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I meant to post this last week, but in my research for my final project it has been so interesting to me when I find the different zines that the fandom creates. Something that grabs my attention especially is the names of the zines. For The West Wing fandom in particular, I love how all of the zine names (and the websites that house the fanfictions) are named after real places/things. For example, one West Wing archive is called "The National Library." This connects the presidential/governmental themes of the West Wing to where the fan fiction is stored. Further, it repurposes a place in the "real" world for fanfictions, which may not be seen as part of the "real" world.
Het Fanfiction
Apr. 14th, 2019 11:51 pmRecently, as research for my final project, I have been reading a lot of het fanfiction about the West Wing. The West Wing, if you don't know, is a political drama that focuses on President Bartlet (a fictional president) and his administration. Essentially, it's a very realist show. After readings Jones' piece, I understand her comments about heterosexuality and fantastic cult television. The het fan fiction I found for the West Wing is SO repetitive, and honestly kind of boring. Like, actually, the exact same thing over and over. Like Jones' essay notes, strict heterosexuality closes off so many facets for interesting fanfiction and TV, and the West Wing fanfiction really shows how her comments are true.
This fic is a three-way crossover between Pikachu, Harry Potter, and Twilight. I don't think that these three universes could be any more different, but somehow they all have come together. Pikachu seems to be Harry's sidekick, and while they are walking in the forest, they meet Edward. Pikachu dies when he sees Edward and Harry has to revive him. Harry expects Edward to know who he is, acting uncharacteristically cocky. And once Harry and Edward meet it becomes completely normal and the two just "carry on." Very odd, but an interesting crossover.
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12665623/1/Harry-Potter-and-Pikachu-World-Adventures
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12665623/1/Harry-Potter-and-Pikachu-World-Adventures
Just a Glance
Mar. 25th, 2019 03:55 pmThrough his yellowing eyes, he saw the boy. Canine vision does not allow for much detail, but when he saw those eyes, that stance, that smell determination and dedication, he knew. All Harry had done was turn around and give him a glance, and all the memories came rushing back to him. He and James play-fighting in the Gryffindor dormitories, simple first-years without a care in the world. He saw Lily -- beautiful, kind, intelligent, Lily – in the common room, picking her head up from buried in her books to meet James’ eyes.
Oh how very much he missed them.
Oh how very much he missed them.
Harry Potter Metameta
Mar. 19th, 2019 07:48 pmWhy is there so much death in a children’s book? After re-reading this book, I am so inclined to wonder why is a book that is for young children rife with death? I mean, the whole series is based on the death of Harry Potter’s parents. In this novel specifically, death is most evident in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban through imagery, rather than imminent death threats or scary situations that Harry or any other character faces. First, there is the Grim, who has been following Harry around. Professor Trelawney proceeds to see the Grim in Harry’s teacup and, later, tell him that he “had the shortest life line she had ever seen.” (235). Additionally, Harry hears his mother getting killed when he gets attacked by the dementor. The dementors, though, add an interesting twist to the theme of death in the novel. They are not “killers,” they just make their prisoners go crazy and suck all of the happiness out of everything. It seems that people fear dementors just as much, or more, than they fear death. Because this is a children’s book, I wonder if J.K. Rowling is trying to teach her readers a lesson about death. Since Rowling has commented that the dementors are a depiction of clinical depression (or anxiety, like our class thought), maybe she wants to show the readers that mental illness is worse than death? Death is final, but mental illness stays with you for life, unless you can escape its clutches (a.k.a. escaping from Azkaban). Or maybe Rowling is trying to normalize death by mentioning it so often. And the chocolate they eat after the dementor attack represents getting help for mental illness. Either way, death seems to be a theme that Rowling writes about a lot.
Why am I Crying in the Club Right Now?
