#i still like frank he's just doing too many things for my weak constitution to take in calmly

[kindaeccentric]

Me, unable to part with any object of even a sliver of sentimental value, because of trauma of not being allowed to ever truly 'own' my things, looking at Frank Iero doing a sale of his bands' memorabilia and shaking: What the fuck what the fuck!!! 😭

[jinruihokankeikaku]

summary bulletpoint review of Shin Eva

[obligatory disclaimer that this is all, just, like, my opinion, man<3]

POSITIVE

Shinji's instrumentality scene with Gendo

Ryoji Kaji the Younger and Misato's development as an actual mother was great, deeply moving and deeply painful (as Eva should be.)

the entire first act of the film, honestly

more characterization for Asuka Shikinami and Ayanami/Rei 3, perhaps the best in all of the Rebuilds

it's a beautiful film, the animation in magnificent (even the CG, if you ask me), and the setpieces and action scenes all worked really well and didn't seem to have a disproportionate presence relative to other parts of the film

cannot emphasize enough how good the first act is. If the entire film had carried on that tone, atmosphere, and theming, I think my overall impression of it would have been much more favorable.

i liked the music, especially the callback to "The Passage of Emptiness" around 0:20:00 (I'm sure there are other score callbacks that I didn't catch, too)

many of my issues with / questions about 3.0/Q were resolved in a serious, focused way

the third act was nothing short of stunning visually and narratively, despite my thematic objections

I had fun with it. It was an enjoyable film, and still a cut above a lot of both recent anime and recent Western scifi blockbusters I've seen. For all my issues with the film, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it on both of my viewings so far, and I've no doubt I'll come back to it. I would unequivocally recommend Shin Eva to both fans and non-fans, despite....everything I'm about to say.

NEUTRAL / MIXED

everything about the Book of Life (whatever that is) and the non-resolution given to the question of whether or not the Rebuilds constitute a sequel or a separate continuity. It'll doubtless be a subject of debate for years to come.

by extension, everything to do with Kaworu, frankly. I thought he was great in Q, and because of that, my feelings on his presence in 3.0+1.0 amount to something along the lines of "he was great, insofar as he was there, but I wish we'd more of him."

the resolution of Gendo and Yui's relationship. I know it was pretty polarizing, and while I understand both the "perfect narrative resolution" and "misogynistic and deeply unsatisfying" takes, I'm not sure I'd entirely agree with either of them. It's well-executed for what it is, but still fundamentally unbalanced and not quite on par with the way it was handled in The End of Evangelion, imo.

the resolution of Shinji and Kaworu's relationship. I almost put this in the negative section, but to be frank, I never expected them to end up together, and as much as I love Kawoshin, I understand that that's not the direction the Rebuilds were ever going to take, nor is it a direction I think Shin Eva should've taken. Furthermore, I think the way the concept of the Time Loop was handled about as well as it could have been - an excellent balance between Nonetheless, I think the Kaworu section of the Instrumentality sequence was weak and overly dismissive towards the validity of Kaworu's feelings, his actions, and (if you'll pardon the irony) his humanity.

the balance of action / atmosphere / characterisation. It's not perfect, but it's better than any of the other Rebuilds, with (as previously stated) the first act carrying most of my favorite atmospheric/character moments, and the second act containing the best action sequences.

the general tone of the film. It started off very strong, with a feeling reminiscent to that which The End of Evangelion left me with, and maintained a suitably dark-yet-hopeful tone for most of the second act as well. However, it fell apart entirely for me in the third act, and especially in the final scene (which I'll comment on further later).

Rei 3 / Ayanami. I adored her. For exactly that reason, I think it's a damn shame she had to LCL-splode less than halfway through the film.

Ryoji Kaji the Elder. Everything we saw of him was magnificent! So I sure wish there was more of it! Given the scope of Shin Eva's content, I guess that's more of an objection to 3.0, but...I guess I just dearly hope we get more material covering the 14-year timeskip, WILLE's revolt, Kaji's sacrifice, and everything leading up to it. It feels like a missed opportunity (unique to the Rebuilds) for character development Kaji might've received. But on the whole, that's a minor quibble relative to how fond of his and Misato's relationship in the Rebuilds were handled in 3.0+1.0.

NEGATIVE

Mari / "Mary Iscariot". Enough has been said about Mari's "enigmatic" character, so I'll not harp on this too much, but....as someone who loved Mari's presence in 2.0 and was basically okay with her role in the Rebuilds as a whole, there was still a remarkable dearth of character development for her, which left me disappointed on the whole, especially considering...

...the final scene. That final scene. Oh man. I don't want to devalue the personal meaning it has for Anno, or the sense of satisfaction some of my fellow Eva fans got from it. But the more I think about it, the more it doesn't work for me. After the credits started rolling on my first viewing, I remember writing in my notes app - "How am I supposed to feel about this?". After my second viewing, I was left with.....exactly the same feeling. The scene is framed as unambiguously positive, and yet....it simply doesn't come across that way, upon further contemplation. Even setting aside my abiding love for KawoShin and AsuShin, I think even from a ship-neutral perspective the scene doesn't quite carry across the message of Hope what it seems to intend to.

The film's themes. For all its narrative and visual strengths, the film left me feeling confused, empty, and....fucking confused. And not in the same way EoTV or EoE did - my confusion was not to do with the actual events of the film, but with the emotional and psychosocial messages conveyed. I won't presume to know Anno (or his co-directors') intentions, but....it's hard for me to not feel like I'm being told to set aside the past and hope for a deus-ex-machina to fix my life. This is also something about which a lot of ink has already been spilled, so I'll keep my thoughts on this front short (especially since I can't tell if I'm giving the filmmakers too much credit, or not giving them enough), but....the plain fact that Shin Eva seems, at least superficially, to present itself as a thematic antithesis to The End of Evangelion is enough to leave me upset or at least unsettled. That's more of an emotional reaction on my part than an actual critique of the film, I know, but....I'd be remiss in not including it in my review.

Ritsuko - specifically, the fact that she was reduced to a side-character at best, with arguably less of a presence than even Fuyutsuki, and perhaps even comparable to the minor roles of the rest of the Bridge Crew. She was so very compelling in Neon Genesis Evangelion and even in her brief screentime in The End of Evangelion, and while I can hardly say I was expecting her to play a key role in Shin Eva after her diminished presence in the previous Rebuild installments, I can't say I wasn't hoping for that, either. Ritsuko deserved better, but like a few other things I've mentioned, that was more of an issue with Rebuild of Evangelion as a whole than it was an issue with Shin Eva.

Asuka Shikinami. She had her moments, but fell short of the intensity and depth of character Asuka Soryu was given. There's much more to be said here, but frankly it merits its own post, cos this one is getting long already.

And finally, I'll just say again that more than anything else this film left me confused. It left me questioning the value of the Rebuilds as a whole, the messages of NGE and EoE, and my own character as a person. Maybe that was the point. After my first viewing, I said out loud something to the effect of "So this must be what so many people felt after seeing The End of Evangelion. Now I get it!". Perhaps that speaks to the power of the film - it certainly speaks to Anno's enduring talent as a writer/director - but, for a film that was meant to be a spiritual successor to The End of Evangelion, it's impossible for me to say that it didn't fail to carry on that film's message of Hope despite everything, Hope in the face of despair, Hope against the hopelessness of the human condition, and the abiding power of the human person to persist beyond both the indignities it suffers at the hands of others and the indignities it inflicts upon others. It failed in that regard, to my view, and for all that I loved about Shin Eva, that's one failing I'm afraid I might never be able to get past.

TL;DR

I loved Shin Eva. I hated Shin Eva. I respect it for what it is, but I can't bring myself to put it on the level with Neon Genesis Evangelion or The End of Evangelion. Watch it. Definitely watch it, if you haven't already (and if you haven't, why are you reading this?!). The film leaves you with a closing sequence that demands that you draw your own conclusions, and ultimately, I think that's all you can do with a work that carries with it such personal weight (for both the creators and the viewers) and such heavy expectations.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

October and the Alternate History of Europe

I recently got into a fascinating PM thread on FFnet with Njchrispatrick about the alternate history of Europe given the events in “October”. It is, in fact, so interesting to me that I asked permission to rephrase their discussion and post it here.

While I know my history better than most, I will be the first to admit I’m hardly an expert, and explained part of why an in depth focus on history was missing from “October” is that a) Tom lives in a very insular society and does not realize this about himself and is in for a very rude awakening now that he and Lily are off to Ubik b) because I am not ambitious enough to pretend I can rewrite the history of Europe (let alone the world) given the monstrously strange events in “October”.

