Global Fandom Jamboree: Miranda Ruth Larsen (Japan)

A view of the KCON LA convention floor from the Special Guest lounge (author’s photo, 2018)

In the mid‐2000s, I walked into a music‐based pop culture shop in a Central New York mall and picked up a t‐shirt emblazoned with the words “anime freak” in English and the kanji for “otaku” in Japanese. At the time, Japanese content such as anime and manga were circulating widely in the United States and globally, aided by Web 2.0 and the time and effort of industry and dedicated fans alike. (Larsen 2018, 277) This personal anecdote opens my article “Fandom and Otaku” to marry my argument (fan, like otaku, is a contextually determinant term and identity) with my aca-fan position (an identity position that complicates and enriches fan experiences). 

 Consider the following situation as an addendum: in the summer of 2015, I returned to Central New York to visit family before moving to Tokyo for my PhD. One of my cousins was especially eager for me to spend time with her daughter, someone also “into” all the “Japan stuff.” Despite our 13-year age gap, this ‘little’ cousin of mine and I shared interests in numerous anime, video games, and Japanese musicians. She was particularly delighted I knew about Hatsune Miku, as many of her friends didn’t understand the concept of the virtual singer. We then had this exchange:

Me: Well, if you see something Miku that you want to get, I can always send it to you

from Tokyo.

Little cousin: Oh, that’s okay. I can get everything on Amazon.

The sting of rejected good intentions aside, this moment encapsulates a generational difference of engagement with Japanese popular culture and fandom itself. I cite it now in conjunction with my statement in “Fandom and Otaku” as an apt illustration of the many strains found in fandom and fan studies. Transcultural fandom is at the root of global fan practices today, facilitated by international marketing and connections via Web 2.0. At the same time, this focus on the globalization of certain texts and practices often elides critical localized realities. 

 My dissertation, “‘A World Just For You’: Affect, Bodies, and Place in Shin-Ōkubo,” explores this via K-pop. While widely understood as a global phenomenon, the experience of K-pop fandom and idoldom in Tokyo’s Koreatown is vastly different from other locations. Besides a complex historical backdrop and cultures of gendered consumption writ large, categories of ‘fan’ and ‘idol’ are often spatially bound performances. Affective experiences offered as integral components of nascent idol life, such as sharing photos, recording “Five Minute Dates,” and tackling language barriers facilitate co-present co-creation specific to certain locales. Koreatown’sIkemen-dori(“Hot Guy Road”), for example, has idols recruit new fans via hand-delivered flyers in an environment of ethnic tourism clouded by an unwillingness to remember Japanese atrocities against Korean nationals both historical and present (Ahn and Yoon 2020, 179). Critically, this localized model influences idols who go on to operate elsewhere, including participation in production of other idols in For

Rookie K-pop group CIRCUS CRAZY distributes flyers on the streets of Shin-Ōkubo, Tokyo’s Koreatown (author’s photo, 2016).

 The recognition of the global in fan studies often fades to discussions of adaptation, distribution, and objects. My dissertation highlights how numerous fan experiences can’t be purchased via Amazon. Elsewhere, I’ve written about affective hoarding, a phenomenon where fans actively seek to take an affective experience away from another fan (Larsen 2018, On/Offscreen). While adaptation, distribution, and object fandom matter, fan studies has much work to do recognizing the polymorphous. Like the earlier abandonment of purely affirmational, resistance-driven fandom, we must now accept that the digital and global turn facilitates anti-fandom and toxic stan culture on a borderless and terrifying scale.

 I’m interested, then, in how scholarship can better represent the realities of fandom, addressing the non-utopian (racism, sexism, classism, ageism, nationalism, xenophobia) and the complex (transcultural, linguistic, affective, commoditized). Disparities in academia at large and academic publishing guarantee widely circulated texts are often vetted via academia, not fandom. Critical views of BIPOC scholars – and other underrepresented populations – are curated for acceptability by a white majority that gets to represent the field in classrooms and revenue. It’s unsurprising, therefore, that voices offering the hardest truths are often dismissed – and harassed -- if they do not fit the narrative (Stitch 2021).

 Similarly, the aca-fan orientation, outside of many welcoming circles, is criticized as an unethical position denoting excessive attachment. As Lori Hitchcock-Morimoto observes, “we are wont to think of the emotional side of fandom as both incalculable (and thus difficult to account for) and insufficiently critical as a scholarly lens, particularly where positive emotions are concerned” (2017). In my own experience while based in Tokyo, I frequently encountered pointed stares whenever I framed my work as aca-fandom or reported fans and idols as having diverse experiences. Again, this is contextual; white cis male academics engaging with ‘weird Japan’ aren’t undercut in the same manner. There is a marked gender bias as to who is an acceptable aca-fan, among many other factors. This is not discussed enough.

 Returning to my opening anecdotes, I want to stress the rural setting of these experiences as well. Media and experiences may be theoretically widely available, but they are not widely accessible. As I often explain when questioned about my research, K-pop idols do not offer the same proximities – real and imagined – to fans in Tokyo as they do in Los Angeles. And as I told my little cousin back in 2015, utilizing a fannish reference, one does not simply purchase everything on Amazon.

 I believe fan studies, to capture the realities of fandom, must recognize the numerous gaps between fans far beyond the narrative of a global fandom rallying behind a boyband, film, or athlete. We must update – and create new -- models that address the diversity and inequities of fan experiences and then discuss these models beyond the halls of academia. Most importantly, we must reckon with context upsetting generalized assertions.

 Works Cited

Ahn, Ji-Hyun and E Kyung Yoon. 2020. “Between Love and Hate: The New Korean Wave, Japanese Female Fans, and Anti-Korean Sentiment in Japan.” Journal of Contemporary Eastern Asia Vol. 19., No. 2: 179-196.

Hitchcock-Morimoto, Lori. 2017. “’First Principles’: Hannibal, Affective Economy, and Oppositionality in Fan Studies.” Fan Studies Network Conference, Huddersfield UK.

Larsen, Miranda Ruth. 2018. “Affective Hoarding.” On/Offscreen.

--- 2018. “Fandom and Otaku.” A Companion to Media Fandom and Fan Studies. Paul

Booth, ed. Wiley-Blackwell.

Stitch. 2021. “Over a Year After the OTW/AO3’s Statement of Solidarity: Where Are We With That Anti-Racism?” Stitch’s Media Mix.

Miranda Ruth Larsen is a PhD Candidate at the University of Tokyo in ITASIA (Information, Technology, and Society in Asia). She previously earned an M.A. in Cinema & Media Studies (2015) from UCLA and a B.A. in English & Textual Studies (2011) from Syracuse University. Miranda’s work focuses on fandom, gender, and transcultural media. She is the author of “‘But I’m a Foreigner Too.’ – Otherness, Racial Oversimplification, and Historical Amnesia in Japan’s K-pop Scene” inFandom, Now in Color: A Collection of Voices(2020), “‘Don’t Adjust Your Life to Mine.’ –Moon Child, Homoeroticism, and the Vampire as Multifaceted Other” inThe Global Vampire in Popular Culture(2020), “Fanservice” in the open-access publicationKeywords: Japanese Media and Popular Culture(2020), among others. She has discussed K-pop fandom on podcasts such as Aca-Media, Reset, and Hello Hallyu and was a three-year KCON LA Special Guest. She can be found on Twitter as @AcaOtaku

Global Fandom Jamboree: Hadas Gur-Ze’ev (Israel)

An ultra-orthodox couple and an ICon visitor in costume on public transportation (private collection).

It was Jewish new year more than a decade ago when I was first exposed to the concept of fandom in Israel. As every year, for three days the streets of Tel-Aviv were packed with teenagers dressed as Spiderman, Deadpool, or other handmade cosplay outfits, waving with big gestures and wishing each other (and the shocked onlookers) “Happy Icon-day!”. ICon (short for ‘Israeli Convention') is not a national or religious holiday (though depending on whom you ask), but rather the annual Israeli science fiction and fantasy fan convention—some would say, the Israeli equivalent of Comic-Con. Despite its growing popularity in recent years, the event is completely volunteer-based, and still takes place in a high-school backyard. 

Unlike other fan conventions worldwide, ICon lacks the impressive number of celebrity guests, panels, photo-ops and signatures. I would not go as far as assuming that this has something to do with the politicization of the state of Israel. The genres of comics and sci-fi/fantasy in Israel are still relatively niche, and fly under-the-radar when it comes to the potential battlegrounds for political conflicts. Another explanation might be related to the fact that Israel is still a small market (with a population of about 9 million citizens), geographically remote from the US and central Europe (although probably less-so culturally). On top of this, the resources at hand of the organizations involved—run by the fans themselves—seem to be much more limited.

My forthcoming journal article (co-authored with Prof. Neta Kligler-Vilenchik), titled “No Geek Girls: Boundary-work and Gendered Identity in the Israeli Geek Community,” focused on the construction and negotiation of identity for comics and sci-fi/fantasy fans in Israel through their main digital platform, the Facebook group ‘The Geekery.’ Asking how gender plays into the negotiations over who can—and cannot—be a geek, this project also suggested the importance of the identification as geeks rather than fans, but still as part of a global subculture.

Don’t say ‘comics fans,’ say ‘geeks’: Linguistic and cultural translations

ICon is one of the best examples of a community where participants express feelings of closeness and intimacy—described through terms like “family” and “home”—values that are traditionally dominant in Israeli culture. But the Israeli fan identity is one that is far less Israeli than it is global. Fan objects and resources are pretty much identical to global popular culture, without any formal local additions to the collective repertoire (dominated by Marvel and DC comics). Most fans prefer to read or watch original versions, without subtitles (dubbing is completely unacceptable)—and so comic books, movies and series are mostly consumed in English. Moreover, the very language of fandom, the vocabulary of names, places, phrases, intertextual references and inside-jokes, remains in English, even while the spoken and written language is Hebrew. 

            An interesting exception is the word “fan” itself, which illustrates the special position of comics and sci-fi/fantasy fandom among other types of fans in Israel. While there is some literature on Israeli sports fans or music fans, the word “fan” (מעריץ), used to label the participants in this cultural practice, does not apply well to comics fans. In its translation to Hebrew, the word “fan” often retains the derogative meaning that originated from the word ‘fanatic’ before its reappropriation by fans; in the context of sports fans it is translated as “supporter” or “follower”, and in the context of celebrities or popular content as “admirer” or “adorer”. In contrast, comics and sci-fi/fantasy fans separate themselves from these other types of fans and describe themselves as geeks—hence the name of the community’s Facebook group, The Geekery.

            Like other parts of fan jargon, the label “geek” has not been translated to Hebrew and is preserved in the original pronunciation, spelled with Hebrew letters (גיק). Similarly, despite their rejection of the word “fan,” the word “fandom” actually retained its place in geeky vocabulary, though used for a very specific meaning. “Fandom” (פאנדום) is only used to describe specific fan communities organized around objects of geeky repertoire, while the word is completely unfamiliar to people outside the comics and sci-fi/fantasy community. This gap may explain the lack of literature on Israeli fandoms—for outsiders, they are not perceived as a community, but rather as individuals or people that “are into superhero stories.”

Globalized fandom and (the absence of) local fan objects

It is no secret that the history of comics in the US is closely integrated with Jewish history. Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, as well as many others, were responsible for today’s most famous superheroes (Superman, Batman, The Avengers and many others). According to recent statistics, 74% of the Israeli population is Jewish (the remainder are 21% Muslim, Christian, or Druze Israeli Arabs, and 5% other minorities). This Jewish sector (mostly the secular or atheist part of it) is the most dominant in the comics or sci-fi/fantasy community in Israel. The cultural proximity to the Jewish roots of comics could theoretically have been an important asset for the Israeli fandom, yet it seems that the universal (or rather, American) traditions are more appealing to the local fandom than the Jewish ones.

ICon festival, the next generation (credit: Dan Ofer)

This tendency towards a globalized fandom can also be seen in the absence of local fan objects. With the exception of a limited number of works and creators that are Israeli in essence (and can’t be comprehensibly translated to other cultures), the vast majority of the content for fan practices is imported. One "superhero" with clear Israeli roots is actress Gal Gadot, portraying Wonder Woman in the DCEU films. The marketing efforts of the films in Israel directly targeted the Israeli national sentiment, and indeed the film gained an impressive popularity among the general population in Israel—but not as much within the comics fandom. Instead of local patriotic sentiment, the local fan community criticized her character and especially her Israeli accent, which did not pass as exotic/authentic enough for a princess of Themyscira. The authenticity of the franchise, as it seems, was put above the national pride. 

The global nature of fandom seems unique to the contemporary, digital age. At least until the 1980s and 90s, the local sentiment, traditions and language were a higher priority, with the names of superheroes and other characters receiving Hebrew translations: Batman was translated to “The Bat Man” (איש העטלף) and Spiderman’s aunt May was called in Hebrew Maya (מאיה), a common Hebrew name. Today, these translations are received with utter ridicule. English, and the direct access to original contents, became dominant along with the rise of the internet.

Local traditions and identities

Israel, as a young 72-year-old state thought to be a homeland for the Jewish people, brought in and integrated immigrants from various different cultures. Even within the Jewish population today, these ethnic tensions remain integral to identities discourse, sometimes subconsciously, and could also be meaningful for thinking about identities within Israeli fandom. The main oppositional identity, according to self-defined geeks, is that of the “ars” —a derogatory term referring to men perceived as ignorant, coarse, and aggressive—which is stereotypically connected to Mizrahi Jews (of Sephardic/Arabic origin), as opposed to Ashkenazi Jews (of European origin).

Multiculturalism? Israeli cosplayers, English signs, and religious participants in the background. ICon festival, Tel- Aviv (credit: ICon festival official).

The perceived uniformity of fandom in Israel (as a universal-secular subculture) seems less homogenous when looking at the more complex relations between different sectors of Israeli society. Many religious communities in Israel (Jewish, Muslim, or Druze) remain culturally closed groups, protecting their own traditions from either local or global culture. On the more extreme end, the ultra-orthodox (Haredi) Jews oppose to television and films altogether, and are religiously prohibited from using the internet (or internet-enabled mobile phones). Despite limitations of access, some religious (though not ultra-orthodox) fans manage to bridge the gaps between their commitment to religious rules and fandom practices, making some adjustments or adaptations (like reading “clean” texts without explicit sexual references, or creating “Kosher” cosplays that adhere to the laws of modest dress).

            In general, the Israeli comics and sci-fi fandom adheres to global trends in terms of the objects of fandom, the language, and the practices. Still, as any local community, it is also uniquely shaped by local cultural contexts. For example, the large amount of activities for young children at conventions (appropriate for the country with the highest fertility rate of all OECD countries, with an average of 3.1 children), or a decision to ban the use of weapons in cosplay, including plastic or cardboard tools (a request put in during a stressful period of terror attacks). The community’s main platforms for interaction (like The Geekery or ICon) appear to be blurring the local, ethnic, or religious attributes, and celebrating the universality of fandom. 

Hadas Gur-Ze'ev is a Ph.D. student in Communication at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem (supervised by Prof. Neta Kligler-Vilenchik). Her research interests include popular culture, participatory platforms, and the negotiations of gendered power relations in digital environments. Her current research focuses on feminist trends and misogynistic countertrends in online discussions in fan spaces.

Back to School: Podcasting -- Origin Stories

This spring, I am teaching — for the first time — a course on the history and craft of podcasting as part of an initiative in the journalism school to expand its offerings in this area. As a hardcore podcasting fan, and as someone who co-hosts the How Do You Like It So Far? podcast, I am looking forward to.getting my students to explore the breadth of what’s out there right now, and as a long time radio buff, I want to introduce them to older work which lay the foundation for our current practices. As always, I want to share my syllabi here. This one is especially rich since it has links to the specific episodes I want students to listen to outside of class, though there will be more listening inside class.

Course Description

Podcasting is the new, hot medium that has seen exponential growth over the last two decades. Millions of podcasts have been created, covering an infinite number of subjects and formats -- everything from news and documentary, fiction, conversational series, and educational series. Podcasting has tapped into a cultural phenomenon, reaching listeners on a personal and on a collective level. The medium has its roots in oral traditions, the radio medium, and film and theatre sensibilities, while technological advances allow new definitions of the way audiences and content producers interact.  

Podcasting has become an area of critical examination as well, as podcasting evolves into a key part of the media landscape, reflecting social and cultural touchpoints in society. This course will explore the historical and theoretical underpinnings that have brought the podcasting movement to its current form, roots which take us through commercial, public, grassroots, and underground radio movements across the past century.  Through readings, lectures, and written work, students will situate podcasting in relation to earlier generations of audio technology and identify some key figures in radio history and the ways they continue to influence choices made by contemporary podcast producers.

Above all, we will be actively listening and critically engaging with innovative works, including experimental media texts going back to the origins of radio, as well as works illustrating the diverse functions of the contemporary podcast. This range of material reflects this course’s goal of broadening exposure to current practices and audiences. We will also examine how the emergence of podcasting has impacted the diversity of voices and perspectives finding an audience, and how global access contributes to regionally specific content. In the process of this exploration, the course hopes to sensitize students to the roles which noise, sound, music, and the human voice may play in constructing soundscapes and telling meaningful stories (fictional and nonfictional).

Student Learning Outcomes 

 Map and identify the diverse historical models -- from classical radio drama to underground and pirate radio -- which have informed the development of contemporary podcasting.

 Define the basic building blocks of audio-based storytelling and examine how they are used in different podcasting genres.

 Listen to one podcast across the semester and evaluate how podcasting and radio create different relationships to their audiences and publics.

Assignments 

First Paper: Using examples we have considered so far in the class, write a short, five-page essay describing similarities and differences in the nature of radio and the nature of podcasting. Draw on course-assigned readings to provide some conceptual frameworks for your analysis.  (20 percent)

 Blackboard Notes: Each week, each student will use the Discussion Board feature on Blackboard to post some initial thoughts, reactions, questions, and comments about the materials assigned. These notes should be posted at least three hours prior to when the class is scheduled to meet. (20 Percent)

 Class Journal: Each student will select one ongoing podcast that they will listen to systematically across the semester, making some notes each week about their experiences consuming additional episodes of this material, the content featured in the episodes listened to each week, the ways that the podcast seeks to build listener loyalty over time, and the ways this podcast fits within the histories of the medium we have introduced across the semester. (30 Percent)

 Final Exam: Students will complete a comprehensive take-home final with questions designed to encourage reflection across topics and examples we have explored this term. (20 Percent)

 Class Participation: Students are expected to regularly attend and participate in class discussion. (10 Percent)

Course Schedule: A Weekly Breakdown
Important note to students: Be advised that this syllabus is subject to change - and probably will change - based on the progress of the class, news events, and/or guest speaker availability. 

Week 1  1/11 Noise, Sound, Music, Voice

LISTEN:

From BBC’s Noise: A Human History—

 “Echoes in the Dark “(14:37): https://beta.prx.org/stories/100722

“The Beat of the Drum” (14:20): https://beta.prx.org/stories/100883

“New Art of Listening” (14:33): https://beta.prx.org/stories/103047 

“Capturing Sound” (14:22):  https://beta.prx.org/stories/103056

Columbia Workshop “Broadway Evening” (38:09): https://podbay.fm/p/classic-radio-drama/e/1183454460

Guide to Getting Lost (32:38): https://soundcloud.com/jenniesavage/guide-to-getting-lost

(This piece is designed to be heard on a mobile phone while taking a walk.)

Suspense “Lentigen vs. The Ants” (27:08): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7KPIw_4wE8c

READ:

Richard Berry, Chapter 2 in Podcasting: New Audio Culture and Digital Media(London: Palgrave McMillan, 2018)

(Rec.) David Hendy, “Echoes in the Dark” and “The New World of Listening,” and “Capturing Sound” in Noise: A Human History of Sound and Listening (New York: Ecco, 2013).

Week 2 1/18 Technologies of Sound: Radio, Cinema, Records, Podcasts

LISTEN:

Lost and Found Sound, “The Rise and Fall and Rise of Thomas Edison” (22:05): http://www.kitchensisters.org/stories/lost-found-sound/  

99 Percent Invisible, “Bone Music” (16:41): https://99percentinvisible.org/episode/bone-music/  

 Ways of Hearing, “Space” (24:06): https://www.radiotopia.fm/showcase/ways-of-hearing  

 Radio Lab, “60 Words” (1:09:16): https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/radiolab/episodes/60-words

READ: 

Martin Spinelli and Lance Dann, Chapter 2, Podcasting: The Audio Media Revolution(London: Bloomsbury, 2019).

