This is the first book review on Everything Geeky! I’ve kept to a pretty simple format, I jump around a bit from plot overview, to discussion of themes, to my own thoughts on the piece. At the end, I’ve given the book a score out of 10, although I’m not sure how I feel about ranking a work that way. Ah well, I hope you enjoy!
SF Masterwork cover of Childhood’s End
Childhood’s End (1953) is perhaps the perfect example of what a great sci-fi book is supposed to do. Huge concepts are grappled with by Arthur C. Clarke throughout the novel, always giving us pause to think, and to consider our place – humanity’s place – in the wider universe. If a smorgasbord of traditional sci-fi themes is the bedrock of the novel, then the twists and turns of the plot are the hills and valleys, and fauna that makes Childhood’s End a beautifully thoughtful book.
Arthur C. Clarke stands as one of science fiction’s giants, his work helping mould the genre; Clarke’s pen helped carve out what some saw as the golden age of science fiction (although exactly when the golden age was is a matter of some debate, and will be a topic of a future blog post). The ideas that Clarke deals with in Childhood’s End – alien overlordship and its impact on human society, psychic groupthink, human evolution – would become mainstays in the genre forevermore.
Childhood’s End is considered by many to be Arthur C. Clarke’s best novel, and it is certainly a book with a lot going for it. I would even say it was ahead of its time, not only in its ideas, but in the matter of plot and characters.
An example of this would be in the prologue, which stands completely on its own from the rest of the book. Set in the late 20th Century, the Cold War is still in full swing, with both the United States and the Soviet Union in a race to reach the stars. Both sides are busy constructing massive starships, when, without warning, alien ships descend on Earth. The reader’s expectations are shredded here; we are led along a path, made out to believe that between the covers of the book lies a Cold War thriller, all completely blown apart almost immediately.
The Cold War ends unceremoniously with the arrival of the alien Overlords. It is the first example of how contact will change the face of our world forever. In 1953, when the book was written, the Cold war was a reality. For many, it would have been an unalterable reality. Capitalism and Communism were meant to oppose each other. People believed in this, in their country’s own righteousness against the other’s wickedness, with unrestrained fervour. This was the time of McCarthyism, there was no middle ground, no if’s or but’s.
To have all that shattered in a prologue of a novel is a revolutionary masterstroke by Arthur C. Clarke. More than three decades before Ronald Reagan stood up at the United Nations, speaking of how an extra-terrestrial encounter would force humanity to come together, here was Clarke exploring that same idea.
The book comes in three parts I would say. The first is the political turmoil and eventual assimilation of humanity under the Overlord’s rule. This is mainly told through the point of view of the UN General Secretary and his discussions with the Overlord leader, a being called Karellen. This climaxes decades after the arrival of the Overlords, where Karellen reveals himself at last to humanity. The appearance of the Overlords – huge, winged, horned, demons straight out of mythology – is the reason they remained hidden so long. They did not wish to terrify humans into reckless action; it seems the image of the Overlords had imprinted itself upon the collective mind of humanity aeons ago, an echo that travels into the past. This is the novel’s first hint of collective hive mind that will be important later.
The second part of the book – or I could call it a secondary plotline – is the decision of Jan Rodricks to travel to the home planet of the Overlords. During an Ouija Board session a house-party, Jan asks the board the location of the Overlord’s star-system, and to everyone’s surprise, he receives an answer, an answer which he uses to identify the location in space of the planet. This is the second instance of the collective hivemind, where it turns out Jan’s sister has a greater connection to that metaphysical realm – the reason the Ouija Board behaved the way it did was because of her (and her unborn child).
The climax of the novel deals with that unborn child (who becomes a born child, you’ll be unsurprised to hear). In a colony called New Athens, George and Jean (of the unfortunate Ouija Board incident) live a life that hearkens back to the days of old, before the arrival of the Overlords. Here a collection of artists strive to create a culture that can be viewed as human, with little interference from the Overlords. Jeffrey, the young child of George and Jean, soon begins to dream of other worlds, as the final stages of the Overlords’ task on Earth transpire. Jeffrey is the first, but soon other children, every child, leaves their physical bodies behind. The children become beings of pure mind, interconnected as one hivemind, but not exactly human anymore.
