fantasy - Liz Busby

What I Read: Feb 2024

February was a busy month outside of school. My presentations at LTUE 42 went well and I had fun meeting up with old friends. I read from my essay “Through the Wardrobe: Inhabiting the Divine Story” at the Wayfare issue 3 launch party; I’m always impressed by the quality of writers they find, so I’m very humbled to be among them. Check out the previews of issue 3 (including this amazing art combining The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe and the Kirtland temple that was commissioned to go with my piece) and consider subscribing to get one of the beautiful print copies.

This month I’ll be presenting a paper on using CS Lewis’s interpretation of Spenser’s Faerie Queene to understand the poetry of another early modern poet, Amelia Lanyer, at BYU’s English Symposium. I’ll also be travelling to Florida to attend the International Conference for the Fantastic in the Arts and read my paper on Susanna Clarke’s Piranesi and using speculative fiction to cope with trauma. So many conferences this semester! Remind me to limit myself to one next time.

The podcast has been a little dormant due to grad school, but we did release a short today on a short Pixar film called Self. The episode is twice as long as the film itself; we do some interesting twisting of the short into a religious reading that the filmmakers certainly didn’t intend. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy it, and we’ll get back to more regular episodes soon.

I also made a concerted effort this month to revive my non-school related reading. I find that reading for school becomes more interesting when I have things from my own interests to connect with it. So even though February is a short month, I’ve got 10 book reviews for you. Let’s jump to it!

What Netflix’s Avatar Did Wrong: Four Fantasy Adaptation Failure Points

Last week, I was really excited to watch the Netflix live-action adaptation of Avatar: The Last Airbender. I had been skeptical when the original show creators departed, but they’d earned back a bit of trust with the amazing trailers they released. I had hopes that even though I knew they would change some aspects of the series, they would still get the vision of it and make it more accessible to adults who are still too self-conscious to watch a “kids show.” My husband and I set out to watch the first episode for date night. We popped popcorn and everything.

Within about 20 minutes of the first episode, it was clear that Netflix had absolutely flubbed this adaptation. The fantasy fan criticizing the adaptation of their beloved property is cliche, but the recent string of Hollywood misses on big-budget fantasy projects is hard to miss. While Stranger Things, Shadow and Bone, and Arcane have done well, Rings of Power and The Wheel of Time have been notable failures, both artistically and financially. This mixed bag of major successes and failures is made worse than typical streaming shows because of the big investment that these series represent.

If we don’t want Hollywood to stop making fantasy (and science fiction) properties, they’ve got to learn to do this better. Some errors that future adaptations should avoid, with examples from Netflix’s Avatar:

Too much time gawking at the fantasy elements – The first two Harry Potter movies are nigh unto unwatchable because they spend so much time being amazed at the Wizarding World (which admittedly was so cool to see on screen) and neglect to move the plot along. There seems to be a belief in Hollywood that fantasy TV exists as a vehicle for cool special effects rather than for the same reason all film exists: to convey a story. If you don’t get the story right, no one is going to care how cool your costumes and special effects are. The Avatar YouTube channel is full of cool behind the scenes videos about the bending and other worldbuilding stuff, and the show also spends a lot of its screen time on wide shots of cool stuff while rushing through the dialogue and plot.

Not trusting the audience to get the worldbuilding: One major fault with Netflix’s Avatar is the way it explains all the background explicitly instead of letting the audience piece it together slowly. We get the explanation of the four nations and the Avatar at least three times in-world in the first episode. While info-dumping is always a storytelling no-no, it seems prevalent in fantasy adaptations, maybe because the people working on them aren’t used to the genre conventions for gradual explanations of world-building. The key is to reveal things when the audience has a reason to want to understand them, which is not necessarily when the audience first sees them. If we can wait to gradually understand that Ted Lasso’s marriage is on the rocks over several episodes, we can also wait for several episodes to understand Zuko’s motivation for chasing the Avatar.

Changing major plot points or character arcs: A movie is like a cookie recipe. You can easily substitute the chocolate chips, but if you want to change the flour or go vegan, beware. Look, I get that some things have to be cut and adapted in the move from book to film. It’s a different medium with different strengths: it can’t do interiority as well as a book, but it can cover description so much more compactly. But the original property worked not because of the fantasy concept but because of the story. The character arcs of Aang and Sokka were probably more crucial to the original series’ success than Netflix’s adaptation realized, and cutting them undermined so many other aspects of the story that they tried to keep. When you change endings or character arcs, that change alters not just one scene but the whole balance of the story. It takes a lot of skill to make that kind of change work. Unless you’ve written an original best-selling novel or show, you probably don’t have it. Have some humility. Otherwise, you look like the people in the recipe comments section who substitute five ingredients and then complain that the cookies didn’t turn out.

