.08: Lev Grossman, geek blogger for Time magazine, reports on the plot:

Since childhood, Raz has lived behind the walls of a 3,400-year-old monastery, a sanctuary for scientists, philosophers, and mathematicians—sealed off from the illiterate, irrational, unpredictable “saecular” world that is plagued by recurring cycles of booms and busts, world wars and climate change. Until the day that a higher power, driven by fear, decides that only these cloistered scholars have the abilities to avert an impending catastrophe. And, one by one, Raz and his cohorts are summoned forth without warning into the Unknown.

Interesting. No mention of other planets or aliens, but a promising plot, I guess.

Thoughts on Cryptonomicon

4 Comments / Neal Stephenson / /

Alex has some choice words for one of my favorite books, Neal Stephenson’s Cryptonomicon. In all honesty, I don’t really blame him. It’s not necessarily that I agree with all his comments so much as I can see why some people would be bothered by some of the things in the book. For a 900+ page book, it sure doesn’t seem to have a lot of plot. What it has instead is a whole bunch of tangential stories and anecdotes revolving around what basically amounts to a treasure hunt. There are lots of other subplots. There’s a war story, a couple of romantic threads, lots of technology, some history, and a bunch of other junk thrown in for good measure, but in the end, the plot is about Nazi gold.

What follows might seem a bit defensive, but I want to start with a disclaimer that I just can’t resist discussing Stephenson. As I mentioned before, I don’t blame Alex for not liking various bits and pieces of the book, I just don’t happen to agree about most of them.

Alex says:

I don’t strictly look for a point in the books that I read, but nonetheless I found Cryptonomicon distinctly lacking in the department of points, and I feel like it ate my time.

I can see why someone would say something like that after they finish the book. The ending is mildly lackluster (Alex barely mentions my least favorite part of the book, which is Andrew Loeb, jungle warrior). After the first few hundred pages of the book, I had no idea where Stephenson was going with the story. But hell, I was enjoying myself immensely. I don’t mind my time being “eaten” if I’m enjoying the process. Is there a point to the book? Well, it depends on what you want to get out of it. I saw lots of themes that I found relevant and interesting, and Stephenson touches on many interesting topics. For instance, cryptography plays an important role in both the WWII and modern day portions of the book, but it’s also a thematic element that permeates the entire book. A large portion of the book is about separating signal from noise, whether it be Randy trying to decode Amy Shaftoe or Bobby trying to decipher why the heck his unit is being asked to do all sorts of strange things. Maybe it’s just that I find the world mystifying in the extreme, but I like the way the characters in the book strive to figure out the world. Is that a “point” of the book?

Next:

Amidst all of the whatever going on, there’s some talk of sex. … Anyway, it’s terrible. You want to personify your protagonist’s prostate, Neal Stephenson? Call him “Little Man ‘Tate”? Okay. You want to spend, let me count them … approximately eight pages talking, in character, about a fetish for stockings and a woman who can only orgasm when having sex upon antique furniture? Be my guest, I guess. … Then, when you come to write the narrative sex scenes, all I can say is wow. …

I’ve seen this complaint a few times before, and if you can’t tell by all my ellipses above, Alex has a lot more in his post about it. I personally had no issue with it. I mean, sure, it’s a little weird, but the book is filled with weird stuff. The characters are weird. The stuff they’re doing is weird. Heck, real life is weird. Why single out the sex stuff? And sometimes it has a point. Take the aformentioned “eight pages talking, in character, about a fetish for stockings and a woman who can only orgasm when having sex upon antique furniture.” Why is that important? Because Stephenson is setting up a surveilance technique that will become important later on in the story. In context, those eight pages are important because they’re intensely personal and private to the character who is being surveiled, and yet there are these guys in the next room who are able to invade the perceived privacy and security of being alone, all through extraordinary technological means. The chapter wouldn’t work if the guy was writing out his grocery list. That’s not private. It has to be something personal and perhaps embarrassing for it to make an impact not just on you the reader, but on the characters in the story. So later in the book, when Randy gets into a situation where he’s alone in a jail cell, handling sensitive information, well, it makes sense that he would be a little paranoid about it and goes to extreme lengths to obfuscate what he’s doing. Did Stephenson need to spend 8 pages setting it up? Did he need to write a scene where a character engages in a mathematical discussion of Concentration as a function of Horniness, complete with graphs? Maybe not, but I kinda like that he did. He lets these situations breath, and that’s a big part of why I like his stuff.