It is revealed that this was the task of the Overlords all along. They were to prepare humanity for this next step on the evolutionary ladder. The Overlords cannot make this step themselves, they can only nurse along other species capable of making the jump to super-consciousness. The question posed here is a difficult one: the children have lost their individuality, they are one mind, not human, but in possession of all the knowledge in the universe. They become the universe in the end. But is it worth it?
The last pages of this novel will stay with me forevermore. Jan Rodricks returns to earth. Because of time dilation, eighty or so years have passed on Earth since he left to visit the homeworld of the Overlords, yet for him, it is barely a few months. He has received knowledge beyond imagining, but now returns to find an Earth with no human beings left alive. The Overords leave, Jan is left as the last human, as what once were the children ascend to the heavens, and destroying the Earth as they leave.
The first pages of the novel were set in the Cold War, and all its dangers. The seeking of knowledge can be a dangerous thing, and in the Cold War, it could have destroyed us all. In the final pages of the novel, humanity has gained infinite knowledge in a collective hivemind, yet that makes them humanity no longer. The Earth is still destroyed. The Overlords claimed they stepped in and saved humanity from destroying the planet. But the Earth is destroyed in the end. Does it matter if some version of man has joined the stars? Humanity and its home are gone.
I do not believe that such an end is worth it. Then again, I am human, so am not supposed to know. Jan Rodricks felt a great emptiness by the end, a feeling I think most of us would have, if our end was to have our planet destroyed for knowledge we cannot possibly comprehend…
Overall, Childhood’s End is a fast-paced, thought-provoking sci-fi masterpiece. I did feel the prose might have been more colourful, the characters more complex. However, in a work like this, the larger themes are the main attraction, and on that score, Arthur C. Clarke wrote a near-flawless piece of work that will live forever.
Welcome to the first true post of Everything Geeky! I thought I’d start with something that captures everything I want this blog to be about: a fun discussion that gives us all a chance to nerd out, but hopefully, we should come away a little more knowledgeable as well. So get your DeLoreans, Tardises, and Time-turners ready, because we are going back in time with this short history of fantasy.
I reckon that breaking things down, bit by bit, is the best approach here. Mostly, I’ll talk in a broad sense, sweeping over big concepts such as mythology and folk tales, tip-toeing over movements like Romanticism (I am by no means an expert on it!), and then we’ll get to ideas like Escapism (that thankfully, I can be a bit more precise about). The journey will finish with Tolkien and modern high fantasy, although, of course, the genre has gone from strength to strength since.
Don’t get me wrong though, you’ll get some delicious delicious detail along the way as well. Some works are far too important to merely breeze over, so I’ve decided to line them up front and centre for you to gawk at in judgement.
Before we start, one last reminder that I’m not an expert on much of this today. If I miss anything out that you feel is important, feel free to leave a comment, it’ll add to the discussion, and I wanna hear from you!
Without further ado, let’s begin.
Part I: What is fantasy?
I wanted to write a brief history of fantasy today, but almost immediately, I found myself up against some unforeseen difficulties. When I did some reading on how people more intelligent than myself defined fantasy, I had a minor disagreement with them…kinda.
Most define fantasy as:
A work with a presence of magic, the supernatural, or mythical creatures etc.
A work that takes place in a secondary world, or a world hidden from our own.
A work with a known author/s.
Illustration from The Violet Fairy Book, 1906
Now I agree wholeheartedly with the first two parts of this definition. The problem I have is with the third – the work must have a known author or authors – because it means that much of what I would consider to be fantasy, is not actually fantasy.
