Viserys, Third of His Name, and an Extremely Misunderstood Character

One of the things I have been doing in an attempt to Keep Writing (that's my mantra, just keep writing, just keep writing) has been to defend some of the more vilified characters in some of my favorite book series.

Any writer, almost, can write a villain.  They're easy.  They want world domination, they want power, etc, etc, yadda yadda yadda.  It takes a truly gifted writer to create a bad guy that you can sympathize with.

George R. R. Martin is a writer I've been a fan of since the days where he wrote lines for Linda Hamilton and Ron Pearlman as they starred as the title characters in the original Beauty & The Beast television series.  His latest opus, "A Song of Ice and Fire", is a massive series spanning many characters, and many miles.  Summers last for years, and Winter can span decades, and many noble families squabble over the right to rule.

If you have not read the books, or seen Game of Thrones, HBO's hit series that they serve as the basis for, you may not want to read any further, because here be spoilers for the first book and the first season of the show.

Viserys Targaryen, the last dragon. is widely regarded as a "bad guy".  He abuses fan favorite Daenerys (aka Dany) from early in the first book, and continually threatens her, beats her throughout his short stint in the series, before eventually being killed by his brother in law, Khal Drogo, who pours molten gold over his head.

Seriously misunderstood creatures, dragons are.

Viserys is truly a tragic character if you think about it.

He has genetics working against him, his family has a clear history of inbreeding and mental illness, so he was probably struggle with his inherited issues from a young age.

He was plucked from a life of wealth, opulence,  and privilege, first to Dragonstone, which in my imagination looks like a Disney Villain's base of operations, then exiled to the free cities after the death of both of his parents and the ruin of his house, and then finally, on to the streets with his young sister, his only surviving blood, whom he must now take care of, raise, feed, clothe, and shelter.

He essentially grows up constantly looking ove his shoulder, in fear of what he's been told about Robert Baratheon, knowing that his entire family has been wiped off the face of the earth.

He has to sell practically everything he owns just to survive, every trinket, every memory he was able to keep with him.

He becomes a joke in the free cities, and he probably knows it, but during all of that, he never gives up the thought that one day, he'll take back what belonged to his father, and what should be his. For his father, his mother, his brother, and everyone else that he believes slain by Robert Baratheon.

Finally, someone seems to want to help him. A wealthy man, loyal to him. Can you imagine how it must feel, after so many years of wandering streets and alleys begging for help?

Magister Illyrio must have seemed like the savior from the Gods. He "helps" Viserys, he takes the burden of caring for himself and Dany away, and offers up a plan to put The True King back on the throne. Something Viserys has waiting for, for so long, he can practically taste it. He wants it so badly, and it's just beyond his reach. All he has to do, is sell his sister. The woman he probably assumed he would one day marry. His last, and likely most prized, possession.

So he does, expecting to immediately be given what he bargained for, but then, he is told he must wait until the Khal decides to return the gift. Who knows how long that will be, and what if Dany becomes sick and dies? What then? Will he get his gift? What if she fails to please the Khal after a few months of marriage?

Now, I'm not saying that these difficulties and stress excuse him from his cruelties, but think about how we as humans process stress and hardship. Some of us use anger as fuel to get through when things get tough. Given that Viserys was also likely mentally ill, I can understand, if not condone, his "difficulties" with people. I know some people will argue that he was evil, but I honest think that he was the victim of a perfect storm that created his downfall.

VIserys is not a villain.  He's a victim.

A crown for a king.

Trying to Reason with the Dog and other musings about pet ownership

Oswald (my dog) is odd.  I mean, he eats cat poop.  So, there is definitive proof that he's odd.  He is also a bag lady:

THESE ARE MY THINGS! MINE!

He has a couch of his own, and until recently he had a dog bed (he ripped it, so the stuffing was falling all over the place and I was too frustrated to try and sew it up.)  He has pillows and blankets and sheets all his own (*cough*spoiled*cough*) but he'd prefer to sleep half way under the bed in our spare room.

He has attachment issues. He gets upset when I don't  sit on the couch with him or if I leave the house without him... or if I go to bed before he does.  And heaven forbid I sit on our extra bed, because it's too high up for him to climb on to sit with me.  How is it I wind up with codependent animals?  Is it because I spoil them?

Cuddley snuggies.

He has toys and balls and treats, but he would prefer to chew on an old, gross plastic bottle.  I guess I should be glad he doesn't chew up my shoes.

Today, though, he's acting particularly strange.  He normally goes out to pee when my boyfriend gets home from work.  He went today and peed and came right back in. Since we moved, we have to take him out on a leash because we don't have a fence anymore.  It's more inconvenient because he likes to go on adventures where he sniffs leaves for 45 minutes, but I suppose the exercise is good for him.

He sleeps with his tongue out.

So, today, he went out when Boyfriend got home from work, and then he was at the door an hour later, asking to go out again.  I took him out and he did his business and we came back inside.  No sooner had I gotten dinner in the oven and sat down, when he was back at the door again.

So I said to him, "Come away from the door. You just went out. You pooh and peed. You can't possibly have to go again. If you have to pee again, then you're sick and you have see Doctor [Vet]. That's it. Come here and sit down."  As if 1) he understood that and 2) he would listen even if he did.  I feel like that's probably an sign of early onset dementia, trying to reason with a dog.

And yet, I find myself having these one sided conversations with the dog all the time, attempting to reason with him.  I'm sure my neighbors all think I'm insane, running around the 'hood talking to the dog at all hours of the day and night.

