Manporn Ho! — and Further Ho!

A couple of comments on my initial post about our new manporn column have expressed a certain amount of levity at the prospect. Obviously, manporn is somwhat funny in and of itself. I thought that I might explain a bit more briefly about why I want such a column on this site.

Basically, I think yaoi is pretty fascinating. It’s a genre that for the most part didn’t exist in the U.S., but which obviously has a large appeal. As such, I think it’s worth thinking about and talking about — especially since the critical reaction to it from most other corners of comicdom tends to be disbelief and ridicule.

So…Kinukitty is very funny, and I expect the column will be as well. But I don’t think yaoi is intrinsically any more ridiculous than super-heroes or alt comic autobio, or whatever. Yaoi is more unfamiliar, of course…which is the reason to have a column about it.

Update: Kinukitty’s first review of Blank Slate is now online.

Mary McCarthy

The good news is that this morning I found an item on the Internet about Mary McCarthy. The bad news is that it’s by Camille Paglia. I didn’t know she was still around, but apparently Salon pays her for a column where she answers readers’ letters.

Paglia says McCarthy’s works were kept out of “women’s studies programs from the 1970s on” because she didn’t fit with their “maudlin, victim-centric curriculum.” Well, let’s see. Women in the 1970s had no problem making a fuss over McCarthy’s dreadful enemy, Lillian Hellman. The women included Jane Fonda and Vanessa Redgrave, who I think must be accounted feminists, at least in those days. (The caveat is because Fonda, some 30 years on, went Christer; of course that might not rule out some sort of feminism, but I want to be careful.) In fact Fonda and Redgrave celebrated Hellman by starring in a big-budget movie that pretended, on Hellman’s say-so, that the dear lady had risked her life by smuggling money to the anti-Nazi underground thru the heart of the Third Reich. The tough, straight-talking movie Hellman squared her jaw and carried out the assignment. Some victim.

In real life Hellman had done nothing like it. She had a history of lying in print, a history that extended to her account of the supposed heroism in her memoir Pentimento. The account formed the basis of the movie, which was called Julia and now is not much remembered.

Mary McCarthy remarked on television about Hellman’s long record of dishonesty, after which Hellman sued her for a few million dollars. In this contest McCarthy did better regarding facts, Hellman regarding money. She was rich, McCarthy wasn’t, and the legal expenses clouded the last few years of McCarthy’s life.

Paglia, if she cared, might argue that Fonda and Redgrave are one thing, women’s studies programs another. Of course she’d have to explain why there was one brand of feminism for Fonda and Redgrave, and the millions of women who bought Hellman’s books and went to see Julia, and another for the academic programs. She’d also have to explain why highlighting injustice rules out celebrating heroism (or pretend heroism, in Hellman’s case).

She won’t and it doesn’t matter. She’s a fool. She even thinks Sidney Lumet’s movie version of The Group is a good movie.

Manporn Ho!

Eagle-eyed blog watchers may have noticed that we have added a fifth hood to our utilitarians (or perhaps a fifth utilitarian to our hood? Yes, that probably sounds better.) What was I saying?

Right. We are very pleased to welcome the delightful and talented Kinukitty to our roster. Kinukitty will be writing a column entitled “Gluey Tart: Adventures in Manporn” focusing on yaoi, shonen-ai, and related pretty boy topics. The column will be (at least in theory) weekly, and should appear every Thursday (which is tomorrow.)

For those of you who must, must, must find out more about Kinukitty instantly, you can go to her livejournal wherein is archived her own personal manporn slash effusions. You can also hop over to the Gay Utopia and read her essay about why young girls need more manporn plus another piece of slashy goodness on the same site.

Kinukitty will have more to say on her own behalf tomorrow. Give her a nice welcome then, won’t you?

The Japanese Superman

I did a couple of posts about Matt Thorn’s classic essay, The Face of the Other, in which he explains:

I have given presentations on manga to Western audiences many times, but regardless of the particular themes of my talks, when the floor is opened up for discussion I am invariably asked the same question: “Why do all the characters look Caucasian?” You may have asked yourself the same question.

I answer that question with a question of my own: “Why do you think they look Caucasian?” “Because of the round eyes,” or the “blonde hair,” is the common response. When I ask then if the questioner actually knows anyone, “Caucasian” or otherwise, who really looks anything like these highly stylized cartoons, the response may be, “Well, they look more Caucasian than Asian.” Considering the wide range of variation in the features of persons of both European and East Asian descent, and the fact that these line drawings fall nowhere remotely within that range, it seems odd to claim that such cartoons look “more like” one people than another, but I hope you will see by now that what is being discussed has nothing to do with objective anatomical reality, but is rather about signification.

