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kaigouI've been contemplating this most recent meltdown in the vampire corner of the fantasy-horror genre. (While, I admit, also asking what the hell is up with the sub-genre that it seems to have the largest, most public, authorial meltdowns: are the authors most likely to melt more attracted to that genre for some reason? or does the genre induce the melting? chicken, egg, someone?).
Anyway!![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anghara explained that authors -- who can't control cover, back copy, inner flap, etc -- really only owe readers The Story. (And this does not, therefore, mean authors then owe The Sequel, nor can readers sue for it. Ahem.) All true. But I think this is oversimplication. The author owes us the story promised, and by that I mean: the author owes us a certain loyalty to, and recognition of, the story's beginning, and the characters' beginnings. Ignoring any information gleaned elsewhere (from reader reviews to back copy), in the first opening paragraphs, it's now down to me, and the author. Show your stuff, author. Tell me what I'm gonna get.
The answers, I've found, that must get answered somewhere in the first chapter are really very simple. I look over the list of the books I read past the first chapter, in 2006, and I can see their first chapters all have two things in common. They contain information on:
what the protag wants
what's in the protag's way.
And that's pretty much all that's mandatory. Some stories only gave the barest information about where and when; fewer gave me how and who; fewer still mentioned any of why. When I deconstructed the successful stories in my pile, I realized that the non-whats (who, where, why, how, when) are the icing: the barest amount is just enough for the first taste. Too much expositional icing and the chapter-cake collapses under its weight. Mmm.. cake.
In that opening chapter, then, we learn the story's conflict-premise, and with that, the promise is made. From there, the author owes it to me to live up to the implications, to the backdrop, to the obstacles, to the expectations, created by that first introduction, inherent in that promise.
It shouldn't be rocket science! Do not give me a marvelous world full of fantastical things and promise, and then ignore all possibilities raised. Do not introduce me to an entire cast of lively characters and never mention them again. Do not tell me that the insurmountable obstacle is X -- and then tell me in the next chapter say Y would suffice. Do not drop me into a lengthy and detailed courtroom drama, only to up and relocate to a dude ranch for the story's remainder. In effect, do not pull a bait-and-switch, and do not show me a gun in the first act and bloody well not use it by the end.*
Yes, an author may argue, "but this is The Story, and that's all I owe you!" ...to which I say, no, what you owe me is the story you promised me. I know full well the protag's goals/obstacles change as the story progresses. I also have finally realized the one hard-and-fast rule in storytelling is that for every change, the author owes me a damn good reason. If the opening premise is not what you're writing for the bulk of the story, then ditch those opening parts and start where the story really begins. That's what I mean by owing me honesty, and IMO it's the first half of the author's promise: I won't jerk the tablecloth out from under you without some kind of warning (however subtle).
*I do not mean a twist-ending. That's different. And yes, there are examples of successful bait-and-switches. Best known is probably Thelma & Louise, but that was a seriously risky storytelling move, and it did have warning notes of impending disaster before the turning point (even if those went over the heads of unsuspecting audiences). It's certainly not a move for beginner writers, or most readers, for that matter.
The second half of the promise is continuity: these characters will remain internally consistent, beneath any developments.
Don't introduce me to a protag who refuses to get married, doesn't have a romantic bone in his/her body -- falls in love and suddenly is weeping every night because the phone hasn't rung**... you'd better believe the author owes me an explanation. Don't give me a protag raised in poverty who wants nothing more than to be out of the ghetto, then have the protag cheerfully deciding inner city slums are just the bestest evah. The author will definitely owe me an explanation.
The characters -- regardless of what some authors (or fans) protest -- are not real, and more importantly, the characters are not buying the books. I am. I do get to complain if the author breaks his/her promise: if the author introduces me to a protag, to goals, to conflicts, and then changes the game on me without warning. Even in a long arc-based series, heading into book ten, the author's promise of continuity says that we will look back on our first impression, contrast it to the character's current position, and see a logical and reasonable progression from then to now. If the author doesn't do that, the promise is broken.
