A lifelong study of evasion

The Birds by yuichiro

I originally posted this as a thread on twitter. To my shock and joy, Neil Gaiman retweeted it with this comment.

So I thought I’d make it my first post here.

THREAD: As I’ve become mildly obsessed with #GoodOmensPrime, I’ve been giving some thought as to why.

To begin … the book. I bought my first copy in 1991. It now looks somewhat tattered and extremely well-loved because it’s been read so often.

It’s still holding together only because I bought a hardback and another pb to lend. It has been one of my go-to books at times when I need to be reminded that the world is a good place and that there is so much to enjoy in life. Including the writers’ wicked sense of humour.

Then there is the fact that @neilhimself not only wrote the screenplay, but kept close control of the whole process to ensure it was true to what the wonderful #SirTerryPratchett would have wanted.

This included making it crystal clear that the emotional heart of the tale is the love story between Crowley and Aziraphale; that although being angels (fallen and otherwise) they may express love differently to any human love, it is still a love story.

Then there was the casting. Because really … not only #DavidTennant but also @MichaelSheen.  How could that possibly be any better?  From the first moment that they announced the casting for these roles, I was slavering in anticipation.

There is the use of Queen’s music. I love Queen. I was at their first big concert at the Rainbow in 1974. I loved the joke in the book about tapes in Crowley’s car turning into the Best of Queen. So many songs are absolutely right for the soundtrack and most of them are in there.

There is also a simply wonderful original score, especially the main theme. Either Michael or David said that when you first hear it it seems like something you’ve always known, and that’s true. I’ve reached the point where as soon as I hear it I start to smile.

The show itself is six hours of pure joy. I believe that the love that went into making it – @neilhimself’s love for Sir Terry, the love of so many people for the book, all simply glow from the screen. That love has transformed the series into something unique.

It has created a type of television experience I’ve never had before.  The first sequence ends with a little snippet of Aziraphale sheltering Crowley under his wing that just brings me undone every time I see it because it seems to radiate tenderness and goodness.

The show has some very funny moments, many of them between Crowley and Aziraphale, but by no means all.

It has a number of little “Easter eggs” of Terry Pratchett tributes – his infamous hat hangs in Aziraphale’s book shop, his name appears on a video game screen, and there are a number of others.

It also encourages thought about serious issues. As Gabriel’s role in bringing about Armageddon unfolded, I for one realised that the story clearly demonstrates that unquestioning obedience to anyone, to anything, is simply a form of fascism.  

And for a Christian, that raises some very serious questions. Perhaps it does for any religion. Even for agnostics and atheists. Being absolutely sure you are 100% right and justified is incredibly dangerous and almost certainly means that you are going incredibly wrong.  

However, the show does not take a hammer to any of these points that it raises, it just lets them float through your mind if you’ve got the kind of mind that welcomes such thoughts, and leaves you to ponder them at your leisure.

Along the way there are many laughs, a few “ooh”s, a couple of “ah”s, an “oops” or two and more than a sprinkling of “awww”s.

There is a wonderful long sequence showing the angel/ demon relationship through the ages. This includes an Arthurian scene and one at the Globe theatre for the first performance of Hamlet. These are two of my favourite literary “things” and I loved that they were included here.

A particular joy for me is that towards the end there is a Crowley/ Aziraphale scene filmed in one of my favourite parts of London – Tavistock Square.  I’ve spent many hours in this square, reading, resting, writing, contemplating the universe.

In the centre is a statue of Gandhi which has become like a little shrine; there are nearly always flowers there and it has become imbued with the peace and serenity you would expect from such a space.  (You can just see the Gandhi statue in the background of the scene.)

And then there’s the final Aziraphale/ Crowley scene at the Ritz … performed to the background music of “A Nightingale Sang In Berkley Square”. It’s a delicious scene – sweet and a little bit funny and just about ridiculously romantic.  

These two might be an angel and a demon and therefore the love between them may not be expressed in physical ways, but it is there, and in this scene it is clearly manifested.  Underlined by the unashamed romanticism of the song lyrics.

