If you haven’t been following it…

If you haven’t been following the news about the 2023 Hugo awards, certain works were deemed ineligible for political reasons (although otherwise eligible) – solely because the awards ceremony was being held in Chengdu, China. A short version of the report can be read here, and this is the full length investigative report and a response from the 2024 Glasgow WorldCon here.

Universal Appeal – not!

Twice within a day, I came across a caveat to writers not to say their work appeals to everyone of all ages. The first time was on an agent’s webpage on what not to say to them. I thought, “Who would do that?” But apparently people do because I short time later, I was reading Writer Unboxed and came across Cathy Yardley saying,

I can’t tell you how many writers I’ve talked to who say their story “could appeal to everyone… anyone from age ten to seventy, any race, any gender, any walk of life!”

No, it really, really doesn’t.

Because nothing appeals to everyone.

Hell, I know people who don’t like pizza, and if that’s not proof there is no universally appealing thing on earth, I don’t know what is.

More importantly, appealing to everyone should never be your goal when it comes to writing, especially now.

“Universally appealing” generally means average, safe, standard.

That’s DMV beige. That’s unseasoned boiled chicken breast.

That’s ghost territory.

The pizza line hit me. Chocolate is also one of those things which should have universal appeal, but doesn’t. I mean, I understand if you have an allergy, but otherwise? I always took it as a test for the aliens in disguise among us. Don’t like chocolate? Not real human. Can take or leave it? A half-human. I kid of course. I have friends who don’t like chocolate.

But the larger point is avoiding “meh” as Yardley calls it:

In this environment, “meh” is the enemy. Ideally, you want people to either love it or hate it, but by God, they have strong feelings either way. That’s what we’re looking for. Strong feelings.

There’s a good bit of meh out there these days. That’s not to deny creative, original, awesome works are being produced, nor even to say the majority of things produced are meh, but there’s still a good bit of dreck.

Some of the meh might be the quest for finding the winning formula, the cookie cutter that will get one “success.” I wrote yesterday of romantasy and the chasing of trends. Folks look for the formula and end up with the formulaic. Perhaps one reason sequels and remakes seem to rule the roost these days. As Taika Waititi’s character Antoine says in Free Guy:

(I do appreciate the irony of citing Free Guy here, which seems built on the bones of The Truman Show as Honest Trailers pointed out. As Honest Trailer’s says,  the scene above “sounds like they are making a critique, but it’s a confession.”)

Sometimes the meh feels like the creator is actually aiming for the mediocre, the just good enough. The MCU’s original Thor movie felt this way to me – aiming for just good enough to be counted a success. As the NYTimes review said:

nothing, at the level of execution, really has gone wrong. Mr. Branagh has not failed to make an interesting, lively, emotionally satisfying superhero movie, because there is no evidence that he (or the gaggle of credited screenwriters, or Paramount, the sponsoring studio) ever intended to make any such thing. On the contrary, the absolute and unbroken mediocrity of “Thor” is evidence of its success… “Thor” is an example of the programmed triumph of commercial calculation over imagination.

Some of the meh might come from writing programs and the rules of writing set forth in them.  I’ve read (though can’t put my finger on them) critiques that writing programs have led to a certain homogeneity in writing. Certainly, that’s an aspect of what Matthew Salesses tackles in his Craft in the Real World.  As the NYTimes review summarizes his point:

Students were taught to produce concrete renderings of individual experience, with greater focus on personal agency than on social or historical circumstances. These principles were referred to as craft, and distilled to what are now considered universal truths: A good story should be driven by character, not plot. It should show, not tell.

Universal rules of writing – Yardley’s “average, safe, standard.” Salesses wants us not to accept these aspects of craft as givens but to make conscious choices. We might choose to follow them, but it should be for a reason. Not just the safe path. Certainly Salesses has me thinking of the merits of non-character driven plots – some Kafkaesque story where some giant bureaucracy drives the plot and protagonist; where the protagonist can only control their (at times internal) reactions. Or Greek myths, in which the protagonist are driven by the whims of gods and fate.

