Why Haruhi is just like Superman — narratives shaped by media

Pause and Select‘s video about the anime media mix and the way it can shape narratives and the changes in how it has done so got me thinking. In the interview here with Marc Steinberg, who has written a book about this, they discuss how the media mix works. How a franchise like Star Wars creates a narrative through the use of different media: comics, movies, books, cartoons, television shows and how that changed for the anime media mix with Haruhi with the character becoming the world rather being part of a narrative within that world. No longer on a consistent narrative within one world, but with the narrative changing, the world altered depending on which particular bit of media you’re consuming. You’re reading for Haruhi and it no longer matters which narrative she’s part of.

Which got me thinking.

You know what sounds really similar to how Haruhi is presented and sold? How DC Comics traditionally dealt with Superman. Because what you see there is that from 1938 to the seventies, what they’re selling is not the world of Superman, where you have different stories in different media but all set in the same world, but rather the same character in different contexts. The Superman comics told different stories from the newspaper strip, the Max Fleischer cartoons, the tv and radio shows or the underoos, but had the same recognisable characters. The comics themselves were often not even that consistent, with no real continuity, taken place in an eternal present. Then there were the imaginary stories, where the writers would place Superman in deliberately world ending scenarios and presented it explicitly as not real in a very different way from how every other Superman story was not real.

In this context, the Haruhi media mix is the older model and it was Marvel which introduced the media mix as narrative, by explicitly setting its comics in the same world, with a continuity that means one story is set after another and characters can cross over into other stories, expecting the reader to pay attention and directly refering to the older story when relevant through recapping or editorial notes. At first this was of course only limited to the comics themselves, with any other media adaptations just being that, adaptations, but its ultimate form is the Marvel Cinematic Universe, having introduced superhero comics continuity to the cinema, where stories can continue in different movies, tv shows and even comic books!

What sets the Haruhi media mix model apart from the Superman model is a greater self consciousness and awareness of the media mix as a whole, rather than seeing the comics or the movies as the primary component and the rest as mere adaptations, optional elements, to be discarded when no longer relevant. (Sometimes even discarding its own primary continuity, as in Crisis on Infinite Earths.) Haruhi has character as primary mode of engagement much more than Superman ever had, which still had a rough consistency across all its media elements, elements that once added, would crop up everywhere. With Haruhi on the other hand it’s just enough she’s Haruhi.

Which of course brings me to vtubers. The ultimate form of character as world, with the narrative rising organically from day to day streaming, where the core elements of the character (Subaru is a loud duck, La+ is a chuuni fork) are what sticks but the context in which they’re established barely matters. Meaning created out of thin air. The ultimate post-modern entertainment.

Implied sex? In my fantasy anime?

It’s hilarious how much better animated this pre-opening sequence of Rit and Red finally sharing a bed in Shin No Nakama episode eight is compared to, well, most of the series so far:

I keep wanting to call Shin no Nakama an Isekai anime, but it actually isn’t. No teenagers accidently transported over from Tokyo here, even if the world does have the look and feel of a generic fantasy videogame derived isekai, complete with a Hero and Demon Lord. Like most isekai anime, Shin no Nakama (full title: Shin no Nakama ja Nai to Yuusha no Party o Oidasareta node, Henkyou de Slow Life Suru Koto ni Shimashita or I Was Kicked out of the Hero’s Party so I Went to the Boondocks to Enjoy the Slow Life) ultimately derives its setting from the Japanese tradition of Tolkienesque fantasy that started with Dragon Quest, hence the similarities. Like most isekai stories it also started out as a self published web novel, before being polished up to become a commercially published light novel which then got a manga adaptation and finally this anime. Not surprising that it’s a bit derivative in its setting therefore.