Week 3 1/25 Bards and Storytellers

LISTEN:

BBC’s Noise: A Human History, ‘Epic Tales’ (14:35): https://beta.prx.org/stories/102879  

 Jean Shepherd, “A Christmas Story” (43:59): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GkicEleOiTM 

 Lake Wobegon Stories, “You’re Not the Only One” (26:12): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-ZFo9S_z1k

Have You Head George’s Podcast?, ”A Greenfall Story” (27:00):https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p07qtmfs
The Moth, “Residual Effects” (21:20): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANPJz8QKBTw

READ:

Joe Lambert and Brooke Hessler, “The Work of Stories,” “The Stories of Our Lives,” Digital Storytelling: Capturing Lives, Creating Community(New York: Routledge, 2018).

Week 4  2/1 Publics and Audiences

LISTEN:

BBC’s Noise: A Human History, “Radio Everywhere” (14:37):https://beta.prx.org/stories/103063

 FDR fireside chat 1 (12:57): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJ6FxYl9sRE

 Documentary about Norman Corwin (56:28):https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4668028

Rush Limbaugh (14:45-25:15): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3NN vw MFw  

 America’s Town Meeting of the Air, “Should the U.S. Open Its Doors to Displaced Persons Now?” (Listen until 36:00),https://www.oldtimeradiodownloads.com/variety/americas-town-meeting-of-the-air/should-the-u-s-open-its-doors-to-displaced-persons-now-1946-10-31

READ:

Susan J. Douglas, “The Invention of the Audience,” Listening In: Radio and the American Imagination (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2004). 

Week 5  2/8 Documenting Ordinary Folks

 LISTEN:

CBS Workshop, “I Was the Duke” (I_Was_the_Duke.mp3  

Studs Terkel with Welfare Mothers (54:55): https://studsterkel.wfmt.com/programs/mothers-discuss-hardships-living-welfare  

 The Promise, “A Beautiful Day in the Projects” (23:39): https://wpln.org/post/the-promise-part-2-a-beautiful-day-in-the-projects/

Story Corps on Stonewall (22:45): https://storycorps.org/stories/remembering-stonewall/

 Snap Judgment, “Map of the Disappeared” (48:36): https://podyssey.fm/podcast/itunes283657561/episode23689191-Disappeared-Snap-Judgment

READ:

Dave Isay, “The Story of Story Corps,” Listening is An Act of Love: A Celebration of American Life from the Story Corps Project(New York: Penguin, 2008).

Week 6 2/15 The NPR Tradition 

LISTEN:

Sandy Toland, “The Lemon Tree” (41:39):mhttps://freshairarchive.org/segments/sandy-tolans-lemon-tree

 Code Switch, “A Letter from Young Asian Americans, to their Parents, about Black Lives Matter” (23:14):

https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/code-switch/id1112190608?i=1000373164987&mt=2  

 The Sporkful, “Aleppo Sandwich part 1” (28): https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/10-years-1-aleppo-sandwich-pt-1/id350709629?i=1000491944395

 The Sporkful, “Aleppo Sandwich Part 2” (28): https://podcasts.apple.com/gh/podcast/10-years-2-aleppo-sandwich-pt-2-update/id350709629?i=1000491944396

Heavyweight, Episode 11—Christina (44:03): https://gimletmedia.com/shows/heavyweight/j4hlkd/11-christina

READ:

Scott Carrier, “The Jackie Kennedy Moment;”  The Kitchen Sisters, “Talking to Strangers;”  Sandy Tolan, “The Voice and the Place;” mIn Reality Radio: Telling True Stories Through Sound (Durham: University of North Carolina, 2017).

Week 7 2/22 This American Life and Serial

LISTEN:

This American Life, Abdi & the Golden Ticket (54:00): https://www.thisamericanlife.org/560/transcript  

Serial, “The Alibi” (53:55): https://serialpodcast.org/season-one

 S-Town, E1 (54:00):  https://stownpodcast.org/chapter/1  

 READ:

Rebecca Ora, “Invisible Evidence: Serial and the New Unknowability of Documentary,” in Podcasting: New Aural Cultures and Digital Media, Cham: Springer, 2018.

 Sarah Koenig and Julie Snyder, “One Story, Week by Week,” Reality Radio: Telling True Stories Through Sound (Durham: University of North Carolina, 2017)

Week 8 3/1 Black and Ethnic Radio

LISTEN:

Black Radio: Telling It Like It Was, Hour 1 “In the Beginning” and “Pride & Enlightenment, (51:59): https://beta.prx.org/stories/355118 

Black Radio: Telling It Like It Was, Hour 5 “Civil Rights” and “Let’s Have Church” (51:59): https://beta.prx.org/stories/355822  

The Last Pirates: Britain’s Rebel DJs (59:36): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BI1l-CXBuGQ

The Stoop, “The Birth of Solomon” (31:50): http://www.thestoop.org/home/2018/5/1/episode-14-the-birth-of-solomon  

#Good Muslim, Bad Muslim, “Pins and Polls”: https://www.goodmuslimbadmuslim.com/podcast/2016/11/29/023-pins-and-polls   (Listen to the first half hour or so)

 READ:

John Fiske, “Blackstream Knowledge,” Media Matters: Race and Gender in U.S. Politics (New York: Routledge, 1996)

(Rec.) Richard Durham, Golden Age of Black Radio, Archives of African-American Music and Culture

Week 9 3/8 Amateur, Underground, Community Traditions

 LISTEN:

Prometheus Radio (1:00:45): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ehcIjYbSsqo

Nancy, “Emma Gonzales Wants You to Vote,” (26:47): https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/nancy/episodes/emma-gonzalez-march-for-our-lives-vote 

Ear Hustle, “The Big No-No” (41:24): https://www.earhustlesq.com/episodes/2018/11/8/the-big-no-no  

 Illuminative on the Air, “We Have Medicine for Each Other” (54:54): https://illuminatives.org/illuminative-on-air-podcast/  

READ:

Lukasz Swiatek, “The Podcast as an Intimate Bridging Medium,” in Podcasting: New Aural Culture and Digital Media, Cham: Springer, 2018.

 (Rec.) Susan J. Douglas, “Popular Culture and Populist Technology: The Amateur Operators, 1906-1912,” Inventing American Broadcasting, 1899-1922(Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989).

Spring Break 3/15 No class 

Week 10 3/22 Long Form Reporting

LISTEN

In the Dark: “The Crime” (34:46): https://www.apmreports.org/episode/2016/09/07/in-the-dark-1

 Gangster Capitalism, “The Side Door” (39): https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/s1-the-college-admissions-scandal-i-ep-1-the-side-door/id1460320573?i=1000519261581

 The Caliphate, “The Recruitment” (33): https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/chapter-two-recruitment/id1357657583?i=1000409977536

 The Caliphate, “An Examination” (30): https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/an-examination-of-caliphate/id1357657583?i=1000502817283

The Refuge, “Sibling Rivalry” (12:15): https://www.thresholdpodcast.org/the-refuge-e1

Week 11 3/29 Regional Voices: The American South 

LISTEN:

Us and Them, “Hillers and Creekers” (36:04): https://www.wvpublic.org/section/arts-culture/2021-08-12/hillers-creekers

Gravy, “Korean BBQ in Coolsville: A Memphis Report” (20:41): https://www.southernfoodways.org/gravy/korean-bbq-in-coolsville-a-memphis-report/

 Buried Truths, “Pistols” (38): https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/pistols-s1-e1/id1334250929?i=1000407471797

READ:

(Rec.) Tara McPherson, “Feeling Southern: Home, Guilt and the Transformation of White Identity,” Reconstructing Dixie: Race, Gender and Nostalgia in the Imagined South(Durham: Duke University Press, 2003).

Week 12 4/5 The New Radio Drama

LISTEN:

Mercury Theater, War of the Worlds (57): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nUsq3fLobxw  

 Homecoming, “Mandatory” (19:24): https://gimletmedia.com/shows/homecoming

Video Palace, “Somniloquy” (21): https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/somniloquy/id1439247558?i=1000421971043  

 Limetown, “What We Know” (31:05): https://twoupproductions.com/limetown/podcast  

READ:

Martin Spinelli and Lance Dann, “Don’t Look Back: The New Possibilities of Podcast Drama” Podcasting: The Audio Media Revolution (Bloomsbury, 2019)

Week 134/12 Joking Around

LISTEN:

Jack Benny, “Christmas Episode” (29:21): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YN_FilhFmQ0, 

Stan Freeberg, “Christmas Dragnet” (6:38): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O1vJ4sXetw4

 Bob and Ray, “Mr. Science” (2:57):  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J96h5viahAA

The Goon Show, “Rommel’s Treasure” (25:01): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VuVFFNvyUT8

The Firesign Theater, “Nick Danger Third Eye” (28:09): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwG5c9IsgbA

 Welcome to Night Vale, “A Story of You” (25:33): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqGYhOZONn8

 Thrilling, Adventure Hour, “Sparks Nevada: Marshal on Mars” (24): https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/from-the-vault-sparks-nevada-marshal-on-mars-cosmic/id408691897?i=1000473084191  

READ:

David Hendy, “You Are Not Alone: Podcast Communities, Audiences, and Welcome to Nightvale,” Podcasting: The Audio Media Revolution(Bloomsbury 2019)

Week 14 4/19 Listening to Music

LISTEN:

Song Exploder, “Janelle Monae” (19:07): http://songexploder.net/janelle-monae

Dolly Parton’s America, “Neon Moss” (45:15): https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/dolly-partons-america/episodes/neon-moss

Aria Code, “Verdi’s La Traviata” (33:10): https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/aria-code/episodes/aria-code-verdi-la-traviata-diana-damrau

READ:

Susan Douglas, “The Kids Take Over: Transistors, DJs and Rock’n’Roll,” Listening In: Radio and the American Imagination (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2004).

Week 15 4/26 Reconsidering the Past 

LISTEN:

You Must Remember This, “Hattie McDaniel” (55:43) http://www.youmustrememberthispodcast.com/episodes/2019/10/23/hattie-mcdaniel-six-degrees-of-song-of-the-south-episode-2

Slow Burn, “Martha” (27:27): https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/s1-ep-1-martha/id1315040130?i=1000395358934  

Uncivil, “The Paper” (21:01): https://gimletmedia.com/shows/uncivil/z3h6dd/the-paper

READ:

Sarah Larsen, “‘Uncivil’: The Civil War Stories We Didn’t Learn in School,” The New Yorker, October 5, 2017.

My Favorite Discoveries in 2021 Among Older Films

Altogether, I viewed 228 feature films and shorts in 2021 from 2019 or earlier. Almost all of these were watched online. Most of these choices were part of programatic deep dives or film festival experiences, so rather than offering a ranking, I thought I would describe some of my excursions into film history this past year.

50s Science Fiction — I began the year with a yen to watch as many creature features as I could find, a yen fed by several box sets I had gotten for Christmas, which led me to ordering more boxed sets, and finally starting with a year by year listing of 50s science fiction films, seeing how many of them I could find and watch online — mostly through YouTube. I did not get past 1952, so this is a project I hope to continue into the coming year. My fascination was with stories of catastrophe and the different mechanisms by which the filmmakers imagined the society responded to large-scale threat, issues which spoke powerfully to the present moment. And since the world rarely actually ends in these films, these films ultimately provide reassurance and resolution. Some of what I saw were classics that I had seen through the years, but I saw new things watching them in conversation with lesser known titles. But here are some of the discoveries I made — mostly deep cuts from the era that time has forgotten, perhaps unfairly. Most of these are more interesting films than great films, but then I wasn’t looking for cinematic masterpieces. The 27th Day (1957) is one of several films I watched which emphasis global responses — an alien extracts five ordinary people, each from a different global power, and provides them each with weapons that can destroy the planet, leaving them with the choice of whether humanity deserves to survive. It’s a metaphor for mutually assured destruction, released at the height of the Cold War. 12 to the Moon (1960) gives us a multinational space mission, representing astronauts from the super powers and from a range of developing nations. It anticipates the diversity on the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise on Star Trek and the multinationalism of the recent Away television series. Of course, the characters are all stereotypes but it’s fascinating to see how national and gender stereotypes are played against each other here. The Invisible Boy (1957) uses Robbie the Robot, first introduced in Fantastic Planet, to tell a story of a scientist father and his precocious young son confronting a cosmic crisis, as robots threaten to rule over humanity and Robbie, who has befriended the boy, has to decide which side he’s on.

Film Comedy — I returned to teaching American film comedy for the first time in more than twenty years, which led to me watching as many films in preparation before the fall seamster started. So many titles have come out on DVD, especially comedy shorts from the silent period, and many films you would have had to track down in archives are now flowing freely on YouTube. I went back through the classic four silent performers, Chaplin, Keaton, Lloyd, and Langdon, seeing. many of the later two comics films for the first time. I finally really grappled with the alienness of Langdon’s approach to slapstick and found myself drawn to the films he made after he parted ways with Capra. I realized that my reading Name Above the Title, Capra’s memoir, when I was a teen, had biased my perceptions, but I was especially drawn to The Chaser (1928) where the alienness of Langdon’s persona is coupled with play with gender identity: a judge sentences Harry to wear a dress and do the housework. My students found this a fascinating study in gender fluidity, far more ambiguous than most of the anti-suffrage films I have seen, about women ruling over men. The inter titles in particular seem to play with the concepts of masculinity and femininity in fascinating ways. My consumption of silent comedy led me back to Sidewalk Stories (1989), a film I had taught several decades before, and so it constitutes a rediscovery. Charles Lane, a Black filmmaker, revisits Chaplin’s world — especially The Kid — for a more contemporary representation of homelessness and the way society perceives and treats its “tramps.” It is funny and touching in equal measures and remarkably well done for a first feature made as a student film at NYU. I have long wanted to check out the Crazy Gang — a music hall troop who was the British counterparts of the Marx Brothers. I was delighted to find several of their films online, and was particularly taken by A Ok For Sound, (1937) which has been the most meta of their works I have seen so far. I would describe it as falling somewhere between Night at the Opera and Hellzapoppin, perhaps not as good as the later but in the same ball park. I also worked my way through the surviving feature films of Raymond Griffith, the comedies of Douglas Fairbanks, and as the year draws on a close, the films of Frank Tashlin. Throughout, I was left really admiring what I saw of Hal Roach’s productions and really eager to see more.

Film Festivals — I was able to attend four online film festivals this year, each dedicated to historical films, but with different biases: Bologna, Pordonone, Turner Classic Movies, and Los Angeles Cinecon. I have attended all four in person and missed the range of titles normally offered, not to mention the conversations around the films, and we missed altogether the San Francisco Silent Film festival which has been one of my annual highlights. The highlights of Bologna were Belphegor (,1927) a four part French serial (each part lasting more than an hour) involving a shadowy figure lurking in the Louvre and a crack detective trying to identify the culprit. It is full of the stuff of the pulp imagination of the era. I was also taken by two noir films they featured (the original Nightmare Alley (1947) and I Wake Up Screaming (1941), which has left me hoping to watch more noir in 2022. Pordone brought me Phil-For-Short (1919) a silent film about an independent spirt who today we might call nonbinary, which introduced me to the charming silent screen actress Evelyn Greely. My favorites from TCM were two titles that dealt with threats to democracy — Black Legion (1937), in which Humphrey Bogart joins a white supremicist organization, and The Mortal Storm (1940), which depicts the rise of Nazism from the perspective of a free-thinking academic family centered around James Stewart. I had seen both before, but they spoke to the current moment with particular poignancy. And the joy of Cinecon is its profoundly anti-canonical impulses. I have been enjoyed being introduced to the films of Judy Canova, a broad physical comedian who crossed over to the screen from radio and recoding, with a hillbilly twang to her singing and a wonderful personality. This year, they showed Sleepy-Time Gal (1942) which is my favorite of the films I have seen with her so far. There was so much more that interested me at each of these events and I hope these festivals continue to provide online offerings for those of us who can not be there in person.

Some other highlights: My current research interest in post-war children’s media gave me a chance to watch A Boy Ten Feet Tall/Sammy Goes South, Alexander MacKendrick’s 1963 saga of a white boy who wanders across Africa alone in the midst of the Suez Crisis. It is full of haunting images and a great supporting performance by Edgar G. Robinson and led me to watch Spielberg’s Empire of the Sun, (1987) again, upon which its influence can be strongly felt. I participated in an online conference about 50s and 60s American westerns and a fascinating presentation led me to check out Walk Like A Dragon (1960), one of the few American westerns of the period to deal sympathetically and in depth with the experiences of Chinese-Americans. Its treatment of a cross-racial romance may be problematic in our time, but was progressive in its own, and sufficiently complex to keep one scratching one’s head throughout.

My 20 Favorite Films of 2021

In 2021, I watched 81 current (2021) or recent (late 2020) films. I enjoyed most of them. Since I don’t technically review films for a living, I watch only what I want to watch and am reasonably informed so few turkeys cross my path these days. I have placed these in alphabetical order, but if I had to pick my favorite film this year, it would almost certainly be West Side Story.

Black Widow — This has been an exceptionally good year for Marvel on both film and television. I also really enjoyed The Eternals, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, and Spider-man: No Way Home. But somehow, this is the one I landed on as the best of this year’s superhero movies. I love the dynamics between Scarlet Johanson and Florence Pugh (who stole my heart this year here and in Hawkeye). This film demonstrated that superheroes can tell female-centric stories as well as they tell masculine power fantasies, not that this was in doubt after Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel, but I would argue this one did it better than either.

CODA — One of the most heart-felt films I’ve seen in a long time. I was honestly touched by the struggles of this young woman, daughter deaf parents, who finds herself in music and struggles to figure out how she can separate herself from a family she knows needs her. Each character is so vividly drawn and each has their rasons, as the Renior quote goes.

Crip Camp — This is a powerful story of a group of disabled youth, who created an almost utopian world at a summer camp, and then forged a network that working together transformed the laws and policies that impact their lives. It’s remarkable that they have such compelling footage of these activists at various periods of their life and we are able to watch a small group of people lead the way to change the world.

Dune — This is a transformative experience. Sure, it’s a bit slow but it deftly lays the foundations for what’s the come. It is probably the most fully realized world on screen this year, succeeding where other artists have tried and to my eyes, failed to capture Herbert’s classic science fiction saga.

The Father — I have been haunted by this film since I saw it relatively early in 2021. The performances were compelling, but what I really remember vividly are the ways the mise-en-scene gets disrupted in subtle yet unsettling ways to compelling the perspective of the protagonist’s growing disorientation and memory loss.

The Green Knight — A haunting immersion into a mythic realm which puts a fresh new spin on the medieval classic.

Gunpowder Milkshake — I stumbled into this one on Netflix with no expectations and it may be my biggest surprise of the year. If you like John Wick, if you like female revenge action movies, if you liked the gunplay in early John Woo films, then this one is for you.

In the Heights — I saw the original Broadway production and I saw a ground-shaking performance in the West End more than a decade later, so I was primed for John Chu’s big screen version and I was not disappointed. I get the critiques of the film’s color-ism, but I also admire the beautifully staged musical number, especially the revamp of Esther Williams in the pool scene and some of the others which are alternatively soulful and celebratory. This was what I needed as I was coming out from my pandemic cacoon.

King Richard — I don’t like sports, except for fictional ones (wrestling, quidditch) but I do like sports movies, and this was a very compelling one, even if I still have reservations about centering the story of the Williams sister on their father. The film complicates this in so many ways, also offering a compelling portrait of their mother and acknowledging some critiques of their father’s hucksterism and bullying.

Lost Daughter — Olivia Coleman can act and Maggie Gyllenhaal can direct, damn it! I watched this one only a few hours before I am writing this post, so my emotions are still raw and have not settled into a long term perspective. But I wanted to watch every twitch of her face, as the film slow opens up its secrets and forces us to acknowledge the reasons why it sucks to be a mother in a patriarchal culture.

Luca— Disney also had a great year between this, Encanto, and Raya and the Last Dragon. I liked all three and I’ve kept swapping them on and off this list, but ultimately, this story of boyhood friendship across cultural difference — not to mention all of the call back to European art cinema — spoke to my Baby Boom heart.

The Mitchells Vs. The Machines — My favorite animated film this year. It’s imaginative, it’s funny, it plays with genre, and it has something to say about the continuing value of family. (I seem to be feeling a lot of traditional values this year,. It would seem that old ideas can be expressed in compelling new forms.)

