The Art Of Writing Jacob/Esau
First and foremost, I have to thank tellshannon815 for inviting me to a lead discussion here again -- this time about yet another of my very favorite pairings, involving two of my very favorite characters: the almighty Jacob and his awesome brother, Smokey/Man In Black/Nameless Boy/Dr. Smoke/Esau. I’m going to mostly stick with Esau from here on out, though.
But before we begin, I offer you something of a personal disclaimer; a... statement of perspective, if you will. Bear with me.
Why Them?
So, confession, not that it's much of a secret: I love Jacob and Esau. A whole ton. As in, a WHOLE TON. Now, I know there’s been a good amount of... dissension, particularly regarding the last two seasons of Lost, in reference to the mythology outweighing the character interactions and development -- that essential human element that was what kept so many of us coming back for more, despite quirky plot lines and awkward twists and turns. And that dreaded Island Mythos? That often came back in some way, shape, or form to the brothers-from-another-mother-that-wasn’t-Mother (but was the same other mother, nonetheless; she was just dead).
And while admittedly, I am an absolute sucker for mythologies and symbolism and references and cultural motifs and codes and all that jazz, that wasn’t the only reason why I thoroughly enjoyed many of the more controversial bits of Seasons Five and Six, nor the main reason why I enjoy Jacob and Esau.
So, the question emerges: what is the appeal of these two enigmatic, larger than life characters?
For me, it starts with the fact that from the first moment I watched them interact on screen, they simply crackled. There was chemistry and emotion and vibrancy and tension (both sexual and otherwise) and heat and it was enrapturing in the same way that the best Lost encounters always are. Whether it was due to the writing or the setting or the actors doing the work (I’m leaning toward that last one, personally, with a small side-order of the second one -- but I also happen to adore Mark Pellegrino and Titus Welliver in just about anything they do, so I might be biased), these two struck me from the get-go as deeply complex characters with a fascinating dynamic, a shadowed past, and the capacity for more angst and depth than Lost had given us in “new” characters for ages (I mean, really: let’s fast-forward a few episodes and consider Dōgen and Zoe, for instance? And don’t even get me started on how they completely botched the entire idea of Ilana...)
But these two; they were something. They were aggressive and esoteric and electric. They were undefined and almost otherworldly -- possessing superhuman capacities beyond comprehension and explanation -- and from a creative standpoint? That’s just gold.
So, if Jacob and Esau’s collective magnetism (which is not at all related to electromagnetism, but if one of you wants to write how the two coincide, I’d read that fic in a heartbeat) is largely attributable to the nuances of and inspiration engendered by their relational dynamics, a discussion on writing them as a pairing should probably center around the highlights of that crucial interaction between the two, yes? Indeed: this logic is sound.
While there are most certainly more takes on this pairing than just these four, I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that, together, these ones summarize a nice chunk of the dynamic we’re dealing with:
The Nemeses
Perhaps the first realm of interchange between these two that we as an audience were made privy to was the idea of Jacob and Esau as two dichotomous -- and often opposing -- entities: the embodiment of an unstoppable force posed against an immovable object.
These are not words you use to talk to your friends. These are words you use to talk to your nemeses.
Now, depending on your interpretation of who/what the Smock Monster is, vis-à-vis brother Esau, this dynamic may possess different undertones of significance. If you believe that Smoke Monster = Esau, then the antagonism takes on a distinctly personal flavor: these are two men who have known each other since birth, who have cultivated a very tangled and complex web of trust and betrayal, dependence and separation, converging and diverging desires, conflicting interests, aggression and affection -- and as flip-sides of a coin, they are distinctively at odds with one another, in both a literal, functional sense as well as in a cosmic, overarching sense. At their very cores, they are inextricable, and yet simultaneously, they are diametrically opposed.
If, however, you believe that Smoke Monster \=\ Esau, there's something a little different about the nemesis-dynamic. The Smoke Monster, if it is not Esau in some real way, chooses to assume Esau's likeness for some meaningful reason; or at least, we can assume this is what it does, because the Smoke Monster seems pretty darn sneaky, and not particularly stupid. So, a number of reasons for this fact present themselves: 1) the Smoke Monster looks like Esau because Esau was Jacob's brother/lover/friend, and Jacob was responsible for his death; as such, looking like Esau adds insult to injury, rubs salt in open wounds, and disrespects the memory of Jacob's beloved brother = NEMESIS, 2) the Smoke Monster looks like Esau because Jacob and his brother were, in fact, rather at odds, and by taking on his likeness, the Smoke Monster merely perpetuates the animosity and takes it up a notch to a whole new cosmic level = NEMESIS, 3) the Smoke Monster looks like Esau because Esau hadn't agreed with Jacob's willingness to stay on the Island and do as crazy-seashelled-Mother wished, and for good or ill, whatever it is, the Smoke Monster likewise disagrees and wishes to oppose him = NEMESIS, 4) the Smoke Monster looks like Esau because Esau died as a result of/in proximity to it, and there's no deeper meaning other than perhaps the Smoke Monster likes to assume recent victims for fun (or perhaps Esau was its first victim, explaining why it's bound to similar rules, such as being unable to outright kill Jacob?), and that's just kind of mean, so = NEMESIS... the list goes on and on. You get the picture. But in this interpretation, it's not so much a necessity that Jacob and Esau are, themselves, pitted against each other in so dire a way; which may or may not be preferable, depending on what we're trying to achieve in portraying them together.