Certainly in my choice of voice for my novel, I’ve gone love-it-or-hate-it. My characters (set in the Mediterranean Bronze Age) often speak in. modern diction. My thoughts were 1) to themselves, what they speak would sound contemporary, not archaic and 2) they aren’t speaking English at all, so this is like translating the original into un-archaic English. And it just felt right. At times, more formal diction appears, according to the circumstances (ritual, political speech). And in my critique group, I’ve gotten the love-it and the hate-it (and in Romance novel fashion, the hate-it grown to the love-it). I know it’s chancy as I query. But at least it’s not meh.

Romantasy all the rage

I had never heard the term “romantasy” until I started querying agents for my fantasy novel last fall (definitely not romantasy since early on the protagonist stabs the son of Venus and kills her love life literally). Sure, I saw it on lots of MSWL (manuscript wish lists), but hadn’t realized how big it was until reading The Washington Post on Sunday and saw this article about this “best-selling book trend.” As WaPo defines it:

These books feature all the fantasy hallmarks, such as magic systems, mythology, high stakes and abundant worldbuilding but the love story is central to the narrative.

It’s certainly not new. I think of Anne McCaffery’s Pern books that I read back in middle and high school (Okay, I know the Pern books not strictly fantasy as the dragons are genetically engineered by colonists from Earth, but with the level of technology, the feudal social systems, and dragons, they really feel fantasy, especially before they start rediscovering lost technology) where a romantic theme was central of the early books.

But apparently they’re all the rage right now. I wonder how much of this is a reflection of the popularity of YA fantasy. So often in Bildungsroman (coming of age stories), romance appears as part of that move to adulthood. And YA fantasy has had good crossover to adult readers at least as far back as the late 1990s with Harry Potter.  I must admit, I thought Fourth Wing was a YA fantasy (the coming of age daughter of the military commander enters the dragon corps sounds like a YA plot) until someone in my writing group who had read it mentioned the explicit sex scenes.

Like so many things in today’s capitalistic/block-buster oriented culture seems to futilely chasing the hot trend. A fortunate debut author who quickly gets and agent and a publishing contract is still probably looking at a couple of years (or more) to getting into print. Who knows what will be the hot trend then?  Some trends do seem to stick around (fortunately for me, the interest in mythological adaptations seems to hang in there).

I was just struck by the WaPo article as I hadn’t heard the term half a year ago, but realizing now how big it has become.

Another Mythic Streaming Series I’d love to see made

Shortly before the Pandemic, Madeline Miller announced her Circe book was going to be made into a HBO-Max series. Then of course the world took a big pause and that seems to have been the death knell for the series. Given (HBO-)Max’s tendency to scrap even completed movies, it is perhaps unsurprising. But it is sad. While I love the middle grade and young adult retakes on myth, Miller’s books are adult retellings (and excellent). And given how well HBO handled Game of Thrones, I was excited to see what they did with Circe. And I hold out hope that someone will adapt it someday, even if Max has decided to pass on it. 

Pandora holding her box with hope left inside

Percy Jackson Season Finale: The Good, The Bad, The Confusing

8 short episodes later, we’ve reached the end of the line for the first season of Percy Jackson on Disney+. While I loved it, both how it faithfully rendered the books but also evolved them in great ways, I do agree with El Kuiper on The Mary Sue that it demonstrates how limiting current streaming-season lengths are: 

Disney+’s Percy Jackson series boasts a fantastic cast, impressive special effects, and an undeniably gripping emotional narrative. As a long-time fan of Riordan’s books, this series has been a dream come true.

And yet, the finale made it abundantly clear that Percy Jackson, like so many of its peers, has been restricted by its meager episode count. Eight episodes of varying length may seem like a lot to tell this story, but as is so succinctly pointed out in the Percy Jackson making-of documentary that is now available on Disney+, the narrative takes this heroic trio from one end of the U.S. to the other, including a trip down to the Underworld and a brief sojourn to the top of the Empire State building. There is a lot of ground to cover.

