What proof do you have that J.K. Rowling isn't an officer of the Ministry of Magic sent to narrate the story of Harry Potter to us Muggles as a test? Can you, with absolute certainty, say that there isn’t a Department of Muggle Acclimatization hidden somewhere in the vast Ministry studying and analyzing if we’ll ever be ready to perceive the magical world entirely?
There is no proof.
We ate the story up. Harry Potter is the highest-selling book series of all time. It has sold more than 500 million copies and has been translated into over 80 languages. J.K. Rowling has cemented her legacy as a fantasy giant. No one can rip her crown away.
Yet, it isn't Harry Potter and his story that makes me marvel. It's the Pottermore/Wizarding World books.
I came across the Wizarding World books last year and I have since consumed them all, scarfing them down with an alacrity reserved for thieves. These books aren't stories per se. Instead, the short stories are tiny windows J.K Rowling uses to give us a glimpse into other parts of Harry Potter's universe.
They provide in-depth knowledge of characters, politics, and events in the wizarding world. McGonagall, Dolores Umbridge, Sybil Trelawney, and various ministers of Magic are some of the subjects discussed in these books.
In my consumption of these books, no matter how rabid it might have been, one thought rang clear in my mind: J.K. Rowling researched and prepared.
Her research and preparation might have been clear from the onset, right from "Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone", but the Wizarding World books brought that fantastic preparation to the fore. The history of magic, obscure characters that readers never thought of, and events only mentioned in passing in the original books. Through the lens of the Wizarding World books, the beauty of the magic was revealed in its details.
At the risk of sounding like an Instagram guru: You can steal J.K Rowling's writing strategy.
How?
Now, there are different ways to classify authors and writers. One of the most common grouping is into plotters and pantsers.
The term "plotters" is used to refer to authors who prefer to plot and thoroughly outline their stories before starting to write. Pantsers are on the other side of the spectrum. These are writers who jump into the story with an idea of the plot and work out the details during and after the writing process.
Whether you identify as a plotter or a pantser, all writers need to research and prepare. Even when you are writing something you feel you are an expert in, you need some preparation and research. This might scare some writers. Multiple browser tabs open, numerous sheets of paper littering their desk, combing through books for information on a forgotten language.
Yes, research can be daunting. There, however, is a simple way to approach book research.
Write down a typical day in your character's life. Better still, write down a typical day in your life.
When do you brush your teeth? When do you have breakfast? What do you have for breakfast? How do you get to work/school? What did you discuss with your neighbour yesterday?
You and your characters might not have remotely the same kind of day. After all, J.K. Rowling never rode a Firebolt or fought a troll. But when you put conscious thought into the little things, your story shines and becomes consistent.
Having little details about your characters makes writer's block look less like a mountain and more like a stepping stone. You can simply go back to your notes and explore the story from another angle. Change a little bit of their daily routine and see what happens.
Not only does having details about your characters make your story consistent and diminish writer's block, but it also gives you extra material to work with. You can write a sequel, a prequel or a spin-off. Or even short stories on your blog.
I know that there has been a lot of discourse about J.K Rowling and her personal beliefs. I pondered publishing this article given her comments during the Olympics. My reasoning, however, is that you don’t have to like her as a person to learn from her writings and research.
If you’re a writer struggling with worldbuilding, you can check out the Pottermore books and study how Rowling reveals new details about the wizarding world. And how those details fit into what we have always suspected or deduced about the world of Harry Potter.
The fact is, no matter how much you write, what the readers see will never be a true representation of all the research and preparation that has gone into the book. It will simply be like observing a floe of ice, unaware of its true size beneath the water.
Still, all the energy and time put into research will be worth it whenever you—or your reader—decide to take a deep dive and explore beneath the surface.
Yatagarasu: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master Episode 15 Review
The episode starts with the monkey attacking our duo.
