I enjoyed the film Halloween (2018) far more than I expected to, but one aspect of it continued to bother me after I left the theater: the film’s focus on guns. Many films and TV shows use guns, but they're usually either just props/tools, or they're presented as glorified extensions of the action hero. Something about this presentation felt different than either of those. “It’s kind of NRA propaganda,” I joked to my husband on the drive home, and we talked about how Laurie was a model conservative, using guns to protect her family and fighting back against the faceless government man—referring to the fact that the doctor calls Michael Myers “property of the state.” I’ve read a couple of articles that claim this film as an affirmation of right-wing, pro-gun values. And honestly, sure, the film can be interpreted that way. There are even a few ancillary details that support that reading. But I think the film’s focus on guns is actually doing something much more subtle and interesting. The reason that both the original 1978 Halloween and the 2018 Halloween films are so successful is because they both acutely synthesize the horrors of their historical moment. And the contextual horror relevant to the 2018 Halloween is actually not the political divide. Not directly, anyway. Let’s go back to the 1978 Halloween for a moment, and consider what was happening in America in the 1970s that made films like Halloween and Friday the 13th resonate so strongly with viewers: serial killers. Ted Bundy and John Wayne Gacy each killed more than 30 victims between approximately 1972 and 1978. They weren't the first serial killers in America, but they were some of the worst, and they killed mostly teens and young adults. Michael Myers is not a direct analog to either one of these real life killers, but “The Shape” represents not a single real-life serial killer, but the idea of serial killers in general, and the fear that was gripping the country in the 1970s that this type of evil could strike anywhere, at any time. [TW: rape] But we know that serial killers like Bundy and Gacy did not only kill their victims, they also sexually assaulted them. Bundy, in fact, reportedly claimed that rape was his initial goal, and murder was a convenient way to keep from getting caught; it was only after several victims that murder became the goal. But Halloween’s Michael Myers is not a sexual predator. In fact, he appears to be punishing the promiscuity of teenagers. The fact that the sex in Halloween is consensual has the side effect of shifting blame onto the victim in conventional rape-culture style. And because we need stories to make more sense than real life, it also creates a rationalization for these characters’ death, becoming a warning in the way that fairy tales are warnings: Don’t go into the woods alone, or Baba Yaga will eat you. Don’t walk down by the river, or La Llorona will get you. Don’t screw around with your boyfriend while you’re supposed to be babysitting, or Michael Myers will get you. He’s the Boogeyman, right? It’s certainly an imperfect system, though, since the virginal Laurie Strode still gets attacked. I argue that the common horror film trope of “death by sex,” in which fornicating teenagers are then subsequently killed, is a way for filmmakers to associate sex with murder, thereby depicting a metaphorical rape, rather than a literal one. Let’s shift back to the 2018 Halloween now. Note that there is actually no sex in this film. We still have a couple of teenagers messing around while they’re supposed to be babysitting, but they never get naked. And while Michael Myers has a higher body count in this film, the victims are far more random, varying in gender and age. Is this just an arbitrary narrative choice, or an attempt to avoid a trope that has become a cliché? Or is it an intentional choice that creates a very different sort of metaphor than the original? (And, yes, I’m aware that several of his victims mirror victims from the other now non-canonical Halloween films. That doesn’t affect my theory.) Serial killers still exist, for sure, but there hasn’t been one that has really gripped the American public imagination for a couple of decades now. But what type of senseless violence do we deal with in the 2010s? What creates that fear of “it could happen anywhere at any time” now? What’s in the news every couple of days? Mass shootings. The guns in Halloween 2018 aren’t just in Laurie Strode’s prepper-style compound. They’re everywhere in the film, in the hands of many different characters. During their walk to school, the kids talk about how “by today’s standards” the fact that Michael Myers killed five people doesn’t really sound that awful. One of our first bodies in this film is a kid who would rather be at dance class than out hunting, who accidentally shoots the doctor who has survived the bus crash. Even Allyson and her boyfriend choosing to dress as (gender-swapped) Bonnie and Clyde evokes the idea of gun violence, as does the bizarre prediction by Allyson’s father that she’ll grow up to “get fat and clean guns.” In the same way that the 1978 film portrays consensual sex as a way to depict a metaphorical rape, I argue that the 2018 Halloween’s focus on guns creates a similar subconscious