Category Archives: Roundtables

xxxHOLiC Roundtable: Art Nouveau Meets The Twilight Zone

Posted on by

This post is part of a week-long roundtable on xxxHOLic. Vom Marlowe’s kickoff post is here, and Kinukitty’s post is here.

In a comment thread on The Hooded Utilitarian that I don’t seem to be able to find now, in which the discussion had turned to CLAMP, I remarked that xxxHOLiC was pretty good. When Noah said that he liked CLAMP mainly for the art, I suggested he try xxxHOLiC, on the grounds that it had “lots of swirly stuff.” On that point, my memory had not played me false: xxxHOLiC does indeed have lots of swirly stuff, some of it quite pretty. However, upon rereading volumes one through three, I realized that my memory of these volumes as a whole had been rose-tinted. Or maybe I’ve become jaded with supernatural manga with formulaic, Twilight Zone-ish plots and one-dimensional characters. Actually, my feelings about the writing are much the same as Kinukitty’s, so I may wind up repeating some of her points.

xxxHOLiC is a cross between the “magical shop” and “supernatural detective” genres. Like these genres, it is episodic, and it stands or falls largely on the quality of its individual episodes. In these three volumes, however, the episodes are often simplistic morality tales (the habitual liar and monkey’s paw episodes) or end in anticlimaxes (the ghost storytelling and “angel-san” (a Ouija-like game) episodes). I think Kinukitty’s first instinct on the habitual liar episode was correct: it really is thuddingly moralistic. The wages of habitual lying are generally not death, and especially not death in such a contrived fashion as here: becoming completely paralyzed at the exact moment a truck is bearing down on you. (And what was the point of giving her the ring? It appears to have made matters worse, if anything.)

The monkey’s paw episode is even lamer. To anyone who’s read the short story the monkey’s paw comes from, it’s obvious that things will end in disaster for its user, so there’s no suspense. (When I first read this volume and got to the introduction of the monkey’s paw, my reaction was “You’ve got to be kidding.”) And because the paw’s user/victim is so dense, I couldn’t even feel any sympathy for her. Again, why does Yuko give her tube with the monkey’s paw inside in the first place? (Maybe her strategy is to give the “unworthy” enough rope to hang themselves.)

I said the angel-san and ghost storytelling episodes end in anti-climaxes. In the latter, it turns out that Yuko set the whole thing up and Watanuki was never in any real danger. And as for the angel-san episode, WTF? A giant snake appears out of nowhere and saves Watanuki and Domeki? Talk about a deus ex machina. We can add to the list of bad episodes the thirty-odd pages devoted to the crossover with Tsubasa. It may pay off later in the series, but for now it just takes up space.

Not only is the plot weak, there are problems with the storytelling as well. Many of the episodes feel padded, not because of decompression-style techniques but because of the lengthy, dull, and sometimes nigh-incomprehensible explanations Yuko is in the habit of giving. There are also some storytelling glitches. The most conspicuous is during the ghost story-telling episode. After Himawari, Domeki and Watanuki have told their stories Yuko announces that it’s her turn and says: “Now, that thing showing on the shoji paper door behind me: what do you think it is?”* Her words are illustrated by a two-page splash panel depicting said paper door, and on it a silhouette of an enormous ghostly-looking figure. It’s undeniably an effective moment — except that, as far as we see, none of the characters react to it at all. And while Watanuki is attacked by spirits shortly afterward, there’s no indication that this particular spirit is among them, leaving the reader to wonder what the point of the splash panel was.

On to characterization. Of the recurring characters, only Yuko and Watanuki receive any real characterization. But these characterizations are little more than sets of quirks: Yuko is capricious, loves booze and exploits Watanuki; Watanuki has exaggerated reactions to everything, is infatuated with Himawari and irrationally hates Domeki. Apart from these quirks, Yuko and Watanuki are pretty much empty shells as far as character is concerned. And while the quirks are amusing at first, they become tiresome long before the end of volume three. (Maru and Moro, Yuko’s almost identical child assistants, are annoying from the first.)

Throughout volumes one through three, Yuko stresses that you must take responsibility for all your actions, and that you are the only one who can change your behavior. This theme could have served as a means of deepening Watanuki’s character. But it’s weakened by the fact that Yuko’s actions towards Watanuki completely contradict it. She magically compels him to enter her shop against his will, and virtually coerces him to make a “contract” with her, high-handedly overriding all his protests. And I see no indication that we are supposed to notice the discrepancy between her words and her deeds.

I’d be more inclined to share Vom Marlowe’s love for Yuko if she were more of a character and less of a plot device. Also, she really doesn’t look middle-aged to me, especially when I look at her bare-midriffed figure in the Internet addict episode. Of course she could be middle-aged and extremely fit — though she doesn’t seem to be big on exercise — or magically preserved.

