The formalist element in some stories by Isis
I haven't had anything to say about the topics posted thus far, so I did a little critical essay. This post concentrates on one aspect of a small subset of the fan fiction of one author--not coincidentally, one of our hosts, Ms isiscolo. It is not by any means an introduction to, nor a survey of, her fics, though I highly recommend all the stories mentioned in this essay, as well as others that did not fit in with the theme of the essay.
And they can be read at her site.
The formalist element in some stories by Isis
Isis and I have different tastes in fan fiction, as she once pointed out to me, but there is a certain type of fic at which, to my mind, she can't be beat--the kind that's based on a strict, formal literary device. I comment here on four examples of this in her work, which showcase her use of four different devices. Formal work like this is neither popular to undertake nor easy to pull off. It's as if Isis were whipping up sestinas and villanelles while the rest of fandom was writing free verse.
Of course, this kind of story isn't the only one Isis writes, and this post should most definitely not be taken as an introduction to, or survey of, her work. It happens that I'm interested in formalism, and this is an essay on formalism as it manifests itself in some of her writings.
Severus Looks in the Mirror is the thing I sometimes show people to let them know what fan fiction/art is all about. It is just so touching for its size that it hardly seems possible. It perfectly exemplifies the insight into/critique of canon made possible by the simple act of making a different character the hero, and it is one of the best showcases I know for the often collaborative character of fan production: Isis, who wrote the drabble, and brevisse, who illustrated it, have acknowledged the degree to which their contributions have melded into a single work by posting it as a collaboration at their respective sites.
What makes it relevant to my topic here, though, is its structure. Isis' text is as much like a formal (rather than prose) poem as any drabble I've seen; it employs the same framing device as the song "A Very Good Year" made famous by Frank Sinatra or "The Rain It Raineth Every Day" by that English bloke (the closing song of Twelfth Night). I chose those examples because they both use a series of formal markers to frame a short biography, but also because they are structured, as verse, mostly by simple repetition. This is a feature of many older poetic works, such as liturgies and nursery rhymes, which were among other things mnemonic devices in a largely pre-literate, certainly pre-print, era. If we want to know how they work, I suspect we'll have to ask a cognitive scientist. When they are good, poems structured around repeated phrases can strike a chord that goes deep into the memory, I would imagine even beyond the full acquisition of speech, and pull out emotion. I think that's part of how "Severus Looks in the Mirror" works. But more about the uses of repetition to come.
Four Funerals and a Wedding... well, I'll assume you've read it (if not, go do so, it's short), but will try not to spoil anyway.
The form here, of course, is a series of brief reports from the Daily Prophet. The story presented as a series of news articles is a device I've seen before, but it's the execution, and more relevantly the relationship between the form and the theme, that make this special. I'll get back to the latter point in a moment.
Isis, an experienced traveller, "uses what she knows" to great effect. "Accio Gazelle" slays me, so to speak, and I suspect that the name "Petite Canoun," an island in the Caribbean, has an etymological relation to the implied events of the tale, though the author would have to confirm that or deny everything.
In formal terms, the effect of the piece depends on the same kind of strict repetition as Severus Looks. Not of words this time: indeed, one of the things that is repeated here is change, if that makes any sense. If the wording of any key idea were exactly the same in any two of the five articles, it would spoil the effect. In fact, a formalist reading might conclude that the whole point of the story is the failure to spot a pattern, and that this determines the fact that even the most trivial change in wording can completely mislead a clueless Wizarding World. Adding to the effect is the sense that pathetic efforts to avoid repetition in an essentially repetitive medium are editorial imperatives at this newspaper (as at many others, especially small, fictional ones *g*). This "repetition of change" is highlighted by the way each story tics off exactly the same elements, with variations: the age of the deceased, Hermione's latest name, Hermione's mock-innocent pun. Comes in red, gold, black, and green, as my mother used to say of her career as a copywriter.
The whole thing has precious little to do with Harry Potter, but for some reason I'm convinced it has a whole lot to do with Harry Potter Fan Fiction (tm): it implies the breadth of the fan-Potterverse with its geographical scope and mishmash of characters, and the whole idea of repetition with variation suggests fan fiction, as a practice, to me.
Briar Nose is a favorite of mine, though it is the only one of the fics I'll mention here that I personally would describe as uneven, and I'll explain why in a minute. If you haven't read it, it's a faux fairy-tale in which Snape takes the place of Sleeping Beauty. I would say that the style in this story breaks down into 3 categories: straight imitation fairy tale, mock (or "fractured" for you Bullwinkle fans) fairy-tale, which is an established genre in its own right, and comic narrative of a more general type.