association as a way to invoke metaphorical gun violence. By depicting consensual sex in the original, the association between death and sex becomes more palatable. The oblique angle allows viewers to grapple with the real life horrors of what happens to serial killers’ victims without facing it directly. By putting the guns in the hands of heroes and victims, rather than in the hands of the killer, it complicates the issue and prevents the knee-jerk reaction many viewers would certainly have if mass shootings were being portrayed directly. In the same way that “The Shape” represented the threat posed by serial killers in the 1970s, “The Shape” represents the threat posed by mass shooters in the 2010s. This interpretation also helps to make sense of the useless “podcasters” who show up at the very beginning. These characters serve very little purpose to the actual plot—sure, we get some exposition from them, but it’s nothing that the filmmakers couldn’t have revealed through interactions between other characters. But every time a mass shooting happens, it’s the media that holds up the killers’ faces to us and demands we say something about it. That scene at the very beginning, when the journalist holds up Michael’s mask to him and yells at him to say something is utter abelist nonsense if I try to think about it literally, but as part of this metaphorical interpretation, it fits perfectly. Consider also the kid who gets “friend-zoned” by Allyson (Laurie’s granddaughter). There were a lot of different ways the filmmakers could have gotten Allyson separated from the pack, so to speak, but they chose to do it by having her walk away from a boy who tried to kiss her against her will. This kid then proceeds to have a several minute long (one-sided) conversation with a lurking Michael Myers, asking if he’s ever wanted a girl he couldn’t have. The lamentations of this character echo the motivations of several recent shooters, who had been rejected by a girl and retaliated by going after her with a gun, also shooting anyone who got in his way. Really, although Michael seems not to care who he kills, ultimately he is going after Laurie, “the one who got away,” and many of his other victims are incidental on his quest to get her. So what, then, does Halloween 2018 say about gun violence? Is it, as some of the right-wing bloggers have claimed, supporting that belief that the only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun? I’m not sure it’s that simple. Horror may provide warnings, but it doesn’t necessarily offer solutions. The central theme of the film is that one monster has created another monster. It’s also very much about the power the victimizer continues to hold over the victim even many years after the trauma, and the way cycles of trauma repeat themselves over generations. Laurie’s obsession with Michael, the numerous role reversals and homages to the original, and the fact that she’s hunting him as much as he’s hunting her remind me of what sometimes happens with people who start to carry guns: they start looking for, hoping for, the chance to use them. (And studies have shown that violent crime actually increases in states with conceal carry laws, by the way.) Laurie even says at one point that she’s been praying for Michael to escape so that she has the chance to kill him. Though Myers gets shot multiple times, it’s not actually the guns that finish him off. And he can’t truly be killed anyway. “The Shape” may change, but the evil he represents will likely always be with us.
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This week, I'm wrapping up my reviews for the stories in the anthology Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology.
Did you see parts 1 and 2 of my Wings of Renewal solarpunk book review? You can click here and here to see my reviews of the first 15 stories. I definitely have favorites, and I definitely have criticisms, but overall, this book has been an enjoyable read. With so few options out there for books and stories that identify as solarpunk, this is a good place to start, and to gather ideas for your own solarpunk stories. Morelle and Vina by Sam Martin
A couple of kids find an old airplane in the off-limit ruins, and, through some salvage work and genetic engineering, build it into a living dragon. The imagery of this story is absolutely gorgeous: elevated bike paths made from sea shells and shaded by solar panels, a central vertical garden draped in greenery; streets designed with colorful mosaic tile. This is also the best example in the book of a co-operative, post-capitalist society. It seems like a lovely world to live in, but it doesn't feel like a static utopia—things are not perfect, and there are consequences for pushing boundaries the way our main characters do. Unfortunately, we never actually get to see those consequences, because the story ends so abruptly. It lacks resolution, ending right at the climax, and on quite a negative note. One of the key things people are looking for in solarpunk is optimism. Does that mean solarpunk stories have to have happy endings? If not happy, I think, then at least hopeful. This story, though it had many beautiful moments and ideas, ultimately left me on a sour and unsatisfied note.
