Casino Royale, the first James Bond novel published by Ian Fleming in 1953, is highly reflective of the environment in which it was released. The character of James Bond, 007 was, to a certain degree, autobiographical—Ian Fleming himself shared many of Bond’s tendencies, especially his womanizing—and Bond’s history with British Naval Intelligence Fleming’s own. As for the novel itself, Casino Royale’s origins are important in that they reflected the post-World War II environment, as well as established a character who would be, far and away, the most recognizable in their genre. The basic backstory is certainly influenced by the ever-rising tide of the Cold War; the primary antagonist, Le Chiffre, has a background with Soviet Russia. As a whole, the story seems to encapsulate the kind of paranoia which the Cold War engendered, albeit in a different context; in this book the uncertainty took place in a card game, where in real life it took place through the mutual distrust of nations.
In addition, gender roles are easily observed to be indicative of the times. James Bond views women as interference, minor distractions to his job; he only indulges them on purely physical levels. This was reflective of the 50’s as well; overall the novel seems well situated in its time.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
Fairy Tale: Sarah and the Shadow
Sarah rubbed her eyes and stared at the ceiling for about twenty minutes. She hated getting up; she didn’t really know why, but in the morning she never wanted to leave her bed. Maybe it was because she knew that every day she would be doing the same things she did the day before. Maybe she preferred her dreams, where she was blown in random directions like a leaf in the wind. Or maybe it was because her bed was so comfortable. She thought about it for a while, and then slowly dragged herself onto the floor.
Today was the day where, at school, the kids would present their plants they had grown. They were given three coins, and very long instructions about how to bury the coins in dirt, and how you needed to mix certain liquids with the dirt depending on what kind of plant you wanted. Sarah had chosen several liquids, and as the plant came to fruition, she was sure that this would be the most beautiful plant the teacher had ever seen. The branches and leaves all shone a bright shade of silver, and the berries were every color imaginable. After showering and eating, she looked at this plant like she usually did, and finally made her way to school.
Sarah was anxious. She truly hoped that her plant would make a big impact; she had always had trouble making friends. Her blue hair stood out like a sore thumb against the brown hair of the other children, and she seemed to have problems talking to people. She always knew what she wanted to say, but for some reason she never could. However, always ambitious and optimistic, Sarah managed to find beauty in her uniqueness, and hoped that one day she could convince others to see it as well.
On the way to school Sarah passed, as she always did, a large black gate. Behind that gate there was a swirling green fog. She had always been told that this gate was dangerous; that was where the ones who couldn’t do their jobs ended up. That was where the failures and the lazy ones went. Where they went there was nothing to work for; they were animals. Sarah was curious, though: what did that place look like? How big was it? How many people have gone there?
As with every other day, these thoughts left as quick as they came; Sarah was never one to dwell for too long on any one topic. Her mind went straight back to her plant, and all the impressed glances the others would give her. She continued to walk the path she walked every day, half in a trance; the city was simply too noisy to listen to. All the strange whirling and grinding machines and factories made horrible sounds that quickly became very annoying and wore you out. So Sarah instead focused on how awestruck the other students would be.
But Sarah’s day went terribly. The other students had followed their instructions to a tee, and they all came in with plants which all looked alike; dark gray plants with berries that looked like diamonds. Fairly pretty, but Sarah found them very boring compared to hers. But the teacher told her she had done it wrong, and after that, everything he said to her blended together. Her beautiful work of art was “wrong.”
Sarah slowly walked home, head hung low. The world turned dripping shades of brown and gray, and she was overcome with the emptiest of feelings. However, when she walked back by the gate, she noticed that the green fog seemed far more vivid against the dull surroundings than usual. The fog seemed to form into a womanly shape. It stared at her invitingly, and at this moment Sarah could no longer deny it. For once, she decided to think about something for a very long time. She looked at the one colorful thing in her world right now, and tried to figure out what she would do next.
It was too much. Sarah had always been able to convince herself that this life was meant for her… she desperately tried to summon those feelings again, but nothing happened. No matter what she told herself, no matter what lessons from school she tried to recall, all of her thoughts shrank away, leaving one simple fact: in this world she would be a servant, a faceless worker constantly making the same gray plant. She would always receive instruction from somewhere, no matter how important she got. In defiance or perhaps in foolishness, she became certain she didn’t want to live like that… she didn’t want to rule the world, but she wanted to rule her own life.