The Prince is fast. He sweeps Yukiya out of harm’s way and faces off with the large monkey. Well, I don’t really know if I can call it a face-off. Because before we know it, the Prince lops the monkey’s head off with one impressive swing.
We love to see it.
They then go house-to-house in the village, trying to find survivors…or more monkeys. As they search one house, Yukiya finds someone he thinks might be a survivor. The Prince’s eyes flash, almost immediately realizes that it is a monkey. Grabbing onto Yukiya, the faux survivor transforms, growing almost twice in size and holding our dear blockhead son hostage.
The Prince throws his sword, piercing the monkey’s head and saving Yukiya. After ascertaining he is fine, they continue on their search.
In another house, they find a girl, hidden away in a large chest. She is completely unharmed but unconscious (sleeping?). Mind you, she is the same girl we saw in the last episode and the trailer for this arc.
The intrigue is electrifying.
The Prince reaches for her and scoops her in his arms. As he does, Yukiya calls out, afraid that she might be a monkey in disguise.
The Prince corrects him. She isn’t.
“She is a Yatagarasu. I have no power to harm her.”
What does that mean? Does that mean that the Prince can’t harm Yatagarasu? But he fought off his attackers during the assassination attempt in episode 10. The statement is not clarified and we move to another scene.
Under the command of Yukiya’s father, the Taruhi clan mobilizes soldiers to scour the countryside and the girl is placed under surveillance.
Nazukihiko swiftly summons the four houses to inform them of the situation at hand. Quite ungraciously, but completely in line with his character, he brings the monkey's severed head to the purple hall, sarcastically calling the head “smelling salts” that will wake the drowsy ministers right up.
What are we to do with our kin’u?
The Prince issues emergency orders. Soldiers are to be mobilized, villages are to be searched and vigilance is the watchword.
The girl wakes up and is questioned by elders in Taruhi, including Yukiya’s big brother. She explains how she got to the village, alleging that she and her father brought sake from the Center. She got drunk and fell asleep.
Yukiya, watching the deposition, is not impressed. He is still deeply suspicious of the girl. They ask her to transform to confirm she is a Yatagarasu. She does and while she is still searching for her father, the Taruhi family decide to take her in.
Yukiya, though, is not taking any chances. He watches her from a distance, studying her as she washes, cleans and does other work around the house.
His mother catches him and asks him why he is so suspicious. I honestly think Yukiya’s demeanour is a result of his time in the Center. Trust no one, question everything.
I understand his suspicion but the way it contrasts with the others around him is a sign that he has changed from the pre-Center Yukiya.
His father returns with disturbing news. There are no survivors in or around Sugou, the attacked village. Even more disturbing, there is a pattern to the bloodbath. Yukiya’s dad reports that while the women and children were eaten immediately, the men were chopped up and placed into large pots and salted.
As Yukiya soon points out, this is preservation. The monkeys don’t see the Yatagarasu as persons; they see their crow counterparts as food.
They are intelligent and there is a method to their madness. But how? How did no adult escape, run far and fast enough to warn others of this catastrophe?
Yukiya, again, answers. They had been drinking right? What if there was something in the drink that incapacitated them?
Hmmm.
Are you thinking what I’m thinking?
At that, we are taken to another scene. Yukiya approaches the new girl, now working and living in the Taruhi household. He apologizes for his earlier brusqueness and tries to make amends.
She accepts his apology and they part on good terms.
It feels strange though. We know how much Yukiya distrusts her, and we’ve heard the report from his father concerning the drink and how it might have been laced. And now, suddenly, Yukiya wants to make friends.
It feels like he wants to get closer to her, to get more information from observing her closely. But I don’t know. I can’t say for certain.
Another player is introduced into this already convoluted game.
He passes through Taruhi’s checkpoint and brings information to a shadowy group about the drug “sagecap” that is spreading through the back alleys of Yamauchi.
We have no idea if―and how―this drug relates to the monkey invasion but knowing Yatagarasu, I think it does. We just have to stick around to find out how.
