The VERY* Official Netflix Persuasion Survey. *Not actually a true random sample or statistically viable, but fun. 12 friends in Michigan watched the film Persuasion. Their ages spanned 6 decades. Afterwards, they rated the film. Average rating on a scale of 1-5: 4.33. Everyone either "liked it" or "loved it".

Review of Netflix’s Persuasion (with Survey Data)

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I love adaptations, and I love Jane Austen. So I had to watch Netflix’s new adaptation of Persuasion, starring Dakota Johnson, Cosmo Jarvis, and Henry Golding. I decided to make a movie night of it and invited a bunch of friends over. We watched the film. There was much laughter. The credits rolled. And then I handed out surveys.

Yes, surveys.

You come to a girls night at my house, and you may end up taking a survey.

What was most interesting to me was actually the qualitative results–what people liked and disliked from a film standpoint–but first, let’s look at overall impressions.

Overall Impressions/Quantitative Results: Enjoyment Factor

The VERY* Official Netflix Persuasion Survey. *Not actually a true random sample or statistically viable, but fun. 12 friends in Michigan watched the film Persuasion. Their ages spanned 6 decades. Afterwards, they rated the film. Average rating on a scale of 1-5: 4.33. Everyone either "liked it" or "loved it".

I minored in film in college, and I did a masters in English. I love movies, and I love books. And I feel like they’re very different things. But in terms of a movie that’s worth watching, you need to know if it’s enjoyable or not. That’s a fundamental part of the film viewing experience.

I gave everyone a scale of 1 to 5 and asked them how much they enjoyed the film.

ENTERTAINMENT VALUE On a scale of 1-5, how entertaining did you find the film? 1 (It was terrible & I can’t believe Kathy convinced me to watch this) 2 (disliked) 3 (it was fine) 4 (I liked it) 5 (I loved it)

And as you saw from the first graphic in this post, people liked the movie. We had an average of 4.33 stars. And everyone either liked it or loved it.

I also wanted to see whether or not someone’s enjoyment of the film was influenced by how much they feel like a Jane Austen fan. Now, there is no official rubric for what makes someone a true Jane Austen fan (though a rather hilarious character in the film Austenland attempts to define a true fan). So I simply let people judge for themselves.

Would you consider yourself a Jane Austen fan?

  • Yes
  • No
  • Sort of

Note that I included a “sort of” category. To me, I see people who rated themselves as “sort of” Jane Austen fans as casual fans or those who might have engaged with mostly 1 or 2 of her books. But I didn’t put a description–I wanted people to put themselves wherever they felt most comfortable.

And here’s the results, with the averages of how they rated the film:

Enjoyment of film vs. whether or not a Jane Austen Fan. All 12 people answered the question, "Would you consider yourself a Jane Austen fan?" Not a fan (2 people): 4. Sort of a fan (5 people): 4.4. Austen fan (5 people): 4.4.

In general, those that either consider themselves Jane Austen fans, or “sort of” Jane Austen fans, rated the movie higher than those who didn’t.

One lady loves Jane Austen, and Persuasion is her favorite novel. She has watched (and owns) other adaptations. And she gave the film 5 stars.

The Qualitative Results: Filmic Choices

Then came the qualitative questions. I asked what, from a film technique standpoint, people thought worked well, and what didn’t work as well for them.

Survey Results: What Worked Well in Netflix’s Persuasion

There was a wide range of responses. One person, a self-professed Jane Austen fan, wrote:

“I felt like the breaking of the fourth wall was a wink and a nod to the humor of the author herself.”

Several other people also commented on how they liked the breaking the fourth wall and Anne’s direct dialogue with the camera/viewer.

The cliffs scene was a favorite, someone else really liked the dialogue, and people generally liked the emotions that were conveyed:

“I thought it captured well [the] regret, sorrow, and second chances.”

There were people who mentioned really liking:

  • The music
  • The costumes
  • The dialogue
  • That the storyline was clear
  • Mary’s character/the humor she added to the story

One person, a Jane Austen fan, wrote:

“The Elliots were all true to Austen’s characters.”

I felt the same. Mary, Elizabeth, Sir Walter, the Musgroves–they managed to capture some of the essence of Austen’s characters.

One person who was not a Jane Austen fan wrote:

“I liked that I could understand it all. Older English mixed with modern. Some other movies I get lost sometimes cause of the language.”