Wings of the Guiding Suns by M. Pax
One of the few stories in this book told from the point of view of a dragon, this a galactic guardian sent to rescue the last remaining humans from Earth before the sun is destroyed—if only the humans will agree to be rescued. Overall, the writing is strong and the imagery is great. The premise is intriguing, though I think vastly oversimplified. Still, it's a nice tale of the complexity of human nature and perseverance against great odds.
Seven Years Among Dragons by Lyssa Chiavari
Mixing fantasy and science fiction can work, but the rules and limitations of the world need to be established and consistent. (Have you noticed my primary criticism of stories in this anthology is usually worldbuilding?) This one does not feel consistent at all. The sci-fi and solarpunk aspects seem tacked on to what would otherwise be a coherent fantasy story, and could be extracted and replaced with lower-level fantasy tech or magic—both of which already exist in this world, though there's little explanation for why one is used rather than another for any given reference. Still, there are a lot of things to like about this story. It's a unique twisting of Snow White. The writing is vivid and engaging, and the author has an excellent knack for tension and pacing. I would have liked this one a lot better just as a fantasy story. The solarpunk themes feel forced, and the technology is unexplored.
One Last Sweet by Claudie Arseneault
A sweet story (no pun intended) about a boy who wants to do something nice for a dying dragon that helped his village become self-sufficient. There's not a lot at stake, and there's a lot of "telling" exposition, but overall it's a nice story with interesting tech, likeable characters, and good disability representation. The final scene is vividly rendered and memorable.
Community Outreach with Reluctant Neighbors by Kat Lerner
If we accept solarpunk as an aesthetic or a mode rather than a genre (as I suggested in my Part 2 review), then this is a solid example of solarpunk fantasy. On the tech and setting level, it's light, but it's there. Two important scenes directly involve solar panels, and there are several mentions of algae lamps. But in terms of solarpunk themes—environmental balance, community and cooperation, accepting others, hope and optimism, etc.—it has those in droves. This is one of the better written stories in this anthology. A Leslie Knope-type community organizer makes it her personal mission to get the anti-social witch on the hill involved with community activities. It's a lovely story of mutual redemption, and really, the anthology is worth buying just for this story alone.
Wanderer's Dream by Maura Lydon
To be honest, I didn't entirely understand the plot of this story, but it has something to do with a couple of "Wanderers" (which seems akin to the aboriginal "walkabout") who help a dragon and a dragon-lady. The stakes are high—humans and dragons are not allowed any contact, on penalty of death—but seem arbitrary. The background and logic of this law are never explained or explored. Though, maybe that's part of the point. Maybe, like much paranormal romance, it's a metaphor for "forbidden" types of love (i.e. queer relationships or kink). I'm not sure. But while the plot didn't hold together for me, the characters and interpersonal relationships were well drawn and kept me engaged. This is another fantasy story with a solarpunk overlay, and while nothing is lost from that overlay, I don't think much is gained from it either.
The Last Guardians by J. Lee Ellorris
This is a wonderful story, and a perfect end to this anthology. I may have teared up a little bit... In a world where dragons have come to Earth to be caretakers and guide humans back to the right path, the last two guardian dragons have reached the end of their lives. But as her partner prepares for death, the last one seeks a miracle that will ensure they are not actually the last. As solarpunk continues to develop, I'd love to see it focus on how humans can save ourselves, without aliens or magic or divine intervention, but even though dragons save us in this story, the themes of environmental stewardship and cooperative responsibility are crystal clear. And if we must be saved, then I can think of no better saviors than gorgeous, kind, queer dragons. This is a world I would definitely love to live in.
This week, I'm delving into the middle stories in the book Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology, edited by Claudie Arseneault and Brenda J. Pierson.
