Gluey Tart: Mary Sues

This post is part of a roundtable on Mary Sues. You can read the rest of the posts here.

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Frankly, I resent being forced to think about the concept of the Mary Sue. As a writer of fan fiction, it’s something I’ve come across. Thought about. But not, like a certain number of my brethren, complained bitterly about.

Here’s the thing. Tastes differ. My Mary Sue might be your favorite original character ever. I’m not going to say both of us are right. Well, I sort of am, God help me, but I promise to be snarky about it.

There are literary standards. Some writing is good, and some writing is bad. Just because some people enjoy lousy writing (you say Danielle Steele, I say John Updike; neither one of us gets to call anything off), it’s still lousy writing. But. If lots of people enjoy it, good on ’em. I don’t have to read it. It’s especially easy in fan fiction, which is online, and behold! There is a miraculous thing called the back button. You don’t have to invest $20 in the thing and then realize it sucks. Or that you don’t like it. Or both. You scan a bit, you say, “Oh, God, I’m going to scoop my brain out with a melon baller if I have to read another word of this,” and you hit the back button. Problem solved. If only all disputes could be handled so easily!

Of course, it can’t be that easy in the fan fiction universe, either. In addition to “Mary Sue,” there is another term fan fiction will quickly acquaint you with. That term is “wank.” “Wank” is what happens when fangirls come together to defend their particular worldview against anyone who might see anything about their chosen fandom differently than they do. People get upset. People talk about how stupid and horrible and possibly evil the person who got it wrong is. Nastiness bubbles to the surface like gas escaping from six-month old chili in the back of the refrigerator (sadly, I know whereof I speak).

The Mary Sue thing is a time-tested allegation, often part of a checklist people consciously or unconsciously apply to any piece of fan fiction they themselves have not written (and I mean the checklist thing literally; I’ve seen them posted). It’s a very blunt instrument, is all I can say. Literature is rampant with Mary Sues. Also comics. Television. Movies. Much-loved characters across the centuries, and lots of them are Mary Sues. Dickens cranked out Mary Sues. Esther Summerson in Bleak House? Big old Mary Sue. Superman? Well, what are his flaws, exactly? Besides a highly questionable fashion sense? There are many examples given in the previous posts in this roundtable; you should read them all, if you haven’t already. Anyway, these characters are all re obviously much loved by their authors. They are loaded with virtue after virtue (and I think we should keep in mind that what counts as virtue can be highly individual). They are saddled with very few, if any, significant flaws. Maybe they pout or something. But they do it prettily. Exactly who decided it was categorically wrong?

You’re telling me I’m missing the point, aren’t you? You’re thinking, doesn’t she realize people rail against Mary Sues because they’re one-dimensional and boring and painful? And that fan fiction writers tend to be sensitive about this topic because society in general thinks we’re a bunch of losers whose social status ranks, possibly, just above that of people who play Dungeons & Dragons. To the extent that society knows we exist, of course. No, I get it. The thing is, nothing is always bad in a story. You just can’t prepare a list of “Things That Are Automatically Bad” and say, “Ah, a Mary Sue! D-!”

In the interest of full disclosure, I should point out that I write slash, which is fan fiction in which two same-sex characters from the source material are thrown together, in the Biblical sense. I won’t get into the controversy over slash’s place on the “Things That Are Automatically Bad” list (the idea is that if you decide two established canon characters are having a queer relationship it is, by definition, out of character); I think it’s a related topic, but really, there are only so many hours in the day. I mention it because one might think it makes me more sensitive to this kind of criticism than the average fan fiction writer. Whatever. I’m always bemused by charges of Mary Sue-ism in my own fandom, though. Said fandom (Weiss Kreuz, a late-80s anime of more-than questionable quality about beautiful young men who are florists by day and assassins by night) features a protagonist who is such a Mary Sue it’s ridiculous. He is perhaps a bit brusque and moody, but he is handsome and loyal and brave and strong and true and selfless and so very, very tough that in one episode he basically defeats an army division by himself. I mean, really. After that, what’s wrong with introducing the occasional largely flawless original character?