While fascinating, it’s also not really the point of “October”, which deals more readily with the societal issues facing the wizarding world vs. this alternate world history.

Njchrispatrick gave a very nice, very in depth, look at Europe given the events of “October” and what be going on in the outside world (even consulting a history professor). Below is rephrased, paraphrased, and reordered a bit for cleanliness and cohesiveness (as this was over several PMs).

If the war ended in early Summer 1942 (based on when Azrael seemed to have intervened) then it was shortly after a string of victories that made it look like Germany would come out in front. This was over a year before Normandy and many believed WWII would have dragged into a war of attrition.

This was also after the Soviets offered a peace treaty signing off much of Ukraine and Belarus to Germany due to Stalin being very uncertain of Soviet victory, plus Vichy France (the puppet French government) had been well-established and the German stronghold in the West was powerful.

The Nazis hadn't accepted the treaty, but since that time Russia had been pushed even further back so they'd offer even more, So, although the war ended, certain events would still be heavily in Germany's favor and the post-war treaty would be more favorably pro-German (and although the Nazis are gone, many of the legitimate grievances of the German people, including several territorial claims, would remain).

Germany would definitely keep its pre-WW2 borders including Austria and the Sudetenland. With the might of Germany still present, and now led by conservative Prussia, there would be certain demands made

Given Germany's well-entrenched hold on France, Germany would likely only release them in exchange for keeping Alsace-Lorraine, the region it had held pre-WW1 since taking it from France in 1871. Poland would be forced to cede Danzig--or at least hold a referendum vote which would undoubtedly return them to Germany--and possible the other ex-German regions like Posen. Stalin would be forced to relinquish some territory in the Baltic, both due to Russia's losing at that point in time plus Britain and America not trusting him. Perhaps this would be requested by Germany as a trade for releasing Posen to Poland. The Netherlands and Belgium would go free but, again, I expect Germany to either keep Luxemburg or at least turn it into a "protectorate". Bohemia and Moravia, which were taken from Czechoslovakia, is trickier. Apparently, to be frank, Britain and France didn't care much about the smaller nations and were of the mind that smaller countries belonged under the control of stronger ones, and Germany had a vague claim on the region due to it being part of the Holy Roman Empire, the original German Empire (in case you don't know, the HRE was the First Reich, the German Empire was the Second Reich, and the Nazis named themselves the Third Reich as a result).

If the Nazis just vanish, I don't think a West-German democracy would emerge, at least not for a while.

There was actually a substantial part of the German government which disapproved of Hitler--more his foolish tactics than the antisemitism, sadly--and in the early 40's they attempted to overthrow him.

Had the Nazis vanished, Germany would've likely ended up with a Prussian military government--better than the Nazis but still not ideal.

A Prussian-led Germany would likely become a constitutional monarchy a bit like Britain. The Junkers (Prussian aristocracy) were deeply monarchic and favored a weak democracy, if any, and Germans weren't fans of democracy after the abysmal prior attempt.

Britain would allow it in order to bring stability in hopes of Germany standing against the Soviets, as well as the Kaiser's role being distinctly anti-Nazi. The only obstacle would be Churchill, who was unwilling to accept any surrender, but it’s unclear what he’d do. He would definitely oppose the growth of any German territory. The Kaiser would have some wartime power, but otherwise be not much stronger than the British royal family. This would come with the stipulation of Germany becoming at least mostly democratic.

The Nazis would likely be blamed on the southern Catholic mindset (since Hitler was Austrian and began his power grab in Bavaria) and there would have been a massive cultural crack-down on Southern Catholic and French ideals, similar to how Jews and Communists were scapegoated for the loss in WWI.

That said, with the war only being 3 years long and with the Nazis being purged, I imagine Hitler would be viewed as a strong leader who went too far and who united Germany but was a big racist. Somewhat like a worse Churchill.

He definitely shattered the German economy but they'd be able to stabilize faster than their neighbors.

The knowledge of the Final Solution would horrify people, but without it actually happening the sympathy would be lessened, plus many pro-Nazi people would see it as Allied propaganda. Germany in the 60's and 70's would likely be a conservative-leaning but highly advanced nation with one of the strongest economies on Earth, if not THE strongest.

Without the war to expand its influence, America would be a wealthy but culturally minor power similar to Japan in real-life.

I imagine post-WWII Germany would also be tolerated because there was still a lot of Soviet fear and a dominant, militaristic Germany was still better than the Soviets in the eyes of many, especially since pre-WWII France (the only other major continental player) was weak and post-WWII France was in tatters.

The Nazis would be gone, but fascism would probably remain as a legitimate government structure, since fascism was a French-created concept that was popular in the Netherlands, Germany, France, Belgium, and the US, to name a few. So while the Nazi branch of it would be gone, it wouldn't have been near-eradicated like today. And we'd definitely see a less liberal, still Euro-dominated world in the aftermath.

The Soviet Union would be much more brittle.

The USSR's success was highly attributed to its role in WWII, and a perceived loss (as this would be, since a peace treaty in 1942 would make everyone certain that Russia was about to lose) would tank Soviet support. This would make it much harder to spread into Eastern Europe--the Baltics, Poland, and the Balkans would be German-dominated and Russia would have a hard time breaking through. Either the Soviets would collapse, become a large but stagnant state that would eventually turn non-Communist, or would declare war on the post-war Germany and likely trigger a European coalition. Italy's only real request would've been north African colonial holdings and perhaps keeping Albania. They were a much less important Axis member but also hadn't faced any serious losses.

The funny thing is, I realized, is that the post-war world in your story is actually very much like what would have happened if Germany won WW1 - German domination of the European economy, a weakened Russia, an Eastern Europe basically puppets of Germany, and the return of the German Empire. The only difference is that the European colonial empire still probably would've collapsed.

Njchrispatrick also asked about the Japanese and Italian fronts and how much/when/how Azrael intervened there.

To be honest, it’s been so long since I’ve read it that I can’t honestly remember. It would be just like him to forget Japan though. Azrael is a good, but often shocking short sighted and flawed, man. 

[knifeonmars]

Capsule Reviews, February 2021

Here's some things I've been reading.

The Curse of Brimstone 

DC's New Age of Heroes books, emerging from the beginning of Scott Snyder's creative-flameout-as-crossover-event Metal, mostly constituted riffs on Marvel heroes like the Fantastic Four (in The Terrifics) or the Hulk (in Damage). The Curse of Brimstone is a riff on Ghost Rider. It's... uneven. The first volume is generally pretty good, and when Phillip Tan is drawing it, as he does the first three and a half issues, it's gorgeous and unique, when he departs though, the quality takes a nose dive. None of the replacement artists, including the great Denis Cowan, can quite fill his shoes, and the story gets old fast. Guy makes a deal with the devil (or rather, a devil-like inhabitant of the "Dark Multiverse" as a not horribly handled tie-in to the conceits of Metal), realizes it's a raw deal, and rebels. The characters are flat, lots of time is spent with the main character's sister haranguing him to not use his powers (it is, in my humble opinion, something of a cardinal sin to have a character whose primary role is telling other characters to stop doing interesting things), too many potboiler "I know you're still in there!/I can feel this power consuming me!" exchanges, a couple of underwhelming guest spots (including a genuinely pointless appearance by the old, white, boring Doctor Fate) too many flashbacks, and not enough of the action. There's potential in the classic demonic hero rebelling plotline and its link to the liminal spaces of the DC universe, forgotten towns and economic depression, but the wheels come off this series pretty much as soon as Tan leaves. The really disappointing this is that the series is clearly built as an artistic showcase, so after Tan's shockingly early departure, the main appeal of the series is gone and there's nothing left but the playing out of an obviously threadbare story.

Star Wars - Boba Fett: Death, Lies, and Treachery

I don't care much about Star Wars these days, and I think that most of the old Expanded Universe was, as evidenced by Crimson Empire, pretty bad. Death, Lies, and Treachery, is that rare Star Wars EU comic which is actually good. John Wagner writes and he's in full-on 2000 AD mode, writing Boba Fett as a slightly more unpleasant Johnny Alpha (who is like a mercenary Judge Dredd, for those unfamiliar) right on down to the appearance of a funny alien sidekick for one of the characters. The main attraction is Cam Kennedy's art though, along with his inimitable colors: this might be the best looking Star Wars comic ever. The designs are all weird and chunky, with an almost kitbashed feeling that captures the lived in aesthetic of classic Star Wars, and the colors are one of a kind. Natural, neutral white light does not exist in this comic, everything is always bathed at all times in lurid greens or yellows, occasionally reds, and it looks incredible. In terms of "Expanded Universe" material for Star Wars, this hits the sweet spot of looking and feeling of a piece, but exploring the edges of the concept with a unique voice. It's great. I read this digitally, but I'd consider it a must-buy in print if I ever get the chance at a deal.

