The most damning flaw in The Watch trailer

The first time I saw the trailer for The Watch, the TV show now described as "based on" Sir Pterry's books and rapidly becoming the most unpopular adaption in SFF before it is even aired, I simply asked the person posting it why they posted something that didn't exist.

Being stupid, I relented from this policy at a later date.

At this point - and mildly hypocritically as I'm writing a whole damn article about it - I'd suggest to my fellow Discworld fans that this adaption is given up for dead and we cease to talk about it. We get to cease annoying ourselves; those who are interested get to cease being annoyed by us; and the less oxygen we give it, the more likely it is to fail. I know some of us are still holding out hope and don't want it to fail but I don't think that's particularly rational, unless they are interested in it in its own right and can divorce it from all idea of Discworld and Ankh-Morpork. When you get home from the shops and discover you picked up a package saying milk chocolate rather than dark chocolate, you don't open it up in the hope it might be dark chocolate after all. We've seen the packaging for The Watch and unless they're so incredibly incompetent they can't advertise their own show correctly, we know what's inside.

I do however want to point to one brief moment that convinced me this show really is beyond all redemption as a Discworld show. We've all known it'll look utterly different from a Discworld show, with a number of character changes, but that didn't mean it couldn't get Discworld on the inside. If one can be a witch with an apple-corer rather than a runic knife, then you can have Discworld with a bunch of changes.

But consider this exchange from the trailer:

Not-Vetinari: "Vimes. You will officially cease to pursue any further inquiry."

Not-Vimes: "Is this one of those situations where you want me to do the exact opposite of what you just told me to do?"

Not-Vetinari: "I don't know Vimes. Is it?"

Now. All Discworld fans know that Vetinari does frequently forbid Vimes from doing something precisely because Vetinari wants Vimes to look into it as fully as possible. This is made most clear in Men-At-Arms, after Vimes' first wall punching:

"The last thing you needed was some Watchman blundering around upsetting things, like a loose…a loose…a loose siege catapult.

Normally.

Vimes seemed in a suitable emotional state. With any luck, the orders would have the desired effect…"

However, the point of this technique is it works because Vimes doesn't know about it. The point is that Vimes fumes and gets angry, and then goes after the case with a mix of righteous anger, slight fearful knowledge that he needs results if he's disobeying direct orders, and more righteous anger.

The fact that Vimes doesn't really fully grasp Vetinari's methods - he starts getting an inkling in Jingo, the series' fourth book, and by Thud, the series' seventh, he recognises when he's been upsetting Vetinari because of something 'that felt like one of his games' - is central to Vimes' character. He's simply not that bright - a fact pointed out a few times - with his qualities as a detective being sheer bloody-minded determination fueled by anger. As Vetinari notes in Guards!Guards!, he needs Vimes and that anger as a tool, and doesn't want to tinker with it too much.

As for Vetinari's character, it is vital to his that he hardly ever acknowledges his manipulation. If challenged he acts shocked, he denies, he changes the subject, finds a weak point to ensure the subject of the manipulation accepts the manipulation. 

I've searched through the books trying to find such an open admission. Maybe I missed it, but I can't. If it happens, it's very late stage Vimes. The closest I can find is this in Thud!

“And it’ll also be to your personal satisfaction?” said Vetinari sharply.

“Is this a trick question, sir?”

“Well done, well done,” said Vetinari softly.

Therefore, to have an exchange in which the two openly acknowledge Vetinari's habit of deliberately winding him up, is to take a surface understanding of a thing but completely depart from actual understanding. It's like when an elderly relative hears you like computer games, so they buy you a game for a platform you don't have.

And to put such a departure from the heart and soul of the book at the centre of a trailer for the TV show adaption is as clear an announcement as possible that the adaption does not get it. There will not be dark chocolate in the milk chocolate box. To entertain any further hope at this point is just self-torture. And all of us interested in a Discworld adaption, but not some loose thing that's really quite different, should move on.

Dragon's Blood by Jane Yolen

Strewth! A book set on a barren wasteland of a planet called Austraria 4 that's filled with people descended from convicts. I wonder what the author's inspiration was?

Good *insert time of day* to all reading this, and let me open with an apology. The very obvious riffing on 'Straya in this book has woke a dark part of my subconscious and since misery loves company, I've decided to let it take part in writing this review. You can stop reading now if you want, I won't blame you.

