The Pleasures of Reading, Viewing, and Listening in 2022, pt. 30: Rosanne Rabinowitz

 

Adapt this, adapt that

by Rosanne Rabinowitz

 

This year I’ve given some thought about adaptations, especially adaptations of much-loved books. How do you capture the essence of a work within a different medium, and with at least several years of history down the line? I've also been intrigued by the role of memory. It could be a few years since I've read the book, so I'm always viewing a series with an imperfect view of the book. And while I'm writing this, I'm remembering a series without the time to rewatch it. Yet memory is where our most loved books and programmes dwell. 

 

Station Eleven

 

I first read Station Eleven when it came out in 2015. It also enjoyed a resurgence at the time of the Covid pandemic with its story of a deadly flu virus that wipes out large swathes of the population and the high-tech way of life. The story moves between the time before the flu, during and some years later. A child actress at the time of the change, Kirsten is now a player in the Travelling Symphony theatre troupe that travels between far-flung settlements.

 

I read the book a second time in 2021. Due to an actual pandemic it acquired another layer of meaning. This time, I read it to my client at work. I also found that the Prophet reminded me of a number of self-righteous individuals I’ve dealt with since the first reading, which resulted in my hamming it up when I came to the Prophet’s dialogue.

 

And then Station Eleven became an HBO TV drama series over 2021-2022.

 

What I've liked about the novel Station Eleven is its quieter approach to the post-apocalyptic tale, one that is neither dystopian or utopian. To paraphrase Ursula LeGuin's subtitle for her classic The Dispossessed ('an ambiguous utopia'), it is an ambiguous dystopia. In one strand, a disparate group of people are stranded in an airport and organise themselves as best they can. The Sky Lounge becomes a library and museum to the old world that was lost; parties hunt venison in the surrounding countryside. People muddle through. It isn't perfect, but it is certainly not a Cormac McCarthy-style long-pig chompathon.  

 

I was hoping that this more understated approach would stay in the series, and it wouldn't get turned into Mad Max plus Shakespeare. I'm glad to say that didn't happen. The series retains the emphasis on characters living, struggling, and sometimes creating in this transformed world.

 

Some aspects of the series worked well to heighten themes of the book and provided a more coherent shape to a story sustained over 10 episodes. For example, the portrayal of the relationship between the child Kirsten and Jeevan, who became her guardian with the loss of her parents. Their relationship and separation becomes a central thread running through the story.

 

Another difference lies in the portrayal of the airport community and the fundamentalist cult that arises in the post-pandemic world – steered by the 'Prophet.’ In the book, the airport community is shown in a benign or at most ambiguous light – much of the ambiguity came with the fact that the fundamentalist Prophet had grown up within that settlement. The fate of the last plane that lands in the airport illustrates this difference. In the book, no one leaves the plane and no one enters. It is left to the reader to imagine the horror of events on that plane as passengers sickened and died.

 

In the series, the airport community is cast in a darker light. Here, an actual survivor emerges from the plane and the denizens of the airport shoot him. We really didn't need that bit of add-on melodrama. Perhaps it was put in there to give the Prophet a motivation to react against and eventually leave the community; however, the paradox of an improvised democratic community giving rise to an authoritarian force provides enough grist for the mill. I also found that the presence of the plane as a silent ever-present tomb was much more effective.

 

The Prophet in the series was portrayed as more New-Agey rather than the straight patriarchal Bible-bound fundamentalist – with a penchant for multiple teenaged brides – as in the book. However, the book version resonated much more for me, given that fundamentalist movements have expanded their influence in our post-pandemic world.  

 

In the book, comics artist Miranda and Arthur Leander had been childhood friends on a small island off Canada’s west coast. This underpinned their relationship and gave some soul to Arthur’s character, who comes across as a simple vain-glorious star in the series.