I suppose my reasoning is that Oswald loves me, and the tone of my voice is more indicative of what I want than what I'm saying.  It's my way of comforting him, I suppose.  Of course, most people don't get all wishy washy over animals to the extent that I do, so they likely think I'm crazy for talking to the dog.  I mean, I do have conversations with him.  I ask him how his day was.  I know that he won't answer.  I know that he doesn't understand.  But he still wags his little stump of a tail when I talk to him.

Boyfriend comments all the time about how much Oswald loves me.  Even though Oswald is technically Boyfriend's dog, he clearly prefers me.  He follows me around the house, sits next to me on the couch when I watch my trashy reality TV, and I know that if Boyfriend would allow it, he would sleep in the bed with me.  He lays on the floor next to me when I'm working on the computer, when I'm eating, and he sits outside the bathroom door when I'm... doing bathroom things.  He's either very suspicious of me, or he loves me.  I'm going to go with love.

And why shouldn't he love me? I feed him, bathe him (he doesn't like that, but I think he understands that it makes his itchies go away), I brush him, I play with him, I pet him.    I make up his little bed and spread his blankies out for him.  I give him ice cubes on hot days.  I take him "bye-byes" (on car rides).  I'm like, the best thing since slice bread as far as he's concerned.  And Oswald REALLY loves sliced bread.

It's not all wine and roses though.  He's a lot of work.  He has to have his ears cleaned every week, and his stump (where his tail was) cleaned every day or so.  His face wrinkles have to be cleaned as well.  His nails have to trimmed.  He has allergies and hot spots, so those have to be treated with cortizone and peroxide to make sure they don't get infected.  He has to be given frequent baths.  He often wakes me up barking because he's spoiled and wants to be near me.  He eats leaves and then pukes them up.   He jumps on strangers in petsmart.  He bites when you pick him up.

But, he's a sweet, gentle, loving dog, despite all that.  And he's mine.

So, I Read A Book Called "Jemima J: A Novel About Ugly Ducklings and Swans" ...

Cover art for the American
Paperback Version of the Novel

I tend to read a lot more in the summer, because I spend time at the pool, the beach, and because most of the spectacularly intellectually devoid television programming I watch is in re-run status.  Last week, I read a book called "Jemima J: A Novel About Ugly Ducklings and Swans" by Jane Green.

This post contains book spoilers.

The book is all about poor, pitiable Jemima Jones, a British journalist who is 5'7" and 200+  pounds.   It talks about how almost everyone she ever meets is either rude or condescending to her, how she can't find a boyfriend, and the only decent man she knows only sees her as a friend.  It makes her life sound like hell on earth.  Then, Jemima meets Brad, a "fit, handsome tanned Californian" on the internet, lies about her appearance, and then goes on a crusade to become the woman she pretends to be.  She goes to California and everyone loves her because now she's thin.

Surprise, surprise, Brad is a dick and uses her.  He's actually fucking his (fat!) secretary, Jenny.  ...Because Jenny is fat like his mother.  ...but Brad NEEDS Jemima as his arm candy.  ...I'm not even going to get into all the reasons I hate that plot point.

After dumping Brad, Jemima runs into her old friend, the one who never noticed her in "that way" before.  He falls in love with her because suddenly, she's attractive.  They get married, she puts some weight back on (but not TOO much, only about 20 pounds, putting her at a healthy 130/140 lbs) and lives happily ever after.

In case you can't tell, I didn't really care for the book.  I thought, while it was funny at times, it sent a lot of negative messages.  The biggest one is that larger people are unhappy.  That you can't be happy unless your thin.

I have to tell you, a lot of thin people are unhappy, too.  And a lot of larger people are happy.  I'm sure that people who are so morbidly obese they can't leave their homes aren't happy...  But as a large person, I have to tell you, I'm fairly happy.  It's clear that the writer, Jane Green, has no idea what it's like to be overweight. The way she describes Jemima's lifestyle, you'd expect her to be over three hundred pounds. Yes, 200lbs at 5'7" is not slim, not at all, but it's not the picture you initially paint of Jemima in your head.

Most people Jemima's size don't have the problems as described by Jemima.  They don't break chairs they sit in, they don't have trouble fitting through doors.  Basically, it reads like Jane Green just doesn't like people who are overweight.

And then, Jemima decides to lose weight.  For a man.  If she wanted to do it for herself, or for her health, that'd be one thing.  But the message is: Men will only love you if you're thin.

Maybe it just strikes a cord with me because I am over weight.  But I did some reading over Amazon's user reviews of the book, and found that a lot people feel the same way.

The book also makes it seem like a woman isn't whole without a man.  While I have a boyfriend, and I felt pretty lonely for a long time before I met him, I wouldn't say I wasn't whole.  Maybe it was not the authors intent, but it that's what it feels like.  It's insulting.

The book switches around a lot from third person to first person, which while helpful in moving the "plot" along, can be kind of confusing, especially when you have four different points of view in as many paragraphs.  There's also an awful lot of telling, and very little showing.  That is, a character will say "Oh, you're so funny." but it's never demonstrated WHY they are funny... or kind, or lovable.

Basically, I didn't like the book very much.  It's a self described "beach read" and has little substance.  The plot is contrived, and the happy ending seems very much obligatory.  There's no real conflict, no real resolution, other than "Jemima Marries That Guy Who Ignored Her When She Was Overweight."

Don't waste your money.