Mar. 13th, 2019 06:14 pmWhen I watch a television show, it needs to make me feel something. Something visceral and deep. I want to never stop wanting to watch. I want to find myself getting lost in the characters, the drama, and losing track of time. I want to feel a personal investment in the characters, to be captured in the fictional world that the creators have fashioned. Just this past week, Luke Perry, a main character on one of my guilty pleasure television shows Riverdale, passed away. I cried and thought, “what is Archie (his son on the show) going to do?” In many ways, the devices employed by both Riverdale and Buffy the Vampire Slayer help to harbor and perpetuate this personal investment, yet we often do not recognize this, as these devices are those that get us lost in their world.
This episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets us when Buffy’s new love interest is Riley, who happens to be working in the same “industry” as Buffy, in a secret government group, Willow realizes her feelings for a girl in her Wicca group, Tara, Xander is fighting with Anya, and Giles brings his “friend” Olivia to town. The fact that this episode is relationship-based plays a big role in the plot-stimulator, that is, the horrifying demons called the Gentlemen, who take away Sunnydale’s voices. Our tendency as humans towards sympathy makes us see these new relationships blossoming, or wilting, at the same time as this forced silenced to be all the more detrimental to their development. We, viewers, must lean on something else to glean the meaning of the episode: there are important things that mere words cannot convey.
In the episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer “Hush,” the characters’ inability to speak forces the music of the episode to act as the new dialogue of the characters. The audio helps to convey their emotions when words fail. When Buffy and Willow try to say “good morning” to each other, a low groan of music begins to build when Buffy realizes that her voice is gone. The deep sound illuminates the girls’ burgeoning inkling that something is wrong. It is also a signal to the viewer that Buffy and Willow are going to realize their predicament. The high pitched tones and a swelling cue of screeching strings that come next accentuate the girls’ panic. The speed of the shrieking strings increases when Buffy looks outside the room to find that no one else on her floor can speak either.
The lack of music in the beginning of this scene works to take the viewer on the emotional journey with the girls. No music represents life before their realization, and the sharp tones after parallel the fear and confusion that the girls experience. The frenzied nature of the shrill notes that are cued when Buffy looks outside her door imitates the hysteria of her floormates. As well, it is important to note that diegetic sounds are still heard because this reveals that the silence is only the people’s voices, not their ability to hear
Music in place of dialogue also appears when Giles gives his presentation on the Gentlemen to the Scooby Gang. He plays Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns, which, according to CBC music, “is based on the French legend that Death packs a fiddle and comes to play at midnight on Halloween, causing the skeletons in the cemetery to crawl out of the ground for their annual graveyard dance party.” Because dialogue cannot explain it, the music is a signal that death has come to town. Writer Andrea Long Chu describes the music behind the scene where Olivia, “Giles’s transatlantic booty call,” gets out of bed and peers out the window after the first day of no voices, writing, “a solo violin walks her down the stairs at intervals, slow and deliberate…When a Gentleman floats by the window, the strings scream in Olivia’s place.” Chu’s use of the phrase “the strings scream in Olivia’s place” connotes how the music acts in place of dialogue.
The little additions that the sound editors added on to the Gentlemen’s music helps to underscore their creepiness. I find it compelling that the Gentleman’s theme features a female singing voice. The irony of that a wailing woman’s song behind the Gentleman when none of the people in Sunnydale can speak is very clear. Further, after a night of stealing hearts, the Gentlemen marvel at their loot, with quick strings accented by a heartbeat that builds and fades as the camera surveys the bloody glass jars. These little add-ons are what those things can’t have, the people, a voice, and the hearts, a beat.
In the same way that the music helps to disclose the emotions of the characters, it consequently shapes the emotions of the viewer. The shrill, uncomfortably high pitched sounds make us wince, like in the shower scene of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. The low groans perk up our senses and keep us on high alert, like the “duh-nuh, duh-nuh” theme from Jaws. The music and audio cues engage viewers, and the suspense that they build keeps us coming back for more. If I had taken out my headphones, or put the show on mute before this scene, Olivia’s quickly widening eyes and jump backward (reminder: she can’t speak) would definitely not have elicited the jump out of my seat that took place (on the silent floor of Mann Library, of all places).
