erinptah: (Default)

Rinkitink in Oz...sure is a book.

This is Baum at peak "desperately trying to be allowed to write non-Oz things." First chapter opens with "look, ravenous fandom, you've seen a map of Oz, right? Okay, zoom out until you've got a view of the surrounding countries. See these islands? We're going there now. Still totally an Oz book, so stay with me! And bring your money."

The eponymous Rinkitink shows up to visit the island nation of Pingaree just in time for it to be invaded by the evil nation next door. The evil islanders kidnap all the locals except Prince Inga, who goes to the rescue, along with Rinkitink and a talking goat.

Things only start to get Ozzy toward the very end, when the evil king and queen try to get Inga off their backs by passing his captive parents on to the Nome Kingdom. And then Dorothy sees the whole thing in the Magic Picture, and deus-ex-machinas a rescue with the help of the Wizard and a basket of eggs.

Wikipedia says Baum wrote most of the story in 1905, before Oz book 3 was published, and you can tell there wasn't a lot of revising. The writing doesn't have the wit and charm that was so good in books 7 and 8. The fantasy countries have the same blandness that dragged down book 9. At this point in the timeline the Nome Kingdom is ruled by Kaliko, but this book was originally written with Ruggedo -- and it's painfully obvious. I bet Baum didn't change anything beyond find-and-replacing the names.

There isn't a single girl in the party, which is grating. And this is the book with the wince-worthy scene about a transformed human being turned back in stages, with one of those stages being a Tottenhot (last seen in book 7).

Entirely skippable.

***

On to Book 11, Lost Princess of Oz, and FINALLY, Baum has accepted his lot in life and gotten into a groove. It's familiar Oz characters with an Oz-centric conflict that we're guaranteed to care about from the first sentence -- Ozma is missing.

Dorothy is the one who confirms Ozma isn't just sleeping in. You see, she's the only one who's always allowed into Ozma's chambers, no matter how early, or late, the hour. Draw your own conclusions.

The kidnapper has also managed to disappear all the MacGuffins that would have made the rescue too easy. The Magic Picture is gone. When the Wizard takes a speedy Sawhorse-back ride all the way to Glinda's castle, he learns that the Magic Book is gone -- and so are all her spellcasting ingredients and equipment -- and, when he gets back, so is his.

Awkwardly, the Magic Belt is still here...but somehow Dorothy has forgotten how to use it. It'll protect her while she's wearing it, and that's all. I wish Baum had at least tried to shoehorn in an excuse. (Maybe it's been so many years that Dorothy's forgotten? Maybe its automatic spell-understanding power has run down, like Tik-Tok when he can only speak nonsense because his thoughts have run down?)

There's a bunch of lovely setting description -- of Ozma's rooms, of Glinda's magic book, of other scenery. Reminiscent of the time in book 6 when Baum slowed down to give us a bunch of national statistics about Oz: we've been here before, but this time he's thinking about it.

***

The B-plot involves an isolated mesa-top community in the Winkie Country, where Cayke the cook's magic diamond-studded dishpan is gone too. She and the Frogman, local respected oracle and literal giant frog, set out to find it.

In general, this is painfully less interesting. Although the way average Ozites react to them is pretty funny:

"Tell me, my good man, have you seen a diamond-studded gold dishpan?"

"No, nor have I seen a copper-plated lobster."

And here's what happens when they stumble into the country of the teddy bears (yeah, it's a thing), get arrested for trespassing, and are brought before the king for sentencing:

"I condemn you to death merely as a matter of form. It sounds quite terrible, and in ten years we shall have forgotten all about it."

So, a few good snappy lines. Too few. Even now that Baum is writing a fresh new plot instead of harvesting earlier manuscripts, he's slid pretty far from the high point of cleverness we got in books 7 and 8.

***

The familiar characters, meanwhile, set off for a manual, boots-on-the-ground search. They split up into four parties to search the four Oz countries; Dorothy's party is the one we follow.

It is, unfortunately, much too big. In spite of the excellent plot-based excuse to split people up, we end up with Dorothy, Betsy, Trot, Button-Bright, the Wizard, Scraps, the Woozy, the Cowardly Lion, Hank the mule, the Sawhorse, and Toto. That's 11 characters! We're doubling up on roles, and there aren't nearly enough good lines to go around.

