May 2019 – Into the Woods

A UFO resistance? Count me in! (updated)

A “black triangle,” Belgium, 1990 (Wikipedia photo)

For many years, I have been alert for anything that might advance our knowledge of UFOs. Very little that could be seen as reliable has come along. The Disclosure Project did some interesting work back in 2013. And, in 2007, France made its UFO files public. Other than that, it has been mostly crickets, other than the usual non-serious stuff.

But, in the past week, we’ve gotten a little traction. On May 26, the New York Times ran a piece on Navy pilots who have reported UFOs. On May 28, the Washington Post ran an op-ed with the headline UFOs exist and everyone needs to adjust to that fact. The author of the Washington Post piece, Daniel W. Drezner, includes a link to an academic article published in the journal Political Theory. The article is titled Sovereignty and the UFO.

Though the Washington Post piece includes a fascinating video of radar imagery from Navy jets, none of these articles advances our knowledge of UFOs in a scientific way. That’s not happening. Why?

Sovereignty and the UFO lays out a brilliant argument for why no one is permitted to take UFOs seriously. “Our argument,” the authors write, “is that UFO ignorance is political rather than scientific.” The questions then become: How do our political arrangements make it impossible to take UFOs seriously? And: How might it be possible to disable political control of the UFO mystery and make it a question for science instead? The authors’ arguments are dense and a touch postmodern. Nevertheless I found their case quite persuasive. In their conclusion, they argue that resistance is the key to making it politically and scientifically possible to seriously study UFOs:

The structuralism of our argument might suggest that resistance is futile. However, the structure of the UFO taboo also has aporias and fissures that make it—and the anthropocentric structure of rule that it sustains—potentially unstable…. The kind of resistance that can best exploit these fissures might be called militant agnosticism. Resistance must be agnostic because by the realist standards of modernity, regarding the UFO/ET question neither atheism nor belief is epistemically justified; we simply do not know. Concretely, agnosticism means “seeing” rather than ignoring the UFO, taking it seriously as a truly unidentified object. Since it is precisely such seeing that the UFO taboo forbids, in this context seeing is resistance. However, resistance must also be militant, by which we mean public and strategic, or else it will indeed be futile. The reproduction of UFO ignorance depends crucially on those in positions of epistemic authority observing the UFO taboo.

In the Washington Post, Drezner, also a scholar, is arguing that we must take seriously the possibilities that UFOs are extraterrestrial.

I am greatly concerned with the mystery of UFOs because, almost 50 years ago, I saw one. It was not a mere light the sky, and there was nothing vague about it. It was instead an enormous object less than a quarter of a mile away from me, well before dusk, in rural eastern North Carolina. The object appeared cylindrical. It was as long as a football field. It was hovering — silently — just above treetop level. There were lights — not exterior lights but what looked more like windows and a lighted interior. A friend who was with me saw it, too. We watched as it made a slow turning maneuver. After that, I can only describe it as falling upward into the sky at a steep angle. The acceleration was astonishing, and perfectly silent.

Epistemologically, I’m well aware that my testimony (even combined with my friend’s) proves absolutely nothing to anyone other than myself. But, because there was no mistaking what I saw, it proves to me only that UFOs are real and that their capabilities far exceed any earth technology. Because it fell into the sky and into space, then assuming that space is where it came from would seem reasonable to me. One of my great hopes — and I’m not getting any younger — is that I am able to live long enough to see the UFO mystery solved. I would agree with the authors of the Political Theory article that the investigation must be undertaken by science, and that political notions and political power must no longer be allowed to sweep UFOs under the rug.

The consequences of proving that there are UFOs and that they are extraterrestrial would of course shake our world profoundly. Many — particularly those who are powerful — don’t want the world to be profoundly shaken. But there are many like me who would like to see the lords of earth taken down a few notches. The authors of the Political Theory article write:

The ontological threat is that even if the ETs were benign, their confirmed presence would create tremendous pressure for a unified human response, or world government.

If you think for a while about the possibility of a galactic federation — as a great many science fiction writers have done — then the need for a unified earth, an earth subject to a whole new kind of sovereignty and law, becomes apparent.

No wonder the governments of earth find UFOs so threatening that they’re best denied and ignored. Wouldn’t it be fine thing to be a citizen of the galaxy, with a passport issued by the Planet Earth?

Update: In comments, Chenda and Ken asked for a sketch of the UFO I saw. I’m not much of an artist, but here’s a sketch. The object was just above the treetops, less than a quarter of a mile from us. It was a great deal longer than a Boeing 747. It was hovering silently. While we watched, it made a slow turning maneuver. Then it silently accelerated at a seemingly impossible rate (toward the northeast, at about a 45 degree vertical angle) and disappeared into space in seconds.

As for the location, it was along U.S. 264 about 10 miles east of Greenville, North Carolina. (See the red circle.) At the time, this was rural farming country. I remember power lines along the highway, but there were no houses in sight. The date would have been October 1971, I believe.

Season 8, the final episode

Ken Ilgunas and David Dalton are reviewing each episode of the final season of Game of Thrones. Check the “Game of Thrones” category to list all of these posts.

Many thanks to all who have come here to read these posts, and to all who have commented. It has been a lot of fun, and no doubt Ken and David will do more co-reviewing in the future as suitable material comes along.

Ken:

Morning David,

Were you as sad as I was to see the credits roll? This has been the best series I’ve ever watched, and it’s played a small but special role in my emotional life of the past 9 years. We are still in the golden age of television, so perhaps we’ll be surprised again in our lifetimes, but for now there’ll be a big hole that GoT had occupied for a quarter of my life.

As for this episode, it was solid, if unflashy. There are probably some fans who cannot forgive the show for what it did to Dany, who was practically a Nazi empress in the end. I have my sympathies with them, as you know, but if we can accept the plot and forgive the writers their mistakes, I think this was a good enough episode to conclude a legendary series. Stray thoughts…

– There seemed to be two episodes in episode. The first one ended when Drogon turns the Iron Throne into lava. The second one begins with the constitutional convention outside of the city with all the remaining lords and ladies of note. There was dissonance between the two, and I wish they’d broken this episode into two. The moment when Jon kills Dany was such a HUGE moment, but yet it felt improperly placed at roughly the twenty-minute mark of the episode. Think of how dramatic that scene could have been if they’d ended the episode with it. You can’t kill Ned Stark on the third minute. You can’t kill Jon Snow in episode two of a season. Timing matters. Placement matters. And to maximize the gravity of that scene, and to simply do respect to such an important character, you have to give her the dignity of dying in the last moments of an episode.

– After that scene, it was as if a new director took over. It flowed awkwardly into the constitutional convention, which is the sort of scene that isn’t a strength of the show. Later on, the camera work following the backs of the characters’ heads is the sort of scene I’d typically love, but I found it a touch confusing and rushed.

– Does everything fit together? You know I’m unhappy that we didn’t get any closure to the magical and fantasy side of the show (The Night King, the fire religion, etc.), but I think we got good closure for the political situation and for the characters. Dany did indeed break the wheel, and Westeros has evolved into a crude republic. Arya got to go on her adventure, Sansa got to Brexit the north from the realm, and Jon got to live a free life. I’m sure many of us were hoping it would be Jon on the Iron Throne, but Bran makes sense, and it’s nice to know Jon will get to live a life, wild and free, in a land he felt drawn to, and where he’ll have many adventures. (Let’s just hope there’s no “King of the Wildlings” spinoff series.)

– Why did Drogon melt the Iron Throne? Was that rage or wisdom?

– If you’re George R.R. Martin, how do you feel watching this episode?

– What are your thoughts?

David:

Mornin’, Ken …

Well, here we are. This is the first day of the rest of our lives after Game of Thrones. On this hard day, we snap back to the “real” world and think about how the story has changed us. Having immersed ourselves in a collective experience (we have so few of them), we’re on our own again. It doesn’t help that when we squint and peer into the harsh light of the real world, as though we’ve just emerged from a dark theater, we see that we’re in a big mess. Maybe we don’t have to completely let go of Game of Thrones, though. As we look back at the series, there are a great many metaphors and encrypted meanings to be mined. In fact I think that the final episode points us in that direction and encourages us to get to work to fix this world. Where should our characters go next, and what must we do?

