I’ve just been to see Arrietty, people. Like, literally just this minute got back in after the 2.3 mile (I checked on Google maps) schlep from my favourite cinema. I’m hot and I’m sweaty and I’m tired. Better make this review a bloody good one.
So, Arrietty is an adaptation of Mary Norton’s childhood-favourite series (and don’t forget the films!) The Borrowers, which is about an ecologically invalid subspecies of human beings that are inexplicably about five inches tall or less and basically subsist off stolen goods and services. This adaptation is by Studio Fucking Ghibli, who also did my favourites Howl’s Moving Castle and Princess Mononoke. Oh, and not forgetting the godlike Spirited Away and My Neighbour Totoro.
I literally couldn’t love Studio Ghibli films more if I tried. They are a tour de force in animation, steadfastly championing the 2D cel-shaded animation genre like the 24-carat geniuses they are. Pixar and Disneamworks can’t touch them. People are leaping frogs about Pixar producing its first female protagonist!! with the (and rightly so) hugely anticipated Brave – but Studio Ghibli have been writing fantastic, inspirational female protagonists since they first began with Sheeta in 1986’s Laputa: Castle in the Sky. I mean, come on. While we’re fannying about here in the West with bloody Sucker Punch apparently making history with having so many female protagonists, they’ve made things like Princess Mononoke, where not only is the title girl a complete badass, she’s also actually not by-the-book squeaky blameless sacrificial-lamb benevolent. She has power and flaws and rage and potency and – wait, this is a review of Arrietty.
Arrietty is the first film to be directed by the Studio’s newest induction to directing, Hiromasa Yonebayashi, and it’s absolutely magnificent. I am slightly ashamed to admit that, while I read the first Borrowers book when I was a kid, I can’t remember much about it, other than Arrietty being great fun and very empathic as a main character, and that I wanted to know exactly how they made their clothes. The film does an awful lot for scale fetishists like me (SMALL VERSIONS OF BIG THINGS THAT ARE JUST THE SAME!!!) and explores in quite some visual detail the things that will change at that level of minutiae – in particular, surface tension and the behaviour of liquids. How they pour tea! Is amazing! I squealed in the cinema!
The story is simple and quite static. It takes place in only a few days, and really, nothing huge happens in the vast scheme of things, but that’s just it: from your perspective as an audience, nothing much has changed at all. But from Arrietty’s tiny perspective, everything has! Her house that she’s lived in all her life has had to be abandoned, she’s met more of her own species, having believed that her family were the only ones left, and she’s made friends with a human boy, despite her parents, Pod and Homily, warning her of the inherent dangers therein. Everything’s changed. Her whole worldview has been rocked to the core – and yet Yonebayashi keeps us, the audience, at this cool, gentle, static distance with his long still shots of water dripping off the edges of plants and Cécile Corbel’s gentle music. It’s amazing. It’s like he does perspective with your perspective.
That was the most amazingly pretentious sentences I’ve ever written and I’m not even sorry. But yes. There’s a lot of focus on scale, naturally, in this. That’s where the magic is. From the moment you see Arrietty, fleeing expertly from a laugh-out-loud-amusingly-faced fat cat, you’re enchanted. She’s so small. And everything she has in her life, from bay leaves to fish hooks, feel so familiar and worn with use. You’re captivated between the alien nature of observing life lived at 1/8th scale, and being charmed by how familiar it is at the same time. It’s perfect. Dude, did I mention the tea?
The main difference between (what I remember of) the first book and the film is firstly that it’s vastly simplified, and the inclusion of Spiller (“Dreadful Spiller” in t’books) as a motion catalyst. He’s introduced having rescued Pod from a sprained ankle in the rain – and my god, the moment he came on screen? I fell in love. I am going to cosplay as that boy every day for the rest of my life. He’s completely amazing. He’s wild and awkward and ingenious and has a KETTLE FOR A BOAT. He’s a little bit of a shoehorned-in love interest of sorts for Arrietty, but the shows of affection are mostly from him to her – she’s far too busy escaping crows and playing catch with woodlice. And even then, there’s only arguably two of these awkward Spiller-y shows of admiration, so you needn’t worry – as I do – that an oafishly stapled-on heteronormative TWOO WUV will impinge upon your film-viewing.
Basically, I want Spiller to have a cameo appearence in everything. Which will happen, because I will dress as him and climb onto sets of productions and films and things and run around in the background.
Overall, this is a brilliant directing debut for Studio Ghibli’s brand spanking new physics-obsessed boy, and I’m very excited to see what else he’ll be doing in the future. I’d compare him to Miyazaki, but I can’t, because all I’ll do is shriek “HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE” seventeen times before passing out in a flood of my own tears.
