tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14665637.post2189545187082799406..comments2023-10-31T13:15:14.564-02:30Comments on An Ontarian in Newfoundland: Masculinity and violence and Richard K. MorganChris in NFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064023598020493124noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14665637.post-35984584921739807262010-04-11T14:12:55.145-02:302010-04-11T14:12:55.145-02:30So, look, I'm going to take that last line as ...So, look, I'm going to take that last line as a sincere invitation.......<br /><br />I'm immensely flattered by the length of your meditation on my work, and even more so by the implication it might become an academic article. Can I just point out a couple of things though:<br /><br />1) The sex. <br /><br />Look, I'm not really sure how to frame this without it sounding like some kind of chest-beating, but the fact is that by and large (eliding the odd dose of biotech or VR, obviously), the sex I write is the sex I've had. There's an inevitable stylistic veneer on it, sure, a touching of high points for dramatic effect, but that's the same for the violence and the wise-cracking repartee as well. In my humble opinion, this is something that comes with the territory; you can't really deploy a layer of hyperkinetic hardboiled in the violence and dialogue of a novel, and then switch abruptly to tawdry McEwanesque kitchen sink for the sex - what would be the rationale for such a switch? <br /><br />Sex in my novels tends to serve the characters as a refuge from the world and an affirmation of reachable humanity. None of it's particularly exotic, but (with one or two notable exceptions) it is pleasurable, successful and undertaken between equals - all of which exactly reflects my own real world experience of sex, as do pretty much all of the specific mechanics and postures involved. Since, by contrast, I have an incredibly limited experience of combat, armed or unarmed, you might even argue that the sex is the most "real" thing in my work.<br /><br />2) Being enamoured of alpha males.<br /><br />The problem here is genetics, which is of course why it's front and centre in <i>Black Man</i> - we <i>are</i> all enamoured of alpha males. If you're genetically male yourself, chances are you want at heart to be one; if you're genetically female, chances are you want to have one. And of course the truth of the latter, in true phenotypical fashion, simply reinforces the former. This is a (very uncomfortable) human truth which echoes down the boulevards of contemporary fiction - think about the executives in <i>Rollerball</i> who dream of being Jonathan E and "smashing faces", the delirious uniform/power fetish failings of Frenesi Gates in Pynchon's <i>Vineland</i>, and latterly the human panther commodification of Daniel Craig as Bond, James Bond (coming full circle of course back to a similar dynamic with Sean Connery in the sixties). <br /><br />Un-violent liberal arts guys like you and me like to erect a fantasy construct in which women don't *really* go for all that unsubtle physical force (reaching its apogee in the hilarious "size doesn't matter" confabulation), just as women hate to accept the truth that blonde hair and silicone breasts balanced atop black high heels and a short skirt won't yank the sexual attention (and short-circuit the higher mind functions) of any male in the blast radius, no matter how married, no matter how smart and educated.<br /><br />So to say the text of <i>Black Man</i> "succumbs" to an "admiration" for Carl Marsalis is to miss the point - I have very deliberately presented the reader with a powerful alpha male template, and I am daring that reader to a choice - either desperately pretend the template is not devastatingly (a term I use advisedly) attractive; or come clean and own up to the murky genetic heritage we all share.Richard Morganhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08875165303062587217noreply@blogger.com