Literary influences: part one
(Thanks to benpeek and Bodhichitta0 for getting me thinking about this.)
Writers are influenced by what they read, for good or bad, so, now and again in this journal, I'll be talking about some of the writers and books that influenced me as a writer, and why.
So, first up:
L. Frank Baum, the Oz books and more; Ruth Plumly Thompson, Lauren McGraw, Eloise McGraw, John R. Neill, and the Three-Headed Elvis clone.
The movie terrified me. One of my earliest memories, in fact, is hugging my father in terror and hope that the flying monkeys wouldn't come out and get me. (I was not renowned for my ability to distinguish between reality and television as a child.) But the books were different. Those I loved.
Those familiar only with the movie, or with the original Oz book, may not be aware that Baum continued to write Oz books, frequently only under protest and at his publishers' insistence, writing a grand total of 14 Oz books and another 12 or so featuring characters that either later appeared in or were mentioned in Oz books. (In many cases these characters would show up in an Oz book in a flamboyant and desperate attempt to increase sales of the non-Oz books.) The books sold incredibly well, so well that a post-Baum mini-industry was founded with various authors writing more Oz books. (Did you know, for example, that someone actually penned and published a book called The Rubber Ostriches of Oz, and then followed up that classic title with Three Headed Elvis Clone Found in Flying Saucer Over Oz? Really not making this up. And then there's The Haunted Hot-Tub of Oz, which frankly may be something we're not prepared to deal with, particularly since, according to its brief synopsis, its chief character is called Brewster Bunny, Oz's rabbit detective. I think I need some coffee before I continue.
Coffee in hand. Continuing now.)
The books varied in their fidelity to the original Oz books, which themselves were not particularly internally consistent. (Baum grew understandably tired of the series after books 6, and relied on his increasingly unreliable memory to tell him what had happened in earlier books, with the result that various explanations for Oz and the pre-history of Oz constantly changed as he wrote.) This allowed writers playing in the Oz universe to exercise their creativity to the utmost, since anything and everything could exist in Oz. Admittedly this freedom has apparently brought us Brewster Bunny. But it also brought us Merry-Go-Round In Oz, one of my favorite Oz books. It also allowed readers to travel freely in Oz; it was easy enough to pretend to be in Oz, since Oz could be anything. I gobbled up Oz books, whether written by Baum or others. My original created world/alternative universe was a poor Oz rip-off (very poor) but the ability to exercise my imagination within my not-particularly-original thought undoubtedly helped me later as a writer.
It was not until much later, however, that I realized how incredibly subversive the Oz books, and particularly the original 14 penned by Baum, were. After all, the chief plot of Oz is this: tough young American girl arrives in Oz and, after initial terrifying adventures and so, settles in a communist paradise ruled by women and finds absolute and complete happiness. The books have numerous rants against various technologies, corporations and advertising. Their conclusion (strongest in the final Oz books) that happiness is found in a communist society (however veiled as a fairyland) is shocking enough; that this is a communist society created and ruled by women is extraordinary for a late 19th/early 20th set of novels. And, despite a mocking look at the 19th century women's liberation movement in The Marvelous Land of Oz, the male Baum depicts women as powerful, wise, leaders; male rule is inevitably inept, evil, or powerless, and swiftly overthrown -- by women. These subversive qualities have led to the Oz books getting banned in multiple libraries, occasionally under the the excuse that they mention "witches."
The Oz universe is curiously devoid of powerful men, and equally devoid of sex. Baum makes the point in one book that nobody ever dies or gets older in Oz; babies remain babies, old women remain old women; thus, Oz has no need of procreation. Its population only increases, in fact, when Americans show up, and a couple of the Oz characters, in particular Ozma, voice the fear of allowing too many Americans to enter; without death, Oz has no population control. As a child, I found this concept of never aging tremendously appealing; today, the thought of remaining endlessly trapped in childhood or adulthood or old age is considerably more terrifying.
But back to the men.
Most male characters in Oz are seriously emmasculated and powerless, or non-humans. Baum allowed few males to enter Oz from the outside, and none without the help of a girl: Button-Bright (a ten year old) is brought in by Dorothy and Trot; the Shaggy-Man by Dorothy; Uncle Henry by Dorothy; Cap'n Bill by Trot. Frequently the male characters have been robbed of their bodies by women -- the Tin Woodman, for example, is cursed by a female witch, and slowly loses his human parts and becomes entirely metal. In Rinkitink in Oz (which is an unusual Oz book in many ways) one boy cannot accomplish his quest without assistance from Dorothy, who saves the day at the end of the book, and another male prince can only be restored to his male self through the power of a woman. And even in the anti-feminist book The Marvelous Land of Oz, the ruler can only seize power by shedding his male self and becoming a beautiful young girl.
It's no wonder that I responded to these books where girls and women had adventures, shaped others' destinies, and ruled completely contented nations. (In a small counterargument to this, Baum also shows everybody getting bored with the Emerald City and running off to find adventures elsewhere, but in part this is because utter perfection and happiness doesn't leave a lot of room for plot development.) I probably also responded to the very understated transformational gender and bisexual subjects in most of the novels. Oz helped me stretch my imagination, taught me that women can control their own destinies and be accomplished, respected leaders, taught me that gender can sometimes be a construct that can be changed, and most of all, taught me that imaginary works can be commercialized almost -- but not quite -- past redemption.