YOU SHOULD SEE THIS FILM BECAUSE:
- You should always see a Studio Ghibli film immediately and without reservation because if you don’t, I truly believe you become one of the soulless
- This is a charming adaptation that I think does Norton proud – if only for the fact that it engrossed me so completely that I now have to return to the novels!
- Niya the cat is side-splittingly hilarious
- THE TEA. LOOK AT HOW THEY POUR THE TEA.
YOU SHOULD NOT SEE THIS FILM BECAUSE:
- I can only think of one reason that’d prevent you from seeing this film, and that is if all the cinemas in your area immediately burn to the ground tonight.
The Best All-Girl Pop Group of the 80s
No, not that one. Or that one. I’m talking about The Go-Go’s.
[WARNING: this post contains controversial opinions. Those of a sensitive nature may wish to look away now.]
Photo: Ron Baker
If I asked you to hum a song by The Bangles, you could probably do it, right? Perhaps this one. What about Bananarama? This might pop into your head. What about The Go-Go’s?
Perhaps you can think of a song, in which case: good work! Gold star. But over and over again I’ve found that people know nothing about them, even though they were one of the most successful girl groups of all time and – quite frankly – better than the other two. (I warned you…)
Here are my top reasons why I love The Go-Go’s and you should too:
1) Perfect pop
Just listen. My favourite is Head Over Heels (I like to think of it as the voice of the girl in Devo’s Out of Sync) but other hits include Our Lips Are Sealed, We Got The Beat and Vacation. Stupendously catchy choruses, simple lyrics, they’re like a revved-up 60s girl group. I guarantee you, one of these tracks will be stuck in your head all day.
Sorry for the terrible sound quality by the way – I thought you’d like to see the videos. There’s another great video for Vacation but the sound was too awful so you’ve got the karaoke version instead.
2) They played their own instruments and wrote their own songs
I’m not dissing The Bangles or Banarama, I love them too. I’m just saying they’re The Monkees to the The Go-Go’s Beatles.
3) For all your 1980s style needs
Think The Bangles or Bananarama have the last word on 80s fashion? Think again: The Go–Go’s may not have had as much hair but they did have VOLUME.
At one point they even looked a bit moody ‘n’ punk. Check out the braces! (Early on they toured with Madness…)
And guitarist Jane Wiedlin has sported some amazing looks:
- Anticipating the 1990s with fairy dress and pixie crop
- Dungarees!
- Top hat!
- …Russian folk chic? She has cool red tights, anyway.
4) Retro ironic album and single covers
Wheeeee! Anne Taintor eat your heart out.
5) Kicked ass in the charts
As someone with a lot invested in her ‘alternative’ identity (and a diehard contrarian) this doesn’t matter much to me. What I find surprising is that they aren’t better known given their chart success. They had a number one album and four Top 20 singles in the US. I read somewhere that they were the first all female group – who wrote their own songs and played their own instruments – to reach number one in the Billboard chart.
6) Better pop patron
I may lose some friends over this one. While The Bangles’ biggest hit, Manic Monday, was written for them by Prince, The Go-Go’s first hit, Our Lips Are Sealed, was co-written by Terry Hall of The Specials. I know who’s cooler. And I think, in your heart, you do too.
7) They get geek points
Because Jane Wiedlin played Joan of Arc in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure and Communications Officer Trillya in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. Win.
I don’t understand why The Go-Go’s are so often overlooked. Hopefully there will soon be an end to this injustice as they’ve been recently been given a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, right outside The Masque club where they played their first gig. They’re also doing a reunion tour, celebrating the 30th anniversary of their first record, Beauty and the Beat.
Of course it doesn’t matter which was the best 80s all-girl pop group1 – the important thing is that they were all there, blazin’ a trail for the next generation to follow. If you’re interested in the history of women in pop and rock I recommend reading Lucy O’Brien’s She Bop II, and if you’re interested in what’s happening now head over to the cracking Wears The Trousers music blog2.
I readily admit that I am not the most social of gamers. I don’t go on many MMOs, but after some of the behaviour I’ve seen I am most definitely on a break for the foreseeable future. I used to play a fairly popular ‘free-to-play’ space MMO (in reality you still have to cough up some dough to get the ‘elite’ stuff and not get utterly trounced). I started up my account in August 2009, almost exactly two years ago, and I am still only level 15 (to be considered “fully elite” one must be at least L16 or above). I picked it because it was ‘free’ and I like space, sci-fi and shooting aliens – I thought it’d be a good introduction to the MMO world.