I am about to argue that myth and legend – stories and tales drowning in elements of the fantastical – played a key role in the early life of the, what I suppose you would call, proto-genre. For that reason, let’s not pay much attention to the third part of the definition for now, and let’s give myth, legend, and folk-tales the love they deserve from us fantasy fans.
Part II: Myth, legend, and early literature
Early literature is inherently fantastical in its nature. The heroes that are found in stories from all over the world routinely pit their wits against dreadful creatures, wicked demons, and dark magic. Homer’s The Iliad, and The Odyssey, considered the oldest works of Western literature in existence, are crucial components in the Western Canon for this reason. Odysseus and his battles with Cyclops Polyphemus, the attempted seductions of the witch Circe, and the run-in with the six-headed beast Scylla, show us one very important thing: fantasy has been with us from the very beginning.
Now it’s not just the literature of the west that is so imbued by the fantastical either.
Widely considered as one of the earliest works of literature, the Epic of Gilgamesh is an epic poem from ancient Mesopotamia, thought to have been written around 2100 BC. Yeah, so maybe you’ve heard of it if you’re as big a nerd as I am, but there’s more than just a ‘hero’s journey’ trope to the story of Gilgamesh and his many adventures. At its heart, there’s magic, terrifying beasts, and wrathful goddesses aplenty.
There is something about magic, about monsters and gods, that is imprinted in the soul of our culture.
During the Middle Ages, the traditional view is that a veil of ignorance and religious furore descended upon the world, hence why the time between the fall of Rome and the beginning of the Renaissance is commonly known as the Dark Ages. However, this view is western-centric; Europe may have slid into a multitude of small kingdoms warring with each other, a cultural backwater, but outside Europe’s borders, things were not so grim.
Between 1706 and 1721 AC, the first English language edition of the book The Arabian Nights’ Entertainment was published. The original title of the piece was, of course, One Thousand and One Nights. The book is a collection of Middle Eastern folk tales, compiled over the course of the Islamic Golden Age. The history of the book is quite difficult to crack apparently, but the earliest stories seem to have been translated into Arabic and titled One Thousand Nights, around the 8th Century. The work grew and grew as more tales were added to the original body of work over the intervening years, and the stories won renown, even making their way to Britain, where…oh, I’ve already mentioned that.
One Thousand and One Nights is a gargantuan body of work, a true giant of literature from the Middle Ages. The tales deal with a plethora of magical elements, fantastic beasts and monsters, and even cosmological ideas that could be considered Science Fiction.
The story of Princess Parizade and the Magic Tree by Maxfield Parrish, 1906
The work is a true example of how folktales can evolve into something more, of how early fantasy and masterful storytelling could cross cultural and geographical boundaries, from the sands of Arabia to the mild, rainy fields of England.
To me, the stories told in Arabian Nights are great examples of early fantasy. Collections of folktales are a key stepping stone on the way to a fantasy genre. The Brothers Grimm, and their travails ‘cross Germany, collecting the fairy tales that would become a vital part of many a child’s bedtime routines, brought fantasy into the open, and it has never really gone away. If we subscribe to the original definition, however, that fantasy must have a known author, then all of these fantastical pieces become less. I’m arguing that should not be the case. Myth, legend, and folktales are fantasy. They contain elements undeniably fantastical, and their influence on what was to come, cannot be diminished.
Perhaps I was a little hard on the Dark Ages earlier in the piece? Is it not these Middle Ages where so many latter-day works of fantasy are set? We fantasy lovers are the Jay Gatsbys of the literary world, we ‘beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.’ (I know it’s not fantasy, but it’s a great point, don’t you pretend it’s not!)
Why though? Where did fantasy’s obsession with the medieval world come from?
Part III: Romanticism
Tales of knightly valour were rife during the high Middle Ages. Even if King Arthur wasn’t a real dude, the legend of him and his knights of the round table, were to live on forevermore. Upper-class women loved their romances, the stories of dashing knights, of lovely ladies, and gallant deeds. Often, these stories would have everything we’ve discussed already – magic, monsters, all that jazz.
