Platypus of Truth

As 2010 is about to wrap up, I thought I'd wind down the year with a highlights list from 2010's Platypus of Truth: A foray into Sci-fi. Summation of my thoughts on video games with an interesting "found" poem. A stab at entering the fray of Tolkien criticism. A little Hellboy review. An attempt at film criticism. Wherein I make full confession of my most favourite Narnia book. Musings on Lewis and video games. A comical breakout into the field of cooking. Looking at this list, it seems that 2010's Platypus of Truth has followed the stayed tradition of mild-mannered, non-offensive, odd-ball, and mildly irrelevant literary and cultural musings.  It may not be high-traffic and exciting, but we value a little peace and quiet down at this end of Lake Internet.  So, from my mossy hole in the riverbank, I and the Platypus pronounce this year another smashing success.  Best wishes to all in 2011, and remember: the Platypus speaks

The next installment in my "books I should have read by now" series is "A Canticle For Leibowitz."  Of the three books in this series ("The Name of the Rose," "Ender's Game," and "A Canticle For Leibowitz"), I find myself most in agreement with the world-picture presented in this book (at least in as far as I understand it in one reading).  Now this presents me with an interesting question: did I like this book best of the three simply because I found myself most in sympathy with its presentation of the world?  Ok, maybe that's a banal question, but the Kantian side of me keeps demanding that it's unvirtuous and the Foucaultian side of me keeps insinuating that it all boils down to self-interest.  Forgive me Father; I ate a lizard. Rather than engage in therapeutic web confession, however, I think I'll take a stab at describing what I found to like about this book. Debunking the Myth of Progress: "A Canticle

After almost a year of utter darkness, Homestar Runner is back with a 5min 55sec Decemberween short; anastasis and all...

*All images copyright James R. Harrington 2010

*All Images Copyright James R. Harrington 2010

*All Images Copyright James R. Harrington

Rawr.  Ph33r teh Shr00m! *Image Copyright James R. Harrington 2010

Yesterday, while trying to get traction in grappling with a discussion about the arrest of the founder of Wiki-Leaks, one of my students broke through the dead-lock with a robust and thoughtful analysis of the role of order vs. liberty in Assassin's Creed.  Three cheers for the role of the middle brow in helping make big ideas accessible!

Disclaimer: I try as much as possible not to be political on this blog, so please read the following post in as non-partisan a light as possible. I'm a member of the Torrey Honors Institute at Biola University.  We're a close-knit bunch over at Torrey.  I like to see what my fellow chums are up to and celebrate their successes and achievements as they find their places in the wider world.  In that light, I'd like to draw attention to Jonah Goldberg's "Proud to be Right: Voices of the Next Conservative Generation."  Now, fair warning, I found much in this book to agree and disagree with.  There's plenty is this book to get your blood boiling or elicit a hearty cheer (In spite of what the name suggests, it's not strictly a party-line book).  However, I want to mention "Proud to be Right" not so much for its politics as for the fact that four out of the twenty-two contributers to this collection of essays are Torrey chums.  Considering that

We have a well stocked fiction library at school.  In light of this, I've devoted this semester to going back and reading a few of the books on my "this comes highly recommended" list.  Near the top of that list is Orson Scott Card's "Ender's Game."  I think it's joined "Foundation" and "Starship Troopers" as a modern political sci-fi masterpiece.  After reading it, I agree that it is an excellent piece of fiction but, as with "The Name of the Rose," I have to say that the message fell flat. Now that I've incurred my readership's collective wrath, let me explain.  I enjoyed the book; I honestly did.  The writing was tight and gripping the way a great novel should be.  From page one, I never wanted to put it down.  The characters were interesting, the pacing flawless, and the world it created was, given its premises, believable.  What fell flat then?  As with Eco, the problem is one of meaning.  "Ender

I finished reading Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose a few weeks ago and have found myself in the odd place of having very little to say about this highly acclaimed book.  Now, it's not that I didn't like it.  It was a highly enjoyable read and, like Eifelheim by Michael Flynn , did a wonderful job of envisioning the medieval past.  I did, however, feel a sense of being "under-whelmed," especially as I worked my way through Eco's afterword.  The point of the book is that it has no point except for what the reader and author create together, and Eco gets a chance to laugh at your bourgeois expectations.  I may not quite agree with that, but usually I'm at least open to it.  This time, for whatever reason, the usual postmodern/mannerist schpiel fell completely flat. I thought of reading some Foucault to revive my waining interest, but then I remembered something a professor of mine said recently.  The context was a discussion about why there weren

