Backstory: Filling In The Blanks

I recently came across the YouTube channel Just Write, specifically, their video on writing a compelling backstory. The example being used was Avatar: The Last Airbender, which is always a draw for me, so I checked it out.

The video is good overall, but what I liked was how it explained the concept of the "Ghost" in terms of character backstory. The video quotes John Truby's The Anatomy of Story and describes the Ghost as an important moment in the character's backstory "that still haunts the hero in the present... an open wound that is often the source of the hero's psychological and moral weakness." While stuff like that is really obvious when it comes to writing, hearing it explained always causes one to reflect on its use in writing, and how one has used it in their own.

Back when I took Creative Writing class as an undergrad, I learned pretty quickly that I had a problem with going too much into detail regarding a character's backstory. Our first writing assignment had a word limit of about 3,500 words, but my first draft amounted to roughly 5,000 (!). The most valuable lesson I learned was that a backstory doesn't need to be super-detailed, but rather just a glimpse at the defining moment that explains the main conflict of the tale, what hang-up still causes doubt or inner conflict for the character.

In my short story, "Tik-Tik," the protagonist's backstory was that she had become pregnant not too long after sleeping with her boyfriend - I can't recall exactly how long, but in my notes she was still able to hide her pregnancy. Being part of a relatively conservative family, and a high schooler who saw someone close to her become ostracized for being a teen mother, her natural response was to delay telling her family about it (and being Pro-Life herself, abortion wasn't exactly an option). All of this is explained only through one or two paragraphs, and a few sentences and conversations that allow the reader to telegraph what the girl's situation is. The main conflict, however, is that she believes herself to be stalked by a Tik-Tik, a type of Aswang that feeds off of the unborn fetuses inside pregnant women. Whether or not there really is an Aswang stalking her, or if it's just her guilt grating on her mind combined with being in a rural, legend-haunted region of the Philippines, is left ambiguous until the end. The emotional conflict inside her is what drives the story, but it was a later addition that I added in around the sixth draft or so - adding in a compelling backstory just made things more engaging.

I pulled off a similar use of backstory in my Madoka Magica fanfiction, "Prayers and Wishes." Being fanfiction, it may or may not be contradicted by canon later on, but as there was still a hole to be filled, I decided to have fun (relatively speaking) and speculate. The crux of my fanfic was Episode 10 of the show, specifically the scene where Homura makes her wish to go back in time and save Madoka's life. There's a moment before she makes her wish where she glances down at Madoka's body, before wiping the tears from her eyes and standing up. I found myself wondering "What was going through her mind at that moment? And is there any reason why she would give up her soul to save a friend?" Well, the solution to that was obviously because Madoka was the first person in her new school to be nice to her; but then I wondered, did she have friends before she transferred in? And if she did, did something happen to that friend that she blames herself (if someone wrongly) for? And so came the character of Aiko Fukui, inspired loosely by Helen Burns of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, a girl who befriended Homura during her time at a Catholic orphanage, and who Homura was forced to watch slowly deteriorating, with no power to change her friend's fate at all, an event that still haunts her in the fic's present day. Since I was writing fiction based off of an existing property, I naturally had to work backwards, essentially reverse-engineering a story out of what was already shown in canon. The story is far from perfect, but it was a lot of fun, and a nice distraction from writer's block.

Backstory's are always fun to write; they get into the minds of the characters and allow people to sympathize with them. And they make a story's conflict have an emotional force that makes people eager to see how the characters handle what they are dealt with.

Did You Know That Mary Shelley Played A Role In The Creation Of The Mecha Genre?

(Art by Richard Rothwell.)

Today is the birthday of Mary Shelley, the woman behind the story of Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus. The story is largely remembered as being one of the earliest examples of science fiction, as well as an interesting piece of gothic horror. Shelley conceived of the idea when her and some friends were challenged by Lord Byron to write a ghost story one gloomy day; inspired by discussions of galvanism, Darwin, and the idea of a corpse being re-animated, Shelley wrote her story about a scientist who gives life to an artificial man, only to abandon the creation when it proves too frightful for him, thus beginning a dreadful tale concerned with knowledge, creation, and the idea of humanity wielding a power it cannot control.

