J is for Janeites: Some Fan Fiction by Kate!

What I read: Darcy's Passions by Regina Jeffers.

Darcy's Passions is the story of Pride & Prejudice from Darcy's point of view (mostly). There are dozens of these books on the market. And I've never been able to get through one of them.

I'm sorry to report that I couldn't get through Darcy's Passions either. Part of the problem with all these books is the writing; part of the problem is the characterization of Darcy--which brings us back to the writing.

First, the writing: many of these authors try to sound Austenian but end up sounding either ultra-modern or stilted. The 18th/19th century voice is terrifically difficult to pull off. The only contemporary writer who comes close is Susanna Clarke (Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell), and she is magnificient.

The real problem, though, is that these authors don't just write in a normal voice. I'm not saying Austen wrote in a "normal" voice—I personally think Austen's authorial voice was cultivated. But it was normal for her. Jeffers' attempt at Austen is better than many, but the switch in viewpoint doesn't sound omniscient and humorous (as it does with Austen); it just sounds confused.

Jeffers' Darcy, unfortunately, also seems a mix of confusing and unrelated elements. Like in so many of these types of books, her Darcy is a collection of added thoughts to already existant text. The added thoughts are all, I am sorry to say, standard romantic fare. He is overwhelmed by Elizabeth. He is more overwhelmed by Elizabeth. He is impressed by her wit and anxious to exchange witticisms with her. He despises Miss Bingley. He is confused when the text absolutely requires him to be confused. He is masterly and insightful all the rest of the time.

In other words, it's typical Alpha male romance stuff and completely inconsistent with Austen's text. (To her credit, Jeffers is one of the few "other" writers whose "add-ons" include Darcy's knowledge of land management.) The result is a gloss of Austen, not any real insight into Darcy's character.

I personally go along with Phyllis Ferguson Bottomer's argument in So Odd a Mixture that Darcy is borderline autistic. Her delineation of Darcy's character is one of the most accurate and delightful on record. She recognizes what few interpretations do: namely, Darcy is accused of pride in Hertfordshire for reasons that have nothing to do with familial or class pride.

Most "other" versions of Pride & Prejudice focus on Darcy's supposedly prideful thoughts rather than realizing, as my mother did long before Bottomer, that all of Darcy's problems in Hertfordshire stem from his behavior, not from his beliefs about himself (which beliefs he never communicates to anyone but Elizabeth anyway). He is perceived as proud because he won't dance or talk, not because he boasts about his position or even because he gives anyone the "cut direct." He doesn't even cut poor Mr. Collins.

In other words, Darcy is accused of pride for the wrong reasons—and the accusations rest NOT on Darcy's sense of superior class (which he does, in fact, feel) but on Darcy's anti-social behavior. In other words, what Darcy thinks of as "pride" and what Hertfordshire and Elizabeth, to a degree, think of as "pride" is not the same thing. This results in the fascinating argument about their faults between Elizabeth and Darcy at Netherfield; they clash partly because they are talking about two different things. Elizabeth is quicker than Darcy at picking up on the communication gap, but, as Bottomer points out, Elizabeth continues to assume reasons for Darcy's behavior that are actually inaccurate; it never occurs to Elizabeth, and it never seems to occur to "other" writers, that Darcy is shy or uncomfortable. It did, however, occur to Austen, to Colin Firth, to my mom, and to Bottomer.

This brings us back to the writing I've encountered in most of these books. In an effort to write like Austen—and in an effort to present a prideful but romantic Darcy—the writers focus on TELLING (not SHOWING). I'm told how overwhelmed and passionate Darcy feels, how prideful he is, how Mrs. Bennett disgusts him, but I never actually hear Darcy's thoughts.

Soooo, I have attempted to create my own version of Darcy's point of view. In that version, I do NOT have Darcy perceive Elizabeth's positive attributes (or any of her attributes) right away. I think this is more realistic that having her fell him on the spot (though I kind of like that scene in the latest movie). In the first chapter, I also don't have him notice that Miss Bingley is being catty or that the ladies are probably whispering about him or even that Elizabeth might be able to overhear his remarks to Bingley. The problem with so many "Darcy's point of view" authors is that they give us this Alpha romantic male who always knows what everyone is thinking, especially women, and who always picks up on innuendos and subtexts. It never seems to occur to these writers that Darcy is clueless because, let's face it, so many people are.