In general, xxxHOLiC’s writing is best when it’s most restrained. Largely for this reason, the Internet addict episode is the best episode in these volumes. There’s a wordless two-page sequence showing the addict, who has agreed to never touch her PC again, trying to resist temptation. This sequence is extremely well done, and all the more welcome for its contrast to all the talking and yelling in the rest of the volumes. In fact, these are my favorite two pages, despite their lack of “swirly stuff.”

This segues neatly into the subject of xxxHOLiC’s art, which is far superior to its writing. Vom Marlowe already pointed out the Art Nouveau influence, which is obvious and strong, but at the same time integrated into the volumes’ overall style. I suspect that Yuko’s appearance, in particular, was inspired in part by Mucha’s depictions of women. I don’t really see much of an ukiyo-e influence, but then I’m less familiar with that tradition (and haven’t really had time to bone up on it since Vom Marlowe sprung it on me). In addition, the pages flow well visually; and while I’m not sure what Vom Marlowe means when she praises the “ink,” the solid blacks are well placed on the pages. A nice touch which I just noticed is the visual rhyme between Himawari’s hair and the black smoke CLAMP sometimes uses here to represent malignant spirits.

I don’t hate xxxHOLiC, although I’m not sure I’d say, as Kinukitty did, that I don’t dislike it. It’s a decent enough time-killer, if you can put up with most of the episodes ending disappointingly. (Come to think of it, based on the other CLAMP series I’ve read, they seem to have a problem with endings in general.) And the art is good, although you might be better off getting your Art Nouveau directly from the source. But if you’re looking for a good supernatural mystery series, I recommend you look elsewhere.

*I’ve inserted my own punctuation because if I used the ellipses used in the book, Yuko would sound like Swamp Thing.

_____________
Update by Noah: You can read all posts in the xxxholic roundtable here.

xxxHOLiC Roundtable: In Which Kinukitty Natters on AT GREAT LENGTH

Posted on by

This post is part of a week-long roundtable on xxxHOLic. See Vom Marlowe’s opening salvo here.

I bought the first volume of xxxHOLiC (if you object that that version, mentally fill in the random capitalization convention of your choosing) years ago. I don’t remember how many years ago, but probably in 2004, when it came out. The pages have gotten yellowish and skanky looking, but that doesn’t take long with that newspapery pulp stuff Del Ray uses. It doesn’t matter anyway. The point, if I could manage to shift around to it (ah, there – much more comfortable), is that I read it and I wasn’t moved to buy any more volumes in the series (it’s ongoing, and volume 15 is due out in March). Upon rereading it, and then reading volumes two and three for the first time, I don’t really see the error of my ways.

I am a fan of CLAMP, and I don’t dislike xxxHOLiC. Parts of the story amuse and interest me. I loved Cardcaptor Sakura (but not Tsubasa, the sort of second version of it) and Clover and Chobits and Wish. I hated RG Veda and couldn’t really get into Magic Knight Rayearth. I was frustrated by Legal Drug, but I’m not bitter. So, I have some history with CLAMP. I even remember why I got the first issue of xxxHOLiC; I’d seen some of the original color art at an exhibit and, damn, it was amazing. I still think about it occasionally, and my memory is like sieve, but with holes so big it can’t be used as a sieve because everything bigger than a car falls through. So what I’m saying is that aesthetically, this is some fine work.

CLAMP is known for that, of course. The design is beautiful, and they also use design to help tell the story, something I, for one, like to see in a comic. For instance, look at this (from volume 1).

There’s smoke swirling around Yuko – the witch at the center of the series – all the time (well, not literally, but enough to establish the connection). The smoke that drifts up this page is shown on the cover and throughout Yuko’s introductory scene. And it’s echoed here.

This is one of Yuko’s clients. She comes in because she can’t move her little finger. What the hell does that mean? In palmistry, the little finger symbolizes communication, and hands are often used to symbolize divinity in religious iconography. In Buddhism, the Karana mudra (a mudra is a ritual hand gesture), which is made by raising the index and little finger while folding the other fingers down, expels demons and removes obstacles like sickness or negative thoughts. Is that what we’re supposed to be thinking about? Maybe, but damned if I know. It doesn’t seem unreasonable. The woman’s problem is that she’s a compulsive liar, and every time she lies, a beautifully drawn greasy black cloud pours off her. We watch as she tells casual lies everywhere she goes and she starts losing use of other parts of her body – her arm, her neck – and finally her entire body freezes up in front of a big old truck, which ends her sad tale of woe.

