Showing posts with label Guest Post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Guest Post. Show all posts
(Skull with Cigarette by Vincent Van Gough)
Let's start with the understanding that even the framing of this title is disingenuous and lacks nuance. What is good art? Or, for that matter, a bad person? Are we defined by our worst actions? Can people change?
It all has to do with the way we relate to the person being defined. From the vantage point of someone who has been harmed by another's “bad behavior,” it's easy to see how one might label their perpetrator and similar people as bad. Juxtapose that to a loved one who knows the “bad person” outside of the context of their actions. I assume their view of the bad actor will be more nuanced and leave room for that person to be more than their actions.
What happens when we consume someone's bad actions from the sidelines? Do we empathize with the victim and label their victimizer a bad person? Do we identify as a person who loves or likes the victimizer and leave room for them to be more?
I think this choice is an individual one. However, just because a choice belongs to an individual doesn't mean it won't come with social consequences. There are many factors at play when deciding how to relate to an artist who has acted badly in a public way:
- personal trauma,
- political stances,
- parasocial relationships.
If you decide to publicly consume and support art produced by a “bad person,” many of the same factors that came into play when people defined their view of the artist will also factor into how they view you. This is not a value statement of whether or not that should be the case. It is instead an observational statement.
Everyone has trauma, and we use our experiences to evaluate whether the people in our lives are safe. Those who have experienced trauma related to the harm an artist inflicted on their victim(s) often feel obligated to use people's public opinions of bad actors as a factor in judging whether someone is a safe person in their lives.
For example, if you post your Hogwarts house in your social media bio, a trans person or trans ally may take that public support of Harry Potter and by extension, JK Rowling, as a statement of support for her transphobic views and behaviors. Do they know you, your views, and your personhood based on a silly comment about something you related to as a child? No, they don't have a full picture of you as a person. However, they might not have the luxury to give you the benefit of the doubt when there is rampant violence and hostility aimed at trans people. They may feel they have to read the signs of how you present publicly to determine whether you would be a safe person.
Likewise, if you continue to review Neil Giaman’s works in light of the many accusations of sexual assault, survivors of sexual assault might reconsider their relationships with you.
Just because you can compartmentalize a person’s art from their actions doesn’t mean everyone can. Or wants to.
As our online presence grows, the rate at which we form parasocial relationships with public figures has deepened. Celebrities share their diets, their romantic lives, and embarrassing stories of who they were as a child, and we believe we know them. We grow attached because their art has meant so much to us, and we feel an emotional resonance with them as an artist.
Due to our increasingly parasocial relationships with public figures, many of us struggle when we learn about their bad behavior. Their actions don't comport with the people we built up in our heads. So when someone speaks negatively about them, we respond as if someone is attacking a friend or family member rather than criticizing a stranger. This may lead to us giving an abuser more credit while we discredit their victims.
(Image credit Joss Whedon Twitter)
So what does this all mean? Does this mean I am telling everyone to stop reading Neil Gaiman, listening to Michael Jackson, and watching Joss Whedon movies?
Not necessarily. I believe that the consumption of art is a nuanced decision. We should consume art created by people we disagree with. I also think we should take into account whether the bad actor is financially benefiting from our consumption and if supporting them might help them continue their bad behavior.
In the case of J.K. Rowling, she benefits financially with every new Harry Potter project, and uses her money to support anti-trans groups and legislation. In fact, she has publicly announced her intensions to use her profits from the new HBO series to create an anti-trans advocacy organization. As opposed to Michael Jackson, who is no longer alive and can no longer financially benefit or cause harm.
Additionally, we have to consider private vs. public consumption. In what venue are we consuming art, and will there be people that can be negatively affected by our consumption in those spaces? In general, we need to think about our public consumption as an action and consider the consequences of it.
There is a difference between rewatching Annie Hall in the privacy of your home and doing a deep-dive YouTube review on the “brilliance” of Woody Allen’s script. We throw up signs every day of who we are, whether it is the cover of the book we have on the train or the post we make about how much we enjoyed a controversial video game. Just as we are free to choose the art we consume, others are able to make judgments about what that might mean about who we are.
Fair or not, it's true.
It can hurt when someone we felt a kinship with is accused of doing something terrible and the art we loved is subjected to mass critique. However, in most cases, we do not know the accused. So I personally try to think about the choices I make in relation to their art, how I display my choices to the world, the messages I am sending, and negotiate if I am comfortable with the consequences of my choices.