To give Jeffers credit, her Darcy is kind of clueless: he thinks Elizabeth likes him because she is playful in her rejections: she flirts, ergo, she loves me! Still, Jeffers has Darcy deliberately provoking Elizabeth, so he can exchange witty repartee with her. In other words, Jeffers makes Darcy the typical fictional Alpha male who is always on top of, expert at, social situations. I don't think this interpretation is in keeping with the original text at all. Darcy doesn't do repartee. His remarks are almost always literal and straightforward. Elizabeth's triumph is not that Darcy loves bantering with her, but that she so often provokes him into saying what he thinks; what he thinks isn't witty or covered with savoir faire. Actually, most of the time, what he thinks is kind of rude.

Here is the scene where I believe Darcy DOES truly notice Elizabeth for the first time; my choice is supported by the text. And yes, Darcy is critical of Elizabeth in the original text:

Elizabeth Bennett had lovely dark eyes. She was a trifle short, her smile was crooked, and she was far from elegant. She wasn't shrill though, being easy to listen to. At the Lucas's, Darcy placed himself in a group near her. He also listened to her sing. She wasn't as polished or as adept as his sister Georgiana, but the songs were well-rendered: pleasing. She was a pleasing, intelligent young woman.

The Lucas's entertainment went downhill after that, and some couples started to dance which didn't bode well for the rest of the evening: why did people want to hop around rather than converse on interesting subjects? Darcy glanced around for Mr. Long, hoping they could continue their conversation about tax laws.

He found he was next to Sir William who was prattling: "There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished society."

"Every savage can dance," Darcy pointed out, but Sir William was making pleasantries, not actual conversation, and Darcy subsided. Sir William began to ask Darcy pointless questions about his dance habits, and Darcy glowered—if he stopped answering, maybe Sir William would go away.

The questions finally ceased, and Darcy was ready to move off when he realized Sir William was presenting Miss Elizabeth Bennett to him as a potential dancing partner. Darcy held out a hand, but Miss Elizabeth refused. Correctly, Darcy allowed: this wasn't an appropriate venue for a dance. Still, he bowed and repeated Sir William's proposal. She was after all, preferable—much preferable—to another five minutes of questions about where and when Darcy liked to dance.

She raised her brows, and her eyes—dark brown with flecks of gold—met Darcy's momentarily. She was, he was disconcerted to see, amused—by Sir William, he guessed. It occurred to Darcy that amusement was probably a better tactic with someone like Sir William than monosyllabic responses, and he wondered if he should smile back, but Miss Elizabeth had moved away. He gazed after her, marking the straight line of her back and her dark curls. She turned to pass a remark to Miss Lucas, and he noted again the liveliness of her eyes when Miss Lucas made her laugh.

Miss Bingley had approached. She was talking in her rapid, caustic way. Darcy caught the last sentence: "What would I give to hear your strictures on them!"

On Miss Lucas and Miss Elizabeth, Darcy assumed. He had no strictures. He said so: "I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."

"Which lady has the credit of inspiring such reflections?"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennett."

She began to tease him about wanting to marry Miss Elizabeth—typical for a woman. Darcy shrugged and occupied himself with watching Miss Elizabeth until the evening finally ended.

NOTE: This post has been edited; some of the below comments refer to the first chapter (which was originally posted here).

Don't Lynch Me But Unions for Adjuncts is a Terrible Idea!

The adjuncts in our local community college system are pushing for a union. I just got a letter in the mail asking me to agree to representation, and I want to go on record as saying, As an adjunct, I am completely and totally and utterly opposed to being represented by a union.

I am willing to allow that businesses and entrenched bureaucracies at places like colleges can be insular, vaguely corrupt, and more than a little officious. But unions don't change this or make it better! Instead of having one step between me and the insular, vaguely corrupt, and officious bureaucracy, I would have two steps between me and the insular, vaguely corrupt, and officious bureaucracy, and that first step would be filled by-guess what?-an insular, vaguely corrupt, and officious bureaucracy!

Sorry—but I, eh hem, very much dislike unions. I was represented by one once (as a secretary at a college). I found the attitude of the union and the union members to be unbelievably self-righteous, self-aggrandizing, and offensive. All the union thought about was getting what it wanted; the college was ALWAYS the bad guy ("Why do you want to work here then?" was my thought.) The union didn't care about the state of the economy, the expenses involved in running a college, the need for the college to pay faculty members more than secretaries (you can run a college without secretaries but you can't much without faculty members, and, yes, I thought that before I became an instructor). The union didn't care about the larger picture at all.

