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grandhotelabyss · 3 years

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Speaking of his comparatively small output, Ishiguro said: “I don’t have any regrets about it. In some ways, I suppose, I’m just not that dedicated to my vocation. I expect it’s because writing wasn’t my first choice of profession. It’s almost something I fell back on because I couldn’t make it as a singer-songwriter. It’s not something I’ve wanted to do every minute of my life. It’s what I was permitted to do. So, you know, I do it when I really want to do it, but otherwise I don’t.”

Giles Harvey, “Kazuo Ishiguro Sees What the Future Is Doing to Us”

(A long New York Times profile to crown the publicity campaign for Klara and the Sun, which I will read and review just as soon as it arrives, though I have a foreboding that it won’t add much to Never Let Me Go.

We here at Grand Hotel Abyss are interested in what we have elsewhere called “esoterica in the literary press”—what in other genres of writing would just be called themes or subtexts but which demand a more menacing appellation in the field of journalism, where writing is supposed to be transparent as glass. The undercurrent in Harvey’s piece is dolce far niente, which you can see if you compare how Harvey characterizes Ishiguro’s writing practice—as inspired laziness—to the way it’s described as an almost spiritualized martial art in the Guardian profile [“a process he compares to a samurai sword fight”].

Why this cryptic defense of the indolent? It accompanies an attempt to reinterpret the politics of Ishiguro’s fiction for the present, even though the first novels belong to the early triumphalist neoliberal moment in their skepticism of all organized politics. Never Let Me Go extends this skepticism to the organizations that have taken the place of politics and therefore breaks through into a true critique of neoliberalism. Never Let Me Go speaks to so many on a nearly forbidden channel because it is, more specifically, a critique of the feminine modes of domination that our era brings to the fore [e.g., as I’ve mentioned already, “why won’t men go to therapy?”].

We’ve discussed Nancy Armstrong before in these electronic pages; she wrote the book on the realist novel as a feminine mode of domination, and when she turns to Ishiguro’s science fiction—noting, as did the late Swedish Academy secretary Sara Danius, his odd resemblance both to Jane Austen and to Franz Kafka—she seemingly gets the message:

That is to say, as Kathy verbally replenishes her biologically depleted emotional life by describing all the connections she has made by means of this ruthless logic, what can only be called positive affect pulses back through the web of pathways which end in death. As it does so, her story converts the deaths of individual students into the form of life in common shared even by the dead in Walter Benjamin’s poignant lament for the passing of the traditional village storyteller. As it thus converts loss into connection at once banal and unavailable to normal individuals, Kathy’s story, I would argue, proposes a model of community that does not hark back to a bygone pastoral world, as Benjamin’s does, so much as open up the possibility that even individuals who consider themselves irreplaceable can and must acknowledge the continuous biological substratum on which they are already inscribed.

But Armstrong’s dense theoretical disquisition on a new post-novelistic model of community, as much as Harvey’s journalistic portrait of the artist as neo-social-democrat, doesn’t penetrate to the real Ishiguran esoterica. The author presents himself as a genial bumbling Englishman, a very decent liberal, a kindly multi-genre humanist like Gaiman or Mitchell—see his Amanda-Palmer-quoting daughter—who lacks even the grit in the eye you get from Amis or Rushdie. This is the softer book-club version of what Harvey and Armstrong are selling. Harvey writes,

Ishiguro came of age as a writer in the early 1980s, when market fundamentalism was sweeping Britain and the West, a development that caught him entirely off guard. “I never wanted revolution,” he said of his younger self. “But I did believe we could progress towards a more socialist world, a more generous welfare state. I went a long way into my adult life believing that was the consensus. When I was 24 or 25, I realized that Britain had taken a very different turn with the coming of Margaret Thatcher.” Although his books never explicitly address Thatcher’s neoliberal project, they reflect its dismaying human consequences. For Ishiguro’s characters, not working is not an option, or even a proclivity.

