Apocalyptic Zombie Ketchup or Dystopian Ghoul Catsup?

Every time I hear the term “zombie” applied to the flesh-eating, bacteria-virus-infested cannibals either of film or print, I cringe.

They are not “zombies”--they are ghouls.

A “zombie” is a person brought back from the dead to serve as the slave of another person.

A “ghoul” is the malignant spirit of a dead person, a dead person whose body has been possessed, or a demon in human form who terrorizes the living by eating live flesh and causing havoc throughout the neighborhood.

The “zombie” movie that started it all never even called the dead cannibals “zombies”. Night of the Living Dead is attributed with having started the whole dead-eating-the-living craze. However, if you actually watch and listen to the movie, the dead-eaters are never referred to as “zombies”.

Because they are not “zombies”.

Check out Ray Dennis Steckler's 1964 B-movie opus The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies!!? No flesh-eating here: just a crazy dead person killing those who did him and his crazy gypsy sister wrong.

I feel a heated passion arise in me of late when I hear or read the terms “apocalyptic” and “dystopian” being used as synonyms.
Comments and reviews of The Hunger Games have helped to blur the line between the two distinct terms, but it's not the first story to do so. I don't know what Suzanne Collins calls her tale, but others have given it both the “apocalyptic” and “dystopian” labels—but it's really only one of those.

So, which is it?

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It's the difference between "ketchup" and "catsup".

Some will argue that the only difference between "ketchup" and "catsup" is the spelling. Such culinary pundits are woefully mistaken.

As with so many other foods that have become a staple of Western cuisine, "ketchup" was invented by the Chinese (鮭汁, kôe-chiap and kê-chiap) and brought to the West by Italian traders.

It was a sauce for fish. Those wacky Italians, though, made it into a sauce for just about everything else, including ice cream. I swear to God, I've seen people put it on ice cream.

So, I offer you my Chinese Vodka Ketchup recipe of my own particular taste:

Ingredients

• 1 6-ounce can tomato paste
• 1/3 cup brown sugar
• 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
• 1/2 cup vodka or red wine or beer or whiskey
• 1 teaspoon sea salt
• 1/4 teaspoon onion powder
• 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/4 teaspoon cumin
• 1/4 teaspoon curry
• 1/4 teaspoon paprika
• 1/4 teaspoon parsley
• 1/4 teaspoon ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon thyme
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Directions

1. Combine ingredients in a saucepan over medium-low heat. Whisk to eliminate lumps while bringing to a boil. Reduce heat to low.
2. Simmer partially covered (careful, the hot bubbles splatter) for 20 minutes, until thickened.

Makes about 1 1/2 cups.

Notes

• Homemade ketchup won’t last as long as commercial ketchup, but with sugar and vinegar as natural preservatives, it should keep fine for a week or two in the fridge.

So, what's the difference between my Chinese Vodka Ketchup and any other "catsup"?

For "catsup", use white sugar and add more of it; leave out the  vodka, wine, beer, or whiskey and use white vinegar instead; and leave out the cumin, curry, paprika, ginger, parsley, rosemary, thyme, and cayenne pepper. This will produce the bland sweet "catsup" Americans slather on everything.

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Okay--the difference between "apocalyptic" and "dystopian" genre.

First, an “apocalyptic” tale involves a story in which some catastrophic event has occurred in which the survival of humanity is in question. On the Beach is a good example of this. So are The Core, Armageddon, 2012, I am Legend, Resident Evil (et al), and the flood stories of Gilgamesh, Noah, Quiche Mayans, and many, many more. An "apocalyptic" tale results either from man's own negligence or God's wrath or nature's revenge.

Stephen Vincent Benet’s short tale “By the Waters of Babylon” is a perfect example of the apocalyptic event caused sometime in the distant past by humans themselves.

An “apocalyptic” tale almost always includes some spiritual message within the story. Benet’s tale turns the apocalyptic event into a dream of a great burning in which the gods were displeased with humans and mankind was nearly wiped out.

A “dystopian” tale is one in which a repressive government enslaves its people in the belief that humans need repression in order to save them from themselves-- or simply because those in power are in it for the sake of the power itself.

In a dystopian story, society believes it has achieved Utopia and cannot or does not see the fatal flaw within its system that is actually working against the advancement of Humankind--usually the repression of individual choice and creativity, as in Ayn Rand’s Anthem, Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, and Lowry's The Giver. In almost every tale, the government sets out to repress individual choice and creativity and even destroy human productivity and enlightenment.

V for Vendetta is one of the best examples. Nineteen Eighty-four is an excellent example of a government enslaving its people simply for the sake of power: “Do want to see a picture of humanity?” O’Brian says to Winston. “It’s a boot in the face.”

Other good examples of true dystopian fare are Equalibrium, The Postman, the short story “Harrison Bergeron” by Kurt Vonnegut, The Handmaid’s Daughter, and, yes, The Hunger Games.