Writers are influenced by what they read, for good or bad, so, now and again in this journal, I'll be talking about some of the writers and books that influenced me as a writer, and why.
So, first up:
L. Frank Baum, the Oz books and more; Ruth Plumly Thompson, Lauren McGraw, Eloise McGraw, John R. Neill, and the Three-Headed Elvis clone.
The movie terrified me. One of my earliest memories, in fact, is hugging my father in terror and hope that the flying monkeys wouldn't come out and get me. (I was not renowned for my ability to distinguish between reality and television as a child.) But the books were different. Those I loved.
Those familiar only with the movie, or with the original Oz book, may not be aware that Baum continued to write Oz books, frequently only under protest and at his publishers' insistence, writing a grand total of 14 Oz books and another 12 or so featuring characters that either later appeared in or were mentioned in Oz books. (In many cases these characters would show up in an Oz book in a flamboyant and desperate attempt to increase sales of the non-Oz books.) The books sold incredibly well, so well that a post-Baum mini-industry was founded with various authors writing more Oz books. (Did you know, for example, that someone actually penned and published a book called The Rubber Ostriches of Oz, and then followed up that classic title with Three Headed Elvis Clone Found in Flying Saucer Over Oz? Really not making this up. And then there's The Haunted Hot-Tub of Oz, which frankly may be something we're not prepared to deal with, particularly since, according to its brief synopsis, its chief character is called Brewster Bunny, Oz's rabbit detective. I think I need some coffee before I continue.
Coffee in hand. Continuing now.)
The books varied in their fidelity to the original Oz books, which themselves were not particularly internally consistent. (Baum grew understandably tired of the series after books 6, and relied on his increasingly unreliable memory to tell him what had happened in earlier books, with the result that various explanations for Oz and the pre-history of Oz constantly changed as he wrote.) This allowed writers playing in the Oz universe to exercise their creativity to the utmost, since anything and everything could exist in Oz. Admittedly this freedom has apparently brought us Brewster Bunny. But it also brought us Merry-Go-Round In Oz, one of my favorite Oz books. It also allowed readers to travel freely in Oz; it was easy enough to pretend to be in Oz, since Oz could be anything. I gobbled up Oz books, whether written by Baum or others. My original created world/alternative universe was a poor Oz rip-off (very poor) but the ability to exercise my imagination within my not-particularly-original thought undoubtedly helped me later as a writer.
It was not until much later, however, that I realized how incredibly subversive the Oz books, and particularly the original 14 penned by Baum, were. After all, the chief plot of Oz is this: tough young American girl arrives in Oz and, after initial terrifying adventures and so, settles in a communist paradise ruled by women and finds absolute and complete happiness. The books have numerous rants against various technologies, corporations and advertising. Their conclusion (strongest in the final Oz books) that happiness is found in a communist society (however veiled as a fairyland) is shocking enough; that this is a communist society created and ruled by women is extraordinary for a late 19th/early 20th set of novels. And, despite a mocking look at the 19th century women's liberation movement in The Marvelous Land of Oz, the male Baum depicts women as powerful, wise, leaders; male rule is inevitably inept, evil, or powerless, and swiftly overthrown -- by women. These subversive qualities have led to the Oz books getting banned in multiple libraries, occasionally under the the excuse that they mention "witches."
The Oz universe is curiously devoid of powerful men, and equally devoid of sex. Baum makes the point in one book that nobody ever dies or gets older in Oz; babies remain babies, old women remain old women; thus, Oz has no need of procreation. Its population only increases, in fact, when Americans show up, and a couple of the Oz characters, in particular Ozma, voice the fear of allowing too many Americans to enter; without death, Oz has no population control. As a child, I found this concept of never aging tremendously appealing; today, the thought of remaining endlessly trapped in childhood or adulthood or old age is considerably more terrifying.
But back to the men.
Most male characters in Oz are seriously emmasculated and powerless, or non-humans. Baum allowed few males to enter Oz from the outside, and none without the help of a girl: Button-Bright (a ten year old) is brought in by Dorothy and Trot; the Shaggy-Man by Dorothy; Uncle Henry by Dorothy; Cap'n Bill by Trot. Frequently the male characters have been robbed of their bodies by women -- the Tin Woodman, for example, is cursed by a female witch, and slowly loses his human parts and becomes entirely metal. In Rinkitink in Oz (which is an unusual Oz book in many ways) one boy cannot accomplish his quest without assistance from Dorothy, who saves the day at the end of the book, and another male prince can only be restored to his male self through the power of a woman. And even in the anti-feminist book The Marvelous Land of Oz, the ruler can only seize power by shedding his male self and becoming a beautiful young girl.
It's no wonder that I responded to these books where girls and women had adventures, shaped others' destinies, and ruled completely contented nations. (In a small counterargument to this, Baum also shows everybody getting bored with the Emerald City and running off to find adventures elsewhere, but in part this is because utter perfection and happiness doesn't leave a lot of room for plot development.) I probably also responded to the very understated transformational gender and bisexual subjects in most of the novels. Oz helped me stretch my imagination, taught me that women can control their own destinies and be accomplished, respected leaders, taught me that gender can sometimes be a construct that can be changed, and most of all, taught me that imaginary works can be commercialized almost -- but not quite -- past redemption.