I do have some dissatisfactions. For one, I think we needed more catharsis. At least this episode slowed down and gave us time to think and time to feel. But I agree with you that it would have been better as two episodes. On the stage, there is a wonderful part of the show that film does not have — the curtain call. On the stage, the catharsis will have occurred during the last minutes of the drama, but somehow the curtain call seals and verifies the catharsis and smoothes the transition back to the real world. Some films try to replicate this experience by showing portraits of all the characters as the credits roll, revisiting key scenes. Something like that would have been a great help with Game of Thrones.

The story did indeed follow a classical trajectory, and for that I am extremely grateful. On the whole, the good were rewarded, the wicked were punished, and the surviving characters have a path to their hearts’ desire even if they have not yet achieved it. I don’t want to quibble, especially on the day that we’ve arrived at the end and all of us are in need of therapy. But I do think that there are too many loose ends and too many ill-fitting elements that seem to have been contrapted. At the end of the previous episode, in which Daenerys broke bad, I still hoped for something closer to perfection. But now I would agree that the final two episodes could have been better. Was it Martin’s touch that was lacking? If so, will Martin’s forthcoming books do a better job?

When Drogon melted the Iron Throne, I saw it as both rage and wisdom — rage that the throne was the thing that Daenerys died for, and wisdom that it wasn’t worth it. Drogon no doubt felt rage toward Jon but decided to spare Jon and direct the rage toward the throne.

Though many people had recently guessed that Bran would end up as king, it still rates as a major surprise, I think. Martin is telling us something with that — the importance of qualifications that come with being broken, abstract, reserved, and far-seeing, as opposed to a person of all action and a great deal of talk. I think that Martin also is telling us something with what you called the constitutional convention, in which everyone, including the lord only of onions, gets a vote. As for how George R.R. Martin might feel watching this episode, my guess would be that he saw the flaws more clearly than anyone and that his energy for finishing the final volumes is greatly renewed. At least I hope so. We do have that to look forward to — reading the last two books.

Ken:

Let’s start with quibbles….

Why did the show-makers have to rush these past two seasons, and these last two episodes? I doubt that there were logistical impediments. By now, they had obscene budgets. The actors were all in. The fans were happy to wait an extra year to give them a chance to get everything right. HBO would have loved to have millions of people visiting their site and channel for a few more weeks, right?

But yet it all felt rushed. It’s such a shame because there were so many things that could have been developed, starting with closure to the Night King plot. There was some mysterious connection between the dead, climate change, and magic, and I think this would have been difficult (but rich and complex and one-of-a-kind) storytelling if they’d really taken the time to sort it all out. And time and resources they had! There were so many more little conversations that could have happened. Just put a slosh of wine in two cups and have a pair of characters talk for a scene. This could have made these last two seasons feel less rushed, and it would have given the writers more opportunity to better tie up everyone’s story. It could have made Dany’s turn less abrupt. And this is the sort of scene that isn’t that expensive to produce.

As for the curtain call, wasn’t Arya on the boat and Jon on her horse in the woods enough, or did you think the curtain call could have been longer and richer? Or are you suggesting we actually see the characters as actors? I think I’m with you, but I’m not sure how much more we need. Jon erecting a teepee or winking at a wildling? How would you have orchestrated a proper curtain call?

What about catharsis for the hundreds of thousands of commoners who’ve been pounded into the dirt by years of war and flame? Yes, this has always been a story about lords and ladies (it’s a Game of Thrones after all) as well as the few commoners bright or talented enough to climb the ranks (such as Davos and Bronn…). I’m not trying to sound sanctimonious here; I’m merely making the point that the Westeros world-building feels a little empty without having true commoner characters and points of view. I know I’m beating a dead horse, but I want to beat it one last time. We see everything from the point of view of a few conveniently-born characters, and never (except when they’re being incinerated) the people of Westeros. And Westeros is more the people than the elite, right? They experience years of warfare and genocide, but we don’t get to hear their complaints or calls for justice. There should have been a voice from the King’s Landing masses who called for the heads of every lord and lady after the most recent incineration. In reality, that kingdom ought to be ripe for a French Revolution. I suppose we got a bit of this with the Grand Sparrow and his religious uprising, but I feel like the show has failed to give the people their proper ending.

That said, I’m fine with the show ending as a crude republic (“oligarchy” might be a better term). Democracy can’t sprout up from just anything, even ashes. And this Iron Age empire just wasn’t prepared for it, but we have seen positive incremental change, and that, as a form of government, is good enough for me, even if the wheel is still sort of rolling.

I think Bran as king could have been set up better. We’ve seen that Bran has knowledge and that he’s level-headed. And yes, there are virtues to having been broken, or from having lived a hard life. But have we seen any leadership from Bran? Couldn’t the show have done a better job either emphasizing his supernatural gifts or his fitness for office? I suppose I don’t think the show integrated the three-eye raven part of his character with his new role as king. Is Martin saying leaders should be like three-eyed ravens? If so, I’m not sure what that means. I thought Bran might end up living in the roots of a weirwood tree, like the last three-eyed raven, but what was even that dude’s role, other than being the keeper of knowledge? Maybe there’s something here, but it all feels a bit muddled to me… The problem with Bran, at bottom, is that we saw him collecting information, and not necessarily wisdom. Wisdom requires a bit of suffering, and while Bran has certainly suffered on his journeys, I’m speaking more to his vision quests and time-traveling journeys, on which he seemed like artificial intelligence gathering data about humans, and not quite a human, living and learning. That fact that he’s this autistic Spock-like creature in the end emphasizes this problem.

Okay, less quibbling…

GoT is such a groundbreaking show because it has done things no show has attempted to do. Can you think of a plot that is as long and interwoven as GoT’s? Yes, much of it clearly was not figured out ahead of time. But a lot of it was (seasons 1-6, I’d argue), and I do think the big things were: that Dany would turn, that Jon would stab her, that Arya would kill the Night King, and that Bran would be king. Such storytelling is a monumental and, to my knowledge, un-replicated feat. It was imperfectly executed, but nothing comes close to rivaling the epic length and complexity of the story.

The show’s display of political backstabbing spoke to the cynicism we have for our politicians. The threat of the Night King and a long winter spoke to our looming worries of overpopulation and climate change. That our favorite characters died and terrible people came to wield power speaks to our own experiences in our own countries. The death and devastation and treachery, the idealistic dying and the powerful prevailing, all felt strangely comforting. That’s because this fantasy show was more real than reality TV. It exposed conventional storytelling narratives for the fakes they are, always letting the superhero miraculously survive and triumph. Like our world, it was a savage, gritty, predatory universe. Whether by luck or design, GoT was the perfect show for the 21st Century. It failed when it swept plots under the rug (“winter is coming”), but it succeeded in tapping into the zeitgeist and into our psyches to tell a story that spoke to our gravest concerns and sincerest hopes—hopes for a better world. It tells us to go on long journeys. To suffer so we can empathize with others. To play fair, but when you play, play to win. To take incremental change when you can get it. To put the wise in power. To let the kind and savvy advise him/her. To kill the tyrants. To live free. To explore. To Brexit (?). To let go of your longings for hateful revenge. And, all the while, to make the world as you wish it to be, while always seeing it for what it is, good and evil and everything in between.

David:

Very good thoughts and good words, Ken. For now, I have only two small things to mention.

By curtain call, I was thinking about brief clips of scenes that include the characters who did not survive until the end. (The film version of “History Boys,” for example, has a kind of virtual curtain call at the end, the dead included. That was very effective and helps to give emotional closure. Doesn’t “Princess Bride” do that, too?)

You mention the Iron Age. Let’s hear it for the Iron Age! One of the many things that made Game of Thrones so enjoyable was being able to spend so much time in an Iron Age world — horses, wind-powered ships, buildings of stone, lots of fireplaces, rough roads, long travel times, terrain unspoiled by heavy machinery, artisans rather than factories. One of my dreams for the real world is that, whether accidentally or intentionally, most of our technologies fall back to the Iron Age.