Now, circling back to the relationships that the show involves, not only does the music keep the viewer immersed in “Hush,” the silence of the episode allows the relationships and emotions that the episode explores to take place in a space of queer negativity. This makes Buffy the Vampire Slayer to be more inclusive and accessible to a larger audience. The silence acts as a negative space, what Cael Keegan writes about in his piece “Emptying the future: Queer melodramatics and negative utopia in Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” where there has been ultimate destruction allowing queer people to create their own world.
The episode acts as the inception of the character Willow’s lesbian identity. Willow, and her eventual partner Tara, who makes her first appearance in this episode, are largely viewed as the first same-sex couple on popular television. For Long Chu, this relationship is extremely important to her. She writes, “I knew two things before I had watched a single episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. (1) When Willow Rosenberg goes to college, she was going to be gay; and (2) Tara McClay, her first girlfriend, was going to die.” Long Chu knew about Willow’s change in sexual orientation because she wanted to watch a non-heteronormative television show featuring a queer female lead, one that she, a queer trans woman, would feel represented in.
Think about the reaction there was to the new film Crazy Rich Asians, which featured an all-Asian cast. Many people were glad that it put Asians in the spotlight in the romantic comedy film industry, which so often has movies that feature only white characters. Thus, being able to see yourself in the show, to be able to identify with the characters, is imperative in garnering viewers interests.
As I think about Luke Perry, and Buffy, and my relationship to it all, I am reminded of what makes television special to me, and all of us. The silence allows so much more to be revealed in the episode, and further, creates a space where all viewers can feel like they belong. Whether it be a plot point or a device, “Hush” shows what makes viewers engrossed in a television show.
This episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets us when Buffy’s new love interest is Riley, who happens to be working in the same “industry” as Buffy, in a secret government group, Willow realizes her feelings for a girl in her Wicca group, Tara, Xander is fighting with Anya, and Giles brings his “friend” Olivia to town. The fact that this episode is relationship-based plays a big role in the plot-stimulator, that is, the horrifying demons called the Gentlemen, who take away Sunnydale’s voices. Our tendency as humans towards sympathy makes us see these new relationships blossoming, or wilting, at the same time as this forced silenced to be all the more detrimental to their development. We, viewers, must lean on something else to glean the meaning of the episode: there are important things that mere words cannot convey.
In the episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer “Hush,” the characters’ inability to speak forces the music of the episode to act as the new dialogue of the characters. The audio helps to convey their emotions when words fail. When Buffy and Willow try to say “good morning” to each other, a low groan of music begins to build when Buffy realizes that her voice is gone. The deep sound illuminates the girls’ burgeoning inkling that something is wrong. It is also a signal to the viewer that Buffy and Willow are going to realize their predicament. The high pitched tones and a swelling cue of screeching strings that come next accentuate the girls’ panic. The speed of the shrieking strings increases when Buffy looks outside the room to find that no one else on her floor can speak either.
The lack of music in the beginning of this scene works to take the viewer on the emotional journey with the girls. No music represents life before their realization, and the sharp tones after parallel the fear and confusion that the girls experience. The frenzied nature of the shrill notes that are cued when Buffy looks outside her door imitates the hysteria of her floormates. As well, it is important to note that diegetic sounds are still heard because this reveals that the silence is only the people’s voices, not their ability to hear
Music in place of dialogue also appears when Giles gives his presentation on the Gentlemen to the Scooby Gang. He plays Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns, which, according to CBC music, “is based on the French legend that Death packs a fiddle and comes to play at midnight on Halloween, causing the skeletons in the cemetery to crawl out of the ground for their annual graveyard dance party.” Because dialogue cannot explain it, the music is a signal that death has come to town. Writer Andrea Long Chu describes the music behind the scene where Olivia, “Giles’s transatlantic booty call,” gets out of bed and peers out the window after the first day of no voices, writing, “a solo violin walks her down the stairs at intervals, slow and deliberate…When a Gentleman floats by the window, the strings scream in Olivia’s place.” Chu’s use of the phrase “the strings scream in Olivia’s place” connotes how the music acts in place of dialogue.