![Photo close up of part of a white computer keyboard showing the keys blurry in the foreground and sharper in the distance, the L O and P keys are just visible. Photo by Flickr user [F]oxymoron, shared under Creative Commons licence](https://i1.wp.com/www.badreputation.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/keyboard.jpg "keyboard")
For a while it was. Then, when I started to pay attention to the chat, I started noticing some of the childish bravado, the internet tough-guys, mouthing off constantly. To them everyone is a “noob” or a “fag” or a “gay”; despite the chat admins and the auto-kick on certain buzzwords, people always managed to get the insults into the chat. Being called a “noob” for months on end gets tedious, especially when it is meant with such malice, said specifically to twist the knife and offend. Although I was never called any other heinous insults, I saw them all the time and it just made me sick with rage constantly. If I spoke up, I would receive a barrage of hatred poured in my face and most likely be targeted to be shot out of the sky.
Regrettably the disparities didn’t end there; female players had it pretty tough too. Despite the fact one of the top three players was a woman, the only thing anyone focussed on was the fact she is an exotic dancer in the real world. Automatically she was a “bitch” or a “slut” or a “slag”. Because obviously no woman could ever be legitimately better than her male counterparts without having done something deceptive or untoward, right? Ugh. What was the point in this sort of behaviour?
Occasionally, people defended themselves claiming it was “just banter” between the different ‘companies’ (of which there are three) or ‘clans’. More often than not it was just cruel, over-the-top and downright pathetic. Never before have I seen so many keyboard hard-nuts, of all ages, just ejaculating hatred everywhere.
The worst is yet to come though! Now we get to the issue of race. A friend of mine also plays this game. He’s a lot more into it and is a higher level than me and is pretty well-known on the server. Back in March this year he decided to change his name, and pretend he was retiring his account so he could have a bit of anonymous play. His new name was in Arabic characters. He played the game in the same fashion he had done before. Suddenly, just because he had an Arabic name, he was the most reviled player on the server.
I dare not repeat some of the insults that he got (that the chat admins allowed) because they were quite disgusting and appalling. He was at war with half his home Company within three days just trying to teach his attackers a lesson. His ex-clan mates insulted him, his friends made racist remarks; it was the worst case of inherent racism in Brits I have ever seen outside of an EDL rally.
A few weeks later, he revealed himself under his original name combined with his Arabic name. Just as miraculously as the rate they turned on him, wave upon wave of apologies came pouring through.
Now not all MMOs are like this, but as I said, I’m pretty reticent towards social gaming and this is just my experience of one. Unfortunately it was the first one I played, so I’ve been put off again! I am not sure if there are any conclusions we can draw from this, though. Perhaps that competition breeds a culture of anonymous internet bullying? Do people think they can get away with it just because they’re behind a computer? Are these the sort of opinions people really have but they censor themselves in real life? Either way, in some cases at least, the ideal of equality is pretty distant in the ‘social’ aspect of some MMOs, I fear. And that is not an easy medium to break into in order to educate. So for now, I suspect those of us who believe in equality might have to do a bit of MMO-hopping to find a community that isn’t full of bigots. My motto: don’t get comfortable until you’ve met the neighbours! Next time, I’ll talk about something more positive – I promise!
- Rai, at the tender age of 23, has been gaming for 15 years and writing for 10 – perfect combination! Watch this space for more Gamer Diary.
The Representation of Women in Fantasy: What’s the Problem? – a guest post by author Juliet E McKenna
Juliet E McKenna is a British writer of fantasy fiction, with several published series to her name. She is currently writing her new trilogy, The Hadrumal Crisis, which begins with Dangerous Waters, out now.
Kings and princes, wizards and heroes – isn’t that what fantasy’s all about? Look at the great epics of yore and see Gilgamesh, Achilles, Hector, Odysseus, Aeneas, Beowulf, Arthur, Lancelot, Roland, Siegfried. Look at the development of the fantasy genre and see Conan, Aragorn, Elric, Druss, Belgarion. Such lists are endless – and all male.
But why should this concern us? There are women in these stories; Helen, Hecuba, Penelope, Dido, Lavinia, Guinevere, Morgan le Fay, Isolde, Galadriel, Arwen, Polgara, Ce’Nedra. Their presence offers the necessary balance, and if the characters who drive the plot are predominately male, that’s just a traditional aspect of this genre which does reflect so much history. Before the last few decades, women were subject to male authority for centuries. No one’s saying that women shouldn’t be equal in the real world nowaday, but this is fiction after all. Right?
No, wrong, and for a whole lot of reasons.
Let’s start with the historical basis. Granted, the history read by JRR Tolkien and his generation was all about the great deeds of great (white) men. Such interpretations reflected the Victorian worldview of masculine authority and responsibility. That immediately creates problems. When the importance of great men is taken for granted, that’s where the historian’s focus will be. If women are not deemed important, why bother writing about them except where they impinge on the main subject’s life or deeds? They will inevitably end up absent from the narrative that emerges.
Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. That was then, and this is now. Since the first emergence of women’s studies as a discipline in the 1960s, a wealth of historical research has explored the role of women in all levels of society. Women’s influence and significance is now apparent, even when they were effectively denied financial and political power by the cultures of their day.