But then came the Renaissance, and after that, the Enlightenment (a little bit simplistic, I know, but let’s go with it, this is supposed to be a short history). With the Enlightenment came new ideas. Rationality could conquer the world, nature and everything in it could be placed in a box and a neat little bow could be tied around it. Man was to be the master over all. There was nothing we could not achieve. With the principles of the Enlightenment guiding us, science would be victorious in the eternal war against nature. We would make nature bow to us.
This alarmed some people.
The Romantic school of thought held that nature a mysterious force that should be left well enough alone. The emotions of a human were inherently irrational, so what was the point in delving into these murky waters. Romantics looked at the growing world of modernity and despaired. Dirty, overcrowded cities, pestilence and misery everywhere, the sanctity of nature defiled.
Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, Caspar David Friedrich, 1818.
So Romanticists brought it back. The early romance tales valued nature. Nature was where the magic happened, literally. Once you left the city, and you journeyed out into the wilderness, you put yourself in the hands of fate. You were not the one in control, the natural world ruled all. It was the Lady of the Lake, in the very heart of the wild, who granted Arthur his sword, Excalibur.
For Romanticists, emotion and nature were supreme.
From the Romantic movement sprang several branches of literary that would have an impact on the fantasy genre. Gothic horror is probably the branch of the Romantic tree that I am most acquainted with. Fear, that deep, clawing, mysterious, exhilarating, and terrible emotion, was central to gothic horror. To inspire an incomprehensible, irrational terror in your reader was to be the true Romantic.
The tropes and themes that became central to the Romantic school were to become mainstays in both the fantasy and horror genres.
Part IV: Escapism
As time wore on, a more distinct fantasy genre developed, characterised by a more noticeable use of secondary or hidden worlds. Escapism is often looked down upon by the literary types as being second-rate, or even sub-literary. The act of letting go of the real world for a time though, and immersing yourself fully in a world quite different from our own, empathising with characters whose trials are foreign to what we know – yet still human – is a noble act. Stuff the snobs, I say, there’s nothing wrong with escapism.
One of the first true works of modern fantasy, I believe, is Gulliver’s Travels, by Johnathan Swift. The book, published in 1726, is an enchanting satire, where many of the contemporary issues of the day – European religion and politics, imperialism – are examined through the lens of metaphor. In this way, you have a story far beyond its time. This would become a popular trait of fantasy and science fiction, where the escapist nature of the piece is retained, but real life issues are also touched upon.
During the 19th Century, a true genre began to develop, with the resurgence of fairy tales, the influence of Romanticist hearkening back to a bygone past, and with the establishment of escapist storytelling. Leaving the real world – the Victorian world of manners and logic – for a nonsense realm of the weird and the wonderful, a wonderland, a true escapist adventure, is the story of one of the 19th Century’s most famous books.
Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland certainly made an impact on the world of fiction. Queen Victoria became the book’s most famous lover, and even struck up something a friendship with Carroll, urging him to dedicate his next book to her. Carroll, a mathematician and logician first, did indeed dedicate his next work to Victoria. An Elementary Treatise on Determinants was perhaps not quite what the queen had in mind…Off with his head, anyone?
Children and grownups alike were to love the Alice books. Works that cross age boundaries were to become a popular trait of fantasy books in the 20th and 21st Centuries. For an author to strike both demographics is usually an indicator of the book’s success, and in this way, Lewis Carroll was one of the first modern fantasy writers.
Is escapism a naturally childish idea? When we read escapist literature, it is often with the desire to be free of our worries for a time, to eschew our responsibilities, and to hide in a realm where the weight of adulthood is lessened. There is a novel (first a stage play), written in the early 20th Century, that deals with these themes in a more structured way than perhaps any other.