Zaroff

Zaroff is a French comic (novel? novella?). It's like 90 pages and it delivers exactly on its premise of "Die Hard starring the bad guy from The Most Dangerous Game." It's pretty good. Count Zaroff, he of the habitual hunting of humans, turns out to have killed a mafia don at some point, and after miraculously escaping his own seeming death at the end of the original story, finds himself hunted by the irate associates of this gangster, who have brought along Zaroff's sister and her kids to spice things up. Zaroff not only finds himself the hunt, but he also has to protect his estranged family as they struggle to survive. Nothing about this book or its twists and turns is likely to surprise you, but I don't think being surprised is always necessary for quality. Zaroff delivers on pulpy, early-20th century jungle action, is gorgeously rendered, and the fact that Zaroff himself is an unrepentant villain adds just enough of an unexpected element to the proceedings and character dynamics that it doesn't feel rote. There's a couple of points, ones typical of Eurocomics, which spark a slight sour note, such as some "period appropriate" racism and flashes of the male gaze, but for the most part these are relatively contained. It's good.

Batman: Gothic

Long before Grant Morrison did their Bat-epic, they wrote Batman: Gothic, an entirely different, but then again maybe not so different, kind of thing. It starts off with what must be called a riff on Fritz Lang's film, M, only where that story ends with a crew of gangsters deciding they cannot pass moral judgment on a deranged child-murderer, in Morrison's story they go ahead and kill him, only for the killer to return years later to rather horribly murder all of them as a warmup for a grandiose scheme involving unleashing a weaponized form of the bubonic plague on Gotham City as an offering to Satan. Along the way it turns out that said villain, one Mr. Whisper, is a former schoolmaster of Bruce Wayne's, who terrified the young Batman in the days before his parent's deaths. It's an earlier Morrison story and it shows. Certain elements presage their later Batman work; Mr. Whisper as a satanic enemy recalls the later Doctor Hurt, and the cathedral Mr. Whisper built to harvest souls recalls what writers like Morrison, Milligan, and Snyder would do concerning Gotham as a whole years later.The art, by Klaus Janson, is spectacular. If you're familiar at all with his work collaborating with Frank Miller you'll see him continuing in a similar vein and it's all quite good, even when he stretches beyond the street milieu which most readers might know him from. There's one particular sequence where Janson renders a needlessly complicated Rube Goldberg machine in motion that manages to work despite being static images. The writing by Morrison though, is not their finest. The M riff doesn't last as long as it could, and Mr. Whisper's turn in the latter half of the story from delicious creepy wraith to a cackling mass murderer who puts Batman in an easily escaped death trap feels like something of a letdown from the promise of the first half of the book. Gothic is good, but not, in my opinion, great. It's certainly worth checking out for Morrison fans however, and I imagine that someone well-versed in his latter Batman stuff might be able to find some real resonance between the two.

Green Arrow: The Longbow Hunters

For a long, long time, Longbow Hunters was THE Green Arrow story. It is to Green Arrow as TDKR is to Batman, deliberately so. Mike Grell wrote and drew the reinvention of the character from his role as the Justice League's resident limousine liberal to a gritty urban vigilante operating in Seattle over the course of these three issues, which he'd follow up with a subsequent ongoing. Going back to it, it certainly merits its reputation, but its far from timeless. Grell's art is unimpeachable absolutely incredible, with great splashes and spreads, subtle colors, and really great figure work. The narrative is almost so 80's it hurts though, revolving around West Coast serial killers, cocaine, the CIA and the Iran-Contra scandal, and the Yakuza, and it's hard to look back at some of this stuff without smirking. The story begins with a teenager strung out on tainted coke sprinting through a window in a scene that's right out of Reefer Madness. In the cold light of a day 30+ years later, parts of it look more than a little silly. The 80's-ness of it all doesn't stop with that stuff though, even the superhero elements smack of it. Green Arrow realizes that he's lost a step and has be to be shown a way forward by an Asian woman skilled in the martial arts (recalling Vic Sage's reinvention in the pages of The Question), and Black Canary gets captured and torture off-panel for the sake of showing that this is real crime now, not the superhero silliness they've dealt with before. The treatment of Black Canary here is pretty markedly heinous, it's a classic fridging and Grell's claims that he didn't intentionally imply sexual assault in his depiction of her torture is probably true, but still feels more than a little weak considering how he chose to render it.The final analysis is that this book is good, but it exists strictly in the frame of the 1980's. If you're a fan of Green Arrow, there are worse books to pick up, or if you're interested in that era of DC Comics it's more than worth it, but as a matter of general interest I wouldn't recommend it very highly.

SHIELD by Steranko

Jim Steranko is sort of the prodigy of the early Marvel years, a young guy who came up through the system, blossomed into an incredible talent, and then left the company, and by and large the industry, behind. He would go on to dabble in publishing, work in other mediums, and generally kick around as the prodigal son of Marvel Comics. This collection, of both his Nick Fury shorts in the pages of Strange Tales and the four issues he drew of the original Nick Fury solo series, charts Steranko's growth as an artist. The book starts off with Steranko working from Jack Kirby's layouts with Stan Lee's dialogue and writing, and Steranko might be the one guy in history for whom working off of Kirby's blueprints is clearly holding him back. The first third or so of this collection really isn't much to write home about, as Steranko is obviously constrained by someone else's style, and at the end of the day those early stories still read as somewhat uninspired pulp compared to the highlights of early Marvel. There are flashes though, of techniques and ideas, which foreshadow what Steranko is capable of, and when he finally takes over as solo writer/artist it's like he's been unleashed. He immediately has Nick Fury tear off his shirt and start throwing guys around over psychedelic effects. He writes out most of Kirby and Lee's frankly uninspired boys' club supporting cast, he makes Fury visibly older, wearier, but also so much cooler. It's the birth of Nick Fury as a distinctly comic book super spy.By the time he finishes wrapping up the previous writers' plotline with Hydra and Baron von Strucker, Steranko is firing on all cylinders. By the time it gets to Steranko's Fury solo series, he's somehow surpassed himself, turning in effects, panel structures, and weird stories which make the earlier installment about a suit-wearing Man from UNCLE knockoff and its strict six-panel layouts look absolutely fossilized.I can't recommend this collection highly enough for any fan of the artform, even if the stories themselves might not be everyone's cup of tear. It's truly incredible to watch Steranko emerge as an artist over the course of this single collection. The book itself has a few problems, it's not the most elegantly designed in its supporting materials and index, but the content of it more than outweighs that. It's great stuff.

[for-your-therapeutic-smile]

They Never Teach You How to Stop

Rarely do I lack the words to express myself. Perhaps this reflects my failure to maintain my journal consistently throughout 2020. Here goes an honest attempt to capture and document my mental state and the fatigue of Covid, the inertia of this shelter-in-place, the anxiety of this political crisis we face as a nation, the pressure of being a 1L in law school against the backdrop of civil unrest and Justice Ginsburg’s death, coming out - my dad told me he was disappointed -, the possible erosion of my relationship with someone I love, and this feeling of absolute dread and resentment for a system that continuously fails my and future generations (robbing us of a social contract that promised life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness), among many other things I’m too tired to consider. When did we accept a $0 baseline as the American Dream? Oh, to be debt free - free from this punishment for having pursued an education. Stifling the educated to prevent them (myself included) from organizing and mobilizing the masses so we can supplant this system with a better one is the overall objective of the oppressive class (read: Pedagogy of the Oppressed); it’s the conflict between the bourgeois and the proletariat. The proletariat has swallowed the middle class, leaving only the ruling class. I am essentially on autopilot, forcing myself to go through the motions so I can survive another day. I know others join me in this mental gymnastics of unparalleled proportions, one social scientists and medical researchers will soon study and subsequently publish their findings in an attempt to explain the unexplainable. Despite a lack of air circulation, we are breathing history; the constitution, like our societal norms, must adapt accordingly. Judge Barrett: there is no place for originalism. While I seldom admit weakness or an inability to manage life’s curveballs, this series of unfortunate events seems almost too much to bear. 