The plot too is not that original. Red was kicked out of the Hero’s party allegedly because he wasn’t good enough but actually because somebody was jealous of him. The Hero destined to defeat the threat of the Demon Lord was actually his little sister, but while he had a Blessing that made him really powerful really quickly so as to protect her, he also reached his limits quickly and could no longer grow. So he reluctantly let himself be talked into leaving the party and moved to Zoltan, as far away from everything as possible. There he met Rit, whom he first got to know when he was still travelling with the Hero. Rit had always been attracted to him and now that she had the change, she decided to give up adventuring like he had and run his pharmacy together. Most of the series so far had them struggling to do so as the wider world seems determined to interfere and drag them back into the fight against the Demon Lord, while the Hero and her party are suffering from his absence.

Rit in her slightly impractical adventurer outfit with breasts almost popping out

Throughout this, the slowly budding romance between Rit — who knows what she wants and isn’t shy expressing it — and Red is what kept me watching. Usually this sort of anime keeps things ambiguous, with maybe a harem of possible love interests assembled around the hero. And even when a true romance unfolds, it’s kept chaste. No sex allowed even as the camera makes sure to capture every haremette’s bouncing chest and every other episode has a bathing scene. As you can see, that’s not the case here. Red does fall in love with Rit, they do sleep together and while it’s not on camera, they’re having sex. Or would if they didn’t have a guest staying over. I like it. It’s nice to see a series not afraid to have its characters fucking, while being mostly free of fanservice as well, apart from the slightly impractical adventurer’s outfit Rit wears. As such, Shin no Nakama is my guilty not quite isekai of the season.

Jacula – from shock comic to glam rock

It’s 1974, you’re a Dutch glam rock band and you want to be different: what do you do? You take your inspiration from the pulpiest of pulp comics and create a hit out of it:



Jacula was originally a Italian fumetti comics series, published from 1969 to 1982, translated into Dutch from 1973 to 1978. Fumettie are cheap, pocket sized black and white comics printed on the worst grade of paper. Cheap and disposable entertainment, full of lurid sex and violence, made by anonymous and interchangeable writers and artists, with nothing to recommend them. Jacula is a bog standard example. Set in the 19th century, Jacula is the “queen of vampires” and travels all over the world, fighting other vampires and getting involved in horror situations, with of course at least one or two sex scenes per story. While over time there has been a re-appreciation of the fumetti, with the realisation that at least some of those anonymous creators were genuinely good at their work, I can’t say Jacula would excite anybody, at least not the issues published in Dutch. The stories are plodding, the artwork is pedestrian and there’s little to shock, no edgier than a Hammer Horror movie.

A selection of gory and sexy Jacula covers

It probably sold thanks to its covers. Always better than the interior artwork, with a big helping of bare tits and the occassional bloke’s arse, lots of blood and horror, they’re doing a good job selling the much more staid interior. Maybe that’s what inspired Dutch glam rock band Lemming to create songs of it and from Lucifera, a similar series. Not bad songs either. They fit in well with that groovy age of seventies horror, that also included the fumetti that inspired them, as well as the various low budget horror movies filmed cheaply in central Europe. Watching this clip now gives me an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. These sort of cheap shlock comics are no longer being published in the Netherlands and even in Italy itself seems to be mostly gone. As for the band, they released one album in 1975, disbanded sometime in the seventies, reunited in 2002 and released one more album in 2008.

‘met mij gaat het goed, met ons gaat het slecht’

The modern Dutch mood in a nutshell: “I’m doing fine, we’re doing not so great”. If you’re middle class with a middle class job, your own home, in your forties or older, even the Covid pandemic could barely dent your comfortable life. Sure, you might have missed the water cooler talks with your cow-orkers, or have a little extra stress because now you have to work from home while your kids were bored from doing remote classes, but otherwise the greatest change was getting your groceries delivered rather than having to schlep them from the supermarket yourself. If you have money, if you have your own house, the Netherlands is a very comfortable country where you don’t have to do anything but work and consume and the news is just background noise that doesn’t really impact on ‘real life’.