The little additions that the sound editors added on to the Gentlemen’s music helps to underscore their creepiness. I find it compelling that the Gentleman’s theme features a female singing voice. The irony of that a wailing woman’s song behind the Gentleman when none of the people in Sunnydale can speak is very clear. Further, after a night of stealing hearts, the Gentlemen marvel at their loot, with quick strings accented by a heartbeat that builds and fades as the camera surveys the bloody glass jars. These little add-ons are what those things can’t have, the people, a voice, and the hearts, a beat.
In the same way that the music helps to disclose the emotions of the characters, it consequently shapes the emotions of the viewer. The shrill, uncomfortably high pitched sounds make us wince, like in the shower scene of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. The low groans perk up our senses and keep us on high alert, like the “duh-nuh, duh-nuh” theme from Jaws. The music and audio cues engage viewers, and the suspense that they build keeps us coming back for more. If I had taken out my headphones, or put the show on mute before this scene, Olivia’s quickly widening eyes and jump backward (reminder: she can’t speak) would definitely not have elicited the jump out of my seat that took place (on the silent floor of Mann Library, of all places).
Now, circling back to the relationships that the show involves, not only does the music keep the viewer immersed in “Hush,” the silence of the episode allows the relationships and emotions that the episode explores to take place in a space of queer negativity. This makes Buffy the Vampire Slayer to be more inclusive and accessible to a larger audience. The silence acts as a negative space, what Cael Keegan writes about in his piece “Emptying the future: Queer melodramatics and negative utopia in Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” where there has been ultimate destruction allowing queer people to create their own world.
The episode acts as the inception of the character Willow’s lesbian identity. Willow, and her eventual partner Tara, who makes her first appearance in this episode, are largely viewed as the first same-sex couple on popular television. For Long Chu, this relationship is extremely important to her. She writes, “I knew two things before I had watched a single episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. (1) When Willow Rosenberg goes to college, she was going to be gay; and (2) Tara McClay, her first girlfriend, was going to die.” Long Chu knew about Willow’s change in sexual orientation because she wanted to watch a non-heteronormative television show featuring a queer female lead, one that she, a queer trans woman, would feel represented in.
Think about the reaction there was to the new film Crazy Rich Asians, which featured an all-Asian cast. Many people were glad that it put Asians in the spotlight in the romantic comedy film industry, which so often has movies that feature only white characters. Thus, being able to see yourself in the show, to be able to identify with the characters, is imperative in garnering viewers interests.
As I think about Luke Perry, and Buffy, and my relationship to it all, I am reminded of what makes television special to me, and all of us. The silence allows so much more to be revealed in the episode, and further, creates a space where all viewers can feel like they belong. Whether it be a plot point or a device, “Hush” shows what makes viewers engrossed in a television show.
Something that I found interesting while watching the vid "A Different Kind of Love Song" was the prevalence of action figures relating to different shows and films that the vid showed different scenes of the characters playing with. I think that action figures that come along with films/shows open up a whole new world of fan fiction for viewers. Action figures allow creators to have concrete characters who they can also reform to have any storyline they want, because they speak for the character. It is like a more tangible form of writing fan fiction that is more flexible than vidding.
Faith parked herself in front of the mirror. Jesus Christ, what am I wearing? Have I turned into Buffy? She looked in the mirror and then looked down at the flowery pink dress. A big change from her usual dark-colors-only uniform. Mayor Wilkins called her outside, he wanted to see her in the dress he had bought. At the sound of his voice, Faith felt a warmth overcome her. In this ridiculous dress, in her own apartment, with big windows and a comfy bed. Rays of sunlight shone upon her, showering her with light and she couldn’t help but smile.
