Showing posts with label pop culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pop culture. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Fall Lineup Week #2

It's been a Very Long Day, Gentle Reader, and Mr. Reads's car, ever the ornery beast, has been Particularly Troublesome the past few days. So much so that We Reads have woken up even earlier than Pup Reads to bring Said Troublesome Car into the shop, the past two days, to the tune of an obscene amount of monies.

That being said, we also have experienced the first half of Week Two of Fall Lineup, and there are some good, some so-so, and some already dropped from the DVR schedule.

The Good
The cream, so far, is Journeyman, which I didn't expect to enjoy as much as I did. I've liked Kevin McKidd's work for Some Time Now, ever since watching Dog Soldiers a few years back. This show takes what could be a rather lackluster and familiar plot and turns everything on its head. What's more, I care about my characters, and that's a remarkable thing to accomplish in one pilot! The other surprise contender is Chuck, which again, is much smarter than I expected it would be. That, Friends, makes This Humble Author Very Happy Indeed!

The So-So
I must confess, Gentle Reader, to being a Bit Disappointed in Bionic Woman. The pilot just hasn't wowed me the way I anticipated, and believe me, I've anticipated this show for Quite a While. Too much happened in one episode, and I felt constantly adrift in a show that never allowed me a chance to know and then sympathize with my characters. Now, I fully expect for it to get Better, and I will keep you apprised over the next few weeks.

Dropped from the DVR Schedule
K-Ville, as I mentioned last week, failed to impress or even interest We Reads. I don't know if I can blame this solely on my New Orleans heritage, or on the lackluster writing of the show.

Saved on the DVR
See above regarding Mr. Reads's vehicle, and you then will understand why we haven't had a chance to watch the season premiere of Heroes or Life yet. But as soon as I watch them, Friends, I will Let You Know!

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Briefest Pop Culture Update

Forgive my brevity, Gentle Reader, but sometimes it is the soul of both wit *and* my access to popular culture. Suffice to say, I have dipped my toe Very Briefly back into my comic book and television world, and I had to share a few thoughts with you.

1) Wonder Woman Fighting Nazis+Gail Simone=One Ecstatic Amy Reads
Gratitude, Kalinara and Newsarama for the solicitous information.

2) Wonder Girl+3 Minx titles+Booster Gold Issue 2/Finally Acquired from Our Local=One Happy Amy Reads
More detailed reviews soon, but Mr. Reads and I finally--finally, Gentle Reader!--managed to pick up our pull list from the past several weeks.

3) Fall lineup+DVR+Office Season 3 DVD set+30 Rock Season 1 DVD set=Comfortable Sloth at Chez Reads
Mr. Reads and I both have been Under The (Proverbial) Weather, and so much television has been watched, and is in preparation for watching. Already removed from the DVR list: K-Ville, which I hope does Very Well, but as a New Orleans Native, I could not sit through for various reasons.

New Jeff Lindsay+new Mike Carey+new Chelsea Cain+Dissertation=One Very (!!!) Busy Ms. Reads!
Huzzah for new releases from favorite writers! Soon We Reads also will own Tamora Pierce and Tim Liebe's White Tiger collection, the new Alice Sebold, and the new Joe Hill, among others.

More detailed reviews soon, Gentle Reader. And that's a promise!

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Amy Reads the Year (on August 17th, 2007)

It is Week Three of Arrogant Self Reliance’s Blogiversary, Gentle Reader, and originally, I planned to answer All Four Questions I posed in my initial post two weeks ago. For those in the audience Not Following Along At Home, I have seen these four questions over and over again throughout this past year, regarding the Woman (in comics) Question. Sometimes sincere, sometimes ironic, sometimes snide, the four questions boil down as follows:

1) "Do women read comics?"

2) "Why do women *still* read comics?"

3) "If you don’t like it, Ladies, why not *make the comics*?"

4) "Why don’t women understand that they are *just comics*?"

And in some Roundabout Way, I intend this post to be an answer to Question Number Two.

Recently, I returned from the Annual Before-School-Starts Trip Home to visit the Parents Reads. As the Parents Reads live in New Orleans, this trip, inevitably, coincides with Hurricane Season, so I drive, always, in case we need to make A Clean Getaway.

The trip from Small College Town to New Orleans isn’t *terribly* long, but long enough, all the same. Longer than Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet, shorter than a Twilight Zone Marathon. This Humble Author often stops in the same town both to and from New Orleans, for gas, for lunch, for a stretch.

This past week, while driving back to Small College Town and thus Mr. and Pup Reads, both of whom were Unable to Accompany Me Home due to Prior Obligations (on Mr. Reads’ end, anyhow, as Pup Reads contributes little to the running and management of the household other than love and adorability), I stopped at a Large Chain Fast-Food Establishment to acquire sustenance, however greasy. While in line, I noticed a little plastic box on the wall, about waist-height, with two rows of toys in them: some miniature teddy bears, and some action figures a la Legion.

Gentle Reader, it has been Some Time since I have purchased a Happy Meal, but that time is not as distant as You Might Think. In particular, fun action figures, the Very Happy Plastic Halloween Happy Meal Pails, I’ve been known, On Occasion, to Indulge the inner Girl Amy Reads. And she was, if I may be so bold to say, Rather Giddy over seeing DC characters in Happy Meals.

Not just This Humble Author, however, but another Girl, Bona Fide “Girl” by Age at that, waist-height, staring, with awe, at the Legion Toys. She reached out a chubby hand and pressed it against the glass, right over Lightning Lad’s face. And then Said Girl’s Parent came over, took the child by the hand, said, “No, honey, you want a girl toy,” and led her away.

Now, let us forget, just for a moment, my Other Problem with this scenario. That’s right, Friends, the unmentioned one: the lack of female Legion members in the toy set. Let us move past that and instead, look directly at the problem as to why some express shock and awe over the fact that Women Read Comics, and *still* Read Comics. Really, it’s quite simple: because people don’t believe Girls Should.

Now as the Delightful and Articulate Ms. Healey reminds us, and often, Girls Do Read Comics, and they are, at times, Rather Perturbed at that. I certainly read comics at a young age, and as a child, I was bombarded with images of Strong Women in Comics and Science Fiction.

It’s true, Friends. I can recount wearing Wonder Woman and Supergirl underoos under my school uniform. I remember my aunt coiling my long hair into Princess Leia cinnamon buns for Halloween, for Friday afternoon, for fun. I remember sitting in front of the television, watching Wonder Woman, sitting in my bedroom, reading comics and sci fi/fantasy books. But also, I remember watching The Incredible Hulk, and reading Action Comics, and pretending to be Spider-Man. I remember watching The Challenge of the Super Friends. I remember getting boy *and* girl toys with my cheeseburgers, because my parents allowed me to choose what I wanted.

Now, Gentle Reader, let me assure you: the Parents Reads, while Wonderful and Lovely People, are Rather Shocked by the—dare I say it?—rampant liberality of their daughter. That is to say, the Parents Reads had No Agenda, Feminist or Otherwise, in the raising and maintaining of their Girl Child. So when I say that I got both boy and girl toys, both He-Man and She-Ra, both GI Joe and Jem and the Holograms, both Wonder Woman and Superman, that was the product of Good Parenting. Because of things like this, I grew up knowing “Math is Hard!” *not* because Barbie said so, and *not* because I was a Girl Child, but because, for an English-and-History Reader like myself, Math *was* harder, not nearly as easy to grasp as Books, and Dates, and Abstract Arguments.

That being said, I saw this Girl Child in front of me denied a toy *simply because it wasn’t a “girl toy”*. And I was reminded, one year after beginning a blog on feminism and pop culture, the very reason why I began said blog in the first place. I remembered the reason why Future Babies Reads will have Spider-Man *and* Wonder Woman, regardless of gender.

A few weeks ago, I read a Brother Blogger’s Post about trying to find fun Spider-Man, et al clothes for his Daughter. I curse my faulty memory, Gentle Reader, so please, if you know Said Blogger’s name and web address, send it to me! But I empathized with his plight, and applauded his solution which was buy it anyway.

Of course telling *you* this, Most Gentle of Readers, is a bit of the proverbial Preaching to the Choir. Who knows this better than Constant Visitors to Arrogant Self-Reliance? But occasionally—just occasionally, Friends!—others wander in from the proverbial woodworks, and there, perhaps, a change is sparked.

Friday, August 10, 2007

Amy Reads the Year (on August 10th, 2007)

(Or, Yes, Friends, Women Read Comics)

Gentle Reader, I write to you tonight from the home of the Parents Reads, which, as some of My (More) Constant Readers may recall, is in New Orleans, now nearly two years Post-Katrina. And while I would like to tell you all that everything is Shiny in the Big Easy, I cannot do any such thing. This is not a city in the sterile cleanup of afterbirth, but rather a city stuck in messy birth, or perhaps even in resuscitation, pumping life into something that so many consider dead.

But this city is, first and foremost, My Hometown, and one cannot return Home without remembering how one came to be in the first place, no?

That is to say, sitting in the very room in which This Humble Author first stayed up past bedtime to finish a book, in the very room in which This Humble Author first read a comic book, first pretended to be The Amazon Princess, makes one consider the first question I posed in the first post of my month-long blogiversary:

Do Women Read Comics?