For an update, I’d like to think some more about science fiction and fantasy fiction (and film) in general and how Game of Thrones has advanced the state of the art.

Season 8, episode 5 (2 updates)

Ken Ilgunas and David Dalton are reviewing each episode of the final season of Game of Thrones. Check the “Game of Thrones” category to list all of these posts.

David:

Mornin’, Ken …

We just watched, I believe, the most extraordinary television episode ever made. It wasn’t just the spectacle, which topped all the previous accomplishments of this series. It also was the drama. In the middle of all that destruction and death, it was the fates of our beloved characters that kept us mesmerized.

I miss Varys already. The Hound did not deserve to die either, but at least he took his monster brother with him into the flames. So much for wondering whether Jaime would save Cersei or kill her. Instead he arrived just in time to die with her. Good riddance to Euron. Qyburn deserved a slower death, but as expected he was killed by one of his own creations.

You know how much I have wanted this series to follow the trajectories of classical storytelling, with a satisfying and irony-free ending in which, on the whole, good triumphs over evil. With one episode remaining, we are on course for that. There was no way that Cersei was going to go down easy. She got her just deserts (with an enormous amount of unjust collateral damage). Much justice was done in this episode, yet much injustice was done in the process. At least three of the remaining characters — Jon, Tyrion, and Grey Worm — are greatly disturbed by this injustice. The camera spent a great deal of time on the suffering of the innocents, about which Tyrion and Varys had worried so much. Injustice and cruelty on that scale do not bode well for Daenerys. Grey Worm’s troops could have gone to the Red Keep and captured Cersei. But Daenerys wanted total destruction. She will have to pay.

And though we are on course for a classical ending, it’s not at all apparent how that will be achieved. Since dying in dyads seems to be the new thing, it’s conceivable that Jon could die with Daenerys, or that Tyrion could die with her. It’s possible that Daenerys will abdicate the throne, recognizing her own unsuitability, and cede the throne to Jon, because she knows that Jon is loved and she is not. But I think we should believe Jon when he has said so many times that he does not want the throne. And yet, how could Jon go on living and not accept the throne, since by the rules it is his?

As for the throne itself, I wonder if it isn’t safe to suppose that the throne was destroyed and will never be used again. That probably bodes well for the future of the Seven Kingdoms. I expect the capital to move — to Winterfell. Was that snow falling in the final scenes, or ashes? When a heroine gets up from the rubble and storms away on a white horse, what can that foreshadow other than last-minute matters of urgent justice? Both Jon and Arya appear to have rethought their lives while Kings Landing burned. The setup for the final episode is as near-perfect as any mortal writer could make it.

Ken:

Morning David,

GoT’s episode scores on Rotten Tomatoes are getting progressively worse. At this time, the latest episode, “The Bells,” is less than fifty percent “fresh.”

This is a bit surprising to me because I thought “The Bells” was exceptional. Spectacular even. I agree with you that this might have been the finest hour in the history of television.

That said, I think some of the criticism is probably valid, centered on the question of the Mad Queen: Was Dany’s descent into madness true to her character? But the fact that we’re asking this question is partly what makes it so exceptional. Her turn was both a surprise and a reasonable outcome. It is Martin at his best. Or Martin at his almost best.

If you think her turn was too abrupt and too out of character, I can see why someone might hate this episode. Frankly, I don’t know. Just an episode or two ago she seemed well adjusted. And she has been a beloved character for eight seasons, freeing slaves along the way, who has always done well to manage her worst instincts. So maybe it seemed a touch unpleasantly random. I get that. That said, I respect the hell out of Martin for creating such a naughty story: We watch a young and charming idealist build power for eight seasons and then, at the last moment, she turns everything to ash. No other writer would be so bold. This defies all the norms of classic storytelling.

Maybe it could have been foreshadowed better? Maybe we should have seen more of her madness before she did what she did? One episode she’s fighting alongside Jon in the north and she’s clearly got all of her wits. A few days later her hair is a mess, her eyes are wild, and then she’s burning a city alive? I’m thinking that maybe her descent into madness could have been a bit more complete.

I suppose we also have to ask the question: What’s in this for Dany, the breaker of chains? Why is conquering Westeros so important if you’re just going to burn it to the ground? Why not take the remains of your army back to Essos, where you’re loved?

I ask these questions because I’m wondering if there was a point to what just happened. Is this her breaking the wheel? Is this her ending tyranny? Did these people need to die and did the city need to burn for, as she says, the future generations of Westeros? Why does she even care about the future generations? I suppose the ultimate question is: Is there a larger point to her destiny (that doesn’t even factor in her own wellbeing)? Or is Martin saying that there is no such thing as destiny, and that Dany’s story is the story of a ruthless conquistador, who wrongly thinks they’re fighting for a higher purpose, when they’re not…

If there is a point, maybe “The Bells” lays the groundwork for a more peaceful empire, even if her life must be sacrificed along with the thousands of innocents in their crisped hovels and charred alleyways. Maybe this is just me trying to twist the narrative into what feels right and expected and narratively-coherent. But maybe Martin is saying “nonsense” to all of that. Maybe he’s still breaking with the traditions of classic storytelling. And I love him for that; even he’s not leading us to a place where we can satisfyingly watch, in the last moments of the show, the king and queen united, and the kingdom at peace, just as the curtains close.

I’m eager to discuss this more, but a few stray thoughts for now…

– Sandor Clegane has long been my favorite character. His last moments with Arya were touching, and his death with his brother, though hard to watch, seemed like a proper end to his character. The makeup, costumes, and setting design (which too often go unnoticed) were top notch. These were like two gods duking it out on the peak of Olympus. To use an overused word, it was epic. He died with his vital life force: revenge, plunging her brother, and himself, into the flames that made them who they were. Without his death, there may have been nothing to keep him going and nothing to feed his better instincts.

– I thought Jamie and Cersei’s deaths were beautiful.

– One quibble with your review. I do not think Grey Worm was disturbed by the injustice, but that he was complicit in it. I believe it was him who hurled the spear at the Lannister army that’d already surrendered. He let his mid-battle bloodlust get the best of him.

– I would be very upset if the Iron Throne was melted off camera. That’s a hugely symbolic moment that I hope they’ll show us next week.

– Very fascinating theory about Winterfell being the new capital. It’s not a great port city or well positioned, but why not? Does Sansa somehow get to be queen? I don’t see how that’ll work. But you’re right to imagine a whole bunch of successor scenarios, and dyads dying together.

– I thought the whole episode was a visual and cinematic spectacle. The camera work, the flames, the defenses, the rubble… It was a visual feast, but in a more honest way than what we saw in the zombie battle episode. Here, we saw pain, devastation, rape, murder, bloodlust. We saw the worst instincts of mankind. Has GoT said anything more honest?

– I think that is probably the last we’ve seen from Arya, unless it’s an image of her getting on a boat and sailing away. It was a fitting and beautiful end to her story.

– Emilia Clarke’s acting was outstanding. The best we’ve seen from her. Give her an Emmy.

– I don’t think it was in Missandei’s character to yell, “Dracarys!” in the last episode. Why is a former slave telling Dany to kill a whole bunch of innocent people? Where does Missandei’s rage come from? She was taken fairly in battle and given a swift death. It would have been more in character to tell Grey Worm and Dany that she loves them in her last moments. And that would have given Dany more reason to do what she did.

– Will Dany snap out of her murderous delirium, and say, “What have I done?” Or is she the Mad Tyrant from now on?

– What’s to be done? Tyrion and Jon and the rest are appropriately horrified. Will Dany take a sword in the back? By whom? I think the conventional storytelling arcs, if they’re to be trusted, has the Mad Queen going down and the Just King taking her place on the Iron Throne. That would be the end that most satisfies the typical consumer of Western storytelling. But at this point it’s fair to say, “Who the hell knows.”

