Best of 2017 in media
Jan. 1st, 2018 12:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
juushikaI try to do this every year: here's the best media that I encountered, but which was probably not released, in 2017.
Books
I read 176 books in 2017. My primary reading goal was to prioritize authors of color, ideally making them half of my reading material. This fell apart somewhat in the face of various and intense life stresses, but in the end 40% of the books I read this year were by PoC, up from 10%* from last year, and I'm proud of that. It's something I will continue to prioritize.
* a metric which may be somewhat out of date, as I discovered neato things while looking into Jewish authors!! but I'm too lazy for recalculations, so let's let it stand
Patience and Sarah by Isabel Miller. I love this book so much that it took me five months to write a review. Miller wrote it with precise, peculiar inspirations—the identity of a mysterious artist; sessions with a ouija board—and while I traditionally resist the idea that the author is a conduit rather than a creator (yes to authorial responsibility! boo on authorial intent!) I think there can be moments when an author reaches above and beyond themselves. I believe Beagle did this in The Last Unicorn:
And I believe that Miller does it here. This is an exceptional novel; its purpose and joy and energy is remarkable, and it may be safe to call it my favorite book of the year.
Graceling series by Kristin Cashore. The books stand alone and are all perfectly good; but it's Bitterblue that won me, and I think it benefits from reading the entire series. This uses a speculative concept to explore trauma and abuse in ways that are simultaneously metaphorical, literal, and unique to the worldbuilding. I admire a narrative that's able to capitalize on the potential of its genre in that way, and there's interesting narrative-in-absentia techniques at play here, and, crucially, it's thoughtful and compassionate.
Temeraire series by Naomi Novik. I adore the companion animal trope, and am dubious of dragons; I did not expect that this would be so thorough an exploration of the former as to totally negate the later. It engages almost every question that surrounds this trope, especially re: sapience, personhood, power dynamics; the long-form adventure allows for a diverse and evolving culture. And it's tropey in every way it needs to be to give its premise emotional weight. Multiple books in this series won a 5-star rating, and as many made me cry. It's as in love and as engaged with this trope as I am. Simon Vance's audio narration makes these an especial delight.
Her Smoke Rose Up Forever by James Tiptree, Jr. I read this in the same year as my first Joanna Russ book (The Female Man)—and neither are perfect, but both are invaluable, and the combined effect has stayed with me. But nothing lingered moreso than this Tiptree collection: so exhaustive, so exhausting; the tension between her profound bitterness and daydreaming, between her (presumed, implicit, assumed) male PoV and persistent feminist themes, elevates this collection beyond the limitations of individual stories.
The Devourers by Indra Das. It would be insincere to say that this is what I wish every werewolf novel would be—I love them all uniquely—but this is what I wish every werewolf novel would be: this visceral, this vivid, this inhuman, this engaged with the concept of the Other.
Orlando by Virginia Woolf. The only real goal in life is to love or be loved as Virginia Woolf loved Vita Sackville-West; the energy that emanates from this, passionate and playful and irreverent, is incandescent. I always expect historical books about sex and gender to be restrained or dated, and for good reason, but this has aged so well; it's fluid and complicated, but too quick to become heavy. In every page, a delight.
Honorable mentions in books
Ursula K. Le Guin. I read a handful of her books this year; I didn't love them all equally (The Beginning Place is hardly her most famous but it's my favorite so far) but I'm consistently impressed, no matter how minor the work. She's profoundly skilled; she integrates and expands her central theses in ways that capitalize on the speculative genres she writes in, to great effect.
Octavia E. Butler by Gerry Canavan. I hesitate to say that I loved this biography more than Butler's novels themselves, but it reflects how it felt to read this: it summarized, contextualized, and celebrated Butler's cumulative effort and impact in a way that made me appreciate her anew.
When the Moon Was Ours by Anna-Marie McLemore. I read a lot of YA I bounce off of, a lot of magical realism I don't think works; but this I loved, for its specific images, for the way that the fluidity of its style suits its issues of gender, for its beauty and love.