Still, this can be a hard sell;a cartoon character with wide eyes looks white to us; it’s hard to believe they look Japanese to the Japanese. As commenter awb says:

The article seems to be telling me not to believe my lying eyes. I think he is saying that people are trained to accept the western european look as “standard” or even preferred and because Japan was never dominated by a western society the see themselves as the “standard” and therefore their manga is reflective of that. But, jeez, they don’t look asian! Yes, there are some Japanese without the folds on their eyes and those with frizzy hair but is he telling me the vast majority don’t?

After a whole thread of my constant nagging, awb did eventually (and perhaps just to shut me up) agree to accept Matt’s expert opinion that the Japanese see the manga characters as Japanese. But…it’s not that easy to shut me up. And, moreover, I’ve thought of a really good example to explain how it is possible for the Japanese to see the round-eyed manga characters as Caucasian. So, I give you….the Japanese Superman.

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That’s the original Joe Shuster version of Superman, of course. And if you’ll look closely, you’ll see that…he looks Japanese. He’s got dark hair. He’s got narrow slanting dark eyes. Shuster’s ideal man is Asian. An inferiority complex, perhaps?

No, of course not. Even though Superman iconographically “looks” like he could be Asian, we see him as white, because of the context and because our iconographic default is “Caucasian”, even when, as in this case, the signs actually point somewhere else. In Japan, it works the same way, but in reverse; Japanese is the default, and if you want to represent, say, a Caucasian, you have to take some specific steps to get there.

So why is Superman stylized like that? I don’t have any idea, really…but I’d like to think it’s for the same reason that manga characters look “white”. That is, there’s iconographic influence. Tezuka borrowed his iconography from Disney; it’s not impossible to believe that Shuster got some of his iconography from a generalized Art Nouveau illustrational milieu, which was in turn heavily indebted to Japanese prints. Those older prints represent Japanese faces in a way similar to what we still (perhaps influenced by those very prints?) think of as iconographically Asian.

Update: In comments, Tom undoes my elegant theory with a tiny little squiggle. Darn it.

Update 2: But…Mitch defends the Japaneseness of the design. Phew!

Most Coldhearted Name for a Rock Group

I had no idea this is how Joy Division got its name. Alan Moore says in the From Hell source notes that Victorians called prostitutes “Daughters of Joy” because it was easier to pretend that prostitutes did their work out of sheer enthusiasm than to admit the ghastliness of lower-class economic conditions. Moving onward thru history:

… we arrive, by grim and etymological process, at Joy Division, the name given by the Third Reich to those female Jewish concentration camp detainees assigned to the prostitution detail.

Wow. At least, as yet, there isn’t a movie on the subject, one not starring Natalie Portman and a blond male ingenue with sensitive features to play the Nazi.

What’s Going on With Netley?

I’m rereading From Hell because of the TCJ column I plan to do about Watchmen. Sorry to say, the book is hard going this time around. Maybe my blood sugar is low.

Last night I finished the classic fourth chapter, in which the villainous Dr. Gull tours London sights and expounds on their hidden significance to his coachman, Netley. Meanwhile, Netley gets more and more queasy-like in his guts, until finally he has to vomit. Dr. Gull is eating grapes, and later he will feed poisoned grapes to his victims, but these grapes aren’t poisoned and he doesn’t give any to Netley. Maybe he slipped something into Netley’s food when they had lunch at the tavern, enough to give his system a shake but not to kill him. But why?

Most likely the situation comes clear later in the book. For now, though, I feel like I have one more gnat flying around my head. When I’m digging a Moore work, I love seeing how all the mysteries, plot threads, and symbols juggle themselves together. But right now I just feel hapless and irritated.

Neil Gaiman’s Wife

Who is she? There isn’t really a lot of information to be had, and apparently that’s how the Gaimans prefer it. Fair enough, and thanks to Mary Warner of the blog Woo Woo Teacup Journal for gathering what was out there. She posted her findings here, and basically they’re a series of links to various scant mentions of his wife by Mr. Gaiman. The first link is to an online journal entry in which Gaiman says this: “my wife is happier to be a shadowy and mysterious figure in the background, or something.”

For the record, Mrs. Gaiman’s name is Mary T. McGrath, she’s American, and the couple got married before Gaiman hit it big. They have a son and two daughters, with one of the daughters still pretty much a kid and the other children both grown up and pursuing careers (Google for the son, film production in Hollywood for the daughter).