My Work in Enchanted Conversation

I'm excited to say that a guest post of mine is appearing in Enchanted Conversation: A Fairytale Magazine. The post is entitled, "Fairyland and the Deep-Down Third-grader." Check it out:

HERE

The site is full of wonderful stories and poems, so you will want to browse around!

From http://www.flagsclipart.net 

Fantasy Warfare and Gender Realism

Our culture’s desire for equality has drastically changed the stories we tell. Even modern editions of Richard Scary’s picture books (as opposed to the original editions from the 1960’s) are altered: note that the genders of most of the animals on this book cover have been reversed so as to make the point that daddy helps with breakfast and that women are policebears, too.  Yet despite the strides our culture has made in erasing traditional gender roles, a sense of urgency remains, and storytellers feel morally compelled to present readers with the type of gender relationships that are now considered equal.

This puts the writer of fantasy fiction in a challenging position. Although their stories are often set in medieval-style surroundings, modern readers expect women who are strong not only emotionally but also militarily. Yet often this is done in a style that is utterly unrealistic and would be laughable if readers were not so conditioned to expect (and demand) that gender play little role in the physical prowess of fictional characters. When reading (or watching) stories in which women don armor and routinely fight men twice their size, I often long to ask the author why he/she thinks that even liberated, modern women don’t play on male football teams. I am not about to suggest that all female characters in fantasies limit their activities to embroidery and food preparation. However, if authors wish to truly address gender in a meaningful way, they must consider it realistically in conjunction with their worldbuilding. The following points should be considered:

1.      Although women’s physiques provide an advantage over men in some athletic pursuits (swimming across the English channel, for instance), the typical women does not possess the speed, reach, or weight-lifting ability of the typical man. Hence, gender segregation is maintained in professional sports.  If we moderns do not send women to play against men’s football teams, would a culture really send their women against the equivalent male team when the stakes are victory or death?

2.      Before modern medicine, the mortality rate of all populations, especially infants, was high. In addition, humans tend to pair into couples, and in eras without wide-spread birth-control, young women spent a significant amount of time pregnant and nursing.  Would a medieval-style culture really send their young women (their only hope of maintaining a population) into battle?

What is a writer to do? If it is important to your story that women routinely fight alongside men, create a system of weaponry that makes this realistic, or at least deal realistically with the physical implications of women's bodies. In addition, however, the culture must be addressed. What would compel a group of people to send their women into battle, when most humans throughout history have not routinely done so? Consider the fact that until the advent of modern technology, physical strength was so important in daily life that the physical capabilities of men and women remained decisive factors. It is only nowadays, when women really can perform most jobs as easily as men, that the concept of gender equality is accepted. Yet also consider the cultures of the past in which women were treated as possessing the same moral rights as men, or did participate in leadership roles. How do the shaping beliefs of those cultures compare to your own worldbuilding?

Above all, however, I urge writers to broaden their definition of strong women. Why must battle be the only test of moral, mental, and emotional strength? Why must the woman ALWAYS pick up a sword before the story ends? Women throughout time have shown courage in many ways. They have provided medical care, maintained the farms and cities their men fight for, outwitted invaders, and contributed immeasurably to moral by choosing to maintain courageous attitudes. When their world is crushed by enemies, women have helped to build new worlds. It is sexist and blind that many writers and readers do not recognize the power and triumph in these activities. Although there is a time and a place for women to pick up a sword, the writer who does not recognize that combat is only one facet of strength is in danger of narrowing women’s spheres instead of broadening them. This stereotype is maintained when female protagonists reject the “women’s sphere” with contempt, as if all traditionally feminine activities are demeaning, instead of also drawing strength from it. Developing a broad (and realistic) image of gender in stories is important because, despite all of the fantastical elements, fantasies are still about human beings. That is what makes them good stories.

Review: Testament of Youth

Vera Brittain

Victor Gollancz Ltd., 1933 and Seaview Books, 1980

“I don’t want to see any more of these [post-war] results, but only to go back to that past in which abstract heroism was all that mattered, and men acted finely and bravely, believing that the end would be quite other than this.” Vera Brittain, Testament of Youth

American textbooks and war movies tend to skip over the “Great War” in their rush to highlight World War II, but the devastating conflict of 1914-1918 had a profound effect on Europe and Great Britain. Its influence on the attitudes of the British public is comparable in many ways to Vietnam’s impact in America.