So a fantasy writer can no longer point to a few exceptional women in fantasy narratives, such as Galadriel, and hide behind a claim to reflect historical accuracy because the only significant women in history were exceptions such as Good Queen Bess. Not when I have books on my study shelves about the women who sailed with Nelson’s navy and built his ships in the royal dockyards, about the role of so many women in the scientific developments of the Enlightenment and a whole lot more besides.
Women’s roles in all facets of life are now being acknowledged. These women had authority and autonomy. Granted, that was often limited by their wealth, social status and culture, but there is no excuse for women characters in fantasy fiction only ever being passive and reactive. Historically we now know that women were rarely only defined by their relationships with men in the way that so many women characters in fantasy have been. While women can be wives, mothers or lovers, benign or malicious, that is assuredly not all they can be. Fantasy fiction should reflect such current historical research, not attitudes that were outdated fifty years ago.
Because fiction is important. Stories have always been one of the primary means of education and instruction, from the very young on into adulthood. Look at any list of best-sellers for teens and you will see how fantasy fiction dominates. Thankfully, writers like the late Diana Wynne Jones and Philip Pullman have been writing stories for decades encouraging children to explore and debate the worldviews that might be imposed upon them, along with the roles they’re expected to fill and the authority which adults might claim.
So it’s vital that epic fantasies on the ‘adult’ shelves don’t undo all that good work. I really do not want my teenage sons unconsciously absorbing notions of male privilege and entitlement in stories where a woman’s importance is always defined by who she might choose to sleep with, or better yet, save her precious virginity for. Where women who transgress male authority are invariably punished by supposedly indifferent twists of fate. I don’t want my niece and god-daughters reading stories which imply that true happiness lies in meekness, submission and doing the cooking and mending to facilitate so much more valuable male heroics.
Not when so much of today’s baser popular culture looks so indulgently on misogynistic male ‘celebrities’, excusing infidelity or excess at the same time as subjecting women in the public eye to merciless, puritanical scrutiny while extolling the role of Wife And/Or Girlfriend to a rich man as the pinnacle of female achievement. Not when pay gaps and glass ceilings and the Old Boy network are still so insidiously prevalent.
I want all those teenagers to read stories where male and female characters are equally significant in the narrative, all making the best use of their respective talents and abilities, where their gender is only influential when such things as physical strength come into play. Is that realistic or just more fantasy? Perhaps, but another facet of fiction has always been encouraging aspiration.
Thankfully there have long been fantasies with strong female characters taking the initiative to drive plots forward, making their own choices and dealing with men as equals, even when their cultures frown upon it. Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Darkover books, Melanie Rawn’s Dragon Prince series and Anne McCaffrey’s Pern novels are all notable as such pioneers.
But this is still not enough. Those writers are all women, and research has shown that men and boys’ reading is so often unconsciously biased towards books written by men. The representation of women in fantasy is an issue that should concern all authors. We need a substantial list of male authors to cite after Sir Terry Pratchett, when the question of men writing effective, convincing women comes up.
I want to read those stories myself. But this doesn’t mean I want to read about feisty servant girls who wake up, throw off a lifetime of cultural conditioning along with their blankets and decide it’s time to invent feminism. Any more than I want to read about honest farm boys who discover they’re a lost heir and regain the throne thanks to a great mage’s help, who won’t claim it for himself because he’s a decent chap.
So somewhat paradoxically, the representation of women in fantasy must still include women leading circumscribed, subordinated lives, to remind all of us reading, male and female, why our grandmothers, mothers and aunts campaigned for the vote and marched for equal rights. To remind us what women’s lives are like today in so much of the world where their human rights are curtailed by culture and poverty. And of course, so many similar arguments apply when we consider the equally problematic question of characters of colour in fantasy fiction.
Doesn’t this all sound so worthy and politically correct? Oh dear, because so often that means just plain dull. The most tedious storybooks which I read to my children were the ones with An Improving Moral Message. Some of the most boring news reports are the ones analysing sexism, racism, any other –ism you care to name. That doesn’t mean these issues aren’t important but it can be such hard work to stop your eyes glazing over…
True, and this is another reason why the representation of women in fantasy fiction is so important, alongside that of other minorities who’ve been historically marginalised and abused. Because epic fantasy fiction, with its traditional high heroics, hair’s breadth escapes, valorous last stands, black-hearted villainy, the tragedy of good men in conflict, and yes, star-crossed lovers here and there, will be read and enjoyed by all sorts of people who would never sit through an earnest documentary or read a lengthy newspaper analysis.
As writers we have the opportunity to enrich our readers’ lives as well as entertaining them. We should take that as seriously as we take the challenge of crafting an enthralling, surprising, rewarding page-turner of a story.