And yet somehow I continue to find the energy to submit assignments due at 11:59 p.m., write this post at 1:38 a.m., “sleep”, wake at 7 a.m. so I can read and prepare (last minute!) the assigned material leading into my torts or contracts class. I find the energy to text my boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend) so I can attempt to salvage the real and genuine connection we have, cook elaborate meals to find some solace, wrestle with whether or not to hit my yoga mat (I don’t), apply to a fellowship for the school year and summer internships, prepare my dual citizenship paperwork, manage a campaign for two progressive politicians, and listen to music in an attempt to stay sane . . . ~*Queues John Mayer’s “War of My Life” and “Stop This Train”*~ . . . I realize I have to be kinder to myself, give credit where credit is due. I hate feeling self-congratulatory though.

Mostly, I am too afraid of the repercussions if I stop moving at a mile/minute, that I can just work away the pain and be the superhuman who numbs himself from the low-grade depression and nervous breakdown. My body tells me to slow down, as evidenced by the grinding of my teeth, but I take on more responsibility because people rely on me. I must show up. I am a masochist in that way. This is what I signed up for and I’ll be damned if I don’t carry through on my promise to do the work. Pieces of my soul scattered about like Horcruxes, though they’re pure, not evil, so I hope nobody resolves to destroy them. 

My mind rarely rests. It’s 3:08 a.m., one of the lonelier hours where night meets morning; it’s the hour for and of intense introspection. It makes you consider pulling an all-nighter, one you reserve for an “important” school or work deadline. We always put our personal lives on the back-burner. 3 a.m. sets the tone for a potentially awful day. But that doesn’t matter right now. I’m letting some of my favorite albums play in the background: Joni Mitchell’s Blue, Mac Miller’s Circles, Rhye’s Blood, Alicia Keys’ ALICIA, Coldplay’s Ghost Stories, Frank Ocean’s Blonde, Miley Cyrus’ Dead Petz in addition to other playlists, Tiny Desk performances, and tracks (I unearthed last week, like When It’s Over by Sugar Ray). I need to feel something. I need to feel anything. I need to feel everything. We experience such a broad spectrum of emotions throughout the day that we lose track of if we don’t pause to absorb them. Music reinforces empathy; it releases dopamine.

I spent the past two hours reading through old journals and posts, as scattered as they were, on a wide range of topics: poems I had written about falling in and out love, anecdotes about my world travels, and entries on personal, political, and professional epiphanies. The other night I found one of my favorites, a previous post from my time living in Indonesia, centering on the dualities of technology. It resonated with me more than the others. To summarize, I wrote about my tendency to equate the Internet with a sense of interconnectedness (shoutout to Tumblr for being my digital journal; to Twitter for being a place of comedy and revolution; to Instagram for curating my *aesthetic*; to Facebook where I track my family’s accomplishments and connect with travel buddies displaced around the globe all searching for a home). And yet I feel incredibly lonely and disconnected whenever I spend too much time using technology, so much so that I set screen time limitations on my phone recently to curtail this obsession with constant communication and information gathering. Trump and Biden admitted that it’s unlikely we’ll know the results of the election on November 3rd during their first presidential debate. Push notifications don’t allow us to learn of trauma within the comforts of our own homes. I’m already fearing where I will be when that news breaks. 

This global pandemic and indefinite shutdown of the world (economy) undeniably exacerbates these feelings. This is some personal and collective turmoil. But I was complicit in the endless scrolling and swiping of faces and places long before Covid-19. Instead of choosing to interact with my direct environment (today’s research links this behavior to the same levels of depression one feels when they play slot machines), I am still an active on all these platforms, participating the least in the most tangible one: my physical life. I am tired of pretending. I am tired of being tired. I am tired of embodying fake energy to exist in systems that fail me. I am tired of the quagmire. Like Anaïs Nin, I must be a mermaid [because] I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living. This particular excerpt from that 2016 entry was difficult for me to read: “The fantasy of what could have been if a certain plan had unfolded will haunt you forever if you do not come to peace with the reality of the situation. I hope you come to terms with reality.” I am not at peace with my current reality. But is anyone?

It’s a bit surreal for my peers to have suddenly started caring about international relations theory. It’s transported me back to my 2012 IR lecture at Northeastern: are you a constructivist or a feminist? Realist or liberalist? Neo? Marxist? The one no one wants you to talk about. Absent upward mobility, this is class warfare. But I cannot be “a singular expression of myself . . . there are too many parts, too many spaces, too many manifestations, too many lines, too many curves, too many troubles, too many journeys, too many mountains, too many rivers” . . . It feels like America’s wake-up call. But I know people will retreat into the comforts of capitalism if Biden wins and, well, we all enter uncharted waters together if the Electoral College re-elects #45. For those who weren’t paying attention: the world is multipolar and we are not the hegemon. Norms matter. People tend to be self-interested and shortsighted. Look to the past in order to understand the future. History, as the old adage goes, repeats itself. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Taxation without representation. Indoctrination. Welcome to the language of political discourse. Students of IR and polisci have long awaited your participation. Too little too late? Plot twist: it’s a lifelong commitment. You must continue to engage irrespective of the election outcome or else we will regress just as quickly as we progress. Now dive into international human rights treaties (International Covenant on Civil & Political Rights; International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights), political refugees, FGM. No one said it wasn’t dismal. But it’s important. We need buy-in.  

While I am grateful for the continuation of my education, for this extended time with family, for this opportunity to be a campaign manager for two local progressive candidates (driving to Boston to pick up revised yard signs as proof that the work never stops), it would be remiss of me, however, not to admit that I am lonely: I am buried in my books, in the depressing news both nationally and globally, and in precedent-setting Supreme Court cases (sometimes for the worst, e.g. against the preservation of our environment). In my nonexistent free time I work on political asylum cases, essentially creating an enforceability framework of international law, for people fleeing country conditions so unthinkable (the irony of that work when my country falls greater into authoritarianism and oligarchy is not lost on me). I am fulfilling my dream of becoming a human rights lawyer which stems back to middle school. I saw Things I Imagined (thank you Solange). I have held an original copy of the Declaration of Independence that we sent to the House of Lords in 1778 and the Human Rights Act of 1998 while visiting the U.K. Parliamentary Archives as an intern for a Member of Parliament. This success terrifies and exhausts me; it also oxygenizes and saves me. Every decision, every sacrifice, has led me to this point. 

“It’s the choosing that’s important, isn’t it?,” Lois Lowry of The Giver rhetorically asks. This post is not intended to be woe is me! I am fortunate to be in this position, to have this vantage point at such an early age, and I understand the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. My life has purpose. I am committed to the work that transcends boundaries; it is larger than life itself. It provides a unique perspective. But it makes it difficult to coexist with people so preoccupied in the drama they create in their lives and the general shallowness of the world we live. It feels like there is no option to pump the brakes on any of this work, especially in light of our current climate, and that pressure oftentimes feels insurmountable. Time is of the essence. It feels, whether true or not, that hardly anyone relates to my experience, so if I don’t carve out this time to write about it, then I am neither recording nor processing it. 

Tonight, in between preparing tomorrow’s coursework, I realize that I have an unprecedented number of questions about life, which startles me because typically I have the answers or at least have a goal in mind that launches me into the next phase of life or contextualizes the current one. These goals, often rooted in this capitalistic framework, in this falsity of “needing” to advance my career as a means of helping people, distract me from asking myself the existential questions, the reasons for why we live and what we fundamentally want our systems to look like; they have distracted me from real grassroots community organizing until now. They distract me from the fact that, like John Mayer, I don’t know which walls to smash; similarly, I don’t know which train to board. Right now feels like we are living through impossible and hopeless times and I don’t want to placate myself into thinking otherwise despite my relatively optimistic outlook on life. As we face catastrophic circumstances – the consequences of this election and climate change (famine, refugees, lack of resources) – I do not want to live in perpetual sadness. I am searching for clarity and direction so I can step into a better, fuller version of myself. 

It’s now 3:33 a.m. Here is the list of questions that I have often asked myself in different stages of life, but recently, until now, I have not been willing to confront for fear that I might not be able to answers them. But I owe it to myself to pose them here so I can have the overdue conversation, the one I know leads me to better understanding myself:

Are you happy? Why or why not?

What do you want the future to hold? What groundwork are you going to do to ensure it happens?

What does your ideal day/week/month/year/decade look like? Why?

With whom do you want to spend your days? Why?

Who do you love and care about? Have you told people you care about that you love them? Does love and vulnerability scare you?

