Elizabeth Marshall Thomas, in "The Tribe of the Tiger: Cats and Their Culture" (1994) gives an anthropologist's perspective on feline behavior; such things as the ability of lions to co-exist with pastoralists, if the human population is culturally stable, or new groups of humans don't change "the rules."
(She did a similar volume on canids.)
I don't recall if she mentioned the theory about the importance of people noticing that well-fed cats were better mousers. She gives a lot of examples of stalk-and-pounce as some sort of hard-wired behavior, a craving independent of hunger, and sometimes disconnected from actually hunting and killing.
On "Counter-Earth"
There is actually a nice little summary of the Counter-Earth theory in "Cornzan the Mighty," L. Sprague de Camp's story about the production of an ever-so-slightly-derivative futuristic TV show about a mighty-thewed hero's adventures on the supposed planet.
The producers and the network are show to have some trouble with the Greek term Antichthon, "Opposite-Earth," since "Antic" and "Tik-Ton" both "sound funny," and a real foreign language was, of course, obviously too difficult for American audiences.
It the story had not been published in 1955 (and included in "A Gun for Dinosaur" in 1963), it would probably be taken for a too-obvious parody of both "Hercules" and "Xena," despite the hero's portmanteau name.
On Marion Zimmer Bradley
"Mist of Avalon" was ever-so-slightly constricted by "real history," and some commonplaces of Arthurian legend, but it was a bit more explicit than what I recall of the TV series. Unfortunately, there are inherent problems in writing about "secret traditions" and "holy mysteries."
Her quasi-Arthurian novels naturally share some assumptions about human nature and society with the Darkover books, but she spent decades working out the details of the latter, and the picture there is pretty complex. Ultimately, she had to include a lot of back-tracking to account for assumptions and conventions in Darkover stories written in the 1950s and early 1960s, which she no longer accepted, or in fact never had. (And some of the stories were actually re-written from juvenilia, including fan publications; drastically altered in most cases!)
I have suspected for a while that "Xena" was also a covert "light-weight" allusion to the elment Xenon -- a very mild joke, following the Uranus - Neptune - Pluto / Uranium -Neptunium [in 1941] - Plutonium [in 1942] sequence for the outer Gas Giants and three heavy elements (92, 93, and 94).
I don't know if this has been addressed directly by anyone involved, but I would be surprised if the suggestion is original with me.
The name might also serve as a personified (and feminine) form of xenos (meaning stranger, guest and host), which might have seemed appropriate, too. With the addition of more distint objects to the roster it will probably be seen as less of a "stranger" in the Solar System, so I wouldn't press that interpretation.
Wristle:
Thanks for the confirmation. (I tried running a search on ABE late last night, but got nowhere -- I suspect that I spelled something wrong that I was too tired to recognize.)
According to everything I've seen, the "Galaxy" serialization was under the title "Gravy Planet."
CHip: maybe.
Although my memory, my personal library checklist, a Wikipedia article, and Amazon all agree that the long-delayed sequel to "Space Merchants" was published as "The Merchants War," the Wikipedia entry on Poyhl mentions "The Merchants of Venus" as an actual alternate title for "The Space Merchants."
Amazon has listed a volume under the unfamiliar title of "Venus, Inc." credited to Pohl and Kornbluth, which might be what was meant. It could be an omnibus edition, I suppose: anyone actually familiar with it?
But Amazon also shows Pohl and Julius Schwartz as the author and editor of a DC comic book with the title "The Merchants of Venus." So it looks like it was used somewhere.
There is an actual novel (a mystery) by Ellen Hart with the title "The Merchant of Venus." Amazon carries the paperback -- I don't recall ever seeing a copy.
However, it could have been an alternative (plot give-away) title for "The Space Merchants," a.k.a. "Gravy Planet."
Someone at DC seems to have noticed the odd way super-villains seemed to get early release, and otherwise dodge the prison system. As rational an explanation as any was offered in the "Task Force X" version of the Suicide Squad; a combination of work-release and Time Off for (covertly sanctioned) BAD behavior.