I have two major thoughts about this, the first story woven into the series. When I saw the black clouds engulfing this woman, I thought, karma. (Yes, this depiction is also all about the way spirits are depicted in Japanese prints. But I believe it’s fair to think beyond this.) In the west, karma is often understood to be kind of a cosmic vigilant ubercop who will jump out at you if you do something bad and yell “gotcha!” This is a misunderstanding. Let me propose another. I’ve often thought of karma as the maple syrup that accumulates on the outside of the bottle. (Feel free to substitute Kaluah, if you prefer.) You buy a fresh bottle of syrup, and it’s nice and clean and perfect. The first time you use the syrup, a bit of it is likely to drip down the side. Or a lot. Even if you wipe it off, the outside of the bottle remains a bit sticky. The next time you use it, you spill a little more syrup down the side of the bottle. As time passes, maybe some dust or lint gets stuck in there, too, and the layers of spilled syrup build up, and your lovely, pristine bottle of syrup has become a bit of a mess. Or a disgusting thing nobody wants to touch or think about, depending on how sloppy you are and how long you’ve had the syrup. This is how karma works. As you go about the business of living your life, you spill some syrup. It isn’t a punishment or judgment; it just makes things sticky, and you live with it. So it is with the lies this character tells. Nobody affixes a big, red “L” for liar on her chest; nobody even confronts her, even though we see that others realize she’s lying. But the weight of the lies builds and builds until her life is too gummed up to function.

I also thought, wow, that’s kind of extreme, isn’t it? Does she really deserve to get run down by a truck because she tells lies? She isn’t hurting anyone but herself – although there’s a Buddhist argument to be made (while I’m talking about karma) that you can’t really just hurt yourself. Because you are part of the universe, your actions affect the universe. Yadda yadda. Anyway, it seemed surprisingly moralistic, at first glance. But, no; I think it’s just heavy-handed symbolism. The witch keeps saying there’s always a price. What she means is that there are consequences. You don’t get away with anything. You might not understand the harm you’re causing, and the cosmic judge might not jump out and finger you for your transgression (that was a little joke – we were talking about her little finger, so – oh, never mind) – but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a price. You live with the syrup residue, and it leads to the situations it leads to, whether you realize what’s happening or not.

The witch tries to explain this more explicitly in the next scenario of volume 1 – a situation that resonated with me, I must say. This client is a woman who is addicted to the Internet. She neglects her children and her housework in favor of her online connections. But the woman in the story wants to change. Unlike some, she is concerned about being a good wife and mother. She tells Yuko so, but the witch is suspicious and tries to make her understand that, basically, it is what it is. Maybe she really doesn’t want to be a good wife and mother; maybe she really wants to tell her family to sod off so she can spend all her time online. There’s a choice to be made, and pretending that isn’t the case doesn’t change it.

Volume 2 is different in structure, concentrating on the main characters instead of the little vignettes about the clients. This isn’t ideal, in my opinion. Because I’d sort of thought I didn’t especially like the main characters, in volume 1, but I kept getting distracted. Taking away the distractions (except for a brief appearance by four characters from Tsubasa, which was supposed to be delightful but just made me feel a little hunted) made this clear to me. (They also stop by Legal Drug, which caused me to stop and say, “Hey! They stopped at Legal Drug!” But that was a very fleeting pleasure, really.) This volume sets up the romance or whatever between Watanuki (the kind of annoying kid who is mystically drawn to Yuko’s place who I didn’t mention in my ramblings about the first volume because I really didn’t give a damn about him as a character) and the maddeningly over-cute Himawari (a girl with big, aggressive curls and, apparently, a secret – dum dum dum!!!!). (Wikipedia will tell you what the secret is, if you care. Kind of lame, I thought. Whatever you’re thinking it is, that’s probably better.)

Yuko tries to make the really maddeningly stupidly jealous and competitive Watanuki understand that he needs his schoolmate, Whatshisname, to get rid of the spirits that chase Watanuki around. Watanuki’s problem with the spirits is what led him to the witch’s house anyway, and it’s a big deal, not a minor problem like continually forgetting to pay the mortgage on time or something. So I kept thinking that Watanuki would grasp at any solution, no matter how immature he is, but apparently not. CLAMP did warn me that “This isn’t the kind of story where understanding makes you smart, or not understanding makes you dumb.” Anyway, Yuko saves the day (for the reader) by arranging for these four characters – her, Watanuki, the annoying cute girl, and the strong, silent, tall, and handsome guy Watanuki is jealous of – to get together and tell ghost stories. I liked the ghost stories. Japanese ghost stories tend to be understated and quietly creepy in a way that appeals to me.

That smoke is still there, by the way. I’ll stop pointing it out, but I do like it. Check out this page – just beautiful.

Right, then. On to volume 3. We get a couple of adventures in this book, one with Watanuki and that guy whose name I can’t remember, and one with a client, of sorts. In the first story, Yuko sends the boys into a school where the students have stirred up spiritual nastiness by playing a game that’s the Japanese equivalent of the Ouija board. Things get dire, but then a huge snake spirit comes along and eats the Ouija-based miasma. Yuko explains that the snake showed up to clean up something that had gotten out of balance in its area, and that none of the spirits are good or evil, even though they were trying to kill our protagonists; good and evil are just concepts assigned by people. Very Buddhist, that. I’m all for it, but I felt like the following story, about a monkey’s paw, spirals a bit out of control itself (but the snake spirit is nowhere to be seen).