The answer is rather simple, Friends.

Yes, they do.

. . .


But of course, the answer *isn’t* that simple, is it? Women Read Comics, but they don’t read superhero comics. And Women Read Comics, but they only read superhero comics. And Women Read Comics, but really, they read graphic novels. And of course Women Read Comics, but only Manga, and only Manga from Japan, and etc. etc. ad nauseam infinitum.

So I wonder, Gentle Reader, what that question could mean in The Larger Scheme Of Things. Is the Question—and I do acknowledge it as A Proper Noun Question as I have heard it repeated over and over again with a Certain Tone that implies credulity, i.e. “*Do* women read comics??”—relegated solely to Cape Titles, or is there a larger wonderment over whether Women, whomever They Might Be, enjoy the marriage of Art and Text?

Ekphrasis is a term with which only recently have I become familiar. And while my understanding of the marriage of art-and-text is more William Blake than Grant Morrison, more LEL than Gail Simone, there is something to be said for the perfect harmony of art-and-text. One is not merely a complement of the other, but rather, they are two parts of a whole.

In comic books, we see even more than the marriage of art-and-text, no? In fact, what we see is art-as-text and text-as-art and both as Text, that is, Story. So to ask a question as loaded as “Do Women Read Comics?” is to suggest that women are not artistic, or not interested in text, or in Texts, which we all know is Rather Ridiculous, when we spread it thin in such a way.

But, and there is a “but,” Gentle Reader, there is a Very Real Dichotomy in the perception of male and female comic book readership. Certainly, as we are all Well Aware, there are more male than female writers, artists, editors, and executives in the Comic Book Industry, but does a gender majority automatically mean gender exclusion, gender neglect, gender bias? That is to say, does a large male readership and authorship automatically mean a *lack* of female readership and authorship?

The logical fallacy rears its ugly head the moment the idea is presented, and we all trip and fall, flat on our faces. Here, Friends, I will be the first to trip and break the mold:

I am a Woman, and I Read Comics.

There I break the mold and with this one negation, or rather, this one affirmation of Female Readership, we can no longer ask: “Do Women Read Comics?” Now, we must ask why so many insist that Women Do Not Read Comics, or, if they do, they Read Them Wrong, and if they discuss them, they Are Too Loud (and wrong).

Gentle Reader, a confession: I love, absolutely *love* superhero comics. Again and again on this blog, I have shouted To The Rooftops my love for superhero titles. Hearing my Brother and Sister Bloggers rave about Manga, I have dipped my toes into those waters, as well. I adore Graphic Novels, too, and find the idea of art-and-text to be truly visionary.

I cannot answer for every Man or Woman Reading Comics, but I can answer for myself, and my answer is this: I read comics because I am terrible at art, and seeing a story unfold visually and textually astounds me.

Or, my answer is this: I read comics because I am a good storyteller, and seeing a story unfold over generations astounds me.

Or this: I read comics because I enjoy science fiction, and fantasy, and historical fiction, and realism, and modernism, and Victorianism, and postmodernism, and fashion, and cultural critique, and subtext.

Or: I read comics because I read comics.

The idea that one would have to ask if Women Read Comics seems almost silly, and it is a question I have heard less and less over the past few years. And Gentle Reader, let me do say that it is a question that is less spoken and more implied. It is a question implied every time I reveal that I am a Reader of Comics, and the implication usually goes Something Like This:

“Really? *You* read comics?”

Yes, I do, and whether that shock is because I am a Woman, an Academic, Middle-Aged, none or all of the above, it is still there, and it means something that it is. Why is there incredulity over the Reading of Comics? Why must one express utter disbelief over something that should be commonplace? Everyday? A Shared Experience among Men and Women alike?

We need to reconsider *why* We, All Of Us, Men and Women Alike, Read Comics. Then, we need to *remember* why We, All Of Us, Men and Women Alike, Read Comics.

My answer is this: I read comics because I love them.

. . .

One final outcome of my time spent at my childhood home, the Reads Parsonage, if you will: I am, at this very moment, Doing “Homework” in the Very Room in which I did Every Scrap Of Homework I ever had pre-college. As I am Rather Egalitarian about my memories, both good and bad, I offer you, Gentlest of Readers, some Homework Of Your Own.

I am a Woman who Reads Comics, and also, a Woman who enjoys Finding New Comics, so please, Friends, take a glance at the sidebar to your right. There you will find This Humble Author’s Current Pull List, both Cape and Manga. Are there Comics that this Woman should be Read(ing)? If so, what are they, and why?

Until then, Friends, Good Night, and Good Reading.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

My Pop Culture? Meet My Pop Culture!

The briefest of brief posts, Gentle Reader, as the next three weeks begin a rather grueling summer session, time-wise, but Overwhelmingly Rewarding, life-wise. There are Things I Need To Do before I run off on Yet Another Errand, and therefore my time with You, for the next three weeks, is Rather Limited.

But, and yes, Friends, there is a "but," I just heard the most Marvelous News from Mickle at True Confessions of an Hourly Bookseller!. It seems that one of This Humble Author's Favorite Writers, Ms. Diana Gabaldon, is writing graphic novels of her characters, Jamie and Claire, from the Outlander series!

You must understand that These Novels are in no small part responsible for my Obsession with All Things Scottish, an obsession small but nurtured before 1992 when I first encountered Ms. Gabaldon's work, and now, some 15-odd years later, a full-blown Adoration! When I visited Scotland last May, I went to the Battlefield of Culloden, in memory of those real-life fallen heroes, brought to fictional life by Ms. Gabaldon's work.

As I'm sure you are Well Aware, Friends, I absolutely adore it when one aspect of My Pop Culture meets another aspect of My Pop Culture. I see them wave to each other, and I smile.

Off to the wilds, Gentle Reader, and until next time, happy reading!

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Amy Reads the Week (of July 6th, 2007)

A few weeks ago, Gentle Reader, the Glory that is Google Alerts clued me in to the following article in the Winston-Salem Journal by Colleen Long, that offers the opinion that more novelists are moving into comic books because comics are gaining respect in The Academy and in The Mainstream. First, I would be inclined to ask, “What is this ‘Mainstream’ of which I hear so much about?” but rather than consider the Distinction between Tastes (gratitude, Mr. Bourdieu), I rather would like to consider the Distinction people continuously make between Popular Culture and “Real” Literature.

Constant Readers (and you know Who You Are, and how much You Are Adored, Friends!) of Arrogant Self-Reliance know that this is A Hot Topic for This Humble Author. That is to say, I work in The Academy, and I exist in The Mainstream, and I couldn’t agree more that comic books, and thus by extension other hot items of popular culture such as television shows, movies, etc., are deserving of the same sort of criticism we direct towards novels considered “Literature.” Why, you may ask? Well, because writers like Charles Dickens, Charlotte Bronte, and Wilkie Collins were the Stephen Kings, Barbara Michaelses, and Neil Gaimans of their day. Because that which Entertains Us, Reflects Us, ad nauseam, all the time.

I have taught comic books, and yes, I mean both Graphic Novels and Super Hero Comic Books, and I have been taught comic books, and yes, I mean both Graphic Novels and Super Hero Comic Books. And I am A Fangirl, existing within A Fandom, adoring Super Hero Comics so much that I write on this blog faithfully about Said Heroes. I work in Both Arenas of Comic Book Fandom, and I feel that We Few, We Happy Few, We Band of Fans, do ourselves a disservice every time we insist comic books are not to be taken seriously.

There have been myriads of dialogues opened the past few months, Gentle Reader, that have discussed the importance of race, sexuality, gender, identification, authenticity, age, image, presentation, etc. in comic books today. I am overwhelmed with joy when I see the wealth of discussion happening about comics, because that means comic books Are Being Taken Seriously. The moment we relegate our comics to “mere pop culture” is the moment we disengage ourselves from the dialogues they spark, the joy they produce, the value that we, as fans, have in our fandoms.

But still, I have seen some argue that comic books are fun, and shouldn’t be taken too seriously. And since this argument seems to come up in response to dialogue sparked when a fan finds something in a comic book, or on a cover, in a marketable piece of fandom, or other such places Worthy of Discussion, both Good and Not-So-Good, I begin to suspect it is a way of divorcing our Entertainment from Critical Discussion.

I have argued this before and I likely will do it again, but truly, Friends, I believe, Very Strongly, that Our Popular Culture says as much about Us, As People, as our High Art, our Canonical Literature, our Orchestral Music. Particularly as the past 150 years or so have seen A True Rise in the Forms of Popular Culture.

There are so many reasons that my Major Field of Study is Victorian Literature and my Subfields of Study are Popular Culture, Science Fiction, Fashion, and Feminist Theory. I believe all of these fields marry, and marry in Interesting Ways. (I also believe that Victorian England sparks most, if not all of these interests, but that perhaps is a post for another day). As most of Victorian Literature was Popular—one need only think of the celebrity of Charles Dickens’ work, for example—most of the novels discuss Popular Issues of the Time: women’s rights, gender ideologies, issues of class and race and nation, education, etc. Important social issues Writ Large as Fiction, as they are in, say, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. As they are in, say, Runaways.

