This has been a year of subpar to horrible things. Not in any enormous, epic, or catastrophic way, but in a more sleazy and pathetic sense. My thoughts are mainly on art, but it’s seeped into other things here and there. Our politics has been embarrassing. Watch one Republican debate and you want to hide away your citizenship. Of course Europe, particularly Eastern Europe, has not been displaying the best of humankind either. Poland and Hungry are making it clear that they can trump our slimiest worldview. Yes, that was a pun. Then there is our cultural reaction to Syrian refuges; it’s been immoral and wretched. The cowardice on display, there, and across the nation in so many ways, has been top notch. But I mean to talk about art.
Literature is harder to judge. There’s so much and a real understanding of what this year has brought won’t be available for decades. But in my little corner of the world, there’s been the Puppies, who not only wrote and promoted some dreadful stories, but then fought to reward them, grinding up the SF literary world for the year. It’s been a lowly place to be.
My area is film, and film has been sad. There has not been a single great film this year—not one I’ve seen anyway, and I’ve seen a good many. Maybe one hidden away, far from science fiction, fantasy, and horror, but I’m not holding my breath. No great advancements. No breathtaking ideas. Nothing deep and meaningful.
What about fun? How about fun films? Even those have been shadows of their former selves. After years of anticipation we got the new Star Wars picture, and it was…OK. Basically a remake, with all the same beats we’ve seen before. It wasn’t horrible, but it was far from great. And Marvel slipped as well. Ant-Man and The Avengers 2 were both fine, but will not be remembered, and worse, they displayed the cracks in the MCU and those are only going to grow. Cinema this year has been all emptiness. Artistically vacant via corporate mega-blockbuster-construction. You could wipe out the year in film and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.
Television? It too has been a wasteland. But OK, television has usually been a wasteland. But it is certainly back in wasteland form. A good example for me has been Doctor Who. For a few years, it was kinda brilliant. Emotional. Fun. Meaningful now and again. But Not this year. And not last year. It’s been pretty sludgy. Sure, it’s had a few moments, but none that couldn’t be lost without concern.
And then there was tonight. And tonight messed everything up.
You see, all that garbage, and all that mediocrity—it’s been my friend. TV not worth turning on? Great. Movies easy to forget? Excellent. The Puppies? People don’t get that about me and the Sad/Rabid Puppies. I love those guy. They’ve been marvelous. They mutilated the little corner of an art form I value, and I can’t thank them enough.
As for politics and human nature, I’ve seen so much that’s abhorrent and it’s been a real dream for me. All those things, not worth seeing. All those things, better not seen.
And I’ve appreciated that.
Because Eugie can’t see them. She’s missing them all. I’ve watched the movies, the TV shows, heard new music, and known how Eugie would have reacted. How she’d have rolled her eyes at Death Star 3. How she’d have shook her head at the great fight to hold up buildings and said we should stay home and skip Bond. How she’d have turned away from the new Doctor and checked Facebook, which is only Facebook, so not a big deal. How she’d have tossed the crap Puppy books across the room. How she’d have said those stories, those movies, and the world, needs an editor, and she’d have been right.
I’ve gotten by seeing things I knew she wouldn’t have liked, would have been happier not to see. The garbage in art, in politics, in the souls of men, has been a gift to me.
And then someone had to do something right.
I watched the Christmas ep of Doctor Who tonight. And it was funny. And it was clever. And it was well paced. And it was meaningful. And it was fun. And I knew she’d have loved it. She’s have giggled and nodded. She’d have commented on how they understood happily ever after.
And it is terrible. I hate it. I hate that finally there is something that she would unequivocally loved, and she will never have the chance. She would have smiled, which is the point to their being good things in the universe, and now she will never smile which makes it pointless. It makes me curse that the world didn’t burn, that it insists on still turning.
The meaning of the show works so well when you are living the happily ever after. Not so afterwards. When she was dying, that would have been the time. It would have reverberated then. Not, I suppose, that we needed it. She shone so brightly then. We both understood how the universe works. But still, it would have been nice.
Now, that meaning is past tense. Goodness is pain. I have faith that mediocrity will take hold quite quickly, and walk arm in arm with stupidity and ugliness. I look forward to it, and I’m sure if I were to look even now I’d find it. But it will take some time till I can do that. The wounds never heal, but they usually are not ripped wider. So I await equilibrium, and the return of the intellectual, artistic, and spiritual penumbra. I don’t think I’ll have to wait long. That’s not good for most of you, but it is for me. Good has always been subjective anway.