As always, ***Spoilers ahead***

Either Zeus or Poseidon, depending on if it was a lightning bolt or a trident in his hand

Let’s start with the confusing as that’s how the episode opened. Apparently the pearls don’t just return them to the Pacific Ocean off Los Angeles (where they’d entered the Underworld), but to the Atlantic off Montauk beach, where Percy and his mother had stayed in a cabin in the opening episode. They return to the cabin where they heard all flights are grounded. This is a big change from the books, where Percy & Co. actually dare to take a flight home from LA. I guess the audience is supposed to get it from recognizing the cabin from the first episode, but it took me (an adult, observant viewer) quite a bit of time to get it. At first, I just thought they’d glossed over the flights home. I was confused. Then it clicked when later in the episode when he returned to the cabin to look for his mother. But if they were going to do this to help with the compacting of the series, some verbal utterings by the heroes would have helped. Like having Percy say, when he spotted the cabin, “Hey, that’s the cabin Mom and I stayed at. We’re back on Montauk/in NY.” He does hear a mysterious whispering, seemingly from his mother, that draws him to the cabin and calls for her when he enters, but really, it was just confusing at the time.

The good: I really like how they handled Luke. Unlike in the book (where his anger is in part directed at Percy and he tries to kill him outright), he tries to recruit him to Kronos’ side. He declares his friendship. Thus the downplaying of the shoe-betrayal throughout the episodes makes more sense. And I like the more sympathetic Luke. Annabeth observes it all with her invisibility cap and when she reveals herself, we see Luke’s love for her (even if as a sister) which better sets up the much, much later (last book) turning to her as a last resort of fleeing Kronos and the gods. 

Both Percy and Annabeth end up leaving camp early (which is weird – and no bead ceremony) and Grover heads off on his searcher’s quest, indicating he is off to the seas.  Which brings us to the bad: the stupid plug for Walt Disney World. The series has decided to make the smartest human character in the book horribly naive about the world at large and especially pop-culture. Annabeth tells Percy that her father is taking her to Walt Disney World, which she says sounds like Water World only less determined to kill you. Percy laughs and Annabeth asks if she missed something and Percy tells her to just go be a kid, leaving me thinking “Thanks for the advertisement, Disney Channel.”

A few other notes:

The scenes of Percy reunited with his mom were great. The blue pancakes with blueberries were fun, as was Sally telling Percy not to refer to Kronos as granddad. But that brings us back to Stinky Gabe – or rather doesn’t in the episode. Gabe is saved for a mid-credits scene.

I get why they down play this subplot. Having Sally marry a man she despises to help Percy was always a bit uncomfortable. Having her suffer domestic violence was also uncomfortable, especially in a middle grade fiction book. Having her not only kill Gabe in the book, but also sell his petrified corpse as a statue to fund her return to school had its discomforts.

But in the Disney+ series, she is a woman who not only doesn’t need saving, but doesn’t even need to save herself. She is never the victim of Gabe. His obnoxious, but she can quickly put him in his place. I had wondered when they first changed their relationship what they’d do with the Medusa-head killing of him, but as the episode drew to a close, I felt like he didn’t even exist, like an oversight. Until the mid-credits scene, when Gabe kills himself by opening mail addressed to Percy (the Medusa head, returned to sender by the gods). No explanation of what’s done with his petrified corpse.

But this is problematic for the prophecy Percy got. He’s supposed to “fail to save what matters most in the end,” because he recognizes that Sally needs to make the choice to save herself. But there’s no saving of Sally because she doesn’t need to be saved. So what does that mean for the prophecy (explored more here at the Mary Sue)?

The other thing that doesn’t get any play is the great prophecy. Unlike the book, Percy & Co. missed the deadline for getting the bolt back to Zeus. This sets up a very different scene on Mt. Olympus and gives Poseidon an even better chance to play the good god protecting him (by surrendering to Zeus to end a war that was avoided in the books when they make it back by the deadline). But without the great prophecy mentioned, we lack the sense of why Zeus might want to kill a “forbidden child” of the Big Three.

