Dear
Mr. Chuck Wendig: A Bittersweet Read
By
Shivani Senguttuvan
The
juxtaposition between the confusion and excitement entailed by a fantasy piece
drives my motivation to read further. Fantasy pieces place the reader in an
abstract world, involving plots and characters that evoke skepticism. This
aspect often times bothers me because I give importance to understanding laws
and rules of the world presented in the piece. By not being expected to ask
questions and fully understand this world, I find it difficult to immerse
myself in the piece. In an example, we read a short story named “26 Monkeys,
Also The Abyss” by Kij Johnson. In summary, this story revealed the mystery of
the disappearance of twenty-six show monkeys. Specifically, the logic behind their
disappearance and reappearance evokes skepticism from the reader, but they have
minimal information about the monkeys’ background as well as the explanation to
this miracle. I do believe that one of the main themes in this story is that
life is unpredictable, and lacking some proper explanations. The story outlines
this claim: “They [monkeys] have created wonders for you and performed
mysteries. But there is a final mystery they offer you – the strangest, the
greatest of all.” However, similar to Aimee (the main character), there is not
a way to seize the mystery because of its absurdity in nature. This is
unsettling to me because, as stated before, having inconsistences in
comprehension hinders my ability to connect with the story.
On
the other hand, fiction stories have the ability to uncover a world that is
unimaginable and difficult to create; the story creates different laws and
rules that has to be embedded in the plot in a meaningful way. I appreciate this aspect of fiction stories because
it allows the reader to step out of “the given world.” The ability to learn
about other lives and situations while subconsciously relating it back to our
own lives is a beauty in itself. In an
example, our class read the short story, “Still Life” (A Sexagesimal Fairy Tale)
by Ian Tregillis. This piece experimented with the idea of endless time, as
time does not have pity on the residents. When traveling through this story, I
kept imagining the contrast between “the given world” and the “endless now”
world presented in this story. When analyzing this difference, I began to
appreciate the beauty of time and the way it can be manipulated to present a
unique world. Specifically, the way Tregillis described the main character
illustrated this aspect: “Tink was the object of
time’s affection. It attended her so closely, revered and adored her so
completely, that it couldn’t bear to part from her, even for an instant.” This excerpt makes time seem more tangible, and
this theme plays a major role in the character architype of Tink; the specific
themes presented by fantasy pieces continue to draw me in. Moreover, the
norms and laws of this world (for example, time is neither compassionate nor
pitiful to others) influence the actions and outlooks of the characters as
well. For example, the main character, Tink (a clockmaker), cannot age, and the
years are measured by the ticking of her heart. This aspect puts me in awe, and
often times I regret the disability of living in a fictional world!
The
abstract plot sequence and characterizations evoke both fear and interest. The
disability to use logic when reading the fictional pieces bothers me because I
find the comprehension of character development and reason to be important. In
the end, I still become awestruck by the fantasy stories because of its
peculiar approach in both plot and characters; it is a bittersweet experience!
Shivani,
ReplyDeleteI think once you get your feet under you in this blog post and start talking about the specific examples of Tregellis and Johnson's stories, your point of view about "rules" and what's known and unknown in a story being a source of both fascination and discomfort becomes clearer. I think you could make the case that an author should always be ready to make the reader uncomfortable -- not always necessarily doing it. If the story feels too pat, too secure, will we ever invest in the welfare of the characters or feel that whatever's at stake for them is really at risk for us, too?
Best,
TT