The Art of Making Games, the Business of Breaking People: A Review of ‘Press Reset’

Wow, I can’t believe six months have already passed since I reviewed Blood Sweat and Pixels. I was fascinated to look behind the curtain of game development and hear some of the triumphs and horror stories behind famous games, some of which I had played, but many of which I knew only by reputation (or not at all).

Press Reset felt like a kind of sequel to Blood Sweat and Pixels, in which Schreier picks another problem with the gaming industry and then grinds away at it with unique insight and skill.

In BS&P, the issue at hand was “crunch”, or the systematic overwork (exploitation?) of employees so that development companies can meet rigid deadlines, and make large profits. In Press Reset, we’re focused more on the volatility of the sector and how its common for large companies to shutter studios — sometimes laying off hundreds of people at once — at the drop of a hat.

There were many unbelievable stories within this book, but the standout for me was about Curt Schilling, 38 Studios and the supposed “WoW Killer”, Project Copernicus. Press Reset is worth reading just for this story alone. I don’t want to go too in-depth here, the saga is detailed in much better fashion within the book, but essentially a baseball player (Curt Schilling) founded a video game company in order to build an MMORPG. Only Schilling had never run a video game company before. He bought all the best stuff to attract the best talent, took a $75 million loan from the state of Rhode Island to pay for it all, and then eventually had to file for bankruptcy when the company failed to produce the game.

There is a lot more drama surrounding this outlined in the book but I think the moment which hit hardest for me was when folks started realizing their paychecks weren’t getting deposited. Many had completely uprooted their life, moved to Rhode Island and bought new houses assuming they’d be able to pay for them, and were consequently left in the lurch. Many were screwed twice, as they weren’t able to sell their house in Boston (or wherever they were from), and were responsible for two mortgages and weren’t getting paid.

From experience, one mortgage is already too much. If I’d lost my job randomly (management pretended everything was fine until they couldn’t afford to keep the lights on) and had TWO mortgages . . . I’m having a stroke just thinking about it.

And even worse, the game actually looks pretty fun and probably would have done well!

There’s a lot in this story that is ultimately the fault of bad actors involved, but it also gives insight into larger problems within the video game industry. Foremost amongst those problems seems to be the disconnect between the people actually making the games, who consider their work a form of art, and the bosses running the show who see little more than numbers on a spreadsheet and are happy to throw away years of work on a whim to bump their stock price for a quarter, or in the case of 38 studios, a politician willing to burn an entire company so he looks slightly better against his opponent.

Eventually, Schreier examines some alternatives to the way things are now, with what I would call a mostly unbiased view. Obviously he has an agenda for the book (otherwise it’s just news), but I thought the author did a decent job presenting alternative arguments. Some organizations are attempting to unionize, and we see the reasoning why this might be good, but also are made to understand that it will not solve all the issues.

We’re introduced to some alternate workflows in which specialized companies provide specialized services, say combat mechanics, for many different games and how this might alleviate the need for ‘crunch’, as well as provide more stable income for employees.

In all, it seems the main thrust of the book is that the current model under which videogames are made cannot be sustained. Games may be expensive monetarily, but the true cost is on the people making them. The uncertainty in so many aspects of the job, even down to where an employee has to live (some folks in the book moved several times a year after getting hired on to a new studio which was closed sometimes only months after), wears on people, grinding them down. As more and more people realize this, it becomes a less and less attractive industry to work in, whether for people already there, or newbies coming in.

I don’t think Schreier wrote this book as a warning for people looking to try there hand in videogames however, I think the warning is more for people steering the ships. After finishing this second book (and seeing a third will come out this year), I don’t get the impression that Schreier hates games and the gaming industry, but rather the opposite, and that these books are an attempt to make people aware of the problems, not to shut gaming down, but to allow for course corrections, so that the sector may thrive in a better way for everyone.