Some like to reframe all of these discussions as cancel culture. However, I would argue people have been making decisions about what art to consume and how to consume it since the beginning of art. The factors at play are different. The public nature of our consumption is different. But there have always been reasons why people make choices about art and peer pressure surrounding those choices.
I would argue the framing of things as cancel culture has more to do with who is being critiqued rather than the act of critiquing. Oscar Wilde was jailed for his sexuality, and I have no doubt that became a factor in how or if people read his works. Neil Gaiman has been accused of horrific sexual abuse and violence. However, he is a rich, straight, white man, and we have only recently begun to hold those with the most power accountable in public ways. The act of turning public critique on artists with more power in society is newer.
At the end of the day, I don't think anyone should dictate how others consume art. However, I do think that our choices, especially those we make in public, have consequences.
I read a quote, and I wish I could credit it but have been unable to find it again, that helped me think about my personal approach to art I have loved created by artists who have done great harm. "Don’t put your nostalgia for a piece of art over the reality of other people’s futures."
OFFICIAL AUTHOR INFORMATION: James is a nerd with a head full of stories and limited time to put them on the page. He grew up in Grand Rapids, MI, spending an excessive amount of time at a local community theater where he developed his affinity for storytelling. This affinity grew into a deep admiration for language and spoken word poetry while studying mathematics and education at the University of Michigan. He firmly believes that art—even silly books about magic, or maybe especially silly books about magic—has the ability to tell stories that sink beneath the surface.
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Tuesday, April 29, 2025
GUEST POST: What Fantasy Monsters Reveal about Our Deepest Fears by Caroline R.
Despite the genre’s escapist premise, fantasy literature often hosts cutting commentary on real-world issues. The monsters that terrorize these tales—from mythical beasts like the Kraken to the eerie walkers of today’s The Walking Dead—can symbolize humanity’s deepest fears and our most naked vulnerabilities. Through these creatures, fantasy stories have always held a mirror to the shifting anxieties of their eras. As an avid fantasy reader who worries constantly about our collective future, I’m interested in how fantasy monsters represent universal alarm—and how the stories that harbor these monsters continue to fulfill our ever-increasing need for escapist media.
The earliest mythical monsters in human history stemmed from the need to explain mysterious natural phenomena. The creatures of ancient myths often embody our most basic, physical fears: the violence other species, the destruction wrought by severe weather, humanity’s defenselessness against unthinking and uncontrollable natural forces. In ancient Greece, for instance, all meteorological occurrences—from prosperous harvests to devastating floods—were thought to be the direct result of godly intervention. The Greek gods were alternately merciless monsters and generous benefactors; they both caused and exacerbated humans’ powerlessness.
Some of the beings that populated classical myths were more straightforwardly monstrous, and these too represented fears inherent to human existence: the Minotaur, trapped in a labyrinth alone, represents the violent parts of human nature that emerge with isolation. The serpent-like hydra, with its multiple heads, could be said to embody chaos—the uncontrollable force of natural disasters, perhaps, or the seeming inevitability of war.
Many of these monsters can also be linked to moral and religious narratives. The Minotaur’s defeat by the hero Theseus could be said to symbolize the triumph of virtue over vice, a theme that appeared in ancient mythology and remains popular in fantasy literature today. The hydra, which is often associated with Ares, the god of war, sometimes represented punishment for moral failings, reminding us that ignoring religious or ethical obligations could trigger disastrous punishments. Thus, these early myths used monsters not only to explain the natural world, but also to prop up a moral framework.
Other fabled monsters were developed during this era to represent the indigenous peoples of colonized lands Ogres, cannibalistic giants, and other “savage” human-like creatures populated stories like The Travels of Sir John Mandeville, a fictional 14th-century travelogue that describes various monstrous beings believed to inhibit the New World. These "monstrous races”, which include “dog-headed Cynocephales” and “one-legged Sciapods”, mirrored appearance-based prejudices against native peoples.
Unlike the religious mythology of classical societies, stories that emerged during this era were more explicitly fictional. The fictional form gave writers license to exaggerate stereotypes that portrayed indigenous people as grotesque barbarians, reinforcing the fear and misunderstanding that often accompanied encounters between European explorers and native populations. This fear was not only of physical harm, but also of contamination wrought by cultural difference. Narratives of the time often portrayed European explorers or settlers as the heroic figures who, by defeating these monsters, demonstrated the superiority of their culture and values.