Update 1:

David:

I’m so glad we agree on the quality of this episode. As for the progressively worse reviews on Rotten Tomatoes, that is very interesting. All I can suggest is that it’s what I call “vindictive” reviewing, which I often see in Amazon book reviews that take a stand on a controversial subject. To a vindictive book reviewer, if you don’t like the book’s message, then it must be a bad book. By now, I suppose, so many people’s pet ideas have been frustrated that they’ve gotten vindictive because they haven’t had their way. Maybe that’s an advantage of my easy ability to suspend disbelief. I just go with it and don’t complain very much. Not that I would do that with just any author. But I trust Martin.

To follow up on some of your observations:

— If Daenerys is mad, it comes and goes. We’ve seen this before, as when she crucified the slave traders in Meereen. Though it was cruel overkill, that was an act of justice. As for the innocents inside the walls of King’s Landing, surely Cersei deserves some of the blame for that. She brought them inside to use as shields. It’s not that I’m apologizing for Daenerys. I’m only thinking of how, in Game of Thrones, there is never a sharp line between good and evil (except maybe for Jon). As for the state of Daenerys’ soul, much depends on what she does next.

— That Sansa could end up as queen surely is a possibility. That the next king or queen should be loved seems to be a rule. Sansa is loved, though not as much as Jon is loved. As for the other rules of succession, one rule surely must be noble blood. In addition to Daenerys, that would leave Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Tyrion, and maybe Yara as candidates. If Martin or HBO violate the rules of classic storytelling, it’s even possible that we don’t even end up with a winner. Instead we end up with a failed state, and winter coming. Yikes.

— That Arya’s storming away on a white horse was the last we’ll see of her makes sense. But what would she do? Wander, with winter coming on? I think she sees Winterfell as her home. She loves her siblings. Surely she will return there. The opening scenes of the next episode could be in some unexpected place, as part of the endplot. But I’m guessing that we’ll go to Winterfell next.

Having said that I trust Martin and willingly suspend disbelief for him, it would be a huge blow to my psyche and to my sense of story if we get a twisted ending with whiffs of nihilism and more injustice and unhappiness than I can stomach. Still, it’s a great credit to Martin as a writer that with an hour to go, anything could happen.

Ken:

Scanning the reviews, it appears the biggest gripe is about Dany’s unearned turn from idealist wannabe queen to genocidal nutcase. They have a point. All of a sudden she becomes her crazy father, even though she hasn’t exhibited any real symptoms. I think we have to ask ourselves if this is indeed truly bad storytelling. You’re right that she’s judiciously executed others (usually individuals or slaveowners in small groups), but never have we seen her kill innocents, and I don’t think Cersei can take any of the blame for that. The battle had been won. Soldiers were surrendering and the bells were ringing. The people weren’t at all being used as shields. Dany had gone full-on crazy. No one can be on Team Dany anymore, and that’s got to be very hard for fans. She might be able to make a better decisions after she wakes from her bloodlust, but I don’t think there’s anything to be salvaged. Even kind gestures will not change the fact that a beloved character’s soul has turned rotten for good.

I don’t think you’re appreciating the gravity of her crimes. I suppose I’m suggesting that the criticism of the episode isn’t entirely vindictive and that there are reasonable complaints. I loved the episode, but it might have been a bit more logical if we’d seen her turn foreshadowed better.

I’ll say it again, though: this was a magnificent episode. I’ve had my issues with the show, as you know. I thought the writers committed a dereliction of duty by failing to bring cosmological closure to the White Walkers. I thought there’s been a few too many cheesy action scenes. The last two seasons have been out of pace with the rest of the series. I thought the political machinations (so clever at first!) have gotten dumber over the seasons. I could go on. But I think this episode makes up for missteps. I think the show has found its footing for the finale. GoT is not perfect, for all the reasons I’ve shared these past few weeks, but at this point it knows where it’s going and is poised to conclude grandly.

— I think you’re right about Dany coming to her senses. Perhaps abdication is her way of regaining a tiny bit nobility after her genocide. Giving the Throne to Jon and heading back to rule Essos would be for the greater good, but I’m doubtful it ends that cleanly.

— I could be wrong, but I do think that that’s the last we’ll see of Arya. She’ll be a better sort of Clegane. A knight errant, but one who’s not driven by hatred or revenge. I do not think she’ll return to Winterfell. She said as much to Clegane on their path to King’s Landing.

— Care to make any predictions of where everyone winds up? Mine:

Bran crawls into a Weirwood tree and lives among its roots.
Dany gets murdered.
Grey Worm dies defending Dany.
Jon‘s the reluctant king with Davos as his hand.
Sansa either becomes Jon’s hand or rules as warden of the north.
Tyrion dies. I’m not sure where he belongs…
Brienne is the captain of the King’s Guard.
Bronne? No idea.
Arya sails off the west coast into waters unknown.
Sam becomes grand maester of Citadel.
Yara is never on camera again.

Who am I forgetting?

Update 2:

David:

If it turns out to be true that Daenerys has succumbed to the Targaryen madness, then I think I’ll continue to be the contrarian here and say that it was decently foreshadowed. In researching the history of the Mad King, this turned up:

“The Mad King was obsessed with it. He loved to watch people burn, the way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off their bones. He burned lords he didn’t like. He burned Hands who disobeyed him. He burned anyone who was against him. Before long, half the country was against him. Aerys saw traitors everywhere. So he had his pyromancers place caches of wildfire all over the city. Beneath the Sept of Baelor and the slums of Flea Bottom. Under houses, stables, taverns. Even beneath the Red Keep itself.”

―Ser Jaime Lannister

Did you notice how, as King’s Landing was burning, there were bursts of green fire here and there? That, I would assume, would be leftover caches of the Mad King’s wildfire, connecting lots of dots.

This is not looking good for Daenerys. I feel for the fans who loved her. She is very likeable, when she isn’t cruel. If there was a last straw that tipped her over the edge emotionally (and there were many recent provocations including the murder of Missandei and Varys’ treason), then I’d say it was her last scene with Jon, in which she realized that she had lost him. Jon might have been her last connection to a world of good.

Ken:

Indeed, there’s plenty of foreshadowing to draw from. She’s mercilessly burnt many and it’s in her DNA. But she’s also amazingly resilient. At the end of Season One, she’d lost her man, all the Dothraki, even the clothes she wore. All she had was Jorah and few Dothraki stragglers (and three baby dragons). Yet she believed in herself and prevailed. I don’t know if it’s right that her recent losses merit her complete plunge into madness. Yes, she’s lost a lot. (Jorah, Missandei, two dragons, half an army, and a romance with Jon). But she still had a lot! (Friendship with Jon, a dragon, half an army, various cities to the east under her influence, her health, her youth, etc.) There is nothing about King’s Landing or the Lannisters that should summon the degree of rage she exhibited, at least on the surface level. (I’m open to hear deeper, more psychological explanations tying in her unusual relationship with Westeros as her birth country, not to mention her murdered parents or messed up family life.)

I see this all as a healthy debate and I’m definitely not firmly on the critics’ side; I merely think such criticisms (at least as we’ve framed the debate) are healthy literary criticisms. I think I would only argue, as Josh has articulated for me, that we needed to see more psychic breakdown between the zombie battle and the King’s Landing battle.

Why do we know so little about socialism?

John Rawls: Reticent Socialist, by William A. Edmundson. Cambridge University Press, 2017. 212 pages.

I am going to propose an answer to the question that I raise in the headline: The reason we know so little about socialism is that, for two generations, since the era of Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan, the Overton window has been narrowed and pulled hard to the right. Socialism now lies outside the range of ideas tolerated in public discourse. Even Democrats are terrified of the word socialism, because it’s now a grenade word flung from the right to demonize and sabotage any idea that might reduce economic and political inequality or that might help the poor or hurt the rich. (Not that this is new. Decades ago, the right also saw the development of Social Security and Medicare as treacherous socialism.) The end of the Soviet Union in 1991 is believed to have been the last word on the viability of socialism.

Public discourse now holds that, on the matter of socialism, the case is closed. Yes, Bernie Sanders rudely brought up the subject. But few people really know what he might be talking about. If Sanders himself knows, he’s doing a very poor job of explaining it. The political problem for liberals seems to be, how can we make gains in justice and equality without being defeated at the outset by the s-word grenade?

