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“The flame might be gone, but the fire remains
And I’m stuck on a path to my own ruin
Did you see me behind the wheel?
Did you see me behind the wheel?
And the flame might be gone, but the fire…
-“Remembered” by The Dear Hunter
Sometime in the middle of last year, I heard the premise for American Fiction (2023) and thought it sounded like an absolutely genius concept completely relevant to not just my experiences as an author, but the experiences of a whole bunch of POC that I personally know. Lo and behold, upon viewing it, they knock most of it out of the park (I don’t like the final act, personally; I think it doesn’t feel cohesive and satisfying enough to end what was a REALLY good story in the first and second acts). Enough that it’s why I felt like I wanted to blow the dust off my blog for an entry. I think this movie is going to give us a lot of cud to chew as a society, and that it’s definitely a conversation worth having among black authors in particular.
Let’s get into it. Before we start, spoilers for American Fiction (2023). At the time of this post, it is still in theaters so if you want to get the juicy details, I recommend you pop out to a theater. Its theatrical run was extended thanks to the Oscar nominations.
American Fiction is about a struggling black professor named Thelonious “Monk” Ellis who is vexed by the fact that his work is actually quite good, but it doesn’t sell because it’s complex and not palatable to the masses. After a lot of misfortune, he gets the idea to write a book that’s both pandering to urban fiction readers and is a middle finger to the industry that puts out books that basically (in his opinion) reinforce harmful black stereotypes and sends it to his publisher under a different pseudonym, laughing that he will get reviled reactions to writing tripe. Well, the opposite happens! Immediately, a huge publisher says they want the book and to offer him friggin’ $750,000 for it. Monk is gobsmacked, but since his sister just died and his mother was just diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s, he reluctantly decides to take the offer. Things get even more complicated when the book blows up as a number one bestseller and he gets a movie deal, despite his chagrin and embarrassment, and he struggles to reconcile the fact that the worst thing he’s ever written is now his most successful book.
So, in my family, my older brother and have a running joke about the fact that I am a fairly good writer (or at least I feel that I might be one; none of the good writers ever know it or believe it even when given evidence) but I make nothing off my books because I don’t write to market, and if I just sold out and wrote bad smut or books for basic bitches, I’d be a millionaire.
You can see why I went right out to see this film as a result.
American Fiction’s biting sarcasm and relentless exposure of the faults in the publishing world and the black community is definitely going to be remembered by all relevant parties. This film shines a light on something that the average person, regardless of race, ethnicity, and nationality, probably doesn’t know. Way too many people don’t know how the writing and publishing world works, and this film does. It truly gets it. It gets what black writers go through and it gets what the mainstream publishing world sounds like. Whoever wrote it definitely has either experienced this crap directly or is intimate with someone who does, because everything in the film proceeds exactly how it does in real life, for the most part.
And that’s what got me thinking.
If I had to sum up American Fiction (2023) in a word, I’d say it’s about responsibility.
So in the story, one of the reasons Monk decides to write the most base and pandering piece of crap novel is after having to endure watching a book seemingly just like it blow up by a black female author named Sindra. It inadvertently puts him on edge every time he has to be somewhere and see her book, given that the book just panders to every black stereotype since that is the genre expectation for urban fiction. Finally, in the third act, he and the author are in the same room and he asks her why she considered his book (keep in mind, she has no idea he wrote it) pandering, yet hers doesn’t count. She fires back that she’s writing to market and that it’s not her fault if white people or other people think that all black people behave the way they do in urban fiction. The film is basically examining personal responsibility as an author and in particular, as a black author.
And I can say for certain that is going to ring through the halls of history as relevant for decades to come.
The film has a very intelligent argument and I appreciate the living hell out of it being in a big production movie that is now an Oscar nominee. Now, don’t get me wrong—fuck the Oscars. Yeah, I said it. They’re archaic, antiquated, and utter crock. Most of the time, if a good movie gets an Oscar nom, it’s a fucking coincidence. The Academy in no way is interested in awarding the “best” movie anything; this is a room full of people that wanna be pandered to, and the harder you pander, the more they’ll pat you on the back, which is why damn near every year is the same fucking movies getting nominated. It’s aggravating as hell and it’s why they are continuously losing the public’s attention. People are tired of unknown garbage getting attention, especially since the Academy is who’s being lambasted by the very same film they nominated. The Academy doesn’t want to hear shit from POC unless it’s a story about their pain. Every once in a blue moon, you’ll get competent and joyful films winning like Everything Everywhere All at Once, but largely if POC are nominated, especially black people, it’s because it’s talking about our pain, not our triumph, and the Academy seems to think the only relevant stories we can tell are about our pain, which is exactly what is discussed in this film, and it’s handled rather well.
But I do take a departure from Sindra’s argument.
Sindra’s argument boils down to “people enjoy what I write and I’m not wrong to write to that market; it’s the responsibility of white people to not believe nothing but stereotypes.” That’s a good, solid argument…but I disagree. I understand the argument completely and I think I agree to an extent, but my problem with what’s discussed in the film is more of a long term, wider scale problem than an isolated one.
The reason that I dislike that type of writing is that it reinforces negative stereotypes about black people that affects things outside of just the reading world. What I’m concerned about is the long term effects of writing that kind of fiction. Sindra is correct; it is the responsibility of society to not reinforce negative stereotypes, but I argue that authors hold some of that responsibility too. It is for this very reason that you see a lot of popular white authors either never writing black people (even if the character LIVES IN THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING CHICAGO NOT POINTING FINGERS OR ANYTHING BUT YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE) out of fear that they’ll “get something wrong” and offend POC or they seldom write them and cheat readers out of what could be an interesting character and story. If these white authors don’t have POC in their lives, first of all, that’s sad and they need to get their shit together, but second of all, they feel like they’re too scared to write POC because all they’ve ever seen are Tyler Perry movies and Worldstar and Eric Jerome Dickey books, so they have zero frame of reference for the black experience, so they skip it. While that’s an isolated problem, it’s much bigger than that. The problem I have with Sindra’s argument is that when you endorse this type of writing, there are real life consequences.
I’ll give you an example. Let’s say there is a job opening for a front desk clerk at a dentist’s office. The hiring manager has two candidates that are the same age, have the same level of education, and have the same level of experience needed for the job. Both of them have great interviews, too. One is black and the other is white. For the sake of the argument, let’s say this hiring manager is white. Now, here he sits with two resumes of identical people. How does he make that decision? Well, if this hiring manager has seen nothing but Tyler Perry movies and reality TV shows, what are the chances he starts thinking about his black potential candidate as being a problem? More than likely, it’s gonna creep into his head and influence the decision, so he passes on the black candidate based on falsified evidence of what black people are like. That’s my problem with Sindra’s argument. This is of course a small situation and I’m sure that black candidate doesn’t want to work for someone who would turn him down based on him believing an incorrect stereotype, but that’s my point.
Opportunities can be taken away from black creatives based on negative stereotypes. And that isn’t just black people, too—people of color in general have to struggle with the fact that the white population is still in control of most of America’s working parts, and so we have to contend with extra stress and problems that they don’t necessarily have based on race. This is of course not to say white people don’t have problems; of course they do, they have the same problems except for the fact that when white people act out, no one blames the entire race. And that’s what black people—and POC in general—have to contend with on a daily basis. I cannot tell you how many micro-aggressions I’ve had to endure being a black woman in the South. It’s truly maddening how differently you’re treated as a black woman in America, but the South really can get under your skin and make you frustrated with how they handle everything down here. Sindra’s argument, to me, is too idealistic. I would love to live in a world where stereotypical behavior is not viewed as blamed on an entire race of people.
But that’s not the world we live in.
Someone once said that being a woman is like ballroom dancing backwards in high heels, and it is. But I would argue being black is very similar. We can’t just be as good as our white counterparts—we have to be better in every way, and even when we are better (though to be fair, better is a very subjective term for this argument), there is still an enormous possibility that we get nowhere because the person at the gate is someone who looks at us and sees nothing but negative stereotypes. We have to work ten times harder for the same reward that would’ve been considered on normal merit had we not been a POC. That’s why I don’t agree that there is no responsibility with us as black writers. I think we have to pay attention to what we’re putting out there because even if it seems like no one cares and no one’s watching, someone certainly is and they can unknowingly affect the outcome of a black person’s life based on their experiences. I’d love to say that we can get there as a society, but I’m not confident in our ability to understand complexities.
But that’s also what I like about the film. It is a complicated argument with plenty of support for both sides and I love that someone wanted to have this conversation at all. This is exactly what all low-to-mid-level black authors go through at some point, especially the indie and small press crowd. I certainly don’t feel negatively towards urban fiction; who the hell am I to judge? If y’all saw my Browser History on AO3, you’d have plenty of stones to throw into my little glass house. But what I am saying is that I think it’s still our responsibility as black authors to think before we write something that might have a Domino effect down the line, but we also need to call out the people who make shitty decisions based on stereotypes at all times. We can’t let up on that. It’s ridiculous to sum up a whole race of people based on a 90 minute movie or a season of a reality show. We shouldn’t do it to each other and we shouldn’t do it to other races, nationalities, and ethnicities. Hell, that’s how we’ve had a resurgence of fucking Nazis in America; instead of punching them in the face, people said “we should hear them out” and now we’ve got a whole ass third of the country insane enough to storm the fucking Capitol to assassinate the Speaker of the House and the goddamn former Vice President. This. Stuff. Matters.
And yes, I know that’s a huge example for such a modest film, but that’s why I feel so strongly about the argument the movie presents. It’s surprisingly the small stuff that can make a difference in the writing world. I also think that every writer, no matter how successful, should be fostering friendships and relationships to help each other out. We are not in competition. All of us should reach down and pull the person below us on the ladder up, not pull the ladder up behind us so they can’t reach out of fear. We have to uplift if we want things to change. We have to keep having these conversations to eradicate as much of that learned hatred as possible.
And I really think films like American Fiction (2023) are how we get closer to that goal.
So thank you to everyone who had anything to do with making it. Even though I didn’t feel the ending was right, I really had a good time with the first and second acts and I hope they get to bring home the (irrelevant) gold just because it would be good for America to find out just how fucking rough it is out here for black authors.
But we persevere.
Here’s to you, American Fiction. Knock those old bastards at the Academy dead when it comes time.
Kyoko
Too much of a good thing can be bad for you, and I think there is no better example than TV shows that get after-the-fact mini-series or additional seasons after their initial run, like Justified on FX. For those who are not aware, Justified was an FX show starring the infinitely talented Timothy Olyphant as US Marshal Raylan Givens, based on the book series written by the late Elmore Leonard. Givens is a modern day cowboy of the most badass variety, and Justified is a love letter to urban cowboys. I wish I could say the show was perfect, but it is far from that; in my opinion, it should only have had four seasons. I found season five to be bad except for the most epic villain death in television history (if you must know, look up “Justified Twenty-One Foot Rule” on YouTube and sit back and enjoy), and season six was dogshit. Therefore, when it was announced there would be a new mini-series ten or so years later, I remained cautiously optimistic and began to tune in each week via Hulu.
And what I found is unfortunately a lot like when Dexter ended, then returned to try and close the loop a little better the next time around.
Which is the subject of today’s episode of Cautionary Tales.
So all the way back in the year of our Lord 2015, I wrote a cautionary tale blog post about Justified’s lousy final season. To sum it up, the last season was very forced and it was apparent the writers had no more good ideas as they’d used them up in seasons 1-4, so the last season ended on a pathetic whimper and I won’t get into it because it’s a sore subject. But I knew all the way back then that there was a finite amount of talent in the writers’ room, and I had hoped that the big gap of time between the end of the original run and the revival would have given them the time to find a good story. I actually bothered to grab the book that this series is loosely based on, City Primeval by Elmore Leonard, just because I wanted a preview of what I might expect here. The book has a reputation for basically being a middle of the road title for Leonard’s career, but the reason I’ve brought it up is because of the context. This book has nothing to do with Raylan Givens. The book is actually about a character named Raymond Cruz, but the Justified producers decided to take Cruz out and plop Raylan in since the show, while never an enormous hit, had a modest viewing of two million viewers until the final season, which lost about half a million viewers after season five was NOT good and season six was even worse. They knew they had a built in audience that would likely return for a revival, so they decided to take the plot from the book and just assign it to Raylan instead.
