wtardieu

I’m actually much happier with this ending, though I might be happier still if she died. I was never a fan of the Disney version, Ariel losing most points as an admirable princess for her selfishness, entitlement and trivial longings. I feel that Anderson’s message has to do with coveting. Ariel is a (walking) symbol for the-grass-is-greener cliche. Sure, many princesses seek out a world unknown to them, but for more substantive reasons and at lower stakes. Rapunzel longed for knowledge and her own sense of identity, questioning the reality fed to her by Mother Gothel (Allegory of the Cave motif). Mulan was driven out by the desire to defend family, and even Elsa sought out a haven for herself where she could do no harm. Ariel had a pretty sweet life and, despite the wise advice from everyone, including the person who would ultimately curse her, she still chose to covet. If anything, that’s Anderson’s Christian message. Count your blessings and avoid looking to the other. She rejects her place and role for no practical reason. At least the other princesses had noble reasons (at least, in the Disney versions). So ungrateful. “in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:18
Ariel – the first Millennial.

I see many influences of Tolkien in The Legend of Zelda. Even the use of a world map in the very first game, and the use of Chosen One and Wise Old Man archetypes harken back to the Tolkien universe. (It is a Gandalf-like figure who gives Link his first sword.) While it’s true that Zelda and many other games incorporate common and ancient mythological archetypes, I think the author has a point that it’s the culture and iterations of those archetypes that are borrowed from LOTR. There is a Death Mountain/Mordor comparison, an into-the-cave-with-a-light-theme, giant spiders, and even a psychic mentor connection between the wise and solemn female royalty figure and the hero (Galadriel and Frodo).

I’ve always loved the games that drop you right back at the checkpoint so you can master whatever gauntlet has you stuck. It exercises endurance, diligence, and adaptability. It forces you to try something different each time. I’ve come to never expect to beat the Dark Souls chapter boss on even the third try. Some of them are so intimidating, I wonder if someone is going to come on screen and go “Just kidding. We had you there. You actually thought beating this thing was possible?” I always know I’m going to have to treat it like a project. Learning through failure and sorting out pros and cons is what the game truly teaches. The hollowing punishments feature seems a lot like choosing an insurance plan. Higher deductible or lower premiums? How much do you really want to pay out-of-pocket?

I think the reason we struggle with this question is because so many of us view writing as an art form. If we view it as a skill, it’s easier to say whether we can teach it or not. The answer for me is a resounding “yes”, but I’m a writing teacher, so I’m biased. Also, the author separates fiction and non-fiction and categorizes one as artistry and the other as critical thinking, but I believe each requires both. I don’t think there is any less artistry in crafting non-fiction or any less critical thinking in crafting something completely made-up. I think writing can be taught if the approach is to guide a student toward having the desired effect on their readers, whatever that may be. Often writing programs will wrangle a genre writer into writing literary fiction on the basis of creating “fine art”. That’s not turning out writers, that’s turning out puppets. I also disagree that writing a book doesn’t necessarily make you a writer. Sure it does, just maybe not a good one.