But there is a very great irony here, though it is an irony that only the intelligentsia are aware of. That is that, while the idea of socialism was being driven out of public discourse, enormous progress in moral and political philosophy was being made behind the scenes, in academia. In 1971, John Rawls published A Theory of Justice. This book almost certainly will stand as the most important work of the 20th Century in moral and political philosophy. Rawls, in dialogue with other scholars, continued to develop his theory of justice throughout his life. He died in 2002. The year before his death, he published Justice as Fairness: A Restatement. Those were his last words on the subject.

Rawls’ theory of justice is still very active terrain in academia, though it rarely spills over into public discourse. Why is that? I would suggest that there are two reasons. The first is that justice as fairness lies outside the Overton window, and it is far too liberal to be tolerated in today’s public discourse. The second is that what has been written on the theory is very difficult to read. It is written by philosophers, for philosophers. I recently complained to a friend that, in other difficult subjects such as physics, we have science journalists who work to make progress in science known to the intelligent public. Scientists themselves often write books for lay readers. In philosophy, there is a wall between public discourse and the ivory tower. If there are journalists of philosophy, at least in English, I don’t know who they are. If you are, like me, an ordinary non-academic but motivated person, and you want to know about justice as fairness, you’ve got to climb a wall.

Edmundson’s John Rawls: Reticent Socialist, though it is as dense and difficult to read as Rawls, wants to make only one simple point. That is that Rawls eventually concluded that liberal democratic socialism is the only form of government that satisfies the requirements of justice as fairness. Five types of government are candidates. Four types fail: property-owning democracy, laissez-faire capitalism, welfare-state capitalism, and state socialism. (The Soviet Union, by the way, was an example of state socialism.)

Before Rawls, Karl Marx would have been the go-to source on socialism. The hippies of the 1960s had only Marx. (In fact, the hippies of the 1960s almost destroyed the manuscript for A Theory of Justice. Rawls was at Stanford University at the time, and the manuscript was in his office. In April 1970, students firebombed the building in which Rawls’ office was located. The adjoining office was completely destroyed. Rawls’ office had smoke and water damage. Rawls and his wife salvaged the soaked but legible manuscript, dried the pages, and retyped it.) After Rawls, I think it would be safe to say that Marx is now mostly obsolete and mostly of historical interest.

It would be similarly safe to say that, after Rawls, the previous state-of-the-art in moral philosophy is obsolete and has been replaced by justice as fairness. That would be utilitarianism, which boils down to the greatest good for the greatest number, a moral philosophy under which some can be permitted to suffer if it makes others better off. Justice as fairness does not allow the suffering of the few for the benefit of the many.

Of course Rawls has critics. It has been a while since I attempted a brief survey of arguments against Rawls. My impression, as I recall, was that many of Rawls’ critics are people such as academic theologians who don’t want what they see as the authority of “revealed” sources made obsolete and superseded by human reason.

Because Rawls almost never comes up in public discourse, it occurred to me to wonder how I became aware of Rawls in the first place. I believe that the answer to that is that Thomas Piketty refers to Rawls in Capital in the Twenty-First Century. There are four references to Rawls in that book’s index (only one is in the text; the other three are in the notes). The title of Rawls’ first book, A Theory of Justice, certainly would have caught my eye, and that’s probably when I looked into it and ordered the book from Amazon.

Rawls’ ideas — whether on justice as fairness or on socialism — are just too much for me to try to go into there. I can only encourage people to do their own reading. One reason that Rawls (not to mention Edmundson) is difficult to read is that there is a long list of concepts that must be understood. The concepts have names that often aren’t very helpful. For example, it’s not enough just to know the meaning of the English word “reciprocity,” because the term stands for a much more complicated concept in Rawls’ writing. Other terms are “the difference principle,” “fair value,” “the special psychologies,” “distributive justice,” “envy,” “excusable envy,” “ideal theory,” “non-ideal theory,” “lexical priority,” “the motivation principle,” “nearly just society,” “non-comparing groups,” “peace by satisfaction,” “perfectly ordered society,” “principle of continuity,” “pure procedural justice,” “pure ownership,” “reasonable pluralism,” “reconciliation requirement,” “reflective equilibrium,” “relative stability,” “restricted utility principle,” “self-esteem,” “self-respect,” “social minimum,” “socially dangerous extent,” “testamentary freedom,” “unusual risk aversion,” “well-ordered society,” and so on.

All of the above terms are of course defined somewhere, but the trick is to grasp the concept when you first encounter it and attach that concept to its term. I would suggest that anyone who wishes to read up on justice as fairness make a list of these terms as they are encountered, with one’s own notes on what they mean. The terms are used over and over again, and if you’ve forgotten the concept, then the text will be opaque.

The memory of relatively recent experiments in socialism (at least in the English-speaking world) also are being lost. I was born in 1948, and thus I have no memory of Clement Attlee, who followed Winston Churchill as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom in 1945. Attlee did deliver on his promise of bringing socialism to the United Kingdom. That form of government stood until Margaret Thatcher dismantled it. I know very little about this period, so a biography of Attlee and a history of that period in the United Kingdom are now on my reading list.

Ironically, academic philosophers are aware of how other and better alternatives to our current form of government are unknown to most people (though they’re doing next to nothing about it). Edmundson quotes Michael Walzer:

For many years now, I have been worrying about what might be called the cultural reproduction of the left. [I]n comparison with the different religious communities, the secular left does not seem able to pass on to its next generations a rich intellectual culture or an engaging popular culture. The tradition is thin. I worried about this with regard to the American left and also, in greater anxiety, with the regard to the Zionist left.

Indeed, the problem is general…. [C]ompare three national liberation movements — in India, Israel, and Algeria. In each case, the movement was secular and leftist; in each case, it succeeded in establishing a secular state; and in each case, this secular state was challenged some 30 years later by religious zealots. Three different religions but three similar versions of zealotry: modernized, politicized, ideological. The leaders of the secular liberationists, people like Nehru, Ben-Gurion, and Ben Bella, were convinced that secularization was inevitable — the disenchantment of the social world. But they did not succeed in creating a rich cultural alternative to the old religion. They thought they didn’t have to do that; modern science was the alternative. Modern science, however, does not produce emotionally appealing life-cycle celebrations or moving accounts of the value and purpose of our lives. That’s what religion does, and secular leftism, though often described on analogy with religion, has not been similarly creative.

What this all boils down to, I think, is that those of us on the left have a great deal of intellectual work to do. And, having done some of that work, it must be shared with the rational public.

I’ll attempt an analogy to cooking. I have sometimes made fun of some provincial Chinese restaurants in these parts after discovering that Mexicans are doing the cooking. That cooking is bound to be terrible, because the cooks don’t even understand what they’re trying to achieve. So it is with alternatives to our endangered American democracy, with its appalling injustices and its extreme economic and political inequalities. Something must be done about it. But we’re not even sure what we’re trying to achieve, or how to talk about it.

How did that happen? Partly, as Walzer said, we on the left have been doing a poor job. And partly it’s that the sheer meanness and glibness of the opposition, with their simple, cunning, and deceitful stories — have gotten way out ahead of us.

The left needs a clear vision of what it wants to achieve. The left needs the necessary concepts and language for a public discourse in which we can work out our differences, and for what Walzer calls “cultural reproduction.” And somehow this must be explained to the many, many people who would benefit but who have very hard heads addled by fundamentalist religion and opposition propaganda.

Restoring a vintage cast iron skillet

The 1940s skillet after stripping, scouring, and one seasoning treatment. It looks brand new!

I bought this vintage cast iron skillet at an antique shop in Stuart, Virginia, for $17. It’s a great skillet, and it was a good bargain, though it’s not as collectible as some vintage cast iron, which is very much a thing now. But, since I bought it to use, it would be hard to do better.

Back in March, I wrote here about my interest in returning to the iron age of cookware — chiefly cast iron for skillets and heavy copper for saucepans. But I also like Corning Visions glass pots for cooking with liquids, because glass is so inert.

Why do you want to cook with cast iron? Many people are returning to cast iron, after realizing that, properly seasoned, it’s the original non-stick cookware. The cast iron surface does not degrade if properly maintained, and so cast iron cookware is durable enough to become heirlooms (try that with Teflon).