Unfortunately, I’m not sure we’re quite there yet. This book came out in 2021, and now in 2023 and 2024 we’re seeing massive layoff numbers with upwards almost 20,000 jobs lost (8,000 lost in January & February alone). Games are getting cancelled and more studios are closing (Sony Interactive Studios being perhaps the biggest surprise)

Perhaps Schreier was more prescient than he knew. Perhaps the gaming industry is ‘pressing reset’, just not in the way anyone hoped.

Give This Book A Read?

Absolutely. As is becoming habbit, Schreier finds interesting stories happening behind the games we know and love, and uses them to craft a poignant message about the state of this beloved art. The chapters about 38 studios are such a surprising and wild ride, that they are worth the price of admission on their own. That there are many other fascinating and well researched chapters just shows the quality and care with which this book was written.

It seems there are some pretty far reaching systemic problems within the gaming industry, and ones which do not seem to have changed much in the three years since this book was written. I’m hopeful, as I believe Schreier is, that things can turn for the better. That we can hit the reset button on such exploitative and unsustainable practices, and build a better industry, so that we might all have better games.

That’s all I have for you this week. Has anyone read this one yet? Or Blood, Sweat, & Pixels? What were your thoughts? (also what are your fav games?). Leave your thoughts in the comments!

Until next time.

The Unexpected Party Never Ends: #TolkienReadingDay & Why The Hobbit Is Still Special

Happy Monday everyone!

We’re mixing up our normal alternating Friday/Saturday schedule to bring a special “broadcast” (it’s a blog post) for a fledgling tradition here on A&A, #TolkienReadingDay.

Yes, it was decided in 2003 that March 25th, the day in which The One Ring was destroyed should be a day of celebration, in which we read and spread our love for all things J.R.R. Tolkien.

Last year, I reviewed the 1968 BBC Radio adaptation of The Hobbit, quite by accident as I ordered the wrong audio edition of the story from the library. It was an unexpected party and despite some cringe worthy dialogue and confusing sound design (for which the BBC won many awards), I did enjoy the presentation overall. It would seem that Tolkien’s worldbuilding and characters are enough regardless of the medium through which the story is told.

This year, I got my act together, and managed to get a physical copy of The Hobbit, again from the library. Apparently it was the 175th printing (published in 2020) of the story. I make note of this, because apparently there are many editions of the story floating around, with the biggest changes to the story occurring in editions of the story published after The Lord of The Rings came out. (which makes some sense)

The forward in the 2020 edition makes note of some small continuity changes like correcting inconsistencies in dwarf naming and lineage, but also notes that the “Riddle Game” (in this edition chaptered Riddles in the Dark) as set down in the ‘Red Book’ (I’m guessing the original edition?) by Bilbo has changed after the true events were “eventually revealed (under pressure)”. But ultimately the reader should not concern themselves with the changes if it is their first outing in Middle Earth.

My inner history nerd wanted to fall down a research (hobbit) hole, attempt to find this ‘Red Book’ so I could compare the differences and see what affect the changes had on my understanding of the story, but I decided to forego all that in order to accomplish what I originally set out to do . . . simply enjoy the book.

And enjoy it I did!

What first stood out to me as I was reading was just how humorous and whimsical Tolkien’s writing can be. Perhaps I’ve been over influenced by Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies (I’m actually wondering if I ever saw The Hobbit Trilogy in full), but any happenings in Middle-Earth have always seemed like a rather serious affair to me. Yes, there is some humor in those movies, but in general it is all very grim and severe.

There is a way in which The Hobbit (book) moves towards this more stoic attitude as the story goes onward, but in the beginning it is quite whimsical. The infamous unexpected party reads almost like the opening of Disney’s Snow White, and the following tidbit of in-world history feels more like a Terry Pratchett book than Tolkien:

“…and knocked their king Golfimbul’s head clean off with a wooden club. It sailed a hundred yards and went down a rabbit hole, and in this way the battle was won and game of golf invented at the same moment”

Lolz. I fully imagine something like this happening to Carrot Ironfoundersson of The Watch but not as much to some Middle-Earthian King. In any case I was delighted by its inclusion.

