Animality

Can we do without animality as a concept? This is the question I'll be trying to answer in this chapter. So far, we have seen animality manifest in various guises: as a way to organize various ontologies into a heirarchy (black, white, dog, disabled and so on); as everything unwanted and undesirable in man, representative of his base instincts; and, as if in direct contradiction to this second rule, those instincts which we cannot do without, which ironically could be said to make us human. And interspersed throughout have been as many kinds of animalities as there are animals: from Old Ben's defiant playfulness in the face of yearly death; from a green turtle's uncanny and instinctive capacity to travel thousands of miles to the island of its origin; and to rats, sheep, racoons and rattlesnakes, species with pack mentalities which we uncharacteristically can dismiss as not suiting our definition of the acceptable animal.

It is that last category that I shall return to for my last chapter, but in an entirely different capacity. So far, we have found that there are a few constants in our three narratives: almost always, the human characters seem to be able to establish, almost against their wishes, some form of relationship with the animal other. This, despite the animal being companion species or not. Animality in at least one sense becomes a function of relationality: to what extent we are capable of imaginatively empathizing with the animal other is dependent on our openness to animal agency, our comportment towards the animal other. But what if there were no opportunity for individuated relationships to form? What if our experience of the animal was one of one species witnessing the resurgence of another?

Ori and the Will of the Wisps

From a gameplay perspective, this is a masterpiece. The story wasn't very convincing, although as with its predecessor, it really knows how to tug at your heartstrings without lapsing into insipid sentimentality. There is something to be said about animals trying to stare death in the face with some modicum of dignity; probably a sign of our ecologically impoverished times. Regardless, everything else in the game, from the movement to the pacing and the boss battles, are some of the most ingeniously designed set pieces in sidescrolling video game history. 

Batman: Year Two

As far as first issues go, this one's an amazing blast from the past. I've been familiar with Alan Davis's artwork for a very long time. His style is fluid and extremely recognizable, and yet I don't seem to remember too many artists who've managed to successfully emulate him, unlike some of the other more prominent culprits who inevitably disappoint these days (Andy Kubert, Jim Lee). The Reaper himself isn't a very original creation, but what I love about this book, or at least the first issue, is the humanization of Bruce Wayne. His relationship with Leslie is one I wish comics would revisit. This, and Mask of the Phantasm, share some uncanny resemblances, and I almost wonder if the latter was inspired.

Sandman: Overture

This book is a small miracle in disguise. Every inch of it screams attention to detail. Undoubtedly meant for someone familiar with the whole series to begin with, Overture acts as a rosetta stone to, if not "solving" many of the hidden mysteries of the entire work taken as a whole, then certainly straightening some doubts out, while making others even more tantalizing. For instance, the famous rivalry between Dream and Desire is introduced spectacularly, and something I've always suspected as having been the cause of said rivalry is proven to be fact. Dream and Desire are very similar, but of course, never the same: to desire is to be selfishly besotted with something or someone, even if you cannot acknowledge it. To dream of something has something a bit more unreal about it, but at the same time it is achievable, but not in the cut and thrust fashion in which you "acquire" what you desire. Ultimately, the paradox is that Dream himself is selfish, and yet he finds it in himself to loosen, unlike Desire who is stuck in their mold. Overture acts as a key to understanding the flawed creature that Dream is. It is a masterwork of fantastic literature.