The Way of Stories
May. 30th, 2025 07:26 amThere was The Last of Us; beginning with the computer game, where a particular event turned players right off. If that particular event is repeated in a TV setting, who wouldn't expect viewers to react the same way players did? Bad storytelling when it happened first time, bad storytelling now. I am amazed at content creators blaming 'audience toxicity,' but then I guess folk must cover their bums. The question remains though, if you believe in the malignity of your audience, how the hell can you connect to them, more, why would you want to?
Meanwhile there was 1883. This was great. Not perfect, but sufficient in itself, poetic, heartbreaking, raw. Does it make me want to watch 1923 or Yellowstone? I don't know, I'm not quite ready to leave feral Elsa and the empty seeming land.
It reminded me to my trip to the West Coast back in the 80s. That was a strange dusty year in the city of angels. Decades later I could probably handle LA but for then I ran away, unimpressed by Hollywood and Rodeo Drive, on to San Francisco, to San Diego, out to Arizona and Monument Valley, eventually finding my best place in Yosemite, which brought me so much happiness I spent most of my holiday there. The very first beastie I saw was a bear, and much later strolling along the trails, I walked parallel to a mountain lion carrying a bird in its mouth. This was one place I couldn't wear perfume because all I wanted to smell was the warmth of land and trees, I loved it so much I never wanted to leave. But in 2015 when R suggested we get married there I demurred, practical reason being because it felt odd to ask friends to spend so much on our wedding, but also because I was afraid Yosemite might have changed beyond my memories.
One thing I learned long ago about stories is that they should make sense alone, but it's often their way to sprawl out, to spiral into connection. Would I love Grand Teton or Yellowstone as much as Yosemite? How would it feel to redress my one regret about California and go spend time in Joshua Tree? Would I find myself facing that sense once again, that there is so much more, further up or in or down, more and more to be found across that strange continent? And then the travellers voice warns me that yes, all this is true, but it applies to everywhere. Wherever I go I'll find more. Stop falling in love it laughs at me.
I am no Elsa Dutton, but I feel for her, and her story brings me a never known, half glimpsed landscape. I'm glad I stayed with her to the end. That's the power of great storytelling.
Meanwhile there was 1883. This was great. Not perfect, but sufficient in itself, poetic, heartbreaking, raw. Does it make me want to watch 1923 or Yellowstone? I don't know, I'm not quite ready to leave feral Elsa and the empty seeming land.
It reminded me to my trip to the West Coast back in the 80s. That was a strange dusty year in the city of angels. Decades later I could probably handle LA but for then I ran away, unimpressed by Hollywood and Rodeo Drive, on to San Francisco, to San Diego, out to Arizona and Monument Valley, eventually finding my best place in Yosemite, which brought me so much happiness I spent most of my holiday there. The very first beastie I saw was a bear, and much later strolling along the trails, I walked parallel to a mountain lion carrying a bird in its mouth. This was one place I couldn't wear perfume because all I wanted to smell was the warmth of land and trees, I loved it so much I never wanted to leave. But in 2015 when R suggested we get married there I demurred, practical reason being because it felt odd to ask friends to spend so much on our wedding, but also because I was afraid Yosemite might have changed beyond my memories.
One thing I learned long ago about stories is that they should make sense alone, but it's often their way to sprawl out, to spiral into connection. Would I love Grand Teton or Yellowstone as much as Yosemite? How would it feel to redress my one regret about California and go spend time in Joshua Tree? Would I find myself facing that sense once again, that there is so much more, further up or in or down, more and more to be found across that strange continent? And then the travellers voice warns me that yes, all this is true, but it applies to everywhere. Wherever I go I'll find more. Stop falling in love it laughs at me.
I am no Elsa Dutton, but I feel for her, and her story brings me a never known, half glimpsed landscape. I'm glad I stayed with her to the end. That's the power of great storytelling.