I’ve got to pause here for a shout out. Lance Reddick was fabulous as Zeus. He brought great auctoritas to the role, a perfect King of the Gods (more than the character in the book, where Zeus at times has a bit of a buffoonish aspect).  It’s heartbreaking that we won’t get to see more of this excellent actor’s work after his passing this past March. The whole episode is dedicated to his memory.💔

Back to the Great Prophecy and “Forbidden Children” of the Big Three: Hades, when we met him in the previous episode, had zero resentment over Percy being a forbidden child and both Zeus and Poseidon breaking their oaths after trying to kill his own already existing children (Bianca and Nico) and killing their beloved mother in the attempt. Hades even offers Percy sanctuary when he learns Kronos is back and decides to try and keep the master bolt. 

The only hint of the Great Prophecy is when Kronos, in Percy’s final dream, says, “You are the key to my rise.” Sally asks Percy about his dream, but he changes the subject and then it’s just gone. They repressed that foreshadowing for the future books/episodes.  

I certainly hope that we get more seasons/episodes of the other books. Overall, despite the compacting of material, it was very well done. But season 2 is not yet confirmed (that I’ve seen). 

How do you do open exposition?

There are many clever ways to work in open exposition and information dumps. Gormless characters are fabulous for this. Think Neo in The Matrix being introduced to the real world of the red pill. Harry Potter raised by muggles being introduced to the magical world. Or John Cusack’s slack-jawed John Kelso the reporter character in the movie version of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.  It’s a sort of “As you should know but don’t, Bob…” But it doesn’t always work to have a character who doesn’t know what’s going on and stands in for the audience.

I was thinking of this the other day while reading Kate Elliot’s Furious Heaven (the sequel to Unconquerable Sun). Two moments of info dumping stood out to me.

The first was having Sun (the main character) get both lectured to and grilled by her mother, Queen Marshal Eirene, in a didactic manner. Sun is not the gormless character – she already knows the info her mother is imparting. The act is actually back of a power conflict between the two of them. And the book explicitly discusses this (and how annoyed Sun is by her mother). The scene allowed for open exposition in a plausible, natural manner.

In another part of the book, we are told that before every assembly in the Phene empire, there is a ritual of depicting a four minute history lesson. This passes as a propagandistic engendering of patriotism and fits the autocratic nature of the society, but is really just another tool for open exposition.

So those got me thinking of all the ways that authors come up with for open exposition. My least favorite came back to me: Hazel from Rick Riordan’s Heroes of Olympus series who suffered from “blackouts” (flashbacks of repressed past experiences) to accomplish open exposition, only to have her conveniently cured as soon as they were no longer needed.

What interesting ways have you seen open exposition accomplished? How have you gone about it?

Series I Wish Had Just One More Book in Them 

In a way, I think series which stop leaving you wanting more have made the right choice. In part, they’ve left the wild places, the “here be dragons” places for your own imagination to wander.  It’s also better to be left wanting more than to just feel over and done with them as they just go on and on (I won’t name names). One series that held up through the entire run and that, although where it ended felt right, also made me mourn that there would be no more, is the Temeraire Series by Naomi Novik. I must have put off reading The League of Dragons for a year and a half, knowing that it would be the last new book of the series I would get to read and not wanting to be done with it myself. Finally, I sat down a reread them all through and read the final one. Such joy and sadness in one. Patrick O’Brian with dragons is my usual description, but Naomi Novik does so much more with it. While I miss Temeraire, Will Laurence, and the rest, I am always delighted to reach something else new by Novik.

Percy Jackson Disney+ Episode 7

At last we reach the Underworld. ***Major Spoilers Ahead*** because the episode sort of peeved me. I feel as grouchy as a three-headed guard dog, although the episode definitely had its pluses as well.

Cerberus by William Blake

Two big things that leap out at me are the flying shoes and the pearls.

