On "Secrets of the Dragon Riders"
A few days ago there was discussion on the Anti-Shur’tugal LiveJournal about a compilation of essays by several authors on the topic of Inheritance, called Secrets of the Dragon Riders. The whole book is basically filled with concentrated glorification of the “genius” of Mr. Paolini. Being the perverted masochistic fiend I am, I checked the website where the book was sold and when I saw the “Read an excerpt” button, my hand basically moved on its own and lo and behold, it is sitting in my computer now, polluting the bytes and pieces around it with unending praise for a glorified plagiarist. The downloadable version contains previews of four essays featured in the book, but I am only going to talk about the intro and the first one as they stood above the others. Why? Simple. Their authors talk about criticism of Paolini and one even about the antis in particular. And what do they have to say about these issues? Gather round.
1. Drawing out the Dragons by James A. Owen
This is an introduction to the Secrets of the Dragon Riders, written by its editor, James A. Owen. Roll up your sleeves, ladies and gentlemen, for here we begin.
The whole thing begins with a quote by Erasmus of Rotterdam. It is actually a pretty neat quote, saying: “When I get a little money I buy books; and if any is left I buy food and clothes.” Now I have no problem with the quote itself, as it pretty much sums up my way of life; what I have a problem with, though, is the association. Opening an essay about how amazing a writer Paolini is with the timeless wisdom of Erasmus, one of the greatest thinkers of all time, in my opinion borderlines on literary rape. How can you even mention such a great mind as that of Erasmus on the same page as Paolini without reality suddenly bending around you and causing your head to implode? We are only two sentences in and I already feel like throwing up. This should be fun.
The essay continues with the author proclaiming his love to all that is written and talking about his physical inability to pass a bookstore without getting a book. This I can relate to as well, but then he throws this random sentence in that made me feel slightly uncomfortable:
I’m searching for connections to everything and everyone around me. And buying books is the best way I know to do that because books, and more precisely stories, are as important and vital and essential as food and clothes—and I’m not entirely convinced about the clothes.
Okaaaay. So he likes to walk around naked. Didn’t need to know that. Really didn’t. But this is really nothing compared to the gem that is about to come:
Stories are how we communicate understanding to one another both literally and through metaphor. And as one essayist in this collection noted, stories are important because none of them are new. All stories have already been told—only our point of view changes. And it is that unique point of view that makes every story at once individual and collective.
There is an essay in this book that basically says “all stories are derivative”. Can this have something to do with the infamous quote of Mr. Paolini where he proclaimed that “all fantasy is derivative” in order to defend himself from the very well-founded accusations of plagiarism and to excuse the fact that not a single thing in any of his bricks is original? Could this author be trying to support this ridiculous statement which I am not going to dignify by calling it a theory?
Moving on. Mr. Owen explains how he got to Eragon in the first place and this is what he has to say about the book:
My love for the cover art aside, it became a matter of professional courtesy to read the books and discover for myself just what all the hubbub was about. So I did. And amidst the thrilling tales of dragons and elves and hero’s journeys I found something else in Christopher Paolini’s books—I found myself.
This actually made me think about the bumblebee scene from Brisingr, where Eragon rediscovers his will to live by looking at the bumblebee which happens to be flying by. Both these statements are somewhat disconcerting and cringeworthy. What adds to the disturbing factor of this quote is that while Paolini was writing a supposedly “epic” saga with dreadful language and atrocious imagery, Mr. Owen is being dead serious and expressing his honest opinions. A great proof of the fact that wisdom does not come with age after all.
But whatever else critics might question, the achievement itself, to have written (and published) so young, is worthy of note. It requires an innate maturity to be able to convey so much in a work of fiction when one has had relatively less life experience.
Does anybody else find these endless references to Paolini’s age infuriating? The Age Card is one of the stupidest marketing moves ever invented. To have written something so young is not an achievement. At a certain age, nearly everybody feels the need to express themselves somehow. Some start playing an instrument, some paint, some write. Heck, they can even do all of it! My point being is that a teenage writer is nothing unusual. A published teenage author, that is a whole other story, though. And for a good reason. But I don’t think that getting “Eragon” published was an achievement at all. Mommy and Daddy did it for him, after all. If he had to go through the ordeal of getting a book published by proper means and made it through, that would have been an achievement. Also, it would mean that there is at least some semblance of quality to it. Though seeing what crap gets published nowadays I am not sure how true would that be. Still, I think Paolini would have learned a lot had he not have his parents to do everything for their widdle genius.
Another problem I have with this is that Mr. Owen basically negates all the criticism by saying “but he’s just a kid and he wrote a book! And it got published! It’s good for his age!” Sounds familiar? He basically brushes all the claims of poor writing, thesaurus rape and an overall subpar quality of the whole thing by saying “Paolini was young when he wrote it.” I say shove it somewhere where the sun don’t shine. When somebody publishes a book they should be aware of the fact that there will be criticism, regardless of their age. Claiming “the book is good for his/her age” is just a cheap attempt to excuse the book’s lack of substance, merit, and the fact that it insults the readers’ intelligence on every other page. If you go ahead and become a writer, your work will not be judged any differently from those of other writers, no matter how old you are. Age does not matter. Quality does. If you are just going to publish something that is “good for your age”, wait a few years, perfect it, and publish something that is just good. You will not receive any special treatment based on the year of your birth. As I already said I find the Age Card tactic insulting to other authors and diminishing the merit of literature as a whole. Age should never be an important factor when it comes to books. Quality should be.
