Jin Ling And The Curse Of Escalating Abuse, Pt. 2

Jin Ling and the Curse of Escalating Abuse, Pt. 2

This post will cover Jin Ling and Jin Guangyao’s relationship in much the same way that the first part, here, analyzed Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng’s relationship. Note: just as with the first part, I will not be addressing Jin Guangyao’s (supposed) love for Jin Ling. As I said before, the love an abuser has for their victim(s) means absolutely nothing in the face of that unchanged abuse. For each scene I analyze, I will be using one source per scene, but if I have multiple translations for a scene, I will put them under the cut for comparison.

As discussed in the first post to this duo, Jin Ling does not grow up with a caring uncle from his mother’s side. However, I rarely see people discuss the abuse that Jin Ling faces from his paternal uncle, Jin Guangyao, and I think this is because 1) we don’t see Jin Ling and Jin Guangyao directly interact for much of the story the way that Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling do and 2) Jin Guangyao’s style of abuse looks vastly different from the very straightforward toxicity that Jiang Cheng displays. But still, there are a lot of tidbits in the story to give us insight into this uncle-nephew relationship, so let’s get into it!

From the very beginning, we are shown the ways in which Jin Guangyao cares for Jin Ling, such as that he gifts Jin Ling his spiritual dog who serves as his first and closest friend, pre-canon, and Jin Ling regards this highly:

Jin Ling’s black-maned spirit dog was of a rare species, and it had been given to him by Jin Guangyao.

–Chapt. 20: Sunshine II, fanyiyi

“How could your donkey compare to my spirit dog?” Jin Ling said. “Xianzi was given to me by my younger uncle. If something happens to it, even ten thousand donkeys wouldn’t make up for it!”

–Chapt. 34: Flora II, fanyiyi

Jin Ling is also very protective of his paternal uncle, warning “Mo Xuanyu” away from “his people” even as he is reluctantly charmed by Wei Wuxian’s personality:

“…Don’t bother or mess around with other men, especially if they’re my people! Otherwise, don’t blame me if I do something about it.”

By “my people,” Jin Ling meant both the Lanling Jin Clan and the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. It appeared that his tolerance for the passion of the cut sleeve had increased—as long as Wei Wuxian wasn’t trying to involve himself with men of either clan, he could look the other way.

–Chapt. 45: Beauty III, fanyiyi

He even gets upset that “Mo Xuanyu” has returned to Koi Tower given the scandal of his banishment and especially when he finds “Mo Xuanyu” outside of Jin Guangyao’s private rooms:

As Jin Ling was just about to speak again, he glanced behind Lan WangJi and finally saw Wei WuXian. Temporarily astounded, he blurted, “Why are you here?!”

Wei WuXian, “To get a free meal.”

Jin Ling was somewhat angered, “How dare you still come?! Didn’t I warn…”

–Chapt. 47: Guile, exr

Jin Ling felt goosebumps climb over his body, “Shut up right now! Who’s all lovey-dovey with you?! Didn’t I warn you already not to mess with our sect’s people? Why have you come back?!”

–Chapt. 47: Guile, exr

The first to hurry over was Jin Ling. His sword was already unsheathed in his hand as he asked, “Why are you here?”…

…Jin Ling fumed, “Just what do you want? Everyone is here because of you! This is my uncle’s bedchamber, bedchamber, you understand?! Haven’t I told you not to…”

–Chapt. 50: Guile, exr

But unlike with Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling’s turbulent relationship, the feelings of care seem to be overtly reciprocated between Jin Guangyao and Jin Ling. In the first direct interaction we see between uncle and nephew, Jin Guangyao acts as shield and comfort to Jin Ling, being the calming buffer between Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng:

Jin Ling followed Jin GuangYao out here. He still didn’t dare meet Jiang Cheng alone. Hiding behind Jin GuangYao’s back, he mumbled, “Uncle.”

Jiang Cheng replied harshly, “So you still know that I’m your uncle!”

Jin Ling quickly tugged at the back hems of Jin GuangYao’s robe. Jin GuangYao seemed as though he had been born to resolve conflicts, “Now, Sect Leader Jiang, A-Ling realized his mistake a long time ago. During the past few days, he’s been so scared you’d punish him that he hasn’t even been eating well. Children just like to make mischief. I know you love him the most. Let’s not bother him about it so much.”