Fandom is highly suspicious of original characters, though, and especially female original characters. That isn’t surprising, given our society, which is – and pardon me if you hadn’t noticed this – sexist. It is perhaps another reason to think before you label, though.

But I’m starting to get a very Mary Sunshine feeling about all this. I think it’s starting to sound like I don’t believe there’s any room for criticism, and I certainly wouldn’t want to imply that. No, no, no. There’s plenty of room for criticism. What I object to are knee-jerk dismissals, blind application of unquestioned criteria, and an inability to appreciate anything that doesn’t match up one-to-one with your point of view. All I’m saying is give Mary Sues a chance? Eewwwww. But, yeah. Kind of. Give writers a chance, anyway.

Gluey Tart: In the End

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In the End, by Pink Psycho (Heath & Nheira)
English version published February 2008 by Tokyopop Inc.

Should we all take a moment to chuckle about titling a manporn sort of book In the End? We probably should, shouldn’t we? Let’s do that, just to get it over with. Ha, ha, ha!

OK. Now.

There’s a children’s book I like called The Important Book, by Margaret Wise Brown. It offers a series of facts about things, ending up with the fundamental truth, as it were. You know – my train is big. My train is fast. My train is filled with self-important Republicans from the suburbs, taking up two seats by spreading out their newspapers. But the important thing about my train is that it is late. No, not really. That’s a friend of mine – I live on the south side of Chicago, and Republicans are thin on the ground here. But you get the picture.

Is there a point to this? A manporn point? Well, yes, and thanks for asking. The important thing about this week’s manpornish manga, In the End, is Pink Psycho. Because the plot – oy, vey. Adolescent angst gone wild. The protagonist is so misunderstood, so miserable, woe is him, yadda, yadda. Well, look. I’m willing to cut it some plot slack, but you can either tolerate this kind of thing, or you can’t. High school angst entertains me, especially Goth-flavored. But it is what it is. Assuming that you are not in high school yourself, you probably need another reason to read the manga. Because we are not in deep yaoi water here – it’s not an “I didn’t notice there was no plot because I was distracted by the constant and inventive sex” situation. It’s more of a heavy yaoi-implied sort of thing. (Kissing and implied sex.)

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Looking at this manga, you might assume it was Japanese – the layouts aren’t as polished and effortless as one expects, and ditto the art, but it basically has the right look. It’s certainly trying. In the End was produced for Tokyopop in Germany in 2006, though, and didn’t get to Japan until the following year, when it was released to cell phones. I may be betraying an embarrassing lack of sophistication here (if such a thing is possible in a column about manporn), but – released to cell phones? Anyway.

There is something about the book, though, and that something is Pink Psycho. If you’re like me, you saw the author was “Pink Psycho” and you were filled yea to the brim with a deep and abiding curiosity. I’ll share my own process. “Pink Psycho. I find that vaguely annoying. Who the hell is that? An Australian/Indonesian/European manga group everyone else knows about but me? Is it a band? A band that does manga? Did somebody leave cookies in the kitchen?” There’s sort of an explanation in the back of the book. I mean, it’s an explanation in the sense that a Lean Cuisine is a meal. It offers you something but mostly leaves you craving substance. Although they do tell us Nheira is pronounced “Nahy-Ruh.” Thanks, guys. Also that they drew the manga and are maybe in a band that might be called Nheira. “What the hell?” I asked. Is it a floor wax? A dessert topping?

So I did what one does when confronted with a question like this. A burning question. A question with many vowels. (I mean, really, Nheira. The name has a one-to-one vowel-to-consonant ratio.) I went to the Internet (after I ate a cookie). And while it pains me to boil down so bold and sweeping a story into so blunt a statement, Pink Psycho – Heath and Nheira – is – are – a fluke. A couple of German teenagers who got a manga published.