Something else which surprised me, was how relevant the story felt to a modern audience. There’s a way in which all speculative fiction, whether set in the past or in the future, is actually about the time in which it was written and reading old books can sometimes feel akin to digging up a time capsule from beneath an ancient oak or perhaps in some extreme cases, shining a light into a dusty old tomb.

I’m always a little nervous when reading a ‘classic’ work that what we’ll find is at best irrelevant to a modern audience (looking at you Dune Part 2) , or worse actively harmful. We’ve seen a few examples of the latter on this blog with works such as The Island of Dr. Moreau, and Death on the Nile so I feel relatively justified in my apprehension.

If The Hobbit embodies any embarrassing ideals, they are not obvious. It seems there is active debate on the use of race in its sequels, The Lord of the Rings, but within this volume, nothing really jumped out at me (although a more critical look at Goblins within the story might be warranted).

I can’t recall any women in the story (something I think The Hobbit films attempt to address), but it does not feel like a malicious omission.

For a story that is little more than a mere decade away from its 100th birthday (although I suppose it’s the one hundred and eleventieth birthday that matters), I’d say that this is actually pretty surprising and kind of refreshing. And as I mentioned earlier, there were actually a few parts which felt quite modern.

For instance, after Lake-town is attacked, we have the following call for a change in leadership:

“We have had enough of the old men and the money-counters!” And people further off took up the cry: “Up the Bowman, and down with Moneybags!” pg 252.

With the ages of presidential candidates in the U.S. being in their late 70s and early 80s, I think many might share this sentiment in regards to having had “enough of the old men”. With the top 1% of earners making more than the other 99% combined, “down with Moneybags!” also feels quite relevant (although perhaps this is a somewhat timeless maxim).

So is it Worth It All These Years Later

Yup! Middle-Earth is a vast and perhaps overwhelming prospect, but The Hobbit is the perfect toe in the water. Not too grim, not too silly, a story which in a lot of ways feels just right. I’ll admit that Tolkien’s humor and whimsy were somewhat surprising but ultimately much needed. And while many stories from ‘back in the day’ have not aged well, I felt this one stood the test of time with remarkable prescience.

Certainly a perfect read for #TolkienReadingDay

What do you all think? Is this still a beloved classic? Or was there something I missed? What’s your favorite part of the story? Leave your answers in the comments!

Until next time!

More Than Memories: “What’s Cooking in the Kremlin” Brings History to Life

I can already tell this will be one of my top reads of 2024.

In my recent review of The Last Tsar’s Dragons, I mention that “despite sustained interest in Russian history, culture, religion and mythology my knowledge of the Romanov family before reading {that} book was pretty limited . . .”

I would say the same is true for post-Tsar Russia as well.

Of course certain names are likely to be remembered from even the broadest (ahem rudimentary) education. Nicholas II, Rasputin, Stalin, Lenin, and (especially) these days . . . Vladimir Putin.

But how about Lavrenty Beria (leader of the NKVD in 1953), Yuri Gargarin (Soviet Cosmonaut), or Boris Yeltzin (president of Russia before Putin’s first time)? Assuredly these names are lesser known here in the west, or at the very least lesser known in modern times (I wonder how much more familiar these names would be to my parents or any Gen Xers). But they were each important in shaping the Russia we know today . . .

And all these important people had to eat!

This is where What’s Cooking in The Kremlin‘s primary focus lies, in telling the story of the chefs and cooks who kept history fed.

I liked this approach for several reasons. First I think it makes the history a bit more accessible. There is something intimate about a person’s diet that really makes them human. No longer just a name to memorize, or a myth to remember.

