I'm Still Stuck In This Scene

Haven't yet finished reread of Claw of the Conciliator but wanted to get out a few of my thoughts on Severian's rape of Jolenta because otherwise it'll dominate my discussion when I do finish. Massive spoilers below, of course.

I don't think that Wolfe included the scene gratuitously, but rather that the symbolism relevant to the episode is so mixed, specifically with respect to the character of Jolenta, that it fails and results in the discomfort that at least I (and from what I understand many people) felt in reading the chapter.

The most immediate reading, and the one that I have seen most frequently on the couple of fora I've looked at about this, is that it is a further exploration of Severian's neuroses around sex and women, and how his utter fear of them controlling him (likely inspired at least in part by the looming Witches of his boyhood) causes him to present each sexual episode as forced upon him in some way, even ones in which he straightforwardly rapes the woman. This is a reasonable reading, and I think certainly one thing that Wolfe was going for, given Severian's awful tangent about his violent hatred for Jolenta leading up to the rape.

The issue comes in that Jolenta symbolizes significantly more than just a perceived temptress who is assaulted because of Severian's violent misogyny. She is also specifically someone who has undergone bodily modification to increase her superficial beauty while her physical ability is impinged upon by the transformations. She is in this sense gilded, representing the veneer of beauty covering up a series of faulty and structurally damaging procedures, there is a sense that her alteration is somehow impractical, and therefore ridiculous ("I could not help but notice how clumsily she walked, she who appeared so graceful in repose" (SotT, 245)). This pretty clearly aligns with the aristocracy we see in the novel, a group of people who because of their material resources impose themselves as cultural betters despite the fact that the society of Urth is barely eking out survival (notably this aristocracy is also primarily represented by the dual women Thea and Thecla).

This is actually in itself a pretty upsetting symbol for Jolenta to represent, and deeply rooted in misogynistic ideas about 'artificial' beauty as well as a pretty straightforward ableism with regards to Jolenta's walking. Beyond that though, the worst aspect comes when we consider Severian's relation to such a symbol. He is the person who will bring about the flood that will remove from the world the piled layers of history and aristocracy, who will through a great act of violence bring about the new sun. Perhaps Wolfe's primary moral concern is trying to balance this issue, of the cruelty necessary to bring about something new. But Severian's rape of Jolenta does nothing, accomplishes nothing, is purely cruel. It does not parallel the great choice he must make, it is an exclusive and extensive failure on his part as an individual. If Wolfe had chosen to lessen Jolenta's allegory to the world of the old sun in favor of exemplifying Severian's personal misogyny, or vice versa, perhaps I would have been more able to stomach the episode (as I have been with Severian's other acts of misogynistic violence), but the essential issues of the two themes conflict so brutally that the scene becomes deeply upsetting.

Watched Vermiglio

One of the most breathtaking movies I've seen. Cinematography that is not only gorgeous, but kind, in that it allows the eye to linger on each revelation of beauty it transmits. The psychology of the drama going on is somewhat interesting, and perhaps sometimes too slow, but the perfect scenery makes it impossible not to believe the characters and their relationships to be real. Reminds me most of Knut Hamson's Pan, in the seasonal allegory, the complex psychosexual relations, the familial difficulties, and in the way that those aspects are all simultaneously crisper and of utter triviality compared to the powerful, deadly beauty of the world.

🥘 stillstainless following

full dishwasher kind of annoying actually. release me

🔲 tupperware follow

can we all agree that handwash onlys are attention seeking? you're using the same dish soap as the rest of us but you need a sponge bath because you're too good for a shower

🍳 cast-iron following

op some people will die if they're washed with soap at all. unlike certain plastic divas dishes that claim to be "top row only" like that makes a fucking difference.

