also not a development I was expecting
Jan. 8th, 2020 04:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kindkitSome thoughts about episodes through 131, "Flesh." More thematic than strictly plot-related, but nevertheless highly spoilery.
Oh, show, you are making me have compassion for the monsters, and it is extremely uncomfortable.
Not compassion for the big monsters, not for the entities, but for some of their formerly-human servants, oh yes. It never occurred to me to think that they could still love, or feel grief or loneliness, or that their embrace of monstrosity could spring from pain.
It's an excellent storytelling choice, especially in juxtaposition to what's happening to Jon and to Martin, what was happening to Melanie (which she clearly, in some ways, wishes Basira and Jon hadn't stopped). Or, from the other direction, what has happened to Spiral!Helen, who seems vastly more human than Spiral!Michael. The line between real people with feelings and horrible monsters who need to be destroyed is . . . not that clear, from either side.
There is a line, of sorts. Breekon and Hope may have loved each other, but they hurt untold people who had people who loved them, too. And Hope doesn't extrapolate from his own first experience of loss to think about others' losses, others' pain; he just wants to get revenge. Jared Hopworth had a miserable and lonely youth, but takes pleasure (and did even before his encounter with the book) in other people's fear of him. He's at best indifferent to the pain he causes. None of our feeling monsters (with the possible slight except of Helen, sometimes???) has shown any unselfishness, any real empathy, any hesitation in victimizing others.
Then again, is that really a definitional difference between human and monster? Jurgen Leitner didn't feel much compassion for all the assistants who died testing his books, and we know he wasn't in the control of any entity. And I wonder what Gertrude (fan favorite badass Gertrude, who to our knowledge has sacrificed two people and entrapped poor dead Gerry in a book) was like before becoming the Archivist. Was she always ruthless? Entities do seem to pick out compatible people and enhance traits they already have.
Jon's curiosity has been enhanced to the point of compulsion, but if anything he's more compassionate than he used to be. He's certainly actively trying to connect with people, even as his abilities make him less and less human in some ways.
Meanwhile Martin, who is sometimes more heart than brain (he's smart, but his judgment is almost always overpowered by his emotions) is being, well, groomed to become a servant or avatar of the Lonely. On the one hand this makes sense: most of Martin's life has been isolation and rejection. On the other, no one wants love and connection more than Martin does. And he wants to give love, not just to receive it. But (and I think this is the crucial part) I can see how the prospect of not wanting connection, of being happy alone, could be tempting for him. "When this is over," says Peter Lucas (BTW is it Lucas or Lukas?) "you won't want to tell [Jon]" anything. Jon won't matter to him. Jon will be safe, but Martin will no longer feel anything for him. Martin's whole life has been unrequited love of one form or another; if part of him wants to just stop feeling, it's hard to blame him.
(Having said that, I am sure that he is in absolute emotional agony right now, especially since Jon is finally paying him some attention and wanting to be around him. But that could end up being even more incentive to try and turn off those feelings and embrace being alone.)
Will there come a point when Jon, or Martin, or both, have gone too far, have lost their ability to care about others enough to not want to hurt them? When they have crossed the line, wherever it is located, between humans worth saving and monsters who have to be destroyed, even if they still have some humanity left?
Oh, show, you are making me have compassion for the monsters, and it is extremely uncomfortable.
Not compassion for the big monsters, not for the entities, but for some of their formerly-human servants, oh yes. It never occurred to me to think that they could still love, or feel grief or loneliness, or that their embrace of monstrosity could spring from pain.
It's an excellent storytelling choice, especially in juxtaposition to what's happening to Jon and to Martin, what was happening to Melanie (which she clearly, in some ways, wishes Basira and Jon hadn't stopped). Or, from the other direction, what has happened to Spiral!Helen, who seems vastly more human than Spiral!Michael. The line between real people with feelings and horrible monsters who need to be destroyed is . . . not that clear, from either side.
There is a line, of sorts. Breekon and Hope may have loved each other, but they hurt untold people who had people who loved them, too. And Hope doesn't extrapolate from his own first experience of loss to think about others' losses, others' pain; he just wants to get revenge. Jared Hopworth had a miserable and lonely youth, but takes pleasure (and did even before his encounter with the book) in other people's fear of him. He's at best indifferent to the pain he causes. None of our feeling monsters (with the possible slight except of Helen, sometimes???) has shown any unselfishness, any real empathy, any hesitation in victimizing others.
Then again, is that really a definitional difference between human and monster? Jurgen Leitner didn't feel much compassion for all the assistants who died testing his books, and we know he wasn't in the control of any entity. And I wonder what Gertrude (fan favorite badass Gertrude, who to our knowledge has sacrificed two people and entrapped poor dead Gerry in a book) was like before becoming the Archivist. Was she always ruthless? Entities do seem to pick out compatible people and enhance traits they already have.
Jon's curiosity has been enhanced to the point of compulsion, but if anything he's more compassionate than he used to be. He's certainly actively trying to connect with people, even as his abilities make him less and less human in some ways.
Meanwhile Martin, who is sometimes more heart than brain (he's smart, but his judgment is almost always overpowered by his emotions) is being, well, groomed to become a servant or avatar of the Lonely. On the one hand this makes sense: most of Martin's life has been isolation and rejection. On the other, no one wants love and connection more than Martin does. And he wants to give love, not just to receive it. But (and I think this is the crucial part) I can see how the prospect of not wanting connection, of being happy alone, could be tempting for him. "When this is over," says Peter Lucas (BTW is it Lucas or Lukas?) "you won't want to tell [Jon]" anything. Jon won't matter to him. Jon will be safe, but Martin will no longer feel anything for him. Martin's whole life has been unrequited love of one form or another; if part of him wants to just stop feeling, it's hard to blame him.
(Having said that, I am sure that he is in absolute emotional agony right now, especially since Jon is finally paying him some attention and wanting to be around him. But that could end up being even more incentive to try and turn off those feelings and embrace being alone.)
Will there come a point when Jon, or Martin, or both, have gone too far, have lost their ability to care about others enough to not want to hurt them? When they have crossed the line, wherever it is located, between humans worth saving and monsters who have to be destroyed, even if they still have some humanity left?
no subject
Date: 2020-01-10 05:14 pm (UTC)(It's funny, because I do agree with what Alex says in one of the Q&As, that Martin is lovely but would be difficult to be around. That's original-flavor Martin, of course, not the newer, more competent and confident and now growing much colder version.)