the third issue of DIE was ... a lot. I’m only beginning to understand it, and only very imperfectly. But I keep coming back to it, and have now collected myself enough to think aloud. Spoilers beneath the cut.
DIE makes use of poetic structures from the very first issue. There are rhymes everywhere - die, lie, cry, deny, defy, dry, spy, eye. Sol wearing a die in each eye is as poetic as it is logical.
I thought I was reaching really badly, thinking of DIE in poetic terms, and gave up thinking about it. This issue makes me want to keep thinking. It’s set up as a chiasmus of sorts: it begins with dungeons and dragons and ends with a (dead) dragon and a (march into a) dungeon, and in the process the meaning of dungeon and the meaning of dragon are both radically changed.
Between the appearance of the dragon and its death, Ash ends up in a hole. It is, to cite Tolkien and his reference character in the comic, a “nasty, dirty, wet hole” -- a trench that Stephanie Hans makes immediately evocative of WWI and the trench fever the historical person named Tolkien caught there. In this fictional trench, Ash encounters four hobbit-sized soldiers: a dead ringer for Frodo who proudly displays the wedding ring that weighs on him and is never invisible, his brave Samwise-equivalent who dearly wishes to see elves and whose eyes have melted out, a dead (halved - the pun was a little gruesome) halfling named “Mister P”, and another dead, unnamed fourth friend (Merry is not a word to be applied here). After the Frodo character dictates a letter to Luthi, the wife who references the name Tolkien associated with his own wife, it becomes clear there will be no “there and back again” for him either. His death is punctuated by the appearance of an officer who wears Tolkien’s face and cites his pipe-smoking habit. He does some interesting editing work on a passage from The Hobbit, switching what was nice to what is nasty, replacing life with death:
“In a hole in the ground there lived died a hobbit an Englander. Not a nasty, dirty, wet nice hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort., but a nasty, dirty, wet hole, a charnel hole ...” (the bold bit is added in the comic; the final bit is, however, not wholly new, but a reversal of the order in which those words were originally used)
Ash recognizes the reference and the person for whom the officer stands, deconstructs the whole down to its seemingly simple, idealized, dismissible parts, recognizing that she is seeing fictional references in context - in context that is at once fictional, trope-y, and reflective of real facts of Tolkien’s biography, of the real sacrifices and horrors of war - and struggles to come to terms with the hurt she feels. The Die-representative of Tolkien responds with another transformative line: “Allegories are ugly. But poetry? Poetry is poetry, and war poetry most of all.”
This line arrested me when I first saw it, mostly because of the quadruple repetition of the word poetry in a context defined by fours: Ash has the D4 in her chest, plus there are the four dead hobbits (and four that will replace them in the closing sequence, walking into the dungeon in another flip, this time of “one does not simply walk into Mordor”). But I had zero inkling of what it could mean until I found the citation it reframes. In response to readers who insisted on reducing his books to allegories for historical events or ideas, to fixed, defined, unchanging, top-down issued references, Tolkien wrote:
“I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done so since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence. I much prefer history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers. I think that many confuse 'applicability' with 'allegory'; but the one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author.” -- foreword to Fellowship of the Ring
Gillen thus replaces “history” with “poetry” and “war poetry” (a potential label for the issue itself), but keeps the opposition to allegories that dictate how a story should be read and interpreted.
The ending of the issue seems to reflect that desire to privilege readerly liberty, to open up a singular set of references to a question that concerns all readers - world war. (The closing image does this too, putting the reader right behind the four soldiers, as though to say - will you follow?) “Where would we have been if we were sixteen in 1914?” asks Matt. “Who volunteers to come to a dungeon?” Ash asks, concluding: “Better people than us”. The line calls back to how, in the eyes of the Frodo stand-in, she stood for the “high folks”, in contrast to the “low” “likes of us” used as cannon-fodder for "wizards and their schemes”. The final image has four Prussian hobbits, indistinguishable from the four who just died, killing the eagle sent to deliver the message for Luthi. Their officer (is he a reference too?) reads the letter, a letter any one of them would have wanted to send in the same situation, tells them they have stopped propaganda from being sent (a lie), burns the letter much like the dragon burned and gassed the four Englanders, then coolly sends them into the dungeon that is the war front, leaving the reader to reflect on ... a lot.
Like - how much of this specific situation was caused by Angela’s rush for Fair Gold to power her suit? Did the four dead ringers die because the dragon was brought out to stop her and the party? Or - what are the conditions under which fantasy and poetry are produced and consumed in the first place, and what are the costs? What is its legacy, and what of it does it choose to hide or reveal?
The repetitions of “foul” come to mind here. In this issue, foul is used first by the Frodo character as he tries to determine Ash’s allegiance (“fair or foul?”). Ash then silently characterizes herself, in her Bard/Dictator role, as foul to most people. Having dismissed elves as “dumb and obvious” in the past issue, only for the elf queen to transform into a murderous orc, Ash takes a more measured position on Tolkien here by recognizing the value of hobbits. As a result, the Master Who Looks and Talks Like Tolkien concludes she is not “entirely foul”. However one interprets this, it seems plausible that “fair and foul” could to be a question for the entire comic - two opposites held together and impossible to rend apart.
(What is fair, what is foul about the emotional manipulation the comic itself produces through Ash’s reaction, Matt’s reaction, and in the reader? Notice how the comic, by virtue of its having pages, puts the reader through the motions of closing the page on the four as they "simply walk" into Mordor, thereby putting the reader on the same side as the party on the question "who volunteers". Then there are metaphorical levels - what is foul about Angela going for FAIR gold? how shall the fair "alabaster princess" Ash reconcile herself to also being ash, ready to crumble under dragons’ breath, to the foul words that created the fouling corpse of a former lover who fairly? cursed her back? etc etc)
It looks like the next stop in the story is going to be the space of Brontë sister gaming, (a stop in a town invented by the mothers of gaming as this war-torn realm was regulated by the father of fantasy?), which starts up even more questions. But I’ve gone on long enough; looking forward to seeing how it all develops, textually and visually -
baratheonpilled
romaincrisis
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
origamiaround
titsay
areudirty
discoholicmusic
izzy806