If you look at vintage cast iron cookware on eBay, you’ll find that pieces made by the most respected manufacturers — Griswold and Wagner, for example — have become very valuable and very collectible. Why would anyone prefer the vintage cast iron cookware to the very good cast iron cookware manufactured today in the U.S. by Lodge?

The reason is a good one, actually. If you look at the surface of a new piece of Lodge ironware, you’ll see that it has a kind of sandy finish from the casting process. I believe it actually is cast in sand. Today’s Lodge ironware has not been polished, because polishing probably would double the cost. Most vintage ironware, however, has been polished. You can see the difference if you look closely.

If you look at the photo above, you’ll see that the cooking surface has a circular pattern. That pattern was made by a rotating polishing stone. That’s what you’re looking for in vintage ironware. The polished surface is smoother and makes the surface more non-stick than an unpolished sandy surface.

Because vintage ironware is a thing, if you Google you’ll find many good sources on how to restore and re-season old pieces and how to identify what you’ve found. After watching eBay for a while, I’d say that bargains are difficult to find there. Sellers know what they’ve got. You’re probably more likely to find vintage ironware at a good price in your local antique stores.

Notice that my new skillet is not stamped with the name of its manufacturer. However, there are some features that pretty conclusively identify the manufacturer and the date. There is no “Made in USA” stamp, which means that the skillet dates from the 1950s or earlier. The “7” is the size of the skillet. A No. 7 skillet is just over 10 inches wide at the top and is pretty much the right size to fit exactly on a large burner on a modern range. The “D” identifies the product type (though I don’t know what it stands for). But the identifying factors are the notches in the heat ring at 3, 9, and 12 o’clock. That makes it close to a certainty that this is a vintage Lodge skillet. It probably was made during the 1940s.

Lye, by the way, is very effective at stripping the old seasoning from a vintage skillet. Check the label, but most oven cleaners are made of lye. After stripping, the bare iron will be a kind of battleship gray. After seasoning, it will turn black. Though my new skillet had very minor amounts of rust, it wasn’t enough to cause a problem during restoration. Stripping and scouring (with steel wool) removed the rust. If you’re shopping for vintage ironware, watch out for pitting on the cooking surface or heavy rust — anything that makes the cooking surface less smooth. What you see in my top photo is pretty much ideal, if you’re buying the ironware to use for cooking. You’ll probably find that most old ironware has pitting or other damage. But with luck you may find an old jewel at a decent price.

How it looked when I brought it home — not bad!

The back of the skillet. Note the light rust after 4 o’clock and 9 o’clock, and the notches in the heat ring at 3, 9, and 12.

Light rust on the top edge of the skillet

Stripping the skillet with oven cleaner

Season 8, episode 4 (4 updates)

Ken Ilgunas and David Dalton are reviewing each episode of the final season of Game of Thrones. Check the “Game of Thrones” category to list all of these posts.

David:

Mornin’, Ken…

This beautiful episode reminds us that in spite of Game of Thrones’ achievements in world-building, plot-spinning, and politicking, it’s the characters that really matter. We got quality time with all of our favorite characters — those who remain alive, anyway — as they tried to wring some moments of fire-lit happiness out of the temporary peace. Even so, most of their hearts were broken by the end of the episode, which is of course what must happen in a story, if any are to end up permanently happy when the final curtain comes down.

With the death of Missandei, I don’t expect many more deaths (other than villains) in the last two episodes. Two or three more deaths of characters we love will be required to clear a path to the throne, in acts of violent payback and acts of self-sacrifice. But I think (or hope, anyway) that having brought the remaining characters this far, there will be no more deaths hereafter other than deaths that are strictly necessary to the plot.

At last we are focusing on the endgame of who will get the throne. The candidates are (or seem to be) Jon, Daenerys, and Cersei. Still, even with all the war and politics involved, the question of the throne comes down to relationships and character. Martin’s long investment in rich characters is paying a wealth of dividends as we approach the end. Viewers are being invited to take sides: Whom do we want to end up on the throne? After a long dry spell of Tyrion-Varys scheming, much of the analysis is done for us, and I can’t say that I disagree with it. Is Varys contemplating assassination?

As the end-plot unfolds, I think it’s useful to look at the motivations of the key characters to make predictions about who will do what. Grey Worm now requires atonement for the murder of Missandei. Arya and the Hound are probably on the way to to King’s Landing. Cersei, of course, is still on Arya’s list. The Hound is just the right person to kill Gregor Clegane, his monster brother (probably with some fire involved). Though Jaime gave us to believe that he was returning to King’s Landing to protect Cersei, he could just as easily kill her. Though Brienne (poor Brienne!) has a duty to protect Sansa, love will surely bring her back into the action (and, I hope, for a reunion with Jaime). Podrick will go with her. I’m guessing that Sam is out of the action now, and the wildlings, too. Gendry is now indebted to Daenerys and must join the action. Yara has dibs on killing Euron (slowly, one hopes). The awful Qyburn must die. As for who kills Qyburn, I can’t think of a better death for him than some contraption or creation of his own backfiring on him. Bronn will kill somebody; I just hope that it’s a villain. I’m afraid that we may lose Varys, not only because he is contemplating treason but also because his loyalty to the little people will demand a sacrifice. If Varys does die, we can expect him to make his death count. Bran seems superfluous at this point, yet surely he has a remaining part to play. With Sansa and Bran at Winterfell, the story must return there before the end. Daenerys is in a rage. That bodes ill for her future, because Daenerys is not a nice person when she’s in a rage.

The plot is now congealing. Like buttermilk being churned, with the small lumps of butter coming together into larger and larger lumps, the possible number of outcomes are now rapidly being reduced. And yet there is plenty of room to shock us and surprise us in the final episode.

Two mysteries: Is Cersei really pregnant by Euron, or is she only lying to him to motivate him? That will matter to Jaime. Tyrion asked Jaime about Brienne’s genitals. When Brienne unbuttoned her shirt, the camera turned away. There are three options, I suppose: that she is fully a woman; that her gender is ambiguous and intersex; or that she is physically male. I have no idea which. But we’re assured that it will be revealed. Brienne is the purest soul in the entire cast of characters. She is a Joan of Arc, living according to her inner lights and suffering because of her differences. That it should be so is a mark of George R.R. Martin’s genius. In all of literature, only the Arthur story can compete with Martin’s cast of characters.

Ken:

Morning David.

Last season ended with snowflakes falling over King’s Landing. Yet, in this episode, it looked like a warm day outside the walls of the capital, didn’t it? Winterfell didn’t look too winterly itself. Apparently, whether it’s White Walkers or winter, it doesn’t matter too much if they’re coming.

The show has invested for years in its characters, as you say, and it almost doesn’t matter if there a few glaring plot holes, so long as we get to follow them to their destinations for a few more hours.

I do think the series has mostly lost me, but this wasn’t a bad episode. It was fun to see some clever banter between Tyrion and Varys, and the political situation (for Dany especially) does indeed seem complicated and hard to predict. Stray thoughts…

– For having just faced about a million zombies, there was, in Winterfell, 1) remarkably little reflection on what the hell just happened, and 2) a remarkable number of survivors. I’m craving some Night King closure. And half the Unsullied survived?! At the end of the last battle, the zombies had overrun everything and the only survivors left were our favorite heroes with their backs against the wall. Also, where are all these hot northern women coming from? The north, by now, should be covered in a glacier embedded with a million rotting bodies, and the people should be suffering from famine, fatigue, and disease. Instead, Dany still has half of her resources and everyone’s shacking up in Winterfell.

– What is the point of Bran? For all his powers of warging and time-travel, he’s become a rather impotent character. What has he accomplished apart from a few reconnaissance missions and figuring out Jon’s parentage?

– Are the knights of the Vale still sitting out all the important battles?