**Again, yes, this can also be done: Much Ado About Nothing. It's a silly place, but a great example of moving two characters from one position to the radical opposite -- and, proving my point, Shakespeare does give us a reason.
There you go: "I owe you Teh Story in return for your hard-earned $15" also includes the sub-parts of "I'll introduce you to everyone at my party, but if I drag you out of there to go bowling with a completely different set of people, I'll give you a reason why, and if three of my friends suddenly go off their rockers and speaking in tongues, I'll explain that, too."
And now, we get to vampires, and more specifically, the most recent rant-spewing, online-connipping, logic-skewing, monkey-poking, meltdown.
difrancis mentioned on her journal of some of LKH's fans -- err, so-called fans? -- who were suggesting the fans band together to give LKH cancer, or AIDS. Ergh, that's harsh -- and these people consider themselves fans? What the hell are LKH's enemies like, then? No, don't answer that.
I've seen folks fuss about Anne Rice's writing going bland, stale, and needing an editor. But most of them just shrug that off, read the older books they like, and carry on. It's the LKH fans who describe themselves as bitterly disappointed, outright angry, and even completely betrayed. It's not just that LKH broke a promise, but that the promise she made was so big, and so phenomenal, and so promising, and in some ways so powerful -- even empowering. In realizing the author makes a promise at the onset of a story, I realized the logic had to be followed to the end: the bigger the promise you make, the farther you've got to fall if the fans think you've reneged. No safety net here, baby. They're going to hate you for it, because you didn't promise the foothills of the Appalachians, you promised Mount Frickin' Hood, and you delivered, and again -- and then you stopped.
But to really get why, in specific, LKH has been getting so much venom from her fans (as opposed to any other writer who certainly hears grumbling now and then, I'm told), you have to look at the specifics. When Joss Whedon was creating a counter-culture hero(ine) on television, LKH was busy doing the same in print. I mean, I don't read horror. I rarely read the vampire or werewolf genres; watching Buffy was, at times, a little odd, considering that. Yet even I knew about Anita; I cannot name another series' protag (other than Anne Rice's Louie, who reached the same proportions) who had recognition not only in-genre but ex-genre -- and I certainly can't name another female character in any horror series. In fact, the only long-running female-lead series I can think of is V.I. Warshowski, and she's influential for much the same reasons Anita Blake was: their original promises were to be kick-ass women.
I found the wiki entry on the Anita series, and it quotes LKH (from a very early interview) that she'd read tons of thrillers and dramas, and the men were always in teh spotlight. Women were always just on the edges of the stage. Male heroes got the chicks right there, but for female-heroes, everything happened off-page. LKH wanted a female character who could hold her own with the male protags, got the guys, got to ask the questions, got to pick the fights.
V.I. Warshowski's on her nineteeth book? Something like that. She still lives up to her promise. Somewhere along the way, Anita stopped.
If, at the end of Buffy's run, Joss had written Buffy as being a happy little wife, pregnant and barefoot, it would have gone against the grain of everything he'd shown me over seven years, and utterly betrayed the protag I had come to admire and adore, even to see as a kind of modern (and humanly falliable) role model. LKH's fans seem to say the same -- so when Anita stopped being strong-willed and conflicted, and became a mindless bedhopper with no real conflict, the fans knew the promise had been broken. That would prompt anger, yes, but there's an extra element here: I think it's far worse when you're the avant-garde, the sole example of that sort of protag.
People have told me -- and some of the less-than-stellar genre books I've read might bear this out -- that when you're the only one writing, you can get away with a great deal more slacking. I know when it comes to gay/lesbian characters, for a long time folks I knew (myself included) were willing to settle for anyone, even just a frickin' sidekick, just to see a non-het somewhere in print or on the screen. It's the same for any minority: the token black kid, the token asian, but at least it's something more than complete invisibility. That puts a lot of pressure on that token character, to live up to the expectations created by the specific audiences who've been craving this, waiting for a chance to see their kind of character as the protag, warts and all. For horror-fantasy fans, and vampire/Rice fans, Anita was that: the token female finally stepping into the protag's role.
