Tuesday, 18 July 2017
Thursday, 12 January 2017
A Keen Observer
A Keen Observer, DeepDownSlytherin - 2005-6
From authors asking fans not to write fanfics, to the belief that fic-writing is something done by those without the creativity or talent to create original work, by way of Fifty Shades of Worst Series Ever Written originating as fanfic of Another Godawful Book, fanfiction tends to have a bad reputation. And like most stereotypes, there is a fair amount of evidence to support the idea, without for a moment meaning that it is true. There are some truly terrible fanfics. There is a reason why ‘crack-fic’ is a term, coming from the notion that one would have to be on crack to write it in the first place. For that matter, there is a reason why the terms ‘fluff’, a code that explicitly advertises syrupy sweetness and ‘pwp’, literally porn without plot, exist. However, within the vast sphere that is fanfiction there are also examples of superb characterisation, excellent writing and storytelling every bit as elegant as some of award-winning works featured on this blog. With that said, on to DeepDownSlytherin’s (DDS from here on in) beautiful fic A Keen Observer, set in the world of J.K Rowling’s Harry Potter books.
(I’m just going to go ahead and assume anyone reading this is at least vaguely familiar with the Potterverse, at least to the extent of knowing Hogwarts, Dumbledore, Voldemort etc. If you’re not… I have no words…)
All rights to JK Rowling and Bloomsbury
The Black family is one of the most powerful and influential pure-blooded families in the wizarding world, moving only in elite society with an overriding belief in their own superiority.
Andromeda Black is the middle child in the latest generation, between the older, fiery Bellatrix and Narcissa, the vain and diva-ish little sister, and is the quietest and most reflective of the three. When she goes off to Hogwarts, like all of her family she is sorted into Slytherin, though due more to her fierce intelligence and pride, rather than the ruthlessness and ambition for which the house is also known. It is in her first Defence Against the Dark Arts class that she is seated next to Ted Tonks, a Muggle-born Ravenclaw boy, who is immediately determined to befriend her, both by being continually warm and pleasant, and by establishing an intense rivalry over their grades. Despite her initial contempt of him due to his status as a mudblood, their friendship develops and he continues to be an important presence in her life throughout the highs and lows of their seven years at Hogwarts. Eventually, after considerable denial on both sides, and recognising the difficulties they will face, Andy and Ted admit their love for one another. However, the wizarding world is changing, and the pure-blood prejudices against Muggle-born ‘mudbloods’ is being whipped up by a mysterious dark wizard, who holds a particular, terrifying fascination for Bellatrix; a wizard called Lord Voldemort…
Though it was written over ten years ago now, what struck me most when I first read the fic a year ago, and continues to surprise me every time I re-read it, is how relevant the story feels today. Indeed, with JK herself having drawn direct parallels between Death Eaters and the alt/far-right, DDS’s exploration of the radicalisation of the entitled elite seems more brilliant with each reading. Furthermore, if one reads A Keen Observer and compares it to the real life defection from the alt-right of Derek Black (how’s that for a coincidence in names?) the similarities are startling, and credit is due to DDS for the nuanced way she shows Andy realising the monstrous dark side of the pure-blood world’s entitlement. However, while Andy comes to see the inherent toxicity of the society in which she grew up, DDS is very careful to humanise and understand all of her characters. Significantly, one of the functions of fanfic can be to amend perceived issues with the canonical text, such as LGBT visibility, and one of the issues returned to again and again in the Potterverse is the demonisation of Slytherin House. Along with the cruel, vicious and utterly superior figures, who one is aware will become Death Eaters post-Hogwarts, DDS presents us with a number of gentler, more moderate Slytherins, in addition to Andy herself, people who are as horrified by the onset of war as the students of other houses.