Shelley's story has many similarities to the earlier legend of the Golem of Prague, and predicts many of the themes that would later be used in Karel Capek's play Rossum's Universal Robots; the play's story of humanity creating a servant race that eventually rebels and conquers the world (a plot revisited again and again in science fiction) is foreshadowed when Victor Frankenstein is ordered by the Creature to create a female companion for it, only to destroy it out of fear that the two will become the progenitors of a "race of devils" who will "make the very existence of the species of man a condition precarious and full of terror." Probably somewhat less well known is how Shelley's Creature also influenced the creation of the Mecha genre popularized by Japanese manga and anime, beginning with Tetsujin 28.

As recorded by Frederik L. Schodt in The Astro Boy Essays, Tetsujin's creator Mitsuteru Yokoyama took inspiration from Frankenstein (the film version) in creating his story about a mechanical monster built by humans (in this case, Japanese scientists who wanted a superweapon for the military during World War 2). Unlike the Creature, however, Tetsujin has no agency, and is only as good or evil as the person who commands him via remote control. Yokoyama's creation would go on to influence other mecha stories, such as Go Nagai's Mazinger Z, and would eventually culminate in Guillermo Del Toro's 2013 film Pacific Rim, which gives Shelley's Creature a sideways reference in its tagline "To Fight Monster, We Created Monsters," referring to the Jaegers (mecha) and Kaiju, both of whom are revealed in-story to be artificial constructs used as weapons of war by their respective creators.

Exactly which direction Shelley's story will influence pop culture next is still up in the air, but if one thing is clear, it's that the Creature isn't going away anytime soon.

National Power Rangers Day

Mighty Morphin Power Rangers debuted on this day, all the way back in 1993. Though I wouldn't get into the series until around 1996 (roughly when I started Kindergarten), I've been watching the show consistently (for the most part) since then. Though remembered as a relic of the Nineties, the show has gone through numerous cycles and iterations, with many hits and misses.

For many like me, Power Rangers - along with Saban's other shows like VR Troopers and Big Bad Beetleborgs - served as an introduction to the tokusatsu genre of Japanese television. And just about everyone on some level knows about the classic Power Rangers theme song:

Personally, though, if you ask me which series appeals to me the most, it would be the 2009 iteration, Power Rangers RPM. Though hyped up by many as being good because of its darker, post-apocalyptic setting (somewhere between Terminator and Mad Max), what really sets the series apart, especially from many more recent ones, is the level of detail put into the actors' performances and the writing, which is up there with Avatar: The Last Airbender in how it juggles themes like genocide, war, and survivor's guilt, while refusing to let go entirely of the energetic superheroics that many people associate with the franchise. If you haven't watched the series in some time and want to see a post-Mighty Morphin Power Rangers team, give RPM a shot. One of the reasons I still keep watching is out of faith that the franchise will continue to create fun and entertaining stories like it (and on the non-television side of things, the comics are a lot of fun, too!).

 

Ozma: Fairy, Princess... Magical Girl?

(Illustration by John R. Neill.)

August 21 is Ozma's birthday in L. Frank Baum's Oz canon. Coincidentally, I also happen to be reading The Road to Oz this month, which revolves around Ozma throwing a birthday celebration. I only started reading the Oz books in full-swing earlier this summer, but I have been aware of Ozma for quite some time. My first indirect exposure to Ozma was through J.M. DeMatteis's tragically short-lived comic book series Abadazad, which portrayed an Oz-like magical kingdom ruled by the Fairy Queen Ija, clearly patterned after Ozma, but unique in her own way.