Did you see the first part of my Wings of Renewal Book Review? If not, click here for reviews of the first eight stories. Not sure what "solarpunk" means? Check out my blog post on the World Weaver Press site called "The Brighter Futures of Solarpunk," as well as the comprehensive "Solarpunk Reference Guide." And that is all the ado I shall give this week. On to the reviews: The Quantum Dragon by Tobias Wade
A water energy scientist learns a corporation is allowing fusion reactors to collapse and profiting from people who are fleeing Earth for a Martian colony, so he creates a virus to shut down the reactors—which makes things worse. I enjoyed the science in this story, but wish the author had delved a little deeper into it. The protagonist is working on a method to harness energy from ocean currents. Cool! But why is this the green tech that's going to save us, more than, say, wave energy (which already exists), or any of the other renewables? I'd have loved to know more.
Note: It has come to my attention that this story is not included in the re-issued edition of Wings of Renewal. I am reading a first edition, published by Incandescent Phoenix Books. The new edition republished by Claudie Arseneault contains fewer stories than the original. Fighting Fire With Fire by Gemini Pond
A community works together to extinguish a fire that threatens the forest their forebears planted to stop the encroaching desert. Like a lot of the stories in this anthology, it could have used a bit more in the way of worldbuilding and characterization, but overall, this was a nice story about cooperation and perseverance.
Refuge by Mindi Briar
A stranded spaceship pilot is rescued by an ethereal dragon and taken to a utopian planet. This story would be right at home in a space opera or space adventure anthology, though it is a bit rare to see true utopias (that don't turn out to be dystopias in disguise). This story faces head-on a lot of the concerns writers have about utopian settings, and through exploration and contrast, comes to a satisfying conclusion. The author claims to be writing a novel in this world. I'll keep an eye out for it.
The Dragon of Kou by Caroline Bigaiski
The idea that dragons and other creatures of myth returned once we cleaned up the planet is a pretty common theme in this anthology. To be honest, that was the angle I took in the story I wrote for their call for submissions (which was rejected, as it should have been. It wasn't ready!). This story had some nice moments, but the narrative style was quite distancing for me, and I don't feel it will stick with me as one of the more memorable pieces. And to be honest, by this point in the anthology, I'm craving a little more "solarpunk" and a little less "dragon."
Deep Within the Corners of My Mind by CJ Lehi
I enjoyed the Romanian setting of this story—it's not one I see very often in science fiction. I can't speak for authenticity or representation, but nothing stood out to me as an obvious stereotype, and the setting did feel integral to the story. A bit more violent than the others so far in this anthology (though vastly less so than an average SFF tale these days), with a satisfying non-violent resolution.
Note: It has come to my attention that this story is not included in the re-issued edition of Wings of Renewal. I am reading a first edition, published by Incandescent Phoenix Books. The new edition republished by Claudie Arseneault contains fewer stories than the original. The Witch's Son by Diane Dubas
I ranted last time about how I thought solarpunk should remain science fiction and not get too tangled up with fantasy and magic, but this story is making me question that assertion. This is urban fantasy in a solarpunk setting, and, I don't know, it kind of works. Is solarpunk a genre, or is it an aesthetic, the way horror can be considered an aesthetic? Can solarpunk be overlaid onto other genres without losing its core? Maybe it can. Magic exists in Dubas's world, but it wasn't magic that reversed our ecological damage. The backstory about climate change and renewal is too brief, glossing over how we got to this world, but that's also not the focus of the story. Really, it's a symptom of the fact that this should be a novel. It feels like a first chapter rather than a fully-realized short story, and if it were given the room to breathe, I'm sure we'd get all that backstory much better fleshed out. One of the most awesome parts of this story was The Red Door. This is such an great idea, and so much more could be done with it.
