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rabbits-of-negative-euphoria · 2 days

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could you elaborate your thoughts more on "but should we believe Wynne-Jones' Calcifer or the youkai/ayakashi of animanga are meant to be that kind of demon?" and "It's the same cultural disconnect that led so many Christian parents in the 90s to condemn Pokemon as satanic". Specially about Calcifer? Please?

I wish that when translating asian media, particularly anime, they would keep their non-translated nomenclature, it always translates to "demon" or whatever alternative we have.

Well part of the issue is that our word "demon" comes from the Greek word δαίμων or daimōn, which is the word used in the New Testament, but it is not a word invented by the New Testament writers. Here is an excerpt from the Oxford Reference about it:

Etymologically daimōn means ‘divider’ or ‘allotter’; from Homer onwards it is used mainly in the sense of performer of more or less unexpected, and intrusive, events in human life. In early authors, gods, even Olympians, could be referred to as daimŏnĕs. Rather than referring to personal anthropomorphic aspects, however, daimōn appears to correspond to supernatural power in its unpredictable, anonymous, and often frightful manifestations. So, the adjective daimonios means ‘strange’, ‘incomprehensible’, ‘uncanny’. Hence daimōn soon acquired connotations of Fate. Hesiod introduced a new meaning: the deceased of the golden age were to him ‘wealth‐giving daimones’ functioning as guardians or protectors. This resulted in the meaning ‘personal protecting spirits’, who accompany each human's life and bring either luck or harm. A lucky, fortunate person was eudaimōn (‘with a good daimon’: already in Hesiod), an unlucky one was kakodaimōn (‘with a bad daimon’: from the 5th cent. bc). Centuries later, Christian theologians, concentrating on their negative aspects, saw in daimones the true nature of the pagan gods: they were the embodiment and source of evil and sin.

With this in mind, it makes sense that for translators, the most sophisticated translation for any kind of supernatural weird little creature would be "demon" or "daemon." Especially in a modernist, materialist society that views Judeo-Christian demons as merely one mythology out of many.

Calcifer is a very interesting case, because while he is called a demon in the Japanese Studio Ghibli adaptation, he is also called a demon in the original book by Welsh author Diana Wynne Jones. What many people don't realize is that Mrs. Jones was highly educated, having studied at Oxford under the likes of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. Her husband was also a scholar of Chaucer. Unfortunately, I think because she was writing children's fantasy in the 70s and 80s, people don't think her work warrants much deeper analysis.

As with all her stories, I think she brought a special kind of cleverness to the table when writing Calcifer that is first exemplified by his name.

"Calcifer" is a common noun, referring to sea creatures like anemones which construct their own shells from Calcium Carbonate, much like how Calcifer constructs the moving castle.

"Calcifer" resembles the Latin model of "Lucifer" which means "bringing light" or "light bringer," but rather than "light" she's substituted the Latin root for "limestone" (calcis), which is also made of Calcium Carbonate.

You know what's neat about Calcium Carbonate? It doesn't burn.

Following this thread through to Calcifer's backstory:

Calcifer was a falling star that Howl intercepted, which slightly resembles Satan's origin story as a fallen angel of light. However, Diana Wynne Jones knew perfectly well that Christian demons are not really falling stars, so we can know she did not intend to write Calcifer as a Judeo-Christian demon. More likely, I think she was paying homage to classics such as Paradise Lost.

Calcifer strikes a bargain with Howl for his heart, which I consider an homage to Faust by Goethe, in which the titular character can be said to have devoured beautiful young women.

As a character, Calcifer is very morally grey and often seems in a league above the other characters as far as stakes and decision-making. This is very characteristic of the mythical creatures of Celtic legend, which are still a very present background element of Welsh culture today, much like the trolls and elves of Scandinavian culture. Many of these mythical creatures are referred to as demons, even though they do not align with the Judeo-Christian definition of a demon. Yes, they can be evil or tricky, but they can also be helpful, lucky, or funny. Mostly, they are volatile. Faeries, boggarts, goblins, elves, sea monsters, and more have all been called demons in Welsh folklore.

This could be due to the early interaction between the Welsh and the Romans (compared to, say, the Irish who kept up their Druidism for much longer), and consequently Christians. I know from Scandinavian folklore that the meshing of Pagan culture with Christian newcomers usually becomes very weird very quickly, with the resulting mythology resembling neither party.

Tl;dr Calcifer is the product of a Welsh upbringing and a classical education, and is explicitly not a demon in the Judeo-Christian sense.

As for Pokemon in the U.S., it's mainly a translation issue. Word got around that lots of Pokemon are based on youkai, which gets translated to "demon" in English, even though they are not Judeo-Christian demons and are much closer to the above cited faeries and goblins. Voila, Satanic Panic 2.0.