And honestly, I think it was a mistake.
Not a huge mistake. Not a catastrophic “I hate this” mistake.
The problem is that this revival is nothing but wheel-spinning.
Let’s get into why this is today’s lesson of cautionary tales.
Naturally, massive spoilers for the ending of Justified and for episodes 1-7 of Justified: City Primeval. At the time of this post, the series finale has not aired, so this is more of a retrospective recap and discussion of where I think things went wrong.
Alright, so here’s the basic set up: in the original series, Raylan was reassigned back to his hometown of Harlan county Kentucky after he shot a mobster to death in a crowded restaurant in broad daylight in Miami. Long story short, the original series ends with him surviving Harlan and going back to Florida, which was where he was before the shooting. We pick up close to ten years later with a very seasoned Raylan dealing with his preteen daughter, Willa, whom he had with his ex-wife Winona, and Raylan catches a case that sends him up to Detroit, Michigan. Now, Raylan is very familiar with some Detroit mobsters that had a foothold in Harlan county because it’s a backwater town full of gross racist pieces of shit and so the drug trade is huge in Harlan and so is the general crime. After arriving to Detroit, he crosses paths with Clement Mansell, an Oklahoma Wildman who has no regard for literally anyone or anything. Through sheer dumb luck, the judge Raylan was working with runs into Mansell and Mansell snaps, killing the judge and his assistant in their car in the dead of night and taking the judge’s book full of blackmail material on dozens of Detroit citizens. Mansell, who is a career criminal but managed to walk on a technicality thanks to his lawyer-under-duress, Carolyn Wilder, then gets with another one of his associates named Sweetie to start blackmailing the people in the judge’s book to make money off them, citing that once he has enough, he and his side piece bimbo Sandy will retire to the tropics.
Now, that sounds like an alright idea on paper, but unfortunately, I think the bad writing from the final season carried over into this one. The biggest problem of the show so far is that while I get that Raylan is a fish out of water, none of the things that make him a great character other than that sly sense of humor and swagger are present in this mini-series.
Raylan Givens has two important things working for him as a US Marshal: he’s incredibly intelligent and observant and he’s an amazing shot. Those two traits define him as a character. Most of the fun of the original show is watching the Harlan criminals figure out that Raylan’s intelligence and perception mixed with being a crackshot make him next to impossible to evade or defeat. And what I’ve always loved about Raylan is that he is always fair. Almost every time he’s had to confront a convict or an escaped felon, he explains exactly what he’s going to do and what their situation is and he lets them make a choice. And 99% of the time, the dopes in Harlan county think they can either outthink or outdraw Raylan and they are dead wrong, pun intended. So I was excited to see Raylan in a new environment, ready to see him adjust and change and grow in this new city.
And yet I’ve gotten 7 episodes of absolutely nothing.
I’m someone who understands that a new series can mean that they make changes and I won’t necessarily always like said changes, and that’s okay. The issue I have with this particular change is that it makes me wonder why they bothered to tell this story if Raylan’s intelligence and amazing shooting skills are not at all in use this entire series. He never gets the drop on Mansell. He and the Detroit cops fumble the investigation so badly that I frankly would be annoyed if I were a real Detroit cop because they basically make them look incompetent. The decision to basically neuter Raylan and not give him any decent leads or even just use his own intuition to figure out how to get this guy behind bars is infuriating. The difference with this series in particular is that it’s not like Mansell is very clever in how he commits crimes. The guy is blatantly doing whatever he wants, but the Detroit cops are so stupid that they somehow still can’t lock him up. So forgetting the judge and assistant’s murders, he also attempts to rob an Albanian guy at gunpoint and breaks his leg when the guy doesn’t have any money for him to steal. He was caught on audio by the police trying to blackmail a civil servant. He murders his co-conspirator, Sweetie, and burns down the bar. He executes the guy whose condo he and his bimbo had been staying in, basically for no reason, in broad daylight in an upscale condo. Did you read all of that? Now explain to me how the heck the cops can’t find any hard evidence or anything to get this guy locked up?
I’ll tell you how: shoddy writing. And unfortunately, this has been a problem for as long as fiction has existed. Often, lazy writers don’t want to make a villain smart and always one step ahead of the protagonist because it’s “too hard,” so what they do instead is simply make a dumb protagonist who bumbles all the attempts to catch the villain. And that’s really the biggest issue I have with Justified: City Primeval. The writers decided to take the easy way out by making the Detroit cops idiots and make Raylan a neutered puppy who can’t anticipate any of Mansell’s moves or gather any evidence that would lead to some kind of conviction. All of the momentum of the previous show is not present in this mini-series.
And you know, I’d be less salty about it if the content we’re seeing that is not Raylan investigating Mansell was good, but it’s not. Now, I will say that Raylan and Carolyn Wilder’s fling is by far the only legitimate enjoyment I’ve gotten out of the show. You’re welcome to throw a Criminal Offensive Side Eye at me for it; I’ve wanted Timothy Olyphant to have a black female love interest for 10 years and this series gave me exactly what I’ve always wanted (just no sex scenes, grrrr) and I’m okay with my own bias in that regard, but everything else in the show suffers as a result of the show not delivering good content. The performances are good, don’t get me wrong, but nothing is even coming close to the enjoyment we had back in Harlan county with the kooky criminals and the interesting fellow marshals in Lexington. This revival comes across as a cash grab leaning on an established IP to get viewers.
And based on the reactions from the Justified fandom, I don’t think the show is hitting for them either. I’ve been hearing complaints about Raylan’s lack of police work since episode two. I personally had reserved judgment and was hoping it was going slow in the beginning, but it would pick up in the middle, but it didn’t. The needle has not moved an inch. The entire plot is only moving forward because of Mansell, not Raylan, so in the end, it makes the show feel like Raylan was the Decoy Protagonist and the show is instead all about Mansell, who is an irritating piece of shit in every regard, and it annoys me greatly that this actor’s fangirls have clogged the Tumblr tag with a bunch of disgusting simping for a man who murdered his own mother in cold blood and threatened to rape an underage girl in front of her father. But that’s a long story I’m not gonna get into.
The central fact of the matter is that if you’re going to resurrect a show, then you have to do your due diligence in—and pun fully intended here—justifying its existence. From what I read of the book, it was a decent story that was worth telling. This story is not worth telling. It adds nothing to Raylan’s dimensions as a character and the “rivalry” they are attempting to set up with Raylan vs. Mansell is weak because the show has not developed it. I went through my head and thought about how many scenes Raylan and Mansell have had together and oddly enough, it’s not very much. He gets under Raylan’s skin because he’s a slimeball and knows it and yet the laws of man somehow just don’t apply to this guy, but that’s it. There is nowhere near the history between them like some of Raylan’s far better opponents like Boyd Crowder or Dickie Bennett. They might as well have just not made this revival in the first place if the only thing that would be good about it was Raylan gettin’ it on with a smart, powerful black woman who can handle him in a way none of the skanks he’s slept with in the past ever have. (Yes, I said it. Every woman Raylan has ever slept with in the original show was a skank. Come at me, scrublords, I’m ripped. )
Some of the issue, too, is that the supporting cast is nowhere near as strong as the one in the show’s original run. Our cast of characters is too big and so no one’s getting the focus they should have in order to make them more interesting. I already mentioned that Mansell has a stranglehold on the screentime and everyone else is left with pieces. There have been two majorly important conversations between Raylan and Carolyn that were cut short that I think was a massive mistake: seeing how they hooked up for the first time, and this most recent episode when she bluntly asked him how he would get Mansell’s prints on the murder weapon. We should have seen more content for Carolyn, Sweetie, and the detective that Raylan’s been partnered with, Wendell. None of these relationships are elaborated on enough to really make us care about what’s transpiring. It’s all too much of a light touch with Mansell as the focus, and frankly, if the new show is so enamored with this douche, then you should have just adapted the book as-is instead of including Raylan since Raylan isn’t getting to do anything the entire time.
I also want to take a little aside here and mention a pet peeve of mine. Anyone who knows me knows about my theory about what I call White Bitch Syndrome. White Bitch Syndrome, in a nutshell, is when writers coddle white female characters (and 90% of the time they’re also blonde) when everyone else in a story has to pay for their mistakes and live with the consequences of their actions. The number one reason I hated the final season of Justified was because the show went full White Bitch Syndrome with a character named Ava Crowder, who basically spent all six seasons being a reprehensible piece of shit and got away with everything solely because white woman. Now, the bimbo Sandy Stanton is nowhere near the level of cunt that Ava Crowder is—and yes, I use that term sparingly, but Ava Crowder has earned it, trust me—but she is still being coddled and I absolutely despise the way that she’s been Mansell’s accomplice, but only now does she realize he doesn’t care about anyone but himself and would kill her the second she defected. It’s not fair for you to make all these other characters pay for their actions, but she gets to walk because she’s blonde, white, and female, but again, this was Justified’s MO in the original show. Ava got away with everything and Winona’s stupid ass walked out on Raylan too without a scratch on her, cementing her as one of the dumbest characters of all time since there is no man in Harlan county like Raylan and any woman with sense would jump at the chance to be with him. But I digress.
I guess, overall, the words I would use for this revival are “unnecessary” and “unsatisfying.” It doesn’t feel like it needed to come back if this was the material it returned to in the end. Is it better than the last season? Eh. In some ways, yes. There are better characters here and Raylan isn’t acting like a complete psychopath willing to throw his badge and life away just to kill Boyd Crowder, but at the same time, this isn’t a worthy story for Raylan Givens, especially if like I suspect, they kill him off in the series finale. This was not the right choice for him and it seems to have fallen into the traps like the Dexter revival I mentioned above (keep in mind, I never watched Dexter, but I knew it had one of the most hated finales of all-time and I know about the revival’s reception only because my dad watched it over winter break one year and we chatted about how it went).
Is it possible the series finale wows me and fixes all the problems I had in episodes 1-7? Yes. Is it likely? No. My guess is that they left all the action in the final episode so it’s an incredibly bottom-heavy series with an unsatisfying conclusion. Rest assured, if they kill Raylan off after an incredibly lackluster season, I will simply go into denial like I did with the original final season, as I sadly have had to do with a lot of shows I used to love.
So what can we learn from this debacle?
A few things, really. First, don’t bring back a beloved character unless you have something relevant to say about them or about any sort of important subject matter that you want to write about. Second, if you are more interested in writing about the antagonist than the protagonist, then you need to establish that right out of the gate instead of leading people on to think the story is centered on the protagonist. Third, learn what scenes need to be elaborated on and what can get cut that won’t be detrimental to the overall story. Fourth, don’t be lazy and make a dumb protagonist so the antagonist can get away with everything; do the work of writing a competent antagonist and a competent protagonist equally. Because if you don’t do that, you end up with a trope that has a name I forget that has to do with Lex Luthor; don’t write your bad guy getting away with his crimes so often that it induces apathy within your audience because Status Quo is God. This trope refers to Lex Luthor as the main example of how a conflict between good and evil can get boring if the bad guy ALWAYS gets away with his crimes so that the work of fiction can continue to be made. We all know that Lex is never going to jail—not for anything serious that he’s done and not for any significant length of time if they do get him on something eventually—and so Superman defeating him time and time again can get old if you’re not adding any new dimensions to the struggle. Lex fared a little better in Superman: The Animated Series because Supes and Lex were engaged in, for lack of a better word, a cold war. Lex does a bunch of illegal, shady shit and Clark tries to stop it or tries to gather evidence to either put Lex away or destroy his chances at future crimes, and that worked for that show’s format. You have to balance it with victories and losses for both sides or your audiences will lose interest.
And frankly, that’s about what happened by the time I finished watching episode 7 of City Primeval. I’ve just lost interest in what they decided to focus on and this isn’t a return to form for Raylan Givens nor this writers’ room. But what can you expect when the last season was also a dried turd?
If nothing else, I’ll commend them for giving Raylan an age-appropriate, interesting love interest with whom he had actual chemistry. That’s the best thing I can say for City Primeval, personally. I guess we’ll see if they somehow buck the system and stick the landing, but my guess is I’ll be just as disappointed with this finale as I was with the original one, and that’s a damn shame considering the enormous talent of the cast in this mini-series.
Better luck next time, my long legged cowboy boyfriend.
“On this lonely road
Trying to make it home
Doin’ by my lonesome, pissed off
Who wants some?