As we’ve seen, the development of fantastical monsters has always been rooted in real fears. This continues today, with fantastical monsters in literature reflecting the complex existential woes of modern people. As technology has advanced, social structures and global concerns have shifted, and so too have the monsters that embody these concerns. Now, many fantasy monsters represent common fears of environmental degradation, political collapse, and social injustice.
One compelling example of this is Blood Over Bright Haven by M.L. Wang. The story’s villain—who I won’t reveal, since you should read the book yourself—causes the protagonist to wonder whether she can trust anyone. The villain’s conniving manipulation, and the unjust magical system of the setting, both parallel modern distrust in authority and misuse of power.
In many modern fantasy narratives, the villains represent worst-case scenarios that humanity dreads: unchecked corruption (represented by the Darkling from Shadow and Bone), fear of being forgotten (represented by the veil in The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue) and the devastation wrought by modern warfare (represented by the tyrants in The Poppy War). These creatures mirror real-world fears and anxieties, but the narratives where they appear often provide a kind of hope—usually, despite the worst, the protagonists of these stories emerge victorious and some form of justice is served.
In many modern fantasy narratives, the villains represent worst-case scenarios that humanity dreads: unchecked corruption (represented by the Darkling from Shadow and Bone), fear of being forgotten (represented by the veil in The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue) and the devastation wrought by modern warfare (represented by the tyrants in The Poppy War). These creatures mirror real-world fears and anxieties, but the narratives where they appear often provide a kind of hope—usually, despite the worst, the protagonists of these stories emerge victorious and some form of justice is served.
Those happy endings are what allow modern fantasy to maintain its escapist allure, even when it contains allusions to very real social ills. Generally, fantasy books and series end with something of a happy conclusion: the protagonist tends to vanquish the monster; the world tends to return to some semblance of order; the villains tend to end up dead or exiled. In a world where these just endings are so rare, reading fantasy allows us to indulge in satisfying depictions of the justice we don’t see in real life.
Thus, fantasy’s use of realistic monsters does not betray its escapist properties, but bolsters them. It wouldn’t be interesting to read about a world in which everything is perfect all the time, but it can be exciting and validating to read about a world in which grit and determination can lead to meaningful social change.
The journey from ancient myth to modern fantasy reflects a shift in our relationship to reality. In early mythologies, monsters were believed to be real, physical embodiment of the unknown and unexplainable forces of nature. They were creatures to be respected and feared, forcing humans to recognize the limits of their knowledge and physical ability. As our understanding of the world expanded, these monsters were gradually relegated to the realm of fiction, appearing in explicitly fictional narratives that allowed us to confront our fears from a safer distance. While most people no longer believe in dragons or sea monster, their symbolic power hasn’t been diminished.
The monsters that populate fantasy literature have always been imaginative and otherworldly, but their significance goes far beyond simple escapism or entertainment. Through these creatures, and the characters’ reactions to their violence, fantasy can often elucidate something insightful about the real world. From the ancient monsters that represented natural threats to the modern creatures that reflect existential dread, fantastical villains can all teach us something about the most profound aspect of the human condition. They give voice to the darkness within and without, reflecting both evolving external threats and timeless internal struggles.
But, despite the terrifying nature of these creatures, the genre itself remains fundamentally optimistic, offering visions of triumph against every kind of evil. While the real world often feals messy and unjust, these stories offer a reassuring sense of order. Many of us feel powerless to confront the monsters we encounter every day—the dangers of unchecked authority, the collapse of social systems, and the degradation of the environment, to name a few—but fantasy provides a safe space to confront these fears.
At their core, fantasy monsters aren’t just symbols of our fears—they’re also reflections of the human condition. They show us the darkness we often try to ignore, but also offer hope that, despite our vulnerabilities and flaws, we can overcome existential challenges. By confronting these monsters in stories led by fearless protagonists, we learn more about our own fears—and how we can rise above them.
Author bio: Caroline is a writer for Reedsy and NowNovel who covers everything from the nitty-gritty of the writing process to the business of finding ghostwriting jobs. When she isn’t writing, Caroline loves reading indie books and spending time outdoors.
GUEST POST: Writing the Villainess by Elyse Thompson
I was about half way through writing what I thought would be the second (now sixth) book in my series when inspiration struck. What if the innocent victims from Poisoned Empire were, in fact, party to the coup attempt? That would make them villains, wouldn’t it? Chasing the next shiny thing (something I’m often guilty of as a writer) the female lead for Conspirators’ Kingdom, Taisiya, began taking shape in my head.