Real-world Military Intelligence links to organized crime go back at least to World War II (see, e.g., Lucky Luciano), so in a world filled with superheroes who like to keep their hands clean, the government considering handing off some of the nasty jobs to imprisoned supervillains is an all-too-plausible development. (The difficulty of establishing deniability might be a practical obstacle -- some of those characters had rather obvious "signatures.")
There is what looks to me like a reasonable summary at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suicide_Squad. I don't vouch for it in detail -- I can't actually recall more than a couple of early appearances. (I had to look it up when the concept was used on "Justice League Unlimited;" for instance, I had completely forgotten the official name, used as the episode title, and Amanda Waller's involvement.)
My point was that the trend toward non-lethal force was established at DC earlier than the Code, and for valid story-telling reasons -- although undoubtedly soon used to excess. (If only because killing off possibly useful villains before getting a response from the readers was so wasteful, and unsuccessful ones weren't worth bringing back in order to kill them off anyway.)
That it later became an enforced policy was important because it delayed reconsideration of the narrative logic of the idea for a long, long time.
While Siegel's Superman was soon toned down, his Slam Bradley continued to "slam" suspects for a long time. Actually killing people in an off-hand manner didn't seem to go with his police persona; he was supposed to be a good guy, and was theoretically answerable to someone. On the other hand, another Siegel creation of the early years, The Spectre, who also operated, when in human form as a police detective, sometimes didn't bother with frightening people into merely confessing. He frightened them to death (and apparently directly into Hell, proving that his action was morally justified).
Of course, being, as originally conceived, already dead himself, and often on speaking terms with the (never very clearly defined) Almighty, he could get away it more easily than Slam.
In one of his later revivals, with the Code a fading memory, The Spectre bypassed the spooky stuff in favor of just ripping the baddies apart, melting their limbs, or otherwise dealing out instant justice; which struck me as awfully petty for a character who a few years before had been seen fighting master-demons, and saving entire parallel universes. (Story-lines which had soon out-lasted their welcome; even "Buffy" could stand only so many Apocalypses in a season!)
The situation was a little different over at Marvel (Atlas, Timely, etc.). Even assuming that the early Human Torch just singed all those criminals, instead of incinerating them, he spent a good deal of World War II fighting the Axis as living napalm (not a violation of the Geneva Conventions, as it happens). Prince Namor switched from trying to wipe out Americans to actually killing Germans; the Sub-Mariner never did settle down into the hero-or-villain category. But he also never fit in as a costumed vigilante, either. (These days he would probably be presented as an eco-terrorist.)
And Captain America was a combat soldier, so not killing wasn't going to be a big thing with him anyway -- but, following the Joker Principle, the Red Skull was carefully saved for yet another appearance.
Sebastien, your point is well taken, and a good answer would be a specialized history of American comic books. Even the very short summary I originally attempted would be too long for a comment here. I will give a very few examples of what happened, from just one company. (I could provide counter-examples, and explain them.)
It may help to note that the very early Superman was given to terrorizing people into confessing. (Being dropped from a height and caught just before going "splat!" is a great loosener of tongues, it seems.) All in the interest of justice, of course. Being even then well-nigh invulnerable (they soon dropped the qualification), he had few excuses for actually killing criminals instead of subduing them.
Batman once not only packed a gun, and sometimes used it, he would pick up a convenient machine gun, and use it freely, too, if he thought his immediate opponents at the moment were all really, really bad people. (As you could tell from the thought balloon, he was sorry about having to do it.)
As these characters became established, it was realized that they were costumed vigilantes who acted like criminals in every way except profiting from their actions. (Not that official lawmen in the same books, like Slam Bradley, seem to have been all that scrupulous either; but they had badges.)
It could have become hard to distinguish the heroes from the more colorful villains. If this trend had continued, The Joker, introduced as a casual killer of the wealthy, might have been used as a Robin Hood-style avenger of the oppressed, only slightly more ruthless than some of the other heroes. Instead, being Batman's opponent, he was just a bizarre blackmailer, who liked to poison people.
And he was saved from one-story oblivion by a thrifty editorial decision that he was genuinely crazy, and so not subject to execution, despite being a multiple-murderer, setting a much-copied precedent.
The Comics Code seems to have made the matter of lethal force by heroes unfit for serious discussion for many years. But, even after its influence had waned, the recurring rationale still seems to be, that is the easy way to distinguish the good guys from the bad guys.
