Dave’s Anatomy: My History As a Writer, #92: Postmodernism/Love: “Parody.”

from the film Sixth Sense

Ghost stories are usually not very philosophical. They are scary and reach down to touch our primal fear of the undead, of spirits, of ghosts and wraiths. If you saw the film Sixth Sense, you know that ghosts want something. And, of course, this is more or less an assumption lying behind all ghost stories. An spirit returns to earth not because they want to but because something prevents them from achieving rest and peace after they die—usually, some injustice done to them, something that must be corrected, set right, understood, and let go of. In the story “Parody” a ghost appears who cannot rest because something he has done in life is being coopted by what he believes is an invalid form of art based on an invalid philosophy.

Postmodern architecture

It begins when Andrew Halliway, a musician who is starting to make a name for himself in the world of guitar, sees someone standing on the sidewalk in front of his girlfriend Elizabeth’s apartment. He confronts the man, who disappears. Unsettled, he goes to her apartment. Elizabeth is an architect currently working on a project to expand the City Hall. The project has been bedeviled by delays, broken equipment, and other obstacles.

Elizabeth’s mode of architectural design is postmodern. We hear that term today and usually connect it with literary arts. The French Lieutenant’s Woman is a postmodern novel, Shakespeare in Love is a postmodern film. But postmodernism began as an architectural movement. In Italy, designers of buildings began to defy categories (which is what postmodernism essentially is). They mixed up styles that usually stood as monolithic, designing buildings that had gothic arches and modern steel girders, Romanesque towers and glass and steel entry ways, classic Greek pillars and baroque decoration.

And postmodernism engages in parody. It will copy certain art forms, making light of them in one sense but also calling attention to their brilliance. Writer John Fowles once described a certain type of painting as “simultaneously a tribute and a thumbed nose at a very old tradition.” This is often cited as a definition of postmodernism. And, in my story, it is exactly what Elizabeth is doing in her addition to the City Hall. She is copying the old design in a way that calls attention to its eccentricities but at the same time recognizes its genius and beauty.

Elizabeth

They spend the night together. Andrew gets up before her, goes into the living room, and finds a book on architecture. Thumbing through it, he comes across a picture that looks like the man he saw staring up at Elizabeth’s lighted window. She appears at that moment and sits down beside him. He points to the photograph and asks who it is.

She tells him it is Marvin Quinn, a local architect who died some years ago and who designed the original City Hall. She smiles and adds, “He wouldn’t be happy if he knew I was doing a post-modern take on one of his buildings.” When Andrew asks her why she replies: “He hated postmodern architecture—wrote some pretty nasty things about it. He’d roll over in his grave if he knew what I doing with the City Hall project.”  Though Andrew finds the idea impossible he begins to see that Quinn has in fact rolled out of his grave.

Andrew sees more of Quinn. He is watching from a distance when Elizabeth gives the city council a tour of the construction site. He shows up at one of Andrew’s concerts she attends. He confronts the man, who eventually admits he is Quinn returned to life and instructs Andrew to make Elizabeth stop the building project. “Stop her or I will,” he says. A few days later, Elizabeth has a seizure. The doctors tell her it was from overwork. Andrew knows it was Quinn’s doing. Quinn later appears to him and tells him he will not tolerate her postmodern parody of his building and that he willing to “pay the price” to stop her. He doesn’t say what the price is.

Dante's World

Andrew wonders how one fights a ghost. But he also wonders what is preventing Quinn from further harming her; and why Quinn has appeared to him but not to her. The answer comes to him immediately. Elizabeth told him she had been reading Dante’s Divine Comedy in Italian, which she learned while studying architecture there. She mentions the line, The Love which moves the sun and the other stars. He realizes Quinn is hampered by the love he and Elizabeth share. It is hindering and preventing him from going after her. He summons Quinn and asks him to meet him at a local sculpture garden. He promises that if Quinn hears him out, he will try to persuade Elizabeth to abandon her project. Quinn agrees.

DaVinci's Horse, Grand Rapids, Michigan

They meet by the sculpture of Leonardo DaVinci’s horse—a project he designed but never finished. As they stand there Andrew tells him that when a group of artists decided to create the sculpture Leonardo never got to build, they ran into trouble. “… when the artist began the project, she found out the design was imperfect.  Leonardo was not good at drawing animals. The musculature was all wrong; the proportions were off, the perspectives not realistic. Nina Akimo corrected all that. In other words, she kept the general design of DaVinci’s project but improved on it. You might even say Ms. Akimo’s work is a parody of DaVinci’s—one that improved it. Elizabeth is doing the same thing. She isn’t mocking and ridiculing your building, Mr. Quinn. She’s calling attention to its brilliant features.”