In the next sentence Mr. Owen expands upon Paolini’s writing and publishing success, saying that “it requires an innate maturity to be able to convey so much in a work of fiction when one has had relatively less life experience.” One of the writer’s most prominent strengths is the power of observation, especially in fantasy. The environment around them can give shape to their personal universes, personalities and quirks of people around them can add another dimension to the characters, making them more believable. How can one write about social interaction if they never had any? How can one write about romance if they were never in love? How can you write about first feeble, embarrassing stabs at romance when you never lived through them yourself? Less life experience? None whatsoever is more like it. Let me draw you a little metaphor. Imagine that without previously taking any driving courses you will decide to race in the Formula 1 series. The result will be laughable, sad and pathetic. Most likely you would end up in a pile of junk very soon after firing up the engine. Exactly like Paolini’s “epic romance” between Eragon and Arya. Oh, actually between any two characters in Inheritance, for that matter.
Personal experience is one of the greatest sources of writer’s inspiration, it gives the author ability to describe situations and feelings in a believable manner. In order to write about people, you have to be around people. And no, your parents and your family don’t count. These relationships lack certain dynamics which can only be found in a relation with another person unrelated to you and therefore without obligation to adore you unconditionally. People in our surroundings are the first source of criticism towards ourselves and as we develop social skills, we learn to accept this criticism and deal with it. Some better than others, but the fact remains that at least this way we get used to. This is probably where Paolini’s refusal to read criticism is rooted—he just can’t handle it, being nothing but praised for everything all of his life. This is not healthy.
Growing up sheltered and homeschooled are the worst things that could happen to Paolini as a writer. Imagine yourselves—where would you be without your friends, without the trouble you got into together, without harassing older kids in school just to prove you have the guts to do it (and then running away before they could beat you up)? The only people Paolini had any closer relationships with are his parents and his sister and it shows. Angela the Witch is an example of what the rest of the characters in the books could have looked like if only the kid went to school. Some critics hate her, some say she is one of the few bearable characters in the series, but the fact remains that she is probably the most well-rounded one. All the other characters should have been built like her, with a personality beyond their mad skillz, may they be whatever they are, and another level to them. This is probably why Eragon comes off as a sociopath and more of a computer than an actual person—Paolini himself would most likely have trouble reacting in more complex social situations such as the ones he writes about, so he goes for whatever seems most logical and reasonable, eliminating the actual emotional involvement entirely. No amount of “innate maturity”, which is another thing I could discuss to no end, can make up for the lack of personal experience.
The story itself is one that has been both lauded and criticized as “not new”. More than one essayist touches on this concept, that Paolini has drawn upon well-known and well-used archetypes for both character and plot. Paolini’s detractors claim that the work is therefore merely derivative, and brings nothing new to the world of fiction. But his advocates (of which I am one) maintain that he has simply done what all the great authors have done before him: retold the stories common to us all from a unique point of view. And it is a point of view that has been embraced by millions upon millions of readers around the world.
Again with the “all fantasy is derivative” defense. One word: pathetic. If you look for an original story, grab a book by Miéville. If you don’t think you read something new after that, there is something severely wrong with you.
There are original stories. Some of us are just too lazy to find them and make up excuses instead.
It’s been no different for any other story that’s gone before, whether it’s a tale of Perceval or Gilgamesh or even Luke Skywalker. They are all the same story. They are all our story. And the tales told in the Inheritance Cycle are our stories, too, told as they are by a storyteller who understands this, and put them into words in the way he believes they should be told.
He puts Gilgamesh, Perceval, and even Luke Skywalker in the same paragraph as Inheritance. There is no God.
2. Ten Things About Christopher Paolini by Jeremy Owen
Just reading the title of the essay makes me want to stop right here, delete the file from my computer and never hear about Mr. Owen (neither of them) again. But I will pull myself together, take a deep breath, and if for nothing else, I will do it for the lulz. Which is always a good reason.
This essay is written by Jeremy Owen, and he starts out by saying that when it comes to Inheritance, there is “no such thing as lukewarm opinion”. The series has either fans or haters, nothing in between.
The pro-Paolini element will square off against the anti-Paolini in seconds. Make sure you’re outside the danger zone before the insults and occasional breakable objects start flying around.
…and some of them may hit your head and cause you to write an essay defending Paolini. This sentence just explained it all.
He next states that instead of focusing on pro–Paolini arguments, he is going to discuss the reasons why so many people hate him so much. This should be interesting.
Youth
Please, for the love of God, not again! Could you just drop it already? The age doesn’t matter! It’s pointless! He published a book like any other writer, adult or not, so why should this be constantly brought up?!