"Review of what" you say? Well, Dragon's Blood is a YA book from the 80s and it's about a world where the economy is based on debt slavery, with most people owned by a Master, usually an owner of dragons, with dragons being used for pit fighting and with a lot of money passing hands in the gambling on them. We follow a young slave as he steals a young dragon in the hope of earning enough money to secure his freedom. So if the world is Australia meets Pern with added pit fighting and slavery, because everything outside of real life is better with pit fighting and slavery. Apparently. 

I read part of it in an anthology on dragons long, long ago and it stuck with me, so I eventually decided to give the whole book a go.

Crikey! What's with you reading books you found when you were an ankle biter? You've not gone two slices of bread shy of a sanger have you, mate?

Call it unfinished business. I always wondered what the whole story's like and now I know. I'm as sane as the next person writing reviews in the form of a conversation with the most annoying parts of their psyche. And you made that expression up.

Good on ya mate. 

Anyway. I was a bit surprised by how this book actually is. Thanks to the small sample, I expected lots of blokes with dragons and fighting.

Most of it's actually about Jakkin, our hero, having a shit old life, mainly because the bloke in charge of him is this bitter old drongo who's always a bit weird because he loves his smoko. Sometimes its good because he's with the dragon he stole. And sometimes it's okay because he's with his mates, even if they're ribbing him because they think all the time he's sneaking off to see his dragon he's actually going down the local whorehouse, or hanging around with the one girl on the farm who's so hot she should be in a whorehouse. A friendly egalitarian society this isn't. I've seen a few people on Goodreads being all "this is a bit bloody dark for a kid's book" but kids seem to love a bit of dystopia, so I reckon that's probably all good. It's more picaresque than fight the power though.

And, well, it is a bit weird.

No wuckas on a bit weird. Good fantasy's defo meant to be a bit weird. 

True. 

I'm not sure whether this is good though. It reads fast and has some good moments but I never felt truly gripped. I think part of that is a bit of tonal confusion. Is it meant to be a feel good romp? A critique of a corrupt society? A trouble coming of age? It feels like Yolen's trying to do a lot of things here and as a result, never persuaded me that she'd done any of them. I said it's more picaresque than fight the power, but it's not really either. It's more a mostly pleasant few hours worth of passing time.

Oh - and the Australian thing? Despite the clear signal of "it's like Australia", it doesn't really feel 'Strayan. Now, I'll admit my knowledge of our dear cousins down under is based on stereotypes and all the funny stuff various Australian friends have shared with me, and half of that's stuff that probably shouldn't be in a YA book (but that YAs really want in their books), so maybe it's not totally accurate, but it felt like it could have been based off anywhere. And that's not such a bad thing, but it was a missed opportunity to add a bit more colour and "wow" to a book that doesn't quite ignite.

Hold the phono there mate. You mean this isn't true blue at all and I've been speaking funny for no reason at all? I'm devo.

You're part of my mind. You knew this. You're doing this because I've got a warped sense of humour.

Fair Dinkum.

Do any actual Australians say that?

The good news is that I have answered a small niggling curiousity. I do have a continuing small niggling curiousity as to how it all ends, but I imagine that'll keep another thirty odd years.

And that sentence really could have been the review without needing to read me going troppo. Good, but not that good.

Redwall Readthrough - Salamandastron

The Redwall readthrough continues here with Salamandstron, the first book set mainly in the fire mountain of the fighting badger lords.

For those who don't know, Redwall is a series of children's fantasy books by Brian Jacques famous for its use of anthropomorphic animals, good vs evil, and regional British dialects. It was hugely popular when I was a young 'un (the first book was published in 1986, the year of my birth); I do not know how popular they are now, nearly ten years after Jacques' death and the posthumous publication of the last book in the series. I probably discovered them when I was around 10; I was still joyfully enjoying being able to take the latest release from my uncles' bookshop for free in my late teens.

Obviously I am no longer in my teens, but now I am going to read them all again and share my thoughts. I've noticed the series trending a little darker, so it'll be interesting to see if that occurs here with Salamandastron, a book I remember having a fairly harsh dynamic in places.

Mini-Review: Oh lord. Normally I enjoy doing the old blurb-esque synopsis style mini-review, but there is just so much going on here - although all strands do start in the same place. That place is with Feragho the Assassin and his horde - the Corpsemakers - as they journey up from the south-west, where once they ruled after slaying the resident Badger Lords. Feragho is journeying to Salamandastron - where Lord Urthstripe and his adopted daughter Mara are at loggerheads -and its rumoured treasures, but some deserters from his horde are heading towards Redwall.