Get the tone right: By itself, fantasy is not a tone. Fantasy can be gritty, optimistic, mysterious, or zany. When the Netflix creators kept using Game of Thrones as a touchstone for the audience they wanted to reach, we should have known they had drunk too much cactus juice. An adult fantasy property is not automatically Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings. A YA fantasy property isn’t automatically Harry Potter or Hunger Games. Comp titles should match the overall tone of the show rather than just glomming on to the most successful fantasy craze you can think of.

As a fan of Brandon Sanderson, I’m sort of glad that he hasn’t gotten an adaptation yet; the chances for a failure are so high. It’s a large book with a ton of interconnecting plots and pieces going on, and an adaptation has so many people working on it with so many chances to not get it. Still, I’ve been rereading to prepare for the release of Wind and Truth in December, and I couldn’t resist taking my own stab at what a faithful adaptation of The Way of Kings that takes into account the differences in medium might look like. I’ve gotten some interesting feedback on it over on reddit. Perhaps you could help me improve it?

Why Fantasy and Faith?

This semester I’m taking a postsecular literature course from Mikayla Steiner. Postsecular is a term complicated by a multitude of definitions, but in essence, it represents the “religious turn” in modern literature. The death of religion predicted by those who worshipped at the temples of rationalism has mostly failed to come to pass, and many writers have turned back to the ideas of religion (in all shades of orthodoxy and non-orthodoxy) to seek the consolation that had been lost in modernism. (Understand that this definition is based on three weeks of reading and is certain subject to the flaws of my current naiveté, though it fits with things I had noticed but never been able to articulate.)

However, as we’ve been reading foundational essays on the topic preparing to study novels that fall under the postsecular umbrella, I’ve noticed something strange: many of these essays cite as examples books that could also fall under the moniker of speculative fiction. John McClure in Partial Faiths points towards Thomad Pychon’s Nebula winning novel Gravity’s Rainbow as a prototypical example of the half-in, half-out nature of postsecular faith. Rita Felski uses Miyazaki’s portal fantasy masterpiece Spirited Away as an example of the enchantment that the postsecular seeks to return to literature in Uses of Literature. Her argument on the importance of being transported by a work grasps at the exact same ideas as Tolkien’s discussion of escape On Fairy Stories while managing to never cite it. (“Who would speak loudest against escape? Jailers.”) Now I’m digging into the first novel of the term, Lousie Erdich’s The Round House, and I find that not only are the chapter titles all drawn from episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation, but that the show seems to be a major metaphor within the text.

red and orange galaxy illustration — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The connection between the spiritual or religious in literature can seem obvious. Both deal with things that the rational mind would consider impossible. Angels are just as unbelievable to a rationalist as dragons. There’s just as little evidence for believing in miracles as there is to believe in magical realism.

But is the connection really that simple? Does it really make sense to align fantasy which is transparent about being fictional with faith-based ideas that claim to be about ultimate reality? It seems to align with those who accuse believers of being blinded to reality by a story, and not even one as interesting as the latest installment of Star Wars at that.

Granted, I’ve seen some believers make the same conflation. Some worry that fantasy will confuse readers about their faith. You know the sort of thing: Harry Potter will teach your kids witchcraft; D&D is at best a waste of time and at worst Satanic; a visit from Santa Claus will cause them to doubt Jesus’s existence; even simple unease about studying Greek mythology and the worship of false gods.

But these concerns usually come from people who don’t actually read or enjoy fantasy. Among those who are religious and also enjoy speculative fiction (and if the size of the first Salt Lake City FanX is any indication, there are many), there’s no confusion about products of the imagination and the equally impossible things that they believe are real. Perhaps there are believers who have been led away from the faith by reading fantasy novels, but I’ve never met one.

Perhaps the key to the massive overlap between the literature of speculative fiction and literature concerned with spirituality is that both tend to leave behind concerns with the everyday and focus on ultimate concerns. Despite the recent turn towards cozy SF, a good percentage of fantasy novels focus on epic events that are country-, world-, or even universe-imperiling. Even when the plot is smaller, the magic system or technological innovation at the center of the “speculation” often deals with the deep forces of the universe–at a word, metaphysics.

Related to this large scope is the attitude of wonder that pervades the speculative and the religious. Whether we call it awe or the sublime, both genres put humanity in its place as a smaller part of something vast, something in the end unexplainable by logic and reason. Even the science in science fiction is less based on logic (except in the hardest sci-fi) than on what Sanderson calls the “rule of awesome.” Though I’m sure he didn’t intend it, it’s easy to see the connection to our human impulse to awe in speculative fiction.

