Thank you for all the well wishes yesterday! I really appreciate it. As payment, Rio doing what we like to call “disco sleep”:
“Ahh, do the hustlezzzzz…
Aside from the plague, it’s been a big week chez Diana. I’m an aunt — yay! I’m also a fake aunt — yay! Rio lost one of her canines and got three new big-dog teeth. (They’re ENORMOUS. Like giant, craggy icebergs bursting through her gums.) My Rampant ARCs are going out into the world (my mother in law has already read hers and reported back to me), and I just saw a copy of my complete cover for Tap & Gown.
And yes, I did hear about the fabulous Zombies vs. Unicorns anthology that Holly Black and Justine Larbalestier are doing. I am so excited! I think it’s going to be incredible, and I’m really looking forward to seeing what the collection has to say about that awesome beast, the unicorn. To set the record straight, I’m not the slightest bit appalled by the anti-unicorn sentiment going around the internet these days. A development such as this:
(This is Rebecca. Justine met her in Texas.)
is entirely appropriate and even prudent behavior. Say NO to unicorns, people! Unicorns are DANGEROUS. Like drugs! And not wearing your seatbelt. If you see a unicorn, back carefully in the other direction! (Do not run. The unicorn can catch you.) Climb a tree. Get away from open windows. Hide yourself in the middle of a crowd of more tender, delicious-looking people. If you don’t, this might be what happens to you:
I applaud both Rebecca and Justine for pointing out these important safety tips.
Let’s see, what else? Oh, I bought a stack of books — doing my part to save the world, you know. I also read some, being stuck in bed with little more than a warm sleepy puppy and a box of tissues to keep me company. I read THE HUNGER GAMES (believe the hype — it’s fabulous!) and Mari Mancusi’s newest, GAMER GIRL. I loved them both, though they are nothing alike. THE HUNGER GAMES was a riveting, harsh, horrific dystopian adventure, and GAMER GIRL was an adorable, light contemporary romance. Having spent several hours talking video games with Marianne, I was unsurprised to find her spot-on account of gaming, but I was impressed so much by her ability to turn the premise into an engaging real life love story. It’s like The Shop Around the Corner, but with MMORPGs. So cute. I think it’s my favorite book of hers and I’m wondering when Disney is going to snap up those rights. (There’s also a lot of manga talk in the story, but I know more about WOW than I do about manga or anime, so…)
Also, she makes fun of unicorns. Tsk, tsk, Marianne…
Right now, I sound like the chick from the Exorcist. I spent most of yesterday in bed, snuggled up with a gorgeous redhead.
“What, mommy? Your nose is stuffed up? Is it filled with mud, like mine? I was digging er, working in the garden. Are you sick? Do you wanna cuddle?”
Anyway, I’m far too sick to properly respond to this ridiculous assertion of Maureen Johnson’s, in which she compares unicorns to her broken bathtub drain. She also links to Lauren Myracle’s recent video defending unicorns. This is it:
Now, I’m sure Lauren Myracle is a very nice person (as much as John Green assures his highly trained corps of killer nerdfighters that I must be a very nice person), and she certainly seems to have quite a bit of time on her hands, what with the video-making and all — but she’s kind of missing the point. One is never going to win the zombies v unicorn debate by focusing on the mystical, sparkly, magical attributes of unicorns.
Unicorners: “Oh, unicorns, they’re so pretty!”
Zombites: “Yeah, but zombies will eat your braaaaaaaaaaaaains!”
It’s a losing argument. We gotta turn the page on this sparkly thing. Unicorns are tough. Who do they hang out with? Julius Caesar, Alexander the Great. Genghis Khan. Robocop:
Clearly, we’re looking at a creature that can easily overcome the relentless, drone-like abilities of the mindless dead. Unicorns have strength, power, military acuity, a ton of endorsements from some seriously scary warlords, and, as if that weren’t enough, a big sharp horn right at brain-piercing height that can easily overcome any zombie long before they get into biting range.
No contest, really.
Anyway, that’s the argument I’d be making if I weren’t to sick to do anything but stagger, zombie-like, back to bed. Here, Rio!
In the comments section of yesterday’s post, Patrick made a very good point:
See, with zombies(vampires and werewolves) it isn’t just fear of them killing you, there is fear of becoming one or having a loved one become one and eat/kill you.
Fighting a bad unicorn, well, that’s sort of like being on the wrong end of the food chain.
Which is an excellent point, and raises an interesting question in this debate. Is comparing an animal, however dangerous, to a humanoid monster with the power of transformation/infection even worthwhile? Is it apples and oranges?
There’s an old theory about storytelling (I believe it’s Aristotle?) that posits that the main conflicts in any story fall into one of the following groups:
Man vs. Man
Man vs. Society
Man vs. Nature
Man vs. God
Man vs. Himself
A human monster story, such as Dracula or Frankenstein, falls into the Man vs. Man category (well, depending on who you think the protagonist is in Frankenstein, because it could very well be a Man vs. Society situation). Count Dracula, for all that he is non-human, is a person. He speaks and thinks like a person, and his motivations are decidedly personal.