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I love stories about an underdog. Stories
about a small group of plucky rebels, fighting against a monstrous superpower
that has more tentacles than an Old One from Lovecraftian mythology. A
dominating, strangling, dictatorship, with spies listening at every door, and
overzealous soldiers watching everyone closely, for even the slightest
infraction of the rules.
Thursday, December 15, 2022
GUEST POST: The World Of The Spellbinders And The Gunslingers trilogy by Joseph John Lee
ABOUT DAN: Dan is a writer, editor, and vastly overqualified archaeologist who has lived everywhere from London to Hertfordshire to Manchester to Sydney, which explains the panic in his eyes anytime someone asks “where are you from?”. Thankfully he is now settled in the rolling green hills of the Peak District with his human family and fluffy sidekicks Indy and Maverick, where he writes books, screenplays and comics.
Find Dan online: Website, Twitter
Order Swashbucklers: Amazon,
Wednesday, August 18, 2021
Guest Post: Top Five Worldbuilding Books For New Authors by M. D. Presley
Deciding what is best in life is only easy if you’re Conan. The
rest of us have to consider loads of other factors, especially when you’re
making a top-five list. Ask me my top-five movies or albums, and I’d
immediately be at a loss. After a few flustered moments I’d then ask if I could
drill down a bit, perhaps by making it my top-five movies about prison romances,
or maybe top-five songs with “it’ll be alright” in the chorus.
ABOUT STEPHEN: STEPHEN ARYAN is the author of the Age of Darkness and Age of Dread trilogies. His first novel, Battlemage, was a finalist for the David Gemmell Morningstar Award for best debut fantasy novel. It also won the inaugural Hellfest Inferno Award in France. He has previously written a comic book column and reviews for Tor.com. In addition, he has self-published and kickstarted his own comics.
Find Stephen online: Website, Facebook,
Order Coward: Amazon, Barnes&Noble, Audible
Thursday, July 8, 2021
Guest Post: How embracing all my favorite tropes saved my mental health in 2020 (by Virginia McClain)
Author Info
Virginia McClain is an author who masqueraded as a language teacher for a decade or so. When she’s not reading or writing she can generally be found playing outside with her four legged adventure buddy and the tiny human she helped to build from scratch. She enjoys climbing to the top of tall rocks, running through deserts, mountains, and woodlands, and carrying a foldable home on her back whenever she gets a chance. She’s also fond of word games, and writing descriptions of herself that are needlessly vague.
Sometimes, I feel like I live my life parked at an intersection no one seems to notice. They just blast right through it, their windows down, music blaring. There and gone in a blink.
(Poster credit: Leonardo Paciarotti)
By the time, this article sees the light of the day, the viewers probably would have watched the much acclaimed, a tad controversial, and much demanded Zack Snyder’s Justice League.
Official author website
Order The Combat Codes over here: USA/UK
Read Fantasy Book Critic's interview with Alexander Darwin
Order The Combat Codes over here: USA/UK
Read Fantasy Book Critic's interview with Alexander Darwin
Like Songs of Insurrection, Orchestra of Treacheries (Book 2 of the Dragon Songs Saga) has a brand new cover. The new edition has several small changes, as well as new internal narratives to take into account the events of Complete Tales of the Floating World.
Songs Of Insurrection has undergone a third facelift for the
release of its new edition, which includes a new chapter and several additions
to take into account the events of Complete Tales of the Floating Word.
Given the wonderful hellscape of 2020, I put a lot more effort into reading this year, particularly outside genres I’d normally gravitate toward. With the kiddos distance learning, and therefore our house being a disaster of toys, drawings, tablets, and noise, reading outside in a hammock was my momentary escape. So to narrow down the big three I adored, and would practically beg anyone to read, they’d be:
Books I read:
Under A Pendulum Sun by Jeannette Ng – Impossible not to fall in love with this one. This story oozes gothic atmosphere, and takes place in a world almost unparalleled in its imagination and creativity.
Velocity Weapon / Chaos Vector by Megan O'Keefe – I feel it is fair to combine the two given that I devoured the both of them back-to-back. The Protectorate is the twistiest, most expertly-plotted sci-fi being published today. Enjoy having the rug pulled out from under you again, and again, and again.
Once and Future Witches by Alix E. Harrow – My favorite read in years. It’s hopeful, angry, raw, and achingly beautiful. I’ll be shocked if it doesn’t become a genre classic.