Either way, though, the wide variety of interpretations and conclusions that can be drawn from the story we've been presented with provides ample fodder for tackling this pairing in new and exciting ways.
The Brothers
Inferred by fandom long before Darlton decided to make it official, the fact that these two have either a literal sibling relationship, or else a very close sense of non-biological kinship, is a definite recurring theme between them.
If we didn’t get the memo via the extensive use of the dramatic-symbolism-as-clue-by-four approach, they are, in fact, posed to represent two opposite ends of the moral/visual/functional spectrum: good versus evil, dark versus light, hate versus love, compassion versus violence, serenity versus rage... you get the picture.
No, literally: you get the picture:
Now, let's play I-Spy-The-Symbolism; I count at least seven visual distinctions of Good Baby versus Bad Baby, how about you?
Perhaps most obviously, a definite component of co-dependence typifies their relationship from childhood through adulthood. Esau asks Jacob to come with him when he decides to set out on his quest to leave the Island with more than mere interest in a companion, in my opinion -- something smacks of need there that's deeper than simply wanting company. Likewise, when Esau tells Jacob over their game, many years later, that he's found a way off the Island and that he intends to take it, the depth of emotion and anguish that veritably shimmers in their eyes... that's something real and tangible and aching there. Separation is a painful prospect for them on a number of levels; indeed, we see it in Jacob's emotional reaction to his brother's death at the end of Across The Sea. Blood is thicker than water,or wine for that matter, in the end: complicated, painful, and regrettable as it may be for either of them at times, they remain brothers. And there's nothing they can do about it. That incontrovertible fact is crucial to the delicate tension that drives the interaction between these two -- there is so much energy, for good and ill between them, and while it never resolves, it can never be abandoned. It always remains, and its consequences are perpetual.
Looking at this dynamic with a slightly more sinister lens: regardless of how the Smoke Monster is ultimately connected to Esau, after his physical death, the Monster is still bound to the inability to harm Jacob, as Esau's brother is protected from such actions. The ever-sought-and-eventually-found "loophole" follows from the unbreakable bond of siblingship, and considering how pivotal that exception proved to be to the storyline of the last season, it most certainly speaks to the poignancy and the impact of brotherhood on the Jacob/Esau dynamic.
One last, particularly intriguing element in this bond of brotherhood is the nature of competition that exists between these two characters, and the sense of favoritism that has been solidified between them. Typical of sibling relationships in general, and not particularly unique or telling in itself, what stand out are the characterizations that seem to stem from and draw on that rivalry, and ultimately, the need for love and acceptance -- the need to be good enough. Jacob, we see, consistently questions and doubts the regard his mother holds him in, and feels that his mother favors Esau over himself:
“Why do you love him more than me?” --- What kind of person makes such a cute little boy say something like that?
And that's not a mindset one easily grows out of. Particularly when "growing" means "growing into a middle-aged manchild." Observe:
“No it doesn’t, you wanted it to be him!”
Familiar, isn't it? But then, we see that it is Esau who bears the physical consequences of being "less" worthy -- he is removed from the "family" unit (even if it was by his own choosing), he is the one physically harmed more often than not in his encounters with Jacob, he is the first of the two of them to lose his life. This interplay of being worthy, exerting power, proving ability, etc. are seen throughout the appearances that these characters have made, and not only color their relationship with one another, but seep deeper into their desires and motivations in a more comprehensive sense, as well, rendering the brotherly-dynamic ever more influential.
The Frenemies
In light of all of the tension, though, the connection of the two as family, companions, and, well, as friends is one that cannot and should not be ignored, as it is infinitely important to the breadth and depth of the Jacob/Esau dynamic.
Because regardless of anything else, these two are friends. They play games together. They enjoy each other's company. Almost exclusively.
For years.