Reading the Oz books has been a lot of fun, and a breath of fresh air for me, especially after going through the rather dark series Puella Magi Madoka Magica, and its follow-up film, earlier this year. But perhaps both series are similar in some shared history and tropes...

A few years ago, Tumblr user Allieinarden commented that L. Frank Baum had a hand in creating the Magical Girl genre, which many will know is the genre that characters such as Sailor Moon, Cardcaptor Sakura, Princess Tutu, and of course, Madoka Kaname, are a part of. I've thought about how to describe the genre to someone who isn't overtly-familiar with anime, and the best I could come up with was "It's like a Disney Princess... Combined with a superhero (but not always)." Allieinarden pointed out that, like modern Magical Girl shows, Baum's stories featured female protagonists, many of whom at one point wield magic, with an emphasis on friendship between said protagonists (both male and female). 

Though a bit of an exaggeration, there is some truth to Allieinarden's sentiment. Both the Oz books and many Magical Girl shows pull from classical fairy tales. One of the first examples of a Magical Girl show in Japan is Sally the Witch, witches being a standard fairy tale character (See this video for an in-depth look at the her). Baum himself set out explicitly to create an "American" fairy tale when he wrote The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. In his essay "The Fairy-Telling Craft of Princess Tutu," Bill Ellis writes that the titular character's transformation from an awkward girl struggling in ballet class to a magically-gifted ballerina, in addition to being "a conscious use of a well-known motif from maho shojo [Magical Girl] anime," is also very similar to the transformation of the titular character from fairy tales such as "Cinderella."

(Aschenputtel/Cinderella, by Alexander Zick.)

Indeed, when Ozma is first introduced, she's in the form of a young boy named Tip, who is stuck working for the witch Mombi. Characters being down on their luck or stuck in some kind of rut before encountering magic are common motifs in both fairy tales and Magical Girl stories. And Ozma's dress and staff do seem to be archetypal ancestors of the kind of costume and wands used by Magical Girls, as well. Her relationship with Dorothy Gale also mirrors many relationships Magical Girls have with their non-magical friends. 

In the end, it may be a stretch to say that Baum directly lead to the Magical Girl genre being formed. But there is no denying that the genre and the Oz books owe a lot to the fairy tale tradition. It really brings to mind my undergrad professor's words about how everything is connected.  

A Human In Wolf's Skin: An Old University Project

Art by Ludwig Pietsch.

Back in the Spring of 2014, I took a class on epic literature/poetry at Cal Poly Pomona. One of the stories we studied was The Nibelungenlied, which centered around Sigurd, the legendary hero from Germanic Mythology. If I recall, Germanic and Norse mythology was something I was really into at the time, thanks in part to the recently-released Thor: The Dark World and Frozen (which didn't really have much in terms of mythology, but the Scandinavian aesthetic was there).

During the time I was in class, one of our assignments was to do a creative project based on what we were studying. I decided to write something tied to The Nibelungenlied, and picked the story of Siggeir's mother. Siggeir was the King of Gautland who opposed Sigurd, but his mother only gets mention in one section. All that's said about her is that she could shape-shift into a wolf. There wasn't much else, so I decided to extrapolate and create a short story around the one chapter she was in. Spring of 2014 was also the time that Disney released Maleficent, their retelling of Sleeping Beauty, so the whole idea of retelling a story from another character's perspective was at the front of my mind during that time.

This isn't exactly a perfect story - my first published short story ("A Second Chance") wouldn't be out until 2016, but there are parts of it I'm still proud of. Read on, and I hope you enjoy it!

---

A Human in Wolf’s Skin: The Story of Siggeir’s Mother

Running through the woods, I picked up the scent of a lonely traveler.  I smiled, my fangs shining like a flash of white in the dark.  Running closer, I found my prey and mauled him to death, the raw meat like honey in my mouth.  It didn’t matter that I had eaten well in my son’s hall only hours ago; I needed raw meat.  The thrill of hunting down something and eating had grown on me. 