My favorite parts of the story are the ones that fall under the first heading. The translation of the Potterverse into a fairy tale setting is masterful; when she talks about the land ruled by Dumbledore and the villages of Gryffindor and Slytherin, I'm in heaven. I find the effect magical and surprising; I'd love to read a whole story like this. Of course this exercise is a comic device in itself, but the comedy depends on the writing not being marked as "comic," which leaves open the possibility of just being taken at face value. The second category, mock fairy-tale, I think is pretty self-evident to any reader, and works well. The third I'm not sure is intentional, and is a very subjective impression, but I'll defend it thus: fairy tales typically focus on delivering information, and, in them, both description and dialogue tend to be brief and formulaic, so the effect of uniqueness in description and dialogue -- the surprisingly witty remark, the original trope to describe a familiar thing -- that writers strive for in a more modern style of fiction marks that fiction as "not fairy tale." I think if it were only Snape's dialogue that stood out to me this way, the effect would be perfect, but there are a few other places where I feel too far away from the formal premise.
I suppose I should have something to say about what this formal premise might mean, as for the others, but I don't ... yet. I'm pretty sure it has to do with children's lit and the source text, though.
Last example I'll mention: Oral Sex. This story--a string of (mostly) verbal exchanges between Messers Severus Snape and Sirius Black--develops a device that is, in this exact form, and so far as I know, original with Isis. I'll call it The Origin of the Toast (the kind with whiskey, not the kind you put under jam). The basic story is a familiar one: verbal sparring that becomes first sexualized and then sex is of course THE staple of Snape/Black fiction. But, in typical fashion, Isis' innovation arrives in the form of form. In fact, you could say that, just as failure to recognize patterns is the theme of "Four Funerals", the evolution of conscious ritual from meaningless repetition, and the uses of repetition in communication and in mediating social situations, are the themes of this tale.
I don't really think I need explain this, except just to cite the brilliant passage where Isis shows the term "Fuck you" -- one of the most oft-repeated and therefore, one would think, emptiest expressions in the language -- straddling the divide between a tired old expression of hostility and flirtation (how many times have you seen that same, "you wish"?) and a fresh new ritual full of meaning, a performative utterance, even, capable of creating a bond between two people:
"Fuck you."
"You wish."
Snape leaned over and clinked his glass against Sirius's, hard. "Fuck you."
"Oh. Fuck you."
The formalist triumph of these stories (and their author), it seems to me, is to show how repetition, ritual speech, and imitation can be fresher than the originality aspiring writers sometimes all-too-obviously grope for.
ETA: black_dog has written an extensive comment, and I an extensive answer, in my LJ. I know, I know, the post is already long, but in my answer I clarify a bit about the meanings of "formalism" used in this essay.
And they can be read at her site.
The formalist element in some stories by Isis
Isis and I have different tastes in fan fiction, as she once pointed out to me, but there is a certain type of fic at which, to my mind, she can't be beat--the kind that's based on a strict, formal literary device. I comment here on four examples of this in her work, which showcase her use of four different devices. Formal work like this is neither popular to undertake nor easy to pull off. It's as if Isis were whipping up sestinas and villanelles while the rest of fandom was writing free verse.
Of course, this kind of story isn't the only one Isis writes, and this post should most definitely not be taken as an introduction to, or survey of, her work. It happens that I'm interested in formalism, and this is an essay on formalism as it manifests itself in some of her writings.
Severus Looks in the Mirror is the thing I sometimes show people to let them know what fan fiction/art is all about. It is just so touching for its size that it hardly seems possible. It perfectly exemplifies the insight into/critique of canon made possible by the simple act of making a different character the hero, and it is one of the best showcases I know for the often collaborative character of fan production: Isis, who wrote the drabble, and brevisse, who illustrated it, have acknowledged the degree to which their contributions have melded into a single work by posting it as a collaboration at their respective sites.
What makes it relevant to my topic here, though, is its structure. Isis' text is as much like a formal (rather than prose) poem as any drabble I've seen; it employs the same framing device as the song "A Very Good Year" made famous by Frank Sinatra or "The Rain It Raineth Every Day" by that English bloke (the closing song of Twelfth Night). I chose those examples because they both use a series of formal markers to frame a short biography, but also because they are structured, as verse, mostly by simple repetition. This is a feature of many older poetic works, such as liturgies and nursery rhymes, which were among other things mnemonic devices in a largely pre-literate, certainly pre-print, era. If we want to know how they work, I suspect we'll have to ask a cognitive scientist. When they are good, poems structured around repeated phrases can strike a chord that goes deep into the memory, I would imagine even beyond the full acquisition of speech, and pull out emotion. I think that's part of how "Severus Looks in the Mirror" works. But more about the uses of repetition to come.
Four Funerals and a Wedding... well, I'll assume you've read it (if not, go do so, it's short), but will try not to spoil anyway.
