Spooky season is here! This month I'll be reviewing books and games with a horror or generally Halloween-ish theme.

This vampire novella is said to have been an inspiration for Dracula (which I'll be reviewing next week) and gothic horror in general. It follows a lonely teenaged girl named Laura who lives with her widower father and their servants in a remote Austrian country house. When a passing carriage crashes near their property, they rush to help and find that the occupants are two older women and a girl Laura's age. One of the women begs them to take in her daughter Carmilla and allow her to recover from the crash, promising to return for her in a few months after she's finished her urgent but nebulous business elsewhere. This is all a bit suspicious given that Carmilla doesn't really seem injured and her mother has given strict orders that she's not allowed to reveal anything about herself or her family. But Laura is starving for the company of a girl her own age, and as for Carmilla, well... the modern reader will have already guessed that she's starving too.

I really enjoyed this. It definitely is rich with gothic atmosphere and prose that's literary but very clear. (Victorian prose can sometimes be a bit... much for me.) It is also very very very gay. It's not subtle or subtextual; Carmilla's passionate desire for Laura is overtly romantic as well as vampiric. Laura responds to this with flustered confusion, feeling both intense attraction and fear. It could be read as a cautionary tale of not inviting the scary lesbian into the house, but I found it more complex than that.

spoilery thoughts

Though written by a man, much of the narrative centers women. It does evoke the idea that women's agency is scary, but it's less in the way of men being threatened by it, and more from the perspective of a young woman who is fearful of claiming it and abandoning the safety of gendered expectations and conformity. It's a man who eventually takes over the action of identifying and destroying the vampire (though at first Carmilla physically overpowers him!) which makes sense because he doesn't see the ambiguity, he only sees the threat. The conclusion leans into the ambiguity, though, saying that Laura was never quite the same after her encounter with Carmilla, even though she survived. I think it is important that Laura's first-person narrative is framed as being told to a woman, confiding her past experiences to someone who might understand them.

I thought it was interesting that Carmilla's mother and her female companion are never seen again. I assume that the mother wasn't her birth mother, but rather her vampire-mother, the one who turned her, and maybe the other woman was her vampire-grandmother then? I wasn't completely sure how this worked beyond the maiden-mother-crone imagery of the trio. It did seem obvious that the "carriage crash" setup was a con—pretend Carmilla is hurt, play on people's sympathies to get them to invite her in. The loose thread of what happened to the others also resonates with the idea that once female agency is awakened, there's no closing the book on it.

Carmilla is in the public domain, so you can read it on Project Gutenberg if you like. It's a quick read!

After rewatching the Original Trilogy, sdk and I allowed our enthusiasm to carry us forward into rewatching the Prequel Trilogy. That was... well, it was certainly a decision that we made.

I saw this movie in the theater and had not seen it since then. I knew it wasn't a cinematic masterpiece, but I did go in with a positive attitude hoping to enjoy some cheesy silliness and at least have fun razzing it. I'm afraid I was not able to maintain that attitude; I actually found the movie unpleasant to watch. So if you love it, maybe skip this post.

( cut for length and negativity )

In conclusion, I don't recommend this movie. I do, however, recommend this:

Embedded video: Music video for Weird Al's song "The Saga Begins", which retells the plot of the movie to the tune of "American Pie" by Don McClean.


Nonetheless we plan to persevere with Attack of the Clones, which I think I have seen part of. Maybe it will be better! Let me dream!

This young adult novella (also appearing under the title A Very Long Way From Anywhere Else) is one of Le Guin's few published pieces of non-speculative fiction. Set in the Pacific Northwest, it follows a friendship between two gifted high school students. Owen wants to study at MIT and go into science, but he feels pressured by his parents to be a "normal" guy who likes cars and girls and goes to State; Natalie is a musical prodigy, but feels constrained in her options due to her conservative father and the lack of opportunities for female composers.

The book is very short but densely packed with close observations about the pressure to conform, not only the overt pressure to conform to positive expectations, but also the covert pressure to conform to negative stereotypes and sexist narratives about how guys and girls interact. It's incisive in its portrayal of being very smart but very young and knowing basically nothing about the world outside your home town, and taking a first shaky step towards a broader perspective.

Owen and Natalie reflect a specific kind of gifted experience that wasn't the same as mine. They're aware that they're different from others, but able to play the part of a kid who's kind of an overachiever but basically normal, well enough that they can hide in plain sight. Not that that makes things easy—it's hard to choose to be yourself when the safety of conformity is a real option.

Many synopses of this book say that Owen and Natalie develop romantic feelings for each other, but that is emphatically not what happens in the book. What the book actually says is this: "I had decided that I was in love with Natalie. I hadn't fallen in love with her, please notice that I didn't say that; I had decided that I was in love with her." Owen is very clear that he tries to force himself to be in love with her and to be sexually attracted to her because he thinks it's what other people expect of him. You don't have to read Owen as aroace, but that is a possible reading and I see a lot of my aroace experiences in him.

But even if you don't read it that way, the point of the book is that their connection is about who they are as specific people, and when Owen tries to make it conform to a generic "he was a boy, she was a girl" heteronormative narrative, that connection is almost destroyed. Some of the ideas Owen has already absorbed about hetero relationships at 17 are a little scary, I think intentionally so. He's at a crossroads where he can go down the path of seeing Natalie and other girls as people, or as objects of male conquest. I think it's a good example of using a male POV to demonstrate why all of us need feminism.

The book is really good and I'm not sure why Le Guin didn't write any more like it. Maybe in between other projects she didn't have the time. But this book makes it easy to imagine an alternate timeline where this was the genre where she found success, and came to be best remembered as one of the standout contemporary YA writers of the 1970s alongside Judy Blume.