Second, hearing the stories of these incredible chefs, in many cases in their own words, really just opened up the culture for me in a way that I don’t think another book could have accomplished. For instance, reading the words of a tour guide at the dacha Lenin spent his final days in, you can really hear the regard with which some Russians still hold him, and perhaps by extension, communism too. Contrast that with the words of a shoemaker turned cook in Afghanistan, or refugees in Crimea, or a survivor of the famine in Ukraine who have no illusions (or none any longer) about ‘The Party’.

I think the author did a good job handling a range of subjects, mixing many facets of history together. Stories about what the cosmonauts ate on the first trips into space were actually quite awe inspiring, while obviously stories about surviving the famine in Ukraine, or the siege of Leningrad were humbling in the extreme.

And then of course there was all of the little details that the book was not ‘about’, but still provided such a unique and interesting picture that you could not help but soak them in. That Stalin’s food taster, Alexander Yakovlevich Egnatashivlili, was called krolik which literally means rabbit, but is used like how we would use the term guinea pig. That (in general) cooks are always under suspicion of stealing, but that it’s also good to have a cook in the family because it means you’re unlikely to starve. And of course, all the many Russian proverbs. One in particular — “To pluck a little from a lot isn’t stealing. It’s fair distribution.” — stuck out to me as perhaps very telling.

But What About the Food?

There was tons of it. Churek, and Kulish, and Salo. Tvorog, and Bigos, and Zazharka. Every page seemed to be filled with the description of some new (to me) dish and often some historical or cultural significance applied to it. And plenty of dishes were not explained at all but familiarity was just assumed (still wondering how does one prepare sturgeon “monastery style”?).

I took sooo many notes about these little (ahem) morsels, and loved to discover them, but obviously the main draw was the actual recipes included within the text. I was really looking forward to trying them out, and forming some kind of connection to these stories that was deeper than just reading . . . that was also tasting and eating.

Unfortunately, I think this was the only part of the book that let me down. I’m not much of a cook, and the recipes within were in many cases quite difficult (or as one of my friends said “the recipes are just vibes”). When cooking for the Tsar, or the President of all of Russia, exotic foods like a specific type of quail (maybe now extinct), or a freshly hunted boar, are not far-fetched, and cool to see how one might handle cooking that however unlikely it would be to actually do it.

But some of the recipes for more common foods also seemed needlessly vague or difficult to reproduce. I tried making Shchi (a kind of cabbage soup), and got about halfway through cooking it before I realized that following the recipe exactly was actually not helpful in the slightest.

It could just be that I’m inexperienced, and a better cook might have had an easier time, but I unfortunately was not up to the task.

Give this One a Read?

Despite my difficulties in the kitchen I had a tremendous time reading this book. I cannot say that all of the topics covered within are roses and sunshine, in fact, mostly they are not, but the stories told here are powerful and deeply meaningful anyway.

If you’re looking for something a little different, I highly recommend this one.

That’s all I have to say for this week. Has anyone read this one yet? What were your thoughts? Do you have a favorite Russian dish? Let me know in the comments.

Until next time . . .

Beautiful, Brutal, But Relevant? A Review of Dune Part 2

Well, about two weeks have passed since we were first able to return to Arrakis after (checks notes) just shy of a 2.5 year wait. Already it seems like everything that can be said about the movie has already been made into some kind of listicle or think piece, but I’m still going to give you MY thoughts because you’re here on MY blog.

I saw the movie on opening night, so most of this post was jotted down the next morning, but I wanted to let my thoughts marinate a bit before posting (I also wanted some time off from writing lol).

Essentially, I felt the special effects and set pieces were fantastic (some of the desert scenes were so bright and clear I kinda wished I’d worn sunglasses into the theater). Well worth the price of admission. If nothing else Dune Part 2 is a beautiful movie. However, I walked away weirdly ambivalent to the whole experience and generally lacking the enthusiasm that I could sense coming from everyone around me.

I have no doubt that the two films (parts 1 & 2) will be considered the definitive adaptation for an entire generation (ala Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings), but 2.5 years ago when I watched part 1, I asked if Denis Villenueve’s adaptation would be Dune’s Kwisatz Haderach?