One of the best  tales in which a dystopian culture is belched from an apocalyptic event is Repo: The Genetic Opera.  In Terrance Zdunich's tale, the apocalyptic catalyst is the failure of human organs. The dystopia arises when Genco offers savioristic transplants and a culture paradigm shift emerges in which everyone believes society has achieved utopia.

Another good example of the apocalyptic-to-dystopia scenario is P.D. James's The Children of Men. This tale of the future demise of humanity begins with the last child born on earth dying--and he's 18-years-old. Humanity can no longer reproduce. Society shifts into paranoid mode in which whole countries are now barb-wired from each other, each blaming the other for the "disease" of sterility, and everything from a space virus to God's Armageddon is offered for the explanation as to why humans can no longer produce children. A new culture arises as human kind slouches through the apocalyptic slough, a dystopian culture.

Collins’s tale is not “apocalyptic”.

I will submit that a dystopian setting can arise out of an apocalyptic event and an apocalyptic event can result in a dystopian society’s choices.

Generally speaking, though, the tale is dominated by one or the other. The Hunger Games is without question dystopian, not apocalyptic. Maybe it will morph in apocalypticism or the society is the result of an apocalyptic event, but the events in the story itself lead to only one conclusion: dystopian.

My tale NEVЯLAND is apocalyptic whereas my story Popinjay is dystopian.

I have approached each with the distinct definitions clearly delineated in order to keep the two tales straight and true to their intended purposes. The backstory of NEVЯLAND does not have dystopian catalyst just as the backstory of Popinjay has no apocalyptic event.

Okay, I know some will protest: “This is a distinction without a difference, like zombies and ghouls.”

And thus I taunt you with this: Nuts! It’s the distinction that makes the difference in the first place.

Zombies are not Ghouls.

Apocalypticism is not Dystopianism.

Ketchup is not Catsup.

Eat well.
Write well.

Larry Mike

A Tasty Treat for "The Hunger Games

WARNING: The following contains several spoilers concerning both the book and the movie The Hunger Games.

If you haven't read the book and/or seen the movie, don't read the following thoughts, critique, and review.


You've been warned


I thank you for your consideration.

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I rarely get on a bandwagon about much. The last time I was excited about seeing a movie, rushing to buy a ticket a day before the movie came out, was Star Wars, Episode 1: The Phantom Menace. The experience left a bad taste in my mouth, and I swore off opening-day excitement.

The same is true for books. Just because Stephen King wrote another tome or the New York Times and all my writing friends are slobbering over the latest best seller doesn't mean much to me.

I wait. Like a hunter. To strike when the moment is right for me.

I usually wait some time before picking up a best seller to read it or see a box officer record-breaking movie to view it.

The same held true for Suzanne Collins's The Hunger Games. I didn't read them when they came out as I've been working on my own post-apocalypitic YA novel NevЯland and didn't want to be unduly influenced by her tale.

However, Liz wanted to see The Hunger Games on opening day, and I had bought her the box set of the trilogy for Valentine's Day, so I sat down one day last week and read the first book from cover to cover. I was quite happy that my NevЯland is nothing likeThe Hunger Games.


The problem with being a writer, like being a chef, is that while you can thoroughly enjoy a tale (or a meal), you always find elements of the story to change, like a chef adding his own touch to a popular dish.

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Is it ironic to gorge oneself while reading The Hunger Games? Does that make us no better than Effie?


Here's a tasty fruit dip I like very much so you can eat a sweet treat while reading the book (or sneak it into the theatre to avoid those outrageous snack bar prices.


Larry Mike's Irish Sweet Treat Fruit Dip

1. 1 (6 ounce package) instant vanilla pudding
2. 1 cup skim milk
3. 1/2 cup Bailey's Irish Cream (non-alcoholic if children are around or alcoholic if for adults only)
4. 1 (8 ounce container Cool Whip) 
5. 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon

• Whip all ingredients together.
• Chill for one-half hour
• Serve with your favorite slices of fruit

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One of the first scenes I would have changed in the tale is the death of Rue.

Katness should have been the one to kill Rue. Having to make such a horrific decision would have been an unstoppable catalyst for Katniss to bring down the Capital.

Oh, I got it about Rue in the book. I did like the giving of the bread from District 11 and Thresh's role in saving Katniss so he doesn't owe her. The addition in the movie of the riot started by her father in D11 was a nice touch to set up what follows in the sequels.

In the movie, the attention to the Gamemaster and the tension between President Snow and Katniss were nice, too. A bit of a jump in the series, though.


In the movie, President Snow gives Katniss a Victor's crown and not Peeta (as in the book). To me, this diminishes his role in saving Katniss.

After I finished the book, I said to Liz, either Katniss is truly immaturely naive when it comes to human relationships or she is cruelly cynical when it comes to anybody outside of her inner circle (Prim and Gale). I began to empathize with Peeta in the book. Of course, in the movie, they didn't have time to really play up his love of Katniss to the extent Collins did in the book, so I think those who saw the movie without reading the book have missed that tension/conflict.