I mean, you tell me: how many people who aren't your friends do you know who you could tolerate, with only limited human contact otherwise, for that long? And besides, it's not like Esau had a very high opinion of the other people he was hanging out with. So yeah, friends.
Plus, calling again upon the emphasis on co-dependence as a key facet of their relationship with each other, they seem to genuinely desire to be near one another. Aside from their emotional reactions to the idea of being separated as mentioned above, there's also the simple fact that... well, Smokey!Esau's and Jacob are still sitting and talking, even as Smokey!Esau reminds Jacob that he has every intention of gleefully murdering him as soon as he figures out how to pull it off. I mean, yes: I imagine that there is a distinct lack of selection in terms of breakfast partners on the Island, but still. If you had to choose between no company, or the company of someone who wanted to slaughter you -- and not only that, but desired it kind of desperately -- are you going to pick Door #1, or Door #Death?
Nevertheless, when you start the physical abuse in your preteen years, it’s kind of a given that your future interaction might be a bit strained:
And, you know, it doesn't help if it continues in the same vein some years later...
Plus, well... there’s also this:
Friends don't let friends get sucked into the Islandy-Light-Of-Worse-Than-Dying-Ness.
So yes: not quite friends, really, but not merely enemies, either. Thus, Jacob and Esau seem to straddle the line between love and hate as if it were an art form in and of itself, and as such, duly warrant the titular portmanteau.
And as writers and readers, we love it; because what’s juicier than an emotive, relational paradox to explore from angles aplenty? Whether from the immortal, historical, supernatural, mortal or emotional perspective, the idea of two lifelong friends -- and blood-brothers on top of that -- having such an inescapable, dysfunctional, deeply-penetrating bond is the fodder of some of the very greatest fiction, and some of the most affecting romances. These are the kinds of literary gifts that are wrapped and packaged and set to your doorstep for you, begging to be opened and played with until they wear thin. They're kind of hard to resist.
Because the characters may be mired in some metaphysical mumbo-jumbo, but at the core of their interaction, they can be reduced once again to the most basic and moving of human emotions. And more often than not, that’s what we’re looking for.
The Lovers
We all know that fandom loves angst. And a part of that love is reserved for the angsty romance. There's something infinitely satisfying about watching enemies screw like rabbits, love-hate relationships poison both parties involved in a sordid, heart-wrenching deluge of self-destruction, or even the slightly-less-morbid idea of two complete opposites who are all wrong for each other, somehow, against all odds, finding a way to make it work. We love it; this fact requires no further explanation.
And Jacob and Esau? They provide each of those possibilities in excess. And they do it beautifully.
The sexual element between these two is a particularly interesting area for exploration and interpretation. Angry, loving, bitter, punishing, recreational, seraphic, devilish, desperate, violent... the list goes on and on. And variety is the spice of life (and death, and the afterlife -- because again, we’re talking Lost), is it not?
While there are numerous ways that fandom can, and has, gone about portraying a romantic and/or sexual relationship between Jacob and Esau, what is perhaps most intriguing in terms of discussion is the way in which the previously mentioned aspects of their interactions may come into play in typifying a more intimate connection.
Whether we’re assuming that Smokey merely takes Esau’s form, or is in fact a veritable, evil permutation of Esau proper, there’s a tinge of star-crossed-lover syndrome that clings to the mythos of this particular pairing. The tension and antagonism, coupled with the intrinsic connection of the two as brothers, creates a sense of doom that clings to the reality of the pairing, and helps to root the supernatural and unrealistic elements of certain aspects of their storyline back in the essential realm of the real -- they are not a fairytale, and as such, they remain human. They are relatable, and they are flawed; they suffer and they yearn and they hate as well as they love, and their ending may not be a happy one -- in fact, it’s more likely that it won’t be. And because it reflects the imperfection of human life -- even if it does understate and exaggerate for dramatic effect -- we are drawn to it.
But from that perspective, what is it that sets Jacob/Esau apart from any other human romance on the show? Here is where those superhuman elements begin to show their real usefulness. If we wanted straight reality, we’d read the nonfiction. We’d read the news. If we didn’t want a little bit of spice, an escape from the ordinary, we wouldn’t be watching a show like Lost. And that’s where the vagaries, the hints and the teases and the oft-unexplained claims of something deeper and larger and more than mere humanity create a sense of mystery and significance that are intriguing, that grab our interest in a way that’s different from other ‘ships. The angst is deep, personal, but there remains that edge of fantasy that heightens sensation and dampens realism, and it's the balance that makes this pairing unique, and that also allows for a range of possibilities in depiction and interpretation that possess enough novelty to be exciting for both the author and the audience. It's the interplay between the two allows the tragedy as well as the joy to swell and ebb and flow in majestic, overstated ways that match in sentiment, if not always in extent.