First the shoes. Perhaps I’ve overlooked something, but as far as I remember (or can tell by glancing back through critical moments of the episodes) Luke gave Percy the shoes and then that was it for them. When Percy learns about the dangers of him taking to the air (the perfect moment to hand them over to Grover to use – and the moment when he did so in the book), nothing arises (so to speak) about the flying shoes. He never, as far as I can tell, gives them to Grover in the Disney+ series. Grover – before this episode – has never used them, even in places where he did in the book (which worked well as establishing them with Grover and underscoring Luke’s betrayal). But now that they are needed for the major plot point of that betrayal, Grover uses them early in the episode as the only groundwork for the later crucial scene. I assume something in an earlier episode that would have set this up hit the cutting room floor, but still it feels sloppy to me. 

Speaking of Grover and sloppy (or should I say slobbery), Percy distributes the pearls right away in the episode and Grover loses his when briefly eaten by Cerberus (or at least caught in his mouth before emerging covered in slobber). Not Grover’s fault, as Percy assures him when he hands over another pearl to Grover, but still I hated they made Grover the heavy for Percy’s later mom-dilemma. Given how they’ve set up the uncaringness of the gods, this felt at first unnecessary. But then Poseidon showed up in the episode (more on that below). Nevertheless, thus the problem of the fourth pearl was solved. 

So if the stomach acids of Cerberus dissolve the pearl, will he find himself suddenly in the ocean? 

I loved the grove of Asphodel and the soul-trees of regret (very Vergilian Field of Mourning with its myrtle grove), but was sorry to have Annabeth pulled out of the Underground before the big action at Tartarus got going. Actually, I hated it. Having her there for the pit and a witness for what is really going on felt important. Plus she is a fun and central character. And nothing arose that would benefit from her absence. Why?? I’m sort of miffed. 

And having Percy find the master bolt not in the palace of Hades also cut out some great moments from the books when Hades knows it’s there and Percy doesn’t. But in this episode Hades doesn’t want the bolt (at least not until he hears about Kronos and feels the need for a defense).

On the other hand, I love Hades the character in this episode. Very different than in the books, but as with Ares, a real upgrade in personality. And I’ve never liked the whole Hades must be unhappy with his lot bit (and thinking in the book that he wants a war to increase his kingdom never made any sense – 100% of the mortal population will end up down there with or without war). I like a Hades who likes his kingdom. The H gods (Hermes, Hephaestus, and Hades) are really the best of the lot in this series in terms of humaneness. 

Poseidon also gets a H for human-feeling.  The whole flashbacks to Sally taking Percy to a boarding school (fabulous job by Azriel Dalman as young Percy) set up a drawing in of Poseidon as a good guy (good god). How Sally knows so much about the gods’ family is still a question.

Percy Jackson and the Chalice of the Gods

I recently picked up Rick Riordan’s most recent Percy Jackson book which came out this past September, Percy Jackson and the Chalice of the Gods.  ***Only the most minor of spoilers to follow, but spoiler warning just in case ***

A Greek “chalice”

I was intrigued to see what Riordan would do with Percy at college, but immediately discovered that the book is set in the final year of high school, indeed before the events of his Trials of Apollo series. 

The tone of the book is much different. It is comedic. All the adventures are essentially low stakes. In a way, it feels like giving the heroes a bit of a well-earned respite. A completely enjoyable read, but again very different from the original books (I don’t mean in enjoyability 😂). Rather than the fate of the balance of the world rest on the events of the book, the fate of Percy’s college rec letters rest on them. 

Perhaps appropriately, the geography is also much smaller scale. The original series traveled the US with a great nostalgia for place. That sense of topographical nostalgia is still there in this book, but it is limited to New York City and its environs.

The book also centers on the human cycle of life, from birth through childhood, adolescence, and up through old age. This is fitting for a book about a young man getting ready to head into adulthood and off to college. 

Next week, I’m going to post on book series, including a reference to a blog post I read warning that series sometimes fall into the trap of having to up the stakes more and more with each book. Riordan neatly sidesteps this trap by heading in the other direction. Sometimes, I tire of a series before the writer runs out of volumes. That hasn’t happened yet with the Percy Jackson series (though I had a number of qualms with the Heroes of Olympus spin off). The most recent edition was a light and funny read that kept me entertained.