Emptying the Future Metameta
Feb. 26th, 2019 11:21 pmKeegan begins his meditation on Willow Rosenberg and the queer space in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by noting the way that queer folk are treated in popular culture. The gay and lesbian characters in television shows like Modern Family and Will and Grace exist as alienated within heterosexual worlds, and “compatible with bourgeois heterosexual values and consumer capitalism” (11). In Buffy, though, Keegan argues that it “illustrates the power of queerness to reject assimilation and to insist on the reality and accessibility of alternative formations” (11). Keegan focuses greatly on the intersection between the supernatural and magical and queerness all included in Buffy’s melodrama. In the show, Willow’s queer desires and magic powers begin to blossom at the same moment. Further, Willow uses magic to subvert classic dichotomies like life and death through her spells to resurrect people. Buffy also uses “situation” to create a world in which queer desire can flourish. Keegan writes, that “situation draws out the transformative possibilities embedded in Willow’s dark affects, insisting that queer desire can alter and even obliterate historical and social formations” (16). Ultimately, Keegan argues that through her magical destructive abilities, Willow creates a queer utopia, where all heteronormative social structures have been subverted and destroyed. In the last episode, Willow brings about the end of the world. This ending, though, is just a beginning as the destruction gives way for a utopia, “draw[ing] on queerness as a space of dark possibility – a place where the world and its social relations might be interrupted so that its democratic potentials might be brought into the real” (19). Overall, Buffy is unique in that the queer characters do not assimilate, but seek change: Keegan ends his article, “the negatively utopian queer imagination detaches us from the now and delivers us into an empty field of possibility” (20). Current popular shows with queer characters fits them in with the straight characters, Buffy allows them to make their own spaces for themselves.
Reading about the commercialization of feminitity and feminism in the article “The Buffy Effect: Or, A Tale of Cleavage and Marketing” really got me thinking about that the perpetuation of that phenomenon in more recent times. When Fudge writes “the problem with girl power is that all too often it relies on style over substance, baby tees over action” (2) it reminded me of the backlash of the 2016 election. After Trump was elected, different “feminist” things like clothing proliferated quickly with the wave of woman rage that rose. T-shirts that said things like “power to the pussy,” “fuck the patriarchy,” “girl power!” and the bright pink “pussy hat” became mainstays in the white feminist anti-Trump movement. Protesting and feminism turned into a fad, a trend, something people would do for the Instagram post and then not turn around and not truly care about, in the same that Buffy “threatens to turn empowerment into yet another product” (1).
Dear Reader,
Fan fiction runs as wide as it does deep. Within it resides a plethora of artistic expression, each work differing from the next. Fan fiction does not always take the same shape; some are written, visual, or audible. But, inside each website tag, another exception appears. Do not be alarmed by the complexity that you are about to encounter. That’s why I’m here – to help guide you through this experience.
Take “Afterglow,” a work of fan fiction written by Leslie Fish, published in Naked Press #1 by Pon Farr Press in 1978. Here lies the first piece that we will analyze together.
Now go ahead, read it!
I’ll wait here until you’re done.
Ready?
Let’s start.
From the get-go, it is clear that this piece converges from your stereotypical fan fiction. Fish has written a poem from the perspective of Spock. In the poem, Spock examines his feelings of love, lust, desire, pleasure and emphasizes the contrast between his human and Vulcan sides. Spock mentions his father, questioning why he did not “warn” him about the pleasures of human flesh, and why he once thought that the greatest pleasure was logic. In the end, Spock threatens to leave Vulcan forever, as he is happier with a human than on Vulcan. This poem is as much about Spock’s relationship with a human as much as it is about his father. Through the Spock’s meditation on race and love, Fish’s Star Trek fan fiction poem reveals the complexity of Spock’s condition, as a half-human half-Vulcan and as a lover, ultimately highlighting the purpose of fan fiction as an exercise in fantasy for the author and the reader.
Ok, let’s take a breath and unpack this.
I want you to think about what is this exercise?
How is fantasy present between both people? How are both the author and reader active in the story?
Think about it.
Now, let’s continue.