🔲 tupperware follow

can you actually fuck off

🥣 countercandy mutuals

☕ mug-shots follow

i love being on the top row like you are NOTTT using me for coffee LMAOO

🐾 dogbowl follow

dusty ass

🍴silverwarewolf following

all tucked in. in my drawer. with my polycule <3

#and these takeout chopsticks too i guess #ok

🥡 lunchb0x follow

Excited for summer break 😃 Can't wait to see what kinds of mold i'll collect this year

#ForgottenAgain #BackpackGang #LockerGang

🔁cast-iron following

anonymous asked: Why are you whining about how other dishes like to be washed when you're literally covered in spaghetti stains

tupperware answered: what if i killed myself

🥤 papercup mutuals

WASP IN ME

My favorite image of Dhalgren so far is that of the double moon (not even considering the fact that some of the discussion surrounding the image perfectly corresponds to some of the thematics of the DND campaign I'm running). In particular, it is perfectly elaborated by my favorite line so far in the novel: "The miracle of order has run out and I am left in an unmiraculous city where anything may happen" (96). This is a perfect inversion of Tolkien's sense of 'disenchantment': while fantasy authors like Tolkien have long been worried about the loss of the miraculous in an increasingly rational world, Delany's science fiction lens reverses this worry, considering rationality and its outcomes to be the miraculous objects. When non-rational events occur, it is a loss of a sense of order to which we are not in fact entitled, and sets us adrift as consciousnesses inhabiting an earnestly and terrifyingly random world. Lanya's reflections on the second moon, that after the moon landing the moon "was different" and that she "realized that for the last fifty thousand science-fiction novels it had still been just a light hanging up there. And now it was ... a place" (98) appears to be more along the traditional bent, in which a fantastical object is concretized and a sense of wonder is loss. The kid though finishes her thought with his own perspective, that now that there are two moons they are "Just lights again" (98), where the "just" emphasizes that he sees the previous state of affairs as less miraculous than a world in which we have wrangled the universe with our minds and tools and forced it to lay bare its secrets. The second moon is then a refutation of that sense of control, of understanding, a polemic against the miracle of order that reminds us of our chaotic, multifaceted, incomprehensible variety of perspectives, beliefs, and experiences.

Watched The Velvet Vampire

Prefaced with great drag performances by Prince Peanut Butter and XO Skeleton.

Lots of campy fun, delightful in an audience. Two interesting ideas here that are mildly explored but cool enough to comment on. The first is the hallucinatory terrain of the mirage-filled desert as an alternative to Le Fanu and Stoker's illusory European woods. Most interesting in the dream scenes, where the house vanishes. Second is the reverse triangulation of the protagonists, where the mutual attractions to Lee (hugely boring character) transform into an almost fulfilled lesbian relationship.

Watched Parthenope

Consistently a pleasure to view, the cinematography sometimes good even to the point of being surprising. Occasionally poignant, and I do think there are real thoughts to be had as to the sense of isolation Parthenope feels, as well as the frequent alienation from her self by the imposition of beauty onto her by others (I would have actually liked more POV shots I think). Overall, though, fails to shape itself into something real, particular, or careful. Definitely suffers from 'middle aged man trying to understand what it would be like to be a beautiful young woman' syndrome, although that feeling really goes in and out throughout the runtime. Celeste Dalla Porta is impressive, would have loved to see more of her alone to contrast the constant siege of outsider perspective.

Don’t underestimate my desire to not wanna

Watched Gladiator II. Seemingly as pathetic politically as its predecessor, there is I think a legitimately interesting reading here (although I am not totally convinced). Lucius and Macrinus can be fairly immediately understood as opposites. The former was born Prince of Rome who has fallen away from it, leading to his (apparently) Achillean rage at a colonial power that has taken his rebuilt life and thrown him into slavery. The latter was enslaved (presumably) earlier in his life, comes from (definitively) a lower class than Lucius, but has through the power of his hatred of Rome risen through the ranks and made a good life for himself. Both of them, at some point in the movie, profess their desire to destroy Rome (Macrinus' is brief, and not as definitive but it does occur). Both of them, by the time of their battle at the gates, wish to rule it. As they have approached power, it has enticed them, and some belief that the thing they will rule must be Rome has infected any zeal, revolutionary or purely destructive, that they may have had. This is pessimistic, but at least not so pathetic a reading as is tempting. It presents a path towards seeing Rome as evil not because of individual injustices executed by random maniacal dictators, but because of its allure as an image, the one thing that both films seem to have a legitimately solid grasp on. Even as I write this, I like this reading more and more, but I was so deeply annoyed by Lucius' sudden turnaround in the theater that I can't quite believe it yet. At the very least, the execution of an interesting political perspective was deeply clumsy in the seemingly random political mood swings of the principal protagonist.