Another complaint:

Something that made sense in Snow Crash, it being an alterna-future where the US had split into nation states, was the use of slightly different names for things. I can therefore be forgiven for being confused when Cryptonomicon used the term “Nipponese” all the time while still being set in our own theoretical timeline. This constant, unexplained reference struck me as an act of amazing grease.

I distinctly remember the reason Stephenson gives for this in the book, though he does so in the WWII portion of the novel. It’s in a footnote around the time when Bobby Shaftoe gets sent back to America and he’s talking to some Colonel about his time in the Phillipines (Look, I found it in Google Book Search at the bottom of page 114). The footnote reads: “Men with experience in Asia use the word ‘Nip.’ The Colonel’s use of ‘Jap’ suggest that his career has been spent in the Atlantic and/or Caribbean.” Now, I suppose that doesn’t explain why, two generations later, a bunch of techno-businessmen would go around refering to Japan as “Nippon,” but from the earlier reference to “Men with experience in Asia,” I’m guessing that Stephenson was trying to imply that, you know, Randy and co. had experience in Asia. Now I can see why someone would think this was a bit weird, but as we’ve already established, that doesn’t bother me.

More criticisms:

Which brings me to my final complaint: all of these disparate characters are supposed to combine for an ultimate goal. Which is, of course, the ultimate goal of … well, whatever it is that they end up with. Fifty years later, the descendants of these characters are remarkably untouched by everything that has happened in the WWII segment of the book. Stephenson may as well have written in wholly different characters for all the effect that these ones had. You’re left wondering, at the final page, precisely why everyone went through all of this …

I’ve already mentioned that I can see why someone would be underwhelmed by the ending, so that complaint doesn’t bother me, but the part about the descendents being untrouched by their grandparents deeds in WWII is a little off in my opinion. Once again, we find the theme of cryptography rearing it’s head: the modern day characters are trying to piece together what happened back in WWII, but it’s not easy. I don’t think it’s unusual at all for a grandson to not know what their grandfather did in the war, if only because I had the relatively recent experience of finding out that my grandfather was a freakin’ tank hunter in Europe (I still don’t know the specifics of this). Anyway, to say that the descendents are untouched by the WWII generation is to miss one of the themes in the book, which is that people of our generation are totally in awe of the WWII generation and feel a little awkward working in our world knowing that our grandparents were literally fending off evil on a worldwide scale. This is something you see all throughout the modern day portions of the book, though not put as baldly (or written as poorly) as that.

And finally:

It’s as I’ve said before: being long is not the same as being epic. Cryptonomicon has many pages, but never once does it feel like a grand adventure.

I really feel like I’m trolling Neal Stephenson, but I’d prefer to think this is not the case. It’s just that somewhere, buried amongst the mountains of digressions, is some interesting material; it’s just a shame that you have to dig through evolutionary badasses, stockings, barely mentioned one-legged crazies, and the apparently insatiable sexual desires of WWII soldiers to get to it.

I certainly agree that being long is not the same as being epic, but I wouldn’t call Cryptonomicon an epic. Sweeping? Yes. Epic? No. Also, I think Alex misses the point. The interesting material isn’t buried amongst the mountains of digressions, the interesting material is the mountains of digressions. Without the digressions, the book isn’t nearly as interesting. In his post, Alex mentions that Snow Crash worked as well as it does because it’s relatively compact. Well, I think Cryptonomicon works as well as it does because it’s distinctly not compact. Different strokes, I guess.

Again, I’m not suggesting that the book is perfect, and I think Alex makes a lot of valid points, but I love it anyway. Even things that used to bother me about it (like Andrew Loeb, jungle warrior) don’t loom as large as they used to. As a commenter at Alex’s site suggests, perhaps having read the Baroque Cycle has given me a little more depth into Cryptonomicon, but I don’t think that’s it (though you do tend to notice many more connections between the characters). If Alex didn’t like Cryptonomicon, he’ll be doubly confounded by Quicksilver. Even I was complaining a bit that those books needed some editing. But then again, I ended up enjoying them and want to read them again someday. In the end, I love almost everything Stephenson has written, and greatly look forward to his next novel.

Oh, and incidentally, the Australian cover art for Cryptonomicon (pictured in Alex’s post) is awful! On the other hand, the Australian cover art for The Yiddish Policeman’s Union (also at Alex’s site) is awesome (I think I like it better than the American art). And to digress even further, I agree with Alex in wondering how on earth the Coen Brothers will adapt that book to the screen (I suppose if anyone could do it…)

Update: Alex responds at the bottom of his post and in the comments here. I may respond later, but it’s late now, and I need to go to bed…

Update 2/27/08: Shamus comments

Adaptation

2 Comments / Anime, Arts & Letters, Movies / /

Via Author, I found this question posed by Iwa ni Hana:

Why would fans want to experience / creators want to tell more or less the same story with more or less the same characters in different formats, be it manga, TVA, OVA, feature film, CD drama, novel, live action movie or live-action TV series?