And lest we forget, Friends, most of These Canonical Novels were Serialized, too.

Weekly or monthly serialization does not strip a title of its worth or importance. Otherwise, where would Charles Dickens’ novels be? Or George Eliot’s? Or Elizabeth Gaskell’s? What, then, will our Great-Great-Great Grandchildren think of Our Literatures? Certainly they will canonize graphic novels like V for Vendetta or The Watchmen, but, and I truly believe this, Gentle Reader, some Super Hero Collections will be canonical, too. Superman: Red Son, for example, or Identity Crisis, not to mention Wonder Woman: Eyes of the Gorgon, Green Arrow: Quiver, Astonishing X-Men: Gifted, or Hellboy: Seed of Destruction.

Let us embrace these dialogues that question and critique our popular cultures. Let us spark our own dialogues about the importance of fashion in the DC Universe, or the role of minorities in the X-Men. Let us enjoy all facets of Our Popular Cultures, even those facets that spark debate.

Perhaps especially those facets that spark debate.

Thursday, May 31, 2007

Amy Reads the Week (of June 1st, 2007)

It’s been a Rather Exhausting Week, Gentle Reader, as summer has come to The South, and with it, Summer School. Not that I dislike teaching summer school; far from it. It’s just a daily occurrence, with Really Big Novels, in the Heat, and in a very short expanse of time.

Since with Great Novels comes Great (teaching) Responsibility, I’ve been rather neglectful of my pop culture. Television in the Reads Household this week has been of the Food Network persuasion, and honestly, it’s about all I can bring myself to focus on. This is so much the case that when Mr. Reads asked me if I had read the latest issue of Wonder Woman, I had to, quite honestly, tell him no.

But what this week *has* brought is Great Buying Responsibility, in that I placate Mr. Reads’ addiction to the Marvel Legends line, as he placates This Humble Author’s addiction to All Things Amazonian, All The Time. That is to say, while at Wal-Mart today, I found the She-Hulk, Xorn, and Yellowjacket Mr. Reads has been waiting for, and then, at another store just an hour ago, we found Quicksilver and the Marvel Select Cloak and Dagger.

Mr. Reads is a firm believer in the Posing Power of the action figure, while I, I am rather hesitant to say, am quite an In-The-Box kind of girl. There are few, if any, of my Fun Toys out of their original packaging, and those only happen on the rarest of occasions.

But seeing Mr. Reads’ pure delight over finding these hard-to-get items in our rather small college town made me think of the (hard-to-get) Items of My Own: my Hush Catwoman, my Wasp red variant, my Marvel Select Emma Frost. I remembered back to my months-long search for the Red Son Wonder Woman which I found (finally!) on clearance in a mall a state away. Thankfully I hadn’t traveled a state away just to find said action figure. Rather, the find was fortuitous, and gratefully acknowledged.

There are other things, too, lost in the void of distance, age, and time. My Wonder Woman underoos, of course, as well as my Wonder Woman costume, immortalized in scratchy photographs of a slightly chubby, nearsighted child with too much hair and a look of wonder and hope that has gone the way of said costume. My Wonder Woman lunchbox, my Star Wars lunchbox, my Princess Leia Halloween outfit, my Jem and the Holograms dolls, my She-Ra action figures. Once in my possession, now gone, some twenty years since, but still precious for the memories they left behind.

What is it about the physicality of fandom, Gentle Reader? Why does the Reads Household purchase, still, action figures and Barbies and statues (oh my!)? I don’t think it is a reckless clinging to youth, desperate in its grasp, clutching a bit too fervently. Rather, I think, in no small part, that it is insurance for the future, the decision that despite this or that problem, there is still something solid, something there, something small and plastic and fun that Makes Us Happy.

Or, as I asked Mr. Reads once, “what to do if the future children get hold of variant Sentry?”

To which Mr. Reads said, “!!!”

(Do not worry for future Baby Readses, Gentle Reader! Pup Reads has destroyed, so far, Venom, Namor, Maestro’s crown, and Juggernaut’s helmet, and she still receives love, food, and shelter on a daily basis.)

We collect, and collect, and protect against damage, but we cannot guarantee protection. We cannot guarantee anything. Why, then, collect these things? Why, then, display these objects of fandom, these Physical Representatives of our interests, for all the world—or just ourselves—to see? Because of the memory? Because even This Humble Author remembers with fondness, some 25 years after the fact, wearing a Wonder Woman costume under her school uniform, and feeling for all the world like Diana Prince?

So we buy these things to remind ourselves, or to remind others?

It’s rather late, Friends, and I’ve a long day stretched in front of me for tomorrow, so I leave you not with possible answers but instead with questions. What do we make of our fandom collecting? How do we, as fans, comprehend those objects that mark us as such?

And where can one Such As Myself find a decently priced Hush Catwoman action figure anyhow?

Monday, May 28, 2007

On the Docket: Recent Pop Culture in the Reads Household

Happy Memorial Day, Gentle Reader, and I hope your picnics and barbeques are sunny and bright! Mr. Reads and I have been preparing ourselves for that most auspicious, albeit hectic, of summer activities, The Start Of Summer Term. Entire semesters crammed into one month of Every Day Class and Sunlight and Heat (oh my!) certainly keep us On Our Toes, and to ready ourselves, Mentally, we have, I must confess, indulged in various forms of our Popular Cultures the past few days.

This, of course, means watching A Lot Of Television, and let me express to you, Friends, my utter delight and admiration for the following recent season finales: Heroes, Lost, and The Office. But with Season Finales and the Impending Summer Term come that most dreaded of times, Summer Television Slump. No Lost, no Heroes, no Office or Family Guy or Battlestar and no Gilmore Girls, forever.

Of course, Mr. Reads and I must Combat This Boredom Somehow, and Summer becomes our time to Explore New Shows. Over the past several summers, we have used our extra Must See Time to try out, finish, or return to shows such as Carnivale, X-Files, Band of Brothers, the Sopranos, and West Wing. This summer is No Different, and we find ourselves exploring the following:

Life on Mars is now available on BBCAmerica, but not every episode, I’m sorry to say. But what we’ve seen, we’ve loved, and we are ready for more.

Hex, another show from the BBC (Mr. Reads and I are Anglophiles of The Highest Order!) which is a bit of Buffy, a bit of Charmed, and where we are now in the order, could go either way, quality-wise. We’re keeping an eye on this one, and are a bit mixed in our feelings.

Freaks and Geeks is a show I haven’t seen since it aired, and we’ve made Excellent Use of our Netflix Account for this one. Although I must admit, Gentle Reader, that Mr. Reads and I both are Rather Uncomfortable, at times, with the Sheer Uncomfortable Reminders of teenaged life. Adulthood, for This Humble Author, at least, is much preferable.

Harsh Realm we just finished, and I was Rather Impressed with this short-lived show. Of course, I have had a soft spot for Mr. Sweeney since his Cutting Edge “toe pick” days, but that’s really neither here nor there.

Also up on the docket are: Veronica Mars (thanks, in large part, to the insistence of Matthew of Legion Abstract fame and other such Smart People who keep recommending it to the Reads Family), Waking the Dead (another BBC show Mr. Reads and I fell in love with while across the Pond), Big Love, Deadwood, and some other assorted sundries Here and There.

Novel-wise, I am exploring the fascinating worlds of Madeleine E. Robins’ Sarah Tolerance series, and Rhys Bowen’s Molly Murphy series. The former details a Fallen Woman turned Thief Catcher in Regency England, and the latter follows the adventures of the Irish Immigrant and first woman P.I. in turn-of-the-century New York. Mr. Reads, meanwhile, recently has enjoyed the world of John Scalzi. Both of us wait in Eager Anticipation for the new Connie Willis, Greg Rucka, Neil Gaiman, and J.K. Rowling to fill up space in the meantime.

But what of Comic Books, you may ask, Gentle Reader? Alas, my Comic Book reading is rather behind at the moment, due to many factors, mostly Dissertation and Work Related, but thanks to the Wonderful Ms. Karen Healey, I have recently—just, Gentle Reader!—had the Honour and Pleasure of Guest-Blogging on Girls Read Comics (And They’re Pissed). Much Gratitude is extended to Ms. Healey for this opportunity.

Any pop culture to recommend to me, Friends? If so, please, I implore you, help us fill Our Empty Summer Entertainment!

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Amy Reads the Week (of May 18th, 2007)

You may have guessed this by now, Gentle Reader, but I don’t believe in essentialism. That is to say, I don’t believe that because I was born with a Uterus and 2 X Chromosomes that I am predisposed to liking Pink, and Dolls, and Romantic Comedies. Further, while I believe in it more than I do essentialism, I don’t particularly like the idea that social constructivism has determined my self. I don’t like the fact that despite my triumph over essentialism, that hive mind we call Society came along and determined that because I am a Girl—wrapped in a pink blanket upon birth and granted dominion over all things cute, ruffled, and/or fluffy—I have been socially geared towards things such as Pink, and Dolls, and Romantic Comedies. Also Motherhood, heterosexuality, passivity, intuition, and that annoying partridge in that bloody pear tree.