Nightmare Ally — I am a big fan of Del Torro and of the original film noir and there’s a pretty decent graphic novel version, also, so I came into this primed and it did not disappoint me. I am a sucker for anything set at a circus or carnival, and this film captures that atmosphere with such vividness. It’s a pretty bleak narrative arc, to be sure, but It also teaches us a lot about how this world operates — how to do a cold read, how to develop codes to signal each other in mentalist acts, and why it is a bad idea to play with people’s faith and memory for money.

Passing — Another compelling period piece — this one set in midcentury Harlem, as two women, childhood friends, reconnect, and play out the consequences of their different life choices. What I found most striking here was the black and white cinematography — the play with light and shadow makes this story about crossing racial boundaries work.

Plan B — There have been three stories in recent years where two women travel together in search of an abortion or birth control. Never Rarely Sometimes Always made my list last year for a dramatic treatment of this same material. . I have-not yet seen Unplanned. But this one earns a spot on this list for its ability to merge raunchy sex comedy, the road trip, the post-feminist female friendship story, and some earnest advocacy into a rich mix.

Power of the Dog — I couldn’t take my eyes off Benedict Cumberbatch who moves through the film like a coiled rattlesnake ready to strike — the embodiment of toxic masculinity. He shed some of the braininess we associate with his on-screen persona in favor of a character who bullies everyone he meets. Again, this is a film where we watch as events gradually uncover what makes the characters tick, and the closing events managed to catch me by surprise, even if the seeds are planted for them almost from the first scenes.

The Sit In — Harry Belefonte was guest host of the Tonight Show in 1968 and managed to book a who’s who in politics and popular culture in the late 1960s. This documentary reconstructs what happened during a transformative moment in television history, which most of us never knew happened, from a fragmentary archive and helps to situate each of these figures for audiences who may not have been alive at the time.

Summer of Soul — Another great documentary about popular culture in the 1960s which taps a long hurried archive of materials and gives them currency for new audiences. Music is always my blind-spot so I did not expect to like this one as much as I did, so I resisted a lot of the hype and came to it late, but damn! I am just getting started with the Beatles documentary series on Disney Plus, but suspect if I had made more progress, it would have had a place on my list as another great representation of 1960s pop culture.

Tick, Tick, Boom — Let me just say that Lin-Manuel Miranda had one hell of a year! I am not a fan of Rent so I did not know what to expect here, but this portrait of a young musical composer was a loving tribute to Broadway and arrived just in time for me to mourn the loss of Steven Sondheim. It was both well-made and well-timed not only in relation to Sondheim’s death but the reopening of Broadway theaters.

West Side Story — Here’s another one which won me over despite some skepticism about remaking what has been a cinematic classic. But then there have been multiple Broadway stagings through the years, as each artist has struggled with the richness of this material and the limitations of the racial stereotypes at its heart. Tony Kushner’s screenplay goes a long way, throwing out most of the original dialogue, providing greater context for the core conflict, providing greater depth to the Puerto Riican characters, introducing rawer, less stylized violence, and demonstrating that a mix of Spanish and English dialogue still conveys the emotional ore of the story even for those who do not know Spanish (a fight with previous Broadway productions). Add to this moral authority that Rita Moreno brings to her part and a heartbreaking performance by Ariana DeBose as Anita. Spielberg’s direction often softens the blow, but this film hits hard, despite the bright colors and lively musical numbers.

Honorable mentions: Beyond the Disney and Marvel films already referenced. Jungle Cruise and Cruela were the only two films I saw twice in the cinema, and I enjoyed them both (no apologies) and will happily return to future installments of these franchises. One Night in Solo is an imperfect and ultimately disappointing film but it’s one that I kept thinking about weeks after I saw it, and that counts for something. Let me toss Ron’s Gone Wrong on the list of animated films which held my attention, but it pales before The Mitchells vs. The Machines in terms of telling stories of digital life.

This list was written without me seeing some of the films that have gotten attention at the end of the year including Don’t Look Up, Licorice Pizza, Meet the Ricardos, and Belfast, so do not read anything into their exclusion from this list. Circumstances have prevented me from seeing them yet.

My 20 Favorite Television Experiences from 2021

I have watched 100 television series (or events) in their entirety this year. All of them I enjoyed enough to keep watching. Some of them were mere distractions. Some felt truly fresh and original. What follows are my 20 favorites that I watched in 2021 — a few of which were catch ups from 2020 or even before — but together they represent a snapshot of some of my favorite media experiences of the year. They are listed in alphabetical order.

Atypical — This family drama-comedy wrapped up its final season, and stuck the landing. This series was heart-felt from start to finish, telling a story about a neuroatypical young man, his family and his friends, as they work together to help him develop the life skills he needs to live on his own terms.

Betty — I am so not the demographic for this half-hour drama about a group of young, female, mostly queer, mostly BIPOC skateboarders, but once I started watching, I could not stop. Betty has the look and feel of an underground movie shot mostly hand held by people riding boards as these women confront everything the world throws at them. If you felt that Mind the Gap used skateboarding to teach you something about working class masculinity, Betty uses skateboarding to teach us about contemporary feminism.

Bosch — I can’t figure out why it took me this long to discover this first-rate police drama but when I did find it, I fell hard. My wife, my mother-in-law, and I watched all seven seasons in a two month period this year, and I would have gladly have stayed for more. Perhaps my favorite aspect was the rich portrayal of Los Angeles, including one episode which took place almost entirely on my block in DTLA.

Dickinson — Between Emily Dickinson and Kate Bishop, Hailee Steinfeld had one heck of a good year. This is such a literate and intelligent comedy, one which reads the New England book culture of the 19th century as if it was a contemporary coming of age series. Some of the best moments in season 2 dealt with the raw emotions surrounding the Civil War and the ways our characters process the fad for opera, both very historically specific, but the glue that holds it together is Steinfeld and the other cast playing characters that feel totally anachronistic in those candle lit parlors. In this same spirit, I am looking forward to seeing season 2 of The Great.

Gentefied — A Mexican-American family — stronger together than they are as individuals — battle gentrification, economic issues, and the threat of deportation, even as they find love and figure out who they want to be in life. What really works here is the particularity of these characters and the locally specific culture they inhabit.

Hacks — I don’t do cringe comedy and this one has plenty of cringe-worthy moments of human embarrassment. Every time the characters start to seem likable and more to the point start to like each other they do something else which is really nasty or otherwise messes up their relationship. But, I still love the relationship between an old school comedy and her very new school gag writer.

High on the Hog: An enlightening account of the historic evolution of southern cooking, tracing its roots back to Africa, through slavery, and into its current revival. I ended up going to Charleston and pigging out on some of the foods depicted here — part of my Southern heritage.

Lupin — This was the perfect getaway series of this year — beautiful locations, smart long-cons and heists, a compelling protagonist, an over-arching revenge saga, witty dialogue, and fast-paced action.

Masters of the Universe - Revelations — Kevin Smith’s intelligent revamp of the He-Man franchise is like the very best fan fiction. It fleshes out the long-neglected female characters, it fills in important bits of back story, it explores the emotional and psychological consequences of the action, it raises the stakes by killing off. (and resurrecting) beloved characters, it asks and answers questions fans have long speculated, and otherwise it offers a compelling drama for anyone who grew up watching the series (or in many case, was a parent who saw the episodes way too many times when it first aired). I liked a number of animated series this year — from Harley Quinn to Star Trek Below Decks to Invincible to What If? and Star Wars Visions— but this is the one which has stuck with me the most.

Only Murders in the Building — Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Selena Gomez are spectacular together, add a supporting cast full of old favorites, toss in a compelling who-dun-it and a deft spoof of true crime podcasts, and shake well. So much fun!

Q, Into the Storm — This is the television documentary series that I have spent the most time thinking about this year — a compelling, unflinching look at Q-Anon, which hit me between the eyes because I recognized that its roots lie in the participatory culture and politics that I have so often embraced through my writing over the years.

The Queen’s Gambit — I waited longer than I should to catch up with this one because I couldn’t imagine being compelled by a television series about chess. I was wrong. Nuff Said. And then I repeated the same kinds of mistakes by being late to the party on Mayor of Easton, Cruel Summer, and The White Lotus, which each packed the drama and brought the feels, but I didn’t find them as compelling as watching this woman kicks on a chessboard.

Reservation Dogs— This remarkable series was more than a breakthrough in representation, introducing us to a range of Native American characters, created by a mostly Indigenous writer’s room, though it is certainly that. It has the surrealism of Atlanta at its best, the character focus of early Master of None or Ramy, and distinctly deadpan Native American sense of humor that can catch you totally by surprise. I also liked Rutherford Falls, especially in its treatment of debates around local history and controversial monuments and its depiction of what happens when the Red world meets the White world. But in retrospective, it felt more conventional than Reservation Dogs.

Sex Education— This is so much more than a teen sex comedy with much of this season centering on the choices the adult parents made, especially the ethical dilemmas which teachers face when the new principal runs roughshod over the rights and emotional needs of the students.

Snowpiercer — A Korean film based on a French graphic novel turned into an American television series produced by a multinational corporation makes the affirmative case for class warfare and ultimately revolution. Daveed Diggs steals the show, but he is well supported by Jennifer Connelly, Allison Wright, and Mickey Sumner, among others. It’s your basic post-apocalyptic saga. See also Y the Last Man and Sweet Tooth for stories which felt a bit more uneven but also had something to say to a world still in pandemic lockdown.

Squid Game — Brutal. yes — that’s the word, brutal. Korean popular media is riding on a high right now. And this is the series that took the world by storm. By now, you have decided whether you want to watch it or not. I watched it. I couldn’t stop watching it. And I would watch more. I also watched Hellbound and could. not look away, but ultimately not as impactful.

Survivor Australia — After a long drought last year of reality competition series, I checked out the down under counterpart of American Survivor, which has long reached my attention from fan discussions but is now legally available at the Paramount streaming site. The most recent season is one of the best in Survivor history, thanks to the “cockroach of Bankstown” — a political operative who always has another trick up his sleeve. I had mixed responses to the new American Survivor with its format and rules changes — some good characters and more or less satisfying outcome, but Australian Survivor ultimately interested me more.

Ted Lasso — soooo good! Maybe not as fresh as the first season, but it brought in some darker moments that helped to round out our understanding of Ted and brought its female characters more screen time. And Roy Kent gets funnier in each new episode, as the gruff, no nonsense baller copes with life off the footy field.

Wandavision — The MTU (Marvel Television Universe) has brought me so much pleasure across the year. This one took two characters — Scarlet Witch and Vision — which had failed to register with me in the films and did something really fresh and compelling. This series put meta in the multiverse with its evocations of the history of American sitcoms and its account of the worlds which people create out of their denial when mourning a traumatic loss. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier had its moments — mostly involving Isaiah Bradley. Loki was amazing in its own way. What if? was hit or miss but when it hit, it draws real blood. And Hawkeye ended the year with a bang! Those scenes between Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova do for superheroes what Killing Eve did for spies, and I can’t take my eyes off Maya Lopez when she’s on my small screen. And I am going to be really intrigued to watch Doctor Strange deliver on all of these trans media hooks and Easter eggs.

We are Lady Parts — This under-rated British series delights with its portrayal of an all-female, all-Muslim punk rock band, with each character giving us a different representation of the ways these women negotiate their faith and their family lives to find room to express themselves when they go on stage.

Honorable Mention (Other than those mentioned above): Bridgerton; The Chair; Doom Patrol; Great Pottery Throw Down; How to; Young Rock, As the new year begins, I am enjoying watching Maid, Lost in Space, Station 11, and The Beatles: Get Back but not far enough along to put any of them on my list.

Global Fandom Conversation Series: Aianne Amado (Brazil) and Simone Driessen (The Netherlands)

Local yet global?

AA: Now, as for the overlapping of localness with international culture consumption, both José Martin-Barbero and Pierre Bourdieu can offer noteworthy explanations: they defend that everyday life aspects such as family, religion, education, social class etc. impact directly how we, individually and collectively, understand each object. When centering “mediation” to the discussion, Martin-Barbero contests those who say that globalization will “kill” local culture and traditions, arguing that local experiences also implicates how those products are target and consumed in different cultures (thinking about so many american artists singing in spanish for the latin audience) and, therefore, it is not as much of a “cultural domination” as it is a “cultural trade” (though, evidently, not equitable). 

In that sense, I also think it is important to talk about how our local cultural objects shape and are shaped by globalization. To start with Brazil, it is visible how American pop culture inspires our content, like the country's main divas such as Anitta and Pabllo Vittar, and also our new TV productions, that are moving away from the telenovela model and approaching the mainstream series format. However, the inspiration does not take over the whole product: even in her english and spanish songs, many featuring international singers, Anitta adds elements of Brazilian music genres (likeBahia’s percussion and Rio’s mpb and, the genre that made her famous, funk); Pabllo Vittar blends perfectly pop beats with regional styles, making even the one and only Lady Gaga sing to “arrocha”; and Netflix’s Invisible City incorporates the platform narrative format to tell the story of local folklore’s characters. And it is not a coincidence that all of these examples have experienced great public reception, since strategies like those captivate even Brazilians who once had a strong preference over international culture.

On the other hand, Brazilian pop culture also has its share of transnational fandoms – avid consumers of productions that, mostly through the internet, discover new texts and interact with other local or global fans. Nevertheless, the “localness” is, once again, very much present: telenovelas like O Clone, Vale Tudo, Fina Estampa and A Escrava Isaura are so well received that they are bought and remade in different countries. Recreations are also common in songs, like the Englishand Spanish version of Ai, Se Eu Te Pego; the various covers of Garota de Ipanema; Black Eyed Peas’ remix of Mais Que Nada; and the Japanese remake of Chorando Se Foi. And I ask myself the same questions you did in your piece: “how were these fans able to follow these Brazilian, Portuguese-speaking and -singing texts when the fans’ main language was different? Moreover, why were those Brazilian contents so successful in such different countries?”

What do you think of those examples? Do you know any of them? I am also curious to know if there are similar cases in the Netherlands that could corroborate this line of thought. Although I am not an expert, I know that your country is responsible for many globally acclaimed reality tv shows like The Voice and Big Brother, for example. Why do you think that genre stands out? And how do you see the fans of such shows differentiate from one country to another? 

SD: You mention how globalization is of influence in Brazil, but not all-dominating. I wonder if Brazil also has a strong media production ecosystem. Like J-Pop or K-Pop, besides so many excellent talents from Brazil (like Anitta), B-Pop or whatever it could be called, does not seem to reach far. Is that partially due to language again? Or because these artists or films also have ‘enough’ by just reaching the Brazilian market? I’m fascinated by the idea of cultural trade and how this is present in both our cases: it is definitely present, and perhaps increasing in the Dutch media landscape. But before diving into that, let me present to you two Dutch versions of Ai, Se Eu Te Pego: one that somewhat follows an original translation of the Brazilian lyrics, and one that is more freely interpreted, even using Spanish in it over Portuguese. The original song was quite popular in the Netherlands, in its original form and people really tried to sing along in Portuguese. So, perhaps that is already somewhat telling of how open the Dutch are to cultural trade. 
            I think we spot a similar pattern in the Netherlands when it comes to ‘somewhat resembling the American / Hollywood formula, but with a local touch’ than the one you mention to be present in Brazil. Yes, also in the Netherlands, because it’s such a small country we have many cultural objects taking after a ‘global’ model. As a music researcher, I think this is very visible in how bands perform and create videos, particularly those with international fan bases (singing in English too), like pop rockers Kensington, or Chef Special, or the more metal/goth subcultural act Within Temptation. 
                        When talking about music, things are somewhat different: here the local is surely influenced by the global. Yet, there are also some unique trends to point to. The Netherlands is a very diverse society, with many cultures living in a small country. And although Dutch hiphop/rap is one of the most popular genres (which comes with its own set of fans…), at times artists singing in another language do have a breakthrough. Currently, singer Rolf Sanchez, who sings in Spanish is quite popular. That is remarkable, for Spanish is not such a common language for the Netherlands. 

            Yet, what all these examples we exchange here also demonstrate, is that yes indeed we are under influence of globalization! But apparently the consumers (the fans!) are also demanding some streak of authenticity or perhaps relatability or recognition in them. Is that then where the local becomes important or, at the very least, becomes visible? Would this be why artists like Anitta or Pabllo Vittar, but for the Dutch also those artists combining music with Dutch lyrics (I will add some examples!) are so popular? And has this always been the case? How do you see that reflecting on our discussion and the Brazilian examples mentioned? 

You briefly mentioned the Reality TV show formats, Big Brother, The Voice... we apparently are also able to inspire other countries to copy those formulas (that sounds bold: but those formulas have become global successes). I wonder how they differ in Brazil: are the fans equally as co-productive and active in indeed engaging with them? I feel that The Voice (when it was broadcasted/ whenever it is broadcasted) gains many many followers, but not really a big hit talent anymore. Is that due to fans being saturated with such shows? Or perhaps the fans are growing younger? 

            Nevertheless, one of the biggest hit shows at the moment in the Netherlands (actually it’s a co-production with Belgium) is shaped very much like an American series, maybe you have seen it: Undercover. So, here the cultural trade is visible once more. But also, this co-exists with our Dutch, very local soap operas. 

AA: So, as I see it, our music industries differ in a few points. It is unusual for us to hear big local songs in other languages (the exception being Anitta’s current international career, but mostly because the fans want to support her even if they do not necessarily know how to sing the songs). I wonder if it has to do with English being taught broadly in the Netherlands (I remember having no trouble at all communicating with Dutchs while I was there!). 

I also loved to know the Dutch have a very local soap-opera culture. I believe the soap-opera format, based directly in everyday life, makes it the least likely to yield to international production standards and it makes a great counterpoint to foreign influences.

That leads to your questions: In Brazil we have Globo, our most popular TV channel and one of the biggest media conglomerates in the world. Because of them, Brazil is a powerhouse in the entertainment industry. A huge part of our cultural production is permeated by it, but their main products are still telenovelas. So, were the few B-pop groups that (prematurely) existed active today, in the BTS era, Globo would make sure to sign them in every live audience program and with special appearances in many telenovelas, therefore, being embraced by mainstream media.

The reach provided by the conglomerate (and now more and more by the internet as well) is also why we can look at the local market as “enough” for many artists. To keep using the music industry as an example, while the Brazilian pop genre is heavily influenced by its American counterpart, the genres that are currently topping the charts are the most “local” ones, such as Sertanejo and Funk. Those artists benefit from a market that has the usual hardcore Brazilian fans but also hundreds of thousands of ordinary consumers that are just happy to hear and sing the song occasionaly. To become a global phenomenon is a dream of many, but only a few are able to do such a thing and when they do, it is always a much-acclaimed feat - Michel Telo’s Ai Se Eu Te Pego is one of the most recent cases. Case in point, I for one was amazed and consumed by a bit of patriotism with the videos you showed me (thank you so much, by the way!). It is this weird mix of “wait, this language does not quite match this rhythm” and “oh! they are enjoying something I have lived with all my life”. 

I agree with your point of view about fans demanding authenticity and relatability while still inserting themselves and their idol globally and I think it is a claim that has been emerging with the shortening of borders made possible by new media - specially streaming platforms and Tik Tok’s viral contents. And the Reality Tv Shows are great illustrations of that (and yes, we all agree that those formulas are a global success!) since every country changes a few details here and there to adjust to what its population would most likely accept. 

SD: Aianne, I think that last part in your reflection is precisely what we see in the Netherlands too: the ordinary consumer is actually driving the market, while the hardcore fans are responsible for pushing that success of artists abroad. Still, it’s fascinating how language pops up over and over in the experiences of fans. It can be helpful, or even vital, to actually learn a new language to fully enjoy a fannish experience. 
            That also brings us to these points of authenticity and relatability once more. Due to the global nature of media products, fandoms grow into global communities as well. Also that’s a feat not just tied to Brazil or the Netherlands, but I’m pretty sure you Brazilians also had the Squid Game craze recently, and probably have tons of BTS fans, despite having such a strong media conglomerate locally! I think our examples and discussion here shows how fandom is able to break boundaries, yet with the critical note that this doesn’t happen for all fans (those who aren’t able or willing to learn a new language if needed, or those who don’t have the monetary means to travel or participate / spend time in fannish activities in different time zones for examples). Still, I do feel that the Brazilian and Dutch fans we see in our exchange are highly active and open-minded in their fan practices. Perhaps that’s a different scenario when we go beyond the world of media entertainment and look at the highly competitive field of sport?  