So much in his work is “not an option.” I think of the doomed clones torturing the fly in Never Let Me Go, the pianist enacting his great performance only when thinks he’s alone in The Unconsoled, the painter becoming a fascist because he sympathizes with the poor and oppressed in An Artist of the Floating World. The temptation is to recuperate this for a progressive politics in some watered-down Adornian reading that would show his works’ negativity to subtract from the world the very shape our hopes ought to take so that they become handbooks for utopia once you reverse the writing [I weakly lapsed into this at the end of my essay on Never Let Me Go]. His post-Nobel insistence on his genial liberalism points this way as much as does Armstrong’s summary of his work’s purpose as “provid[ing] a glimpse of what it might be like to live without the misbegotten notion that being a self-contained subject is the best and only way of being fully human,” or Harvey’s quiet argument for social democracy as a system that will allow us to be productively lazy just like the author.

The theme, the subtext, the esoterica is something else, though, something less like socialism in cipher and more akin to a philosophy of quiet retreat, inner exile, beneath the posture of conformity, something like Kierkegaard’s Knight of Faith or Jünger’s Anarch, though let me finish Eumeswil before you quote me on the latter.

The 20th century is dying more slowly than Onegin’s uncle, but it’s still clear what the future holds: corporatist biosurveillance city-states, which will come in “woke” Zuck/Bezos forms with democratic-socialist veneers and “based” Thiel/Musk versions that are more frank, but which will be the same in the end. Why else does even the present political left’s theory of “equity,” as encapsulated in this genuinely disgusting meme, imply the coerced correction of inherent biological inequality? This is the point I’ve been making since my essay on Spike Jonez’s Her in 2014: what the woke and the based want is basically the same thing—the juridical and biological extermination of the human being. Some will advertise this state of affairs as the expansion of humanism and the alternative to neoliberalism Ishiguro says he was hoping for. They will buy and sell our information and our atoms and tell us it’s freedom, they will bribe us a pittance to be serfs and call it socialism, and like Kathy and Ryder we will do our best to play our part with pride and decency. It is to this future that Ishiguro’s best novels offer a guide.

Further reading: check the Kazuo Ishiguro tag over at the main site for me on A Pale View of Hills, An Artist of the Floating World, Never Let Me Go, The Buried Giant, and a first response to Ishiguro’s Nobel. Confession: I’ve never read When We Were Orphans; I should have by now, but I know so little about its historical setting and am always intimidated by the word-problem aspect of detective novels, so I’ve put it off.)

#kazuo ishiguro #giles harvey #nancy armstrong #neoliberalism #fiction #literature #science fiction #english literature

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theangrypokemaniac · 4 years

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Contests Part 2/2

6. Loser Jessie

Screechy harpie Jessay has even more of a raw deal than Mavis and Dawn of the Dead.

From the outset I knew she'd never be champion, but she ought to rise above the tiresome berks clogging up procedure.

Sufficient popularity at Pokémon Towers ensured the girls were allotted coverage of all their award ceremonies. They had a moment in the sun.

What has Jessie in comparison?

I can't recall Hoenn, but I don't expect it was much.

Sinnoh however carried naught but a single paltry episode.

This for a main character.

This for someone there from the beginning.

This for an ardent fan favourite.

This for a wench who, should we include all her various mutations, has featured in more installments than either of 'em.

But no, treat Jesseee as worthless, even lower than Dawn's groupies. It's not like anyone watches it for her.

Looking back, it's obvious what they were intending to do come Unova.

What's the score then?

• One paltry Contest on screen.

• A couple happen elsewhere, marked by a few seconds per mention when the script oh-so generously moves away from the thrilling main plot.

It's gotta be the small-town concerns for Jessuhleenuh, nothing major. She deserves no better.

• One won by James, so not hers. Press her inadequacy upon us!

• One obtained as a gesture of pity from Kate Middleton.

And how did that work? What's the good of allowing 'Dawn' entry again?

She'd already qualified. If winning here, that gives her six, therefore there aren't enough Co-ordinators for the culmination.

And when Jessie showed up with a Ribbon recorded as belonging to Dawn, how was she taken as fulfilling the quota?

The slapdash way these Contests are run!

God forbid Jess should be shown as excelling at anything. It must be scraping into the final undeservedly.

Bitch gotta know her place.

7. Bumpkin Jessie

...