Does this mean that speculative fiction is intended to be a substitute for religion? I’m certain some stridently atheistic authors might see it that way. I recently read Childhood’s End by Arthur C Clarke, and it’s clear that he is substituting the sublime of cosmic aliens for the sublime impulse of religion. Yet this substitution fails to account for the vast number of believers who read and enjoy speculative fiction. I was not really surprised to find in our podcast episode about Mormons watching Star Trek that three out of the four of us shared the experience of watching Star Trek with our very religious families growing up.

I would argue instead that religious people are drawn to speculative fiction precisely because it flexes the same intellectual muscles that they use in their faith. It’s like cross-training for our spiritual sensitivities. When done well, fantasy scratches the same itch for deep meaning that we seek in religion, but rather than a replacement, it acts as a supplement for our ability to think and believe abstractly in things beyond our everyday experience.

What I Read: Oct-Dec 2023

I’ve had my October book reviews in my drafts folder since November, but again, grad school got the best of me. (I’m plotting how to do better at this next year.) So you’re getting a mega-three-month edition of book reviews.

Fortunately/unfortunately, I also had quite a few publications happen during these months, meaning they didn’t get nearly as much attention here as they ought to, but here they are in belated fashion. My essay “Turning the Corner” was published in the Fall 2023 print edition of Exponent II. You can’t find this one online, so you’ll have to track down a copy, but it’s about being sick at Christmas and moving to a new stage of parenting where your kids no longer need you to keep them alive from minute to minute.

My short genre confused piece “The Cost” was part of the 12th annual Mormon Lit Blitz. I was completely surprised when it won the judges’ choice award as well as fourth place in the audience choice because all of the pieces in the contest were really strong. I recommend reading them in order together because there’s a great theme of family and life stages that seems to naturally flow.

My creative nonfiction essay “Knit Together” was published in the latest issue of BYU Studies. It’s accompanied by some photographs of a few of the knitting projects that I mention in the essay. This essay was one I wrote over the course of about a week last year when I was still in the emotional throws of the events that happen at the end of the essay, so it’s a really vulnerable piece for me. I hope it can be helpful for others who struggle with family relationships.

I’m also experimenting with mirroring my blog over on Substack, so subscribe over there if you prefer to read on that platform.

Irreantum Genre Issue: Editor’s Comments

I intended to post this after I finished releasing these comments on social media, but graduate school got the best of me. Nonetheless, they deserve a permanent home here, so apologies for the un-timely post.

Irreantum’s genre issue is alive in the world! I have been absolutely dying to share this issue with you all for months. These stories absolutely prove that combining Mormonism with genre elements doesn’t have to be gimmicky or silly; speculative fiction (and other genres, though most of these works have a supernatural slant) can lead to profound thoughts about our culture, about our beliefs, about human nature, and about the universe. Here are my thoughts as a co-editor of the issue on the stories contained therein. I’m going in reverse order of the table of contents just to make sure the ending pieces don’t get forgotten.

Could Brandon Sanderson Have Saved the Nephites? – Obviously, as someone who also writes criticism about Mormonism in Brandon Sanderson’s work, I feel really excited about this piece. Nick Fredrick is a very careful and reflective scholar; his analysis of the parables in The Way of Kings left me thinking about both Stormlight and The Book of Mormon in ways that I hadn’t before. After I listened to him read this piece at LTUE last year, I knew it needed to be published, and I’m so pleased that we were able to include it in this issue.

The Year the Graveyard Flooded – Emily Feuz Jensen’s piece straddles the line between realism and magical realism in the best ways. Are the people of the town just interpreting events in faith-promoting ways or is something really happening? Either way, this story features classic LDS themes of turning the hearts to the fathers in a lyrical, contemplative package.

The Incident at Burning Bush Ranch – I love the way Shayla Frandsen wields the tropes of the “found footage” genre in a written package. The ambiguities and corrections feel authentically folkloresque, and the story she tells plays off of an important but less-explored aspect of LDS culture, girls’ camp. This was one of the first submissions for this issue that I fell in love with.

Welded – I’ll admit to being intimidated by poetry, but I love what Makoto Hunter has done by mashing together poetry and historical research. I learned a lot about the history of polygamy from the footnotes and a lot about the human heart from the stanzas. Hopefully you’ll enjoy unraveling exactly what the author is implying as much as I did.