Of course there are a lot of people who aren’t middle class, or don’t have a middle class job they could do just as well at home, who don’t even own their own house nor have a change to ever get one. There are also certain nice, middle class families who had everything but where branded benefit cheats by their own government based on suspicions rather than facts and who lost everything as a consequence: job, home, family. Most of the tens of thousands of people caught in this turned out to be people of colour or holders of another nationality besides their Dutch one. Turns out the tax ‘services’ think having a double nationality is a sign of fraud. One hesitates to argue that our government deliberately set out to destroy the wealth and welfare of its citizens of colour, but they hardly could’ve done better here if they planned it. Thousands of families destroyed, tens of thousands of people chased into debt, millions wasted on prosecuting them. Incidently, did you know our prime minister was once found guilty for encouraging racial discrimination? Pure coincidence, I’m sure.

The phrase ‘met mij gaat het goed, met ons gaat het slecht’ comes from an ex-director of the Dutch government’s Sociaal en Cultureel Planbureau (Social and Cultural Planning Organisation), Paul Schnabel, who coined it in 2018 already, before Covid and before we learned how badly the state treats the citizens it doesn’t like. It’s not just taxes, in almost every part of its interactions with its citizens the state behaves like we’re the enemy. In child care for example, due to budget cuts and decentralisation and the sheer incompetence within the services this created, increasing numbers of children have been taken out of their families, sometimes to end up in prison because there are no youth shelters available. We also see it in the hostile policing of the demonstrations for social housing, where police kettled, attacked and arrested peaceful demonstrators. We see it in the refusal to tackle climate change, where despite court orders, little concrete is done and climate destroyers like Shell still get huge subsidies. There’s also the destruction of legal aid, now no longer available for any civil case involving the state, leaving the average citizens helpless against a legal system already prejudiced towards the state.

And yet, despite this, despite the fatal mishandling of the pandemic these past two years, we’re apparantly still so comfortable with how our country is run that we re-elected the people responsible for it earlier this year. This by the way also shows the arrogance of the ruling party, the VVD and its leader, Rutte. Despite finally taking some responsibility for how the tax services had ruined the lives of tens of thousands of people last year and resigning, Rutte had the chutzpah to put himself forward as leader again — and we re-elected him! How is that possible? Mathieu Segers thinks it’s a symptom of general Dutch complacenty, where we assume without evidence that we know what’s best and we don’t need to learn from anybody foreign. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, we know that the Dutch way of doing things is the best, we live in the best country in the world and any criticism is just foreing jealousy, or whinging from losers. If that sounds familiar, yes, we have a lot in common with the English even as we mock them for being so stupid as to fall for Brexit. The mote in another’s eye and all that.

The core of Segers’ argument resonates with me:

Dit vreemde gedrag ging hand in hand met hardvochtigheid naar buiten toe, en richting alles wat anders is of lijkt dan Nederlands. Het is een houding die past bij de comfortabele berusting die hoort bij ‘met mij gaat het goed, met ons gaat het slecht’, en die kenmerkend is voor het merendeel van de hedendaagse Nederlandse bevolking. Vanuit deze houding is keihard beleid ten opzichte van een ieder waarvan die meerderheid het idee heeft dat hij of zij anders is (en dus verantwoordelijk kan worden gehouden voor het ‘met ons gaat het slecht’-deel van het gevoel in het land) al snel legitiem. Dat bleek en blijkt.

Summarised, the incuriosity and forgiveness we have towards ourselves in general and our government’s handling of Covid in particular, goes hand in hand with an extreme hostility against anything foreign or non-Dutch. There is no solidarity with people who are not like us, as seen in the hostile attitude at the start of the pandemic towards Italy and their proposal to establish an EU Covid recovery fund. You also see it in that whole tax scandal I described above: that was the consequence partially of laws being written to punish foreign benefit cheats, making being foreign a sign of fraud on its own, even if it was never explicitly stated as such. We have a state with laws that protects but does not bind the in group, — middle class, white property owners, tax cheating multinationals, climate destroyers — but does not shelter the out group: anybody not Dutch. And a large part of the population is more than comfortable with this.