See them long, hard times to come…”
Pirates and kraken, boats and submarines, deadly sirens, mermaids, and the women who face them all. These are our heroes.
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We’re coming up on the release date for the fifth novel in the Of Cinder and Bone series, Of Claws and Inferno, so here’s your second excerpt! Spoiler alert, as always. Read the first excerpt here if you’re not caught up yet.
CHAPTER FIVE
ARRIVALS AND DEPARTURES
The abyss gazed back.
That was what Faye Worthington, MIT engineer and designer of the Knight Division’s dragon tracker technology, had learned over the last year.
“Hold your arms out, please.”
Faye spread her arms and legs. The guard swept her from head to toe with the metal detector, then gave her a pat down. She smirked when he returned in front of her, fluffing out her natural blonde locks around her shoulders. “Wow. You didn’t cop a feel. I’m proud of you.”
The guard gave her a stony look. She smiled wider, batting her lashes. “You have ten minutes, Ms. Worthington. Don’t make him late for his appointment.”
“Of course. Then I’d be late, since we have the same appointment.”
She heard a loud buzzing noise and then the iron gates unlocked in front of her. The guard pulled them open and she walked through them, her stride easy, relaxed, despite how she actually felt inside. Her stomach wouldn’t stop doing jumping jacks. She hadn’t been able to eat anything as a result. It annoyed her to no end.
Another guard opened a second door for her into the visitation area of the Cedar Junction Massachusetts Correctional Institution. Her heart thumped clumsily against her sternum as she walked through the maze of tables to the one designated for her and the room’s only occupant.
The man sitting at the table was of indeterminant age. His features were plain and ordinary as could be but for his dark brown eyes. Somehow or other, the fluorescent lights didn’t seem to reach them, as if they were perpetually in darkness, like twin black holes set in his brow. His head was completely shaved bald and beneath his dark red jumpsuit was a compact, muscular frame.
“Well, well, well,” Winston, hitman extraordinaire, drawled, his mouth stretching into a pointy grin. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
Faye snorted as she pulled the chair out from the table and sat down. “Excuse you. I’m wearing Prada. Nobody dragged me anywhere.”
Winston chuckled as he glanced over her exquisite red dress. “Acknowledged. I’m flattered you dressed up for me.”
Faye rolled her eyes. “You wish, bastard. Do you know how many members of the press are showing up to this farce? I have to keep up appearances. Besides, pretty sure having a nice rack will positively influence the media to give me sympathy points.”
“You’re being downright tactical about it, huh?”
Faye shrugged. “Can’t hurt my chances.”
“Chances, heh. Even without me talking, it’s pretty open and shut. I ain’t a rich politician. I was never getting off for this shit, even if I had gone with a fancy lawyer.”
Faye crossed her arms, her blue-grey eyes fixed intently on him. “And why didn’t you? We both know you’ve got the means to make it happen.”
Winston rubbed his scalp, his handcuffs jingling. “Why bother wasting the money?”
“Aren’t you up against the death penalty because you wouldn’t talk?”
Winston shrugged. “Lived a good life. If they wanna kill me, they can go ahead. Wouldn’t do what I do for a living if I were afraid of death.”
Faye’s eyes narrowed. “You said do, not did.”
Winston smiled. “Did I?”
“Uh-huh. You’re up to something.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You offered to meet with me before we go to the sentencing. Why?”
Winston touched his chest, pretending to be offended. “Blondie, I’m hurt. Are you saying you didn’t want to say goodbye? After all, this concludes our little cat-and-mouse game. They’re not going to let us have another private chat after this point. Especially not if I get the needle.”
“Let’s just say I’m skeptical that you don’t have some scheme to break yourself out of prison waiting in the wings.”
The grin returned. “You really think I’m capable of it?”
“I am more than sure you are. As much as I’d like to believe that I won our game, I’m not convinced. You let me win. I take issue with that.” The pretend amiability left her expression. Steel replaced it. “I’m not a child, Winston. You said you wanted a worthy opponent. You said you wouldn’t mind a beautiful Valkyrie like me putting you in the ground. So tell me what’s really going on here? Why didn’t you try to break out of prison to come after me?”
Winston clucked his tongue. “Too easy. That mystery you’ll have to figure out on your own. You’re smart. I’m sure you’ll get there soon enough.”
Faye shot him a sour look. “So then you brought me in here just to screw with me?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what? Do you expect me to humanize you and ask twenty questions like the Iceman Chronicles or something?”
Winston flashed his teeth. “You know goddamn well I ain’t human, blondie.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” She sat back in her seat and scrutinized him. “Fine. If I’m not here for you, then I have to figure I’m here for Stella.”
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner.”
“What’s there to say? She’s in hot water, same as you, only worse because she shot Deputy Burns in the leg in front of the whole precinct. A lot of cops got hurt during that raid on her safe house, too. She did opt for the fancy lawyer, but we both know she’s not getting out of this either.”
“You’re assuming I brought you here to tell you something and not the other way around.”
Faye blinked in surprise. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I want to know if she’s sent anyone after you since she’s been in slam.”
“Oh. That. Yeah, she has.”
Winston scowled. “Tell me.”
Faye ran a hand through her hair. “Let’s see. There was the suspicious package delivered to our front door. We had to evacuate and call in the bomb squad, but it turned out to be a false alarm. All that was inside the box was an hourglass and a note that said, ‘You’re living on borrowed time.’ Technically speaking, it could’ve come from one of Jack and Kam’s enemies, but I wouldn’t put it past Stella. A week after that, I was walking to my car and Jack called me. Apparently, that shorted out the nice little car bomb someone attached to my Honda Civic and set it off early.”
“Jesus Christ,” Winston swore.
“Yeah, she’s a real piece of work, your ex-wife. When the bomb didn’t work, she sent McKenzie.”
Winston sucked his teeth. “Oh, that punk.”
“Yeah. He was hiding behind a dumpster when I got out of my evening hair appointment. Tried to strangle me in the parking garage.”
He snorted. “How did that go for him?”
Faye smiled. “Three broken ribs and a gunshot to the right foot.”
Winston whistled. “Atta girl.”
“And then there was Silicon Valley.”
Winston frowned. “What happened in Silicon Valley?”
“Sniper. I was leaving a conference center after a lecture about the dragon trackers. I sneezed right when he pulled the trigger, which made him miss. The bullet hit the trunk of the Uber I’d been about to get in. Total dumb luck. I took cover before he could try for another shot.”
“Did they catch the culprit?”
Faye shook her head. “Unfortunately, they think he was perched on top of a hotel. Once he blew the shot, he probably just went back inside to his room and waited it out. No one remembers seeing anything and the hotel’s old school, no cameras on the rooftop or in the hallways.”
“And when did that happen?”
“Six months ago.”
“Nothing since?”
“No.”
Winston’s frown deepened. “Don’t you think that’s suspicious?”
“I don’t think anything. I know it is. Stella’s sentencing is this Friday. Dollars to donuts, that’s when she makes her final play.”
“And just what are you going to do about it?”
“I’ve survived her twice already. Third time’s the charm. I’ve been in martial arts and sharpshooting classes since last April and I’m licensed to carry. If she’s stupid enough to try anything, then she won’t have to worry about a needle.”
Winston nodded. “Good girl. Death penalty’s up in the air for me, but the stuff they managed to unearth about Stella almost guarantees the death penalty, especially with her accepting the contract on Dr. Anjali while she was pregnant. Juries and judges aren’t supposed to be influenced by things like that, but in truth, they are. You try to kill a kid or a baby under their watch and you’re done. That’s why I never went after anyone younger than twenty-one, no matter what the price tag was. Stella doesn’t have my scruples. Predators are most dangerous when they’re cornered. This is the endgame, blondie. You’d better be ready.”
“I will be,” Faye whispered. “And this time, you won’t be there to stop me from pulling the trigger.”
“I’ve had time to think about that. And I realized this whole time you’ve been toeing that line between vengeance and justice. To some degree, I’d hoped you’d be able to keep your hands clean. Protect without becoming a killer, like me. But life doesn’t work that way. That first kill changes you.”
Faye tilted her head slightly. “When was your first kill?”
Winston met her stare for a long while, then exhaled. “I was nineteen, fighting a war I probably shouldn’t have been fighting, but it’s not like I knew that at the time.”
“Mm. Did you regret it?”
Winston grinned, but she could see the dark edges to it. “What? You think I come from some tragic backstory, blondie? That I’m a broken little boy who kills to fill that hole inside of my chest where my soul used to be? Nah. This ain’t one of them stories. I can’t dance or roll my tongue, but I can kill people pretty good. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at and when I lay my head down at night, I sleep like a baby. I don’t see their faces. Never have. Probably never will.”
A chill spilled through her. The matter-of-fact nature of his confession scared her more than almost anything else she’d ever heard him say.
Faye licked her lips. “They told me no one’s been able to ID you. You don’t have any family? Friends?”
“Do you think I’d tell you even if I did?”
Faye snorted. “Yeah, guess that was a stupid question. I’m going out on a limb here and guessing you left home to join the military, then faked your own death, changed your face and name, and came back a new man. That’s why no one’s recognized you even after your trial went viral. The last time they’d have seen you, you’d have been a teenager. Doesn’t matter if your family’s still alive; they’d have no way of recognizing you. The tip line turned up bupkiss, given your reputation. No one in your assassin’s guild is gonna give you up either since they know it’s a death sentence if they do. If you’ve taken any government contracts, they’re not gonna talk either to avoid implicating themselves. Given the circles you’ve traveled in, why are you still alive, Winston?”
“‘Cause I didn’t talk and I didn’t cut a deal,” he grunted. “If I’d have done either, oh, yeah, trust me, I’d be worm food right now. Great thing about having a reputation for going on a few decades is that if other killers and their handlers know you don’t talk, then there’s no need to waste resources trying to shut you up.”
Faye narrowed her eyes. “So you’re telling me no one’s tried anything with you since you’ve been caught?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Let me guess: the mob guys in Boston that you pissed off when you killed that driver?”
“Bingo. But their guys are sloppy. Too used to using brute force. They’re pretty easy to stop, comparatively speaking.”
Faye jumped slightly as she heard the guard knock on the door to give her a warning that her visitation had ended.
Winston smiled. “Time’s up, blondie. Gotta say, it was fun while it lasted. You’re something else. Watch your back.”
Faye smiled in return. “You’re a monster. You deserve to rot in a jail cell and I’m glad that I’m the one who put you in it. Just like I said I would.”
“Yeah,” he said, his eyes glittering with strange and troublesome things. “Just like you said you would.”
Faye stood and pushed in her seat before dusting off her gorgeous dress. “Goodbye, Frank.”
“Goodbye, blondie.”
She left without looking back.
–
Find out the conclusion to the cat and mouse game between Faye, Winston, and Stella in Of Claws and Inferno.
Release date: April 22nd, 2022
Pre-order available on Amazon and all other platforms for only .99 cents. Get it before April 22nd. The price will increase on April 23rd. Don’t forget to also add it to your Goodreads To Be Read shelf.
You can also sign up between now and April 22nd for the ARC program. Get a free copy of the novel in exchange for an honest review by signing up here.
See you guys back here in a month for the third and final excerpt!
Good news, everyone! I submitted Of Cinder and Bone to Hugh Howey’s inaugural Self-Published Science Fiction Competition and made it through the very first round of selected novels! Yay!
Here’s where you can learn more about it. In short, the contest is Top 300 -> Top 100 -> Top 30 -> Top 10 -> Top 3 -> 1 winner. Fingers crossed that the editors like it and it makes it to the next round. If not, it’s still an honor to have been chosen for this awesome competition. I still get to use it as bragging rights, after all. Stay tuned for more (hopefully)!
Update 12/11/2021: Well, the good news is Of Cinder and Bone made it through another round of cuts. It made it from the Top 300 to the Top 100. I also received a glowing full review as a result. Thanks for rooting for me, guys!
Update 12/14/2021: I also got another excellent full review from another one of the judges on the Red Star Reviews team. Check it out!
Update 1/28/2022: Amazingly, impossibly, Of Cinder and Bone was chosen for the Top 30 picks from the Top 100 list for the contest. Check out the graphic below of all the semi-finalists!
