Monthly Archives: July 2013

Why haven’t we rioted in the streets?

Every now and then I ask myself why the Irish people haven’t been in greater uproar over the devastating cutbacks in public services, teaching, and welfare benefits that have had to be made over the past few years. There have been some mass protests, but not the sort of turmoil one might find in Greece. Tom O’Connor, in today’s Irish Examiner, has a good take that’s worth reading:

What else stirs the Irish indifference to protest and uprising? The historical evidence argues that the ‘gombeen’-type ‘cute hoorism’ of Irish people has become part of the cultural makeup of many. During the Famine, the emerging middle class were more than happy to have three million starve or perish by 1870; it left more land for them.

They, along with the merchants and food producers, were not going to share during the Famine. This same class of people, the erstwhile Irish rural-landed class were and are the Irish movers and shakers.

They moved in to government and in Fine Gael/Fianna Fáil were never going to allow the class-based politics of the ‘haves and have-nots’ break out..

The sayings ‘cover your ass’ and ‘don’t rock the boat’ became national mantras.! That this is anathema to protest is obvious.

A not-so-bright future

Vendetta._Image_V

V for Vendetta is set in a bleak future

I have a special liking for dystopian and apocalyptic fiction. I always have. I think in part it’s down to the fact that it involves a radical transformation of a whole world, often our world. It’s hard to get grander a scale than the destruction/transformation of the whole planet (unless you want to think universally, like James Blish‘s Cities In Flight). It’s a darker side of science fiction, the complete opposite of the overwhelming hope and optimism of the likes of Star Trek, in which Earth is a utopian paradise.

1984

Big Brother has his eye and moustache on you.

A dystopia doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom and the aftermath of a global collapse. It can be a depiction of a polluted world, a world where technology and machinery intrude on life as opposed to making it better, or can be a place where civil liberties are massively curtailed in a bleak future. Perhaps the best example of this is George Orwell’s 1984, where the whole of society is controlled down to the individual under the guise that Big Brother is both watching and looking out for you.

http://youtu.be/a_saUN4j7Gw

Blade Runner is one of the paramount examples. Here, technology highly advanced and everywhere, and yet the world is cramped and massively polluted. People are clearly miserable for the most part, and technology is often something to replace reality (think the artificial animals) rather than to enhance it.

milla

Milla Jovovich in the first Resident Evil (I haven’t played the games)

Some of my favourite examples of the genre are Alien and Aliens, for example. Technologically, those universes are far ahead of our own – and yet it’s not quite perfect. That’s not to say the world is necessarily horrible, because we don’t see Earth in either film, but the quarters are cramped and personal liberties are reduced, not least because most things are under the control of a single corporation. In Alien, the ship’s computer is called Mother but it and the android Ash are used by the company to ensure the crew serve the company’s purpose, which isn’t apparent to the human staff at first.  Resident Evil would continue this trend with the Umbrella Corporation, which is seemingly all-powerful and has influence in all fields.

Dystopianism goes hand in hand with science fiction, and one of the advantages for it as a genre is that it is endlessly recyclable and adaptable. Has reality caught up in time with the events of the film? Make it an alternate reality. Or the current trend – mix enough of the right now with the future and you have a decent bridge that reflects what modern audiences accept as the slower pace of development. When the original Star Trek was broadcast some were convinced we’d be living on Mars by now – instead we have caught up with and gone beyond the years referenced as ancient history in the programme, such as the Eugenics Wars of the 1990s that caused Khan Noonien Singh to be cast into space in a sleeper ship (this was side-stepped in Star Trek Into Darkness).

He is the law.

He is the law.

I decided to write this post after watching Dredd, the 2012 take on the Judge Dredd universe. I liked the first film, which had Sylvester Stallone in the main role, but the two are very different films. Stallone’s is cramped and overblown, with massively stylised concept cars among other things. The Karl Urban version is post-apocalyptic but much closer to our own world. People drive in petrol and diesel-fueled vehicles, and one guy even wanders buy with a pair of headphones (you might think the people of the future would have some other, more discreet way of listening to music). It’s an example of how the same world can be completely reimagined to suit a particular audience; contemporary audiences seem to respond to grittiness rather than overt sci-fi – think of the Battlestar Galactica reimagining compared with the original series.