I love watching the films of Japanese director and animator Hayao Miyazaki.  At this point, I've seen almost everything of his I can get my hands on.  There's a simple why to this: great production value and great story-telling.  The closest thing I've seen to it in American film is Pixar, and Lasseter makes no bones about the intellectual and creative debt he owes to Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli.  To put a finer point on it, however, I love Miyazaki's films for their theophanies. Many, if not all, of Miyazaki's films has a moment in which the world as it appears to us, physical and mundane, is pierced by a deeper spiritual reality.  This moment, the revelation of the divine (or theophany), leaves the charaters of Miyazaki's dramas transformed.  Whether it's the Spirit of the Forest in "Princess Mononoke," the Sea Goddess in "Ponyo," or the cloud of slain pilots in "Porco Rosso," these moments of spiritual revelation form the

I've written before on the role "The Legend of Zelda" series played in my childhood.  It was link with his little 8-bit shield that first awoke the call to adventure within me.  Role playing through his world of simple good and evil began to build a certain mindset: when there's a wrong to be righted, we must stand up and right it no matter the personal cost.  In the midst of all the puzzle solving and button mashing, I was learning what it meant to be a hero.  Maybe that sounds like an impoverished childhood, but it never stopped me from reading or going outside and playing too.  In fact, the one fed the other.  The stories in our video games gave us something to play outside, and our childish attempts at adventure in the forests of New England brought us a new appreciation for the sub-created worlds of "The Legend of Zelda," "Secret of Mana," "Final Fantasy," and "Dragon Warrior." All this came back to my mind when I

Is Utnapishtim an ape?  Does he dance before you in the manner of an ape?  Laugh then.  Laugh at the dancing of Utnapishtim; he will not resent you.  Laugh until your sides crack and your head breaks; for through the gap may come Wisdom! Thus Spoke Utnapishtim

I teach a course called "Humanities" at a classical school.  Humanities is a rather amorphous course that's something like a combination of History, Ethics, and Literature (you might think of it as "History and Moral Philosophy"  Oops!)  It can be a little difficult to teach since you're always caught on the horns of a dilemma: do I focus on the Literature end or do I focus on the History end; there isn't enough time for both. That said, I have found one thing that Humanities excels at: serving as a safety valve for other courses.  Have an argument break out in Anatomy and Physiology about cannibalism in survival situations?  Shift it to Humanities.  Have a rash of questions about Satan in Bible class?  Shift it to Humanities.  Kids want to talk about the decline of pop-music as copyright laws gets ever tighter? You guessed it: bring it up in Humanities.  What I'm saying is the very amorphous nature of the Humanities course becomes a huge asset whe

My wife and I have been reading "The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun" edited by Christopher Tolkien.  If we had picked up the book when it came out, we would have payed a pretty penny.  As it is, we got it for less than three dollars at Amazon.  So far, my wife and I are enjoying the book, especially academic material.  However, the reason it's selling for such a low price has also become abundantly obvious: the book is esoteric, technical, and has no direct connection with Middle Earth.  So esoteric is the work, that you really need to have read "The Volsunga Saga," know a fair bit about the history of the Northern European Dark Age and both Eddas to enjoy it.  I have all those prerequisites, hence my enjoyment.  This leads to the question, however, of why Christopher brought out and published this work.  Surely he must have known that it would be a commercial failure; that it was bringing out his father's "scripta minora" in the strongest sense?