Peter Pan (or Peter and Wendy), by JM Barrie, is a brilliant work for children, that strikes all the notes an escapist piece should strike. The protagonist, Wendy Darling, straddles the line between the carefree abandon of Peter, and the iron-clad commitment to humourless responsibility that Captain Hook represents. Interestingly enough, in the stage play, the role of Captain Hook is traditionally played by the same actor who plays the Darling father. Wendy is caught between these two forces; the eternal childhood daze of Peter Pan, or the desire to grow up that is deeply rooted inside her (Wendy’s willingness to be a mother to the lost boys).
As a tale of escapist fantasy, I reckon there is no clearer example than Peter Pan. However, there is another work that I believe shows the evolution of escapist literature into modern epic fantasy. I’m talking about CS Lewis and The Chronicles of Narnia. There is the backdrop of escape from danger in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, when the Pevensie are evacuated from war-torn London to the countryside. The proverbial wardrobe through which the children then escape into Narnia is the portal that shifts the narrative to one of high fantasy. There is no need to mention the dozens of examples of magic and monsters that exist in the Narnia books, it is a work of fantasy that perhaps more than any thus far, left the real world behind in totality.
Except in one very important way.
The Chronicles of Narnia, in many ways, plays out as a Christian allegory. The obvious example is of Aslan – the great lion – representing Christ, in him sacrificing himself for the sins of Edmund, before being resurrected later in the book. Perhaps even more obvious, is in The Last Battle, Aslan sits in judgement of all those living and dead, and the righteous are given leave to enter Aslan’s country.
Narnia, at its core, is connected to our own world. It exists not as a separate entity, either in the narrative sense, where there is a gateway between the worlds, or in the meta sense, where the Christian allegory prevents the novels from existing on their own merit. It was CS Lewis’s great friend and Oxford colleague, who would write what many of us consider to be the first true work of modern high fantasy.
Part V: Tolkien and Middle-Earth
To make a Secondary World inside which the green sun will be credible, commanding Secondary Belief, will probably require labour and thought, and will certainly demand a special skill, a kind of elvish craft. Few attempt such difficult tasks. But when they are attempted and in any degree accomplished then we have a rare achievement of Art: indeed narrative art, story-making in its primary and most potent mode.
JRR Tolkien, On Fairy Stories
We talked in our definition of fantasy about hidden worlds and secondary worlds. For the most, most of the works we’ve discussed have taken place in the hidden world – a realm that exists alongside our own, out of site. As of yet, we haven’t looked at any examples of the secondary world.
A secondary world has its own set of rules, quite distinct from our own. History, geography, language, fauna, everything. This is the major determinant between low fantasy and high fantasy. In high fantasy, there is no anchor into our own world, everything is created in the author’s own design.
As Tolkien explains in the quote above, the creation of a secondary world is a supremely difficult task – perhaps why we have so often seen our own world being used as a counterbalance to an author’s fantastical realm, our world acts as the life jacket to keep the reader above water. So often, complete immersion into a secondary world is a challenging thing, if not done right, it leaves the reader confused.
This great difficulty – a confused reader is one who won’t be a reader for long – is what makes Tolkien’s achievement so astounding. The sheer scale of Tolkien’s Middle-Earth is something that had not been seen before. From the creation of the world, when Arda was sung into existence by the Ainur, to the great battles between Melkor and the Maiar. The First Age. The Second Age. The Third Age. A narrative spanning tens of thousands of years, a complete history.
When such an immersive world is the base of a near flawless narrative, a story where the sake of the entire world rests on the unlikeliest of shoulders, you have the recipe for perfection. The Lord of the Rings is the culmination of everything we have discussed here. Tolkien understands exactly how important myth and legend are to the human spirit, and he interweaves his epic history of Middle-Earth into the stories told around the fire by Aragorn. The setting, is, of course, something consistent with the high Middle Ages, and all of its romantic splendour. Nature, and the preservation of it, that key Romantic ideal, plays out in the battle between the Ents and Sauruman’s heartless industry. As for escapism, well, Bilbo Baggins leaves his Hobbit hole and goes on an adventure.