The distinctions between the American girls have pretty much collapsed. Trot and Betsy never get anything useful or plot-relevant to do that separates them from Dorothy, and their lines are all interchangeable.

Button-Bright isn't much better in the beginning. At least his propensity for getting lost becomes a plot point. (Dorothy scolds him for wandering off when they're on an important mission! She's come so far.)

The Wizard seems to feel pretty useless without his magic, though he does get a few good tool-using moments, recalling his resourcefulness throughout book 4. Would've been nice if this was a more explicit character arc -- from "uh-oh, what do I do without supernatural powers?" to "wait, I'm a clever and resourceful guy, I just have to get my groove back." I mean, this is the man who once took over the country with nothing but bluff, stage magic, and elbow grease.

Scraps is great. As sharply-characterized as ever. Gets to demonstrate that she's just as good at coming up with clever plans as the Scarecrow, though she's more mischievous about rolling them out. When the party gets stymied by an illusion, she's the one who susses it out -- a nice payoff for the time she learned how to deal with illusions in book 7.

The Woozy, Sawhorse, and Hank are, eerily, not much better differentiated than the girls. The Lion isn't much better, though his characteristic cowardice still pops up. Should've only brought one of these, maybe two.

There's a whole chapter when the beasts are discussing what physical features are best, and of course they all have wildly different bodies and capabilities...but each one has exactly the same level of pride in his own appearance, and expresses it in the same way as the next one. There's no individual personality coming through.

Toto manages to stand out, partly because of his relationship with Dorothy, partly because he has a mini-arc about "losing his growl." (You'd think this would be a great opportunity for the Woozy to be sympathetic....)

Apparently Toto has gotten more comfortable talking since his last appearance. He's having whole conversations now, and wasn't communicating nonverbally even before the growl-loss. I guess it's nice that he's already chatty, instead of being forced by circumstances to do something he isn't comfortable with...but this feels like another missed opportunity for a character arc.

***

The most substantial character arc in the book is actually from the other party.

At first the Frogman is hugely-respected in his little corner of Oz, assumed to be wise and thoughtful because he's so unique, and he goes along with this because he likes the attention. He joins Cayke on her quest because he expects to find new people to fawn on him. The indifference of the average Winkie is pretty jarring.

Then they wander past the Truth Pond -- last seen in book 5 -- and the Frogman goes for a splash, only to discover that, whoops, now he can't lie. Maybe not even to himself. He comes clean with Cayke about not being as smart or venerable as he put on...and ends up doing some genuinely heroic things, putting himself in danger to help others, now that he can't just coast along on bluff-based admiration.

***

"Search for Ozma" stumbles into being "search for a magician evil and powerful enough to have stolen Ozma," and the parties converge when they both start aiming for Ugu the Shoemaker. Your standard megalomaniac sorcerer.

Turns out Cayke's magic dishpan has teleporting powers, because why not. Ugu stole that first, used it to zap himself into Glinda's and Ozma's homes to steal their stuff, and then -- when Ozma caught him in the act -- had to hastily kidnap her as an afterthought.

One of the souvenirs from the teddy-bear country is a new MacGuffin: a tiny wind-up bear that can give true answers to any question. Not always specific-enough answers, unfortunately. They ask for Ozma's location, it points them to a hole in the ground not far from Ugu's castle, but all they see when they get there is Button-Bright.

And apparently none of them know how to play Twenty Questions. Or remember a whole lot of their own continuity, because we get lines of speculation like this:

"Perhaps Button-Bright is Ozma." / "And perhaps he isn't! Ozma is a girl, and Button-Bright is a boy."

Yeah, and the last time Ozma was kidnapped, the villain's whole plot was to hide her by transfiguring her into a boy, so your point is...?

Button-Bright also scornfully insists, "Nothing ever enchants ME." Kid, on your first adventure you got turned into a fox-person. Dorothy was there!

You would think, considering that three separate characters in this party were on the expedition to Ev, one of them would remember where the missing Tin Woodman was eventually found, and start turning down Button-Bright's pockets.