It’s an interesting story. Or compelling. Or something. I find Nheira kind of fascinating. He wants to be an artist, a mangaka, a visual kei performer (singer, songwriter, lyricist). He moved to Japan to further his career, apparently losing Heath along the way. (Heath filled in the story and pictures in the manga and played bass in a short-lived band – and somebody does need to play the bass.) Nheira is pretty. Which is a good thing, since he mostly draws himself. Pretty, Goth pictures of Nheira. I’m OK with that, too, in an amused sort of way. He’s young, y’all. And you want a beautiful boy to moon over? Oh, yeah.

Heath might be pretty too; I don’t know. I couldn’t find out a lot about Heath. For instance, did he name himself after the bass player for XJapan? I mean, he had to, right? But maybe it’s a coincidence. Anyway, it looks like he still works for Tokyopop in Germany. I wish him well. It’s like he’s my distant cousin or something. What’s he up to? I wonder. I sure hope that gay-ish cartooning thing worked out for him.

OK. Back to Nheira. (It’s OK. I think Heath’s heard that before.) Shyly glancing up through brutally thick lashes? Check. Double-pierced pout? Check check. Tiny, skinny little thing, dressed in those exciting and confusing visual kei Goth rags? Mm hmmmmmm. Jailbait? I think so, or not far from it. I don’t know how authentically distressed he is, though. A guess? Not as distressed as Kaito, his In the End doppelganger. Nheira comes across as kind of sweet-n-shy in his interviews. Did I actually watch online interviews with Nheira? In languages I don’t speak? Well, only two. And they were short. (Oh, shut up.) But as far as being an actual adolescent, I think he’s the real deal. Or within spitting distance. I’d actually kind of prefer spitting distance, since I like them legal, even for fantasizing (that isn’t a universal preference – cough cough, Harry Potter porn, cough cough), but there’s something – I don’t know, cute? – about a manga romanticizing adolescent pretty boy angst that’s written by an adolescent pretty boy, angsting.

On to the art. Nheira needed more time to draw In the End. Which is another way of saying he wasn’t able to make everybody the same size. There are some might pretty panels, but that is the level we’re working at. I liked some of the panels enough to want to buy the manga, but unless money’s no object, you should probably look before making a commitment. Here’s a fun project, though. Go to his
DeviantArt gallery. Go on. I’ll wait. You’ll see LOTS of photos, and you’ll notice that, as I think I may have mentioned, he’s pretty. (Also? You might want to check out his profile, where you’ll find out fascinating personal information, like that his personal quote is “rip it off.” I have no idea. Maybe it’s a koan? And that he likes milk. That actually creeps me out.) There’s some lovely art, too. This is beautiful. So is this. I cannot actually contain my love for those two drawings. Love, love, love. Did you get that? Love.

OK; now, that’s what I’m saying, right? Did you notice he basically draws himself all the time? Huh, I said. I don’t know what it says about his development. Or his marketing acumen, possibly. Because I like to look at him, and – well, check out at the comments on the DeviantArt site. Or his Web site. Or his MySpace page.

Anyway. I got a little acquisitive and wanted to buy his dramatically titled art book, Liberty, Raised Out of Dirt (I mean, oh, my God – it’s fun to say that in a War of the Worlds newscaster voice, though) but not $50 plus shipping from Japan on eBay worth, it turned out. I probably would, if there were more of that Edo-print-looking stuff. Which, by the way, makes sense of the samurai mouth motif on the cover of In the End, which I’d already noticed and liked, although it doesn’t follow through as a stylistic trope in the manga (which is maybe for the best, although I do like to imagine the whole book drawn that way – adolescent angst takes a whole new twist with samurai mouth).
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I’m going to bring it back to Heath, in the end. (Get it?) He was banned from DeviantArt a few years ago. Oh, Heath. But his comments to Nheira remain. They don’t make a lot of sense after you run them through Babelfish (I didn’t! Oh, yes, I did), but they seem effusive. Also, they frequently end with little rows of hearts, which is just adorable. I will not spoil it by drawing any conclusions. I will leave you to draw your own.
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Gluey Tart: Blank Slate

Blank Slate, by Aya Kanno
published in English in October 2008 by Viz Media
There’s a second (and final) volume, which was published in December 2008.