- Find out more about Juliet E McKenna at her official website, on Amazon, and on Twitter. Juliet regularly speaks at SFF conventions and gives creative writing lessons in schools, and she is one of the authors behind The Write Fantastic, a group who organise events to promote the fantasy genre and to showcase the scope of current writing in this genre.
Unsung Heroes: Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz
A little while back we took a look at the polyglot mathematical prodigy Maria Agnesi. Today’s Hero has a remarkable number of parallels to Agnesi, but unfortunately did not fare so well when church authorities became involved in her life. Who is she? The wonderfully named Juana Inés de Asbaje y Ramírez de Santillana, or Sor Juana for short.
Juana in 1666, aged 15, looking super knowledgable
Juana demonstrated her latent awesome from an early age. Sneaking away from family gatherings to read her grandfather’s books, she’d picked up Greek, Latin and Nahuatl by her teens, composing poetry and teaching younger children. If you want to keep some a scorecard of achievements here, that’d be four languages self-taught to the level of writing poetry in them and teaching them to others by early adolescence.
Wanting something a little more formal than teaching herself from borrowed books, Juana asked her family for permission to disguise herself as a man in order to gain access to the university in Mexico City. Her family were not keen and permission was denied, so instead she found private tutoring from the Vicereine Leonor Carreto.
The Viceroy was intrigued by this apparent prodigy studying under his wife, and seemed to doubt that a 17-year-old woman could have the intellectual prowess she claimed. He set her a test (because apparently that’s what you do when someone is awesome; you make them jump through hoops to prove it): many of the country’s leading minds were invited to put difficult questions to her in fields of law, literature, theology and philosophy, and to have her explain difficult concepts without preparation. You can probably guess what happened. If you can’t guess, here’s what happened: she kicked intellectual ass.
Over the next few years the now really rather popular Juana would reject several marriage proposals from assorted influential types before, in 1669, entering a Hieronymite convent.
Sor Juana made for a rather unusual Sister. Set against the social pressures of the time, prevailing attitudes in the church, and the continued influence of the Spanish Inquisition, she wrote works that bordered on the heretical in their focus on freedom, science and the education of women. One surviving, translated example of her work, Redondillas, deals with the madonna/whore complex, and the issue of whether someone who pays for sin is any better than someone who is paid for it.
“The greater evil who is in-
When both in wayward paths are straying?
The poor sinner for the pain
Or he who pays for the sin?”– Sor Juana, Redondillas
In 1690 the pressure against Sor Juana began to mount. A letter was published attacking her intellectual pursuits, and several high-ranking church officials spoke out against her. On her side she had the Viceregal court and the Jesuits, who remained impressed by her intellect and works. She also had a lot of popular appeal, being considered at the time to be one of the first great writers to emerge in the country.
The support bought her the time to write an open letter to her critics, in which she defended the right of women to proper education. Even with powerful friends, it takes some distinct bravery to stand up to not only the Inquisition, but to the very church institution that you’re a part of via your convent, and tell them just why they’re wrong.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Details get a bit fuzzy here, and it’s possible that some of the letters involved were not in fact by Sor Jauna but merely had her name stuck at the bottom. What is clear is that around about 1693 the official censure became too much and Sor Jauna stopped writing (or at least, stopped making public things that she had written.) Her personal library of books and scientific instruments, which by that point consisted of some 4,000 or so volumes, was sold off.
A year later Sor Juana died when a plague hit the convent. She had done what she could to tend to the other sisters who were afflicted, but succumbed after a few weeks. She left behind a legacy as one of the most important poetic writers in recent South American history.
Part of what makes Sor Juana’s story fascinating is the difference 100 years made between her reception and that of Maria Agnesi. Both were fiercely intelligent, both spoke and wrote in multiple languages across an array of subjects, and both ended up in a convent. But where Agnesi was offered a professorship by the Pope, Sor Juana was censured and driven to abandon her lifestyle. It’d be interesting to see what Sor Juana might have managed, had she born a little later.
- Unsung Heroes: spotlighting fascinating people we never learned about at school. Rob Mulligan also blogs at Stuttering Demagogue. Stay tuned for future Heroes, or send your own in to [email protected]!
Bookworm Redux: a man reviews “How to be a Woman”
We’re a diverse bunch here at BadRep towers, and sometimes we don’t agree. When that happens, we sometimes offer a second opinion from another of the team. Sarah C reviewed Caitlin Moran’s book for us last month – with one or two exceptions, she thought it was brilliant. For contrast, here is my review:
I think it’s BRILLIANT.
Sarah C lent me How To Be A Woman, Caitlin Moran’s recent feminism handbook/memoir, and I expected to like it. I follow Moran on twitter where she’s always deeply funny, and I thought this would be an enjoyable read even if it’s just her personal take on the issues. What surprised me is how incredibly effective the book is – and how it does some things which are amazing from a male point of view.