W. H. Auden muses in an essay on "The Lord of the Rings" that Saruman and Sauron both posses industrial capabilities but do not wage modern war.  There are no orcs with tanks in the War of the Ring.  Careful examination of the text and some knowledge of actual historical cultures can help us solve this problem.  Ever the niggling detail man, Tolkien's world is coherent. Saruman's orcs bring gunpowder, the fire of Orthanc, with them to the siege of Helm's Deep.  While gunpowder pre-dates the Industrial Revolution, it foundational to modern warfare.  The corrupt wizard also installs industrial technology in the Shire.  We see this specifically at Ted Sandyman's mill, capable of grinding grain at an accelerated rate in order to feed the soldiers of Isengard.  Saruman's complex logistics, using the Shire and Bree as a relatively unassailable supply network, is another feature of modern war.  After losing the War of the Ring, Saruman comes to the Shire and or

After twelve years of living in the high desert, it's been a breath of fresh air to be back among the woodlands again with mist, and rain, and standing water.  When you've grown up in the forest, surrounded by trees, the leaves and the bark and the shadows sink deep into your soul in a way that can never completely be rooted out.  I remember one patch in La Mirada park where the trees grew close enough together that the formed a canopy.  There were times when I would take a stroll there just to feel the sunlight passing between the leaves. Like I said, it's good to be back in the forest.  Still, even with all the greenery, there are moments of disconnect; like trying to remember an old tune and knowing that you've gotten part of it but it's not quite right.  I've thought for a bit, and I know what it is: the trees are all strange.  The trees are all strange. Qui Transtulit Sustinet

In "The Lord of the Rings," Sauron's body is diffused throughout Middle Earth in a perverse parody of Christ's Church.  It is significant that the object that ties this diverse organism together is a ring; gold and unadorned.  In fact, Sauron's ring resembles nothing so much as a common wedding ring.  To what might Sauron be wed? Following the idea that Sauron's body is a mockery of the Church, we can look to Christian imagery to guide us.  The Church is not only referred to as the "body of Christ," but also the "bride of Christ."  Sauron's body is also his bride.  In distinction to the Church, however, the members of Sauron's body are merely extensions of his will; mere puppets.  If this is true, then the bride Sauron is marrying is himself.  This idea should sound familiar to readers of "Thus Spoke Zarathustra."  Indeed, Zarathustra, the herald of Anti-Christ, sings: Oh how should I not lust for eternity and for the

British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli once claimed that he was on the side of the angels to which G.K. Chesterton quipped: "on the side of the fallen angels , and all the imperialisms of the princes of the abyss."  Beyond simply disagreeing with Disraeli's policies, Chesterton was reacting to a common sort of gnosticism popular in the Victorian era that equated anything "spiritual" with the Good.  The problem with such an attitude is that it ignores the possibility of spiritual evil.  It wants angels but ignores demons. Mike Mignola's occult-saturated world makes no bones about the existence of spiritual evil, but it often raises the very real problem of how to fight it.  Jesus' challenge to the pharisees with the principle that "Satan cannot cast our Satan" isn't a given for many of Mignola's protagonists.  This poses a very real problem in that if means don't matter, is it only the ends that separate Good from Evil?  What i

My wife and I are drawing toward the close of our second trek through "The Lord of the Rings" together.  As with all great works, returning to Tolkien's masterpiece rewards the reader with fresh insights.  Here are a few things that have stood out to me this time: 1. Gimli the Patriot   The defining aspect of Gimli Gloin's son is that he is a patriot.  A new generation of dwarves has shown up on the scene in Middle Earth since "The Hobbit"; a generation who grew up after the successful reconquest of Erebor and the resounding defeat of the goblins at the Battle of Five Armies.  Gimli stands as a type for this new generation in his fierce dwarven pride and generally more optimistic outlook on life.  Thorin and co. pass right by Moria without a second glance, having experience a Pyrrhic victory in the Dimril Dale.  For Gimli, the whole journey from Caradhras to Mirrormere is a sacred pilgrimage.  His song of Khazad-Dum is more than just an elegy, it is a na

September is just around the corner and that means that Summer is nearly at an end.  On that note, it's time to announce this year's winners for "The Seven Heavens of Summer Reading." Moon: Lilith by George MacDonald   Constancy and inconstancy form a central motif in this weird tale turned Universalist allegory.  As a symbol of this stand the various moons that govern the nightly changes of MacDonald's imaginary world. Venus: She by H. Rider Haggard  The colonial administrator turned author brings us a vivid picture of Venus Infernal in this seminal work of adventure pulp. Mars: Starship Troopers by Robert Heinlein  One of the great soldier's novelists since Kipling, Heinlein easily captures the slot devoted to the god of war.  On the bounce! Mercury: From Alpha to Omega by Anne H. Groten  I tried to teach myself Greek this summer.  Not the best thing to try during a major move.  Still, what better book could there be for this summer's language a