The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson. The energy in this is infectious, and needs to be, as it's as much about a love affair with a speculative premise and a place as with a person—and all those elements are accessible, distinctive, alive.
Thomas the Rhymer by Ellen Kushner. Fairyland which feels truly transporting and fantastic, truly fae, is hard to capture. This is such a quiet book, unassuming in structure and frame, but its depiction of fairyland is one of the most convincing that I've ever seen.
Games
Nier: Automata. I watched this played on release, and called it then, in March: game of the year. I was not mistaken. There's more this could do, further it could go; but what it does, with its androids and tropes, its meta elements and narrative structure and soundtrack, is phenomenal. One of the most remarkable things that a game can do is be profoundly wedded to its interactive medium, because few other platforms have the opportunity to interact with the consumer so directly—and Automata achieves that, to great effect.
Kirby series. I have no particular love of platformers, Nintendo, or nostalgia; but these looked cute, and: they are. Kirby is shaped like friendship, and the softness and colors of level design, the creative gameplay of Kirby's transformations, the sincerely impressive interaction with level elements in games like Epic Yarn, are a complete package. These brought me unmitigated joy; that's not something I often find.
Honorable mentions in video games
Dishonored 2. The plot and setting hasn't stuck with me as much as the first game. But to internalize criticism and then go on to make a more diverse game is fantastic (and it pays off, in Meagan Foster especially), and the small, almost-domestic moments and ongoing lore/religion in the worldbuilding are very much my thing.
Dark Souls III DLC. The base game was on my list last year, so this entry feels like cheating—but these were substantial additions, big worlds and significant narrative and so many new monster designs, all of which compliment the base game. It's an impressive product, and I wish more DLC resembled it.
Closure. A little indie puzzle platformed that exceeds expectations for that genre because the way that its core game mechanic interacts with player, art design, atmosphere, and narrative is so successful. (It even makes up for the sometimes-finicky physics.)
Visual Media
Car Boys. I'm disappointed that Nick Robinson proved not to be the person we wanted him to be, but that doesn't change the profound impact that this series had on me. Not only is it a fantastic example of emergent narrative, it simultaneously embraces my fear of existential horror and my profound longing for a greater meaning. This served a similar function for me as did Critical Role last year, despite dissimilarities in tone and content.
Dark Matter season 3. Devon and I have been watching this together, and with few misstep we've been consistently satisfied with the way this series combines found family tropes and genre mainstays. But season 3 is a cut above. It's still all those things, but the ongoing, consistent character development, particularly of the female characters, most especially of the Android, is phenomenal. There were episodes that made me cry, that I would call legitimately perfect.
Blame! I've enjoyed everything I've seen by Polygon Pictures, including Knights of Sidonia, but this is the best they could be: tropes I love, a perfect setting for their visual style and capabilities; great pacing, writing that does interesting things with its subgenre. Without competition, the best film I saw this year; it looks great and it's just so engaging to watch.
Person of Interest. Found family/AI feels is in essence all I've ever wanted from a narrative, and this delivers, delivers in droves: it has the crime serial format I love but, like Fringe, deviates from format to great effect. But it's the particular combination of themes that sold me: using AI as a launchpad to explore all varieties of personhood and socialization.
Honorable mentions in visual media
Yuri!!! on Ice. There is a need in the world for stories like this; queer love stories, stories about what it means to become one's best self, stories which are funny and sweet and profoundly empathetic. This year started poorly (and just kept on keepin' on, but:) and there was a sense of karmic balance that this existed post-election. It's escapism without being hollow; it's how I want the world to be.
Polygon. Monster Factory goes here. So does Awful Squad. But Devon and I have been branching out and watching almost anything that pops up on this channel; the balance between inoffensive good humor and video game nerdom is really likable.