#- HK #thank you for this opportunity to nerd out today #Calcifer #DWJ #Studio Ghibli #x #Christianity #mythology #analysis #if you want to know what the actual demons of foreign cultures were; they were the primary deities they worshiped #and whichever spirits they invoked to practice magic or seeing #for this reason I would not watch Noragami for a long time.#but when I realized that modern Japan doesn't actually *believe* the Shintoism they observe #I knew it would be no different from reading The Odyssey or Gilgamesh #morally speaking

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burnsopale · 9 months

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Childermass & Segundus - it sounds very well

So one day the York Society of Magicians receives a new member, and Childermass is like okay, no big deal, those guys never do anything interesting anyway.

But then, right, then the new guy and one of the old guys writes to Mr Norrell and asks if they may have the pleasure of waiting on him sometime, and Mr Norrell is like "No" but Childermass is like "Actually yes" because he's intrigued, or because the cards have told him something is about to happen, or because Mr Norrell is years overdue to go to London and revive English magic and Childermass figures this might jostle him into doing something. We don't know what exactly happened, but it seems likely that it was Childermass who made the visit possible, because the idea of Mr Norrell ever wanting visitors is impossible to accept.

So these two theoretical magicians come to Hurtfew Abbey, and Childermass is in the library waiting for the visit to end and Norrell to show up and tell him what the men wanted, but instead, when the door opens, there they are, the visitors, having been invited to see the library and what the fuck did they say to old Gilbert to make that happen?? Not that it matters, they're not gonna remember anything by the time they get home, the enchantments will see to that.

Mr Norrell introduces Childermass, and the new guy gives him a look like Childermass facinates him, but Childermass is used to that. He figures he'll just hang out until they leave.

Except the new guy, who is a dark, timid-looking little man named John Segundus, keeps looking around like he can sense the spells lighting the room, keeps looking out the window like he's not happy with the orientation of the walls, keeps blinking like the magic is making him a little dizzy. John Segundus is clearly magic sensitive. No one in the York Society is magic sensitive, Childermass knows that for a fact. This is suddenly intriguing.

So Childermass ends up keeping half an eye on Mr Segundus as he explores, until Mr Segundus notices, sensitive as he is, and their eyes meet. Childermass reads longing, need, delight and confusion on the man's face, but Childermass is without pity; by the time Mr Segundus gets home, he won't remember what he's seen. It doesn't matter; no one in the York Society ever did anything interesting anyway.

But then later, the letter from Dr Foxcastle comes, and Mr Norrell is Upset and Offended, and Childermass realises that the Revival is about to start at last. And because Mr Norrell is fearful and Childermass is pitiless, they send a lawyer with their demands.

Mr Robinson the lawyer returns to Hurtfew a little perplexed. Oh yes, they all signed, just like you said they would, every one of them ... except ... except one. Childermass is a little surprised to discover that the timid little man had a spine after all. Mr Norrell wants Mr Robinson to go back and demand the last signature, but Childermass says "Wait". And at this point, we do not know what he is thinking. Perhaps he simply thinks that they will need someone to write to London once the miracle has been done, and Mr Segundus is more likely to be amiable if he has not just been deprived of his calling. But then, Mr Honeyfoot, the other visitor, would definitely be happy to write, even though he WILL be deprived of that same calling. Perhaps, Childermass thinks that this is a strangely fateful twist, that the one member of the York Society who has an actual talent for magic is the one person who refused to give it up. Maybe he remembers a time when he himself was full of longing for magic, when he could sense it all around him but was unable to grasp it, when he too would get dizzy in Mr Norrell's library. He may not feel pity, but he can be intrigued. He convinces Mr Norrell to let Mr Segundus be.

Childermass laughs inside when John Segundus doesn't recognise him outside the cathedral, but then startles when the man almost recalls after all. He is not supposed to be able to break the enchantment. Thankfully, the moment passes, and after the magic is done, Mr Segundus turns out to be exactly as easy to manipulate as Childermass thought he would be. The polite ones are easy, especially when they are full of need and longing, and keep looking at Childermass like he has the answers they are searching for. Maybe Childermass uses a little bit of magic to persuade the man to write to London, or maybe he just smiles, and waits, and lets John Segundus come to him of his own accord.

Childermass returns to Hurtfew Abbey and says to his master "Go to London. Go now." and because Childermass knows about these things, they go.

And nine years pass in London.

But occasionally during those nine years, Childermass turns his attention to York, to see what timid little John Segundus is up to. Mostly it's not much.

Until Jonathan Strange happens. That he happens at all is rather extraordinary, but how interesting that he should come to seek Mr Norrell on the advice of John Segundus? For sure there are many people with an affinity for magic in England, but how many of them are magicians? Too few, thinks Childermass. How likely is it that two of them should meet at random? He wonders if this is another fated twist.

So he continues to keep half an eye on York, just in case Mr Segundus should discover how to actually grasp the magic that surrounds him. But when Strange returns from the war in Spain, his conversation tells Childermass that even with the learning, even with actual spells to hand, their timid little man in York cannot make the magic work.