Granted, most institutions can be wasteful, but giving adjunct faculty at a community college health benefits would bankrupt that institution. Benefits, full or partial, are cripplingly expensive. I've heard lots of stories about how wasteful colleges are and how they could save money by turning off lights and buying less paperclips. True. But benefits are not the difference between turning off lights and buying less paperclips. Benefits are the difference between a business staying afloat and that business ceasing to exist.

The reason community colleges have so many adjuncts is because they can only afford adjuncts! They honestly don't love having to put up with us adjuncts: they can't control us all that well. If they could go with only full-time faculty, they would, believe me! They use adjuncts because full-time faculty members (who are represented by a union) are expensive. If an adjunct union got its way and start forcing our local colleges to shell out benefits, what do you think would happen?

I'll tell you what I think would happen: the college would cut classes plus its enrollment, hire two or three full-time faculty members, and everyone else would lose their jobs because that is what the college could afford.

Now, I could be one of those new hirees. I am good enough that I'd be in the running, so maybe, I shouldn't care. Maybe, I should say to the union people, Go ahead; your behavior will get me a full-time job. But frankly, the completely subjective mentality of people who have no appreciation for the real costs of hiring upsets me too much for me to get all Machiavellian. They honestly seem to believe in the big lie (should I call it a myth?) in our culture: There's lots and lots of money out there somewhere; the big bad company doesn't want to save on costs; they are keeping the money from us; IF ONLY, the big bad company would run things our way, all kinds of money would come pouring out of the heavens. Oh, yeah, just what we need: TWO self-righteous bureaucracies who think they know where more money can come from!

I apologize to all those sensitive nice people who love unions and think they are a good idea. I also apologize for my tone :) I'm not usually so angry-girl, but I had to go on record here: unions for adjuncts is a terrible idea!

However, I will agree that colleges should back off their in-your-face expectations for adjuncts and admit that we cheap adjuncts save them lots and lots and lots of money. So, stop asking me to play nursemaid to students, boss.

Suing Star Trek

I am a huge Star Trek fan. I am also a big fan of Phil Farrand's Nitpicker's Guides (sadly, he doesn't write them any more). With the Nitpicker's Guides in mind, I have started this series of posts: Suing Star Trek.

Every now and again, whilst watching a Star Trek episode, I think, "You know, if Star Trek didn't belong to such a happy go lucky future, the families of Star Trek personnel would be suing the Federation blind."

For example, take "Genesis" (ST:NG, Season 7) in which the intrepid crew "de-evolves" into various primitive life forms: a spider, a caveman, a Klingon beasty thing, a fish, etc. It is actually quite a fun episode! Data saves the day, of course (since he can't de-evolve into anything but a pile of circuits). Phil Farrand and his nitpickers cover the basic scientific improbabilities (as in the basic scientific ridiculousness) in Farrand's second NG guide: suffice it to say, that the "de-evolutions" are caused by a virus that is caused by the activation of a dormant T-cell which is caused by Crusher giving Barclay a shot.

Malpractice anyone? That's a pretty straightforward line of causation! Not difficult for a lawyer to prove at all, especially since Crusher admits it.

Who would bring the lawsuit? The parents of the poor crewman who is ripped to shreds by some beasty thing (Picard and Data find him dead on the bridge).

I would award the parents considerable damages: the medical procedures on the Enterprise are appallingly lax. I'm not a doctor, so I would let the Federation medical council decide whether Crusher should lose her license for producing a massively dangerous virus, no matter how inadvertedly. (One of the annoying but also rather sweet aspects of Star Trek is how readily and quickly all is forgiven!)

Case 2: "Phantasms" (ST:NG, Season 7) in which Data, whilst dreaming, stabs--but does not kill--Troi. Data's dreaming program was activated a season earlier when Dr. Julian Bashir turned on a device in Engineering. Data has continued to dream regularly. In "Phantasms," Data experiences waking dreams brought on by inter-phasic bugs; the bugs were brought on board with the new warp core. He stabs Troi while in a waking dream.

Plaintiff: Troi's Mom
Defendants: Data*, Julian Bashir, the Enterprise, and the Federation

*In accordance with the legal decision made in ST:NG, Season 2, "The Measure of a Man," Data is considered fully sentient; he can be sued.

Argument: Dr. Bashir's activation of the device was unauthorized; he was aboard the Enterprise, fiddling with the device, without clearance. After the dream program was activated, Data continued to use it with the full knowledge of the captain and crew despite inherent risks: nobody really knows what Data does when he dreams. Also, Data's current "waking dream" state is caused by an infestation of bugs which should have been irradicated before the installation of the warp core. Troi's mother wants damages awarded to Troi for pain and suffering; she wants damages awarded to herself for emotional (vicarious) pain and suffering.

