A Death In The Family - Tumblr Posts

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I thought it was too funny not to post

2023 reading list: Batman: A Death in the Family (1988)

I guess the truth is that I was lonely... Didn't want to go it alone. So what do I do? I bring a young innocent into this mad game... I must be insane.

"Jason keeps making comments about his death and it's whiny" this "Jason is always talking about his death" that... Jason is always thinking about his death. Because that's what trauma is, being trapped in the moment, reliving it again and again and again. Children with PTSD/CPTSD sometimes do this thing where they play games when they recreate their trauma, and the explanatory hypothesis is that they're trying to fix it in a way. Adults with PTSD/CPTSD tend to find themselves at risk in similar situations. Being trapped in a time loop of the worst moments of your life and trying to stop something that's already happened, begging to be saved even if it's too late, lashing out to defend yourself after the fight is over. And I know the confrontation in UTRH is complex and about a lot of things, especially about Jason and Batman and Bruce, but also I can't help thinking, this reads a lot like trauma reenactment. And Bruce's response... Let's just assume it didn't really help.

So, yeah. Jason talks about his death a lot. Jason is still in that warehouse, in that coffin, still being tortured and dying and buried alive. Jason is still calling for help.

Jason Todd character profile!

Poem: First Memory (Louise Glück)/ And My Father's Love Was Nothing Next To God's Will (Amatullah Bourdon)

Novel: The Outsiders

Quote from a Novel: "they are going to stop hitting, I am going to catch my breath, this can't end here, not now and yet he couldn't breathe anymore nor feel his body nor hear anything, nor see anything either and still he hoped, something in him repeating, life will hold, still, it always holds, it's going be alright still, they will stop because they will understand that my life is too small in my body and it's wearing too thin now to last more than a bubble of knowing that rises and explodes... " (What I call Oblivion, Laurent Mauviginier)

Play: Hamlet (Shakespeare)

Quote from a play: "Here he lies like something melting away. His mother’s blood comes quaking howling brassing bawling blacking down his mad little veins." (An Oresteia, Anne Carson)

Song: The Horror and The Wild (the Amazing Devil)

Song lyrics: "And I am both the fire and the forest, and I am the witness watching it "(Mitski, Burning Hill)

Ancient Greek Deity: Nemesis

Flower: Rain lily

Feel free to add more!!!

"Because these wings are no longer wings to fly

But merely vans to beat the air

The air which is now thoroughly small and dry

Dryer than the will

Teach us to care and not to care,

Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death,

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death."

TS Eliot, Ash Wednesday

(Don't mind me, just yet again pushing the Jason Todd ft T. S. Eliot agenda because I dislike the concept of happiness)

I was having feelings about Victor Hugo's poem "Demain dès l'aube" (Tomorrow at Dawn) about his grief following the death of his daughter and Bruce losing Jason and I wanted to make a little comic with the text, but I'm scared to draw Bruce and can't seem to get the angel statue right, so here's a spotty translation of the poem so that you, too, can feel sad about it. Choices and sacrifices were made to keep the rythm and most significant parts, things got lost in translation that I couldn't salvage, but I still hope it helps sharing a little of its beauty.

Tomorrow as the land pales in the light of dawn,

I will leave for you see, I know that you await

I will go through the woods, and through the mountains high

I can no longer stay so far away from you.

I will walk with my eyes boring in thoughts my own

Unseeing any sight, unhearing any noise

Lone, and unknown, with a bent back and folded hands

Sad, and the day to me will be such as the night.

I will not gaze upon this dusk a golden fume

Nor the shade of the ships sailing to the harbour,

And then, as I arrive, I will lay on your tomb

A bouquet of holly and blossoming heather.

Victor Hugo, from the Poetry Collection «Les Contemplations» Book 4, Pauca Meae (1856)

This isn't even the poem I've read that fits them best, far from it, but I keep picturing Bruce walking from the cave (leaving the Robin suit) through Crime Alley to the cemetery and being sad about it and now you get to be sad too.