Update: 5/4/22: Well, it’s all over but the crying. The score for the semi-finalist round is so low I won’t dignify it by posting it here, but it’s been a privilege to even be chosen to participate in this competition. I met some lovely people and got some good blurbs from Team RedStarReviews. Congratulations to those who will be continuing on. Best of luck and I hope the judges read your books more fairly moving forward.
But I do get to use this for bragging rights from now on.
Glorious purpose indeed.
Well, it’s happened again. A work of fiction had a strong start and then devolved into lousy material.
First off, obviously, spoilers for the Loki 2021 series as well as the general MCU films and shows up to now. You’ve been warned.
To give you some background, I actually wasn’t a Loki fan until far later in the game. I paid him no mind in the first Thor, enjoyed him in Avengers, and then slowly over the time between Thor: The Dark World and Ragnarok, Loki slithered his way into my heart. It’s not as if I think he’s the best character in the MCU or anything, but I adore him. He’s a shitlord. He’s so extra. He’s the embodiment of chaos. He managed to charm me and make me care about him, even becoming a sort of anchor character for me in my fanfiction writing sessions. Naturally, I was quite excited when they announced he’d been given a spinoff series after the events of Avengers: Endgame. I wanted to see Tom Hiddleston continue to shine in the role, even if it was just going to be for a brief extra story for us to enjoy.
And that’s how it started off.
Episodes 1 & 2 of Loki (2021) contain the content that I’d hoped for. We got to see Loki at the end of his rope, but in a different sense than his fate in Infinity War. He was thrown into an organization he knew nothing about and without his powers. He had to figure out how to survive without any hope of outside help, which we know he’s done before. It gave us some nice introspective moments, showed us he was human, showed us vulnerable bits to his character. We also got to see plenty of his faults and shortcomings, all of which was fun and interesting.
And then Sylvie showed up.
And as soon as she did, my enjoyment of the show pretty much evaporated.
ICYMI, Sylvie is a Loki variant who was caught by the Time Variance Authority at a young age, but she managed to (easily, so easily it was insulting) escape and hide in apocalypses her entire life plotting how to destroy the TVA for kidnapping her and removing her from her own timeline. Now, granted, on paper, that backstory is okay-ish, but Sylvie is my newest entry on the exhaustingly long list of fictional characters who suffer from what I call White Bitch Syndrome.
Now, I still plan to write a full essay on White Bitch Syndrome, but let me do a short definition here. White Bitch Syndrome is when a female character—and most of the time, she is white and blonde—in a work of fiction is given undeserved credit and disrupts the dynamic of whatever work of fiction she is in, causing negative consequences for those around her but never having to suffer those same consequences herself. To me, she is almost a subversion of a Mary Sue. She takes valuable screentime away from other far more interesting and well-written characters and does all of it with a sense of entitlement that makes me want to pull my hair out.
And that’s exactly what Sylvie is.
I cannot fathom what made the writing team for Loki decide that they should give 60% of Loki’s screentime to this snotty, entitled, obnoxious Loki variant. As soon as episode three hits, she completely co-ops Loki’s show to make it all about her.
And here’s the kicker: she’s not even interesting.
It’s a bait-and-switch. I came here for Loki (or Tom Hiddleston, depends on who you ask) and what did you do? You found the world’s most irritating white woman and gave her his show. This isn’t why I came here. At all. So not only did you give me something I don’t want, you didn’t bother to make her likable or even just interesting in general. The rules of writing, at least in my mind, are to make main protagonists in a work either likable or interesting. Sylvie is neither. She is such a borderline Mary Sue. She’s stronger, smarter, more powerful than everyone around her, she constantly shoots her mouth off to disparage Loki and the other characters, she thinks she’s better than everyone and the writing of the show seems to agree, and she makes EVERYTHING about her every second she’s on screen. It’s insufferable.
But that’s not the worst part.
What truly broke me was episode 4. I had to put up with this snotty character, fine, okay, as long as maybe I get some good Loki content with what little screentime he has left after she’s sucked it all up. No. It had to get worse. The show then states—after only one and a half episodes of interactions—that Loki has a crush on Sylvie/is attached to her.
Seriously?
He’s known her for like five minutes.
What the hell do you mean he likes her?
This element of Loki (2021) is what switched me from disliking it to outright hating it. Anyone who knows me knows that I hate it when fiction generates attachment between two characters without doing the leg work first. There are few things I hate as much as when characters barely interact and then the fiction states that now they’re in love or best friends or care about each other when there is little evidence in the work itself. Loki and Sylvie spent the entire third episode hating one another. The dynamic comes across like a brother and sister who can’t stand each other being stuck in the same place, having to make nice. Then the show just decides Loki is into her, despite no evidence, despite limited screen time, despite Sylvie showing no regard or concern for him at all. It comes across as the show telling us “this is a thing because I said so.”
And that’s not good enough.
Look, I know I’m biased. I’m attached to Loki and I don’t like blonde white women in fiction because of repeated instances of White Bitch Syndrome. But this isn’t jealousy. This is lousy writing. It is lousy of them to stuff this character into the narrative to take the focus away from Loki and it’s lousy of them to have Loki inexplicably have some sort of attachment to her when the evidence points to the opposite. He should simply be using her to get what he wants, but instead they have him following after her like a helpless puppy because her Super Special Awesome Powers are so much better than his and he can’t do anything on his own. They took a show with a unique premise and made a hard left, instead making it a platform for “ooh, look at this cool white girl” instead of keeping the focus on Loki trying to survive the TVA and destroy it. Loki honestly had more chemistry and attachment to Valkyrie–who soundly beat his ass and later begrudgingly tolerated him because they needed to stop Hela–than with Sylvie. I would believe he was into Valkyrie before I’d ever believe he was into Sylvie.
For me in particular, this is unacceptable because it just feels like Sylvie is nothing more than a vehicle for the white fangirls to imagine themselves into Loki’s story. It’s no secret that Loki’s fandom is majority female and I imagine it’s largely white women. Sylvie is a transparent Audience Surrogate Mary Sue-adjacent character designed to make said fangirls feel like they have a personal connection to Loki. They can easily see themselves as Sylvie and it seems to be the only real reason she was written into the story. If she had been properly written, she would have just remained a tangential antagonist either getting in Loki’s way or preventing him from reaching whatever goal he has for himself. There was no reason to write a forced wannabe romance into the story. It’s so unearned and unnecessary.
Alright, so I’ve made my case for why Sylvie sucks. Let’s pretend for a moment that I didn’t hate her with the fire of a thousand suns. That’s not the show’s only problem. Another reason why Loki (2021) began to tank for me is that Loki has almost no agency after the end of the second episode. The second he starts following Sylvie around, the show seems to forget this is a thousand-year-old demigod with magical powers and a wealth of schemes and plans. Everything from episode 3 onward has Loki little more than a doofus who likes to run his mouth. We don’t get to see any of that calculating intelligence that made us love Loki in his previous films and appearances. He’s not doing anything. He’s just stumbling from one place to the next utterly failing and not affecting change nor the plot itself. I fear part of the problem is that the writing staff took too much from Thor: Ragnarok without understanding that the film, while a comedy, also knew how to write a balanced Loki. We know Loki is capable of making mistakes, but the ones he commits in this show are egregious. It’s not organic to the character. It feels as if they are trying to emulate Ragnarok without allowing Loki the same agency and behaviors that made him so lovable in the first place. Think about it. Loki tricked Thor into thinking he was dead and impersonated Odin convincingly (or so we’re assuming, since we don’t catch up to him until 2017, which is 4 years after Thor: The Dark World) for entire years without anyone catching him. He then lands on Sakaar after Hela attacks and manages to worm his way into the Grandmaster’s good graces in only a matter of weeks. Loki has been an effective antagonist and part time protagonist for several films, which is why he’s been so popular. I don’t understand why they have written him completely bumbling and ineffective in this series after the halfway point in the story. In Fish Out of Water stories, you still need to have the protagonist affecting change and making important decisions that affect the plot and develop them as characters. He’s not learning anything, he’s not changing, he’s not growing. He’s stuck in the passenger’s seat while Sylvie drives the car off the cliff.
Speaking of unearned nonsense, this whole “friendship” between Mobius and Loki also annoys me. It’s like I’m not watching the same show. When did they become “friends”? Do they not know what that means? Presumably, Mobius and Loki spent several hours together investigating the Loki variant and while I actually quite like their banter, they too were not with each other long enough to consider each other friends. I don’t like it when fiction drops the F-word (friend, of course) unwarranted and this is another example. Mobius and Loki were at most colleagues. They were only together for two and a half episodes and then for a short bit in episode 4. The show yet again did not do the leg work but then handed us this forced claim of friendship when they’ve really just been enemies temporarily on the same side. I do think aspects of the relationship work, just not enough for the show to claim that now they are magically friends. It’s less of an eyesore than the claim that Loki likes Sylvie, but it’s still poorly written and has little evidence to back it up.
Another aspect of the show that bothers the hell out of me is they introduce Hunter B-15 and Judge Renslayer as powerful, competent women…and then sideline them. Hunter B-15 becomes Sylvie’s lackey after Sylvie’s enchantment caused her to remember her life before the TVA erased her memory. Hunter B-15 was introduced to us in a spectacular fashion, bitchslapping Loki and being an incredible force to be reckoned with. I remember being so excited to see a dark-skinned black woman on the Loki posters, hoping for more representation, and yet they’ve done what too many shows and movies have done with black women—forced them to be in the shadow of their white counterparts. Judge Renslayer is even more of a letdown that B-15. She is introduced as smart and coldly calculating, but then Mary Sue Sylvie EASILY beats her in combat and she’s turned into a mugging, desperate mess instead of someone who was ruling an entire organization with an iron fist for God-knows how long. It was fine for Renslayer to be off-balance finding out the Timekeepers weren’t real. What wasn’t fine was a white blonde woman domineering over a black woman who previously held authority. Renslayer presided over the TVA…and that’s the best she can do? Stall, lie, and babble in front of Sylvie? It’s so painfully obvious that the show wants to keep kissing Sylvie’s ass and insisting she’s the most powerful Loki of all and they sacrificed any potential greatness for Renslayer as a result. I don’t mind Renslayer turning out to be bad; she wasn’t giving off any other impression in the first place. What I do mind is having this white woman just sling her around like it’s nothing when Renslayer should be far more effective than that considering she’s been the boss for presumably years and years. Why the hell was she leading the TVA if she can’t even handle this one variant?
This issue in particular burns me up because while Marvel has been doing a really good job introducing people of color into the lineup and giving them agency, there has also been this trend of what I like to call checkmark diversity. This is when shows or movies include POC in a work as supporting characters in order to check off the diversity box, but they’re not actually giving these POC much to do. They are constantly overshadowed by the white characters instead. The show gets to claim they’re progressive and diverse, but when you look at the POC’s storylines and interactions, you actually don’t end up with anything other than window dressing. I can tell you several different ideas I had for what would become of Hunter B-15 and Renslayer, but none of those came to fruition. The focus remained on the three central white characters: Loki, Sylvie, and Mobius. We know for a fact that the MCU can write excellent black characters like Sam Wilson, Monica Rambeau, and Luke Cage. It’s a damn shame to have two enjoyable black women on this show and they’re just there to fill in a checkbox. It’s especially sad since I’ve seen some behind the scenes bits with the actresses and Tom Hiddleston and they get along wonderfully. It’s truly adorable seeing some of their interactions, so for the show to have them both end up doormats to the white leads is an utter disappointment for me personally as a black fangirl.
At the time of this post, there is still the Loki finale to be watched. Honestly, though, I have no hopes for it any longer. I had hoped that with the plot of episode 5 being Loki in what is basically Purgatory with other versions of himself that we’d get the focus back on him and his desires, but no. Sylvie finds him in like 10 minutes of screentime and goes right to making everything about her, fulfilling her White Bitch Syndrome duties and securing herself as a Mary Sue-adjacent character. I’m tired. I will watch the finale, but I’m expecting it to be just as disappointing as it’s been since the halfway point in the series.
It hurts me to say these things. I’ve written a metric ton of Loki/MCU fanfiction. I truly enjoy his character. I cried like a baby when he died in Infinity War. I really like him, but this show stupidly managed to take from him rather than give him more things, ironically enough. It’s not yet to a point where I declare it Discontinuity, but I am unfortunately not going to be really be taking anything away from this series. I’m probably going to ignore it and go back to my Denial Land of fanfiction instead.