The topic is of both personal and professional interest. My doctoral studies are in history but take in theology and eschatology. Eschatology – “last things” such as the end of time and the judgement of souls – looms large in the historical texts I’m studying. That doesn’t make me some sort of religious nut. I’ve always been intrigued by ideas of the end of the world and how people react to it. It’s psychology expressed through, in the case of Bede (the object of my study), the writing of history and religious commentary. Early Christian texts are actually positive about the end of time – don’t worry, it’s only the end of the world. For them it was a good thing, because it meant the sweeping away of the old guard.

I can’t say for certain that my research interests are an extension of my literary interests, but it’s more than likely as if I was pursuing a PhD in English it would be on apocalyptic fiction. Part of me wonders if I’ll do that one day.

Strangely, I’ve never written an apocalyptic piece of fiction, though I have written some stuff set in a dystopian world. I need to do more of that. Cheer up – it’s only the end of the world.

The not-so-bright future

Vendetta._Image_V

V for Vendetta is set in a bleak future

I have a special liking for dystopian and apocalyptic fiction. I always have. I think in part it’s down to the fact that it involves a radical transformation of a whole world, often our world. It’s hard to get grander a scale than the destruction/transformation of the whole planet (unless you want to think universally, like James Blish‘s Cities In Flight). It’s a darker side of science fiction, the complete opposite of the overwhelming hope and optimism of the likes of Star Trek, in which Earth is a utopian paradise.

1984

Big Brother has his eye and moustache on you.

A dystopia doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom and the aftermath of a global collapse. It can be a depiction of a polluted world, a world where technology and machinery intrude on life as opposed to making it better, or can be a place where civil liberties are massively curtailed in a bleak future. Perhaps the best example of this is George Orwell’s 1984, where the whole of society is controlled down to the individual under the guise that Big Brother is both watching and looking out for you.

http://youtu.be/a_saUN4j7Gw

Blade Runner is one of the paramount examples. Here, technology highly advanced and everywhere, and yet the world is cramped and massively polluted. People are clearly miserable for the most part, and technology is often something to replace reality (think the artificial animals) rather than to enhance it.

milla

Milla Jovovich in the first Resident Evil (I haven’t played the games)

Some of my favourite examples of the genre are Alien and Aliens, for example. Technologically, those universes are far ahead of our own – and yet it’s not quite perfect. That’s not to say the world is necessarily horrible, because we don’t see Earth in either film, but the quarters are cramped and personal liberties are reduced, not least because most things are under the control of a single corporation. In Alien, the ship’s computer is called Mother but it and the android Ash are used by the company to ensure the crew serve the company’s purpose, which isn’t apparent to the human staff at first.  Resident Evil would continue this trend with the Umbrella Corporation, which is seemingly all-powerful and has influence in all fields.

Dystopianism goes hand in hand with science fiction, and one of the advantages for it as a genre is that it is endlessly recyclable and adaptable. Has reality caught up in time with the events of the film? Make it an alternate reality. Or the current trend – mix enough of the right now with the future and you have a decent bridge that reflects what modern audiences accept as the slower pace of development. When the original Star Trek was broadcast some were convinced we’d be living on Mars by now – instead we have caught up with and gone beyond the years referenced as ancient history in the programme, such as the Eugenics Wars of the 1990s that caused Khan Noonien Singh to be cast into space in a sleeper ship (this was side-stepped in Star Trek Into Darkness).

He is the law.

He is the law.

I decided to write this post after watching Dredd, the 2012 take on the Judge Dredd universe. I liked the first film, which had Sylvester Stallone in the main role, but the two are very different films. Stallone’s is cramped and overblown, with massively stylised concept cars among other things. The Karl Urban version is post-apocalyptic but much closer to our own world. People drive in petrol and diesel-fueled vehicles, and one guy even wanders buy with a pair of headphones (you might think the people of the future would have some other, more discreet way of listening to music). It’s an example of how the same world can be completely reimagined to suit a particular audience; contemporary audiences seem to respond to grittiness rather than overt sci-fi – think of the Battlestar Galactica reimagining compared with the original series.