Books
I read 176 books in 2017. My primary reading goal was to prioritize authors of color, ideally making them half of my reading material. This fell apart somewhat in the face of various and intense life stresses, but in the end 40% of the books I read this year were by PoC, up from 10%* from last year, and I'm proud of that. It's something I will continue to prioritize.
* a metric which may be somewhat out of date, as I discovered neato things while looking into Jewish authors!! but I'm too lazy for recalculations, so let's let it stand
Patience and Sarah by Isabel Miller. I love this book so much that it took me five months to write a review. Miller wrote it with precise, peculiar inspirations—the identity of a mysterious artist; sessions with a ouija board—and while I traditionally resist the idea that the author is a conduit rather than a creator (yes to authorial responsibility! boo on authorial intent!) I think there can be moments when an author reaches above and beyond themselves. I believe Beagle did this in The Last Unicorn:
A lot of things appeal to people out of their own histories in that story. I feel sometimes like Schmendrick, when the first time he actually casts real magic summoning up the shades of Robin Hood, Maid Marian and the Merry Men...people who never existed, really they’re myths, and yet there they are. And at that point he falls on his face, picks himself up, and thinks: "I wonder what I did...I did something..." Which is very much the way I feel about The Last Unicorn. Finally, fifty years later.
(source)
And I believe that Miller does it here. This is an exceptional novel; its purpose and joy and energy is remarkable, and it may be safe to call it my favorite book of the year.
Graceling series by Kristin Cashore. The books stand alone and are all perfectly good; but it's Bitterblue that won me, and I think it benefits from reading the entire series. This uses a speculative concept to explore trauma and abuse in ways that are simultaneously metaphorical, literal, and unique to the worldbuilding. I admire a narrative that's able to capitalize on the potential of its genre in that way, and there's interesting narrative-in-absentia techniques at play here, and, crucially, it's thoughtful and compassionate.
Temeraire series by Naomi Novik. I adore the companion animal trope, and am dubious of dragons; I did not expect that this would be so thorough an exploration of the former as to totally negate the later. It engages almost every question that surrounds this trope, especially re: sapience, personhood, power dynamics; the long-form adventure allows for a diverse and evolving culture. And it's tropey in every way it needs to be to give its premise emotional weight. Multiple books in this series won a 5-star rating, and as many made me cry. It's as in love and as engaged with this trope as I am. Simon Vance's audio narration makes these an especial delight.
Her Smoke Rose Up Forever by James Tiptree, Jr. I read this in the same year as my first Joanna Russ book (The Female Man)—and neither are perfect, but both are invaluable, and the combined effect has stayed with me. But nothing lingered moreso than this Tiptree collection: so exhaustive, so exhausting; the tension between her profound bitterness and daydreaming, between her (presumed, implicit, assumed) male PoV and persistent feminist themes, elevates this collection beyond the limitations of individual stories.
The Devourers by Indra Das. It would be insincere to say that this is what I wish every werewolf novel would be—I love them all uniquely—but this is what I wish every werewolf novel would be: this visceral, this vivid, this inhuman, this engaged with the concept of the Other.
Orlando by Virginia Woolf. The only real goal in life is to love or be loved as Virginia Woolf loved Vita Sackville-West; the energy that emanates from this, passionate and playful and irreverent, is incandescent. I always expect historical books about sex and gender to be restrained or dated, and for good reason, but this has aged so well; it's fluid and complicated, but too quick to become heavy. In every page, a delight.
Honorable mentions in books
Ursula K. Le Guin. I read a handful of her books this year; I didn't love them all equally (The Beginning Place is hardly her most famous but it's my favorite so far) but I'm consistently impressed, no matter how minor the work. She's profoundly skilled; she integrates and expands her central theses in ways that capitalize on the speculative genres she writes in, to great effect.
Octavia E. Butler by Gerry Canavan. I hesitate to say that I loved this biography more than Butler's novels themselves, but it reflects how it felt to read this: it summarized, contextualized, and celebrated Butler's cumulative effort and impact in a way that made me appreciate her anew.
