There are now two series dedicated to philosophy and popular culture. The original, Popular Culture and Philosophy series (Open Court) began with Seinfeld and Philosophy in 2000 and is now on volume #52, Manga and Philosophy. One of my very first publications was a review of Seinfeld and Philosophy, and I contributed to the 4th volume in that series, Buffy and Philosophy.
The newer series, Philosophy and Popular Culture (Blackwell) launched in 2007 with 24 and Philosophy. True Blood and Philosophy, which I received gratis as an examination copy, is the 20th volume in the series.
Within the philosophical community, there is some debate about the value of these books. And by “debate”, I mean that some critics see these books in the same way an evangelical Christian sees a darkened sky and oceans turning to blood. For two examples, check out this post, or this one.
My own feeling is that the discipline is in pretty bad shape if two lightweight and fun book series can destroy its credibility. The trick with these books, especially for the cynical professional philosopher, is to go in with the right expectations. As Blackwell puts it:
Our goal with the Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture Series is to get philosophy out of the ivory tower by publishing books about smart popular culture for serious fans. With each volume in this series we seek to teach philosophy using the themes, characters, and ideas from your favorite TV shows, comic books, movies, music, games, and more.
Few if any of the essays in these books constitute philosophical research. The best of them of make contributions to the academic study of popular culture. But many don’t even do that: they are content to connect up a Philosophy 101 concept or problem (free will, personhood, the social contract, the problem of identity, etc.) with an aspect of popular culture in order to help readers (fans and students) understand philosophy in light of a pop culture phenomenon with which they are familiar.
If you read these volumes with the same expectations you would have for an issue of peer reviewed academic journal, you aren’t being fair. I suppose some critics object to using examples from popular culture to teach philosophy (and by “teach”, I mean both in formal settings like classrooms, and the kind of self-teaching average fans might do when they pick up such books at Borders). That may be because they think popular culture is harmful (we should all be reading Proust instead), or because they don’t think using popular culture to teach philosophy works.
I have no comment on the former, but for the latter I will need to see some argument. What I know, after being in the front of a philosophy classroom for 12 years, is that starting from a place where students feel knowledgeable and comfortable can work very well to introduce them to a subject they have likely never directly encountered, a subject which in the absence of direct knowledge, signifies for many students obsolescence and irrelevance … if it signifies anything at all.
So what I look for first in such books is accurate philosophy. It is not easy to teach philosophy in the bite sizes necessitated by these short essays, and brevity can distort. Connecting philosophy up to popular culture also requires knowledge of and sensitivity towards the material. In reading this series, if I get something really insightful about the pop culture object of reflection — something that could be developed and published in a peer reviewed popular culture studies journal – I am delighted. And if I learn something about philosophy, or am made to see philosophical connections where I hadn’t, I consider it an unexpected bonus. A final requirement is restraint in the use of puns.
On most these counts, True Blood and Philosophy succeeds. It is divided into five sections, with three essays each: one on ethics, one on politics, one on sexuality and gender, one on the supernatural and divine, and one on metaphysics. The list price, $17.95 for a softcover, may be prohibitive for some readers, but Amazon has it new for $12.21 and there’s a Kindle edition for $9.99. As is typical for such collections, the contributors range in their connection to the discipline of philosophy, from tenured associate professors in the field to an undergraduate student (the latter being the daughter of one of the editors). There are also contributions from academics trained in art history, public policy, English, and political science. A few contributors hail from non-academic life: editors, contractors, and human resources specialists.
An initial concern I had about this volume was that at most two seasons of the TV show True Blood would have been aired before it went to press. Knowing that the book series on which it is based, Charlaine Harris’s Southern Vampire Mysteries, is now in its 10th installment, and that the show, which has great ratings, will likely continue into several more seasons, I questioned the rush to get this out. My concern was alleviated to some extent by two factors (1) most of the contributors seem to have read the books, and often make reference to them in the essays (so, a big spoiler warning for fans), and (2) the essays deal more with world itself, not on detailed character examinations or plot. Since most of the world building is complete in the first two books/seasons, it mostly works.
The volume focuses very heavily on vampires. Those looking for more on the shapeshifters, weres or fairies that populate Charlaine Harris’s world will be disappointed. Perhaps a casualty of taking their cue more from the show than the series, there is also less focus on Sookie than I would have liked. The books are written in the first person, and Sookie is a very complex and interesting character. Most of Sookie is lost in Alan Ball’s vision, which is extremely androcentric. One essay,”I am Sookie. Hear Me Roar: Sookie Stackhouse and Feminist Ambivalence”, by Lillian E. Craton and Kathryn E. Jonell, reflects on the difficulties of feminist alliance (many of Sookie’s enemies are women), complicated by the different social locations women inhabit, some of which may place them (Tara) at a disadvantage relative to their white middle class sisters (i.e. Sookie), the double edged sword of female sexuality — both empowering and dangerous for women (Maryann, whom the authors see as the ultimate victim of female sexuality), and Sookie’s struggles to maintain her independence and autonomy while dating and working for men who have the potential to overpower her. On this last:
Sookie’s conflicted emotions about workplace relationships and her ongoing attraction to vampires complicate the potential of True Blood and the Southern Vampire Mysteries as feminist social commentary. Sookie’s biggest challenge doesn’t seem to be fighting oppression, but sorting out her own desires.