After "The Summer of Lovecraft," I decided to scrub my brain with a little George MacDonald.  I chose "Lilith," since it seemed to complement all the weird literature from this summer's reading.  As it turns out, this was an apt choice since H.P. Lovecraft recommended it (particularly the original draft) as an excellent example of the British incarnation of the "weird tale."  After re-reading "Lilith," I find the fact that Lovecraft recommends the book distinctly odd.  After all, can there be two cosmic visions farther apart than Lovecraft's "be eaten first" and MacDonald's "even Lilith shall be saved"?  Of course, the features of the book that were most important to MacDonald the pastor are probably not the features that appealed most to Lovecraft the agnostic/atheist.  Still, it's an interesting link.

It's done.  It took fifteen years, but it's done.  I have finally finished Final Fantasy III.  Not exactly big news, but there you have it.  As I've been working my way through this SNES classic, I've tried to put down my thoughts about why this video game has done so well over the years.  After finishing FFIII, I have some final thoughts to share. Kefka, the villain of the story, reminds me of nothing so much as Heath Ledger's Joker.  He is the clown who gets the "joke" of modernity: the world is utterly meaningless, yet humans run around acting as if there's some point to life.  Infused with the god-like power of magic (an obvious analog for technology in the game) Kefka seeks to share the joke with the rest of humanity by slowly destroying the world.  Against this assault of nihilistic fury, the protagonists find strength to resist in the community that they have created.  Together, they challenge Kefka's nihilistic project by asserting tha

What's good in Lovecraft?  What good can their be in the writings of a thin-skinned, morbid, racist, hack whose every page screams with overly-articulate horror at the meaninglessness of the Neo-Darwinian universe?  H.P. Lovecraft intentionally situated himself as the continuator of Edgar Allan Poe; of whose writings we might ask similar questions.  However, in his deep love of Southern New England, he has just as much in common with Nathanael Hawthorne.  Like Lovecraft, the quality of Hawthorne's writing is inconsistent and has the peculiar flavor of the literary autodidact.  The power of Hawthorne's writing doesn't come from high literary style, or flawless creative art, but from his ability to give us a vision of New England and its inhabitants that rises above the mundane to resound with spiritual power.  The same can be said, on a lesser level, for H.P. Lovecraft. No matter where the far-flung action of the Lovecraftian imagination may take us, to the snowy de

Following my established routine, I've endeavored to expand my knowledge of Pulp this summer with a some selections from H.P. Lovecraft and Ridder Haggard.  Lovecraft will have to wait for his own post.  In the meantime, I'd like to take a look a truly seminal novel in the history of Pulp: Ridder Haggard's "She." This one thin volume seems to have exercised a greater influence on subsequent works in a way only surpassed by "The Lord of the Rings."  A quick surface read will reveal familiar elements and scenes from "The Magician's Nephew," "The Lord of the Rings," Robert Howard's Conan stories, "Congo (though that's more Haggard's other great work, "King Solomon's Mines")," "Dune," and the Indiana Jones trilogy.  This is a powerful and diverse influence for a novel that spans only a little more than a hundred pages. *very minimal spoiler ahead* One of the great pleasures of readin

As promised, I'm continuing my review of Hellboy Vol. 10 with a discussion of "In The Chapel of Moloch." "In The Chapel of Moloch" is the first Hellboy comic that Mignola has both written and illustrated in some time. As such, it seems to represent Mignola's personal musings in a less guarded fashion. *Spoilers Ahead* "In The Chapel of Moloch" presents us with three characters: Hellboy, the Jerry's agent, and Jerry the Artist. Given the cast of characters, Mignola's general theme is quite obvious: this is a meditation on art. The story begins with Jerry's agent calling Hellboy out to Portugal to investigate his client's increasingly weird behavior. Jerry's career has apparently hit a dead end, with the artist only capable of producing copies of Goya. In an effort to save his reputation, Jerry rents a villa in an isolated part of Portugal and holes up in the adjoining chapel to reconnect with his muse. Jerry stops t