Decision by Judge Kate: No damages against Dr. Bashir, Data, or the Enterprise: Data has experienced dreams for over a year without harmful results. He is no more or less likely to experience "waking dreams" than a flesh and blood humanoid. Hallucinating crewmembers is a risk attendant upon service in Starfleet, especially for the ship's counselor (Troi).

Minor damages against the Federation: check the friggin' warp core for bugs, people! I mean, really!! Since inter-phasic technology was used to create the new warp core, the possibility of infestation was foreseeable and therefore, preventable.

No damages awarded to Troi's mother but a reprimand in the file that Troi's mother not interrupt or otherwise disrespect counsel. Her daughter is an adult and has chosen a risky lifestyle which includes being stabbed by sleep-walking androids, turning into a fish, and being surgically altered to appear as a Romulan. Get over it.

I is for Isolated (Ishiguro)

What I read: Remains of the Day Kazuo Ishiguro.

Actually, "I" is also for melancholy and poignancy, only I couldn't find any "I" synonyms for those words.

There aren't many "I" authors! I chose Kazuo Ishiguro's Remains of the Day, an excellent choice, and not a novel, I might add, that I ever would have picked up if not for this little exercise (and the dearth of other "I"s).

*Some spoilers included.*

I wouldn't have picked up Remains of the Day because I'm not a big fan of broken-heartedness, and I knew enough about the book to know it nose-dives into broken-hearted territory. However, the structure of the book is so enchanting that the broken-heartedness or poignancy creeps up on you (rather than clobbering you on the head). It is inexpressibly touching and inexpressibly sad and well-worth reading.

It is also surprisingly funny. The whole section about "bird and bees" and young Cardinal is hilarious. There are also a number of sad funny parts, like the section where Mr. Stevens allows the Taylors and their friends to think he is a gentleman (in the titled sense of the word) and then finds himself getting deeper and deeper into a conversation he doesn't know how to stop.

Basically, Remains of the Day is the story of a man with a remarkable gift for self-deception. What he doesn't want to see runs the book. Part of this blindness is choice; part of it seems to be built-in. He adopts his father's lessons about dignity but fails to understand the real lesson of his father's example--for instance, how his father refused to drive around the gentlemen who were criticizing his employer. Stevens sees only the Spock-like "show no emotion/don't react" part of these examples, not the moral rightness behind them.

I knew a law professor who used Remains of the Day (the movie) to explore the idea of attorney ethics: at what point does an attorney have the ethical obligation to object to a client's behavior--not simply do what the client asks? It's an interesting question, especially since the book (and movie) make clear that Lord Darlington (Stevens' employer) is uncomfortable with many of his decisions and that Stevens could, in fact, have influenced him.

On the other hand, however, I think the book illustrates that Stevens' self-imposed isolation is partly psychological: Stevens is a fundamentally decent person as shown by his treatment of his father. Yet, he seems unable to connect with people. At several points in the book, Lord Darlington and young Cardinal give Stevens the chance to open up. These are people who care about him and who could directly improve his life. He backs away from these opportunities. I'm also reminded of Manor House in which the architect-become-temporary-butler reflects that the class structure makes communication--real, thoughtful communication--between master and butler tremendously difficult.

Except . . . Stevens' need to be butler for a man of great moral worth rests directly on the dilemma that his employer, a decent man, is behaving badly. In the one place where Stevens could directly object to that behavior--the dismissal of the two Jewish maids--he does not. The book, consequently, becomes a kind of monologue of justification. He WAS right to serve his master unquestioningly. He WASN'T responsible for the outcome.

The outcome is that his master is stripped of moral worth publicly (after the war) for being a German collaborator and pushing appeasement with Hitler. Stevens' road trip becomes not just Stevens' attempt to reunite with Miss Kenton but also his attempt to become the gentleman (from Darlington Hall) that his master failed to be. In that way, his life will not have been a failure.

I watched the movie immediately after finishing the book. It was something of a disappointment. If I had seen the movie first, I would not have read the book since the movie is one of those depressing-atmosphere-included Ivory Merchant films. However, Anthony Hopkins and Emma Thompson are right on as Mr. Stevens and Miss Kenton. I was especially impressed by Emma Thompson--from the ads (way back in 1993), I got the impression that Miss Kenton was a kind of virago: the stubborn outspoken housekeeper who softens the butler's heart. Well, that's kind of right. But she is much more complex than that, being kind, shrewish, passive-aggressive, emotive, wounded, somewhat immature, and inexpressibly lonely. In fact, what stands out in the movie is the loneliness of these two people.

