Watersheds and Tropes

I've touched on this before, but I wanted to flesh out my thoughts on tropes. Somewhere between "Lord of the Rings" and "Dungeons and Dragons", sylvan elves and deep-dwelling dwarves became common, even an old hat. It wasn't just Dragonlance or "Crystal Shard", Dennis McKiernan's "Iron Tower" trilogy featured halflings in the form of warrows. The other example was the change from the monstrous vampire of Bram Stoker to the Anne Rice/Camilla sauve immortal. These trends are not accidental, nor are they entirely acts of cynical plagarism.

E.B. White said it best when he wrote "Let [the writer] start sniffing the air, or glancing at the Trend Machine, and he is good as dead, although he may make a nice living. Any reader of R.A. Salvatore or fan of Drizzt Do'Urden can readily feel the heart felt sentiments in his early novel. Imitation has been called a form of flattery, but that statement misses the joy that sends the newborn fan to the library or bookstore fiending for more.

Out of the thousands of fans, a handful may combust and try to become creators themselves: writers, artists, film makers, game makers, etc. The first inspirational work was actually a vector with direction and the impulse that sent the fan moving. The vector may be dominant or it may be nearly lost amidst a plethora of different influences, but it is there and all of the influences are still there. Inspiration does not happen in a vacuum.

The analogy that I propose for these tropes is a watershed. A river cuts its own path through erosion. As rain falls, it gathers and reinforces the river. Tolkien's pen let flow the first stream. As other authors, tributaries, linked up with Middle Earth's conception, swelling the stream into a fullbore river.

The same idea applies to yaoi. These girls found the BL images to be beautiful. The few who decided to become mangaka had these moving images in mind when they first put pencil to paper. When they reached out for other fans, they connected with those that had similar inspirations. And when they reached the stage where they began publishing, their art reinforced the current of shounen-ai work, then a new generation opened their works and a few of them picked up their pens.

The rushing river reinforces itself as it down cut into the bedrock, but even mighty rivers meander and die, but that is an article for another time.

Current Reading

I am reading about Russia, Japan, and Albany, NY:
"Russia under the Old Regime 2nd Ed." by Richard Pipes
"Musashi" by Eiji Yoshikawa
"Legs" by William Kennedy

Princess Army Epiphany

I have a friend of Polish ancestry and we never let her live down hanging with us at the college anime club when it played Princess Army: Wedding Combat. This show managed to live up to it's kitschy title in all of the wrong ways. The air headed female character had two potential loves. A master martial artist who dominated the well known martial arts world in Poland of all places (this yaoi poster boy was labeled a "typical Polish male" to the consternation of our lovely Polish friend). The other was a well meaning local boy. There was also a gay guy that liked judo ground work. After the pseudo-rap scene, we just about had it.

I think that this was truly the definitive moment, when I realized that not all anime was for me. Not Detonator Orgun, not Oz, not even Battle High, I have Princess Army: Wedding Combat to thank for the epiphany.

Scanlations

Here are the Ivyscans releases that I've contributed to:

Desert Storm part 3
Innocent Dragon chapter 1A & 1B
Yokohama Monogatari Vol. 1 chapters 7 & 8

In the works are
Hana Saita (short story)
Innocent Dragon chapter 2A & 2B
Yokohama Monogatari Vol. 1 chapter 9

Gee, it really felt like I did more in the past 10 months. However, I shouldn't complain since I can barely keep up when I do get the assignment and, more importantly, quality takes time. Also, each piece was 40 pages, which will bring me up to 9 x 40 pages = 360 pages.

Back to work.

The Pen and the Scythe

I went to a funeral today. A friend's mother passed away. She was 64. He was always talkative and solid guy. Not book smart, but sharp and wise. He's a family man.

At the funeral, under the warm, clear sky, I couldn't say a word. I signed the card that was passed around work. I said what I could in there. Whatever is written is never enough, but the only way to write is to remember who it is for. In this case, it WILL not be enough. However, if the words and sentiment can bring a moment of comfort, then they have done their job.

The preacher quoted the "Prairie Home Companion" while speaking directly to the grandchildren. He talked about a "storm home", where the children of Lake Woebegone stayed when the snow cut off the roads and couldn't go home. He told the children that their grandmother had gone to her storm home in Heaven and quoted a Psalm where there he talked about a city where there is a foundation and walls made by God. And where Jesus prepares rooms for people and there was one for their grandmother.

The preacher sounded a little bit like Garrison Keillor, while his words were more hushed that huge, he tried to comfort the children, who needed it the most. Here were simple words at their best, performing the miracle of connecting human sorrow. That sounds can connect human hearts really is amazing.

The RICE must flow.

I'm convinced that this is a law of medieval East Asia and still a force in modern Asia.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080919/ap_on_re_as/as_japan_tainted_rice