Monster Genome

This is Astaroth the Vain, Duke of infernus, and he’s going to be the “oops, you made all the wrong choices” boss of a oneshot in running this weekend.

I gave it 4.5/5 on Letterboxd, and here’s my review:

Absolutely amazing movie. Go watch it if you haven’t. The asynchronous storytelling and character work are phenomenal. Every reveal is striking but doesn’t chew up the screentime. The CGI and practical effects are practically perfect in every way. The comedic timing and acting are on point. The original score is sweeping and beautiful but doesn’t drown out the vital quiet moments. The needle drops are relevant, fun, and not overplayed. The only reasons I can’t give this a 5 stars are the momentary editing, cinematography, and external ship shots tended to get sloppy on action scenes, which pulled me out of the moment at times. It’s not a pervasive issue through the whole film, and it’s more a symptom of modern Hollywood than something uniquely problematic here. However it was still enough to add friction to the viewing experience that wasn’t particularly welcome. 

He is oblivious, repetitive, and funneling money into an abusive organization that some refer to as a cult. Now, I’m not going to touch on that last topic again, I’ve said my piece on that for now. However, I do want to dive into the way Sanderson’s writing boils down to a fairly straightforward formula and shows a lack of medium awareness.

The Formula: Power Systems

I know that people have endless positive things to say about the Cosmere’s worldbuilding and magic systems, and I’ll admit, it tickles the same part of my brain as Worm, My Hero Acadamia, Ben 10, and most Marvel movies, but it’s really not as deep as his fans make it out to be.

Let’s start with the powers. In every one of his stories I’ve read so far (plus all the ones I’ve heard even briefly described), his magic system boils down to “What if there were [number] types of [item or creature], and if you [verb] them, you get [magical thing]?” And then he extrapolates from there.

Now, before I show some examples, let me clarify that this is true of A LOT of media that I like. It’s a good formula! Nen in HunterXHunter is like that. The dragonballs are like that. Devil fruit, infinity stones, mother boxes, silmarils, rings of power, elemental magic, pact magic—you get it. It’s common. But it’s the ONLY formula he follows, and it’s everywhere in the Cosmere.

What if there were 12 types of spore, and when you wet them, they cast spells?

What if there were 16 types of metal, and when you consume them, you get superpowers?

What if there was one type of breath, and when you give it away, you get magic items?

What if there were ? Types of demon blood, and when you get infected by one, you get a magic illness?

What if there were ten types of fairy, and when you befriend them you get superpowers? Wait, superpowers again? Well, dice do tend to land on the same side now and then.

What if there were 16 shards of a dead god, and when you absorb one, you become a lesser god of that aspect of the original?

Again, this isn’t a huge problem in and of itself. The issue is that it’s the same every time. The only notable exception is Aons. Aside from the runes in the very first Cosmere novel (and arguably breaths), the entirety of the power system is just numbered lists of magic powers.

The Unremarkable Worlds With Neat Window-Dressing

What if everything was crabs and it rained mud? What if the ocean was made of those magic spores? What if every citizen was forced to cede power to their superior in a pyramid scheme of maintaining the power hierarchy? What if the god-king suppressed technology? What if this other god-king was effectively a child? What if there was guns? What if there was a second sapient species on this planet?

These are simple questions that yield really banal answers from Sanderson. They’re undeniably cool questions with a lot to explore, but Sanderson only scrapes the surface. Case and point, James Islington’s Hierarchy series has an almost identical power-ceding premise to Sanderson’s Warbreaker, but it does so much more with the concept of a hierarchy reinforced by the magic system. Are those books perfect? Absolutely not, but they explore this really interesting question in much more depth without sacrificing any of their character or plot. They even mostly manage to avoid Brandon’s terrible issue with redundancy.

Oh right

Brandon’s Terrible Issue with Redundancy

Anybody who has read The Stormlight Archive knows that Sanderson only ever creates one description for weird phenomena, then uses that description on a loop forever. Fear spen? Gobs of purple goo. Anger spen? Red spikes. Creativity spren? Little shapes. Representations of physical objects in Shadesmar? Spheres. Oh dear god the spheres. There is a chapter in that series where the word “sphere” is used as often as the word “the.” Call them something else! Marbles, orbs, balls, pebbles, skittles, round things, bubbles—change the word from sentence to sentence, please!

And that’s not even getting into how emotion spen are used to supplement actual character writing at times. But that’s not part of today’s essay, so instead I’ll move on to

Brandon Sanderson Doesn’t Know What Makes a Book Good

He advertised Tress as being like Princess Bride. They’re nothing alike. The framing is different, the tone is different, the narrative structure is different, there’s no overlap in character dynamics. It’s like watching Strange Magic and then hearing George Lucas say “I wanted to make this a Star Wars for girls.” It so thoroughly misses the point that it almost wraps around to absurdist humor.

He’s clearly capable of writing compelling character dramas and decently good dry comedies, and magic systems that scratch the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles part of my brain, but I don’t actually think he knows what makes a story good or what his readers want out of a story. He makes token nods to queer identities in his later books, but with an awkward clunkiness that makes me wish he hadn’t. He keeps writing from the perspective of gods in a swimmy, floaty way that doesn’t convey much of anything, and the closest similarities I can think of are the way the actions of deities are described in Reaper’s Creek, a book I should never ever be reminded of, but here I am.

My point is, Sanderson’s shotgun approach to writing seems to be working out for him, and his own style of writing isn’t bad. He should stop trying to claim his stories are like other classics that he doesn’t understand and just write what he wants to write.

Conclusion

Actually, that last sentence was kind of my whole point. Sanderson isn’t some revolutionary writer who is making meaningful advancements in the way fiction is written or perceived. He’s just a pretty good writer with a rabid following. None of what he’s doing is new, but it doesn’t need to be. I still enjoy watching One Piece and Transformers. Not everything has to be The Belladonna of Sadness or Everything Everywhere All At Once.

Working on a lava and water puzzle dungeon for a D&D oneshot. This is gonna be the final boss, a stone golem that’s been heated by the magma of the deepest earth and quenched with snowmelt from the highest peaks.

Solo Seder for Pesach

Homemade Matzo Ball Soup with leeks, onions, carrots, mushrooms, chicken, and daikon radishes.

Impromptu charoset made from apple butter and chopped walnuts, soft-boiled egg, grain-free crackers, and horseradish sauce.