Showing posts with label star trek voyager. Show all posts
Showing posts with label star trek voyager. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 24, 2026

Temper Tantrums

I was recently talking about the Star Trek: Voyager episode "State of Flux" with someone, and that made me go look up the retro review I wrote of it in 2015, after a long and delightful conversation on Facebook mostly with the people with whom I originally watched the show in the 1990s. On that rewatch, I had discovered that Tuvok used the phrase "defined parameters" in a conversation with Chakotay in this first season episode -- a phrase that any Janeway/Chakotay fan can tell you is extremely loaded because of the second season episode "Resolutions", in which Janeway tells Chakotay that they need to "define some parameters...about us" and Chakotay responds by telling her the Angry Warrior story. There is no way to read it other than a love scene, even if you decide that love is not romantic. It made me think about all the ways the Voyager writers had seemed very deliberately to be setting up a Janeway/Chakotay relationship that was more than platonic, which they scrapped and sabotaged in later seasons in ways that seemed not only just as deliberate but deliberately nasty, particularly toward Janeway and a lot of her female fans. (Certainly there were some fans who wanted Janeway to be proudly asexual or celibate, and others who wanted to see her in a relationship with Seven of Nine, and the writers seemed even more determined to upset the latter, but that's a different rant.) It all made me remember how Trek "professionals" had often treated shippers, long before "shippers" was a fannish term -- particularly the original Kirk/Spock fans, whom the pros had spent years ridiculing, insulting, and belittling in print. One of the biggest examples of that trend occurs in David Gerrold's book The World of Star Trek. Gerrold is most famous for having written the original series episode "The Trouble With Tribbles" when he was quite young, and he spent many years coasting on his fame from that and some interesting but not genre-shaking sci-fi novels. In The World of Star Trek, he wrote about "a disturbing phenomenon...among a group of female Star Trek fans" who "entertain themselves by writing stories in which Kirk and Spock are homosexual lovers." (He footnotes this with "I am not making this up. Honest.") Gerrold adds that "their projection of their own sexual fantasies onto Star Trek has at times been a nuisance for those who actually have to produce the show" and claims that Roddenberry had to "acknowledge their unwelcome invasion of the universe he had created" with a footnote in his novelization of Star Trek: The Motion Picture. Now, the Roddenberry footnote is a topic of discourse by academics as well as fans. Suffice to say that Gerrold is not only summarizing it incorrectly, he is actively sabotaging the way Roddenberry presents Kirk/Spock and the possibility of a romantic relationship. It's worth quoting the footnote in full:

Editor's note: The human concept of friend is most nearly duplicated in Vulcan thought by the term t'hy'la, which can also mean brother and lover. Spock's recollection (from which this chapter has drawn) is that is that it was a most difficult moment for him since he did indeed consider Kirk to have become his brother. However, because t'hy'la can be used to mean lover, and since Kirk's and Spock's friendship was unusually close, this has led to some speculation over whether they had actually indeed become lovers. At our request, Admiral Kirk supplied the following comment on this subject:
'I was never aware of this lovers rumor, although I have been told that Spock encountered it several times. Apparently he had always dismissed it with his characteristic lifting of his right eyebrow which usually connoted some combination of surprise, disbelief, and/or annoyance. As for myself, although I have no moral or other objections to physical love in any of its many Earthly, alien, and mixed forms, I have always found my best gratification in that creature woman. Also, I would dislike being thought of as so foolish that I would select a love partner who came into sexual heat only once every seven years.'