An animal monster story, such as Jaws or “The Bear,” tends to be more of a Man vs. Nature story. You can’t ascribe the same sort of human emotions to beasts–the envy, or need for vengeance, or pettiness, or etc.
This topic was much on my mind as I was designing the killer unicorn book. What were these unicorns? Were they animals, or were they sentient beings with their own motivations? It makes a difference.
And of course, the worst thing a unicorn can do is kill you. A zombie can kill you — but far worse than that, it can infect you. A central theme in Carrie Ryan’s upcoming zombie book is whether or not death is worse than living death. Which does, I admit, add a whole new layer of terror.
Yesterday, John Green made the argument that unicorns will always lose to zombies until there is a unicorn movie out that’s as good as Shaun of the Dead (note to film producers reading this blog: the film rights of Rampant are still available). However, this assertion does not take into account the fact that it’s easier to film zombies. You don’t need special CGI or outlandish costumes or puppets or Andy Serkis running around a green screen soundstage with thousands of sensors attached to his body to make a zombie movie. You need some white makeup, some fake blood, and a couple of actors who are talented enough to moan on cue. Seriously. The aforementioned Shaun of the Dead even made a joke about how easy it was to pretend to be a zombie.
This Halloween, Sailor Boy and I went as Wedding Night of the Living Dead. ‘Twas easy. If we’d gone as a unicorn, it would have been much more complicated (especially given the argument about who would be the back end).
Unicorns as a metaphor? For what exactly? Tooth decay? Give me a break. They are a beastie entirely without resonance.
Au contraire, mon Aussie amie! Also, fie! There are very few monsters with more allegorical resonance than the unicorn. Alchemists actually used the unicorn in their pictoral language as a symbol of purity, of femininity, and of fertility. As a phallic symbol the unicorn can’t be beat. Carl Jung, who was a big fan of the idea of symbols belonging to the collective unconsciousness, was downright obsessed with the unicorn and its place in alchemical literature. He says, “The virgin represents the passive feminine aspect while [the unicorn] is the wild, rampant masculine force.” (And really, that only scrapes the surface of what Jung said about the unicorn, but I’m sure you can imagine a lot more.)
In the early Christian church, the unicorn was represented (due to mentions in Psalms) as possessing health and strength. It is alternately aligned with Christ (whereby the image of the unicorn and virgin would be an allegory for the Pietas, or the dying unicorn/Christ in the lap of the Virgin) or, more specifically, the unicorn and virgin were a symbol of Mary having conceived by The Holy Spirit, which is a slightly more sexualized take on the matter.
The unicorn-as-Christ metaphor linked with the unicorn-as-symbol-of-Holy-Spirit belief was prevalent throughout the Middle Ages and Renaissance. During this time, it was believed that animals with strong symbolic connotations actually possessed certain abilities. (Think about how people even now in some parts of the world will consume parts of a rhinoceros or tiger — both which are symbols of virility — in a belief that it will increase their sexual prowess.) If a unicorn was aligned with Christ, who everyone knew could heal the sick, raise the dead, transform water into wine, etc — woudl not having a piece of a unicorn do the same thing? Unicorn horns were thought to cure disease, purify wells, neutralize poisons. Unicorns, like virgins, were symbols of purity, which was why the unicorn would be attracted to or only tamed by a virgin.
Due to this inextricable link between the unicorn and the virgin, it became commonplace for the symbol of the unicorn to appear in a portrait of a woman in order to advertise her virginity. Nowadays, on dating sites, you see a picture of a woman and underneath, her stats: age, interests, occupation. Back then, portraits were painted of woman that did the same thing in an allegorical language. You may see a picture of a woman wearing a particular color or holding a flower (symbolizing her family crest), wearing jewelry or sitting in front of a backdrop of the land she would bring into the marriage as dowry. It was popular to include a unicorn in said picture, as if to say, “And she’s a virgin, too!”
Take this picture, painted by Raphael (SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER: This picture plays a big part in my book.)
This was painted as part of a betrothal contract, and sent to the groom and his family as proof of what they were getting. Pretty girl, totally untouched. See the unicorn? What other proof do you need?
UPDATE!!!
Justine has issued the following fighting words on her blog:
“Maybe in the olden days, Diana. But I don’t know if you noticed: this isn’t the olden days. No one allegories or alchemises no more. Unicorns are metaphorically as dead as the dodo.”
And again I say, not so!
Metaphors change over time. As Simon Pegg explains (and as Carrie Ryan will pontificate on to anyone who holds still for long enough), zombies were originally a Caribbean islander metaphor for slavery. More than “the walking dead” zombies were mindless slaves controlled by a voodoo master. It is only more recently, thanks to George Romero (who was strongly influenced by the vampire book, I Am Legend), that zombies became a metaphor for the spread of pandemics — the cannibalistic, brain eating, walking dead we know and love today.