With only half the story in front of me, I was unsure. Now, with the full product in hand, I’m left wondering about the relevance of such a story, and even whether or not a movie is the most meaningful way to experience it.

But there was quite a bit to enjoy about the film so lets start there . . .

The Good

To list a couple automatic wins, we have a futuristic desert setting, SANDWORMS, awesome starship designs, 1v1 sword/knife fighting and of course . . . Zendaya.

I want to draw particular attention to the sword/knife duels as for me, they were generally some of the most exciting parts of the whole film. Paul Muad Dib fighting Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was especially tense, and despite prophecy and Paul’s ability to see the future (and me knowing how the story ends from reading the book), I legitimately wondered what the outcome would be.

There’s always a kind of Jason Borne esque practicality to knife fighting that just feels so much more dangerous than sword fighting. The knives our combatants use are basically as long as swords but that sense of intensity and danger remains. There was only one unnecessary spinny-twisty flip in the whole scene and it actually did feel like the best way to dodge that slash. Good choreography that is.

Part Two’s opening shot will probably also stay with me. There was something just strangely compelling and alien in the way the Harkonnen troops were just kinda weightless. No explanation given or even wanted. Just badassery. Very fun.

I would also say that Part Two features some of the coolest sandworm riding we’ve seen yet in a Dune adaptation. I couldn’t help but wonder how you STOP riding a Sandworm but perhaps these details are unimportant.

Given how serious the tone of this movie is, I greatly enjoyed the brief respites of humor sprinkled throughout. Paul saying he was not the chosen one and Stilgar freaking out because the chosen one would deny his chosen-one-ness made me actually laugh out loud in the theater. However, I think they may have over used this bit as Stilgar essentially becomes a bit of a meme by the end of the film, his fanaticism actually serving to undermine the drama rather than increase it.

Finally, the POV of the Empress was an interesting inclusion. In the books I think we only see her POV in the epigraphs she leaves at the start of the chapters which, in all fairness, are kinda the coolest part. So much hinting. So much vague foreshadowing. Prophecy! But the way it was handled here did feel somewhat fresh.

The Bad

Now all that I’ve just gone over seems like a lot of wins, but Part 2 had some rougher spots too.

In spite of the dazzling effects and amazing landscapes, I think I still managed to pick up a few technical errors in the Editing / filmmaking. For instance Feyd-Ratha’s mouth not moving while he’s speaking and then a hasty jump cut away seemed like an attempt to cover up a flubbed line. I’ll have to watch it again, perhaps it was meant to be voiceover/interiority but if that was the case, it was not at all clear.

Austin Butler played an incredible Feyd-Ratha, who is rightly many people’s favorite part of this story, but I wish his cadence and voice had been less similar to the Baron’s (who’s voice and sinisterism are so unique!). Still Feyd-Rautha punched above his weight in this movie. Strong Jared Leto Joker vibes. What a psycho lol.

The Why Of It All

Admittedly, these few quibbles probably wouldn’t normally tip my review from positive to negative, and indeed the minor issues I mentioned above are not what is ultimately causing me to struggle with the film.

What is hanging me up is perhaps more existential than that. Having more to do with Dune‘s legacy, and the moment we’re in right now.

Basically, I can’t connect the two.

Dune is a franchise that takes itself VERY seriously. There are pages of lore to justify quirks of the setting like why a futuristic society still fights with swords and knives instead of guns, or creating an entire ecology so that some giant worms guarding vast pits of sand – like a dragon guards its hoard — actually makes sense.

This attitude has certainly carried over to Villanueve’s direction for the film which presents Arrakis as both brutal and breathtaking. It apparently cost $190 million to make Dune Part 2 and while this doesn’t even crack the top 60 most expensive movies ever made it is still well above average (100 – 150 million).

The seriousness in approach lends itself to the feeling that Dune is a movie which should say — or attempt to say — something. But what is it trying to say?