The structure of the question pretty much demands a two part answer (one for fans and one for creators), and I’ll tack on some tangents while I’m at it.

I imagine that the creators question has the easier answer, though there are really several possible reasons why a creator would want to adapt their work to other mediums. Perhaps the creator always wanted to make a movie, but lacked the resources and expertise to create one, so they started with a comic book/manga/web comic instead (Author notes this in his post – “formats form a vague hierarchy of expense, with cheaper works (such as manga) forming the base and being adopted into more expensive arts.”). Another big reason could be because the creator wants their story to reach a wider audience. A corollary to that would be that the creator would assent to an adaptation because they were paid well, and if the adaptation is successful, they may be able to achieve a higher degree of independence or creative freedom in their future work. Note that these aren’t necessarily good things, but high-cost mediums like film require creators to make a name for themselves before studios will sign off on the budget for a dream project.

This probably isn’t that common a scenario, but it’s definitely possible, and the history of film shows great filmmakers “slumming it” before they go on to make their classics. Take Stanley Kubrick. He got his start as a photographer for Look magazine. He once did a photo-essay on a boxer named Walter Cartier, which he later adapted into an independently financed short-subject documentary called Day of the Fight. He parlayed that minor success into a few more short documentaries and then into narrative fiction films, doing kinda standard noir thrillers like Killer’s Kiss and The Killing. These are fine films, and better than most of their contemporaries, but Kubrick was also paying his dues in the film industry, which is something he continued to do up until Spartacus, after which his career really took off. He had proven himself a bankable commodity. A filmmaker popular with the critics and with audiences (a rarity, to be sure). Again, this probably isn’t that true of all artists who do (or allow) adaptations of their own work, but it seems likely that at least some creators would pursue other mediums so that they can tell the stories they want to tell.

The fan’s perspective is a little more complicated. Why would you want to watch what basically amounts to the same story you just read? I’m honestly not sure. Personally, there are definitely cases where a book is adapted into a movie and I dread watching the movie (said dread is often justified). But there are a few reasons this could happen. First, it could be a way to introduce a friend to one of your favorite authors or books without nagging them to read the books. Second, there is often a chance, however slim, that the adaptation will add something new and interesting to the source material. Most adaptations are, by necessity, not the exact same story. In the rare instances where they are, they generally turn out a little bland (I actually enjoyed the first two Harry Potter films, but they’re also bland and a little boring if you’ve read the books). Indeed, many of the best adaptations are significantly different than their source material. Not to keep using Kubrick as an example, but The Shining is a wonderful example of a movie that only bears a superficial resemblance to the book, and yet is quite entertaining. It’s also one of the few examples of an adaptation that has carved out it’s own reputation without affecting the reputation of the source material. In my mind, both the book and movie are classics, but for different reasons. This actually makes sense, as different mediums use different “language” (for lack of a better term) for telling a story. I think this is part of why authors who write the screenplays for movie adaptations of their work often produce disappointing results. For example, take any number of Stephen King adaptations where he’s written the script, including even The Shining mini-series, which pales in comparison to Kubrick’s film.

This brings up an interesting question about movies that end up being better than their source material. Of course, most often, it’s the other way around, but in some instances, lightning strikes. Unfortunately, I haven’t read many of the typical examples, but from what I can see, both Jaws and The Godfather took rather conventional source material and elevated them into classics. One I have read that’s a better movie is The Bourne Identity. It’s not an utterly brilliant movie, but I thought the book was poorly written (though I think I like the story better). Other books I’ve read that have at least comparable or debatably good adapatations are Fight Club and The Exorcist.

All of which makes me wonder why people don’t adapt (or remake) bad stories that have a neat idea. The All Movie Talk podcast had an interesting list of movies that should be remade, and I think it’s an interesting concept.

But I digress. Another reason fans might want to see an adaptation is that they’re just so enamored with the characters or the story that they revel in any chance to revisit them. As Author notes, other mediums may add something of value to the original work, even if the adaptation is not as good as the original.

So to recap, there are lots of reasons! Personally, I find the most compelling to be spreading the story around to a wider audience, though I do have a soft spot for wanting something new and exciting from an adaptation. Then, of course, you also get totally off the wall stuff like the movie Adaptation, which is based on an oddly recursive story: The screenwriter, Charlie Kaufman, was hired to write an adaptation of Susan Orlean’s novel The Orchid Thief, but he found the task to be quite difficult and could not seem to make any progress. So instead of actually writing the adaptation, he writes a script about how he is having trouble writing the adaptation. (A quick tangent: Ironically, the one story that Stephen King has sworn not to sell the film rights for is the Dark Tower series, in which King basically pulls the Adaptation trick.) In the end, I think adaptations are good things, even if many of them are of dubious quality.