(Once the Wizard finally thinks to ask narrowing-down questions, our heroes find Ozma pretty quickly. They recover all the magical tools and ingredients. They even finally track down Cayke's dishpan, and send her home happy.)

***

But listen, all Plot-Enforced Stupidity aside, I love the way this book ends, and here's why:

How do they defeat Ugu? This terrifyingly strong evil wizard? The villain who managed to imprison Princess Ozma, de-power Glinda the Good, and generally get the best of all good magic-users in Oz?

Dorothy beats him in a magical showdown.

She's been secretly practicing with the Magic Belt. ("I transformed the Sawhorse into a potato masher and back again, and the Cowardly Lion into a pussycat and back again.") Now she breaks it out and gets her magical-girl on, complete with an "I'll punish you" speech. Saves the rest of the crew from Ugu's traps, and, with transfiguration power that rivals the Nome King's, turns Ugu himself into a dove. I would make a "he got better" joke here, but...he does not. The very last denouement scene is dove!Ugu asking Dorothy for her forgiveness.

Dorothy Gale has gone from "sweet, simple Kansas child, who was a meek and tearful prisoner for the Wicked Witch of the West" to "most formidable magic-user in all Oz."

And boy, she will wallop you if you mess with her girlfriend.

erinptah: (Default)
There's a Baum-penned book of Oz short stories that came out between books 7 and 8. I'm not sure whether Little Wizard Stories of Oz is objectively better than the stories of Mo, or just feels more grounded because it uses characters we already know...either way, it's a cute roundup of character moments and worldbuilding details that might not have fit into any of the larger adventures.

And it shows that Baum hates coming up with titles as much as the rest of us.

The Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger: in which we learn that Oz has an afternoon siesta! The Lion and the Tiger resolve to finally act on their natural "tearing a person apart" and "eating a fat baby" instincts, but when they head out into the street, everybody's napping.

Also: when Ozma is holding court, Dorothy habitually sits at her feet. Um. That setup doesn't say "auxiliary princess" so much as "lounging courtesan." (I like it.)

Little Dorothy and Toto: probably the backstory of how Dorothy got cured of her getting-lost habit between books 6 and 7. The Wizard keeps telling her that he's worried she'll get in real trouble, and when that doesn't sink in, he stages an object lesson: disguising himself as a shape-changing imp who captures her and forces her to wash dishes.

He kinda learns a lesson himself, when he has to cut the charade short because Toto nearly eats him.

At one point Toto looks at a warning sign "so seriously that Dorothy almost believed he could read it." One of several bits of serious foreshadowing that he's secretly just as language-enabled as all the other mundane animals who have visited Oz.

Tik-Tok and the Nome King: in which it turns out that non-Oz fairy countries have currencies: after the king smashes Tik-Tok and Kaliko fixes him, Kaliko's wages are raised by "one specto a year."

This is really hard to place in the timeline. The fact that Tik-Tok leaves Oz doesn't mean it's pre-Ozsolation; by book 8 some major exceptions have been carved out. The King is intimidated by Ozma and scared of the consequences of breaking one of her things, which doesn't jive with his angry, revenge-seeking mindset between books 3 and 6...so I guess it's sometime during the timeskip, while he's still reconstructing the events he can't remember, and figuring out that Ozma scares him.

Ozma and the Little Wizard: in which we learn that Ozma doesn't just hang out on the throne, but tours the country to do problem-solving in person.

Jack Pumpkinhead and the Sawhorse: more Ozma problem-solving, this time through sending agents. Jack engages in diplomacy with the King of the Squirrels, only to get his head smashed with a branch. It's like a mashup of that scene with Kronk intoning "Squeak squeakerson squeak squeak," and the head-exploding scene from Scanners.

The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman: in which these two queer characters take a romantic boat ride together, and get so wrapped up in each other that they crash into a rock because they're not paying attention. I'm not even kidding, that's it, that's the plot.

***

On to book 8! Tik-Tok of Oz is titled in the fine tradition of "pick one random character who appears in the story, and name the book after them." It starts in one of Oz's mini-countries: Oogaboo, a tiny mountain kingdom in Winkie Country. And by "tiny" I mean: "18 men, 27 women and 44 children."