The form here, of course, is a series of brief reports from the Daily Prophet. The story presented as a series of news articles is a device I've seen before, but it's the execution, and more relevantly the relationship between the form and the theme, that make this special. I'll get back to the latter point in a moment.
Isis, an experienced traveller, "uses what she knows" to great effect. "Accio Gazelle" slays me, so to speak, and I suspect that the name "Petite Canoun," an island in the Caribbean, has an etymological relation to the implied events of the tale, though the author would have to confirm that or deny everything.
In formal terms, the effect of the piece depends on the same kind of strict repetition as Severus Looks. Not of words this time: indeed, one of the things that is repeated here is change, if that makes any sense. If the wording of any key idea were exactly the same in any two of the five articles, it would spoil the effect. In fact, a formalist reading might conclude that the whole point of the story is the failure to spot a pattern, and that this determines the fact that even the most trivial change in wording can completely mislead a clueless Wizarding World. Adding to the effect is the sense that pathetic efforts to avoid repetition in an essentially repetitive medium are editorial imperatives at this newspaper (as at many others, especially small, fictional ones *g*). This "repetition of change" is highlighted by the way each story tics off exactly the same elements, with variations: the age of the deceased, Hermione's latest name, Hermione's mock-innocent pun. Comes in red, gold, black, and green, as my mother used to say of her career as a copywriter.
The whole thing has precious little to do with Harry Potter, but for some reason I'm convinced it has a whole lot to do with Harry Potter Fan Fiction (tm): it implies the breadth of the fan-Potterverse with its geographical scope and mishmash of characters, and the whole idea of repetition with variation suggests fan fiction, as a practice, to me.
Briar Nose is a favorite of mine, though it is the only one of the fics I'll mention here that I personally would describe as uneven, and I'll explain why in a minute. If you haven't read it, it's a faux fairy-tale in which Snape takes the place of Sleeping Beauty. I would say that the style in this story breaks down into 3 categories: straight imitation fairy tale, mock (or "fractured" for you Bullwinkle fans) fairy-tale, which is an established genre in its own right, and comic narrative of a more general type.
My favorite parts of the story are the ones that fall under the first heading. The translation of the Potterverse into a fairy tale setting is masterful; when she talks about the land ruled by Dumbledore and the villages of Gryffindor and Slytherin, I'm in heaven. I find the effect magical and surprising; I'd love to read a whole story like this. Of course this exercise is a comic device in itself, but the comedy depends on the writing not being marked as "comic," which leaves open the possibility of just being taken at face value. The second category, mock fairy-tale, I think is pretty self-evident to any reader, and works well. The third I'm not sure is intentional, and is a very subjective impression, but I'll defend it thus: fairy tales typically focus on delivering information, and, in them, both description and dialogue tend to be brief and formulaic, so the effect of uniqueness in description and dialogue -- the surprisingly witty remark, the original trope to describe a familiar thing -- that writers strive for in a more modern style of fiction marks that fiction as "not fairy tale." I think if it were only Snape's dialogue that stood out to me this way, the effect would be perfect, but there are a few other places where I feel too far away from the formal premise.
I suppose I should have something to say about what this formal premise might mean, as for the others, but I don't ... yet. I'm pretty sure it has to do with children's lit and the source text, though.
Last example I'll mention: Oral Sex. This story--a string of (mostly) verbal exchanges between Messers Severus Snape and Sirius Black--develops a device that is, in this exact form, and so far as I know, original with Isis. I'll call it The Origin of the Toast (the kind with whiskey, not the kind you put under jam). The basic story is a familiar one: verbal sparring that becomes first sexualized and then sex is of course THE staple of Snape/Black fiction. But, in typical fashion, Isis' innovation arrives in the form of form. In fact, you could say that, just as failure to recognize patterns is the theme of "Four Funerals", the evolution of conscious ritual from meaningless repetition, and the uses of repetition in communication and in mediating social situations, are the themes of this tale.
I don't really think I need explain this, except just to cite the brilliant passage where Isis shows the term "Fuck you" -- one of the most oft-repeated and therefore, one would think, emptiest expressions in the language -- straddling the divide between a tired old expression of hostility and flirtation (how many times have you seen that same, "you wish"?) and a fresh new ritual full of meaning, a performative utterance, even, capable of creating a bond between two people:
"Fuck you."
"You wish."
Snape leaned over and clinked his glass against Sirius's, hard. "Fuck you."
"Oh. Fuck you."
The formalist triumph of these stories (and their author), it seems to me, is to show how repetition, ritual speech, and imitation can be fresher than the originality aspiring writers sometimes all-too-obviously grope for.
ETA: black_dog has written an extensive comment, and I an extensive answer, in my LJ. I know, I know, the post is already long, but in my answer I clarify a bit about the meanings of "formalism" used in this essay.