And that means going a step further on the logic, to see why LKH is melting down now, rather than back when she'd first veered away from the original promise (apparently several books ago). I think it's because now, if I walk into a bookstore, or search on Amazon, there are at least four, five, maybe six different series with some kind of vampire-hunter female lead, or a part-demon female lead, or a female-ninja lead, or a whatever-female lead, invariably with non-human or part-human boyfriends in on-again, off-again tumultuous romances between damn good fights scenes and plenty of cussing and conflict and tight pacing. You don't even need to throw a rock in the average fantasy section these days, to hit at least three titles in which the lead protag is female, kick-ass, fights with the big boys, solves her own crimes thank you, can think on her feet, yet has a dark past or a dark future or a questionable amount of humanity.
Sorry, Anita, the field is getting rather crowded these days. As a protag, Anita may be the unspoken standard for the sub-genre, but she's no longer, apparently, the one with the real balls. All the come-latelys have come and are now passing LKH, from what it looks like, though LKH continues to reign supreme by coasting on her laurels (and her established name/reputation) as the precedent in the genre. I wonder how long that'll last, honestly.
And that, to wrap up, is where the pr0n comes in. If you can't come up with plot, if you can't tackle the conflict, if you've taken your character so far from the original promise that getting back again would require retconning five books or more, then you've got to do something else to stand out in an increasingly crowded field. So... you write pr0n. Soft-core, and not very well-done, but still, there don't seem to be as many other vampire-hunter-sub-genre authors reveling that much in the pr0n, so for those readers who want all the horror-fantasy that comes with vampires/demons, and all the softcore throbbing manhoods that come with romance, Anita can remain a superlative. The problem is that to do it, she has to continue breaking the promise that began the entire series.
So. Uhm, basically: it's a lesson to learn, I suppose. It's not just Teh Story that you owe me, but your honesty about where it'll go, and your commitment to the characters' continuity -- and integrity. And you owe it to me to remain true to both of those -- and if you break that promise a chapter in, I'll probably just toss the book on the "to be donated" pile and be done with it. Break that promise nine books into the series, after I've fallen in love and your character's moved into my heart and there's a spot by the sink in my head for his/her toothbrush and every new book is a chance to spend more time together... when you break that promise, don't be surprised if the reaction is more than a little bit passionate. Expect something more along the lines of viciously betrayed.
I wonder if LKH ever admits to herself that half her reason for melting down is because she knows the readers' anger is justified.
Anyway!
anghara explained that authors -- who can't control cover, back copy, inner flap, etc -- really only owe readers The Story. (And this does not, therefore, mean authors then owe The Sequel, nor can readers sue for it. Ahem.) All true. But I think this is oversimplication. The author owes us the story promised, and by that I mean: the author owes us a certain loyalty to, and recognition of, the story's beginning, and the characters' beginnings. Ignoring any information gleaned elsewhere (from reader reviews to back copy), in the first opening paragraphs, it's now down to me, and the author. Show your stuff, author. Tell me what I'm gonna get. The answers, I've found, that must get answered somewhere in the first chapter are really very simple. I look over the list of the books I read past the first chapter, in 2006, and I can see their first chapters all have two things in common. They contain information on:
And that's pretty much all that's mandatory. Some stories only gave the barest information about where and when; fewer gave me how and who; fewer still mentioned any of why. When I deconstructed the successful stories in my pile, I realized that the non-whats (who, where, why, how, when) are the icing: the barest amount is just enough for the first taste. Too much expositional icing and the chapter-cake collapses under its weight. Mmm.. cake.
In that opening chapter, then, we learn the story's conflict-premise, and with that, the promise is made. From there, the author owes it to me to live up to the implications, to the backdrop, to the obstacles, to the expectations, created by that first introduction, inherent in that promise.