The most apparent big exception to the "don't kill" principle was DC's The Vigilante (always with the definite article) in the 1980s, who made killing the criminals his signature -- and in the end, even he couldn't tell which he was himself (see http://www.toonopedia.com/vig-2.htm).
Well, I suppose that by 1950s censors' logic, it wasn't even suicide -- just a terrible accident. And they brought it on themselves, anyway. So let that be a lesson to you!
Yes, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, either.
Mind you, someone with access to an uncut version of the episode (those I've seen broadcast have been in anything but pristine condition) might have a better interpretation of the action.
Serge:
That was the story line.
Superman assured them that they were perfectly safe, but only if they stayed where they were, and that he would be back with everything they needed to live comfortably.
The logic of the conclusion was that, being criminals, they assumed that he was lying, and decided that their best course was to escape immediately.
I still find it unsettling, since Superman has clearly anticipated exactly that reaction; and is actually watching from afar.
I suspect that who ever wrote the script had read "Tros of Samothrace." Talbot Mundy's hero won't directly kill helpless prisoners, but he doesn't consider cutting their bonds and dropping them over the side to be murder. The men are sure to drown, but, "The Gods know that I didn't prevent any of them from learning to swim."
Melissa:
It is possible to sample the versions of Superman from the past -- complete stories, including some full issues, minus editorial filler -- at http://superman.ws/superman-comics/. I would think that a fast connnection would be helpful, but not necessary. And that would be a built-in expense.
Your daughter may enjoy some of them, assuming that "remember these are the OLD versions" isn't too confusing for a novice. Now I don't remember kids having had all that much trouble keeping the book, the movie, and the television show of something straight; but this "problem" is sometimes offered as a real concern.
I would single out some Silver Age classics, with exciting action but not much obvious violence; including the very first appearance of a charmingly naive (in our jaded eyes) Kara Zor-El. (Superman's immediate attempt to turn her into a sort of feminine Clark Kent now looks to me like either an odd -- or editorial -- failure of imagination or Otto Binder's very subtle comment on how Kal-El (or his Editor) sees the world.)
Included are a nice selection of the compact science-fiction epics, masquerading as Superman adventures, which were scripted by the great Edmond Hamilton.
However, while the stories from the 1930s-1960s are mostly "kinder and gentler," by the early 1960s the full-to-overflowing Superman Universe was ALREADY much in evidence; and itself may present an obstacle, although not nearly as great as the accumulation of back-story, retcons, and reboots that clog recent storylines, even for dedicated fans.
There are things like a single panel of "Lori the Mermaid" (otherwise Lori Lemaris) offering Superman help against angry Kandorians. Just about everything else in the way of back-story in that issue had been explained, usually to a wide-eyed Jimmy Olsen (always a useful surrogate for new readers), but this was a throwaway reference to an otherwise unrelated element of Superman's life.
This was in "Superman in Kandor," or, if you prefer the cover title, "Invasion of the Super-People" (Superman 158, January 1963), one of Hamilton's scripts. Although the whole Kandorian story (Kryptonian-city-shrunk-by-Brainiac, etc.) was later erased from continuity, the roles of Nightwing and Flamebird, which were created as a plot device just for this issue, ARE STILL INFLUENTIAL in the DC Universe. Their contexts and backstory have been radically changed, and different characters entirely wear the new costumes, but it seems that little is really thrown away forever.
For those not familiar with the "Xena" controversy, the episode "The Way" featured the beloved Monkey-deity Hanuman, and prayers to Lord Krishna, besides being set in an ancient India which may have slightly less distorted than the "Xena"/"Hercules" version of ancient Greece (or anywhere else).
When originally broadcast, the episode was widely perceived as unusually tasteful, some care having been taken to consult Hindus while it was in production. Gabrielle's resulting adoption of satyagraha (non-violence) was a major theme (if "historically" plausible only Xena/Hercules standards). And it was a significant event in the series.
