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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It's been a while since I've been in SV fandom, and there were a lot of reasons why I bailed, but one of the major reasons was that I saw the future of pain and suffering and decided I couldn't deal.
But sometimes, when I read posts like this (after a long day of reading punch-to-the-gut comics), I find myself wondering if it might not have been easier for me to deal with if SV had given me... hmm. The sort of emotional payoff I'm getting from titles like Nightwing these days, perhaps. The sense that all the pain and suffering, however *awful*, was going to be handled in a way which made sense emotionally and was also *fun to watch*.
I'm not sure.
/wibble
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And, for that matter, what about the simple *fact* that Devin won't be writing Nightwing forever, and the next writer who jumps on board (after a two or three year run, which is really, really *good* for comics) may decide that the characters need to be written in a way which drives me batshit crazy?
I mean, it's exactly what happened to old-school DC fans when Dixon came on, and when Devin ran with Dixon's storylines.
I don't know... I don't think permanence is the issue... at least not for me.