Welcome to the Playpen, our space for ferrety banter and whimsical snippets of things that aren't quite long enough for articles (although they might be) but that caught your eye anyway.
(Also, judging from his comments, it seems like Chazz Darling was the vampire equivalent of Jordan Belfort, so it looks like he should be a great fit with the party.)
Still, I am grateful for this news, for it is a sign we are entering a golden age; an age where public figures are judged by the crap they put on the Internet when they were teenagers. In fact, I imagine that sometime before 2030 you will be able to turn on CNN and watch two grown men seriously discuss the presidential frontrunner's archive of Supernatural knotfic. What wonders the future will bring!
(Oh, and if anyone reading this doesn't know what I'm talking about...please don't find out for yourself. Trust me; the knowledge will not make you a happier person.)
If anything, in a way, DW is more interesting in some ways than Buffy. We can agree or disagree with Buffy's feminism, but actually analyzing it's attitude to gender is harder in some ways, because we have to get under that layer of what it's shouting from the rooftops first. I see the argument that Rory is a very interestingly feminist character, for example, and about the companions having lives outside the doctor...does that let us credit him as a feminist? I dunno. Are those deliberate subversions? Dialectical attempts to solve contradictions? An organic search for variety? Do they outweigh the problematic stuff?
I mean, I guess we could argue that had Moffat gotten a shiny fresh new blank piece of paper, he might create a Buffy, but since he has an established mythology to work with, he's subverting what he's got instead. But Buffy itself comes from a mythology, a set of tropes and tradition. Buffy IS a subversion, a very deliberate one. Arguably, her story is still all about how women have to relate to men and men's power and aggression, but I'm with the article here that utopian art is the less interesting kind of critical storytelling, opposed to the kind that makes you shift uncomfortably and think deep down "it's not really like that...is it?"
But then what hits that point and what just makes us uncomfortable because it's just nasty is just so idiosyncratic that I'm not even sure how to have a conversation about it. Maybe the key (I've been reading Roland Barth) is emotion? Buffy made me happy and sad and generally gave me pleasure. When it also made me uncomfortable, I was forced to consider that discomfort, to examine it and try to understand it's roots. DW, on the other hand, mostly bores me. It engenders no particular emotion, and it's attempts to create an examined discomfort therefore also fall flat. I have no loyalty to the story, so to speak. (I literally could not get through the new Sherlock either.) Which kind of takes it out of the hands of the authors intent. It doesn't matter if Moffat or whoever is trying to be feminist, it just matters whether his storytelling is skillful enough to succeed with a particular viewer.
I'm also kind of reminded of how some people, at least, were making really positive, thoughtful feminist analyses of the first season of Dollhouse, whereas many of us on the site ... were not. (Which is to say, we found the show's feminist credentials somewhat lacking.)
You know, I don't recall being impressed with the feminism of Dollhouse either, (granted, it's been a while) but I kind of give some credit for ambition. It wasn't good - possibly it was actively bad...but it was trying to say something, in its fumbling way. There was something to be in a dialogue with there, in a sense that you can't really be in with things without ambition, I think. I can castigate, I dunno, Friends from a feminist perspective until the cows come home and possibly turn up something interesting even, but I'm not really in any kind of conversation with it. It's doing one thing, I'm doing another (and that's fine.)
With Dollhouse...it's kind of participating in the conversation. You can judge it as succeeding or failing. My point being, that that's not a sense I've ever had with Doctor Who. It's Friends, not Dollhouse. I can pick it apart plenty, or even praise it here and there, but its feminism (or sexism) always seems by the by to me, never anything deliberate.
Janne: It is ridiculous that someone, even supposedly a smart some one can actually believe something like this.
Well, if Tom Scocca (the article author) is to be believed, he may not actually believe that, he just wants other people too. (That may be too harsh, or it may not, I don't know.)
maybe dissertations and such count too?
I expect a 80-90 page thesis is roughly equivalent to a short nonfiction book, so sure, why not?
Barbarossa is set in a fictional Second World War setting in which cute German military girls rush against Moscow to defeat the evil magician Stalin.
It's good that they emphasized the fictionality of the setting. For a while, I was doing a spit take, before calming down to just plain confusion.