Andrew persuades Quinn. He sees what Elizabeth is doing. He only nods and vanishes, but knows the danger is at an end. He calls Elizabeth and she says she slept well and feels fine. She invites him over. A star falls as he leaves the sculpture park. He thinks of the love that moves the sun and all the other stars.

“Parody” appeared in the Australian journal Roar and Thunder, which has ceased publication but maintains an archive. Read it here.

For winter reading get a copy of The Sorceress of Time. Wuxia warrior Jing Lin travels time to understand how to win a battle and how to win the battles she faces in her own life. The key to the future lies in the past.

I would love to hear your comments.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer, #91: Creativity in Art and Life: "Zen and the Art of Marriage"

There really are times when I get away from the werewolves, vampires, ghosts, and demons of paranormal and write about the more quotidian matters of life. "Zen and the Art of Marriage" explored several notions that float around in my thinking. One is the nature of creativity—both the good and the bad side of it. The other is marriage. What is the essence of marriage and the nature of it? Why do some marriages succeed and many others fail? Is an artist’s creativity inimical to marriage? What makes for a proper balance in an artist’s life between the creative and the quotidian?

These considerations came from a couple of things I noted on the matter. Artists seem hard to get along with. Milton was divorced—a rare thing in his day. Solzhenitsyn—even though, like Milton, he was a very devout Christian—could not get along with his wife very well. And we hear of artists who can’t seem to get along with anyone, let alone a spouse. I had also read an article in a magazine by a woman who was an artist and finally ended up divorcing her husband because she felt she did not feel “free to be creative” because she was married (even though her husband was, by her confession, loving and considerate and they had a good relationship).

Is there something about being creatively gifted that alienates? Is the artist the brooding Byronic hero, too restless and moody to love anyone? These were some of the questions that went into “Zen and the Art of Marriage.”

Desmond is a painter. He is successful, always finding enough work and does well for himself. He has recently split with his wife, Joanna. They have children. What has split them up is Desmond’s behavior when he is working on a project. He becomes angry, touchy, and intense. His wife and kids know not to talk him. He stalks the house, brooding, ultra-focused, unable to be civil to anyone. Finally, they split. Desmond is shocked, but Joanna has put up with him for too long to want to be reconciled. She takes the children and moves out. Alone, Desmond despairs. And to fill up the empty hours he begins to study Zen. The study helps him to understand himself. He invites Joanna to stay with him at a remote cabin in Canada his family owns—so remote you have to fly in to get there. To his surprise, she agrees.

They fly up together. She is cordial but distant. They are civil until he brings up Zen and tells her it has changed him. He asks if she has read a book on Zen he sent her. She unloads on him:

“I read a little of it. I don’t want to read books. You should have been reading books like that before all this happened.”

He had not expected such a level of hostility as he caught in her tone.

“It’s a good book and it really helped me, Joanna.”

“About five years too late. You think you can treat me like you did the last years we were together then undergo some kind of”—she searched for a word—“conversion and that will make everything all right? It’s still just about you, isn’t it? You read a book and that should cure the whole problem. The problem, Desmond, isn’t me! It’s you. If you could get that through your head you might understand why I left you.”

Her attack cut through him so much he did not know what to say. The scenario he had built up in his mind of an even, civil, heartfelt conversation that would end in reconciliation dissolved like sugar in hot tea. She was angry. He had hurt her and words were not going to repair the damage he had done to her soul.

When he did not answer, she drummed her fingers on the tabletop.

“That’s how I feel,” she said, her voice softer and more conciliatory. “I can’t pretend I feel any differently. I pretended I felt fine for years when we were married and I can’t do it anymore.”

He realizes his plan has failed. They do some things together. He paints a watercolor of her and, as he works, tries to modify how he behaves when painting. They boat, see bear and moose, and get caught in a torrential rainstorm. She seems to have fun. Seeing her naked when they come back, soaked, to the cabin rekindles his passion for her. Desmond desires reconciliation, but after their spat he cannot find words and they spend most of their time together in silence. At one point she weeps over how terribly the divorce has hurt their kids. He comforts her silently. Despite this, Desmond decides he has lost the bid. They will not reconcile. This deepens the silence between them, though the silence is not hostile. Before he goes to bed that night, he reads from the Tao Ti Ching

Those who know do not talk.

                        Those who talk do not know.

                        Keep your mouth closed.

                        Guard your senses.

                        Temper your sharpness.

                        Simplify your problems.

                        Mask your brightness.

                        Be at one with the dust of the earth.

                        This is primal union.

                        He who has achieved this state

                        Is unconcerned with friends and enemies,

                        With good and harm, with honor and disgrace.

                        This therefore is the highest state of man.