"The Way" was later denounced as disrespectful and offensive, largely, it seems, on the basis of rumors. Or with disregard for what was actually aired, or perhaps some confusion with other television shows, and movies. See, for a summary of the controversy from a Xena-phile viewpoint, http://www.poky.net/xac/xac.html
Besides the claim by opponents that the program itself was *inherently* immoral (since "everyone knows" that Xena and Gabrielle are lovers...), the campaign included the assertion that Xena was shown to beat up Hanuman. In fact, I don't think that she ever managed to land a blow when he materialized in her camp without warning. Given her remarkable success in combat with Olympians, this alone showed considerable deference to a living religion. (He eventually gets to deliver his message.)
As mentioned, a lot of media representations of Hinduism are really bad. But this one was actually fairly good, by entertainment-industry standards. I wish they had shown as much respect for Taoists when they included Lao-tzu in the series! (I really liked the idea of making his wife the brains of the operation -- but still, Taoism, too is a living religion, and Lao-tzu is not only a Sage but a God....)
Not to mention the rather weird take on the Nativity story in a Christmas episode of "Xena."
The report from Nigeria (or wherever) was interesting; but an anthropologist should have learned at some point that whatever part of the female body is regularly concealed can be given an erotic value by males -- the nape of the neck in traditional Japan (if I am correctly informed), and, notoriously, women's ankles in Victorian Britain.
There are counter-examples. Anyone familiar with the ancient/medieval religious art of India will have noticed that the Goddesses and Apsarases ("nymphs"), and a lot of mortal women, are portrayed as bare-breasted (which seems to have been unexceptional at certain periods) -- but often in a "typically American" style. Including some reasonable body-doubles for some versions of She-Hulk, Power Girl, etc.
Anyone wishing to use this information to redefine Power Girl's "real" origin, the next time she is retconned, or the DC Universe is re-booted, is welcome to the suggestion. She's already been a Kryptonian, an Atlantean, a Kryptonian again, and I'm not sure what else! Something along the lines of Wonder Woman and the Olympians, but based in a non-Western mythology, might be welcome change, and dodge continuity issues.
But, regardless of how well it was handled, it probably would provoke outrage among the self-style Hindu "faithful," as witness the "Xena" affair, so I'm not encouraging it.
I went on at some length about the "Teuton" problem because it explains a certain amount of modern confusion about who "the barbarians" were at any given time.
Marius seems to have largely completed a process of professionalizing the Legions that had started long before; particularly by following the logic of state-issued standard equipment to open the ranks to the poor. And notably by enforcing an even fiercer march-discipline. His solders became known as "Marius' Mules" because they carried their own burdens, instead of passing them on to non-combatants who had to be fed and housed, besides slowing the army.
However, if one can trust Polybius -- and he is usually considered pretty trustworthy -- Roman discipline, and the tactics it supported, was already making a big difference in fighting the Gauls in Northern Italy back at the beginning of the Second Punic War, and was a factor even earlier. His account of the long struggle against the Cisalpine Gauls, covering events from about 399 BC to about 200 BC, is found in Book II, Chapters 13-35, of "The Histories." (This is available, in a nineteenth century translation, on the Perseus site, starting at http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/ptext?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0234&layout=&loc=2.13).
(The passages are also available in the Loeb Classical Library, and in the Penguin Classics selection as "The Rise of the Roman Empire," both of which I prefer.)
Polybius is rather harsh on his fellow Greeks for letting themselves be intimidated by the Celts (Gauls, Galatians) in the East; but the states of Hellenistic Greece may really have lacked the manpower and economic resources to cope more effectively than they did.
By the way, he does in fact mention in passing Gauls "naked behind their shields," and in Book 2, chapter 28, for about 225 B.C. he has a set-piece description: "The Insubres and the Boii wore their trousers and light cloaks, but the Gaesatae had been moved by their thirst for glory and their defiant spirit to throw away these garments, and so they took up their positions in front of the whole army naked and wearing nothing but their arms. They believed that they would be better–equipped for action in this state, as the ground was in places overgrown with brambles and these might catch in their clothes and hamper them in the use of their weapons." (Penguin).
The Gaesatae were, according to Polybius, mercenaries; but the name seems to mean "spear-fighters" (anyone else reminded of Cuchulain's "gae bolga"?). His rationalization may also be wrong.
Concerning Naked Gauls, and Goths, Vandals, and Teutons.