Because we have a sort of Shakespearean need for a good tragedy. Again, the interpretation of what function and identity the Smoke Monster assumes colors the interpretation here: but if Jacob and Esau were romantically involved before Esau’s mortal demise, is it not even more tragic that Jacob, who was responsible for Esau’s death and his transformation (in whatever capacity) into Smokey the Cloud, should have to waste away an eternity with his dead lover’s face slapped upon the very entity he is sworn to rail against? I vote yes. Gorgeously, gloriously, yes.
Most certainly, we also see co-dependence pop up yet again, which could very well be explored as a factor of sexuality or intimacy between these characters, and expounded upon in a variety of ways. The need for the other, the desire for that which is harmful, symbiotic and parasitic relationships, self-preservation, the interplay of desire and well-being for both good and for ill, and how any and all of these elements, among many others, might be conveyed and carried out in action between these characters suggests numerous potential avenues down which an author might take this particular pairing.
Violence, as discussed above, opens many intriguing venues for the intimate and/or sexual aspect of their relationship. Combined with the strain of competing for their mother’s love and regard, it may very well follow that we'd see a good degree of violence, physical power-play, D/S, etc. in this pairing, all while drawing on very canonical elements as portrayed in the show. Furthermore, these aggressive themes fit the characterizations of the pair as we’ve seen them, both in a physical sense as well as an emotional/psychological sense, therefore opening even more doors to play with the ‘ship within the very broad parameters of canon events and implications.
Approaching that same vein from a slightly different angle, the use of violence as a thematic element also lends itself to the more comforting and “softcore” encounters of Jacob and Esau as lovers, where healing and comfort after physical harm, as well as mutual consolation of emotional ills and wrongs done, both in the present and the past, can be used as the building blocks of analyzing a relationships between them and peeling back its layers in order to get at its heart.
The End? (Actually, No; Just Progress)
Perhaps you're now wondering: you just wasted precious moments of my life on this -- what in the world was your point?
Basically, my point is that Jacob and Esau really are the complete package. They have the angst. They have the history. They have the tortured past. They have the chemistry like WOAH. They have enough time to have done it all, or to have done absolutely nothing. They have the obscureness and ambiguity to convince us of everything and anything and not a single real thing, all at once. And they look gorgeous while doing it. But the main point -- the real holy grail of this pairing -- is the fact that, in light of all that the characters have to offer together, they free us as writers and as readers to explore, and to create, and to imagine: to push borders and rewrite boundaries within a context where human limitations, as well as superhuman infinitude, are all fair game. And while it might be mind-boggling at times -- or absolutely absurd in the hands of certain writers we won’t name specifically -- it can also be absolutely exquisite, if the chance is taken and the envelope is pushed.
And in my very humble opinion, it’s characters like these that spur us into pushing.
And now, some questions for your discussing pleasure:
But before we begin, I offer you something of a personal disclaimer; a... statement of perspective, if you will. Bear with me.
Why Them?
So, confession, not that it's much of a secret: I love Jacob and Esau. A whole ton. As in, a WHOLE TON. Now, I know there’s been a good amount of... dissension, particularly regarding the last two seasons of Lost, in reference to the mythology outweighing the character interactions and development -- that essential human element that was what kept so many of us coming back for more, despite quirky plot lines and awkward twists and turns. And that dreaded Island Mythos? That often came back in some way, shape, or form to the brothers-from-another-mother-that-wasn’t-Mother (but was the same other mother, nonetheless; she was just dead).
And while admittedly, I am an absolute sucker for mythologies and symbolism and references and cultural motifs and codes and all that jazz, that wasn’t the only reason why I thoroughly enjoyed many of the more controversial bits of Seasons Five and Six, nor the main reason why I enjoy Jacob and Esau.
So, the question emerges: what is the appeal of these two enigmatic, larger than life characters?
For me, it starts with the fact that from the first moment I watched them interact on screen, they simply crackled. There was chemistry and emotion and vibrancy and tension (both sexual and otherwise) and heat and it was enrapturing in the same way that the best Lost encounters always are. Whether it was due to the writing or the setting or the actors doing the work (I’m leaning toward that last one, personally, with a small side-order of the second one -- but I also happen to adore Mark Pellegrino and Titus Welliver in just about anything they do, so I might be biased), these two struck me from the get-go as deeply complex characters with a fascinating dynamic, a shadowed past, and the capacity for more angst and depth than Lost had given us in “new” characters for ages (I mean, really: let’s fast-forward a few episodes and consider Dōgen and Zoe, for instance? And don’t even get me started on how they completely botched the entire idea of Ilana...)