What do you expect of people – of yourself, of your partner, of your family, and of your friends? Should you have those expectations? Why or why not?

What do you feel and why?

What relaxes you? What scares you? What brings you joy?

What do you want to improve? Why?

What do you want to forgive yourself for and why?

Does the desire to reinvent yourself diminish your ability to be present?

Do you have a greater fear of failure or success? Why?

How do you escape the confines of this broken system? How do you break from the guilt of participation in it and having benefited from it?

How do we reconcile our daily lives with the fact that we’re living through an extinction event? This one comes from my friend (hi Jeanne) and a podcast she listened to recently.

How do you help people? How do you help yourself? Are you pouring from an empty cup?

How will you find joy in your everyday responsibilities, in the mission you have chosen for yourself? What, if any, will be the warning signs to walk away from this work, in part or in its entirety? Without being a martyr, do you believe in dying for the cause?

So here are some of the lessons I have learned during this quarantine/past year:

“I’ve Got Dreams to Remember,” so do not take your eyes off them. Chasing paper does not bring you happiness.

Be autonomous, particularly in your professional life.

Focus on values instead of accolades.

Do everything with intention and honest energy.

Listen to Tracy Chapman’s “Crossroads” & Talkin’ Bout a Revolution for an energy boost and reminder that other revolutionaries have shared and continue to share your fervent passion . . . “I’m trying to protect what I keep inside, all the reasons why I live my life” . . . When self-doubt nearly cripples you and you yearn a few minutes to run away when in reality you can’t escape your responsibilities, go for a drive and queue up “Fast Car” . . . “I got no plans, I ain’t going nowhere, so take your fast car and keep on driving.”

With that said, take every opportunity to travel (you can take the work with you if absolutely necessary). Go to Italy. Buy the concert ticket and lose yourself in the moment. Remember that solo excursions are equally as important as collective ones. But, from personal experience, you prefer the company. Find the balance.

Detach from the numbers people keep trying to assign to measure your personhood.

Closely examine the people in your inner circle and ask them for help when you need it.

“And life is just too short to keep playing the game . . . because if you really want somebody [or something], you’ll figure it out later, or else you will just spend the rest of the night with a BlackBerry on your chest hoping it goes *vibration, vibration*” (John Mayer’s Edge of Desire) . . . so love fiercely and unapologetically.

Be specific.

Go to therapy even when life is good.

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

The Murderess of the Grunewald (19): Secret Whitsun Holidays on Rügen (8): Sharing Joy and Sorrow (6a)

“Island of Rügen / Germany / Baltic Sea / View to the Cliff ‘Königsstuhl’ (King’s Seat) by itsme

Chapter 18

Sunday, Pentecost, 2020, two days after Claire's release from prison

         The day could not have started any better. After Claire drove him and Bismarck out of the bedroom, Jamie showered extensively and got dressed. On the way to the kitchen, he quietly crept back into the bedroom and then, with a quick jerk, pulled the bedcover off Claire's body. Adso, who slept at Claire's feet, leaped off the bed with a loud hiss and crept under it.          "Get up, Sassenach!" Jamie said loudly but friendly.          Claire answered with  a loud "Ah!" Followed by a series of indistinct curses that ended with a loud "Bloody Scot!".

         "Do not pretend to be tired! We do not want to waste this beautiful sunny day. Take a shower! I promise: You get a strong coffee as a reward."          As he spoke, Jamie had opened both windows and hung Claire's bedcover over the windowsill of one. Before she had a chance to grab his bedcover and disappear under it, he grabbed it and hung it out of the other window.          "Get out of bed, my lazy one. The island is waiting for us to conquer it."               Claire made an unverifiable sound, then she stretched and said:

         "Dr. Fraser! Did not you explain to me that any kind of torture is prohibited by the constitution of this country?"          Jamie sighed. No, he would not get involved in a legal discussion right now. He would not even look at her. For in a way, Claire was the human version of Bismarck. Her eyes were not deep black as those of the dog but reflected the many facets of amber.  Yet, when she looked at him in this incomparable way of hers, he became just as weak, if not even weaker ...          These two! They knew exactly how to sneak into his heart! And since they had settled there, nothing, absolutely nothing in his life, was safe from them. If you gave them a little finger, he thought, they took your whole hand - or bit into it. It was useless to fight with them. He just couldn't win. Inwardly he had to smile because he knew only too well that he didn't want to win. He was too happy to surrender to these looks. But now he reminded himself inwardly:          "Not now!"          If he would look at her for a moment longer, he would take the covers out of the windows and spend the rest of the day with her in that room. He turned around, shouting                  "Bismarck!"          and ran down the stairs to the kitchen. 

“Katzenpfote” by Lemonsandtea

         Claire stretched again. Then she noticed Adso jumping back onto the bed. Running over Jamie's side, he sat down beside her and made himself comfortable. She sat up and took the cat on her lap.          "Come, sweetheart. We have to get up. The master of the house decided that we slept enough. But if I understand him correctly, you'll have the rest of the day free of us and the dog."          She gave the cat some more pats, then she set him on the ground and stood up. From her room, she got the clothes she wanted to wear that day and went to the bathroom.          On her way, she heard Jamie talking to Bismarck. For a moment she was tempted to open the door of the kitchen. But she decided against it. She just smiled and shook her head slightly. This man could be so funny. Frank, on the other hand ... had never behaved like that. Apart from the fact that he considered a pet completely superfluous, he would have dismissed such behavior as childish. Everything had always to be serious and appropriate to his position as a professor. Once again she realized how poor her life had been at his side. How fitting this expression was: by his side! Not for a one day had she been the center of his life, not for a single moment. She had already realized this a few months after the wedding. She didn’t know how many years she wavered between a resigned "It's all too late anyway!" and the silent hope for change. But in Frank Wolverton Randall's life, there was only room for one center: Frank Wolverton Randall. And yes, it was a poor life. Not only because Frank never gave her the place in his life that she should have had naturally as a wife, lover, confidante. No, her life at Frank's side was a poor life because it was a life without real joy. All those years of hope had proven nothing but an illusion. This illusion had ended only when Frank Randall was lying at the bottom of the stairs at his villa - in a pool of blood, struggling for his life. It was that moment the burden left her.          James Fraser, on the other hand, knew how to combine professionalism with humor. His title and his specialist knowledge were nothing that he carried before him like a trophy. They were natural parts of his life. They were neither less important nor more important than others. They were simply parts of it - like his love of good food. Like his great passion for all kinds of books, science, and knowledge. Like the joy with which he explored all things nature. And like the humorous handling of pets.          The lawyer who had become her lover, too, was able to dedicate himself to his work with determination and even doggedness. If needed for hours, days, weeks and months. She had observed while he prepared her for the trial. He pursued his goals with perseverance and was prepared to even accept a personal loss to achieve them. He was disciplined and he could be incredibly stubborn, always with his goal in mind. And yet: When a goal was reached, he was able to switch off. He did not keep his mind on the job all the time, neither in what he did nor in what he had to do in the future.          Jamie was able to refrain from his work and turn to other things. He used his spare time to enjoy the beautiful things of life. His life was marked by vitality and diversity. And yet it was a "unity", as Claire had rarely observed in the life of other people.          As she stood in the shower, letting the warm water flow over her body, she thought of Frank again. His life had been very one-sided. She didn’t doubt that Frank really enjoyed his research and work. But it was - besides everything else - also this one-sidedness, which developed into monotony and which had sucked the joy out of their life. Unlike Frank, Jamie seemed to live a life full of vitality. But maybe .... maybe she was wrong? He was at least fifteen years older than her. Maybe people just got calmer over the years? Jamie was older than her, only a few years. Did she have to expect that his life took a similar turn like that of Frank? She didn't want to believe it. But what did she know? What could she say with certainty? It was Jamie's voice that interrupted her circling thoughts:          "Claire? Are you still alive? Or did that mass of water flush you through the drain? Do I have to call the plumber to free you? Claire! Darling! Please! Say something!"          His voice sounded playfully worried and she could not resist a big grin.          "Do not worry, sweetheart! I'm still here. I will not let you go that fast! "                "Ah! What a relief to hear your voice!" came his answer through the door.                Ten minutes later, Claire stepped out of the bathroom and saw Jamie standing at the open front door. He watched Bismarck playing in front of the house. She looked around and saw that Adso had made himself comfortable in one of the two armchairs that stood in front of the fireplace. He lay curled up next to a pillow with closed eyes. Jamie whistled, then turned to face Claire and smiled at her.                  "You look so beautiful, Sassenach."          She looked down at herself.          "Dark jeans, light shirt, and hiking boots? You find that 'beautiful'?" she asked with a mischievous smile.          Jamie did not answer but spread his arms and she slid against his chest. As she looked at him, he kissed her gently. Then he sniffed her neck.          "You smell good, Sassenach," he said with a big smile on his face.                    "My lawyer was so kind as to surprise me with a new perfume. When I got home, I found a small bottle in my bathroom. 'J'adore - Extrait de Parfum' was written on the little box and if I remember correctly, it came from Dior ... "          "It seems your lawyer ..."          "Is a very attentive man?"          "He certainly is ... too."          "But?"          "No 'but'. It seems, he not only left a bottle of perfume."          "What else?"          "Maybe ... also ... a ... little ... message?"          She looked at him and tenderly brought her hands up to the sides of his face. Her eyes searched his face as if she wanted to take in every little detail. Then he leaned over to kiss her. Claire closed her eyes and opened her lips. She felt his tongue carefully explore her mouth.          "You taste like coffee with milk," she said softly as they parted.          "You wanted coffee, right?"          "I did not complain, Dr. Fraser!" she answered with a smile.          He pulled her close and rested her head on his chest.          "I'm so glad and so grateful that you're here, here with me, Claire," he said hoarsely.