My final point is that Loki (2021) is a cautionary tale because of its utterly squandered potential. The show’s trailers promised lots of things that looked amazing, but then once you pull off the cloak, all you get is a snotty OC and a very diminished, borderline derivative version of Loki. I am far more satisfied with the canon timeline Loki than with this Loki variant, which is a shame. I’m not to a point that I wouldn’t recommend the show, but of the MCU shows, Loki is certainly the weakest. It doesn’t live up to what it promised because of the writers’ inexplicable decision to give away his screentime to an entitled bratty character with, and this is just personal taste, a substandard actress with a grating performance. The lesson to be learned from this is that you have to know what you’re going after when you set off on a side story. The overall consequences of Loki have yet to be seen, but the implication is that the timeline is going to be destabilized and will then set off the Multiverse of Madness that will be addressed in Spider-Man 3: No Way Home and in Doctor Strange: Multiverse of Madness. That being said, I don’t think this show is strong enough to warrant anyone other than die-hard Loki fans a watch. I am open to the thought that maybe the finale will redeem the show, but it’s doubtful based on the evidence I currently have. More than likely, it’s going to go out on a whimper and not a bang and the romantic red string the writers forced around Loki’s neck is going to strangle him same as Thanos did.
I hope I’m wrong.
But I’m probably not.
Here’s to the multiverse. At least it has a version of Loki that’s not a disappointment.
Well.
Look at that.
I almost took as long a hiatus as Jim Butcher did completing Peace Talks.
*rimshot*
Get used to that joke, folks, I’m a bitter old crone.
In light of being stuck indoors for a while due to COVID 19, and in light of the recent explosion of news now that Jim Butcher finally completed Peace Talks and it’s being released July 2020 with Book 17 Battle Ground releasing in September 2020, I’ve decided to pick back up on my R & R. We left off a few years ago on Book Seven, Dead Beat. As always, spoilers for both this book and future books abound. You have been warned.
Just as an aside before we start, I have a bone to pick with Jim Butcher, his camp, and the fandom over Dead Beat. Some years ago, someone started saying that any new readers interested in the Dresden Files should start at Dead Beat and skip the first six books.
That’s the dumbest, wrongest, most irresponsible “advice” I’ve ever heard.
If you’ve read my recaps, you’ve seen the utter bombs that have dropped in the series prior to this book. I violently disagree with anyone who has ever told new readers to start at Dead Beat. I will fight Jim Butcher himself over it. Don’t you dare tell someone new to franchise to skip the first six books.
Wanna know why? Let me give you just a taste of the incredibly important things/people that happen either for character reasons or for plot reasons that have consequences or payoff that continues through the rest of the season:
- Harry’s mother, Margaret
- Harry’s father, Malcolm
- Murphy’s father, Colin
- Ebenezar McCoy
- The White Court
- The White Council and the Senior Council
- Thomas’ connection to Harry
- The Denarians
- The Summer and Winter Courts
- The Summer and Winter Mothers
- Lea, Harry’s godmother
- Jared Kincaid
- The Archive
- Susan Rodriguez and the Red Court war
- Mortimer Lindquist
- He Who Walks Behind
- Mac and his bar
- The Knights of the Cross
- The archangels
- Waldo Butters
And that’s just a fraction.
A literal fraction.
So I just want to put my two cents in here and say that while Dead Beat is considered a game changer for the books and one of the first big turning points, do not ever tell someone to start in the middle of the goddamn Dresden Files. It’s reckless and it’s going to make them miss out on so much rich story and so many vital character interactions as well as just some plain great novels. Stop it. Stop it now.
Anyway.
I’m a little funny about Dead Beat, personally. To tell you the truth, I don’t remember it very much because I am shipper trash and this is the book with no Murphy in it. I tend not to pay as much attention to the Murphy-less Dresden Files novels because that’s my favorite dynamic. But to be fair, this is still a good novel and the next one coming up, Proven Guilty, is chockful of awesome Harry/Murphy content, so let me get over myself and dive into the madness once again.
We open Dead Beat with a case of sibling rivalry. In case you’ve forgotten by now, Thomas, Harry’s older brother, has basically been cut off and booted out of the White Court mansion—now headed by his older sister, Lara Raith, who is behind the scenes controlling their father, Lord Raith—and is broke due to spending the last of his fortune to pay off Jared Kincaid for the job Harry hired him for in Blood Rites. Thus, the two Le Fey boys are living together in Harry’s tiny basement apartment and it’s not exactly the easiest thing to deal with. Aside from Susan, Harry’s only ever lived alone with a cat, and later, his dog, Mouse, whom he decided to keep. They’ve been living together close to a year, and Thomas is an incubus sex vampire, so poor Harry is having to deal with beautiful women randomly appearing at his place and wrecking it up on a regular basis since that’s how Thomas feeds himself. You can understand that it makes him exasperated.
Plus, there’s the bonus of these women mistaking Harry for gay.
Which…I’m so sorry, that’s one of the funniest damn things in this whole book.
The problem is that Harry and Thomas don’t actually look alike and they can’t tell people they’re related because it’s very dangerous for their enemies to know that, so the two of them hanging out constantly makes people jump to the wrong conclusion.
This will be important later.
Also, hilarious.
Which brings me to my next excellent bit.
After Thomas returns from the shower once the girl leaves, he reveals that he absolutely ships the hell out of Harry and Murphy.
This is also important.
Harry: [Murphy] said she’d be dropping by.
Thomas: Oh, yeah? No offense, Harry, but I’m doubting it was a booty call.
Harry: Would you stop it with that already?
Thomas: I’m telling you, you should just ask her out and get it over with. She’d say yes.
Harry: It isn’t like that.
Thomas: Yeah, okay.
Harry: It isn’t. We work together. We’re friends. That’s all.
Thomas: Right.
Harry: I am not interested in dating Murphy. And she’s not interested in me.
Thomas: Sure, sure. I hear you. *rolls eyes* Which is why you want the place looking nice. So your business friend won’t mind staying around for a little bit.
Thomas gets it.
Seriously, Harry, you had an entire epiphany in Mavra’s lair that you were jealous of Kincaid taking off Murphy’s pants, and yet you’re going to pretend she’s still just your friend? Thomas smelled that lie almost immediately and I love it.
However, while this is quite amusing, Thomas is having a rough time because incubi can’t exactly hold down regular jobs. Thomas is constantly being jumped by other employees and passerby’s, so he’s frustrated and angry once Harry starts to needle him about his control and bails. It is tough to think about what he’s going through, honestly, and it’s part of why I like Thomas so much as a character. White Court vampires typically don’t do what he does. Thomas only feeds on willing partners and only just enough to stay alive. Other vampires take who they want, when they want, and take until they kill their victims or enslave them to the pleasure. It’s got to be hell to fight those impulses when it’s literally what keeps Thomas alive and sane. But we’ll dive into that more later on.
Harry cleans up and takes Mouse for a walk and Murphy is waiting for him when he gets back.
And then Murphy drops a freaking atom bomb on us.
She’s going to Hawaii.
With freaking Jared Kincaid.
You know. The assassin.
The very not human assassin.
Jim Butcher:
Harry is very understandably angry, confused, worried, and jealous as hell. Murphy came over to leave her location and info to reach her hotel in an emergency as well as the key to her place to “water her plants” while she’s gone.
And here’s where things get interesting.
Murphy is asking Harry a question that unfortunately, poor stupid Harry isn’t aware of yet.
Murphy doesn’t need someone to water her damned plants. Does she need to drop off her location in case Kincaid does something shifty? Probably, yes, but she came over for two real reasons: (1) to have an excuse to ditch the trip if Harry was in the middle of a case that required her help (2) to see if Harry finally realized the romantic and sexual tension between them and would stop her from going by sharing his feelings with her.
This scene is infamous. It really grinds my gears, but in a good way. This is great writing because Harry is tragically a couple steps behind Murphy in this case. I love him to death, but Harry is VERY slow on the uptake emotionally speaking and he’s too far into his own denial and self-doubt to respond to Murphy’s unsaid question. However, the interesting part is that Harry senses something is off but he just CAN’T put his finger on it. He can feel her hesitance, but because he’s overly cautious, Murphy still leaves for the trip.
It’s so goddamn frustrating.
But it’s still good writing.
I really would have loved for Harry and Murphy to have had a conversation about their relationship at this point, but he’s not ready yet and the first time they talk about it in the next book is very interesting, so congrats to Butcher on being patient and pacing it out. It’s a really good internal conflict for Harry during this book because he’s out facing all kinds of dangers but he’s also thinking about how much he wants Murphy not to be with Kincaid because he’s jealous and worried because he cares about her a lot.
Mind you, the entire interaction ends with this bit from Harry’s inner monologue: I watched her go, feeling worried. And jealous. Really, really jealous. Holy crap. Was Thomas right after all?
Harry, you’re a fucking moron.
When Harry checks his mail, he gets a nasty surprise: a threatening letter from Mavra with photos of Murphy killing Renfields during the Black Court vampire raid from the previous year as well as a lock of Murphy’s hair. He’s to meet her that night at his grave in Graceland cemetery or she’ll release the photos, ruining Murphy’s career forever and most definitely landing her in jail.
He meets Mavra and is told to find the Word of Kemmler or she’ll have all the photos sent to the authorities, which means both the regular cops and the White Council. She gives him three days to get it, which coincidentally means his deadline lands on Halloween, his birthday. Ah, just another day in the life of Harry Dresden.
Harry heads home to get the skinny on the Word of Kemmler from Bob the Skull, an air spirit of knowledge he keeps in his basement. We find out Kemmler was a necromancer responsible for World War I and II, for crying out loud, so the guy was major bad news in his day. Bob has been owned by a number of people and things in the past and it so happens he was owned by Kemmler before Justin, Harry’s former master and abuser, owned him as well. Bob has purposely forgotten much of what happened with Kemmler since the guy was a walking nightmare. In order to get more knowledge, Harry taps into Bob’s memories but it goes very sideways as Bob becomes rather demonic when they talk, so Harry switches him back to normal.
The Word of Kemmler is his most awful, evil spells and if anyone gets their hands on it, then havoc and death will be everywhere, especially since some of his followers may still be alive. The magic needed to do a big bad thing would require sacrifices in advance, so Harry heads to see Waldo Butters at the morgue.
And here is one of the aforementioned turning points.
Butters gets one hell of a character upgrade in this book.
And it’s one of the most well-done, surprising aspects of the series.
Our delightful dork Butters is in the morgue practicing polka for Oktoberfest when Harry arrives. This will be important later. Don’t look at me like that, I mean it.
Butters has been studying Harry’s X-rays and recovery progress—if you recall, his left hand is burnt to hell—and lets Harry know his theory, which is that his body literally heals itself until an injury is gone, not just to the best it can do for functionality, which is why he thinks wizards live five or six times longer than the average person, which means there’s a good chance Harry will get the functionality back in his hand. This is a very cool, very heartfelt moment when Butters tells him. I love it. Their friendship is gold.
Butters notices something odd about a body and is about to look into it when a necromancer attacks the lab, using the poor dead security guard as a zombie enforcer. The lead Mook is named Grevane and he’s after Butters. They manage to escape and Butters insists that Harry tell him The Truth, to which Harry reluctantly agrees, since Harry learned his lesson from the last few times he didn’t want to tell someone The Truth and they got killed.
Harry gives Butters the abridged version of The Truth and explains that necromancers have to have a “beat” in order to control zombies, so any sound they can generate that’s repetitive keeps their will over the zombie. If it stops, the zombie just does whatever the hell it wants, so they have to formulate a plan to stop Grevane from getting to Butters as well as find the book. Harry got a look at the book Grevane had with him, so he takes Butters back to the apartment and leaves him with Mouse to investigate.
He stops at a bookstore and grabs a copy of the book that Grevane has and meets one of the bookstore’s employees, Sheila. This will be important later.
On his way out, he’s confronted by two previously unknown entities: Cowl and Kumori. They want the book as well, as Chicago only has two copies. Harry realizes he’s seen them in passing before at Bianca the Red Court Vampire’s place. They actually try to parlay with him to just destroy the book if he doesn’t want to hand it over, but Harry is the stubborn sort and doesn’t play ball. Cowl attacks and Harry just barely manages to survive it and Billy the werewolf and his pack show up to back Harry up. Cowl and Kumori retreat and Harry leaves with the pack as the cops approach.