This goal of fan fiction – as being just as much from our imaginations as theirs – appears immediately in the poem. Fish does not make clear to us who the poem is directed at. So, the author’s note may be able to help us deduce: “Spock is at peace with himself” (Fish AO3). This sentiment could have to do with his reckoning of his mixed race and the emotional qualities that each gives him. Coming from a Vulcan father and human mother, his Vulcan side prizes unstirring logic, but his human side makes him emotional, thus tensions arises in this dichotomy. This tension is also vividly exposed through Fish’s contrasting adjective choice. Describing Spock’s feelings toward the human, Fish writes, “Soft in the blood, sweet in the nerves… / Burning before, now I am melted / Down to a skinfull of of sun-warmed honey” (Fish AO3). The use of words like “soft,” “sweet,” “melted,” and “sun-warmed honey” all have warm, cozy, loving connotations. In contrast, when describing the Vulcan logical life his father had taught him about, Fish utilizes “high,” “bright,” “cold,” and “sterile.” These adjectives give us a feeling of stoniness, of frost, of an unemotional being.
On the other hand, coming to terms with himself could mean that he is accepting his feelings for Captain Kirk. In Star Trek: The Original Series fan fiction, many read the relationship between Kirk and Spock as homosexual. Therefore, when Spock refers to “these forbidden waters,” it is possible that he is referring to the forbidden love that they experience. This forbidden love is a common theme of Kirk and Spock (K/S) literature.
Furthermore, the emphasis on feelings and emotions in this poem is characteristic of the Kirk/Spock fan fiction genre, leading us to believe that the human may be Kirk. Fish writes, “…Oh, I never knew, / Never suspected such feelings existed! … I have been happier in this bed / Than ever I was on all of Vulcan” (Fish AO3). Mentioning “feelings” and being “happier” than he ever has been illuminates the emotions that Spock experiences. In “Pornography by Women for Women, with Love,” Joanna Russ attributes this prominence of emotion to the fact that women, whose sexual fantasies are often less physical and more deeply emotional, are writing these stories (Russ 87). These women write from the perspective of men because they cannot imagine themselves in the dominant position and crave equity in their relationships that a heterosexual relationship does not provide (Russ 85).
Russ, being a second-wave feminist, has her certain views on this, but what do you think a third wave feminist would attribute this emotion to?
Fish also employs a main and debated attribute of K/S literature, the androgyny of the couple. Patricia Frazer Lamb and Diana L. Veith argue that in K/S relationships, equity of the partners is achieved through the fact that neither has a definite gender – both embody characteristics of women and men. The nature of their relationship overrides any gender roles, making it an ideal relationship for women to portray (Lamb and Veith 112). Spock only ever refers to this human as “Love,” allowing for their gender to remain a mystery. Evidently, not only does the androgyny of Spock’s lover lead to a more equitable relationship, it extends the imagining past the author and empowers the reader to join.
When reading “Afterglow,” did you feel like you were an active participant in Spock’s poem?
Reader, I hope that this this conversation about “Afterglow” was helpful in guiding you through reading and analyzing this poem. I hope that it has given you a new perspective on your place as a fan fiction reader. You are just as involved in the story as the writer.
How will this guide change the way you read fan fiction?
Fan fiction runs as wide as it does deep. Within it resides a plethora of artistic expression, each work differing from the next. Fan fiction does not always take the same shape; some are written, visual, or audible. But, inside each website tag, another exception appears. Do not be alarmed by the complexity that you are about to encounter. That’s why I’m here – to help guide you through this experience.
Take “Afterglow,” a work of fan fiction written by Leslie Fish, published in Naked Press #1 by Pon Farr Press in 1978. Here lies the first piece that we will analyze together.
Now go ahead, read it!
I’ll wait here until you’re done.
Ready?
Let’s start.