Even further, I don’t believe that because Mr. Reads was born with male anatomy and XY Chromosomes that he is predisposed to like football, beer, and, say, superhero comics. In fact, I would Greatly Argue that Mr. Reads likes, say, Superhero Comics because he was, as a child, inclined *not* to like football or trucks but rather liked books, and science, and fantasy. And I would say that This Humble Author likes, say, Superhero Comics not because I was inclined towards All Thing Male, All The Time, but rather because I saw a woman in satin tights fight for *my* rights and the good ole red, white, and blue.

Over the past few weeks, I have been thinking about What Attracts Us, yes, We Few, We Happy Few, We Fans of Comics, to the Comic Book Medium, at large, and the Superhero Comic Universe, specifically. Because while the argument can be made that Many People read Comics—Graphic Novels, Manga, William Blake, virtually anything defined as a Marriage between Image and Text, those Stories Told Visually, even Ekphrasis might work here, by definition—not all of those Readers are Superhero Fans. The Superhero Comic is a unique genre in and of itself, and it relies, by definition, on the existence of The Superhero, The Villain, and the Battle Between Good and Evil.

Of course, Gentle Reader, you may argue that All Literature is represented as The Battle Between Good and Evil, and you may just be right. But Said Battle isn’t always defined in clear-cut terms, complete with Flights, and Tights. And those who are attracted to Said Battles, again, We Happy Few, are attracted to them, specifically, for a reason.

I don’t know if I can express My Reason in so many words, because That Reason is Rather Personal. But then, all literary choices are personal; we are attracted to the things we are attracted to because we are Who We Are. While I no longer read Romance Novels (although I did for many, many years) because I find them somewhat unrealistic, I now read more Superhero Titles than I did ever before. And what is more unrealistic than the idea of an alien come to save America and the World? Or an Amazon leaving an Island of Women to save Man’s World? Or a son, marked by the tragic deaths of his parents, becoming the Savior of His City? Or that Said Amazon can fight for my rights in those assuredly confining and rather counterproductive satin tights, anyhow?

There is something to be said, then, for the Power of Fantasy. For the Suspension of Realism, even if just for the 30+ pages of a Comic Book, or the 300+ pages of a Romance Novel, or for the 2 hours of a movie. We read because we desire some suspension of realism, no? We escape to fictional realms every time we open a novel, or step into a movie theater, or play a video game. We, as a Fanbase, desire some sort of escape from The Real World.

But, as many have argued before me, nothing mirrors The Real World’s problems better than Fiction, and Science Fiction specifically. 1984 discussed the growing anxiety over governmental spying, surveillance, and control. Brave New World warned us of the dangers of “playing god.” Lord of the Rings showed the disastrous results of environmental disregard.

But I say that the reverse is true, as well. Nothing mirrors The Real World’s capacity for Greatness better than Fiction, and Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Comic Books, specifically. Just as Mysteries are about making the disorderly orderly, so too are Comic Books about making the Alien Familiar, the Other a person not to fear but to aspire to. Superman shows us that even the one who should be The Ultimate Outsider can be the one to Save Us All. Wonder Woman demonstrates that what seems to be radical inclusive feminism is in fact an attempt to save all of us, men and women alike. Batman shows us that with Great Anguish comes Great Resolve, and that Good can be born out of Evil. As does Spider-Man. As does Catwoman. As does Big Barda.

The more we depend on essentialist arguments, Gentle Reader—those arguments that claim this or that is for boys or girls, but never the twain shall meet—the more we isolate ourselves. The more we separate, and separate, ad nauseam. But let us not be so eager to embrace social constructivism, either. Let us instead think not in terms of Either/Or, but rather in shades of gray. Further, let us determine why some insist, yes, insist on claiming separatism For Us All.

When This Humble Author was growing up, Barbie said, quite loudly and publicly, “Math is Hard!” And so began the debate over whether this item of Pop Culture, this Doll, this Inanimate, Programmed Thing could have any bearing on Young Girls’ Lives. So began the discovery that elementary schools actually reinforced this idea that “Math is Hard!” if you were a girl. Unbeknownst to educators, almost an entire educational system was geared towards Feminine=Humanities, Masculine=Math and Science. And now, some twenty years later, we are still struggling to make sure our girls are encouraged in both literature *and* math, and our boys are encouraged in both math *and* literature. Colleges and Universities, even, work hard to encourage more women to go into engineering, hard sciences, and advanced math and computer fields. Because there just aren’t that many women there, even now, twenty years later.

All because of an essentialist argument that no one was even aware was being made.

All because a doll once said, “Math is Hard!"

Friday, April 27, 2007

Amy Reads the Week (of April 27th, 2007)

Today, Gentle Reader, found me Quite Aware of several of my popular cultures. I went to The Coffee Conglomerate Giant to get some work done, and I carried said work in my Buffy the Vampire Slayer tote bag. Then I wandered over to The Corporate Toy Store to search for the new series 2 of the Marvel Legends figures for Mr. Reads. While searching through various Wasps and Emma Frosts and Planet Hulks (oh my!), a Nice Young Gentleman asked me if I needed some help.

“No, thanks,” I said. “Just looking.” I wasn’t intentionally terse, but I was on my cell phone with Mr. Reads at the time, trying to determine which figures, specifically, he was searching for.

“By the way, your shirt rocks,” Nice Young Gentleman said, and gestured at my “Justice League of America” t-shirt. “They won’t let me wear my fun shirts to work.”

“I can’t wear mine to work, either,” I said. “So I wear them when I can.”

Mr. Reads, still on the line, was laughing, as we have often commented on How Incredibly Cool and Friendly the Nice Young Gentlemen and Ladies who work at Said Toy Store are. “Cool” for Mr. Reads and This Humble Author means, of course, that Said Cool Person is Pop-Culturally Aware of the things that We, Ourselves, are aware of. That is to say, Mr. Reads and I often define “Coolness” by one’s competence and knowledge in Those Areas of Fandom That We Love.

This Fandom Moment was rather welcome today, as I spent the majority of my morning seething over something I read on The Internet. In fact, I seethed so much, Gentle Reader, that I delayed, yes, *delayed* writing this column because I knew, ultimately, that it would disintegrate into a rant. And while I appreciate The Occasional Rant on The Internet (and have Indulged Myself a time or two), I remember, above all else, the lesson I learned upon first experiencing The Internet At Large, some ten, twelve years back:

Do Not Feed The Trolls.

So instead of responding, or writing this column, I seethed quietly. I mentally composed tomes of replies, and I persisted in these useless responses until I remembered to marvel at my Buffy bag, I had the opportunity to share in the delight of the JLA with a Fellow Fan, I popped in a CD and continued to (talent) crush on Nathan Willett of Cold War Kids Fame. Until I remembered that Pop Culture is about Us, All of Us, We Few, We Happy Few, We Band of Fandoms.

These things, these fandom objects, seemingly, then, carry a mystical, portentous weight. My Buffy tote bag, my JLA t-shirt, my Wonder Woman day planner, the Reads Family Spider-Man travel mug, even, define me (and in the latter’s case, Mr. Reads) because they were objects chosen, specifically, by me, for me. They were objects purchased with the intent for public display. Unlike some other items in our fandom—my signed copy of Connie Willis’s Bellwether, say, or my Boba Fett pez dispenser—that stay within the home, these other objects are almost talismanic. They are proclamations of the things we adore. The things that make us happy.

But further, they are, above all else, invitations for communication.

I invite you, Gentle Reader, to communicate with me. What are some of your talismanic fandom objects? Tell us about your Batman messenger bags, your Superman ties, your X-Men t-shirts. What’s your favorite item?

Friday, April 20, 2007

Amy Reads the Week (of April 20th, 2007)

This week has been Quite Musical, Gentle Reader, and for Some Strange Reason, I feel the need to discuss the musical side of my popular culture today.

Wait, let me explain.

There was a time in my life, perhaps as long as ten (!!!) years ago, that I truly had my finger on the pulse of the American and British musical scenes. Indie, of course, although I think we called it Alternative in those days. It Could Even Be Said that I was, yes, it’s true, Friends, a Musical Snob. I sneered down my nose at those In The Popular Know, and I took Great Pleasure in knowing the most obscure bands producing the most obscure tapes in the world.

Flash forward ten years, and I’ve settled, somewhat uncomfortably, in the first inklings of middle age. And now, the hipster students on campus sport band t-shirts with names with which I’m completely unfamiliar. How did this *happen*? I ask myself. When did I become so very divorced from the musical genre?

And it’s not completely true, I realize. But there was a time in my life when I actively would seek out new bands, and now, I’m lucky if a few fall in my lap. But this week, for many, various reasons, found me listening, Quite Intently, to new finds and old favorites. My playlist has been, I must admit, strange and varied this week, and I’ve even had the odd compulsion to burn a CD or make a mixed tape or two.

Yes, it’s true, Friends. It really has been That Kind of Week. Here’s a tiny sampling of my playlists over the past several days.

The Cold War Kids have topped my charts this week, and as I confessed to Mr. Reads yesterday, I find myself with Quite The Talent Crush on Nathan Willett. This kind of Talent Crush, I assured My Dear Husband, hasn’t happened for me since David Bowie reinvented himself in the mid-nineties. But the Cold War Kids, with their Billie Holiday and Tom Waits influence, with their Hedwig-and-Jeff-Buckley croons, have really sparked my admiration in a big way.