It shouldn't be rocket science! Do not give me a marvelous world full of fantastical things and promise, and then ignore all possibilities raised. Do not introduce me to an entire cast of lively characters and never mention them again. Do not tell me that the insurmountable obstacle is X -- and then tell me in the next chapter say Y would suffice. Do not drop me into a lengthy and detailed courtroom drama, only to up and relocate to a dude ranch for the story's remainder. In effect, do not pull a bait-and-switch, and do not show me a gun in the first act and bloody well not use it by the end.*
Yes, an author may argue, "but this is The Story, and that's all I owe you!" ...to which I say, no, what you owe me is the story you promised me. I know full well the protag's goals/obstacles change as the story progresses. I also have finally realized the one hard-and-fast rule in storytelling is that for every change, the author owes me a damn good reason. If the opening premise is not what you're writing for the bulk of the story, then ditch those opening parts and start where the story really begins. That's what I mean by owing me honesty, and IMO it's the first half of the author's promise: I won't jerk the tablecloth out from under you without some kind of warning (however subtle).
*I do not mean a twist-ending. That's different. And yes, there are examples of successful bait-and-switches. Best known is probably Thelma & Louise, but that was a seriously risky storytelling move, and it did have warning notes of impending disaster before the turning point (even if those went over the heads of unsuspecting audiences). It's certainly not a move for beginner writers, or most readers, for that matter.
The second half of the promise is continuity: these characters will remain internally consistent, beneath any developments.
Don't introduce me to a protag who refuses to get married, doesn't have a romantic bone in his/her body -- falls in love and suddenly is weeping every night because the phone hasn't rung**... you'd better believe the author owes me an explanation. Don't give me a protag raised in poverty who wants nothing more than to be out of the ghetto, then have the protag cheerfully deciding inner city slums are just the bestest evah. The author will definitely owe me an explanation.
The characters -- regardless of what some authors (or fans) protest -- are not real, and more importantly, the characters are not buying the books. I am. I do get to complain if the author breaks his/her promise: if the author introduces me to a protag, to goals, to conflicts, and then changes the game on me without warning. Even in a long arc-based series, heading into book ten, the author's promise of continuity says that we will look back on our first impression, contrast it to the character's current position, and see a logical and reasonable progression from then to now. If the author doesn't do that, the promise is broken.
**Again, yes, this can also be done: Much Ado About Nothing. It's a silly place, but a great example of moving two characters from one position to the radical opposite -- and, proving my point, Shakespeare does give us a reason.
There you go: "I owe you Teh Story in return for your hard-earned $15" also includes the sub-parts of "I'll introduce you to everyone at my party, but if I drag you out of there to go bowling with a completely different set of people, I'll give you a reason why, and if three of my friends suddenly go off their rockers and speaking in tongues, I'll explain that, too."
And now, we get to vampires, and more specifically, the most recent rant-spewing, online-connipping, logic-skewing, monkey-poking, meltdown.
difrancis mentioned on her journal of some of LKH's fans -- err, so-called fans? -- who were suggesting the fans band together to give LKH cancer, or AIDS. Ergh, that's harsh -- and these people consider themselves fans? What the hell are LKH's enemies like, then? No, don't answer that.I've seen folks fuss about Anne Rice's writing going bland, stale, and needing an editor. But most of them just shrug that off, read the older books they like, and carry on. It's the LKH fans who describe themselves as bitterly disappointed, outright angry, and even completely betrayed. It's not just that LKH broke a promise, but that the promise she made was so big, and so phenomenal, and so promising, and in some ways so powerful -- even empowering. In realizing the author makes a promise at the onset of a story, I realized the logic had to be followed to the end: the bigger the promise you make, the farther you've got to fall if the fans think you've reneged. No safety net here, baby. They're going to hate you for it, because you didn't promise the foothills of the Appalachians, you promised Mount Frickin' Hood, and you delivered, and again -- and then you stopped.
But to really get why, in specific, LKH has been getting so much venom from her fans (as opposed to any other writer who certainly hears grumbling now and then, I'm told), you have to look at the specifics. When Joss Whedon was creating a counter-culture hero(ine) on television, LKH was busy doing the same in print. I mean, I don't read horror. I rarely read the vampire or werewolf genres; watching Buffy was, at times, a little odd, considering that. Yet even I knew about Anita; I cannot name another series' protag (other than Anne Rice's Louie, who reached the same proportions) who had recognition not only in-genre but ex-genre -- and I certainly can't name another female character in any horror series. In fact, the only long-running female-lead series I can think of is V.I. Warshowski, and she's influential for much the same reasons Anita Blake was: their original promises were to be kick-ass women.