This footnote -- look up the discussion on Fanlore, it's worth it -- accomplishes several things that do the opposite of presenting Kirk/Spock speculation as an unwelcome invasion. First, it indicates that the phenomenon is significant enough that it has come to the attention of the creator of Star Trek and he finds it worth addressing in a lighthearted manner in an official novelization. Second, it leads to the invention of a Vulcan concept that COULD mean Kirk and Spock were lovers to fans who might never once have considered the possibility before. Third, it gives the supposed final word on the subject to legendary horndog James T. Kirk, who does not say anything like it's ridiculous or it never happened -- quite the contrary, he suggests that he's open to all forms of consensual love, that he has tried enough to find that women are most likely to give him what he wants physically, and that his primary source of embarrassment about the rumor with Spock is that people might believe Spock is only really into him once every seven years. Roddenberry could hardly have written anything in an all-ages novel to suggest more directly that Kirk and Spock might have been lovers at some point before the events of Star Trek: The Motion Picture. Gerrold, however, wrote in The World of Star Trek, "When you start messing around in other people's universes...you have to follow the rules of the local creator. If nothing else, it's good manners." (That doesn't seem to have applied to Gerrold's own Star Trek writings, which include "The Cloud Minders" in which Spock goes along with a woman's description of herself as a work of art instead of noting what an illogical description that is, but that's really neither here nor there -- I'm all in favor of professional writers pushing the boundaries of source material just as much as fan writers.) A lot of fans took umbrage to Gerrold's last statement even if Kirk/Spock wasn't their particular interest. Once a fictional universe is on our TVs and in our books, it's ours to interpret and play with as we wish, whether we want to imagine new alien species stranger than the strange new worlds of the show or to think about how Star Trek characters would interact with Doctor Who. So Gerrold got asked about these quotes repeatedly, and he often got cranky replying. At one point Gerrold reportedly wrote that the fact some people saw the K/S relationship as gay was "equally as disturbing" as an incident where a fan committed suicide. Ten years ago, he wrote a post on his Facebook page slamming female viewers with whom he did not agree, calling two of them -- Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath, who like him have published professional Star Trek fiction -- fubba-wubbas ("fat ugly broads with unbelievably bad attitude"). He said similar things at conventions and writers' conferences before he codified this in print. Anyway, when I was reviewing "State of Flux", I was thinking about all the ways in which fans read shows, and how many of them, particularly shippers, have been dismissed and insulted by so-called professionals. So I wrote, "The experience of how [a] relationship plays out is significant to so many fans I’ve known over the years – particularly women – and I don’t care how many tantrums people like David Gerrold throw about how the creators’ statements about the characters are more important than the fans’ perceptions; the creators are not allowed to tell viewers that their lived experience of a story is invalid." (See: Viggo Mortensen on how every reader shares a secret with The Lord of the Rings when they see it, or Daniel Radcliffe on how what readers find in a Harry Potter book is private and sacred no matter what bigoted things the book's author may later say.) By the time my "State of Flux" review went live, I knew better than ever to go back and read the comments on it, let alone to engage with such comments. So it wasn't until my very recent conversation about the episode that I discovered David Gerrold had found and commented on my review: "Nice cheap shot. But I don’t throw tantrums. I respect fans. I celebrate the enthusiasm of fans. I continue to be amazed and astonished at what fans are creating that keeps the Star Trek phenomenon alive even half a century later...I’m as big a fan as anyone. I’ve been a Star Trek fan longer than most. And I really believe in the original vision — that we can be better. So even when I’m misquoted, misinterpreted, or simply lied about, I still don’t throw tantrums. I just raise an eyebrow and say, “Fascinating.” (signed) David Gerrold" You all will have to excuse me if I disbelieve him when he says he respects fans and complains that he's been lied about. In fact, if I were David Gerrold, I would look at my 2016 fubba-wubba comments, apologize profusely, and say yes, indeed, that was a temper tantrum. Because if I look at the things he wrote and accept them as deeply thought out rather than spur of the moment annoyance, I have to conclude that he's deeply misogynistic and does not, in fact, respect fans in the least. But, if the latter is the case, then, belatedly, I'm the one who must apologize for accusing Gerrold of throwing a tantrum; it's possible that he just does hate Star Trek's most devoted viewing audience, and all independent-thinking women who don't let male creators 'splain how they should view the world and imagine the future, that much. Unfortunately, the comments on my review were closed years ago, so I can't say this to Gerrold there. But I can say it to the rest of fandom here.

Tuesday, February 25, 2025

Poem for Tuesday and The Alabaster Owl

I Do Not Collect Owls 
By Dorothy Pope 

Asking for trouble, I suppose,
to put the first one, oddly given
by a dinner guest,
on a complex set of shelves
like noughts and crosses
but with thirty-six partitions,
this a gift from someone else.

Subsequently, friends
have been filling up these squares
with owls: candidates of wood
and china, leather, felt and glass,
of alabaster, even silver.

There are twenty-seven owls now
in this assembled parliament
although, as I keep trying to say,
I do not, never have collected owls.