From the get-go, it is clear that this piece converges from your stereotypical fan fiction. Fish has written a poem from the perspective of Spock. In the poem, Spock examines his feelings of love, lust, desire, pleasure and emphasizes the contrast between his human and Vulcan sides. Spock mentions his father, questioning why he did not “warn” him about the pleasures of human flesh, and why he once thought that the greatest pleasure was logic. In the end, Spock threatens to leave Vulcan forever, as he is happier with a human than on Vulcan. This poem is as much about Spock’s relationship with a human as much as it is about his father. Through the Spock’s meditation on race and love, Fish’s Star Trek fan fiction poem reveals the complexity of Spock’s condition, as a half-human half-Vulcan and as a lover, ultimately highlighting the purpose of fan fiction as an exercise in fantasy for the author and the reader.
Ok, let’s take a breath and unpack this.
I want you to think about what is this exercise?
How is fantasy present between both people? How are both the author and reader active in the story?
Think about it.
Now, let’s continue.
This goal of fan fiction – as being just as much from our imaginations as theirs – appears immediately in the poem. Fish does not make clear to us who the poem is directed at. So, the author’s note may be able to help us deduce: “Spock is at peace with himself” (Fish AO3). This sentiment could have to do with his reckoning of his mixed race and the emotional qualities that each gives him. Coming from a Vulcan father and human mother, his Vulcan side prizes unstirring logic, but his human side makes him emotional, thus tensions arises in this dichotomy. This tension is also vividly exposed through Fish’s contrasting adjective choice. Describing Spock’s feelings toward the human, Fish writes, “Soft in the blood, sweet in the nerves… / Burning before, now I am melted / Down to a skinfull of of sun-warmed honey” (Fish AO3). The use of words like “soft,” “sweet,” “melted,” and “sun-warmed honey” all have warm, cozy, loving connotations. In contrast, when describing the Vulcan logical life his father had taught him about, Fish utilizes “high,” “bright,” “cold,” and “sterile.” These adjectives give us a feeling of stoniness, of frost, of an unemotional being.
On the other hand, coming to terms with himself could mean that he is accepting his feelings for Captain Kirk. In Star Trek: The Original Series fan fiction, many read the relationship between Kirk and Spock as homosexual. Therefore, when Spock refers to “these forbidden waters,” it is possible that he is referring to the forbidden love that they experience. This forbidden love is a common theme of Kirk and Spock (K/S) literature.
Furthermore, the emphasis on feelings and emotions in this poem is characteristic of the Kirk/Spock fan fiction genre, leading us to believe that the human may be Kirk. Fish writes, “…Oh, I never knew, / Never suspected such feelings existed! … I have been happier in this bed / Than ever I was on all of Vulcan” (Fish AO3). Mentioning “feelings” and being “happier” than he ever has been illuminates the emotions that Spock experiences. In “Pornography by Women for Women, with Love,” Joanna Russ attributes this prominence of emotion to the fact that women, whose sexual fantasies are often less physical and more deeply emotional, are writing these stories (Russ 87). These women write from the perspective of men because they cannot imagine themselves in the dominant position and crave equity in their relationships that a heterosexual relationship does not provide (Russ 85).
Russ, being a second-wave feminist, has her certain views on this, but what do you think a third wave feminist would attribute this emotion to?
Fish also employs a main and debated attribute of K/S literature, the androgyny of the couple. Patricia Frazer Lamb and Diana L. Veith argue that in K/S relationships, equity of the partners is achieved through the fact that neither has a definite gender – both embody characteristics of women and men. The nature of their relationship overrides any gender roles, making it an ideal relationship for women to portray (Lamb and Veith 112). Spock only ever refers to this human as “Love,” allowing for their gender to remain a mystery. Evidently, not only does the androgyny of Spock’s lover lead to a more equitable relationship, it extends the imagining past the author and empowers the reader to join.
When reading “Afterglow,” did you feel like you were an active participant in Spock’s poem?
Reader, I hope that this this conversation about “Afterglow” was helpful in guiding you through reading and analyzing this poem. I hope that it has given you a new perspective on your place as a fan fiction reader. You are just as involved in the story as the writer.
How will this guide change the way you read fan fiction?