Content, I ran silently, swiftly, back to my cottage in the woods.  It was a secluded area, where no human, dwarf, or troll dared to go.  As I walked towards the door, I started to walk upright, hind legs becoming human, front paws transforming into those of a lady in her middle age.  I walked into the cottage, the wolf’s skin on my back, while still picking at a piece of meat in my mouth.  It was a small cottage, with only a bed, a table, and a few chairs.  I started a fire, sitting down, still remembering the rush that I had just had.  I knew I would have to return to Siggeir’s castle in time.  He would be wondering where his mother was.  The people of Gautland only saw me as the former queen, before my son took over.  Left alone, all I had was some magic that I could dabble in; it was this way that I first learned about the ability to transform into an animal by wearing its skin.  Becoming a wolf was the most appealing to me, for they seemed strong and unstoppable; I took it upon myself to get a few skins one night.  And now, every night, I found myself hunting for stray travelers, having grown used to the taste.

Feeling relaxed, I fell asleep; I’d have to awake earlier in order to make it back before the sunrise.  But that night I was restless.  I dreamt I was somewhere, underneath a huge tree, watching three women working on a thread.  Quietly they worked, measuring and spinning, not paying attention to me, as if I were invisible.

“The former queen of Gautland has had a long life,” one said, admiring her work.

“Yes she has, Urd,” the second said.  “And now she has reached a remarkably old age.”

That’s not true, I thought, I’m only around fifty.  But I listened on.

“But it must end,” the third, final one said, looking forlornly at the thread’s end point.  “That wolf skin has brought her satisfaction and joy; but now it will be the cause of her death.”

I woke up, sweat pouring down my forehead.  Only a dream, I thought.  But then I paused.  Hadn’t it been said, in the old tales, that the great Balder had dreams before his doom came upon him?  Who was to say my dream was any different?  Worried, I slowly took a look at the wolf skin, still hanging on a chair nearby.  A dozen thoughts went through my head; I had no choice, it seemed; if I wanted to prolong my life, I would have to stop using the skin.  My heart ached at the thought; it was like parting with a dear child.  I shook my head.

“It must be done,” I said out loud, hoping that hearing my voice say it would make me more certain.  The next morning, before I returned to the castle, I buried it in a clearing, surrounded by dozens of ash trees.

The next few nights, I stayed put in the castle.  I heard only a few bits and pieces of the outside world… Siggeir was to have guests over, the sons of King Volsung, from whom Siggeir’s wife Signy was also his daughter.  I only paid marginal attention to the news, though; most of my efforts were spent trying to forget about the wolf skin.  The dream of the three women still haunted me.  I now realized they were the Norns, the three women of fate who even the gods feared.  I had heard stories throughout my life of the inevitability of fate, about Ragnarok, the last great battle before the world’s end.  I made no claim otherwise regarding myself; but, I thought, if I could just prolong that day, perhaps I could have a few more years.  Didn’t Odin himself constantly try to prevent his own doom?

I tried to forget the taste of raw meat; all I could eat now was cooked food in the hall.  For a while, it was working.  I particularly liked the sweetness of honey.  But as I lay in bed at night, I still thought about running through the woods as a wolf; when not worrying about the Norns, my dreams were filled with thoughts about being freed, freed from my mortal body and able to run throughout the woods, not afraid of anything.  I was never trained to be a warrior, never had the chance to wear armor or go into battle, and from a young age I never expected to ever be admitted into Odin’s hall.  It wasn’t just the ravenous hunger for flesh that I had acquired; it was the opportunity to forget my humanity, even for a while.

One evening, one of the servant girls came into my room, bringing food; I had gotten one of my raw meat cravings after dinner, and was hoping having something to nibble on would keep my mind off of my usual helping of meat at this hour.

“Here you go, Your Majesty,” the girl said.  I simply nodded.  I stared long and hard at her; just another servant girl, nobody would miss her if she was found dead.  I wondered…

Before I knew anything, I had grabbed onto the hem of her dress, holding tightly, like a cat grabbing a mouse’s tail.