On the surface, a few things stand out. First, the dichotomous use of ‘The Chosen One’ trope, which in Dune Part 2 seems to tread unstable ground between subversion and reinforcement by the ascension of Chalamet’s Paul Atreides.

We have writers like Sue Obeidi saying (about part 1) Dune Repeats Tired Tropes of a White Savior in a Middle Eastern Setting, while the director, Denis Villeneuve, feels that (Part II):

“…It’s not a celebration of a savior. It’s a condemnation and criticism of that idea of a savior.” – Nerds of Color: Is ‘Dune’ Truly a White-Savior Story

I think I would agree with the director that Dune Part II leans more into condemning the white savior narrative (Paul very much feels like a villain by the end of the movie), but this feels like ground we’ve already covered as a society.

Would it not be better to elevate another story? To dump $190 million into something else? Perhaps a story that is more recent, and not written by an old dead white guy?

Another issue which Dune Part 2 could arguably be about is the environment. The positioning of Arrakis as a desert planet, exploited for resources so ruthlessly that only the toughest can survive — the parallels between spice and oil — is baked into the original premise of the book, and cannot really be divorced from the the stories other elements.

If we are to consider Dune Part 2 as a piece of climate fiction however, I would have expected the messaging to perhaps be more front-and-center. Yes, like the spice itself, the issue is prevalent and part of every aspect of the movie, but as such, kind of invisible.

I think very few people walked away from Dune Part 2 thinking “I should really start recycling more,” or “maybe it’s time to buy electric”, or even worse (best?) “I could see why global warming is bad”.

Kwisatz Haderach?

Ultimately, I’m not sure that question really matters, because I’m not sure Dune really still matters in 2024 other than that we’ve made it matter by throwing boat loads of money at it. I cannot deny that Arrakis calls to me, as a place which fascinates and terrifies, but the story of Paul Atreides might leave something to be desired.

All this has me wondering if I even want a Dune movie, or if the way this story should unfold really ought to be more personal . . . like perhaps an MMORPG such as Dune: Awakening

Perhaps this entry into the Dune legacy will be, in the words of the Baron Harkonnen:

“My desert. My Arrakis. MY DUNE!”

That’s all I have for this week. Has everyone seen this movie already? What are your thoughts? Am I missing something big here? Leave your thoughts in the comments!

Deep or Dated? Re-Reading The Bands of Mourning

No promises, but I think 2024 is the year I FINALLY get caught up on the Cosmere.

According to the QuilToLive: Cosmere Reading Order Guide (which I only chose because it was the easiest list to understand), there are currently (as of this post) 19 ish Cosmere novels?

Even though Brandon Sanderson is one of my favorite authors (and I’ve been reading him religiously since like 2007), I’ve made very few attempts to review his work on this blog. I think the sheer quantity of work has probably held me back.

However, with this review of The Bands of Mourning, I should finally be finished rereading Cosmere books (if not reviewing them), and starting new-to-me Cosmere adventures with The Lost Metal.

Will I finish the last Wax / Wayne book and 3 secret projects in time for the release of the next Stormlight book in December? Only time will tell, but it feels like a good challenge for me to undertake this year.

In any case, I found The Bands of Mourning to be much more interesting in this year of our lord, 2024, than I think I gave it credit for when I originally read it back in April of 2016 (wow I’m feeling old).

Namely, I was not expecting it to feel so dated.

As I mentioned in my review of Alloy of Law, one of the major things I enjoy about this “Era” of Mistborn novels, is the way Sanderson mixes genres to create a unique “alloy”. For AoL, he mixed the Western and Fantasy genres. For Shadows of Self (which I’ve apparently just neglected to review), I feel pretty confident the genres being mixed were Noir and Fantasy.

For The Bands of Mourning?

Old school Pulp Action-Adventure (and of course Fantasy) complete with tomb raiding, a train robbery, and a clandestine enemy base infiltration scene. Of course all of this is made much richer and more interesting through its highly detailed Fantasy setting, as well as easter eggs and call-backs to other books, both Sanderson’s own, and allusions and homage to other authors.