For her, the modern references and metaphors (“I can never trust a 10”) really helped make the film more accessible.

I’ll close with one last positive comment:

“I loved all of it.”

Survey Results: What Didn’t Work a Well in Netflix’s Persuasion

First, I went to film school. What “doesn’t work” is a very subjective thing. And it’s almost more useful to consider what the goals of the film were and how well it achieved those goals.

However, I decided to spare my guests a 30-minute lecture on how to judge a film’s merit, and instead just asked on the survey “What didn’t work as well for you?”

Here were a few of the responses:

“I thought Anne drank too much.”

This is a definite shift to a book. Anne may or may not be an alcoholic in the movie.

Another person comment on the modern references:

“The modern language/references were occasionally jarring against the 1800s visuals.”

This is interesting because I only had two people comment on the modern languages/references. One person positively, and one person semi-negatively.

I’m someone who loves historical things. I put hundreds of hours into making my Jane Austen-inspired novels historically accurate, and I tried to make the language match Austen’s. But I thought this film was cohesive in being a bit ahistoric–not completely accurate costumes, some modern languages and references, the very uncomfortable octopus sucking scene, the frowny face drawn by Mary on her forlorn note. So even though it’s not how I’ve approached my own Austen adaptations, the modern languages/references worked.

Most people didn’t have any complaints. I got a lot of no responses on this final question, and several that read:

“No major criticisms.”

And

“Nothing, it was fun.”

Some Positive Results

One person commented on her survey:

“Now I want to read it.”

There were several other people who verbally expressed the same sentiment. And if a film makes you want to read Jane Austen, I always see that as a good thing.

Several other people (including people who had given the film a “4: I liked it”) plan to rewatch it, some of them with their husbands.

My Own Personal Thoughts

I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

I love the original novel. I love Jane Austen’s use of language. I love the nuance. I love the friendship with Mrs. Smith and that entire subplot (which was not included in the film). I like Jane Austen’s subtle commentaries on the war, on politics, on rhetoric, on education, on the role of the social sphere in a woman’s life. And these are all good, beautiful things that were not in the film.

But I thought it was a really good adaptation.

Fresh? Yes.

Interpreting characters a little differently? For sure.

Taking a new vision to Austen? Yes.

I think it’s useful to note that the director, Carrie Cracknell, is largely a theatre director. I feel like theatre-goers expect a wider range of adaptations than film-viewers, and so this adaptation may surprise some viewers. But generally, I think people will enjoy it.

Hardcore Jane Austen fandom does have a solid contingent of purists that can be rather judgmental on anything that does not fit their conceptions of what a Jane Austen adaptation should look like.  If you’re looking for complete accuracy for the novel, you’re going to be disappointed. However, that’s not what makes an adaptation interesting to me.

There’s a great film theory article by Richard Stam called “Beyond Fidelity: The Dialogics of Adaptation.”  He talks about how “fidelity” and the moral language we use to judge film adaptations can actually get in our way as film viewers. He posits that a film may be choosing an essence of the original and putting that into a new genre. But an adaptation is not pure transference–Stam talks about how an adaptation can be:

  • Translation
  • Reading
  • Dialogization
  • Cannibalization
  • Transmutation
  • Transfiguration
  • Signifying

He spends a great number of pages going into each of these things–so if you want to read about how an adaptation can be a dialogue with the original, or a transmutation, check out his article.

(I do want to point out that there have also been some very racist critiques of Persuasion. Which is honestly very sad to me. I personally think color blind cast is amazing. Also, despite the white-ness of many Austen adaptations, Regency England was actually quite a diverse place, and that were people of many races at all levels of society.)

Netflix’s Persuasion is a film that I plan to rewatch. Despite loving the novel Persuasion, I’ve never actually seen the other film adaptations, and now I’m interested in watching them–broadening my horizons and such.

Now Go Forth and Watch!

Despite my survey being so VERY official (and not statistically significant), I think it’s fair to recommend that you go watch Netflix’s Persuasion and judge the film for yourself.

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On Our Differences: Synesthesia, Mental Illness and Creativity, and “The Clockwork Seer”

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I originally wrote this as a guest post for jancipatterson.com. It’s been over a year since it was published, and a year since the release of my novelette “The Clockwork Seer,” so I’m republishing the post here.