The movie, by the way, shortens the time period between Miss Kenton arriving and WWII. This makes sense. On the other hand, I like the book's two decade stretch. It helps illustrate how well-meaning elite thinking can, in its well-meaning elite way, cause such havoc in the long-run. Lord Darlington is not, necessarily, incorrect about the nastiness of the Treaty of Versailles. And he is very idealistic. And very honourable. And completely and totally wrong.

This is a good lesson to remember. Many elite intellectuals in England initially supported Hitler as well as Stalin. Whenever people try to tell me that what America needs is a "really smart" president, I always remember this. Mob-rule has its problems. A well-meaning elite, whether aristocratic or academic, is nothing to get all excited about. The politics of environmentalism, for instance, appear idealistic and honourable and right. They are supported by many (long-winded) intellectual and political elites. But I wonder how long it will take political correctness to swing around to condemning supporters of things like the Kyoto Global Warming Treaty as elite racists whose measures held back developing countries in typical "great white man" arrogance.

When it happens, I will be able to say, "They didn't mean it. That wasn't what they saw themselves doing at all." But I can't say I'll be sprinting to their defense.

BOOKS

Star Trek: Yes, the Most Recent Movie

So . . . I saw it. Not at the local IMAX unfortunately, and it is a movie worth seeing on a very large screen. The visual effects are AWESOME. There's no other word for it--AWESOME. Finally, the Enterprise has the kind of maneuverability you see with Battlestar Galactica planes. It took long enough. Pretty stellar stuff.

Before I continue with what I liked and didn't like, I have to state I don't think Classic Trek complainers have a leg to stand on. The movie makes clear from the first scene (part of which I missed because I was late to the theater) that this is an alternate timeline--I mean, if I picked up on this standing in the aisle, waiting for my eyes to adjust whilst holding popcorn, I should think most audience members would be able to as well.

Now for what I liked (and the reason I will rent the movie multiple times when it comes out on DVD): the interactions of our favorite Classic Trek characters. Reality-wise, it is unlikely that all these people would be assigned to the same ship first go out of Star Fleet Academy. However, it's a good excuse to watch the characters together. I spent most of the movie chuckling to myself--not just over things like, "I'm a doctor, not a physicist" but over little things like Kirk leering at women even while half-drugged and Scotty going on and on and on about food.

And the casting is excellent! Visually, I think Chris Pine is the closest to his original (Kirk). I know, I know, everyone thinks Zachary Quinto (Spock) is the closest and behavior-wise, he is, but Chris Pine has the young William Shatner look. There are a couple of instances when he looks exactly like the young Shatner--when waiting to be transported off the ice planet and when on the bad guy's ship: it's a little uncanny.

Zachary Quinto is excellent, of course. The thing I appreciated the most about Quinto and the others is how faithful the actors are to the body language of their originals. I really felt like they--or JJ Abrams, the director--had watched, and cared about, Classic Trek.

Karl Urban as Bones, for instance, uses exactly the same intonation and cadence as DeForest Kelly (as does Simon Pegg standing in for James Doohan). This is important. Accent alone doesn't do it--the speech patterns of the original have to be matched as well. (For instance, in the Stargate episode "Fragile Balance," Michael Welch does a respectable job portraying the young Jack O'Neill. The only thing he gets wrong is at the beginning of the episode where he is supposed to say, "Dan-i-el" in that annoyed way Jack has of saying Daniel's name. Welch doesn't peg it. The body language is on. The intonation isn't.)

Back to Trek, I must mention again how much I like Karl Urban (isn't he fantastic?! The guy can do anything; I mean, how different is this role from tense, taciturn, Russian mobster guy in Bourne Supremacy?!) and how nice it was to see Leonard Nimoy. What a gentleman!

The one casting choice I thought failed miserably was Sarek: the actor looks and acts nothing like Mark Lenard--not even remotely. He doesn't have the fundamental warmth or the compact dark intensity of Lenard. He doesn't have the right body language or speech patterns. He is totally off. I realize Lenard is dead, but really, people, Ben Cross would not have been my choice.

However, I did quite like Bruce Greenwood as Pike. The age is wrong (original Pike is much younger when captain), but I like Greenwood, so what the hey. Greenwood is a good example of accurate body language/good acting making up for an inexact visual match. (Again, Cross as Sarek bugs me. But then Lenard is one of my favorite Classics, and I miss him.)