Ain't no description I can give that don't rhyme with 'hit', or variations of the theme.

You thought the shafting Jessica got coverage wise was bad enough? Yer ain't heard the 'alf of it.

Sinnoh was a period of peak Moron Team Rocket, where the one surprise was how stupid they could be.

You may remember an early episode when James designed her clothes for the catwalk. She thought it'd complement his work by applying lipstick all across her mug.

Obviously Jessie would do that, clueless as to how make-up functions.

Come on kids, she's thick!

Even at that numskull nadir it's difficult to comprehend anyone choosing this get up without severe duress.

Picture the scene: you debut on stage, before an audience of thousands and television cameras, in an event preoccupied with superficiality.

What do you wear?

• Giant, oversized glasses out of fashion since the Seventies.

• Bootlace tie last worn in the nineteenth century Wild West by a barman serving sarsaparillas.

• Colour scheme of brown and orange, the nation's favourite hues.

• A man's old shirt fraying at the cuffs.

• Voluminous apron dress.

• Massive yellow bows last seen decorating an Easter Egg. Always a winner.

• Heavy, clod-hopping boots.

• PIGTAILS!!!

Even the name is unattractive.

Ah yes, very common for those under six. Unheard of later.

You have reached puberty haven't yer Jessie? I can't tell anymore.

They couldn't get enough of that combination in Cosmo, which is why it's no longer in print.

Not only is Jessie denied success, she's deprived of the chance to be pretty in a realm where nothing but that carries weight.

Worse, given how her face disintegrated, this is the best she's been for five generations.

Yeah, because the inbred milkmaid style is such a good look, eh?

SEXAY!!!

8. So Long, Tsundere

Remember tsunderes? What happened to 'em?

The curse of Pokémon was draining the well of inspiration too quickly, throwing away interesting characters as mere guests.

This is particularly noticeable regarding the ladies. Back then, we got Misty, Jessie, Jessibelle, Cassidy, Aya, Giselle, Tyra, Sabrina, assorted crones Brutella, Nastina and Lacy, plus Joy, Jenny and Dame Ketchum provided parental authority.

How did a series that began with ball-breaking birds like that end up with insipid, glassy-eyed dullards like Zuhreena, Banana Lana, Marsh Mallow and Lilliput?

Ooh, Zuhreena is a pwincess!

Ooh, Banana Lana bwows big bwubbles!

Ooh, Marsh Mallow wuvs phallic waddishes!

Ooh, Lilliput won't pwet wanimals bwecause of Secwet Pain!

Can you imagine such weak specimens finding any place in the anarchic atmosphere of the classics?

It's SO boring!

Where's the punch? Where's the human spirit?

Where's the entertainment gone?

This squishy attitude began in Hoenn. Misty left, Jessie's hair symbolically changed from volcanic red to pink, and Contests introduced a cuddly theme where glitter glue and sequins are top priority.

Every sharp corner, every jagged point has been filed smooth. Now its substance hasn't the hardness to even develop edges, not when it's all cushions and candyfloss, where catching Pokémon rests on them deigning to grant permission, rather than 'avin it out.

Tsunderes, exuding untamed charisma and independence, besides a soupçon of danger, simply don't fit the cardboard box we habit now.

Nor do yanderes, kuuderes, tsuntsuns, or even derederes. It's just nothing but smiley-smiley creeps.

I wouldn't mind any of these tropes as long as there was some sign of colour to be had.

9. The Sacrifice of Misty

Misty bid farewell under the feeble justification that the lack of a longterm goal made her vulnerable to sacking.

Such a line uttered as if her own choice, being beyond them as writers to invent a purpose.

This implied her replacement would have an exciting quest aiming for excellence, something just beyond Misty's capabilities.

What did we get?

Dressing up and collecting Ribbons!

Is that...is that it? Is that the great idea? Is that all the girls are worth?

I lost Misty for THIS?!

Perhaps it makes no difference. By Hoenn they'd rendered her a leaden blandness sucked dry of all that made her special.

Going by the greasy-toothed bastardisation that swanned up in Alola, Misty was simply too wild for the safe, stifling atmosphere of today.