Color Cave in the Sea of Synesthesia by garlandcannon

Art: “Color Cave in the Sea of Synesthesia” by garlandcannon via flickr, Creative Commons license

All of us have differences, things that set us apart. It’s a common observation that in high school people either hide those differences to try to fit in, or they flaunt then. High school and its social angst aside, our differences can be frustrating, even challenging.

A few years ago I was part of a writer’s group. We spent hours every month at Whole Foods discussing writing and life. Our conversations touched on things which helped me through some of my later struggles.

Many in the group had experienced depression at one point or another, a mental illness that is more common among artistic people than among the general population. (According to Swedish researchers, it’s even more common among writers). One of my friends spoke of her struggles with anxiety and described her panic attacks. About six months later, I was at home, stressed, and suddenly my heart started pounding uncontrollably. I couldn’t breathe, my body shook, and I felt like I would die. Because of my friend, I knew it wasn’t a heart attack: it was a panic attack.

It was also in my writer’s group that I first heard of synesthesia—a condition shared by three of those in the group.

Synesthesia by fitocomics

Art: Synesthesia by FitoComics via Deviant Art, Creative Commons license

According to Science Daily, synesthesia is “a neurological condition in which two or more bodily sensations are coupled.” There are currently more than sixty known types of synesthesia. By some estimates, one percent of the population has some form of synesthesia. One of the common forms of synesthesia relates to color. Someone might associate each letter or number with a different color (“A” might always look red). In some forms of synesthesia, different numbers inhabit different spaces, and could be perceived as closer or farther. Other people with synesthesia hear shapes or taste sounds.

Recent research demonstrates that “synesthetes have stronger connections between different brain areas…Those connections lead to a triggering effect, where a stimulus in one part of the brain would cause activity in another.”

When I started drafting “The Clockwork Seer,” I never set out to write a character with synesthesia. It was not in my outline. But as soon as I wrote the first paragraph I realized that synesthesia was what made Medina different than those around her, more so than being a seer and having a typewriter in her hip. Because of her synesthesia, she connects people, experiences, and emotions with tastes and smells.

And because Medina has synesthesia, whenever her clairvoyance strikes it overwhelms her, the images, tastes, smells, and sounds becoming so magnified as to be crippling. As a result, her friend the Tinker installed clockwork parts in Medina’s body which dampen the effects of her visions.

Medina lives on a large, highly populated island, isolated from the mainland. Due to geography and perhaps geology, most of those living on the island finds themselves with an island gift, though Medina has one of the larger ones. One of the perennial questions on the island is are these gifts, or are they actually curses?

Medina tends to side with the curses theory. At the beginning of “The Clockwork Seer” she wishes that she were normal, that her visions would leave her alone so she could live a normal life.

And don’t we all at times?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Art: Microglacier by Jason Samfield via flickr, Creative Commons license

I spent several years suffering from depression of different levels of severity. I remember giving my toddler a box of yarn to play with (in other words, tangle). I would curl up under a table and cry for hours, wishing the pain would go away, that I could be normal, or at least even a glimpse of who I used to be.

Depression treatments, books, speaking with a counselor, and medication, are all a bit like Medina’s clockwork parts, and make it possible to survive with a mental illness.

Yet Medina’s synesthesia and clairvoyance are only partly curses. They are a beautiful component of her, which give her advantages. It is the same with depression and other mental illnesses.

A 2003 study by researchers from the University of Toronto and Harvard showed that creative people “appear to be more open to incoming stimuli from the surrounding environment” and less able to ignore or shut out stimuli. That’s a trait that is also associated with psychosis, yet can be beneficial for a writer or artist. Psychology professor Jordan Peterson explains, “The normal person classifies an object, and then forgets about it, even though that object is much more complex and interesting than he or she thinks. The creative person, by contrast, is always open to new possibilities.”

Creative people have much higher rates of bipolar disorder or manic depression, but this also gives them a larger emotional range which studies propose may aid in creativity (a different study proposes a genetic link between these disorders and creativity).

Intermezzo Abstract by Peter and Ute Grahlmann

Art: Intermezzo Abstract by Peter & Ute Grahlmann via flickr, Creative Commons license

One researcher, Simon Kyaga, explained, “If one takes the view that certain phenomena associated with the patient’s illness are beneficial, it opens the way for a new approach to treatment. In that case, the doctor and patient must come to an agreement on what is to be treated, and at what cost.”