When the Moon Was Ours by Anna-Marie McLemore. I read a lot of YA I bounce off of, a lot of magical realism I don't think works; but this I loved, for its specific images, for the way that the fluidity of its style suits its issues of gender, for its beauty and love.
The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson. The energy in this is infectious, and needs to be, as it's as much about a love affair with a speculative premise and a place as with a person—and all those elements are accessible, distinctive, alive.
Thomas the Rhymer by Ellen Kushner. Fairyland which feels truly transporting and fantastic, truly fae, is hard to capture. This is such a quiet book, unassuming in structure and frame, but its depiction of fairyland is one of the most convincing that I've ever seen.
Games
Nier: Automata. I watched this played on release, and called it then, in March: game of the year. I was not mistaken. There's more this could do, further it could go; but what it does, with its androids and tropes, its meta elements and narrative structure and soundtrack, is phenomenal. One of the most remarkable things that a game can do is be profoundly wedded to its interactive medium, because few other platforms have the opportunity to interact with the consumer so directly—and Automata achieves that, to great effect.
Kirby series. I have no particular love of platformers, Nintendo, or nostalgia; but these looked cute, and: they are. Kirby is shaped like friendship, and the softness and colors of level design, the creative gameplay of Kirby's transformations, the sincerely impressive interaction with level elements in games like Epic Yarn, are a complete package. These brought me unmitigated joy; that's not something I often find.
Honorable mentions in video games
Dishonored 2. The plot and setting hasn't stuck with me as much as the first game. But to internalize criticism and then go on to make a more diverse game is fantastic (and it pays off, in Meagan Foster especially), and the small, almost-domestic moments and ongoing lore/religion in the worldbuilding are very much my thing.
Dark Souls III DLC. The base game was on my list last year, so this entry feels like cheating—but these were substantial additions, big worlds and significant narrative and so many new monster designs, all of which compliment the base game. It's an impressive product, and I wish more DLC resembled it.
Closure. A little indie puzzle platformed that exceeds expectations for that genre because the way that its core game mechanic interacts with player, art design, atmosphere, and narrative is so successful. (It even makes up for the sometimes-finicky physics.)
Visual Media
Car Boys. I'm disappointed that Nick Robinson proved not to be the person we wanted him to be, but that doesn't change the profound impact that this series had on me. Not only is it a fantastic example of emergent narrative, it simultaneously embraces my fear of existential horror and my profound longing for a greater meaning. This served a similar function for me as did Critical Role last year, despite dissimilarities in tone and content.
Dark Matter season 3. Devon and I have been watching this together, and with few misstep we've been consistently satisfied with the way this series combines found family tropes and genre mainstays. But season 3 is a cut above. It's still all those things, but the ongoing, consistent character development, particularly of the female characters, most especially of the Android, is phenomenal. There were episodes that made me cry, that I would call legitimately perfect.
Blame! I've enjoyed everything I've seen by Polygon Pictures, including Knights of Sidonia, but this is the best they could be: tropes I love, a perfect setting for their visual style and capabilities; great pacing, writing that does interesting things with its subgenre. Without competition, the best film I saw this year; it looks great and it's just so engaging to watch.
Person of Interest. Found family/AI feels is in essence all I've ever wanted from a narrative, and this delivers, delivers in droves: it has the crime serial format I love but, like Fringe, deviates from format to great effect. But it's the particular combination of themes that sold me: using AI as a launchpad to explore all varieties of personhood and socialization.
Honorable mentions in visual media
Yuri!!! on Ice. There is a need in the world for stories like this; queer love stories, stories about what it means to become one's best self, stories which are funny and sweet and profoundly empathetic. This year started poorly (and just kept on keepin' on, but:) and there was a sense of karmic balance that this existed post-election. It's escapism without being hollow; it's how I want the world to be.
Polygon. Monster Factory goes here. So does Awful Squad. But Devon and I have been branching out and watching almost anything that pops up on this channel; the balance between inoffensive good humor and video game nerdom is really likable.