“If I’m making a mistake… at least I made a choice,” Sarah thought to herself.
She took the hand of the shadow and, in a flash of blinding light, appeared on the other side of the gate. She found herself in a field, which appeared to be in the midst of a forest. She checked her surroundings to see if anyone else was here, but she saw nothing. Nothing but the gently swaying trees. What she saw before her was unlike anything she had seen before; it seemed that everything was green. Even the sky, which she had previously known to be gray—or, sometimes, bluish-gray—seemed rather green. The grass reached her knees, and it felt extremely soft.
There was nothing but the soft westward-blowing breeze in that place. Sarah was fighting numerous feelings in her mind, trying her best to find one that was right. The silence around her was entirely foreign, yet welcoming. However, she was uncertain whether to take the quiet as simple pleasantness, or as a warning that something terrible would happen. Everything she had been taught informed her that this place was dangerous, but she could not for the life of her understand why. She lay down in the grass, just to see if she could make sense of anything.
She wasn’t there for too long before she thought that she should leave.
Today was the day where, at school, the kids would present their plants they had grown. They were given three coins, and very long instructions about how to bury the coins in dirt, and how you needed to mix certain liquids with the dirt depending on what kind of plant you wanted. Sarah had chosen several liquids, and as the plant came to fruition, she was sure that this would be the most beautiful plant the teacher had ever seen. The branches and leaves all shone a bright shade of silver, and the berries were every color imaginable. After showering and eating, she looked at this plant like she usually did, and finally made her way to school.
Sarah was anxious. She truly hoped that her plant would make a big impact; she had always had trouble making friends. Her blue hair stood out like a sore thumb against the brown hair of the other children, and she seemed to have problems talking to people. She always knew what she wanted to say, but for some reason she never could. However, always ambitious and optimistic, Sarah managed to find beauty in her uniqueness, and hoped that one day she could convince others to see it as well.
On the way to school Sarah passed, as she always did, a large black gate. Behind that gate there was a swirling green fog. She had always been told that this gate was dangerous; that was where the ones who couldn’t do their jobs ended up. That was where the failures and the lazy ones went. Where they went there was nothing to work for; they were animals. Sarah was curious, though: what did that place look like? How big was it? How many people have gone there?
As with every other day, these thoughts left as quick as they came; Sarah was never one to dwell for too long on any one topic. Her mind went straight back to her plant, and all the impressed glances the others would give her. She continued to walk the path she walked every day, half in a trance; the city was simply too noisy to listen to. All the strange whirling and grinding machines and factories made horrible sounds that quickly became very annoying and wore you out. So Sarah instead focused on how awestruck the other students would be.
But Sarah’s day went terribly. The other students had followed their instructions to a tee, and they all came in with plants which all looked alike; dark gray plants with berries that looked like diamonds. Fairly pretty, but Sarah found them very boring compared to hers. But the teacher told her she had done it wrong, and after that, everything he said to her blended together. Her beautiful work of art was “wrong.”
Sarah slowly walked home, head hung low. The world turned dripping shades of brown and gray, and she was overcome with the emptiest of feelings. However, when she walked back by the gate, she noticed that the green fog seemed far more vivid against the dull surroundings than usual. The fog seemed to form into a womanly shape. It stared at her invitingly, and at this moment Sarah could no longer deny it. For once, she decided to think about something for a very long time. She looked at the one colorful thing in her world right now, and tried to figure out what she would do next.
It was too much. Sarah had always been able to convince herself that this life was meant for her… she desperately tried to summon those feelings again, but nothing happened. No matter what she told herself, no matter what lessons from school she tried to recall, all of her thoughts shrank away, leaving one simple fact: in this world she would be a servant, a faceless worker constantly making the same gray plant. She would always receive instruction from somewhere, no matter how important she got. In defiance or perhaps in foolishness, she became certain she didn’t want to live like that… she didn’t want to rule the world, but she wanted to rule her own life.