Lao Tzu

In the morning, he finds a note from her. It reads, I am at the lakeshore, bathing.  Please come to me. He finds her there naked. They make love. Through silence, he has opened the door to reconciliation. Desmond knows it will not be easy but also knows—through the silences that have brought him the truth about himself and her—that there is hope and their relationship can be mended. When the pilot returns for them, he and Joanna are ready for the endeavor. They sit together in silence on the flight, knowing there will be plenty of time to talk when they get home.

The story appeared in a zine called Dirty, Filthy Secrets. As I recall, the journal did not last long. I can’t find a reference to it on the internet, let alone an archive. So many journals only have a short run and so many good stories get lost in cyberspace. This may be another I need to resubmit. Of course, it seems I'm saying that way too much lately.

For additional titles, see my Writer's Page.

For another love story, one that is indeed about vampires and the paranormal, get a copy, print or electronic, of Sinfonia: The First Notes on the Lute. Nelleke is world-renown lutenist and guitarist. She also has an appetite for human blood. 

 I would love to hear your comments.

Dave’s Anatomy: My History As a Writer #90: Vampires Again: “Flowers of Evil.”

Vampire stories can be addicting. If you start writing them, you end up doing some world building, because not all vampire worlds are alike--and this a lot of fun. I’ve read tales where the vampire only need a few drops of blood per month and never kill anyone in their nocturnal quest to stay alive. There is the most common scenario, derived from Dracula, mother of all vampire novels (though not the first). Whatever you thought of Twilight, the vampire world presented on those novels, the world of “sparkly” vampire who are not killed by sunlight, was unique; its uniqueness made the novels so popular because it was something new. So as a writer you get to formulate the details of your vampire universe—well, or world, since so far, the vampires in these stories have never left the earth. (Spoiler warning:  some have, and I’ll be writing about them in a while.)

My particular vampire world is pretty much the standard one. Vampires cannot go out in the sun or they die gruesome deaths. They must feed once a month. Like a lion, though, they do not kill their victims by biting them. They most often hit them, as a lion will hit its prey with its paws, and break the person’s neck—then feed. My vampires are rather human most of the time:  they eat and drink regular food and their bodies are like human bodies. But when they hunt, when they are afraid and sense danger, what they call their “vampire hormones” kick in. They develop fangs, talons at the end of their fingers, impenetrable skin, and superhuman senses. They can transform into a bat easily; also into a wolf, which is more difficult; and, for the very careful and gifted, into a mist (one vampire in another my stories can change into a cat; South American vampires know how to transform to snakes). They have social networks, even an online dating service (see my story

Jancinda

One of these is an ongoing character, Jancinda Lamott. She is an figure about whom I have published seven stories. In my vampire world, one can become one of the undead by initiation (rare—often frowned upon by other vampires) or, most commonly, by being bitten. One person out of about five thousand transform after being bitten. There are not many vampires the world I created. 

"Flowers of Evil” took a personality from the past and imagined he was a vampire. In this story, the historical figure was the French poet Charles Baudelaire. Baudelaire lived from 1821-1867. His most famous volume of poetry Les Fleurs du mal (Flowers of Evil), a collection of sonnets, was considered decadent and evil by the French public. It dealt with sex and death, which many people at the time thought scandalous. Baudelaire lived a very Parisian life, kept mistresses, drank, and took opium. He also, by the way, translated the works of Edgar Allan Poe into French.

Baudelaire

When the story “Flowers of Evil” begins, Jancinda and her friend Trinity are running from vampire hunters. They manage to escape. The vampire community in West Michigan goes on alert, hoping to stop the vampire hunter (whose last name is Liam Joyce). He strikes once more, this time taking the life of a young woman who worked at a brothel run by a woman who is among the undead. Constantine, one of Jancinda’s lovers, knows forensics, investigates, and finds out someone fired an archaic sort of pistol at whoever killed the working girl.

Later, Jancinda learns it was none other than Baudelaire himself.

You are Charles Baudelaire, the author of Flowers of Evil?”

“I am.”

“I didn’t know”—she could not finish.

“Most people don’t. With me it was an odd story of crossing the River Styx into the world in which we now dwell.” He looked up. “The dawn is near. I need a place to stay.”

She takes Baudelaire home. Jancinda has long loved his poetry. She hears his backstory. And, of course, her desire kicks in. They end up making love. Baudelaire leaves and promises to come back. Jancinda works on projects at her computer, hears a knock at the door, and, thinking it is Baudelaire, opens it. Instead, it is the vampire hunter.

Jeanne Duval painted by Manet

He uses a magical spell to disable her and prepares to drive a stake into her heart. The reason, he says, is that she killed three of s his colleagues once--and a relative. She remembered the incident. Before he can carry out his design, Baudelaire shows up and kills him.