This strikes me as a rather weaselly move on Eggers' part - putting forward two utterly barmy injunctions, but then immediately linking them to a semi-reasonable one
And it's such an outrageously untrue thing to say! It is ridiculous that someone, even supposedly a smart some one can actually believe something like this. Like it would take a carpenter to see that a table is crooked. I guess we should all write a novel just to be able to say things, although maybe dissertations and such count too? My master's thesis, which I'm just about to return in a few weeks time will be just about 80-90 pages, can I then say that something is bad?
Daniel F: If I don't on some level like to think about it... well, as you say, I default to vitriol. That's not pleasant reading.
Personally, I think even when I am writing vitriol, I can still make it engaging, but it's not as fun to write nor (I assume) as entertaining to read as when I'm just taking a playful poke at something.
Having now finished the article, I think the stuff about snark is entertaining but not particularly memorable. The analysis of smarm, on the other hand, I think is just brilliant - it aptly describes the attitude taken by ineffectual/and or corrupt authority figures and their apologists that I've encountered.
Janne: I think the writer deliberately does this to defend even the more negative ways of doing criticism just to make a point that the false and naive positivity is still more damaging to a discussion than that. I did not get the feeling that he was defending trolling or anything like that, merely the attempt to stifle discussion by dismissing everything that is not nice and shiny.
Oh, I didn't get that impression either. But assuming the book by David Denby is a real thing, then it would seem snarkiness does indeed have a reputation as being primarily a tool of negative criticism which I guess I hadn't been previously aware of.
I also want to spotlight this plea by Eggers quoted in the article:
Do not dismiss a book until you have written one, and do not dismiss a movie until you have made one, and do not dismiss a person until you have met them.
This strikes me as a rather weaselly move on Eggers' part - putting forward two utterly barmy injunctions, but then immediately linking them to a semi-reasonable one ("do not dismiss a person until you have met them"; I have a pretty low opinion of David Cameron, but if I were ever to meet him in person, I think I'd try to be open-minded), thereby inviting the reader to take the three as a package.
The thing is, the three are not equivalent - reading a book or watching a movie is comparable to meeting a person, writing a book or making a movie is several rungs higher (about on par with being said person you are supposed not to dismiss).
Then, of course, there's the whole elitism angle with the article's author also covers, but just WOW - no matter how obviously bad the book or movie, you're not allowed to say it's bad until you've made one yourself? No matter how bored or annoyed you were with it, and no matter how obviously pointless it was, I guess you're just not allowed to call 90 minutes or a dozen chapters of Epic Camping bad flimmaking/writing unless you can show your list of credentials in the field. Silly me, thinking entertainment was in the eye of the viewer, rather than the expert. (And oops, there I go with the snark, because I'm just a big hater.)
Come to think, I have written a novel - a couple, in fact, counting NaNoWriMo - and of all the qualities about me which speak to my competence as a critic/reviewer, that bit of trivia is somewhere at the very bottom of the list. (The novels in question are all crap, have never been published and with any luck never will be in anything vaguely approaching their current status - but if we go that direction, Eggers' criteria falls apart even sooner: where's the cutoff? Self-publication? Professional publication? Best seller list? None of those necessarily tell you anything about the caliber of either the book or the writer, so what do you do then?)
Arthur: For the Doctor Who gripers: this essay is a really nice summation of everything that's wrong with the Moffat era.
That's a fantastic piece, Arthur. As is this essay defending Moffat from a feminist position, to which the one you posted is something of a response.
I more incline towards many (though not all) of the criticisms of Moffat in the former article, but I find the arguments in the second pretty interesting. I'm also kind of reminded of how some people, at least, were making really positive, thoughtful feminist analyses of the first season of Dollhouse, whereas many of us on the site ... were not. (Which is to say, we found the show's feminist credentials somewhat lacking.)
Mind you, I still quite enjoy Moffat's stuff, because the writing's so good. On the other hand, neither one of them really addresses the biggest problem I have with the Moffat era, which is that the writing's so bad. (And no, that's not a contradiction, as far as I'm concerned, Moffat is prone to extremes, as well as mediocrity, and even recent Moffat has produced some gems as well as dross.)
Lots of nice stuff about Moffat's cosy sexism and similar issues, and also some fairly cutting remarks concerning now, even when you ignore the social justice stuff, he's just kind of a shit writer these days:
The threat posed by the Intelligence in ‘Name of the Doctor’ is that he/it will take over the Doctor’s entire life and rewrite it to suit himself. This in the same episode in which Moffat literally inserts his own character, Clara, into every moment of the Doctor’s life, having her meet every single one of his incarnations, putting her at the very moment when the Doctor first leaves Gallifrey, telling him which TARDIS to steal. This in the same episode in which he introduces an entirely new, never-before-seen incarnation of the Doctor. Whatever else you can say about him, Moffat isn’t a writer who allows himself to be troubled by an excess of self-awareness.