But these two; they were something. They were aggressive and esoteric and electric. They were undefined and almost otherworldly -- possessing superhuman capacities beyond comprehension and explanation -- and from a creative standpoint? That’s just gold.
So, if Jacob and Esau’s collective magnetism (which is not at all related to electromagnetism, but if one of you wants to write how the two coincide, I’d read that fic in a heartbeat) is largely attributable to the nuances of and inspiration engendered by their relational dynamics, a discussion on writing them as a pairing should probably center around the highlights of that crucial interaction between the two, yes? Indeed: this logic is sound.
While there are most certainly more takes on this pairing than just these four, I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that, together, these ones summarize a nice chunk of the dynamic we’re dealing with:
The Nemeses
Perhaps the first realm of interchange between these two that we as an audience were made privy to was the idea of Jacob and Esau as two dichotomous -- and often opposing -- entities: the embodiment of an unstoppable force posed against an immovable object.
These are not words you use to talk to your friends. These are words you use to talk to your nemeses.
Now, depending on your interpretation of who/what the Smock Monster is, vis-à-vis brother Esau, this dynamic may possess different undertones of significance. If you believe that Smoke Monster = Esau, then the antagonism takes on a distinctly personal flavor: these are two men who have known each other since birth, who have cultivated a very tangled and complex web of trust and betrayal, dependence and separation, converging and diverging desires, conflicting interests, aggression and affection -- and as flip-sides of a coin, they are distinctively at odds with one another, in both a literal, functional sense as well as in a cosmic, overarching sense. At their very cores, they are inextricable, and yet simultaneously, they are diametrically opposed.
If, however, you believe that Smoke Monster \=\ Esau, there's something a little different about the nemesis-dynamic. The Smoke Monster, if it is not Esau in some real way, chooses to assume Esau's likeness for some meaningful reason; or at least, we can assume this is what it does, because the Smoke Monster seems pretty darn sneaky, and not particularly stupid. So, a number of reasons for this fact present themselves: 1) the Smoke Monster looks like Esau because Esau was Jacob's brother/lover/friend, and Jacob was responsible for his death; as such, looking like Esau adds insult to injury, rubs salt in open wounds, and disrespects the memory of Jacob's beloved brother = NEMESIS, 2) the Smoke Monster looks like Esau because Jacob and his brother were, in fact, rather at odds, and by taking on his likeness, the Smoke Monster merely perpetuates the animosity and takes it up a notch to a whole new cosmic level = NEMESIS, 3) the Smoke Monster looks like Esau because Esau hadn't agreed with Jacob's willingness to stay on the Island and do as crazy-seashelled-Mother wished, and for good or ill, whatever it is, the Smoke Monster likewise disagrees and wishes to oppose him = NEMESIS, 4) the Smoke Monster looks like Esau because Esau died as a result of/in proximity to it, and there's no deeper meaning other than perhaps the Smoke Monster likes to assume recent victims for fun (or perhaps Esau was its first victim, explaining why it's bound to similar rules, such as being unable to outright kill Jacob?), and that's just kind of mean, so = NEMESIS... the list goes on and on. You get the picture. But in this interpretation, it's not so much a necessity that Jacob and Esau are, themselves, pitted against each other in so dire a way; which may or may not be preferable, depending on what we're trying to achieve in portraying them together.
Either way, though, the wide variety of interpretations and conclusions that can be drawn from the story we've been presented with provides ample fodder for tackling this pairing in new and exciting ways.
The Brothers
Inferred by fandom long before Darlton decided to make it official, the fact that these two have either a literal sibling relationship, or else a very close sense of non-biological kinship, is a definite recurring theme between them.
If we didn’t get the memo via the extensive use of the dramatic-symbolism-as-clue-by-four approach, they are, in fact, posed to represent two opposite ends of the moral/visual/functional spectrum: good versus evil, dark versus light, hate versus love, compassion versus violence, serenity versus rage... you get the picture.
No, literally: you get the picture:
Now, let's play I-Spy-The-Symbolism; I count at least seven visual distinctions of Good Baby versus Bad Baby, how about you?