“If I’m making a mistake… at least I made a choice,” Sarah thought to herself.
She took the hand of the shadow and, in a flash of blinding light, appeared on the other side of the gate. She found herself in a field, which appeared to be in the midst of a forest. She checked her surroundings to see if anyone else was here, but she saw nothing. Nothing but the gently swaying trees. What she saw before her was unlike anything she had seen before; it seemed that everything was green. Even the sky, which she had previously known to be gray—or, sometimes, bluish-gray—seemed rather green. The grass reached her knees, and it felt extremely soft.
There was nothing but the soft westward-blowing breeze in that place. Sarah was fighting numerous feelings in her mind, trying her best to find one that was right. The silence around her was entirely foreign, yet welcoming. However, she was uncertain whether to take the quiet as simple pleasantness, or as a warning that something terrible would happen. Everything she had been taught informed her that this place was dangerous, but she could not for the life of her understand why. She lay down in the grass, just to see if she could make sense of anything.
She wasn’t there for too long before she thought that she should leave.
Media Dialogue
In the Supernatural Design Committee (an organization staffed by those souls who in their bland lives deserved neither heaven nor hell, and are instead given jobs as a form of community service before a more accurate judgment can be passed. This organization plants inspiration in the minds of certain human beings to keep the human race in steady progress).
Young optimistic designer for the communications department Walter prepares to run a proposal by his supervisor, Eugene.
Walter: I’ve come up with a BRILLIANT new idea for communication.
Eugene: What? What about those phone things? I feel like you just barely introduced those. How am I supposed to sell this to the committee already?
Walter: Come now, if you eat the same sandwich and fries twenty years in a row you’re bound to grow tired of it, it’s time for something new! It’s fairly common knowledge that nothing dulls one’s enjoyments faster than making them routine! Innovations aren’t like silverware, you can’t just supply it once and reuse it, they’re like groceries, you need to constantly restock!
Eugene: Are you pitching communication or supermarkets?
Walter: Alright, fine, here’s my idea. Now: I want you to look at the world right now. The population is on a steady incline, and shows no signs of stopping. This means that very soon, isolation will no longer be a viable way of life unless one grows gills and lives in the ocean. With such a tightly packed populace, inevitably people will not only require more active communication with the rest of the world, but also cling more tightly to their moments of privacy, which will unavoidably become increasingly rare. What I am proposing to you now is a solution to both problems: a worldwide network—my working title is the world wide web—which will allow virtually anyone to contact anyone else in a matter of minutes.
Eugene: I’m already spotting more holes in this thing than your average block of Swiss cheese. Most alarmingly you’re making the assumption that people will only use this for business meetings, or friendly family conversations. If this network is strong enough to facilitate communication between anyone who has access to it, surely that would open up all kinds of windows for strange, or worse, harmful and criminal behavior.
Walter: …Please. Do you really think an idea so revolutionary and full of potential will instantly dissolve into anarchy?
Eugene: Yes! You said the exact same thing about phones, and look where that’s ended up! We’ve got wiretapping, we’ve got telemarketers, and we’ve got creepy people paying money for weird sexual conversations! If an audio-only media can lead to these problems, imagine the potential for a form of media which engages sight AND sound to be twisted and mutilated!
Walter: Okay, okay, okay… I’ll grant this proposition. Let’s say, hypothetically, that all of these creeps and more migrate to this world wide web… this isn’t like the phone where often the creep can’t be identified until he’s already done his damage. With a worldwide network comes the immediate protection of anonymity; no one person is a target anymore. You see, a place like this would provide universal appeal; everyone could find their own little niches and satisfy their own tastes.
Eugene: But that same anonymity allows anyone to disregard even the loosest rules of social etiquette. I can admit that such a network could be very useful to many people, but at the same time it allows the worst traits of already rather unpleasant people to blossom in plain sight. Is it worth the luxury to be constantly reminded of just how idiotic and often downright mean-spirited many people are? The people raised with exposure to this network will grow up cynical and utterly sickened with their own species. Then what will you do? There’s not much innovation you can force upon people like that. You could give them a device that stores every song they’ve ever heard or could ever want to hear and they’d find mundanity in it within a couple years.