 

This link is worth a look for a consideration of Station Eleven that takes a more critical look at the book:

https://electricliterature.com/white-futurism-no-longer-holds-center-stage-in-hbos-station-eleven/

 

For fans of Station Eleven in any form, I’d recommend St John Mandel’s latest book Sea of Tranquillity. It is a multi-stranded novel involving time travel and narratives across different time-lines, reminding me of David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas. And guess what? One strand concerns an author who has written a novel about a pandemic, who is faced with a real pandemic on a book tour.

 

And over the holidays I’ve read SJM's The Glass Hotel, the book that actually followed Station Eleven and preceded Sea of Tranquillity. There is a touch of ghostiness but little SF here; however, the book sets out some of the table for the book that followed it. I actually had this on my Kindle for a long time. Something about a fancy hotel, a Ponzi scheme and very posh people? Not really my cuppa. However, this book is as mysterious and wonderful as anything else that SJM has written. You also will get the back story of several characters you meet in Sea of Tranquillity.  

 

It does appear that Emily has committed trilogy! Whether this will be reflected in further TV series is another matter. 

 

 

The Mayfair Witches (series on AMC)

 

 

I’ve not yet seen this because it hasn’t been released yet! Therefore, this isn’t a review or a piece of criticism, but a look at the anticipation and apprehension that greets an adaption like this. Anne Rice’s Mayfair Witches trilogy had been a major literary love of mine in the 1990s. 

 

There was meant to ne a film of the first book, The Witching Hour, with Michelle Pfeiffer as Rowan Mayfair in the 1990s. I don’t know who was meant to play the other characters but in my fantasy casting Daniel Day Lewis would have played Lasher and Mickey Rourke would be Michael Curry. Shame that film never got made.

 

At the same time, I now appreciate that a drama series would do these books – or even one of these books – more justice than a film.

 

So I watched a couple of the trailers. What I saw filled me with some alarm, along with curiosity. WTF is that snaky tentacle thing doing there with that lady in bed? Oh no, do we get the trope of the beautiful shapeshifter really being a yukky slimy thingy? Double oh no, don’t tell me that Lasher will have a beard (inspired by a photo of Jack Huston, who will play the entity). And Rowan’s shiny eyes (full Midwich Cuckoo stuff) in one of the adverts also inspired some misgivings. 

 

In the original trilogy, there is some discontinuity between The Witching Hour and Lasher. In the first, Lasher is a discorporate entity who is fascinated by the fleshly world and takes his route of entering it through pleasures of the flesh. He takes human form and male at that because that’s the way to go! The second book introduces a lost race of very tall slender and long-lived people, and Lasher is one of them and seeks to bring them back. Sometimes the two concepts don’t mesh but the jarring interface between the two is overcome by the perfection that is the third volume, Taltos.

 

I look forward to seeing how the drama series joins the concepts. 

 

Wednesday (Netflix)

 

Finally, I've enjoyed Wednesday on Netflix. Of course, I had my initial worries. Will the sharp satirical edge of the Addams Family films get dissolved in some generic teen drama? I still seasonally post the Thanksgiving skit sequence from Addams Family Values each year.

 

But the first scene, where Wednesday puts piranhas in the school swimming pool, proved these fears proved groundless. The series was a delight. I was especially taken by its 'too weird for even the weirdos' theme, which is often how I feel at F/SF conventions! 

 

 

Rosanne Rabinowitz's novella Helen's Story was a finalist for the 2013 Shirley Jackson Award and she has contributed work to a variety of anthologies from acclaimed independent publishers such as Egaeus Press and Swan River Press. Her first collection of short fiction, Resonance & Revolt, was published by Eibonvale Press in 2018 and shortlisted for the British Fantasy Award. Her chapbook All That is Solid is available from Eibonvale Press as well and it has also been published in German.

Rosanne lives in South London, working as a carer and a freelance editor. She enjoys strong coffee, whisky and jumping around to raucous music of all genres. She also likes a good schlep around her neighborhood and visits to a local pub once frequented by William Blake. She often engages in fretting, nail-biting, sarcasm and satire.

For more information visit: rosannerabinowitz.wordpress.com. Follow Rosanne on Twitter: https://twitter.com/RoRabz