Perhaps most obviously, a definite component of co-dependence typifies their relationship from childhood through adulthood. Esau asks Jacob to come with him when he decides to set out on his quest to leave the Island with more than mere interest in a companion, in my opinion -- something smacks of need there that's deeper than simply wanting company. Likewise, when Esau tells Jacob over their game, many years later, that he's found a way off the Island and that he intends to take it, the depth of emotion and anguish that veritably shimmers in their eyes... that's something real and tangible and aching there. Separation is a painful prospect for them on a number of levels; indeed, we see it in Jacob's emotional reaction to his brother's death at the end of Across The Sea. Blood is thicker than water,or wine for that matter, in the end: complicated, painful, and regrettable as it may be for either of them at times, they remain brothers. And there's nothing they can do about it. That incontrovertible fact is crucial to the delicate tension that drives the interaction between these two -- there is so much energy, for good and ill between them, and while it never resolves, it can never be abandoned. It always remains, and its consequences are perpetual.
Looking at this dynamic with a slightly more sinister lens: regardless of how the Smoke Monster is ultimately connected to Esau, after his physical death, the Monster is still bound to the inability to harm Jacob, as Esau's brother is protected from such actions. The ever-sought-and-eventually-found "loophole" follows from the unbreakable bond of siblingship, and considering how pivotal that exception proved to be to the storyline of the last season, it most certainly speaks to the poignancy and the impact of brotherhood on the Jacob/Esau dynamic.
One last, particularly intriguing element in this bond of brotherhood is the nature of competition that exists between these two characters, and the sense of favoritism that has been solidified between them. Typical of sibling relationships in general, and not particularly unique or telling in itself, what stand out are the characterizations that seem to stem from and draw on that rivalry, and ultimately, the need for love and acceptance -- the need to be good enough. Jacob, we see, consistently questions and doubts the regard his mother holds him in, and feels that his mother favors Esau over himself:
“Why do you love him more than me?” --- What kind of person makes such a cute little boy say something like that?
And that's not a mindset one easily grows out of. Particularly when "growing" means "growing into a middle-aged manchild." Observe:
“No it doesn’t, you wanted it to be him!”
Familiar, isn't it? But then, we see that it is Esau who bears the physical consequences of being "less" worthy -- he is removed from the "family" unit (even if it was by his own choosing), he is the one physically harmed more often than not in his encounters with Jacob, he is the first of the two of them to lose his life. This interplay of being worthy, exerting power, proving ability, etc. are seen throughout the appearances that these characters have made, and not only color their relationship with one another, but seep deeper into their desires and motivations in a more comprehensive sense, as well, rendering the brotherly-dynamic ever more influential.
The Frenemies
In light of all of the tension, though, the connection of the two as family, companions, and, well, as friends is one that cannot and should not be ignored, as it is infinitely important to the breadth and depth of the Jacob/Esau dynamic.
Because regardless of anything else, these two are friends. They play games together. They enjoy each other's company. Almost exclusively.
For years.
I mean, you tell me: how many people who aren't your friends do you know who you could tolerate, with only limited human contact otherwise, for that long? And besides, it's not like Esau had a very high opinion of the other people he was hanging out with. So yeah, friends.
Plus, calling again upon the emphasis on co-dependence as a key facet of their relationship with each other, they seem to genuinely desire to be near one another. Aside from their emotional reactions to the idea of being separated as mentioned above, there's also the simple fact that... well, Smokey!Esau's and Jacob are still sitting and talking, even as Smokey!Esau reminds Jacob that he has every intention of gleefully murdering him as soon as he figures out how to pull it off. I mean, yes: I imagine that there is a distinct lack of selection in terms of breakfast partners on the Island, but still. If you had to choose between no company, or the company of someone who wanted to slaughter you -- and not only that, but desired it kind of desperately -- are you going to pick Door #1, or Door #Death?
Nevertheless, when you start the physical abuse in your preteen years, it’s kind of a given that your future interaction might be a bit strained:
And, you know, it doesn't help if it continues in the same vein some years later...
Plus, well... there’s also this:
Friends don't let friends get sucked into the Islandy-Light-Of-Worse-Than-Dying-Ness.
So yes: not quite friends, really, but not merely enemies, either. Thus, Jacob and Esau seem to straddle the line between love and hate as if it were an art form in and of itself, and as such, duly warrant the titular portmanteau.
And as writers and readers, we love it; because what’s juicier than an emotive, relational paradox to explore from angles aplenty? Whether from the immortal, historical, supernatural, mortal or emotional perspective, the idea of two lifelong friends -- and blood-brothers on top of that -- having such an inescapable, dysfunctional, deeply-penetrating bond is the fodder of some of the very greatest fiction, and some of the most affecting romances. These are the kinds of literary gifts that are wrapped and packaged and set to your doorstep for you, begging to be opened and played with until they wear thin. They're kind of hard to resist.
Because the characters may be mired in some metaphysical mumbo-jumbo, but at the core of their interaction, they can be reduced once again to the most basic and moving of human emotions. And more often than not, that’s what we’re looking for.