They take him to Georgia’s parents’ place and Harry overhears Georgia and Billy having a very interesting conversation about him. In particular, about his burnt hand and some of his behavior, how he’s angrier than he has been before, and that when he flipped the car on top of Cowl, Billy smelled sulfur. I really like the tension in the scene as Harry has HUGE blindspots about himself—again, this will be VERY important later—and we as the readers forget that because we’re inside his head, we know his motivations, but others don’t. Georgia is asking Billy to consider stepping back if Harry asks them to because she knows Cowl is big bad business that they’re not ready for and she’s also asking him to consider if something is wrong with Harry since he’s also been very distant lately.
Harry tells them about the demon Lasciel and the coin. It’s a tough conversation considering that Harry has tried every spell he can find to try to separate himself from the demon and nothing has worked. Worse still, he’s doubting himself since he picked up the coin instead of Harry the second when Nicodemus tossed it, so he’s concerned about his subconscious desires as well. What’s really important here is the friendship between them as Harry tells them what’s going on and they agree to do what they can and that he thanks them graciously. It’s really such a grounded scene and it’s why I love Harry so much as a character. I especially love that Georgia points out that Harry is basically the supernatural dad of Chicago; he immediately takes anyone who needs help under his wing and puts their needs before his own, protecting them before protecting himself, which is why she was asking Billy to be willing to hang back. She didn’t want them to distract him considering the level of danger that he’s in, which is a great show of what good friends they are to him. It’s very touching.
Once the heat dies down, Billy and Georgia take Harry back for his car only to find it’s been bashed up with a baseball bat by someone clearly trying to send him a message. Billy and Georgia very kindly offer to get the Beetle towed and lend him their SUV so he can continue investigating since he’s on a deadline. Again, this is a really heartwarming moment, showing how much they care for him and trust him and I like it a lot.
Harry goes to see Mortimer Lindquist, a fake psychic but someone who does happen to have enough supernatural talent to be helpful sometimes. Harry wants Mort to ask the dead if they can help him locate the necromancers. He refuses at first, but then Harry tells him Murphy’s in trouble and Mort knew Murphy’s father, so he agrees to help. The ghosts are able to confirm there are six necromancers currently in Chicago.
Harry returns home and Thomas is home and Butters is asleep. Harry starts to read the book he acquired, but he falls asleep and is visited his father, Malcolm Dresden. It’s probably one of the best scenes in the book, if I’m being honest, as the affection and reverence that Harry has for his late father and vice versa is so palpable. I’ve said a million times that one of the reasons Jim Butcher is my favorite author is that he doesn’t skimp on the powerful emotional scenes with Harry and his loved ones, as well as just other characters in general. A lot of the times male authors want to make their hero really cool and don’t want to focus on things that matter to him on a personal level. Harry is and always has been someone who is deeply impacted by everything around him and he’s not afraid to show his emotions, good or bad. The whole interaction is just simple encouragement from his dad and it’s wonderful.
The next morning Harry and Thomas go for a run and Harry gives him an update on what’s going on as well as telling him about Murphy running off with Kincaid. I want to mention that Thomas is in mid-run when he finds out about Murphy and Kincaid and he full-on stops running for a few seconds.
Thomas @ Jim Butcher:
Thomas is all of us.
It is notable that by now, Harry has realized that Murphy wanted him to tell her not to go. However, he’s trying to rationalize it and say that he’s being reasonable by not going after her due to their friendship and professional relationship. Thomas takes a very good shot at him for it and it’s really good and tense because Thomas is frustrated that Harry doesn’t see that the two of them could have the real deal. Thomas is in love with Justine and he knows how good it can be, but he’s been denied that due to being a vampire. It’s comforting to see that Thomas isn’t pushing Harry to go after Murphy just to be a needling older brother or because he wants him to get laid. Thomas cares because he knows they can go the distance and be happy, which is more than he would ever be able to do being who he is.
This segways into Harry confronting Thomas about his hunger and what he’s dealing with. Thomas comes up with a clever way to make him understand: he challenges Harry to race him down the beach back to the car. Naturally, Thomas is a freaking vampire with vampire speed, so Harry has to use basically every last drop of his strength and agility to “win” the race, and is exhausted and is about to gulp down a whole bottle of cold water when Thomas knocks it out of his hand. And then Thomas quietly tells him that’s what it’s like for him every waking moment of his life. Harry finally understands why he’s been tense and frustrated lately and it’s a great bonding moment for the brothers.
Harry drops Thomas back off at the apartment and heads for the nearest use of dark magic on the map, which is at the Field Museum. The museum currently has the infamous Sue on display at the time, aka Sue the T-Rex skeleton. This will be important later. Turns out there’s been a murder, so Harry sneaks into the crime scene to snoop. He of course forgets that he’s like seven-feet-tall, so one of the S.I. cops who is on the scene, Rawlins, spots him mid-snoop. Rawlins is another character whom I have affection for in terms of being a reasonable authority figure and an ally to both Harry and Murphy. It amuses me greatly that he’s been busted down from detective on account of having a smart mouth and an attitude, since it explains a lot of why Murphy trusts him. His intuition and his knowledge that Harry works with Murphy and she trusts him allows Rawlins to feel comfortable enough to let Harry in on some details of the murder victim, Charles Bartleby. It also helps that Murphy’s father, Colin, saved Rawlin’s life a long time ago so he’s always had Murphy’s back.
On a hunch, Harry asks if Rawlins knows what happened at the morgue and he doesn’t, which means Grevane cleaned up the mess and no one knows Butters is missing nor that the security guard is dead. Harry decides to take Butters along to the morgue to see if what the necromancers want is still in the building. They head inside and take a look at the body Butters had been about to examine and it’s mutilated very badly.
While Harry waits for Butters to help with the autopsy, he overhears the two assistants to Bartlesby come in to ask about the body and his personal items. Harry recognizes that the male, Li, is a ghoul. He hustles to get Butters gone before they get in trouble, but the other corpse that got hit by a car Harry recognizes is a smuggler who works for John Marcone. Cue eyeroll.
In case you forgot—and it’s easy to because this character is so dull—John Marcone is Chicago’s mob boss. He has his fingers in pretty much every pie of organized crime and he’s very aware of the supernatural underbelly as well. He and Harry hate each other’s guts, but both are too dangerous to get the other one killed so they mostly just try to stay out of each other’s way.
They go back to Billy and Georgia’s to try to see what’s on the jump drive, but it’s just an empty file with a number that has sixteen digits. Harry checks his voicemails and he’s got a painfully frustrating check-in call from Murphy and then a call from Sheila, the cute bookstore girl, that something’s up. Harry has Billy take Butters back to the apartment while he continues snooping.
Harry heads to the bookstore and is hurt to learn that its owner, Bock, doesn’t want him around anymore since he’s pretty much got trouble on his heels at all times. Harry agrees and talks to Sheila, even landing himself a date with her later, but shortly after he runs into Li and Alicia, trying to find who bought the Erl King book. Alicia demonstrates some very scary dark mental magic and unfortunately the only way for Harry to break loose is to tap into some of the demonic power in his head. He tries to make a break for it, but gets injured and they take the book. He lucks out that Marcone’s bodyguard, Gard, saves him before Li can finish him off. He gets pulled into a car with Gard, Marcone, and Marcone’s other bodyguard Hendricks. Marcone cooperates, giving him a tip since it’s in his best interest that Chicago isn’t overrun by the undead and in retribution for one of his men being murdered.
Harry gets his injured leg fixed and talks to the tip Marcone gave him, which is an EMT who saw Kumori revive a dead guy the previous night.
After that, Harry heads home and Thomas warns him about Butters being too scared to be any use if they get cornered. It’s a really good conversation as Thomas isn’t saying it to be mean, he’s saying it out of concern for Harry dragging Butters around as literal deadweight. Harry sticks up for him in a unique way, which is telling Thomas that they won’t do him any favors if they tell him to run and keep running, as the fear will control him for good. He and Thomas talk through what he’s learned and Harry recounts what he read in Erlking, so to dig for more info, he decides to call up Lea, his absolutely batshit insane, dangerous, hyperviolent “godmother.” Lord help us all.
But to his surprise, when he tries to summon Lea, Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness as well as the Winter Court, also pants-shittingly terrifying, shows up instead, saying that Lea is imprisoned for challenging her authority. However, Mab is still bound by her loyalty to answer Harry’s questions, so Harry instead asks her about the Erlking. Mab tells him that the Erlking is basically the king of goblins and has control over dead hunters’ spirits, which is linked to why the necromancers want to get his attention, so to speak. Harry tries to dig for more but Mab won’t cough it up unless he becomes the Winter Knight. As right now, Mab has her current Knight, Lloyd Slate, imprisoned and tortured for “disappointing” her. Harry theorizes the necromancers want to raise the ancient spirits all at once and absorb their power, which would make them too powerful for pretty much anyone to stop.
And as Harry gets back to his apartment, he gets jumped by zombies.
Harry Dresden, you are bad for my heart, sir.
The wards that protect Harry’s apartment are meant to stop magical beings from entering, but it has a limit to just how much it can take. Once the bad guys throw enough zombies at it, the wards will fail and then it’s just getting through the steel door to bust inside. Butters understandably gets hysterical because the only plan they’ve got is to try to break for the car and leave.
What follows is one of the most notoriously awesome, heartwarming things in this series.
Harry: We’re not going to die!
Butters: We’re not?
Harry: No. And do you know why?
Butters: *shakes his head*
Harry: Because Thomas is too pretty to die. And because I’m too stubborn to die. And most of all because tomorrow is Oktoberfest, Butters, and polka will never die. Polka will never die! Say it!
Butters: Polka will never die?
Harry: Again!
Butters: P-p-polka will never die.
Harry: Louder!
Butters: Polka will never die!
Harry: We’re going to make it!
Butters: Polka will never die!
Thomas: I can’t believe I’m hearing this.
You’re fucking welcome. Everyone’s life has been enriched by witnessing this scene. Legit, if you shout this at a comic book convention or somewhere that a large number of geeks enter, someone will probably shout it back to you. It’s that famous a scene. For good damn reason.
Harry manages to negotiate with Grevane to get everyone out in exchange for the numbers they found on the flash drive. Corpsetaker crashes the party and Team Dresden manages to bail from the ensuing battle. They all head to Murphy’s place to get stitched up and rest.
Which leads to one of the other funniest goddamn jokes in the whole series.
Poor Butters thinks Harry is gay.
The best part? Thomas thinks it’s fucking hilarious. He then proceeds to enable Butters by being fake-nice to Harry while Butters is stitching him up and I can’t even start to tell you what a belly-laugh it gets out of me that Thomas not only thinks it’s funny, but he just makes it even worse for shits and giggles. It’s EXACTLY what an older brother would do and that’s why I crack up every time I read it. Harry and Thomas are arguably my favorite fictional siblings for this exact reason. Their relationship is so realistic.
Thomas pulls a fast one and gives Harry painkillers instead of antibiotics, which make our giant idiot sleepy and Thomas tucks him in. And Harry proceeds to stab us with more feels when Thomas puts him in Murphy’s bed: The last thing I thought, before I dropped off to sleep, was that the cover smelled faintly of soap and sunlight and strawberries. They smelled like Murphy.
Harry, you dope. You’ve got it so bad for Murphy it’s not even funny.
When Harry sleeps, the demon in his head, Lasciel, finally manifests herself. Since Harry had no choice but to use the Hellfire to get out of a jam earlier, she now has permission to be in his head. She’s not the true demon, but an imprint of her, basically, since the real coin is under Harry’s basement under a lot of powerful magical wards. They have a brief conversation in which Lasciel offers Harry her almost endless knowledge and power and Harry tells her to shove it.
When he wakes, he gives Thomas and Butters the low down on his terrible plan, which is basically to call the White Council and get Wardens dispatched to Chicago to fight and then he’ll try to summon the Erlking at the same time as the necromancers, which means if he pulls it off first, then the necromancers can’t steal the Erlking’s power for their evil plan meanwhile Bob, Thomas, and Butters try to decode the numbers to figure out where the Word of Kemmler is so he can give it to Mavra to save Murphy’s life. The entire thing is basically suicide. Because of course it is.
Billy stops by Harry’s office to make sure he’s alright after hearing what happened at the shop and to warn him that people are very worried about his erratic behavior lately, which Harry brushes off due to all the shit he’s dealing with. This will be VERY important later.
