#03 The Dispatch
A Disappointing Read, The Delights of Cine-Theatre, plus My Brush with a Naruto NPC
What have I been up to lately writing wise? Commissions and collaborations! Huzzah! It’s been such a beautiful experience finishing up my first ever published piece which took a lot out of me emotionally (you'll see why when it's announced in the coming weeks). But it's also been great working with and writing for other people. Plus it's nice when you’re given free reign to write about the shit you love (and don’t); there's a certain joyous freedom lent by that trust. Anyway, keeping most of these details under wraps but they will be revealed in due course!
As I’ve mentioned before in TIDBITS, I’m working in a new job and my Masters is ramping up so I'll be entirely honest by letting you know that I don't know what this space is going to look like over the next four months. I want it to be as fluid as possible. I think I’ve also come to the realisation that I am not as creatively open or as adventurous as I like on here and that is for one main reason: I keep most of my best stories, chiefly fantasy and sci-fi, for competitions and journals and I’m constantly submitting them with the same zeal as how the Socialist Alternative give out rally flyers.
Would I like to share these stories with you? Of course! But I do want to hold onto them until I can find them published homes because I believe in them and I love them.
And in other news, the people spoke. The Dispatch will continue to be released monthly! They’re big boys but that’s fine. I feel like a 19th century Russian writer. For those who are new to this space (and the reason you get a free preview only), The Dispatch is where I write about what I’ve been up to: the things I’m reading, the TV and movies I’m watching, and the author talks and readings I’m going to. Oh and medieval festivals. Definitely that. They’re usually for paid subscribers only because a lot more work goes into these than my other work but since this month’s newsletter is so late, I will be making it free for the first week only.
Anyhow, with a flourish I hand you your menu for the glorious month of September because it is a reduced menu; as in there is only an appetiser, a main course and a takeaway dessert. Part of me reflecting on my energy and creative capacity was acknowledging that doing five mini essays is genuinely exhausting. I would rather do two and a half well than five half-arsed so please enjoy a delicious (and refined) pairing.
Strong World Houses Flat Characters: The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi
Research, research, how I love thee! Thine foundations of chalk and stone! Thine permanence of writ and ink; thine ephemerality of deposed kings and changing borders. I think research is easily the most underrated part of fantasy world-building. Sure, new shit is cool. I'm a sucker like the next person for cool concepts, sick currency, bizarre cultural customs like sneezing into a river on the fourth day of every harvest moon or amazing conlangs with dizzying grammar.
But! The humble research of history will always trump the future It is easier to see where we are going if we look at where we have come from.
I've read a lot of nonfiction historical books lately and let me tell you, George R. R. Martin's worldbuilding is just the history of England plus dragons and zombies. The Lannisters? That's the Lancasters. King's Landing is King's Langley (no surprises there). The Targaryens are just the Plantagenets. The Old Ways in the North is longstanding paganism. The Wall is Hadrian's Wall (minus the Hadrian bit). What appears like incredible worldbuilding is actually just good research, and it’s clear from the outset that this book has indeed been meticulously researched.
The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty is set in the 12th century and follows a pirate by the same name who is pulled from motherhood and retirement for one last job. We are plunged pretty much straight into a swashbuckling world that takes us from modern day Oman and Yemen to Somalia and even the island of Socotra. And it’s here that I applaud Chakraborty on what she does best: setting a scene. Food, smell and textiles are used with arresting effect; she makes you feel as though you are in the bustling markets of medieval Mogadishu, you believe the sparkling pools of Aden, the heat of Salalah.
It’s something that I particularly loved about The Daevabad Trilogy, how visceral and alive all of it felt. And I enjoy that sensory delight more than anything. One thing I hate about modern (YA and romance) fantasy is that the setting and the sensory is woefully underdeveloped. It’s all skinny jeans bad boy this and Ryle or Rylan or Rylacard that, and never about merchant laws or taxation systems or the kind of mouth-watering food that won’t spoil on a ship. Amina al-Sirafi has this in spades.
And historical examples of famous women pirates? Look no further than Sayyida al Hurra, Jean de Clisson, Ching Shih, and Anne Bonny. The stories have been written. We are simply breathing new life (and magical brethren like ifrit and djinn) into it. Like I said before, history informs fantasy in the most delightful and powerful of ways. I also particularly enjoyed the setup of the villain being a Western Crusader, considering how heinous the Crusades were. I think it’s a fantastic and important storyline, and especially enjoyed how dark and insidious our spectral brushes with him were — particularly that gnarly coin in throat scene. That was crazy.
