Rumeysa Ozturk must be freed

I was going to write about Frieren, which is a wonderfully chill and cozy anime all about the bittersweet mixture of love, regret, grief, and joy found in coming to terms with the mortality of those who mean so much to us.

Instead, this week I’m going to tell you about ICE disappearing a Tufts student off the street in a neighborhood near me. If you haven’t seen the video, suffice to say it’s both chilling and infuriating. A group of masked figures approach a lone woman, lay hands on her, rob her of her backpack and phone, and herd her away to an unmarked car.

Her name is Rumeysa Ozturk. She’s a graduate student at Tufts, here on a student visa. She has been disappeared.

These masked figures briefly claim to be police. A few of them pull out hidden badges. At  no point do any of them identify themselves—nearly all of them remain masked, they do not give their names or their badge numbers, they actively resist taking steps that might allow them to be held accountable for their actions. They show up, grab someone off the street, and then roll away.

This is a fucking disgrace.

I am not surprised by this. These scare tactics seem like the natural outgrowth of the abductions performed in Portland, Oregon, during the summer of 2020 (fine, if you want me to mince words, call them “sudden detentions with unmarked vehicles and personnel”). They’re designed to intimidate, to instill fear, and to prevent anyone from holding the (ostensible) law enforcement agents involved responsible for any action they might take. 

This is antithetical to our American democracy. I’ve been furious about so many other things going on in our country, but this one hits especially close to home (literally). Someone has been pulled from my community and dragged over 2000 miles to Louisiana in what looks like a clear attempt by the authorities involved to avoid the consequences of their actions: if they can just do the thing they know the judge won’t allow fast enough, before the judge can rule on it, then they can (probably) get away with it. If this is not criminal, it should be. 

There is no way to have an open and free society when people are pulled off the streets by masked figures and disappeared into unmarked cars. There is no way to have an open and free society when those we charge with protecting us cannot be held accountable by us. There is no way to have an open and free society when you can abduct someone by wearing a mask, waving a shiny prop badge, and moving fast enough that no one can prove you aren’t a cop.

It doesn’t matter that Rumeysa Ozturk is not an American citizen. If you think our laws and our ideals are only for American citizens when on American soil, you have already lost the ideal of America. If you think that the government should only avoid impinging on free speech when you agree with that speech, you’ve already lost the dream of America. If you think someone writing that they “affirm the equal dignity and humanity of all people” while talking about Palestinians, and that they urge their university president to “embrace efforts by students to evaluate ‘diverse and sometimes contradictory ideas and opinions’” should cause them to lose their visa and be deported, then you are the narrowest, most selfish and short-sighted fool and you are embracing your own destruction.

All of my other thoughts and words here are fury and disgust and bile. I am angry. You should be angry too.

Act. Let your congress people know your thoughts. And show up.

Prince of Fortune, by Lisa Tirreno

Lisa Tirreno’s Prince of Fortune is a romance in a fantasy setting with strong Regency era vibes, gender equality, and open queerness. It’s sweet, cute, heartwarming, and feel-good despite a hefty dose of political intrigue and a small helping of combat and war. Even better, it doesn’t try to make itself a series; you can pick this book up, enjoy the story’s gay romance and warm fuzzies, and know that everything has come to a close when you put the book down at the end. I found that soothing.

Would I want more?

Yes. And (kind of) no.

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A Practical Guide to Evil, most of the way through

A Practical Guide to Evil is a YA-ish fantasy web serial set in a world with capitalized Good and Evil. The gods (which definitely exist) created this world to settle a wager about whether Good or Evil would triumph, but it is up to the world’s occupants to determine which way the contest will go. Of course, not every person is equal in this contest.

By a combination of exertion, will, strife, and trauma people can take on the mantle of a Name (an archetypal role) on either side of the conflict. Those Names are bound to tropes (varying by the person’s side in the conflict) which can entrap or empower. Some Names (Black Knight) are clearly on one side of the conflict (Evil), but others (Apprentice) can arise on either side. No two people can hold the full power of one name at a time; where there are multiple pretenders to a Name, those pretenders must settle whose vision of the Name and its purpose will win (Evil tends to do this with violence, Good rarely has multiple contenders).

I love all of that. This wholehearted embrace of archetypal story as a narrative toy and tool for a larger fantasy series is great. It’s what convinced me to read it in the first place.

Better yet, people in the series are aware of these Names and tropes. They embrace the study of Name-lore, learning the ways in which a Name may be caught by trope and pattern and story. They try to use that knowledge to their advantage. That’s a delight.

But it’s not all a bed of roses.

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Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)

Visually, I love Atlantis: The Lost Empire. It’s gorgeous.

I love Mike Mignola’s style, which permeates everything in this movie. I’m very fond of his Hellboy comics, and had no trouble with this movie’s resulting un-Disney-like animation. Admittedly, some of the animation choices felt a little weird, like the animators struggled at times to convert the character designs into moving figures in ways that felt good. Yet at other points (especially in the movie’s climactic fight scenes) those same characters moved fluidly and naturally through a variety of perspectives, surpassing my expectations beautifully. My love of Mignola’s designs smoothed over the awkward bits for me, and I was very happy overall. If you don’t like Mignola’s art style, or you don’t like the movie’s character designs, you might not enjoy this as much as I did.

Narrative-wise, this movie is… fine? It’s both good and bad.

I love adventure stories, which Atlantis is. I love them so much that I’ll put up with a lot. That said…

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