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In essays on the subject of centricity, I've most often used the image of a geometrical circle, which, as I explained here,  owes someth...

Showing posts with label charles vess. Show all posts
Showing posts with label charles vess. Show all posts

Sunday, December 3, 2023

THE READING RHEUM: STARDUST (1999)

 



The short review: STARDUST is more like "moonshine," in the sense of its lack of substance.

I don't think I have a problem with a creator of genius simply tackling less ambitious projects. That's the nature of creativity: one is drawn to this or that endeavor by some internal muse, and there's no gainsaying that imperative.

That said, even in 1999 STARDUST feels like a very minor effort, particularly when it's compared to the section of BOOKS OF MAGIC that Gaiman completed. partly in collaboration with STARDUST-illustrator Charles Vess, about eight years previous. Though the subtitle styles STARDUST a "romance," the novel is centered on its male protagonist, around whom various female presences revolve.

A prologue describes how the novel's hero Tristran Thorn is conceived by a unison between his mortal father Dunstan and his faerie mother Una. This is possible because Wall, the English village Dunstan occupies, is separated by a literal brick wall from the dominions of Faerieland, which are represented by a loose association of entities. Some of these beings are almost indistinguishable from mortal people, like the royal family of Stormhold, while others include more overt fantasy-figures like witches and unicorns.

Tristran grows up in Wall, having no knowledge of his Faerie parentage, and falls in love with Victoria, a mortal girl. He pledges to undertake all manner of tasks to please his lady love, and when the two of them witness the falling of a star from the heavens, Victoria playfully suggests that he bring her the star. But to do that, Tristran must venture into the lands of Faerieland. And among the many magical entities he meets is "the star" herself in human form, eventually given the name Yvain. Additionally, there's a witch who wants to eat Yvain's heart to gain immortality, while the sons of the Stormhold kingdom are set a task that will end with one of them gaining their late father's throne, and this task too loosely coheres with finding the star.

All of these are perfectly respectable fantasy-tropes-- a cannibal witch, rival brothers seeking to complete a task, a love affair between a mortal male and a supernatural female. But STARDUST never escapes a mannered quality that may be Gaiman's worst creative failing. 

Some complaints are minor. Gaiman burns up a lot of space describing how Yvain, once she became a living yet immortal woman, broke her leg falling from the sky. Okay, but if you're going to go with that idea, why just her leg? Why didn't she break her neck or back? Because Gaiman had to keep Tristran's destined real romantic partner alive, of course, but the constant reminder of the broken leg serves no actual purpose in the narrative.

The major problem is that the romantic byplay between Tristran and Yvaine seems tepid rather than intriguing. Though Tristran had nothing to do with Yvaine's fall, she constantly rags on him, just for having come to capture her, when he didn't even have any way of knowing she would be a sentient creature. The literary woods are full of acrimonious romances that turn out okay, but the acrimony needs to be rooted in some natural male-female conflict. 

Moreover, Tristran only has one or two moments where he distinguishes himself with some act of wit in order to escape trouble. Most of the time, various magical donors show up to solve problems for Tristran and his stellar companion-- so many that Tristran never assumes any stature of his own. Further, the subplot with the royal brothers never ties into the main plot in any meaningful way, and the threat of the cannibal witch simply peters out at the end.

Despite an adult level of sexuality and violence in a few scenes, STARDUST feels like it should have been written more like a modern upbeat fairy tale, in which the good people suffer a little at first but end up having an uncomplicated happy ending. As for Vess, his art is technically proficient but he's illustrating a fantasy without much depth, and that undermines the potential mythopoesis.



Tuesday, August 30, 2016

MYTHCOMICS: THE BOOKS OF MAGIC (1990-91)



Most of the material in the four-issue BOOKS OF MAGIC relates to the "metaphysical myths" propounded by DC Comics. Still, the other three functions-- sociological, psychological, and cosmological-- enter the mix as well.

According to Wikipedia, the project originally had American writer J.M. deMatteis associated with it. While deMatteis might have done passably well in depicting the metaphysical history of the DC Universe, I doubt he'd have shown much facility with the other three functions. For instance, Gaiman doesn't just meditate on the metaphysical appeal of magic for the many characters depicted, but also the psychology of those attracted to "The Art." The cosmological strictures of science also contribute to the whole, particularly in Book 4, which depicts the entropy-death of the universe, complete with an "indigo shift" to replace the "red shift" with which the universe supposedly began. And almost certainly the American deMatteis certainly would not have been able to seed the BOOKS OF MAGIC narrative with its many trenchant observations on the differences between the world of American-made superheroes and the "universe" of the Comic-Book "British Invasion." 

For instance, of the four DC heroes who oversee the narrative of MAGIC, two (Doctor Occult, Mister E) are American characters created by American authors, one (the Phantom Stranger) was created by an American author but had indeterminate cultural origins, and the last, John Constantine, was created by one of the leading scions of the British invasion.




Constantine offers a British perspective on the wild and woolly world of American superheroes:

I prefer to live in a country that's small, and old, and where no one would ever have the NERVE to wear a cape in public, whether they could leap tall buildings in a single bound or not.
And yet, for all that, BOOKS OF MAGIC also offers Gaiman the chance to create yet another British-born character who has the potential to be a "super-magus." Teenaged Tim Hunter, according to the four magical masters, is destined to become either a great good or a great evil. They appear to the bemused young man, offering to initiate him to the world of magic. The boy makes the choice to listen to them-- a decision fraught with later consequences-- and for the length of the mini-series, each of the occult teachers shows him some aspect of DC's magical universe.

The Stranger shows Tim the distant past of the universe, and gives him the first inklings of the price of magic.



Constantine, always the "cutting-edge" type, escorts the teen into the contemporary society of magicians, with some assistance from Zatanna.




Doctor Occult, a creation of Siegel and Shuster who predates Superman, takes Tim through the domain of faerie (a very British domain, despite the appearanc of the Russian horror Baba Yaga).



And Mister E, the most obscure character (who has only made ten appearances in a DC horror title), accompanies the boy to the very end of the DC universe, which combines aspects of H.G. Wells' TIME MACHINE and Gaiman's own "Sandman-subcosmos." 




A single blog-post can't suss out the many ways in which Gaiman approaches the multivalent topic of magic, in concert with four of the most "painterly" artists of the period. But I will note in closing that Gaiman is consistent throughout the narrative in seeing magic as not just superstition or madness, but as the fundamental image of human desire,  Or as Aleister Crowley said:

“Magic is the Science and Art of causing Change, on a material as well as a spiritual level, to occur in conformity with Will by altered states of consciousness. 

A given reader may care nothing about the actual practice of ritual magic. However, Gaiman and his collaborators have eminently shown that even if magic had no reality in the world, in the literary world it remains a potent means of "altering states of consciousness."