And from there is just becomes a giant enjoyable multi-arc mess full of quests, daring escapes, battles, and not enough feasts..

What do I recall thinking at the time: When I first read it, my favourite thing about the series was fighting hares and otters, so we're halfway to greatness already. Plus I enjoyed some of the growing up themes (although not all). Very solid book.

What do I think now: I think Salamandastron contains some of Jacques' finest moments but, although enjoyable, if I was Jacques' editor I'd be asking him which plot arc he was deleting - maybe two of them. Don't get me wrong, they're all fun enough, but it's just a little too much as a whole.

Best Thing: Feragho's siege of Salamandastron is Jacques' best extended combat set-piece in the series up to the point of reading. The chess match of ploy and counter-ploy is fascinating, with some of Feragho's plans coming very close to ending things and some getting smashed out of the park. The combats are incisive, enthralling reading. The characters involved are lively and memorable. Everything about it is top notch, with the infiltration and fate of Farran the Poisoner maybe being the highlight. Maybe. Special shout outs in this section also to Sergeant Sapwood, stereotypical NCO extraordinaire, Lord Urthstripe's berserk moments, the plots to kill Feragho, and the general barbaric, mystic splendour of the mountain.

Delving into the culture of the Guosim was fun too, with the shrews coming off at their most interesting and sympathetic as a result too. Their sojourn on Urthwyte's island and mistaking of the white badger for a ghost was a neat touch too.

Greatest of all though was Pikkle's eating contest with Tubbygutts. It had far too big an effect on me as a kid.

Worst Thing: Well we've got an easy winner here. At the beginning, Samkin the squirrel and Arula the mole are busy playing around and get punished for it, because their toy is a bow and arrow aka a lethal weapon. And when after they nearly hit someone for the second time, their punishment is a night of helping clean the infirmary, and everyone thinks they were being too hard on them.

Yo, Redwall dwellers? Shut the fuck up.

Lethal weapons are not toys. Teenagers shouldn't have them near adult supervision. If they do, they should get punished just for that. I project to be a very laissez-faire parent but not when it comes to ways kids can kill other people. Actually using them willy-nilly, not knowing where the projectile will go? I can not describe how angry I'd be. I'd have kicked them out of the fucking Abbey before this story even happens. I am flabberghasted and enraged by this incident and will award it "most irresponsible thing in a kid's book".

In a distant second place, it's the whole plague/Thrugg/Dumble storyline. I quite enjoy parts of it but it adds nothing but word count. I will also give this an award, that of "most pointless secondary plot" and I've read the whole Wheel of Time thank you very much. 

Hero Watch: I wish we'd seen more of Urthstripe and Mara, got to see a bit more of their relationship and expectations of each other. But even apart, they're great characters. Mara is calm, understanding, even a little naive, until events press her buttons at which point she's violently decisive. Urthstripe, at least in the context of the siege, is just a nutcase. He takes everything personally, takes every possible opportunity to tip something deadly on the vermin, and just generally feels like a saga hero brought to life.

By comparison, there really isn't a whole lot of interesting about Samkin, Arula, or Thrugg. They're just good honest creatures enjoying an adventure. We don't even get to see a real growing up arc for Samkin, which is just nuts. Oh well.

Villain Watch: Feragho is the most competent villain since Cluny. His mix of charisma and know-it-all savvy keeps his horde under control, he's a good tactician, and he can mix it up close and personal. His son Klitch is an interesting one too (more on him later), and it's nice to see a vermin family relationship - mostly rivals, but with some fellow feeling. A shame we didn't get more of Urthstripe and Mara to counteract it.

Other Notes: 

1) Early in the book, we see a pair of vermin admitted to both Salamandastron and Redwall - Klitch and his lackey Goffa into Salamandastron, and... eh, I can't remember their names and don't care to, but the disease infected deserters from Feragho's horde into Redwall. That the creatures of Redwall, or Mara, might see these creatures as good and deserving of charity is a step forwards. That they're proven dead wrong is a step backwards. Klitch's attempt - and his charm in doing so - is a step forwards in terms of the intelligence and sophistication of Jacques' vermin though.

2) The way Klitch plays on Mara's youthful rebelliousness is interesting too. While the series has always been happy to play to the idea that the young know what's up and are needed in times of strife, this is the mostly openly old vs young the series has been. Sadly, this is mostly background material that goes unexamined, and seems to mostly end with an affirmation on the value of the elders, which isn't something I'm against but does seem odd given the beginning.