Part VI: Loose Ends
There you have it. My short history of fantasy. It was longer than I had meant it to be when I first had the idea to make a post on the subject. I thought I had enough knowledge on the subject to just sit down and write, but that proved to be untrue. I ended up having to do quite a bit of research for this essay. I’ll leave some of my sources below in case any of you are interested to find out a bit more. I even have a direct link to a few things that I’m sure you’ll enjoy.
I didn’t want to make this too much like an academic essay. I wanted this to be a fun read as well, so you’ll excuse some of the flippant language I’ve used throughout. Some of this essay is honest work, me trying to get across how the fantasy genre evolved, but other parts are just my own opinion as well. I’ve tried to find the middle ground I suppose, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it.
So what is this blog all about? I’m hearing the question a lot (mostly from myself), and I think it’s time an answer was pulled from somewhere dark and smelly.
Books are gonna be discussed here more often than not, specifically fantasy and sci-fi. Yes, that means reviews, but I’m not going to limit myself to that format. I’m going to discuss the history of the genres, common tropes, world-building, and anything else that I find myself daydreaming about. Because I daydream about this sort of thing a lot. When I’m not writing, I tend to be daydreaming; this blog is just a place to imprison that multitude of daydreams where the world can ogle at their ugliness.
With the book reviews will come additional character essays as well. Expect to see some well-known characters strung up on a post and pulled apart bit by bit, until they’re nothing more than a pulsating mass of broken tropes, and dare I say it…cliches. Well, maybe not, because I tend to see the best in everything I read, and will be as nice a reviewer as I can be.
Books won’t be the only thing discussed here (we are Everything Geeky, afterall). A fanboy gotta fanboy, so expect to see some of the big ‘uns of pop culture grace the pages of this blog. I’ve already written one meta-piece on Star Wars culture (the first of many SW posts), and Marvel, Game of Thrones, and some others should follow soon enough.
Keeping with the theme of Everything Geeky, you’ll be unsurprised to hear that games are not off-limits. Discussions on big RPGs can also be expected, whether in one essay that takes into consideration several games, or else a breakdown of games individually.
So I think I’m casting a pretty wide net here, and hopefully the discussions in future prove fruitful, fun, and heck, maybe we’ll all have a damn good time.
For a long time now, I’ve been toying with the idea of creating a blog: a place to put all my thoughts and ideas concerning fantasy, sci-fi, and everything geeky. Up until now, that’s all it was, an idea. Something for me to put off, never get round to, I mean – I’ve got better things to do, don’t I?
Well, it seems anger is a greater motivator than most (although I doubt Yoda would feel the same way). And so here I am, with what I suppose is an open letter to the Star Wars fandom.
The year I became a Star Wars fan was 2002. I was 6 years old. Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones was in theatres, and one day at school, my best friend stumped over to me, and asked the question, “Would Count Dooku beat Mace Windu in a fight?”
Well, I didn’t have a clue what he was on about. But 6 year old me had to know everything. So I answered that Count Dooku would win.
“Count Dooku has a bendy lightsabre handle,” my friend informed me.
“Light saver?”
“Like this,” my friend grasped something invisible in his hand, a sword maybe. “Tcheeeeung!” He waved this invisible sword around with many a Vooom Vooom Ctuuuung!
I think I saw the film the next day.
I was hooked. Everything about Star Wars; the lightsabres, the ships, the Force. My young mind was well and truly blown. Nothing could be as good as this. Nothing. I soon became an expert, watching the films religiously. I went back and watched The Phantom Menace, which my gran had on VHS. At some point, I saw the originals, A New Hope, Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi. In 2005, I saw Episode III: Revenge of the Sith at the cinema. Up until that point, I’d never seen anything as good in on the big screen.
I loved Star Wars, I still do, and I’m always gonna.