Books I look forward to:
Catalyst Gate by Megan O'Keefe – Given how much I loved the first two, this inclusion should be obvious.
The Unbroken by C. L. Clark– Possibly cheating, since I’ve already read this, but it’s gonna be big, and I’m looking forward to the fandom it will absolutely develop.
The Bone Shard Daughter by Andrea Stewart – So this came out late this year, but whatever, it’s my list. Bone Shard Daughter is my next read after I finish Essa Hanson’s Nophek Gloss (which is also super imaginative, btw, but I’m not finished yet!), and I’m eager to sink my teeth into this one.
I also feel it’d be incomplete to finish a 2020 list without at least acknowledging some of the other media that helped get me through it. On TV, that’d be HBO’s Lovecraft Country. Episode after episode, it was filled with some of the weirdest and wildest moments I’ve ever seen on screen.
On the game side, I’ll scream it from the rooftops that anyone should be playing Supergiant Games’ Hades. The music, the artwork, the gameplay, the phenomenal characterization – everything is top notch. I’ve put 130 hours into that masterpiece, and I expect I’ve still many more to go.
Own projects:
This February, I’m finishing the Keepers trilogy that’s pretty dear to my heart with the release of Voidbreaker. I wrote it to be a hopeful trilogy of characters enduring a dark world, and that optimism will be nice to start out a new year.
STUFF OF THE YEAR.
It has been, as you’ve probably noticed, a very peculiar year. I’m sure I’ve consumed more media than I ever would in a normal year, but it also seems to have passed my by in a haze – barely taken in, just buzz in the background.
I’ve hardly read anything at all, my concentration had been shot to bits so that by the time I’ve finished whatever writing and editing I’ve been doing I’ve been struggling to concentrate. Still, I managed to read a couple: Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy and A Private Cathedral by James Lee Burke as well as more non-fiction, which I could dip in and out of. Both the McCarthy and the Lee-Burke books are works that I am still thinking about months after finishing. Then there was Piranesi by Susanna Clarke which I enjoyed but didn’t love. Though beautiful it felt curiously empty, to me, though I think that may be a deliberate decision.
In visual stuff, and like most people I was blown away by The Queen’s Gambit which is held together by astounding performances by Marielle Heller as Beth’s brittle, disappointed mother and Anya Taylor-Joy as Beth. Taylor-Joy’s ability to convey so much in just a flick of her eyes is astounding. Though if you had already seen her in Emma (and many horror films I am informed, though I am too much of a wuss to watch them) then you wouldn’t be surprised by this. I think what I really liked about the Queen’s Gambit was everyone found their bit of happiness, and I think that’s a large part of why it’s been a such a hit. I also liked the fact she didn’t just magically get good at chess. She had an aptitude but she had to work at it, she always had a book in her hand or was thinking about chess, or talking about chess. It’s something who will resonate with anyone who does a thing (like writing) that is as much compulsion as it is ‘work’. We also watched The Magicians, and though I can imagine it would annoy some people I found the ‘knowing winks’ within the story about story and how it works immense fun. I’ve enjoyed Star Trek: Discovery but I wasn’t quite as taken by The Mandalorian as most people, I thought there was a lot of filler in the early episodes but when it was good it was really good.
The other thing I’ve really enjoyed this year as been the podcast ‘Finding Drago’ where Australian comedians Alexei Toliopoulos and Cameron James try to track down the mysterious author, Todd Noy, who wrote the novella ‘Drago: On Mountains We Stand.’ They end up going on an adventure and if I told you anything about it then it would ruin it for you, but I think it is really worth your time. It’s a fascinating dive into people and so very satisfying.
Gamewise I really enjoyed Ghost of Tsushima which made me the Kurosawa hero I’ve always wanted to be. Was underwhelmed by Outer Worlds which I really wanted to like more but never really rose above ‘well, it’s alright.’
As to what I’m looking forward to next year, well, obviously the final book in the Tide Child trilogy is released, ‘The Bone Ship’s Wake’ and I think it’s probably the strongest thing I’ve written to date. But I’ve been so busy with that and other projects that I’ve been a bit out of the loop really and I don’t know what else is coming next year. I think what I’m really looking forward to next year is that I might be able to meet up with people again. Do some bookshop appearances and go to some conventions as I didn’t realise how much I missed seeing everyone until I did. I’ll enjoy that more than any film or game. Maybe not books though. Books are special to me.
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