Mike Xu: "Dear Max Gladstone: Sadly Ever After"

Dear Max Gladstone: Sadly Ever After

By Mike Xu

Khan is disintegrated, and the Enterprise escapes the effects of the Genesis device. However, Spock is no more. Robert Baratheon takes the Iron Throne, and although he becomes the King of the Seven Kingdoms, he loses his true love Lyanna. Victories by themselves in narratives make us feel good, and we get to close the book with a sigh of relief and say, “Man! I’m sure glad that it all worked out in the end.” If that was all I wanted when reading, I would probably be happy with a fairy tale ending. However, there is always a voice in my head that mutters, “This is wrong, this isn’t how it works.” I don’t know if it’s cynicism or something else, or why this bothers me more than the idea of space communism, dragons, or magic, but I enjoy pyrrhic victories in narratives because to me, they make the stories real.

                “But why?” You ask, “are you a masochist?” To this I can only say, “Well, that is one way to put it.” Sacrifices are painful, even when they are necessary for a character to experience the joy of victory. But by showing the bitterness of loss, what we gain becomes sweeter in comparison. So yes, I do find empathizing with the pain of sacrifice enjoyable, but mostly because it also makes the reaping of rewards more enjoyable. A character’s pain also makes me more interested in a story, but unlike this whole masochism business, I am not sadistic. As Trent Reznor sings in the Nine Inch Nails song “Hurt” (I prefer the Johnny Cash acoustic cover for the more subdued edginess), “I focus on the pain, / the only thing that’s real.” It’s a strong emotion to be felt by a character, and by extension, to elicit in a reader. I find that I can empathize and connect with a character having a tough time even after all have transpired, but I feel removed from the situation in a conclusion when characters are having the time of their lives. Nonetheless, you need both valleys and troughs – pleasure and pain – to make an emotional rollercoaster.

                In addition to my personal demand for a wild ride on a narrative, I think that a lack of pain takes away from the believability of the story. Based on a foundation of teen angst, I’ve concluded that reality is full of pain (better realize that sooner rather than later, right?). Pessimism and Weltschmerz aside, though, to dismiss an important part of the world – sacrifice and loss – makes that entire narrative feel dismissible. “What about speculative fiction? Wouldn’t the addition things that don’t exist in real life hurt the believability of a story more than the omission of something that is real?” Thank you for asking, bad rhetorical device to advance my argument. The fantastical and science fictional elements of a story are meant to be “not real.” They serve the story and enhance it in a way that realistic fiction cannot. I wonder how Philip K. Dick would explore the nature of humanity and reality in a novel titled Do People Dream of Normal Sheep?  The addition of the non-real or replacement of the real have the potential to add to the story, but the omission of the real risks taking something away from the story.

                There is merit in victories without loss. I love Neil Gaiman’s Stardust, and that ends in a satisfying, no-loose-strings fashion. It’s also why I watch sitcoms; everything gets resolved in thirty minutes, and tied up with a ribbon bow in the form of slapped bass outro music. Resolution makes me feel, especially if everything turns out for the best. Although this overrepresentation of happy ending gets good reviews and ratings, it bothers me as a STEM-major from a statistical standpoint.

                Like the Force, happy-go-lucky fairy tales and Macbethian tragedies must exist in balance. A pyrrhic victory resides somewhere midway between the two, and considers the implications of both. But they appeal to me because of what I look for in a story: something “real” that gives me “the feels.” The element of loss in a victory makes an interesting juxtaposition of emotions. It also feels more emotionally real, and is a more accurate representation of outcomes in the real world. So, as a slightly masochistic and pessimistic math nerd, victories at the cost of devastating loss are my “narrative kink.” That is a weirdly sexual term, though, isn’t it?