John Segundus begins taking on pupils. Childermass keeps it from Mr Norrell. Childermass has been the instrument of many a theoretical magician's destruction, Childermass reads the hearts of men and feels no pity for them, and yet Childermass keeps John Segundus hidden from Mr Norrell. Maybe, just maybe, John Childermass is beginning to feel a little bit of pity after all. He was once the one longing to master the powers that often overpowered him. He too loves magic so much, enough to endure servitude and secrecy to be near it.

But then John Segundus wants to start a school. Well, if he is going to be that silly, then Childermass cannot help him. Mr Norrell finds out, Mr Norrell panics, and he dispatches Childermass to York to put a stop to this evil plan. Business as usual in other words.

Childermass sits quite comfortably on the steps of Starecross when John Segundus comes home. Childermass delivers his message.

"You know me, Sir," he says, completely forgetting that while he has always had half an eye on John Segundus, John Segundus has not seen Childermass for nine years. Maybe, just maybe, Childermass is a little embarrassed at his mistake. But the errand is completed, and Mr Segundus is easy to manipulate, because he is so very gentle and polite.

Childermass may or may not have noticed that he has been manipulated in turn, because he, who has no pity for any man, lets Mr Segundus know that he regrets that the school cannot be, and he is willing to do what he can to keep Mr Segundus' dream from failing entirely. Although of course, he knows that a regular school is not at all the same as a school of magic.

Childermass knows what it's like to long, but he has found, if not the answers to his questions, then at least the tools by which to hunt them down. He can do the magic.

Then Mr Strange and Mr Norrell quarrel.

And then Lady Pole tries to shoot Mr Norrel. The lady walks with one foot in Faerie and one in London, and for a while, so does Childermass. Something is not right with the lady, but Mr Norrell won't tell him what magic he employed to bring her back from the dead. She'll be sent away somewhere where Childermass will have no chance to discover the truth. Unless of course he decides where she goes. Perhaps for instance to one whom Childermass knows will feel the Faerie winds blowing about the lady, someone who will be able to carry on the search for the truth, whether he knows that he's doing Childermass' work or not. Mr Segundus is easy to manipulate.

Childermass recommends to Sir Walter that he send his wife to Starecross in Yorkshire. How fortuitous that the master of that hall has just decided to open a madhouse there. Surely the visions that gave him the idea were entirely coincidental.

Mr Norrell and Childermass quarrel.

Jonathan Strange Returns magic to England. The Raven King returns to England and rewrites his book.

Mr Norrell and Mr Strange disappear into Faerie.

Suddenly, Childermass is the most experienced magician in England. No one has read as much, has practiced as much, or knows the spells he knows.

But he thinks that there is one man who will not be far behind him in achieving similar results. And maybe Childermass wonders sometimes if it was not all meant to be this way, that it was fate, that he himself was meant to come out on the other side as a student of the two great modern magicians of the age, and that he was meant to bring with him, sheltered under his wing, a dark, timid little man with an extraordinary sensitivity to magic. The books may be gone, but through his instruments, the Raven King has made sure that the new generation of magicians are both capable of and eager to read the magic written on the sky. It will take sensitive men, full of longing, and isn't it fortuitous then, that all those years ago, in the library at Hurtfew Abbey, Childermass recognised another like himself in John Segundus, and decided to keep half an eye on him.

#Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell #John Childermass #John Segundus #My little theory #This is based on the idea that the prophecy is actually the Raven King's plan to return magic to England #In which case Childermass must be the one Uskglass chose to spearhead the Restoration after Strange and Norrell affected the Return #We so often talk about how Segundus sees Childermass #But I am facinated by the other side of JohnSquared #Because it is interesting that Segundus was allowed to not sign the agreement when Childermass MUST HAVE KNOWN that he was the only man #in the York Society who might actually do practical magic someday #(Probably it's not as black and white as that but let's say so for our purposes here)#It certainly wasn't Norrell who agreed to let Segundus go - it was definitely Childermass' decision #And in the chapter called Starecross Childermass says “I turned a blind eye” - not “we” or “Mr Norrell” - but “I”; he's been watching #It seems to me that he is been protecting Mr Segundus from Mr Norrell for years - in little ways here and there #Mostly just by making sure Segundus didn't come to Norrell's attention #And then he expresses his regret that the school cannot be!#That's at least a halfpennyworth of pity Sir! You're not supposed to have that for adult or child!#I guess he has pity for baby birds #But they do have that thing in common (along with Vinculus) that they have an affinity for magic #But Childermass has access to the library at Hurtfew while Segundus and Vinculus only get scraps #And Childermass is allowed to do magic while the other two have to wait for the Return before they can control it #And I figure that maybe he can find in himself a little bit of pity for someone in that familiar situation #Not to mention that - being mostly a good man - Childermass is not immune - I think - to Segundus' kind and gentle nature #JohnSquared #Btw I haven't completed my current reread so apologies if I've forgotten something or gotten something wrong #You see how the details disappear towards the end :P #I also owe some of this to the Tor.com reread of JSAMN which is worth checking out for some great observations!

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