"The Red Door was synonymous with all things forbidden: sex, drugs, magic, and petroleum. Are you a duke with a penchant for diesel engines? The Red Door is your place. A countess with a kink for motor oil? The witch behind the Red Door is there for you." Dragon's Oath by Danny Mitchell
In a world where people harvest dragon scales to use like solar panels, someone is hunting and shooting down the dragons. Like the previous story, this is much more of a first chapter than it is a complete short story. It raises a bunch of story questions but resolves none of them. Our protagonist finds one of the injured dragons and becomes a caretaker for its baby. That's great, but it's the start of a story, not a whole story. The characterization and worldbuilding on a micro scale is pretty good—I always had a good sense of the immediate setting, and the diversity of the characters is one of the best parts. We have a hijab-wearing Muslim protagonist, and Mandarin-speaking background characters, which is an intriguing mix. However, I was kind of lost on the macro scale: Are we in a future earth where dragons have reappeared (like many of the other stories in this book)? Are we in an alternate present-day earth where dragons have always existed? Are we on a new planet like Pierson's "New Persia"? Are we in a secondary fantasy world inspired by Islamic culture? I really couldn't tell.
The solarpunk tech in this story was mostly background, but there was a satisfying amount of it: "solar trees," which, without additional description, I'll choose to imagine like those awesome Singaporean solar collectors; molten-salt batteries for solar storage; ornithopter drones; electric bikes; etc. The idea of literal dragon scales as solar converters is dampened a bit for me by the fact that "Dragon SCALEs" is an actual type of flexible solar technology, but that probably didn't even exist when this story was written. Overall, my biggest critique of this story is that it really needs to be a full novel, and if it were, I'd definitely keep reading when I got to the end of the first chapter.
Come back next week for Part 3 of my Wings of Renewal solarpunk book review!
The first time I ever heard the term solarpunk was in the call for submissions for the Wings of Renewal "solarpunk dragons" anthology. I've already blogged about how solarpunk gave a name to something I was already deeply craving in my science fiction, and the darker the world gets, the brighter I want my fiction to be—both what I write and what I read. I tried my hand at a solarpunk dragon story for this anthology, but the Wings of Renewal editors politely (and rightfully) declined it. I bought the anthology when it was first released, but it's taken me a while to actually read it, for various (not very good) reasons.
As I read, I found that I had MANY OPINIONS, both about the stories themselves and about how solarpunk is and is not developing as a genre and a movement. And what is a blog except a perfect place to bark my opinions into the wind? It's a long book (22 stories and 500+ pages), so I'll be spreading my reviews out over three blog posts—one per week is the plan. These are solely my opinions, and I have nothing at stake here except a general interest in helping make solarpunk a thing. (You can see what I'm doing on that front here and here.) I'd also like to note that editor Claudie Arseneault is donating proceeds from sales of Wings of Renewal to NoDAPL, so that's as good a reason as any to pick up a copy. Ready? Okay, here we go. Summer Project by C.B. Carr
Usually an anthology starts with the strongest story, and that's definitely not the case here. The writing is competent, but lackluster, full of beginner crutches and weak constructions. I had about a thousand questions about the worldbuilding, though much of it intrigued me as well. I assume the editors chose this one to open the book because it best fit their vision of what solarpunk should be. The conflict of this story revolves around a girl trying to 3D print a prosthetic leg for a dragon while poachers pursue. It's inclusive and optimistic in all the best ways, with interesting and colorful sustainable tech ranging from stained glass solar panels to algae-powered ships to electric bikes. If this story were illustrated or made into a graphic novel, it would look just like one of those awesome solarpunk Pinterest boards.
In the Hearts of Dragons by Stephanie Wagner
A group of travelers fly in an interstellar "dragonship," a sentient creature that functions through a mind-meld with the pilot—until [slight spoiler] the pilot has an aneurysm and the life support systems start to shut down. Except for the green, nature-centric imagery of the dragonship's interior, this is pretty much a straightforward science fiction story. That's not to take anything away from it—it's a wonderful story, with strong writing and likeable, sympathetic characters. The solarpunk setting gives it a unique feel that sets it apart from other space travel adventures, and the hopeful, happy ending feels just right.
The Shape of the Sun by Marianne L.D. Drolet
This one starts out darker than the others. A supervolcano has erupted, the sun is blocked by clouds and debris, and the fumes are slowly killing people. Dragons have mysteriously arrived, circling the poisoned skies. Though it begins dark, it takes a beautiful, optimistic turn near the end. This has what I think will become a quintessential solarpunk theme: perseverance in the face of extreme environmental conditions. "The Shape of the Sun" is one of my favorite stories in the anthology.
