Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

I finally got the new Imaginarium Geographica book (The Shadow Dragons) for Christmas (even though it came out in October…I’m a little behind). And naturally, like I usually do with series, I reread the first three books before reading the fourth. The fourth definitely upheld the standards of the previous books and, as usual, contained a very interesting mixture of references to mythology, literature, history, and even pop culture. Of course, given the nature of the main characters, the entire story has a very Western slant – I suppose I should say a white Western male slant. I suppose it really is unavoidable – I studied English literature and music history fairly extensively in college, and most of what we studied were dead white Europeans and Americans, their works, and a little of the ancient civilizations who creatively influenced them (namely Greek). The author even addresses it, although it does not change the fact that the slant exists, not just in these books, but in most of our Western literature and in our culture. And they are very enjoyable books, and I can see how it would be impossible to contain all of the world’s mythology and literature in just a few novels aimed at Western young adults who, if they know any mythology or literature at all, most likely are familiar with the Western tradition. There are a few references that don’t lie within the Western tradition, namely the presence of an Eastern religious term here and there. Let’s face it – we in the West like to trumpet our own cultural greatness (perhaps, in part, because we took over most of the known world and imposed our own culture upon it). I guess part of me just wants to see more in the Archipelago that is, say…Australian/Oceanic, or African, or Native American. Even India and Asia are underrepresented. But that is just the nature of the Western creative world, and I don’t really see how he could write his books differently (nor would I necessarily say he should). And since most of it is from the perspective of his three main characters, it necessarily has to reflect their academic, cultural, and personal interests as well as their education and the world that they know (a Western one). The books are what they are, and they are spectacular and enjoyable and a wonderful romp. (Although I would question his choice of the musician-Caretaker, Schubert…I like Schubert as much as the next music major, but there are other Romantic composers that I would have thought better suited to the job – though it is hard to think of a Romantic composer who wouldn’t be suited. But that’s just me and my insignificant musical preferences.)

I haven’t been able to put my finger on it, but when I read the last two lines of the Author’s Notes at the end of The Shadow Dragons (“And as for the Principal Caretakers themselves, I’ve already written how they can be identified: They carry the silver watches with the red Chinese dragon on the case….Just like mine.”) at three in the morning, it really rubbed me the wrong way. And since then I’ve been trying to figure out why. As I’ve said previously, I really like these books and highly respect the creativity, imagination, and intelligence that have been liberally poured into them. I realize that an author has to have an immense amount of self-confidence in himself and has to believe strongly in himself and in his work – and has to promote his beliefs to others. But it’s been obvious to me since I read the first book years ago that the author considers himself a Caretaker. As he should – it doesn’t matter if the story is literally real or not, as it is real so long as it happens and continues happening in the mind of the author and the reader. It is clear that he sees himself as following in the footsteps of a great literary tradition. And he is. Most authors either align themselves with the literary tradition and embrace it wholeheartedly, try to rebel against it (and thus more firmly establish the tradition in defining exactly what they are rebelling against), or do some creative mixture of the two. And I see nothing wrong with any of these things.

I guess part of what bothers me is that, in presenting the fact that he has a watch, he is attempting to prove something. And that brings me back to one of the many problems in Male Western Culture. We think that we have to prove everything rationally, including ourselves and the world around us. But he doesn’t have to prove that he is a Caretaker with an object, a symbol. His works speak for themselves. He speaks often enough about the powers of faith and belief in his books – he doesn’t have to prove anything to anybody so long as he believes in the power of his words. I mean, I have a silver pocket watch with a dragon on the case, but I’m afraid that in my case, all it means is that I prefer to tell the time with a pocket watch and that I am fond of dragons and what they represent.

The last line especially seems arrogant to me, although I’m sure it was not meant to be taken that way. Let’s face it – the books are about an elite group of privileged individuals, almost all of them male, white, Western, and well-educated. And as I have said, I love the books, and I love the individuals represented in those pages (who doesn’t love all those dead white authors, poets, artists, and musicians whose lives were filled with oh-so-interesting contradictions and who invariably died of syphilis?)…but as one of the past Caretakers pointed out in the fourth book, “some are more equal than others”. (A chilling Animal Farm moment that was humorous in context but has deeper implications for the work as a whole.) And the author does a fairly good job of almost poking fun at the fact that his group of Caretakers is as elite as it is as well as addressing the problem in the story itself through character dialog and several of the story’s conflicts. But nonetheless, there IS an inherent macho arrogance in Western culture – the harmful and prideful belief that we are chosen, special, great. Authors invariably have to be self-promoting – otherwise they are not successful. But he has said in his books that it is better to be a good man who aspires to do great things than a man who only aspires to be great. As I said previously, I’m sure that single closing line was not meant to be read in such a fashion…so why does it trouble me?

It is just an innocent, conclusive statement that draws the author into his own tradition. And it should not bother me. But something about it twists something on the inside of me, and I’m still not entirely sure why.