Midlake is another new favorite, and Roscoe is truly one of my favorite songs of the year (do understand, Gentle Reader, that I am An Academic; my years begin and end in August). Bonus, they’re from Denton, and I’ve always had a Soft Spot for bands from small university towns.

Amy Winehouse is a powerhouse of a singer, and she’s everything I love about Billie Holiday, Nina Simone, and Beth Gibbons in one voice. Her song “Rehab” has helped me bounce a bit in a week that has been, I’m sorry to say, decidedly lacking in bounce.

Death Cab for Cutie is a band that I just adore, and have for several years now. Plans may be their best album yet, and I can’t stop listening to “Soul Meets Body.” No, really, I can’t.

Zero 7 is another recent find, and it’s really as if Beth Gibbons found her protégé and gave her a microphone. But they’re not completely Portishead-like, and that small difference makes me enjoy them all that much more.

Jeremy Enigk (and the Fire Theft) is just about my favorite singer producing today. I was (and still am) a huge Sunny Day Real Estate fan, but for me, SDRE was less about the music and more about Enigk’s voice. I absolutely adore his voice, and I find that the music in his solo work and his work with The Fire Theft is far more interesting than his work with Sunny Day.

A few other honorable mentions this week: Martina Topley-Bird, Portishead, Jose Gonzales, Sun Kil Moon, Lily Allen (I can’t help it, really; I adore her), Tom McRae, Catherine Wheel (a true blast from the past for This Humble Author), and Beirut.

As always, Gentle Reader, please share your recommendations with me!

Friday, March 30, 2007

Amy Reads the Week (of March 30th, 2007)

Super Spectacular Women’s History Month Edition #5!

Often in our pop cultures, Gentle Reader, there is a dichotomous presentation of Woman offered; Madonna or Magdalene, Pure or Sexy, Good Girl or Bad Girl, Woman is often one or the other, but rarely, if ever, both. The Good Girl is so very, very good, and the Bad Girl? Well, she’s usually better. Both have sex appeal in their own right, both are desirous to those-who-like-women, and both can tread, just a toe or two, on The Other Side.

Because we so very love when our Good Girls go A Little Bad, or our Bad Girls have that ever-flaunted Heart o’Gold, or when we see a Bad Girl vulnerable and a Good Girl sexy. It seems—just seems, Gentle Reader!—that we like our dichotomies because they offer the chance to be something other than a stereotype.

This is, of course, the moment when the non-stereotype *becomes* the stereotype. That is to say, when Sandy in Grease puts on the leather pants, she’s not *really* a Good Girl Gone Bad, but rather, the Good Girl proving that she can, if Danny so desires, be A Little Bad. Or when Faith cries in Angel’s arms, telling him that she is Nothing At All, it’s not *really* a Bad Girl Gone Good, but rather, the Bad Girl proving that she does, deep down inside, want to be loved. The Good Girl’s Sexiness, and the Bad Girl’s Vulnerability, then, become part of the very definitions of these two types, and therefore are wrapped up in the very stereotype laid out for them in the first place.

Part of our desire for these stereotypes is, of course, our desire to fix things or sully them, our desire to Reform the Rake or Uncross Crossed Legs, our desire to be The One who will change things, for a little Good, or a little Bad. But most importantly, these two stereotypes of female characters, more often than not, demonstrate a complete lack of understanding of women’s power over their own bodies. That is to say, part of the Madonna/Magdalene stereotype is the firm desire to see women either as virginal or fallen, but rarely in charge of their own sexuality.

Our popular culture representations of women’s sexuality are troubling, at least, and Quite Frightening, at worst. Gallons of ink, both literal and cyber, have been spilled over the (Sexy) Woman Question in various media, and We, None of Us, can come to a consensus. Sexy, demeaning, outlandish, uncomfortable, ridiculous, beautiful, all of these words and more have been used to describe the costumes of various comic book characters, of television stars, of video game characters.

Wonder Woman, for example, wears spankies and a bustier, but I certainly would never call her outfit outlandish. She is, of course, very firmly in the Good Girl Camp, as she does, after all, come from an Entire Island Of Women (and no men). Catwoman, on the other hand, covers her entire body, from neck to toes, and still, there is no denying the skintight fantasy of her (literal) Catsuit. Then, of course, Catwoman is very firmly in the Bad Girl Camp, an ex-prostitute, no less, who has no qualms about her own sexuality. At all. Buffy often Slayed Vampires in heels, leather pants, and tank tops, but since she was a Good Girl, those outfits seemed fine, while Faith, the Bad Girl of All Bad Girl Slayers, Slayed in the same, and made it seem overtly sexual.

I work on fashion, Gentle Reader, in my Academic Life, and while the fashion I study is of the decidedly Bustled and Crinolined variety, I do occasionally foray into twentieth-century discussions. I pay particular attention to discussions of clothing—or lack thereof—in the Comic Book Universe, because more often than not, the discussion boils down to a Dichotomy of Its Own: “it’s just a comic book” versus “it’s never ‘just a comic book.’”

As a concluding thought in my month-long Women’s History Month Edition of this column, I’d like to point out this very thought that has haunted me for Some Time Now and is, in fact, the very reason I began this blog in the first place: the idea that Things Don’t Matter if those Things occur in popular culture. It just isn’t so, Friends, and here’s why.

Popular Culture reflects the desires, and fears, of the society in which it exists.

It’s why Wonder Woman and Superman fight off Nazis in the 1940s, why we saw so many movies about the dangers of genetic testing a few years back, why since 9/11 America has had a wealth of film and television about superheroes. It’s why teenagers are punished in horror movies for having sex, why spy movies became so popular during the height of the Cold War, why the Geek gets the Girl, always. Even farther and even faster, it’s why Stepmothers are the Bad Guys in fairy tales, why Cinderella becomes a Princess, why Children should never wander into Dark Woods alone.

It’s why the Good Girl, if she Stays Good, will get the Guy, why the Bad Girl can be reformed, and usually through Death.

All of these desires and fears are represented through familiar storylines, yes, and also, through familiar images, and symbols, and tropes. White for purity, water for birth and rebirth, fire for cleansing, yellow for disease. If there is a killer on the loose, and you say “I’m going to go check the basement,” you know, With Great Certainty, that you will not come back alive. If there are zombies, gardening tools are Your Best Friends, and if there are vampires, images and ideas of Catholicism will save you, whether you’re Catholic or not. It’s why curly hair represents both ethnicity and danger in women, and why certain white shirts on men signal violence against women.

It’s why Wonder Woman’s lasso is golden, Catwoman’s whip is black, and Willow’s hair turns white at the end of Buffy. It’s why Faith of “Young Goodman Brown” fame wears pink ribbons. It’s why Queen Victoria only appeared in public in black, after Albert’s death. Symbols, representations, cultural tropes and motifs that are understood, digested, and *read* by All of Us.

150 years ago, Gentle Reader, Charles Dickens was just about the most popular author In The World. His books were read (and sometimes written) in installments, and he sold thousands upon thousands of copies. Everyone knew the characters, the stories, and the ideas, whether they read the books or not. That is what it means to be an author of popular culture. Today, his books are considered High Literature, and are studied in schools and universities worldwide. This Humble Author herself studies Mr. Dickens, and has yet to hear anyone tell her to stop reading, writing, and teaching his work because “it’s just a popular book.”

Let us enjoy our popular cultures, and let us take them seriously. Let us not dismiss other’s concerns over sexism, or exclusion, because we don’t care about those specific concerns. Let us remember that we, All Of Us, have concerns and joys and fears and hopes in our Popular Cultures, and desiring change for the skimpy fashions of our superheroines, or development of female characters beyond the Good Girl/Bad Girl dichotomy are concerns that are just as important as those over the revival of a character long since dead, or an unpopular retcon.

Because we love them enough to care, to discuss, to blog, to buy, to read, to rejoice, to rebuke, they’re never, ever, *ever* Just Comic Books.

I considered writing a list as a celebration of Complexity, and of Popular Culture, and as a Last Hurrah of Women’s History Month. One consideration was for a Good Girl/Bad Girl list, and another was for 31, yes, 31 Complex Female Characters of Popular Culture. But instead, I want to hear from you, Gentle Reader. Give me your lists, or your recommendations, of women in popular culture. Who am I not following, but should be? What writer am I not reading, To My Detriment? As always, I am on the lookout for A Few (More) Good Books/Films/Shows!

Above all else, enjoy the rest of Women’s History Month, this celebration of Women Remembered and Forgotten, of Heroes who Fought the Good Fight. Let's remember those who fought for our voice, even though they themselves were allowed No Voice Of Their Own. Let us remember those women, Fictional and Historical, who Defied Stereotypes, both Good and Bad, to make the world A Better Place.

For the Good Girls, and the Bad Ones, for the Good Girls Gone Bad, and Bad Girls Gone Good, and those who are Just Okay and Somewhat Middling and Quite In Charge of Their Bodies and Selves and Lives, and Those We Love To Hate and Those We Hate To Love, and just Those That We Can't Help But Love because they Defy Stereotypes and Refuse to be Pigeonholed into One-Dimensionality.