In other news, issue 19 of The Manhattan Projects came out and holy goddamn shit.
However, I also find it kind of baffling, because it sets up a premise - which the author seems to concur with - that snarkiness is always critical and negative.
I think the writer deliberately does this to defend even the more negative ways of doing criticism just to make a point that the false and naive positivity is still more damaging to a discussion than that. I did not get the feeling that he was defending trolling or anything like that, merely the attempt to stifle discussion by dismissing everything that is not nice and shiny.
The article does proceed by way of opposites though, which reflects the way these sorts of discussions often seem to come about. Snarkiness in nature is more what y'all are describing, an authentically positive, fun inspiring phenomenon.
I think basically it only makes sense if you assume the target audience is somebody who agrees strongly with the opening sentence and has never considered the reply, so your thought process is supposed to go something like: "Hell yeah undifferentiated XKCD character, I strongly self-define as having an insatiable lust for answers! But holy shit, my self-definition as an insatiable lust for answer having individual is rocked to its very core by your revelation that sleep is mysterious and poorly understood when I, as a person who self-defines as having an insatiable lust for knowledge, have hitherto taken it for granted!"
Yeah, that makes sense I guess, but it presupposes a very specific pair of responses from the readership. In my case I only sort of agree with the first character's premise, but thought the second character's response was common knowledge. Nobody fully understands why gravity works the way it does either - touche?
But I tend to be at my most (and to my mind, best) snarky when I'm talking about something I'm at least somewhat positive about, but feel compelled to take a few pokes at nonetheless - in other words, not so much being outright critical as taking the piss.
That's my experience as well. I am most able to write about or critique something if 1) it is something I have a genuine affection for and 2) it's nonetheless something that frequently irritates me. There's this odd sweet spot. If I like it too much, I can't think of enough to analyse, or I'm afraid to analyse it because it might taint my enjoyment. If I don't like it enough, on the other hand, I'm just not interested enough to stick with it. If I don't on some level like to think about it... well, as you say, I default to vitriol. That's not pleasant reading.
I did really like the smarm article, though I suspect it is tilting at a straw-man. That's not to say smarm doesn't exist or isn't bad; but it seems to me that when people criticise snark, they're not opposed to meaningful critique. 'Snark' in the sense that I think it's being criticised is a sort of cynical detachment, an attitude that only cares enough to make a pointed observation or a devastating, attacking comment. But it doesn't care enough to provide any real criticism.
So I'd like to think there's a middle ground there. My thought is that smarm and snark are both, essentially, forms of apathy. They're both saying "I don't care enough about your work to engage with it": it's just that one is superficially nice and the other is superficially nasty.
I've also started reading that snark vs. smarm article Janne linked - which is neat, but loooong.
However, I also find it kind of baffling, because it sets up a premise - which the author seems to concur with - that snarkiness is always critical and negative.
Certainly, I've seen people (present company included) utilize snark to devastating critical effect, and have often utilized it myself for critical purposes. But I tend to be at my most (and to my mind, best) snarky when I'm talking about something I'm at least somewhat positive about, but feel compelled to take a few pokes at nonetheless - in other words, not so much being outright critical as taking the piss.
Generally, when I'm really offended/annoyed/or bored by something, I don't make too many jokes about it (though I do make some), I'm more prone to just spewing vitriol.
See also this much earlier comic on the subject of dreams.
Fuck, the third paragraph of the Wikipedia article on sleep goes "The purposes and mechanisms of sleep are only partially clear and the subject of substantial ongoing research." I dunno about you guys, but "substantial ongoing research" is a pretty glaring symptom of curiosity and a hunger for answers.
I don't know if you read the alt text, but Randall even acknowledges that point himself. Some dude has spent 50 years researching sleep without coming up with any real conclusive answers...so doesn't that kind of prove the first guy's point about humanity? Why is the "we all sleep and don't know why" a touche?? Really I find this comic more mystifying than anything else. It's like Randall realized he didn't really have a point and made the comic deliberately ambiguous to hide that fact.