3) Back to the not thinking through the introduction fully and then writing the article thing - lordie, this book is a mess. It's enjoyable, it has great moments, but it just has so much pointlessness. In fact, I'd go so far as to say this could be made a better book by simply removing everything to do with Redwall from the book. I wonder if anyone mentioned this at the time - did people think you couldn't have a Redwall story without Redwall?

Read as Thou Wilt: Kushiel's Dart Readalong, Part Five

 

Welcome to Week Five of the readalong, and this time the questions are being hosted by yours truly! I was pretty excited to get this section when the readalong was planned (as well as mildly nervous on account of having never done it before) as we're now into the beginning stages of the endgame. There's plenty of revelations and arc climaxes here as Phèdre's loyalty to Anafiel Delaunay extends past the grave, leading her to take on his service to the young queen Ysandre and going as her ambassador to Alba, there to lead the Cruithne to an alliance made of love. But how will Phèdre handle this task, so far from her experiences? And what of her companions?

We’re back on the road again with Phèdre and Joscelin, and this time they’re with Hyacinthe as he finally comes face to face with his heritage. What were your first impressions of the Tsingani? What did you make of Hyacinthe’s reaction to his reception, and Phèdre’s reaction to to that reaction? How did you feel finding out about Anasztaizia’s past? Finally - Hyacinthe’s choice. Could you have done what he did there? Give up finding you family just after finding them for your friend?

Now why did I ask myself so many blooming questions?

My first big impression of the Tsingani on this read was their double nature. Not the first impression, but the one that stuck with me. That's been seeded before of this exchange from when Phèdre and Hyacinthe were both very young:

His eyes flashed, proud and angry. 

"You speak where you have no knowledge and no right! My mother is a Princess of the Tsingani, and the gift of dromonde is mine by right of blood! What would your Delaunay's gadje scholar know of that?"

"Enough to know that Tsingani princesses do not take in washing for a living!" I shot back.

Unexpectedly, Hyacinthe laughed. "If he thinks that, then truly, he learned little of the Tsingani."

Right there you see Hyacinthe's pride in Tsingani culture, Tsingani secrets, Tsingani worth - and a second later, his cheerful acceptance that the rest of the world do not see that. Even happiness. There are two Tsinganis, that which is shown where outsiders can see, and that which is kept for themselves. It is something Phèdre notes early:

"It is a strange thing, how pride may run the strongest among a people despised, as the Tsingani had been in so many lands."  

Here we mostly see Tsingani pride after only seeing Hyacinthe's showmanship among the gadje. Here, among their own, they come across as a happy people, a compelling people, although not without their flaws. Obvious portrayals of marginalised peoples such as the Rom will always invite criticism but, here, I think Phèdre and Carey see the Tsingani with respect and try to share it. 

That said - to jump straight to Anasztaiza's past - some elements of what they are less easy to respect. To turn their back on Anasztaiza for such a "mistake" is cruel, and brings to mind Pratchett's comment that sin is when you "treat people as things". They treated Anasztaiza as a broken thing - not her fault, but still broken - and one they had no use for. The same treatment will be meted out to Hyacinthe. One can understand how a proud people, guardful of their traditions in a world unfriendly to them, can find value in their traditions over individuals... but it doesn't mean I have to agree. Although I think my main contempt here is for the D'Angelines, whose laws didn't protect Anasztaiza from what they'd regard as heresy if done to themselves. Fuck 'em. I'd forgotten this little detail from my last read and it did shock me a little, I have to say. Good on Carey (in a way) for making it very clear there are thorns on the rose.

Back to Hyacinthe and Phèdre. Incidentally, I've now misspelled Hyacinthe's name five times in the writing of this. Ahem. Anyway. There's something heartwarming and a little bittersweet about this. Hyacinthe's joy in finding - no, being found - by his own people is a good thing, made a little sad by what will be left behind in fully accepting them. Phèdre's reaction to that is a living embodiment of that and I feel a little sorry for her. At this part of the story, there's been two men who she's wanted - Anafiel and Hyacinthe - and she's had to watch both drift away from her. Not an easy thing.