Exterminate

1 Comment / Arts & Letters, Humor, Security & Intelligence / /

Ok, I’m slacking. The top 10 movies of 2007 will be posted this Sunday. In the mean time, I leave you with this anti-terrorism suggestion from Charlie Stross (and yes, I’m posting this a few months late, but it’s still funny):

The solution to protecting the London Underground from terrorist suicide bombers can be summed up in one word: Daleks. One Dalek per tube platform, behind a door at the end. Fit them with cameras and remote controls and run them from Ken Livingstone’s office. Any sign of terrorism on the platform? Whoosh! The doors open and the Dalek comes out, shrieking “exterminate!” in a demented rasp reminiscent of Michael Howard during his tenure as Home Secretary, only less merciful.

The British are trained from birth to know the two tactics for surviving a Dalek attack; run up the stairs (or escalator), or hide behind the sofa. There are no sofas in the underground, but there are plenty of escalators. Switch them to run upwards when the Dalek is out, and you can clear a platform in seconds.

Suicide bombers are by definition Un-British, and will therefore be unable to pass a citizenship test, much less deal with the Menace from Skaro.

Heh.

2008 Predictions

2 Comments / Movies, Neal Stephenson / /

I’ve never done this before, but let’s give it a shot. Here are some predictions for 2008:

  • Neal Stephenson will announce a new novel, and it will feature a portion set in the U.S. Civil War era. It’s been around 3-4 years since his last novel (if you want to call the 2700 page Baroque Cycle a novel), and he seems to be putting out a new novel at about that rate. It may or may not feature distant relatives from the Shaftoe and Waterhouse families (along with the other legacies like Enoch Root, the von Hacklhebers, etc…). I have a specific reason for predictiing the 1860s setting, but I could be wrong. If the book is a continuation of the Cryptonomicon/Baroque Cycle series, then I’m much more certain about the setting. However, I seem to remember reading an interview where Stephenson said his next book won’t be a part of that series because he just needed to get away from those characters and themes for a while, certainly an understandable sentiment when you consider that he’s probably spent somewhere on the order of 10 years (and 3600-4000 pages) writing about them. However, if that’s the case, then I’m considerably less confident about the setting, though it’s still a possibility.
  • The WGA strike will end or the writers will go back to work without a contract (this could happen if enough progress is made and the writers think it’s reasonable). Nevertheless, the strike will have lasted long enough that irreversable damage will be done to the industries affected. As a consumer, this probably won’t be so bad, as the vacuum will no doubt be filled with something interesting (probably something interactive, like video games or something like a real time internet video show. Or some combination of both.)
  • Much to my disappointment, Sony’s Blu Ray will continue to gain ground in the HD format war and despite last ditch, desperate attempts to salvage their business during the 2008 holiday season, HD-DVD will be all but dead by the end of the year. Cheap players will continue to sell (they’re not worthless, as a cheap HD-DVD player will still upconvert regular DVDs – and their prices are honestly rather comparable), but that won’t mean much if there are no movies to buy in that format. I hope I’m wrong with this one, but I’m not betting on it…
  • The use of DRM will decline in the music industry, but increase in the movie industry. This will be exacerbated by a decline in theater and DVD sales. Next year has a noticeable dearth of sure-fire blockbusters (the new Indy movie notwithstanding), and DVD sales will continue their slow decline (there are numerous reasons for this – people are becoming inured to the double dipping DVD release strategies, they already have their rainy day library built up enough, and a host of other reasons). As it stands now, Netflix isn’t able to do their watch online feature without using proprietary (MSIE only), annoying DRM, and other services are similarly hobbled. I agree with Fledge in that “The first company to let you click one button and download a movie – no frills, no subtitles, no disc extras, just the movie – directly to your DVD burner and stick that in your home theater DVD player is going to mint money, for themselves and for the movie studios.” Unfortunately, I don’t see that happening this year. I hope I’m wrong!
  • Barack Obama will win the 2008 U.S. Presidential Election. This is not an expression of my political preferences (i.e. it’s not a personal statement about Obama one way or the other), as I mostly burned myself out on politics a few months before the 2004 elections and haven’t paid much attention since. It’s just the vibe I’m getting.

Hmm, yeah, I really went out on a limb with these. I stink at this.