But OH the Shame!

[grammarwoman]

seperis, pundit vixen that she is, pointed out brown_betty's Oh My God, I Can See Your Id!, a discussion of books "where an author appears to be exposing her id, and doesn't know it."

Most of my favorite authors from my pre-adolescent through teen years are mentioned in the comments, from Anne McCaffrey and Mercedes Lackey to David Eddings and Robert Heinlein, with special mentions of Marion Zimmer Bradley and other fixtures.

I was already feeling embarrassed by some of those just by the way they have not aged well at all, or that I have. Now I don't even know if there will be anything left in our library to steer the Emperor towards the Good Stuff. "Um, well, there's Jim Butcher and Glen Cook and Kage Baker and...Crap. Lemme get back to you."

Comments

[increvable.livejournal.com]

Stanislaw Lem! So good, especially the Ijon Tichy and Pirx the Pilot stories.

[grammarwoman]

I have heard of Stanislaw Lem, but never read. I shall put that on the Round Tuit list.

[ddbrown.livejournal.com]

Eh, I wouldn't worry about it too much. I mean, every author is going to bring a bit of their id out to play with their fantasy; it's pretty much unavoidable. So long as a developing mind gets a nice healthy balance of inputs, I like to think that it will all even itself out in the end. What's more, some of the complaints I found to be a bit... puerile. Such as the reference to Polgara preferring to make soap by hand. Well, I also know a lot of people who like knitting socks, even though you can go buy a pair of nice woolen socks for less than the cost of the yarn. So what? Some people jump to conclusions to quickly.


That having been said, I must admit - later Heinlein was less of "id peaking through" and more of "unabashed public personal fantasizing." Much of it was fun, but the mother/son incest was at blinking neon sign level.

[grammarwoman]

I had the exact same reaction to the Polgara comment - I like making things by hand.

At some level I just have to laugh, because my parents had no clue what I was reading, let alone knew enough to hand me books. (I had an appetite for books like army ants for land - if it was in my path, I'd consume it.)

[darsynia.livejournal.com]

Can I confess that my baby brain/crappy high school education led me to not really understand the post at all? I shouldn't be ashamed except that I haven't done any research into the concept of 'id' personally, as I wasn't ever taught anything about it. I know what it is in the same way that I know a pomegranate is a fruit but I don't know what it tastes like or what it's used for or anything.

[grammarwoman]

If you think of the id as the part of yourself that is your baser instincts, the things that bring you pleasure (even and especially if they're unseemly), then the author showing her id is like writing out her kinks over and over, even when they detract from or completely derail the story.

Arguments have been made that the id is the fuel behind a lot of fanfic, and that it's what can make profic squirmy and uncomfortable for many people, though it may satisfy things in other people's ids.

Is that any help?

[darsynia.livejournal.com]

Yep, that helps. Not seeing how Eddings does that (unless it's in the form of humorous one upsmanship (one for her side), and even then, I do that more IRL than in the books I read, so...), and maybe that's why I was confused, as I know Eddings' work better than the rest of the authors mentioned.

[grammarwoman]

Eddings was not one of the stronger examples. I think the poster was objecting to the way that Eddings constantly recycles character types and plots.

[hecateuse.livejournal.com]

Enh, the id is half the fun. Why else would I love Heinlein? It's a process of, as the reader, coming to realize when the author's doing it, and getting to know the author on a different level because of it. Books without the author's id showing would be terribly boring to read.

[grammarwoman]

You may have a point there. *grin*

[sapphireone.livejournal.com]

Now I have spent *way too long* reading that post.

My great-uncle was John W. Campbell, a no-longer so well-known early SF author. In all of whose books, the blond and blue-eyed men win the day, and beautiful women come flocking to them, longing to clean for them and bear their children. Even if it requires wearing a full-body stocking to conceal the fact that they have *three breasts* instead of the normal two.

[grammarwoman]

OK, that's just awesome. I don't know that I've read much Campbell, but I've definitely heard of him. To give them credit, early SF authors were the ground-breakers, so we can't exactly hold them to the same standards.

(I'm a sucker for people talking about books, what can I say?)