But, of course, Hyacinthe can't fully give up his past. Part of me wonders how conscious it was - the dromonde does come unbidden after all, and Anasztaiza showed it to him for a reason - but it was one he'd have made anyway. He presents it as a gift of friendship to Phèdre but, while not being a lie, I don't think it's the whole of the truth. Hyacinthe is as proud as any there - acceptance of only part of what he is doesn't sit well with him, I think, even if that acceptance is as heady as any drug. I'm not sure I could have done what Hyacinthe did solely out of friendship (although maybe I could), but out of mulish pride? Yes.

Phèdre being Phèdre, she jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire - a handsome, sadistic fire. Does Phèdre’s pleasure at being able to resume her craft, even in these circumstances, and the description of that sense of release make sense to you? Did the Duc de Morbhan’s gift surprise you?

Yes, Phèdre's need for that release makes a lot of sense to me. Maybe not the extent to which she carries it, but the need to be tested and to just let yourself go, I get that. I guess the best way to put it is with a little personal history. I started playing rugby when I was eleven. I'm thirty-four now. I don't get as banged up as Phèdre when playing, but I've always played a self-sacrificial style, and one that's got harder and harder as injuries and body issues (I have a partial leg disability) have mounted up. But I didn't stop. There's been times in the off-season and in injury lay-offs where I've been in a bad, amped-up mood, wishing I could just play. And when, earlier this year, I thought I'd played my last game, I cried a little on the way home. So... yes, I get you Phèdre. And Joscelin.

Anyway. I always like this little interlude. I like the respect Phèdre gets. In many ways, this is a moment to show off how she's grown and how good she is at what she does. This is Phèdre the instrument that princes and queens will be moved to play exquisite music on, Phèdre the icon of religious awe. A weapon no longer cast at random, no longer eliciting slips at random, but a straight challenge cast in (almost) cold blood. And Phèdre plays the Duc too, a little. So the gift seems fitting. I'd note too in passing that the Duc, while clearly not a totally nice man by any stretch, nevertheless only takes what is offered. He tests Phèdre's limits but respects them. That is the difference between him and the villains of this piece. 

The Long Road keeps getting longer but Phèdre seems equal to every task and soon they are in Alba’s green and pleasant land. What were your first impressions of the Dalriada and the Cruithne, and their respective rulers? Who do you agree with on the decision to go to war - Eamonn or Grainne? And what did you make of Joscelin’s take on Phèdre’s brand of diplomacy?

I feel like we don't really get to see inside the people of Alba in the same we did with the Tsingani or Skaldi. The first thing we see are the warriors and mystics on the shore, barbarians all, and I think we never really see more than that. Here the focus is on a small handful of people rather than all the people.

On the plus side, that handful are amusing. In a lot of ways, I am on Eamonn's side here (... ish - more on that ish later), for I'm not entirely sure what difference it makes to the Dalriada. That said, if I was Dalriada, I'd follow Grainne. How could you not? In a book full of sexy people, you could make a case that the joyous intensity with which Grainne lives her life makes her the sexiest of all. The tension and bond between the twins is great fun, and personally overshadows Drustan a little.

I also very much enjoyed Joscelin's reaction and how he's grown, but not that much - disapproving, but accepting, and more kind than angry. I think you can see little hints of his attraction to Phèdre eating him up here too. The little bits of humour showing through here really do help make the book.

We’ve seen blood and death before in this book, but this is the first mass bloodletting. What was your reaction? Will any moments stick with you? Were you surprised by Phèdre and Hyacinthe’s moment together?

I'd forgotten Hyacinthe and Phèdre had that post-battle bonk. And while it makes perfect sense in a way, and is a fine example of how little goes to plan in either of their lives, I do have a slight thought at the logic of it. Imagine you're Hyacinthe, wanting something all of your life, and all of a sudden it comes after a tragedy at someone else's expense, someone you cared for, a tragedy where you're maybe wondering "why them and not me?". That could screw you up a little I guess Phèdre knows her patrons, but I can easily imagine it causing a problem in real life.

The war itself felt a little rushed but memorable thanks to its highlights. The black boar coming to take a hand - trotter - itself was a powerful moment. As was the death and resultant mourning of Moiread, and likewise the trial of Foclaidha, although that goes by a little quick. I think those moments are the closest we get to seeing something of the real heart and soul of the tribes of Alba here, in their robust and passionate approach to death. 

Were you expecting Elder Brother to take a hand again after everything - and if so, were you expecting to be this? What did you make of his history and Hyacinthe’s choice?

Ah Hyacinthe. I will cover this later.