One aspect of Sanderson’s writing that I generally consider a strength, is his ability to take the most well-worn or nearly invisible tropes, and subvert them for dramatic or comedic affect. Without spoilers, the original Mistborn trilogy takes a huge swing at fantasy tropes like The Chosen One, the use of Prophecy within the genre, and the kinds Great Evil / Dark Lord types found in tons of fantasy after Tolkien.

Previous Wax and Wayne outings have also implemented some similarly fun trope deconstruction of the Western and Noir genres, although these were perhaps not as central to the plot as in the original Mistborn and often done for laughs.

This is indeed the tack Sanderson took with The Bands of Mourning taking many shots at the action-adventure genre, archeologist-adventurer stories in general, and probably Indiana Jones in particular. Much of the humor in this book focused around traps, undermining their dramatic effect by rendering them insignificant and ineffectual (perhaps an acknowledgement that real Tomb Defenses are Lame).

These types of subversions are pretty low stakes, easy to read, and probably somewhat timeless. They held up for me on a second read almost a decade removed from the book’s original publication date.

Where the stakes get higher, and for me, a little more dated, was the deconstruction this novel does surrounding gender roles in the action-adventure genre.

I felt these themes were mainly approached through Marasi and Steris’s character development.

Marasi is interesting in that she is not only trying to find her own place in her world (ie the crew, her profession, and society at large), but she is also grappling with her identity as it compares to Vin, the Ascendant Warrior, whose legacy has had a profound effect on gender roles within Elendel.

Some criticism that I’ve seen about the original Mistborn trilogy, is that Vin is the ONLY female character within the cast, and as such, will be seen as a stand in for ALL women. It’s perhaps more eloquently put on the Strong Female Character wikipedia page:

“When these roles are displayed with a small scope of characteristics, it becomes the default expectation for what a woman should be while leaving so many other types of women underrepresented.”

Throughout the original Mistborn trilogy, Vin is one of the most powerful pieces on the chess board. Her combat abilities are, even by in-universe standards, supernatural. Because so much of the action of the story involves her using those abilities, it can be said that her character is still championing traditionally masculine traits. As the lone woman in the story, you don’t need to be a coinshot to make the leap to the idea that women are valuable in stories if they behave like men.

Also, the books have often been called out for their use of the Not Like Other Girls trope which essentially implies a value judgement (better/worse) because the subject does not fit into the normal / accepted confines of “feminine”.

Screen Rant’s 7 Problems A Mistborn Series Could Fix From The Books explains it:

“In addition to lacking female characters, Mistborn tends to put down any women who aren’t Vin — or at least Vin does, and much of the story is told from her perspective. Vin doesn’t trust easily, but she often gives the male characters more slack than the women she meets. In some cases, this is justified; Shan Elariel certainly deserves her scorn. However, Vin judges allies like Tindwyl, and she distrusts Allrianne for all the wrong reasons. It seems anyone with frivolous or feminine tastes meets Vin’s disapproval, even though she spends much of the books grappling with her own desire to embrace such qualities.”

These things are . . . problematic.

Obviously, Sanderson cannot rewrite already published work (or shouldn’t?), but he can acknowledge mistakes when they’re made and try to improve as he writes more books (I personally think this is something which has allowed him to stay not only relevant, but beloved across his MANY books, and decades of his writing). In many ways, I see Marasi’s interiority and character arc as an attempt at engaging with the criticism leveled at the original trilogy.

It seems worth noting here that in The Bands of Mourning, there are two women (gasp) so already we’re making a ‘promising start’ towards righting past wrongs. But does the book manage to break the habits of his earlier work, and all the baggage of the pulpy action adventure genre in general?

I would say results are mixed.