“Is something the matter, Your Majesty?” she asked with a voice like a quiet stream, unaffected and innocent.

No one would miss her if she was found dead, I thought.  My mouth watered at the thought; just make it look like any other wolf attack, no big deal…

“Is something wrong, ma’am?” the servant girl asked again, staring at me with her green eyes.  I got a hold of myself; balling my hands into fists, I shook my head.  She was young; even if I had my wolf skin, I couldn’t bring myself to eat her.  The urge was there, of course, but there was something about not having my skin that made it impossible to just devour a servant right there.  I simultaneously praised and cursed myself; being trapped in this decaying, bipedal body made me yearn even more for when I was free to live like an animal, free from the order and rules that were thrust upon me. 

A couple of months passed; I tried my best to adjust to being just a human again, but it too little success.  In the back of my mind, I found myself trying to pick apart that vivid dream I had not too long ago.  How would I have died?  That was a question on everyone’s mind, really.  But if I was in my wolf skin, what could have enough power to kill me?  As a wolf, I was invincible!  Only the strongest of warriors could take out one.  Maybe…

Before I could think anything, one of the servants came to me with news.  Siggeir had captured King Volsung’s sons.  There was a great battle--- apparently our kingdoms were not good allies after all--- and our side won.  Siggeir had wanted them dead, but Signy, obviously objecting to her brothers’ dying, requested that they be instead held in stocks, so that they might live a little longer.  Surprisingly, my son agreed. 

Later that night, the moon rose up.  It brought back memories of when I used to howl at the moon in the evening.  Suddenly I wanted to go out there again; even my urge to feast on lost travelers in the woods returned.  It came back even more strongly, and I wanted to eat something.  There’s just something about tasting human meat the first time; you can’t get the taste away from you.  It’s like mead.

“I can’t…” I said over and over.  The skin would be the death of me, which much I knew.  I couldn’t risk going after some prey… unless…

I thought it over again.  There were at least ten prisoners locked in stocks by the woods.  Fresh meat… with no way to fight back... The thought appealed to me.  A smirk came across my face.  Maybe just one more, just to get my mind off of it, I thought to myself.

Under the cover of the dark, I made my way to the clearing.  I dug up the wolf skin, and put it on; it was like welcoming an old friend.  I felt my body changing, and soon I was running through the woods, my nose guiding me to where Volsung’s sons were. 

I found them all, locked in their stocks, asleep.  The moonlight shone on all their faces… Without thinking twice, I went for the one nearest me.  The taste of his neck between my fangs felt warm; I hadn’t realized how long I missed raw meat.  Before I could hesitate, I finished my meal, leaving only a few scraps of what was once a human.  I howled in delight, awakening the brothers.  Before they could fully react in horror, I retreated into the woods, feeling happier than I ever had been.

The next morning, Signy was weeping over the death of one of her brothers.  No one suspected that it was I, so I said nothing.  I told myself I was done, that I could now completely put off the wolf skin until a later time, and live a little longer. 

At least, that’s what I thought.

As it turned out, the more I wanted to get rid of it, the more it seemed like I needed it.  Before I knew anything, I was putting on the skin every night, and going out to feast on one of the brothers.  Some of them gasped in shock.  Others screamed in horror.  But the flesh and blood between my teeth made me feel so good.

I’ll stop after tonight, I always said.  Just one more bite.  But before I knew it, there was only one man left.  In my room the next day, I mulled over what had happened.  I didn’t intend to go every night; indeed, I didn’t want to wear the wolf skin every night either, fearing that that would bring me closer to death as time went on.  But every time I thought that, I figured, “No, it’s not a big deal.  They’re all in stocks.  What harm could they cause me?”

