It Didn’t Happen Like That: On the Dimensions of Historical Accuracy
If you’d asked me a year ago if I cared all that much for historical accuracy in fiction, I might have told you that it didn’t much matter to me at all. Historical accuracy, I might have said, is an argument too often used to complain about creating more inclusive television programming — complaints that are themselves often historically inaccurate or overly focused on racial or gender assumptions rather than the stories themselves. Today, that still largely holds true. I still think too many people use the phrase to complain about diversity initiatives, and I still think our primary interest as everyday consumers of fiction should be the narratives instead of obsessive hyperfocus on how perfectly a series presents its designated period. However, the more I find myself immersed in period dramas in television and film, the more I’ve begun to nuance my perspective of historical accuracy. I blame part of this on my tendency to look up historical information as I watch. Frequently, this leads me to the knowledge that what I’m watching likely doesn’t resemble the real history. In the worst of cases, it has filled me with annoyance because often the fictional history is far less compelling than the actual history. In the best of cases, it renews my curiosity in human history, which leads me to buying new books to read.
I Will Ignore Time: Long Distance Relationships in the Time of Corona
In the best of circumstances, long distance relationships are hard. If you’re lucky, you live within reasonable driving distance where the largest inconvenience is that you might spend most of the week apart. If you’re less lucky, you might live far enough that a flight every other month is the best way to be together. And if you’re even less lucky, you’re separated by an entire ocean on two different continents, and a mere two weeks before one of you visits the other, a pandemic hits and shuts everything down. I’m in the less lucky category, and I’m writing this post because my girlfriend wanted me to share my thoughts on long distance relationships and pandemics (hey, babe, this is for you!). I’m not a relationship expert (and never will be); I’m just a guy who happens to be in a long distance relationship and has opinions. Take them or leave them. Since summer 2019, I’ve been in a relationship with a lovely woman from Vietnam, who I had the fortune to visit in December 2019. We’re separated by a vast ocean, with my shiny butt living in northern Minnesota and her delightful self in Ho Chi Minh City. Already, that distance makes things difficult, and more so given the relationship of the United States to Vietnam, which requires far less paperwork for my travel than it does for my girlfriend. Throw in a pandemic, and you can imagine how much more difficult this all is.
A Tale of First Series: Heroism and Binaries in Record of Lodoss War
Heroism is something I find myself coming back to a lot in these especially trying times. After all, we hear about heroes from time to time, and yet so few of the stories we see are about heroic people. The hopelessness of that reality is hard to fathom even as I sit here contemplating a TV show that has little interest either in the ambiguous and oft-hidden heroisms of reality or the gritty heroisms of fantasy. Record of Lodoss War just isn’t that kind of show. For those that don’t know, the 13-episode OVA (original video animation) Record of Lodoss War (1990-1991) is the first anime adaptation of Ryo Mizuno’s novels of the same name, themselves based on transcripts (or “replays”) of RPG sessions created by the Japanese gaming company, Group SNE (co-founded by Mizuno). This particular anime production generally follows the plot of the first novel and loosely borrows elements from several others (primarily in its final five episodes). A later anime series (subtitled as Chronicles of the Heroic Knight) ran for double the first series’ length and attempted to retell the story through a more faithful adaptation. This background should give you an idea of the kind of story you’re walking into when you pop in those delicious RLW DVDs (or VHS tapes, if you’re so lucky to own them).
Dreaming of Uncle Hugo’s
Bookstores bookstores bookstores! All book dorks love them, and yet not enough of us have easy access to them. Up here in Bemidji, the closest thing we have to a bookstore is the used games and DVD store, which has a fairly meh book collection and a business name that doesn’t really fit what it is, and the comic book store, which, as you’d guess, mostly carries comics and has a fairly small but reasonably OK book collection (the comics collection is awesome, though). Beyond that, the next best thing is a trip to Park Rapids for Beagle & Wolf or to Brainerd for Emily’s or CatTale’s, all decent small bookstores. Otherwise, you gotta go to Duluth or Minneapolis for a really big bookstore experience! Since I’m stuck up here in Bemidji during a pandemic, I’ve started reminiscing about some of my favorite bookstores in Minnesota — of which they are many. When it comes right down to it, though, there is one bookstore that stands above them all: Uncle Hugo’s!
The Arts are the Glue that Holds Civilization Together
Something I have been thinking about a lot since the emergence of the COVID-19 pandemic and its profound impact on American (and global) society is the place of the arts in our everyday lives. So many of us are binge watching Netflix or other services, reading far more than we used to, downloading comics or writing our own stories, perusing fine art or setting up easels of our own, or doing all manner of creative and artsy things, both for amusement and to keep ourselves busy. I’ve been cramming in a metric ton (officially weight) of Star Trek across four decades of the franchise, blogging (as I am here), and cataloguing my books (not so artsy, but still nice). For myself, this has been part of an effort to keep me from the more destructive behaviors I might engage in (ranting on Twitter, for example) and to help me adjust to what will surely be 2 or 3 months (at least) of near total physical isolation for others. And in doing all of this and seeing all of what is happening around me, I’ve started to answer a crucial question out loud to myself: why do the arts matter yesterday, today, and tomorrow? And I think I’ve got a decent answer to that. I’d argue that the arts are the glue that holds civilization together on both the personal, national, and global scale. It’s the thing that allow us to express ourselves, to find joy and relief, to be human and explore what that even means. The arts are everything.
Struggles in Heroism: On the (New) Star Wars Expanded Universe
It’s probably not a big secret that I have had “issues” with Star Wars in its Disney years. There are a lot of things I love about the direction things are going — a more diverse cast, the emphasis on big sprawling adventure, etc. — but there are also problems I have with the cohesion of the stories, the structure of the narratives, Disney’s treatment of character, etc. Yet, it’s still Star Wars, and even when it’s not quite on the mark, it’s still enormously fun. However, there’s something a tad “off” for me about Star Wars, especially the new Expanded Universe. Recently, I’ve been listening to several audiobooks of new Star Wars novels — Chuck Wendig’s Aftermath and Rebecca Roanhorse’s Resistance Reborn — and it got me thinking a lot about some of the things that have made the Disney era so difficult for me as a Star Wars fan. To be clear: I have zero intention of bashing Star Wars here; rather, I want to talk a bit about what I have found less enticing about this new era while still keeping my love for this franchise.