Of course, cis male points of view aren’t automatically important in feminism (with some arguing that they have no place in it at all). When it comes to deciding what women want their future to be, and what they feel is harmful or unacceptable to that, men don’t really need to be part of the process. And most male feminists that I know understand that.
However, when it comes to implementing feminism against the status quo of patriarchal bullshit, when women are fighting for their rights from one direction it helps if men are on board too. If men feel threatened by coming changes, they’re more likely to do the kind of heinous, disgusting, and frequently violent things that we see thrown back at women who challenge anything the patriarchy is currently comfortable with.
Which is why I think that Caitlin Moran’s book should be compulsory reading for boys.
Photo of Caitlin Moran by Chris Floyd, which won August's "Portrait of the month" at the National Portrait Gallery. Source: http://www.npg.org.uk/
Moran does two things which are absolutely crucial. She actively calls bullshit on the many forms of misogyny which have somehow become acceptable in society, and then she laughs at them.
Calling bullshit is not a small thing. It takes incredible strength to say “no” to Hollywood, magazines, posters, tv and the expectations of your friends, family, colleagues and boss. By being brutally honest about becoming a woman – periods, body hair, boobs, everything about a teenager’s brain – she humanises it and makes it possible to go against expectations. Of COURSE the idea that every single woman needs a Brazilian shave by default is stupid bullshit. Step back a moment and compare it to real life as she does, and it becomes easy to laugh… and more importantly to finish laughing and shout HELL NO.
Boys will read this. They want to know what girls think, and what the changes happening to girls’ bodies and minds are actually like. The book is full of comedy but also danger, which keeps it exciting and holds your attention. I’m always going on about how pop culture is great because it engages people and slips messages past them while they’re having fun – this does exactly that, really well.
Importantly, when talking to the male side of the equation, it also demystifies. Male readers can look at the stupidity of some conventions, see what the reality is for women and it will become easier for them to realise where the bullshit lies.
Moran speaks directly to men in the book as well as women. After telling female readers to say the words “I am a feminist” out loud, possibly while standing on a chair (“Say it. SAY IT. SAY IT NOW! Because if you can’t, you’re basically bending over saying ‘Kick my arse and take my vote, please, the patriarchy.’“) she adds this:
“And do not think you shouldn’t be standing on that chair, shouting ‘I AM A FEMINIST!’ if you are a boy. A male feminist is one of the most glorious end-products of evolution. A male feminist should ABSOLUTELY be on the chair – so we ladies may all toast you, in champagne, before coveting your body wildly.”
Note to men: this is relatively true. Identifying as a feminist in actions as well as words (unless you’re a lying weasel who is just doing it to get into their knickers) will by itself put you quite far into the “not a raging asshole” category. That’s hot. I’m just saying.
I agree with Sarah on the minor disappointments. The author’s use of “retard” on page 5 really jars and stands out, just plain doesn’t work, and isn’t okay. Where Sarah found it limiting that the events are focused only on Moran’s personal experiences, though, I didn’t think this mattered as much to the message. Where Caitlin says she doesn’t feel that the word “boobs” really describes any part of her body (and “breasts” is worse), I know some women who feel comfortable with that word – but her final decision doesn’t seem as crucial as long as the reader is made aware that girls face the situation of having to find the right words for themselves. Making everyone ask themselves the question means the answer she chooses almost doesn’t matter.
There are plenty of universal truths in there. The chapter where she reveals how the word “fat” has basically become weaponised to a greater degree than previous nuclear-level playground insults, and gives examples, all rings totally true. The stories of her 16-year-old self veer between amusing and devastating, but it just helps the reader identify with the general problem. Hell, it made *me* identify with it, when my 16-year-old self was dangerously underweight, gangly, six-foot and male.
And that’s the secret. The reason I’m excited about this book is that it’s the first one I think will be hugely effective, to women but especially to the average man. There are many modes of communication which just don’t work: language is important, but I think we can frequently become so removed from daily discourse in our attempts to avoid discriminatory words that we lose the audience entirely. Caitlin Moran will change male attitudes a million times more powerfully than, say, a paper by feminist academics which would only be read by feminist academics, containing newly invented language that boys barely understand and have not been convinced they need.
You can tell whether some misogynistic societal pressure is being exerted on women by calmly enquiring, “And are the *men* doing this, as well?” If they aren’t, chances are you’re dealing with what we strident feminists refer to as “some total fucking bullshit”.
How to be a woman engages the reader with great humour and truth, says things of interest, and is entertaining enough to do the pop-culture stealth-feminism thing. The early reaction from feminists was “This is an important book!”, but the opinions then swayed back and forth a bit afterwards. I think “important” is precisely the right word, because it’s going to work.
Teenage boys! Want to know about teenage girls? Read this book. Men! Want to read something that’s genuinely hilarious and interesting, even if you don’t ‘do’ feminism? Read this book. It’s angry without being exclusionary, very funny, very honest, and has a real shot at inspiring a new generation to become feminists.