 It's not often that we get to enjoy two Hellboy volumes released within six months of each other.  After the groundbreaking "Wild Hunt," however, it's hard not to imagine a short stories volume being something of a let down.  I was very much pleased, then, to find that "The Crooked Man and Others" holds its own.  There are only four stories in this volume, but each one is a masterpiece of the "wierd tales" genre while also deepening our apreciation of Hellboy and his journey as a character. *Caution: Spoilers Ahead* The most important short-story in the volume is the one from which the collection takes its name: "The Crooked Man."  In "The Crooked Man" Mignola again reminds us just how much folklore there is to explore in the world by setting the tale in the back-woods of Appalachia.  After a long string of stories featuring Hellboy in Europe, Africa, and England, the return to America and American Folklore is welcome cha

We discovered Thursday evening that out garbage disposal was home to an inter-dimensional horror of Lovecraftian proportions! It soon became clear to us who the culprit was behind this non-Euclidian invasion: C'thulhu! Braving the sanity-threatening forces of the elder gods, the Platypus was able to drive back the trans-cosmic horrors and ensure the safety of earth.  For now...

As usual, my summer reading plan has taken a bit of a detour.  While waiting for some of the other books to come in, I picked up Verlyn Flieger's "Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien's World."  I'm not all the way through it yet, but I am frankly bothered by what I've read.  As a seeming result of her commitment to the philosophy of Owen Barfield, Flieger casts Tolkien's work as essentially dualistic and rooted in Barfield's idea of the fragmentation of meaning.  The problem here is twofold: 1.) though Barfield was a fellow inkling, Flieger thus far has failed to make the case that his thought was as influential on Tolkien as Flieger claims (what precisely Flieger is claiming is often hard to ascertain), 2.)Flieger attempts to cast Tolkien's imaginative project as essentially dualist, a claim that Tolkien the Catholic would have flatly denied.  Such claims demand real and painstakingly collected evidence that is carefully argued and

Character Killing It's a rule of storytelling that killing off a likable character (all else being equal) deepens audience commitment to the story. As we've discussed earlier, technological advances during the early and mid-nineties allowed video game designers to create narrative driven games.  Squaresoft led the way with its landmark Final Fantasy series.  However, at that time, video game designers creating products for Nintendo had to work within the parameters of the company's ethics code.  This code was meant to ensure that Nintendo products were child-friendly; children being the target audience for video games during this time period.  This meant that story elements like permanent character death that could be traumatizing to young children were frowned upon or disallowed.  Final Fantasy II went out of its way, as a matter of fact, to bring back characters from otherwise fatal situations (falling out of an airship and being turned to stone come to mind.  Rydi

Summer is finally here, and with it the Summer Reading List. This year's anticipated titles include: 1. "Education for Human Flourishing" by Paul Spears 2. "At the Mountains of Madness" by H.P. Lovecraft 3. "The Lord of the Rings" by J.R.R. Tolkien (Again) 4. "The Last Battle" by C.S. Lewis (Again) 5. "Hellboy Vol. 10" by Mignola et al. 6. "She" by Rider Haggard As usual, I'll be keeping you all posted as I work my way through.

My doctors have finally decided that the super-meds I'm on aren't working so I'm up for a round of tests this month.  I just got finished with a PH probe; a wire running through my nose and down my throat to the top of my stomach (it feels like having a really bad cold).  Next week, I get to have a scope put down my throat and a tracking pill left in my stomach to record the acid levels.  Fun, fun, fun.  The goal is to find out if anything is agitating the hernia and causing it to over-react.  If they can't find anything, we go to surgery, but that's looking unlikely in the short-term due to some insurance problems (not the company's fault; it's a complex issue).

It's not the emperor's fault, sure he was on the wrong track with this whole "blood and iron" thing, but he's not really evil.  It's those advisers that are the problem.  If one could only speak to the emperor, make him see reason, all would be well. Heard that one before? It's interesting to me that in both Final Fantasy III and Secret of Mana, that the emperor is almost a non-Character.  We hear about him, but the real villain with a fully fleshed-out personality is one of his aids (Kefka or Thanatos).  These aids treacherously overthrow their master and then get down to the business of doing some real damage. Why is this? One could see this as a reflection of Japan's World War II experience where Emperor Hirohito got a pass while Tojo took the blame.  It could also be that an Emperor is essentially a glorified bureaucrat and that makes him relatively uninteresting as a video game villain.  An aid, or a right-hand man can mix it up with the