It's well foreshadowed - with that nice last minute warning to keep us on the toes - and neatly wraps up quite a few threads. The sight of a reminder that the world has a history and lore outside of Terre D'Ange isnt a bad thing either. Although I'm not gonna lie, part of me feels a bit impatient with the delay at this point.

It’s been a hell of a ride and as we near the end, what with Hyacinthe and Phèdre saying goodbye and Hyacinthe telling her that Joscelin has feelings for her, it seems a good time to ask how you feel about Phèdre, Joscelin and Hyacinthe - have they grown in your eyes? Has your opinion changed of any of them?

I deliberately inserted this question so I could talk about how much I enjoy the characters at this stage, when every motion has the weight of a book behind it and... I've got nothing. Really struggling.

Let's start with Joscelin. When we saw him, he trying so hard to be a divine ideal. Well, he learned he wasn't Cassiel in Skaldia, and as a result has re-embraced his humanity. And human Joscelin is a blast. I'd honestly forgot what a nice character angst-free Joscelin is. He's got such a nice wry understated sense of humour. And if anything, embracing the nature of his humanity has brought him closer to Cassiel's ideals of protection and companionship in a lot of ways, for now he can embrace complete protection at all costs, rather than complete protection within the dictates of the order. 

This is Hyacinthe's hour though. With my storytelling boots on I want to mutter a few things about the arc in terms of evenness and foreshadowing and relevancy, but I guess this book has a lot to say and this is Hyacinthe's moment to show what he'll sacrifice and endure for his friends. I'm not sure this is a change in Hyacinthe, but it is a change in my perception, for we never saw this seriousness and solemnity in him back in the capital.

As for Phèdre - I think she has learned responsibility. The girl who always bucking at boundaries has seen too much pain and death to be otherwise. She's sick of it, almost so sick she'd cast it all away, but I think she's still too much Delaunay's pupil to do so. She always will be.

And finally - any other thoughts you may have about this section!

I thought I'd have so many but it feels like everything I covered, save to salute Quintillus Rousse as an example that not all D'Angelines are beautiful of face - some are beautiful in the way they lead life, in the intensity and passion of their spirit.

But, of course, I would be a poor and graceless host if I offered you only my thoughts, which is why you can find links to my fellows in this quest below (linked to be added as they go live):

Books by Proxy | Book Forager | Dab of Darkness | Dear Geek Place | Foxes and Fairytales | Fran Laniado | Green Tea Librarian | Natrosette | The Curious SFF Reader | There’s Always Room For One More | Zezee with Books

And see you next week for the climax.

Friday Five Returns

It's been a long time since I've done a Friday Five, but since I'm in the swing of things, here we go again

1) Let's start off with a nice sale. If you click the link here, it'll take you to a page full of great indie fantasy novels about gentlepersons of negotiable morality. A daylight robbery opportunity no less. Michael McClung's The Thief Who Pulled on Trouble's Braids is my favourite on the list, but I've heard many good things about most of them.

2) I mentioned this article yesterday (in an article I didn't publicise) but let's talk about it again - Malinda Lo's piece on writer identity. I think it's a really good and specific take on the subject that I'll be returning to again, and I'm really looking forwards to her other articles about writer craft. Thanks to Juliana for leading me to this one!

3) Another article that I saw recently that I want to spread around is this one on the new Enola movie. I haven't seen the movie, but I have seen criticisms like this before of the Single Story on "powerful women" and I thought this was one was well argued. Has it put me off seeing the movie? Dunno, but has it made me interested in the thought of a sequel in which Enola has a posse, and the posse allows for multiple stories on powerful women? Yes, yes it has.

4) More links! This one a twitter thread from Carly Watters, talking about what she's learned as an agent. Always interesting to see what's going on in the more untalked about parts of the industry.

5) Now a personal observation, bordering on rant and not quite. And... well, I remember everything about the allegations of abuse brought against certain authors (nearly all male) earlier this year, most of them admitted to. And I remember how there were a lot of responses, but mostly centered around individuals. There wasn't much talk about how to address the soil from which these people came. The soil in which, without wishing to absolve them or make them more deserving of sorrow than anger, they were nourished and shaped to become the people they became. The soil that will produce more people like those authors. I've been reminded recently how much being in an alienating situation can affect people. I get that this is a very back-burner thing given the state of the world and how many ways people can split their attention, but the world will change and these potentially alienating situations will come again. They shouldn't be forgotten.

