Buffy's Choice and the "Evils" of Free Speech Fallout

One of the things I love about free speech is that it grants you the right to have--and express--your own opinions about anything you want.  You don't have to take small little things like etiquette, dignity, and respect for others who might be more involved in an issue, into account--and this of course is the hallmark of so many citizens of the Internet, who often feel that their views on something trumps everything else.

Including, apparently, their own dignity.

When I finally read about the goings-on in the current issues of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I was shocked at the developments.  Buffy Summers, the heroine and protagonist, had apparently made a bad decision at a party, gotten black-out drunk, and ended up sleeping with some guy.  She was too wasted to even remember who it was, but apparently she became pregnant as a result.  In thinking about her circumstances--which are, to say the least, unique--she has apparently resolved to have an abortion, reasoning that she simply doesn't feel ready to bring a child into the world.

It is, of course, at this point where the free speech kicks in, and every anti-abortion crusader from underneath the rock springs up and decries what a horrible development this is.  They berate everything they can: Buffy is supposed to protect the weak; Buffy shouldn't have made such an irresponsible decision; why can't she just consider adoption; and so on and so forth.  I've seen articles and comments from idealogues galore--many of whom freely admit they've never read this comic or seen the television series, but still feel they have the proper context to argue about this particular story.

Never mind that you had no interest in this series or story until it told this particular story, about this particular issue, in a way that seems to avoid the ending you'd want it to.  Never mind that you're now condemning Joss Whedon and his creative team based solely on this issue.  Never mind that this decision is rarely addressed in a respectful way in the mainstream storytelling media--it's not going the way you want it to, so you're going to scream and shout and bitch to anyone who will listen that this Joss Whedon and all these evil liberal leftist comic book readers are tearing up the nation and sending it straight to hell in a hand-basket.

Ah, irony.

I'm usually not given to this level of derision, but I've seen so many posts that support this stance that I can't help but transfer the sentiment to this one.

I probably won't be reading the current issues of Buffy anytime soon.  I don't know all of the specific details of that plot, aside from the occasional sample page put out on the Internet.  But I do have an abiding faith in Joss Whedon's ability to tell a story that is involving, insightful, and above all, respectful of the human issues involved.  That's simply what the man does: he tells stories well.  They may be stories about vampires and monsters and captains in tight pants, but they are also stories about suddenly losing a family member, dealing with a betrayal from a friend, and struggling through drug addiction.  They are stories of human beings: wonderful, horrible, flawed, fantastic human beings, and if we know anything about Buffy, she's one of the most human protagonists he's come up with.

And humans, as so many of us know, are prone to make at least the occasional bad decision.  And those bad decisions often end up coming back to haunt us, and force us to confront them, however uncomfortable they may be and however much we'd like to simply ignore them or gloss them over.  That's exactly what Buffy is doing right now, and we as observers of this story should think about the agony, the seriousness, and the life-changing potential of that confrontation--not doling out knee-jerk reactions immediately based on our own personal beliefs.  It's fine to have your own opinions about abortion--but focusing only on the outcome without respecting the heroine's struggle through the narrative is, at the very least, flagrantly insensitive.

And, while I could be wrong, I get the distinct feeling that most of the pro-lifers here have simply gotten word of this headline, and then set out to spread their displeasure about it without even giving the issue a read.  I point them out mostly because they appear to be reacting negatively to the apparent direction of the narrative.  I have yet to see any pro-choice posts trumpeting this as "Abortions for all!" or anything like that.

If the Komen Foundation debacle has proven anything, it's that pro-lifers have a long way to go before they're going to take away a woman's right to choose.  The fact that women mostly have the right to choose in this country is not something you'd know by watching the mainstream media these days, astoundingly enough, and that is undoubtedly due in no small part to influence from those who are outraged at the very notion that some woman somewhere should have the right to decide what's going on in her own body.  With this story at least, now even that is under fire.

I don't mean for this post to be political, even if my loyalties are very clearly showing.  My main goal is to argue for the sanctity of storytelling, and respect for its ability to start a dialog about topics that are controversial or uncomfortable.  Many of the people and organizations that have responded to this news item have only argued their own points, seemingly just from the idea of this story's very existence, without having read it.  I think that's deplorable, and to me at least, it demonstrates a complete lack of respect for not only those who tell such stories and their fans, but also anyone who may have lived another version of the same story.

Book Review -- Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art / Scott McCloud

Understanding Comics was first introduced to me a few years ago, by a girlfriend who'd taken a college class about comics and graphic novels. Knowing full well about my obsession with comics, she couldn't believe I hadn't read it, or even heard of it. After just glancing through it, I could see why she'd say that! My only, unworthy defense is that I simply hadn't taken a broad interest in comics, being almost completely interested in the superhero genre at that point in time. If I'd taken any kind of survey on comics as a medium--and I can't remember any such classes having been offered while I was in undergrad--then I doubtlessly would have been exposed to it.

Scott McCloud really seemed to capture lightning in a bottle when he wrote this very clever and illuminating work, as it is by and large loved and revered by comics enthusiasts, be they scholars, practitioners, or even fanboys like myself. Featured in an engaging sequential art format, in which McCloud himself "narrates" to the reader, it covers a lot: the main points of the history of comics, the intricacies of merging words and images, how people tend to read comic panels and the assumptions made between pictures. And that's just the beginning.

One of the big points I took away from this book was McCloud's belief in the potential of the comics medium. He does a convincing job of making the argument that many comics lovers like to articulate to skeptics, that comics are often judged on their content simply by their form. He goes on to say that, as a storytelling medium, comics have the potential to be just as great as any other "legitimate" form of art. Both as a writer and as someone who's been told time and again over the years by some literary snob that comics are "junk reading," this stance struck a chord with me. It doubtless did with those who love comics when it first hit, and doubtless will continue to do so with those fortunate readers who are exposed to it.

This is one of, if not THE first, non-fiction graphic book I've ever read, and it really opened my eyes to the idea of "comics" as a way of informing and teaching as opposed to a purely storytelling medium. It worked. Despite the visual style, there is plenty of text that McCloud manages to stick into the various chapters as he explains details and information about comics theory, history and practice to the reader. The writing is as designed to keep the reader engaged as the visuals are: detail-heavy yet engaging, it moves the reader along without becoming burdensome and clogged.

The art, of course, also works well in this book. McCloud uses a simple style that is perfect for the intent of the book, which is to inform, educate, and occasionally argue for the medium. He is also not shy about using visual examples to illustrate any of the points he's teaching in the text, particularly when it comes to assumptions we make about the panels in comics while reading them. He uses examples of other works occasionally as well, amply demonstrating that he's not the only one who's thought about how people interact with and understand comics.

Personally, this book is one of my bibles. Not just about comics, but about writing and storytelling as well. McCloud has truly put together a brilliant work, and it will doubtless continue to inform and influence comics enthusiasts for some time. Highly recommended.