Oh well. Bring it on.
Most people expect sixteen-year-old boys to be babbling, hormone-riddled morons who think a pronoun is a noun that’s lost its amateur status. For the most part these derogatory thoughts about adolescent males are right. A teenage boy being able to string a coherent list of words into a recognizable sentence is noteworthy, and Christopher Paolini did that ten thousand times…in a row! Brilliant! Most people, especially other writers, tend to see that as an overachievement for someone his age. I don’t think this is Christopher’s fault, but that of the observer judging him. If you think Christopher Paolini is too young, then you must be too old.
Where do I even begin? This paragraph basically says “U haet Chris just cuz ur jelous!” Yes. We hate Paolini’s books just because we envy him that he got to get published so young, not because what he published is a steaming pile of bovine excrement without any merit whatsoever. And you have to love how the author defines brilliance as an ability to put together a coherent sentence at age of sixteen. Wow. The high school I went to is full of geniuses.
Besides, we do not think Inheritance is pathetic because we are jealous of Paolini. We think it sucks because even now, ten years later, he still writes like a sixteen-year old, and at times it gets worse. I blame his success on that. Seeing how popular Eragon has become, he reached a conclusion that this is as good as it can get and stopped right there, meaning that his development as a writer stopped dead in its tracks. There was a potential, but now it is gone. More than being jealous of him, we feel sorry for the sod.
Completion
Christopher Paolini finished a novel. Here’s a revelation that stuck in the craw of many a writer. […] If you hate Christopher Paolini because he wrote a novel, it’s probably time to stop doing Internet “research” on the computer in your mom’s basement and start taking a serious stab at that outline you’ve toyed with for a decade.
Finishing a book? Is that really an argument? That he finished a book? True, it may be hard to write a novel, especially when you have no plot or it flatlines after a few dozens of pages (if it ever gets that far) because it is going nowhere. But if you are not too lazy to develop something that can be passed off as a storyline and actually bother to write little bits here and there, finishing a book is not that hard. I, for one, finished three books by the time I was fifteen. True, all three were prime examples of some of the most atrocious crap ever written, but I finished them, so that automatically makes them publishable material! Yay! Let’s all listen to my talking dog and his sister argue about ten times per a single page!
Quality, on the other had, is a whole another story. Notice how these rebuttals never talk about the actual quality of Paolini’s writing rather than formalities and insignificant details. They don’t focus on what is substantial. I am not even going to call this an argument.
Continuation
Christopher Paolini wrote a second novel
And look! He wrote a second one! Truly he must be a genius!
What the hell is wrong with this person? He is basically trying to sell the same, ahem, argument twice. Does this contribute to the essay in any way? No. Is this at all relevant? It isn’t. Then why is it here? Who the hell edited this…oh okay, I see. Never mind.
Success
Christopher Paolini wrote a bestselling novel. People that aspire to be writers will sing praises to such a person, all the while shooting little daggers with their eyes at them for accomplishing such a feat. […] I know lots of great authors who are not bestsellers. Hitting the top of the lists is a convergence of skill, publicity, and timing.
The “ur just jeluz” argument again. What this Mr. Owen fails to realize is that the bestseller list, any of them, actually, gives very poor indication of whether the book is any good or not. Just look at some other bestselling works: The Da Vinci Code, Twilight, The Sepulcher. Were any of them at least bearable to read? And what about the writers who can actually write? How many of them dominated these mediocrity-celebrating marketing tools based on nothing than gross sales of the individual titles? We hate and will continue to hate Paolini because he is famous despite the fact that his books are some of the worst literature ever to see the light of the day when there are other, incomparably better authors who remain anonymous to the public even though they are the ones who deserve the praise and attention. This is also the first time we come across any reference to actual skill in this essay and even here it is just mentioned and not expanded upon in defense of Mr. Owen’s favorite author.
Hollywood
If you hate Christopher Paolini because of the money he made from selling out to Hollywood, then I’m right there with you. If you happen to be Christopher Paolini’s agent and are reading this, then you can contact me through the publisher of this article. I’ve got some great ideas I think you’d be interested in.
Oh, he admits the movie sucked. No shit, Sherlock. Who liked it? Even the hard core die hard rabid fans hate it. Another pointless point made.
This is where the excerpt ends. It has been a truly painful and long way getting all the way to here. How to sum it up, then? Even though the essays are trying to address the issue of antis, they fail at presenting even semi-decent arguments and their only defense is endless repetition of the same old statements we all know so well to be untrue—age, jealousy and…well, that is about it, actually. Apparently, Paolini’s followers have taken to the example of their visionary and did no research on the topic they were going to cover. Which doesn’t really add to credibility of their work. All in all, these essays are very much like Inheritance itself—poorly researched, incoherent, arrive nowhere and the points they are trying to make are just laughable. Authors of these essays truly are, as the Epistler put it, “immature fans for an immature work”.
Thank you for reading,
By Kitty
on Mar 4, 01:07 AM