Vera Brittain’s memoir is deeply individual, yet also representative of a generation that lost everything they had been raised to believe in. Brought up in a typical late Victorian home by genteel, middle class parents, the young Brittain was nevertheless unconventional enough to pursue a nascent interest in feminism and seek out a stint at university. When war began she volunteered as an army nurse and served in London, Malta, and France. Her account is interspersed with letters and diaries she wrote throughout this time, including frequent requests to her parents for sweets. Brittain possesses a rare ability to analyze her fellow human beings with the harshness of a social reformer while still conveying a sense of her own and others’ humanity, and she includes an abundance of humorous and poignant anecdotes. She conveys the incredible suffering of the war and the profound, soul-shaking questions with which she was battered. One by one all of the people she cared most for died—her fiancé, his entire group of friends, and her only brother.

Testament of Youth is the story of a woman who endured experiences common to many of her peers but who reacted more radically than most. Her sufferings were all the more unbearable because she ultimately rejected the existence of any reality beyond the material and struggled through bereavement with only the cold comfort of a philosophy akin to existentialism. She resented what she saw as the prudery, the stupidity, and the naïveté of Victorian morality. Her lonely bitterness highlights the immense psychological cost of the war. That cost—of lives, of youth, of idealism—is emphasized by Brittain. Throughout her story, she laments for a world that must attempt to solve its problems without the help of its bravest, most intelligent, and most idealistic men.

          Brittain emerged from her experience of war with a feeling of utter isolation, and was burdened under a depression that lasted for two years following the Armistice. As she built a career as writer and speaker, she found a new war to fight by spreading her cause of feminism and fiercely pacifistic internationalism (it must be noted that Testament of Youth was published in 1933 before Hitler’s aggression forced Britain back into battle).  

             Like Cheerful Weather for the Wedding, this memoir uses words to paint a compellingly vivid picture. Not only does it deepen the reader’s understanding of Vera Brittain and World War I, but it also adds to our understanding of humanity and human nature, and the effect of suffering on a human soul.

          I find it interesting that Brittain's final response to her suffering is both similar and contrary to that of the fictional Katniss Everdeen, discussed last week. Brittain, bereft of belief, ultimately found her sufferings as meaningless as Katniss did hers. However, the world in which Brittain lived was clearly guided by beliefs, and she attempted to find meaning by creating a new set of beliefs for herself (in pacifistic, feminist activism) and throwing herself into their cause.

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The book includes haunting poetry written by Brittain and her friends. This one, by a young man who died at the Somme when he was twenty-years-old, is included.

Take my Youth that died to-day,

Lay him on a rose-leaf bed,—

He so gallant was and gay,—

Let them hide his tumbled head,

Roses passionate and red

That so swiftly fade away

Let the little grave be set

Where my eyes shall never see;

Raise no stone, make no regret

Lest my sad heart break,--and yet,

For my weakness, let there be

Sprigs of rue and rosemary.

William Noel Hodgson

"Name that Author" Challenge: Mark Twain

Congratulations to Carissa for correctly identifying Mark Twain (accompanied by a kitten) as pictured here.

A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court stirred me deeply while I was in my teens. The story of an American "Yankee" who is transported to King Arthur's England and must use his good old American ingenuity and mechanical know-how to impress the natives, the book is an interesting comparison of the practical, democratic mentality of nineteenth-century America and what Twain saw as the medieval mentality. Twain was deeply anti-monarchical and anti-catholic, and his view of life in Arthur's day is grim indeed. It is almost a tract against what he saw as the tyranny of the old world. Yet his examination of human responses to suffering, technology, and defeat are broad enough to leave a teenager pondering them. I ought to read the book again and see how it strikes me as an adult.

Pictured below, we find Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) in boyhood (sans kitten):

This Week's Challenge:

Another author with pets. She wrote very charming tales for children.

The FIRST PERSON to name the author above (either in the comments or by e-mailing me) will receive a shout-out (bringing admiration from our loyal readers) next week. Include your own name as you would like it listed, and your blog/web site (if any).

Dilemma-Framing: Why The Hunger Games Needs Yellow Boots

“You don’t understand,” whined Pettigrew. “He would have killed me, Sirius!”  

“Then you should have died!” roared Black. “Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!”                 

(Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkabaan)

The framing of a question is huge. I could ask, “Should hard-working, undocumented workers receive a chance to earn citizenship?” Yet if I hoped for a different answer, I might say instead, “Should illegal immigrants be required to respect American immigration laws?” My framing would not only reveal my own bias, but would also influence a percentage of poll-respondents and thus shape the final results. Fiction authors are constantly framing moral dilemmas. They do this not only to advance the plot but also to guide the sympathies of the reader.


Suzanne Collins frames the shocking events of The Hunger Games so successfully that readers are able to sympathize with a heroine who kills fellow-teenagers. Her protagonist, Katniss, enters the arena only though sacrificial love for her sister and is clearly a victim of a corrupt system. Furthermore, although Katniss initially communicates a willingness to kill rather than die, the plot is arranged so that she kills only indirectly or when motivated by strong emotions with which reader can identify. In the end she even risks her own life in an effort to save a friend and fellow contestant. In the world that Collins has created, Katniss did the best she could in a terrible situation.


Yet the thing about dilemma-framing is that it involves a certain sleight-of-hand. I can ask a toddler, “Do you want to wear the blue shoes or the red shoes?” cleverly framing the situation in order to prevent discussion of the yellow boots. Collins has chosen to present Katniss’ experience in a way that prevents readers from pondering the implications of the missing options.

While reading The Hunger Games for the first time, I hoped that Katniss would rebel completely. The degradation that she endured, not only by committing horrible acts but by doing so as the slave of masters who wanted entertainment, is horrifying. I wanted her to refuse to participate, perhaps in solidarity with other decent teenagers. Yet Katniss is not a person who is willing to sacrifice herself for an idea, a gesture, or in hopes of inspiring change in the world. Even when she is later made into a political figure by others, her choices are driven only by personal loyalty to a few beloved people.


Collins has created a character who is pragmatic and deeply damaged by the tragedy she has endured. She is believable. Yet something about this world is not realistic: there is no religion, no ideology, no philosophy. No one is guided by belief. Is there any oppressive regime in the world that does not use belief to try to control the population, or any resistance to oppression that does not involve belief in something better? In Collins’ world, characters are influenced only by love for individuals or ambition for power, neither of which is based on something bigger than themselves and their friends. Even the loyal Peta’s reluctance to lose his identity as a decent person does not involve an external definition of “decent”— and by the end of the series, he is willing to support any act so long as it helps to protects Katniss.


The characters of The Hunger Games face their dilemmas without the support of beliefs, and this limits their options. Yet the thing is, in real-life moral dilemmas, there are always options—and sometimes the hidden option is to suffer. Sometimes death is better than degradation. Sometimes doing the right thing in a horrible situation is a victory regardless of the cost. It can be argued that Katniss did the right thing when she risked her life to save her friend Peta. Glad as I was that she did not betray him, I cannot help feeling that this kind of morality is not enough—motivated only by personal loyalty, and perhaps fear of ostracism, it does not free Katniss. She is still trapped within a pragmatic, tribal outlook that leaves her a pawn among both tyrants and rebels, and ultimately does not give her much hope in the face of continued tragedy.

It is tempting to say that The Hunger Games is a series without belief. Yet perhaps the yellow boots are present after all, and the story does communicate a strongly-felt understanding of morality. In this series, it is notable that only ambitious and ultimately dangerous characters think that they know how the world should be run, and are eager to implement this vision. Leadership itself is dangerous because it involves a willingness to assert one’s own vision as superior to another's. In Collins’ world, perhaps belief is too dangerous to be indulged in because it leads to attempts at control, and the only safe option is a kind of moral agnosticism. Perhaps this is the ultimate post-modern morality. If young readers are told that Katniss is a wonderful role-model, they are handed the unspoken message that survival is the highest goal, and that sometimes in life they will have no choices. Also inherent in this message is the understanding that beliefs and ideas (other than individual loyalty to people) are irrelevant in crises, and are certainly not worth dying for.


If an author intends his or her characters to commit some normally-unsympathetic act, it is the author’s job to frame it in a sympathetic a manner as possible. Yet it is also the job of an honest author to demonstrate that the act (as are all acts) is a choice, with a moral weight, and that committing it carries a moral load. Only in this way do books echo real life.

"Name that Author" Challenge: Victor Hugo

Last Week's Winner

Congratulations to Heather for correctly identifying Victor Hugo, the author pictured below.