An Opportunity – This story is unique because Jeanna Mason Stay tells it from an outsider perspective; her protagonist is both outside the LDS community and outside her family’s special heritage. But there’s something undeniably Mormon about the magic system she presents and the wrestle the protagonist has with her past and her future. In an age of strained family relationships, this story will touch your heart and stay with you for a long time.

7 Devils – Declan Hyde gives this issue some classic demonic possession. I love the LDS twists on the lore, but the ending is what made my heart race in the best horror way. I recommend reading this one with the lights on and in a highly-populated area (or the inverse, if you like being scared).

The Archaemaji – This story is a Heavenly Mother story, but perhaps not like the ones you’ve read before. While it’s set in a secondary world, it makes commentary on an issue that’s important in contemporary LDS writing. D. C. Wynters’s ending struck as unique among the Mormon literature that longs for the divine feminine, and it’s one that couldn’t have been achieved without the unique fantasy set-up of the story.

Unidentified Faith-affirming Object – Gregory Brooks’s irreverent mash-up made me laugh out loud from the first line: “A column of light, gradually descending like a tractor beam.” Mormon readers might think they can tell exactly where this poem is going to go, but the scope quickly grows wider than you might anticipate. The radical recontextualization of everything you know will feel familiar and, dare I say, alien at the same time.

An interview with Sandy Petersen – I haven’t listened to the full interview yet, but I’m excited to learn about an aspect of LDS involvement in the nerd-space that I’ve previously only heard about. Sandy Peterson created The Call of Cthulu, an influential RPG game based on Lovecraftian mythos. His story is an important part of the history of Mormon speculative fiction. Thanks to D. J. Butler for conducting this interview.

Remember the Blood – When I first read Nate Givens’s story, it gave me strong early Orson Scott Card vibes. Partly this is because of the horror/dread aspect of this story’s lore. Part is the young male protagonist, both cocky and naive. And part is the unique blend of Mormon and Mesoamerican folklore, strongly reminiscent of Pastwatch or “America” from Folk of the Fringe. For me, the ending hits the perfect blending of fantasy and theology for a surprising-but-inevitable resolution that stuck with me.

The Case of the Missing Sacrament Bread – Katherine Cowley sets up a humorous mystery with the form of a ward history, a genre which perhaps only those who have to write them know about. I know none of the Relief Society histories I’ve written were half so interesting as this. You’ll recognize many characters from your local ward in her send-up of the quotidian aspects of LDS culture.

It’s About the People Under You – The concept of this one made me laugh out loud when I was reading through the slush pile, and I knew we needed it for the issue. Willow Dawn Becker satirizes so many aspects of Utah Mormon culture with the protagonist’s gradual downward spiral.

This is What Happened in Trígonus – Alejandro Seta’s work, presented in both English and the original Spanish, examines a familiar scripture story from a different frame of reference, you might say. I was so happy to see this submission right after finishing my analysis of how Mormons write about aliens as it fits right into the pattern of expanding the gospel story beyond a single planet. Gabriel González’s lyrical translation reflects the ethereal and dreamlike nature of the story.

The Double-Snatcher – I’ll admit that when I first started reading W. O. Hemsath’s story, I was skeptical as I’m not much of a consumer of talking animal stories. But when I realized what she was doing, I zipped right through to the heartbreaking ending. Maybe you’ll catch on more quickly than I did, but either way, I know you’ll enjoy this clever story that takes on an issue I never before considered.

You Are Beautiful, Dead, Whole – Chanel Earl’s story/poem takes fairy tale tropes and scripture stories, places them in a blender, and pushes “puree.” The result is a smooth refreshment composed of the real and the fictional, all of it with a special mythopoeic feel. Makes me excited to see what she comes up with for the upcoming folklore-themed issue of Irreantum she’s helping to edit.

The Haunted – I’ve saved another of my favorites for last (or first, if you’re reading the right way round). Mathilda Zeller’s story of a teen girl with a strained relationship with the church and with the ghosts who haunt her is a real achievement in Mormon speculative fiction. Her characters manage to be very real about their relationships to the institutional church while also dealing with a very unreal problem. I laughed, cried, and learned to love Moroni Alvarez and our unnamed protagonist, and I hope you do as well.

The genre issue, along with the rest of Irreantum, is freely available on the internet. That being said, if you feel you got some value out of this issue, please support the writers by joining the Irreantum Patreon. It only charges when a new issue is released; I believe the donations for this issue will be collected November 1st. The Patreon money goes straight to paying the authors who worked so hard to bring you these unique stories that might not have been published in a mainstream press. Plus by becoming a patron, you’ll get early access to Irreantum’s next issue. There are currently three themed issues accepting submissions, one on folklore and one on the restoration. I’m sure you’re gonna want to see what comes next!

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