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First of all, damn all of you who have already seen The Order of the Phoenix. I'm not going until Saturday night. I had to smooth talk my way into getting Jason to accompany me. He's not exactly a huge HP fan, though he enjoys the movies with a passing interest. Everything I've heard has sounded fantastic - especially the tone of the movie. I'm not going to fret too much over inconsistencies with the novel or things that have been left out.
I started reading After the Long Goodbye by Masaki Yamada last night. It's actually a reasonably short tale that takes place between the first Ghost in the Shell movie and the second, Innocence. From what I've read thus far, it appears to be more of an in-depth character study of Batou than anything else. At the core of the story is the disappearance of Batou's dog, Gabriel. In Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence, Batou goes through long scenes without showing emotion. His behavior and mental state is shown in contrast to Gabriel, who shows so much more depth of feeling, despite being a dog.
The prologue of the novel made me tear up last night. I believe it was a combination of the beautiful simplicity of the statements (perhaps due to the translation from Japanese?) and my own mental state at the time. It speaks of the (imminent) death of a dog in an oblique sort of way, which struck me because of what happened earlier this week with Bean. It's rather short, so I typed it up for anyone interested in reading it.
Beyond my interest in Batou as a character, I also found a great deal of information about cyberized bodies in the first chapter of the novel. I'm very happy I decided to pick it up, seeing as how it has cleared a few things up for me. Plus, (being shallow here) it's bound as a beautiful, little white hardback. Psalm 139 is printed in red ink on the cover beneath the dust jacket. Shirow Masamune (the creator) and Yamada (the author) both contributed to an afterward on the meaning of the novel and the second film.
I started reading After the Long Goodbye by Masaki Yamada last night. It's actually a reasonably short tale that takes place between the first Ghost in the Shell movie and the second, Innocence. From what I've read thus far, it appears to be more of an in-depth character study of Batou than anything else. At the core of the story is the disappearance of Batou's dog, Gabriel. In Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence, Batou goes through long scenes without showing emotion. His behavior and mental state is shown in contrast to Gabriel, who shows so much more depth of feeling, despite being a dog.
The prologue of the novel made me tear up last night. I believe it was a combination of the beautiful simplicity of the statements (perhaps due to the translation from Japanese?) and my own mental state at the time. It speaks of the (imminent) death of a dog in an oblique sort of way, which struck me because of what happened earlier this week with Bean. It's rather short, so I typed it up for anyone interested in reading it.
| All I have is my dog Gabriel. I have no friends, no lover. My former partner the Major is gone. I have no family. And I don't dream. And yet, I had a son in my dream. I loved this dream son, though he vanished when I awoke. I loved him as much as I loved the Major - as I love Gabriel. My dream son looked five or six years old. He spoke as a child. But when he spoke he talked of things adults couldn't see. He was like Gabu - I call Gabriel that. I thought that if Gabu could speak, she'd talk of those things, too. I'd look down at my dream son to make sure he wasn't Gabu. Every time I did he would squeeze my hand tight. I loved him so much in my dream. We were riding the elevator together. My son wanted to press the button for our floor. I had to lift him up because he was too short. He giggled at that. His hair had the dry scent of summer, of hay soaked in the sun. I don't know how I knew that's what it was. I just couldn't seem to recall. The elevator didn't rise; it descended to the sound of a muted trumpet, stoic and restrained, and mournful beyond belief. Lee Morgan's "I'm a Fool to Want You," I think it was. It played the entire ride down. Most of the time I ignore the tune, until I realize it's always in the back of my mind. It was like something, that's what I thought. But I had no idea what it was like. There was no reason to dwell on it. My dream son said, "Dad?" "Yes?" "Is it bad to love someone?" I looked at my son. He looked at me. So our eyes met for a moment. I was the one who looked away. "What makes you say that? What could be wrong with loving someone?" "Then, why...," my son stammered. He was on the verge of crying, but ashamed, he held back. "Why are they going to put ---- to sleep?" I spoke the dog's name, but I couldn't hear what I said. I don't think the name was Gabu. It felt odd to hear another name for a dog. "Yes." "---- became too fond of you. His e-brain was over-customized. They mass-produce them. If it's too customized, then you can't re-initialize it anymore. So once the dog's brain expires, they have to dispose of it. That's just the way it works." "But that doesn't mean it can't love someone." "That's a different matter." I shook my head. "An entirely different matter." In the dream my son nodded silently. He didn't look at all convinced. He looked desperate, lost, though he was with me. I was worried. I had to do something. I turned to him again and said, "Will you promise me one thing?" "Yes." "They have to put ---- to sleep because that's what the law says. But whether you're allowed to love someone or not has no theoretical relevance to that law." Theoretical relevance. "Okay." "Of course there's nothing wrong about loving someone. That's what I believe. People have to love each other. That's how they survive. Do you understand?" "Yes." "You mustn't confuse that with the fact the dog has to be put to sleep. That's different. I need you to understand that. Will you promise me you understand that?" "Yes." "You understand that?" "I understand." "You promise?" "I promise." "Good." I tapped the back of his hand a few times. "You're a good kid." My son was understanding. He was very considerate of these things. I was proud of him. I was very proud of my son. We gazed up at the elevator and saw it change its state from floor to floor. The pet termination center was in the lobby. My son and I were going to say goodbye to ours. And if we wanted the same puppy, we could have requested them to leave a fragment of bone or bit of hair behind. But five or six these days is already old enough to know better. The clone won't repeat the feelings - it only preserves the image of the loss. It had taken many such clones for people to realize. The elevator passed the second floor; the ground was where they gave the dogs their poison. In a few more moments we would say goodbye. My son squeezed my hand again, wanting to talk. "Dad." "What is it?" I looked into his eyes now for the last time. They were full of tears but still he didn't let them fall. "Even if I loved you too much," he said, "please don't kill me." I was probably awake by the time I tried to answer. He and I began to disappear, leaving last the faint sound of the song. I sat up and looked inside the empty hand where my son receded, even from the memory of touch. When there was nothing left at all I began to cry, as he had not. |
Beyond my interest in Batou as a character, I also found a great deal of information about cyberized bodies in the first chapter of the novel. I'm very happy I decided to pick it up, seeing as how it has cleared a few things up for me. Plus, (being shallow here) it's bound as a beautiful, little white hardback. Psalm 139 is printed in red ink on the cover beneath the dust jacket. Shirow Masamune (the creator) and Yamada (the author) both contributed to an afterward on the meaning of the novel and the second film.
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