Watts (chipotle) wrote,

Why a raccoon? Who cares?

I’ve been watching and silently judging another flareup of a very old debate in anthropomorphic fandom, this time happening on Twitter and in the comments on Flayrah’s review of Roar #4. Does there need to be a justification for having characters in a story be animal people? We can illustrate the divide with two comments. First, from “Crossaffliction,” in his usual diplomatic style:

For the record, the entire premise of “let’s make talking animals the main characters and leave that completely unexplained in [a] way that offers nothing to the story” is a flawed premise, and also makes people wonder why you’d do that (we suspect the writer has some sort of freaky weird animal people fetish, and, you know what, we’d probably [be] right in this case).

Then “Sparf”:

I agree with some of the most prolific writers in our fandom when I say that we have moved on past that need. This is furry fiction as a meta genre unto itself. Every story does not need an explanation of where furries came from or why they exist. If it is germane to the story being told, sure, it can be revealed in the narrative, but usually it is trite or feels wedged in.

While I can quibble with both (if a genre is “meta” it definitionally doesn’t exist “unto itself,” and at times Crossie has an unhealthy hangup about the fandom’s unhealthy hangups), three observations.

  1. These actually aren’t two sides of the same argument. One position is that it’s a flaw in a story to use anthropomorphic animals for no reason more profound than “I like them, neener neener.” The other position is that there’s no need to explain why a story has anthropomorphic animals. These positions aren’t mutually exclusive.
  2. In fact, they’re probably both right.
  3. The most prolific writers in our fandom have moved past the need to keep rehashing this argument. Christ on a pogo stick.

My own old story “A Gift of Fire, a Gift of Blood” features a vampire bat; the story would be substantively different were she a vampire in the Dracula sense. Yet there’s no real explanation for why the Empire of Ranea (the world that story and others of mine are set in) has fox, wolf and cat people instead of dwarves, elves and hobbits. Effin' hobbits, how do they work? Tolkien has a lot of unexplained hobbits running around, yet as impossible as this may be to believe, the story seems to work anyway!

When we say that a furry story is better when it’s not “humans in fursuits,” what does that actually mean? Take Kyell Gold’s Out of Position. Few if any aspects of Dev and Lee’s story require them to be tiger and fox. Their world is our world, just with animal people. This is about as “because furries” as one can get. Yet we’re shown a myriad of subtle ways in which their animal nature changes things: ergonomics, body language, stereotypes, laws, social mores. You could tell an equivalent story with an all-human cast, but it would be a different story.

“Why is she a raccoon?” That’s not an interesting question. “How do you show how her being a raccoon matters?” That’s an interesting question.

(Originally published at Coyote Prints)

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