In the monkey’s paw story, a blithe young woman is drawn to the witch’s house (by fate, or, more accurately, karma, I think) and asks for a sealed cylinder. Yuko gives it to her on the condition that she Never Open It. Yeah, right. Well, something happens, the cylinder opens, and there it is. Everyone knows a monkey’s paw is bad news, but this woman (I don’t think we find out her name, and I’m running out of steam with these books, so I’m disinclined to go back and check) explains that she’s extremely lucky and always gets what she wants, so she isn’t worried about wishing on the nasty-looking thing. Her first wish is for rain, just to prove it works. There is a sudden downpour, and the next day we find out the consequence – all the water is gone from the school pool! Gasp! Now, I don’t want to go out of my way to be snarky about CLAMP, but this is lame with an almost unbearable lameness. Next, the woman wishes for an antique mirror she’d been trying to talk some shop-owner into selling to her. Poof! The Yata no Kagami, coming up! (I think that’s a Naruto reference. This whole crossover thing is not lighting my fire.) This is a sacred object that represents wisdom and/or honesty. That’s a bit ham-fisted too, but OK. I can live with it, especially after the pool fiasco. Next, the woman wishes for a topic for her upcoming seminar, and she gets a brilliant lesson plan. Now, the way this works, in case you haven’t read a monkey’s paw story, is that a finger breaks after each wish. Five fingers, five wishes. So after this seminar success, she has two wishes left and is really feeling on top of the world. But then she’s late for an important class and thinks, wow, if only there were a HORRIBLE ACCIDENT! Then I could show everyone the police report and I wouldn’t get in trouble! You’re ready for it, right? Yep, the man next to her falls onto the track and is killed by a train. Oh, dear! Maybe this repulsive dead animal part is bad news! A random stranger dies, and then our heroine gets in trouble because the monkey paw actually stole her brilliant lesson plan from somebody else, and she’s been caught. Now she worries she’ll be blamed for the death of the stranger, too, since he was standing next to her. Finally concerned, she unfurls her fifth wish – for the monkey’s paw to make this right. So it strangles her. Move along – nothing to see here.

Well, I thought about this tale a lot more than I should have. I was immensely cheered when the monkey’s paw first made its appearance. I mean, a monkey’s paw! That was going to have to be fun, wasn’t it? But I think CLAMP lost control of the metaphor. Good and evil are relative concepts, we must expect consequences for our actions, and so on. But when the happy-go-ultimately-not-so-lucky lady’s saga is over, Yuko says, “She thought that the disaster that is brought on by breaking a promise would never come down on her head.” That sounds more “gotcha” than I’m comfortable with.

Now, there is a delightful little story at the end of volume 3 that succeeds on all levels. It is my favorite thing in xxxHOLiC, charming in the way I wish the rest of the series were. Watanuki runs across an udon stand run by a fox spirit. (It’s a sweet little joke, as fox spirits are said to like the fried tofu in kitsune udon.) The idea is cute, the foxes are cute, the whole thing is cute. The young fox of the house is drawn to the feathered end of a broken arrow in Watanuki’s bag, and all the foxes are pleased when Watanuki gives it to the kit. If anyone knows what the arrow symbolism is, I’d love to know.

So, I’ve pushed past volume one and through two and three. Am I going to finish the series now, as I am prone to do? No. It’s OK; enjoyable, even, but nothing moves me to read any more of it. This is interesting (to me) because I did read the entire Pet Shop of Horrors series (by Matsuri Akino), which was released starting in June 2003 in the United States and 1996 in Japan. (xxxHOLiC was released starting in 2004 in the United States and 2003 in Japan.) It’s hard not to compare them, although that comparison might actually be fairly random. xxxHOLiC stars a beautiful, playful, flirty, and mysterious figure whose occult significance is obvious but never quite explained and who likes to lounge about wearing sexy Chinese clothes. (Sometimes, anyway. That thing on the cover of volume 2 certainly looks cheongsam-like.) Clients come to her store (albeit not of their free will) to get a wish granted, often much to the wisher’s detriment. Pet Shop of Horrors stars a beautiful, playful, flirty, and mysterious figure whose occult significance is obvious but never quite explained and who also likes to lounge about wearing sexy Chinese clothes. Clients come to his store to buy exotic pets that will, more or less, grant the owner’s wish, often much to the wisher’s detriment. (There are contracts, and the clients break them; that seems very much like the monkey’s paw thing, for instance.) This sexy witch-like figure is a man, but that isn’t a major deviation, believe me. Yuko drinks and flirts and partially falls out of her various improbable outfits, while Count D eats cake and flirts and never seems in danger of falling out of his various improbably outfits, but they do make you wonder. xxxHOLiC wins by a mile in the categories of art and design (and color – I seldom wish with all my heart that an entire manga could be done in color, but I do with this one), but Pet Shop of Horrors wins for storytelling. So sayeth Kinukitty, anyway.