Her departure ensued she remains frozen as a funny, beloved presence, unlike those she left behind.

Now there was a lucky escape, as once the fanny-flapping starts, the bints have it on the brain.

May had Max to beat on the side, but Dawn developed monomania.

Hardly an episode went by without some reference to Contests, or how today's plot spurred her on to the next opportunity.

Yer need help, love!

Rather than Ash's new friend being a fascinating person who so happened to enter vanity projects, the competition defined them to the exclusion of life.

It is but moths drawn to the candle flame waiting to engulf them.

Contests are this world's version of Tom Riddle's diary: they promise sympathy and validation, but they eat your soul.

Like Tumblr.

10. Completely Unoriginal

Seems to me it wasn't so much Misty had no goal, it was more that Contests were the supposedly hot concept wedged into an existing property.

If earlier aspects failed to accommodate the invader, the onus certainly wasn't on the new kid to change. Oh no, stuff it in and chop off whatever gets in the way.

In the eyes of the post-Shudo regime, Misty was too volatile to last, and so had to go.

What idiots.

She's a tsundere. The softer, more feminine side is a defining component.

Would it really have been so problematic to retain her as an entrant? If Jessie can, why not?

Even if failing to fit, so what? Since when was established characterisation a barrier?

Isn't twisting likeable folk into unrecognisable pods the modus operandi of the writers?

That canon is immaterial, and must always give in to whatever fancy they currently have?

Well then, what's the big deal in infantilising Misty to promote it rather than pensioning her off?

Viewers will be more invested in the challenges awaiting a familiar face rather than a stranger.

What reduces the above to the risible is the original Misty and Jessie both participated in the Princess Festival.

All Contests are is that very scenario on repeat and robbed of all meaning.

Think about it:

• Beauty round

• Battle round

• Jessie loses

Same bloody thing.

Not only have I got to suffer this draining spectacle, it's got the nerve to possess not one iota of fresh ideas!

Contests are a low rent rip-off. The Princess Festival had a worthy reward in the shape of one-of-a-kind Dolls.

It'd already been revealed that ordinary Princess Dolls were ruinously expensive, therefore the special Pokémon edition have to be priceless.

What d'yer get for the trouble of a Contest but a bit of plastic tat taped to bargain basement frippery?

And they demand you get five of 'em!

Contests themselves were then resurrected as Showcases, although mercifully slimmed down to only three, with the emptiness ramped up in compensation.

Perhaps ironically, Princess Versus Princess is one of my favourite episodes. I love its critique of female avarice and accurate portrayal of clothing sales as reminiscent of the zombie apocalypse.

I don't mind the Festival as a single adventure, but I may have felt less favourable had it been a constant presence.

Except it isn't the competition at stake. This is a framework to explore Jessie and Misty as people.

Through its device we learn their history and therefore how they came to develop as the girls we know.

The setting serves as an opportunity for both to confront the misery and isolation of their childhoods, with the promise of overcoming that old torment with the balm of victory.

In the final, they aren't so much battling an opponent as fighting to be free of the past.

The tragedy is only one can be granted that reprieve. The other must remain unhappy in the ruins of memory.

It matters, unlike vapid Contests, where posturing is king. What depth can they provide in comparison?

Despite identical content, they are inverse counterparts, with the Festival presented as merely a light affair concealing a rather dark tale of neglect.

Contests however are paraded as this worthy nourishment for body and mind, a major point in one's journey towards enlightenment, when all they really amount to is an organ grinder and his monkey arsing about for the slack-gobbed plebs.

Bread and circuses.

Best of all, Misty won, not some side twat, as it should be.

Note how Jessie dressed: in delicate, vivid robes and golden decoration. The boys thought her beautiful.

Not as a gormless dweeb you'd cross the street to avoid!

And why the need to disguise herself anyway?

The Twerps had no issue with Jessie of Team Rocket joining the fun back then, so what happened?

At least she received the consolation of gaining Lickitung as a friend, with James and Meowth desperate to comfort her.

What do Contests bring? Sod all!

#pokémon #team rocket #contests #misty #jessie #kanto #princess versus princess

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