The Unique position of sports fans?

AA: That is a great question! It would feel wrong to end this without talking about something that truly unites our two universes: sports fans. We have our own “green and yellow” army to compete with your orange one! In times as divisive as now, sports and worldwide competitions like the Olympic Games are always something that can unite a nation. It is an opportunity to show the world how outstanding we are, and we let our disagreements slide to root and bring home the titles. Yet, there is something more than mere nationalism and maybe it is how we can relate and empathize more with athletes that share some of our backgrounds, that we know first-hand where they came from. So, we circle back to the importance of localness even in the most global event on Earth.

SD: That’s beautifully said about sports fandom: that we perhaps are more tied to the athletes, and we feel their struggle maybe even because we know where they came from. Also, because it perhaps is the only thing to unite both old and young, and people from different classes and regions, in an event like the World Football Championships, or the Olympics. 

That also then brings me back to studying fans. Here, in the Netherlands, I have the slightest feeling we’re starting to accept fandom more and more. It becomes easier to say, ‘I’m a fan of’, whereas a few years ago being a fan was either 1) childish, or 2) nerdy. I think that this development aligns somewhat with the rising popularity, or perhaps normalization of what can be called ‘nerd culture’ (e.g., shows like The Big Bang Theory and its spin-off Young Sheldon). And a more prominent position of ‘scientists’ in the entertainment media. Yet, ‘old’ fans are still taboo. In sports, it’s accepted, but in pop fandoms it’s looked down on. To give you an example, every winter the whole of the Netherlands goes crazy with the potential outlook they are able to ice skate again in nature (a frozen river or meadow). And they all turn into ‘fans’ of some ice skater, or sports figure. But when my Backstreet Boys interviewees talk about their fandom, they’re deemed to be weird or even crazy. Can you tell me if in Brazil things are more accepted for adult fans? And how can we, as scholars in academic institutions, perhaps put fandom more on the societal and scientific agenda?

AA: The scenario you presented is very similar here in Brazil, as we in fact are more and more incorporating the term in our everyday vocabulary. In my perspective, the issue here was not only about age, but also about social capital in general. “Fans” tends to be more associated with mass and popular culture - so you can be a “fan” of a famous TV show or internet sensation, whereas those who relish classical music icons or cult movies would call themselves “enthusiasts” or “passionate” (even though all of them basically share the same feelings). Another semantic matter is that sports fans have a different name here, “torcedores” (equivalent to “supporters”), and therefore the association with fans, even academically, is less frequent than in other countries. And while I believe that media is now incorporating the title “fan” and its derivations as a desired, more engaged and committed audience, drifting from the childish/nerdy association, it is still a challenge to us, scholars, to contribute profoundly to that very necessary recognition - considering that, at least in Latin-American countries, we are still fighting for mere academic acceptance. 

Our exchange led me to the inevitable conclusion that no other nationality (and, within this partition, ethnicity, gender or age group) sees an idol the same way. It can be something specific, like the east European love for Brazilian telenovelas, or a global phenomena like Harry Potter or Backstreetboys: local culture will play a crucial part in how we “read” those texts (language-wise and more!). However, it is interesting to point out a fundamental contradiction: we read those texts “locally” while looking for and preferring international objects, since, at the same time, we also want to be part of the “global”. This is an exciting debate that could go on for ages! It will certainly reshape my future research. I thank you deeply for the chance to share all these ideas, examples and theories.

SD: We indeed learn from our exchanges that every culture still has their own take on cultural products. Culture is never neutral in that way. And localness plays such an important role as a lens through which we’re making sense of these phenomena! 

Global Fandom Jamboree Conversation Series: Aianne Amado (Brazil) and Simone Driessen (The Netherlands) (Part One)

AA: Querida Simone,

I was fascinated to learn more about fandoms in the Netherlands and most of all to observe so many similarities between Dutch and Brazilian fan cultures, which I was not expecting. Brazilian and Latin-American historians argue that our devotion for contemporary cultures from hegemonic countries are mainly due to our extremely exploitative colonization. While I do agree that this process had and still has a direct impact over our social political context, which includes culture reception, your statement made me question the actual force of this imprint. For what I know - and please correct me if I’m wrong - the Netherlands were on the colonizer side, having even colonies in Brazil for a brief period. So how come both of those countries ended up with such similar transnational culture behavior? What are your thoughts on that? And I wonder if you could share some historic input about your country that you believe could lead to this affection towards foreign texts.

Furthermore, you raise an intriguing point of view by centering the transnational fandom discussion in the duality of local practices and language in the general scenario of globalization. Those are indeed two defining matters for those fandoms and shape almost every interaction between its members or with the idols themselves. Regarding the language, I wonder how many fans all over the globe have learned a new one because of their beloved text (I certainly am one of them!). But moreover, I found it fascinating how this was also a factor that could bring together Dutch fans from different age groups, which is quite exceptional for me. Here in Brazil, it is almost the opposite: adult fans tend to snub and disdain younger fans, thinking that being associated with a fandom with kids could somehow influence their social capital. Also, the “dubbing x subtitles” dilemma here is much more a question of class: since we unfortunately still have a high percentage of illiterate or semi-literate people in the lower classes, those tend to prefer dubbed content, while those of higher classes prefer subtitles (which can easily be noticed with dubbed movies in on open TV and subtitled on cable).

SD: Dear Aianne, 

 It’s indeed fascinating to see how alike our countries are when it comes to fandom. Yet, for such a vast country as Brazil and such a small, condensed country like the Netherlands, I am not surprised to hear how local languages and practices have great influence on fannish practices. Let me also use that observation to return to your first questions here, how come both Brazil and the Netherlands ended up with such similar transnational culture behavior? As you point out, the Netherlands were indeed one of Brazil’s colonizers (and of some other countries as well). The Dutch set sail for the first time in the 17th century for Brazil, as part of their world exploration. After the Second World War the Dutch even founded a village called ‘HolAmBra’, to express a cooperation between the countries (and Am for America). But I’m not fully equipped to offer a historical overview of this process. The Dutch often laud themselves for their “VOC-mentality”, which comes down to a drift for exploring new places (also conveniently ignoring the consequences of this exploration drift and completely ignoring the colonization process). To bring that to a fandom context (again, forgive me for not diving deep into the critical debate there): this exploration mindset is still present. The Dutch still travel to visit concerts, also because the country is often skipped in ‘global tours’ (how global are they then?). This way they also consider travelling as part of their fandom.  

            I find it interesting how you considered this in your description in light of Brazil’s colonization being a reason for why the Brazilians can be so devoted to pop culture from hegemonic countries. I would love to hear more about this, also considering more and more Brazilian products crossing borders due to streaming services like Netflix and Spotify. That also makes me wonder about what language you’ve learned to participate in a fandom from abroad? It’s interesting that dubbing in Brazil is a matter or question of class: as you point out, the more ‘affluent’ audiences are catered for by offering subtitles, which also is a very visible signifier of being able to potentially follow something in an original language. I never thought of it in this way, as for us, the subtitles have always been there. The only exception I can think of is children’s media: cartoons, or kids movies - they are dubbed, or original Dutch creations. How is that in Brazil? 

AA: I appreciate your explanation about the Netherlands during imperialism. Can you believe that, talking about that with my father, he told me that his great grandfather was Dutch? He came here with his family for one of the colonies in the Northeast. Is there a chance we can be two long-lost-pop-culture-fans-cousins?

The connection you made about the foreign explorer spirit of the Dutch is extremely perspicacious and makes great sense. By reflecting on that, I came to the thought that perhaps it is not only the role in the colonization itself, but also - and maybe more so - the hegemonic place the country falls in. Of course that nations with dominant economies, languages and governments like the US and Japan have many transnational and transcultural fandoms as well, but the impact it has culturally cannot be compared to what happens in countries like ours. Thinking critically about that, we can identify both a consistency and a contradiction: the consistency is that, in order to claim their hegemonic status, those states had to invest extensively in their cultural sectors, aiming to establish their lifestyles as standards of superiority, locally and globally (contrasting with the lack of public investment in arts and entertainment industries, at least here in Brazil). And the contradiction is that the non-hegemonic countries, those who are potentially more susceptible to their cultural texts, are often left out when it comes to promoting those objects - as you pointed out with the “global” tours example. 

SD: I fully agree with that Aianne, again that consistency and contradiction is also what strikes me in researching fans. On the one hand, fans appropriate their fandom (local fan clubs, local meetups and initiatives) or it is appropriated via the industry, e.g., by a translation of a book or a movie. But on the other hand, fans also heavily engage with these original products which seems to affirm the hegemonic status of these super pop-culture powers (e.g., the US, but also indeed Japan). Still, I wonder, Brazil as such a vast country, with so much playing field in the Global South, we rarely see cultural products cross borders. Might language be an element again? We were discussing how that was such a prominent element for the Dutch to be able to engage with cultural goods from across the world. But for the Brazilians this remains to come with a certain sense of position and capital in society if I read your response correctly. How did you experience that yourself? 

AA: Well, I can guarantee you that we are only having this great exchange because I was once a Friends’ fan. I’ve watched the same episodes so many times that it occurred to me that I would probably still remember and understand the scenes if I switched it to the original language, and that is how I learned most of English. Most of my friends also have learned it through TV shows, movies or songs. In my research, I also found Brazilian otakus who became fluent in Japanese without ever having a class on the language. But one thing everyone agrees: classical kids movies and tv shows are always better in the dubbed version!G

Global Fandom: Simone Driessen (The Netherlands)

What does it mean to be a fan in the Netherlands? That is a challenging question to answer: in our global world today, is fandom not inherently a part of globalization? And do local traditions or cultural elements still matter to (young) fans? In this statement and discussion, I look forward to exploring these subjects through the lens of music fandom in the Netherlands. I wish to argue that being a fan in the Netherlands is both a global and local experience. 

The Netherlands is a small country with a population of about 17 million people. Despite a flourishing film/TV- and music industry, much of the media entertainment content consumed is American or British. Additionally, with a high level of internet penetration (about 95%), the Dutch know how to find their way around online. They are avid users of Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, and TikTok. So, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that fandom in the Netherlands isn’t tied to its local borders. To better understand fandom in the Netherlands it is key to understand the roles of globalization and language in Dutch culture. Although I will examine these factors more in-depth by using music fandom as an example, drawing on my own research into long-term music fans, let me start with a recent anecdote about Dutch sports fandom. 

            When thinking about ‘fandom in the Netherlands, the first thing that popped up in my mind was orange, the color. In September 2021, the global Formula 1 (F1) Grand Prix took place on the racing track in Dutch beach town Zandvoort. With the Dutch soccer team not performing very well for the past few years, many sports fans found a new favorite pastime in watching F1, particularly with the young successful Dutch driver, Max Verstappen, taking part in the race. Despite the global pandemic, thousands of visitors were allowed on the track. So, the “Orange Army” showed up: dressed in orange – the ‘national’ color of the Netherlands, or with a Dutch flag to show their support for Verstappen. Imagine a sea of orange shirts, orange wigs, orange smoke bombs, etcetera. Now, the Dutch idiom of ‘doe maar normal dan doe je al gek genoeg’ (‘just act normal, that’s already crazy enough’) didn’t apply for the duration of the race! It was a remarkable sight to see this expressive crowd, dressed up in their national color, and attending the race in these pandemic times. Of course, this example resonates with other events in sports fandoms: think of World Championships where people also dress in their country’s colors to support their team. Although this tradition is not unique, it is telling of how fandom reflects localness while simultaneously expressing a sense of being part of ‘the global’ (i.e., a sports competition, or the community of football or racing fans at large).

Dutch Backstreet Boys fans, waiting to enter for the band's concert held in 2015, in one of the bigger music venues in The Netherlands called Ahoy (in the city of Rotterdam)

To dive a little deeper into the complexities of the local and global in Dutch fandom I turn to my own turf: music fandom. My research examines how Dutch music fans become and remain fans of (inter)national musicians. For example, I interviewed (now adult) fans of the Backstreet Boys, who have been fans of the boy band since their early success in the 1990s. When most of these fans became fans, they were in their late childhood or early teens (aged somewhere between 8 and 16). During the Backstreet Boys heydays, the band regularly appeared on Dutch (children’s) TV and was often featured in Dutch pop magazines. Now, one might wonder: how were these young fans able to follow this American, English-speaking and -singing band when the fans’ main language was Dutch? Moreover, why was this American group so successful in a small country like the Netherlands? By answering these questions, I aim to illustrate how Dutch music fandom is influenced by the process of globalization. Yet, also how it shaped by social and cultural practices in the Netherlands. 
            Let me start with clarifying the second question, before returning to the first. While much of the media entertainment broadcasted in the Netherlands is ‘Dutch’ – spoken and produced locally, foreign media content is highly popular too. Particularly media products from the United States and United Kingdom. As media scholar Jaap Kooijman described in his 2013 book ‘Fabricating the Absolute Fake: America in Contemporary Pop Culture’, the Netherlands always had a special connection to the US. Like many Europeans, the Dutch grew up with Disney movies, Hollywood productions, and American music – like that of the Backstreet Boys. This popularity of American pop culture offers a shared point of reference for many people. That was also the case for these very young teens who witnessed the band’s performances in popular (children’s) TV shows or heard them on the radio. In a way this signals the influence of globalization, but perhaps even more so the process of Americanization in the Netherlands.

             Now, to return to that first question I posited, ‘how were these young fans able to follow an international band (or media product) when the fans’ main language was Dutch’? Unlike neighboring country Germany (or nearby country France) where foreign media content is dubbed, in the Netherlands media products are broadcasted in their original language. They do receive subtitles. Through this cultural (and somewhat economic) practice young children learn English at a young age. They also officially already acquire a basic level of English at elementary school. During the interviews I conducted with Dutch fans of the Backstreet Boys fans often spoke about how becoming proficient in English at such a young age mattered greatly to their long-term fandom. They considered it very helpful to understand the band’s lyrics, but this also allowed them to read about the band or watch short interviews on television. Some of the fans who were in their ‘older teens’ in the 1990s (14-15 years old) indicated they for example translated English material from the band’s original website for other fans. One of the interviewees fans even started her own Dutch fan forum, to make information about the band accessible to fellow fans in the Netherlands. Other fans talked about becoming members of global forums, which led to creating friendships across the world. And many of those friendships remained for life: some of these interviewees mentioned meeting up with those international friends (in their now adult years) at one of the Backstreet Boys cruises and concerts abroad. So, this emphasis on language demonstrates how the practice of learning a new language (because of the local practice of not dubbing content too!) can potentially increase one’s fandom experience.

Now, these are just a few, very brief observations about fandom in the Netherlands. These examples offer an insight into how local and global elements play a role in Dutch music fandom. I have briefly reviewed how American pop-culture influences Dutch fandom and how local practices and language are key features in the music fandoms that I studied. I am curious to learn of comparable or contradicting practices elsewhere (e.g., what is the influence of language elsewhere?). Of course, there is much more to discuss and share about Dutch fandom too (e.g., Dutch music fans like to travel because artists don’t always visit the country, how is that for fans in other countries?). Furthermore, I look forward to reviewing the position of Fan Studies in the Netherlands (often part of Media & Communication Studies programs) and compare this to other countries.  

Simone Driessen, Ph.D. is a senior lecturer and researcher in Media and Communication at Erasmus University Rotterdam, in the Netherlands. In her PhD she examined how and why fans remained fans over time and publishedthese findings in multiple journals and books. In addition to exploring why fans continue their fandom, Simone currently researches why fans discontinue their fandom. 

Global Fandom: Aianne Amado (Brazil)

I am not saying that there is a competition for the most enthusiastic fans... but if there were, I am willing to bet Brazil would be at the top of the podium. As a Brazilian fan myself, of course I am not exactly impartial, but you do not have to take my word for that: the main recipient of such passion, the idols, say so themselves — like in this speech from Katy Perry, where she says to her audience in Rio “You guys have fire! You guys have passion; you have something that I have never seen and I've been all over the world and it is totally different here!”; or Nickelback’s Chad Kroeger declaring that “anytime we get to come to a new country for the first time we have no idea what to expect... except this country (...) because everybody tells us it’s gonna be crazy and the fans here are more passionate than just about anywhere in the world”; or even TV’s favorite vampire brothers, Ian Somerhalder and Paul Wesley, saying during the Vampire Attraction convention that “I've never seen or felt or heard more passion and love... it's unbelievable” and “definitely the most enthusiastic fans of any country we've ever visited. It's crazy!”.

Brazil is also responsible for breaking a few records like the world’s biggest Comic Con, with over 280 thousand fans in the last edition, and the largest concert audience ever, for when Rod Stewart played for 4.2 million people in Copacabana’s New Year’s Eve in 1994. Some of the most famous musicians, such as Paul McCartney, Queen, and The Rolling Stones, also have Brazil as home of their largest concert attendance.

And then there is the “please come to Brazil” meme. Probably any pop culture lover with internet access has read hundreds of comments from fans begging their idols to visit us. According to Feldman, the joke started as a genuine claim for more international tours, but soon evolved into a symbol of Brazil’s online engagement, published on the comment section of any post, regardless of the content or even what celebrities like actors or reality tv personalities would do once they got here. Even Beyoncé’s family members were receiving those messages. Youtuber Kaleb Nation facetiously tweeted that “a celeb’s relevance can be accurately measured by how many ‘come to Brazil!!!!!’ tweets they get a day”.

That doesn’t mean that Brazilians forget about national texts. We have our own superstars, with legions of fans that cause just as much of a frenzy; our media texts, notably the telenovelas, with gigantic ratings from Mondays to Saturdays and even stopping the country during their finale; and we should never forget about the soccer fans. Yet, the interest for social capital provided by the international approval remains, and many fandoms try to validate their idols or texts by promoting them abroad — a more recent and remarkable case

was when Anitta’s fans changed their IP to american ones to call a Miami radio and ask for her songs.

As illustrated by the examples above, we can observe that there are evident aspects of Brazilian fan culture that differ from other countries. Jokes and rivalries aside, I do not believe the way we show affection for pop culture is necessarily better or worse (as it also causes many problems, specially concerning fans and idol’s safeties), but it is certainly veryBrazillian. In order to understand what is the Brazilian way to be a fan and how it came to be, we need to look at the big picture, which means to consider social, economic and historical aspects and singularities.

Yet, a review of Fan Studies in Brazil (Amado, 2019) shows that the field is still far from this panorama. In the early 2000, the subject was highly marginalized in the Communication and Media schools, being better received only by those who studied new technologies. Therefore, not only did the first researchers “import” fan theories already circulating in Anglo-Saxon countries, but they also had as main references international authors used by the Digital Communication Studies. This is a problem since the approaches, concepts, and methods present in those are related to the social conditions of the countries that their authors are part of, which are quite different from the dependent economy and high social inequality seen in Brazil. For example, the first Brazilian papers about fans had to focus on online fandoms, which created a pattern still prevalent, even though a significant part of the population does not have internet access or literacy.

Since 2010, the number of studies with fans and fandoms as scientific objects has grown swiftly in Brazil, creating a broad literature with various approaches and from different areas, like Education, Administration and Linguistics. Nonetheless, we still fail to quote ourselves, with international authors prevailing amongst our citations. In addition, another issue identified is that most studies focus only on fandoms from Rio de Janeiro and/or São Paulo, neglecting many groups from a continental country.

Aiming to remedy those liabilities, I examined and traced a social profile of Brazil’s transcultural fans by thematically analysing all 39 theses and dissertations published in the country with them as objects (Amado, 2020). The results show a clear historical, economic, and political impact on fandom activities. Latin-American countries have what Canclini (1997) calls “hybrid cultures”, marked by our highly exploratory colonization process, constantly mixing autochthonous and enslaved traditions with the ways of life of European

colonizers. Our national identities were then shaped by a development strongly based on external influences. Moreover, in 1808, escaping Napoleon’s attack, Portugal’s Royal Family sailed to Brazil, where they lived until 1820 (just two years before our independence), making us the only colony in the continent where the European crown lived. Historians believe that having the Portuguese court in our land defined how we view and value transnational cultures, especially the ones from countries with superior economies. For example, former Minister of Culture Celso Furtado (1984, p. 39) affirms that “the visit of a European theater company to a Brazilian city could be the defining cultural event in the life of an entire generation”. This, tied with the still current lack of public policies that encourage local cultural production, made our population view international cultures as a symbol of social capital (Hollanda, 2010). After the Second War, that focus changed from Europe to the USA, the nation abroad where most transcultural texts in Brazil come from. The second place belongs to Japan, also associated with our historical process, with strong imigration politics encouraging Japanese to live over here (nowadays, Brazil is the country with the largest population of Japanese origin outside of Japan and Otakus are fairly common amongst our subcultures).