My thoughts so far
Well, if you’ve read any of my previous reviews on this anime, you’d know just how much I enjoy it. Episode 15 was no exception.
I liked the way the Prince killed the first monkey. Just one swing and whoosh!...his head went off.
I want to see more of the Prince’s martial ability. Yes, I know that Yatagarasu is more of a political intrigue and suspense anime but I wish we’d get more displays of the Prince’s power. Show us just how powerful he is compared to the rest of the yatagarasu. Show us what makes Nazukihiko the kin’u.
I love the fact that the monkeys are indistinguishable from the yatagarasu in human form. It adds another layer of deception and suspense to the action. I want to see how that plays out.
We saw more of Yukiya’s older brother in this episode. Obviously, as the action is taking place in Taruhi, a domain he will inherit from his father, it makes sense that he is at the forefront of the clan’s response to the threat.
That reduces the focus on Yukiya―in a good way―and hopefully, we begin to see more sibling dynamics.
Okay, now to what I didn’t like.
Yes, I’m enjoying this arc. Only two episodes in, but it has a lot of promise and I know the show will deliver.
However, it seems a little abrupt.
We went from core court drama, from picking the new Empress of Yamauchi, from opposing the current Empress and countering her machinations to tackling aggressive monkeys?
Yes, I know the problem isn’t as simple as it seems. I know it probably is a more complex issue beneath the surface. I know that the sagecap drug is somehow involved in this.
But…I don’t know, it seems like an abrupt departure from the political scandals we are used to.
While I am enjoying this series of episodes, I hope to see more of the Prince’s ascent to the throne and all the scheming that will surely follow suit.
Have you watched episode 15 of Yatagarasu: Karasu wa Aruji Erabanai? What did you think?
P.S.: Yes, I know I am behind. Life happened but I am catching up. Please bear with me.
"Don't write your life.”
More than useless, it’s impossible advice.
No matter how hard we try as writers, pieces of our personality—our biases, dislikes, fears, and aspirations—make it into our writing. It doesn't matter if you're an author who deals strictly with the fantastical world, or if you're a writer who believes that horror is your calling.
It doesn't matter if the books you write are set in a world thousands of years into the future where spaceships are the most common form of transportation or thousands of years into the past where the number of camels one possesses is a sign of wealth. It doesn't matter if it's an imagined world or a real one.
When we write, fragments of our soul stain our work like ink blotches on parchment. This elusive essence—the only unintentional aspect of our writing—coagulates, condensing into what readers will eventually call our writing style.
Study the writing style; understand the author. Don't write your life? Osamu Dazai begs to differ.
One could argue that all writings by the Japanese author were autobiographical. The novelettes, the short stories, and the full-length novels. The numerous characters and the different settings. The struggles, the triumphs, the failures. The pain.
I used to see "No Longer Human," a pseudo-autobiographical book by Osamu Dazai, as a long suicide note; the only one of his works that really captured his struggle with life. With time, and with further analysis of his other works, I began to see that all of Dazai's writings hinted at his self-destructiveness.
Osamu Dazai wrote his life. Not like an old man, writing his past under a dim light with a fountain pen and leather-bound journal. No. Osamu Dazai's writing is akin to that of a cameraman, an omniscient narrator, telling a story he'd rather forget.
The writing of "No Longer Human" is fiercely controlled. Every comma and period obstinately placed, every word a careful stencil. The book is mesmerizing; its premise is a little less than a psychedelic, pulling you into the world of a man divested from humanity.
Another translation of the Japanese title, "äŗŗéå¤±ę ¼" is "Disqualified as a Human Being." I prefer this rendition. I feel like it lays the premise of the book bare. A boy, then a young man, struggling to understand the most basic of all social cues. An isolated man, standing on one side of a vast chasm, while the rest of humanity stands on the other.
The book explores the various ways in which the protagonist tries to bridge this gap. Tomfoolery, alcoholism, harlotry, drug abuse, and self-directed violence.