I liked the movie very much, but only because I read the book. By some reactions, I could tell some in the audience hadn't read the book prior to seeing the movie. We went to the 10 PM showing, and when Peeta and Katniss kissed, you could tell which females where still in junior high (and what they hell were they doing at such a late show?). The showings completely sold out for 7:15 and 10 PM, and then they had quite a crowd from the Friday midnight showing. I was happy the audience was quiet and into the movie and not using it as a social gathering.

The weakest part of the book was Cato's death. I didn't want to feel anything for Cato and yet Katniss has to put him out of his misery with a shot to the skull. Because the cornucopia was not described in the book, I saw an actual giant gold cornucopia, and during the climatic scene at the field I had a hard time imagining how the hell they were climbing on it. The movie made it more representational than actual, and that helped.

The addition of the mutts was weak in the book, like a reverse deus ex machena. I didn't like that they resembled the other tributes who had died, especially Rue. Such confusion as to their origin distracted me from the action of the story. I would rather a horrific battle between Cato and Katniss had taken place with Peeta getting mortally wounded again and Katniss having to save his ass once again--thus her arrogance towards him being weak would be a nice juxtaposition in the fact that he was the smartest of them all--and the most honest.

Making Rue black in the movie distracted from her real intended purpose story-wise: as a surrogate sister for Katniss to protect. I understand the desire for inclusiveness and have no problem with the casting other than Rue not resembling Prim. Then again, Katniss's protective nature for her sister or any 12-year-old girl is made more evident when she takes Rue under her protection.

As I said, I do understand why Rue was killed by the boy from District 2 (?) and the emotional impact that it has on Katniss,but Katniss needs to truly HATE the Capitol, and if she had been forced to kill Rue, that would spur her to rebellion even more. But, I get it. It is, after all, a YA novel. When in the novel District 11 sends the bread as a way to honor what Katness has done for Rue (flowers/song/respect) and she thanked them, I choked up.

I was glad to see that Collins had a screenwriting credit--that means she had more say in the final draft than most writers, so she approved of the changes. Most writers are given "script approval" but not "final script approval", meaning they have no say-so over the changes and the final look of the film. Her screenwriting credit says she had "final script approval" and is also now a SWG member, which is one of the hardest writing organizations to be accepted  into.

The changes from the book were not overwhelmingly distracting. The Gamemaster was okay, but it took away from Katniss's POV and shifted more attention to power/tension between Katniss and President Snow.


Without reading the other two novels yet, I had envisioned Panem as an oligarchy much like Nineteen Eighty-four. Several of the "girls" in the audience giggled at the appearance of the Gamemaster, which was annoying, and I still wonder what the hell junior high girls were doing at the 10 PM showing.

I like the Avox in the book. Avox is portmanteau for "No Voice" in Latin, which is symbolic of this whole society's mute population. The Avox remind me of the servants in Dune, who have their eyes, ears, and mouths sewn shut--very horrific.

I've been guessing that "Panem" is shortened for Pan American. I thought at first it was pronounced pan-EM, but as I read, I changed to pan-AM. And in the movie they pronounced it as pan-AM.

The train trip from the districts to the Capitol, Katniss and Peeta's reaction, and the people of the Capitol all reminded me of the scene in Apocalypto when the forest Mayans are taken into the urban Mayan society and we witness the transformation of society with the degradation of human rights and the destruction of nature and society inherent in top-heavy government urban-centered societies. No matter how beautiful the Capitol is (or the Mayan capitol) or the plentifulness it offers, it's built on human suffering, bloodshed, genocide, and destruction of the spiritual creativeness of the god-side of humans.

The ending (book and movie) reminded me of Rollerball, a movie from the early 70s in which the world is kept distracted from the oppressions of the one-world government by a brutal blood sport (not the terrible 2002 remake!), much like the Hate Rallies of 1984. In Rollerball, the best player over comes all odds and becomes a hero to a repressed society and his individuality begins a revolt against the world oligarchy.

Also, the 1964 "Fun and Games" episode of The Outer Limits pits two teenagers on a distant planet to battle to death while the universe watches on television screens back home.

Again, as with Harry Potter, Collins's story is not original, just told in an original way, which is why it's a best seller and the movie is watch-worthy more than once.

Even as I've devloped my own post-apocalypic novel NevЯland over the past two years, I've come to realize all the fine works of literature and film with the same themes and basic plot, and although I was upset when I first realized how these previous tales had "influenced" my own story, I soon learned to embrace those stories as I develope NevЯland into its own unique tale. 

I bought Liz a collector's box set of The Hungar Games trilogy, and we will add the films to our collection. I can't remember the last time I have attended an opening day for a movie based on a book, but I will remember The Hunger Games, both in print and on film.

Be well,
Eat well,
Write well,

Larry Mike