The "naked Gaul" is a vivid image in classical sources. It has apparent echoes in medieval accounts of the Irish fighting "naked" -- which in some cases, however, seems to mean men turning up for battle fully dressed *in cloth,* unlike either the Norse and Normans. There is a strong suspicion that the former reflects a ritualized performance (battle magic), or a bid for status (liking "counting coup" in North America), rather than the preferred state for those Celtic fighting men able to afford worthwhile armor.
There is a running dispute (very long-running) over whether the Cimbri and Teutones, who smashed Roman armies (notably at Arausio, 105 BC), were Germanic or Celtic. Given the Greek and Latin versions of the names, either explanation seems to be plausible. (Modern English "Teutonic" takes the "German" side, but is a modern formation.)
They were sequentially defeated by Marius, after a reform of the legions, the Teutones at Aquae Sextiae in 102 BC, and the Cimbri at Campi Raudii near Vercella, in 101 BC. The experience left a long-lasting impression, only partially obscured by the following Civil Wars.
Julius Caesar (politically a Marian) seems to have felt at some point that it was convenient that the Cimbri and Teutones were recognized as "Germani," and not "Galli." He had to explain why he was making war against the very German Ariovistus of the Suebi, an official "Friend of the Roman People," and linking him to the dreaded Teutonic Menace may have been too good a propaganda point to pass up.
Of course, he may have been right about it.
In Caesar's time, the upper-class Gauls were extremely well-armed, although not well-organized, and some of the their technology was better than anything available to the Romans. Better leadership, and less internal bickering, might well have made a difference; especially if they had been fighting against commanders less determined and competent than Caesar. And in his early campaigns he owed a lot to the stubborn discipline of the legions.
I have to agree about the logistics side, although it wasn't just having a good quartermaster corps or something. Caesar also had the advantage that living off the land at the expense of the Gauls actually weakened his actual or potential enemies -- although it seemed to have had a bit part in provoking revolts. Gauls who tried that approach would wind up bringing their neighbors down on their heads, or at a minimum diminish their own overall effectiveness. The Gauls' lack of an effective supply system which didn't antagonize the people they were supposed to be defending may account for some of their difficulties in mustering and fielding large armies.
The dredging up of naked anti-Catholicism is dismaying, but hardly surprising. (It has never gone away, of course, although it has been marginalized in contexts where it used to be more overt.)
A lot of people on the (self-described) Right have gotten used to thinking that the Catholic Church was always in "their corner" on issues like abortion, birth control, sex education, homosexuality, male authority, and prayer in schools. Allies in the "Culture Wars."
So some of them are astonished, and angry, to find the Church opposing them on *anything,* instead of following the Party Line; the explanation must be something sinister!
Investigating the Catholic positions in detail probably didn't seem necessary, so long as "cultural" issues meant more of them could be counted on to vote Republican in the future.
(That any Church might actually be concerned with ideas like, oh, compassion, charity, or brotherhood, seems to be out of the question. Presumably, to paraphrase what is said of the Tories and the Anglican Church, their proper role is to be the Republican Party at Prayer.)
(Judging from Los Angeles media, the Church taking a position really is important. Fault-lines between older, more established, generations of immigrants and newer arrivals, and along national and ethnic divisions, some to have contributed to an "I'm here, now close the borders to *them*" attitude in some circles. Now -- again, actually -- they are hearing something very different from the pulpit. Those most open to the message willl presumably be those most inclined to respect authority....)
I suspect that you are right about the show; there were a few cases in which I thought something had been skipped over, or were just not shown in sufficient detail. Others just left me confused.
I seem to have missed that movie. I wonder how many people taped the original showing? That would have been more likely to have created a persistent problem if it was first shown in the middle or later eighties, I would think.
Dorothy Sayers seems to have garbled at least one murder technique, in "The Dawson Pedigree" (otherwise "Unnatural Death"), and it has been suggested that this was out of concern for providing an instruction set for the criminally-inclined. (Apparently even the correct instructions wouldn't have worked nearly as reliably as implied in the novel, either, but still would have put people at risk of at least injury.)
The possibility of a novel serving as someone's how-to manual has been raised in fiction, although I don't think I have heard of a confirmed case in reality -- perhaps "true crime" and other actual or supposed non-fiction fill the gap for the experience-challenged but literate would-be homicide.
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