-------- 

We had a bit of rain early Tuesday, but the weather is supposed to improve steadily this week and reach 60 degrees, so although it was a chilly afternoon when we took an early walk, the views were lovely though the eagles were heard but not seen. I needed to walk early because my Voyager group -- whose name is changing as of tomorrow -- had reached "Endgame" a.k.a. the terrible horrible finale episode, and invited a bunch of our friends from back when it originally aired to watch with us, which made it very fun to watch though still not good. We only booed through the Chakotay/Seven scenes. 

Paul made lasagna while I was watching, which we ate afterward. Then we watched some fourth season House, which I'm finding strange; I don't really love any of the candidates, not even Olivia Wilde or Kal Penn, I hate the way Anne Dudek gets treated for aggressiveness and intelligence that everyone values in men, and I miss seeing Jennifer Morrison and Jesse Spencer more regularly, but I'm also really uncomfortable with the Hunger Games scenario in which doctors get eliminated but it's patients who suffer. People asked to see The Alabaster Owl, the magical decor store in Pike Place Market:

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Tuesday, February 18, 2025

Poem for Tuesday and Carkeek Creatures

Especially When The October Wind 
By Dylan Thomas 

Especially when the October wind
With frosty fingers punishes my hair,
Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire
And cast a shadow crab upon the land,
By the sea's side, hearing the noise of birds,
Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks,
My busy heart who shudders as she talks
Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words.

Shut, too, in a tower of words, I mark
On the horizon walking like the trees
The wordy shapes of women, and the rows
Of the star-gestured children in the park.
Some let me make you of the vowelled beeches,
Some of the oaken voices, from the roots
Of many a thorny shire tell you notes,
Some let me make you of the water's speeches.

Behind a post of ferns the wagging clock
Tells me the hour's word, the neural meaning
Flies on the shafted disk, declaims the morning
And tells the windy weather in the cock.
Some let me make you of the meadow's signs;
The signal grass that tells me all I know
Breaks with the wormy winter through the eye.
Some let me tell you of the raven's sins.

Especially when the October wind
(Some let me make you of autumnal spells,
The spider-tongued, and the loud hill of Wales)
With fists of turnips punishes the land,
Some let me make of you the heartless words.
The heart is drained that, spelling in the scurry
Of chemic blood, warned of the coming fury.
By the sea's side hear the dark-vowelled birds.

-------- 

Tuesday was a beautiful day and surprisingly warm -- over 55 degrees. I had to do the laundry I put off on the holiday Monday, and I had a bunch of other chores, but I also got to talk to Alice for an hour and Tracey for an hour and a half while I was doing them, so I had a nice day. We took a walk to the park to enjoy the afternoon, saw three eagles, then came home for my Voyager group though we didn't watch the finale because one person had to leave early. 

We ate our leftover dinners from Valentine's Day at Yummy Pho for dinner, then we watched this week's Paradise, which remains really well-paced and well-acted. We also watched the first episode of the new season of White Lotus -- one of those shows I don't really love but they keep having cast members I do love, this time Jason Isaacs and Carrie Coon -- and a House episode. Some of the crabs, snails, and other small beach creatures we saw at Carkeek Park on Sunday: 

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Tuesday, February 11, 2025

Poem for Tuesday and Botanical Garden Blooms

Thy Fingers Make Early Flowers 
By e e cummings 

Thy fingers make early flowers
of all things.
thy hair mostly the hours love:
a smoothness which
sings,saying
(though love be a day)
do not fear,we will go amaying.

thy whitest feet crisply are straying.
Always
thy moist eyes are at kisses playing,
whose strangeness much
says;singing
(though love be a day)
for which girl art thou flowers bringing?

To be thy lips is a sweet thing
and small.
Death,thee i call rich beyond wishing
if this thou catch,
else missing.
(though love be a day
and life be nothing,it shall not stop kissing).

-------- 

Tuesday was a gorgeous clear day, but cold -- around freezing when we took a walk in the mid-afternoon, but 20s now going down into the teens overnight. Three of the swans were in the lake all morning and afternoon, along with cormorants, ducks, geese, and mergansers fighting over the fish they were catching. 

My Voyager group watched the second-to-last episode, the forgettable Renaissance Man, in which the Doctor is reduced to comic relief. We had Taco Tuesday for dinner and now we're watching the House at the end of the second season in which he gets shot. First flowers at Bellevue Botanical Garden last weekend:

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Tuesday, February 04, 2025

Poem for Tuesday and Redmond Snow

Snow 
By Louis MacNeice 

The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.