I don't and will not recommend this book to anyone. I only ask people if they've read it and if they have, what they thought about it.
Shuji Tsushima is the person. Osamu Dazai is the pen name. Oba Yozo is the character.
Layers separate us, the readers, from Shuji Tsushima. Yet, by reading any of his works—"No Longer Human" in particular—we begin to understand Tsushima. Our understanding, however, is cut short. Tsushima died by suicide, six days away from his 39th birthday.
The first two lines of "No Longer Human" are:
"Mine has been a life of much shame.
I can't even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being."
What a book.
Fortunately for me, after intense prayer, I opened Chrome and typed "Lockwood & Co. book" into the search bar. Before depressing the enter button, the suggestion "Lockwood & Co. book reading order" came up, and I clasped my hands in quiet but intense relief.
There was a book.
The Netflix series, I felt, was a very well-crafted show about a modern-day London haunted by restless spirits. Visitors, as they were called. Right from the first episode, I was charmed; the cinematography, the dialogue, the actors, the pacing. Everything. I truly enjoyed the series, and like any other person who just finished watching an engaging show, I went to Google.
Only to find out that the series had been cancelled.
Are you serious?
The series had been cancelled.
Fortunately, Google didn't disappoint me twice. Another search revealed that "Lockwood & Co." did have a book (book series to be exact) and after raising my eyes to the heavens in gratitude, I got to reading.
Jonathan Stroud's Lockwood & Co. is a thrilling and captivating story about a world where ghosts roam and only young people possess the ability to sense —and therefore fight—them. Stroud's masterful writing created a blend of mystery, intrigue, suspense, and humour (think dry sarcasm) as powerful as a moose kick.
Consider me moose kicked.
The titular character is Anthony Lockwood, a charismatic young man with a reckless desire to prove himself. He is the owner of Lockwood and Co, a ramshackle ghost-hunting agency. Along with Lucy Carlyle —the character who narrates the events to us— and George Cubbins —a chubby and robust intellectual, Lockwood tackles haunted London, solving mysteries that lead them closer to the source of the Problem.
The characters are so original.
Lockwood, Lucy, George and all the other characters in the book were brought to life with skilful dialogue and humorous interplay. Stroud's writing makes you feel like you could meet Lockwood at the newspaper stand, wave to Lucy at the bus stop, or bump into George at the library archives and cause all sorts of books and article clippings to tumble out of his hands.
At the end of book one, you can predict with confidence what each character would typically wear, and what they would bring out of a burning house.
The world-building is also praiseworthy.
London is the site of millions of stories, written and unwritten. We know London. This city, however, feels both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The streets remain the same, the bus stops unchanged, but the effect of the hauntings cannot be overlooked. Therefore, in Stroud's London, it is not uncommon to see a house protected by ghost-repelling iron and silver.
The cases and investigations that form the backbone of the story are woven and layered exquisitely. Like gas filling an enclosed room, the suspense builds, keeping you tense but expectant. Yet, the pacing is balanced, allowing for moments of quiet reflection, while maintaining a steady momentum that propels the plot forward.
Now, on Netflix, the relationship between Lockwood and Lucy hints at future romance, while in the book the relationship remains platonic. Do I have a preference? Funnily enough, I don't. Netflix made some changes to the plot to allow for easier adaptation but…I really can't find fault with it.
The progression of the relationship felt natural and was properly integrated into the story so much so that I was expecting something similar when I began reading the book. Then again, this might just be a side effect of watching the show first.
Moreover, the series explores themes of loss, friendship, and the consequences of past actions. The emotional depth and growth of the characters, especially Lucy, as she grapples with her tragic past, are evident throughout the book. Stroud seamlessly blends the supernatural with the human, creating a story that resonates beyond the ghostly encounters.
Overall, the "Lockwood & Co" book series is hauntingly good and is a must-read for anyone who wants a ghost-tinged adventure.
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