One of my good friends can’t write when she is taking depression medication. The medication eliminates the emotional range she needs for her stories, and her drive to write. Other friends manage their illnesses and write better when they are taking medication.

While I am grateful I no longer face depression on a daily basis, I can’t look at my experiences with depression from an attitude of regret. They are part of who I am. Depression made me willing to put my characters through hard things, it taught me about emotion and desire, and it gave me a need to write and make meaning out of life.

I still have days when I wake up and can feel the chemical imbalance in my body. I feel worthless, even though cognitively I know it is not true. On some days I feel depressed even when I practice dozens of self-treatment approaches that normally work on me. On very hard days, I remind myself, “I feel deeply. I embrace every feeling, every experience, for it will help me tell stories.”

We can flee from the things that make us different and try to hide them from others or ourselves. Or we can let our differences be a part of us—manage them, prevent what is preventable, cure what is curable, but realize that the things that give us struggle can give us much more than just that.

Steel and Bone Cover

One of the reasons I love being a part of the anthology Steel and Bone is that each of the stories addresses things that make people different. It’s a common trait in the steampunk genre as a whole. Yes, there are standard steampunk tropes: cool, steam-powered machinery, gears and gadgets, punked-out Victorian costumes, automatons and the like. Yet steampunk also addresses deep, rich questions: Can I control my fate or overcome my circumstance? Am I my limitations? What sacrifices are necessary for progress? Is the status quo the ideal?

When I write and read steampunk, it gives me hope that my differences will not cripple me, and that perhaps I can use them to my own advantage.

 

Steel and Bone is a collection of steampunk short stories and novelettes. It is available as both a print book and an ebook.

Flashback Friday: Jane Austen and the Art of Argument (Ignite Phoenix)

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Talk Like Jane Austen Day FreebieTwo years ago I gave a presentation to 800 people at Ignite Phoenix titled “Pride and Prejudice: Jane Austen and the Art of Argument.” I argue that if they had lived at the same time, Jane Austen and Aristotle probably would’ve fallen in love, because Jane Austen’s novels are really rhetoric textbooks that teach the art of argument.

In honor of one of my favorite holidays coming up, Talk Like Jane Austen Day, I’ve decided to repost the video of my Ignite Phoenix presentation:

More details on some of the rhetoricians and how Jane Austen uses their techniques can be found on my page, The Art of Argument in Pride and Prejudice.

In case you can’t tell, I heart Jane Austen.

 

The Question of the Meeting of the Myths Contest and the Mormon Lit Blitz

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I have a short story which will be published on the final day of the Meeting of the Myths contest, currently being held by the Mormon Lit Blitz, and as a result I’ve been thinking about the purpose of the contest. In the introductory essay to all the stories, Nicole and James Goldberg explain that a myth is “a story which humans use to make meaning out of existence.” These myths, whether fact or fiction, determine the way we see the world. The contest “asked writers to take some of the myths that fill their worlds and mix them together into new stories to give us new chances at insight.”

But can different myths be mixed? Is it healthy? Is it wise?

2 - Save the CatIn Blake Snyder’s famous writing textbook Save the Cat, Blake Snyder criticizes M. Night Shyamalan’s film Signs for being guilty of what he calls Double Mumbo Jumbo.

In M. Night Shyamalan’s Signs, we are asked to believe that aliens from outer space have invaded Earth. The movie is about Mel Gibson’s crisis of faith in God. Huh?! I’d say proof of an alien intelligence outside our solar system sorta trumps all discussion about faith in God, don’t you think? But M. asks us to juggle both. And it’s a mess. Well, God and aliens don’t mix. Why? Because it’s two sets of different kinds of magic. It’s Double Mumbo Jumbo.

Snyder summarizes:

Audiences will only accept one piece of magic per movie. It’s The Law. You cannot see aliens from outer space land in a UFO and then be bitten by a vampire and now be both aliens and undead.

I admit, an alien-vampire-zombie mix-up does sound like a bit too much for one story. They are each distinct beings–but even more, they each demand their own genre. A good alien movie or vampire movie or zombie movie can take chapters to set up the world building and the rules of the storytelling. And the Double Mumbo Jumbo that occurs when you put them together does seem well worth avoiding.