Now that I've explored effects and characterization, here's what I think about the rest of the movie:

The plot is pretty stupid.

Sorry. But it is. Time travel has been SOOO overdone on Star Trek. I am also really, really, really tired of the type of villains used in the last three or so Star Trek movies. They look like they've all just arrived from a Queen's concert or something. They're young! They're bald and have tattoos!! They're very, very angry!!! Has Kiss contracted to service Star Trek needs for the next billion years or something? It is so entirely tiresome that I spent the first five minutes in the movie theater (waiting for my eyes to adjust), glaring at Nero, going, "Maybe it's a preview. Please let it be a preview."

Give me the Borg. Or Ricardo Montalban. Or some Klingons. Just no more revengeful young dudes who look like they should be strumming electric guitars, straddling motorcycles, and waggling tongues at adoring fans.

All that being said, if the movie is slated for television-dom, I'm on board. I don't mind the alternate history--Vulcan as a struggling, planetless race sounds pretty interesting as do Uhuru and Spock as a couple (by the way, the exchange on the transporter pad about her first name is CLASSIC Kirk-Spock: intonation, body language, everything). And if they could get Urban, I might actually have to hook up my digital convertor and go back to watching television full-time instead of just watching DVDs.

MOVIES

H is for Hmmmmm (Hesse)

What I read: Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse.

H was very difficult. Considering where I ended up, I thought it would be appropriate to write about my journey through "H."

I first chose Joseph Heller's Catch-22. In fact, I got it out twice, fully intending to tackle it both times. For the purposes of this reading exercise, I don't actually make myself finish the books I choose. However, I couldn't even get Catch-22 started.

It could be that I'd just read Graham Greene--I wasn't in the mood for "life is purposeless; life is random; hoo-ah." I felt the same way when a book club I attended read Confederacy of Dunces. It was promoted as a totally hilarious book. I didn't see it. I felt no connection to any of the characters. A ship of fools is just not my idea of a good time: why would I want to spend more than one page laughing at how stupid other people are? Perhaps Catch-22 isn't like that, but psychologically, I was at an impasse.

My sister suggested, as a lite alternative, Kristin Hannah. I got out several of her books. The premise or conflict of each of her books is very interesting--for instance, in the one that I started, the main female character is a therapist who is blamed by families when one of her patients goes out and shoots up a school: she should have known and stopped it from happening! That's a pretty interesting conundrum.

Unfortunately, Hannah's books belong to what I call "world romance" rather than "character-driven romance" (see my post "Where Romances Go Wrong" and its sister-post "Why Romances Are Good"); the focus of "world romance" is on the heroine's life and all the stuff she goes through and all the people she meets (including little children towards whom she always behaves maternally) while "character-driven romance" focuses on the day-to-day conflict between the heroine and hero. I happen to be more interested in the day-to-day conflict stuff than in the all-my-life-before-I-fall-in-love stuff. (One reason I prefer You've Got Mail to Sleepless in Seattle.)

And I admit to another, completely petty, problem with Hannah's writing. I've read a number of romances lately, and consequently, I've developed a deep-seated, knee jerk, erk reaction to the use of one-line paragraphs (which romance writers seem to use a lot).

The purpose of a paragraph, as I tell my students, is to begin a new subject--to change focus. There is absolutely no good reason a new paragraph should exist simply to convey a line of information. For example, in a recent romance book (not by Hannah), the writer wrote more or less the following:

Lucinda's carriage pulled up in front of an exquisite Georgian mansion. She stared up at the impressive facade and wondered at the man who lived within its walls.

She descended from the carriage.

An imposing butler . . .

Huh? There is no structural or narrative reason why the line "She descended from the carriage" should be its own paragraph. A paragraph break creates emphasis, but that line doesn't need emphasis.

And no, I'm not making this up.

I've actually reached the point where I won't read romances with this type of structure. I also won't read romances with a billion fragments:

Lucinda stared up at the imposing mansion. That was filled with lighted windows. Through which she could see people dancing. Elegant men and women.

Seriously, I'm not making any of this up. I actually start growling when I read passages like this. Growling as in, Are you kidding me? Again, fragments are used to create emphasis. There is no reason for these particular lines to be emphasized. None.

Hannah doesn't overuse fragments, thank goodness, but she does have a proclivity for the unnecessary one-line paragraph, so I gave up on Hannah as well.