For those women, and the thousands more, We Salute You.

Friday, March 23, 2007

Amy Reads the Week (of March 23rd, 2007)

Super Spectacular Women’s History Month Edition #4!

Gentle Reader, if you look at the sidebar to the right, you’ll see that Manhunter is on my pull list. Well, I need to confess something: Manhunter only made my list because of the Wonder Woman crossover. I read the first issue of that crossover, realized that I would never understand half of what was going on unless I read the whole series, and then months and months went by, without doing that very thing.

Mr. Reads has sworn, for months and maybe years now, that I would Absolutely Adore Manhunter. He believed this fact so much so that he gave me all 29 issues and said READ. As last week was, so very wonderfully, Spring Break Week for the Family Reads, I actually had Some Time To Myself one evening while Mr. Reads D&Ded with his friends. There were jellybeans, a snuggly Pup Reads to warm my toes, and 29 issues of Manhunter just waiting to be read.

And Friends, I have to say that Shelly is 100% correct: Manhunter *is* the best comic book I probably wasn’t reading. But I’ve rectified that. Scout’s Honor.

How to express the Total Joy over seeing a comic book that understands that a Heroine doesn’t have to be perfect? Or even suffer from One Fatal Flaw? No Hubris for Kate Spencer. No Hubris at all. Just a nicotine habit (which This Humble Author certainly can understand, even after 6 months cigarette-free!), anxiety over career and parenting and marriage, and not one, no, not *one* gratuitous romantic interest. Kate’s anxieties, it seems, are better served by her heroing, or her lawyering, or, God forbid, the Ever-Present Editorial Axe looming over her Precious DC Head.

When comic book readers ask for characters they can relate to—whether those readers are of the Double-X Chromosome Persuasion or otherwise—said readers are not asking for carbon copies. That is, when I ask, “Please, let me see a character I can relate to!” that wish can be fulfilled by a Kate Spencer (workaholic, anxious, ex-smoker), a Hellboy (looks different than others, tries to do the right thing, often confused by conflicting expectations on him), a Batman (slightly OC with a dash of martyr complex thrown in to seal the deal), or an Oracle (workaholic, trying to help and protect friends and family). That wish can be fulfilled a number of different ways, all of them good, all of them relatable by thousands of other readers, as well.

But most importantly—and indeed, perhaps, the Most Important Of All—I ask for characters that don’t suffer under stereotypes, whether those stereotypes are gender-specific, or race-specific, or sexual-preference-specific, or otherwise. Kate Spencer is a straight woman that isn’t running herself ragged looking for That Special Man To Complete Her Life. She belies the stereotype that all single women in their 30s must have a man to complete her. Rather, Kate gets divorced, co-exists rather well with her ex-husband, his new wife, their new child, and Kate’s son, of whom majority custody goes to the father. Nor is Kate The Perfect Mother, or The Failed Mother, two major motifs involving women and popular social conceptions of maternity. She makes parenting mistakes, she recognizes those mistakes, and she does what, truly, is best for her son: she shares custody with his father.

In fiction, we so often see the trope of the Monstrous Mother, that woman, almost fairy-tale in origin and evil, who is selfish, greedy, non-nurturing, sexual, everything that almost every society says a mother decidedly should *not* be. We have the Victorians to thank for our current conceptions of Maternity (the Domestic Goddess in her robes and crown of white), but this Perfect Mother Expectation we have goes back centuries. Mothers are not selfish, or sexual, or greedy, or anything but nurturing. So says society, therefore so say we all (gratitude, BSG).

“Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of all children,” says the Crow in O’Barr’s comic book. “Do you understand? Do you understand?” Not Father, but Mother. Mother is the name for God, the name for perfection, for perfect expectation.

Mother.

We have, as a society, somewhat romanticized the bond between Mother and Child. We expect it as a biological imperative, and when we see refusals of those expectations—the mother who abandons her children, or chooses leave-the-home-career over stay-at-home-career—we see them as aberrations, not only of our expectations, but of the very fabric of our society. The very things that hold us together. But by placing biological imperatives on parenting, and, in particular, maternity, we discount those parents who adopt, or raise another’s child, or the countless sisters and brothers and aunts and uncles and grandparents and friends and teachers who all take an active part in raising a child. It doesn’t only take a mother or a village; it takes a world.

Kate Spencer offers a progressive approach to motherhood that belies the somewhat traditional expectations comic books place on that role. One Year Later, she shares her mothering duties with her husband’s new wife, and even before then, she comes to the conclusion that her husband is a better parent than she is, a conclusion not often reached, even today. But even further, she is a Mother, in a comic book. There aren’t many of them, Friends, and perhaps we should wonder why.

Or perhaps we don’t even have to wonder why. Parenting is hard, the gig that never ends, even after the children become upstanding citizens. One rightfully can’t put one’s life in danger every night of the week and not expect some of that to spill over. Some get a little help from their friends (Catwoman), while some relinquish custody to the better-fit parent (Manhunter), while some enlist the adopted or biological child into the fight against evil (Hippolyta, Black Canary I). Some children’s lives are threatened because of their parents’ crimefighting (Helena, Catwoman’s daughter), and some are downright wiped from existence (Scarlet Witch’s children).

I’ve discussed maternity in comics before, particularly in regards to Catwoman and Black Canary, but I think this is a larger social concern that is being replicated in our pop culture media. We expect our mothers to be perfect, selfless beings, and perhaps—just perhaps, Gentle Reader!—we expect our maternal heroines to be even more perfect, even more selfless. Kate Spencer is a mother *and* a superhero; she sacrifices not only for her child, but for *the entire world*. Selina Kyle does the same, and the reason for both seems to be making the world safe, for the children. For *their* children.

Gail Simone’s theory regarding Women in Refrigerators demonstrates how girlfriends and wives often are used/hurt/killed to get at male heroes, and I’d like to point out the heroine version of this theory. We see an overwhelming amount of Children In Dark Woods stories involving children and their heroinic mothers (gratitude to Ragtime for the invention of the word “heroinic”!). Children in Dark Woods is, of course, the fairy tale motif of Children In Danger precisely because their mother was 1) not their mother (i.e. stepmother), 2) not paying attention (i.e. selfish), or 3) threatening (i.e. a woman of power). Women are put in Refrigerators to hurt male heroes, and children are stolen, threatened, or lost to hurt the female ones. WiR suggests that the worst possible pain for a man is not only to lose the person he loves, but also to be *unable to save her*. Children in Dark Woods suggests the same for women, but make it a child, and make it the suggestion of Bad Motherhood.

And that is the clencher, no? If a male hero’s girlfriend/wife is hurt or killed to get at him, he isn’t considered a bad boyfriend or husband. But if a heroine’s child is hurt or killed to get at her, she most likely is considered to be a Bad Mother. And there are few labels worse in our society than Bad Mother. When Kate Spencer’s son is hurt because he was playing with her Manhunter weapons, she is not the only one who thinks that she’s been a Bad Mother; everyone does. Even This Humble Author has suffered under this assumption (yes, even me, Gentle Reader!) in that I took Selina to task for being so carefree with her own life when Helena needs her, oh so much.

I have No Definitive Answers, Friends, because this isn’t a problem easily solved. Rather, let us think on those stereotypes as they exist not only in comic books, but in the world. And perhaps let us Call Attention to Things Such As This the next time someone says, “it’s just a comic book! What does it matter that Powergirl’s breasts are so large?” or, “it’s just a comic book! Why do the liberals always have to have a gay/black/female/cheesecake-loving hero to read it?” It’s never *just a comic book* because—I’ve said it before and I will say it a thousand times more—our pop culture reflects our innermost desires.

Our popular culture reflects Us.

So in honor of those who fight for our rights, change our diapers, balance our checkbooks, bring home the bacon *and* cook it, I offer you a list of my Seven Favorite Fictional Heroinic Mothers—one for every day I read the week, of course!

1) Joyce Summers – Buffy’s mother, after initial disbelief, took her daughter’s Slaying in stride, and even came to be a formidable Force Against Darkness, in that she kept her daughter, and the Scooby Gang, loved. Her death was one of the more painful and heartbreaking moments in television history.

2) Lorelai Gilmore – she raised her daughter on her terms, in her own way, and what a daughter Rory is! There’s no hero like the everyday mom, the one who creates a great life for herself and her child.

3) Linda Park-West – she lost her unborn children because of a fight between Flash and Zoom, and a later fight restored them again. During Infinite Crisis, when Wally’s about to disappear, Linda grabs the twins, and her husband, and disappears into the Speed Force with him. She is a rock, and without her, Wally wouldn’t be nearly as interesting.

4) Cordelia Chase – before a deity hijacks her body, of course! She serves as a surrogate mother to baby Connor and helps Angel raise his child. When Connor comes back, before Cordy disappears, she helps heal him, as well.

5) Fallen Angel (Lee) – She hides her child so that he won’t be swallowed by Bete Noire, only to find him come back after years in hiding. So she spends her time trying to protect him from the city, and to undo the pain and hurt done in his absence and his presence.