Victor Hugo (1802-1885) is celebrated in France for his poetry first, and other achievements second, but English-speaking readers known him best for Les Miserables.

What fascinates me is the messiness, yet greatness, of Les Miserables. Why is it that a story so full of interruptions, digressions, and discussions of Waterloo is still read by modern readers? Why is it that characters who behave with the romanticism of Victorians still touch the imaginations of people today? I am inclined to believe that Hugo's work is great no only because of his universal theme of law versus grace, but because of the messiness itself. Real life is untidy and confusing. Perhaps the best of literature is untidy and confusing also.

Pictured here is the French poet, author, and supporter of Republicanism with (and without) his beard. I think the beard was a good choice.

This Week's Challenge:

There are many stories in the world, and some are told through pictures.

The FIRST PERSON to name the author above (either in the comments or by e-mailing me) will receive a shout-out (bringing admiration from our loyal readers) next week. Include your own name as you would like it listed, and your blog/web site (if any).

Contradictions in My Learning: A Reflection

            I have been writing every day. It’s wonderful! I must admit, however, that all this solitary plotting is accentuating my personal oddity. It’s funny how overuse of your imagination helps heighten its production. For example, take dinner: My husband mentions some real-life situation. I reply, “Wouldn’t it be funny if X happened to them? And then maybe Y would happen too. And then, what if they did L and M?” And I laugh hysterically at the highly implausible tale . Fortunately, my husband has not yet concluded that I am insane.  

           In the last few months I have grown enormously as a writer (or so I, crouched over the keyboard with my Irish breakfast tea, think). I am still pondering two contradictory lessons that have caused my work to stretch and improve. The first lesson is to say much more. The second lesson is to say much less.

           In former years, I wrote stories that did not tell the readers much. I had to hold back all the key information because revealing it was my climax. Since then I have realized that the plots in these tales were insufficient to fill out an entire story or to support the characters' dialogues. Because it is easier to identify diseases than cures, I am still working on a solution. Sometimes complete stories pop up inside my mind, but most often they arrive piecemeal. My current strategy is to unveil most of my plot on the first few pages of a draft. By using up my idea and forcing myself to continue plotting, I am able to wring a larger, more layered plot out of my imagination. Instead of hauling the reader through an entire medieval feast and finally revealing that the disgruntled chieftain put the poison in the king’s cup, I demonstrate immediately that the disgruntled chieftain is toting poison—but who supplied the poison and manipulated him into using it? Who is the real villain behind this coup? Ah ha! Don't you want to know?

          Of course, success is not inevitable. Occasionally I find myself stymied, without ideas for the rest of a story and annoyed at the entire piece. I’m not yet sure whether I should push all of my plots through to a conclusion, or whether it is better to allow the occasional stillbirth. Hopefully, as I grow, I will become better at recognizing ahead of time which story ideas are truly viable for me.

           Even more importantly, I am also learning to say less. The strict word limits of flash fiction are a fantastic lesson in refining each sentence until it communicates a clearer idea with fewer words (I’ve heard that Professor Strunk, of Strunk and White, used to teach, “Omit needless words!” and followed his principles so well that he had to repeat each terse sentence three times in order to fill the time of his lectures). I am realizing that the shorter I can make a story, the better it is. There is an old journalistic maxim that promises an extra day of life for every word cut, and I am tempted to believe it, so long as the cutting is purposeful.

            I am learning so much, and not only about plotting and editing. Yet everything that I learn shows me how much more I need to know. Sometimes I complain to my husband that I want to be a great writer RIGHT NOW, and produce words of beauty and eternity with the click of my keyboard. Alas. Alack. As I continue to practice, I appreciate the time you take to read my work and the feedback you provide. I will dedicate a book to you all someday!

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Introducing: The First Weekly "Name that Author" Challenge!

Every story reveals something about the mind of its author, 

but do you know the story of this photograph?  

The FIRST PERSON to e-mail me the name of the author above will receive a shout-out (bringing admiration from our loyal readers) next week. Include your own name as you would like it listed, and your blog/web site (if any). 

My Guest Post at Imagination Lane

Read my article on ways to build a "living" fantasy world by developing vibrant moral/belief systems for your universe. You'll find the post at Imagination Lane. While there, check out Alexa's articles on writing fiction!

"Truly Foreign: Creating Fantastical Worlds in Fantasy"