–Chapt. 47: Guile, exr

…as well as calming Jin Ling down when he gets upset at “Mo Xuanyu” being present at the discussion conference:

Jin Ling was somewhat angered, “How dare you still come?! Didn’t I warn…”

Jin GuangYao rubbed Jin Ling’s head, pushing him behind himself, and smiled…

–Chapt. 47: Guile, exr

And Jin Guangyao manages to do this all without appearing as overbearing or condescending towards his nephew, allowing Jin Ling to be a vulnerable child with him in a way that he refuses to be with the ornery Jiang Cheng. However, it is this same chapter, still, that we begin to see cracks in the relationship. Not long after the above interactions, Jin Ling runs into his childhood bullies. After Wei Wuxian helps him deal with it, this is what Jin Ling has to say:

Jin Ling glanced at him and couldn’t help but answered, “Why are you like this? My younger uncle has always advised against this, but you’re egging me on.”…

…Jin Ling’s face betrayed faint yearning, yet he still sounded contemptuous, “What are you talking about? Uncle’s advice is for my own good.”

–Chapt. 47: Guile, exr

Despite being Jin Ling’s guardian and leader of the Jin Clan, and despite being aware of the bullying Jin Ling is experiencing by his peers, Jin Guangyao’s solution is to tell Jin Ling… not to defend himself. We are given no other indication in the text, either through Jin Ling or other characters, that Jin Guangyao takes any other steps to mitigate this bullying. He simply washes his hands of the situation and leaves Jin Ling to fend for himself. Wei Wuxian even notes the strangeness of this, how a man who is so good at people-pleasing and reading the room would act ignorant on how to solve his nephew’s issues with socializing:

After a while of silence, he replied, “With Jin Ling’s temper, he offends other people whenever he opens his mouth, he pokes at the hornet’s nest whenever he raises his hand. Your sect’s JingYi calls him Young Mistress—well, he’s right. The many times before this, if it weren’t for how we protected him, he’d have no lives left. Jiang Cheng isn’t at all someone who knows how to teach children. Jin GuangYao, on the other hand…”

–Chapt. 47: Guile, exr

If not for Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, Jin Ling would have been dead many times over, particularly at the goading of his maternal uncle, but Jin Guangyao seems illogically unaware of this. But is he really, or does he simply not value Jin Ling’s life outside of his facade as a loving uncle? Enter the second siege and Guanyin Temple, where Jin Guangyao’s true feelings towards his nephew are revealed. At the second siege, Jin Ling is amongst the kidnapped children used as bait to draw in the rest of the established cultivation clans, meaning that Jin Guangyao was perfectly willing to sacrifice his nephew to keep his secrets hidden. And when Jin Ling stumbles upon Guanyin Temple, Jin Guangyao continually betrays Jin Ling’s former affections, from not saying anything to stop his lackeys from taking fatal aim at his nephew, to ordering them to kill Fairy, to even personally threatening Jin Ling’s life:

Within the courtyard, all the cultivators were attentive and high-strung. With arrows drawn on their bows, they aimed at the gate, holding the bowstring tight, waiting for an order…

…The moment Jin Ling reached the top of the wall, he was confronted by an entire courtyard of bows drawn and aimed at him. His pupils shrunk instantly. One of the monks had either never seen Jin Ling before or had already prepared to annihilate any and all intruders. The monk released his bowstring and the arrow soared towards Jin Ling!

–Chapt. 98: A Hatred for Life Part 1, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Jin GuangYao said, “Find it and kill it. This spiritual dog is very intelligent. We wouldn’t want her to lure over other people.”

“Yes sir!”

The monk left with a sword in his hand and the temple’s gate closed behind him. Jin Ling was beyond stunned. “You’re really going to kill her? You gave Fairy to me!”

–Chapt. 99: A Hatred For Life Part 2, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Shrugging, Jin GuanYao smiled, “I can’t help it. Even after doing all the worst things imaginable, I still want the sympathy of others. That’s just the type of person I am.”

At the word “person”, he sudden flicked his wrist. A piece of red qin string looped around Jin Ling’s neck.

Jin GuangYao’s eyes were still brimming with tears when he warned in a low voice, “Don’t move!”

–Chapt. 106: A Hatred For Life Part 9, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Jin Ling is completely surprised by this seemingly 180 his uncle has pulled on him. After all, this was the uncle that had appeared to care for him the most and that he regarded highly:

Jin Ling had always been close with his Youngest Uncle. In the past, Jin GuangYao had often doted on him. Even now, Jin GuangYao still had that pleasant, compassionate look on his face, but it would be near impossible for Jin Ling to ever see him with the same eyes again. Quietly, Jin Ling walked towards Wei WuXian and Lan XiChen, obediently standing by their side.