Oh, and one last thought. Perhaps you were wondering how the hell you’re supposed to pronounce “xxxHOLiC.” I found it somewhat vexing, actually. When I thought about it. So, twice. Anyway, Wikipedia comes to the rescue again, explaining that it’s just “holic.” The Xs aren’t letters but multiplication symbols, standing in for crosses, which indicate relationships or crossovers in Japan. The “holic” part seems to be standard usage. As for the weird capitalization, I don’t know. Let’s just ignore it.

_____________
Update by Noah: You can read all posts in the xxxholic roundtable here.

xxxHolic Roundtable: The Beauty of Ink and the Power of Yuko

Posted on by

CLAMP, xxxHolic, Volumes 1-3

Introduction:

Creators and artists: Since this is the first post for this roundtable, I thought I’d give a quick bit of background on the manga and its creators.  Manga creation works rather differently from American comics; the manga stories and characters aren’t owned by the corporations, but by the artists, and thus the creation of manga from start to finish is done by the mangaka themselves, not divided between draftsmen and inkers and colorists.  (Of course there is some editorial input, but in general, the division of labor is not editorially mandated.)  In this case, CLAMP is a manga studio that has four artists who share the work among themselves.

CLAMP began as a large collective with eleven members, drawing fan comics, and then shortened to its current roster of four artists.  CLAMP does not have assistants (other manga studios usually do; for more info on how this works, I highly recommend How To Pen and Ink), but do all of the work themselves.  The division of labor depends somewhat on the work in question, with main storylines done by one member and character designs by another and so on.

I’d also like to note (as someone who did not attend art school), that CLAMP took art classes in high school, but are otherwise self-taught.

Many people will be more familiar with their other works such as: Cardcaptor Sakura, Chobits, X/1999, Tsubasa Resevoir Chronicles, and RG Veda.  Many of their works have been made into anime.  A complete list is available here and more information about them is available here.

HU is a comics blog and so of course we’ll be focusing on the manga, but buying manga is expensive.  For those who would like a taste of xxxHolic for free or for those who prefer their comics to move on the shiny screen, you can watch the full anime of xxxHolic on the Funimation site here.

Plot and Characters: xxxHolic is about Watanuki, an orphaned teenager who is haunted by spirits and his employer, the powerful witch Yuko.  Yuko protects Watanuki from spirits, and in exchange Watanuki works as her assistant, cook, dogs body, and virtual slave.  There are two other important characters: Himawari, a girl that Watanuki has a crush on, and Domeki, a teenager who is something of a rival and friend to Watanuki.  Both Himawari and Domeki are drawn into the supernatural realm by the machinations of Yuko.   Yuko grants wishes at her magic shop, and Watanuki, as her assistant, helps with the wishes and some of the fallout that wish fulfillment entails.

Which, you know, blah blah blah.  What difference does it make and why should I read this or care about it, you may well be asking.  I will tell you! There are three things that I especially love about this manga and are the reason that I suggested this for our roundtable.  1.  The art.  The style draws on Ukiyo-e prints and Art Nouveau and I can stare at it for hours.  2. The ink.  Which is similar to the style, but different.  I’m talking specifically about the beauty of the lines and the movement and how it creates emotion in the smallest ways.  3.  Yuko.  Who is AWESOME.

Art style:


I’m not an expert on Ukiyo-e or Art Nouveau, but as an artist, I’ve always loved both styles and I look at the work often.  The richness of the worlds they create fascinates me, but what I especially adore is the way that they both incorporate the beauty of the natural and everyday world.  Here is a great shot of Yuko smoking:

Another aspect of the art is the clothing–the designs are lush or stark, and the bodies are distorted into beautiful shapes much the way Aubrey Beardsley did.  Here is an everyday, simple panel from xxxHolic where Watanuki and Yuko are at a fortune teller’s house:

Ink: The untranslated scans below are from a sneak-peak of volume 5.  I wanted to show a piece that conveyed a lot of emotion.  The mood is soft and slow, and the inks are clean and lovely.  All of the mid-tones are created by ink techniques, and the gentleness of the ink adds to the sadness.

The soft lines of the flowers, the long smooth lines of the live hand against the dry and hard bones–it’s so simple and masterful in its simplicity.

I’ve gone on and on, so I’d better move to the last point.

Yuko: I admit I’d kind of like to be Yuko when I grow up.  She’s frivolous and silly at times, likes her pleasures (everything from yummy food to cooling breezes in summer to a good, stiff drink), has the best clothing ever, but she’s also very wise.  She warns her customers about the dangers of powers and wishes, and cleans up problems to save the world, all while looking elegant and stylish. And she’s middle-aged and unattached and sexy and perfectly happy about all of it.

If you’ve ever seen a Disney movie, you’ve probably seen a stereotypical middle-aged woman of magical power as a scheming bitch out to destroy the up and coming young heroine.  That’s rather sad.  It’s pretty rare to find powerful, middle-aged women who enjoy the sinful pleasures of sex and booze and are unashamed about it who don’t turn out to be villains.  (If she was a man, especially if this was a historical, she might be called a rake.)    I love that Yuko is wise while couture and sipping a naughty drink.