6) Claire Fraser – Diana Gabaldon’s character who leaves her True Love to give birth safely, and does her best to keep her daughter healthy and happy. Sometimes, this means saying goodbye.

7) Catwoman (Selina Kyle) – and finally, Selina! I considered putting Manhunter on the list, but realized I already Waxed Poetic Enough on her, and decided on Selina Kyle instead. Despite the initial problems I had with the OYL jump, I have adored everything involving Selina’s interactions with Helena.

Friday, March 09, 2007

My First Meme: Video Game Covers I Want to See

It’s true, Gentle Reader, that this is Arrogant Self-Reliance’s first meme! I feel as if we Should Celebrate in some way. But I have been tagged by 100LittleDolls, and now, finally, several weeks later, I answer her.

The meme is as follows:

1.Copy the text of the original challenge from Yudhishthira’s Dice and give a proper link attribution.
(that would be this text:
Ladies, what RPG covers (or interiors) have you seen that involve a woman in the art that make you say, “I want to play that” or, just as good “I want to play her.” Or that make you feel like it is a game you could like, or be included in by a group of guys you’d never met and whose maturity you didn’t necessarily know?
Said over at Yudhishthira’s Dice.)
2. Copy these rules exactly (including any links).
3. Find images of game covers (interiors are okay, too) that make you want to play the game. Any kind of game — video game, card game, tabletop RPG, etc — is fine. Post them and include a short (or long) explanation on why the image makes/made you want to play the game.
4. The original challenge is about finding out what women think about how game art is marketed and therefore it is targeted at women. I’d like to keep it that way, please.
5.You can tag as many or as few people as you want. You do not need to be tagged to participate in the meme.
6.When you make your post, please post the link on this thread so we can all see what others have said.


As I’ve just said a few moments ago, this meme has inspired a wealth of thinking about women, weapons, and, in particular, swords. I’ve discovered that I tend to be attracted to anime-ish images, particularly those with women wielding swords. I think this has everything to do with my long-held interests in Wonder Woman, Joan of Arc, She-Ra, and the Goddess Athena! I’ve whittled some of those out to also include some games I’ve been intrigued by for a while, all dependent on their covers.

1) Lost Planet: Extreme Condition - I find the haziness of the snow, contrasted by the soldier with giant gun to be fascinating. There’s a dreaminess to it, a certain ephemeral quality that is almost beautiful.

2) Bullet Witch - This has the unique advantage of presenting a gun that looks like a sword—or a sword that doubles as a gun. I’m not sure. But I like her cocky stance, her over the shoulder I dare you to tell me off look, and the sassy blue hair.

3) Ninety-Nine Nights - Another pretty girl holding what appears to be another pretty sword. And bonus wings! But this cover really speaks to my desire to see *pretty* games. I like it when the designers put as much effort into the characters and backgrounds as they do the smash-and-bash.

4) Aura - As for this game, Gentle Reader, well, I can say nothing else enticed me but the sheer “oh, shiny!” gut response I had. The cover is just *pretty*. And I’ve had some experience with Dreamcatcher games to know that at least the interludes will be beautiful, if not the entire game-play itself.

5) City of Heroes and City of Villains - And finally, Friends, the two games that have intrigued me for Some Time Now. I adore the idea of creating my own Hero and my own Villain. I have The Perfect Hero in mind, as she is the protagonist of my prose-comic-book-in-the-works. But I love the comic book feel of these covers, the bursting out of the box and into the action-ness of them.

Friday, March 02, 2007

Amy Reads the Week (of March 2nd, 2007)

Super-Spectacular Women’s History Month Edition #1!

As I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, Gentle Reader, I read books for a living. Some of them are old and dusty; some of them bright and shiny and new. That is to say, my area of specialization is Victorian literature, and one of my sub-interests is popular culture. I do lots of work on the first, and some fun work on the second, and sometimes, I even talk about the intersections between the two. It happens a lot more than you would expect.

For example, I believe that popular culture, as we know it, really got its start in the nineteenth century. Writers like Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins were so popular that their works would sell out before they even hit the shores in America, and writers like George Eliot, Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte and Elizabeth Gaskell really cemented women’s role in a profession heretofore associated, mainly, with men: writing. While women always have written—let us ask Hawthorne how he felt about the “damned mob of scribbling women”—they didn’t always have the opportunity to make a true profession out of it, or even, to be considered professional writers. What pioneers like Aphra Behn, Jane Austen, Maria Edgeworth, et al did was open a doorway for Western women to make their livelihoods by writing the wacky newly popularized form, the novel.

But further, the nineteenth century allowed not only for professionalization of novel writing for women, it also allowed for a proliferation of genre writing as well. With the nineteenth century, we see the invention—or rediscovery—of such genre forms as the Gothic (Wuthering Heights), the Romance (Emma), Science Fiction (Frankenstein), Thriller (Lady Audley’s Secret), the list goes on and on. Two things go hand in hand at this point: the female writing public, and the female reading public. With the rise of the middle class comes the rise of leisure time, particularly for women; with the rise of leisure time comes, more often than not, time for reading. And, of course, with the rise of genre comes the rise of popular culture.

So many other things add to this mix: standardized education for both sexes and all classes, mass production of consumer goods, the department store, women’s access to the public sphere (partially in thanks to the department store), advertisement campaigns, magazines geared specifically towards interests and/or towards women, the list goes on and on. But popular culture, while existing prior to the nineteenth century, gets its firm footing in the 1800s.

In celebration of this reading-and-writing “damned mob of scribbling women,” I offer you a list of my Top Seven Greatest Genre Writers of All Time—one for every day that I Read the Week, of course! Novelists only, of course, genre writers only, of course, spanning the 18th-21st centuries.

In no particular order:

1) Connie Willis (science fiction) – it seems only fair to talk about Connie Willis’s work not only as “science fiction,” but also as “fiction about science.” Ms. Willis is, in fact, My Favorite Living Writer, and one of my Favorite Writers Of All Time. She shares the list with Emily Bronte, Elizabeth Gaskell, and Jane Austen, so that is, indeed, saying a lot. Her work is funny and brutal and witty and perfect, all at the same time.
Recommended Reading: To Say Nothing of the Dog, Bellwether

2) Dorothy Sayers (mystery) – I adore Ms. Christie, too, of course, but Ms. Sayers really creates more likeable—and loveable—characters. Lord Peter Wimsey and Ms. Harriet Vane, once they unite as a sleuthing team, are unstoppable. The humor is dry, the prose fun, and the stories never bore.
Recommended Reading: Strong Poison, Gaudy Night

3) Jane Austen (romance, social novels) – Any list of great novelists would be remiss without Ms. Austen’s presence. Her wit, her dialogue, her memorable characters all make you want to read her books, in bed, with chocolate close at hand. Further, her strong characters belie any belief that women were milk-and-water misses at the turn of the 19th century.
Recommended Reading: Persuasion, Pride and Prejudice

4) Barbara Michaels (gothic, thriller, mystery) – Also writes as Elizabeth Peters. Ms. Michaels is a powerhouse of a writer, with dozens of books to her name under either of her nom de plumes. Often, her heroines are of the Liberal Arts Persuasion, which makes her novels super-fun, and makes her characters possess interesting methods of solving mysteries. Great reads, with great historical research.
Recommended Reading: Be Buried in the Rain, Shattered Silk

5) Diana Gabaldon (romance, historical fiction) – I read Ms. Gabaldon’s first book, Outlander, when I was fifteen years old, and I haven’t stopped since. Not only does she write one of my favorite fictional conventions, time travel, she also writes amazing characters that live on long after you close the book. I believe that these books are, in large part, responsible for my Scotland obsession.
Recommended Reading: Outlander, then the rest of the series

6) Elizabeth Gaskell (romance, social novels) – Mrs. Gaskell is, without a doubt, my favorite Victorian novelist, and that’s saying a lot from This Humble Author, who has made it her life’s mission to read, teach, and write about Victorian novels! Her prose rivals George Eliot’s, in my opinion, while her storylines and characters are more entrancing than Ms. Charlotte Bronte’s.
Recommended Reading: Cranford, Wives and Daughters

7) Charlaine Harris (mystery, supernatural) – Ms. Harris is perhaps most famous for her Sookie Stackhouse series, which follows a telepathic barmaid from rural Louisiana through her trials and tribulations in the newly-revealed supernatural world surrounding her. While this series is loads of fun, Ms. Harris also has several other series under her belt involving amateur sleuths that are, perhaps, even smarter than the Stackhouse series.
Recommended Reading: Shakespeare’s Trollop, Dead Until Dark

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Fishes without Bicycles: Thoughts on Gender in Comics

You may not know this, Gentle Reader, but I quibble just a bit with the terminology “heroines.” Not that I believe that we should accept all forms of male-dominated speech—I don’t believe we should go back to “mailman” when “mail carrier” or “postal worker” is much more succinct and, I believe, direct. But I think that Hero is a term that can apply to men or women; the only reason it’s gendered is that we’ve made it gendered. To imply that there are Heroes, and there are Heroines is to say that men and women differ in their heroism, and that they are, for the most part, Separate But Equal.

