The Miranda tale

I´m working on my graphic novel "The Inner Monster". This is a fantasy tale. To analyze the Jackson film of The Lord of the Rings should give me some insights in how this works. Why fantasy? What psychological needs are being met?
I heard someone say that some people does not have a inner voice in their heads. That shocked me. The inner voice that speaks to me, my voice, is vital to my happiness and comfort. It tells me the Ingalill story, the tale that is created just for me, it structures my experiences and explain them. It speaks my logic, which sometimes don´t compares with the official outer world logic at all. The outer world has quite strict rules: the reality must be something we all can agree upon. This consensus bind us to each other, but can be misused. Think about the frames of christianity in its negative aspects, or communism. You cannot, or should not press your own world view upon others, but it is done all the time.
Fantasy literature do not have so rigid bonds. It can write about the world as you think it should be, or fear it could be. I find fantasy to be a road to freedom. The only borders are my own limit.

In the Inner Monster I´ll try to describe the loss of trust. What makes some people to become monsters in the eye of society? Fritzl, Bundy, Mengele, sometime they must have had a choice to become something other than sadists. What stories did they tell themselves? Were there any stories at all?

Lord of the Rings -my precious ...

Illustration by Alan Lee: Orthanc, the tower in Isengaard

For five days I´ve looked at the stuff on the special extended edition DVD box of the Lotr films by Pete Jackson and his fabulous crew. Wow, what a work! I´m too close still to come up with any art critic. The spirit behind the film-making, however, is easy to say something about. What love. And heroic bravery in taking it on and going through with it. My sincere respect to Peter Jackson for daring to push everything to it´s limits, and insisting upon fine details as well as gigantic scenes.
That speaks about real love given freely, and not bought love.
I´m going to look more, and I´m going to write about it. Just knowing about the beautiful miniatures and the big miniatures they built, make me awed when I look at the scenery in the films, many many highlights: Helm´s Deep, Isengaard, Lothlorien, Minas Tirith, The Black Gates, The City of the Dead. Fantastic.

I think Jackson did the absolutely right thing in inviting Alan Lee and John Howe, the two famous Tolkien- illustrators, to design the film. It was the link to the past the film needed. Their knowledge was invaluable. And thanks to those two, that they said yes, and joined.

A very small fairy-tale.

Once upon a time there was a young boy nine years old. He lived with a mother who had a broken heart. He had a best friend, a rabbit named Moe. They used to escape under the garden fence and play in the green woods behind. A thursday afternoon they came upon an old shack leaning towards an oak tree. The door was invitingly half-open, and a trail of edible mushrooms grew over the doorstep and inside. "Let´s go inside"! Said the boy. He always thought a short time ahead, if at all. "Wait", said Moe. "You know what a trap is? It looks just like this." "What do we do then"? asked the boy. "We hide and wait." said Moe.
They found a hiding-place under a green bush, and a brown bear came by, by- and by. He ate the mushrooms all into the shack. All went silent. "Let´s go and see what did happen." whispered the boy. "Wait", said Moe. "If the bear is inside, alive and well, he´ll eat us. If the bear is dead, then who killed him? Maybe the killer wants to kill some more?" "What do we do then?"asked the boy. "We hide and wait", said Moe.
After a while they heard footsteps approaching, and a hunter came, with his gun ready, following the trail of the bear. He saw the shack, and with great caution, he sneaked up to the half-open door and peeped inside. Then he went inside.
Everything went silent. The boy and Moe looked at each other.
"What now"? asked the boy. "Shall we go inside and help the hunter with the bear?" "It wasn´t the hunter who set the trap" said Moe. "Always look at the body language. He didn´t know what was inside. He was insecure, and those edible mushrooms? Any animal could have walked into the trap, even a child. No, a bone, or a piece of flesh to lure a bear or a wolf would have been his choice for bait." "So we wait", said the boy. "You´re a quick learner, Boy." said Moe.
The shack began to move, and changed into a troll. He stretched and yawned, and patted the moss beside the great oak tree.
"A troll"! said the boy. "Let´s run!" "No." said Moe. "You have a little knife in your pocket. It´s made of steel. If you throw the knife over the troll, he´ll bust!" "But how can I throw the knife over the troll when he is as big as a shack?"
"Let me take care of that", said Moe.
Just as the troll laid down to get a nap, Moe jumped forward. "Good evening, mr. Troll." The troll looked around and saw the little rabbit. "Go away before I eat you". Said the troll. "I can´t hear you, mr. Troll", said Moe. He held his paw behind his ear and leaned forward. The troll thought he could lure the rabbit, and get even more food. He crouched down, like he´d try to speak to one who was hard of hearing, and made ready to grab the rabbits ears. "Come a little closer then", the troll said. But Moe backed between two tree-trunks, and said: "I´m a little dizzy too, mr. Troll. I must sit down a little!"
The Troll crept towards the rabbit, and was just at the right angle for the boy to throw his little knife over his head, and the boy did that.
A great bang and a flash, and the troll was gone!
Suddenly the bear, the hunter, and lots of animals and humans appeared, and they all ran away from the woods as fast as their feet could carry them.
Moe and the boy came home late, but the boy´s mother wasn´t angry at all. Her heart had mended, because one of the humans rescued from the troll was her dear husband, the boy´s father. They all lived happily ever after.