She has a great deal to say about personal responsibility measured against fate, and about hitsuzen.  But this post is already a great deal too long, so let me just say: Welcome to xxxHolic week!

And I’ll leave you with one of my favorite pictures of Yuko:

___________
Update by Noah: You can read all posts in the xxxholic roundtable here.

Ghost World, A Slight Return

Posted on by

I have more to say about Ghost World? I’m surprised, too. It’s all the discussion about whether Enid seems like a real teenage girl or not, and what that means.

You know, people have compared me to Enid since this damned book came out. (McBangle mentioned a similar dilemma in a comment on my original Ghost World post.) I don’t know how many people have started talking to me about it, assuming I must love it, or asked me if they should read it, assuming I must love it, or shared their love of it, assuming I must love it. Everyone is surprised to find out that I don’t love it. I will admit that, as a result, I have a bit of a thing about Ghost World. It makes me touchy. Not touchy as in feely, but touchy as in “Fuck you, you people who think I’m Enid.”

My reaction is a kind of horror, wondering what the hell it is about me that makes people come to this conclusion. Without delving too deeply into the psychology of Kinukitty (because nobody wants that, least of all Kinukitty), I will say that people tend to prefer not being translated into shorthand. I prefer that others at least keep up the social convention of pretending that I am an individual and not the edgy, sarcastic girl dork, perfectly symbolized by Enid and therefore requiring no additional analysis. Yes, yes, this is a bit of an overreaction AND a bit of an oversimplification, yadda yadda. The thing about stereotyping isn’t that it doesn’t tell any truth, though, but that the truth it leaves out is likely to be the really important bit. To the stereotype-ee, at the very least.

I think this speaks to the integrity of the character and thus the storytelling. Others may disagree (and do, in fact), but for me, the point of fiction is to do the opposite of fixing a stereotype. I think the point of fiction is to unveil subtleties and nuances and allow the reader to understand something about a character or situation. It really bothers me when the peaks and crannies go unexplored, as it were. (And, given the sexual aspect of the recent discussion, eewwwww – sorry.) I was about to tie that into how unpleasant it is in real life, too, but the peaks and crannies thing has killed my will to go there.

Ghost World: Hateable Girls, Part Eleventy-Billion

Posted on by

‘Show, don’t tell’ the saying goes, and that’s what Clowes does here.  Ghost World, as those who’ve been reading along are aware, is the story of two teenaged girls fresh from highschool named Enid and Rebecca.  Ghost World chronicles some episodic interludes in their relationship and Enid’s life.

With its purposefully ugly art, limited color schemes, Satanists, cafe settings, music references, and f-bombs, this comic is painfully edgy.  The whole thing might as well scream: I’m new!  Different!  Hip!

And maybe the art is, maybe the setting is, but honestly I don’t really care.  The story is pathetically old school.

Clowes depicts the two girls, Enid and Rebecca, as being shallow shallow shallow.  They lead boring, directionless lives.  They like to make prank calls.  They pick on each other.  Enid, in particular, is full of loathing towards others.  When Rebecca challenges her to name one guy she finds attractive and would sleep with she says, wait for it!

David Clowes.

No, really, she does.  Self-insert Mary Sue-ism!  Ewww.

It’s one thing to show a set of characters as essentially problematic and unlikeable, but if you’re going to do it, and you’re not one of the group you’re deriding, then you’d better show them accurately and not rig the game in your own favor.

Which is why Ghost World so annoys me.  Clowes’s teenaged girls don’t behave like teenaged girls.  Here we have Enid telling Rebecca a story about meeting an old asshole, Ellis, and his kiddie raper friend.  Ellis ‘humorously’ suggests that the kiddie-raper check her out, since she’s only 18.

Rebecca’s response is shown below:

TakeMe

First of all, take a look at that body language.  As someone who wears a skirt from time to time, let me tell you that girls rarely spread their legs like that while wearing a skirt.  For one thing, it’s flat out uncomfortable.  For another, we get nagged about spreading our legs or showing off our panties or what-have-you.  Even in pants, spreading the legs is something that is usually done when one feels very comfortable and safe.  It’s not something that a girl does when she’s just heard some bozo suggest a child-molester hit on her best friend.

This panel is not an accident.  Look, I don’t like Ghost World, but Clowes has some drawing chops and he portrays body language effectively enough when he wants to. So what’s going on here?

A teenaged girl is not going to open her legs wide in a ‘take me big boy’ response, so why is she drawn this way?  I can only assume that Clowes thinks a girl would have that response or because he wants to titillate the reader with Rebecca’s spread legs.  Either option is unpleasant.

Then there’s the “lesbo” masturbation scene.