Social capital has a fundamental part in Brazilian fan culture. We pride ourselves for (supposedly) being the best in the world, making comparisons and even virtual wars. But the status is disputed inside the fandoms as well: there is an evident hierarchical structure in our fandoms, which can be defined by longevity in the group, knowledge about the text or fanactivities. People at the “bottom” of that structure seek for prestige to climb and, in some cases, a member can become so popular that it gets its own fans.

That hierarchy helps with what I believe is our main distinction: the high level of organization. The fandoms have strict rules (ex: some prohibit the discussion of politics and nudity posts) and divisions of tasks (moderator, manager, director etc.) to create a healthy environment — which is crucial since many fans use fandoms as a “safe space” to be themselves. This system was originally created because of how long it usually took for the texts to be made available here and how the industries would overlook Brazil when planning tours or press conferences. This led to groups organizing themselves into what is better described as a more simplified fordist system. To this day, that structure is used to produce subtitles, scanlations, podcasts, fansites and fan events. Almost all of those are voluntary, free, steady and nearly flawless.

The intensity of our fandoms are reshaping how the whole population consumes media. Phenomena like Big Brother Brasil’s Juliette and comedian Whinderson Nunes proves that a good social media strategy, associated with popular verbiage and humor, can rapidly lead to fame and social relevance. Such strategies have been mimicked by various sectors, most notably by politicians, adding to the worldwide political polarization when creating an extreme rivalry between current president and extreme-rightist Bolsonaro and former president and leftist Lula — each one with an uncritical base, much more like fans than voters.

To study fandom is now a necessity in the Brazilian Social Science field. And, albeit the subject is finally gaining recognition — with dedicated discussion groups in national events and special issues in scientific journals — we are ready to grow from the researches that focuses on isolated fandoms and start theorizing on their place in the current state of our nation.

CITATIONS

Amado, Aianne. (2019, may). Tendências e Lacunas dos Estudos de Fãs no Brasil e no Mundo: uma Revisão do Campo. Congresso de Ciências da Comunicação na Região Nordeste - Intercom Nordeste. Belém, Pará, Brasil, n. 21.

Amado, Aianne. (2020). Please come to Brazil: uma análise crítica dos fãs brasileiros como apreciadores de objetos culturais internacionais. Dissertation, Federal University of Sergipe, São Cristóvão, Sergipe, Brasil. Available: https://ri.ufs.br/handle/riufs/13403

Canclini, Néstor G. (1997). Culturas Híbridas y estratégias comunicacionales. Estudios sobre las Culturas Contemporáneas, 3 (5), pp. 109 - 128.

Furtado, Celso. (1984). Que somos?. In D’Aguiar, Rosa F. (2012). Ensaios sobre cultura e o Ministério da Cultura (pp. 29-42). Rio de Janeiro, RJ: Contraponto, Centro Internacional.

Holanda, Sérgio B. (2010). Raízes do Brasil. São Paulo, SP: Companhia das Letras.

Aianne Amado is a PhD candidate at University of São Paulo and has a Master’s degree from University of Sergipe, both in Communication Science. She researches Pop Culture and Fan Studies toward the lens of the Latin-American approach of Political Economy of Communication and Culture. Is a member of study groups OBSCOM/CEPOS and CETVN.

Global Fandom Jamboree: Enrique Uribe-Jongbloed (Colombia). and Olivier Tchouaffe (Cameroon) (Part Two)

Black Panther: Fandom and the Glocal?

by Tchouaffe Olivier (Cameroon)

Black Panther, a Marvel production enjoyed worldwide success two years ago and including Africa. The success of Black Panther on the African continent was underwritten by the feeling of “locality” to the point that most people did not even know that it was a Marvel and a Hollywood production. Black Panther, however, was suited to the local level, as opposed to a globalized scale. 

This means thinking about what the Glocal means in this context and what does that suggest about how people think of fandom outside of these so-called idealized and rarefied "centers" for this artistic practice?

This is a long-overdue spotlight on the robust community of fans outside of the west and a deeper conversation about how major institutions, such as Hollywood and Marvel superheroes are investing in ecosystems and fan-led organizations outside of the West and the ways we relate to each other and see ourselves in larger social frameworks.

These internal and societal shifts caused these institutions, like many others, to confront which superheroes they had historically shown and why they were selected. Perhaps more importantly, they were also prompted to address which communities had been excluded from these opportunities in the first place. The success of comic superheroes outside of traditional centers generated strong feelings among comic creators and Hollywood to produce works that specifically served these non-white communities to become really strongly rooted in the local community, to the same degree that it has been functioning on a national and international scale

In the case of Black Panther and Africa, moreover, how issues of needs and rights are located and folded into superheroes’ discourses to generate productive opportunities. This kind of politics merges with Black Panther with conversations about the restitution of stolen African art. In the movie, the son of Prince N’Jobu, Killmonger, and nemesis of Black Panther, organizes a heist in a London museum to recover a legendary weapon from Wakanda. If this African country is imaginary, and the stage too, the fiction on the other hand reflected a very real debate on the restitution of works.

Emblematic in this respect, Black Panther, first, demonstrates that flow of circulation of commodities between Africa and the world was never interrupted. Second, How Black Panther is a matrical foundational work embedded in a web of elemental materials and a mythological well and the need to evaluate original work as work in progress. Thus, how chef d’oeuvres are always almost unfinished and incomplete. In practice, how created logic production is usually bifurcated and inprevisible.

Hence, the movie engages the still unresolved issues of the restitution of African works, but also those of the conflicting memory of slavery and colonization, which fall on a much more physical terrain. What Black Panther had somehow anticipated and staged.

Furthermore, Marvel's Black Panther isn't just the political "blockbuster" the public has been waiting for. It is a historic event in intellectual life that goes beyond the American threshold and gives rise to genuine exegesis in the social sciences.

The film responded to the #OscarSoWhite movement that forced Hollywood to realize the near absence of African Americans in its nominations. Moreover, Black Panther provides proof that African-American narratives can generate profits from all audiences and puts an end to a myth in the film industry.

Thus, more than a movie, Black Panther is a vehicle of thought. A true intellectual synthesis. It is no coincidence that a few months before the film's release, the writing of the new adventures of the Black Panther was entrusted to writer Ta-Nehisi Coates, author of the bestseller Between the World and Me. It is no coincidence that activist writer Roxane Gay, author of another bestseller Bad Feminist was also involved in the writing of this comic book. The "Black Panther" phenomenon is well and truly placed under the sign of an era of "Black Lights". Sociologists, historians, and thinkers seize hold of it.

One of the greatest African intellectuals, the Cameroonian philosopher Achille Mbembé analyzed it thus "for those who know how to read between the images, for those who know how to listen to the rhythms and embrace the pulse of the story, the threads are there, manifest, and behind the 'one or the other sequence hovers a thousand shadows and a thousand currents of thought - from Marcus Garvey to Cheikh Anta Diop, from negritude to Afrocentrism, from Afropolitanism to Afrofuturism ”. According to Achille Mbembé, “Black Panther” is the showcase of ideas and efforts developed over decades to get out of “the big night”.

Also, "Black Panther", it is this Africa to which one would not have denied its ancient past and its History (because yes African man has already entered history), this Africa idealized because not colonized. and futuristic, but also and quite simply this possible Africa. And with it, as well as the model of civilization it will draw, a revolution of thought is playing out.

Response by Enrique Uribe-Jongbloed (Colombia)

Here, I would like to bring two things into play, that relate to the way you approach Black Panther. 

On the one hand, we have a set of comic book heroes that were of great importance in Colombia: Kalimán, Fantomas, and Aguilar Solitaria (Lonely Eagle). They were all comics created and developed in Mexico and sold between the mid-1960s and early-1990s in Colombia. We all grew up with those as our comic book heroes, alongside Batman, Superman and Spider-man. Funnily enough, Kalimán is a psychic with Egyptian origins, Fantomas is a French dilettante and masked hero, and Aguila Solitaria is a Native American, but from the US side, and with mostly US located storylines. Their only homebrew hero of recognition was El Santo, the masked wrestler, but he was not as successful in comics in Colombia as the other three. There was even a comic book when Fantomas came to Colombia to deal with some criminals stealing emeralds from an indigenous community near the Venezuelan border.

In 1967, a group of Colombian comic book artists who had worked for the Mexican publishers tried to come up with Colombian masked superheroes and thus El Dago and Makú were created. The former was akin to The Spirit, whereas the latter had a similar storyline to Tarzan. They both only had one appearance in comic books, not gathering enough attention and disappearing from our comic book kiosks after only one outing.

Despite this mishap, Jorge Peña, the creator of Makú, managed to get another White-turned-indigenous hero into national circulation almost uninterrupted between 1980 and 1990 in the Sunday Funnies, under the name Tukano. Again, the story, like Makú, was that of a White kid from Bogotá who ended up being raised by the Tukano tribe, with whom he learned to muster the power of the Jaguar. Most of his adventures were in the jungle setting, against witch doctors, evil indigenous peoples or White poachers.

Only recently did we experience a resurgence of Colombian-made comic books superheroes, starting in 2010 with Zambo Dendé. But that is for another discussion.

The other aspect that relates to your piece on Black Panther is the impact that a movie like Avatar (Cameron, 2010) has had for indigenous peoples in the (South)American continent. It is interesting to see how many indigenous activists have taken Avatar to represent exactly how they feel when facing White, corporate interests in their territories. It is interesting to see a US blockbuster becoming part of the cultural repository of indigenous movements. Much like the restitution issues that arise with African dispossession in Black Panther, Avatar represents the exploitation scenario indigenous people of the Americans feel under. The way it has been interpreted and used in Latin America as a representation of indigenous struggle does resonate in opposition to how the earlier comics presented the heroes as always stemming from the White majority or some other exotic location.

Now, this brief exploration brings us back to Dorfmann and Mattelart’s reading of Donald Duck, and how through these comics, whether willingly or unaware, some Western, capitalist visions of the world were being spread. Much like Tintin, or even our own Kalimán, Fantomas, El Dago, Makú and Tukano, the ideals of the time reproduced the Western, White-savior ideology, presenting the heroes as coming always from the outside, from the place where heroes could “actually come from”. But as seen in Black Panther, for the African case, the appropriation of Avatar by indigenous leaders, and our new Colombian-based comics (see Espectaculares Héroes Colombianos), there is a change in the trend. 

Newer comic book fans in Colombia consume much Marvel/DC, manga and the likes of Asterix, Mortadelo y Filemón, and Tintin, but they also consume more national and regional comics than before. Although we will not be back to the heyday of Mexican comics that we had in the 1970s, there are more items to chose from, and new comic book creators are now able to make their own superhero comics have a local flair.

Felipe Ossa, a famous collector and editor of the Sunday funnies for one of the major national newspapers, has mentioned recently that he sees the last ten years as the boom of Colombian comics production. We will see if that remains the case.  

Responses from Olivier Tchouaffe on Comics and local fandom and Sympathy

This globalized and transnational conversations on comics, in this case Colombia and Cameroon, highlight how comics are indigenized to fulfill a need and to play a role in local politics as we emphasize, particularly, with Black Panther and Avatar. Hence, as always, a second project emerges in the background of these superheroes comics which is the evocation of the avatars of current African or Latin American societies. If the action takes place in Cameroon, it could as well be in France, United States, Mexico or Colombia.  As with Black Panther or Avatar, we always end up looking the problems in the face and confronting family or societal failures. For lack of being able to repair them, at least these films instill as much as possible the possible beginnings of reflection or even debate.

In addition, how this also complicated the dichotomy between the global and the local and the narratives how the global as the site of progress while the local is mired in backwardness.  

Consequently, these comics are always powerful, especially, when they land at an opportune moment in the backdrop of national conflicts and issues of social justice that need urgent resolution. Hence, how comics, by definition, is the power to transcend cultural context and participating in giving a voice and a presence to the local fans striving to make themselves heard. 

 In doing so, the knowledge local fans deal with a much more complicated reality and the necessary epistemological rupture from the ways that they might be known or seen as simply infantilized receptacles of foreign media and controlled through soulless consumption of fetichized commodities and probably dupes of the global cultural industry. 

This involves deconstructing the stereotypes embedded in the idea that local fans are not creative but the receptacle of creativity and the consenting spectators of images produced by others. 

Thus, the necessity to interrogate images produced for local fans and how these images become normative while totaling advancing the knowledge that local fans are more than capable to have their own subjective experiences and psychological and emotional maturation to become responsible adults and citizens moving away from infantile narcissism. Thus, products of both scientific and psychological processes embedded in productive living and logics of contribution.

This calls for new ways to complicate notions of sympathy and moral judgement. In practice, how the reception of these comics is not simply a matter of emotion, gut instinct or pleasure but the imaginative power of projection to expand our inner circle into the richness of a diverse multicultural world. It goes at the heart of universal cosmopolitan enlightenment values and engagement with urgent issues in the world such as social justice informing on local resources, strength and resilience. How we commit to these values and how we can get there.

As a consequence, the comics superheroes today are universal emblematic of freedom, meritocracy and self-reliance and tales of empowerment that can no longer be overlooked and how the status quo is constantly being challenged in countries receiving these cultural constructs.  This is a testimony to what Henri Bergson called the “Élan Vital “which represents the creative force within an organism that is responsible for growth, change, and necessary or desirable adaptations. In ways, these comics authors are equally greatly influenced by Henri Bergson and his term élan vital as they seek to make such universal harmonies, and this urge for growth and renewal, visible in their work.

Global Fandom Jamboree Conversations: Enrique Uribe-Jongbloed (Colombia) and Tchouaffe Olivier (Cameroon) (Part One)

Conversations on Comics: On Cultural Effraction and the Feedback Loop

by Tchouaffe Olivier (Cameroon)

The things I find remarkable about the comics is how they entered our consciousness by effraction. Indeed, we were not the intended original audience but happened to be an audience by effraction. Many of these comics, such as Blek Le Roc and Lucky Luke, were themselves examples of idiosyncratic cultural borrowing responding to the American’s invasion of films and comics in Europe and are, consequently, themselves derivative of the Hollywood Western and the myth of manifest destiny and the last frontier embedded in the mythology of the west and all the cultural bagages we have now come to recognize. Comics like Tintin, likewise, emanates from a cultural Belgian milieu that was very catholic, reactionary and colonialist. 

Indeed, can we completely free Tintin from its anchoring in the past century? The first album "Tintin in the land of the Soviets" was indeed responsible for portraying the worst mistakes of the Soviet Union. The controversies over its racism and colonialism arise when it is a question of republishing "Tintin in the Congo". Finally, how can we fail to notice the absence of a female character with the exception of the Castafiore?

First, the demonstration that what is considered culturally appropriate or politically correct change overtime. Second, without parents, without a past other than his tribulations, without a girlfriend or boyfriend, globally without attachment and without accountability to anyone, without sex and almost without a face: Tintin is an autonomous individual, scientifically skilled with an agency of his own. Thus, it is Tintin’s abstraction that makes up his modernity and legitimacy as an icon of freedom, self-reliance and technological ingenuity that appeal with an audience dealing with a world that is becoming more complex by the days.

Thus, Tintin still seems so alive in the 21st century. Like a character of the present, with a contemporary reading that forgets its anachronism.

What is spectacular, however, it is how these comics have managed to spread all over the world, as a form of subaltern culture, and came back to Hollywood’s mainstream moviemaking.

It is clear that Steven Spielberg who made a movie about Hergé’s Tintin (2011) and realistically followed Herge’s visual genius and erudition with his own visual imagination and performance capture prowess with the ambition to rival with movies such as James Cameron’s Avatar. However, rather than Hollywoodized it, Spielberg keeps the spirit of Tintin to become the first to globalized Tintin in films, rather, that a European filmmaker. Spielberg took a big chance on a comic that was pretty much unknown in the United States.

In addition, Spielberg was also inspired, with Georges Lucas, by Hugo Pratt’s Colto Maltese for Indiana Jones.[1]

Furthermore, as with the Hong Kong Martial Art films, the Samurai movies of Akira Kurosawa and the Western Spaghetti of Sergio Leone also make their ways back into Hollywood and are openly claimed by movie directors, such as, Quentin Tarantino.

What becomes important here, however, is that the nature of the narrative itself changes. There is no longer such as thing as a progression to the west with a beginning, middle and the end to the last frontier but a narrative of revelation bounded with seriality which means that we do not even need to know how the story started, we are embarked into a moving train and its spirit of adventure.

Thus, narratives unfold less according to a classical logic of development of sequences than of rampant compilation and short-circuits of technological challenges. The speed of the linking of the actions, their extreme compression, thus prevents the emergence of the feeling of a time that disappears to be replace by the magic on the page and the magic of technologies on the screens. Taken together, the anticipation of an idealized forms of futuristic technologies.

In all, how personal taste and opinions preempts official critics by mobilizing some forms of universal mythologies.Hence, for example, when Elon Musk unveiled the design of his new “Starship” lunar rocket, it took exactly the shape of the Tintin one in “Objectif Lune”, minus the red and white checkerboard! A tribute to the Hergé reporter claimed by the boss of Space X. But why did the American Elon Musk take inspiration from the Belgian designer rather than from Star Wars ships?

As with all his toys, such as, helicopter, plane, rocket, submarine, outboard boat, and many vehicles, Tintin has always seized, as if by magic and without a license, all the toys of technical progress. In fact, he walked on the moon as early as 1953, sixteen years before Neil Armstrong! He is a character of speed and action, of perpetual motion. He is only defined by his actions, and his interventions are always those that move the adventure forward, where the secondary characters delay the pace. Between a Captain Haddock who swears by a trillion thousand ports and a frankly tough professor Tournesol.

This is all because Tintin is both a vehicle of universal and timeless identification, but also a figure of pure freedom and self-reliance, as if spared by reality. An over-child myth that speaks to all generations of readers including space entrepreneur Elon Musk! After the "Secret of the Unicorn", the duo Steven Spielberg and Peter Jackson are reforming for an adaptation of the Temple of the Sun, announced for 2021.

Taken together, in a world that is getting hyperconnected but precarious, in many parts, these figures become the vector of a moral economy driven by technological creativity.

Response by Enrique Uribe-Jongbloed (Colombia)

It is funny that you bring up Tintin. When I was a kid in a private catholic school in Bogotá, Colombia, we were invited once a month to a “slideshow”. One of the priests at the school, an old Frenchman of the Assumptionist order, would present to us a series of Tintin slides in French, which he would then translate and act out in his accented Spanish. It was fun to hear him shout out mild curses when taking on the role of Captain Haddock. Although there were other slides in the slideshow, mostly catholic stories, we were always thrilled to get Tintin. There was adventure and excitement, and particularly for an all-boys catholic school, a role model which was, as you described, uninterested in women, ready for adventure, and with no other commitments beyond his dog, Milú.

Tintin was also part of the Sunday Funnies, a whole page on the back, and those whose families could afford it, would try to get the comic books at Libreria Francesa (French Bookstore). They were very expensive, maybe only to be expected as a lavish Christmas or birthday gift. We used to meet at the homes of those friends who possessed the Tintin books and proceed to binge-read them. They were so precious at the time, that getting a friend of you to lend on of them to you, was a proof of friendship and trust.

Of course, looking through an adult critical lens, it strikes me how those comic books always showed us Western and Eurocentric views as ideal. In that sense, it was exactly like our school curriculum and basically most media output: Westernized to the core. If they were in anyway counterhegemonic in relation to US comic book production, they remained very hegemonic from our perspective.

Obviously, despite the criticism that I might levy upon Tintin, it still holds a very important place in my heart. The only Latin American comic strip that might get close to evoking such fond memories of my childhood would be Condorito, the Chilean character, which my grandfather used to buy for me at the local Kiosk, and which is, by and large, the most famous comic book figure in the country, at least for those in my generation.

Thus, when the Tintin film came out it was almost a requirement to go watch it, more because of nostalgia than anything else. And although it was sufficiently entertaining, it was certainly not the same as remembering the old priest making up watered-down vocabulary for every “@*-!!!” uttered.