“Frühstückstisch” by congerdesign

         At that moment, Bismarck, who had walked around in front of the house, began to jump up and down Jamie's legs.          "Didn't you feed our little fur monsters?" Claire asked with an emphatically reproachful look.          "Of course! Both got a whole can! You know, their greed knows no bounds. But I think Bismarck is simply driven to get out. I probably shouldn't have told him 'we're going out'. He knows exactly what that means. Come, let's have breakfast!"          Forty minutes later, the breakfast table was cleared. Adso had been provided with food and fresh water for the day. Exactly at the moment when the cat sat down at his bowl, Jamie sneaked out of the front door and closed it behind him. Then he entered the car, where Claire and Bismarck were waiting. First, they drove towards Lohme. Ten minutes later, they arrived at the harbor of the small former fishing village. At one of the local stands that sold snacks, Jamie bought fresh rolls with egg and different kinds of fish. Then they drove on until Jamie parked the car again.          "What's to see here?" Claire asked.          "When you get out, I'll show it to you," Jamie said, already a few steps away.          "Will Bismarck not come with us?"          "No, we will not stay that long."          Claire followed Jamie and when she reached him, he put his left arm around and her and pointed with his right arm to a cliff, which faced the one on which they stood.          "That’s Cape Arkona," he said, "it's a 43-meter high cliff on the Wittow peninsula, a so-called 'land monument'. At the Cape, there are two lighthouses from the 19th and 20th centuries, a tracking tower from 1927, two military bunkers from GDR times, as well as the Slavic 'Jaromarsburg'. The castle was built in the 9th century and until the 12th century, it was not only used to defend the settlement but also as a central place of worship for the West Slavic tribe of the Rani. It seemed that hey arrived at this place in the course of the great migration of the 7th century. The Rani built their castle at the very tip of the cliff. That way, it was protected on three sides by the cliffs. On the side open to the country, they built a wall which was 25 meters high. Do you see the green hills in front of the gray-brown tower?"          Claire nodded.          "When the Danish King Waldemar I conquered the castle in 1168, parts of it were destroyed. Today, almost only this grassy wall exists. For in the past centuries, parts of the cliff broke off again and again and plunged into the sea.  Remains of the castle were destroyed and crashed into the depths. Even so, Cape Arkona is still popular and a place worth visiting.”          Claire looked at him.          "Is the village we were as old as the settlement over there?"          "Lohme?"          "Yes."          "It is believed that the entire area was first populated around 5.500 years ago. The large stone tombs found near Nipmerow near the mountains of Magelow are from that time. Around Lohme there is also a group of seven megalith tombs, which could be even older. Since 1168, the island was under the rule of the Danes. Later, the area became part of the Duchy of Pomerania. In 1648, after the Thirty Years' War and the Peace of Westphalia, the place belonged to Swedish Pomerania. It remained that way until the German Wars of Liberation. In 1815 Lohme became Prussian and henceforth belonged as part of New-Western Pomerania to the Prussian province of Pomerania. I don't know if it is documented when the first humans settled in Lohme. But I remember reading that the Estate of Ranzow, where there is a small castle until today, is mentioned in documents as early as 1314. The estate was owned by some noble families. The family von Jasmund, after whom this part of the island and the national park are named. They were the first owners. This noble family originally came from Rügen. They then spread to Pomerania, Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Brandenburg-Prussia, and Denmark. In the late 16th century, the families von der Osten and von der Lancken became owners of the estate. The von der Osten’s were descendants of an aristocratic family from today's Lower Saxony. The family von der Lancken was from the island of Rügen, but they originally lived between the towns of Granitz and Mönchsgut. A descendant of this family, Fritz von Lancken, was one of 'the men of the 20th July'."          "A resistance fighter who was involved in the assassination attempt against Hitler in 1944?"          "Yes. In a house that belonged to him, the explosives used by Count von Stauffenberg were temporarily stored. He was a staff member of von Stauffenberg’s department. When the assassination failed and the resistance in Berlin was crushed, he was incarcerated and later given the death penalty by the so-called People's Court. Fritz von Lancken was hanged the same day, 29th September 1944, at the prison in Plötzensee near Berlin."          They were silent for a moment. Then Jamie went on:          "In the 19th century, the estate belonged to the von Bötticher family. This noble family originally came from Holstein and Thuringia. They have spread even more than the family von Jasmund. Descendants of them still live in the USA today. In the 20th century, the estate came into the possession of the well-known Prussian family von Seydlitz. They belonged to the Silesian ancient nobility and produced no less than six generals."          "Six Generals. Is there a reason why you emphasize that?"          Jamie grinned. Then he whispered conspiratorially:          "One of my ancestors, Simon Fraser, served under Anton Friedrich Florian von Seydlitz. That was during the Wars of Liberation. At that time von Seydlitz was the commander of the 2nd West Prussian Infantry Regiment No. 7. Together they fought, among other places, in the battles at Ligny and Belle Alliance. Against that short man from ... another island ... what was it called? Oh yes, Corsica."          Claire let out a soft whistle.          "I'm impressed, Dr. Fraser. But seriously: My uncle Lambert would be excited to hear all this."          "And you? Are not you excited about me?" he asked, looking at her with a curious look while pulling her close.          "Surely!" Claire replied and before he could say anything, she pulled his face down to him and kissed him.

“Kap Arkona” by Klugschnacker via Wikimedia Commons [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)]

         Silently they went back to the car, where Bismarck greeted their return with loud barking. Then they drove towards the National Park Jasmund. The ride didn't take more than twenty minutes.          Three kilometers from the visitor center 'Königsstuhl' they parked the car in a large parking lot. Jamie pulled a day ticket and freed Bismarck from his travel box. He handed Claire the leash to Claire, got his backpack out of the trunk and they set off.          After almost an hour's walk through a beautiful beech forest and along some small lakes, they reached the visitor center. Jamie got the tickets, then they took a short break. Because the weather was extremely good, they decided against visiting the exhibition, which was offered by the visitor center. They first hiked to the Victoria View from where they enjoyed the breathtaking view into the depths of the sea and to the 'king's seat', the highest point on the rocky coast. Then they followed the signposts showing the path to the way down to the beach near the 'Kieler Bach'. It took them a little more than an hour to complete the three-kilometer route. There they found the small brook, which fell down the steep coast as a small waterfall. Next to it was a stable staircase made of oak and steel. When they arrived there, they already saw a large part of the white chalk rocks. The approximately 120-meter long way down on the secured path was more difficult than they had expected. Jamie took Bismarck on his left arm and held or supported Claire with his right one. But when they finally arrived at the beach, they were completely compensated by the sight of the monumental white rocks. Exhausted, they paused at the foot of the stairway before heading off for a walk along the beach.         Of course, they could have made a trip by boat. From the sea one could see the entire panorama of the chalk cliffs at once. Jamie had thought of booking such a trip but decided against it. He was not sure if Claire was willing to spend a few hours with a lot of other people on a narrow ship. On the other hand, Jamie knew very well that he preferred to spend time with her alone on a hike.