Harry stops by Sheila’s apartment and has her recount the poems in the Erlking’s book so he can summon him because she has a photographic memory. Kumori stops by, but reveals that she just wants to talk, so they enact a ceasefire. She wants him to back off and he wants her to back off, but understandably, neither of them can do so. She does reveal that she and Cowl’s mission is to harness death magic to literally end death in general, making everyone immortal. Yeesh.
Harry heads to Mac’s bar to meet with the Wardens, which consist of Donald Morgan, Carlos Ramirez, Anastasia Luccio, and two newbies. Then Luccio goes and offers Harry his own grey cloak, to Harry’s shock. Then Harry finds out that the war with the Red Court has taken out twenty percent of the Wardens forces so far. It got worse as the Red Court chased them through Nevernever, the land of demons and other creatures, and then called to the Outsiders, which are malevolent beings that live outside of Harry’s resident dimension, reality, and universe. Still, knowing how the Wardens and the White Council operate, Harry wants no part of their ranks. For damn good reason, I might add. Morgan is a dickhead bully who followed Harry around for his entire probation period just waiting for a chance to cut his head off and even tried goading him into attacking him so he’d have an excuse to kill him once. Luccio manages to persuade him that they’ll support him and that she at the very least trusts him and it will shift the tide of opinions in the White Council away from him since he technically started the war (but to be fair, the Red Court just needed an excuse, they were planning it already). She makes him regional commander and reassigns Morgan so he won’t be hovering over Harry’s shoulder looking for a place to stick a knife and they start strategizing what to do.
After the meeting, Harry heads back to Murphy’s place. Thomas called his sister, Lara Raith, and implied that Harry—who knows that she is running the White Court and not her puppet father Lord Raith—might spill the beans unless he receives some sort of assistance. She got them some info about where they think the ceremony will take place. Harry sends Thomas out to drop off a message to the Wardens and preps to go trap the Erlking in a circle so the necromancers can’t summon him.
Harry calls up the Erlking and actually manages to hold him, but Cowl jumps him and the Erlking as well as the Wild Hunt are unleashed on Chicago. He and Kumori leave Harry alive out of respect, and out of the knowledge that the Erlking is just gonna come back later and off Harry. Butters and Mouse are thankfully safe inside the house, and it’s now that Harry realizes that Mouse is scary smart and in no way a regular dog, which is adorable. Unfortunately, though, Kumori stole Bob since Kemmler used to own Bob and Bob would probably know how to give them the instructions they need for the Darkhallow spell. Let the good times roll.
Harry and Butters leave, still trying to figure out the combination, and then we get possibly one of the biggest, nastiest bombs in the whole book dropped on us.
Sheila isn’t real.
She’s Lasciel projecting herself through Harry’s five senses to appear real to him, but she’s not physically there or anywhere but in his head.
Feel free to shit an absolute brick and then throw that brick at this bitch’s head.
I’ve not talked about this bit because I wanted to get to it in sequence with the book. This is one of the most intensely fucked up things that’s happened to Harry so far in the series. I mean, the level of cruelty and manipulation by Lasciel is staggering. She outright lied to his face to get him to comply with her “help” and then tries to pass it off as not that bad to him when he finally puts it together that it’s all in his head and that’s why his friends and Bock the bookstore owner have been worried he’s going nuts. He’s been talking to thin air, for God’s sake. Lasciel insists that she actually enjoyed playing the role since Harry didn’t know it was her, and Harry is a very sweet, charming man all on his own, for no reason other than that’s just how he is, even when he’s in danger. She hasn’t interacted with any people in probably a very long stretch of years, so in a way, she’s not all the way lying about enjoy Harry’s company when he didn’t know it was her the whole time.
But it’s so fucked up.
Lasciel is directly preying on Harry’s weaknesses. She knows he’s soft on women. She knows Murphy left him and he’s hurting and jealous and longing for her this whole time, worried about protecting her from Mavra, and feeling bad that he couldn’t act on his feelings before she left. Deep down, of course Harry wanted a friend and ally during this tough fight, and she’s the only girl around who is smart and pretty and interested in him for who he is, seemingly. What a bitch move. It’s a ‘cut out your heart with a spoon’ moment for me. I am so offended on Harry’s behalf that it’s not even funny. She played him like a fiddle and it’s so depressing and messed up that it’s tough to reread the scenes before Harry finds out Sheila’s not real.
The other piece that’s important as well is that Lasciel is self-serving. If Harry dies, she dies as well. She is still a real entity even if she’s just a copy of the real Lasciel that lives inside the coin in Harry’s basement. She really is trying to help him survive the ordeal so that she can survive as well.
However, Harry recognizes the slippery slope he’s on and asserts his will power until she’s out of his head temporarily and reassures Butters that now he’s aware that he’s been played with so badly. Poor guy. It’s also tough as hell on his friends to have faith in him when he’s literally been hallucinating without knowing it for the past couple of days, but it’s a testament to what good people Harry knows that they keep giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Harry and Butters manage to throw together a tracking spell and find the Word of Kemmler hidden in the skull of Sue the T-Rex at the museum. Grevane confronts Harry and we find out that his buddy that’s been with him the whole time is Cassius, a former Denarian who Harry went to fucking town on in Death Masks, and for good goddamn reason. Grevane leaves with the book and Cassius starts trying to get Harry to tell him where his Denarian coin is. With torture. It is very, very rough and I do not like it and I want to sue Jim Butcher for $300 million in emotional damages.
But luckily, just before Cassius is going to kill him, Butters and Mouse crash the party.
Butters does an admirable job of kicking ass Butters’ style and Mouse makes the final kill, but unfortunately, Cassius gets out his death curse before Mouse kills him. A Death Curse is something a wizard or sorcerer can use right before their final moment. It’s one of the strongest kinds of magic ever, since it’s involved with death, and you can’t avoid it or reverse it usually.
And Cassius’ death curse is “die alone.”
…yeah, I’m suing Jim Butcher for $500 million emotional damages now. Jerk.
Both fortunately and unfortunately, Cassius’ death curse is not immediate. It doesn’t kill Harry on the spot. Harry passes out and sees Id Harry and Lasciel in his subconscious, who have a coming to Jesus talk with the fact that he’s basically heading down an assisted suicide path with his solutions. He finally has no choice but to allow Lasciel to help since there’s not much he by himself and with his few allies can do to survive the night.
It is now, my friends, that we reach the most infamous scene in the entire Dresden Files series.
Harry fucking Dresden riding a zombie dinosaur down Michigan Avenue.
Mm-hmm.
Read that again. Drink it in, people.
My idiot wizard boyfriend has outdone himself.
Since he’s read the Word of Kemmler, he reanimates Sue and has Butters use his polka suit to provide the beat as they haul ass to the site where the necromancers are trying to summon all the spirits.
And it turns out Sue’s pretty handy against an army of zombies. She eats Li. Good girl.
Harry takes Sue and Butters over to the Wardens and gets them caught up and ready for the final assault just as the spell starts to rev up. Corpsetaker attacks Luccio, switching their bodies and minds in the attack and Harry just barely manages to realize it in time. He shoots Luccio’s body and kills Corpsetaker.
And of course, Donald fuckin’ Morgan sees this, thinks Harry’s a traitor, and tries to execute him.
Harry is already too shaken by what he did and is about to let it happen, but Luccio revives in Corpsetaker’s switched body and makes him stand down. I know that Donald Morgan has reasons and motivations and a backstory that we will find out later in the series, but honestly, from the bottom of my black heart, fuck Donald Morgan. I hate him so much. He is everything wrong with the White Council and everything wrong with soldiers in general all rolled into one despicable man. I loathe him even though I’ve read the books and I understand that he is a three-dimensional character. Still. Fuck him.
The Wardens except for Harry and Ramirez are too injured to help, so they press on, leaving Butters to be safe with them, and take Sue out towards the Darkhallow. Ramirez turns out to be an absolute hoot and gets along with Harry, trusting his instincts and the actual good things people have had to say about Harry for once, and it’s a relief.
Ramirez kills Grevane, but Cowl and Kumori get the jump on him and knock him out, capturing Harry. Bob is facilitating the spell and Harry manages to get through to the real Bob, releasing him from the skull. Bob flies into the now loose Sue and comes to Harry’s rescue, and Harry is able to stop Cowl from absorbing the souls and completing the Darkhallow.
Go Team Dresden.
Harry wakes to get a nod of respect (and a warning) from the Erlking. He and the Wardens all get cleaned up and he gives Mavra the book, though not without threatening the shit out of her over Murphy and it makes me shipper heart sing. Nothing says, “I love you” like “if you touch her, I’m declaring war on you.” Oh, Harry. You’re such a romantic.
There’s also a lovely scene of Harry standing over his grave and his father visits again, giving him reassurance that while the death curse will indeed hit someday and while Harry had to do really fucked up things to survive this time around, it’s still his choice to be who he is in spite of the dark things surrounding him.
Things wrap up pretty good. Luccio is on leave to heal, so Morgan takes over for her in the meantime and actually admits that he was wrong about Harry for once (and I still don’t care and hate his guts) and Murphy comes home with her arm in a sling, implying that Hawaii had its own adventure for her (that I will never ever read even if Butcher does write it) and Butter gives Harry a guitar so he can start to rehabilitate his hand, ending the book on a sweet note.
So that was Dead Beat. Woof.
Dead Beat is definitely a rollercoaster ride. It’s one of the books that has very few downtime moments and it has momentum like a freight train. Harry is thoroughly trampled both physically and emotionally and so was I rereading the sheer amount of trauma he went through. For that reason, I have to say Dead Beat is kind of tough on the senses. I do admit that I miss some of the brighter spots and the downtime that Blood Rites or Summer Knight had in them. Overall, while it’s certainly not the darkest book, it is one with some of the darkest consequences and where Harry feels so overwhelmed and hopeless, which is a common theme since Butcher is a sadist. It’s a fantastic book, though, and I get why it gets a lot of buzz in the reading community.
Overall Grade: 4 out of 5 stars
Join me next time for another personal favorite of mine in the series, Proven Guilty.
Kyo out.
“It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine…”
How do you say goodbye to 1/3rd of your life?
Really. I’ve been asking myself that in the weeks leading up to Avengers: Endgame.
And honestly, I don’t have an answer to that question, because it’s kind of impossible.
So here’s the thing: I read comic books as a kid when I had access to them, but I was never someone who had a massive collection of Marvel comics. I had some of them, so growing up I knew who the Avengers were, but not to any significant degree other than names, powers, and aliases. Like a lot of people, Iron Man was the first time I took notice of Marvel heroes who weren’t Spider-Man or the X-Men, and that movie opened an entire avenue that I don’t think any of us thought would be possible someday.
I had already been fully on board when the announcement that the incredible Robert Downey Jr. would be starring as Tony Stark, and to this day, that is still one of the all-time most perfect casting choices. Fans were dancing in the streets when we heard it, because we all knew if nothing else, Tony Stark would get a first-rate performance. RDJ had gotten himself back on track after his troubled past, and we were so ready to see him return to his former glory.
And he did just that.
To date, I still rank Iron Man in my personal top 10 MCU films, for so many reasons, but for the sake of this retrospective post, let me sum it up by saying it is so fitting that we began this 11-year journey with RDJ and with Tony Stark. Iron Man is about heart. Literally and figuratively. By being put in the danger he found himself in, Tony inadvertently grew a heart and became the man who so many of us will Stan until the end of time. He had nothing but his wits and a faithful friend at his side, and when he was told to bow to his enemies, he instead defied them and saved himself. In doing so, it kicked off the first domino for the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and even though it had a steady stream of interest, everything changed when at long last our beloved heroes teamed up for The Avengers.
The Avengers, whether you like it or not, changed history.
There had never been an attempt to combine solo stories of heroes on this kind of scale before, and that was when people realized that this wasn’t just a passing fancy. The Avengers broke box office records for a few reasons, but one that I am quite fond of is the fact that word of mouth was so powerful. All the hardcore fans saw it and sang its praises, but the great thing about the Avengers is it was written in such a way that even if you had missed the previous films, you could still enjoy it, and people did. The non-fans took notice of that killer opening weekend and heard the rave reviews, got curious, and saw it. And then they went home and told everyone how phenomenal it was, and then the process repeated itself. What I have always loved about the Avengers, and what it began when it came out, was its inclusiveness. It had something for everyone in it. And not only was it taken seriously, it was given an excellent script, fantastic visuals, and a kick ass soundtrack that still gets us hype as hell even 7 years later. Most of us fans used to fantasize about a team up movie, never thinking it would be possible considering all the legal and copyright hoops studios had to jump through, but then the day arrived and it was every single thing we dreamt it would be.