The Lovers
We all know that fandom loves angst. And a part of that love is reserved for the angsty romance. There's something infinitely satisfying about watching enemies screw like rabbits, love-hate relationships poison both parties involved in a sordid, heart-wrenching deluge of self-destruction, or even the slightly-less-morbid idea of two complete opposites who are all wrong for each other, somehow, against all odds, finding a way to make it work. We love it; this fact requires no further explanation.
And Jacob and Esau? They provide each of those possibilities in excess. And they do it beautifully.
The sexual element between these two is a particularly interesting area for exploration and interpretation. Angry, loving, bitter, punishing, recreational, seraphic, devilish, desperate, violent... the list goes on and on. And variety is the spice of life (and death, and the afterlife -- because again, we’re talking Lost), is it not?
While there are numerous ways that fandom can, and has, gone about portraying a romantic and/or sexual relationship between Jacob and Esau, what is perhaps most intriguing in terms of discussion is the way in which the previously mentioned aspects of their interactions may come into play in typifying a more intimate connection.
Whether we’re assuming that Smokey merely takes Esau’s form, or is in fact a veritable, evil permutation of Esau proper, there’s a tinge of star-crossed-lover syndrome that clings to the mythos of this particular pairing. The tension and antagonism, coupled with the intrinsic connection of the two as brothers, creates a sense of doom that clings to the reality of the pairing, and helps to root the supernatural and unrealistic elements of certain aspects of their storyline back in the essential realm of the real -- they are not a fairytale, and as such, they remain human. They are relatable, and they are flawed; they suffer and they yearn and they hate as well as they love, and their ending may not be a happy one -- in fact, it’s more likely that it won’t be. And because it reflects the imperfection of human life -- even if it does understate and exaggerate for dramatic effect -- we are drawn to it.
But from that perspective, what is it that sets Jacob/Esau apart from any other human romance on the show? Here is where those superhuman elements begin to show their real usefulness. If we wanted straight reality, we’d read the nonfiction. We’d read the news. If we didn’t want a little bit of spice, an escape from the ordinary, we wouldn’t be watching a show like Lost. And that’s where the vagaries, the hints and the teases and the oft-unexplained claims of something deeper and larger and more than mere humanity create a sense of mystery and significance that are intriguing, that grab our interest in a way that’s different from other ‘ships. The angst is deep, personal, but there remains that edge of fantasy that heightens sensation and dampens realism, and it's the balance that makes this pairing unique, and that also allows for a range of possibilities in depiction and interpretation that possess enough novelty to be exciting for both the author and the audience. It's the interplay between the two allows the tragedy as well as the joy to swell and ebb and flow in majestic, overstated ways that match in sentiment, if not always in extent.
Because we have a sort of Shakespearean need for a good tragedy. Again, the interpretation of what function and identity the Smoke Monster assumes colors the interpretation here: but if Jacob and Esau were romantically involved before Esau’s mortal demise, is it not even more tragic that Jacob, who was responsible for Esau’s death and his transformation (in whatever capacity) into Smokey the Cloud, should have to waste away an eternity with his dead lover’s face slapped upon the very entity he is sworn to rail against? I vote yes. Gorgeously, gloriously, yes.
Most certainly, we also see co-dependence pop up yet again, which could very well be explored as a factor of sexuality or intimacy between these characters, and expounded upon in a variety of ways. The need for the other, the desire for that which is harmful, symbiotic and parasitic relationships, self-preservation, the interplay of desire and well-being for both good and for ill, and how any and all of these elements, among many others, might be conveyed and carried out in action between these characters suggests numerous potential avenues down which an author might take this particular pairing.
Violence, as discussed above, opens many intriguing venues for the intimate and/or sexual aspect of their relationship. Combined with the strain of competing for their mother’s love and regard, it may very well follow that we'd see a good degree of violence, physical power-play, D/S, etc. in this pairing, all while drawing on very canonical elements as portrayed in the show. Furthermore, these aggressive themes fit the characterizations of the pair as we’ve seen them, both in a physical sense as well as an emotional/psychological sense, therefore opening even more doors to play with the ‘ship within the very broad parameters of canon events and implications.
Approaching that same vein from a slightly different angle, the use of violence as a thematic element also lends itself to the more comforting and “softcore” encounters of Jacob and Esau as lovers, where healing and comfort after physical harm, as well as mutual consolation of emotional ills and wrongs done, both in the present and the past, can be used as the building blocks of analyzing a relationships between them and peeling back its layers in order to get at its heart.