The unicorn as metaphor has changed over time too. Retaining its original symbol of purity and innocence, the modern unicorn is now a symbol of childlike innocence and fantasy. this was an especially prevalent idea in the 1960s, 70s and 80s. Unicorns were a common motif in psychedelic artwork, where they were a stand in for hallucinations. The horn was occasionally likened to the opening of the “third eye” in transcendentalism, and overall of the embrace of fantasy and of innocence as a powerful and positive lifestyle choice. The plot of The Last Unicorn is in large part a parable of the end of fantasy. In Legend and Harry Potter and the Sorceror’s Stone, unicorns are so aligned with goodness and purity that only the most evil of beings (Tim Curry as the Devil int eh former, and Lord Voldemort in the latter) would ever think to harm one. Unicorns are also used facetiously as a stand in for fantasy and innocence in the sense of “You’re living in a dream world.” Only yesterday, popular blogger and science fiction writer John Scalzi encouraged folks to get real about their expectations of the future president: “Barack Obama does not fart cinnamon-scented rainbows. He is not trailed by angels and unicorns.”
But perhaps you think this only further justifies the argument that unicorns have been taken out of the equation in terms of their ability to induce terror. Unciorns have been so embraced as good and innocent and pure and blahblah that they are, in fact, toothless, while zombies are still scary. I will concede that point to you. (See, I can reach across the aisle!) Which is why I attempt to reclaim unicorns in my book. Because they are big beasts and they have a spear attached to their foreheads.
Oh, and they run. FAST. Take that, you shuffling, shambling, death-symbol. Unicorns aren’t the death that creeps up on you. It’s the one that pounces and spears you right through the gut.
Here’s the challenge: take one paragraph of a book that you feel can be improved by zombies . . . and PUT THAT ZOMBIE IN THERE. (Need an example? See the previous entry!)
Roolz:
Keep it to one paragraph. (250 words or less. Less is better.)
Make sure to give the title and author, so we can know whose work is being zombified. If these are not given, the zombified work will not be considered!
E-mail the much-improved work to me at maureen@maureenjohnsonbooks.com. Please use the subject line: ZOMBIE INSIDE! You may enter as many times as you like. (So, if you want to zombify 30 stories, you can! But they must be different ones each time.) The deadline is February 14th. You can go right up to midnight (US, east coast time).
All of these wonderful entries will be read by me and some of my zombie expert friends.* Five finalists will be chosen. On February 15th, these five entries will be posted. And then, the madness begins. Because . . .
You know who picks the winner? YOU DO! It’s like ZOMBIE IDOL!
Here’s Maureen’s own, from Pride and Prejudice:
What think you of books?” said he, smiling.
“Books? Oh! No, I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings.”
“I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions.”
“No. I cannot talk of books in a ballroom; my head is always full of something else.”
Hearing this, a nearby zombie turned, lured by the prospect of whatever was contained within Elizabeth’s head. He was within striking distance of her when the other dancers caught him up and swept him away by accident.
Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so convenient
I also read another great one, but the entrant doesn’t have a blog to post it on. Sad face.
Since I’m now done with my gruesome, zombie-apocalypse-like deadline, I was able to play too:
One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams of braindead hordes, he discovered that in bed he had been changed into a flesh-eating zombie. He lay on his moldering back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his gray, putrified abdomen beginning to harden in the first stages of rigor mortis. From this position he caught a whiff of the blanket, which was just ripe enough to draw flies. His legs, pitifully stringy in comparison to what he could now see of his other innards, began to rot before his eyes.
“What’s happened to me,” he thought. It was no dream. His room, a proper room for a live human being, only somewhat too small, lay quietly between the four well-known walls. Above the table hung a picture of a woman with a fur hat, a fur boa, and delicious-looking plump cheeks. She sat erect there, lifting up in the direction of the viewer a solid fur muff into which her entire succulent forearm had disappeared.
Gregor’s glance then turned to the window. The dreary weather—the rain drops were falling audibly down on the metal window ledge—made him quite melancholy, and the moaning shadows beyond the pane drew him only slightly to their call. “Why don’t I keep sleeping for a little while longer and forget all this foolishness,” he thought. But this was entirely impractical, for he what need had he in his present state for sleep? No matter how hard he tried to relax, even going so far as to cross his arms over his chest like a proper corpse, this urge to stand and shuffle overcame him.
I believe the contest lives on on Maureen’s blog. Go forth and devour!
All of this, of course, reminds me of my favorite zombie joke:
Zombie Protest Organizer: What do we want? Zombie Horde: Braaaaaaaiiiiiiins! Zombie Protest Organizer: When do we want it? Zombie Horde: BRAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIINS!
One of my favorite pictures from our trip. There we are, strolling down Rome’s most fashionable shopping strip, and we come across the following window display:
The Belstaff website also has the movie poster up, which I guess means they are the official outfitters of survivors of the zombie apocalypse.