Top marks, Moran.
Cinderella Punches Monsters
Team BadRep were put on the spot again this month: in the wake of SDCC Batgirl igniting the gender-and-comics conversation loud ‘n’ proud, the team were asked to take a look at their favourite comic book titles and characters – some obvious choices, some less so… and here’s Rob.
“Everyone knows my story. I get dressed up. The clock strikes twelve. I lose a shoe. And it’s all downhill from there. My name is Cinderella, Cindy to my friends. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a spy. One of the best, even if I’m being humble. And there are times I love my job.”
– Cinderella, From Fabletown with Love
Swapping the genders of characters around to put female characters in the roles usually filled by men and vice versa isn’t anything shockingly new. But that doesn’t make it any less cool when someone goes and does it well. Which, arguably, is exactly what Cinderella (in her spin-off miniseries from the Fables universe) does. (Note: this recommendation is based on the first volume of her tales, From Fabletown With Love. I haven’t read the second arc yet, Fables Are Forever.)
Cinderella, as far as most of her fellow Fables know, is an empty-headed fashionista, owner of the local shoe shop, and one of Prince Charming’s ex-wives. What most of them don’t know is that she’s also a master spy and sometimes assassin, their very own James Bond. Only better.
We open with Cinderella punching out a gun-toting mook, diving off Big Ben’s clock tower, and hang-gliding out over London. It’s one hell of an introduction and far from the most kickass moment she gets in the book. Along the way, she also finds time to kick the ever-loving crap out of some shapeshifting monsters, storm an oil rig, deal with armed assassins and overthrow an evil regime with a well-thrown clog.
So her badass credentials are certainly up to spec for the super-spy genre, but what else? Well, it wouldn’t be a spy story without a Bond girl. That role here is ably filled by Aladdin, Cinderella’s intelligence-gathering counterpart from the Baghdad Fable community. True to form he’s capable and effective but not quite up to Cinderella’s level and practically carries a glowing neon sign reading “capture and imprison me so I can be daringly rescued!”.
There are two particularly nice little points in the interaction between Cinderella and Aladdin. First up, the hook-up that’s pretty much inevitable with the genre. When it does happen, Cinderella is very definitely the active party in deciding when and initiating things. There was the risk that we’d see that whole scene take a more traditional approach, which would have entirely undermined the character, but fortunately she remains entirely herself and entirely in charge.
The other nice moment is the ideological exchange between them, shortly after they get done kicking monsters in the jaw for the first time. The conversation comes round to Islam and, honestly, it’s handled pretty fairly. It’s only one page worth of stuff, but writer Chris Roberson deals with it well. It’s certainly a nice change from the slightly cringe-inducing pro-Israel speech Bill Willingham included in the main Fables series.
The art is pretty solid too. At no point, as far as I can tell, does Cinderella adopt that terrible spine-breaker pose so commonly inflicted on comic book women. The outfits are sensible too, with the daring infiltration of an old oil platform taking place in appropriate combat gear and her regular wear never getting any more risqué than an evening dress. (Well, one of the covers does feature a wetsuit with an inexplicable cleavage window. Cleavage windows aside, Chrissie Zullo’s work on the covers is gorgeous.)
How does that wetsuit even work with a hole in it?
So that’s Cinderella, Fabletown’s very own badass super-spy. Hopefully she’s just as fantastic in her second story arc. Oh, and she comes from good company too, with others like Rose Red, Snow White, and Frau Totenkinder rocking along in the main series. Frau Totenkinder in particular is worthy of mention, since it’s nice to see a much older female character who’s still awesome.
Comics I have known and loved
Team BadRep were put on the spot again this month: in the wake of SDCC Batgirl igniting the gender-and-comics conversation loud ‘n’ proud, the team were asked to take a look at their favourite comic book titles and characters – some obvious choices, some less so… here’s Sarah C’s take.
Ah, comics. Or graphic novels, if they are trying to seduce me across a pseudy coffee bar in Edinburgh, which they did – more on that later.
Dear reader, this is a tale of a long, passionate, but fractious love affair.
It started early. I noticed them, but they never seemed to be the right one for me, stocked as they were in the “boys’ section” of the magazine racks. I kept myself busy with the garish colours of the (probably) gender neutral Dandy and the Beano. Whilst being amused but ultimately concerned by the levels of naughtiness from Minnie the Minx (I was a very conscientious child), I found myself captured by a few sections from the pages of hand-me-down copies of the now-defunct “girls’ own” annual Bunty. Looking back on it, the artwork was poor and the storylines were hammy with a sprinkling of schmaltz, but some stood out: tales of mystery, adventure, aliens and heroines were hidden amidst the pages of dreary “girl stuff”. Now we’re talking!