“Rügen - Kreidefelsen” by denfran

         They walked along the beach for about forty-five minutes, fascinatedly gazing at the cliff of the Königstuhl. From time to time one or the other collected colored stones or shells. On their way, they only met three or four other people.  As Jamie and Claire walked behind Bismarck, who constantly sniffed at new "finds", they discussed the differences between the White Cliffs of Dover and the Chalk Cliffs of Rügen. When they found an old tree trunk, which had tilted between two large boulders, they decided to take their lunch break.

Thank you for reading. Next time, read “The Murderess from the Grunewald (20): Secret Whitsun Holidays on Rügen (9): Sharing Joy and Sorrow (6b)”

[thegeekerynj]

An Occasional Attempt to Read, Discuss and Review the Wonders of Comics

By: John Rafferty, cranky old man, and Fan of All Things Comics

Riding the IND

Designed with the intent to acknowledge the Immense Contribution of the Independent Comic Press, and  highlight a more unique stable of products

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Short Hops on the IND

Quick looks at books from the Independent Press, when the reviewer has too much on his plate

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Seven Secrets #2 (Boom! Studios)

Writer: Tom Taylor   Artist: Danielle DiNicuolo

‘You know, being a Leader, I really expected my decisions to be undermined less.

Really? That’s cute.

Why do I keep you around?

Mainly to hold this. I suspect you have unusually weak arms.’

——————————————————————————————————————————

So, Caspar has been born, and shipped off to be trained, becoming another Secret in the Order of Secrets…

And he comes back. At 9 years old, trained in the martial arts, Smarter, more inquisitive and much more driven than any Initiate before. Training with Keepers and Holders, to become one of them.

And more importantly, to discover his roots.

Taylor’s scripting is tight and fast. He packs a great deal of story into 24 pages. More importantly, he brings Caspar’s story fully around, to the point of Sigurd’s departure. 

The artwork from Danielle DeNicuolo is simply beautiful. I know… I waffled on about how pretty her pencils were last time, but Jeebus, this issue is prettier. It’s almost as if last issue was a test balloon, to see if she had the hook she wanted, and now… well, she’s fishing the pond dry!

This issue ends on a terrific cliffhanger line, one I will not repeat. 

More importantly, one which can mean many things, depending where the story goes.

Suffice to say, I am determined to follow this book. I would suggest you do so also.

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

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Locke & Key ‘…In Pale Battalions Go…’ #1 (IDW)

Writer: Joe Hill   Artist: Gabriel Rodriguez

‘Where did Father find you? Be honest, I shall have the truth soon enough. I best not learn he hauled you out of some sordid immoral hole.

No. Worse. Canada.

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Locke & Key.

The story of Key House, on Lovecraft Island, has spanned years, for Key House, itself is older than the Americas. 

The Lockes have forever been the guardians of the Keys to Key House, guarding them against the Evilthat wants to use them… for the Keys are Weapons. Not weapons like guns, and rifles and knives or spears. But Weapons.

Those which have the Power to Destroy. And the Keys DO want to be used.

Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez have taken it upon themselves to bring us another tale in the History of Key House. Thank Gods!

The year is 1918, and the Great War is raging in Europe. Jonathan Locke is 14 years old, and wants to fulfill his destiny, for the Lockes have been represented in every war. As the only son, this is his right, and with the Keys of Key House, there’s no telling what he can do…

Gabriel Rodriguez seems to have decided to leave everything on the battlefield with his artwork. His pages are so expressive, and capture the feel of the World War One era. If the closing splash is any indication, the actual war pieces will be fantastic.

As far as Mr. Hill, what can I say? There has not been a miss, even remotely, in his portfolio… and this latest edition of the Locke Family chronicle is no exception.

My only complaint, it relies on a conceit that the Reader knows the story already, and gives little information about the Keys in play… Now, this is a minor dig, for if the Gentle Reader perusing this truly wants to find the history of Key House, and its family of Guardians, they would merely have to purchase the prior volumes of Locke and Key, and read to their heart’s content.

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶

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A Man Among Ye #1 & 2 (Image / Top Cow)

Writer: Stephanie Phillips    Artist: Craig Cermak

‘You might try using the eyes that head, Jack, unless you fancy a new breathing hole. Still I do love the smell of gunpowder in the morning…

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Well, this is a pleasant surprise…

A comic about pirates. Not any pirate, not a ‘Jack Sparrow’ type of pirate.

No, this is a look at Captain John ‘Calico Jack’ Rackham, and more importantly, his first mate, Anne Bonny.

The stories of Jack Rackham, Anne Bonny and Mary Read are almost as extensive, and fantastic as those of Blackbeard, William Kidd and Bartholomew Roberts.

What makes Anne Bonny and Mary Read so special is their being successful Female Pirates in a male dominated world. Every bit as strong, independent, and batshit crazy as all the others of their time, Bonny and Read ran the British Navy ragged throughout the Caribbean, while doing so an all-male crew, an amazing feat for the 18th Century.

Stephanie Phillips has certainly done her research, taking this story from the sinking of a British frigate by Rackham and his crew, to the British Governor of the Bahamas, and his plan to capture all the pirates, and execute them. 

Cermak’s art is nicely complementary to the story, however I find it a little trope-y… The Heroes / anti-heroes are pretty, the ‘Villain’ is an ugly brute, and things are a little to clean… This is a pirate story, on the High Seas, there is nothing clean and pretty about this…

But, I digress.

With two issues in, and the British on their tail, Rackham, Bonny and Read have their hands full. Knowing a little of the history here, I am looking forward to seeing how much legend Phillips mixes in with the facts of the raids on the Barbary Coast, the Tortugas, and the shipping lanes.

It’s really nice to see a non-Super, strong Female Led Book. Here’s hoping it gets legs, and readers!

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Bomb Queen - Trump Card Part 1 (Image - Shadowline)

Creator - Jimmie Robinson

‘Why the FU*%ing rush? *cough - cough* He’ll be gone like every asshole politician. They’re all the same.

Not this time. Trump changed the Constitution by repealing the 22nd Amendment. He’ll make himself President for Life if he wins this election.

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Sweet Jeebus. As if Jimmie Robinson hasn’t fed the zeitgeist enough with cut-off shirts and tiny, tight skirts, now he feeds the fears of America, outlining an America with a lunatic trying to rewrite Democracy… And the need for Bomb Queen to run against him!

This is my introduction to Bomb Queen, the ninth mini-series, each of the earlier ones a titillating wonder of humor and over-sexed action. At this point in her world, the anti-hero has had her own country for Super-Villains, and is now on the run, having beset upon by the World’s Heroes.

Captured by her Clone / Sire (these things are never clear), Bomb Queen is offered a choice, as it were. Run for office against the Orange Horror, or well, you know, because heroes aren’t really heroes…

His artwork is pretty, simple, and clean. There’s a certain elegance about the characters he draws. They’re not overmuscled, although the ladies do have exceptionally large ‘lungs’, which are emphasized by uniform cutouts (a’la Power Girl)…

This book is full of hoots, giggles, belly laughs, and unfortunately, the harsh reality of the 2016 Election. There’s a two page spread which harkens back to the CNN / MSNBC / National Television Network ‘Man on the Street’ interviews, with paraphrased quotes I heard about Trump over his opponents, and over Clinton. The idea that Robinson could make it fit so easily, and fluidly… well it both makes me ill, and gives me pause to want to read much more.

As I said, Jimmie Robinson has grabbed the National Zeitgeist by the shorthairs with this storyline, not because he’s rich, and just can, but because it’s just too soon, and no one will be able to deny the ugly nature of what they are reading.

This is worth a read to see where he takes it, to see if he has the stones to finish what he started, and to see HOW THE HELL Bomb Queen WALKS IN THOSE FRICKIN BOOTS!!!

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Cyberpunk 2077  Trauma Team #1 (Dark Horse Comics)

Writer: Cullen Bunn  Artist: Miguel Valderrama

‘Everyone’s resentful of how little money they make. Doesn’t change anything.

We get the call.

We do the job.

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As I read this book, and watched the flashes of color race across my eyes, my first thoughts were ‘godsdamn, this guy makes Frank Miller look good!’

Gentle Readers, in my introduction to this book, inside the first 5 or six pages, I was making comparisons between the artist of this book, and the master of dark, splatter mayhem.

Miguel Valderrama has a very special touch to his pencils and inks, maybe he buys them from the same place, perhaps they are fashioned from the same tree and graphite quarry… whatever the reason, the cause, I want MORE!

