It seems any book that celebrates and centers nature will have heaps of GoodReads reviews interpreting diverse and even contradictory political or social ideas into it. The same book will be disparaged (or praised) as anti-capitalist, conservative, queer, misogynist, left-wing, right-wing. But haven’t we considered that there are whole swaths of human experience that fall outside of the contemporary right-left spectrum, and whole swaths of existence that fall outside of human experience altogether?
The best thing about animal fiction is not when it tells us about ourselves or holds up a mirror to humanity -- it’s when it tells us about things that are decidedly not ourselves. Even that most delightfully, thickly human animal fiction, The Wind In the Willows, is at its most transcendent when the natural world takes center stage: the river as a character in its own right, the inexplicable tug South during autumn, the Piper at the gates of dawn.
It is a greater triumph to build a portal than a mirror. If in every book we see merely ourselves (or our political opponents), maybe we need to, as they say, “touch grass.” And then imagine what the grass feels when it pricks against our skin, as a beetle scuttles between its towering blades, unaware that the shadow you cast over it belongs to anyone at all.
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Nonhumans are here, even if you do not see us. We always will be. We are often hard to spot, but can be found doing all the things a human might.
A cat went to work at an event stall for a mental health service.
A massive sea serpent wanted to go to science class because it enjoyed it more than the rest of those living in its shared form.
The void sat down, huddled up in a blanket, to watch a tv show with its partners. It had to stop watching after a bit, but enjoyed spending time with those close to it anyway.
A wolf went to a psychologist appointment and gratefully drank the hot chocolate they were offered in the waiting room.
A shapeshifting being of pure darkness spoke publicly about trans rights in front of politicians and then went to the pride festival he helped fight to keep alive.
A dragon went to school so the others sharing his human body could have a break.
A manifestation of the fear of madness itself sat in the food court at the mall eating mochi and drinking tea while waiting for its friends to get back from shopping.
A witch drew a picture of his cardinal bird and shared the work he was so proud of with his friends.
A cockatoo borrowed the next book in his favourite series from the school library and almost couldn't wait the whole day to go home and read it.
An alien went camping and watched the birds outside and the way the wind made waves and patterns on the water.
A fallen angel went shopping for sunglasses to shield his eyes from how bright the sun was.
A harpy went shopping for new plants to look after. He named a few because he loved them so much, and sent pictures to all of his friends.
An anthropomorphic hedgehog traded Pokemon cards with his peers at school. He was happy with his collection.
You may not see us, and you may feel alone, but you are not. We are just hidden. We are in more places than you'd think, and in the places you'd least expect. We are complex, we are valued, and we are here.
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Something I love to think about is every iteration of Leo’s relationship with Splinter and how Splinter’s interests always define how a Leo presents himself.
I used to abide by the idea that a Leo will simply emulate his Splinter directly, and to an extent I still believe that to be the case, but moreso I think Leos have a tendency to mold themselves into what they believe is their Splinter’s ideal son - someone who embodies all the traits Splinter has explicitly shown to admire or value in a person.
Most of the time, they try to be a dutiful and honorable boy abiding by the full extent of ninjitsu teachings. Then you have Rise Splinter, who very much still has undeniable prowess in the art of fighting and being a ninja, but when it comes to how he shows his interests to his boys…one thing reigns supreme.
Acting. Shows. One liners. Flamboyance in the name of gaining an audience’s attention.
He showcases Lou Jitsu movies on repeat for the boys, passing down the morals and words from those movies to them with no small amount of pride. All while fully expecting them to respect these teachings.
So, of course, Rise Leo picks up on this. He’s a Leo, after all, as much a daddy’s boy as any other variation of him, only he clocked his father’s interests to be different than most others. He picks up on the art of showmanship, of keeping things to himself so as to be a more exciting twist later, of treating the world as a set to act in.
He’s an actor, not just because Splinter himself was one, but because Splinter likes acting and showed one particular actor (unknowingly to the boys, it was himself) as the pinnacle of all his teachings. As someone to value and admire. And even more than that - Splinter focuses on the character the actor is portraying rather than just the man himself.
And I think this is all even more interesting when taking the turtle tot short into consideration, because very, very briefly, just as with many times else throughout the series, we see how easily Rise Leo aligns with his other selves, seeming to pick up the sword easier than his brothers do their own weapons - after quoting Lou Jitsu of course. After emulating his idol - the person who his father seems to admire so much.
Point being, it’s so interesting to see how Leos tend to mold themselves in one particular way throughout every variation - that being, what their father is shown to value most in people.