But this is where my love of it ends: the characters were flat, there was no wind in our sails to carry us forward. I found my interest waning so quickly it felt like our oarsmen had run out of puff. And then my partner suggested I put it down and walk away and that was the end of that.
There is nothing more that ticks me off than being told. And I get that Chakraborty was going for an epic ballad narration where things are stated in that flat, lyrical way (similar to Lapvona which also did not pull it off very well) but it came across like being bludgeoned over the head with a sack of rocks. It’s the reason I nearly flung my copy of Throne of Glass and Crescent City across the room with the bellow of a wounded animal; Stop! Bloody! Telling! Me! It’s so boring. I’m going to write about this writing style phenomenon soon by the way so I can further increase my suffering.
Anyway– you may tell me that you were the most fearsome pirate in the Indian Ocean until you are blue in the face and yet I still do not believe you if I never see that in action. The character of Tinbu was entirely ruined for the same reason; we got his entire backstory as reported speech and it made me cringe. There was no discovery, which leads me to my second point: characterisation through action.
Example A:
John Smith is a dickhead and a scabby arse. His date was not impressed.
Example B:
John Smith laughs, his open mouth full of food. “But this is the problem with women’s sports,” he says. “They don’t attract the same kind of crowds. The talent just isn’t there.” He drains the dregs of his beer before standing up. “Anyway, you mind grabbing the bill? I don’t get paid till Tuesday.”
Example A isn’t actually bad. The statement of facts can be used with great creative effect. But if it’s all we are constantly fed without any Example B’s then it gets tiresome pretty quickly. I can only be told John Smith is a dickhead so many times before I begin to lose interest. And likewise we are told a million times that Amina is the world’s most fearsome pirate, how people quake in their boots; how she wins over sexist crews and earns their trust– but we never actually get to see any of it in action. I don’t believe the crew told her of their families, and likewise I don’t believe she missed her beloved ship, the Marawati. Where is her interaction with it? Worrying over it in a way that helps us feel we’ve got two feet planted on the deck?
Action is a vital part of characterisation otherwise we are left with what we had in this novel; a hollowness and a thinness that belies a lack of knowledge of character other than painting them as bad archetypes. Fearsome ring leader? Check. Sassy and sexy sidekick? Check. Loveable trickster? Check. Poorly developed child that we’re supposed to care about? Check. I didn’t even get to the Bad Boy Ex Lover part but I am assured that it doesn’t get much better. The writing was more akin to YA than it was adult fantasy and I am disappointed. It treats the audience like we are stupid. I don’t need to be served the main themes or the characterisation on a silver platter. Trust that I will follow where you lead me.
At best it was boring and at worst I simply didn’t care about anyone which is genuinely surprising. The Daevabad Trilogy had such rich characterisation that I wonder what went wrong during the writing process of this one? I personally think an editor needed to take a scalpel to it with force and precision. It needed so much work and it felt like it had perhaps been rushed. The pacing was incredibly poor as were the moments of action and tension. The entire thing felt like a debut novel, something you don’t want to feel from an author who’s finished a popular trilogy.
All in all it was incredibly disappointing and I’m sad I didn’t love it more. There were so many ingredients that could have made it a punchy, stand-alone hit yet it fell woefully short. I do expect more of authors than just the dizzying lights of worldbuilding— you just need strong characters to support such a heavy burden. The Fifth Season does this beautifully. And it’s hard when your gold standard of fantasy is just so damn good.
Coen's The Tragedy of Macbeth and why I love Chiaroscuro
For those who don’t know, I actually worked in the film industry before I left to pursue my Masters and writing. It’s something that I am always so hesitant to write about but I think it does beg to be talked about although I will lead up to something more concrete and fleshed out. In the interim, here are my unfiltered thoughts.
The industry will suck you up and spit you out like a husk and films like The Tragedy of Macbeth are a once in a lifetime opportunity for crew to work on something meaningful. I haven’t been this excited about a film since David Lowry’s The Green Knight. I also want to take a moment and say that I stand in full solidarity with the strike and this review is in no way endorsing anything otherwise.