[1] Steven Spielberg and Peter Jackson played the Dupond and Dupont, in a short film, to greet visitors to the Angoulême festival and present the filming of the adaptation of "Secret of the Unicorn", on January 29, 2009

Global Fandom: Olivier J. Tchouaffe (Cameroon)

I came to understand the modality of the cultural production of comics and the popularity of fandom in Africa as the power of art to create agency, cultural unity and reconciliation on a global scale. Which brings us, first, to how we found cultural validity amidst the so-called commodification of marginal aesthetic products and a circuit of transmission dominated by consumers dupes. 

Consequently, products consider by conventional artistic standards as trash but found a home with us to become mainstream and a powerful matrix of our imaginary demonstrating the power of stylized original forms that turned into support of our collective imagination. Particularly, creating real needs for the use values of these industrial products that defied its initial reception and calculation.  All this bring to mind the bridge between high and low art to build upon these categories the status of artistic authorship to cartoons and comic books producers through Walter Benjamin’s notion of aura and the democratization of artistic meaning through the formation of a global participatory culture. [1]

Second, to consider broader dynamics such as fandom as a complex literal and metaphorical journey mixing together modern science and mass culture. This work traces fandom as part of  liminal geographies that synthesizes original aesthetic experiences with exercises of maturation embedded in the nexus of inter-evolution of sovereign entities emanating from the cultural force and the symbolic power of African totems mashing together shape-shifting practices, forms of self-description and self-narration which are rituals incarnation derived from the natural world, myths and stories and spanning generations of traditional practices and constant generative possibilities through processes of reinterpretive practices , contextualization and reconfigurative positionalities embedded in these rituals with the urgency of modern life and un-colonized forms of imagination and visual sovereignty which, however, reflect universal cognitive processes..

Precisely, how African culture synthesizes proper development within a relational practice of inter-evolution where real authenticity and individual sovereignty is achieved through a synthesis between an individual and his totemic or post-human power that ordinary Africans perceived as extension of themselves. This can explain, for instance, the success of Marvel’s Black Panther on the continent where, beyond special effects, is the reclaiming of the totemic power of the black panther as it relates to the fluidity of African cosmologies which translate as the fluidity between the organic and the inorganic , humans and other living entities and the beliefs in living worlds beyond human perception, therefore, a continent embedded in Afrofuturistic imaginaries, visual sovereignty and the production of African’s homegrown emancipatory knowledge and practices embedded in a long history of global transmedia stream that reconcile organic political tools with the supercharged global speed of things and reconciling technological changes with the permanence of the local indigenous communities and emphasizing the staying power of oral cultures.[2]

Native Context

While in a discussion of fandom in Africa, I would like now to look at my own family, which owned movie theaters and helped produce films in the West African countries of Cameroon. In addition, I would like to discuss my mother, Marie-Claire Tchouaffe, an executive in the country’s largest distributor of books, newspapers and magazines who made me highly popular in the neighborhood and turned me into a one-man library of sorts by regularly bringing home the cartoons of Superman, Batman, and Spiderman, Mandrake the Magician, Tarzan, Akim, Zembla, and Flash Gordon that we claim as our own indigenous tropes because we did not see any forms of epistemological rupture with our own cosmological universe and therefore could locate our own proper lineage through these figures and entities. 

In addition to others impersonating Americans and almost unknown in the US, including, Blek the Trapper and Lucky Luke that I now regularly lend to my American friends for a unique view of their own culture from an outside creative and eclectic perspective.

SUPERMAN

Hence, being a fan is about pushing the boundaries of what is humanly possible. Heroes whether Superman, Batman or even the anthological Prometheus can be seen as redefining the limits of human potential since they are breaking into the final frontier, and in so doing, enlarging the scope of human knowledge and abilities. Perhaps, the most interesting thing about fandom is that it involves a mixture of technology, mythology, fantasy, and the drive to transcend borders. Which is what had led me to Texas in the early 1990s, a place that in the eyes of my family was still very much like the Wild West, and where many of my future American friends supposed I still had zebras, tigers and lions trotting around my backyard.

BATMAN

Knowing the details and profound logic of Batman or Superman, moreover, is a science and a language in of itself where notions of space and time, tradition and modernity are constantly intertwined and overlapping. Part of the core message is the love of seriality and the pleasure of anticipation. These different systems of writings and performance have something in common which at the core was the idea that the world of tomorrow will be a better and more tolerant place because the actions of these heroes increase scientific knowledge. Hence, fandom for me always was about open and unlimited spaces of possibilities where the grandeurs of human potential always asserted itself. Reading about Batman and Superman allow me to revel in all kinds of scientific absurdities while also allowing me better sense of the political and cultural environment of my own country Cameroon while growing up in the country under a dictatorship. It opened my eyes providing me with a way to circumvent the mind-numbing local political propaganda by inventing an alternative world of unlimited possibilities.

 As I continue to take note of the ongoing transformation of Superman and Batman, I am still baffled by cartoons like Blek the Trapper and Lucky Luke, the man who shoots faster than his shadow. [3] How both were representing respectively the tale of the struggle for American independence and the taming of the American wild West, as seen through the eyes of Italian and Belgian artists. These hand me down cartoons were sold to us in Cameroon as quintessential American stories and reveal how multi-layered complicated notions of fandom can seem since with these cartoons, we have an Italian or Belgian perspective of American history recapitulated and passed on as a hybrid-sort of fandom to share with Africans. I always found it interesting that my American friends had never even heard of the characters who are supposed to be a great part of their stories, thereby, illustrating my point about complex layers of fandom.

 Blek Le Roc and Lucky Luke

To clarify, Blek, the Trapper and Lucky Luke represent a view of America refracted and reflected through European eyes, which as with the Spaghetti Western of Sergio Leone, reveal the worldwide appeal of myths involving the American West which itself can be seen as a substitute for a kind of eternal wild frontier. It is equally interesting while revisiting Lucky Luke to examine the debate about ethics around fandom. My enthusiasm nowadays is tempered by the clichés and stereotypes embedded in the cartoons even if they were created in good humor. While the description of colonial Brits in Blek the Trapper as “Red Lobsters,” might cause to ponder about the origin of the famous seafood chain, the recurrence of Chinese as cunning and sneaky and of Mexicans as lazy and irresponsible. More, the Blacks as darkies are unequivocally racist in nature, even though Lucky Luke as a defender of the vulnerable offsets them. 

Thus, the grotesque depiction of minorities allows us to make a moral judgment about the relationship between representation and reality. These cartoons hero’s depiction therefore even though they did not look like us, or move like us, and did not come from our culture but they did talk like us, and they were always defending of the hopeless and the oppressed. You can feel the desire for justice and to make the world a better place by fighting evil on all fronts with the power of human potential. Thus, even though it was all fantasy, and we knew all the codes, it was a convention we were happy to live by since it gave us hope. 

This idea of fandom here functions as a powerful link through a nebulous context driven by science fiction, superhero movies/fantasy and a new form of postcolonial ethic. Taken together, to unravel conventional ideological practices as they appear in visual culture to challenge the excesses of neoliberal capitalism and its catalogue of oppression. The aim is to take established fan bases to re-examines ideological practices that naturalize and moralize along conventional constructions of gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, and geography. The goal is the idea that we were able to experience critical distance to entities and objects we related to in order to exploit the concept of transgression or presenting camp pastiches that illuminate the construction and the fragility of these structures and how new forms of knowing is mapped into all aspects of the body, performance, and the narrative in ways that polymorphically do not, oftentimes, adhere to conventional description of modes of beings and knowing.  

Olivier J. Tchouaffe is a film and media scholar. He is originally from Cameroon and received all his degrees from the University of Texas at Austin in Radio-Television and Film. Dr. Tchouaffe is specialized in African cinema and affiliated with Southwestern University. Besides many journal articles and book chapters, Dr. Tchouaffe is the author of Passion of the Reel (2015); Varieties of Literature in Cameroon (2016) the Cinematic Experiences of Abderrahmane Sissako (2017) and Citizen Colt: Transnational Commercial Cinemas, Coffee and the Poetic of Homes (2020)

[1] Benjamin, Walter. “The Work of  Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.” Illuminations, Schocken Books, 1969, pp. 217–51.

[2] Cameroonian UFC champion, Francis Nganou has been named one of 'Marvel’s Earth’s Mightiest Athletes'. 

He was accorded the recognition at the 2021 ESPN Sports Humanitarian Awards.

"Just 8 years ago I was crossing the Mediterranean to make it from Africa to Europe then I was homeless in Paris, sleeping in the streets. I just had a dream to become something..." Ngannou says.

[3] Moving to Texas, some scenes from Lucky Luke took another dimension. For instance, Lucky Luke as a bounty hunter taking Billy the Kid into custody and stopping in a Mexican taqueria for Tacos and Tamales to have Billy the Kid going crazy with the Tabasco sauce to the point of spending days later with his head in the bucket trying to deal with the aftermath of a “Tabasco overdose.” More, the Lucky Luke and the ballad of the Dalton Brothers. The Dalton Brothers were originally introduced in Lucky Luke #6 and modeled after the real Dalton Brothers: Bob, Grat, Bill and Emmett. The Daltons were killed in the end of that story, but since they proved very popular by readers, writer/artist Morris introduced their cousins Joe, William, Jack and Averell in issue #12. They have the same appearance as the original Dalton brothers, but are less dangerous

Global Fandom: Daniel Aguilar and Enrique Uribe-Jongbloed (Colom

Comics and fandom (studies) in Colombia

Daniel Aguilar and Enrique Uribe-Jongbloed, researchers of the GRIC at Universidad Externado de Colombia, have dedicated our efforts in studying a variety of different media and participation activities and scenarios. Based on our own experience, we have studied the way in which comics, rock music, role-playing games and television have created an environment of participants in different times of our media history in Colombia.

Rock music, which could be considered one of the prime examples of an expanding global phenomenon, can be traced back as one of the main areas where fandom turned into tribute and then into the formation of a very own local scene. We have studied the social formation of rock bands, particularly in Bogotá, and how that generated a space for social and political participation.

We have also studied comics, drawing from our experience and from interviews with collectors, comic buffs and artists, to try to map out the growth in comics consumption in the 1970s, the development of the magazine kiosks as sites of exchange, the traditional neighborhood garages that were turned into comic dens, where the social activity of renting comics to be read sitting on the sidewalk became an experience. Based on oral histories of our contemporaries, we have explored how comics consumers expressed their fandom. As there are new spaces (events, fairs, groups and associations) that have started to appear in the last 20 years, we have also started to undertake participatory observations in those events, to see how Colombians engage currently with their interests by the means of forums, debates, cosplay, collecting material and producing fan fiction/fan art.

Undoubtedly, in Colombia some of the strongest fan activities have been developed around Japanese Anime and Manga. This interest started in the1980s thanks to the increasing TV presence of Anime shows in Colombian television as evidence of global consumption of animation from Japan. It extended into the 1990s as a circuit of exchange and informal commerce and emulation that brought people together to acquire derivative products, whether officially imported or locally produced by fans, and the creating of videoclubs that used to showcase some of the most renowned works in improvised theatres for a small fee.

Although Colombian television series and telenovelas of the 1980s managed to have some cult following, this situation never reached heights of recognizable fandom. Perhaps the only exception could be seen in the costumes that most kids would wear around Halloween, which oftentimes included a couple of characters from local comedy series or telenovelas. The main case of a cult-telenovela in the late 1980s is, perhaps, “Calamar” (Caracol, 1989), which included an animatronic character “Guri-Guri”, which could be acquired as a toy, as the cover of notebooks, and as a small toy-present in a variety of consumer products (e.g. bags of chips). Guri-Guri is, thus, the only national case of a TV show turning into ancillary products, expanding the Telenovela spectatorship into fans. However, the hit Mexican TV sitcoms El Chavo and El chapulín Colorado, which have played on Colombian television since the 1970s to date, could also be deemed as carrying the example of fandom, including ancillary products and enough Halloween costumes. 

There is evidence of both a globalized expansion of fandom, such as the case of Anime and Manga fans, comics books consumers (which could either be fans of American Marvel/DC comics and Garfield, European larger formats, such as Tintin, Asterix, Mortadelo y Filemón, or Corto Maltés, Mexican comics like Fantomas, Calimán and Memín, Condorito from Chile or Mafalda from Argentina), as there is from Rock music from EEUU and the UK, at the same time as a growth of Latin American Rock bands or the growing internationalization of participation in global videogames, and also the consumption and fan development of local products, although in a more limited extension, which only seems to express itself in certain smaller scale events.

A typical comic from the 1970s (this a Mexican comic, but the setting was Colombia)

The division of consumption of comics books in the 1980s and 1990s can be traced to the cultural capital and economic background of the consumers and fans. Most comics in the 1980s were published in Spanish, distributed as small (half letter-size page) magazines published on newspaper-quality paper, with a very low price, which expanded their consumption. By the 1990s, the disappearance of the magazine kiosks and the bankruptcy of the distribution companies, led to the comics moving only into the specialized bookstore, often exclusively in English or their original language (French, in the cases of Tintin and Asterix), and becoming available only to those with more disposable income, cultural capital, and language abilities, which then becomes a middle- or upper-class activity. Recently, local comics have started to gather a new readership and a small-scale fandom, with a low price and easy accessibility such as the cases of Bogotá Masacre Zombie and Saic (see more about the comic scenario in Colombia in Uribe-Jongbloed and Aguilar-Rodríguez, 2020).

Whereas the informal or small-scale stores of Anime and Manga products became a staple of middle and working class neighborhoods –alongside the videogame parlors where you could rent a Nintendo to play for periods of 30-minutes–, the specialist store or Hobby shop appeared in the Bogotá under Libreria Francesa (The French Bookshop), opening up to four shops in the height of their business in the late 1990s. Libreria Francesa’s Hobby Center was the place where Role-Playing games, collectible card games, comics, miniatures and toys could be acquired. They catered for a more exclusive upper and upper-middle class, with English or French language skills and more disposable income. The tabletop RPG boom of the late 1990s and early 2000s sparked the creation of local clubs and guilds at the various public and private universities and saw the creation of independent gaming clubs, none of which lasted a decade (for more on RPGs in Colombia, see Uribe-Jongbloed, 2020). By the 2010s the various book and entertainment fairs (SOFA, FILBO, COMIC-CON, among others) became the gathering place for comics collectors, cosplayers and RPG aficionados, local libraries offered comics reading groups, and Entreviñetas became a staple yearly event for people interested in a more academic take on comics, at the same time as the Cali Shinanime became the main meeting point for Anime and Manga fans.

Through this general perspective of Colombian fandom, mainly focused in Bogotá and side-stepping videogameas, we hope to have given you a quick view of how fandom’s interconnected cultural links have taken shape in the last decades. The political change brough about by the 1991 Constitution which opened up the national market to foreign investment and acquisitions, increased competition and limited market protectionism, can be seen to underscore the wane of the comics boom of the 1980s and their cultural structures, at the same time as providing entry to other media products –such as Anime, Manga, figurines and miniatures, RPGs–. The 1990s also saw the appearance of cable television and increased competition to the two national broadcasters, which until then provided a unified audiovisual culture to the country. Cultural capital, in terms of linguistic skills in foreign languages, and increasing disposable income, became two of the main driving forces for the development of a more active fan culture base, and provided the original boost for a more global concept of fandom. The 1993 Book Law which made books tax-free, classified comics in the same line of pornographic magazines as objects of no cultural value and responsible for full Value Added Tax, making comics expensive to produce and acquire, driving the last nail in their coffin. The 20 years it took to repeal that classification, and provide comics with the value and tax-free status of cultural products, saw the extinction of all but the staunchest comic book fans, which became a cultural elite very distant from the more popular comics consumers of the previous decades. 

Although more widespread today, fandom in general is often restricted to middle and upper-class highly educated strata, although at least it is now no longer as male-dominant as it was in the early 1990s, joining a more international trend in that aspect. Despite some local products receiving some attention, it is still well below the fan interest brought about by the largest international film, TV, videogame and comics franchises.

FICCO (Independent Colombian Comic Festival)

Contemporary Comics from FICCO

As academics and activists in favor of local comics we also participate as collectors and supporters of nationally produced comics and initiatives, including FICCO, and supporting fellow academics in comics, such as María Camila Núñez and her Youtube vlog “Los comics son buenos”. Fandom studies has not become an academic trend as such in Colombia, but it is clearly on the rise as fandom becomes a more socially recognized topic.

Daniel Aguilar-Rodríguez

Rock and roll drummer, vinyl collector, Gaphic novels and comics lover, Sci-Fi literature enthusiast, DnD Player and Star Wars freak. Probably what you would call a nerdDoctor in Sociology, from Kansas State University, Magister in Sociology from Univesidad Nacional de Colombia and Bachelor in mass communication from Universidad Externado de Colombia, where he currently works as lecturer and researcher, and as head of the research group GRIC.

Enrique Uribe-Jongbloed

Writer of the comic book Doppler. Founding member of El Cómic en Línea and Escrol. DM, boardgame and Sci-Fi enthusiast. Supporter of FICCO.

PhD from Aberystwyth University (Media Studies), MA in World Heritage Studies BTU-Cottbus and BA in Film and Television Studies from Universidad Nacional de Colombia. Lecturer and researcher at the School of Social Communication and Journalism, member of the GRIC research group, Universidad Externado de Colombia.

Global Fandom Jamboree Conversations: Lisa Duggan (Norway) and Akiko Sugawa-Shimada (Part Two)

AK: Thank you for your answers.  It's just a pleasurable interplay between fans and "characters" (staff)! Here in Japan, too, fans understand that anime characters never post their comments (I mean they know staff post and reply to fans), but they enjoy virtual correspondence and posted pictures.

 nterestingly, the (voice) actors who play the role of the anime character often treat the anime character as their "friend".  So, birthday celebration for the anime character posted by the actors is quite popular. Fans react to it by saying "Happy birthday! we can cerebrate together!"

 As for the issues on sexualities, I think it depends on voice actors and theater actors.  For instance, if a voice actor get married or maybe confesses his/her identity, it would not very much impact the anime character he/she plays. However, if a theater actor reveals his sexual identity, for instance, he/she is LGBTQ+, some heterosexual fans can be disappointed.  Some fans often say, "we don't care about your sexuality. Just don't make it open. Just make us keep dreaming."

 Like you mentioned that it's more accepted in Norway than in the US, here it's almost same culturally. But in reality, legislation has still a long way to go. Japan doesn't accept same-sex marriage,  a system of optional separate surnames for married couples, etc.  I'm sorry I'm not familiar with legislation in Norway, but I guess Northern European countries have established the systems to protect rights for married and non-married couples; I mean the government supports non-married couples and their children.  (please correct if I'm wrong.)

 JD: I must admit, I am quite curious about the similarities and differences between European, American, and Asian fan studies. You mention, for example, that celebrities’ open heterosexuality is more accepted than open homosexuality amongst fans in Japan, but I am curious to know how you feel that "boys' love" fandoms have affected or may affect such attitudes.

 I would also love to know more about the intersection of girlhood studies/women's studies and fandom, as you have mentioned in your starting statement this is a growing area of interest in Japanese fan studies. Most of what I have read about Japanese fandom has focused on women, but this is likely because women have been the focus of American and European fan studies for so long, so what filters through appears to align with the focus of study in the US and Europe rather than with the focus of study in Japan. Is that correct? Could you tell me a little bit more about the gendered dynamic of fan studies in Japan (including more on "otaku")?

AK: Thank you for your questions.

 I am curious to know how you feel that "boys' love" fandoms have affected or may affect such attitudes.

Actually, there are lots of "boys' love" (BL) anime and even TV dramas which depict love between men. It is tricky, though, that protagonists (at least one of the protagonists) are not necessarily homosexual. It means that they are basically heterosexual, but once they meet, they stop liking each other.  Such discourses are more accepted than a story about born homosexuals.

 For instance, a mega hit anime (comedy/romance) "Junjo Romantica" depicts heterosexual guys who accept love from their male tutor, friend, and nephew etc.  A TV drama (comedy) "Ossan's love" (Love of a middle-aged man)  was so popular that many audiences enjoyed it partly because very popular actors played the main leads. Although these "BL" anime and dramas illustrate idealized or fantasized male homosexual romance, young (female) audiences actually got interested in LGBTQ+ problems because of these popular culture.

 Could you tell me a little bit more about the gendered dynamic of fan studies in Japan (including more on "otaku")?