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[Running Commentary] Zombies are Zombies: Cultural Relativism, Folklore, and Foreign Perspectives
She obviously started getting into media in Japan, and (from my research into Japanese media and culture), Japan’s movies about zombies are mostly comedic, since due to traditional funerary practices the idea of zombies bringing down society is ridiculous to a lot of Japanese people.
Rina: OP, this you? https://www.tofugu.com/japan/japanese-zombies/
Marika: Counterpoint: Parasite Eve. Resident Evil. The Evil Within.
Rina: Literally all the grody horror game franchises that people forget were developed and written by Japanese people because the characters have names like “Leon Kennedy” and “Sebastian Castellanos”
~ ~ ~
Based on the reception we received the last time we did one of these, the Japanese moderator team returns with another running commentary. (They’re easier to answer this way) (Several of Marika’s answers may be troll answers)
Our question today pertains to foreign perspectives on folklore—that is, how people view folklore and stories that aren’t a part of their culture. CW: for anything you’d associate with zombies and a zombie apocalypse, really.
Keep reading for necromancy, horror games, debunking the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, Hong Kong jiangshi films, Japanese disaster prep videos, and Vietnamese idol pop...
Essentially, in my story there’s an organization who wants to end the world. They think this one woman in particular, a woman of mixed Vietnamese (irreligious, Kinh) and Japanese descent who spent her formative years in Japan, is the person to do it because she’s (for lack of a better term) a necromancer; powers are semi-normal in this world. She prefers not to use her powers overall, but when she does she mostly talks to ghosts and spirits that are giving people issues. She could technically reanimate a corpse but she wouldn’t because she feels that would be morally wrong, not to mention she couldn’t start a zombie apocalypse in the traditional sense (plague, virus, etc.) in the first place.
(Marika (M): Your local public health officials would like to assure necromancers that reviving the dead will not provoke a zombie apocalypse. This is because necromancy is a reanimation technique, and not a pathogenic vector. Assuming that the technique does not release spores, airborne viruses, gasses, or other related physical matter that can affect neighboring corpses in a similar way, there should be no issue. However, necromancers should comply with local regulations w/r to permitting and only raise the dead with the approval of the local municipality and surviving family.)
M: I think it makes sense for most people of E. Asian descent, including Japanese and Vietnamese people, to find it culturally reprehensible to reanimate the dead. I imagine the religious background of your character matters as well. What religion(s) are her family members from? How do they each regard death and the treatment of human remains? Depending on where she grew up, I’m curious on how she got opportunities to practice outside specialized settings like morgues.
M: It’s true, space in Japan is at a premium, even for the dead. You note that most of Japan cremates, but, surely, it must have occurred to you that if there aren’t that many bodies in Japan to raise…she doesn’t exactly have much opportunity to practice with her powers, does she? I yield to our Vietnamese followers on funerary customs in Vietnam, but you may want to better flesh out your world-building logic on how necromancy operates in your story (And maybe distinguish between necromancy v. channeling v. summoning v. exorcisms).
She obviously started getting into media in Japan, and (from my research into Japanese media and culture), Japan’s movies about zombies are mostly comedic, since due to traditional funerary practices the idea of zombies bringing down society is ridiculous to a lot of Japanese people.
Rina (R): OP, this you? https://www.tofugu.com/japan/japanese-zombies/
M: Counterpoint: Parasite Eve. Resident Evil. The Evil Within.
R: Literally all the grody horror game franchises that people forget were developed and written by Japanese people because the characters have names like “Leon Kennedy” and “Sebastian Castellanos”
R: And yes, the Tofugu article uses Resident Evil and those games to support its theory, with the reason that they are set in the West. But that only suggests that Japanese people consider zombies a Western thing, not that Japanese people consider zombies nonthreatening if they were to exist.
M: Same with vampires - series like Castlevania also use Western/ European settings and not “Vampires in Japan '' because vampires just aren't part of our folklore.
(M: Also, realistically, these series deal with individuals who quickly perish after their bodies are used as hosts for the pathogen in question, rather than the pathogen reanimating a corpse. Although the victims are initially alive, they soon succumb to the pathogen/ parasite and their organic matter then becomes an infectious vector for the disease. It should be noted, infecting ordinary, living humans with viruses to grant them elevated powers, is not only a major violation of consent and defies all recommendations made by the Belmont Report (in addition to a number of articles in the Hague Convention w/r to the use of WMDs) and is unlikely to be approved by any reputable university’s IRB committee. This is why the Umbrella Corporation are naughty, naughty little children, and honestly, someone should have assassinated Wesker for the grant money.)
R: wwww
From what I know Vietnam didn’t have a zombie movie until 2022.
