Storyteller - Getting Involved

This episode concentrates on how Andrew has tried to remove himself from the narrative going on in Sunnydale. At the end though, he is forced to acknowledge his role as murderer and player in the dark events going on. Andrew has to eventually become a part of the story he’s recording from an outsider perspective. Jane Austen makes us do the same thing. She uses humor to peak our interest, but then proceeds to force us into the story by making characters relatable and inviting our criticisms of those characters – she’s teaching us how to read a novel in Northanger Abbey, so that we understand when reading other novels how the process of becoming involved works. This is the magic of novels – even when they’re totally fictional the author still forces his/her readers into the narrative by creating similarities between the fiction and the reality of readers’ worlds. Andrew is always trying to sugarcoat his past and remove the gritty details from Buffy and the events going on in Sunnydale. I see it as a defense mechanism. Andrew feels unprepared to face the reality of his past and the world around him, so he sees it through a lens (rose-colored? Yes.), but Buffy forces him to come out from behind that lens and own up to his mistakes. At the very end of the episode, we see the result of this realization; Andrew has nothing left to say to the camera after the raw, one-sentence truth he speaks, and turns it off. I often experience the same silence after making a connection to a novel. I just have to sit there and think about it for awhile.

So basically I see a parallel between the way Andrew was eventually forced to acknowledge his role in the “story” and how novels force readers to do the same. Austen shows us this when she teaches us how to read the novel.

Catching Up on Gothic Feminism, Literally

To me, defining feminism in the Gothic, seems as difficult as defining the Gothic itself. In Michele Byers article, she notes that “it is important to think about what it means to claim the label feminist,” and though they span generations, continents and hairstyles, this applies to Buffy, Ampata, and even Carmilla

All three of the ladies are plagued by a sever case of damned if they do, damned if they don’t. They are in situations that can be either read as empowering or imprisoning. For Buffy, it is the perpetual struggle with her role as slayer versus being your typical 90’s teen. Ampata battles with her destiny and her desires, and Carmilla so badly wants the affections of Laura, but as a vampire, cannot have them fully.

So if feminism is “paradoxical, ambivalent, and fluid,” how do we find it in these characters. For me, the paradox is the key point. Carmilla can be looked at two ways, as a wanton seductress or as a poor, lost soul. Ampata is either a vengeful woman looking for a second chance at any cost, or tragic teen seeking the life that was so cruelly stripped from her. And Buffy. Buffy’s paradox is much less black and white. On one hand she is a demon destroyer, protecting the world. On the other, she has a deep connection to the darkness which she fights both in the physical and mental sense. Regardless of your interpretation, all 3 women operate outside of typical gender roles. Carmilla is a powerful bloodsucker, who chooses to prey on women rather than men, and Buffy and Ampata share the role of “chosen one,” bearing a burden that benefits all of society.

One quote that struck me in Carmilla is when she says “love is always selfish.” She is explaining to Laura why she cannot be entirely truthful. But when compared to Xander’s heroic actions in “Inca Mummy Girl” we see that this too is a paradox. Xander is willing to give his life for Willow because her loves her (strictly platonic, sorry Will). But at the same time, Ampata is acting on similar feelings toward Xander. Just a final though before you decide who to stake in the heart.

Redemption in "Storyteller"

Without a doubt, my favorite part of "Storyteller" is Andrew's quest for redemption. He wasn't an evil person, just a weak person who made some bad decisions. I think it was important that this is the episode where he finally comes to terms, and admits to the fact that he killed his best friend Jonathan, because he's documenting the way "heros/heroines" are acting. When he sees the things that Buffy has to do for the common good, and how self sacrificing the majority of the others are, he realizes that he has to cut the crap, stop trying to be heroic, and admit that he's done something wrong.

In a similar way, although it's during her "act" that Andrew has to die, when Buffy points out that she's sick of acting like everything is going to turn out okay, because it's not, and people are going to die, she has to admit that no matter how much of a hero she is, she can't save everyone. While she feels guilt (it seems) that she can't save everyone, she understands that it's more important for the greater whole to survive than certain specific individuals.

I'm sorry that post had no tangible train of thought.

The Irrational "Brain": Willow and Tabula Rasa

The article "'My God, It's Like a Greek Tragedy': Willow Rosenberg and Human Irrationality" by James B. South is mainly an analysis of Willow's irrational behavior towards the later episodes of the series. It discusses her desire to be a best friend, not a side-kick (It also discusses her anger in season six, but that's irrelevant because it hasn't happened yet.)

The main quote from this article that interested me was "Willow Rosenberg's character trajectory over six seasons provides us with a compelling study of the issue of irrationality, and forces us to confront the possibility that irrationality can be unintelligible, not just a mistake" because while watching Tabula Rasa, I was thinking about how as the show progresses Willow just starts making bad choice after bad choice, and it's hard to notice at first because it happens gradually, and often it seems like little mistakes at first.