Since I focus on female fandom from gender perspectives, I just explained female fandoms here.  But actually in Japanese scholarship on anime/manga/game fandom, most of the works have focused on (male) otaku by male scholars (Otsuka Eiji, Azuma Hiroki, Saito Tamaki, Uno Tsunehiro etc.) since the 1980s.  (Anime, manga, and games were not taken as academic agendas until in the 1990s when America and European countries "discovered" Japanese anime as "cool".) However, quite recently, probably because many universities began to offer gender and popular culture classes, more female scholars have had papers and books published in academia, and BL anime/drama aired in nationwide TV networks are getting popular, female fan studies have been accepted as gender studies, women's studies, and girls' studies. (By the way, Japanese BL manga/anime impacted South East Asian countries. For instance, Thai BL TV dramas used a Japanese BL framework and gained much popularity in Asia and even Japan.  It can be analyzed in area studies, post-colonialism, media studies etc.)

 An interesting point, though, is a gap between fans and scholars.  Although most BL scholars are fans (aca-fans), when a book (anthology) "Textbook on BL" was out last year, quite a few BL fans criticized the authors, saying "Don't make our "hidden pleasure" open!" or "Leave us alone!"   It is very intriguing that finally an introductory academic textbook on BL was published, aiming at students and fans, but BL fans refused to be examined.

 In Japan, academic journals or associations about fan studies exclusively are few unlike in English speaking countries. This is one of the issues to be solved too. How about in Norway? Maybe because of SKAM, many students have got interested in studying gender, immigrants, religious, social issues at schools and colleges?

JD: SKAM definitely made certain studies more popular, and it quickly made its way onto syllabi in gender, religious, and media studies (e.g., Sivertsen & Mordt, 2017). It also made Norwegian a popular language to learn outside of Norway (e.g., Framtida, 2018; Uksnøy, 2016).

 As regards gender, it is important to note that the series also led to many important discussions outside of formal learning spaces. The SKAM blog provided space for the audiences’ “unfiltered, knee-jerk reactions” and “all possible feelings, including politically incorrect ones,” with the aim that “the audience [could] work through these feelings by itself” (Krüger & Rustad, 2019, p. 89). Audiences publicly debated topics brought up by the show, such as the illegality of taking and spreading naked images of minors, the politics of abuse and harassment, and whether “party rapes are really just girls regretting they haad sex afterwards”—a comment vehemently opposed by numerous other fans (Krüger & Rustad, 2019, p. 89). Indeed, Krüger and Rustad (2018) argue that the show, thorugh both its transmedia engulfment of its audience and its content (which, per the show’s title, often focuses on feelings of shame), purposefully “hands over the task of negotiating social reality and its moral groundings to media users” (p. 90).

 However, the fervor surrounding the series has now died off. As in Japan, there are few official academic journals or associations exclusively focused on fan studies—although it must be said that the overwhelming majority of Norwegian scholarship is now published in English (Bye, 2021). This is in part because fan studies is less established here and in part because our research milieu is small—and as a result, fan scholars here tend to focus on international research networks, research groups, and channels for publication. I don’t necessarily see the lack of local groups and publication channels as limiting, although I must admit that it would be nice to have access to a local fan studies–focused research group. I do sometimes feel that fan studies is dominated by very specific perspectives and that these do not always match up with local experiences or discourses, but I suspect that this is nearly always the case outside of North America.

 References:

Bye, K. (2021, June 29). Mer engelsk og mindre norsk når forkerne publiserer.—Ikke overrasket, sier rektor. Khrono. https://khrono.no/mer-engelsk-og-mindre-norsk-nar-forskerne-publiserer--ikke-overrasket-sier-rektor/590422.

Framtida. (2018, March 14). Skam-fans lærer norsk. Framtida.no. https://framtida.no/2018/03/14/skam-fans-laerar-norsk. 

Sivertsen, E. V., & Mordt, H. (2017, March 16). Skam på pesnum. NRK. https://www.nrk.no/kultur/skam-pa-pensum-1.13430052.

Uksnøy, E. U. (2016, October 21). «Skam» har gjørt norsk kult på Island. NRK. https://www.nrk.no/kultur/_skam_-har-gjort-norsk-kult-pa-island-1.13189750. 

Global Fandom Jamboree Conversations: Jennifer Duggan (Norway) and Akiko Sugawa-Shimada (Japan) (Part One)

Image by permission of NRK

Akiko Sugawa-Shimada [AS]: Jennifer, thank you so much for sharing your research. SKAM was a hot topic here in Japan too, although I think it's not accessible in the same way you do there in Norway, of course.  It's just like a concept of "2.5-D" that I have conceptualized and am doing research on. I'm interested in the use of media. I wonder if what platforms do fans of SKAM usually use to post their fanfic. And are there any difference between generations (groups of people by age differences)?

Jennifer Duggan [JD]: Thank you, Akiko. I am really interested in your concept of 2.5-D fandom—that is, linking fictional worlds to real life in productive and entertaining ways. I think that fiction always has a great impact on reality but that we are seeing its impact more often and more profoundly now. Or perhaps, we are paying closer attention to the implications of the interplay between fiction and reality now. But that isn’t to say that these convergences weren’t visible in the past: I came to fandom studies by way of Victorian studies and am fascinated by, for instance, the celebrity fan cultures surrounding canine actors from Victorian dog dramas (Featherstone, 2016) and the material fan cultures of works of literature that resulted in the creation and sale of literary merchandise. For example, Wilkie Collins’s 1859 novel The Woman in White was merchandised due to its popularity: one could buy Woman in White hats, clothing, and perfumes (Wynne, 2001). And Victorian fans enjoyed performative fan cultures of their own, such as Londoners’ mass protest over the death of the fictional character Sherlock Holmes, during which they wore mourning bands, penned and published obituaries, and gave up their subscriptions to Strand Magazine in an effort to pressure Conan Doyle into resurrecting their favourite fictional hero. The impulse to express ourselves through fandom, then, and together with other fans seems to be an impulse shared across genres, geographies, and generations.

 As for the platforms that SKAM fans have used, there were a wide variety: the official website was popular, as were social media sites like Tumblr, Facebook, Instagram, and Youtube, in addition to fandom-associate sites like AO3. It was popular across age groups, in part because it combined a transmedia, innovative format, intended to engage youth, with a more traditional “summary” episode every week, which engaged older audiences.  Vilde Schanke Sundet has published a number of articles on SKAM and its spread (e.g., Sundet, 2019) if you are interested in reading more. I cannot see that there was too much of a difference between where fans of various generations posted their SKAM fan fiction, but that is not something I have focused on in my research.

I think SKAM does have some interesting implications for your interest in the interplay between real and fictional spaces, because it worked so hard to appear ‘real.’ This meant that fans of the series visited the very real school the series’ characters attended, for example, and were able to follow the characters social media accounts and comment on their posts, which blurred the boundaries between what was fiction and what was not (e.g., Duggan, 2020). The series’ success also hints at the mainstreaming of yaoi/slash, because the most popular season, season 3, focused on a male–male romance. Certainly, the show was very popular in local and international LGBTQ+ circles across generations and has been regarded in Norway as an important step towards normalizing nonheteronormative desire.

  I’ll stop here before I begin to ramble too much....

References:

Duggan, J. (2020) Revitalizing seriality: Social media, spreadabilty, and SKAM’s success beyond Scandinavia.Journal of Popular Cultures, 53(5), 1004–1022.

Featherstone, A. (2016, July 15). Sagacious canines and brave brutes: Re-discovering the Victorian dog-drama [Keynote presentation]. Victorian Authenticity and Artifice, 7th Annual Conference of the Victorian Popular Fiction Association Conference, University of London.

Sundet, V. A. (2019). From ‘secret’ online teen drama to international cult phenomenon: The global expansion of SKAM and its public service mission. Critical studies in television, 15(1), 69–90.

Wynne, D. (2001). Wilkie Collins’s The woman in white in All the year round. In The sensation novel and the Victorian family magazine (pp. 38–59). Palgrave Macmillan.

AS: I think the case you told about SKAM can be taken as the 2.5D, although the 2.5D I have examined is almost always anime/manga/game characters involved.

 I’m especially curious about what you said “This meant that fans of the series visited the very real school the series’ characters attended, for example, and were able to follow the characters social media accounts and comment on their posts, which blurred the boundaries between what was fiction.”  So, fans could visit actual schools they saw in SKAM, which we calls “contents tourism” (Seaton et al, 2017).  It is also interesting that the characters have social media accounts. I wonder if those who make comments on fans’ posts are staff of SKAM, not actors, right?  Here in the 2.5-D culture I mentioned, anime characters often have their social media accounts, too. But those who post and replay are, of course, staff of the programs. In the 2.5D theaters, it’s being a bit complicated: the actors who play roles of anime characters sometimes post messages through their social media as the characters, and sometimes post messages as actors themselves.  Those interplay between characters (fiction) and actors (reality) also appeals to fans, although it means the reality intervenes in the fiction and vice versa.

 I wonder how the actors/actresses of SKAM use their social media. They comment on the role they play from the third party’s view?  Or they avoid doing it?  It particularly matters when the actors play the roles of homosexual characters that you mentioned.  If they are heterosexual in real life, are there any conflicts or debate going on?  (I’m afraid I cannot get access to SKAM yet, which only one platform dominantly offers. I don’t subscribe it.)

References:

Seaton et.al, 2017. Contents Tourism in Japan: Pilgrimages to Sacred Sites of Popular Culture. London: Cambria Press.

JD: Yes, the comments were posted by staff, not actors, to the best of my knowledge. But those who commented on the posts were both “other characters” (aka staff) and fans, and the “characters” (staff) would sometimes reply to and interact with fans, so it really blurred the boundary between the real and the pretend. This was certainly appealing to fans, and they increased fan-“character” (staff) interactions in later iterations of SKAM, such as the German version, Druck.

 There has not been too much debate or commentary about the actors in Norway aside from happiness over an increase in visibility for LGBTQ+ characters, but in other countries, fans did comment on the actors’ sexualities. I think it is more accepted in Norway that actors play roles across a variety of identities than it is, for example, in the US.

Is this topic one of debate in Japan?

Global Fandom: Akiko Sugawa-Shimada (Japan)

My research started with one about female viewership of TV anime for girls, namely, the “Magical Girl” genre within the framework of Audience Studies. I have then expanded my research to female anime/manga comics/videogame (ACG) fans and fandoms in Japan, Asia, North America, and Europe. Currently, I’ve been working on “2.5-Dimensional (2.5-D) culture” fandom. 

The term “2.5-D” was coined by anime fans in Japan in the 1980s to refer to anime’s voice actors, but in the 2000s it began to refer to some cultural practices exercised in a space between 2-D fiction and 3-D reality. Thus, the “2.5-D” culture is “cultural practices which produce the fictional space of contemporary popular cultural products (such as manga, anime, and videogames) along with the fans’ interplay between the real and fictional spaces” (Sugawa-Shimada, 2020: 125). Its examples are: 2.5-D theaters (theatrical adaptation of anime, manga, and videogames), cosplay, contents tourism (pop-culture-induced tourism), character/voice actor concerts (ex. concerts of Love Live! and Ensemble Stars, etc.), ōenjoei (a cheer-a-long style of movie screening), and V-tubers (virtual YouTubers). What matters in these cultural products are active interactions between the “reality” of characters of anime/manga/videogames and the “virtuality” of the human bodies of practitioners (actors and fans). As in Henry Jenkin’s “convergence culture” (2006), 2.5-D culture is generated across multiple transmedia platforms, cooperation of multiple media industries, and fans’ migratory behaviors. Fans actively migrate among “the fictional, cyber, and physical worlds” (Okamoto, 2015).

In this section, I will focus on some traits of the 2.5-D theater and its fandom. The 2.5-D theater is basically a theatrical adaptation of anime/manga/videogames. But it is distinctive from Disney’s musical adaptation of its animation films such as Lion King and Beauty and the Beast, etc., and Broadway musicals based on American comics such as Spider-man in terms of the thorough copy of the appearances and characterization of fictional characters, and the performing style. One of the typical examples is Musical Prince of Tennis (2003-ongoing) based on Konomi Takeshi’s popular manga Prince of Tennis (1999-ongoing). It’s about a genius 13-year-old male tennis player and his colleagues in junior high school in Japan. All the actors of Musical Prince of Tennis are selected by auditions if they have “the character’s seed” rather than if they have acting and singing skills (Sugawa-Shimada, 2021: 123). When a fan of Prince of Tennis (anime and/or manga) saw Musical Prince of Tennis in the early 2000s, she expressed in her blog that “the characters just like popped up from the 2-dimentional. It’s truly 2.5-D!” Since then, the 2.5-D genre has grown rapidly. The total sales in 2018 is approximately 22.6 billion yen (about 205 million dollars). The performance structure is similar to anime series; one performance covers a set of the episodes, followed by another set of the episodes as a continuity. 

In general, actors of 2.5-D theaters who play the role of anime/manga characters immediately gain popularity among the youth with the help of the characters. Most of them are equivalent to aidoru (idols). Aidoru in Japanese popular culture means relatively young, “highly produced and promoted singers, models, and media personalities” (Galbraith and Karlin 2012: 2). Thus, 2.5-D fandoms are formed in a nodal point of ACG culture, Idol culture, and theater culture. The fans are actively producing derivative works such as dojinshi (fans’ self-published comics, novels, illustrations etc.), creating fan communities, and communicating both in cyber and physical worlds (that is, 2.5-D worlds) using fictional characters. 

     My foci of research by using qualitative research methodology are how female fans utilize 2.5-D culture as a tool to form intercultural fandoms, solve their personal problems, and empower women in cyber and physical worlds, and how 2.5-D culture contributes to facilitating intercultural understanding through their affect/preferences (oshi) towards characters and actors as characters.

ACG fan studies in Japan

Studies about anime/manga/videogame fan in Japan have been conducted as otaku studies within the frameworks of mainly psychology, sociology, and Cultural Studies. Although Japanese scholarship on anime/manga/videogame otaku[i]has mostly focused on male otaku done by male scholars for long, gender and ethnic perspectives have been introduced to otaku studies recently. 

Since male scholars in this field are quite well-known such as Okada Toshio, Otsuka Eiji, Azuma Hiroki, and Patrick Galbraith etc., I will briefly introduce Japanese scholarship on female otaku. In the 1990s, Nakajima Azusa, a female critic and novelist, argued that otaku are incapable of communicating with other people. She calls its tendency “dis-communication syndrome” (1991). She examined female otaku who love JUNE (which means yaoi and Boys’ Love). Although her arguments on otaku from a pathological viewpoint were later criticized, she was probably the first critic that discussed female otaku as yaoi fans. From 1992 to 1995, the “yaoi controversy” continued between gay critics and female feminist critics. Female yaoifans (otaku) were seen as problematic. However, yaoi and yaoi fans (BL otaku) have been examined as an academic subject since the 2000s. It is one of the most important topics in gender and sexuality studies. 

Studies of non-yaoi female fans are not as large in number as scholarship about female BL fans. Some important scholarship about female anime and 2.5-D culture fandoms are: Akiko Sugawa-Shimada’s Girls and Magic (2013) about TV viewership of female fans of Magical Girl, Eureka’s special issue about female otaku (2020), Sasaki Hiroshi and Ikegami Satoru’s article in Sociology of Anime (2020), and Akiko Sugawa-Shimada’s 2.5-dimentional Culture (2021).  

References

Eureka, special issue: onna otaku: oshi to watashi [female otaku: my favorite and me]. September, 2020.

Galbraith, Patrick W., and Jason G. Karlin. 2012. Introduction: The Mirror of Idols and Celebrity. In Idols and Celebrity in Japanese Media Culture, ed. Patrick W. Galbraith and Jason G. Karlin, 1–32. Palgrave

Jenkins, Henry. 2006. Convergence Culture: Where Old and New Media Collide. NYU Press.

Nakajima, Azusa. 1991. Komyunikeshon fuzen shōkōgun [Dis-communication Syndrome]. Chikumashobō.

Okamoto, Takeshi. 2015. “Kontentsu tsurizumu no kukan.[Spaces of contents tourism]”  Kontents tsurizum kenkyu: Joho shakai no kanko kodou to chiiki Shinko, Takeshi Okamoto ed. 50-51. Fukumura shuppan.

Sasaki, Hiroshi, and Satoru Ikegami. 2020. “Anime ni tsuite kataru koto [About talking on anime].” Daisuke Nagata and Shintarōeds., Anime no shakaigaku: anime fan to anime seisakusha tachi no bunka sangyo ron [Sociology of Anime: Cultural Industry on anime fan and anime creators]. Nakanishiya shuppan: 2-22.

Sugawa-Shimada, Akiko. Shōjo to mahō: Girl hero wa naze juyo saretanoka [Girls and magic: how girl heroes have been accepted]. NTT shuppan.

-----. 2020. “Emerging “2.5-dimensional” Culture: Character-oriented Cultural Practices and “Community of Preferences” as a New Fandom in Japan and Beyond.” Mechademia: Second Arc. 12(2):124-137.

-----. 2021.2.5 jigen bunka ron: Butai, kyarakuta, fandamu[2.5-D Culture: Theaters, characters, and fandom]. Seikyusha

[i] Otaku in Japanese context is used as an umbrella term to mean fans who have deep knowledge about an object they morbidly love and actively express their enthusiasm, although otaku originally referred to anime/manga/videogame/computer fans in the 1980s. So, it is often used with the name of the object: anime otaku, train otaku, idol otaku, Disney otaku and so on. This usage is different from “otaku” overseas, where “otaku” most likely refers to enthusiastic fans of Japanese or Japanese-style anime, manga, and videogames.

Akiko Sugawa-Shimada, PhD, is a professor in Graduate School of Urban Innovation, Yokohama National University, Japan. Dr. Sugawa-Shimada is the author of a number of books and articles on anime, manga, and Cultural Studies, including Girls and Magic: How Have Girl Heroes Been Accepted? (2013, Won the 2014 Japan Society of Animation Studies Award, in Japanese), 2.5-dimentional Culture: Stages, Characters, Fandom (2021, in Japanese), chapters in the books Japanese Animation: East Asian Perspectives (2013), Introduction to Anime Studies (2014, in Japanese, co-edited), Teaching Japanese Popular Culture (2016),Cultural Sociology of Post-kawaii (2017, in Japanese), Shojo Across Media (2019), Women’s Manga in Asia and Beyond (2019), 55 Keywords for Animation Culture (2019, in Japanese, co-edited), Contents Tourism and Pop Culture Fandom (2020), Animating the Spiritual (2020), and “Emerging “2.5-dimensional” Culture: Character-oriented Cultural Practices and “Community of Preferences” as a New Fandom in Japan and Beyond.” In Mechademia: Second Arc, 12(2), (2020). Her website is: akikosugawa.2-d.jp

Global Fandom: Jennifer Duggan (Norway)

Image reproduced by permission of NRK

Hello, everyone! My name is Jenny (Jennifer Duggan). I am a dual Canadian and British citizen, and I work at the University of South-Eastern Norway. I am particularly interested in the juncture between alterity and fandom, and as such, my published work has drawn on masculinity studies, trans studies, queer studies, multilingualism, and childhood studies' focus on age-related alterity. My research is therefore located at the intersection of childhood studies, children's and young adult literary and media studies, cultural studies, and fan studies. It has been published in, amongst other venues, Television and New Media, Transformative Works and Cultures, Children's Literature in Education, International Research in Children's Literature, Bookbird, and Journal of Popular Culture. My research has focused on two fandoms: Harry Potter and the cult Norwegian transmedia youth series SKAM (2015–2017), produced by NRK (Norsk rikskringkasting, known as the Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation in English).

Contributors to this blog discussion have been asked to comment on the push–pull of global and local factors on fandom in our research contexts. I would argue that fandom in Norway is global in that many of the biggest fandoms are familiar fiction franchises, like Harry Potter, Star Wars, He Man, or Marvel, as well as Japanese anime and manga, video games, bands like One Direction, and European football (soccer) clubs. Many fan activities take place in English for this reason. Certainly, there are also many families with children who travel to Norway because of its association with Disney's Frozen. (When I lived in Bergen in 2013, I could not escape "Let It Go," which seemed to be the only song on the radio other than Ylvis's "What Does the Fox Say?") Nonetheless, there is also great investment in local, Scandinavian/Nordic, and European fandoms. Melodi Grand Prix and Eurovision are extremely popular, for example, as are Nordic noir series, whether Norwegian or not. In fact, crime as a genre is so popular here that there is a tradition every year at the Easter for book publishers and TV companies to publish various "Påskekrim" (Easter crime) novels and series.