This essay raises several important issues, any one of which could constitute the subject of an independent investigation, and it is too bad the editors didn’t make room that that approach. It’s also compromised, in my view, by trying to cover both the television show and the books, which differ markedly in their treatment of these issues. Alan Ball’s version of the character of Tara, for example, as a constantly victimized, ineffectually perpetually angry, shortsighted (to the point of stupidity) black woman is nearly unrecognizable to readers of the novels, who know Tara as a white woman with a level head who overcame a horrendous childhood (and, yes, who makes mistakes). The same goes for Maryann. And while the Sookie of the TV show is just a plucky gal with telepathic abilities, in the novels, Sookie is an incredibly astute, complex character, who recognizes that she is disadvantaged by her gender, her “disability”, and her economic status.
Some of the essays are very straightforward explications of basic philosophical concepts. For example, the first essay, “To Turn or Not To Turn”, by Christopher Robichaud, explicates the concept of informed consent using the example of Bill turning Jessica into a vampire (“vampires need explicit, informed, noncoercive consent before they’re permitted to turn the living into the undead”), while “Pets, Cattle and Higher Life forms on True Blood”, by Ariadne Blayde and George A. Dunn, is effective at exploring moral ranking among kinds of being (“The assumption that human beings occupy the highest rung on the great ladder of being ins challenged in True Blood by the existence of a species that seems to be superior to us in every way, possibly even in their kinship with the divine.”). “Signed in Blood: Rights and the Vampire-Human Social Contract”, by Joseph J. Foy and “Honey, If We Can’t Kill People, What’s the Point Of Being a Vampire: Can Vampires Be Good Citizens?” by William M. Curtis, both consider what it would take for vampires to have rights and function as full citizens. Are vampires just another unique subculture claiming its rights, which our liberal democracy should accommodate, and what would that require (would a “life sentence” for a criminal vampire be cruel and unusual punishment?). The question of “what is natural” and how we define it, so important to debates over sexuality and new reproductive technologies, is addressed by Andrew Terjesen and Jenny Terjesen in “Are Vampires Unnatural”. Patricia Brace and Robert Arp explore connections between the social and moral status of vampires and and gays in “Coming Out of the Coffin and Coming out of the Closet”. Finally, criteria of personal identity are explored by Sarah Grubb’s “Vampires, Werewolves, and Shapeshifters: The more they change, the more they stay the same”.
A standout, especially for readers who know something about vampire mythology, is Bruce A. McClelland’s “Un-True Blood: The Politics of Artificiality.” McClelland, who has published a book on vampires and their slayers, situates True Blood within the evolving vampire lore. He wonders whether
the attempt to bring vampires into the human world by encouraging them to consume TruBlood represents a drive to ensnare them in our same dependencies and lack of freedom that characterize our society, one that many would characterize as lacking belief, trust, or a deep link to nature.
Another very interesting essay is Fred Curry’s “Keeping Secrets from Sookie”, which explores the epistemological questions raised by Sookie’s telepathy, such as “whether anyone could possess any kind of knowledge that even the most powerful telepath couldn’t learn using her powers?”.
There is quite a bit of overlap in the essays, especially on the moral status of vampires, and their connections to other marginalized subgroups. This overlap was made even more manifest by the choice of the same quotations (Eric and Sookie’s discussion about whether humans are to antelopes and as vampires are to lions, for example) and sources (No fewer than three essays discuss Thomas Nagel’s “What is it like to be a bat?”). Many of the essays rely on a pseudo documentary about vampires, from the first season’s DVD. something many readers will not have seen. And some of the essays, in trying to keep a light tone, go a bit too far, for example Brace and Arp’s final exhortation that:
coming out of the coffin or the closet these days requires courage. Let’s hope, pray, and act so that in the future anyone, regardless of sexual orientation, religions or race, whether living or dead, can find acceptance along with basic human and civil rights in Bon Temps and your hometown, too.
I wish the editors had waited a couple of years to publish this volume. Perhaps a few more seasons of True Blood would have drawn more essays on other aspects of the narrative, such as Sookie’s problematic conception of her telepathy as disability, fascinating communities like the werepanthers of Hotshot or the weres of Shreveport, the complex relationship of Southern identities to various forms of Christianity, to name just a few.