The End? (Actually, No; Just Progress)
Perhaps you're now wondering: you just wasted precious moments of my life on this -- what in the world was your point?
Basically, my point is that Jacob and Esau really are the complete package. They have the angst. They have the history. They have the tortured past. They have the chemistry like WOAH. They have enough time to have done it all, or to have done absolutely nothing. They have the obscureness and ambiguity to convince us of everything and anything and not a single real thing, all at once. And they look gorgeous while doing it. But the main point -- the real holy grail of this pairing -- is the fact that, in light of all that the characters have to offer together, they free us as writers and as readers to explore, and to create, and to imagine: to push borders and rewrite boundaries within a context where human limitations, as well as superhuman infinitude, are all fair game. And while it might be mind-boggling at times -- or absolutely absurd in the hands of certain writers we won’t name specifically -- it can also be absolutely exquisite, if the chance is taken and the envelope is pushed.
And in my very humble opinion, it’s characters like these that spur us into pushing.
And now, some questions for your discussing pleasure:
- As with most non-canon romances, I think this question might be most relevant: do you subscribe to the pairing’s dynamic? If yes, what convinced you? If no, why do you think you're not feeling it?
- Do you think that Jacob’s brother Esau actually is the Smoke Monster, with his essence reincarnated by whatever occurred at the Heart of the Island; or does he merely mock Jacob with the murder of his own flesh and blood by wearing his brother’s face? Or does the truth lie somewhere in between these two potentialities?
- If they're not the same: do you ship Jacob with the human brother we’ve come to call Esau exclusively, or are you also okay with his Smoke Monster doppelgänger? For that matter: where is the line drawn for you between who “is” Esau and who “is” the Smoke Monster in terms of the relationships between Jacob and Esau? Does the Jacob/Esau ‘ship extended to Jacob/Smoke-Monster-With-My-Brother’s-Face (depending on whether or not you believe the Smoke Monster is said brother in any real sense)? Does it extend to any/all of the likenesses the Smoke Monster has assumed over the course of the show?
- If you’re cool with Esau/Smokey in all of his guises: how do you prefer to ship him and Jacob? In which time periods? At which ages? Using which likenesses?
- Do you prefer your Jacob/Esau canon pre-Across The Sea or post-Across The Sea? Why/why not?
- Which of the many possible dynamics do you most enjoy addressing with these characters? Is there one you prefer to write? To read? One you detest in particular?
- How did the canon “reveal” that these two are, in fact, brothers, impact your view/enjoyment/interest in their relationship as a pairing?
- Aside from the one solid episode and several “guest” appearances here and there, we really don’t know very much for certain about Jacob and his beloved-unnamed-brother (not that much is ever certain in Lost-world, even now that it's over). Is this more of a challenge or a joy for you in writing them, either together or individually?
- Similarly: do you tend to draw on any resources/mythologies/established fanon/etc. in crafting these little-known characters?
- Whether you loved or hated the series finale, we see that most of our dear Island friends end up hanging around in the sideways-verse until they “move on.” Did Jacob and Esau do the same? If Hurley and Ben, who assumedly succeeded them in their Island functions, end up in the sideways-world, does it necessarily follow that Jacob and his brother, in their time, continue on as well? Or does this pair exist outside of this cycle somehow? If so, how/why?
- Thematic preferences of the pairing (either sexual or otherwise): do you prefer to delve into the darker, more twisted realms, play with PWP elements, or perhaps try to fluff the boys up a tad? Or something else entirely?
- Good and evil: is one of our dynamic duo cast as hero, and the other as villain? Are they both admirable, both antagonists? Do they straddle a less polarized line of morality?
- Upon seeing the characters in The Incident, and hearing about Jacob long before that, there was a distinctly otherworldly, metaphysical, god-like implication regarding their natures, abilities, and functions within the plot and their interaction with the other characters. Nevertheless, we meet Jacob and Esau in Across The Sea as very human characters. They are born of an apparently very human mother. They age in what seems to be a very human way. They might be altered in small ways by their crazy!Mother (for example, being unable to kill one another), but they still don’t seem to be nearly as... superhuman as they might be, given that we’re talking about Lost, and certainly not as fantastic as they were made out to be in the beginning. We do see enough explanation to understand where and why the transition between these two personas occurs, but still: do you prefer your Jacob/Esau more human, or more divine/demonic/supernatural? Did you fall for the pairing in one context over the other? Do you prefer one of these interpretations more, are both to your liking, or do neither manage to thrill you all that much? How do you deal with this aspect in writing/how have you seen it written? How do you prefer to see it handled?
- And, because it’s always a nice note to go out on: any and all recs, Dear Candidates -- lets have ‘em.