I found the wiki entry on the Anita series, and it quotes LKH (from a very early interview) that she'd read tons of thrillers and dramas, and the men were always in teh spotlight. Women were always just on the edges of the stage. Male heroes got the chicks right there, but for female-heroes, everything happened off-page. LKH wanted a female character who could hold her own with the male protags, got the guys, got to ask the questions, got to pick the fights.
V.I. Warshowski's on her nineteeth book? Something like that. She still lives up to her promise. Somewhere along the way, Anita stopped.
If, at the end of Buffy's run, Joss had written Buffy as being a happy little wife, pregnant and barefoot, it would have gone against the grain of everything he'd shown me over seven years, and utterly betrayed the protag I had come to admire and adore, even to see as a kind of modern (and humanly falliable) role model. LKH's fans seem to say the same -- so when Anita stopped being strong-willed and conflicted, and became a mindless bedhopper with no real conflict, the fans knew the promise had been broken. That would prompt anger, yes, but there's an extra element here: I think it's far worse when you're the avant-garde, the sole example of that sort of protag.
People have told me -- and some of the less-than-stellar genre books I've read might bear this out -- that when you're the only one writing, you can get away with a great deal more slacking. I know when it comes to gay/lesbian characters, for a long time folks I knew (myself included) were willing to settle for anyone, even just a frickin' sidekick, just to see a non-het somewhere in print or on the screen. It's the same for any minority: the token black kid, the token asian, but at least it's something more than complete invisibility. That puts a lot of pressure on that token character, to live up to the expectations created by the specific audiences who've been craving this, waiting for a chance to see their kind of character as the protag, warts and all. For horror-fantasy fans, and vampire/Rice fans, Anita was that: the token female finally stepping into the protag's role.
And that means going a step further on the logic, to see why LKH is melting down now, rather than back when she'd first veered away from the original promise (apparently several books ago). I think it's because now, if I walk into a bookstore, or search on Amazon, there are at least four, five, maybe six different series with some kind of vampire-hunter female lead, or a part-demon female lead, or a female-ninja lead, or a whatever-female lead, invariably with non-human or part-human boyfriends in on-again, off-again tumultuous romances between damn good fights scenes and plenty of cussing and conflict and tight pacing. You don't even need to throw a rock in the average fantasy section these days, to hit at least three titles in which the lead protag is female, kick-ass, fights with the big boys, solves her own crimes thank you, can think on her feet, yet has a dark past or a dark future or a questionable amount of humanity.
Sorry, Anita, the field is getting rather crowded these days. As a protag, Anita may be the unspoken standard for the sub-genre, but she's no longer, apparently, the one with the real balls. All the come-latelys have come and are now passing LKH, from what it looks like, though LKH continues to reign supreme by coasting on her laurels (and her established name/reputation) as the precedent in the genre. I wonder how long that'll last, honestly.
And that, to wrap up, is where the pr0n comes in. If you can't come up with plot, if you can't tackle the conflict, if you've taken your character so far from the original promise that getting back again would require retconning five books or more, then you've got to do something else to stand out in an increasingly crowded field. So... you write pr0n. Soft-core, and not very well-done, but still, there don't seem to be as many other vampire-hunter-sub-genre authors reveling that much in the pr0n, so for those readers who want all the horror-fantasy that comes with vampires/demons, and all the softcore throbbing manhoods that come with romance, Anita can remain a superlative. The problem is that to do it, she has to continue breaking the promise that began the entire series.
So. Uhm, basically: it's a lesson to learn, I suppose. It's not just Teh Story that you owe me, but your honesty about where it'll go, and your commitment to the characters' continuity -- and integrity. And you owe it to me to remain true to both of those -- and if you break that promise a chapter in, I'll probably just toss the book on the "to be donated" pile and be done with it. Break that promise nine books into the series, after I've fallen in love and your character's moved into my heart and there's a spot by the sink in my head for his/her toothbrush and every new book is a chance to spend more time together... when you break that promise, don't be surprised if the reaction is more than a little bit passionate. Expect something more along the lines of viciously betrayed.
