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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Real life intrudes, and art by Nate Powell

This week’s post has been delayed by hospital visits. I might have more for you on that topic next week. For now, I wanted to call your attention to About Face, a comic by Nate Powell about symbols, identity, and the normalization of the language of force. It’s an excellent piece, though perhaps not an uplifting one. It does, however, make me wonder whether Nate Powell would be interested in working with me on Ironsides.

Powell also made the March series (book 1, book 2, book 3), creating the art for the late Representative John Lewis‘s nonfiction work about the American civil rights movement. I haven’t yet picked those up, but I’m really looking forward to reading them. I think you might like them too.

Internal tumult, and comic progress

Today’s an odd one. My cat is not doing well, and I’m stressed about a lot of different things both large and small. I am, however, still making progress—the agent who offered feedback on my query liked my rewritten draft, I’ve had a very helpful conversation with my friend Lucy Bellwood about making comics, and I’ve been reading Molly Ostertag’s substack series on making graphic novels. With those last two details, I can confirm that…

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The Peripheral, by William Gibson

The Peripheral is a science fiction novel from William Gibson set in an awfully recognizable near future and a slightly less recognizable but still palpable further future—there’s kind-of-time-travel, but not quite. It’s been so long since I last read Gibson. I’d forgotten how wild and weird his books can feel, while also feeling so grounded in our own reality. I wrote a little about this last week. I have more observations now.

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Query Reflections

I had the opportunity to connect with an agent while I was at Arisia, a friend of a friend, and I’ve really appreciated speaking with her since. She was generous enough to share her insight on my query letter for Bury’em Deep. I’m very grateful.

My key takeaway is that my past edits of my query letter have not helped. I created distance from Barry’s emotional throughline. That made it harder for a reader to empathize with Barry, and didn’t convey the emotional intensity of the story itself.

I think I got so caught up in trying to convey the totality of the story, and in trying to make that summary snappy and engaging without being in Barry’s head, that I forgot to give the query letter heart. It doesn’t help that I have been staring at various drafts of this query letter for years at this point. Once I’ve been looking at any collection of words for long enough without clear external feedback, I stop feeling able to judge them usefully. Thus, without any useful feedback from my target audience, judging what was wrong with my query felt like making random stabs in the dark.

With this insight though I feel much better. I feel like I have a target. I might miss that on my first few tries, but at least there’s something I know I can revise towards. In fact, I started redrafting the letter in my head yesterday while I was meditating (I know, that’s not actually good meditation practice). 

That felt like good creative exercise. You know the feeling I’m talking about? There’s a certain feel to that exploration for me—it’s closest to the relaxation of freeform dance, or the undirected play of sketching and coloring, except that I do have a target. My target, as much as possible, is to write a captivating third person version of Bury’em Deep that conveys Barry’s first person emotional journey. Because of the constraints of query letters, that has to be around 250 words. More meditation may be in order.

Anyway. It’s time for yet another rewrite. Wish me luck.

Reading Gibson Again

It’s been a long time since I last read anything by William Gibson. Too long, probably. I’d forgotten his talent for sentence fragments. I suspect I’ve unconsciously emulated him in my fiction.

I’m reading The Peripheral now. I’m nearly halfway through and enjoying it. He doesn’t constantly work in metaphor, but when he does…

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Tristan Strong Punches A Hole In The Sky, by Kwame Mbalia

I love a good middle grade adventure story. That’s precisely what this is. As you might expect from something published under Rick Riordan’s imprint, it’s full of mythology and folk tales and legends. Tristan Strong Punches a Hole in the Sky, by Kwame Mbalia, is all about one young boy’s discovery that the stories he’s grown up with (African-American stories with American folk heroes like John Henry, African trickster figures like Anansi, and those who blur the lines like Brer Rabbit) are all far more real than he ever could have believed. It’s fun, it’s pretty fast, it’s (heh) punchy. This is a good book.

I admit, my appreciation for this book is influenced by my desire for more high quality middle grade adventure stories aimed at boys. There’s a lot more to unpack there, some of which can be better understood by reading Of Boys And Men by Richard V Reeves. Read on for some of those details, as well as my few quibbles with Tristan Strong.

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