Cover Art for GloomCookie Issue 7
Flash forward, and I’m at university in Edinburgh with actual money in my pocket. I’ve caught flickers of images in such hallowed sanctuaries as Forbidden Planet, which is exciting but mostly full of plastic models. Deadhead, lurking on the crooked medieval road across from the pub where I’ve just earned my actual money, is poky and rammed with paper; pleasingly reminiscment in layout and smell of old bookshops.
On the shelves I spot a beautifully painted (thank you Duncan Fegredo) issue of Mike Carey’s Lucifer, where a winged schoolgirl escapes the giant maw of a fiery demon; the first of the new Catwoman where Selina Kyle is resplendent and powerful in a jumpsuit and combat boots; and the gothic lusciousness of Serena Valentino’s GloomCookie. And that was just the covers!
Ed Brubaker's 2001 Emma Peel inspired Catwoman
The stories, oh, oh, oh the stories. Magical, fantastical, intricate and complex tales of all kinds with interesting and varied female characters being just as magical, just as fantastically intricate and complex as their male counterparts.
I am doing my level best to just not list all of them because that would be a little tedious – check the Wiki articles or better yet come round and read them – my point is that they were there, and they were so far removed from any other female heroes (or anti-heroes, or villains) that I had ever seen before, and there were just SO MANY of them.
Over the next many years I spent a lot of time and money on comics. I was in love. Besotted. I compulsively collected every issue of the jaw-dropping Fables and Y: The Last Man (a must for any comic collection). As I tend to be when in love, I was somewhat obsessed. I wrote my dissertation on postmodernist structuralism in Grant Morrison’s The Invisibles (I know better now, it should have been postmodern superhero archetypes in Doom Patrol).
I found the most perfect fairy tale ever told in the form of Jeff Smith’s independent offering Bone. This is an epic adventure of derring do, lost princesses who need to save the kingdom, war, friendship, quiche and dragons. I cannot recommend it enough.
Grandma Ben in action against the famously stupid, stupid rat creatures
The character of Grandma Ben blasts away so many female stereotypes. She is mysterious, strong, forthright, takes no nonsense and just plain funny. She also races cows. As in, races against them. I aim to also do this when I am her age (which she refuses to tell anyone, of course).
But as I read my way through everything that caught my eye, I was spotting a change.
Filthy Assistant number two Yelena Rossini romped her way through Warren Ellis’ Transmetropolitan and stole my heart somewhat with her hard smoking, futuristic gumshoe gonzo journalism and attack womb. Zee Hernandez from Brian Wood’s spectacular DMZ played Beatrice to the lost photographer and guided both him and the reader through a ghastly vision of New York as the Gaza Strip.
Yelena Rossini from Transmetropolitan
These women were still good, still interesting, but they were second fiddle, playing traditional (albeit revamped and turbo-boosted) support roles such as healers and helpmeets whilst also filling the “minority quota”, especially in the case of Zee who is both non-white and non-male. Naturally all of them end up sleeping with or as love interests for the male protagonists, although at least the storylines of those titles made up for the stereotypes.
Somewhere along the way, it started to go wrong. Bit by bit by bit, even these characters faded away. The series that I loved ended (I cried at the end of Lucifer) and were replaced with weaker, less interesting versions. Costumes became smaller, boobs bigger. I started my “never buy a comic where the cover art has a woman with breasts bigger than her head” campaign, and found myself wealthier but with a lot less comics.
Female characters and their stories became less widely available. There were still some bright sparks but these were increasingly ghettoised in the narrow “independent” section of the store or as part of autobiographical works such as the excellent Persepolis. The lack of new work meant that shops began pushing long-standing books like Strangers in Paradise or reprints of classics obviously aimed at women such as Dykes to Watch Out For.
There were still good stories in comic book world, with great artwork, but the women I had come to love had gone missing from the mainstream. Titles such as Wonder Woman or Lady Death looked like bad pornography, and the artwork for some of my favourite writers became downright ridiculous to the point of offensive. My relationship with comics was getting rocky.
I can pinpoint the exact moment that caused us to break up. It was Ignition City by Warren Ellis, specifically the way that almost every page had a massive pair of tits or tight (female) bottom in it, regardless of whether that was particularly appropriate or relevant. The male characters, of course, could be as fat, wrinkly, gross, old, multicultural and multidimensional as actual people. The female characters only existed to ensure that there were toned body parts for the consumption of the reader (who obviously wasn’t meant to be me).
What happened to my love? What changed? I don’t know. I have moved to pastures new – online comics such as Freak Angels, Girl Genius, Sinfest and XKCD fulfill my panel-related addiction, but every now and then I look longingly at my groaning bookshelf with all those beautiful trade paperbacks, wondering when, if ever, there might be a return to form.
Come back, baby. I miss you.