I wonder if LKH ever admits to herself that half her reason for melting down is because she knows the readers' anger is justified.
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When Fans Attack (a new FOX special)
Date: 8 Jan 2007 04:59 am (UTC)Except that for me, there's a certain ick factor--less because of the graphic sex (and I would agree that it seems fairly gratuitous)--but because there seems so little choice to what she's doing.
Right there -- that's the crux of the problem, I think.
I don't feel the sex itself is a problem for the "ex-fans" so much as the matter in which it happens. It's a hard thing to see happen to any likable character, but when the strong, assertive, archetype-busting woman is the one who becomes subject to repeated metaphysical (and even physical, at the onset) rapes... that's a terribly bitter pill to swallow. Even without her subsequent acceptance of the magical inheritance which is literally forcing her to have sex "every couple of hours" (to quote the author in question) with not only friends and lovers, but strangers and even people she states outright as finding distasteful. And she doesn't just accept it, she changes her entire life -- right down to her priorities -- do accommodate it, and is willing to cut out friends and family out of her life (ergo the books) in order to defend it.
I think that's what's really making fans "rabid." (And I suppose I'm technically one myself, belonging to a snark community... though I don't wish death, dismemberment, or disease on the author in question, just a wake-up call.) And once that occurred the dam broke, and people felt free to voice problems with the series they'd otherwise overlooked because, as was discussed above, Anita had been an anomaly in the genre and people wanted to encourage a new trend.
Adding to all of this Hamilton's own behavior... this isn't the first time she, or her husband, or her assistant, have lashed out at "negative fans" in blog entries or interviews. This recent incident seems to have caught a lot more attention than previous rages, but in the past year she's been known for them among the readership. An author breaking promises inherent in his/her text can cause a lot of fury, but I bet a lot of her detractors felt free to wreck havoc once LKH started to insult them personally. (Not by name, but as a group.)
A few people have questioned by fans don't walk calmly away from the wreckage. I don't buy anymore of LKH's books myself, so I can't speak for those who do. And I don't always feel comfortable with the vitriol that can be spewed at the mention of her name. But I do watch her antics, I am interested in how they play out via her career and the reaction in the community, and I want to know how the rest of her books unravel.
What it boils down to, sadly, is that Hamilton created a world and characters I (and others) once cared about deeply -- she established a relationship between her books and her readers. It's over, but it ended very confusingly and abruptly, so I want closure. Us bitter fans are a bit like scorned lovers -- we were dumped, for reasons never satisfactorily explained to us and with a lot of hurtful words, and while we get together and convince ourselves we're much better off, we still secretly want the person who broke our hearts (only metaphorically, thank goodness) to realize how they hurt us and apologize.
Or at least end up dead in a ditch somewhere. (Again, metaphorically.)
no subject
Date: 8 Jan 2007 05:23 am (UTC)Okay, here's explanations:
* I never found a copy of the 1st book in the bookstore, never bothered to remember to order it from Amazon, back when LKH was on her third book, I think. I did find the second book. Got about two paragraphs in, and said, "let's sure hope UPN picks up Buffy, because I'm not up for this." (Heh.) I think it was more a matter of the fact that vampires/hunters are among my less-favorite genres, so I really only had room in my head for one series.
** Joss veered dangerously close, I'll admit: he gave us the Fury-Noxon Spike vs. Anti-Spike debacle for all of season six, including a rape attempt on Buffy. To say the fans went batshit is pretty much an understatement. I can see the season's progress, in hindsight, but at the time, it was a shocker.