Petrichor by Megan Reynolds
This is a lovely story, but I can't see it as solarpunk. It's an agrarian fantasy with fairy tale underpinnings, and though it's all about gardening and caring for the earth and dealing with drought, those things aren't uncommon in this type of fantasy. I think it's important for solarpunk to develop as a science fiction genre—to showcase sustainable technology we already have, to speculate about green tech we could have, and to imagine the new social norms and conflicts that arise because of it. If solarpunk goes the way of steampunk and gets too tangled up with magic and the fantastic, it ceases to be a future we can actually strive for. That's not what's happening in this story, though: it's just a full-fledged fantasy, and as fantasy, it's pretty good, and definitely refreshing in its portrayal of queer and non-binary characters. A girl steals a flower from a witch's garden and has to go work for her to appease the theft, but quickly realizes she's not the villain the townspeople make her out to be. While the writing is generally strong, the tone is a bit uneven, and at times the language felt too contemporary for the setting.
I propose that rather than solarpunk, "Petrichor" is an example of noblebright, a fantasy movement formed as a reaction against the grimdark fantasy that's so pervasive in the genre these days. Glow by Caitlin Nicoll
I had trouble figuring out when and where this story took place. It starts off feeling like traditional fantasy, then later scenes have more contemporary technology, but with something of a 19th century safari feel. Finally, I decided it must just be a secondary world fantasy based loosely on the Amazon, with dragons and a little bit of technology. The lack of worldbuilding really pulled me out, though, and the solarpunk aspects felt tacked on. We have boats that run on solar power (except the scene is at night?) and "solar lamps" (what do they look like? how are they any different than battery powered lamps?). If you were to edit out those references, the story wouldn't be substantially different. Also, throughout many of these stories, I'm noticing a trend in solarpunk names: character names like Bright, Sol, Marisol, etc. This is cute, but could get cliché real quick.
Lost and Found by Brenda J. Pierson
On the planet of New Persia, humans have developed a symbiotic civilization with elemental dragons. When one of the irrigation dragons goes missing, our narrator ventures into the jungle to find it. The personal conflict (his wife wants kids but he's not ready) coupled with the high stakes of losing the dragon (their town will dry up without enough dragons) worked together to create a highly satisfying story. The Arabic-style world was interesting and refreshing, and though the green tech aspects were light, they were definitely sprinkled in. The humans' relationship with the various dragons offers a good metaphor for sustainable energy. A wonderful story.
The Stained Glass Dragon by Jeanne LG
A neuroatypical artist who makes dragon automata struggles to level up his dragons to win a contest at an upcoming festival. The imagery of the stained glass dragons is beautiful, but is the presence of stained glass and the mention of vaguely-defined "gardens" enough to make it solarpunk? I'd have loved to see and understand more about the world this story takes place in. The stakes of the conflict were also poorly defined, and information known to the characters was withheld from the reader until the end—a personal pet peeve of mine. If the characters all know something, it's not a "twist" or a "reveal." If the only reason the reader has to keep reading is to get to this withheld information, then it's a Band-Aid covering the fact that the conflict and stakes of the story aren't strong enough on their own.
Solarium by Kimberly Kay and A.N. Gephart
The future empire of Solarium overlays modern New York, and now that the pollution has cleared, dragon nature spirits have returned to balance the ecosystems over which they preside. Our protagonist is a Dawnlight Knight, charged with tracking down the Prince's missing dragon. Our antagonist is capturing and genetically engineering the dragons because she believes it's dangerous and unsustainable to be so dependent on them. She's a great villain because she truly believes what she's doing is right, and this argument over independent sustainability vs. symbiotic dependence makes a fantastic solarpunk conflict. Personally, I think the editors should have put this story first. It's the most fully realized and fleshed out of any of the stories so far. I would absolutely love to read a full YA novel set in this world.
Note: It has come to my attention that this story is not included in the re-issued edition of Wings of Renewal. I am reading a first edition, published by Incandescent Phoenix Books. The new edition republished by Claudie Arseneault contains fewer stories than the original.
Check back next week for part two of my Wings of Renewal solarpunk book review!
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