The handling of the characters, those well-established by Rowling, those named in canon but only developed by DDS, and those created by her, is superb, as DDS not only vividly realises them, but also shows them change, both obviously and subtly, as they grow up. There are some moments of laugh-out-loud hilarity from Sirius and James Potter as their friendship evolves, but Sirius also carries the weight of being Andy’s forerunner; as he matures he finds the narrow-minded pure-blood worldview so intolerable that he furiously, joyfully abandons it forever. In terms of characters, however, the story belongs to Andy, Ted and Bellatrix. DDS shows us the sisters as genuinely loving and devoted to one another throughout their childhood which serves to make the eventual breakdown of their relationship all the more moving. We understand Bellatrix’s pain and fury at the perceived betrayal of Andy falling in love with a Muggle-born, even as Andy is becoming increasingly, terrifyingly aware of how dangerous the pure-blood ideology, not to mention Bellatrix herself, has become. DDS’s depiction of Bellatrix is still moving, even when we know full well what she will grow up to be, because she presents her to us through Andy’s eyes and shows us Bella, the precocious, wilful girl, talented and impetuous, then allows her to drift in and out of the narrative until Andy faces the painful realisation that she barely recognises her once-adored sister. Ted, for his part, is kind, patient, understanding, comforting, and also stubborn, ready and willing to fight, clever, witty and charming and daring enough to initially pursue a friendship with Andromeda Black. If this sounds too good to be true, it is a tribute to the skill of DDS that she makes him completely believable. And as for our narrator herself, Andy is a wonderful creation; insightful, clever, stubborn, occasionally highly dense and deeply loving. A character changing on a fundamental level is difficult to write well and it is the highest praise to DDS that she makes this narrative of the girl from the most elite of all pure-blood families who fell in love with a Muggle-born utterly convincing.
A key factor in what makes A Keen Observer work is that, for all that the setting is familiar, and many beats of the story, such as Sirius running away from home, are prescribed by the canon, the emotional narrative is entirely DDS’s own and, unlike certain other franchises that started as fanfic, could completely work out of universe. However, DDS uses the Potter canon to add extra layers and colours to the narrative; the squabbles of Lily Evans and James Potter are even more entertaining because we know where their turbulent relationship is going. By contrast, the most chilling moment in A Keen Observer comes when the teenage Bella rudely questions a stranger at a masquerade ball. He never actually appears in the story again, but the gloriously dark image of Lord Voldemort placing Bellatrix’s costume mask on her and tying it, is one of the most effective moments in a narrative full of them.
A Keen Observer is many things; a dark family chronicle, a wonderfully written love-story, and above all, the story of a young woman who determines to leave the world in which she grew up, not only for love, but in defiance of an ingrained hierarchical ideology that she chooses to abandon in favour of a life built on empathy, respect and love. If you are a Harry Potter fan, I cannot recommend it highly enough, and if you’re not, still give it a whirl. It really is worth it.
The all important link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2489360/1/A-Keen-Observer
Thursday, 5 January 2017
Masque
Masque, Bethany W. Pope – 2016
'This was like one of the fairy tales Christine's father told us when we were still children. A monster, a princess, a castle underground'1
Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera, is perhaps the most famous reworking of the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale, taking the initial premise of a horrifically ugly man falling in love with a beautiful woman, and adding to it an even more heightened Gothic romanticism, as well as the core image of a masked figure in evening-dress, that has now been homaged beyond even the point of cliché. Leroux also added to his story a second male character, a classic hero, who wins Christine's love, instead of the beast, as well as serving as the narrator for the book.
It is also not very good…
OK, that's a little unfair, but Leroux's novel is certainly a mess, part romance, part detective story, part horror novel, all told via a dull and conventional narrator. Only through subsequent retellings – the 1925 Lon Chaney film and Andrew Lloyd Webber's record-breaking musical being the most significant – was the nugget of Gothic gold excavated: the melodramatic love-triangle between the young soprano, Christine, the Vicomte de Chagny, Raoul and Erik, the man in the mask. For a much more complete history of the Phantom's evolution, its worth checking out Lindsay Ellis's excellent recap here and here. The relationship between Phantom and Beauty and the Beast is also fascinatingly complex, as one feeds into the other with each subsequent retelling: Disney's renowned 1991 Beauty and the Beast owes more than a little to the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, particularly in the addition of a more traditional romantic lead as a foil, even going so far as to make him the villain. For many fans of the Phantom stage-show it is the Phantom and Christine who are the soul-mates who should end up together, and they see Raoul as the villain for preventing this, however little this chimes with the show's narrative. In Masque, Bethany W. Pope skilfully picks at the threads of this interpretation and from them weaves a novel as deep and complex as any labyrinth beneath the Paris Opera House.
(Though I'm going to try and review Pope's book objectively, I must lay my cards on the table and declare that am a huge fan (a phan, if you will! - and no, I didn't coin the term: there are people even worse than me…) of the musical, and of the franchise in general.)