You see the problem with this, don’t you, Gentle Reader? The terminology separates the male heroes from the female, sets up camps along the gender divide, and in the end, for This Humble Author, anyways, adds to the somewhat staggeringly odd idea that Women In Comics have Nothing To Fear from their male counterparts.

We’ve heard this sort of talk Across The Blogosphere, at Comic Panels, in Our Local Comic Shops, on Streetcorners, in darkened bits of the Pub, and it seems that there are several people In The World who think that women, now that they’ve the vote and a decent enough salary and a few laws protecting their bodies from physical and sexual abuse, should Quit Their Whining. Yes, it’s true, Friends. There are people In The World who think that Star Sapphire’s lack of outfit, the perpetuation of Women In Refrigerators, and the general Bias Towards Heterosexual Male Desires and Needs in Comic Books actually don’t mean anything at all. That since these are “just comic books,” then they don’t actually say anything about society, up to and including gender inequality.

I’m going to share with you a little secret about the way the Amy-Reads-Brain works: no, I don’t think there are men or women sitting in an ivory tower somewhere, cackling to themselves, rubbing their hands together in glee, and declaring that This or That comic book will Subjugate Women Today. That’s not the way inequality works. The reason it’s So Very Scary, for This Humble Author, anyways, is that prejudice is often systematized. That is to say, no one need sit in a tower and cackle, plotting the downfall of Womankind, because frankly, thousands of years of tradition have already done that for them.

To return to the Main Theme of this particular post, for example, we can look at the dichotomy of the Hero and Heroine divide. There is a saying, a rather old, second-wave-feminist saying by Irina Dunn that argues, “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” The irony of this statement should be lost on no one, of course, but let’s take a look at it anyway. Humor a lady, Gentle Reader! I Read Books (and therefore words, words, words) for a living; I certainly can’t stop now!

The first part of the statement, “a woman needs a man,” can be taken in several contexts. Romantically: it argues that a woman must have a heterosexual relationship in order to be fulfilled. Socially: it argues that our society is founded on heterosexual coupling. Professionally—and here’s the kicker, Friends: it argues that a woman needs a man to come first, to pave the way, to “allow” her access to power.

Unfortunately, this final statement rings true not in its sentiment but in its history. A woman does not need a man to come first, pave the way, allow her access to power, but a patriarchal history and a long line of male bias and female subjection has forced men to come first in most—if not all—things. That is to say, if we continue to differentiate between, say, heroes and heroines, we are actually insisting that without the definition of the male part, Hero, we can have no female counterpart, Heroine. A Heroine, therefore, is only definable through the original male definition. It’s the reason why I don’t like the distinction between actors and actresses, waiters and waitresses; there is no job distinction other than gender.

Do you see it, Gentle Reader? The problem is not the *word* but what the word *represents*. That is to say, I have no problem, personally, with the term “heroine.” What I do quibble with, however, is the continued insistence that “separate but equal” is still okay in gendered situations. There is a decided male bias in comic books, whether that be in the authorship, the subject matter, or the readership. The distinction, then, between heroes and heroines, becomes representative of a history of male bias, one that we see, somewhat prominently, in our popular cultures.

There are solutions to this, yes, and I offer you a few possibilities:

1) Call them all heroes, and try to avoid the “male hero” and “female hero” distinction. This one’s rather tricky, I think, for the sheer fact that I don’t actually think anything’s wrong with *different*. Men and women are different, regardless of race, religion, nationality, or sexual orientation, and there is no reason to pretend otherwise. But when we see distinctions made along gender lines—heroines presented as gendered counterparts of male heroes—that we run into the systematized entrenched sexism that has plagued us, as a society, for millennia.

2) Reclaim the term “heroine” so that she is definable by her own merit rather than as a female counterpart to the male part. Let her rediscover herself, and let society rediscover her, as well, and figure out how she differs from her male peers.

3) Avoid creating heroines as double-x-chromosomed counterparts of male heroes. Why do we need a Batman and a Batwoman, a Superman and a Supergirl, a Captain Marvel and a Ms. Marvel? Why can’t we have, say, more heroines like Big Barda, Oracle, Gypsy, Storm, and other such superpowered women with non-gendered names? Why can’t we create more female heroes from the ground up, rather than adding breasts and a short skirt and a diminutive alias?

4) Avoid writing or approving sexist words, deeds, and actions from male characters that don’t add to characterization, plot, or setting. That is to say, we expect Hercules to be a sexist pig. That’s kind of his thing, right? Wolverine, even, is somewhat sexist, although that seems to stem more from a general air of misanthropy than anything else. But let me offer you an example from a video game, Marvel Ultimate Alliance. In the opening sequence, Wolverine, Spider-Man, Captain America, and Thor all fight a battle together. In the aftermath, Wolverine turns to his companions and asks, “what are you girls looking at?” Why is it necessary there to be derogatory towards women? Why is calling Spider-Man, Cap, and Thor “girls” an insult? It shouldn’t be, but it’s an insult that has been ingrained in our social mindset. Let’s work to change attitudes like this, not only because they imply that to be female is to be inferior and weak, but also because it’s been so systematized that no one found it offensive enough to change it.

5) Finally, and indeed, most importantly, Scout Out And Hire More Talent. I don’t believe that only women can write strong female characters—Greg Rucka, Brian K. Vaughan, and Brad Meltzer defy that stereotype, for example. But it is true that if we are to change a bias, if the Big Houses are to, say, gain a larger female readership, as they seem to want, then there must be vast changes across the board, from the bottom up. Part of that is, I think, hiring more women writers. And part of that is taking a chance on plucky unknowns, too. Allow for blind or moderately regulated submissions not only for art but for writing, as well. Look for new ideas as well as new talent for older, established books. Add a serialized book to the back of already established books—3 pages of said New Title at the end of, say, Action Comics or Detective Comics or Spider-Man. Let new writers get their feet in the door and get their work out to larger audiences.

Further, when you hire new talent, or established novel writers to guest on a comic book, try to get Comic Book Fans. There are several out there—I point to Brad Meltzer, and the Tamora Pierce/Timothy Liebe creative team as a few examples. Because while a guest writer is all well and good, a guest writer that doesn’t love comic books doesn’t offer much in the way of storyline or add at all to readership.

I’ve heard a lot of great stuff coming out of NY Comic Con about the new Minx line, and I look forward to reading Plain Janes very much. Minx is a great start to gaining a broader female comic-book-reading audience, and I applaud DC for starting this line. Don’t stop there, Friends! We eagerly await your next idea because, well, despite what people think, we are reading because we love comics. I adore Batman and The Flash and Daredevil just as much as I adore Big Barda and Catwoman and Wonder Woman. I like reading superhero books; in fact, most of my comics are cape lines.

Above all else, I like good stories. Keep offering that to me and I’ll keep reading.

Edit: I just found Rachel Edidin's post, "Be Vewwy, Vewwy Quiet--We're Hunting Wimmins!" over at Girl-Wonder.Org that says a million and one smart things about gender issues in the comic book medium and community, a million and one times better than I can. Enjoy!

Women's History Month

Happy Women’s History Month, Gentle Reader! I find these celebratory moments—Women’s History Month, Black History Month, and yes, even National Poetry Month (April)—to be excellent times to revel in exactly what makes us, as a society, so very interesting. Further, I think it’s a time to express gratitude for Those Who Fought Before, and always, Those Who Fight Now. Thoughts like this come at an interesting time for me, as I work on my Suffrage and New Woman chapter of my dissertation. It makes me question, just for a moment, what it means to Fight for Women’s Rights.

And what exactly does it mean, Friends? Well, for me, it means calling attention to the struggle, to the gender inequalities that still, even now, even after All This Time, face us across the board. To point towards those media through which I do some of my feminist, academic, and academic-feminist work: popular culture.

I’ve said it before, and I suspect I will say it again, many, many times, that That Which Entertains Us always, always Will Challenge Us. To say otherwise, to say that “it’s just a comic book,” or “it’s just a television show” is to completely and utterly discount the possibility of entertainment as a reflection of current society. Even further, it completely discounts the work that authors, artists, actors, and readers put into entertainment. It is an idea that rejects symbolism and the power of fiction. It is, to put it Rather Bluntly, a tired and worn-out excuse.

They are not “just comic books,” or “just television shows,” the same as Austen is not “just a romance novelist” and Dickens is not “just a whiny pro-children’s-rights author.” Let us all, for a moment, realize the extent to which our pop culture media entertain us, challenge us, reflect us, and most importantly, entrance us. We write about comics, or television, or movies because we *care*, so very deeply. Whether we care that the A on Cap’s mask stands for America or whether Willow was a more interesting character pre- or post-Tara, the specifics don’t matter. What matters is, ultimately, that we care enough to discuss, to debate, to post, to applaud, to lament, to challenge, to hope, to despair.

To this end, in honor of something I care deeply about, both professionally and personally—although as a feminist, I know, deep down, that there is no separation since the personal is political, and the political is personal—I will offer you a month of celebration of Women In Popular Culture. Each “Amy Reads the Week” column for the month of March will celebrate a different aspect of women’s roles in popular culture media, and there will be several other posts peppered throughout the month to the same end. Let us revel together, Friends, in the accomplishments women have made throughout history, and throughout popular culture!