I think "Tabula Rasa" is the defining point in which the audience finally realizes that Willow is not just making mistakes and slipping up, she's being irrational. The irrationality of a character who has had such a solid, intelligent, and reliable personality throughout the series throws the audience for a loop, and forces them to realize the development of characters over the years. On Wheedon's part, I think this is genius. To be able to develop characters as he does and keep his audiences guessing, he is able to turn Buffy into something tangible that audiences can relate to.

(Sorry this post was so late.)

South, James B. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Philosophy: Fear and Trembling in Sunnydale. Vol. 4. Chicago and La Salle, Illinois: Open Court, 2003. Print. Popular Culture and Philosophy.

It's Hard Being a Hero

So, I was going to write my blog post about the differences between Andrew and Catherine, but I think that has been beaten to death already, by you all early bird posters, and by my lengthy comments (Sorry Sydney, I didn't mean to write a novel). So, I guess I will talk about something else.

One part of the episode that really stuck out to me was this section:

ANDREW(pleading): I know. But you don’t need to kill me. You said we could all get through this.
BUFFY: I made it up. I’m making it all up. So what kind of hero does that make me?
ANDREW: No, you’re doing a great job, really. Kudos.
BUFFY: Yeah, well, I don’t like having to give a bunch of speeches about how we’re all going to live, because we won’t. This isn’t some story where good triumphs because good triumphs. Good people are going to die. Girls. Maybe me.Probably you. Probably right now.

I think this goes back to what I was discussing with Tabula Rasa as to what makes a hero. Throughout the "story" of Andrew's video, Buffy is "The Girl Who Knew No Fear." the "Slayer of, The Vampires," and she is shown majestically and heroically. And throughout the episode, Buffy protests this portrayal. She doesn't want this beacon of hope of future generations to capture all of their preparations and struggles, because she is scared, and knows that she is dealing with something she may not be prepared to handle. She is the heroine, and has always dealt with things and saved the world, but here, she is not so sure that she is going to have the strength to be a hero. She says that what she does is too important to show the world, because after the fighting, after the violence, she is vulnerable, especially as a leader (which will come up towards the end of the 7th season).

So we say again, what makes a heroine? I think that these doubts are crucial to heroism. Andrew says that Buffy "fights and she knows she will win because there is no alternative" but Buffy doesn't believe that. We see in the above quoted scene that she is afraid. If a hero is constantly aware of being a hero and of being the able and victorious defender, then what kind of hero would they be? Boring, I think. Catherine, like Buffy, doesn't see herself as the ideal heroine, even though we are told that she is. Both girls have happy endings, save the day, get the guy, whatever, but it is their vulnerable moments and struggles that make it worth the while. Buffy is hyper aware of her role as hero, which is vastly different from Catherine, who views herself as plain, and these polar opposites serve as points of weakness for each heroine. It gives them something to overcome, something to battle with, before they can prove themselves as true heroines.

Buffy knows that people will die and that she can't save them all, and I think that this adds to her heroism. She acknowledges that her fight will not be perfect, but that doesn't mean that she isn't going to stop fighting. Catherine sees that the General has faults that can't be altered and that the Thorpes were not the friends she hoped they would be, but she does not take her entire experience to be a loss. Yea, I guess that is kind of a stretch, but Catherine isn't such a literal heroine as Buffy, so I kind of read between the lines...

Yea, so this post kind of drifted from where it began, but those are my thoughts on Storyteller. Also, I love this episode, so much. I think it is a great way to pick apart each character, especially Buffy and Andrew. Thanks for that, Joss.

Storyteller: The inablity to live one's own life?

“Storyteller” is ultimately not about Buffy (and the Scooby gang) saving the day once again, but rather about Andrew confronting his inability to accept his role in Jonathan’s death. The episode confronts the need for a story in a person’s life. Andrew hides his feelings in creating a video of Buffy’s life and struggle against evil. Instead of living his own life and dealing with his “bruised soul”, he chooses to become a narrator. He observes other people’s lives and lives vicariously through them, pretending that he is contributing to the cause. When Anya and Xander talk about their failed relationship, Andrew secretly films it and then watches it, pretending to be Anya. He knows her lines word for word, but he cannot even correctly remember murdering Jonathan. He creates pretty pictures of each character (including himself), making them seem better than they actually are. According to Buffy, however, “life isn’t a story” and by constantly creating stories for himself, Andrew is creating situations where no one has to take responsibility for their actions. Andrew created a story for himself where he murdered Jonathan because he was told to do so by a ghost. As a “storyteller”, Andrew is in fact a liar. In Buffy’s mind, a narrator is a weak-minded person who is unable to live their own life. Unlike a story, life is uncontrollable. Good does not necessarily triumph and nice people do not always survive. As a heroine, Buffy is able to face the knowledge that she will likely die without any fear; she does not need embellishment to be able to accept a truth. Catharine is more like Andrew. She tries to narrate her life to make herself feel better. Andrew does so to make him feel like he is working with Buffy and contributing to a good cause. Catharine wants to make her life more exciting like the lives of the gothic novel characters. She enters Northanger Abbey with a specific storyline in mind: an evil husband killing his wife or locking her away in the bowels of a dark, old castle. She alone knows this truth and even though she is provided information to the contrary (e.g. Northanger Abbey is actually quite modern), she, like Andrew, sticks to her fantasy. Both Andrew and Catharine suffer unpleasant surprises when they are made to realize that their fantasies are not only untrue, but they are also harming their creators. Mr. Tilney is shocked when he discovers Catharine’s suspicions of his father and Catherine is forced out of Northanger, alone and without protection. She must confront the fact that she cannot allow her fantasies and naïve idealizations of other people to dictate her actions. Like Buffy, Catharine must learn to rely on herself and accept the seemingly-mundane reality of her life. Andrew’s unwelcome awakening comes in the form of Buffy, who forces him to confront the fact that he is a murderer. He becomes an active participant in his own life when he takes responsibility and accepts the weight of his guilt.