I’ve noticed that one of the ways Clowes mocks Enid is by having her mock people for something and then later having Enid do that mockable thing herself.  Enid makes fun of a guy who she used to have something of a teen-romance with in high school.  She says that he probably called her and jacked off while she talked.  Mock mock mock ew say Enid and Rebecca.  Then Enid visits an adult bookstore and picks up a fetish Batwoman hat and calls to tell Rebecca about the adventure.  While on the phone with Rebecca, Enid takes off all her clothes and gropes herself while looking in the mirror (but doesn’t tell Rebecca).  Mock mock mock.

It’s this weird circle jerk, but it doesn’t ring true.  It comes off to me as something Clowes wants to think teenaged girls do, much in the same way that the high school boys I knew hoped the girls in the gym showers got up to steamy hanky panky.  Never mind that in reality gym showers were places of horror, shame, body-fat hatred, silent prayers that you weren’t having your period (and if you were, that no one would find out–good luck with that) and tears. To the guys it was all a happy fantasy of hot girl on girl action.

Why is Clowes doing this?  I say it’s to do two things at once: make fun of Enid for being a jerk and to fantasize about her and Rebecca in a sexual way.

Here’s a thought experiment.  Take out the reference to Sassy and replace it with Lucky.  Remove the punk green hair and replace it with a blonde ponytail.  Switch the swearwords from fucking cunts to snooty bitches.  Remove Bob Skeeter the astrologist and replace him with Ned the computer nerd.  Pretty soon, if you took away the hipster faux-literary trappings and replaced them with mainstream teen story trappings, you’d have a boring and cliched tale of a couple of teenage girls who everyone loves to hate (and wants to date).

But maybe it’s not as OK as it used to be to hate girls just because they’re blond and pretty and not fucking you.  So, instead of going that route, make the girls “real” by changing their outfits and the bit characters and the scenery.  Then it’s not a cliched misogynistic screed, it becomes a “true” tale of how girls “really are”.

But it isn’t quite a tale of a guy who can’t get some, is it?  No, because Clowes draws the main character wanting him.  How much more proof could there be that this is a story about girls who are wanted/hated and the line between those two things?

There’s a fine literary tradition all about how women are shallow creatures and female friendships are suspicious and smothering.  But if you’re a old dude perving on the sweet young things when you’re arguing it, it looks a teensy bit suspicious, is what I’m sayin’.

So let’s take a look at the so-called emotional growth and story progression of their relationship.  What do they say and what do they do? Enid is thinking of going to college (to become someone new) and Rebecca decides to travel with her.  What do they say about this?  That it’s unhealthy.

Let’s take a look at that.  It’s unhealthy for a friend to accompany a friend on a quest to become someone new.

Do you think that’s true?  Because I sure as hell don’t.  I’ve gone on several quests to make myself better, move someplace new (emotionally or physically), and been enriched and enlivened by the people who are by my side, traveling those paths with me.  But Clowes, speaking through his characters, labels this as kind of creepy.

So what, exactly, does Clowes display as  Enid’s growth?  What is her progression?

If we take a look at the final pages, we see Enid in a new outfit.  We’ve learned in this comic that changing outfits means changing who you are (at least for Enid), so let’s take a look at what’s she changed into.  She’s well-groomed, with smooth hair done like Jackie Kennedy, and she’s wearing a neat, fifties housewife ensemble and carrying a hatbox shaped purse.  Examine that for a moment.

Does this hark back to a desire on Enid’s part?  Not as mentioned/drawn in the text, so we’re left interpreting the image in the way our society means it.  Nothing says housewife quite the way a fifties outfit does.  Is there anything (besides June Cleaver) that fifties suits and haircuts bring to mind, visually speaking?

Not that I know of.

What is this journey, anyway?  It’s a journey of Enid’s current life, and it ends when Enid steps on a bus.  What does that symbolize, within the context of story that Clowes has built?  Erasure of self.  Clowes likes to talk about it as creating someone new, but again and again he denies that Enid wants to be anyone specific.  At the end, presumably after her emotional change (indicated by the dress, the diner voyeur scene and the bus) he gives her no identity except that of a very stereotypical fifties housewife.

That’s the “growth” that he lays out.

Ponder that for a moment and ask yourself whether it is, in any substantial way, a positive view of Enid.  A positive view of girls, period.  Whether it is anything besides the author saying, “Girls like Enid eventually cease to exist“.  Not only does the author change them (into something trite), the girl herself wants to be anyone but herself.  Herself is so awful she cannot be.

That’s a pretty hateful message when you get right down to it, and I cannot look at that as growth, as anything besides old fashioned misogyny and a desire to turn Enid into, bluntly, a wife.  A person who exists not for herself, but who exists in relation to a man.*

But maybe I’m wrong.  It’s been known to happen, and a single outfit is a small thing to base an entire textual interpretation on, right?

Right.  Let’s look at the diner scene, which is the last line in the book, and the closure of Enid’s relationship with Rebecca.  What does Enid say?

She says, “You’ve turned into a beautiful young woman.”

A beautiful young woman.

Look at those words.  Consider the perspective of them.