It is the perfect finish to a wonderful show. Something that shows us what TV and movies can be when they do not go down the well worn paths of either dwelling on darkness and violence or else tipping over into mindless saccharine.  

I can only say that I strongly recommend it to everyone.  I promise you, you will not regret taking time to watch it.  It will repay you with a lift to the spirits, with many smiles, and with a very gentle touch to your heart.  “To the world”, indeed.

Leaf-bladed swords are a very popular fantasy style and were real, though unlike modern hand-and-a-half longsword versions, the real things were mostly if not always shortswords.

Here are Celtic bronze swords…

…Ancient Greek Xiphoi…

… and a Roman “Mainz-pattern” gladius…

Saw or downright jagged edges, either full-length or as small sections (often where they serve no discernible purpose) are a frequent part of fantasy blades, especially at the more, er, imaginatively unrestrained end of the market.

Real swords also had saw edges, such as these two 19th century shortswords, but not to make them cool or interesting. They’re weapons if necessary…

…but since they were carried by Pioneer Corps who needed them for cutting branches and other construction-type tasks, their principal use was as brush cutters and saws.

This dussack (cutlass) in the Wallace Collection is also a fighting weapon, like the one beside it…

…but may also have had the secondary function of being a saw.

A couple of internet captions say it’s for “cutting ropes” which makes sense - heavy ropes and hawsers on board a ship were so soaked with tar that they were often more like lengths of wood, and a Hollywood-style slice from the Hero’s rapier (!!) wouldn’t be anything like enough to sever them. However swords like this are extremely rare, which suggests they didn’t work as well as intended for any purpose.

I photographed these in Basel, Switzerland, about 20 years ago. Look at the one on the bottom (I prefer the basket-hilt schiavona in the middle).

A lot of “flamberge” (wavy-edge) swords actually started out with conventional blades which then had the edges ground to shape - the dussack, that Basel broadsword and this Zweihander were all made that way.

The giveaway is the centreline: if it’s straight, the entire blade probably started out straight.

Increased use of water power for bellows, hammers and of course grinders made shaping blades easier than when it had to be done by hand. This flamberge Zweihander, however, was forged that way.

Again, the clue is the centre-line.

Incidentally those Parierhaken (parrying hooks - a secondary crossguard) are among the only real-life examples of another common fantasy feature - hooks and spikes sticking out from the blade.

Here are some rapiers and a couple of daggers showing the same difference between forged to shape and ground to shape. The top and bottom rapiers in the first picture started as straights, and only the middle rapier came from the forge with a flamberge blade.

There’s no doubt about this one either.

The reason - though that was a part of it - wasn’t just to look cool and show off what the owner could afford (any and all extra or unusual work added to the price) but may actually have had a function: a parry would have been juddery and unsettling for someone not used to it, and any advantage is worth having.

However, like the saw-edged dussack, flamberge blades are unusual - which suggests the advantage wasn’t that much of an advantage after all.

Here’s a Circassian kindjal, forged wiggly…

…and an Italian parrying dagger forged straight then ground wiggly…

There were also parrying daggers with another fantasy-blade feature, deep notches and serrations which in fantasy versions often resemble fangs or thorns.

These more practical historical versions are usually called “sword-breakers” but I prefer “sword-catcher”, since a steel blade isn’t that easy to break. Taking the opponent’s blade out of play for just long enough to nail him works fine.

NB - the curvature on the top one in this next image is AFAIK because of the book-page it was copied from, not the blade itself.

The missing tooth on that second dagger, and the crack halfway down this next one’s blade, shows what happens when design features cause weak spots.

So there you go: a quick overview of fantasy sword features in real life.

Here’s a real-life weapon that looks like it belongs in a fantasy story or film - and this doesn’t even have an odd-shaped blade…

Just a very flexible one…

If you want more odd blades, Moghul India is a good place to start…

Izumi Kogahara