– I would have preferred that Jaime and Brienne never have consummated their love with a sexual act. Theirs seemed to be a rare and special bond, one forged by admiration and a deeper, more complicated variety of love. Jaime was reborn in a way because of Brienne, whose purity of soul made him realize that some inner part of him still clung to the ideal of living a life of honor. And now they have some unprotected sex and Jaime leaves halfway through the night? Brienne deserves erotic love, too, but I would have liked the show to have celebrated a rare form of love (just as there have been rare sorts of characters to be loved), rather than just throwing two more characters in the sack together. It sort of cheapens something distinct.

– I take it that Jaime is still conflicted about what to do with his sister. The only sensible thing his character can do, now that he’s ever more soaking up the purity of Brienne, is to kill his sister.

– Varys does seem to be contemplating assassination! This is an interesting development, and it works because everyone is being true to their character and their character’s motivations.

– Our favorite commenter, Josh, once predicted that Dany’s purpose is to “break the wheel” of the constantly warring kingdoms in order to end the very idea of kingdoms. In this theory, perhaps Dany could do for Westeros what Charlemagne did with the many little kingdoms of Germany and France, which is to weaken all these little kingdoms to the point of obsolescence and unify them to form the one great Dark Age empire, the Carolingian Empire. However, Dany’s award of Storm’s End to Gendry seems to be a continuation of this old style of government, perhaps ruining this “wheel-breaking” theory. Maybe so, but I’d still love to see her final dragon melt the Iron Throne.

– How does this end? Dany has fewer and fewer allies. Will Westeros be the Carolingian empire or Brexit?

– Jon is acting as admirably as he can, though I’m not sure why he felt so compelled to tell his sisters the truth about himself. Ned Stark kept Jon’s genetics a secret for decades. Why can’t Jon?

– There’s no way Cersei has been impregnated by Euron. You’ll remember that she claimed she was pregnant well before she met Euron. (There’s the chance she’s been faking it all along, of course.) In any case, Euron should be wondering how Tyrion knew of Cersei’s pregnancy. This display of accidental knowledge could perhaps create some tension in the King’s Landing royal bedroom.

– Interesting theory about Brienne as a possible intersex character. If you watch the one scene where she gets naked in the hottub with Jaime (in season three, I believe), the camera cleverly left her body parts concealed, and I do recall a surprised look on Jaime’s face. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBb3Q8VdYas

– You’re a big Brienne fan. What would you have done with the Jaime/Brienne bond? Also, remind me to go on my rant about “Chekov’s gun.”

Update 1:

David:

I can agree with you that the transition from battle to drinking and shacking up was a bit abrupt. But we did have the pyre scenes for grieving and for properly paying respect to the dead. Life goes on — and in filmmaking I suppose it must go on a little more quickly than in books. But, as we’ve discussed before, I am all too eager to suspend disbelief and to accept what I’m shown without too much question (especially if I love the characters as much as I love the Game of Thrones characters).

The question you raise about Brienne’s purity and the consummation (I really dislike that loaded word) of the Jaime-Brienne relationship is worth some disputation. I must ask if you might be seeing their love through an Augustinian lens, a lens that very much informed the ethic of what I call the romantic myth, and the Arthur story. It’s an extremely weird lens, though our culture has internalized it and normalized it. In the Augustinian ethic, purity is a very high (and a very conservative) value. In that ethic, sex is a great defiler of purity. The right people get to do it, and their doing it is glorified and romanticized and celebrated. But others are forbidden to do it, and their doing it is condemned as wrong and shameful, and even unnatural. But the Augustinian lens is not the only lens, though it took over the world after Rome. There still exists a pagan lens, a kind of classical lens, the shreds of which survived the destruction of the classical world.

What kind of world is the Game of Thrones world, where sexual ethics are concerned? I was amused by what one of your readers on Facebook said about Game of Thrones: “Watching society approved PORNOGRAPHY and graphic violence? No Thanks. I think it also says alot about society where incest and other taboos are portrayed and enjoyed on a high ranking show. SMH.” Many people have been offended by sexual behaviors on Game of Thrones. Do you really want to join them? (I recognize that you’re not offended, that what you’re expressing is disappointment in an element of the story.)

You acknowledge that Brienne deserves erotic love, too. I would even say that she deserves it more than any other character. If she is so deserving, then would it be fair for us to want to withhold it from her or to expect her to sublimate it for some value that we regard as higher? Far from cheapening the relationship, I think that Jaime’s seduction of Brienne ennobled the relationship — and ennobled Jaime along with it. Jaime loves Brienne, though, having eyes only for Cersei, he does not seem to be in love with Brienne. Maybe Jaime saw that, regardless of where his destiny might take him next, knowing that Brienne was a virgin and that she loves him, and given that lots of people around them were getting laid, this night was Brienne’s night. Fundamental fairness demanded it. It was a wrongness to be righted. Jaime understood that fate had assigned him to give this gift to Brienne and to right the wrong. There exists an ethic in which honor requires it, rather than advises against it. Not that it was a chore, I’m guessing. One of my hopes, when the ending comes, is that Jaime and Brienne end up together, as unlikely as that seems.

Since I just ranted, please rant about Chekov’s gun!

Update 2:

Ken:

In regard to the Brienne and Jaime night together, you make good points! If there is indeed admiration, desire, and attraction, then sure, go for it… I suppose I’d thought their love for one another was of a completely different sort that didn’t involve the erotic. And we, as the audience of a mainstream show, so seldom get to see unconventional sorts of love (between same-age male and female characters) in our shows, films, and books. There’s part of me that didn’t want this rare relationship to stray into conventional romantic territory (and the woman crying after the man departs the bedroom early is indeed a romantic trope).

I don’t think my criticism comes from a place of prudishness or from an Augustinian perspective. (I’m not one to cover my eyes when there’s nudity.) I merely hoped that the show, which pairs naked people together willy nilly, would celebrate and preserve a different kind of love without putting the two of them in bed together. Surely non-sexual and platonic relationships must have existed in pre-Roman times. If it was in Brienne’s character all along to want this, then my interpretation was simply wrong.

On a high-altitude note, I’d argue that we don’t always need to give our characters what they need. When we send them off on their own in two weeks, when the show ends, we need to give our characters new quests and unsatisfied desires that they’ll seek in the afterlife of the show. We can’t just have them all settle into a warm bath, which would have been the case if Arya partnered up with Gendry.

Okay, my Chekov’s gun rant, which I generously borrow from Jeva Lange’s recent piece for The Week.

Lange introduces a nice principle: the “Chekov’s gun” principle. Chekov reportedly said, If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired. Otherwise don’t put it there.

There are too many Chekov guns in GoT. The Valyrian steel barely played a role. Same with the dragon glass. Or what about the Night King’s swirly symbol, which the whole series began with? Lange points out how the Wall (which had magical spells in it, according to a previous episode) is another. Bran’s whole character may be a Chekov’s gun. (It’s not at all clear to me why Bran is so important, especially after he relayed Jon Snow’s secret.) Isn’t “Winter is coming” a Chekov’s gun, too?

I almost feel like Chekov’s gun is a good metaphor for the whole show. You have characters like Beric and Theon and Jorah go on these long complex story arcs that could end in the most poignant ways that somehow “complete” their stories, but these arcs all end in symbolically-impoverished ways, and the only reason we feel something (and we definitely feel something) is that we love and have been with these characters for ten years.

Beric is brought back from the dead twenty times. Jorah is a slave-trader, then a slave, then an infected greyscale patient. Theon goes from hothead, to Iron Islander, to killer, to… You get the rest. These are amazing character arcs and their deaths should somehow complete their stories. Rather, the writers just randomly threw out some sorta-tragic sacrificial endings for these characters hoping they’d accidentally nail it.

Bran saying “You’re a good man” before Theon’s last run with a spear isn’t good enough to tie up Theon’s whole story. I’d almost rather he die in futility, maybe in the middle of battle, by friendly fire, or something random. Because then the story at least has something to say about futility and randomness and it would throw the whole end of the show into question again: Is Martin a nihilist and is this going to end the worst possible way? That’s horrible for Theon’s arc, but it would have done amazing things for the show, the same way Ned Stark’s death did. Same with the Red Wedding.