Who is saying this?  What is the relation of the woman in those words?  To what aspect of the person are these words referring?

Enid (or Clowes through the character of Enid) considers this the mark of passage for Rebecca, the outside view, the praise.  But what kind of praise is it?

It’s the praise of someone outside the woman, wanting her sexually, and has nothing at all to do with the woman’s internal desires, personal happiness, emotional growth, interests, community, relationships, or personhood.  No, to say ‘She’s a beautiful young woman’ is to say she’s sexually desirable by an outsider.

And you know, as a bland statement of fact, it’s not so bad.  But as a statement of a woman’s journey through a friendship and her creation of a new ideal self?  That’s really fucking shallow, objectifying, and creepy.

This is not a tale of powerful female friendships post highschool.  Nor is it a tale of emotional growth.  It’s the same, tired story of how girls are shallow and their friendships are incestuous and unhealthy and most importantly how they need to become not-themselves.  Gee, that’s deep.  I’ve never heard teen girls and what they care about called shallow before!  How original!

* Yes, I’m well aware that plenty of women are happily married.  That’s not what I’m talking about, so let’s not go there.  What I’m talking about is defining a woman only as her role in regards to men.

Note number two: I was an odd clothes wearing weirdo who read strange magazines, once upon a time, so I’m well familiar voices and inner worries of this group.  Just so you know.

Enid Shylock (Ghost World Roundtable)

Posted on by

Shaenon Gaerrity weighs in on our Ghost World Roundtable. I’ll quote a couple of chunks.

Noah Berlatsky compares Ghost World unfavorably to Ariel Schrag’s coming-of-age trilogy, pointing out how well Schrag captures the intensity of adolescence: “Ariel’s difficulty wasn’t that her world was fading out, but that it was too sharply coming into focus, and there was too much of it. It’s the intensity of her emotions — her crushes, her attachments to friends, and, indeed, her attachment to her art — that makes her life a misery. Sometimes. And, then, at other times, that same intensity becomes a source of strength and beauty and excitement.” That’s an astute assessment of Schrag’s work, but I don’t know if it’s accurate as a sweeping assessment of adolescence. Yes, the intensity can result in the richness of experience Berlatsky sees in Schrag’s comics. But it can also inspire a bleak, apocalyptic, end-of-the-road feeling, which is why teenagers are so attracted to death and morbidity. Teach any writing class for teens, and you’ll have to wade through interminable whines about being numb and hopeless and “unable to feel anything anymore”–and, worse, you’ll probably recognize your own teenage writing in it. Adults feel more, or more easily, than teenagers do. Teenage writers like Schrag, who are able to dive into their lives and confront their emotions fearlessly, are rare and uniquely fascinating….

The one area where Ghost World does fall short, one that several folks on the roundtable have already noted, is Clowes’s failure to imagine any sexuality for Enid. Berlatsky writes that Enid is implausible as a teenage girl because “she’s uninterested in discussing her crushes,” which unfortunately comes off as a bit insulting to teenage girls: gee, if she’s not talking about love, how can you even tell she’s a girl? In fact Enid and Rebecca do talk about boys often, but Enid’s contributions to the discussion are, as Rebecca points out, either negative or disinterested. There are only the briefest hints of what Enid might find attractive: she describes her hipster ideal to Rebecca, then imagines Dan Clowes as the embodiment of that fantasy, only to be brutally disappointed by the reality. Meanwhile, she actively discourages Rebecca’s real-life romantic interests. It’s okay for a teenage girl to be timid about sex and hide it behind bravado and fantasy, but there should be some indication that she at least looks at guys.

It’s interesting that Shaenon accuses me of stereotyping teen girls…but in order to do that she kind of has to arrive at the point where she thinks Ariel Schraeg is somehow a less representative portrayal of teen girls than Enid Coleslaw.

Moreover, I think Shaenon’s point about Enid’s sexuality, or lack thereof, is astute…but I think it’s a more crippling problem for the book than she acknowledges. Specifically, I think Enid’s lack of sexuality is precisely why her whole existential dilemma rings so false. At least for myself as an adolescent, I remember quite vividly that my sense of alienation and despair were very much tied up in sexual and romantic impulses that I wasn’t prepared or able to deal with. I don’t think that’s atypical, and it’s why Enid’s alienation — which is tied up more in nostalgia for her past than in desire— seems so entirely wrong. Nostalgia is the fetish of the middle-aged, not the young.

I also wonder about this. “Adults feel more, or more easily, than teenagers do.”

I just don’t think that’s true. Teenagers may have more difficulty parsing social codes and sublimating their emotions in socially acceptable ways. But they certainly don’t feel less, nor do I agree that they feel less easily. I think it’s insulting to suggest they do, honestly. You know, “hath not a teenager eyes? Organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?” Teenagers aren’t all that much different than, you know, people. In that vein, I think kinukitty’s point is worth repeating

“I don’t recognize them as high school girls, but that is probably secondary to the fact that I don’t even recognize them as human.”