As I am not (yet) Norwegian myself and have only lived here for eight years, I felt it necessary to confirm my impressions of fandom in Norway for this commentary by doing a small-scale quantitative study of the Norwegian-language fanfics on AO3. If we take AO3 as a microcosm of Norwegian fandom, we can see that there are some noticeable patterns in language use. There are, admittedly, only 461 Norwegian-language stories on AO3, which I quantified for this introduction as a small-scale study. The results are not definitive, but they do point to tends in language choice:

Very few stories linked to global franchises, series, etc., like Harry Potter, Supernatural, Marvel, One Direction, are published in Norwegian. Meanwhile, 76% of the Norwegian-language fanfics on AO3 are related to the Norwegian cult hit SKAM. While the show did eventually gain a global following, it nonetheless enjoyed a large local following and Norwegian ability conferred significant cultural capital within the fandom (see Duggan & Dahl, 2019). The children's franchise Kaptein Sabeltann is the second-most popular Norwegian-language fandom on AO3 (7% of fanfics in Norwegian). Other franchises, books, and shows written about in Norwegian include Zombie Lars, various Norwegian crime and detective novels, Norwegian bands such as Ylvis (known globally for the aforementioned song "What Does the Fox Say?"), NRK (the Norwegian national broadcaster) television series like the political satire Nytt på nytt, and so forth. This suggests that fans in Norway make purposeful choices about their language use based on the assumed reach of the fandoms in which they participate.

However, the use of language by Norwegians participating in fandom is complicated. This is particularly true for Norwegian fandoms that have become global, such as the SKAM fandom. SKAM was a truly transmedia series spread between a dedicated website, characters' social media accounts, and other media. Moreover, although a summary episode was published once a week on Friday's, the series was in fact published in small pieces throughout the week: a video might be published on the official website at 1:08 a.m. on Wednesday and be followed the next morning by social media posts by characters and screenshots of their text conversations. This made the series particularly "spreadable" (Jenkins, Green, & Ford, 2013), as I and others have argued (e.g., Andersen & Tanderup Linkis, 2019; Duggan, 2020). The global success of the series was due largely to fans' translating and sharing it via online networks such as Tumblr and YouTube, but while its global success would not have been popular without English, the series prompted a great deal of interest in Norwegian fluency in which came to have significant cultural capital in the online fandom (Duggan & Dahl, 2019a). Nonetheless, there were arguments within the fandom, particularly visible on the official website, about language use. The success of the series inspired pride in its Norwegian viewers, and this prompted a linguistic and cultural nationalism that at times created conflicts, as some fans considered their fellow fans' use of English a betrayal of the local fan community (Dugan & Dahl, 2019a, 2019b).

The discussions fans had about language closely mirrored academic and popular discourses regarding the threats and affordances of English use in Norway, and in particular, the worry expressed by Språkrådet (the Norwegian Language Council) that Norwegian is losing ground to English in Norway. I find it quite interesting how a single fandom, like the SKAM fandom, can become a microcosm of wider sociopolitical concerns over local versus English language use, as I have just discussed; globalized popular culture versus locally produced cultural artefacts, as we can see, for example, in the Norwegian government's desire that Netflix produce and stream more Norwegian content (Drabløs); and other similar concerns. I am sure this is the case in many other countries and contexts. 

References:

Andersen, T. R., & Tanderup Linkis, S. (2019). As we speak: Concurrent narration and participation in the serial narrative "@I_Bombadil" and Skam. Narrative, 27(1), 83–106.https://doi.org/10.1353/nar.2019.0005.

Drabløs, Ø. T. (2019, October 7). Staten vil tvinge Netflix til å lage flere norske tv-serier [The state wants to force Netflix to make more Norwegian TV series]. NRK. https://www.nrk.no/kultur/staten-vil-tvinge-netflix-til-a-lage-flere-norske-tv-serier-1.14729822.

Duggan, J. (2020). Revitalizing seriality: Social media, spreadability, and SKAM's success beyond Scandinavia. Journal of Popular Culture, 53(5), 1004–1022. https://doi.org/10.1111/jpcu.12954.

Duggan, J., & Dahl, A. (2019a). Fan translations of SKAM: Challenging Anglo linguistic and popular cultural hegemony in a transnational fandom. Scandinavian Studies in Language, 10(2), 6–29. https://doi.org/10.7146/sss.v10i2.115610.

Duggan, J., & Dahl, A. (2019b). A challenge to Anglo pop-cultural hegemony in the era of multicompetence: SKAM fans, translation, identity, and power [Conference paper]. Digital Diasporas: Interdisciplinary Perspectives, University of London, London, England.

Jenkins, H., Green, J., & Ford, S. (2013). Spreadable media: Creating value and meaning in a networked culture. NYU Press.

Jennifer Duggan is Associate Professor of English at the University of South-Eastern Norway. She is one of the editors of Jeunesse: Young People, Texts, Cultures and copyedits for Transformative Works and Cultures. Her research interests include reader response and reception theory, fandom and popular culture, and children's and young adult literature, media, and cultures. Her work has appeared in various venues, including Television and New Media, Transformative Works and Cultures, Children's Literature in Education, International Research in Children's Literature, Bookbird, and Journal of Popular Culture.

Global Fandom Jamboree Conversations (Round Six): Naja Later (Australia) and Jenessa Williams (UK)

Naja Later, Australia

Doing fandom online was absolutely a windfall for me! As a teen getting into alternative music, I lived in a small town where my classmates thought the Foo Fighters were obscure and alienating. I should mention that fandom was also part of me discovering queer identity and community—something which felt impossible to acknowledge in my real-world environment. There’s a parallel with the idea of being too into something (or someone), where an online group of like-minded people can be both an outlet and a retreat. Twitter and Reddit didn’t hit my radar until I was in my 20s, much more secure in both a fan identity and a queer identity: I really benefited from the smaller environments of message boards and mailing groups. To this day, I tend to keep to smaller platforms for a lot of my fanning: as you say, I find it so enriching to have different people and spaces—private and public, online and offline, academic and creative. Knowing where to share those easter eggs is an art!

To talk about comic club and the different tone of conversations: there were so many great conversations over the years, big and small! Sometimes it felt like a tutorial, prompting discussion question about our set text to critically analyse it. It was often really liberating to not like a book, and find that others have their own nuanced critique of it. Being able to constructively critique what I wanted in a story with each other was such a helpful process. Beyond the book club element of it, being able to fangirl in person was a rare treat: a great icebreaker idea one of the organisers had was to make name stickers that said ‘Hello my name is ___ and I like ___.’ You’d see someone you know was also playing Breath of the Wild or watching Money Heist, or someone you’d never met was also really into Pretty Deadly, and start a conversation. I think for a lot of women in comic shops, there’s pressure not just to like the right texts but to like them the right way. Unpacking and articulating the problems you had with Wytches is just as valuable as the chance to squee about Ms Marvel.

As for community members staying in touch, I know some have their own established friendships outside the club that are thriving! The store itself has done great work shifting to mailing comics and keeping up a sense of community. I’m also active in local zinemaking culture, which has plenty of events between our prolonged lockdowns. One of the major shifts for me recently has been from teaching and discussing comics to making them myself. It’s very cool to be able to apply everything I’ve absorbed and share that!

I’m definitely one of the people who slipped into comfort zones in the pandemic. Looking at my pattern, it tends to be a season of more challenging new media and then something more cozy—still new, but a genre I know will be easy to devour. One of my favourite things to do as a fan/scholar is dig up a (literally) cancelled TV show that had an active fandom: Leverage, Merlin, White Collar, The Musketeers; all stuff I was peripherally aware of at the time. I find it quite comforting to know there’s a complete narrative ready to watch, and lots of fan material to devour afterwards and nostalgic friends to talk with. Sometimes just a few years’ hindsight can make the problematic elements feel archaeological: the implicit faith procedural shows have in law enforcement, for example, is tinted differently in hindsight.

I love the way you frame it: If a cancelled tree falls in the woods and twitter isn't around to hear it, has any further harm really been served? I think it speaks to the value of consuming things privately, and enjoying them for yourself. Having close friends who know that you’re listening to Michael Jackson (because you enjoy pop music and there’s no collaborative text that’s untouched by people-who-have-behaved-badly) is going to be different to an acquaintance seeing your public Spotify activity and sees it as endorsement of his behaviour. It feels like a very tired adage to say not everything you do has to be public or online, and I can see how the tension of lockdown meaning you have no public life offline, making it even more tempting to reach out to people by sharing what media you’re consuming. You’re absolutely right about how you broadcast those actions, and I want to play with that metaphor some more in a post-broadcast world! I’m wondering if we could embrace personal narrowcasting when it comes to conspicuous consumption. Does everyone need to know what you’re watching/listening to/playing/reading all the time?

To hopefully not-too-clunkily segue into talking about food, that idea of public/conspicuous consumption definitely feeds this problem of self-identification through consumption and the implicit moral worth of it. It’s like how restaurants are pressured to create visually-appealing, Instagrammable food at the expense of taste, and to counter it there’s an ‘ugly’ food movement. Sometimes, our favourite artist is a box of mac and cheese, or chocolate produced ny child labour. Or we’re warming up leftovers in tupperware, or we tweet about what we had for lunch even when it’s just an egg sandwich. What we consume, and how we communicate what we consume, and whether we’re also consuming moral values in that process—we’re going to hit the word limit before we untangle that.

Finally, to address the question of streaming and getting releases a day early: I don’t think so! Usually if it’s something streaming, we get it at an unusual time of day to match the American launch hour. I know with some Disney/Netflix shows, episodes appear very conveniently around dinnertime for a Californian midnight. Sometimes the seasonal divide feels stark, though: as a horror fan I love celebrating Halloween, despite it being completely abstract. Really, though, I think a lot of it is what we bring when we engage with a text, especially music. Lorde obtains that synaesthetic summer-ness (maybe she composed it in NZ summer?) because that’s where you were when the album found you. Maybe it will hit home differently with southern-hemisphere audiences come December. It’s something I love about being a fan: letting something find you when it finds you, and as many of us are doing at the moment, coming back to a story when you need it again.

Jenessa Williams, UK

I think you touch on something really interesting when you talk about the relationship between the value of queer and minoritized readings and fangirling in person. This idea of using social media to try out identities that maybe don’t quite feel fully comfortable in offline spaces just yet is so important – I know that I definitely benefitted from this in my mid-to-late teens, coming to terms with my mixed-race identity and beginning to properly embrace my heritage through exposure to intersectional feminist theory and black musicianship on twitter and Tumblr. Pop culture was a huge vessel for that, and The global element of fandom is so important here too – in my little pocket of predominantly white England, who knows how long this journey might have taken me without the multi-cultural world I carried around on my phone in my back pocket? 

I full relate to the joy of discovering things that are already complete too, especially with TV. Being out of the loop in that way definitely takes the pressure off of having a hot take - we academics and journalists are so used to consuming things through an analytical lens that I think it’s easy to forget to be a fan for the sheer pleasure of it. No consumption is ever entirely passive, of course, but I can tell you that when this teaching term is over, I look forward to embracing some seriously low-brain impact fandoms! I’ve never been much of a gamer, but Animal Crossing New Horizons has been my saving grace during this pandemic. A low-stakes world with little to no peril, a string of repetitive tasks and creativity as complex as you want to make it…it felt utterly meditative when the news was at its worst. Watching the way that that game has united so many demographics of fandom has been so wonderful to see, and a keen reminder not to dismiss certain texts because they feel ‘lightweight’ in their field. Without the pandemic, who knows if I ever would have made the time for that kind of simple joy?  Now that I have, I really hope to protect that as a fandom that I keep purely for myself. 

I think we’re definitely similar in our interest in the pressure of having to ‘perform’ the things you like, as you say, and having to make those pleasures palatable. There is a real fulfillment that comes from sharing your interests and talking about them online in order to connect with your community, but my thoughts return to that of guilty pleasures. ‘ I know this person is problematic but’…”I know I shouldn’t like this anymore but”…are phrases that I often see on my timeline, presumably from people who enjoy sharing but also worry that people might misinterpret enjoyment as total endorsement. I completely understand that impulse and desire to explain, and yet it must be tiring trying to add this context every time, to perform a sense of morality and knowledge instead of maybe just quietly consuming the thing instead? I think you’re onto something with personal narrowcasting, but I don’t know which is better – it’s jarring to think that somebody might be tweeting for transgender rights while simultaneously extolling the virtues of JK Rowling’s wonderful storytelling in their personal life. But then again, we also can’t pretend that those texts immediately die just because of our opinions of their creator. Which all serves to bring us all the way back to the top of this never-ending soul-searching cycle!   

Maybe this is an interesting way to think about our host’s theory of textual poaching – leaving the problematic elements aside, poaching the bits you like, coming back and forth as and when you need it. Being okay with that nuance in yourself, and leaving room for others to find their own balance feels like a way through, even if it isn’t always entirely comfortable. We do still need to deeply address the various injustices that occur in entertainments industries, and work together to demonstrate how those communities can learn to become safer spaces for us all. In terms of my own fan practice, I’m still not sure how I feel personally about consuming art by problematic people - at current, I err on the side of not wanting to financially contribute to them any further, and a great deal of music I once loved has simply lost its listening appeal given that I can’t not think about what they have done. Nonetheless, I consistently try to remind myself that there are many different degrees of ‘wrong’ out there, just as there are many different types of way to perceive art. It’s not a conversation I suspect will yield definitive answers soon, but I’m learning so much in the process of trying and talking and realising just what fandom means to different people. Isn’t that what all of this academic fun is about? 

Global Fandom Jamboree Conversation (Round Six): Naja Later (Australia) and Jenessa Williams (UK) (Part One)

Naja Later, Australia 

This is such a fascinating and timely project. There’s so many details I want to comb over, so I’ll try to limit myself to a few. I know I didn’t mention my own myspace-teen-to-feminist-twitter-adult pipeline, but it’s great to discover we have it in common!

A problem you mention that’s really captured my attention lately is that of ‘parasocial relationships’ and ‘problematic fandom’: it seems to speak to a wider movement of fans carefully enforcing norms around how to be a proper fan, and the appropriate distance to maintain from the object of one’s fandom (especially if the creator behaved problematically). How much have you found that fans of ‘cancelled’ creators are grappling with expectations of other fans to correctly break up that parasocial relationship? How much do the lines between enthusiasm and endorsement blur, especially as the divisions between public and private enjoyment become stark? I’ve certainly felt that disappointment and guilt at discovering an artist I enjoy has behaved awfully in private: it’s a heartbreaking moment when those songs no longer bring any pleasure without misery hanging over it, compounded by the guilt at knowing royalties will go to an artist with every listen, and algorithms will be encouraged to promote this work to others.

It’s an area I’ve only just started looking at, but I’m really curious about the overlaps between fandom, especially fan cultures that centre on women, and food politics. A lot of the policing reminds me of how women are expected to treat food: you should only consume healthy content, and you must carefully select nourishing, homemade content even it’s not to your taste initially. We see this in the language of ‘bingeing’ and the description of certain media as ‘unhealthy’: in the case of enjoyment-as-endorsement, an echo of ‘you are what you eat.’ Of course, a real creator’s behaviour and challenging fictional/lyrical content makes the ethics consumption has entirely different context. I’d love to see how this links back to the idea of ‘guilty pleasures’—distinct from a genuine guilty displeasure when we break up with a creator (which feels to me more like your favourite food going rotten)—being such a core theme in your work.

Finally, a more silly aside on the subject of music fandom: when American and British bands tour Australia, the tour merchandise tends to be designed with lots of touristic imagery: kangaroos, beer, and down under jokes. Of course, the central novelty to the band is being-in-Australia, but to a fan, it’s not novel at all. It can feel bizarre to represent an international band with imagery of borderline-nationalist Australiana. It’s a particularly minor example of what you mention: suddenly becoming aware of your perceived otherness as Australian, despite identifying yourself through fandom before nationality. That, along with the rarity and price of women’s-fit shirts, is probably why I got so into making my own patches and tees.

Jenessa Williams, UK

I find such a relatability in feeling like your fandom is primarily online. I am so fortunate to have friends (and a fiancé) who care about music just as much as I do, but who maybe don’t share my tendency to fixate on analysis of lyrics or setlists or interviews. I am immensely grateful to the Internet for that; Twitter and reddit can sometimes feel like very hostile places, but there is always someone out there who cares about a band more than you do or has some special easter-egg insight that can enrich your own.

 All of that said, your in-person comic fandom meet-up sounds so wonderful. Did you find that the tone or range of conversation differs significantly in these spaces? I’m glad you’ve been able to take what sounds like an extremely well-earnt break, but how have community members stayed in touch/ related to comics during this time? I have found something interesting in thinking about how the pandemic has helped us to slide into certain comforts; re-consuming childhood shows instead of always seeking out new ones, maybe deciding to revisit the familiarities of that ‘cancelled’ artist or text you thought you’d sworn off years ago. For many of my PhD interviewees, the overwhelmingly mortality and fear of Covid-19 has served to put some things into a kind of personal perspective; if bringing out that old Michael Jackson vinyl or JK Rowling book serves you a private comfort in your own home in the midst of seeing apocalypse, is it really akin to support? If a cancelled tree falls in the woods and twitter isn't around to hear it, has any further harm really been served?

Bad jokes aside, I think it definitely speaks to your point about whether fans are placing expectations on each other for the ‘right’ thing to do. You can definitely see that tension play out in online spaces, varying from artist to artist, case to case. The reasons for this I’m still figuring out (and I doubt if there will be ever be a hard-and-fast blueprint), but it does seems to me to have something to do with the nature of what has been said or done, and the timespan in which it occurred. An allegation of recent violent sexual misconduct will understandably cause more uproar than an uneducated tweet dug up from years prior, but the end result of ‘cancellation’ are very often the same. And what does ‘cancellation’ actually mean? We all have a right to decide that we no longer want to consume an artist’s work, and that isn’t necessarily akin to personally making it our business to ensure that a disgraced artist should never be allowed to make a piece of art again. Perhaps it comes down to the nature of how your broadcast those actions; the difference between quietly continuing to listen to a CD that you already own, and vocally using your online platform to suggest that others should do the same. Deplatforming, and ‘cancellation’, I feel, are not necessarily the exact same thing, but tend to get weaponised as such.

Food is not something I have ever really thought about academically, but I love the way you’re thinking about it; the idea that we have ‘’low’ and highbrow culture, important cultural texts and ‘trash’ pleasures. I’m really interested in how feminist methods and scholarship have changed over the years to try and move away from this mode of denigrating certain media texts as inherently bad, or in telling audiences what is worthwhile for them to like. It’s something I try to be mindful of as a researcher; not assuming that I  understand why a participant likes what they like before I give them the opportunity to tell me for themselves.

To think about your edible metaphor even more, something else I am really interested is the financial and cultural value of the food, the supermarket experience of consuming music. I am keenly following the work being done by Professor David Hesmondhalgh at my home university about digital economies in the streaming age, exploring the ways that we have come to treat music as total commodity. Being in Australia, does streaming now mean that you get global album releases a day early? From a fan perspective I hope that that is some kind of small consolation to the years that you have felt distanced or dismissed as a fan, but I do think the pittance paid for music has definitely contributed to a feeling of powerlessness when it comes to cancellation or even some cases of full fan embodiment, the feeling that buying music is maybe less of an emotional engagement point than it once was.

The point you make about geographical ‘novelty’ is really poignant too - I absolutely know the exact kind of merch you mean! Reaching Australia feels like such a distant achievement for a lot of UK/US bands that I understand the desire to mark it in some way, but I think it also speaks to the way that so much of UK/US culture treats music and popular culture as if it solely belongs to us, with everyone/everything else being niche or ‘other’ in some way. Things are getting better slowly; increasingly scholarship on K-Pop, for example, or on Brazilian music culture, a fanbase who have historically been maligned or mocked for their culture of fannish enthusiasms (‘Come To Brazil!’ memes etc.), but there is still a long way to go. Have you read any interesting things on the topic of non-UK/US music fandom lately? As another aside entirely, but speaking as someone in Australia, do you think the seasonal difference ever affects the way you consume the art? I think for instance about an artist like New Zealand’s Lorde; her latest record ‘Solar Power’ seemed perfectly timed for a northern hemisphere summer, perhaps at the expense of her own home audience. How do we relate culturally to a ‘summer’ record in winter, or a fall record in spring? Obviously we can and do all listen to all sorts of music all year round, but does the idea of seasonal mis-step ever contribute to that feeling, as you put it, as if your national identity is an inconvenience to being a fan? I hope that makes sense — so many different thoughts all at once!