The key, I suppose, is in that second note: if you can see the progress in hindsight, even if a character acts 'out of character' for a scene or period of time. If you find out she was just pulling one over on the bad guy, if you find out she was drugged, she didn't have all the clues, whatever. But your point here:
it ended very confusingly and abruptly, so I want closure. Us bitter fans are a bit like scorned lovers -- we were dumped, for reasons never satisfactorily explained to us
pretty much sums it all up. We do all want closure with characters we admire/enjoy, and sudden abrupt change in personality sure ain't it. The vindictive and combative stance LKH takes with any fans who even remotely question her is only fuel on the fire. To me, that sort of attitude seems so counterproductive as to be pathological. I just don't get it.
no subject
Date: 8 Jan 2007 04:25 pm (UTC)Oh no, I understood that you hadn't read the books. Which is why I thought it might be all right if I added my own commentary, as someone who has been involved in the fandom for a while and then the, er, anti-fandom. I knew you were interested in examining the fan reaction, rather than LKH's behavior (which is a phenomenon in itself), so I hoped I could provide a bit more information on that angle.
Joss veered dangerously close, I'll admit: he gave us the Fury-Noxon Spike vs. Anti-Spike debacle for all of season six, including a rape attempt on Buffy. To say the fans went batshit is pretty much an understatement.
Exactly. Now, can you imagine what it would have been like if Spike had not only completed the act, but afterward Buffy had continued to sleep with him and defended him against her friends?
The parallels with some of the changes in BtVS are definitely there. (I thought about writing a little more about that in my first comment, but it was so long already!) But that is what happened in the tenth Anita Blake book, though she didn't have a previous relationship or even a passing acquaintance with her assailant. (Does that make it better or worse, one has to wonder...) The scene was so disturbing, and created such an outcry, it had to be re-written for both the mass market and trade paperback editions.
I guess I'm trying to dispel the notion that LKH's detractors aren't genuinely outraged by not just her behavior, but her treatment of the series -- and with reason. I certainly don't support or excuse the more personal attacks on LKH, but I don't think the trouble is that her readers are masochists or completely blind to the fact that as the creator, LKH is ultimately in charge of her own writing. I know your post was presenting alternative reasons for the fan reaction, and I'm very happy to see this kind of discussion about a series' inherent promises in regards to any fandom, not just Anita Blake. I just want to provide a little context/comparison for those who, while they can grasp the idea of an author betraying the promise she made with her first books, don't really understand the sheer emotion involved in the backlash.
But yes, I've been involved in both fandoms, and I think you're on the right track in terms of examining a sense of "betrayal" among some fans. Though thank goodness, Joss Whedon never launched a very personal crusade against his critics. Because he's sane.
Which brings me to...
The vindictive and combative stance LKH takes with any fans who even remotely question her is only fuel on the fire. To me, that sort of attitude seems so counterproductive as to be pathological. I just don't get it.
It's definitely one of the reasons a lot of disappointed readers stay involved even when the books are no longer worth it -- trainwreck syndrome. Again, it's the whole "scorned lover" analogy. There was an established author-fandom relationship for quite a few years, especially considering that for so long it was a cult following, with publicity mostly word-of-mouth and reader support. To have that implode in such a spectacular way leaves a lot of people (including me, hello, might as well admit it) fascinated over the why and wherefore of it, so we stick around for the fallout.
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Date: 9 Jan 2007 03:24 am (UTC)That, in some ways, was what had a lot of fans upset (as I recall) about Buffy -- we wanted her to slap Spike waaaay down. She was the one we wanted to be! She could toss people about like tissues, she had snappy comebacks, she could worry about being girly and having fashion sense and still throw a mean punch and it didn't make her a 'man' and it didn't make her less of a woman.
I can definitely see, given what you're saying here, how such a shift in the storyline would've created a strong repulsion amongst a lot of fans. Ergh, really, is my only reaction.
Either you write a character who's a wish-fulfillment (often a cardboard critter, it seems): perfect, pretty, everyone wants her, she lives out all our fantasies including being helplessly seduced by some rake blah blah blah that's romance wish-fulfillment. Or you write (and that, it seems, was LKH's original promise) a pot-boiler fulfillment, where the woman's tough, strong, smart-assed, whip-smart, and her flaw isn't falling helplessly in love but in being even unable to fall helplessly in like, or even non-helplessly in like.
Granted, the two are radical opposites (hence the issue of switching from one to the other being a difficult progression), but between the two, I'd rather the latter. There are way too many of the former already. We need more of the latter, to show that a woman can do all that as much as a man, and yet still be a woman. And, uhm, stuff. *jetlagged*