I was in a bit of a funk until I spotted Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha at the library. At the last moment, I nabbed it. It's short for one thing, and it falls into the category of "books that many people have read, so I might as well in order to be culturally literate." To be honest, I had always avoided it because I thought it was pretentious, mostly due to the contexts in which I heard Siddhartha mentioned.

I'm not sure it's pretentious so much as a whole lot of nothing about a little bit of something. I did finish it. It isn't too shabbily written although the writing style starts to grate after awhile. It uses the sort of stilted writing that people always associate with Eastern religions--inaccurately probably; I don't think the Dalai Lamai writes like this. And Siddhartha is one pontificating dude (he's kind of like Socrates: I know nothing, but let me go on and on and on about how much I don't know). I mean, what can you do with lines like this:

No, a true seeker could not accept his teachings, not if he sincerely wished to find something. But he who had found, could give his approval to every path, every goal; nothing separated him from all the other thousands who lived in eternity, who breathed the Divine.

It reminds me of a Stargate episode where ascended-Daniel comes to help (or try to help) Jack ascend. Frustrated, Jack barks, "Daniel, so help me, if you start talking like Oma . . ." Daniel replies defensively, "I'm not talking like Oma. Oma would say something like, ah, ah, 'If the candlelight is fire, then the meal was cooked a long time ago' or something like that."

On the other hand, by themselves, these passages are quite readable (that is, when they don't run together in one big insightful mass: Hesse doesn't use one-line paragraphs):

There shone in his face the serenity of knowledge, of one who is no longer confronted with conflict of desires, who has found salvation, who is in harmony with the stream of events, with the stream of life, full of sympathy and compassion, surrendering himself to the stream, belonging to the unity of all things.

Basically, Siddhartha is the story of a long mid-life crisis. It's about a man who searches for spiritual enlightenment all his life and finally, discovers that searching for the thing doesn't produce enlightenment--living and showing love and kindness to people does. This is not too different from C.S. Lewis commenting in his autobiography Surprised by Joy that the way to find joy is not to seek it--that joy occurs while one is doing other things. In fact, there are many similarities between Siddhartha and Lewis's The Pilgrim's Regress (The Pilgrim's Regress is more grounded in analogy and much more mind-oriented rather than feeling-oriented).

At this point, I am going to get really, really sexist (I apologize in advance): is this a guy thing? Any woman can tell you this stuff about living life and being good to others by the time she is 18. You gotta take an entire life-time to figure out something anybody with a period already knows? Is this why women don't have mid-life crisis (in the same way) as men?

Don't get me wrong: I'm a huge fan of C.S. Lewis, and Hermann Hesse has a point; it just seems like so much furrowed-browness over a fairly basic idea: Get on with life, go to work, take care of your kid, leave off being a condescending jerk, stop running into the woods to find yourself. I mean, geez, this is Socialization 101.

Are women fundamentally more realistic or grounded than men? When I read books like Siddhartha--which really isn't bad, and worth the few hours it takes to inhale (the last chapters about the son are the best)--I start to think so.

On the other hand, maybe this is why more religions are started by men (but staffed by women). It's kind of hard to flesh out a theology if your reaction is, "Oh, yeah, sure, I knew that, whatever." (And life would be very, very sad without fleshed-out theologies.)

BOOKS

Good Bad Guys

I recently re-watched Bourne Identity. Bourne Supremacy is still my favorite of the three Bournes, but Bourne Identity has one huge factor in its favor: Chris Cooper.

I've been a fan of Chris Cooper since Matewan. His role in Bourne Identity as Conklin is much smaller than the roles of the CIA members in Supremacy. However, he stands alone as a strong behind-the-scenes protagonist to Bourne.

The scene I like best, though, is when Bourne confronts Conklin in Paris. I like it because Conklin isn't afraid of Bourne. Here is this agent who can kill him a thousand different ways with just his hands, and Conklin faces him down. He ends up dead, but he faces Bourne down. He is fearless.

This is the first quality of a good bad guy: fearlessness. A bad guy who begs for mercy may be pitiable or realistic or, even, funny, but it doesn't make for watchable entertainment. Besides, fearlessness in and of itself is frightening since it isn't completely normal or understandable.

This is why the Joker makes a good bad guy. I happen to dislike the Joker intensely (as a character), and I tend to avoid movies, cartoon episodes, and comics which use the Joker. I prefer my bad guys to have invested interests (see below). The point of the Joker is that he doesn't; he is random, amoral, anarchical.

But he makes a good bad guy--even if I can't watch him. Heath Ledger was correctly (posthumously) awarded an Oscar for that role in Dark Knight (even if I will probably never watch the movie again).