My partner still works in film and has been directly affected by it, as have our friends. It’s been pretty tough to watch folks lose all work and income, especially in a country that undervalues the arts so much and there’s little to no support available. It’s absolutely amazing to see people take a stand against these heinous conditions (and indeed they are soul crushing), I only wish execs would listen. Maybe then the people at the bottom of the food chain who are the most vulnerable wouldn’t suffer so much.
And back to the review.
Controversially I actually quite liked Justin Kerzel’s cinematic version of Macbeth with Michael Fassbender and Marion Cotillard although critics disagreed with me. And I was happy for that to be my favourite version until we sat down one night whilst housesitting to watch it. I was hopeful, so desperately hopeful: I love Denzel and Frances and I was so afraid of being disappointed that I had literally put off watching it for years. But we decided fuck it and to bite the bullet.
The Tragedy of Macbeth was inspired, electric, sharp and is easily the best interpretation I've seen. Denzel's Macbeth felt like an old horse of war; slow to start, difficult to manage once set on the path, and bone-weary by the end. He felt tired from the beginning in a way that was delightful to watch, as though he had drowned his ambition in labour and graft only to rediscover it again in his greying years with an itch that runs down to the bone. This kind of layered performance is such a delight to peel back. It’s also nice to see older actors in the roles; the dialogue becomes more believable, acquires greater depth and richness.
Two particular performances which stand out as evidence of why we need to stop employing young, beautiful actors is Macbeth’s /Is this a dagger I see before me?/ and Lady Macbeth’s /Out, out damn spot!/.
Denzel brings a simmering intensity to this soliloquy, even somewhat meditative, keeping his emotions so tightly in check that he is a violin string ready to snap. Frances rubbing her hands in the waters of a fountain sucks in air as she delivers her lines, eats them out of existence and terror.
I’m also going to add an honourable mention to her /I have given suck/ monologue which is my favourite part of the play to read but my least favourite seeing performed. It is always bastardised as some sort of mythological temptress, “I’m so crazy and wicked,” which in its modern iteration is yassified witch bullshit. But Frances isn’t angry, she’s pleading, cajoling. She’s desperately trying to communicate the stakes, warn how far she will go if need be. Their performances were so tender, so enmeshed that I believed in their love. It was brilliant.
There were a number of inspired performances such as Alex Hassell’s Ross (His Dark Materials) who speaks Shakespeare as easily as breathing. I also adored Corey Hawkins’ (In the Heights) Macduff and Moses Ingram’s (Obi-Wan Kenobi) Lady Macduff whose passions and tenderness made /All my pretty chickens/ hurt all the more. Kathryn Hunter’s (Andor) Witch/Witches, however, is a performance that should be studied in both film and drama studies.
Never have I seen such a symbiotic relationship between performance and camera work. The use of the body to literally ‘embody’ her in the trio was electrifying, as was the twitching flightiness of the crow motif. Her performance felt heavily inspired by Lecoq and Laban; there was a leading with the wrists and the neck, a focus on joints as tissue and connection. Connection to the witches, connection to flesh, connection to the corporeal, death and the dying.
We don’t often get crones played by crones, nor do we allow them such bodily freedom. Hunter’s performance was a huge fuck you to traditional depictions of both witches and women in their old ages. I also want to know which yoga classes she’s going to to get that flexible.
Something that gothic literature can teach film is the idea of mise-en-scène or sets as characters. Get deeper into sets less as aesthetics but as dramaturgy. The ‘starry night sky’ was literally a set with fake stars, and yet only enhanced the film’s materiality and self-reflexivity. I think this is something only theatre can achieve; such a suspension of disbelief. And Coen’s choice to lean into the form of theatre, to show it under such harsh relief almost renders its limitations blind. Acknowledging its 'set-ness' erases what we cannot achieve and we are suddenly far more generous in what we will and won’t accept as audiences. It is meaning-making in a collaborative sense.
This harsh relief of sets, soaring plaster and stone facades was bolstered by the choice (and dare I say commitment) to Chiaroscuro which only enhanced that gothic sense of place as personnage.
Macbeth is so nightmarish, the boundaries between sleep and wakefulness so fraught that it is a defining theme of the play. So the choice of such strong and even alienating lighting steeps the theatre of it all in something akin to sleep paralysis where demons lurk in the shadows and eyes are watchful in the gloaming. It’s almost like relegating the play to the printing block— to the broad and murky ink of history where characters are both mythical yet tangible.