Do You Get It? ("Tabula Rasa" vs. Northanger Abbey)

Much can be said about the similarities between “Tabula Rasa” and Northanger Abbey. Some of these include the critique of female friendship as embodied by Isabella and Willow, the comparable sense of predictability combated by reaching conventional endings in unexpected ways, and the similar goal of redefining heroine archetypes. All of these comparisons are important examples of how “Tabula Rasa” and Northanger Abbey are complimentary texts that are fitting to read together. However, instead of focusing on just this episode in light of Austen’s novel, I’d like to compare the overarching structure of Buffy to that of Northanger Abbey.

I believe that one of the most gratifying qualities of both these texts is that they possess a sense of self-awareness. For Buffy, it is an understanding of Gothic texts, and for Northanger Abbey it is a knowledge of the form of eighteenth century novels. As George Levine says in his article “Translating the Monstrous: Northanger Abbey,” “parody always involves itself in certain contradictions, not only because the need for mockery is invariably a sign of respect for the power of the thing mocked, but also because the parody must exist in the medium of its predecessor” (337). Both texts play with the respective conventions of the Gothic and the novel in this way, and in doing so are able to be playful and entertaining.

A poignant example of such use of parody can be seen in the episode “Buffy vs. Dracula,” in which the Dracula mythos is turned on its head and satirized. Yet this humor is out of reverence, and is used to legitimize Buffy in the Gothic world in comparison to Stoker’s renowned Dracula. Similarly, and perhaps more consistently, Northanger Abbey satirizes the conventional expectations of the novel and the Gothic form. Austen continually uses narrative intrusion to point out how the story deviates from convention. For instance, in the opening paragraph of the book Austen writes of Catherine’s mother, “she had three sons before Catherine was born; and instead of dying in bringing the latter into the world, as anybody might expect, she still lived on” (15). This example illustrates how Northanger Abbey is aware of, and plays with, past literary traditions – here, that a heroine should be without a living mother as a role model. Similarly to Buffy, Northanger Abbey uses self-awareness and parody to create a new, legitimate, and elevated work of Gothic fiction that teaches its readers how to read anew.

I think that the use of self-awareness and parody in these texts is both successful and captivating. However, as we discussed in class, a less well-read audience member might miss much, if not all, of the satirical references in these texts. For example, when Henry jokes, unbeknownst to Catherine, about what her stay would be like at the Abbey if life were like a gothic novel, he references in content and near quotation the Mysteries of Udolpho, Romance of the Forest, Castles of Otranto, and The Recess. Only a reader with a substantial background in gothic literature would be able to discern these allusions. A less well-read viewer of Buffy would similarly not understand the significance of Xander’s behavior in “Buffy vs. Dracula.” Thus, to varying extents Buffy and Northanger Abbey are pleasing to two different audiences, one that is well-read and one that is more naïve. My only lingering curiosity is whether there is a third viewer category for Buffy: the portion of the audience who has seen the series in its entirety? Based off of the various discussions of Willow’s role in “Tabula Rasa,” – some advocating that she is a truly bad Isabella-like “friend” and others deeming that she is a kind-hearted sturdy companion throughout most of the series – I believe that this third category does indeed exist. As a result, though perhaps unintentionally, Buffy successfully manipulates the modern media sphere to augment the criteria of what makes a well-read viewer. In my opinion this feat, although technologically impossible in 1798, is comparable in importance to Northanger Abbey’s overall accomplishment of redefining the possibilities of fiction in the eighteenth century.

Levine, George. "Translating the Monstrous: Northanger Abbey." Nineteenth Century Fiction. (1975): 335-50. Web. 19 Oct. 2011. .

Austen, Jane. Northanger Abbey. New Chronology and Updated Further Reading Addition. London: Penguin Books, 2003. 15.