In an attempt to avoid spoilers, I’ll try to remain as vague as possible, but in Marasi’s case, there is a point within the novel in which she has the ability to ‘do the superhero thing’ and really save the day. It’s what she imagines Vin would do (although this is more complicated if you’ve read the original trilogy), and she briefly struggles with this fact, before passing up the opportunity and allowing Wax to fill the role.

Ultimately, it was the logical thing for her arc, and should have felt satisfying because she essentially frees herself from the shackles of Vin’s legacy and the narrow expectations of the society she lives in. However, stepping aside so that a man could save the day did not feel like a win.

I guess I could entertain the argument that the opportunity to do either, the choice, is the true win, but somehow it just doesn’t quite sit with me.

Steris’s arc looks less at past books in the series and more at the action-adventure genre as a whole. Her quest is also one of identity, with the main goal of finding her place within the crew. In one role she serves as a love interest for Wax (and I really do like them as a couple). And in a traditional pulp action adventure story, perhaps this would have been all she wrote.

For Sanderson, this is not enough (so far so good), and he endeavors — much as Steris endeavors — to find some more meaningful place for her within the story. The task is complicated by the fact that Steris does not have allomancy and cannot really fight in the same ways the other characters can (in Alloy of Law, Marasi struggles with something similar: she has allomancy, but the type of power she has is perceived as useless and small spoiler . . . it is not).

Here again we see the emphasis on combat and strength as the traits in the society which are a) masculine, and b) valued. This is no accident as this is exactly the type of world view present in pulp action adventure novels.

The stage is seemingly set for subversion.

And then I’m not really sure how but things seem to fall apart. Perhaps there is simply too many other parts of the plot to resolve? Or we don’t linger on her victory for long enough? Something else?

Steris (again as best I can without spoilers) does use her unique skill set (her overpreparedness) to resolve an issue in the resolution, and Wax does marry her in earnest (this book opens and closes with weddings) . . . her most memorable scene in the story is still somehow the one in which she literally compares herself to a piece of luggage.

And perhaps that is unfortunately what makes her arc feel so unsatisfying and not a subversion of the tropes discussed above. Despite the fact that all of the pieces are “technically” there, it still feels like she’s carried through the story. Window dressing. Someone which will generate a laugh when needed or stir emotion in our dark and brooding hero, but other than that, just another tool for the author.

Which ends up being kinda brutal, because she is truly a great character.

My final complaint about The Bands of Mourning, is that I’m starting to tire a bit on Wayne. There is a storytelling trap which writers can fall into, described in Brandon Sanderson’s own writing podcast (Writing Excuses), called Flanderizing. It was coined for The Simpsons character, Flanders, who assumedly (I haven’t watched a ton of Simpsons) became more and more 1-dimensional over time as the writers focused on his quirks, and less on interesting character development. Flanders essentially became a button the writers could press when they could feel the show should have a laugh, but there was no organic humor present.

It feels like this is what is happening to Wayne throughout The Bands of Mourning, which only gets compounded by the fact that Sanderson routinely uses the same rhetorical device, malapropism, in Wayne’s humor. I think Sanderson could feel this happening while writing Bands, and Wayne’s character takes on some more interesting shades of gray LATE in the novel, but ultimately if felt like too little too late.

Give This One A Read?

Though I’ve written A LOT of words in this post which present it unfavorably, I did enjoy the book and would certainly recommend it. The parts I enjoyed most were perhaps the easiest parts: the action, magic, humor and adventure we expect from a Brandon Sanderson novel.

The criticism I have of the book is primarily focused on its larger themes which were ambitious, and well intentioned, but ultimately felt unsatisfying. In regards to these larger themes, I found myself often wondering why The Bands of Mourning was the right book for exploring them, and why Sanderson the right author to do so.

All that said, I’m still chomping at the bit to start The Lost Metal. The flaws I’ve described above only seem to infuse this final outing with even MORE potential.

That’s all I have for this week. What are your thoughts? Have any of you read this one before? What were your favorite parts? Your least favorite? Let me know in the comments.

See you next time!