Overall, though, this is a fun book for fans of the show with no philosophical background, and a good resource for teaching our vampire-loving students some basic concepts in philosophy. The brevity of each essay left me with more questions than answers, but that’s what good philosophy teaching does.





Monday Morning Stepback: Links, A bit more about RomCon and Covers
Jul 19 2010 Published by Jessica under Cover commentary, Monday Morning Stepback
The (semi) weekly links and opinion post
Links of Interest:
Laura Vivanco at Teach Me Tonight on Representing Mothers and their Children. Thought provoking post and insightful comments.
Audible now has an Iphone/Ipod Touch/Blackberry App, making it a one step process to purchase and play your audiobooks. And the features in the Audible app — inclusive of cover art — are better than those in iTunes.
As reported by NPR, UVA has digitized and made available Faulkner’s talks given while he was in residence in the late 1950s.
“Because I’m the Batman!” — Batman sends an audio query to Janet Reid with hilarious results.
Mandi at Smexy Books has a great post and a wonderful thread on Urban Fantasy and the HEA.
An older post, but worth a look if you haven’t seen it: Women Writing Fantasy by Stella Matutine (hat tip to Kristin of Fantasy Cafe for the link).
Randy Cohen, “ethicist” (he’s actually a humorist) for the Sunday NYT Magazine wrote that trans people have an ethical obligation to expose themselves to their dates. This has not gone over well with several bloggers in the trans community. Lisa Harney has a particularly clear and incisive critique.
Tonight’s episode was definitely better, but I have had a very hard time watching True Blood this season on feminist grounds. Womanist Musings explains why.
The Book Smugglers have kicked off YA Appreciation event. Click the link for all the details and events.
RomCon
Two quick points about my experience there that I did not get to put in the blog post:
A few more post con reports have sprung up:
Kim from SOS Aloha has a great recap with a comprehensive list of all the bloggers in attendance.
Keynote speaker and author Lori Foster
Limecello, reviewer at TGTBTU
Author Nicole Peeler
Publisher’s Weekly, Beyond Her Book, Guest column by NYStacey
Author Carolyn Jewel, over at Risky Regencies
Covers:
Why are we interested in book covers? I can think of a few reasons. For one, aesthetics. Humans are interested in beauty and design. We like well designed things, even when the design is unrelated to the function. Some readers likely collect covers, the way someone might collect coins or ladles, and display them.
For another, as fans, we are interested in how the covers represent not just the book, but our genre, and therefore us. It’s interesting to think about what covers say about our culture, about what attracts buyers, etc. When we talk about covers, we are talking about how the industry sees us, and about how we are portrayed to those outside the genre.
Covers also provide an easy shorthand for us as buyers. Even a badly designed or ugly cover can communicate something about a book. To that extent they can help us with buying decisions, especially when we are in a rush.
Of course, covers can mislead us and often do. Few of the heroes in the books actually look like the cover models, and often the hero is posed in ways no human other than a cover model would consent to. The heroine also often does not resemble the female cover model, especially when the author has written her to be less than classically beautiful, or, as we have seen in the whitewashing cases, when she is of other than white Angle race or ethnicity. Covers can also show situations or scenes that do not occur in the book. Some covers are much more misleading than these examples, leading readers to mistake the subgenre or genre of the book in question.
But covers have no relation to the main purposes for which most buyers will pick up a book. Whether we read for fun or escape or mental exercise or any other typical reason, the cover is not predictive or causally connected in any but the most generic ways to whether we our reading experience will be a good one. Bad, ugly, misleading covers adorn great books, and lovely covers adorn awful books. Exciting, unique books get boring, unimaginative covers while dull and uninspired books get covers that are visually cutting edge.
The usual understanding of rationality (or at least instrumental rationality) is that your means match your ends. You have goals, and you do the thing that is most likely to help you meet them. Given that definition, using covers to make buying decisions is irrational.
The covers and content so rarely go together that I am actually grateful I now read mostly digital, because I feel like I have a better chance of meeting my reading goals –namely, a terrific, well written, enjoyable book — without them.
Personal:
We have decided to totally redo the kitchen. Those cabinets we had painted? Twice? Are getting ripped out. So is the floor. Hold me.
I got my instructor’s copy of True Blood and Philosophy. Expect a review in the next week or so.
I’m writing a talk for a conference on Saturday in Camden, so it’s a busy week.
We are also hosting a British soccer coach for my sons’ camp this week. Originally from London, he’s a university student at Leeds and an absolute delight. We are already learning a lot about English culture: I gave him a few cereals to choose from for breakfast and he poured a little of each into his bowl. It gives me an excellent excuse to fix a lobster dinner tonight.
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