R: Do you mean a domestically produced zombie movie? Because Vietnamese people have most certainly had access to zombie movies for a long time. The Hong Kong film Mr. Vampire (1985) was a gigantic hit in Southeast Asia; you can find a gazillion copies of this movie online with Viet subs, with people commenting on how nostalgic this movie is or how they loved it as a kid.
M: “Didn’t have a [domestic] zombie movie” is not necessarily the same thing as “Would not have made one if the opportunity had arisen.” None of us here are personifications of the Vietnamese film industry, I think it’s safe to say we couldn’t know. Correlation is not causation. It’s important to do your research thoroughly, and not use minor facts to craft a narrative based on your own assumptions.
(R: …Also, I did find a 2017 music video for “Game Over” by the Vietnamese idol Thanh Duy which features… a zombie apocalypse.)
(R: The MV has a very campy horror aesthetic and zombie backup dancers (which I love, everyone please watch this lol). But the scenes at the beginning and end where people are biting their fingers watching a threatening news report clearly establish that the zombies are considered a threat.)
So at one point, she laughs about the idea and remarks how ridiculous it is to think zombies could end the world. What I’m struggling with are other ways to show her attitude on the issue because I’d assume most non-Japanese readers wouldn’t get why she thinks like that. Are there any other ways to show why she thinks this way, especially ones that might resonate more with a Japanese reader?
R: The problem is this does not resonate in the first place. Your line of thinking is too Sapir-Whorf-adjacent. The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, otherwise known as linguistic relativity theory, claims that language shapes cognition—that you can’t conceive of something if you can’t express it in your language. This is a very weak theory that you can easily bring evidence against: think of the last time you felt an emotion you had a hard time putting into words; just because you didn’t have the language for it doesn’t mean that you didn’t feel it, nor does it mean that you won’t be able to understand or recognize it if you feel it again. Similarly, it’s not a sound assumption to say that if some kind of subject matter does not exist in a culture, then people of that culture couldn't possibly conceive of it. This excerpt from linguist Laura Bailey sums it up quite well.
M: Just because ghosts may be more culturally relevant doesn’t mean that zombies (or vampires, or whatever) are nonexistent in a Japanese or Vietnamese person’s imagination when it comes to horror and disaster.
R: Really, if anything, Japanese people are much more attuned to how easily a society’s infrastructure can be destroyed by a disruptive force without adequate preparation. Japan is natural disaster central. A Japanese person would know better than anyone that if you aren’t prepared for a zombie epidemic—yeah it’s gonna be bad.
M: Earthquakes, tsunami, typhoon, floods: Japan has robust disaster infrastructure out of necessity. 防災 or bousai, meaning disaster preparedness is a common part of daily life, including drills at workplaces, schools, and community organizations. Local government and community agencies are always looking for ways to make disaster and pandemic preparedness relevant to the public.
M: Might “zombie apocalypse prep as a proxy for disaster prep” be humorous in an ironic, self-deprecating way? Sure, but it’s not like Japanese people are innately different from non-Japanese people. Rather, by being a relatively well-off country practiced at disaster preparation with more experience than most parts of the world with many different types of disasters (and the accompanying infrastructure), it likely would seem more odd to most Japanese people within Japan to not handle a zombie apocalypse rather like might one handle a combination of a WMD/ chemical disaster+pandemic+civil unrest (all of which at least some part of Japan has experienced). Enjoy this very long, slightly dry video on COVID-19 safety procedures and preparedness using the framing device of surviving a zombie apocalypse.
M: Living in Los Angeles, I’ve often experienced similar tactics. We do a fair amount of advance and rehearsed disaster prep here as well. In elementary school, the first and last days of class were always for packing and unpacking home-made disaster packs, and “zombie apocalypse” simulations have been around since I was in middle school for all kinds of drills, including active shooter drills, like the one shown in this LAT article. The line between “prepper” and “well prepared” really comes down to degree of anxiety and zeal. So, it wouldn’t be just Japanese people who might not be able to resonate with your scene. The same could be said for anyone who lives somewhere with a robust disaster prevention culture.
M: A zombie apocalypse is not “real” in the sense of being a tangible threat that the majority of the world lives in fear of waking up to (At least, for the mental health of most people, I hope so). Rather, zombie apocalypse narratives are compelling to people because of the feelings of vague, existential dread they provoke: of isolation, paranoia, dwindling resources, and a definite end to everything familiar. I encourage you to stop thinking of the way Japanese people and non-Japanese people think about vague, existential dread as incomprehensible to each other. What would you think about zombies if they actually had a chance of existing in your world? That’s probably how most Japanese people would feel about them, too.
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