–Chapt. 99: A Hatred for Life Part 2, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

So what was the point? Why care for Jin Ling if he didn’t, you know, care about him? Well, simple: Jin Ling represents that perfect life Jin Guangyao thinks Jin Guangshan barred him from. When asked why Jin Guangyao plotted to kill Jin Zixuan, Jin Guangyao finally explains his reasoning:

Turning to Jin Ling, he continued, “A-Ling, can you tell me why then? Why is it that even though I always put up a smiling face for everyone, I rarely received one in return? Meanwhile, your father was arrogant and proud everywhere he went, yet everyone was always chasing after him? Can you tell why is it that, though we had the same father, why is it that your father could leisurely stay at home and tease his child with his most beloved wife while I, who barely dared to stay alone too long with my wife, who’s frightened every time I gaze upon my own son, got sent out to deal with these things by my own father as if it was only natural for me to handle them— to ambush an unstable, dangerous man who could lose control of his fierce corpses at any moment and turn everything into a massacre?!

“Why is it that, though we even shared the same birthday, Jin GuangShan could be throwing a lavish celebration for one of them while watching the other one get kicked off from the Koi Tower on the very same day, all the way from the top of the first stair down to the very bottom?!”

–Chapt. 106: A Hatred For Life Part 9, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

On the outside, Jin Guangyao had a perfect life similar to Jin Zixuan, but on the inside – from being trapped into marrying his sister, to unwittingly (or not) having an incest baby, to being forced to do his father’s dirty work – it was clearly inferior to his arrogant half-brother’s, who had to suffer nothing to be valued by their shared father. Jin Guangyao may have only truly hated Jin Guangshan in this equation, but that hatred made everyone else disposable to him. Jin Zixuan had to die and Mo Xuanyu had to be permanently banished because they stood in the way of Jin Guangyao inheriting what he thought was his due from his father. Jin Rusong had to be killed because he would have revealed the terrible deeds Jin Guangyao committed in the name of protecting his image for his father’s benefit, despite the original sin being committed by his father to begin with. However, Jin Ling was just useful enough to live, because Jin Guangyao couldn’t have another child with Qin Su now that he was fully aware that she was his sister, but he also couldn’t divorce her, cheat, or kill her without risking his alliance with the Qin Clan that helped solidify his power to begin with. So Jin Ling became his neat little pawn: a potential heir that makes his need for biological children unnecessary, but also one who is so endeared to him that Jin Ling (if he were ever to become clan leader) would serve as a new shield and enabler for whatever Jin Guangyao decided to do after he stepped down (if he ever stepped down).

And once Jin Guangyao’s actions are exposed to the cultivation world with his reputation in tatters, he no longer has a need to preserve his “nice uncle” facade to Jin Ling or spare his nephew’s feelings. Jin Ling is no longer useful to Jin Guangyao so they may as well be strangers, and Jin Ling is left to pick up the pieces of what he thought was a loving relationship with one of his last living close relatives who, in reality, only saw him as a bitter rival’s son. Unfortunately, this kind of abuse is more shattering to deal with once the betrayal happens and the victim has to face knowing that they meant nothing to someone they loved (with assumed reciprocity), more so than the overt physical and verbal abuse Jin Ling experienced from Jiang Cheng. But fortunately, Jin Ling has Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji to lean on as he deals with the emotional fallout of these reveals.

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The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

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Just saw a post wishing there were a Horse and His Boy film which, as far as being a Narnia fan is concerned, I get it, but literally how would you make that. How do you adapt a book whose protagonist is a poor white boy who was kidnapped by one of the bad, invading brown people and abused by the bad, greedy brown fisherman. How do you adapt a plot that amounts to help this white boy escape!! Help him escape the bad, double-crossing brown people with his fellow kidnappees and a good brown girl who’s been disillusioned with her brown society’s wicked ways

Collection

Photographed by Martin Schoeller for The New Yorker in 2002:

 "I was hired by the New Yorker in 2002 to photograph Robin Williams, and after doing my research what stood out most for me was that he was a very physical comedian. I came up with this idea to photograph him swinging from a chandelier in a grand hotel room. Most publicists shoot down these kinds of wild ideas, so I didn’t tell anyone what I was up to, but rigged up a chandelier at the Waldorf Astoria hotel for him to swing from. When Robin got there and saw what was happening, he lifted up his shirt and showed me this enormous scar on his shoulder. He’d just had surgery and couldn’t so much as lift his arm. He was so disappointed! He really felt bad about not being able to do it, because he loved the idea and really wanted to help me accomplish my vision. 

Unlike most Hollywood stars, he was unfazed by his success and position. He talked to everyone from stylists to the crew, to the hotel staff. We ended up asking a maid at the hotel to swing from the chandelier instead, and I asked him to just sit there and read a newspaper, which I think in the end was an even funnier, more unexpected picture.

[Follies Of God]