It is important to note that Pope takes her cue, not from the more well-known musical, but from Leroux's original novel, and that in the first words of her story, she pulls the narrative away from Raoul's control. Instead, we have a three-person, alternating narrator and it is Christine who begins the story, a Christine of considerably more fire and spirit than any previous version. In Pope's hands the narrative becomes Christine's every bit as much as Erik's and the story is immeasurably richer for it. Throughout Leroux's story his heroine continually clings to Raoul in fear, and in Lloyd Webber's she is the passive prize to be fought over, until the climax in the Phantom's lair, where she makes her only choice of the narrative. Although her choice is courageous, she is immediately let off any consequences arising from that decision. Pope, however, inverts this narrative completely, her Christine actively conspires with her mysterious teacher against the intrusive and egotistical Raoul, and only becomes passive at the very moment of her assertion in the other versions. This passivity haunts her for the rest of the novel, until she powerfully re-asserts herself, divorces Raoul, returns to the stage and reclaims her voice.
Indeed, exploration of the idea of 'having a voice' is one of Masque's central themes. We now often hear the word 'voice' being used to describe a perspective, often in the context of a marginalised voice challenging, or being drowned out by, the dominant, usually patriarchal voice. Pope dexterously blends this modern idea of 'having a voice' with Christine's voice as a singer, by suggesting continually that, whether she is singing or speaking, Raoul only ever hears the tone of Christine's voice and never cares to listen to what she is saying. Pope's Raoul is creature of pure patriarchal entitlement; when he learns she is arranging a Mass for her dead father, his only thought is that 'a dutiful daughter will make a dutiful wife'. He continually, violently asserts his own narrative on Christine's life, stating 'I am certain that, gifted though you are, you have long since grown tired of singing for your supper'2. Our access to Christine's perspective, however, means we are aware that in doing so he is 'planning to utterly, blithely destroy everything that was of any value about myself'3. There is no option for her to simply refuse him, as that would end her career just as quickly.
As for Erik himself, Pope goes further than any interpreter of the story I've come across in conveying the sheer visceral unpleasantness of his deformity, beyond simple ugliness, as she employs constant references to peeling skin, sores and the stench of his body; indeed, when Christine finally sees his uncovered face and vomits, we have been sufficiently prepared that this does not seem like an over-reaction. Although this increases our sympathy for him, Pope also makes him wonderfully free of self-pity, unlike Leroux's wailing and moaning Phantom. This makes the interactions between Christine and Erik initially far more innocent; whereas Lloyd Webber's masked man seems hell-bent on seducing Christine from the start, Pope's simply assumes that that part of life is closed to him, and is simply determined to help Christine in her art. This makes their relationship all the more touching when it finally develops.
Masque is gorgeously written in sumptuous, vivid prose, and Pope channels all three highly distinctive narrative voices perfectly. There are, however, one or two issues; there are a few typos scattered throughout the book, as well as the odd occasion when characters speech suddenly becomes jarringly modern. More problematic thematically though, is that although Pope's Erik seems considerably more sane than many of his counterparts, his body count appears to be higher even than the Robert Englund-starring slasher-movie version. Indeed, this Erik is completely casual about killing, which seems rather at odds with the concept of casting Raoul as the villain; even Christine herself, though she tries to discourage him from killing, does not seem greatly perturbed. In the world of Pope's Masque, and especially in the heads of Erik and Christine, art is everything, and one who does not appreciate this and tries to obscure it will pay the price; here murderer is preferable to misogynist, and in reading Pope's perfectly obnoxious Raoul, its difficult to disagree.
However, the true reason that Raoul becomes the villain of Masque is that he is incapable of change or growth. The end of the musical gains its power from the Phantom finally achieving emotional growth, though it comes with the realisation that he cannot force Christine to love him and must let her go. In Masque, however, Pope grants both Erik and Christine a happy ending, but to reach it, both must finish their own character arc; Erik refuses to spend his life completely hidden, and Christine asserts control over her life and finally looks him in the face.
Although I am sure Phantom novices will enjoy Pope's beautiful writing, this is really a novel for the fans, for people who will appreciate not only the story, but the differences from previous iterations. Masque is a dexterously clever, elegantly executed novel, and easily ranks as one of the finest reinventions of the classic tale.
Phan-fucking-tastic!
Link to Seren publishers where the book can be purchased: https://www.serenbooks.com/productdisplay/masque
1Pope, Bethany W. Masque, Seren, 2016 pp. 156
2pp. 6
3pp. 113
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