The use of Chiaroscuro also lends itself to the shadowy underbelly of Macbeth; the lurking shadow of his ambition, the foreshadowing of the witches’ prophecy, the candlelight by which he kills Duncan, the haunting spectres like Banquo, and the damning light of Lady Macbeth’s midnight wanderings.
It’s such an inspired choice that it feels like it should have always been this way, or that there is no other way to do it. I think even leaning into the film noir aspect is something that needs to be entertained, if only for a moment. Is Macbeth not the brooding detective? Lady Macbeth his femme fatale? (Even though this role is heavily subverted).
And do they not leave a string of bodies in their wake?
My Brush with a Naruto NPC; a very very very short (but true) story
I met an NPC in the wild today.
Up close, personal. How did I know he was an NPC? Well I’m not actually sure, but he had the same unhinged energy as a Skyrim guard who is trying to fight you but also walk into a wall, aka totally bizarre. I wasn’t expecting to have a boss fight so early in the morning— I hadn’t even had my decaf long black yet but by the end I was left feeling as though I’d snorted a packet of Wizz Fizz. Anyway, it started like this:
I was late as usual for the train and I bundled myself out of the car, tripping over my bags as I ran. I had two options: go left and take the longer route via the stairs or go right and take the lift. The lift happened to be rattling down to ground level and the opportunity shone like the Red Sea itself had parted. I did the quick maths, 2+2=5, surely if I jump into this lift I’ll get to the concourse in twenty seconds giving me a final ten to make my train.
So I dove for my chance, skidded to a halt waiting for the doors to open, except there was someone in my way: a short, nuggety, blonde teenager dressed in all black who was also waiting for the lift. I didn’t think much of him, at first. I entered the lift behind him casually, normally. I entered the lift lift-ily. My thoughts were still on the fact that my train had already pulled into the station and his abominably slow walking was kind of eating into my frantic running time. I entered into the small, confined lift with this small, nuggety boy, and waited with baited breath for the doors to shut.
But then he surprised me by swinging around with a blazing hard stare, before clenching his fist and violently punching the button panel like he was a shonen villain in an anime.
I think this was meant to be his Joker moment. His unhappy Joaquin Phoenix love child because he’s angry at the world or something, I’m not really sure. I didn’t really feel like doing Therapy 101 for this misunderstood teen. In fact, I was bloody annoyed.
Because it turns out he’d swung so hard he had actually missed the button he was meant to press. And so I did the only sane thing available to me in a situation where you actually witness someone behaving like they have dark assassin backstory and not a school report card. I wrinkled my face in disgust and said something.
“Jesus fucking Christ, why can’t you just press the button normally? Here,” and then I showed him how to press it gently, the way most people press a button in a lift.
He began breathing heavily behind me to intimidate me like he was powering up for his super move, probably PATHETIC DRAGON ROAR or something like that. He’s really fed up with the state of things and I was probably going to be inspo for his Jared Leto Joker forehead tattoo. Yeah, that one. And I was entirely aware that this little nuggety boy could turn out to be a violent little nuggety boy but by this point I was not only late for my train and bloody annoyed— but now I was fucking angry.
I felt my heart rate increase and my breath hitch. I’d been in this situation countless times before, ears straining, waiting for the moment of inevitable violence. I was ready in case he drew an extra special Yu-Gi-Oh! card like Mountain Dew Deluxe. But instead, the doors clanged open and I sprinted off without looking back. I had a train to catch, (spoiler alert, I did make it in time, huzzah!) leaving Naruto NPC in my manic wake.
My only regret is that I didn’t have a pink love heart sabre so I could wink before disappearing in a puff of butterfly smoke. That would have been tops.
From Team Yazmin, blasting off again,
Stay sexy.
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Finally a big thank you for helping me become even more insufferable because now I can actually introduce myself as a writer. Where’s my Eau de Toilette in the scent ‘Fart’???
A big yes to believing in your work and waiting for the right time to release it!! The Fifth Season is my go-to fantasy rec and I will shout about how much I love it until I am blue in the face. Literal perfection.
Omg when you’re talking about characterization all I could think about was the fifth season too. “The Fifth Season does this beautifully. And it’s hard when your gold standard of fantasy is just so damn good.”
It’s so true I’m looking for another fifth season everywhere