A Small Ai no Kusabi Manifesto
Feb. 6th, 2010 07:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
labingiMy AnK fic was nominated for an AnK prize at yaoiworld.net, and thus, I was asked to contribute a statement about AnK. I thought I would post it here as well. It ended up being basically an analysis of AnK as tragedy:
Ai no Kusabi is a proper tragedy. It works on us just as Aristotle might predict, arousing catharsis (a pleasurable pain) by making us feel pity and fear for the tragic hero(es) who orchestrate their own fall. The principal four characters all have an element of tragic heroism, a flaw that is the dark side of their strength. Iason is brilliant and passionate, but his cold brilliance has taught him nothing of how to live with passion. He bumbles through love as if inventing it, as indeed, among Blondies, he is. Riki is proud and strong, but his pride and strength refuse to seek help by confiding in Guy and, thus, he suffers alone and alienates his partner. And Guy... how ingenious it is to have as antagonist one of the nicest characters in the story. Guy is kind and supportive; he'll bend over backwards for Riki, but he bends so far he breaks. And then there's Katze, cool, competent, and contained: an excellent survival strategy that also guarantees he will never be understood, never loved.
Out of these failings arises the tragic progress of the story. Iason tramples Riki. Riki alerts Guy to this in the worst possible way. Guy seeks revenge (or restitution?), which like most rage burns everyone in its path. And Katze, who holds all the emotional cards, does almost nothing until it is too late. Yes, I pity them and fear for them, and admire them too, each in his way.
While in some ways, it is a traditional tragedy, Ai no Kusabi also speaks to the modern psyche. It has multiple protagonists and, like the best dialogic novels, allows each character to act out of his own motivations, to be the center of his own drama. The narrative is fair to everyone. It is also a dystopia. Like classic tragedies, it ends with a restoration of the social order, but here, this traditionally pacifying move serves only to reassert Tanagura's tyranny. This, too, arouses pity and fear and makes us ponder the dynamics of entrenched domination. Yet it gives us a consolation, too, that classic tragedies often deny: it leaves two of its major and fascinating characters alive at the end. And that is how I became a Katze/Guy shipper.
Ai no Kusabi is a proper tragedy. It works on us just as Aristotle might predict, arousing catharsis (a pleasurable pain) by making us feel pity and fear for the tragic hero(es) who orchestrate their own fall. The principal four characters all have an element of tragic heroism, a flaw that is the dark side of their strength. Iason is brilliant and passionate, but his cold brilliance has taught him nothing of how to live with passion. He bumbles through love as if inventing it, as indeed, among Blondies, he is. Riki is proud and strong, but his pride and strength refuse to seek help by confiding in Guy and, thus, he suffers alone and alienates his partner. And Guy... how ingenious it is to have as antagonist one of the nicest characters in the story. Guy is kind and supportive; he'll bend over backwards for Riki, but he bends so far he breaks. And then there's Katze, cool, competent, and contained: an excellent survival strategy that also guarantees he will never be understood, never loved.
Out of these failings arises the tragic progress of the story. Iason tramples Riki. Riki alerts Guy to this in the worst possible way. Guy seeks revenge (or restitution?), which like most rage burns everyone in its path. And Katze, who holds all the emotional cards, does almost nothing until it is too late. Yes, I pity them and fear for them, and admire them too, each in his way.
While in some ways, it is a traditional tragedy, Ai no Kusabi also speaks to the modern psyche. It has multiple protagonists and, like the best dialogic novels, allows each character to act out of his own motivations, to be the center of his own drama. The narrative is fair to everyone. It is also a dystopia. Like classic tragedies, it ends with a restoration of the social order, but here, this traditionally pacifying move serves only to reassert Tanagura's tyranny. This, too, arouses pity and fear and makes us ponder the dynamics of entrenched domination. Yet it gives us a consolation, too, that classic tragedies often deny: it leaves two of its major and fascinating characters alive at the end. And that is how I became a Katze/Guy shipper.