Baum's writing is on-point in this book. Strong multi-level plot, snappy humor. Oogaboo "had a royal family of their own. Not especially to rule over them; just as a matter of pride" -- and their Queen Ann Soforth (who I always imagined as effectively college-age, immortality aside) gets so frustrated that she decides to head out and conquer the world.

She ropes 17 of the nation's 18 adult males into her Army -- that's 16 officers and 1 private soldier. Much less capable than General Jinjur's Army of Revolt, to say nothing of General Guph's collection of horrors...but, admittedly, a match for the Royal Army of Oz, at least since Ozma promoted their private.

Thing is, the Emerald City is so over being conquered. Glinda sees the Army of Oogaboo coming, and teleports them out of Oz long before they have any idea what they're doing.

Meanwhile, Shaggy is looking for his brother. The Shaggy Man really is Baum's favorite, isn't he? I remembered him being introduced in book 5, and his quest to save his brother here, but had forgotten how Baum stuck him in the party in both of the novels in between, too. He's like wallpaper. Shaggy wallpaper.

This plot thread racks up a party with remarkable efficiency. Oklahoma girl Betsy Bobbin gets shipwrecked with Hank the donkey, and runs into the Shaggy Man. A detour into the eerily misogynistic Rose Kingdom has them walk out with a Rose Princess (as in book 4, our heroes pick the ripe ruler; but these flowers want to be ruled by a king, so they kick her out). They meet up with Polychrome, lost from the rainbow again -- weirdly, she and Shaggy both act like they've never met before. Then they yank Tik-Tok out of a well!

I was going to say "maybe this is Tik-Tok on the way back from being fixed by Kaliko," but no, he was sent by Ozma to help on the quest. One wonders why Ozma didn't teleport him directly to Shaggy's side. Or, even better, why she doesn't teleport them all into the same room as Shaggy's brother...but I digress.

Asked how to get to the Nome Kingdom: "The best way is to walk," said Tik-Tok. "We might crawl, or jump, or roll o-ver and o-ver until we get there; but the best way is to walk." I told you this one was funny.

***

Some thoughts on Betsy. Let's face it, she's awfully hard to distinguish from Dorothy at times -- plucky young girl from the US who gets shipwrecked in a fairy country with a stalwart animal companion. Ozma even lampshades it toward the end, telling Dorothy that Betsy got shipwrecked "in much the same way you did."

Some differences: She throws herself into adventure for its own sake, with no wistful thoughts of returning to home or family -- in the end she says she has no home to go back to. (We never get that backstory.) It probably helps her adjustment that she's read some of the Oz books. Not enough to know the Shaggy Man on sight, but she's all impressed that he's friends with Dorothy and Ozma.

Dorothy takes weird things in stride, befitting someone whose first fairy adventure happened when she was really little. She's used to assuming that whatever's going on is normal. Betsy asks a lot of questions -- even about things that are normal by mundane-world standards, like "why are all tubes hollow?"

And she's nervous about being sent off to sleep alone in a strange place. Dorothy -- well, she usually has Toto at her side, but she took it pretty easily in book 3 when Langwidere took away Billina and Tik-Tok before locking her in a tower. Betsy is a welcomed guest when the party lands in Tititi-Hoochoo's country, and she's still anxious about being alone for the night, enough that they end up sending Polychrome with her.

***

Okay, backing up: The two quests crash together; Shaggy suggests that Ann can conquer the Nomes while he's rescuing his brother. Their destinies are further entwined when Private Files quits -- he refuses Ann's orders to take the girls captive -- and Tik-Tok obligingl lets himself get recruited to be the new Army of Oogaboo.

Ruggedo may no longer have the Magic Belt, but he still knows a lot of spells and controls a lot of useful equipment. When he spots the would-be invaders, he arranges to drop them down a hole to a fairy country on the far side of the earth. (It's even pseudo-Chinese. Their formal wear is cheongsams with embroidered dragons!)

All this is very illegal. Kaliko, hearing the plan, sneaks off to his room and starts writing letters of recommendation for himself.