A Night on the Town - First Drabble
Feb. 6th, 2019 12:15 pmBeep, beep, beep. The USS Enterprise pulled into the port hidden beneath the Hudson River in New York City. The bridge was tense with all sorts of emotions that filled the room – those of excitement, anxiety, longing, and dreading. When the final whoosh of depressurizing lightened the air and popped the ears of the ship’s crew, a collective sigh was heard round the ship. Kirk stood up from his chair, “Alright, now everyone, I need you to remember that we must blend in. We are here on Star Fleet business. So, tonight you can have fun, but not too much fun.” Kirk winked and scanned his mesmerizing eyes across the bridge.
Uhura slipped her earpiece out of her ear and stood up from her chair. Spock unclenched his jaw just slightly and straightened his so often bent spine. Chekov, Sulu, and Scott stood up too. The group, already tight-knit from their adventures together on the bridge, had a new adventure to embark on: New York City. They all sped back to their quarters to change, exchanging their usual uniforms for blue jeans, t-shirts, and sweaters, and a hat for Spock, of course.
The group walked out of the ship and found their way up and onto the street. Finding the downtown 1 train stop was one challenge but figuring out how to purchase and employ a MetroCard was another. Finally, after their subway journey, the crew arrived at a bar. Packing themselves into a booth, they ordered drinks. Kirk stuck to a classic Heineken, McCoy went for a scotch, and for Spock, a water. Chekov, the Russian, went straight for the vodka. An hour and a drink or two later, the crew began to loosen up, but no one more that Chekov. Chekov, drunk off the vodka shots he had been pounding, sauntered over to a girl with bright blue-dyed hair at the bar. Resting his elbow on the table, he swayed as though his head was a helium balloon reaching for the ceiling.
Over the noise of the crowded bar, Uhura’s ears perked up. A slurred Russian accent was saying something about a spaceship, about a Captain Kuuurrkkk…about the girl resembling an Andorian…. Spock leant over whispered bluntly in Uhura’s ear, “The logical thing to do would be for us to take him home.” Nodding in agreement and before he had gone too far Uhura rushed over. “I’m so sorry,” Uhura told the woman. “I need to take my friend home.” Spock followed, grabbing and holding Chekov from under his armpit. Kirk stood up from the table and declared, “I think it’s time that we return.” Carefully counting and leaving the dollars they had stuffed in their pockets, the crew exited the bar and returned home to their ship.
Uhura slipped her earpiece out of her ear and stood up from her chair. Spock unclenched his jaw just slightly and straightened his so often bent spine. Chekov, Sulu, and Scott stood up too. The group, already tight-knit from their adventures together on the bridge, had a new adventure to embark on: New York City. They all sped back to their quarters to change, exchanging their usual uniforms for blue jeans, t-shirts, and sweaters, and a hat for Spock, of course.
The group walked out of the ship and found their way up and onto the street. Finding the downtown 1 train stop was one challenge but figuring out how to purchase and employ a MetroCard was another. Finally, after their subway journey, the crew arrived at a bar. Packing themselves into a booth, they ordered drinks. Kirk stuck to a classic Heineken, McCoy went for a scotch, and for Spock, a water. Chekov, the Russian, went straight for the vodka. An hour and a drink or two later, the crew began to loosen up, but no one more that Chekov. Chekov, drunk off the vodka shots he had been pounding, sauntered over to a girl with bright blue-dyed hair at the bar. Resting his elbow on the table, he swayed as though his head was a helium balloon reaching for the ceiling.
Over the noise of the crowded bar, Uhura’s ears perked up. A slurred Russian accent was saying something about a spaceship, about a Captain Kuuurrkkk…about the girl resembling an Andorian…. Spock leant over whispered bluntly in Uhura’s ear, “The logical thing to do would be for us to take him home.” Nodding in agreement and before he had gone too far Uhura rushed over. “I’m so sorry,” Uhura told the woman. “I need to take my friend home.” Spock followed, grabbing and holding Chekov from under his armpit. Kirk stood up from the table and declared, “I think it’s time that we return.” Carefully counting and leaving the dollars they had stuffed in their pockets, the crew exited the bar and returned home to their ship.
