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I've been thinking about a certain sentiment I've seen expressed here and there. Caricatured, it goes like this: You guys who complain that Lex just can't catch a break (and makes really stupid choices on occasion, though so far those are less in evidence this season – I know, I know, give him time) should shut up, because you knew what you were signing on for from the get-go. I mean, come on, fifty years of canon has got to count as fair warning, right? It's not as if the end was unwritten.
I see the justice in this point, and yet I can't help but feel that there's another side: from my perspective, I didn't "sign on"; I got drafted. I wasn't looking for a new fandom and I most assuredly wasn't looking to fall in love with the bad-guy-to-be. Yes, I knew all along that it would end badly for the character I care most about. And yes, perhaps a stronger person than I am would have resisted. But I didn't know when I fell in love how much it would hurt, and I didn't experience the process as a choice. So when I talk about how my heart is being put through the juicer every time Lex steps or is pushed closer to the darkness, it's not because I expected different or thought the show owed me better. (The show owes me better continuity and characterization, but that's a separate issue.) It's because my heart is being put through the juicer, and I wish things were different. That's why I write fan fiction, after all – because in my dreams, sometimes things work out differently.
Why we end up with one fandom over another is often a mysterious process. By all rights, I should be far more fond of Daniel Jackson and (early) Willow Rosenberg than I in fact am, though I like them fine. My appreciation of John Crichton, while robust, is not as knee-jerk as my feelings for Scully and Lex. I suppose the reason the criticism "it's silly to complain when you knew what was coming" stings so much is precisely that, because I don't feel that I chose my allegiances, it feels like my personality is being criticized – whatever it is about me that led me to glom on to Lex – and not just my view of my show.
I see the justice in this point, and yet I can't help but feel that there's another side: from my perspective, I didn't "sign on"; I got drafted. I wasn't looking for a new fandom and I most assuredly wasn't looking to fall in love with the bad-guy-to-be. Yes, I knew all along that it would end badly for the character I care most about. And yes, perhaps a stronger person than I am would have resisted. But I didn't know when I fell in love how much it would hurt, and I didn't experience the process as a choice. So when I talk about how my heart is being put through the juicer every time Lex steps or is pushed closer to the darkness, it's not because I expected different or thought the show owed me better. (The show owes me better continuity and characterization, but that's a separate issue.) It's because my heart is being put through the juicer, and I wish things were different. That's why I write fan fiction, after all – because in my dreams, sometimes things work out differently.
Why we end up with one fandom over another is often a mysterious process. By all rights, I should be far more fond of Daniel Jackson and (early) Willow Rosenberg than I in fact am, though I like them fine. My appreciation of John Crichton, while robust, is not as knee-jerk as my feelings for Scully and Lex. I suppose the reason the criticism "it's silly to complain when you knew what was coming" stings so much is precisely that, because I don't feel that I chose my allegiances, it feels like my personality is being criticized – whatever it is about me that led me to glom on to Lex – and not just my view of my show.
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