World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of things being various.

And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes–
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of your hands --
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.

-------- 

My Canadian friends tell me that what we got overnight does not really count as "snow" where they live, but we did get some flakes in the early hours and may get more overnight. It made for scenic views of the lake and park on Tuesday, and the geese didn't even seem to mind it much, though the coots were scooting around nervously by the dock. 

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My Voyager group including some of the aforementioned Canadians watched the third-to-last episode, "Homestead" -- probably the best Neelix episode, though not the best Janeway episode -- after which we ate leftovers for dinner. Then we watched a few more first season House eps while I chatted with my good friend in London and organized some files. 

Tuesday, January 21, 2025

Poem for Tuesday and USS Constitution

From the Aeneid Book 6 
By Virgil 
Translated by John Dryden 

The gates of hell are open night and day; 
Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: 
But to return, and view the cheerful skies, 
In this the task and mighty labour lies. 

-------- 

Tuesday had weather as beautiful as the weekend's, which I appreciated even more after talking to friends further east who have bitter cold and snow! We had gorgeous sunshine and both pairs of eagles in the trees between us and the park, plus lots of ducks and geese now that Idylwood Park has finally had the tree restoration company out to clean up the remains of the storm that knocked out our power for a week. I spent a lot of time on Facebook changing my settings to keep as much personal information away from Meta and the lunatics in DC, where the news keeps going from atrocious to hideous. My Voyager group watched the distasteful "Natural Law" before dinner. 

After Beyond Burgers, we watched Gladiator II on Paramount Plus. I had braced myself to dislike it despite the cast because nobody can be Russell Crowe in the original Gladiator, and indeed nobody was, but Mescal and Pascal are both impressive and Denzel Washington steals every scene he's in, though I found it impossible to root for his character. One arena fight has great visuals while another is terrible (though that one involves animals, so I was just as happy it looked fake). Nielsen should have had more to do in place of half an hour of gratuitous fighting, and two crazy emperors are not better than one. Sort of in Russell's honor, the USS Constitution last week:

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Tuesday, January 14, 2025

Greetings from Home

I misjudged my timing this evening while catching up on TV -- first the season finale of Skeleton Crew with Cheryl, then Silo, The Agency, and The Way Home -- but most of my day was not exciting anyway, since there were three laundry loads, a huge amount of unpacking, and a lot of unsorted wedding photos to deal with. 

We did manage a short walk before my Voyager group watched "Friendship One" (a.k.a. the one where the writers gratuitously kill off Carey after seven seasons, not doing anything heroic). Here are photos from shopping in Boston's North End, including the famous Bova's Bakery and Bell in Hand, possibly the tavern in O'Brian's The Fortune of War:

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Tuesday, December 17, 2024

Poem for Tuesday and USBG Cacti

The Thanksgiving Cactus 
By Nathan Spoon 

Here in a chair 
in a cozy corner of this room, 
under the glow of a lamp, 
with the sun replaced by 
the moon     hanging 
boldly in the sky, I pause 
to consider the small pink buds 
of a toothed cactus, 

and I pause to consider 
the moon as well,     although 
it is too far away to touch, 
and in my pausing I feel 
as if I am a wave on the ocean 
or a seed     pulsing 
in a warmer season, now 
that the leaves have gone 

from most of the trees, now 
that frost dusts the brittle grass 
most mornings, now 
that weather keeps us more 
indoors,     so that we are more 
able to be together, even more 
together, even during moments 
in lamplight     like this one.

-------- 

My throat is still horribly sore, but my covid test is still negative, so I just took it very easy on Tuesday -- slept late, did some reading, considered going for a walk but it was raining really hard. So I did some cleaning, then my Voyager group watched "Author, Author" (not one of my favorites, but admittedly I hate the way pretty much every character is written by this point of the seventh season). 

Cheryl and I watched Skeleton Crew together before dinner (pace a little slow this week, but it's fun not knowing what Jude Law is up to and the droid, as is so often the case, steals scenes), and now we're giving Doctor Odyssey another try after reading fun internet theories, trying to figure out whether he's in a coma or purgatory or what. Cacti and desert plants at the US Botanical Garden:

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