The Intermediate Steps in a Writer's Journey

Project Transformation is, if not dead, on a long hiatus, but I kind of like the idea of taking Thursdays to talk a bit as a writer and I do have something to talk about. And that something has come from a few places but I think it crystalizes down to this -

I've written a lot of words. I've read a lot of words. I've completed drafts and edited them. I've improved my writing a lot and have received plenty of compliments from those who should know. I'm at a stage where I am, mostly, a decent to good writer. But I haven't submitted much, and I've yet to give something I'm comfortable in submitting over and over (which says either I submitted too early the first time, or lack sufficient confidence in what I've done, or both).

I am no longer a new writer learning to be good. I am a good writer trying to learn to be consistent, to be persistent, and to - hopefully; maybe - be a professional.

And I don't see a lot said about this step.

Most writing advice seems to focus around those learning to be good. There's a reason for this. There's more new writers looking to become good. The newer writers are more likely to be searching for the truth and less likely to be relying on the support networks they have built. Their problems are more likely to have been experienced by others, while those of us in the intermediate steps have built very particular questions about what we should do next that, while comparable to other writers' problems, are individual enough that generic lists of advice don't quite do it.

Nevertheless, it is strange to reach this place and look around for some maps and see... nothing?

To a certain extent, this is right and proper. Myself and those like me are at a stage where should be drawing our own maps. A quote from Matsuo Bashō I saw recently that I found very resonant is:

“Do Not Seek To Follow In The Footsteps Of The Wise. Seek What They Sought.”

Trying to do the same things that other writers who've made it is counter-productive. You are not them. And indeed, one of the things I'm currently struggling with is the sense of being able to have my exact voice and focus without losing all the lessons I've learned, which I think involved a little on that. Going to link to a good article by Malinda Lo on that tomorrow.

But what exactly, with huge specificity, did they seek? What are we prospecting for here?

I think - I suggest - that the answer here is "a finished manuscript that they are willing to see go before the eyes of the public." Some will have had steps before that, and some will have been thinking more about the steps beyond, but that manuscript seems like it must have been a commonality. 

When I write it out that, I have to admit that the main demand there isn't quality, it's being willing to say "out it goes and I'll take my lumps". Nobody wants one of those lumps to be "I don't think you really did your best here" or "Mother of chrome this is just awful" but, once you've got some faith in yourself, it has to be risked. I'm reminded of a David Gemmell interview that I once saw and now can't find in which he said he didn't believe most authors improved their work for extra polishing. Maybe he's right, maybe he isn't, but maybe it's most practical to act like he's right. 

Maybe it's very useful for a writer, a would-be author, to think in terms of "How do I stop getting in my own way". To stop redrafting a scene over and over because we're not quite happy with it and because not everyone who reads it is quite happy with it and just send it out there to find the person who does love it.

I would love for there to be something clever and "Aha" here but bluntly I do not see it.

I would it if there was more advice for people in my place but I accept it's difficult. 

That said, this is my advice to me - and a few others who think they need it when they read it - and that is, once you know you've got talent, to stop worrying and start taking shots.

And maybe one day we will reach the place where we are wise ourselves.

In which a latecoming fan realises Avatar: The Last Airbender is fantastic

One of the great things about no longer commuting is more time to do, well, everything. Of course, like many, this has resulted in me doing less, but one thing I did do was check out Avatar The Last Airbender.

The reason for that is pretty much all MD Presley, who has constantly talked upon his love of the series to me and used it as one of his main examples for his book Forging Fantasy Realms: Worldbuilding For Fantasy Fans and Authors (for which I was fortunate enough to be press-ganged into beta reading). He convinced me that AtLA was one of the great works on fantasy and that I was remiss not to check it out (without ever putting it in such terms).

And there it was for free on Netflix.

So I watched an episode or two. Watched another episode or two a week later. Watched another episode or two a bit after that. Then, at some point, I got hooked, and binged the whole thing in a week. That's because AtLA is a tremendous piece of art that hits many of my sweet spots. 

So many that I'm likely to talk about it almost as incessantly as Presley.

But, first, to start with, I just wanted to talk about some of the things that I think make AtLA really, really great.

9) Zuko and Mai

This is actually quite a far way from my favourite character dynamic on the show actually, and they take up relatively little screen time. But it just tickles me pink to see a couple so darn emo, particularly in a show so colourful and fun. I love other dynamics more, but that one just cracks me up. And in a way, it demonstrates one of the great strengths of the show - it knows its strengths and plays to them, but it also capable of managing a great many different things while doing so.