Signy, for her part, was always heartbroken to hear that, every night, a she-wolf would come and devour her brothers.  Part of me wanted to comfort her, but I quickly did away with it in the back of my mind.  Who knows what she would convince her brother to do to me if she knew the truth?

The final night, only one brother was left, the one named Sigmund.  Before I went out, skin in hand, I quietly walked through the castle.  I overheard Signy talking to one of the servants.

“I did as you commanded,” the servant said.  I quickly turned away before curiosity got the better of me.

Silently I ran to the part of the woods where Signy’s final brother was.  He sat alone, with an almost calm look on his face.  After seeing all his brothers die, he didn’t seem at all fazed that he might be next. 

Poor fool, I thought.

I looked at him, all alone and quiet.  Without his armor, he didn’t seem at all intimidating.  He stared back at me, with a look that was somewhere between shock and anticipation.  I briefly wondered whether or not I should carry on, maybe sparing one of Signy’s brothers would be better.  But I could already smell him, and my hunger took over my mind.  I quickly approached Sigmund, tail wagging in excitement.

Since he was the last one, I figured I’d enjoy one final meal.  As I began to lick his face, a sweet substance caught my tongue.

It was honey!

How did this end up on his face?  Maybe his sister had ordered the servant to feed him.  I smirked a bit; all she had given him was false hope.  But the honey was very sweet, and so I savored every drop.  I soon found that some honey was still in his mouth.  I reached my tongue inside and…

I yelped in pain.  Sigmund had bitten down hard on my tongue.  Desperately I tried to break free, trying to assault him as much as I could.  It was no use; the force of my struggle ripped me free from my tongue.  Blood dropped in splotches all over the ground in front of me.  So much blood.

I felt weak, and as the throbbing pain in my mouth shook me, I fell down, staring up at Sigmund, the one who finally killed me, and who proceeded to spit my own, red tongue back out, letting fall limply near me.  Death came upon me, as I felt my body weakening.  No one would know where I went.  Siggeir wouldn’t find me in bed tomorrow, while Signy would be delighted to hear her brother was spared.  As the night wore on, I felt Hel’s arms embracing me, as the Norns’ words echoed in my mind.

“It will be the cause of her death,” they had said.  And they were right, for who could ever win while fighting against fate? 

(Review) Puella Magi Tart Magica: The Legend of Jeanne d'Arc, Vol. 1

One of my favorite urban fantasy tropes is when historical events are referenced, with the twist that there was actually something supernatural/fantastical going on; the Percy Jackson books and NBC's Grimm being two of my favorite works of fiction to do this. In the 2011 Japanese animated series Puella Magi Madoka Magica, it is revealed in the second-to-last episode that numerous girls throughout history were Magical Girls, and that their wishes built the foundation of modern civilization, albeit at a price. One such girl was Joan of Arc; Tart Magica is her story.

(Spoiler Warning: This review assumes you've already seen the original anime.)

Illustrated by Masugitsune and Kawazu-ku, with a story by the original creators of Madoka Magica, Tart Magica begins properly in 1425 in Domremy, France. Jeanne Tart, after spending some time praying in church, follows a fairy into the woods, only to be attacked by soldiers who have been possessed by a Witch, which in the Puella Magiverse are inhuman entities that spread curses throughout the world. She is saved by a mysterious girl named Riz, and meets a strange creature named Cube, who states that it has been seeking Tart out, offering to grant any wish she has in exchange for her becoming a Magical Girl, tasked with defending humanity from Witches. With the English encroaching on France, and war brewing, Tart joins Riz and Cube to lead France to victory in the Hundred Years' War.

(Tart in her Magical Girl armor, with Riz next to her.)

Obviously, anyone familiar with the story of Joan of Arc will no that Tart will eventually be burned at the stake after being accused of witchcraft; indeed, the opening scene of the book is of said burning, before flashing back to earlier events. And anyone familiar with Madoka Magica will know that any story revolving around a Magical Girl prior to the story of Madoka and Homura in 2011 will inevitably end in tragedy, due to the machinations of Cube/Kyubey and its ilk. The challenge Tart Magica faced in conception, then, was creating a story that can still be enjoyed even with all those factors in play, and without repeating the plot twists that the original anime is infamous for.