‘met mij gaat het goed, met ons gaat het slecht’ — that’s the consequence of twenty-plus years of neoliberal consensus changing the state from an instrument to help and protect people back into one that’s hostile towards its own citizens. With nothing to expect from the state and with the seeming failure of the state to listen to its people, a part of the population has decided that as long as they’re comfortable, they don’t care. Just keep the mortgage subsidies coming.

Ten Years Later

That Sunday ten years ago had ended like most Sunday evenings: I’d written a post for my booklog (Omnitopia Dawn), farted about on the internet and had gone to bed before midnight. A few hours later I was woken up by a phone call from the hospital telling me Sandra had passed away.

Martin and Sandra

It wasn’t unexpected but it was still a surprise. I’d visited her in hospital only that evening, never expecting the end would come only hours after I’d left her. It was a surreal experience to take that taxi to the other side of Amsterdam and find her, well, gone. I knew that moment would come, but still wasn’t prepared for the reality of it. That day and the week after, I was just numb, just surviving day by day arranging the funeral. You never know how much your family can do for you until a moment like this. It was only once my parents and siblings had to go home again and I was alone, alone for the first time in years, that it all hit me. In a year after her death, not a day went by without crying. Dip into my posts for 2012 and you see how often I mention her.

Time heals all wounds, as the cliche says and it’s frightening how true this is. In the decade since she passed away she’s never been far from my memory, but the realities of day to day living means that raw pain is slowly ground down. As the physical reminders of her presence in our home slowly disappeared, the opportunities to be accidently reminded of her dwindle as well. You can’t keep grieving; at some point I made my peace with her death. Now it’s mostly moments like this that I’m mourning again. Despite this, she still isn’t far from my thoughts. Sandra shaped my politics (socialist), my tastes in literature (classic detectives), music (p-funk) and that influence is there to this day.

Hector and Sophia on Sandra's lap

We met the old fashioned way, trading sarcastic barbs on an IRC spinoff of the alt.fan.pratchett Usenet group back in spring of 2000. To be honest, first impressions weren’t good, but it soon turned out that this was our form of flirting. Chatting in the main channel became private chats between the two of us, became long phone calls — and wasn’t that scary that first time I called her– and finally, at Christmas 2000, Sandra came over to visit. That was a magical moment, it had started snowing only that day and waiting in a silent winter wonderland for that Eurolines bus to come in is one of my best memories. Getting used to each other and being with each other over the next few days was even better. In 2001 I tried to move to the UK but couldn’t get a job, so instead she moved to Amsterdam two years later. When we bought our house, we also got two kittens to keep the elderly stray cat we’d taken home from my parents company. Now only one of them is still alive (Sophie, on the left).

Our mutual love for Terry Pratchett’s books is what brought us together. We weren’t the only ones that got together through pTerry fandom; in our circle of friends there are a lot of people who met, shacked up, married and had children thanks to Pratchett. What set Sandra apart is that Pratchett also gave her the courage to die. She had had a bout of cancer that nearly killed her decades ago and as a result had barely functioning kidneys left. These finally packed up in 2008 and she needed a kidney transplant. It took a year of her slowly getting worse on dialysis before it could happen. As luck would have it, I was compatible with her and could be a donor, but both she and I needed to be in a good enough condition to undergo the operation. Two days before Christmas 2009 it happened. For me, the operation went smoothly and I was discharged on Christmas day. Sandra was less lucky.

Sandra looking skeptical

The next two years were an ordeal, as she combatted secondary infections and moved in and of hospital and worse, intensive care. Periods of recovery became fewer and fewer; the times she was home shorter and shorter. Those moments of hope followed by disappointment ate away at her and, if I’m honest, me as well. And then Terry Pratchett did one last thing for us: release a documentary about his decision on end his own life. Pratchett had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of early onset Alzheimers a few years ago and had decided that he would not let the disease determine his time of death. He would end his life on his terms, when he was still able to make the choice and before the disease ate away his personality. He made a documentary about this decision and we watched it together. It was this that gave the courage to do the same. In October she decided to stop all treatment and prepared for her death. We had a last family farewell that month and a few weeks later she passed away.

It took me a long time to get to peace with her decision. Still not sure I’m completely.