The biggest difference is the lightness of touch, the fine lines, there are many more, much more elaborate detail than the broad strokes Master Miller uses, however, this is not a complaint. Rather , the observation is more of a wistful longing for a, well, a ‘What if Frank Miller Drew Everything The Way He Drew His Crowd Scenes?

The answer might be found in this book

Cullen Bunn’s story reads like a reality television story. This is a look into the psych eval of the lone surviving member from a Medical Evac Team. This Trauma Team has medics, and soldiers to act as guards, as the areas they are sent into aren’t exactly Beverly Hills, unless the 90210 has been overrun by the Crips and Bloods, and they are eating the shop owners.

As Nadia is running through her memories of the events, we are seeing it in real time, along with the interviewer’s requests for clarification. She appears to be a solid medic, her only concern being getting back in the field. She has a job to do…

Now, at first glance, this could be seen as pretty derivative… like Judge Dredd / Anderson as a Guard / Medic team… BUT… and this is a Big One, the comparison ends with the big helmets and firefights. 

There’s none of the cynicism, or the poking fun at the Government / Branches / Cabinet Offices. Rather, there’s what feels like a genuine look at how being a survivor has effected this character, and how she is going to handle getting back out into the field.

I liked this. I have to say, I went in to this book with some preconceptions, and was happy to see them dashed.  The interactions between the Team characters come across as real, there’s little stilted, unnatural dialogue… and that was a great thing to see.

The twist Bunn slams at the reader on the last page of the book, well, I want to see Issue 2, just to see how this plays out.

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶.5

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HEAVY #1 (VAULT Comics)

Writer:  Max Bemis    Artist: Eryk Donovan

‘I’ve got fifteen Hitlers to do away with before the end of the night!

They’re throats aren’t gonna slit themselves!

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Have you ever read ‘The Punisher’?

Seen R.I.P.D.?

Put the two together, you’ve pretty much read this book. 

Hyperviolence, set to a redemption arc, while saving the Multiverse from the worst iterations of the Famous (both good and bad… Leonardo DaVinci as a bisexual foot fetishist who uses his genius to become Dictator of the World, and build weapons that are sexual torture devices???!!!???)

The redemption part?? To get to the Other Side, and redeem yourself, you have to partner with, and train the jerk who killed you and your girl, and make sure he doesn’t get killed when you are on the job!

Unless this is what you are into… HARD PASS!

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶

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We Only Find Them When They’re Dead #1  (Boom! Studios)

Writer: Al Ewing    Artist: Simone De Meo

Boss, tell me if I’m out of line here, I don’t mind not knowi—

— But what IS this between you and Richter? What happened?

Oh, it’s quite simple, Jason.

She killed my PARENTS.

—————————————————————————————————————————

I was hooked on this book before I got to these lines of dialogue.

I don’t know if it was the absolutely wonderful artwork, the beauty of the layouts, the detail, the ——Oh Hell, Simone De Meo’s artwork grabbed me and held me for the three readings I gave this book. I couldn’t get over the visuals, her place ts of panels, the character sketches… Hell, some of this was downright cinematic.

There are panels, and pages, that made me think of James Gunn’s vision of Knowhere… and that is high praise from me.

Al Ewing, what is there to say. After reading his work on Judge Dredd, i sought out his work wherever I could find it.. This is tough for me, not being a big Marvel Fan, since almost everything he has written has been for the House of the Iron Mouse…

The story, is simplicity. Explorers in Space find the corpses of the Gods. Well, that is as close as they can come to what they are. 

There is a market for their meat, the materials which clothe them, certain parts of their organs, both a legal and a Black Market.

Once a Godcorpse has been identified, the Sutopsy Ships descend upon it, to stake claims. these are monitored by Escort Ships, in place to enforce Government Regulations concerning what can and cannot be stripped from the Godcorpse.

Violate protocols and die.

This is the story of the Vikaam Two, her captain, Georges Malik, his crew, and his plan to find a Living God.

I can’t wait!

Eight Bells… All is well…

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Grendel, Kentucky  #1  (AWA /Upshot)

Writer: Jeff McComsey  Artist: Tommy Lee Edwards

‘You believe what Pap said about Clyde?

How he died?

Do I believe a bear killed my Daddy?

No Fuckin’ Way.

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1976. Junior Year of High School, my AP English class was assigned ‘Beowulf’ as an Advanced Placement Test read. In the Olde English translation. 

It was an attempt by my teacher, a wonderful elf of a nun, to get her literary stunted students to stretch, comprehend, and recognize themes once they see them, in preparation for the exam and the expectations of college.

2020. As is my wont, I picked up all the First Issues of the Indy Comics at my local purveyor of Four Color Sequential Art, The Geekery.

While running up my near National Deficit weekly Comics tab, my eyes slid across the title, and the gritty cover… Hmmmmm, too much of a draw not to at least give a look, add it to the pile.

In the opening pages of this book, Clyde Wallace has dressed himself in catcher’s mask, chest protector and knee / shin guards (poor man’s body armor), and strapped on enough real and makeshift weaponry (baseball bat with spikes driven through the business end to an M-60 grenade launcher) to make Rambo, Negan and Max Rockatansky run screaming into the night.

Clyde marches into the mouth of a mine…

WHOA! By Hrothgar, King of the Danes… This is Beowulf… In Kentucky!!??!!

Set in 1971, the Beowulf character, Denny, is a veteran of the Viet Nam Police Action, his warriors, well they are an all female biker gang, led by Marnie, a woman his father raised from childhood. The King, Pap, is the Town Elder, and he knows something he isn’t talking about.

Yeah, this is already good, one issue in.

Jeff McComsey has written an offbeat take on the Beowulf epic, taking some very severe literary license with the story lines. The epic heroes and warriors, well, not so much. Relatively amoral, criminal for support, ahhhh lets face it, these guys are all anti-heroes, at best. 

If this were today’s America, I’m not sure I wouldn’t be rooting for the monster.

But I digress.

The artwork by Tommy Lee Edwards is gritty, hard on the eyes, and, well appropriate to the story. His artwork HURTS at times, you can feel the violence, the intent, through the eyes. America in 1971, it was not a pretty place.

As a miniseries (1 of 4, so far), this is worth the read. Too much more, and it would feel like I was prepping for a test again… but I digress.

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Inkblot #1 (Image Comics)

Creators: Emma Kubert and Rusty Gladd

‘Sweet Suckleberries!

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Her Name is KUBERT. As in Joe, and Adam and Andy and Katie.

That alone earns her the right to a viewing.

The fact that this is a fun little book she co-created with Rusty Gladd, well, that’s a gallon of whipped Italian Sweet Cream on top of the cake!

Give this a shot! Buy it for your little ones, if you have any!  Lie about having little ones, and buy it for yourself! You won’t be disappointed!

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

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Spy Island #1   (Dark Horse Comics)

Writer: Chelsea Cain   Cover / Designer / Supplemental Art: Lia Miternique    Artist: Elise McCall

‘Some people are afraid of the ocean. There’s a word for it: ‘Thalassophobia’. A fear of the open ocean and what lies beneath its surface.

Not me.

I think the ocean’s great*.

*except for the Kraken.

——————————————————————————————————————————

SO. That happened.

There is an area of the Atlantic Ocean, delineated by vertices at Miami, Florida, San Juan Puerto Rico, and Bermuda, which has been the source of many stories concerning the disappearance of airplanes, ships, crews of ship, and unusual activities. This area, lovingly referred to as the Devil’s Triangle, or the Bermuda Triangle, is the source of this tale.

Spy Island is located somewhere inside the Triangle, and it plays host to spies, bad actors, scientists, etc from all nations, some other worlds, and all times.

It’s the story of Nora Freud, Agent for an unnamed country, possibly the USA, possibly not. She is a spy, and so much more. She is also a woman of action, who can perform any assignment given to her.

Including assassination.

Lia Miternique and Elise McCall have put together an artistically gorgeous offering in this book. Between the inserts for the fish, maps, the advertisements and covers, this a visually wondrous.The underwater scenes in and of themselves are masterful, offering a view of the ocean one might actually see off t a Caribbean island.

The story, well it is OK. Lots of self exposition, not much action (the best stuff is in the first 4 pages), this is setting up like a spy thriller, of sorts. DUH, bimbo!!! Look at the title!

It is a first issue, and seems to be tagged for a longer run, so, I’m willing to give Ms. Cain the benefit of the doubt here. She had to have given the artists the perspective to draw from, and I am cautiously optimistic, based on Mockingbird, and her NYT Best Seller Status…

It’s worth a shot, just for the eye candy…

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶.5

[kamerionbeaudry91]

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