I like to think that I mix my "lowbrow" reading with "highbrow" reading. So, on the one hand, long excavations of mediocre comics from the 1980s; on the other hand, literary critical theory. Such a coincidence happened earlier this semester, when I was reading my way through Marvel's 1980s Transformers comics and rereading bits of Farah Mendlesohn's Rhetorics of Fantasy for a couple different projects I have been working on. (More on those anon, I'm sure.)
Something I've been thinking about a lot during this rereading of the Transformers canon, and occasionally reference in my posts on it, is the essay "Budianskian and Furmanist: A New Model of Storytelling Analysis" by the poster only known as "Broadside" (it's totally possible she gives her real name somewhere, actually, I dunno) on the blog of the Transformers wiki. In this essay, Broadsides posits that there are essentially only two form of Transformers storytelling, Budianskian and Furmanist.
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from The Transformers US #20 (script by Bob Budiansky, art by Herb Trimpe and Ian Akin & Brian Garvey) |
The modes are named after the two biggest writers on the G1 Transformers comics. Bob Budiansky was the editor for the US comic's first few issues, and then with issue #5 became the writer; he was the man who developed a lot of the major elements of the G1 mythos, including the names of almost every character. As Broadside says, "Budiansky believed that the most interesting thing about the entire Transformers setup was that the Transformers were on Earth. The vast majority of his stories revolved around ideas of culture clash and worlds colliding; Bob’s Autobots would be perplexed and fascinated by human behaviours, from small-town life to professional wrestling."
Examples of the Budianskian mode include the first two seasons of the G1 cartoon, the Michael Bay films, Transformers Animated, and the latter part of John Barber's run on Robots in Disguise for IDW.
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from The Transformers: Robots in Disguise Annual 2012 (script by James Barber, art by Guido Guidi) |
Simon Furman became the primary writer of the UK Transformers comic after its first few installments, and took over for Budiansky on the US comic after he moved on. As Broadside says, Furman's approach "looks at Cybertronians from an internal perspective; it’s concerned with how they interact with each other, and the lore and history and substance of their own world. The point of the robots as characters isn’t to contrast with the human experience, but to be a stand-in for them."
Example of the Furmanist mode include the 1986 Transformers film, Beast Wars and Beast Machines, and More than Meets the Eye and Lost Light from IDW.
Broadside herself points out that each writer was totally capable of working in the other mode. When Furman returned to Transformers in the 2000s for IDW, the story he wrote was Budianskian; I would argue that the very first Furmanist Transformers story was Return to Cybertron, which was by Bob Budiansky. (My claim is that Furman's first true Furmanist story was Target: 2006, which comes after this, and is obviously inspired by it.)
Broadside claims neither of these approaches is better than the other, it comes down to your preference—but that often Transformers stories succeed best when they realize what mode they ought to be working in. I haven't seen the two shows she uses as examples, but she says "[the Furmanist show] Cyberverse flourished when it got out from under its vestigial Budianskian trappings, [the Budianskian] EarthSpark gets bogged down when it delves into the Furmanist lore of the Thirteen..." She is definitely partial to the Budianskian mode.
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from The Transformers: Infiltration #5 (script by Simon Furman, art by E. J. Su) |
I myself prefer the Furmanist one; my two favorite Transformers stories are Beast Wars / Beast Machines and More than Meets the Eye / Lost Light, both of which feature no human characters. Some of my least favorite Transformers stories are Budianskian, such as the G1 cartoon and the Michael Bay films. All other things being equal, I clearly have a preference. But I can still enjoy a Budianskian story: Furman's original IDW arc is excellent, and it's all told from a human perspective, while one of my favorite-ever Transformers stories is "Showdown!", a G1 comic by Budiansky about the relationship between Skids the Autobot and Wyoming grocery store cashier named Charlene who dreams of being a cowgirl.
And Furmanist storytelling definitely has a failure mode: what I like about the Furmanist style is how it allows the Transformers characters to pop, but all too often, Furmanist stories can turn into tedious expositions of lore. (James Barber wrote some great Furmanist stories about the state of postwar Cybertron for IDW, but also wrote some really tedious ones about complicated machinations by Shockwave that mostly seemed to be there to resolve continuity issues.) As I quoted Broadside above, in a Furmanist story, "[t]he point of the robots as characters isn’t to contrast with the human experience, but to be a stand-in for them." When the stories spend too much time diving into the "lore," this aspect gets lost.
Like any good literary theory, this isn't just a tool for classification, but one of better understanding: I think I am appreciating Budiansky's G1 comics more on this reread with this insight to use as a lens.
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| from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (story by L. Frank Baum, art by W. W. Denslow) |
Such a thing is also true of Farah Mendlesohn's Rhetorics of Fantasy. I think about Mendlesohn's classification of fantasy a lot, because it doesn't just allow you to put fantasy into different buckets, but it also it creates a better understanding of what it's doing. Mendlesohn breaks fantasy down into four categories, based on the relationship between the the viewpoint of the reader and the fantastic. In "the portal-quest fantasy," for example, the viewpoint of the reader is with a character who travels into a new-to-them fantastic world: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is probably the most obvious examples of this, we travel into a new world with Dorothy, and we discover it alongside her.