The topic is of both personal and professional interest. My doctoral studies are in history but take in theology and eschatology. Eschatology – “last things” such as the end of time and the judgement of souls – looms large in the historical texts I’m studying. That doesn’t make me some sort of religious nut. I’ve always been intrigued by ideas of the end of the world and how people react to it. It’s psychology expressed through, in the case of Bede (the object of my study), the writing of history and religious commentary. Early Christian texts are actually positive about the end of time – don’t worry, it’s only the end of the world. For them it was a good thing, because it meant the sweeping away of the old guard.

I can’t say for certain that my research interests are an extension of my literary interests, but it’s more than likely as if I was pursuing a PhD in English it would be on apocalyptic fiction. Part of me wonders if I’ll do that one day.

Strangely, I’ve never written an apocalyptic piece of fiction, though I have written some stuff set in a dystopian world. I need to do more of that. Cheer up – it’s only the end of the world.

Writer’s block

I get writer’s block regularly enough. Every writer does. Sometimes you have an idea that you can’t quite put into words just yet, sometimes your brain is tired and doesn’t want to co-operate, sometimes a vital scene or passage is hard and you can’t quite figure out how to attack it.

You’d think that, as somebody who works with words for a living, I’d fare a bit better at this. However, I’ve found that the fact that I work with other people’s words for a living can sap me a bit. I love what I do and I love writing, but you can have too much of a good thing. The fact that I’m working on a PhD at the same time is also a factor, because my mind might be working on that even if I haven’t written a word.

There are ways around it, though. This blog and Chronica Minora are helping because they’re forcing me to think more concretely about all my different projects. The most effective way around writer’s block, I’ve found, is to write – but write about something different. If you’re struggling with a PhD chapter, start another one. If you can’t write a headline, tap away at a report or read something different. An enjoyable technique to break the block is handwriting; the process of actually tracing the words out makes you think differently, and soon enough you’re back on track.

Don’t believe me? Well writers like Stephen King and the late David Eddings have written novels by hand. It can be done. I wrote a good swathe of my MA thesis by hand and, even though it had to be substantially rewritten and edited, it got me from point B to C and brought the end within sight.

This post alone has given me ideas for a short story and the motivation to get cracking on the PhD again. Every little helps…

Music, eh?

Huffington Post has a playlist up of the top 50 No 1 singles in the UK over the past decade. A quick flick through it tells me that A) they’re for the most part crap and B) my taste in music is well outside the mainstream. It’s also put me in a wistful mood, so I’m going to have to go through the iPod and dig up some old favourites, like this one:

 

Children are coming – they can forge their own path

Cross post with Chronica Minora:

 

The sigil of House Stark in the TV series Game of Thrones.

The TV series Game of Thrones, and the book world of A Song of Ice and Fire generally, place great importance on heraldry and family. House Stark’s motto (or simply “their words”) is “Winter is coming”, House Lannister’s is “Hear me roar”, House Greyjoy’s is “We do not sow”. They serve to distinguish families from one another and often are a concise statement of what the family’s concerns are: the Starks urge one to be prepared, the Greyjoys show their contempt for farmers and the like, for instance.

The Stark sigil as on A Wiki of Ice and Fire

The Stark sigil as on A Wiki of Ice and Fire

George RR Martin is fascinated by heraldry, perhaps too much so. It works for his series, though, because it builds a complex and realistic world. He’s drawing on medieval Europe here, which had a very complex set of rules governing what could or couldn’t be on a family crest, although the book series doesn’t follow such rules. All families are concerned with heraldry, though, and individuals often have their own crests (or sigils, as they are called; and the ones shown in the TV series do not necessarily match those described in the books). Others might have a crest assigned to them by a more highborn lord, which is probably quite realistic too. There’s a full series on Westerosi families here, but as it’s based on the books be warned that many a spoiler lurks within.