("I hate mortals more than I hate catnip tea!" You take a lot of that, Ruggedo...?)

Paralleling the army that's all officers except for one private, this country is all Kings and Queens with one Private Citizen: Tititi-Hoochoo (I didn't say it was good pseudo-Chinese), who runs the place. A counterpoint to the last book's legal ideas: "It is wise to ignore laws when they conflict with justice." Our heroes have broken the law, but it was the Nome King's fault, so they get sent back to deliver justice.

Along with a dragon!

Serious horror when Kaliko explains how he learned to fear dragons. Another Nome had been torn to pieces by a dragon, you see, and since in fairy countries nobody dies...Kaliko found a chunk of head. That could talk.

I wonder how these dragons relate to the ones whose cavern Dorothy and company snuck through in book 4. For that matter, how do all those underground countries compare with the Nome Kingdom? I'm inclined to believe they're even deeper -- they have no contact with the surface, and the Nomes don't show any sign of knowing about civilizations like the Valley of Vo. (Not to be confused with the Valley of Mo.)

***

Ruggedo gets insta-smitten with Polychrome, Hades-Persephone style. It's actually kinda cute. Imploring her to stay: "You shall be my daughter or my wife or my aunt or grandmother—whichever you like." (Poly: "Are you sure he hasn’t seen the Love Magnet?")

The dragon came prepared. By the time the dust has settled, Ruggedo has been depowered and dethroned (Kaliko gets his place!); Shaggy has found his brother; and the Army of Oogaboo is sick and tired of conquering and just wants to go home.

Honestly, there's something shady about Shaggy's quest. He claims not to remember what his brother looks like. Okay, he left home several decades ago, when the brother was much younger...but when asked the guy's name, he hesitates. And indeed, only ever addresses the man as "Brother" (while introducing himself as "Shaggy").

And of course we'll never see the guy again (the brother; I do expect plenty more Shaggy) in any future books. What was really up with these two? We'll never know.

In an interesting complication, the characters' haste in de-powering Ruggedo comes back to bite them. Sure, he deserved the punishment, but he'd put a curse on Shaggy's brother, and no longer has the power to undo it. Instead the characters have to figure it out through trial and error. Can't remember any other children's fantasy fiction that pulls something quite like it.

***

Poly confirmed to be thousands of years old!

The Magic Picture is in a radium frame. Oh geez.

The Wizard invented the cell phone! But didn't include a mechanism for calling anyone. You just have to hope that you and the other person manage to pick up your handhelds at the same time.

The dragon goes home, the Nome Kingdom adjusts, and the rest of the characters get teleported back to Oz in batches. There's no legal immigration process since the Ozsolation, and Betsy, Hank, and Shaggy's brother never got their visas, but obviously in the end they get royal approval to stay.

In the latest edition of I Swear I Am Not Making This Gay Up:
“Well,” said Dorothy, “as far as Betsy and Hank are concerned, I’d like to have them here in Oz. It would be such fun to have a girl playmate of my own age, you see. And Hank is such a dear little mule!”

Ozma laughed at the wistful expression in the girl’s eyes, and then she drew Dorothy to her and kissed her.“Am I not your friend and playmate?” she asked.

Dorothy flushed.

“You know how dearly I love you, Ozma!” she cried. “But you’re so busy ruling all this Land of Oz that we can’t always be together.”

Mmmyep.

Dorothy thinks of Betsy as "her own age," though Betsy is about 12 and Dorothy has been in Oz at least a couple decades by now. Betsy and Dorothy are about the same height; Ozma is about half a head taller.

And then there's a brewing fight in the stables (over "who is the sweetest and dearest girl in the world," with Hank on Betsy's side, the Sawhorse championing Ozma, and the Lion and Tiger adamant that it's Dorothy) -- which the three heroines interrupt, Ozma standing in the doorway with a mortal girl on each arm. Like a boss.

Finally: this is the book where it comes out that Toto can talk! He just doesn't want to, okay. Stop invalidating Toto's life choices with your anthropocentric communication demands. (I kid, I kid. It's good he told Dorothy, even if he never says another word since.)

