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I can do it, Dad - I can save her
Feb. 2nd, 2008 12:50 pmI'm still mainly stuck in bed recovering (and sneezing - oh so much sneezing) although I am getting better and have been very well cared for by the incomparable Kerry (a dear friend and collaborator). Tonight, I'll shift from watching movies in bed to watching movies on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
treehavn's couch.
I've been thinking again about urban fantasy, partly because of a series of photos Ciro took, and partly because it's a thought exercize I run whenever I'm stuck not doing anything. It seems to me that most modern fantasy openly descends from Tolkien, with sidelines in to Celtic mysticism. And these are both basically pastoral - hooray for country cottages and running around in forests. The good guys in Tolkien are rangers, hobbits, and elves; good guy Gandalf spends his time in the wild while bad guy Saruman hangs around in a tower and meddles with technology. The noble Rohan have a great hall out on the plains; the dubious residents of Gondor live in a big city. Every time our heroes wander in to a city not built in the trees, things go bad - even market towns like Bree or abandoned cities like Moria. Wonderful as Lord of the Rings is, there can be no question that it's anti-urban and anti-technology. Horrible man-made objects like The Ring or Sauron's siege engines go up against nothing more advanced than swords - narry an elven compound bow to be seen. Do the Rohirrim even use stirrups?
Given that fantasy stories hinge on the battle between good and evil, it's no wonder that I've never found any satisfying urban fantasy: most of it is at least loosely influenced by a system which declares that cities and modern tech are evil. It seems to me that to build a bulletproof contemporary fantasy, the start isn't figuring out how magic's been hidden, or how it interacts with computers, or what makes spells work; the start is figuring out what is good. What and who in cities is noble? When we talk about urbanity, what do we admire? What makes cities better than the country (which I believe they are)? It seems to me the good guys are going to have a lot to do with arts and culture, social programs, transport systems, and waste disposal. It seems to me that magic might have to rest on diversity, coalitions, masses of people, and the ability to find the right person. It seems to me the advantage of cities might be a varied and specialist ability base. It might also be the ability to get things done after dark.
A big part of the reason I'm mulling this over is to distract myself from how angry I am at Ciro's family*, and how completely impotent that anger is. They've been nothing but loving to me, but they've protected him from nothing, and usually go in the other direction, putting him in the middle of harm's way again and again. It's as though since he was seven he's been living naked in the center lane of a freeway. How many times can you knife your own kid? And leave him guilty for the bandage which covers your wound gift?
Ciro's back in school after a seven year battle that shouldn't have happened. So now, of course, he has to murder his father. It's logical. I'll come home and make gumbo. We'll watch a movie. I'll fold his shirts. I knew going in that he might never be happy, although he makes me happy and I make him happier. He'll pull through. After all this, he's not walking wounded; he's not a victim, although he is incessantly victimized. We'll have a good life together. And I am very angry.
--
"There's a good time coming, be it ever so far away." - toast on the wall of Doyle's bar, in Dublin
*Note that Ciro carefully doesn't mention his mom in this entry.
treehavn's couch.I've been thinking again about urban fantasy, partly because of a series of photos Ciro took, and partly because it's a thought exercize I run whenever I'm stuck not doing anything. It seems to me that most modern fantasy openly descends from Tolkien, with sidelines in to Celtic mysticism. And these are both basically pastoral - hooray for country cottages and running around in forests. The good guys in Tolkien are rangers, hobbits, and elves; good guy Gandalf spends his time in the wild while bad guy Saruman hangs around in a tower and meddles with technology. The noble Rohan have a great hall out on the plains; the dubious residents of Gondor live in a big city. Every time our heroes wander in to a city not built in the trees, things go bad - even market towns like Bree or abandoned cities like Moria. Wonderful as Lord of the Rings is, there can be no question that it's anti-urban and anti-technology. Horrible man-made objects like The Ring or Sauron's siege engines go up against nothing more advanced than swords - narry an elven compound bow to be seen. Do the Rohirrim even use stirrups?
Given that fantasy stories hinge on the battle between good and evil, it's no wonder that I've never found any satisfying urban fantasy: most of it is at least loosely influenced by a system which declares that cities and modern tech are evil. It seems to me that to build a bulletproof contemporary fantasy, the start isn't figuring out how magic's been hidden, or how it interacts with computers, or what makes spells work; the start is figuring out what is good. What and who in cities is noble? When we talk about urbanity, what do we admire? What makes cities better than the country (which I believe they are)? It seems to me the good guys are going to have a lot to do with arts and culture, social programs, transport systems, and waste disposal. It seems to me that magic might have to rest on diversity, coalitions, masses of people, and the ability to find the right person. It seems to me the advantage of cities might be a varied and specialist ability base. It might also be the ability to get things done after dark.
A big part of the reason I'm mulling this over is to distract myself from how angry I am at Ciro's family*, and how completely impotent that anger is. They've been nothing but loving to me, but they've protected him from nothing, and usually go in the other direction, putting him in the middle of harm's way again and again. It's as though since he was seven he's been living naked in the center lane of a freeway. How many times can you knife your own kid? And leave him guilty for the bandage which covers your wound gift?
Ciro's back in school after a seven year battle that shouldn't have happened. So now, of course, he has to murder his father. It's logical. I'll come home and make gumbo. We'll watch a movie. I'll fold his shirts. I knew going in that he might never be happy, although he makes me happy and I make him happier. He'll pull through. After all this, he's not walking wounded; he's not a victim, although he is incessantly victimized. We'll have a good life together. And I am very angry.
--
"There's a good time coming, be it ever so far away." - toast on the wall of Doyle's bar, in Dublin
*Note that Ciro carefully doesn't mention his mom in this entry.