Instead, we get our heroes dying the way heroes have died in a thousand stories, like Jorah dying beside his beloved queen. It’s not a terrible ending, but it’s not the right ending. It’s just like the writers looked back and asked, “Well what death makes most sense for Jorah given where he’s come from?” rather than having it all preplanned.

The moment when Hodor dies holding the door was one of the most amazing moments in the series. The meaning behind the character’s name was decided practically before the first books were written. That moment is so special, not just because we lose a character; it’s special because we’re witnessing an amazing, beautiful, one of a kind storyteller create something so complex and beautiful and perfect. We got none of that in the battle episode, and I’m not sure we’re going to see it again for the rest of the series.

Update 3:

David:

I think you are quite right about Chekov’s gun. It seems I’m always making excuses for HBO, but…

Maybe the presence of too many Chekov’s guns is a consequence of making the series one season at a time, with future seasons unwritten and incompletely planned before production began. In book writing, it’s easy enough to make a single volume consistent with itself, just by going back and editing in fixes after you reach the end. But it’s a much bigger problem to preserve continuity with as-yet unwritten future volumes, unless everything is planned out in advance to the last detail. Martin’s troubles, and delays, with the last two volumes suggest that he did not have everything planned out. If that’s the case, then he had to put in foreshadowings that he thought he might need, even if ultimately he didn’t use them and they ended up as Chekov’s guns. Probably both Martin and HBO are guilty of this.

The way to do it right is the way Tolkien did it — write all of it before the first word is published. Even so, after the first edition, Tolkien made changes and corrections as the letters came in from readers pointing out inconsistencies and continuity problems.

I can forgive an awful lot of imperfection. Games of Thrones was a huge, huge project.

Update 4:

Ken:

I agree that Tolkien’s process is the way to do it. But I’m guessing GoT will in the end be something like eight times the length of Lord of the Rings. Is a story as big as GoT (told properly) even possible to accomplish by one person? And do we have examples of other people competently taking over for the original writer when he or she passes? If Martin wrote all seven books at once, then that sounds like an almost thirty year project. No publisher will ever give an advance to an author that would cover thirty years of living, so writers simply are unable, economically, to pull something like this off. You have to publish them piecemeal to make money and survive.

I think the GoT TV series had a tight, interwoven story line for the first six seasons, when they were relying mostly on Martin’s old material. Things began to fall apart in Season Seven, when the dialogue sparkled less, when the political decisions got dumber, when key characters were being conveniently resurrected from the dead… We keep watching these last two seasons simply because we love the characters and because we’re hoping it’ll all fit together in the end, and I’m arguing that it already isn’t fitting together.

Questions… You have written two, going on three, sci-fi books that are part of a trilogy, but you are publishing them piecemeal. Do you wish you waited to finish the trilogy first, so that you could have developed long, rich, and wickedly complex narrative arcs? (Not to say that yours aren’t, but you know what I’m saying…) Is creating a super long and elaborate series like GoT (or at least the GoT we really want) humanly possible? Do you think we’ll see another story that’s as long as (and perhaps more complete) GoT in our lifetimes? How do you think GoT will be remembered in thirty years? Is there any possibility they’ll do a remake in thirty years when they have more material from Martin? Or is the problem with Martin, who may have bitten off more than he can chew?

David:

I am still unwilling to use language as strong as “fall apart.” I actually thought that the dialogue in Season 7 was quite good, partly because of the superb and sparing use of English. But I agree that, once HBO outran Martin’s books, trouble was bound to happen. That outrunning never should have occurred. The reason, I assume, is that Martin missed his deadlines. Still, what Martin is doing is not something that can be rushed.

My own novels: Absolutely. I would love to be able to revise Fugue in Ursa Major (book 1 of the series) to align everything better — including the quality of the writing — with Oratorio in Ursa Major (book 2). But once a book is out the door, you can’t take it back. Still, I had done enough planning to know where things were going, and I think that I got the foreshadowing at least approximately right. As you no doubt are pointing out, to write and release the books of a series piecemeal is a dangerous process, and some things — small things, one hopes — are bound to go wrong, or at least could have been done better.

Maybe this is one reason why I am so forgiving of HBO and Martin. Perfection in a work of fiction is simply too much to ask for. If you asked me to name a perfect work of science fiction — my preferred genre — I believe that the only book that I would be able to name would be Frank Herbert’s Dune, and maybe Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game. And yet book two of the Dune series was so full of flaws that I lost interest and stopped reading it. The followup books of the Ender series also were weak. Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series is extremely good and is of consistent quality through the series. But it is hardly without flaws. At the moment I am trying to read Brian Aldiss’ White Mars, which Aldiss co-wrote with Roger Penrose, whom I regard as the greatest living physicist. But White Mars is an embarrassingly terrible novel, Aldiss’ reputation notwithstanding. Still, I will soldier on because I want to know how Penrose’s ideas shaped the novel, because I believe that Penrose is willing to say in fiction what he dare not say (but suspects) as a physicist.

One of the sad things about getting older and having spent one’s life reading fiction is that it gets more and more difficult to find novels that are fully mesmerizing and that sweep you away the same way you were swept away as a young person. The first three books of Martin’s Game of Thrones series did that for me. But book 4 (I know that you don’t agree with me on this) began to meander, in my opinion, and started to preen on the sound of its own words. Even if you like book 4 of the Game of Thrones series, I’d still argue that such a change of style and narrative mid-series is wrong. My suspicion (and, again, I know that you don’t agree with me on this, and I respect that) was that Martin started padding his writing in book 4 to make two books (and more money) out of what should have been one book.

But my bottom line here is that, if I didn’t forgive fiction writers for their sins and shortcomings, then I’d have next to nothing to read and would therefore live in a state of existential poverty.

All the questions you raise about Martin and Game of Thrones in your last paragraph above are extremely good questions. I think that the only response I’ll venture for now is that the Game of Thrones series already is a classic in the same category as Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. If Martin’s final two books diverge significantly from HBO’s version, then I will long for a remake sometime in my lifetime. Though Peter Dinklage is an American (and has the flawed princely accent to prove it), the GoT series deserves a future remake just to give a fresh set of those incredible British and Irish actors a chance to shine. Like you, I identify with writers (who are under-appreciated) more than actors (who get all the glamour and glory). But the ability of those islands to produce such brilliant actors and actresses and to astonish us with what the English language can do — that’s some kind of miracle, above and beyond the miracle of writing the story in the first place.

Vegan burger report (updated)

Click here for high resolution version.

Not only did this vegetarian burger greatly exceed my expectations, it was so convincing that I felt disgusted with myself after eating it, as though I really had snarfed down a big belly load of pink-in-the-middle beef. This is the “Beyond Burger” from Beyond Meat.

As a near-vegetarian, I can face beef only when it is well done. When I took the first bite of this burger and saw that the burger was pink inside, I felt a wave of nausea. I had to fish the package out of the recycling bin to reassure myself that I was eating pea protein and beet juice. Though the burger seemed undercooked to me, I realized that it was not undercooked and that putting it back on the grill would not make the pink go away. Not only had I given the burger three minutes on each side according to the instructions, the burger had caught fire on the grill from the olive oil with which I basted it.

The olive oil was not necessary, though. There is coconut oil in the burger — and probably other ingredients — that ensure that it doesn’t go dry during cooking.

I’m guessing that Burger King’s version, which is made by a different company — Impossible Foods — is even more convincing than the “Beyond Burger” by Beyond Meat. That’s because the Burger King version, rather than beet juice, uses a cultured “heme” made from soybean roots that is chemically similar to blood. Like the Impossible Burger, Burger King’s burger also has little particles of coconut oil in it to take the place of fat.

Burger King’s market-testing of the Impossible Burger in the St. Louis area has gone so well that all Burger King’s will carry it by the end of the year.

Vegetarian patties aimed at vegetarians have been around for ages, of course. They were not intended to be convincing meat analogs. Some of them are pretty good. But what’s new here is that the market is now going after committed meat-eaters, with burgers so convincing that they won’t know the difference.

I got these burgers at Whole Foods. The patties are little too thick for me. I prefer thinner diner-style burgers. Next time I’ll slice the patty in half.

Update: Beyond Meat, a plant-based food company, surges 163 percent after IPO