The second quality of a good bad guy is wittiness--and for what are probably sub-sub-subconscious reasons buried in the American psyche, it helps if the bad guy has a British accent. (In fact, whenever I see books or articles about how unfairly Hollywood has treated a particular race/nationality, I always think, "Yeah, and what about all those poor British men?")

One of my favorite examples is Shere Khan in the Disney animated version of Jungle Book: here's this tiger strolling through the jungle, uttering lines in this bored, drawling BBC accent. And let's not forget the unforgettable (and very sexy) Alan Rickman in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.

Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves brings us to the next quality: quirkiness.

I mentioned that I dislike watching the Joker: insane villains don't interest me. Quirkiness isn't insane, just unexpected. For example, for reasons best understood by folklorists, the Sheriff of Nottingham is often displayed as just a tad off-kilter. Here are some examples:

Alan Rickman in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
Q in "Qpid" (Star Trek: TNG)
Keith Allen in the recent Robin Hood television series
Roger Rees (very amusingly) in Robin Hood: Men in Tights

Quirkiness is one reason I like over-the-top villains: Lex Luthor (John Shea) in Lois and Clark and (again) Lex Luthor (Michael Rosenbaum) in Smallville are good examples. And, naturally, Bruce Campbell in, oh, just about anything where he plays a villain. And I mustn't leave out the mayor (Buffy: Season 3)!

The Lex Luthors also, usually, have very narrow motives; the fourth quality of a good bad guy is an invested interest in something real. Yes, there's a place on the villain's pantheon for the Joker, but usually (99.9% of the time), the villain needs to care about something definite.

This is one reason Stargate is so successful a television series: both the Goa'uld and the Wraith are intense villains with narrow, understandable (if deplorable) interests: survival of the species in terms of procreation and food. King Miraz (Sergio Castellitto) in Prince Caspian (the movie) makes a good villain because he has a narrow definable (and from the viewpoint of European history) defendable position (he makes a good villain in the book too).

This is also why the villain of Bones: Season 3 (Gormogon) was a dead loss. There was no "there" there--no real purpose behind his actions or, for that matter, Zach's. 99.9% of conspiracies are a dead-loss in terms of long-term interest. House, for example, almost always produces GREAT villains, mostly because the villains (or antagonists) are so darn human and specific in their desires.

On the other hand, I do prefer the no-nonsense villain to the villain who suddenly, pesto chango, becomes a terrific human being--give me early Vadar versus later Vadar any day. Still, it helps if the no-nonsense villain has a focus (Princess Leia or, for bad Angel, Buffy), and it also helps if the no-nonsense villain has a less villainous, more quirky sidekick like Spike.

Last but not least, the good bad guy needs to have charisma. Now, this quality is problematic because the bad guy's charisma needs to balance the good guy's charisma: the good guy needs a worthwhile antagonist but shouldn't be overshadowed by said antagonist (the snake should not get all the lines). This is terrifically hard to do.

I think charisma is balanced in these instances:

• Ari (against Gibbs and the team) in NCIS: charismatic but completely untrustworthy; besides, he kills the wonderful Kate.
• Q in Star Trek: TNG. Patrick Stewart can hold his own against John de Lancie--barely. (Q ends up being more ambiguous than bad in any case.)
• The bad prince (against our intrepid heroes) in Princess Bride: he's just so icky smarmy: icky smarmy helps to undercut expansive charisma.
• Liam Neeson as the bad mentor guy in Batman Begins (although I think his character misses on all other points except for witty with a British accent: one of my favorite villain lines comes from him: "You took my advice about theatricality a bit literally.").
• Hugo Weaving (all by himself really) in the Matrix.

Of course, few villains meet all the aforementioned criteria. But then, few heroes can match all the aforementioned criteria in terms of fearlessness, wit (with a British accent), quirkiness, invested interest, and charisma.

And the winner villain (today) is . . .

Nicole Wallace (Olivia D'Abo) from Law & Order: Criminal Intent.

I happen to think Law & Order: Criminal Intent falls to pieces after Season 2. Nicole Wallace is a terrific villain though. AND she meets all the criteria.

1. She is fearless. Goren cannot overwhelm or outmaneuver Nicole as he does so many of the other villains on Law & Order: CI.

2. She has that British accent!

3. She is quirky. She's just as messed up as Goren which makes her a good mirror for him.

4. She has an invested interest: namely, Nicole Wallace. Her interests are very narrow and very self-serving--even when she's bent on revenge.

5. She is charismatic. She's also a Star Trek alumni!

MOVIES