***

Programming note: the next Oz book has also been called "the third Trot and Cap'n Bill book", so I'm listening to the first two of those (The Sea Fairies and Sky Island) first. In case anyone has been reading along, join me on my detour.
erinptah: Madoka and Homura (madoka)

Even knowing what it actually means in context, I get a smile every time these books go on about Oz being "full of queer personages."

~*~*~*~

Here's something I didn't think about until I listened to book 3 (Ozma of Oz) and book 4 (Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz) back-to-back:

Book 3: Dorothy's adventure starts when she gets swept off a boat, which she's on because she's in the middle of a boat trip with Uncle Henry.

Book 4: Dorothy's adventure starts when she falls into the ground during a California earthquake, where she is because she's traveling back to Kansas from the same trip.

She's gone on vacation once here, and gotten sidetracked for magical adventures on both ends of the journey. Henry and Em must be thinking "good lord, kiddo, you can't travel anywhere without mysteriously vanishing along the way, can you?"

(Of course, in the next book she's walking down a normal Kansas dirt road when it goes all magical. Can't win.)

~*~*~*~

And another thing! During this mundane-world vacation (it's a trip to Australia, which is supposed to be good for Uncle Henry's health), Dorothy and Henry meet "some friends." They're never described in any detail, we just know Dorothy is traveling alone at the start of Book 4 because her uncle went on ahead, while she stayed with these friends for a few days.

In San Francisco.

This book was published in 1908. The history of the SF gay scene goes back pre-1900, with its firs "notorious" gay bar founded in...1908.

I'm not saying Dorothy definitely hung out with cool grown-up lesbian mentors in San Francisco, I'm just saying...historically speaking, it's a serious possibility.

~*~*~*~

Okay, getting back to the (non-figurative) fairy-country content here...

Book 4 marks a huge shift for the series, in that it's a really blatant case of "wow, no overarching plot here at all, they're just wandering from set piece to set piece until the author gets bored."

Of the previous volumes, Book 3 had the most cohesive plot, without any random detours. This one is all detour. Then they hit a dead end -- literally, they get stuck in a cave with no way out! -- and Dorothy signals Ozma to teleport them safely to Oz. Princess ex machina.

Book 5 (The Road to Oz) is The One Where Everyone Gets Genre-Savvy.

When things initially go weird, Dorothy's reaction is "eh, this happens a lot, I'll probably end up in Oz eventually." And then she literally adds "Uncle Henry and Aunt Em have told me they're used to this by now, so they won't be too worried." Her party keeps running into magical towns where the leaders say "oh, hey, it's the famous Dorothy! We've read about you."

And when they finally make it to the Emerald City, Ozma reveals she's the one who started their journey by making things go weird in the first place. Sure, she could've just transported Dorothy instantly to the palace, but apparently she thought Dorothy would have more fun getting there via adventure.

What a good girlfriend.

I mean, good platonic friend.

Everything about Ozma attracted one, and she inspired love and the sweetest affection rather than awe or ordinary admiration. Dorothy threw her arms around her little friend and hugged and kissed her rapturously.

I mean, good platonic friend with rapturous kissing that I am going to sit here and enjoy no matter how Baum meant it.

~*~*~*~

Speaking of Baum, the poor guy's author's-notes get a little more strained with every book. "Welp, the children keep asking for Oz so I'm giving them more Oz, the little tyrants, haha! No really, I love children and only want to make them happy, aaaaand apparently what makes them happy is not buying any of my other books."

He really pushes it in book 5, where the big glittery finale of book 5 is Ozma's birthday -- involving a fifty-cameo pileup referencing every non-Oz book Baum had written. It...did not help their sales the way he was hoping for. (You know what I would have read? A spinoff series about Ev. We spend time there in book 3, see the royals as cameos in book 5, and then never visit the place again. Why didn't you ever write that, L. Frank?)

Honestly, I've read a lot of Baum's non-Oz books, and none of them clicked the way the Oz ones did. But it's been long enough that I couldn't tell you why. Maybe that'll be the next re-listening project.

Profile

erinptah: (Default)
humorist + humanist

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Page generated May. 28th, 2025 04:15 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios

Style Credit