What made the Avengers so prolific was the ability to take that many characters and tie them to each other, giving each one time to shine in an extremely well-paced story. Ensemble films are everywhere, but this was the first time that a major film studio took individual heroes from their films and had them interact, and then sent them back out on their own, with the promise of calling them back again. What continues to impress me with the Avengers is that everyone had a stake in the game, and everyone contributed something. (Note: people shit on Hawkeye constantly as the “useless” team member, but I invite you to remember that Hawkeye nearly killed the entire team when he attacked the heli-carrier, so honestly, the haters can shut the hell up.) Too often movies have a group of characters who are supposed to have specific skillsets or traits useful to either the plot or the story, but really, there’s no reason for them to be there. (*cough* Fast and the Furious *cough* *coughs harder* the Justice League movie *coughs harder*) Here, you understood everything, and it all had its own harmony to it. A great story is one in which everyone has both inner and outer conflict, and while they butt heads, they’re together to reach a collective goal, no matter what the cost.
And frankly, The Avengers is when shit got real for everyone.
In my lifetime, I’ve only seen a handful of films more than twice in theaters. I saw The Avengers in theaters four times. The only other viewing at the time that came close was the Dark Knight, which I also saw four times. That is just an idea of how damn much I enjoyed that film, and what a legacy I think it left in its wake. Even back with 2012 ticket prices, I had such a great time that I happily bought multiple showings just to see it again.
So after 2012 when we all found out it was possible for something this awesome to exist, Marvel figured out that the winning formula was not in some of the paltry tricks that Hollywood likes to sell us, but in having a strong story with its roots in the proper place—the comics—and in trusting the vision of their actors and directors. In 2014, we were blessed with Captain America: The Winter Soldier, which is arguably the best Marvel movie period, to say nothing of one of the best comic book movies of all time. Winter Soldier is one of the highest praised MCU films for a tight spy-espionage story, interesting characters, a razor-sharp script, and some of the most stunning fight choreography in film history. It blew our minds that anything could be as good, or maybe even better than The Avengers, and it didn’t rely on simply having an orgy of superheroes. It was just a damn good experience in every aspect.
Then, after the MCU films had a few unsteady steps like Age of Ultron (which I still think is great, but is a troubled film) and Doctor Strange, they surprised us by going all in with two films that arguably innovated their franchise yet again: Black Panther and Thor: Ragnarok.
Black Panther told the world what us nerds already knew: that black people are just as interested in science-fiction and comic books as other people, and they came out in force. It was the most liberating experience to see a mature, well-written, well-acted, flat-out gorgeous big budget film that was 90% black both in front of and behind the camera. Ryan Coogler went out of his way to create an unforgettable experience that delighted and amazed everyone in a way most people had never considered. Black creatives have been here forever, but this was one of the first times we were able to see it on a massive scale and for a massive audience. Finally, we were given a voice and got to tell an excellent story that wasn’t watered down or apologetic or riddled with stereotypes. And with it breaking box office records, it became indisputable proof that diversity does not lose money and it is not only welcomed, but encouraged by the world, and I cannot thank the MCU enough for that fact alone.
Thor: Ragnarok is living proof that you can dust off something that was fairly good, but just needed a new angle and make something absolutely outstanding. Remember how I said I saw The Avengers in theaters four times? Yep. Did the same for Thor: Ragnarok. And don’t ask me how many times I have watched it since I got it for home release. It’s got to be 50 times by now, honestly.
Ragnarok showed that sometimes a great, radical idea is exactly what you need, and that if you put your trust in the right creative mind, you can take a middle-grade character and elevate him to a level no one thought possible. Truth be told, I liked both of the previous Thor movies (and again, the haters can just exit stage left, because The Dark World is nowhere near as bad as people keep saying it is) but this pumped entirely new blood into Thor’s veins as well as our own. One of my favorite things about Ragnarok is that it shows the trust between the director, the cast, and Marvel Studios. It took serious balls to pitch some of the things that went down in Ragnarok, but thanks to the miles and miles of talent from the movie’s cast and crew, it became a top tier MCU film, and can easily stand next to not only some of the best comic book movies, but some of the best comedies.
And then, while we were still reeling from the amazing combination of Ragnarok and Black Panther…along came Infinity War.
Infinity War once again broke the mold.
I’m fairly certain almost none of you read my college essay-length review of Infinity War, but the main gist of it is that there is no other film like Infinity War. Period. And I don’t mean that in some kiss-ass way because I happen to be a fan of the MCU. No, really, I mean it as a writer and as a creator and as a moviegoer in general. I’ve watched hundreds of films in my 30 years of living, and I cannot name another movie that had an impact on me the way that Infinity War did, and what’s more is that I am not alone.
Infinity War, for me, stands on its own category simply for the emotional depth that it was able to achieve. It’s not just the suckerpunch ending—it’s that the film is not only funny and action packed, but it’s a story where it took one of the largest cast of characters in film history and still managed to make a story for each of them, and gave each of them stakes and a role to serve. Think about that. I mean, do you understand how much talent it took in order for the sheer number of characters to not only interact, but contribute to the overall plot and story in a manner that was personal to them? In case you forgot, count them up: the five of the six original Avengers (Steve, Tony, Bruce, Nat, Thor), the expanded team (Sam, Rhodey, Vision, Wanda, T’Challa, Okoye, Shuri, Bucky, Parker), and then the Guardians (Peter, Gamora, Rocket, Drax, Groot, Nebula, Mantis), and then the villain Thanos, not to mention introducing a few new characters like the Nidavellir Dwarf or the Children of Thanos. Yet they were able to combine these 22 people into one story that actually made sense and was excellently paced as it rotated between the POVs of what each of them were doing as the events of Thanos’ terrible mission unfolded. I just don’t think people sit down and take the time to appreciate that sort of coordination. Not only did you have 22 people being relevant and involved with a story, but you pulled former motivations and personal relationships into it all to a point where there was not a dry eye in the house at the end.
What I remember so clearly about the premiere of Infinity War was the universal reactions from the audience, both hardcore fans and regular viewers alike. Sometimes in movies, you get annoyances like people or kids talking, people checking their cell phones, etc.
Not so with Infinity War.
Everyone was absolutely enraptured.
As far as I can recall, that’s only ever happened three other times at a movie premiere for me: The Dark Knight and Interstellar (Note: that makes total sense to me, because Christopher Nolan is an absolute master of storytelling and his suspenseful scenes leave you clutching your arm rests), and I Am Legend.
And that ending to Infinity War?
Jesus Christ.
The absolute stunned silence when those credits rolled after our heroes lost the war was devastating.
All I could hear was the sound of people everywhere crying, myself included.
It’s not about movies that make you cry. Plenty of movies have the ability to do that.
It’s about the fact that this same phenomenon happened in damn near every theater in every state and every country during their premieres.
We’re talking a universal experience.
How fucking cool is that?
Am I alone in thinking that it’s so amazing that they could dig so deep into our hearts that all of us from all walks of life sat there with tears streaming down our faces, feeling like Thanos personally walked up and walloped us in the gut with that gauntlet? No matter who you are, you probably have at least one favorite MCU character, and what’s so prolific about Infinity War is that in the end, it’s about every character’s nightmare coming true.
Think about it.
Steve’s fear was of losing his friends, especially his best friends Bucky and Sam.
Peter’s fear was of losing Gamora.
Tony’s fear was of losing the war and being a survivor of the devastation.
Gamora’s fear was of being helpless in Thanos’ control again.
Rocket’s fear was of losing his family.
Wanda’s fear was of having to kill the love of her life in order to save everyone.
Vision’s fear was of his possession of the Mind Stone allowing Thanos’ mission to be completed.
Thor’s fear was of being unable to avenge his brother, his best friend, and all of Asgard.
I could go on and on like that, but the sheer weight of this disaster brought all of us to our knees at once, and as much as it hurts me (ask my friends; I was sobbing so hard I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from disturbing everyone else) I have to commend them for being able to make us feel something so powerful for what are fictional characters. It’s an amazing achievement that it felt as if we were the ones losing loved ones when we watched Infinity War. It’s one of the reasons we go to the movies in the first place—to feel something and experience something we never have before, and I really think that is what Infinity War delivered. It was an entirely unique movie-going experience that still reverberates with us a year later.
And it’s why Avengers: Endgame might be yet another first for us.
Many of us have experienced something similar with the end of a long running TV show. I personally am old enough to have seen the live endings to Will & Grace, Castle, Friends, Frasier, 30 Rock, The Sopranos, and various cartoons. I believe the closest equivalent in the film world might be the Star Trek movies, but even then, it’s different because they have always been an ensemble cast and don’t have individual-centric stories. It’s going to be the ending of an 11 year journey, and even though we know several heroes are going to survive and continue on with solo sequels (Black Panther, Spider-Man, Captain Marvel, Doctor Strange, Ant Man, Guardians of the Galaxy, and Black Widow are confirmed) or with the upcoming mini-series on the Disney Plus channel (Falcon and Winter Soldier, Loki, and Vision & Wanda are confirmed), this is still possibly the ending of the original Avengers lineup. All we know for sure is that Endgame is Robert Downey Jr and Chris Evans’ final solo performances of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. If we’re really fortunate, their stories end in such a way that we could see future cameos from them (ex. Steve Rogers in the Spider-Man: Homecoming end credits) but for all we know, it’s the end for them and we have to say goodbye.
And I’m not sure that I know how.
The closest equivalent for me is Logan (2017). Goodness gracious. Talk about gross sobbing. I was an absolute wreck saying goodbye to Hugh Jackman in his final scene of Logan. However, now that it’s been two years, and Hugh Jackman is running around still being utterly adorable and fun in every way, I have been able to come to grips without my grumpy Canadian badass. Still, though, Endgame is going to be rough for me because while I adore Logan to no end, I wasn’t a fan to the degree that I would actively participate in fandom things related to him, like say fanfiction or Tumblr.
And that’s not the case with the Avengers.
I’m a straight up MCU fangirl. I reblog photosets and engage in silly theories and headcanons and read and write fics on a weekly basis. The Avengers are an active part of my life because watching the MCU films is a full blown hobby of mine. I have never been asked to let go of something that is a part of my daily life, not since Castle at least, and even then Castle ended so badly that I had let go of the show two whole seasons before it actually ended.
So that’s the hardest part of all with Endgame on its way.
How do you say goodbye?
I don’t know. I just don’t bloody know.
No matter what ending they choose for my Avengers, I’m going to be in tears, but I hope and pray that the Russos continue with their trend of being excellent storytellers and that they give us a worthy ending for those of the Avengers who will not continue past Endgame. I cannot control what happens and I will either make peace with it or reject it for a headcanon so that I can get to sleep at night (here’s looking at you, Loki; you’re still alive in my mind, you beautiful trashlord). However, I do feel encouraged to believe they will give them the endings they deserved based on what Chris Evans has been allowed to say about his final day of filming. Chris Evans basically is Captain America. He is Steve Rogers. And if he felt that Steve was given a great finish to his run in the MCU, then it’s possible I will be able to let him go to a certain degree and appreciate the time and care the character has been given since his introduction.
It’s such a bittersweet place to be, isn’t it?
If nothing else, I just want to thank the original Avengers actors for portraying such vibrant, fun, deep, relatable characters for a whole decade. I mean, that’s so much dedication, and all of them went above and beyond trying to do the characters justice. People can debate left and right about the accuracy or the mythos, but in the end, what I love about the MCU is that for the most part, every last one of them gives a shit. It should be a no brainer, but it isn’t in Hollywood. I can name so many movies or franchises that shit something out just to make money and have no passion or interest in the product. The people who work on these films have given them their all and they have left behind something no one can touch for as long as time exists.
In the end, I suppose that old saying is the best way to try and prepare for the end: “Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.”
You’re damn right I’m gonna cry, but my hope for Endgame is that I’ll be smiling through my tears.
See you guys on the other side.
Love always,
Kyoko