The impending arrival of my younglings has had me dwelling a lot on family. It’s not actually a new interest/fascination. I’ve always taken family seriously, and certainly after it dawned on me some years ago that if I had no sons my particular family line could be kaput – I have no brothers and my sister has no children yet. That worried me in my own head for a while, worried me in a vague sort of way at least. I don’t know why. Families come along in their own time and I certainly don’t feel particularly old.

Brian Boru probably did not look like he did in this 18th century engraving.

Brian Boru probably did not look like he did in this 18th century engraving.

When I was a teenager I became fascinated by family history. I know bits and pieces of my own heritage – one grandfather was an architect, the other built cars and later ran a dock, for instance. Game of Thrones and its obsession with family seems to have reawakened that interest.

Generally speaking, my family seems to be descended from Mathghamhain, either the brother or nephew of Brian Boróimhe (I’ve read both at various times but haven’t made any serious genealogical study). For a youngster like myself, having some sort of tangential connection to a great historical figure such as a high king was, without a shadow of a doubt, cool. Any touristy genealogy stuff seems certain of it, but putting on my medievalist’s hat I tend to look somewhat cynically on such claims now, given that for centuries families across the world have claimed descent from legendary or mythical figures. Still, somewhere along the way was somebody called Mathghamhain (it means “bear”) and I am his descendant. As you’ve probably guessed by now, I like connections to the past, and having some of my own fascinates me; perhaps when I am older or have more time I will conduct a more in-depth study of my own family line.

FamilyCrestThe family crest also intrigued me, and I have no idea how it came about. Strictly speaking, I can’t use it, as I am not the head or heir apparent of the main line. I believe that is some guy in Orleans, presumably descended from one of the many Irish who left the country after the Battle of Kinsale and subsequent Flight of the Earls. The O’Mahony Society has its own crest. I’ve also come across two variations of the family motto, which wouldn’t be uncommon in history as different branches might adopt different stances or crests/mottoes depending on their individual circumstances. The one I came across first translates from Irish as “the burning torch to victory”, though this list of Irish mottoes only lists the other variation, which translates from Latin something like “thus we guard our sacred things”. My Latin is very rusty, though.

Irish heraldry is somewhat complicated by the country’s history, with some coats of arms awarded after conquest by the English and others possibly dating to before that. The system of surrender and regrant, where Irish kings and lords swore fealty to the English crown and were given back their lands under new titles, such as earl, is probably a factor in this but I cannot say for certain. It’s not an exaggeration to say that almost all Irish people are descended from a king, as there were more than 100 across the island at one stage. Plus every Irish family had different septs (branches that held their own lands) so that adds an extra layer of complexity. Some will have Norman heritage (or Cambro-Norman), some will have Scottish, and various other backgrounds too. It’s all relevant or, perhaps more accurately, it’s all as relevant as you want it to be.

[youtube=http://youtu.be/D-YgEvxHDwE]

Catcrest2 Crest2 CrestSome weeks ago I found myself wondering idly what I would do if I were in the position to create my own family crest and motto (as the Game of Thrones cast do in the video above). It’s possible, through the office of the chief herald, though I understand it costs a small fortune and I can’t see any that have been granted in the past few years so that could be defunct. It’s probably a bit pretentious, though it’s not like I’m trying to forge a dynasty or anything. I suppose it’s the idea of being able to forge one’s own destiny/heritage which caught my attention. What would I want to depict, and what would I want to say? Here’s what I’ve come up with on the right, based variously on the facts that I like cats, have “bear” as a surname, and work in newspapers. It just got me thinking about whether or not the words and sigils passed down through history are still relevant to me directly. Do I want my children to recognise their past and honour it in some vague way, or would I prefer them to start afresh?

The truth is somewhere in between. The overall crest has a lot of historical relevance and is part of their (and mine) heritage. My wife is an O’Leary and her family is of similarly ancient lineage, so our little ones will have that heritage too. I look forward to seeing what they come up with.