The two that are relevant here, though, are what Mendlesohn calls the "intrusion fantasy" and the "immersive fantasy." In the intrusion fantasy, we are in a "real" world, our viewpoint is aligned with characters who do not know the fantastic until in intrudes in their world. From my own recent reading, I would say that Neil Gaiman's American Gods and Sam Swicegood's The Wizards on Walnut Street are good examples of this. This, surely, is the Budianskian mode! In this style of storytelling, the reader and the character have to work together to understand the fantastic.
The immersive fantasy, on the other hand, is one where our viewpoint is aligned with a character who does know the fantastic, even though we do not. This is your built-up secondary world fantasy, where we are in a complex magical world and need to work to figure it out. Indeed, the pleasure is in coming to understand this fantastic world that the characters already get but you do not; from my recent reading, I would categorize Robert Jackson Bennett's The Tainted Cup and Natasha Pulley's The Kingdoms as good examples. What is Furmanist storytelling but immersive fantasy?
(Sort of a side note, but it's worth pointing out that stories can operate in multiple rhetorics under Mendlesohn's system. The Lord of the Rings, for example, is a portal-quest fantasy, because even though the entire thing takes place in a secondary world, we move from the "normal" world of the Shire to the wider magical world of Middle-earth with viewpoint characters who do not understand the latter. Or you have Robin McKinley's The Hero and the Crown, which starts as an immersive fantasy—we are in the magical land of Damar—then becomes an intrusion fantasy—Damar is threatened by magic from another realm—and finally a portal-quest fantasy—the character travels into that realm to stop it.)
It's probably little surprise, then, that I enjoy Furmanist stories more than Budianskian ones on the whole, because I also tend to prefer immersive fantasies to intrusion ones. Writing my last few paragraphs, it was easy for me to think of immersive fantasies; it was much harder to think of intrusion ones. I like that sense (to paraphrase Jo Walton for the umpteenth time) that the world itself is a mystery we must solve, and you very much get that from the immersive fantasy.
But that also makes the origin of what I think of as the failure mode of Furmanist stories clear. Surely one of the foremost writers of the immersive fantasy in our time is Brandon Sanderson. Sanderson often writes stories that seem like they ought to be portal-quest fantasies, or are engaged with thinking about the parameters of the portal-quest fantasy, but are not portal-quest fantasies; the first Mistborn novel, The Final Empire, is a good example of this. I spent much of the beginning of the book thinking the characters were going to go on a quest, but this never happens; eventually you discover the state of the world is due to someone who did go on a quest in the distant past. But like a bad Furmanist story, Sanderson often becomes interested in "lore" for its own sake; to quote my own review of the third book:
I've always been interested in the people and the politics of this series; the godlike entities have never interested me for their own sake. This volume, however, seems to think I'll find vast cosmic entities interesting just, uh, because? This might be what other people read fantasy fiction for, but I just can't get into it.
Instead of paying off character and thematic threads from the first two books, the book seems more interested in paying off mysteries of backstory that I didn't even know were mysteries! Like, one of the big reveals of this book is "where did the kandra and koloss come from." I didn't know that the kandra and koloss were supposed to come from anywhere! They're weird fantasy creatures, this is a fantasy novel, why would I think they come from anywhere any more than a dog comes from somewhere in a piece of mimetic fiction? But there's an explanation that ties it into the novel's "magic system." So many things get explained that I never wanted an explanation for.
This is sort of the equivalent of telling me about Primus or the Fallen or the origins of the Matrix of Leadership in a Transformers comic. These things don't matter in and of themselves, they only matter if they tell us something about the characters. (I make a related point in my review of the sixth Mistborn book, The Bands of Mourning, but I haven't posted that yet, so only click the link if it's after June 3rd.)
What was particularly striking, though, as I mapped Mendlesohn's theory onto Broadside's is that Transformers doesn't have an obvious equivalent to the portal-quest fantasy. Where is the story about a human character who travels to Cybertron, where the human is the viewpoint character throughout? This seems like such an obvious good idea that I can't believe it hasn't been done... but there's so much Transformers out there that surely someone has and I just don't know about it! But if not, please give me a call, Skybound, and I'll write it for you.
- US #1-3 & 33-34 / UK #1-6 & 9-17 (1984-85)
- US #4-8 / UK #7-8 & 18-30 (1984-85)
- US #9-12 / UK #31-41 (1985-86)
- US #13-14 / UK #42-54 (1985-86)
- US #15-16 / UK #54-63 (1985-86)
- US #17-20 / UK #64-74 (1986)
(I want to note that the greatest film series of our time, Marvel's Thor, did cover all three of these Mendlesohn rhetorics across its first three films. The first Thor movie is an intrusion fantasy (Thor comes to our world), The Dark World is a portal-quest fantasy (Jane goes to Asgard), and Ragnarok is immersive (it's all about what's going on the fantasy world). If only Transformers could reach such heights!)






