Welcome to “Gluey Tart: Adventures in Manporn.” I’m writing this column because manporn is an extremely important subject. Well, not really. I’m writing this because I’m obsessed, and, more important, because someone asked me.

There are a lot of people reading manporn in the U.S. (I’m going to use the terms “manporn” and “yaoi” more or less interchangeably. I define “yaoi” loosely – and I mean that in every sense of the word – as romantic stories written by and for women about beautiful men having sex.) If you go to Borders and scan the shelves, you’ll see lots of titles from June, Blu, and Deux. There are others, but those three are pretty reliable. There are lots of other sources as well, but my point is, it’s easily accessible. Borders, people. Why does that matter? Well, there’s a lot of us. We’re not as crazy and marginal as we looked even five years ago. Maybe I’m just trying to have a self-esteem moment.

Or maybe we’re talking about a big market for a largely marginalized group in U.S. comics: women. I invite you to draw your own conclusions about how much that matters. I’m mostly going to talk about yaoi and shonen-ai manga that have caught my eye, and natter happily about them. (Quick note: people disagree about everything, including the meaning and proper usage of “yaoi” and “shonen ai.” I use “yaoi” to mean “there’s sex!” and “shonen-ai” to mean “no sex, but sigh, look at the meaningful eye contact!”)

Oh, about the pseudonym. I use it because it’s only polite. I write porn on the Internet, and while I am proud of this endeavor, I am not eager to have my employers, coworkers, acquaintances, and family members casually Google me and wind up reading something that has the word “cock” seven times in the first paragraph. Because is this something they want to know about me? It is not.

Which leads us (more or less) to the first review. I use this word almost carelessly, albeit with gusto. There are sites that do proper reviews of yaoi manga and novels. My favorite is “Boys Next Door,” where they make a proper attempt at summarizing the plot and that sort of thing. What am I going to write about, then? We’ll see. No sex in my first selection, because there isn’t any. Not even any of those longing looks, because there aren’t any of those, either. What we do have is pretty boy overload, and a certain unmistakable vibe.

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The boy on the cover is pretty. So pretty. All the major characters are pretty. Cool, angsty-looking pretty boys with big guns. Did I mention that they’re pretty? They really are. I’m not sure who’s who all the time. I’m not always sure what’s happening. Don’t misunderstand – we’re not talking about confusion that rips space and time. We’re talking about a series of brow-furrowing, minor WTF moments that end with a quiet snort of “Oh, I don’t care anyway.” My willingness to accept this kind of thing is not infinite; far from it. I will put the book down and move on to the next shiny object, no matter how pretty the boys are. Blank Slate is well within my tolerances for not making sense. And, not to belabor the point, the boys are so pretty.

It isn’t just the pretty. I was going to say there isn’t enough pretty in the world to make up for some messes, but that might be a lie. In this case, though, the story is entertaining enough, in a thug-style James Bond meets the Matrix sort of way. The exceedingly pretty protagonist of Blank Slate, Zen (isn’t that deep?), is an amnesiac master assassin – and I don’t mind admitting that it makes me sigh happily just to write those words. I could summarize the plot, such as it is, but it doesn’t really matter. There are three casually related stories that you really wish were more closely related, but they aren’t. Zen is the constant – cool and almost supernaturally competent. The story is atmospheric and stylish. You’ve heard that before? You’ve heard everything in this manga before. It’s OK.

Zen. Is he bad? You know it. But deep down, underneath it all, does he have a heart of gold? Well, no, thank God. And is he hot? So, so hot. Hot, beautiful, mystery assassin boy. It works, despite being a big old cliché fest. The art is lovely, and the story is basically satisfying in a vague but solidly cool, noir sort of way. This book made me want to go out and buy a pair of spy sunglasses, and maybe one of those ’70s navy blue sniper trench coats. Possibly a t-shirt that says “Assassins do it from behind.” And I don’t know about you, but I call that satisfaction.

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