Baudelaire tells Jancinda he used her as “bait” to find Joyce. She is angry but he tells her she was never in any danger. A relative of Joyce had killed Jeanne Duval, Baudelaire’s long-time lover, also a vampire. The role of vampire hunter had passed down to new generations, and Joyce had tracked Baudelaire for years. Finally, the French poet had his revenge on the family that destroyed the one true love of his life. Jancinda cannot stay angry with him long. More love will come. And, Baudelaire says, they will continue to see each other from time to time—if she wishes it so.

"Flowers of Evil" appeared in the anthology Midnight Thirsts II. Available, lots of good stories.

For additional titles, check out my Writer'sPage.

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your comments.  

Dave’s Anatomy: My History As a Writer, #88: Steampunk/Wuxia: “The Weather God.”

Steampunkers

Steampunk is an intriguing genre to me, though I often think I don’t do a very good job of writing it (I haven’t been able to master its newest manifestation, Dieselpunk). But a call for stories intrigued me, especially the when I noted that the editor wanted stories that were not set in Victorian England, as many Steampunk stories are. This got me thinking. I find that many stories often start this way:  just thinking. The mind begins to go outside the realms of the ordinary and into the realm of the imaginative.

I began to realize that science and technology did not originate in Europe. The ancient cultures had their achievements as well, and many technological advances originated in China. It began to look like a good mix. What about combining some traditions of Chinese literature—in particular, the lore of the wuxia, the wandering warrior who possess incredible prowess as a fighter and used those powers for good? This led to the creation of an ongoing character, and then ongoing characters:  Princess Jing Lin, Chen Hao, and Soong Yuan. Since writing the story that came out of this exercise of the imagination, I’ve published several tales of these wandering knights. It’s a good exercise to get out of Western culture, and for someone who grew up watching David Carradine in Kung Fu and Bruce Lee movies. The first story, “The Weather God,” combined the wuxia tradition with Steampunk motifs.

Jing Lin

First the characters. Jing Lin is the Princess and heir apparent of Xingnoa, a nation I invented that lies north of China on the coast of the Yellow Sea. Protected by mountains and fiercely independent, the nation has managed not to be absorbed by China, though the Chinese have made annexation of Xingnoa an ongoing ambition. In the era of “Spheres of Influence,” when European nations came into the area and demanded trading rights, open ports, and political control of area of the country, Xingnoa.

Jing’s father, thinking he would have sons who could inherit his kingdom, put her in a Taoist convent. She lived there until she was fifteen and, as part of the disciplines of the place, learned ceremonial martial arts, including fighting with a wooden staff and hand-to-hand fighting. No children come for Quon and his wife and, at fifteen, Jing is taken from the convent and begins training to take over the kingdom. When her father learns of her abilities as a fighter, he is amazed. Jing trains with Shaolin masters (shades of Kung Fu) and periodically returns to her convent to further develop her abilities in fighting, meditation, and self-control. Eventually, she leads the armies of Xingnoa.

Jing lives many years as a chaste virgin, but after a while, she sees the impracticality of this for a military leader and takes lovers. She meet Chen and they become intimate. They also join as a pair of fighters, working at this time to keep foreign influences away from Xingnoa. The Europeans and Japanese have anchored a fleet in Xingnoa’s main harbor and plan to bully the country into giving them concessions. While meeting with a nobleman who knows a scientist, Shao Jiazhen, who is purported to have a weapon that can defeat the Europeans, they strumble upon Soong, who is a servant girl there. She is paid to poison Jing, almost succeeds and reveals that she has been suborned by Shao Jiazhen’s captors. When Jing hears her story, and sees her abilities at fighting with a staff, she gives her the opportunity to come on their journey to the interior of China with them to free Shao.

Shao is a remarkable scientist. When Jing, Chen, and Soon free him, he unleashes robotic warriors who fight their American captors and enable them to escape. Shao has a weapon that destroys the European ships, freeing Xingnoa from the threat of foreign domination. Chen and Jing also begin a relations (that will lead to their marriage in later stories). Soong is loyal and proves a good fighter. Jing begins to train her as a wuxia warrior. She has issues to work through. Because her family is poverty-stricken, she has hired herself out as a servant to a wealthy household. Part of her duties is to service the men and some of the women who stay as guests. The sexual abuse she has suffered has scarred her. Part of Jing’s task in training her will be to heal her soul as well.

Soong

This first story laid the groundwork for others. I have published three tales about these characters, including a novella, The Sorceress of Time. I plan for more stories about this trio of martial arts experts. The overlay of wuxia and Steampunk proved fruitful. Such combinations can often stoke the imaginative part of our brains into something that blazes brightly.

“The Weather God” appeared Penny Dread Tales, Volume II in and was reprinted in Best of Penny Dread. I’ll have more to say about Jing, Chen, and Soong in future blogs.

For more titles see my Writer's Page.

I would love to hear your comments.