8) Art

I'm not a huge animation geek, so I can't tell you how good or not the art in AtLA was against other of its ilk. But I can tell you it married up with the story the writers want to tell. I can tell you when the story relied on its artists to carry the story rather than the writers, when it came to action sequences or the grand panoramic sweep, they delivered. 

7) Humour

I laughed a lot and, equally crucially, I very rarely cringed. I'm not a big fan of the sort of comedy that relies on prolonged social embarrassment, or very corny jokes. AtLA was very capable of getting a lot of laughs without going there. I think a huge part of that was the writers being very aware of what sort of jokes would naturally arise from the interactions of their very different characters but at the same time, they weren't afraid to go for the deliberately comic moment (poor cabbage selling guy) in a way I appreciated.

6) Worldbuilding

I get why Presley's harped on so much about the worldbuilding here. It is very smart in the way that it sets a few defining characteristics and finds countless ways to use then. The storytelling is filled with references to the world's past, little treats that add context to all the characters. And the world feels so diverse, particularly in the Earth Kingdom. Fire Nation citizens and Fire Nation colonists have different cultures. There's multiple different takes on water benders. AtLA has a world that invites constant speculation and exploration, and that supports its story immaculately. That such a high quality of technical creation and joy is only at this point in the list says it all.

5) Ethics

I've written before about how I think art in this genre sometimes has a confused message when it comes to right and wrong, particularly when it comes to violence. AtLA has a wonderful and beautiful clarity on this, particularly when it comes to the stories of Aang and Zuko. AtLA is firm that some wars must be fought, but that violence should be eschewed where possible. I do not think it is perfect; I think perhaps it could have done a lot more on the Why of that; but let us remember this is a children's show and deep exploration should not be expected. For me, it is more than enough that Aang seeks to retain his principles and find a more peaceful way.

4) Iroh

If the show does get into the why, I think it does it in an implied way through the story of Uncle Iroh (and his nephew and protege, Zuko), maybe the most delightful old man in all of fiction. I do not want to give too many details; I do not wish to spoil others' journeys; but his consistent kindness and refusal to let life leave bitterness within him is just a straight up inspiration. And he does it with such style and good humour too. If I grow up to be Uncle Iroh, I will be beyond proud in myself - yet, being an Iroh, not.

3) Powerhouse Moments

I think that ultimately great stories are, among a thousand other traits, those that make us feel like we have shared greatness at their most pivotal moments. By greatness, I mean magnitude and power - greatness of joy, greatness of spirit, of awe, of sorrow. Sometimes we share it with the writers' observations, sometimes we share it with the characters' actions. For me, there are a great many moments like this in AtLA, and I can't think of a single one where the writers went for that moment and didn't connect. A lot of them were powerhouse. Again, no spoilers, but... just watch it yourselves, damnit.

2) Growth

Frequently the seed of such moments comes from character growth. We see a character struggle, and agonise, and when the moment of vindication comes - we feel like we have seen greatness. And over it's three seasons, AtLA maybe did the best job on character growth I know of. I think Sokka's journey from that jerk brother to something far finer is the best, but most of the characters had them and where they were, they were great. They were clearly defined, never changed the characters' core, well paced, and gave this viewer what he wanted. Huge kudos.

1) The Characters Are Just Great

I think the top of this list indicates just much I love the characterisation here, so let's spell it out explicitly.

Virtually every character - maybe every character - is memorable, interesting, and true to themselves. Every character has a set of dynamics with those around them that are unique to themselves, and with the other characters, not just the main ones. They are full of joy and full of depth. 

If you were to ask me to pick a favourite character then, even with my love for Iroh, it would be difficult. Toph's mix of sarcasm, straight-forwards dealing, and frequent arse beatings is hugely entertaining. However, Katara's indomitable inner-strength and compassion - and well timed sass and arse beatings - is awesome. Sokka's ability to roll with the punches and find his strengths (while being a total goof) despite being less powerful than those around him is great. Even side characters like Suki, Ty Lee and King Bumi, are great fun to see go around their business. 

These are only a handful of things though, using the poetry of a child to describe the glorious technicolour action of those incredibly gifted. 

Watch it. I'm going to watch it again soon. You may regret it, but there is a strong chance you will end up just as besotted as I did. For this show is fantastic.