Tart Magica jumps into the action assuming the reader has already seen the original anime, beginning in media res with a battle between Tart's Magical Girl squad and a team of English Magical Girls; in the course of the battle, one of the English Magical Girls falls, and her team leader, deeming her no longer useful, forcefully turns the former into a Witch, immediately spoiling the show's twist that Witches are in fact mutated Magical Girls. What was originally a horrifying revelation showing how cruel and inhuman Kyubey and the Incubators are is treated as something that should be common knowledge (indeed, Tart learns before the volume is over that this is the origin of Witches). While spoiler-heavy for those who have never watched Madoka Magica, it also signals that this prequel will not fall back on the same plot points of the show (innocent girl meets Kyubey, learns horrifying truth about Magical Girls, etc.), opening up numerous possibilities for where the plot can go, the introduction of an antagonistic Magical Girl team being one of them.

(The leader of the English Magical Girls forces her fallen teammate to become a Witch.)

In terms of characterization, the first volume uses the standard dynamic of the naïve newcomer paired with the experienced figure who can guide them through the new world they've stumbled upon. Tart is portrayed as an idealistic young girl whose faith in God is firm, to the point that she takes Cube to be an angel. This character trait leads to her being easily-manipulated by Cube, who uses the right combination of words to convince Tart that she's doing a good thing by becoming a Magical Girl; while it can be easy to say she is too naïve, the blame is really more on Cube for taking advantage of her innocence in order to further its own agenda. Riz, meanwhile, is Tart's loyal friend, and a bit aloof; fittingly enough, her powers are tied to shadows and darkness, and she uses a scythe. As a brooding, long-haired girl dedicated to working with the story's innocent protagonist, she bears more than a passing resemblance to Homura Akemi, but she is still an interesting character, especially given how little is said about her past at this point.

(Riz's Character Profile.)

The end of the manga also features an essay and notes detailing some of the research done while writing Tart Magica, with the promise of listing a complete bibliography in the final volume. The research done is evident in the amount of info-dumps scattered throughout the story; while they may be a bit dense for someone who was expecting a fast read, they are very fascinating, especially when taking into account how the story mixes history and fantasy. It is definitely right up there with other works of historical fiction/fantasy in terms of research done and care taken to the actual events.

(Endnote on the village of Domremy, including information about the fabled Fairy Tree.)

Puella Magi Tart Magica is a well-written piece of historical fantasy, albeit one that is better appreciated if read by those familiar with Madoka Magica. Given how infamous the original series has become due to its leaning towards dark and gritty fantasy/horror, it is pleasantly surprising how lighthearted this first volume is; that being said, it is worth remembering that even the original anime started out fairly light, before the darker undertones began to surface. That being said, Tart Magica does a good job in its first volume getting readers to care about where the story is going, regardless of the foregone conclusion and overall bleakness of the larger setting. It's worth checking out.  

Lovecraft By Way Of Japan

I set up this blog about a year ago, just to be a place to post various things without the additional clutter that can come from using places such as Tumblr; I haven't really done much on it, due to getting caught up in grad school, but now I think I should be a bit more active. So to start, here's an animated film adaptation of some of H.P. Lovecraft's writing, all the way from Japan.

Directed by Ryo Shinagawa and originally released in 2007, the film is done in Claymation (though calling it animated may be a bit generous). The three shorts are adaptations of Lovecraft's "The Picture in the House," "The Dunwich Horror," and "The Festival."

What I like of the shorts is how atmospheric the scenery is, like looking at a warped version of New England (which all of Lovecraft's writing tends to be). I suppose part of this has to do with the filmmakers being from Japan, and therefore free to interpret New England as seen through a horror lens.