Of course, I’m older now. I read a lot, mostly fantasy and sci-fi, and those early years of religiously watching Star Wars probably had a lot to do with it. The galaxy far, far away is huge. There’s so much in it. It was my first encounter with world-building, before I even knew what world building was. I write too, short stories, piecing together a novel bit by bit, but my first attempt at writing was Star Wars too. I did comic books, sometimes with the characters from the movies, sometimes entirely new stories, based around me and my friends – we’d be Jedi, Sith, bounty hunters.
Star Wars inspired me to write.
Well, I’ve digressed a bit there, but nevermind!
I’m older, and it takes more than flashy lights, well-choreographed battles, or rousing symphonies to blow my mind. Plot, character arcs, dialogue, theme…these are what keep me up at night now!
And, as you’ve no doubt heard others say, the prequel trilogy is found lacking when it comes to the writing. The plot is half-baked (Episode I), the pacing is all over the place (Episode II), the dialogue is at times cringe-worthy (another point for Episode II here I’m afraid), the characters are robotic with little in the way of arcs (especially true in Episode I).
In a three-part story, it is important to let things stew away nicely for the entire piece. Characters are set up, developed, and reach an end-game which should be consistent with everything that’s come before. Take Padme Amidala in the prequels; set up as a queen, a diplomat, the consummate politician fighting for what is right, and willing to truly fight for it! Her dialogue is mostly ropey, of course, but Padme is a truly badass character in the first two episodes. When we reach Episode III, she is undercut massively, reduced to a pregnant woman who Anakin must save. And Episode III is the good one!
I have many more criticisms of the prequels. The point I’m trying to make though, is about something greater. I love these films. I love the prequels. They got me into Star Wars as a child, and they are perhaps more dear to me than any other set of films or books. Harry Potter came later for me, Lord of the Rings later still, Game of Thrones (the show and the books) was my teenage obsession.
I can separate my criticisms of the films, from the overall love I have for the franchise.
In a big way, Star Wars made me the person I am today. Writers, whether it be George Lucas, J.J. Abrams, or Rian Johnson, are intent on making movies that inspire, that make us punch the air in delight, that make us applaud, weep, that bring our hearts into our mouths with fear, or else drop them into our stomachs with shock. The actors who bring our favourite characters to life are in the mind’s eye of children all over the world, who wish to be Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Han Solo, Obi Wan Kenobi, Padme Amidala, Mace Windu, Rey, Kylo Ren, Finn. (The final scene in The Last Jedi came unexpectedly to my mind as I wrote this sentence.)
This is a noble pursuit.
Which makes it all the more bewildering, depressing and, quite honestly, pathetic, that these writers, directors, and actors are being engulfed in a deluge of slime-ridden filth from some within the fandom. There is an enormous difference between criticism and hate. No critique you have of a movie should lead to the hurling of the kind of abuse that’s been going on.
Today, Ahmed Best, who played Jar Jar Binks in the prequels, revealed he considered suicide over the reaction to the character. Kelly Marie Tran, the actress behind Rose Tico in The Last Jedi, has withdrawn from social media due to racist and misogynist abuse.
Quite honestly, there is a dark underbelly to the Star Wars fandom. And it is sickening. Movies that are made to produce so much happiness, to inspire the young, to transport the old back to their childhood, should not suffer this dark affliction. We, who are Star Wars fans, who love and cherish this franchise, must now shout louder.
Anger and hate, the vilification of hardworking people, abuse of any kind; this is not what the Star Wars fandom is about. We who are rational, open-minded people, who understand there can be debate without name-calling, criticism without abuse, must now stand up and be counted. I believe it’s time that the quiet Star Wars fan came to the fore.
This is why I’ve finally stepped into the blogging world, more than ready to put my thoughts and ideas to any who of you who wish to hear them. Everything I do on here will be in the spirit of fair-mindedness and open discussion. Whether the topic is Star Wars, fantasy and sci-fi reviews, movie talk, or just general discussions, I’m hoping that positivity and reasonableness can shine a light on the wretched hive of scum and villainy that exist in other places across the internet.
Along the way, maybe we can even win back our fandom…
Everything Geeky 