But back to Snyder’s example, Signs. I actually thoroughly enjoyed the movie. For me, God exists, so I don’t have to suspend any disbelief for that myth or mythos. And I believe aliens could theoretically exist, so the fact that a main character could have a faith crisis concurrently to fighting off aliens seems reasonable to me, and in fact the threat of the aliens helps the character through the faith crisis, and creates several beautiful moments of discovery for the reader.

Yet in other stories, having God and a magic system has created cognitive dissonance for me, and seems like it has a greater risk of damaging faith than promoting it. For example, there are stories all about God and the Easter Bunny, which weave them together for children. Well, the Easter Bunny is not real (sorry, folks) and yet if we connect the Easter Bunny and God, and one is false, couldn’t we just assume the other is a figment of the imagination as well?

From an LDS gospel standpoint, there is also the sense that we must leave our other idols, our other sources of meaning behind, and devote ourselves entirely to God. As it says in Matthew 6:24, “No man can serve two masters.” What then of the Meeting of the Myths contest? Wouldn’t it be better just to leave those other myths behind?

And yet we have other commandments as well. In Doctrine and Covenants 88:118 it says, “seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom.” The best books come from people all across the world and time, of all faiths. And in the Thirteenth Article of Faith we read, “If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.”

There is much that is virtuous and lovely and praiseworthy in popular music, in science fiction, in Hindu poetry, and in the traditions and mythologies of every nation and country. And we should not just tolerate these other perspectives and ideas: we should seek after them.

Perhaps there is a balance. Perhaps we can fix our hearts on God, knowing He is the source of all truth, while gaining knowledge and insight and understanding and beauty from a variety of sources.

I suspect, when I read the stories of the Meeting of the Myths contest, I will have some cognitive dissonance, where I find Double Mumbo Jumbo at play–and I suspect that will be intentional on the part of the writers. I’m sure that some myths will act as foils for each other, while others will complement, while others will build upon each other. The editors of the contest write:  “If you join us this week, you will read about tribal shamans and world councils, about zombies and vampires and aliens, about the enchanted ones with the blessings and burdens they carry, about Mormon pioneers in 19th century America and modern Brazil.” If stories from previous Mormon Lit Blitz contests are any indication, I will laugh, I will cry, I will question, and ultimately I will leave the reading experience feeling a little stronger and a little more confident on my path back to God.

I hope that you visit the Mormon Lit Blitz and read each of the seven stories (including mine, “Daughter of a Boto”). Only then will you have a decisive answer on what happens when myths are mixed.
Meeting of the MythsOriginal image by harold.lloyd, Creative Commons license, adapted by Katherine Cowley.

Hush, Little Baby: A Mildly More Sinister Version

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A lot of nursery rhymes and children’s songs and stories have a sinister edge to them: “It’s raining, it’s pouring” is about a man dying in his sleep, London Bridge falling down typically would involve death and havoc, and Jack and Jill suffer traumatic head wounds. Not to mention what it would feel like to be swallowed by a wolf (Little Red Riding Hood) or locked in a cage by a cannibal (Hansel and Gretel).

“Hush, Little Baby” fits in well–a baby won’t stop crying, so a parent sings, offering rewards if the child would just be quiet, yet each of the rewards goes terribly wrong. (The real question: Is this intentional on the parent’s part, or simply bad fortune?)

Baby Cradle

My problem is that I can never remember the actual words to “Hush, Little Baby,” so when I come up with rhyming disasters on the spot, they tend to be a little more disturbing than the original. I do try to censor myself with my little ones, really. But I see no reason to censor myself on my blog. So without further ado…

Hush, Little Baby: A Mildly More Sinister Version

Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,
Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

And if that mockingbird won’t stop singing,
Mama’s gonna buy you a bell for ringing.

And if your ringing bell calls a ghost,
Mama’s gonna buy you a trip to the coast.

And if at the coast you fall into brine,
Mama’s gonna buy you a silver mine.

And if that silver mine explodes,
Mama’s gonna buy you a treasure trove.

And if that trove comes with bloodthirsty pirates,
Mama’s gonna buy you a friendly primate.

And if that friendly primate bites your hand,
Mama’s gonna buy you a wind-up band.

And if that wind-up band hurts your ears,
Mama’s gonna buy you a box for your fears.

And if that box full of fears weighs you down,
You’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town.

 

 

 

Original image by Marle, Creative Commons license