Walter: Ever the pessimist. Alright, I’ll even grant that idea, that my revolutionary concept will lead to generations of entitled, cynical idiots as well as representatives of the absolute bottom rung of society. Hey, more work for us! I can’t tell you the kind of bonuses we’d accumulate if we’re called upon to provide innovation after innovation to people who lose fascination with the most impressive examples of consumer technology virtually months after they come out. The sheer rate at which things would become obsolete in such a culture would make us easily the biggest branch of the Supernatural Design Committee. And if I’m right, and this tool won’t be swarmed by the dregs of humanity, then we’ll have done our job properly.
Eugene: …Well I’ll be damned. Ya sold me.
Young optimistic designer for the communications department Walter prepares to run a proposal by his supervisor, Eugene.
Walter: I’ve come up with a BRILLIANT new idea for communication.
Eugene: What? What about those phone things? I feel like you just barely introduced those. How am I supposed to sell this to the committee already?
Walter: Come now, if you eat the same sandwich and fries twenty years in a row you’re bound to grow tired of it, it’s time for something new! It’s fairly common knowledge that nothing dulls one’s enjoyments faster than making them routine! Innovations aren’t like silverware, you can’t just supply it once and reuse it, they’re like groceries, you need to constantly restock!
Eugene: Are you pitching communication or supermarkets?
Walter: Alright, fine, here’s my idea. Now: I want you to look at the world right now. The population is on a steady incline, and shows no signs of stopping. This means that very soon, isolation will no longer be a viable way of life unless one grows gills and lives in the ocean. With such a tightly packed populace, inevitably people will not only require more active communication with the rest of the world, but also cling more tightly to their moments of privacy, which will unavoidably become increasingly rare. What I am proposing to you now is a solution to both problems: a worldwide network—my working title is the world wide web—which will allow virtually anyone to contact anyone else in a matter of minutes.
Eugene: I’m already spotting more holes in this thing than your average block of Swiss cheese. Most alarmingly you’re making the assumption that people will only use this for business meetings, or friendly family conversations. If this network is strong enough to facilitate communication between anyone who has access to it, surely that would open up all kinds of windows for strange, or worse, harmful and criminal behavior.
Walter: …Please. Do you really think an idea so revolutionary and full of potential will instantly dissolve into anarchy?
Eugene: Yes! You said the exact same thing about phones, and look where that’s ended up! We’ve got wiretapping, we’ve got telemarketers, and we’ve got creepy people paying money for weird sexual conversations! If an audio-only media can lead to these problems, imagine the potential for a form of media which engages sight AND sound to be twisted and mutilated!
Walter: Okay, okay, okay… I’ll grant this proposition. Let’s say, hypothetically, that all of these creeps and more migrate to this world wide web… this isn’t like the phone where often the creep can’t be identified until he’s already done his damage. With a worldwide network comes the immediate protection of anonymity; no one person is a target anymore. You see, a place like this would provide universal appeal; everyone could find their own little niches and satisfy their own tastes.
Eugene: But that same anonymity allows anyone to disregard even the loosest rules of social etiquette. I can admit that such a network could be very useful to many people, but at the same time it allows the worst traits of already rather unpleasant people to blossom in plain sight. Is it worth the luxury to be constantly reminded of just how idiotic and often downright mean-spirited many people are? The people raised with exposure to this network will grow up cynical and utterly sickened with their own species. Then what will you do? There’s not much innovation you can force upon people like that. You could give them a device that stores every song they’ve ever heard or could ever want to hear and they’d find mundanity in it within a couple years.
Walter: Ever the pessimist. Alright, I’ll even grant that idea, that my revolutionary concept will lead to generations of entitled, cynical idiots as well as representatives of the absolute bottom rung of society. Hey, more work for us! I can’t tell you the kind of bonuses we’d accumulate if we’re called upon to provide innovation after innovation to people who lose fascination with the most impressive examples of consumer technology virtually months after they come out. The sheer rate at which things would become obsolete in such a culture would make us easily the biggest branch of the Supernatural Design Committee. And if I’m right, and this tool won’t be swarmed by the dregs of humanity, then we’ll have done our job properly.
Eugene: …Well I’ll be damned. Ya sold me.
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